MARKI KD, NOT MATED. 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED; 
 
 OR, 
 
 HOW THEY LIVED 
 
 ibc aitir Cjjracliiiiortoii |j;i 
 
 BY ALICE 
 
 ADTK >K or "CLOVKRSOOK; OR, RECOLI.ECTIOSS OK ouit 
 
 IS THB WEST," ETC. 
 
 NEW YORK : 
 
 DERB V k JACKSON 119 NASSAU ST. 
 1859. 
 
wordinir to Art of 
 
 DERBY A -ACKSON, 
 ta Ih. Clrk . Offiee of ihe U. S. Di.trict Court, for the South.ru Dmtrict of N.w Ywk. 
 
PS J2Lfc5 
 M3 
 
 MAIM 
 
 NATHAN. Allow me to relate a ta!e. 
 
 SALADIN. Why not? 
 
 I always was a friend to tales well told. 
 NATHAN. " Well told" that s not precisely my affair. 
 
 LESSINO. 
 
 Dos SKHASTIAN. You have no n.ot. 
 
 FAUHICIO. But such characters! and every one is true as Truth: 
 
 copied right off from nature. 
 DON SKBASTIAN. Badly done, sir Poet. 
 FABKrcm. Yet consider, twas at a sitting : a single sitting, by all 
 
 the saints! I will do better when I have those 
 
 pistoles, and may use time. 
 
 Lori DF. VEOA. 
 
 M174949 
 
CONTENTS* 
 
 PART 1. 
 
 l o o b s i b t . 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 8*b-Crban ; Ancient Friends ; Young Ladies before their Morning 
 Toilets ; Fanner Henry Graham ; Progressive Ideas ; Rash Deter 
 minations ; A Family at Breakfast, 18 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A Sisterly Discussion ; Mutual Obligations of Parents and Children ; 
 Shins of Discontent and Revolt, 36 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Mr. Henry --graham conducts Miss Annette Furniss to Woodside for 
 a Visit; The Inhabitants of Woodside; Annette Graham s first day 
 there; Housekeeper Rachad, 46 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Clouds and Sunshine; Management; The Debating Society; Wo 
 men s Rights; Raphael s Conquest, 67 
 
S C O K T E X T S . 
 
 r*M 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Woodside by Moonlight ; Ambitious Scheming; Non-Commitlalism ; 
 A New Character ; Domestic Reform, 90 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 A Child s Funeral ; Bold Advice by Rachael ; Fruitless Coquetry ; 
 The Housekeeper Resigns to take care of her own Establishment ; 
 Annette goes home Disengaged ; Father and Daughter ; Reminis 
 cences ; A Melancholy Betrothal; Annette becomes the Mistress of 
 Woodside, . . . . .121 
 
 PAR! IT. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 The Sugar Camp, The Dark Angel in ths Farmer s Home; Uncle 
 Peter, J. T. Throckmorton, and Aunt Sally Throckrnorton 
 Sensible Mrs. Perrin, 151 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 The Young Orphans become Wards of their Great Relation; A 
 Glimpse of Woodside ; Rachael re-appears as Mrs. Muggins ; 
 Throckmorton Hail ; Rosalie and Orpha produce different Impres 
 sions, . . .... 174 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Dignity of Uncle Peter; He becomes 111, \nd exhibits some of 
 the Weaknesses of Human Nature ; The Neighbors Prescribe ; 
 Mrs. Perriu s Suspicions; A Great Doctor from Town ; All sorts of 
 Doctors from the Country; The Domestic Felicities of Mrs. 
 Muggins; Mix. Graham of Woodside " watches ;" Dr. Stafford 
 Graham makes an Impression, ........ 194 
 
CONTENTS. 9 
 
 MM 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Uncle Peter s Recovery; Rose and Orpha have ah Adventure; Mrs. 
 Perrin s Cottage; Visit to Woodside; Mr. and Mrs. Andrew J. 
 Muggins at Home ; A Discovery ; Mr. Furniss and Mrs. Perrin 
 hold interesting Conversations, 26T 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Uncle Peter is Uneasy under Obligations ; He dreams Dreams, and 
 sees Visions ; He gives Examples of Heroism ; He discharges his 
 Debt to Mrs. Perrin ; He is again in the hands of the Doctors, and 
 tries all the new sorts, 82* 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Contrasted Health Prospects of Mr. and Mrs. P. I. T. Throckmor 
 ton ; Mrs. Muggins causes a Sensation at the Hall ; Marriages in 
 Preparation ; Aunt Sally at Rest ; Changes at Woodside ; Uncle 
 Peter s new Vocations ; For better or for worse ; Conclusion, . 889 
 
PART I. 
 W O O D S I D E . 
 
WOODSIDE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Ethe loveliest city of the West stands an 
 jld and curiously-fashioned house, in the 
 centre of an acre of ground, perhaps, and so 
 thickly surrounded with trees as to prevent 
 the most observant passer-by from obtaining 
 a very correct notion of its architecture or 
 dimensions. Nevertheless, half-hidden as it 
 is, there is something about the place that 
 commands attention, and whoever looks at it 
 once is likely to look again. 
 
 In the course of every day many quick 
 steps are slackened as the sombre shadows of 
 its trees fall across the road ; many are the 
 
14 M A B R I E D , NOT MATED. 
 
 faces that press close against the high black 
 fence which encloses the grounds ; and many 
 the fruitless questions concerning its inhabi 
 tants and ownership. 
 
 "Humph!" says the speculator; "what a 
 waste of capital is here !" and, bobbing his 
 head up and down, and over, and between 
 the palings, he divides and subdivides and 
 parcels the lot into many lots, and so hurries 
 towards some thoroughfare, summing up on 
 the ends of his fingers the entire valuation. 
 When the sunset shines through the gnarled 
 and mossy boughs that swing against the 
 steep gables, the maiden and the lover pause, 
 thinking how pleasant it would be to sit on 
 the grassy knoll beneath the low-spreading 
 apple-tree and watch the motes dancing 
 among the column-like lights, slanting and 
 beaming down the openings. 
 
 The poet, " crazed with care," and very 
 possibly " crossed in hopeless love," gliding at 
 twilight toward the more secluded quarter of 
 the town, stops as he sees the black shadows 
 crouching among the tangled shrubberies, 
 half-expecting to behold a ghost whitening 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 15 
 
 along the gathering night; and so the stars 
 come out as he stands before the padlocked 
 gate, musing some rhyme of murders done, 
 of hopes broken, or of hearts withered; and 
 as he so muses he looks a fit inhabitant of the 
 place, for the moonlight raining along the 
 moss of the roof, and the winds stirring 
 through the bushy tree-tops, seem his proper- 
 est companions. Roughly he shakes the iron 
 stanchions of the gate as the shadows beckon 
 and the winds call to him, but it will not yield, 
 and the group of boys and girls from the as 
 sembling school, who have been standing a 
 little way off, thinking what a pretty place 
 for hunting the glove the great door-yard 
 would be, hastily gather up hoops arid balls 
 and run from the madman as fast as they can. 
 Sometimes, among the cobwebs that hang 
 at the windows, the thin sallow face of an old 
 man may be seen, and once in a while, feeling 
 his way with a wooden staff, he bends along 
 the narrow and crooked path, over which the 
 grass has quite grown together here and there, 
 though tiny spots of gravel, at wide distances, 
 attest that it was once a broad avenue; slowly 
 
16 M A B E, I E D , NOT MATED. 
 
 he bends his way to the street gate, undoes the 
 padlock, and goes toward an old but substan 
 tial and better kept house than his own, where 
 lives a rich miserly man, using and abusing, 
 and augmenting, and squandering the wealth 
 which in truth belongs to his mother a poor 
 half-crazed old woman, whom he keeps im 
 prisoned in his garret, scantily fed and cloth 
 ed, as report says, and suffered to see no visit 
 ors, except the old man just described, who 
 once or twice in the year, perhaps, is permitted 
 to pass an hour or more with the almost imbe 
 cile prisoner whom he remembers as a gay- 
 hearted and pretty young woman, and with 
 those black glittering eyes of his, he can see, 
 even now, traces of lost beauty beneath the 
 grey locks that straggle down from hei dis 
 hevelled nightcap. In their youth they were 
 friends and neighbors, and so indeed they are 
 still, but while the intellect of the old man 
 is as clear as it ever was, that of the woman 
 seems to have gathered mildew, and to shine 
 out only now and then imperfectly through its 
 mouldy crust. He calls her "Lizy," yet, when 
 he takes her withered hand, and in his own 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 17 
 
 stronger palm crushes down the great blue 
 veins forking and zigzaging from the knuckles 
 to the wrist, crushes them in the heartiness 
 of his grasp, till the purple spreads to the 
 finger-ends. And she, with what seems a 
 mocking echo of the joyish tones of fifty years 
 ago, addresses her friend as " Dicky," and half 
 pettishly accuses him of forgetfulness of old 
 friendship. But not so : Richard Furniss vis 
 its the woman as often as he dares, for he is a 
 humble man, and shrinks from contact with 
 humanity, really believing himself undeserv 
 ing of any notice or regard from the world 
 from which he has withdrawn himself. 
 
 With Ki chard Furniss alone, however, as he 
 lived in the desolate old house I have written 
 of, only now and then creeping out into the sun, 
 has our story much to do. The man is slightly 
 changed since the sunrise of a bright May 
 morning slanted through his curtainless win 
 dow eight or ten years ago. His iron-grey 
 hair hangs lower on his shoulders for no one 
 trims it now and the weight of these addi 
 tional years has bent him earthward somewhat 
 more, perhaps, though his black eyes glitter 
 
18 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 with the same intense light, and he glides and 
 slips about his possessions as though unworthy 
 of them, just as he was wont. On the steep 
 gables the mosses are thicker and greener now 
 than then, the tree-tops a little heavier, and 
 the general air of neglect more immediately 
 obvious, but the casual observer would see not 
 much alteration in either man or dwelling since 
 that May morning. And beautiful exceedingly 
 was the opening day, the very breathing of the 
 cool air a luxury. With the first stir and hum 
 of the great city the windows of the old house 
 were thrown up, the blue smoke went curling 
 away from the low kitchen chimney, while in 
 and out the others dipped and rose the swal 
 lows, speckling the air about the roof with 
 their grey bosoms and black wings. On the 
 tops of the dormer-windows sat rows of plump 
 pigeons, waiting for the sunrise, and close 
 against the double outer door lay a great 
 w^atch-dog, his head between his fore paws, 
 and his hungry-looking eyes wide open. 
 
 "Surly, Surly!" called a sweet voice from 
 the window above, as the dog rose and growl 
 ed, shaking the chain that was attached to 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 19 
 
 the leather strap about his nect, with which 
 his freedom was sometimes restricted, though 
 at the time mentioned it hung loose and drag 
 ged after him as he advanced a few steps down 
 the gravelled walk, his growl softening to a 
 whine, and the first belligerent aspect chang 
 ing to one of welcome. 
 
 " There, Annette !" said the voice again, 
 " how late we are this morning ! father will 
 scold. Oh, I am sorry I slept so long, for see, 
 the man who brings our butter is waiting at 
 the gate, and I can t go to unlock it these ten 
 minutes just see my hair!" and she smooth 
 ed the heavy brown waves which had fallen 
 in careless grace about her neck and shoul 
 ders, turning anxiously, the while, from the 
 window to the bed, the pillow of which was 
 still pressed by a fairer cheek than her own. 
 A merry ringing laugh was the only answer the 
 distressed questioner at first received, and not 
 till she had repeated the exclamation, u Oh ! J 
 am so sorry !" did the person addressed as An 
 nette lift herself on her elbow and look stead 
 ily from the window. An arch smile curved 
 her thin lips as she did so, and through the 
 
20 MAKRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 tangles of her black hair gleamed the red that 
 blushed along her cheek, as she said hurriedly 
 and in an under tone, " Nelly, dear, run down 
 and open the gate, never mind your hair, it 
 really makes you look charming, falling negli 
 gently as it does." And seeing that the girl 
 hesitated, at the same time adjusting the open 
 morning gown with some precision, she added 
 impatiently, "Never mind, Nell, the fellow 
 w r ill be tired to death, and father too, will be 
 terribly vexed ; there s my shawl, just throw 
 it round your shoulders and never mind !" 
 
 "Oh! must I go this way?" and she pushed 
 away her fallen hair, thrust her little bare feet 
 into a pair of slippers, and gathering the shawl 
 her sister had mentioned about her throat, de 
 scended the stairs without more ado. 
 
 No sooner was she gone than Annette, who 
 had till then lingered indolently with her pil 
 low, dashed aside the counterpane and hasten 
 ing to the window called, " Nell ! ask the 
 young man to come in, and be sure you don t 
 allow him to go away until I come down ; I 
 have an especial and important object in 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 21 
 
 There was a puzzled and inquiring expres 
 sion in the face of Nelly for a moment, but 
 simply nodding assent, she took up the chain 
 which Surly was dragging after him, and 
 skipped down the walk by his side, calling 
 him "poor fellow" and "pretty Surly," as she 
 went; though only his mistress could have 
 discovered his beauty, for surely so long- 
 legged, slabsided and altogether graceless a 
 creature never tended another door. But, 
 "poor fellow," as the girl might well call him, 
 he could not help his natural defects, nor the 
 scanty feeding that had flattened him to his 
 present narrow dimensions. 
 
 ""Why, Surly, old fellow, good morning." 
 And the young man who had been so long 
 standing before the gate, sat down from his 
 arm the basket covered with dewy leaves, and 
 reaching through the bars took the paw of the 
 dog in his large clumsy hand and shook it 
 heartily, without as yet having given any 
 salutation at all to the young woman. 
 
 " Really, Mr. Graham," she began, holding 
 her shawl together with one hand, while she 
 
22 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 unfastened the rusty padlock with the other, 
 "really, I am quite ashamed." 
 
 " Not at all, Miss," he interrupted, before she 
 proceeded further -with an apology, "I would 
 as lives stand here as not: is your father well, 
 Miss?" 
 
 By this time the gate was open and Mr. 
 Graham, taking up his basket, followed, rather 
 than accompanied, Nelly into the house. 
 
 "Well, father, you have a nice fire for me," 
 she said, " and I shall be very smart to make 
 up for lost time. Have you forgotten Mr. 
 Graham?" she added, seeing that he did not 
 notice the young man who stood blushing and 
 stepping with one foot and the other in pain 
 ful embarrassment. 
 
 A dry nod and an unsmiling glance were 
 the only results of this appeal, and the young 
 man, aware of the dubious welcome, hastened 
 to pull the green leaves from his basket and 
 take thence the golden rolls of butter which 
 it was his weekly errand to bring. 
 
 "Seems to me, Nell," said the old man, pok 
 ing in the ashes with his cane, " that you use 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 23 
 
 more butter than there is any need of;" and 
 he added after a moment, "your mother did n t 
 do so, that s all ;" and he resumed his poking 
 in the ashes. 
 
 " I am afraid father will never be able to 
 teach me the economy which it is perhaps 
 needful for me to practise," said Nelly, blush 
 ing confusedly that he should have betrayed 
 so calculating a spirit, and taking as much 
 blame to herself as she could, that the less 
 might attach to him. 
 
 "What s that?" resumed the old man in a 
 voice somewhat mollified, as he saw the farmer 
 take from his basket a piece of meat which he 
 had brought from home. 
 
 "A morsel for Surly," answered Graham, 
 and he continued, apologetically, though he 
 knew the dog was half starved, " I thought it 
 better than your city veal." 
 
 Richard Furniss moved uneasily, and looked 
 wistfully after the young farmer, as he with 
 drew, carrying his basket, and the hungry dog 
 the gift which was to propitiate his friendship 
 as well as satisfy his appetite. He turned now 
 from the fire-place, to assist in preparations for 
 
24 M A K R i E j> , NOT MATED. 
 
 breakfast, and holding the loosened parts of a 
 worn-out coffee-mill close together with one 
 hand and between his knees, with the other 
 turned the crank until the grains were ground, 
 and then set the scant drawing to boil in a tin 
 coffee-pot which had neither lid nor handle, 
 and was proceeding to set the table, when his 
 daughters entered the room having been 
 engaged longer than they were accustomed to 
 be with their toilets. "Humph," he said, 
 eyeing them with severity, "you are not 
 much like your mother; she would have 
 been at work while you have been decking 
 yourselves off with furbelows." And he 
 added with what seemed real emotion: "I 
 wish, girls, you would not dress so fine." 
 
 "There, father!" said Kelly, taking the 
 table-cloth from his tremulous hands, and 
 sighing, as she arranged the cracked and 
 broken ware so as to conceal the rents and 
 patches. 
 
 " A most singular old gentleman !" exclaim 
 ed Annette, laughing, as, half blind with 
 tears, the father stumbled out of the house. 
 
 "Oh, Netty, Netty!" said Nelly; and she 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 25 
 
 clasped her little hands together and stood 
 looking into the fire. 
 
 "Why, my fair sister, have I shocked you?" 
 resumed the young beauty, laying her hand 
 on the arm of her sister in mock tenderness; "I 
 spoke no treason; I simply said our honored 
 father was a l strange gentleman, and I repeat 
 it. Would to heaven," she continued more 
 earnestly, "I had not a drop of the Fnrniss 
 blood in my veins." 
 
 "Oh! Netty, Netty!" reiterated the sister; 
 and, unlocking her hands, she went quietly 
 about her work again. 
 
 "I understand your reproof; perhaps I 
 deserve it," spoke Annette, in a cold calm 
 tone, that indicated no self-condemnation; 
 "but, Nell, good and pure as you are, you 
 must feel sometimes that you are cursed with 
 a curse." 
 
 There was no reply, and she continued : tl I 
 felt it, when I was young, a.nd no, not as 
 good as you, but better than I am now." 
 
 "Do not call me good; if you saw my 
 heart if you knew what my thoughts are, 
 often, you would draw yourself away from me 
 
26 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 in fear of contamination, for, Netty, I tremble 
 to confess it, but I sometimes reproach not 
 only the living, but the dead;" and her lip 
 trembled, as she spoke. 
 
 " Wickedness, as I understand it," replied 
 Annette, " is the deliberate and premeditated 
 working of evil not any honest rebellion 
 against unnatural constraint. The lark sings, 
 because of the gift God has given it ; if it were 
 mewed up with the owl, it would pine and 
 die. What business has the lamb in the eyry 
 of the eagle ? And if any circumstance, or 
 combination of circumstances, place it there, I 
 hold that it is not bound to remain in the posi 
 tion, either to be preyed upon, or scorched to 
 death in the sun, if by any means it can pos 
 sibly let itself down." 
 
 .Nelly shook her head slowly and sadly 
 " Talk as you may, but you cannot cease all 
 self-sacrifice, and be satisfied. You cannot 
 turn aside from the path which those who love 
 you have marked out for you, with a con 
 sciousness of rectitude. I cannot." 
 
 "I live," replied Annette, "but for the 
 simple sense of living ; I have small reason to 
 
MAKKIED, NOT MATED. 27 
 
 be thankful at any time ; certainly I feel no 
 gratitude to my parents ; it was not for my 
 pleasure they brought me here. I have grown 
 to womanhood because my constitution has 
 resisted the wear and tear to which it has been 
 wrongfully subjected, and not because of any 
 fostering care bestowed on me. I am warpt 
 from the first goodness and purity of my 
 nature ; my life has been forcibly turned 
 from its bent ; when I would have gone up, 
 I was pressed down ; when I pined for know 
 ledge, I was kept ignorant : and now," she 
 added, 
 
 " I they planted in the desert 
 Will o ersweep them with my sands !" 
 
 "All this, Netty, will not avail to bring you 
 peace." 
 
 " Then you think I am bound to surrender 
 all my hopes and inclinations to the will of 
 one to whom I owe nothing; to take up a 
 cross that must shortly crush me into the 
 grave. No, you may do this if you choose, 
 but from this day I am bound to live after my 
 own fashion." 
 
 "Well," replied Nelly; and the simple 
 
28 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 word seemed to say that from that hour she 
 would try to consecrate herself to duty. 
 
 There was a long silence ; then Annette fell 
 to singing, as if so happy in her late resolve 
 that she could not help exultation. Presently, 
 however, she said, abruptly, as she caught a 
 glimpse of the form of the young farmer reap- 
 proaching the door of the kitchen, along the 
 grounds : " Nell, how would you like Henry 
 Graham for a brother? I am resolved to 
 marry him." 
 
 " Marry Henry Graham ! What do you 
 mean?" 
 
 " Precisely what I say." 
 
 ""Why, you have scarcely spoken to him 
 when did he ask you ?" 
 
 " Ah, my dear sister," said Annette, laugh 
 ing, "you are much younger than I am. 
 True, I have scarcely spoken with him, and I 
 do n t suppose he ever thought of marrying 
 me ; but new influences produce new feelings: 
 perhaps he will ask me." 
 
 " Hush !" and Nelly lifted up her hand and 
 smiled, as she said, " Shall I invite him to sit 
 in the parlor ? 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 29 
 
 " Oh, no, it would only disconcert him, 
 and hinder the progress of our acquaintance ; 
 besides, our preparation of breakfast will serve 
 to entertain him." 
 
 "Ah, Mr. Graham!" and Annette shook 
 hands w r ith him, in her most cordial and 
 winning manner; "I hope I have not 
 detained you against any pressing call upon 
 your time." 
 
 " Oh, no, Miss ; I am very glad if I can 
 serve you in any way ; any commands of 
 yours would flatter me." 
 
 lie blushed as he spoke, and rapidly changed 
 his market-basket from one hand to the 
 other. 
 
 Annette busied herself about the table till 
 he recovered from the confusion into which 
 tliis effort at politeness had thrown him, and 
 then artfully led the conversation into chan 
 nels calculated to place him at ease. 
 
 For the time she seemed to forget that their 
 slight acquaintance should impose any limits 
 to the subjects or familiarity of their discus 
 sion, and asked him a great many direct ques 
 tions, as how far he lived from the city, how 
 
30 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 much land he owned, what was its value, and 
 whether he was not prospectively rich. 
 
 By this, and the preparation of breakfast, 
 Mr. Henry Graham was placed as much at his 
 ease as it was or is possible for an inferior 
 creature to be with a superior one ; for though 
 two, so differing, may sometimes stand on the 
 same elevation, and may seem to be not alto 
 gether ill-matched, the lower cannot escape 
 the consciousness that the higher can over 
 master and crush and annihilate as he will. 
 
 The question whether Mr. Graham was not 
 likely to be the possessor of wealth, drew out 
 the information that his brother Stafford, a 
 surgeon then in the army, shared with him 
 his prospects. 
 
 " Older or younger than you ?" asked An 
 nette, carelessly, and in an undertone adding 
 " Stafford : what a pretty name !" 
 
 The young man colored and did not at once 
 reply, evincing clearly enough, to the quick 
 eyes of Annette, that he was nettled by the 
 greater interest she betrayed in Stafford. 
 
 " Have you been separated long ?" she re 
 sumed, as if not observing his silence. 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 31 
 
 " Three years," he answered; g lancing at the 
 window, and adding something about the 
 beauty of the day. 
 
 " Lovely, is n t it ? Do you expect your 
 brother home soon ?" 
 
 " We are not in correspondence. My 
 mother, I believe, receives letters from him 
 sometimes." 
 
 "Not in correspondence !" 
 
 "No, we are not friends ;" and Mr. Graham 
 compressed his lips, and betrayed in his man 
 ner a positive unwillingness to pursue the con 
 versation. 
 
 "Shall I call father to breakfast?" asked 
 Nelly, interrupting a silence that even to 
 Annette was embarrassing; and without wait 
 ing a reply she withdrew upon the errand 
 thus suggested. 
 
 The house was situated about the middle of 
 the grounds, in the rear of which the trees 
 grew thicker than elsewhere ; and toward a 
 clump of elms whose pendulous boughs hung 
 low, the girl bent her steps, looking unusually 
 ead and thoughtful. 
 
 " Come, father," she said, speaking mor* 
 
32 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 cheerfully than she felt, as, parting the roses 
 and lilacs that hedged in a solitary grave, she 
 found him, where she expected, sitting by 
 the head-stone, a low pillar of marble. 
 
 In a few moments the family and their guest 
 are seated together at their meagre break 
 fast. Richard Furniss is at an inconvenient 
 distance from the table, holding a crust in one 
 hand, from which lie occasionally breaks a 
 small piece, and deliberately places it within 
 his lips. When he is offered a fresh slice, he 
 shakes his head mournfully and replies, "It is 
 no matter about me." His dress is old and 
 shabby, and seems to have been carelessly 
 l>ut on ; his countenance evinces unrest and 
 melancholy, and his whole bearing a mingling 
 of diffidence and ill-humor. Henry Graham 
 looks as if not more than twenty, though he is 
 certainly twenty-five; he is slender and tall, 
 with a roseate complexion, and little twink 
 ling blue eyes. He reminds one, in his man 
 ner, of a stray animal amid a new flock, not 
 quite assured of his position. His hair is thin 
 and long, in color a sandy yellow ; his beard 
 is red ; and in his habitual awkwardness there 
 
MAKKIED, NOT MATED. 33 
 
 mingles occasionally the gallantry and polite 
 ness of gentlemanly blood, liis father having 
 been a man of elegant breeding and scholarly 
 attainments. Of his mother we shall have 
 occasion to speak hereafter. Annette is rather 
 above the ordinary height of women : a bru 
 nette, with eyes and hair black as the night. 
 The expression of the eyes is commonly soft, 
 but when aroused by passion, they have some 
 thing of the glitter that makes one distrustful, 
 almost afraid. She is not stout, nor yet very 
 thin; her countenance, in repose, is quietly sad, 
 and her whole manner subdued ; yet you feel 
 when you have once conversed with her, that 
 somewhere in her nature there is pride, ambi 
 tion, and smothered energy and purpose. One 
 hour her smile wins you, and you can tell her 
 your simplest joys and sorrows ; say you love 
 her, perhaps; but the next there is a sea of 
 ice between you, and this without her speak 
 ing an unkind word, or having withdrawn one 
 beam of her unfaltering smile. She is no 
 longer young, as her conversation has already 
 revealed, but she is .as handsome, perhaps, as 
 she ever was ; something from the fullness of 
 2* 
 
34: M A R R I E P , NOT MATED. 
 
 the cheek and the roundness of the shoulder 
 may be missed, but in the higher expression 
 of beauty she is a gainer by her years. 
 
 Mr. Furniss declines the second cup of cof 
 fee, a beverage of which he is exceedingly 
 fond ; he does not know that it would make 
 him live any longer, he says ; but in fact he 
 thinks himself unworthy of having more, and 
 feels that he is saving a little in refusing 
 it. Sometimes Annette would have pressed it 
 upon him : not so to-day. 
 
 When Mr. Graham invites him to visit 
 Woodside, his country place, he shakes his 
 head sorrowfully, replying that he seldom 
 goes from home ; nobody wishes to see him ; 
 and so, with moisture in his eyes, he withdraws 
 from the house, and is presently sitting by 
 the lonely grave again. 
 
 How we cling to the dust, frail and fading 
 and perishing as it is ! She who sleeps in that 
 narrow and obscure grave has, for him, drawn 
 down after her all the stars of heaven. Poor 
 old man ! blame him not too hastily ; there 
 went out the love that made him forget his 
 grey hairs ; there he first learned how far 
 
K A K K I E D , NOT M A T S D . 3& 
 
 away from happiness he had gone in search of 
 it ; and he has no strength and no courage to 
 retrace his steps. 
 
 Through adversity some persons become 
 pure, and, as it were, kiss the hand that chas 
 tises ; others go wandering and wailing like 
 echoes out of ruins ; and others lift their eyes 
 in reproof when the cloud comes over them, 
 not against God, as they say, but Fate. 
 
30 liARRijiD, NOT MATED. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 ( "T~YTELL, Xelly, what are you thinking 
 of C asked Annette Furniss, as the 
 sisters sat together in their scantily -fnrnished 
 chamber, a week after the scene described in 
 the preceding chapter. The evening was deep 
 ening, and she closed the volume from which 
 she had been reading, one of those exhibi 
 tions of shallow but plausible skepticism with 
 which the weak and the perverse seek so fre 
 quently to lull the stings of conscience, and 
 as she moved listlessly from the window to the 
 bedside, to bury her face in ttie pillows, 
 repeated, " I say, what are you thinking of? 
 "Why don t you speak C 
 
 " Oh, I do n t know," answered the girl, 
 who remained at the window, one cheek rest- 
 
MAKKIED, NOT MATED. 37 
 
 ing on her hand, and hei attention divided 
 between the western clouds, and Surly, who 
 lay below. 
 
 " Do say something," said Annette, petu 
 lantly ; "do, for charity s sake; I can t en 
 dure my own thoughts any longer. 7 
 
 " Come and sit by me : there was never a 
 sweeter sunset ;" and the placid expression of 
 Xelly s face contrasted strangely with the 
 worn and restless appearance of Annette s, as, 
 suddenly sitting upright, she gazed upon her 
 fixedly. In a moment the troubled air grew 
 sorrowful, and she said reproachfully, but not 
 Bitterly, " And so you have nothing to say to 
 me ; well P 
 
 Xetty, my dear sister !" and Xelly stooped 
 and kissed her, " I do n t know what to say 
 that will comfort you ;" and, more playfully, 
 she continued, " the patient cannot expect a 
 cure so Ions: as she conceals her real disease 
 
 O 
 
 from the physician. And Xetty, you know 
 that you have lately withdrawn the little con 
 fidence you ever gave me, and when we talk 
 I feel that it is across some great gulf." 
 Tears gathered slowly to the eyes of An 
 
38 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 nette, and dropped silently off the long lashes, 
 for she did not wipe them; and Nelly felt 
 them on her face when, laying her head on 
 her sister s knees, she said, " I do not blame 
 you if you cannot mate yourself with me, you 
 are so much older and wiser than I;" and, 
 after a slight pause, listening toward the 
 adjoining chamber, "What s that?" 
 
 Annette turned her head in the direction 
 indicated, and said in her cold and calm tone, 
 " Tis father, counting his money." 
 
 There was a long silence, interrupted only 
 by the clinking of the silver. At length An 
 nette, placing her hand on the head of her 
 sister, said, " Nelly, you think me a strange 
 creature, and so I am, neither fit to live nor 
 die ; but if you knew the influences that have 
 made me so ! Oh, Nelly, you do know some 
 of them, but you do not know all the hard 
 ships, and trials, and wrongs, and slights, that 
 have at last crushed out the little good that 
 was long ago in my nature ; you know how 
 hard your life has been, but I have lived lon 
 ger, twelve years longer than you, and my 
 childhood and girlhood have left scarcely a 
 
MAKKIED, NOT MATED. 39 
 
 pleasant memory. Our parents, as you know, 
 were never what is termed poor ; nevertheless, 
 I have suffered from hunger, and cold, and 
 nakedness." 
 
 " Ah, Netty," answered the sister, " do you 
 not fancy the deprivations incident to real 
 poverty ?" 
 
 "No, I have slept in a garret so open that 
 the snows and winds blew over me, and all 
 the while worked like a bought slave. I have 
 thirsted for knowledge, and education has 
 been denied me ; I have wished for society, 
 and am shut out from it by my ignorance and 
 ill-breeding, even more than by all other pre 
 sent restraints. If these things had been or 
 were from necessity, I would not complain ; 
 but to be mewed up in a ruin, and waste, and 
 die here, and for no earthly good " 
 
 She stopped suddenly, pushed her hair from 
 her forehead, and, after a moment, resumed : 
 " The great blight of my life, Nelly, I have 
 not spoken of." 
 
 Her sister looked as if startled with a new 
 apprehension. 
 
 " Oh, tis nothing," she went on, smiling, 
 
40 M A K R I E D , NOT MATED. 
 
 " My heart is broken, that is all ; and if I 
 could have chosen my own path of life, it 
 would not have been. Never mind, I do not 
 like to talk about it. But, never be so foolish 
 as to believe, no matter upon what grounds 
 that any man whose birth and education are 
 superior to yours, will marry you. Never, 
 Nelly, suffer yourself to be so deluded." 
 
 She arose and walked to and fro in the 
 chamber, and Nelly recalled as she did so the 
 summer twilights, long past, when her gay 
 laugh rang out from among the flowers that 
 she had planted and tended with such care 
 (there were no flowers planted now), and when 
 she sat on the mossy door-step in the deeper 
 evening, more quietly, but not .less happy, 
 speaking sometimes very low and tenderly in 
 answer to a voice as low and tender as her 
 own. This was all long ago, when Nelly was 
 a child, but she could remember that Annette 
 was gentle, and loving, and hopeful, that she 
 often kissed her, and talked to her of the 
 goodness and happiness and beauty that were 
 in the world. 
 
 " And for the desertion, Netty," she said, at 
 
M A K K I E D , NOT MATED. 41 
 
 last, " you think too hardly of our parents, 
 because they did not educate you to be the 
 wife of the man you loved ; but that he ever 
 loved you is impossible, else he would not 
 have left you. Turn your reproaches where 
 they belong, and yon will have gained in love 
 and respect for our father ; he is an old man 
 now, and his grey hairs are very close to the 
 grave." 
 
 " Yes, he is an old man, a miserly, misera 
 ble old man ! You are shocked, but truth is 
 truth, whether spoken of man or angel, and 
 truth is truth if not spoken at all. Yet I do 
 love my father, and pity him ; but he will 
 not allow me to make him happy; he has 
 warped me from my bent as much as he 
 could ; and now our natures are antagonistic, 
 and we were better apart than together." 
 
 " "What do you mean ?" 
 
 " I mean that I have suffered, and strug 
 gled, and starved here, as long as I can, and 
 if I can t free myself in one way I will in 
 another : by marrying Henry Graham, for 
 instance." 
 
 Nelly smiled. " I know your pride and 
 
42 MAKKIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 ambition too well," slie said, " to fear such 
 an alliance." 
 
 " Pride and ambition !" repeated Annette, 
 " I have no use for such words ; look at me," 
 and she turned toward her sister : " old, hope 
 less, friendless, and heartless. I once Lad 
 dreams, indeed, but they were dreams. I am 
 learning to see things as they are. "What 
 good will come to me in this old rookery ? I 
 suppose I shall grow uglier, and older, and 
 bitterer, if that were possible. Look around," 
 she said, enumerating some of the weightiest 
 names with which they were both familiar, 
 " will any of these people admit us to their 
 society on terms of equality ? And why not ? 
 God has endowed us as richly as them, and 
 more so ; we are entitled by our wealth to their 
 position ; but by vulgar habits and total igno 
 rance of the usages of cultivated men and 
 women we are exiled from them. "What is 
 the use of hope ?" 
 
 " I do not see as you do, my dear sister," 
 said Nelly, and she proceeded to soften the 
 hard and naked truths before her, as only with 
 the mists that go up from a fountain of love 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 43 
 
 she could soften them. " Remember that when 
 our parents came here, as pioneers, they had 
 little but their hands and their hearts to 
 encourage them ; a hard task they proposed 
 to themselves, and earnestly they wrought for 
 its accomplishment ; no economy was too 
 rigid, no labor too severe, sustained and 
 encouraged as they were by the expectation 
 of one day surrounding themselves and us 
 with the elegances and refinements of life. 
 They did not see nor know that our natures 
 differed from theirs, and that the severe 
 schooling they gave us must embitter all our 
 years. Think of it, Netty ; think of our 
 poor mother, pale, and patient, and hopeful, 
 more for us than for herself, making plans for 
 coming good even on her death-bed, and 
 going from us without having reaped any of 
 the pleasures that should reward a life of toil. 
 If she had lived we might have seen better 
 days. As it is, let us make the mosfr of our 
 scanty means of enjoyment ; life is short, let 
 us not embitter it more than we must." 
 
 And differently as the sisters had spoken, 
 each had said the truth. On the death of his 
 
4:4: M A K K i E D , NOT MATED. 
 
 wife, who had lovingly shared his hardships, 
 Mr. Furniss lost all care for everything ; the 
 bright day he had looked forward to be 
 came suddenly black ; the joy almost with 
 in his grasp was snatched away, and after 
 the first passionate flow of tender grief, only 
 bitterness mingled with his tears. The house, 
 unfinished at the loved one s death, was never 
 completed ; the room in which the corpse was 
 laid was never furnished ; and from the day 
 of her burial all previous accumulations shrunk 
 and wasted toward ruin. 
 
 The father saw the daughters unlike the 
 mother, and was displeased ; naturally they 
 turned toward the gaieties of society, while 
 she had loved only her home ; but I need not 
 enlarge : enough that, kept together by the 
 force of outward circumstances, they grew 
 further and further apart, till the house was 
 divided against itself, and the wretched mono 
 tony forced upon the sisters was fretting out 
 the life of the one and the amiability of the 
 other. So, one thinking of new sacrifices 
 and new endeavors, and the other of better 
 fortune to be attained in some way she 
 
MARKTED, NOT MATED. 45 
 
 cared little what they sat in the old cham 
 ber late into the night. 
 
 " How hot your head is !" Annette said at 
 last, feeling Nelly s forehead burn against her 
 shoulder. She tried to choke back the short 
 dry cough, and smile. Annette softly closed 
 the window, and the sisters retired for the 
 night. 
 
4:6 MARKIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 OUT of the noontide heats of early Juae 
 fly the birds ; the shadows of "Woodside 
 are full of them. It is a fine day for the 
 mowers ; the broad blades of the corn curl 
 together, and dust goes up from the furrows 
 as the last plowing between the green rows is 
 finished. Nowhere within a dozen miles of 
 the great city is there a prettier farm, or one 
 under better culture, or yielding a handsomer 
 interest. The proprietor is a thrifty manager, 
 as a glance over the grounds will attest. 
 
 But let us suppose ourselves in the little 
 red market wagon, with its neat white cover 
 and carpeting of straw, that is just approach 
 ing, almost within view. There is a coverlid, 
 blue and white, thrown over the spring seat, 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 47 
 
 that was never there before, and two or three 
 bunches of mint are twisted under the hoops 
 of the calash ; and Mr. Graham has set his hat 
 jauntily on one side of his head ; he wears a 
 shirt with ruffles, too, and now and then he 
 urges forward the fine horse he drives, by 
 touching his flank with a beech switch, ad 
 dressing the animal the while as though he 
 were a familiar, well acquainted with the per 
 son beside him. 
 
 Annette, for the person alluded to is no 
 other, turns aside to conceal her smiles, raises 
 the white curtain of the wagon, points to a 
 tall monument, the only one towering above 
 the briars and thistles and nameless hillocks 
 of a wayside graveyard, and asks who is 
 buried there. 
 
 " My father," replies Mr. Graham ; "he 
 was a proud man in his life, and the monu 
 ment is of his own design ;" and he adds : 
 " Even in our ashes burn our wonted fires." 
 
 Annette turns her black eyes full upon him, 
 and asks what was the father s name ; and 
 when it is told her, exclaims, " ~Not so pretty 
 as yours !" and she calls over " Henry, Harry, 
 
48 MAEEIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 Hal ! you have a variety of sweet names, 
 which shall I call you ?" 
 
 " Either is sweet as you pronounce it," ho 
 replies, " but call me Hal." 
 
 " And what will you call me ? It will be 
 quite too precise, when you are teaching me 
 to milk, to say Miss Furniss, you know." 
 
 " Oli, I shall call you Netty. I do n t like 
 the Ann." 
 
 " No more do I ; nor the Furniss either," 
 says she ; " I wish some one in charity would 
 give me a better name." 
 
 The young man says he wishes he dare offer 
 his ; and the crimson that blushes along his 
 cheek goes up from his heaart, Annette Fur 
 niss knows that right well ; nevertheless, she 
 answers in a tone that may be either jest or 
 earnest, " I only wish you were not making 
 so pretty a speech to flatter me, Mr. Graham." 
 
 " Mr. Graham !" repeats the young man, as 
 if he would say, why do n t you call me Hal ? 
 but Netty, suddenly charmed with the pros 
 pect, claps her hands in ecstasy, and ex 
 claims : " How lovely ! this is Woodside, I 
 know," 
 
MAEEIED, ^OT MATED. 49 
 
 The young farmer bows in silence, or rather 
 gives his head a backward jerk, -which is his 
 style of bowing. Netty affects unconscious 
 ness of his displeasure, and artlessly tells 
 him she would like to live at Woodside for 
 ever. 
 
 He smiles again, and urges forward the 
 horse with an address of such sort as he would 
 make if it were his brother in the harness. 
 
 Miss Furniss relapses into silent admiration 
 of the meadows, woods, house, and appurte 
 nances, asking herself, perhaps, whether she 
 really would accept them with their incum- 
 brance. 
 
 " For a minute he man talks very well : 
 he is not a simpleton," thinks the girl ; "no, 
 he is far from it ;" so she accosts him fami 
 liarly, arid calls him u Hal." Then he hangs 
 his long legs out of the wagon, and assumes a 
 swaggering air, telling of daring feats he has 
 accomplished, of the immense* value of his 
 property now using only " me" and "my" 
 when he speaks of the estate, and impliedly 
 asserting that his mother and brother are pen 
 sioners upon him. 
 
 3 
 
50 MARRIED, KOT MATED. 
 
 " I wonder if it is all his ?" queries Miss 
 Furniss. "I can count twenty cows on the 
 hills yonder ; and what extensive woodlands ! 
 Timber is valuable here, I suppose, and the 
 house has really been stylish in its time, 
 and barring some little defects every body 
 has his faults this Hal is a good fellow 
 enough." 
 
 A broad avenue, bordered with trees, leads 
 from the main road to the dwelling, a two- 
 story brick house, with an antique portico in 
 front, and a little yardj fenced separately from 
 the rear grounds, where extends a lower range 
 of buildings, edged with curious porches, at 
 the ends of which little rooms have been boxed 
 up, as if for temporary uses. Abdut the yard 
 are a great many flowers, prettily disposed ; 
 some of them rare, and of wonderful beauty. 
 Two partly-grown calves are running loose 
 among them ; and on the lower step of the 
 portico sits a haggish-looking old woman, 
 holding a stick, which she strikes toward the 
 animals when they tread too near the flowers. 
 As Annette, having been assisted to alight, is 
 led by her companion toward this person, she 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 51 
 
 sees her suddenly strike out the stick in a 
 direction where the calves are not, and also 
 sees imperfectly some curious object leap up 
 from where it lay in the sun, hop round the 
 corner of the house, and disappear. With 
 an air of the most punctilious respect " Hal" 
 introduces Annette to his mother, and pro 
 ceeds to drive the calves toward the meadow, 
 the two women, meantime, disappearing with 
 in doors. 
 
 Mrs. Graham assumes a gentle tone, and 
 informs Annette that she has conferred upon 
 a poor old lady the greatest happiness she 
 could possibly enjoy she is confined to her 
 room, from habit, and fears her guest will be 
 lonesome till the return of Stafford, of whom 
 she is evidently proud, though she says of 
 Henry, whom she calls "Sonny," that he 
 reads a great deal, and that his room has quite 
 an antiquarian air. " I have not been in it 
 these six years," she adds ; " I am a poor old 
 creature now, you see ; but I will be smart 
 while you are here, and you will stay three 
 months ; yes, four, or five, or six, won t you, 
 dear?" During all her long address she 
 
52 M A K B I E 1> , Is O T M A TED. 
 
 made not the pause of a moment ; but Laving 
 untied Annette s bonnet, which she said was 
 lovely, stooped over her, patting her cheek 
 and shoulder in the most condescending man 
 ner imaginable. 
 
 While she was thus engaged, one of the 
 side doors of the parlor was opened, stealth 
 ily, and at a mysterious movement of the 
 dame s hand, closed again. It seemed to 
 interrupt the flow of her thought, however, 
 and she shortly disappeared through the same 
 door, having first taken up her outer skirt, 
 and from a dirty pocket of coarse white muslin, 
 tied round her waist with a string, fished up a 
 letter, crumpled and dirty, which she gave 
 Annette to amuse herself with while she 
 should be absent. 
 
 The girl held it at arm s length as she un 
 folded it, for she could not but notice the 
 handful of tobacco ashes, twine, and money, 
 in paper and silver, together with bits of 
 soap, lumps of salve, and things indescriba 
 ble, which had been drawn out of that curious 
 receptacle with the letter. 
 
 " I want you to observe, honey," she said, 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 53 
 
 poking her head within the door, after a mo 
 ment, " how affectionately and sweetly he 
 writes. Unity in families, my dear, is so per 
 fectly delightful." 
 
 Annette did not read the affectionate missive 
 immediately ; the old woman stood between 
 her and any picture her fancy might have 
 been disposed to draw of Stafford. 
 
 She was, perhaps, sixty : tall, unbent, and 
 muscular. Her hair was grizzled, but seemed 
 yet very thick, and was cut short on her neck, 
 turning over in a heavy roll against the frill 
 of her nightcap ; for she wore a cap, which 
 appeared to have served for both night and 
 day, past many washing-days. Her com 
 plexion was dark, her eyes grey and keen, and 
 all her dress slovenly in the extreme. A 
 black silk shawl was carelessly pinned about 
 her shoulders, and her frock was composed of 
 black worsted, soiled and patched so as quite 
 to obscure its original brightness, and make 
 doubtful even its original colors. It was tat 
 tered and fringed at the bottom, and so short 
 as to reveal liberally the petticoat, which was 
 by no means so neat as petticoats are com- 
 
54 M A E R I E D , NOT MATED. 
 
 monly supposed to be. She wore no shoes, 
 but a sort of moccasins instead. Her teeth 
 were sound, nor did she betray indeed the 
 slightest diminution of any of her faculties. 
 Her voice was affectedly and disagreeably 
 affectionate, and she talked incessantly, pat 
 ting and petting every body about her, and 
 herself too. " Is that Hal s mother?" thought 
 Annette, as the door closed, and the maudlin 
 tone changed to one of coarse and bitter anger. 
 She could not hear the words distinctly, but 
 the tone implied an offending party, in whose 
 situation she would not willingly be placed. 
 
 Having recovered a little from the shock 
 which she had really received, Annette, as I 
 said, unfolded the letter, at arm s length, and 
 shaking off a quantity of snuff sticking about 
 it, proceeded to read, failing however to dis 
 cover the especial sweetness or affection of its 
 contents. It began with "dear mother," arid 
 concluded with "your affectionate son, Staf 
 ford Graham ;" but aside from these formali 
 ties, there was nothing to indicate any tender 
 relationship between them. The pith of the 
 communication was, that the writer proposed 
 
M A B K I E D , NOT MATED. 55 
 
 shortly to be at home, that he was in debt to a 
 considerable amount, and that Henry or his 
 mother must immediately forward a stipulated 
 sum for his relief. There were some di ec- 
 tions about the management of the farm, and 
 the epistle concluded as follows : 
 
 " Have that pen, usually denominated my 
 room, cleansed a little : see to it yourself, 
 mother. It must be thoroughly aired, and 
 refurnished sufficiently for comfort, at least; 
 remember these orders are imperative." 
 
 As Annette finished the reading, she glanced 
 round the room, more with a view to see its 
 appointments than she had yet done. Some of 
 the furniture was elegant; a little old-fashioned, 
 to be sure, and arranged very carelessly; 
 indeed the whole aspect of things indicated 
 the absence of a superintendent ; and dust lay 
 over the chairs and tables ; winter curtains 
 darkened the windows ; and cornices, picture- 
 frames, and mirrors were exposed to the flies, 
 swarms of which darkened the ceiling ; but 
 still there were unmistakable indications of 
 former style and liberal expenditure. 
 
 Among the pictures were two portraits, ono 
 
MAEBIED, SOT MATED. 
 
 of a gentleman past middle life, exceed 
 handsome, and with the inimitable air aris- 
 tocrr tic ; the other of a younger man, greatly 
 like he elc andsome, a little 
 
 :.. : : "". : .... -. 
 
 While before these portraits, wondering 
 who they represented, a sudden jerk upon 
 her arm arrested her attention, and turning 
 quickly she saw before her the strangest speci 
 men of humanity she had ever met. In years 
 new-comer seemed a child, but in dress 
 and manner she might hare been a woman of 
 twe:. -r of any age, in fact, for all these 
 
 said to the contrary. 
 
 ~ I suppose," she said, " that may be you 
 thought dinner never would be ready. I was 
 late with iijy washing to-day ; come right out 
 now, and eat such as we have got; nothing 
 very inviting to a town appetite ;" and she led 
 the way to the dining-room. 
 
 nette detained her to inquire about the 
 portraits. 
 
 - TLa: "s Staff. id, pointing a finger 
 
 at the younger of the two ; " you ain t in love 
 with him a ? ready, be you ? Cause if you are, 
 
MAEEIED, HOT MATZD. 
 
 I can tell YOU it ? s lost time : I "ve seen a hep 
 Younger and prettier girls than YOU, that 
 could n t come it when they tried to get him ; 
 I one of em ! ?3 
 
 In all her experience of womanhood, An 
 nette had neYer seen so loose-tongned a crea 
 ture ; but the look with which she answered 
 this in no wise disconcerted her, for, placing 
 her fore-finger against her nose, she exclaim 
 ed, t; You can t come it !" and so she went 
 laughing and skipping out of the room. A: 
 ame time Mr. Henry Graham entered, and 
 politely conducted his guest to the dinner. 
 
 Two or three tables had been joined into 
 one, and a party of harresr already 
 
 partaking of a plain but Yery substantial 
 meal : beef, mutton, and turnips, with milk, 
 apple pies, and cakes. The little woman waa 
 n earring meats and serving 
 the 
 
 in the world do n t ranmarm 
 
 conic said, looking Yexed and ann< 
 
 ry thing will be as cold as a stone - 
 she going to wait and ea: - 
 
 Hal shook his head significantly, and she 
 3* 
 
58 M A K K I E D , NOT MATED. 
 
 broke off the sentence, only, however, to 
 offend in a new direction. 
 
 " Here, old man and old woman," she re 
 sumed, placing two chairs at the head of the 
 table ; " you may as well sit together, I reckon 
 you have to make a beginning sometime," and 
 she laughed meaningly. 
 
 " You are one of the gals," one of the har 
 vesters said, upon which she struck him a 
 smart blow upon the ear, retorting that he was 
 one of them just as much. There was to this 
 a general greeting of laughter. 
 
 " Boys, this lady !" said Mr. Graham, wav 
 ing his hand toward them with some dig 
 nity. 
 
 " Oh, you want to make Netty Fumiss be 
 lieve you are some great things," said the lit 
 tle woman ; " I can see some things if I am 
 nobody but Rache." 
 
 " I wish you could see yourself as others see 
 you," said the vexed young man, blushing con 
 fusedly as he spoke. 
 
 " I do n t," she replied, " cause it might 
 make me feel bad. I d hate to look as simple 
 to myself as a certain young man looked to me 
 
M A K R I E D , NOT MATED. 59 
 
 when he fixed up in a ruffled shirt to go to 
 market." 
 
 All eyes were turned again to the object of 
 this ill-natured taunt. His sorrows were thick 
 ening, but as yet he found ample compensation 
 in the smiles of Annette, who seemed to have 
 formed the determination to please and to be 
 pleased. 
 
 And so began the acquaintance of Annette 
 Furniss, the heartless, disappointed, and em 
 bittered woman, with the youthful and ambi 
 tious farmer. 
 
 Novelty, unless very unpleasant, prompts to 
 good nature. Woodside, in itself, was really 
 a charming place ; and perhaps the flattering 
 attentions of Henry were not disagreeable. 
 Besides, Annette had wound up her energies 
 for the task of freeing herself in some way from 
 what seemed to her the most adverse fortune, 
 and charity would hope that she never once 
 contemplated, even for this end, a system of 
 positive dissimulation. 
 
 The gossiping propensity and odd assurance 
 of Rache amused her, and when the dinner was 
 concluded she began to cultivate the acquaint- 
 
60 M A E E i is D , NOT MATED. 
 
 ance with her so unceremoniously begun, by 
 assisting in the labors of the afternoon. 
 
 They were engaged in removing the dishes, 
 Annette chatting as gaily and almost as wildly 
 as her companion, when Henry, who had gone 
 into the meadow with the mowers, came in 
 with a quail in his hand, which he gave in 
 charge of the girl with many careful directions. 
 While sitting on her nest the poor bird had 
 been surprised by the men and injured in the 
 wing by the point of a scythe. The crea 
 ture laughed as she took charge of it, but gave 
 assurance that she would do all that was need 
 ful in the matter. 
 
 " Look here, Netty," she exclaimed, when 
 Henry was gone, " this is the way to cure the 
 thing ;" and as she spoke she took it by the 
 head and whirled it round in rapid circles till 
 every bone in the neck was broken. 
 
 "Are you totally depraved?" inquired An 
 nette, surveying her coolly. 
 
 "Don know what you mean," she answered, 
 " but I expect like enough I am." 
 
 "How old are you?" 
 
 "Don know I m a young woman." 
 
MARKIED, NOT MATED. 61 
 
 "Have you a father and mother?" 
 "Got a mother hain t got no father and 
 never had as I know of he died or run away 
 or something." 
 
 "And why do n t you live with your mother?" 
 " Cause I got a step-father, and he s ugly to 
 me; if he s beat me once he s beat me a hun 
 dred times, and so I run away. And now, if 
 you re done asking questions I 11 go and split 
 my oven wood I forgot to tell Hal but it s 
 no difference I can chop as fast as he can." 
 
 So saying she went with a skip and a jump 
 toward a heap of wood near the kitchen door, 
 and selecting a dry fence rail, began to cut and 
 split it into slender strips, singing, as she did 
 so, for the pleasure of Annette, rather than her 
 self, as her manner indicated, one of those 
 senseless refrains, which were never worth the 
 writing, and yet have descended through num 
 berless generations as if a portion of the very 
 atmosphere of rural life. Pity mingled with 
 her laughter, as Annette listened and looked, 
 for the girl s rudeness and precocity were alike 
 ludicrous and sorrowful. In her form and fea 
 tures she appeared as if but between thirteen 
 
62 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 and fourteen years of age ; her dress was long, 
 and in all respects like that of an adult woman; 
 her hair was knotted up with a very large 
 comb, and arranged in puffs along the cheeks 
 and forehead, after the fashion of the ladies of 
 that time; her feet were bare, and seemed not 
 to have been washed lately; her sleeves rolled 
 far aboye the elbows ; and a large towel, worn 
 as an apron, completed her costume. 
 
 "Have you liyed here eyer since you left 
 your mother?" asked Annette, when Eache 
 returned to the kitchen with her arms full of 
 the oven wood. 
 
 "No," she answered, dashing the fuel into 
 the great brick oven ; " 1 7 ve lived at a hun 
 dred places, if I Ve lived at one. You see, 
 when folks get ugly to me I tie up my things 
 and cut. 
 
 "And do you like this place?" 
 
 t; Yes, when Staff is away;" she continued, 
 U I do n t think his picture the prettiest thing 
 ever was, if some other folks do." 
 
 " And you like Henry ?" said Annette, 
 ashamed to betray the interest she felt in Staf 
 ford. 
 
M A B B i E D , NUT MATED. 63 
 
 "Yes," she answered, "he is good to me, 
 and good to every body ; there ain t a brute 
 beast in "Woodside that do n t foller after him 
 if he goes a nigh ; he s good, he is ; I 11 say that 
 for him, if a certain young lady do n t think he 
 looks so well as Staff, and if a certain old wo 
 man (I don t say you ve seen her, and I don t 
 say you haven t) thinks he ain t a fine gentle 
 man ! : Having arranged the wood, she set 
 fire to it, and, screwing her mouth to one side, 
 said demurely, Granmam likes Hal. in fact, 
 enough sight the best. 
 
 "So I should think," answered Annette 
 ironically. 
 
 " How long re you going to stay here 3" in 
 quired Rache, abruptly; and she proceeded, 
 u I ask you because a certain person do n t 
 love visitors well enough to eat them." 
 
 " And so you think I had best limit my 
 visit?" 
 
 "I did n t say so ; I would n t say a word 
 against granmam for the world ; as true as I 
 live and breathe, I meant somebody else; 
 somebody you don t know; I meant an old 
 man ; no I did n t, I meant a young man. 
 
64: M A II II I K I) , W ; <> T M A T E D . 
 
 " Then I was mistaken," said Annette. 
 
 " May be you think there ain t no young man 
 in this house but Hal ; some folks have been 
 here a good while and did n t find out every 
 thing." 
 
 "I never suspected there was not another 
 person in the house," Annette replied ; " I 
 rather thought there was, from some indica 
 tions." 
 
 " What a big fool I am," said Eache, "bab 
 bling secrets ; but, never mind, I told a big 
 story; there ain t no young man in the house; 
 if there is he s crazy ; no he ain t, he s a fool; 
 no, it s all a big lie ; Jim would n t be the only 
 one granmam would beat with her big stick, 
 if she heard me run on so. I did n t mean to 
 say Jim, there ain t no Jim as I know of." Af 
 ter a moment s pause she went on: "You ve 
 got a father ? What kind of an old man is he ? 
 is he rich? has he joined any meeting? live in 
 a big house ?" 
 
 And so she gabbled, working all the while 
 with twice the energy and efficiency of a com 
 mon servant. The dinner dishes were rinsed 
 in a twinkling; then half a dozen loaves of 
 
M A K R i E D , NOT MATED. 65 
 
 bread were made ; eggs were beaten for pies 
 and cakes ; and when all was completed the 
 oven was found to be heated ; to work and to 
 talk very fast seemed alike natural to her. 
 For greater convenience, for she was far from 
 tall, she had made a little bench which she 
 moved from place to place as her duties re 
 quired ; now standing on it to get her bread into 
 the oven, now to wash the dishes, now to see 
 into the closet. She had learned every thing 
 "of her own head," she said, and managed all 
 the household affairs as she chose, for gran- 
 mam remained in her own room pretty much 
 with Jim : muttering the name so that An 
 nette only guessed what she said. 
 
 When she had set the bread and pies to bake 
 she brought in from the garden two mammoth 
 turnips, one of which she gave to Annette, and 
 having tipped her chair back, proceeded to 
 eat the other, first preparing it by scraping a 
 mouthful at a time with a case knife. 
 
 She knew not her age, nor her name, ex 
 cepting that it was Rache ; nor did she care to 
 know. There was nothing sensitive in her na 
 ture ; she could work and earn her own living. 
 
66 M A K R i E D , NOT MATED. 
 
 she said, in one place or another, and no thanks 
 to any man. To excel in all departments of 
 housekeeping was her ambition ; and that she 
 did every thing in the best style was her un 
 hesitating belief. That anybody was wiser she 
 had no suspicion ; nor had she ever thought 
 whether the world was flat or round ; that cab 
 bages and corn grew in it she knew, but the 
 most important fact in her brain was, that 
 she should be married some day, and the proba 
 bility was that it would be at no distant one. 
 "With men and women, she conversed as though 
 her experiences were as large as theirs. Was 
 any one ill, she made him gruel ; did any one 
 die, she helped to make the shroud ; she enjoy 
 ed the comfortable assurance that she was 
 equal to all occasions, and to all conditions. 
 Such was the real mistress of "VYoodside. 
 
MABKIED. NOT MATED. 67 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 AND now Henry Graham is very happy. 
 The days were never so full of sunshine 
 for him. He is up with the larks in the morn 
 ing, and singing as gaily as they. In all res 
 pects, indeed, he is improving ; there is a re 
 fining influence in the atmosphere of Woodside 
 now that was never in it hefore. He does not 
 repeat his old and familiar slang phrases so 
 habitually ; he is not aware of dropping them, 
 perhaps, but in conversing with Annette he 
 finds no uses for them. The blue trowsers he 
 used to wear about home, \vith grey patches over 
 the knees, hang from a peg in the stable, and 
 those formerly appropriated to Sundays and 
 market days are in every-day requisition. The 
 weather-beaten straw hat has kindled one of 
 
68 MAKKIED, NOT MATEI:. 
 
 the kitchen fires, and a new one, with a broad 
 rim and black ribbon, is substituted. He spends 
 more time among the flowers than formerly, 
 giving the sickle and the plow into other hands. 
 In air and feature he seems improving, too : 
 in the shadow of the broad rim, and the flow 
 ers, the bronze is softening on his cheek ; the 
 beard that used to look crisped and scorched, 
 as it were, and faded, too, carefully kept now, 
 assumes a richer dye, and curls full and grace 
 fully. 
 
 " Beally Hal," says Annette one evening, as 
 he approaches where she sits, reading, under the 
 low apple tree boughs, " Really Hal, you do re 
 semble your brother a great deal more than I 
 at first supposed." The smile that illuminated 
 the young man s face increased the resem 
 blance, for it was, perhaps, the smile, more 
 than any regularity or grace of feature, that 
 made the picture of Stafford beautiful. 
 
 "You are very kind, but my brother has 
 greatly the advantage of me, in every way." 
 He looked down and his pleased expression 
 vanished as he spoke. 
 
 " By the way," said Annette, coquettishly 
 
MARKIED, NOT MATED. 69 
 
 playing with the straw hat which he had 
 thrown aside, " why don t you have your 
 picture painted ?" 
 
 " Because," he replied, still bending his eyes 
 on the grass, " I should not value it myself, 
 and no one else would, I am sure." 
 
 " Remember what a treasure it would be to 
 your friends, if by any chance you were sepa 
 rated." 
 
 " Humph !" was his only answer. 
 
 " You are not amiable to-night ;" and she 
 put on a half-offended air, and became sud 
 denly enamored of the prospect that presented 
 itself in the direction opposite. 
 
 She had invariably succeeded in pleasing 
 before, when she had exerted her powers, and 
 now was really vexed. 
 
 Both were silent for a time, but a woman is 
 usually the first to break silence under such 
 circumstances, and Annette said, at length, in 
 a careless tone : " What day will you. be going 
 to market ?" 
 
 He mentioned the day, simply ; and if he 
 understood the intimation that Annette would 
 return home with him, he did not betray it. 
 
70 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 To say truth, lie was not quite assured of his 
 position ; since coming to Woodside, Annette 
 had completed the conquest over him pre 
 viously hegun, but whether the feelings she 
 had inspired were reciprocated at all, and if 
 so, how far, was extremely questionable. 
 
 One day she would rake hay in the meadow 
 with him, and enter with playful seriousness 
 into all his plans for the future cultivation and 
 improvement of Woodside ; or talk of the next 
 month and next year as though her interests 
 were identified with his ; but all the while 
 keep herself involved in a mist ; and try as he 
 would, he could not see precisely where to 
 find her. Once or twice he had essayed to 
 strip off this obscuration, but with each endea 
 vor she either " made herself into thin air 
 and vanished," or stood out distinctly visible 
 and impenetrable as a statue. 
 
 " I belong to myself and you belong to me," 
 seemed, whether it were so or not, to be the 
 thought which governed all her wayward 
 policy toward the conquered and anxious 
 swain. But to-night the business of love- 
 making, which had hitherto been carried on 
 
M A H K I E D , NOT MATED. 71 
 
 in playful banter, seemed likely to assume 
 a more serious aspect. Henry had uncon 
 sciously adopted a manner best calculated to 
 bring liis mistress to terms. 
 
 "Perhaps, after all," she thought, as she 
 sat in silent meditation, " he has been as little 
 sincere as myself." But while she was revolv 
 ing some little stroke of art by which to lessen 
 the distance between them, she saw herself 
 suddenly deserted. 
 
 A party of rustic girls was entering the 
 gate, and he was gone to meet them. They 
 seemed in high spirits, but their mingled 
 voices and laughter came gratingly on the 
 nerves of Annette, and the more so, perhaps, 
 that one of them, a rosy-cheeked, curly-haired 
 creature, of not more than sixteen, seemed to 
 command the especial notice of Henry ; while 
 that she looked pretty in her rustic dress and 
 simple white hood, there was no denying. 
 
 They had been sauntering among the flowers 
 fifteen or twenty minutes, when Rache, having 
 got through with the milking, joined the little 
 party her sleeves rolled up as usual, and 
 her skirt pinned over her petticoat and hang 
 
72 M A K R I E D , NOT MATED. 
 
 ing in a long point behind. She shook hands 
 with each of the girls, saying, as she did so, 
 "I am well, I thank you how do you do 
 yourself?" 
 
 Afterward she asked of affairs at home, say 
 ing to one, " I understand your father is very 
 sick : what doctor does he have ?" 
 
 " Oh dear me, suz !" she exclaimed, on 
 hearing the name of the attending physician, 
 " do tell your father if he wants to die to take 
 poison at once. I meant to have gone to see 
 him, but I have so many cares and duties at 
 home." 
 
 Of another she inquired the age of the 
 baby; how much it weighed, and what name 
 was talked of. " I understand it has a dread 
 ful deformed foot," she said, "and that the 
 doctor has put it in some kind of a machine 
 which he screws up tighter every day, and 
 that the little thing cries with all its might 
 whenever its foot is touched. Poor innocent ! 
 just to think how it suffers when it cries till it 
 gets black and blue in the face." 
 
 To another, with the same thoughtless, 
 and impudent familiarity, "I understand your 
 
MAKKIED, NOT MATED. 73 
 
 brother has come home ; they say that so far 
 from making money where he has been, he is 
 back worse than nothing. I hear he looks 
 dreadful bad too, and coughs like he had the 
 consumption." 
 
 It was ludicrous to see her, with a hand set 
 upon either hip, conversing in such fashion, 
 and with a careworn expression on her face so 
 unsuited to her years. 
 
 " We are going to a debating society to 
 night," said Henry, making his most polite 
 bow, as with the young women he approached 
 his capricious and uncertain charmer ; " shall 
 we have the pleasure of your company, Miss 
 Furniss?" 
 
 Miss Furhiss felt like replying, "Thank you, 
 Mr. Graham ; you do me more honor than I 
 desire." 
 
 She did not so reply, however, but accepted 
 the invitation as courteously as if it were with 
 the greatest delight. But in vain she twisted 
 flowers among her hair and tried to be gay. 
 No woman likes to see another taking from 
 her the attentions she has been accustomed to 
 4 
 
74 MAKEIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 receive, especially if that other be younger 
 and prettier than herself; and Annette could 
 not quite reconcile her fancy to the society of 
 Bache, with whom she was coupled, while 
 Mr. Graham offered his arm to a fair damsel 
 in a white hood. 
 
 The little woman looked odd enough on the 
 way to the debating society. She had devoted 
 five minutes to the making of her toilet ; and 
 wore now a pair of coarse shoes on her feet, 
 and on her head a yellow bandana handker 
 chief. She had rolled down her sleeves, and 
 tied on a long, narrow, black silk apron, the 
 property of her " granmam," as she called 
 Mrs. Graham. This last article was the part 
 of her apparelling that she was particularly 
 proud of; she repeatedly caught it up and 
 shook it smartly (for it fell greatly below her 
 skirt), reiterating each time, " How silk does 
 catch the dust !" 
 
 Once or twice she rallied Annette about her 
 depressed spirits, asking whether the cat had 
 got her tongue ; what made her. talk so much j 
 and the like. To all of which that somewhat 
 
M A K E, i E D , NOT MATED. 75 
 
 disturbed young lady replied, that she was 
 not especially silent, as she knew of, and that 
 she was sure she felt very well. 
 
 The twilight grew darker and darker, and 
 here and there a white star trembled overhead, 
 as the party entered a field of woodland, so 
 narrow as to be readily seen through. The 
 way, previously dusty, became damp, for the 
 branches of the trees interlocked above ; grape 
 vine swings depended from some of them ; and 
 small pens of sticks here and there, called 
 playhouses by the children, indicated proxi 
 mity to a schoolhouse. 
 
 It was a small, square building of hewn 
 logs, with the low boughs of maple blowing 
 against the windows. About the door the 
 ground was beaten smooth and hard, by 
 the treading of many feet, and across some 
 of the fallen logs slabs were balanced, that 
 told of the charming play of see-saw. But 
 all the attraction to-night was within doors, 
 and many were the groups of girls and boys 
 who suddenly appeared, as if just risen up 
 out of the woods. 
 
 There were no shouts, no laughter, but a 
 
76 M A ii R i E D , NOT MATED. 
 
 suppressed hum of voices instead, denoting 
 the coming on of a great affair. Most of the 
 members of the society were already assem 
 bled, and conversation in undertones was 
 going on. There were old farmers and young 
 farmers, mechanics and day laborers, of vari 
 ous ages and conditions. A rusty stove occu 
 pied the middle of the floor, and seated upon 
 it, when our party made their entrance, was 
 a lad of eighteen, perhaps, thick-set, with a 
 round freckled face, and bold black eyes. 
 Trowsers and shirt composed all his dress, and 
 in one hand he held an old straw hat, with 
 part of the rim torn away. Altogether he 
 was quite as noticeable a figure as the school 
 master himself, a smiling old man, whose grey 
 queue was tied with a fresh black ribbon, and 
 whose carefully-brushed, thread-bare suit told 
 the poor gentleman looking his best. He paid 
 his respects to Graham and his friends with 
 graceful urbanity, offered them the best seats, 
 and hoped the evening would afford them 
 some compensation for their trouble in coming. 
 He wore no goose quill in his hair as a badge 
 of his profession ; his hands were white, with 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 77 
 
 nails of monstrous length, the careful shaping 
 and preservation of which betrayed the direc 
 tion of his vanity. 
 
 " Stop a minute," spoke Rache, as he was 
 about retiring ; " I want to know how you sell 
 horn ; I see you have a sign out ; if you 11 just 
 cut them ere off," she said, taking his hand 
 familiarly, " I 11 send a two bushel basket 
 to-morrow and get them." And she folded 
 her long silk apron into a fan, which she 
 flirted violently, adding, "What a good air 
 silk does make !" 
 
 There was some laughter, here and there 
 an indication of surprise or displeasure at the 
 creature s impudence, and a general confu 
 sion, which presently subsided, and the school 
 master was discovered in earnest examina 
 tion of the contents of his desk, and Rache, 
 with her apron spread smoothly down, fan 
 ning herself with the torn hat beforemen- 
 tioned, and the youth with the scant dress no 
 longer sitting, but standing in evident ecstasy 
 of admiration his head, as it were, involun 
 tarily reaching toward the bold face of Mrs. 
 
78 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 Graham s hired girl. She had made a con 
 quest, there was no doubt about that. 
 
 " The house will now please come to order," 
 said the president, taking the schoolmaster s 
 chair. 
 
 Then followed considerable discussion about 
 congressional and parliamentary rules, in the 
 midst of which the boys, hitherto whispering 
 about the door, made their entrance : two, and 
 three, and half a dozen, at a time. 
 
 During this preliminary debate, also, the 
 youth with the black eyes made himself useful 
 by snuffing the candles, a process requiring 
 some sleight of hand, the fingers being used as 
 snuffers, and all-out-of-doors as a tray. The 
 inkstands of those days were mostly earthen 
 or pewter jugs, and were made on occasions 
 of this kind to serve as candlesticks. An 
 opportunity was offered Rache to pay back 
 some of the admiration he had bestowed 
 on her. "JSTow be careful," she said, as he 
 took up the inky candlestick nearest her : 
 " silk burns so easy." 
 
 The expression of the interesting young per- 
 
i\I A K R I E D , NOT MATED. 79 
 
 son s countenance showed that he felt honored 
 by such notice, and his gratitude was evinced 
 by an amiable smile and a familiar wink. 
 
 She evidently understood him, for she pro 
 secuted the acquaintance by asking how he 
 hurt his lingers, one or two of which ap 
 peared to be in bandages, and by recom 
 mending a poultice of flaxseed and honey, 
 which, she said, had cured a certain friend of 
 hers, after the doctors had given him up. 
 
 Meantime the interesting discussion of the 
 parliamentary rules was waived, and the regu 
 lar exercises of the evening opened by an 
 nouncing the question for debate : " Ought 
 women to be allowed the right of suffrage ?" 
 
 A great excitement pervaded the house when 
 it was read, during which two or three per 
 sons took the floor arid began speaking at 
 once. 
 
 There was a cry of " Order !" 
 
 "The question is absurd," said one, an old 
 man, with thin grey hair, parted and combed 
 back from either temple, like a girl s ; " I am 
 surprised that gentlemen will admit" 
 
 Here his voice was drowned by the sharp 
 
80 M A K E I ED , NOT MATED. 
 
 tones of a youth with long legs and a forehead 
 much the shape and size of a yearling heifer s. 
 " I cannot express my pleasure," he said, " in 
 being permitted to raise my voice in favor of 
 the feeble and the downtrodden, and the 
 beautiful." Here he bowed toward the ladies, 
 and then resumed : " Man, Mr. President, is a 
 tyrant." 
 
 Cries of " Order," and " Sit down," com 
 pletely overpowered both disputants. 
 
 A controversy as to who had rightful pos 
 session of the floor followed, and it was finally 
 voted that both gentlemen should take their 
 seats. 
 
 " Has no member of this society any argu 
 ment, pro or con, on this soul-stirring topic?" 
 asked the presiding officer. 
 
 " Mr. President," said a smooth-faced, yel 
 low-haired person, blushing with embarrass 
 ment, " wholly unprepared as I am, and 
 unaccustomed as I am to public speaking, I 
 must beg your indulgence for the few brief 
 remarks I have to make. "When the Creator, 
 sir, had finished this little world, sir, in his 
 usual elegant and delicate style, sir, he made 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 81 
 
 Eden, sir, and in that Eden he placed man, 
 you know ; and what did man do there, sir, 
 surrounded with gorgeous flowers and deli 
 cious fruit, as he was, sir,- and dressed in gold 
 and purple, sir, like a king upon his throne ? 
 "Why, sir, he he he "(here the eloquent 
 young man dropped his voice), " he was kind 
 o lonesome, sir! and therefore," elevating 
 his tone, " woman was created ; yes, sir, cre 
 ated, sir, out of his ribs, sir ; and does n t that 
 prove that she is as good as he is ? And now, 
 sir, that man, with his blind, brute instincts, 
 should deny her the right of suffrage, the 
 glorious , right for which our revolutionary 
 sires fought and bled, seems to me, sir, a 
 wicked, wicked sin." 
 
 He paused, wiped the perspiration from his 
 face, and resumed in a plaintive and pleading 
 tone, extending one hand in the most grace 
 ful manner imaginable toward the ladies : 
 " Look upon her, gentlemen, and let your 
 stony hearts be melted ; how eloquent is her 
 persuasive smile ! how dignified and charming 
 her every motion! the C3 r es of the gazelle are 
 dim compared with hers, and the nightingale s 
 I* 
 
82 M A K R I E D , NOT MATED. 
 
 note is hoarse contrasted with her voice. Oh, 
 gentlemen, gentlemen ! when you next rally 
 round the polls, make her your guiding star, 
 and as you avail yourselves of the inestimable 
 privilege of self-government, c look through 
 nature up to nature s God. With these few 
 hasty remarks, Mr. President, I submit the 
 subject into abler hands;" and he sat down, 
 quite exhausted. 
 
 Up rose a tall, dark youth, with bushy black 
 hair, and a nose like the beak of an eagle, in 
 another part of the room, and exclaimed, 
 "Mr. President, imagine your mother, sir, on 
 the stump !" he spoke in an irreverent tone, his 
 head bent forward, and his keen grey eyes 
 fixed on the distinguished personage he ad 
 dressed: "just imagine her babbling forth her 
 political notions to the populace ! There is no 
 man, sir " (here he placed his hand where his 
 beard should have been) " who has a higher 
 regard for woman than myself, and it is that I 
 honor and esteem and love her, that I would 
 save her from the corrupt influence of that 
 public career which is associated with the 
 ballot-box. Heaven hide from us the day 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 83 
 
 (and lie looked devoutly upward) " when her 
 bright eyes shall be intoxicated with the 
 applause of partisan assemblages! In her 
 proper sphere, the heart of man is ever ready 
 to do her homage, but outside of that, her 
 name becomes a by- word. E"o, sir, I would not 
 wrong woman by extending to her the right 
 of suffrage, nor would I defraud man of his 
 proper sovereignty. Look at the burning 
 plains of Mexico, all white with the bones of 
 men as good and as brave, Mr. President, as 
 the best and bravest as you, or myself! The 
 heart aches, and the eye grows dim, to think 
 of the bleeding remnant of our soldiery revel 
 ing in the halls of the Montezumas ! Me thinks 
 I can almost hear the dogs howling through 
 the everglades of Florida, and see the poor 
 fugitives making their last agonizing endea 
 vors to escape from the fangs of the blood 
 hounds! These are glorious and terrible 
 reflections, Mr. President, and when I see 
 gentlemen, right in the face of them, drawing 
 woman from her peaceful seclusion into the 
 vortex of the polls, and all the sanguinary " 
 "The gentleman is personal," said the young 
 
84: MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 man with the forehead like that of a juvenile 
 inhabitant of the farmyard, half rising. 
 
 " Order !" " Order !" called many voices. 
 
 " Mr. Brown has the floor," said the presi 
 dent ; and Mr. Brown, lifting both hands over 
 his head, exclaimed, " Oh, judgment, thou 
 hast fled to brutish beasts, and men have lost 
 their reason !" And so he sat down, concen 
 trating all his remaining logic and eloquence 
 in a look of his grey eyes, which was thrown 
 upon the young Cicero with the broad fore 
 head. 
 
 " I rise, Mr. President," spoke a meek and 
 smooth-haired man, with, a thin feeble voice, 
 his hands thrust in his trowsers pockets, and 
 his eyes on the floor : " I rise to say I perfectly 
 coincide with the sentiments of my friend Mr. 
 Brown, who has just spoken with such distin 
 guished ability;" and with this expression of 
 his views he resigned the floor to an " abler 
 speaker." 
 
 Then up rose a stately, staid-looking gentle 
 man, with a white face, grey hair, and a 
 fringe of snow-white beard round a pointed 
 chin slowly rose and slowly balanced hixu 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 85 
 
 self on heel and toe, his hands locked behind 
 him and proceeded with his well-considered 
 speech : " Mr. President, ladies and gentle 
 men in my humble view, though there has 
 been some flourishing of arms, some flashing 
 in the pan, as it were, there has been a total 
 deficiency of execution, as yet. This debating 
 society, sir, is capable of giving us something 
 like argument ; it has not done so, as yet. I 
 have no skill to enforce my ideas, but to my 
 old-fashioned eyes my wife looks better putting 
 the house in order than she would depositing 
 a vote in the ballot-box. I do n t want, gentle 
 men, to make myself conspicuous here to 
 night, and therefore simply repeat that I have 
 heard no arguments, as yet. Mr. President, I 
 think woman s spear is at home." 
 
 Another speaker took the floor. He was a 
 plethoric person, liaving short legs, a small 
 head set down between his shoulders, and little 
 feet, which, standing or sitting, he kept close 
 together ; each part of him seemed lost in 
 some other part, so that he appeared like an 
 oval substance of some sort, with one end or 
 one side on the floor. " He did n t know," he 
 
86 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 said, "what sort of engagement gentlemen 
 expected ; for himself, he thought there had 
 at least been some pretty sharp skirmishing. 
 He had not heard the argument of his friend, 
 the first speaker, answered to his satisfaction. 
 ~No gentleman in the negative had dared to 
 touch that bold and beautiful illustration of 
 the garding ; did any gentleman suppose that 
 that crowning piece of excellence, our mother 
 Eve, was thrust away from the ballot-box, and 
 Cain, the unfeeling murderer, permitted to 
 vote ?" The slight elevation which had been 
 seen in that part of the room whence his voice 
 seemed to come, suddenly disappeared. 
 
 But the remainder of the high reasoning and 
 impressive oratory called forth that night by 
 the great question, must be imagined. Suffice 
 it that the candles were burnt down to the ink 
 before a motion for adjournment was made. 
 Henry and Annette had, during the combat, 
 exchanged whispers once or twice, with accom 
 panying smiles which indicated amicable rela 
 tions. Yet it is probable each felt still the 
 distance between them, and the necessity of 
 bridging it over in some way; and as they 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 87 
 
 emerged from candlelight into moonlight, Mr. 
 Graham offered his arm a favor which Miss 
 Furniss accepted with gracious acknowledg 
 ments. She was not unaware, however, that 
 the little lady in the white hood shared the 
 gentleman s courtesy, and monopolized his 
 conversation. All ill humor presently melted 
 away, however, before the momentary excite 
 ment produced by an exemplification of the 
 new condition of things proposed by the 
 reformers of society. As the party emerged 
 from the schoolhouse, Rache, who had kept 
 her eyes upon the youth who had filled the 
 useful office of snuffer of the candles, ap 
 proached him, and laying her hand authorita 
 tively upon his own, said, "I must see you 
 home, or you must see me hpme ; and you d 
 better see me home." 
 
 "I hain t no objections, seeing you want 
 me to," he said ; and, summoning all the bra 
 very of his nature, " I won t do nothing else." 
 
 The twain fell a little iu the rear, but their 
 conversation was still overheard. 
 
 "What may your name be?" inquired 
 Rache. 
 
88 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 "Martin Muggins," was answered; "but 
 Mart, for short." 
 
 "Well, I 11 call you Mart." 
 
 " Do n t you think the ladies had the best 
 of it ?" inquired Mart. 
 
 "I did that. What did you think, Mr. 
 Muggins ?" 
 
 " You said you would call me Mart." 
 
 "Well, then, Mart?" 
 
 " I in on your side, of course. I had a 
 notion to git up and give them fellers Jessie." 
 
 " Why didn t you, Mart Muggins?" 
 
 " Of course I could come it over them ; 
 but, Raclie, do n t you wish you had the right 
 of sufferage?" 
 
 " I do n t wish nothin else." 
 
 " You re one of em ; s pose we walk faster 
 and keep the grass from growing under our 
 trotters." 
 
 " I m agreed." 
 
 " What do you say ?" 
 
 "Nothin, nothin; I did n t say nothin," 
 and checking the speed of the youth, she said, 
 "Mr. Muggins, I 11 make you acquainted 
 with Mr. and Mrs. Graham." 
 
JM A R E, T E D , NOT MATED. 89 
 
 Then, breaking into boisterous laughter, the 
 couple quickened their pace, and were soon 
 out of view. 
 
 Rache and her protege, or beau, afforded 
 a subject of conversation and fun to the party 
 for the remainder of their walk. 
 
90 M A It R I E D , NO T M A T B D 
 
 OHAPTEE Y. 
 
 THE night was still and bright and beauti 
 ful ; the white harvest moon threw the 
 shadows of the grapevines against the wall 
 and over the mossy steps, where, sitting alone, 
 were Henry Graham and Annette Furniss. 
 There is always a soothing and softening in 
 fluence in the calm of a summer night. The 
 young people were alone, and the making up 
 of a quarrel is rarely an unfavorable opportu 
 nity for the making of love. Nevertheless 
 they talked of the debating society, of the full 
 moon, of the cattle lying in picturesque groups 
 about the meadow, and seemed to regard all 
 these matters with a great deal of interest. 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 91 
 
 u After all," said Henry, taking the hand of 
 Annette in his own, " the scene would lose its 
 main charm if you were away." 
 
 " You are very kind," she replied ; " of 
 course the lady who is present is the most 
 fascinating ; she of the white hood made the 
 twilight quite delicious, I fancy." 
 
 Henry answered just as she had expected 
 him to answer, that no one could make fair 
 the twilight or the night or the day, except 
 herself. 
 
 " How did it chance that you took so much 
 trouble to adorn the grounds here with fruits 
 and flowers ? you did not know me, and could 
 have had no idea of giving me pleasure by 
 such pains." She spoke gaily, making some 
 slight show of withdrawing the imprisoned 
 hand, which was but the more firmly retained 
 as he answered, " True, I did not know you, 
 but we all have an ideal which governs us till 
 the real ruler makes her appearance ; and you 
 have taken the place of mine." 
 
 The voice trembled that said this ; there 
 was unsteadiness in the arm that encircled 
 the waist of the girl, and a real tenderness in 
 
92 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 all the manner of the young farmer as his lips 
 touched, and only touched, her forehead. 
 
 " My dear Hal," she said gaily, at the same 
 time disengaging herself and rising, "you play 
 the lover admirably ; but it grows late, so 
 some other time 
 
 " I 11 meet you by moonlight alone, 
 And there you shall tell me the tale. 
 
 And with this response she threw him a kiss 
 from her hand, and was gone. 
 
 She had resumed her old position. That she 
 belonged to herself, and that Henry belonged 
 to her, was perfectly evident. A further con 
 fession would, perhaps, not have displeased her, 
 but for a secret hope she chose still to cherish. 
 " Hal is very good, and I like him," she may 
 have mused, as she drowsed into sleep, " but 
 he is not Staff: and yet, a bird in the hand ! 3: 
 
 And Henry listlessly sat on the mossy steps, 
 his head dropped against his bosom, and 
 his eyes on the ground. The black shadows 
 of the grape-leaves were forgotten, and the 
 distant groups of cattle, lying in the soft 
 waves of the moonlight, or in the shadows of 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 93 
 
 high trees with far-reaching limbs, no longer 
 recalled visions of romance, or what he had 
 read of fairy-land. 
 
 The most tormenting of all passions was at 
 work in the heart of the ambitious dreamer, 
 and "fears, and hopes that kindle fears," 
 started out of every new thought. That An 
 nette was intellectually his superior he felt; 
 that she did not dislike him he knew; but 
 that she either avoided all conversation of 
 love, or talked of it only in a jesting tone, 
 was a fact full of painful significance, from 
 which nothing could divert his memory. 
 Then, too, vexing him more than anything 
 else, there was the anticipation of a formidable 
 rival ; for it is the weakness of all lovers to 
 suppose every one must see with their eyes 
 the being by whom they are enchanted. The 
 long night wore away in desultory reveries, 
 and white breaks along the eastern clouds told 
 of the morning, before he rose from the seat 
 where she had left him. There was but one 
 hour for sleep ; nevertheless, his dreams drew 
 themselves out into years ; he had gone over 
 the sea and traversed many countries, some- 
 
y-i MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 times gaining and sometimes losing sight of 
 the object of his worship, when suddenly he 
 found himself surrounded with armed men 
 saw a dungeon before him and Stafford 
 
 O 
 
 leading the way toward it. Making a despe 
 rate effort to escape, he awoke ; a sheet of 
 bright light stretched across the floor ; the sun 
 was an hour high. 
 
 He raised the window and looked out to 
 assure himself that he was really safe, and at 
 home. A travelling carriage was at the door, 
 and there seemed some unusual stir about the 
 kitchen. He felt the truth ; Stafford had 
 arrived. 
 
 As the unsceptered Saturn bowed his head 
 and listened to the Earth, his ancient mother, 
 for some remaining comfort, so he looked 
 down, saw the flowers, all fresh with the 
 morning dew, and, cutting the rarest and most 
 beautiful specimens, with a reckless disre 
 gard of their value and the pains they had cost, 
 the elder brother, looking haughtier and hand 
 somer than ever. That the bouquet was de 
 signed for Annette he knew instinctively, and 
 with this consciousness came a sense of despair; 
 
M A PRIED, N T M A T E D . 95 
 
 with other cowardice, which was as much 
 a result of shame as of conviction of his 
 inferiority. He remembered all the boasts he 
 had made to Annette of his feeling of indiffer 
 ence in regard to Stafford, and of the awe in 
 which his brother lived when at home ; and 
 he knew in his heart that it was he who feared 
 Stafford, and not Stafford who feared him. 
 He almost wished he was dead ; quite wished 
 his rival were in the ends of the earth ; wished 
 that he had never seen Annette, or that he 
 were not so much a fool as to love her, while 
 she loved not him ; and at last, having made 
 a thousand conflicting wishes and resolves, he 
 took from the shelf a well-worn volume of 
 Byron, placed it under his arm, and left 
 the house, unobserved by any one but 
 Eache. 
 
 That amiable young woman was drawing 
 water from the well, by means of an old- 
 fashioned sweep, and presented a most comi 
 cal appearance as she pulled it down, not by 
 any steady process, but by a succession of 
 jumps into the air. 
 
 " Oh, Hal !" she exclaimed, come here ; 1 
 
96 MARRIED, NOT HATED. 
 
 want to tell you something ; something that 
 will make you as happy as a king." 
 
 Henry smiled, laid his book on the flat stone 
 at the well-side, and drew up the water, while 
 the girl stood twirling a ring, in which a red 
 stone was set, and which she had never before 
 been known to wear. He rallied her upon 
 the possession of such a jewel, and asked how 
 she came by it. 
 
 " Oh, it was gave to me," bhe replied ; " not 
 by any one I saw last night. No, nobody 
 gave it to me ; I stole it from my mother s 
 finger once when she was asleep." 
 
 " I understand ; but what were you to tell 
 me?" 
 
 She laughed out, clapped her hands, and 
 pointed across the dooryard. 
 
 Henry looked and saw Annette, who was an 
 early riser, with a lovely bouquet in her hand, 
 and listening to Stafford as he pointed out the 
 extent of the grounds. 
 
 That individual recognized his brother, 
 with a graceful wave of his hand, and a 
 bow, but without the slightest interruption of 
 his conversation, or any betrayal of emotion. 
 
M A R E I E D , NOT MATED. 97 
 
 It can only be guessed what a mingling of 
 bitterness and sadness there was in the heart 
 of the young man, as, taking up the volume 
 of his favorite poet, he bent his steps toward 
 the deepest and most secluded groves of 
 Woodside soothing his despair with the re 
 flection that Annette would be pained to see 
 him going away under the influence of such 
 melancholy emotions. But he deluded him 
 self; she did not think of him at all. 
 
 Rache had no assistance about the breakfast 
 this morning, as she had had sometimes pre 
 viously ; but she consoled herself, partly with 
 the thought that Stafford would see all her 
 smartness, and partly with the consideration 
 that she could get along just as well without 
 Miss IS^etty, and a good deal better. Stimu 
 lated a little by ambition, and more perhaps 
 by the hope of becoming a housekeeper in 
 her own right, before long, she brought the 
 short-cakes and coffee to the table in advance 
 of the usual time. 
 
 " Why, Rache, you are a real treasure," 
 said Stafford, patronizingly, as he seated him 
 self at the table; "I do n t know how we 
 5 
 
98 MARRIED, K o T M A T E D . 
 
 shall keep house without you, as I am told we 
 have a prospect of doing." 
 
 She received the civility and banter with a 
 strange grimace, after which she said she was 
 a whole team and no mistake, and at the same 
 time exhibited the new ring. 
 
 " Ah, that is genuine paste," said Stafford, 
 looking at the great red glass ; " where did 
 you get so valuable a jewel?" 
 
 "How long are your ears, to ask such a 
 question \ but being as you are impudent 
 enough to ask, I 11 tell : we went to debating 
 school last night, and they would n t let me 
 walk with them coming home; so I went 
 ahead and found this in a mud-hole : I think ] 
 see it shining;" then changing her laughing 
 to a more demure expression, she said, "I told 
 a story : it w as gave to me by my father on 
 his death-bed ; oh ! they say he died the hard 
 est ! dear me !" 
 
 " I am afraid you will be like him in that 
 respect," remarked Stafford, smiling in spite 
 of the grimness of his prophecy. 
 
 There was a sound of approaching steps, 
 and, quicker than an eye could be turned to 
 
JU A K R 1 E T) , NO T M A T ED. 99 
 
 ward the door, an exclamation, " Oh, Staffy, 
 Staff} 7 ! my darling itty, bitty baby ! have 
 you come back to make your old mammy 
 glad?" and Mrs. Graham threw her arms 
 about her son, and embraced him, repeating 
 all her endearing expletives of delight. 
 
 " Good heavens, mother !" he said, pushing 
 her off, "have you 110 sense of propriety?" 
 
 " Now mamma s little boy would n t be 
 naughty," she said, squeezing him in her arms 
 again: "Netty, precious little honey that she 
 is, knows I doat on you, but T never told her 
 that I hoped she d be your little wify, some 
 time, did I, Netty?" and she patted the girl 
 on the cheek, and looked in her face most 
 affectionately. 
 
 Annette colored and said, " Certainly not." 
 
 "Mother," and Stafford spoke coldly and 
 authoritatively, "I am ashamed of you; that 
 you cannot be a lady is certain, but surely 
 you can be more of a woman, if you try." 
 
 " Just hear how he talks to his old mammy," 
 she said, turning her head half aside, and 
 speaking as if to invisible attendant witches, 
 who had power to avenge so striking and 
 
100 M A K it i E D , NOT MATED. 
 
 unlooked-for a disrespect and want of filial 
 duty. 
 
 " Do n t mind him, granmam ; lie s a great 
 proud good-for-nothing, and that s just what 
 he is," said Eache. 
 
 So began the first breakfast. 
 
 Mrs. Graham seemed not at all disconcerted 
 after a moment or two, by the arrogant and 
 assuming behavior of her son, but kept all 
 the while laughing and munching, and now 
 and then uttering exclamations of delight 
 about the re-union. of her family. 
 
 " Scarcely a re-union," said Stafford, at 
 length ; " where is Hal ?" 
 
 "Just as if you cared!" interposed Eache. 
 
 Stafford made no reply, and Mrs. Graham 
 said he was no doubt overcome by his feel 
 ings, and would join them at dinner. 
 
 " And James, too, I have not seen him," 
 continued Stafford. 
 
 The old woman munched on, affecting not 
 to hear. 
 
 " Is he under treatment now ?" asked Staf 
 ford. 
 
 " S taffy , my boy, excuse me if I do n t wait. 
 
MARRIED, NOT MAT E n . 101 
 
 I have not been out of. my own room till now 
 since Netty came ; she knows what a poor old 
 woman I am, and knows my ways ; every 
 body has their ways; and with her most 
 mincing manner Mrs. Graham departed. 
 
 " You asked about Jim," said Eache ; "he 
 ain t under no treatment but granmam s that 
 I know of. I saw him hopping under her 
 stick, just when you were cutting Hal s flowers 
 for Netty, like a hen with her head cut off." 
 And she continued, placing her mouth close 
 to Stafford s ear, "A certain young woman, 
 whose name begins with N", do n t know there 
 is any Jim." And, regardless of the reprov 
 ing look she received, she talked on at ran 
 dom, rising as soon as she finished her meal, 
 and at once removing the dishes, saying as she 
 did so, " Do you want any more of this, or this ?" 
 
 " I wish Hal was here," said Stafford, as he 
 rose from the table; "go and tell him I want 
 him, Eache." 
 
 "Who was your negro waiter last year?" 
 she answered, pursing up her lips ; and after 
 a moment, repenting, " What do you want 
 with him?" 
 
102 M A R K i K i> , NOT MATED. 
 
 "To carry my trunks up, replied Dr. 
 Graham. 
 
 " Up where ?" 
 
 " To my room." 
 
 " It s more than I know where your room 
 is; Hal has the best room, and he says he 
 shall keep it." 
 
 "What a cursed old house this is," mut 
 tered Stafford; excuse me, Miss Furniss," 
 and he followed his mother into her apart 
 ment. 
 
 " Well, Netty, what do you think of Staff 
 now ?" asked Rache, when he was gone ; and 
 she went on to say that for her part she 
 thought him as proud as Lucifer, and that 
 Hal and his mother both feared him ; but 
 thank her stars ! she was not afraid of any 
 man. 
 
 Whatever Annette thought, she did not 
 choose to say, but evidently she desired to 
 please her new acquaintance, and when lie 
 emerged from his mother s closet and invited 
 her to walk, she declined on the pretext that 
 she had promised Rache to assist a little about 
 the house that day. 
 
M A Ji R I K D , NO T M A T K D . 103 
 
 "You will get small thanks from Mr. Staff," 
 whispered Rache, "if you work all day to 
 make his room nice." 
 
 Brushes, brooms, and dust-pans were brought, 
 into requisition, and presently Mrs. Graham 
 appeared, saying that to please her dear sonny, 
 and for a funny frolic, she proposed to reno 
 vate her own room a little. 
 
 " Oh, I am glad," said Kaclie, clapping her 
 hands, " it s fun to get into granmam s curi 
 osity shop ;" and, taking Annette by her 
 sleeve, she drew her along. 
 
 "Yes, darling, go and see my antiquities; 
 and my little pet, too ; I never told you about 
 my little pet." 
 
 Perhaps Annette desired to make herself 
 useful, but she wished, also, to gratify a little 
 harmless curiosity as to the creature Mrs. 
 Graham kept with her in her room, for she 
 had often heard voices there, and once or twice 
 caught glimpses of something not wholly un 
 like a member of the human family. 
 
 Granmam, as Rache called her, passed 
 almost all the time within the compass of four 
 narrow walls, doing nothing that ever made 
 
104: M A II HIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 itself known or felt beyond them. She drank 
 and slept there, and since coming to Wood- 
 side, Annette had now seen and spoken to her 
 for but the second time. On entering the 
 room the first object that arrested her atten 
 tion was a deformed child, nine or ten years 
 old, perhaps. He sat upon a stool, in the 
 corner, netting some coarse white yarn. His 
 face was intelligent, but marked with scars, 
 and his back was bent as if it had been 
 broken. He laughed out on seeing Annette, 
 and manifested his joy in other childish ways. 
 He had rarely seen a human face, except the 
 ugly one of his grandmother. 
 
 " Well, Jim," said Eache, roughly, lifting 
 him into an upright position, " do you know 
 that me and this young woman have come to 
 take you and put you in prison ?" 
 
 The boy smiled incredulously, and said he 
 thought he was in prison now ; but when she 
 took from her pocket a piece of twine and 
 began to tie his hands, he turned beseech- 
 . ingly to Annette, not daring to speak. Just 
 then Stafford came in, and pushing Eache 
 aside, told the frightened child he was not to 
 
MARRIED, NO T MATED. 105 
 
 be put in prison, but to run about the fields 
 of Woodside, and pull flowers ; that he was to 
 eat with the family, and give his wooden bowl 
 to the cats, and wear trowsers and a coat like 
 other boys, and grow up to be a man one of 
 these days. The little fellow was quite over 
 come, and burying his face in the skirt of his 
 long woolen frock (for he was dressed more 
 like a girl than a boy), cried piteously of joy 
 and surprise. 
 
 But Stafford grave him his knife, and drvinjr 
 
 / O 
 
 his tears, the little creature went out into the 
 sun, happier than he had ever been in his life. 
 He was the grandchild of Mrs. Graham, sub 
 ject from his birth to fits, in one of which he 
 had fallen in the fire and been burned so that 
 his face was badly scarred. On the death of 
 his parents he fell into the hands of his grand 
 mother, and had fared but hardly ; never 
 having any care or training but such as were 
 dispensed by the rod ; for with all her pretence 
 of love, the eld woman was tyrannical in the 
 extreme, and since her children had grown 
 away from her authority, little James had 
 been the recipient of all her cruelty. He 
 
106 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 looked strange, inhuman almost, bent down 
 as lie was, and dressed in a costume so inap 
 propriate ; but his eyes evinced a quick intel 
 ligence that belied the impression at first 
 received from his appearance. He said little, 
 and seemed commonly inclined to be alone. 
 He knew nothing except what his grand 
 mother had told him, and had seen nothing 
 except the meadow and the woods, and the 
 corn-fields fronting her windows. 
 
 No wonder he laughed when he was per 
 mitted to go freely into the sun and pick 
 flowers, and twine up slender ropes of grass 
 with which to lead the calves about the plea 
 sant meadows. 
 
 " Mercy on us ! how shall we begin ?" ex 
 claimed Annette, looking about her in despair. 
 At home the housekeeping had not been very 
 thorough, but " gran mam s room" was in 
 advance of her experiences. In one corner 
 there was a loom, which, in her girlhood, had 
 been of value to Mrs. Graham, but which for 
 long years had been unused. Over the beams 
 of this piece of furniture were hung her vari 
 ous cast-off and extra-fine garments, from the 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 107 
 
 rose-colored wedding dress to the bombazine 
 mourning gown worn for her deceased hus 
 band ; and here, too, were dozens of hose, 
 worn past all mending, remnants of flannel 
 that had been petticoats, and numberless 
 other articles belonging to female apparel. 
 High over all, as it was never used, hung a 
 calico sun-bonnet belonging to James, whom 
 Mrs. Graham called her little darling, now 
 that she had been induced to speak of him at 
 all. 
 
 In another corner was a bed, covered with 
 a patchwork counterpane and sheets, not too 
 clean, and under and about the pillows, and 
 at the foot, and under the sides of the bed, 
 were pocket handkerchiefs and aprons and 
 night-caps, all, as Rache said, black as dust- 
 rags. But beneath it the collection of fea 
 thers and dirt was frightful ; indeed granmam 
 explained, by way of apology, that she pretty 
 generally swept the little litter about her room 
 under the bed : it saved the trouble of open 
 ing the door. And here, covered with such 
 accumulations, and edged with mildew, was a 
 wooden bowl, out of which the child ate bis 
 
108 MAKRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 bread and milk. Old bird-cages hung along 
 the wall, with bunches of herbs and seed corn, 
 bags of dried fruits, which nobody had opened 
 for years, and, depending from pegs, or stuck 
 in cracks here and there, were bright feathers 
 of birds, skins of moles and squirrels, and 
 other curious things, which Henry had pre 
 sented to the child from, time to time. Against 
 one of the windows, and constituting all the 
 curtain it had, suspended by its silver stirrup, 
 was a side saddle, which in its day had been 
 very stylish. The carpet was threadbare, and 
 so faded and dirty that one color was scarcely 
 distinguishable from another ; nevertheless, 
 the dust beneath it made it softer than a new 
 one, granmam said. Pipes, tobacco, bits of 
 paper, broken crackers, half-eaten slices of 
 bread, lumps of chalk, balls of beeswax, dirty 
 spools of silk and twine, a heavy gold watch 
 that had belonged to her deceased husband, 
 several pair of spectacles, and other things 
 " too numerous to mention," were heaped 
 together on the mantelpiece, and overhung 
 with canopies of spiders webs. 
 
 But the cupboards presented a yet more 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 109 
 
 forbidding aspect. A collection more gro 
 tesque and miscellaneous never, perhaps, 
 challenged human observation. A cat and 
 three kittens reposed comfortably in the lower 
 part, on a cushion covered with brocade, 
 from which it might be inferred that a stylish 
 dress of this material had sometime been in 
 Mrs. Graham s possession, though cast aside 
 now, with other attractions of her youth. On 
 the topmost shelf, a ten-years-old bonnet 
 extended its immeasurable front ; while else 
 where were heaped gloves, stiff and faded 
 with the damps of many seasons ; hair-brushes, 
 with all the spoils gathered in a long service ; 
 combs, with teeth and without, in every vari 
 ety known during a quarter of a century ; 
 yellow laces and faded ribbons ; remnants of 
 old calicoes, preserved as if for possible but 
 most improbable patchwork, and whatever 
 else the careless, lazy, and sellish creature 
 had found opportunity of hoarding from pov 
 erty or time, to gloat upon in the years she 
 should devote to memory and repentance, 
 with such good works as have most potency 
 in opening the gate of heaven. 
 
110 M A K E, I E D , NOT MATED. 
 
 Now and then, as Rache unfolded and shook 
 vigorously some article or other, a bank-note 
 floated slantwise to the carpet ; or money, in 
 silver and gold, rattled noisily down : so closely 
 related sometimes are the apparently incom 
 patible habits of miserly thrift and careless 
 ness. 
 
 " Oh, dingnation take it!" exclaimed Eache, 
 turning to Annette with an expression of de 
 spair in her face, and scraping together on the 
 floor at the same -time a quantity of shelled 
 corn, bits of finely gnawed linen and paper, 
 and broken cobs, among which for a long time 
 the mice had luxuriated undisturbed. 
 
 The room was by this time in as complete 
 disorder as it was possible to render it, but 
 when grandma m assured her assistants that 
 she would shortly have it beautiful, they were 
 quite willing to leave all to her management, 
 confident that of dust and rubbish they had 
 insured the removal of at least half a year s 
 accumulations. Other parts of the house now 
 demanded their invasion. The presence of 
 Stafford was a signal of general internal revo 
 lution. 
 
MAKKIED, NOT MATED. Ill 
 
 Rache was directed to remove Henry s things 
 up another pair of stairs ; that is, to prepare a 
 cot-bed for him, and to make the room he had 
 occupied as nice as could be, for the new master. 
 
 " And you, dear," said the old woman, pat 
 ting the cheek of Annette with her skinny 
 hand, "go and find my little pet Jimmy, I 
 want him to carry out the ashes ; do n t you 
 think Staffy said there was enough to bury me 
 in?" 
 
 Annette smiled to see how the fire-place was 
 heaped full, and the hearth quite overspread, 
 as she went in search of James, but without 
 any intention of.fulfilling her commission. The 
 cripple child started as he saw her and crouched 
 under the, flowers, among which he had been 
 sitting ; but when she spoke kindly, he looked 
 up, and begged that she would not strike him, 
 saying he would go back and do whatever 
 grandma m wished. 
 
 "And do you like to work for grandma m ?" 
 asked Annette. 
 
 " I do n t know," he said ; " I expect I like it 
 well enough, if she would n t whip me." 
 
 "And what do you do for her?" 
 
112 M A K K I E D , NOT M A T E D . 
 
 " Tie up her shoes and wash her night-caps, 
 and roast the potatoes, and wash the dishes, all 
 but my bowl, and that I do n t wash, without I 
 please." 
 
 " But why do n t your grandma m eat with 
 the family ?" 
 
 " Her own room is best, she says ; that s all 
 I know." 
 
 "Do you like her?" 
 
 " I expect so, when she ain t cross." 
 
 "Do you like any one else?" 
 
 " Yes, uncle." 
 
 " What makes you like him ?" 
 
 " Cause he s good to me, and gives me 
 things ; and once he said if it was n t for gran- 
 ma m he d tear this old frock into ribbons." 
 
 "And don t you like uncle Staff?" 
 
 " Xo, I expect I do n t." 
 
 " Why ? he was good to you this morning." 
 
 " Yes, but that was n t cause he liked me, it 
 was just to be against granma m. But uncle 
 Hal comes at night, when its cold, and brings 
 me kivers from his bed." 
 
 The flowers blew against his face, and as he 
 told of the goodness of his uncle Hal, the 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 113 
 
 infantile expression grew more intelligent, and 
 Annette felt affection mingling with pity as 
 she azed on him. 
 
 o 
 
 "Shall I kiss yon before I go?" she asked, 
 as Rache, looking from an Tipper window, 
 called to her. 
 
 " Oh no," said the boy, hiding his face in 
 the woolen frock he wore ; " I hav n t done 
 nothing." 
 
 " Poor child !" said Annette, " putting her 
 arm around him and kissing him, " did no one 
 ever kiss yon before ?" 
 
 " Not that way," he said, the tears gathering 
 to his eyes; and looking back, she saw his 
 head over the tops of the flowers, and heard 
 him say she was a great deal prettier than 
 either Rache or grandma m. 
 
 Henry s room was more cleanly than his 
 mother s, bnt in other respects was quite as 
 curious. Books of poems, stones of strange 
 shapes and bright colors, live birds and dead 
 fnsects, snakes in liquor, pots of flowers, and 
 human skulls, the property of Dr. Stafford, 
 were mingled together; the carpet lay loosely 
 on the floor, without being tacked down ; and 
 
114 MAKKIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 the furniture, generally, placed anywhere and 
 everywhere but in its proper places. 
 
 Rache was busy carrying the flowers into 
 the room where she had arranged the cot-bed, 
 when Stafford presented himself, and said it 
 was his pleasure to have them left where they 
 were. Henry had taken good care of them 
 while he had been away, and he would give 
 him a slip or two if he desired. 
 
 Some of the oldest furniture was then taken 
 out, and newer brought in its stead. Even 
 Mrs. Graham s room lost a rocking-chair, and 
 the parlor some pictures and a sofa, in the 
 preparation of Stafford s chamber. Henry s 
 slippers and some other articles of personal 
 comfort were appropriated by him without the 
 least scruple, and as if he conferred a favor by 
 making use of them. 
 
 Though to Annette his manner was gracious 
 and smiling, she could have seen plainly 
 enough, if she would, that his real disposition 
 was selfish, tyrannical, and haughty. 
 
 " Just corne and see how nicely old gran- 
 ma m has fixed up her room," presently called 
 Mrs. Graham ; and Eache and Annette de- 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 115 
 
 scended ; but Stafford remained, saying lie 
 was content with the picture of fancy. 
 
 In what way the disposition of things had 
 been improved it was impossible to tell, as 
 they appeared to have, been replaced in greater 
 disorder than before. True, there had been a 
 removal of a portion of the rubbish and the 
 dirt, but of odds and ends, worn out garments, 
 and every species of riff-raff that one might 
 dream of seeing in a witch s cell, there re 
 mained still more than sufficient to crowd each 
 shelf, and corner, and all the floor, under the 
 bed and. about it ; and if Annette had been 
 addicted to such quotations, she would have 
 exclaimed, as she looked in the door where 
 the old woman stood with her cap and every 
 part of her dress browned with the settling 
 dust they had disturbed, and a purring cat, 
 with tail erect, marshaling a litter of kittens at 
 her feet, " Surely, < chaos has come again. 
 
 The sun had been gone down an hour, and 
 the family sat at the tea-table, when Henry, 
 whom no one had missed or inquired for, 
 returned; an expression of deep, profound 
 
116 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 dejection was on his face, and the volume of 
 poems still beneath his arm. 
 
 "Just take one of those trunks with you," 
 said Stafford, as he passed through the tea 
 room on the way to his own ; and this was the 
 first time he had spoken to him since his com 
 ing home. Henry made no reply, but took up 
 the trunk as directed and set it down where 
 Stafford had expected. For a few minutes he 
 busied himself in removing such books as he 
 especially valued to his upper chamber ; and 
 if he felt displeasure, he manifested none. 
 When he returned, no one except Eache no 
 ticed him or made room for him at the table. 
 In truth, both Mrs. Graham and Annette were 
 too much absorbed in Stafford s narration of 
 the wonderful exploits he had performed, to 
 think of any thing else. All the dangers he 
 had ever known, and perhaps some he had not 
 known, were crowded into half an hour, and 
 when he had as amply as possible set forth his 
 courage, he fell back on his professional dio-- 
 nity, and, unlocking a polished rosewood case, 
 examined and displayed the various surgical 
 
MARKIED, NOT MATED. 117 
 
 instruments it contained, trying their edges 
 with his fingers, and rubbing them with his 
 pocket handkerchief. 
 
 " There, 1 said Rache, laughing, as she sur 
 veyed him with impudent coolness, "I think 
 Annette has seen them all ; you may as well 
 put em back in your little bureau, or what 
 ever you call it." 
 
 The blush grew crimson in his cheek, as 
 Henry s ill-suppressed smiles evinced the exult 
 ation he felt at this more rude than unjust 
 reproof of his vanity ; but his reply, whatever 
 it would have been, was cut short, for Kache 
 suddenly sprang from the table, catching one 
 foot in the skirts of Annette, and upsetting a 
 footstool in her way, as two or three vigorous 
 strokes of the axe at the wood-pile expressed 
 to her ears* a peculiar and alarming meaning. 
 
 "Lord-a-marcy !" said Mrs. Graham, "is it 
 my little pet? I d quite forgot him." 
 
 " No, it is not," answered Rache, " it s a 
 great big nigger man ; it ain t nobody ; the 
 axe is just chopping of its own accord." 
 
 "I guess it s somebody that gave somebody 
 a ring last night," said Annette, laughing. 
 
118 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 " "Well, it is," replied Rache, skipping out 
 into the moonlight ; and, seated on the log, the 
 new acquaintances remained in happy conver 
 sation for an hour. 
 
 Having drank a cup of tea, Henry took in 
 his arms the huge trunk that remained, partly 
 by way of exhibiting his strength, perhaps, 
 and carried it away. 
 
 I wish my brother were not a fool," said 
 Stafford, following him with a look of con 
 tempt; "and that reminds me of Jim poor 
 deformed little wretch has nobody gone to 
 see after him ?" 
 
 Now there was no one to go, as he well 
 knew, his mother having gone to her own 
 room, and Henry up stairs. 
 
 Affecting the greatest concern for the child, 
 and manifesting a deal of displeasure at the 
 indifference of his mother and Henry, he called 
 to the latter and directed him, if he had a 
 spark of humanity in him, to make some search 
 for his poor deformed nephew. This done, he 
 seated himself composedly and proposed a 
 game with cards. 
 
 An hour elapsed, and they were deep in the 
 
I 
 
 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 119 
 
 game lie and Annette when Rache ran into 
 the room crying so loud that she might have 
 been heard half a mile away, followed by 
 Henry, bearing in his arms little James, white 
 and cold. In one stiffened hand he held some 
 flowers, and his hair and woolen frock hung 
 heavy with the dew. 
 
 " Died in a fit, I suppose," said Stafford ; 
 " carry him away; and Rache ? do ii t, for hea 
 ven s sake, scare the owls. Miss Furniss, what 
 is the trump? or shall we give it up? This 
 disagreeable affair, I think, might have hap 
 pened some other time." 
 
 Annette turned her eyes from Stafford to 
 Henry, and saw his lips quiver, and tears on 
 his cheeks ; saw him stoop and kiss the rigid 
 face of the dead boy ; and, throwing down her 
 cards, arose and followed him. They laid him 
 on the bed, and Henry combed smooth his 
 hair, untied his woolen dress, and wrapped 
 him in a white sheet, performing all the sud 
 den and sad duties of the occasion with an 
 unaffected melancholy, which even overcame 
 for the time his consciousness of the inhuman 
 ity of the rest of the family. 
 
120 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 " He is better off," said the old woman, 
 drawing her roasted potatoes from the fire ; " we 
 ought not to wish him back ;" and seating her 
 self on an old trunk in the corner, she munched 
 her food, saying she had nothing to reproach 
 herself for, as she knew of; she had always 
 done her duty. 
 
 "Yes, granmam, and more too," interrupted 
 Rache, slipping a rod from beneath the bed 
 clothes, and breaking it spitefully to pieces. 
 " Poor Jim !" she said, as she drew tenderly 
 over his stiffened feet a pair of warm wool 
 stockings that she had knitted for herself, " ] 
 wish I had not been so ugly to him, but I never 
 felt how I loved him till he was dead as a 
 door nail, that I did n t. Hal," she continued, 
 "you ll put something pretty on his grave 
 stone, and don t write his name what he was 
 always called, Jim Graham, but write it 
 1 James/ and let him for once be made of, a 
 little. 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 121 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE funeral day was lonesome enough at 
 Woodside, not that the poor little boy was 
 much missed ; how. could he be ? but the coffin 
 and the shroud, and the solemnity^ burial, 
 even when the meanest or the lowliest dies, 
 leave mournful impressions on the hearts of 
 all whom chance or necessity compels to see 
 them. 
 
 There was no regular funeral service, but 
 the coffin was placed in the parlor, by the open 
 window, and a "reverend good old man" read 
 a chapter from the Bible, and prayed fervently 
 that, in the morning of the resurrection, the 
 crooked branch might be made straight. 
 
 Mrs. Graham said it was "such a dreadful 
 thing to take leave of the corpse" she felt 
 6 
 
122 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 quite unequal to it, and so remained in her 
 own room and roasted her potatoes, as usual. 
 
 "I always did hate a funeral," said Stafford, 
 "but how the devil will it look if I am absent !" 
 So, at the latest moment he presented himself, 
 dressed precisely, and with a becomingly seri 
 ous air. 
 
 A few women of the neighborhood came in, 
 some with babies in their arms, to whom, as 
 they saw the coffin, they said, softly, that a 
 poor little boy was dead, and to be buried in 
 the ground, and never seen any more. 
 
 Many men were at work mending the road 
 that day, and, as they came opposite the house, 
 Rache seated herself conspicuously at the wia- 
 dow and cried, in the hope of attracting theii 
 attention; nor was her behavior altogethei 
 hypocrisy; she did but what she thought hei 
 duty. 
 
 Hearses were not in use in the country at 
 that time, and the wagon in which Henry 
 went to market served for carrying the dead to 
 the grave. 
 
 Stafford, pushing his brother aside, assisted 
 Annette into the family carriage, and seated 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 123 
 
 himself beside her, leaving Henry to find what 
 means of conveyance he could. 
 
 A few men and boys followed, some on foot 
 and three or four on horseback, and the pro 
 cession m )ved slowly forward. 
 
 It was on a hill of the AVoodside farm, half 
 covered with trees, and half lying open to the 
 sun, that the child s grave was made, and none 
 but the tears of Rache fell over the clods that 
 covered him. 
 
 Mrs. Graham often talked about her little 
 pet and said he was all the comfort poor old 
 grandma m had ; but Rache insisted that " the 
 old woman did not take it hard at all." 
 
 Some weeks passed, and Miss Furniss still 
 remained at Woodside ; and all went on as 
 monotonously, but discordantly, as in such a 
 family might have been anticipated. Henry 
 Graham was busy with harvests and markets, 
 but when at the house, whatever his demeanor, 
 evidently not altogether master of that passion 
 which had seemed so hopeless since Stafford 
 Graham s return. And Stafford Graham 
 daily repeated himself re-performed the char 
 acter in wliicb Annette had first seen him, with 
 
124 MARRIED, NO r MATED. 
 
 variations. She perfectly understood him, and 
 yet was strangely under his influence, not so 
 much on account, of any fascination which he 
 exercised, as in consequence of her own exper 
 iments upon his temper, which had involved 
 her in meshes meant only for his subjection to 
 her will. 
 
 "I tell you, Netty, it s all lost time," said 
 the ever-meddling little housekeeper, springing 
 as it were out of the ground, for she always 
 appeared when and where you least expected 
 her ; " Staff likes to talk with you well enough, 
 but I ve seen him talk before, and he won t 
 marry you more than he will me, for all you 
 stick flowers in your hair and try to look 
 pretty." 
 
 " Keally, Kache, you do n t understand your 
 position," answered Annette, not a little dis 
 pleased. 
 
 "Well, I understand yours ;" and making a 
 sudden jump, as if to catch something, she 
 exclaimed, " there he goes ! with his great big 
 eyes ; oh, I could cut his ears off! He ain t 
 no more a doctor than you be," she continued; 
 "I guess IVo cooked mutton for him, and I 
 
MAERIED, NOT MATED. 125 
 
 ought to know. Now, if lie do n t eat the 
 most twice as much as Henry twice as 
 much !" 
 
 Annette could not forbear smiling at a 
 conclusion thus drawn, even though some of 
 Rachel s suggestions had stung her a little. 
 
 " Just look how straightly he walks, as if he 
 did n t see us ; he thinks he 11 make us feel 
 bad, gracious sakes help him, as if any body 
 cared for Stafford Graham !" 
 
 And gathering her hands fall of j^jppies and 
 marigolds, she retreated toward the kitchen, 
 singing to a tune of her own, 
 
 " She braided a wreath for her silken hair." 
 
 " She was right about his seeing us," thought 
 Annette, as she observed Stafford slowly walk 
 ing among the distant trees as though uncon 
 scious of every thing but himself in the world. 
 " If he thinks to pique me, he is mistaken." 
 And rising, she turned into a path leading 
 through the rear grounds and presently joined 
 Henry, who with his dogs and gun was 
 returning home from a fowling excursion. It 
 was in the evening twilight, and the barn-yard 
 
126 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 was full of cows and calves, and on the stile, 
 dividing it from the dooryard, the hunter seated 
 himself, and throwing his game at his feet, 
 smiled to Annette his invitation to a place 
 "beside him. 
 
 A pair of beautiful white oxen drew near 
 and struck their horns against the stile ; the 
 cows gathered gently around, for they had 
 been used to his caresses and feeding ; and the 
 dogs now laid their heads on his knees, and 
 now snuffed about his feet ; he had never 
 looked so well as with such surroundings, sit 
 ting in the twilight, his face aglow, and his 
 hair blowing loose in the wind. 
 
 After a few commonplaces, the conversation 
 turned upon Stafford, of whom both were 
 thinking. 
 
 " He is my brother," said Henry, " and con 
 sequently, I must suffer his impositions, I sup 
 pose ; but I scarcely dare speak to him, lest I 
 should, before I know it, say what I think. 
 Pity he has n t sufficient ability to take care 
 of himself," he continued, as if all his own toil 
 and subserviency were induced only by a gen 
 erous sympathy. 
 
MAEKIED, NOT MATED. 127 
 
 A footstep was heard, and Stafford was seen 
 approaching, but apparently without observing 
 them. 
 
 "There he comes!" said Henry; "do for 
 heaven s sake, Miss Furniss, remain with me, 
 so I may not address or treat him as I ought 
 not. I am afraid to trust myself with him 
 alone." 
 
 Annette seated herself near him, though she 
 was perfectly aware that he only feared Staf 
 ford, and wished to be shielded from him. 
 But though complying with his wishes, mo 
 tives far different from any which might be 
 suggested by his interests influenced her. 
 She would seem as indifferent to the young 
 surgeon as he would to her. She spoke to 
 Henry in a low tone, as if their conversation 
 were specially confidential; and as she became 
 aware of Stafford s near approach, took from 
 lier hair a flower which he that morning had 
 given her, pulled it carelessly to pieces and 
 threw it on the ground. 
 
 " So, Miss Annette, you prize my flower 
 lightly. Nay, then I am indeed unblest." And 
 with this sentimental jest he seated himself 
 
128 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 laughingly beside her, evidently no jot dis 
 turbed about the slighted gift. She folded her 
 hands tightly together and conversed with 
 Henry, with well affected delight. She spoke 
 of the many pleasant times they had had 
 together walking in the moonlight, or mak 
 ing hay. But Stafford whistled to the dogs, 
 and played with them, now and then offering 
 some observation quite foreign to the subject 
 which appeared to occupy her thoughts. 
 
 At length she said, turning her black lus 
 trous eyes upon him, "I am taking leave of 
 Woodside to-night." 
 
 "Ah, ha!" he replied, in the lively tone in 
 which he had previously been speaking, " do 
 you leave us so soon ? I am sorry." 
 
 One of the dogs had taken a bird and, hold 
 ing it in his mouth, playfully offered it him. 
 He had not noticed them before, and, turning 
 to Henry, made some severe remarks on this 
 unnecessary cruelty, saying there would not 
 be a bird left in Woodside another year. 
 
 The face of Henry grew scarlet, and his 
 voice was unsteady, as he said something about 
 having killed them for a sick lady ; and 
 
M A K R i E D , HOT MATED. 129 
 
 hastily taking them up, he slipt noiselessly 
 away. 
 
 "I hope you despise fowling and fowlers?" 
 said Stafford, resuming the conversation. 
 
 " No," answered Annette, who would have 
 disagreed with him on any subject; "I like 
 both, and am sorry I leave Woodside as the 
 season for shooting begins." 
 
 "Then, you are really going," he said, look 
 ing in another direction. 
 
 o 
 
 "Yes, Dr. Graham, I am really going I 
 think it s time I d gone." 
 
 " Of course you know your own affairs best, 
 and why it is time for you to go home," he 
 said, twirling his watch-chain as if in the high 
 est spirits, and looking from her as before, 
 " but I wish you were going to remain here as 
 long as I : who the deuce shall I find to talk 
 to when you are away ?" 
 
 " I do n t know," she answered drily ; " I 
 hope some one." She certainly expected her 
 announcement to make a more serious impres 
 sion. 
 
 " I guess we shall lose Rache, too," he said, 
 laughing, "just look there !" At another time 
 6* 
 
130 MAKKIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 Annette would have laughed too ; for, with 
 one arm resting on the shirt-sleeve of Martin, 
 and a wreath of poppies and marigolds about 
 her head, came the little woman, treading 
 down the burrs with her bare feet, apparently 
 without any inconvenience. 
 
 " It s only a little word," said the ambitious 
 young man, " but it would make a big heap of 
 happiness for this child ; come, Rache, won t 
 you say just that one little word?" 
 
 They walked close in the shadow of the bean- 
 vines, and Rache, for once, seemed demure and 
 particularly intent on treading down the burrs. 
 
 " As true as I live and breathe the breath 
 of life," urged the lover, holding the hand of 
 Rache in his, " I kind-a have a feeling for you 
 that I never afore had for a young lady of your 
 sex and if you 11 just say it !" 
 
 Rache made a sudden movement, indicative 
 of fright or pain. 
 
 "Oh, thunderation!" exclaimed Martin, 
 clasping his arm around her, " did you see a 
 snake, or tread in a bumble-bee s nest ?" 
 
 What she said was inaudible, but she proba 
 bly indicated that a party was within hearing, 
 
MAKKIED, NOT MATED. 131 
 
 for the twain quickly emerged from the sha 
 dows of the bean- vines into the open light, 
 talking very loudly and distinctly as they 
 passed on. 
 
 "He is, as I was saying when we stood there 
 in the wines," said Mart, " the closest man I 
 ever worked for mean enough to steal the 
 coppers off the eyes of a dead man." 
 
 " It s hardly creditable to believe," said 
 Rache, " and I thought, when you told me, 
 coming along just now, that such clos t men 
 ought to be scarce as hen teeth." 
 
 "You do beat all for jokes," said Martin; 
 " I d like to have you show me a hen tooth." 
 
 " Oh, I ain t no ways funny," answered the 
 girl, and passing over the stile they entered 
 the milk yard ; and Rache, having shown the 
 heifer, which she said, maybe some time would 
 be her cow if she was ever married and ever 
 wanted a cow, but she did n t expect she ever 
 would be they passed on their way to visit 
 some more secluded place for wooing. 
 
 " Can t we get another glimpse?" said Staf 
 ford, climbing to the top of the stile, in high 
 glee. 
 
132 M A K K i E D , N or MATED. 
 
 " Poor simple children," said Annette, as 
 though she pitied any body who condescended 
 to love and marry; "I am sure I see nothing 
 to laugh at." 
 
 "Ah, Annette," returned Stafford, still good 
 humorediy, " I am quite too frivolous for you 
 to-night ; I regret my inability to interest you," 
 and kissing his hand to her, he whistled his 
 dogs and set off for a moonlight ramble. 
 
 For half an hour Miss Annette continued to 
 sit where he left her, sometimes more than half 
 disposed to tears, and sometimes reproaching 
 herself for having let go the bird in the hand 
 and found none in the bush ; for she felt that 
 Henry had of late grown strangely indifferent 
 to her flirtation with Stafford. Often in the 
 evenings he was from home, and sometimes 
 she had seen him taking flowers ; but till now 
 she had not seriously construed his intentions. 
 He had grown melancholy and thoughtful, too, 
 and given much of his time to the improve 
 ment of the grave-yard where the deformed 
 child was buried ; set it thick with trees ; 
 planted roses against the wall of stone that 
 enclosed it ; and cut the turf smooth : in this 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 133 
 
 work seeming to find his best pleasure. Of 
 late liis absences from home were frequent and 
 prolonged, and a general impression prevailed 
 that he was going to be married, though 
 none could tell of the object of his affections. 
 
 "Week after week Annette found excuses to 
 remain, notwithstanding the intention she had 
 expressed of going home, and the season was 
 worn into the middle of August. 
 
 One hot Saturday morning Rache announced 
 her purpose of going to town, saying to "gran- 
 ma m" she would like to have a little bit of 
 money, if. she had it, but, if not, it made no 
 difference : she did n t suppose she should buy 
 any thing. 
 
 " La, child !" replied the old woman, " what 
 put that into your head ? and climbing upon a 
 chair, she took from one of the old bonnets on 
 the upper shelf a handful of bank notes, and 
 saying she guessed she had paid her some time 
 along in March, counted the money, a dollar 
 and a quarter for each w r eek, until August; 
 and without further comment, seated herself 
 and took up her netting, which was never 
 finished, and would have been useless if it had 
 
134: MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 been. Having no longer any slave of her 
 caprices, and her children treating her with 
 indifference, she had grown taciturn, and lived 
 in reverie and vague speculation. 
 
 Rache was soon smartly dressed and set out 
 on a brisk walk, stating that she was going to 
 town with a neighbor, who was to carry a calf 
 to market, and who could as well take two as 
 one. 
 
 At night-fall she returned, bringing with 
 her only a calico dress and some shoes, having 
 kept the rest of her money, she said, for some 
 time of need. The following day she did the 
 washing, and went through with her ordinary 
 labors all the while for a month. Martin still 
 visited her, but was grown bold enough to 
 walk into the kitchen. 
 
 "Well, Rache," said Stafford, on the occa 
 sion of one of these visits, " when are you going 
 to get married ?" 
 
 " JSText day after never," she answered. 
 
 Martin overheard the question, and remark 
 ed that " there was one woman in the world 
 that could keep a secret," and concluded with, 
 "Rache, you may tell it if you want to." 
 
MAKE i ED, NOT MATED. 135 
 
 " There ! " she cried, " you ve untied the 
 bag, so you may as well let the cat out." 
 
 "Ay, Mart, I see it," observed Stafford, 
 " you ve taken this woman to wife ! Come, 
 isn t it so?" 
 
 "About a month ago," said Martin, biting 
 his nails and looking down, "a young man 
 and woman from the South went to town and 
 stopped at the Squire s and got tied, -and I 
 expect like enough it was me and Eache ; we 
 are big enough fools to do it, I reckon." 
 
 Much merriment followed this announce 
 ment, and before it subsided. Henry, who had 
 been absent all the previous night, came in, 
 looking very grave ; but he spoke kindly, even 
 to Stafford, who rallied him on his funereal 
 visage, and having given a letter into the hand 
 of Annette, retired, apparently in deep emo 
 tion. The missive was from Nelly Furniss, 
 who had been slowly failing and fading .all the 
 summer, and who was now, as she said, near 
 the end of her little and troubled journey. 
 She had not told Annette, in any of her notes 
 or messages, or at their two or three brief 
 meetings, during the summer, how frail she 
 
136 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 was, because she knew it would make her sad, 
 and do no good ; but now she w&s unable to 
 tend the house any more, and Annette would 
 have to come home. It would not be long 
 before she would be free to go back to the 
 sunshine. She was resigned, glad to go 
 only for her poor father s sake. What would 
 become of him? Who would comfort him? 
 And so the letter closed. 
 
 " Do n t grieve, honey, this is a world of trou 
 ble," remarked Mrs. Graham to Annette, when 
 she heard of the sister s illness ; " We must 
 make the best of the comforts that are left;" 
 and she offered Annette a roast potato, from 
 which she had brushed the ashes with her 
 pocket-handkerchief. 
 
 The morning came up warm and cloudy, 
 and the winds seemed prophesying storms as 
 they swept along the faded woods. The sum 
 mer flowers were nearly all gone ; only a few 
 of the hardier sorts remaining in bloom. The 
 grain was all gathered in, and the ripe fruits 
 and the brown nuts were dropping from the 
 trees. 
 
 At a very early hour the little market- 
 
MARRIED, is r o T M A TED. 137 
 
 wagon waited at the door. Henry was in his 
 best attire, and had arranged a present of 
 fruits and flowers for Nelly. Annette was 
 really going home. 
 
 " They say your sister has made her peace," 
 said Rache, giving a bunch of herbs and dried 
 bark into the hand of Annette, "but she may 
 get well for all that : while there s life there s 
 hope." So she gave directions for making the 
 herbs into teas, which she had no doubt would 
 strengthen her ; they were the prescription of 
 an Indian doctor, and she once knew a man, 
 who was in the last stage of consumption, 
 cured in five weeks time, so that he harvested 
 a field of wheat in a single clay. "As soon as 
 she gets a little strength," she continued, "tell 
 her to come here and help gather the apples 
 and potatoes it will do her good and brace 
 her up, like. Give her my respects, and tell 
 her she is welcome to the hospitalities of this 
 neck of woods." 
 
 And having shaken hands and said farewell, 
 Mrs. Martin Muggins returned to her kitchen, 
 her night-cap (for since her marriage she had 
 taken to wearing one all day) blowing in the 
 wind, and her hands resting\m her hips. 
 
138 M A R It I K I ) , SO I 1 M A. TED. 
 
 The leave-taking had been rather tedious, 
 but Annette had. humored her loquacity, in the 
 hope of obtaining, meantime, another glimpse 
 of Stafford, whom she had not seen, as he was 
 still in his room at breakfast time. 
 
 "All ready?" asked Henry, tightening the 
 reins. Annette gave one more glance towards 
 the house and saw, and for the last time for 
 many years, the object her eyes were in search 
 of. He was standing in a distant part of the 
 grounds, playing with and tantalizing one of 
 the dogs, by alternately caressing him, and 
 holding above his reach a sandwich. Seeing 
 Annette, he removed his hat and bowed, cried 
 "good morning," and again resumed his occu 
 pation, before her eyes were turned from him. 
 
 The dust was moist with the damp autumnal 
 atmosphere, and the yellow and red leaves 
 rained in their faces as they drove through the 
 woods that grew about the schoolhouse, where 
 was held the memorable debate upon the rights 
 of women. 
 
 The old schoolmaster, with his grey hair in 
 a queue, stood at the open window watching 
 a group of boys and girls at play on the 
 smoothly-trodden clay beneath. One of the 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 139 
 
 lads, probably to attract the attention of the 
 passers, suddenly seized the bonnet from the 
 head of a little girl and threw it into a tree- 
 top. There was a general shout, while the 
 robbed child amused her heartless mates with 
 exhibitions of her fright. 
 
 " Boys, boys !" exclaimed the schoolmaster, 
 tapping on the sash with his penknife, and with 
 a handkerchief covering his month to hide a 
 smile. Every little incident, as they went for 
 ward, impressed itself on the mind of Annette. 
 She saw and remembered every thing, even to 
 the boy who trotted by them on the long- 
 tailed colt, and the bright-headed bird pecking 
 the trunk of a decayed tree. 
 
 " What are your thoughts about ?" she asked, 
 at length, turning to her companion and seeing 
 that he was disposed to be silent and serious. 
 
 " Of Nelly," he answered, simply : " she is 
 an angel !" 
 
 " Yes, I wish I was as good ;" and Annette 
 for the moment seemed to feel what she said. 
 
 " I wish you were," he replied, and both 
 relapsed into silence, which neither broke 
 again till they reached the lonely old house 
 
 
14:0 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 where poor Nelly was lying. The front door 
 was fastened with a chain and padlock, and 
 guarded by Surly, more attenuated than ever. 
 He did not wag his tail nor lift his head when 
 the familiar step went by, but seemed as if 
 infected with some gloom that filled the air. 
 
 They applied to the rear door for admission, 
 and finding it locked, Annette called the name 
 of Nelly, but no answer came ; and as they 
 listened, they heard a sound as of some one 
 digging in the earth, and turning in the direc 
 tion of the noise, saw Mr. Furniss shaping 
 anew the mound above the grave of his wife. 
 
 It was a curiously sombre picture; Henry, 
 looking pityingly and tenderly, as he stood a 
 little way off, holding the present of fruits and 
 flowers he had brought; the old man, leaning 
 on his spade, with tears running down his 
 wrinkled cheeks, as he told Annette the story 
 of her sister s suffering and death; while she 
 sat on the low headstone of her mother, her 
 face composed to awful calmness, her eyes 
 tearless, and her hands tightly interlocked. 
 That expression of settled and passionless sor 
 row never passed entirely away. There is 
 
MARK TED, NOT MATED. 141 
 
 wilder woe in the world than hers was then, 
 but more settled wretchedness could hardly be 
 found. 
 
 Up from the bottom of the grave of injured 
 love come reproaches more awful than the 
 terriblest curses of a living foe, and the faint 
 light of a last smile shows us our wrong life 
 more plainly than we could see it by any other 
 light. Perhaps her errors passed before her 
 then ; perhaps she remembered the selfish aims 
 and pleasures she had been pursuing, willfully 
 forgetful of the self-sacrificing friend who was 
 pining and dying alone. But, whether it were 
 so or not, it seemed, as she sat there on the 
 headstone, upright and untrembling, that to 
 baffle the sharp thorns of conscience she had 
 turned her heart into stone. 
 
 "Poor Nelly," said the father; "it don t 
 seem as if she was dead. I look toward the 
 IK -use, and think I shall see her coming to me 
 here just as she used, or setting under that old 
 tree there, with Surly beside her, licking her 
 hands and looking up into her face. She was 
 so good, Ketty, she was so good." And he 
 went on to tell how she had grown weak from 
 
142 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 the time Nelly went away, but that she said, 
 when it was warm, she would get better if the 
 weather were cooler ; and when it grew cool, 
 that the summer would quite restore her. 
 When her cough grew worse, it was a little 
 additional cold ; if it were not for that she 
 would soon get strength ; she was so cheerful 
 and so happy, he did not know nor think how 
 ill she w r as, for she had gone about, tending 
 the house as usual, till the day before she died. 
 She had never wanted anything, that he knew 
 of, which she didn t have ; she never said she 
 did ; yes once she had asked for wine ; " I 
 knew then," said the old man, " that she did n t 
 know what she wanted ; knew it would do no 
 good ; I do n t know why I did n t get it ; but 
 I did n t, I wish I had." 
 
 Yet even in the bitterness of this reflection 
 he forgot he had still a living daughter, to 
 
 whom he might minister if he would. 
 
 o 
 
 " And did she never ask for me ?" said An 
 nette ; " Mr. Graham, who saw her every 
 week, never told me she was so ill ; but why 
 seek to shield myself! I knew it I saw her 
 doom when I left her !" 
 
MARRIED, N O T &[ A T FJ I) . 143 
 
 " She thought you were happy," answered 
 the young man, " and forbade my disclosing 
 the real state of her health, and though I have 
 been with her much of late, for it was to her, 
 I used to bring the flowers, I was myself 
 deceived, and not till yesterday was I aware 
 that her death was at hand." 
 
 Annette lifted her eyes, and for a moment 
 they rested on Henry with something like 
 admiration, but presently they dropped again, 
 listless, and as heavy as before. 
 
 " Oh, she often talked of you," the father 
 remarked, " but she said you wrote how beau 
 tiful Woodside was, and how happy you were, 
 and so we must do without you ; and when 
 she died, she wanted to be carried there and 
 buried on the hill in the sunshine which you 
 told her of." 
 
 " And that is why you planted it so pret 
 tily," said Annette, looking almost tenderly 
 upon Henry. 
 
 " It was only yesterday," resumed the father, 
 " she told me she could not get well." 
 
 The lip of the daughter trembled, as he went 
 
MAKRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 011 to describe the last night, how Nelly had 
 prepared the morning breakfast, thoughtful 
 for his wants when she should no longer be 
 there to tend them ; how she had fed Surly 
 and caressed him, fed her bird and hung its 
 cage where the morning light would come to 
 it, and how then she had parted and combed 
 smooth her hair, asking him if it would do, 
 and dressed herself in white. "She wished 
 me," he said, " to draw her bed close to the 
 window that she might see the stars." About 
 midnight she woke from the sleep into which 
 she had fallen, and when he asked if she 
 wanted anything, she said no, she should 
 never want anything more ; and being tired 
 of watching he fell asleep, and in the morning 
 when he called her, she did not answer again. 
 
 Annette arose and with a firm step passed 
 to the chamber which they so long had occu 
 pied together. 
 
 The cloudy day fell through the half-closed 
 window, and the bird lacking its morning 
 meal, chirruped restlessly ; there was no other 
 sound, for the hush was not broken by a single 
 
MARK i ED, NOT MATED. 145 
 
 sob, even when before the wretched woman 
 lay the still white clay that had lately been 
 beautified with life and warm with love. 
 
 She lifted the cold hands and kissed them, 
 and stooped and kissed the forehead, but 
 though her bosom shook, her eyes were dry. 
 One long silken tress that had been clipt from 
 the others, hung softly over the pillow. An 
 nette knew it was for her, and as she took it 
 up the first tears she had shed dropped large 
 and heavy, and one low and anguished cry of 
 " Kelly, ]STelly !" broke the silence with its 
 vain appeal. 
 
 "Very gently Henry led her aside, and scat 
 tered over the corpse and about the bed his 
 present of autumn flowers. 
 
 " Henry, you are very good," said Annette, 
 turning towards him, and looking fixedly and 
 kindly upon him, " and I have been very blind 
 and very bad ; forgive me that I have bee*i 
 so, and may God forgive me, too. Leave me 
 now ; hereafter I may thank you more as you 
 deserve, for all your kindness to her and to 
 me." She spoke in a steady and almost cold 
 7 
 
146 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 tone, motioning him away with the gesture 
 of a superior. 
 
 " Netty," exclaimed Henry, a I cannot go, 
 now when you need a friend so much : I can 
 not leave you ! We will take Kelly to Wood- 
 side, and tend her grave together. Shall it 
 not be so ?" 
 
 " I am unworthy of your affection of the 
 
 .uection of any one," answered Annette, 
 
 "and I have no "love for any living being. 
 
 Will you take me as I am? I shall be a 
 
 heavy burden." 
 
 " Then, you are mine at last ! and your heart 
 may find in my devotion a solace for even 
 this misfortune. It is not unfit that the solem 
 nity of a betrothal should be in a presence sc 
 sacred as this. May that gentle sister s spirit 
 watch over us !" As he supported her he felf 
 not that she rested like a dead weight upon 
 his bosom saw not that no faintest blush met 
 the kiss he gave her. 
 
 And Helen Graham had a fine funeral, with 
 a dozen empty carriages in the train for An 
 nette would have it so and behind all, droop- 
 
MARKIED, NOT MATED. 147 
 
 ingly, and dragging in the dust the rope which 
 he had gnawed apart to get his freedom, 
 went Surly. When the grave of his young 
 mistress was made, he could not be persuaded 
 away, and there one day, the withered leaves 
 drifting over him, they found him dead. 
 
 And the homestead of "Woodside was made 
 bright with fresh paint, new avenues were 
 planned and planted, a hired servant drove 
 the wagon to market, and Mr. and Mrs. Gra 
 ham rode in a coach. 
 
 Kache and Mart began housekeeping for 
 themselves, in a log cabin, in the midst of 
 fifty acres of wild woods : Mrs. Graham, senior, 
 adding to the cow and the feather bed and 
 the bureau (the usual portion of a country girl), 
 the side-saddle with the silver stirrups, which 
 has been mentioned as adorning the window 
 of her chamber. 
 
 u Their stuck-up way of living looks very 
 fine," said Bache, as she struck across the 
 fields toward her new home, with a small 
 looking-glass in her arms ; " but this child has 
 her own thoughts about the happiness they 
 arc going to find and no mistake about it." 
 
14:8 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 Here, for a while, we leave the persons who 
 have thus far appeared in our little drama, to 
 see what sort of life is led at the neighboring 
 mansion of Throckmorton Hall. 
 
PART II. 
 THROCKMORTON HALL 
 
THROCKMORTON HALL. 
 
 CH APTEK I. 
 
 WE were busy in the sugar-camp ; it was 
 early March, and the apple-tree boughs 
 were reddening a little, but the buds were 
 scarcely swollen ; in the thick woods the germi 
 nating foliage was fast shut and black; and 
 under the heavy layers of dead leaves the frost 
 glistened white. Here and there in the hollow 
 ground were spots of green ivy, and some 
 few broad wild leaves of hardy plants re 
 lieved the dark ground of the great forest, 
 but nearly all was dim and sombre enough. 
 On a hill-side, sloping eastward, the fire was 
 
152 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 burning in the stone arch, and from the jet of 
 red flame that ran upward bright flakes were 
 broken and, toying with the rough wind a mo 
 ment, died and fell, while drifts of mist from 
 the boiling sugar- water went southward, curl 
 ing like clouds, and dissolving in the clear air. 
 We had been an hour carrying armsful of 
 hickory bark, peeled from the trunks of the 
 big trees that grew on the next hill, and the 
 furnace was full of it ; so it was no wonder that 
 the flame ran so high ; we could hear the 
 crackling and see the light where we were, far 
 away on the flat top of the ascent, among the 
 silver-green beech boles our hearts full of 
 mirth, and our aprons full of moss. "What soft 
 golden fleeces we had ! no India shawls could 
 have given us such pleasure as they, hanging 
 over our shoulders, in the twilight of that 
 delicious spring day. We were too large to idle 
 away our time like children, our parents said 
 sometimes ; but we were children at heart, if 
 not in years. We strayed in those woods many 
 and many an hour, gathering mosses, in gold 
 fleeces, and grey wiry sprigs. Many a time 
 we kept the fire bright, but this one time 
 
MARKIED, NOT MATED. 153 
 
 lingers iu my memory the most distinctly. 
 Ah me ! all its tints were deepened with 
 gathering shadows. 
 
 I can see the sunset of that day whenever I 
 think of it, and that is often, very often ; there 
 were a great many little streaks of crimson, 
 broken off at different lengths among the west 
 ern, clouds, that after a while blended together 
 and thinned and faded into a dull orange wave, 
 out of which the stars shone, one by one, more 
 brightly than from a clear blue heaven. 
 
 We were going toward the camp-fire, plan 
 ning the cushions we should make with our 
 moss, when Rosalie stopped suddenly, and 
 shaking back her hood, turned her face toward 
 the clouds, telling me we had better hurry, for 
 it was going to rain. 
 
 I said it was not that T could count four or 
 five stars over the horizon ; but stopped to listen 
 if there were any pattering on the leaves, for 
 overhead and to the eastward I suddenly per 
 ceived that all was one blank reach of clouds. 
 
 As we stood thus still, we heard a footstep, 
 and the dry limbs breaking beneath it. 
 
 I know not why, unless it be that there is in 
 Y* 
 
154: MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 the sound of the very step of one who brings 
 evil tidings something ominous, but my heart 
 sank down as though that tread had been 
 upon it. 
 
 For a moment all was still 
 
 " Rosalie ! Orpha !" called a voice in which 
 there was a meaning, of anguish, that cannot be 
 represented by any written words. "We looked 
 at each other, without speaking, for w r e dared 
 not breathe our fears, and dropping our forest 
 treasures, ran to answer. The call was not 
 repeated, for our steps made a noise through 
 all the wide woods, as we hurried down the 
 slope and across the little stream, brawling 
 among the jutting rocks and smooth stones, 
 answering, " Father, we are coining !" for we 
 knew that it was he, and that his voice had 
 called us to a death-bed. 
 
 " Come, children," he said, when he saw us, 
 " come with me ; your poor mother wants to 
 see you ;" and, giving a hand to each, he drew 
 us along very fast. He said nothing more, but 
 loosening his hand from mine every now and 
 then, drew it across his eyes. 
 
 I looked back and saw the light as it shone 
 
M A E K I E D , NOT MATED. 155 
 
 up over the hill ; tried to think how long it 
 would burn, and whether the rain would put 
 it out ; heard the water dropping slowly from 
 where ice lingered on the shady sides of trees, 
 for the thaw had not ceased with the day, and 
 the soggy ground was not stiffening at all. 
 
 "With these, and things like these, I tried to 
 drive from my mind the horrid image of death, 
 ugly even to the old, who are weary of the 
 struggle and torment of protracted life, but 
 terrible to the young, who look forward with 
 hope to sunrises and summers. 
 
 In vain: I could hear nothing but one low, 
 soft voice ; and if all the birds had been 
 singing at once I could have heard but that 
 sound alone ; I could only see the light that 
 entrenched itself in the blue eyes which had 
 only shone upon me in love, and if heaven 
 had been as full of suns as it was of clouds, 
 it would have been all the same. 
 
 I turned to Rosalie for comfort, but her 
 steadfast eyes seemed to be looking into the 
 mystery that was before us, and she saw not 
 my silent appeal. 
 
 The woods were soon behind us, and the 
 
156 MAKKIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 slow dropping of the trees, and the camp light; 
 then we passed along the lane, bordered on 
 one side by the orchard, and on the other by a 
 wide field of meadow land ; through the yard 
 where the cow.s were standing, lowing unea 
 sily, for they had not been milked that night ; 
 and along by the green fence, through the lit 
 tle gate; and we were there at the door of 
 the old home, that could never be home any 
 more. 
 
 It was raining now pretty fast, and Rosalie 
 shook the drops from her long brown curls, for 
 she had walked with her head uncovered ; and 
 we went in. A long time my mother had 
 been ill, so long that we had grown used to it, 
 and ceased to fear that she would ever grow 
 worse, and till the event came -upon us, thus 
 fearfully, we had not even dreamed that she 
 would die. Her slow step, and pale face, and 
 hollow cough, seemed a part of her maternity; 
 we could not separate them from her sweet 
 and patient ways. 
 
 We had all looked for the coming of spring 
 as a time when she would be better, and she 
 had looked for it, too, and planned the gar- 
 
M A 11 K i E D , N o T MATED. 157 
 
 den and the flower-beds, and talked of what 
 we would do in the summer and the fall ; and 
 we had thought it must be as she said. 
 
 One thing after another had been given up, 
 at first the minding of household affairs ; 
 then the sewing in the rocking-chair; arid 
 then every thought of work ; and we brought 
 all the books and papers that we had they 
 were not many and she amused herself with 
 them as she lay, hour after hour, on the 
 low bed by the window, over which the 
 sweet-brier climbed. 
 
 At length, one night, we could not sleep 
 for her coughing, so hard and so constant, 
 and in the morning she said she was tired 
 with the night s unrest, and would not get 
 np till the sun had shone awhile ; but the 
 whole clay went by, and tl^g next, and the 
 next, and she was not well enough to leave 
 her bed ; so came the morning and the even- 
 in <j which were to bo the last in which she 
 
 w 
 
 would suffer. 
 
 It w r as a low, nnplastered chamber, where 
 her bed was, for the house was small, and 
 she had been removed from the room below, 
 
158 M A it K i E D , NOT MATED. 
 
 to be away from the noise of household 
 affairs. 
 
 There was a lighted candle on the table, 
 and the little wheel with the flax partly spun 
 off the distaff was set one side, and a strong 
 odor of camphor pervaded the room. I was 
 afraid, and kept as far away from the bed as I 
 could. There w r as a fire on the hearth, and 
 two women were sitting before it, conversing 
 in low tones. I did not at first see who they 
 were, but when a full, deep voice from one 
 whom I had not observed, standing by the 
 window, said, "Affliction springeth not out 
 of the bosom of the earth," I knew it was 
 the wisdom and tone of my Uncle Petei 
 Throckmorton, and that one of the women by 
 the fire-side was his w r ife, Aunt Sally. 
 
 "Have the children come?" asked my 
 mother. 
 
 "Yes they are here," said Mrs. Pen-in, " do 
 you want them ? " and she spoke in so sweet 
 and soft a voice that I loved her more than 
 I had ever done till then. 
 
 Aunt Sally went close to her husband, as 
 if she looked no further than to him for aid , 
 
M A R R I E D , NOT MATED. 159 
 
 it was not for her even to pray, except as 
 Peter did. A good and loving woman she was, 
 but with too little reliance on herself too 
 much upon Peter. Her eyes were full of 
 tears, and her heart seemed choking her, as 
 she turned toward Rosalie and me, seeming 
 to ask her husband what she should say or do 
 to comfort us. 
 
 Uncle Peter, having tried to say "afflictions 
 spring not from the dust," snuffed the can 
 dle, and taking up a newspaper, which 
 chanced to lie on a chair by his side, appeared 
 rather unconcerned in the events about him 
 than absorbed in the reading, while, nervous 
 and pale, Aunt Sally sat on a low stool at 
 his feet, looking wistfully on him, through her 
 tears. 
 
 Mrs. Perrin said not a word, but held my 
 mother s hand, fanning her slowly with a 
 great black fan. 
 
 "Oil, Peter! 7 sobbed Aunt Sally, after a 
 moment. He did not observe it, but read on. 
 "Oh, Peter, what shall I do? ; she said, and 
 removing one hand from the paper, he shook 
 her gently, in half authoritative and half 
 
J 60 M A K K I ED , NOT MATED. 
 
 loving reproval, without, however, withdraw 
 ing his eyes from reading. " Oh, dear ! oh, 
 dear! do say something to comfort me;" 
 said Aunt Sally, and laying her head on his 
 knees, she wept like a child. 
 
 " My dear Mrs. Throckmorton," said Uncle 
 Peter, letting his hand fall upon her neck, 
 "really you must quiet yourself; you disturb 
 your sister, and make yourself appear very 
 badly. You had better take my arm and 
 go below stairs and eat a mouthful or two ; 
 it will refresh you. Come, my dear, it is a 
 heavy time to us all, but it becomes us to sus 
 tain our positions with Christian fortitude and 
 resignation ; " and leaning on the arm of 
 stout and pompous Uncle Peter, and sobbing 
 all the while, Aunt Sally was led away. 
 
 On the roof the rain fell with a dreary 
 monotone, and the candle flame shook as the 
 wind came through the crevices of the wall, 
 and the shadows moved up and down the 
 room like ghosts. 
 
 " Don t cry, my little darling, 1 said Mrs. 
 Perrin, putting her arm about me and draw 
 ing me to the bed-side; "your mother is 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 161 
 
 better now." I took my hands from my eyes, 
 and bringing the low stool on which Aunt 
 Sally had sat, I knelt on it, and leaned over 
 my mother s pillow. She smiled faintly 
 when she saw me, but said nothing. Rosalie 
 stood by me, erect and calm ; she had always 
 been prepared for whatever came, and she 
 was prepared for this ; there were no tears in 
 her eyes, but her mournful and stead&st gaze 
 seemed to see the breaking up of heaven. I 
 was sixteen, and she more than a year older ; 
 but in experience and knowledge we were 
 as little children. We had lived only in the 
 circle of a quiet and simple home; our 
 mother s love had been our world, and her 
 will our law ; and while we had such a home 
 and such a guide, what need had we of 
 other society or greater knowledge ? 
 
 It was a good while before my mother 
 spoke, but she looked on me serenely and 
 earnestly, as if thinking whether she could 
 trust me alone, and when I bent my head, hid 
 ing my eyes again, she laid her damp and cold 
 hand upon it, as if she blessed me. " Go now, 
 my poor Orpha," she said, at last ; " go and 
 
162 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 sleep; you can t do me any good; perhaps 
 in the morning I shall be better." I turned 
 away, for I knew that my sobbing disturbed 
 her, and approaching the window where my 
 father stood, looked out into the night. He 
 held me close, and I saw that his lips were 
 compressed to keep still the inward anguish, 
 and felt his arm tremble with the agony that 
 could not be all subdued. 
 
 " You, my child," said my mother tc 
 Kosalie, "you are so thoughtful, you will 
 know what to do when I am gone, and if I 
 never talk with you again, I am sure you 
 will leave your playing, and guide and com 
 fort Orpha ; your judgment is clearer and 
 your nature less impulsive than hers ; you 
 must keep her heart from failing, Rosie, 
 when I am dead." 
 
 That last word had in it an awfulness and 
 terror; and, frightened child that I was, I 
 cried aloud. 
 
 " Orpha, Orpha," said my mother, and put 
 ting my arms about her neck, I kissed her 
 over and over, saying I could not live with 
 out her that she would and must get well. 
 
MARKIED, NOT MATED. 163 
 
 She smiled, but not encouragingly, and good 
 Mrs. Perrin led me away, saying I must not 
 cry that my mother was not so bad, but 
 that I would make her worse if I cried so. 
 
 I hid my face in her lap, and tried to be 
 still ; but I could not, when I remembered 
 how lovingly my mother s blue eyes had 
 looked on me as I left her, and that, perhaps, 
 I should never see them any more. 
 
 " Do n t cry, my darling, do n t cry," Mrs. 
 Perrin kept saying, as she unfastened my 
 frock, "your mother will be better in the 
 morning; don t cry, my dear." This was all 
 she could say to me, but I was comforted. 
 
 "Be a good girl, now," she added, as she 
 tucked the bed-clothes close about me, "and 
 go to sleep, and in the morning you shall see^ 
 your mother; I am almost sure she will be 
 better ; I have known folks nearly as bad as 
 she is who got better." 
 
 I caught upon this new hope, and asked her 
 if she really thought my mother would get 
 well, and when she said, "I think she will be 
 better, my dear," I wiped my eyes and tried 
 to be calm. She asked me if I was corn* 
 
164: M A K K i E p , NOT MATED. 
 
 fortable, and left the light burning, that I 
 might feel less afraid, I suppose. I could 
 not go to sleep, as she told me to do ; I was 
 frightened, and often lifted my head from the 
 pillow to listen, and peered curiously about 
 the room, thinking I should see strange shapes, 
 or hear noises that I could not understand. 
 
 I saw nothing but the shadows moving, as 
 the wind blew, and mice gliding in and out 
 of holes, and slipping across the naked floor 
 without a sound. 
 
 It was an hour before Rosalie came ; it 
 seemed a great deal longer. I knew her 
 footsteps at once ; she trod firmly ; she wa3 
 as undisturbed as if she had been trained from 
 infancy to walk the chambers of the dying. 
 
 I did not dare to ask what I wished to 
 know, but I put my arms about her, saying, 
 " Oh, Rosie ! God help us ! " She answered, 
 " God help us ! " and that was all. I could 
 not understand why she did not tremble, as I 
 did ; where she got her strength and her con 
 fidence ; I do not understand to this day. I 
 only felt how much stronger she was, and how 
 much wiser she was, than I ; and, at last, with 
 
M A K R I K D , NOT M A T E D . 165 
 
 my cheek close to hers, I fell asleep. I 
 dreamed of open graves, and of the noise of 
 clods falling on coffins; of funeral processions, 
 and of innumerable rows of head- stones ; and 
 while I dreamed, a strange voice called to 
 me, and a hand touched my arm. The voice 
 was scarce above a whisper, and the touch 
 was very light, but I started, and sat upright. 
 There was no need of spoken words I knew 
 what tidings were brought to us. 
 
 I did not cry at first ; my feelings were 
 too deep for tears ; I was come into a strange 
 and terribly dark world. The wind had 
 never moaned as it did then, and the night 
 had never been so long and so wild. Well 
 might Rosalie have said, " God help us ! " 
 
 When I saw my father when he said, 
 turning from us his face, that we were orphans, 
 that the best and dearest friend whom we 
 could ever have in the world was dead I 
 could restrain my grief no longer, but gave 
 voice to it, while Rosie sat still and tearless. 
 
 " Orpha,my little beauty," said Uncle Peter, 
 " you must not cry after this fashion ; you will 
 make yourself sick, and then who will tako 
 
166 M A R K i E D , NOT MATED. 
 
 care of you? You have no mother now. She 
 died happy, and that ought to comfort you ; 
 and the Lord knows what is best for us. The 
 smoking flax will he not quench, child. 
 There is a great meaning in that Scripture, and 
 you are big enough to study it out ; and then 
 think, too, what the poet says : 
 
 How doth the little busy bee, 
 
 Improve each shining hour : 
 
 And gather honey all the d;i_y, 
 
 From every opening flower. 
 
 " Are you improving your time now, like a 
 bee? Well, then a bee, a little, good-for- 
 nothing bee, is wiser than you are. Is that 
 right? No, it J s not right. Do you think 
 God made you to be of less use than a bee, 
 that hath a waxen cell, and labors hard to 
 store it well, and all that ?" 
 
 I listened at .first, for his presence awed me, 
 and looking at the ruffle of his shirt, .and the 
 jewelled ring on his finger, and his soft brown 
 hair< I didn t know it was a wig I was 
 for a moment still. There must be wisdom ir. 
 his words ; I was sure of that ; and more 
 
M A K R I E D , N U T MATED. 1 67 
 
 especially was I so when Aunt Sally said, 
 giving her husband a loving look, " You must 
 thank your uncle for being so good to you ; 
 many a little girl has n t any Uncle Peter to 
 give her good advice when her mother dies." 
 
 I have since realized this fact, if I failed to 
 do so at that time. 
 
 "My dear Mrs. Throckmorton, you are 
 very good; you are like the sun-flower, iny 
 love; you turn to your god when he rises, 
 the same look that you gave when he set." 
 
 This was quite beyond my comprehension, 
 and seeing Mrs. Pen-in laying the hands of 
 my mother across her bosom, I cried afresh. 
 Rosalie sat close by the bed her hair 
 brushed away, and her dark eyes downcast, 
 but tearless ; she was talking with the angels, 
 I think. 
 
 "Why, child of mortality," said Uncle 
 Peter, seeing my tears, " do you think yon 
 can bring the dead to life? JSTo, you can t 
 raise the dead that would be a miracle. 
 You can t do that, child. Well, now, if you 
 can t do it, what s the use of crying ! That s 
 the way to reason; that s the way to be \v5:-o, 
 
168 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 as your Aunt Sarah is good enough to say I 
 am. JSTow, Orpha, my dear, I do n t pretend 
 that your aunt do n t see me with eyes a little 
 partial ; that is, she sees me so much, so fami 
 liarly, that she knows the strong points of my 
 character, and if there be one point stronger 
 than another, it is Christian philosophy. I 
 am always resigned, little girl, to the will of 
 Heaven. Now, I have always been blessed 
 with good health, and I am judiciously thank 
 ful for it." 
 
 Here Aunt Sally closed her eyes that 
 judiciously she did not quite understand; it 
 was too wonderful for her, that was all ; and 
 Uncle Peter went on to say, that if, in 
 the dispensations of Providence, afflictments 
 should be sent upon him such as the loss 
 of his dear companion, my Aunt Sarah he 
 would endeavor to be resigned ; he knew, in 
 fact, that under any afflictment he would be 
 patient and calm. It was bad enough to see 
 women and children fretting under the little 
 trials of life, but .a man should be ashamed to 
 groan ! 
 
 Aunt Sally put on a sort of smile she felt 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 169 
 
 it to be her duty to do so, though her heart, I 
 am sure, was heavy enough. 
 
 I had scarcely seen my Uncle Peter till 
 then, except as he called at the gate in his 
 coach for Aunt Saily, who came once or twice 
 in the year to see my mother. Their home 
 was a dozen miles from ours, and Uncle Peter 
 had no time to visit, so he said ; perhaps it 
 was so ; I am sure he had no time to visit 
 poor relations. 
 
 The daylight was breaking, cold and grey, 
 when Uncle Peter, twirling his hat over the 
 gold head of his cane, waked Aunt Sally from 
 the light sleep into which she had fallen, and 
 making an essay to contract his portly person 
 a little, desired to have his overcoat buttoned. 
 It was in vain ; Aunt Sally could not do it ; 
 and I think now nothing short of a horse 
 power could have done it ; but the patient lit 
 tle woman almost strained the blood from her 
 fingers, in endeavors to make one button and 
 buttonhole meet together, blaming herself all 
 the while for awkwardness and weakness. 
 "Why, my dear Mrs. Throckmorton," said 
 Uncle Peter, elongating himself a little, 
 
170 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 "what is the matter with yon?" Uncle 
 Peter never once thought that himself could 
 be at fault that he was not too large, nor 
 his coat too small, were fixed facts; therefore 
 it followed that poor Aunt Sally was extreme 
 ly inefficient. 
 
 " I do n t know, Mr. Throckmorton," said 
 Aunt Sally, with a, sort of tremulous humility, 
 " what is the matter; I do n t seem to have 
 any strength." 
 
 "Humph!" said Uncle Peter, as if he 
 thought that if she had not strength she 
 ought to have, " do n t keep me waiting ; you 
 have made me lose more time now than I can 
 afford ; hav n t you got a black ribbon about 
 you, an inch wide, or an inch and a half, with 
 which to loop my coat together? Bless me, 
 I m near fainting with standing so long." 
 
 "With a nervous jerk and an expression of 
 anguish, Aunt Sally wrenched away a portion 
 of her watch ribbon, and looped the overcoat 
 together. " That will answer, my dear," said 
 Uncle Peter affably; "now get a silk cord 
 and attach to your watch." 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Throckmorton, I will," answered 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 171 
 
 Aunt Sally, though where or how, just then, 
 she was to get a silk cord, she did not know ; 
 she only knew it must be clone if Mr. Throck- 
 morton said so. Uncle Peter thought he 
 would ride home and try to get a little rest 
 (he had slept in his chair except at intervals 
 when he had philosophized for my benefit) all 
 the night. 
 
 " Do, my dear," said Aunt Sally, " you look 
 quite worn out." 
 
 " Now, children," he said, as he took leave, 
 u you must not cry when they lay your 
 mother in the coffin, nor when they put her in 
 the grave ; we must all die when our time 
 comes; and to murmur is to complain of the 
 will of the Lord it ain t nothing else under 
 the sun that s just what it is ; now, if you 
 cry, you will offend Heaven, and what is 
 more, you will very much displease your 
 Uncle Peter." 
 
 "It is an easy thing to give advice," said 
 Mrs. Perrin, " and the easier, I think, when 
 we do n t know what w T e talk about." 
 
 I wish you a very good morning," said 
 Uncle Peter, benignantly. Mrs. Perrin was a 
 
172 M A R K I E D , NOT MATED. 
 
 simple old woman in his eyes, who might 
 watch with the sick, but to whom his wisdom 
 was a sealed book. 
 
 How cold and cheerless that morning was, 
 and how long in breaking! My father sat 
 apart, neither weeping nor speaking, and I 
 saw that he could not be comforted. Rosalie 
 sat at the east window, waiting for the light; 
 and I, when free from the restraint of Uncle 
 Peter s presence, hid my face in my hands, 
 and gave freedom to my tears. 
 
 " Come here, my child," said Mrs. Pen-in. 
 She wiped my eyes and smoothed away my 
 hair, and then, putting her arm around my 
 waist, said, "Your mother is not dead, Orpha; 
 she is only gone away from suffering ; if she 
 was back she would have to suffer again, and 
 die again ; so we must not wish for her to 
 come back, but try to do all that would please 
 her. She would not want you to cry, but 
 to be good and do good remember this, 
 Orpha ; your mother was a good woman ; try 
 to be like her." The clock struck as she 
 talked, and pointing to it, she added, " See, 
 vour mother has been three hours in heaven." 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 173 
 
 I felt less fearful and less desolate near her, 
 and as her withered hand patted my cheek, I 
 foil asleep. Dear, good Mrs. Pen-in ! 
 
 I had understood all she said her kind, 
 loving heart had spoken to mine, and her 
 kindness had been her interpreter. And now 
 Eosalie and I were more as one than we had 
 previously been, if that were possible more 
 as one, till another love came between us. 
 
174 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 I WILL pass over the funeral, the break 
 ing up of our broken household, the 
 parting with oar father, who went to visit the 
 home of his boyhood, far across the moun 
 tains, and resume ray narrative the day when, 
 with little parcels in our hands, containing 
 all our effects, we were helped into Uncle 
 Peter s coach, and, partly laugliing and partly 
 crying, carried to his fine house to live. The 
 woods were budding forth now; the fire had 
 gone out in the sugar camp; and the cattle 
 and sheep went along the brooksides, nib 
 bling the tender and sprouting grass. "Now, 
 my wards," said Uncle Peter, seeing that we 
 looked back, "you must not cast one glance 
 of sorrow toward the old house and farm ; 
 
HARRIED, NOT MATED. 175 
 
 why, it is a miserable hut the house you 
 have been accustomed to call home. No 
 wonder your mother died there ; I should die 
 there too, if I had no better place to live in ; 
 and the farm is nothing but a collection of 
 woods and fields badly cultivated and ineli- 
 gibly situated. Now, my wards, lay aside 
 prejudice and see if the old place won t 
 appear very ineligible." 
 
 "I have never seen much," answered 
 Rosalie, "but of all I have seen, home is 
 the prettiest place." 
 
 " How ignorant you are!" said Uncle Peter; 
 " wait till you have seen my estate. Throck- 
 morton Hall I call it. Your aunt Sarah did 
 indeed suggest the name, but I decided it. 
 How do you like it, my wards? well sound 
 ing, is n t it?" 
 
 Of course we said it was a pretty name, 
 for we felt that Uncle Peter wished us to say 
 so. He smiled graciously, and drawing down 
 the window directed Westley, the coachman, 
 to drive slow, and give his little wards a view 
 of "the scenery about the Hall." I was try 
 ing to make a picture of it, the beautiful 
 
176 MAEKIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 house, when Uncle Peter assuming a grave 
 aspect, said, " My little wards, I have one 
 request, which is, that you will hereafter 
 address me as Uncle Samuel Peter; that is 
 my name, wards, and it sounds better to the 
 ear than simple Peter." 
 
 " Simple Peter, I think," whispered Kosie 
 to me. 
 
 "What did you say, my ward?" asked 
 Uncle Samuel Peter. 
 
 " That Samuel Peter is greatly more digni 
 fied than simply Peter," she replied, looking 
 earnest and serious. 
 
 "The correctness of your judgment quite 
 astonishes me," said my uncle ; and he con 
 tinued, "you are far handsomer than your 
 sister ; why, I never saw eyes so black and 
 sparkling ; Orpha, my dear, you will be quite 
 overshadowed ; you must try and call a little 
 spirit into your face." 
 
 I was so much afraid of offending him I 
 did not say anything, and turning away my 
 face, which I felt must be very homely, tried 
 to keep down the emotion which his words 
 provoked. 
 
MAKKIED, NOT MATED. 177 
 
 " And shall we say Aunt Sarah, Uncle 
 Samuel Peter?" asked Rosalie; "you know 
 you must instruct us, we are such ignorant 
 little girls." 
 
 He did not see her half arch and half sar 
 castic expression, but replied gravely, " Why 
 yes, my wards, if you like ; I say Sarah or 
 Mrs. Throckmorton merely in respect to my 
 dignity, not that it makes any difference to 
 her what I call her." 
 
 "Were you ever sick, Uncle Samuel 
 Peter ? " inquired Rosalie directly. 
 
 "No, my ward why do you ask you 
 do n t see any indications of disease, do 
 you?" 
 
 " "No, Uncle Samuel Peter that was why 
 I asked you looked so remarkably well for 
 your years," she went on. 
 
 "My years," interrupted Uncle Peter, 
 " what of my years, Rose?" 
 
 ""Why," she continued, as if pursuing the 
 same train of thought, "you must be forty, 
 Uncle Samuel Peter, ain t you ? " 
 
 " Yes, my darling ward, about that," he re 
 plied, stroking his chin. 
 8* 
 
I TS M A K u i E D , NOT MATED. 
 
 " And you look so young !" continued 
 Rosalie. 
 
 " What splendid hair you have !" lie said, 
 and put his hand through Rosie s hair, caress 
 ingly and admiringly. 
 
 She laughed, shaking loose her curls, and 
 asked something about "Throckmorton Hall," 
 not forgetting the entire name of Samuel 
 Peter. A dozen times she had said it, while 
 I sat bashfully in the corner, unnoticed 
 and unthought of. Rosie knew intuitively 
 how to read human nature ; I did not know 
 then, nor why it was she said Uncle Samuel 
 Peter, while I said nothing. My mother 
 called me as fair as she, and loved me as well, 
 and not till I set out with our uncle did 
 I have a thought of how much plainer I was 
 than she, and how inferior in every way. 
 
 Ah me ! our success in this world depends 
 greatly on the facility with which we can say 
 Uncle Samuel Peter ! Peter, simply, will not 
 do at all. 
 
 Rosalie had a bold, independent character, 
 but her roguish good humor charmed you 
 away from the superiority she unconsciously 
 
J\l A K K I E D , NOT MATED. 179 
 
 , assumed, and the smile with which she sent 
 her arrow made you forgive the sting; and 
 then, she was so careless whom she wounded, 
 that no one felt she had taken any particular 
 aim. Whether she lived at the Hall or 
 at the old homestead was the same to her, 
 so far as pride and humility were con 
 cerned ; but she saw that Uncle Peter looked 
 down on our homestead, and so, smiling at 
 his weakness, she seemed to look up to the 
 Hall ; I really thought it a much finer place 
 than our little farm; but this availed noth 
 ing I could not say Samuel Peter, half so 
 smoothly as she. 
 
 " ]N"o, Rosie," said Uncle Peter, taking up 
 the thread of a conversation dropped some 
 time past, " I have never been sick ; I really 
 wish I could be, but I never could consent to 
 violate the laws of health sufficiently." 
 
 "Why, Uncle Samuel Peter!" exclaimed 
 Rosie. She did not say any more, but her 
 tone and manner implied to him wonder, 
 admiration, and curiosity, and a great deal 
 of general interest besides. I had said " Why, 
 Uncle Samuel ! " at the same time : 1 forgot 
 
180 MAKE i ED, NOT MATED. 
 
 to add the Peter, in. my earnestness ; but 
 Rosie was not so earnest as to forget a mat 
 ter thus important, and the consequence was 
 that my exclamation elicited no attention, and 
 our uncle said, "Because, my ward," not 
 my wards, " I would like to make an example 
 of myself; I would like to show the world 
 what heroism, under affliction, is. Men are so 
 unworthy of the name of men, I really would 
 like to make an example of myself." 
 
 " I suppose, Uncle Peter, it would be for 
 the benefit of the world," replied Rosie, but 
 the ludicrousness of the thing was so appa 
 rent, that the dimples deepened and deepened 
 until she laughed out. 
 
 "My ward! my ward," exclaimed Uncle 
 Peter, u is that becoming reverence to rny 
 years ?" 
 
 " O, Uncle Samuel Peter," answered Rosie, 
 " you can t make yourself seem old to me, 
 if you are forty," and she ran on at once 
 with some inquiry about the Hall, so Uncle 
 Peter altogether forgot the irreverence. 
 
 " How pretty the scenery is becoming," I 
 ventured to remark. 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 181 
 
 Uncle Peter said nothing, and Rosie added, 
 " Yes, as we come near the Hall." 
 
 Uncle Peter smiled and repeated, " Yes, 
 my ward, as we come near the Hall, the 
 little places about here set mine off beauti 
 fully." 
 
 " Beautifully !" echoed Eosie 
 
 " I can t fancy anything prettier than this 
 place," I said; "is it yours, Uncle Peter?" 
 "We were passing a very highly cultivated 
 and beautiful farm. 
 
 " Pshaw, child ! how stupid you are !" he 
 answered? "that is not Thr6ckmorton Hall; 
 a good little sort of a place, to be sure, but 
 not worth driving so slow for what an ass 
 Westley is ! " 
 
 Rosie looked the other way, and asked 
 indifferently who owned the place, while I 
 strained my eyes to see it : the yard about 
 the house was so pretty, with early flowers 
 and leafing trees, I could not help it. 
 
 "Orpha, do sit up you will grow 
 crooked," said my uncle ; and turning to 
 Rosie, he replied to her question most com 
 placently : " The place is owned by an old 
 
182 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 woman of the name of Graham : a most unlike 
 able old creature, and in imitation of me, I 
 suppose, they have named the farm they 
 call it "Woodside;" and he could not help 
 laughing : it was so ludicrous that any place 
 should have a name except his. 
 
 Rosie laughed, too, and said, " Great men 
 must expect small imitators." 
 
 " Yes, my ward," he replied, and with so 
 deep and gratified a respiration that one of 
 his vest buttons gave way. 
 
 I could not help saying Woodside was a 
 sweet name. 
 
 " Respectable," answered Uncle Peter. 
 
 "O, I don t know," said Rose, " it is well 
 enough." 
 
 " Yes, my ward, w r ell enough ; nothing 
 more can be said ;" and his manner indicated 
 that in his own estimation he had uttered a 
 very generous thing. 
 
 " Does the old woman you speak of live 
 alone ?" asked Rose. 
 
 I knew not whether she had seen, though I 
 had, a very handsome young man seated on 
 the steps of the portico, reading, and at the 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 1 ) 
 
 same time playing coquettishly with a fine 
 dog beside him. 
 
 "I believe not," answered Uncle Peter; 
 " she has one or two sons ; I scarcely know 
 them, however." 
 
 The young man had but carelessly looked 
 up as we passed, and I felt that Uncle Peter s 
 indifference was probably reciprocated. 
 
 " We have some very good honest people 
 about here," he soliloquized, "but very few with 
 whom one cares to be intimately associated." 
 
 " How are you, Judge ?" was an abrupt, and 
 coarse salutation, that caused me to turn my 
 head quickly. Westley had drawn up the 
 reins, and my uncle was glancing toward the 
 window, before which, seated on the ugliest 
 little donkey I ever beheld, was a very singu 
 lar specimen of womanhood. She was small 
 in stature, seeming to have been stinted, by 
 hard work, of the proportions which nature 
 would have given her, as we sometimes notice 
 trees, dwarfed and scrubby, in climates too 
 severe for them. Her hair, far from being 
 tastefully arranged, was mostly concealed, or 
 supposed to be concealed, under a thick cam- 
 
181 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 brie night cap, and over this she wore a 
 calico sun-bonnet, smooth and clean, but other 
 wise having little to recommend it. The face 
 beneath was a curious study ; intelligent, but 
 exceedingly vulgar ; sunburnt to a shining 
 brown, and with teeth nearly the same color. 
 Her dress, a faded but clean calico, was 
 tucked about her person quite too closely to 
 be graceful, and her bare ankles she wore 
 no stockings dangled considerably below 
 the bottom of her skirt. Shoes of the coarsest 
 and clumsiest fashion encased her feet, and 
 her hands seemed never to have been much 
 used to gloves. The bridle rein was twisted 
 around the saddle horn, and the donkey 
 guided himself, for the hands of the woman 
 found employment in holding fast two 
 children, of whom the eldest, astride the 
 beast, and clinging to the waist of his mother, 
 could not yet have seen his fifth year. This 
 sturdy and independent, looking youth wore a 
 hat of black felt, greatly too large for his 
 head, a muslin shirt, tow trousers, and leather 
 suspenders. His dress consisted of these arti 
 cles alone. 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 185 
 
 "All, Mrs. Muggins, how do you do?" was 
 my uncle s reply to the woman s salutation. 
 
 " O, I do as well as I can ; how is your old 
 woman ?" 
 
 " Thank you, I left Mrs. Throckmorton very 
 well. Your children seem blessed with health, 
 madam." 
 
 " Yes, thank Moses, they complain of good 
 appetites most of the time." 
 
 "I have not had the pleasure of seeing your 
 children before now," my uncle continued ; 
 and patting the boy on the cheek he paid him 
 some compliment, asking if the others were 
 as promising. 
 
 " Well," said Mrs. Muggins, " they are 
 about six of one and half a dozen of t other, 
 but my old man thinks this the greatest boy 
 that ar going," and she unswathed a little 
 baby who helped in preserving her balance, 
 and who appeared to have been in this present 
 world but a very limited number of days. 
 
 " How old is the child ?" asked our uncle, 
 in apparent surprise. 
 
 " As old again as half," replied the woman ; 
 " but do n t you think he s some ? he was so 
 
186 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 tickled he went off on a bender, and I have n t 
 seen head nor heels of him for the last three 
 days." 
 
 " It is n t possible!" exclaimed my uncle 
 
 " Pshaw ! you might as well kill me as 
 scare me," replied Mrs. Muggins, evidently 
 wisely superior to any uneasiness on account 
 of the bender. 
 
 u I hope he is not habitually intemperate," 
 my uncle said. 
 
 " Intemperate, your granny ! he do n t drink 
 enough to hurt him, and what s the use of a 
 feller never having any good of his life ?" 
 
 " But the waste of money and time, to say 
 nothing of health?" 
 
 " It does seem so, I s pose, the way you look 
 at it," 
 
 " I believe, madam, I must say good even 
 ing," and uncle Peter bowed politely. 
 
 "!N"o you do n t, Major; I ve got a heap to 
 say yet," and Mrs. Muggins released one 
 hand and dexterously gave the hindmost boy 
 a slap across the ear, for he had been all this 
 time persuading his mother to ride on by a 
 series of blows in her back with his fist, and 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 187 
 
 repeated kicks against her person with his 
 naked feet, accompanied with such appeals as 
 "Thar, now, why don t you cut dirt?" 
 " Bone along with yon, Rache ;" and the like. 
 The boy "subsided" on receiving the blow, 
 with the modest reply of, " .Well, take your 
 time, Miss Lucy," and turning himself toward 
 the donkey s tail, set his strength lustily 
 against it. His smart repartee almost con 
 vulsed the woman for a moment, but calming 
 herself, and peering into the coach, she said, 
 "Are these the young ones, Captain, you 
 have took for to raise ?" 
 
 "I propose to have them for a time." 
 " How old be you ? how old be you ?" she 
 asked, nodding first towards myself and then 
 toward Rose. 
 
 When we had told our respective ages, she 
 said we were big enough to do a heap of work, 
 but that one of us (I knew she meant me) had 
 a kind of a sheepish look seemed skeered or 
 something a good deal like granmam s boy 
 did when he thought she was like for to take 
 after him. I smiled, and she went on to say I 
 
188 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 looked a little more peart, maybe I would 
 not be such a slow coacli after all. 
 
 She then asked Uncle Peter how long our 
 mother was sick, and when she died, and how 
 the corpse looked, and if we " took it very 
 Lard," and if it was likely our father would 
 marry again, and if he did whether we chil 
 dren would not find " mother " a big mouthful. 
 She then told us that granmam s Jim * turned 
 black as the chimney back before he was 
 buried," and she had had her own " thoughts 
 about his eating some of the pizen posies that 
 Hen. Graham thought so dreadful much of." 
 
 " I meant to go over to your house, Colo 
 nel," she continued : " I was visiting at gran- 
 mam s to-day but a body has so much to 
 talk about when a body goes from home, it 
 seems as if the time fairly flies. I guess, 
 between you and me, they do n t live any too 
 happy there I knowed when Hal and Netty 
 got married they were going it blind ; Netty 
 liked Staff, but she could n t get him that is 
 about the truth of it and so she took up 
 with Hal ; well, go it ye cripples that s my 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 189 
 
 blessing Staff is at home now, and he is 
 prouder and hatefuler than ever; if I was the 
 blackest, pizenest critter in the world, he 
 couldn t make himself more scarce than he 
 does when I go there." 
 
 "Really, Mrs. Muggins, we shall have to 
 say good-bye," said rny uncle, almost with 
 petulance. 
 
 Mrs. Muggins replied, indignantly, "In a 
 horn ! I s pose because you got the dimes 
 you think you are on a high horse beside of 
 us ; but you can t cut off our legs, I guess, and 
 if you could wooden ones are cheap; so good 
 bye to you, reverend Mr. Throckmorton." 
 
 " Who was all them are, Rache ?" asked the 
 elder boy, facing about. 
 
 "Oh, they think they are some punkins," 
 replied the mother, in a tone so loud as to be 
 distinctly heard by us. 
 
 Rosalie was greatly amused by this " vision 
 of a lady," as she called our meeting with Mrs. 
 Muggins, and Uncle Samuel Peter laughed 
 immoderately at the charming humor of his 
 ward, scarcely ceasing till we arrived at the 
 gate of Throckmorton Hall. 
 
190 M A R R I E D , NOT MATED. 
 
 .The beauty that met ray gaze on descending 
 from the carriage did not quite bewilder me, 
 as I had been led to expect it would. The 
 house itself was large and showy, and the 
 grounds about it carefully and nicely kept, 
 but the glimpse I had taken of Woodside led 
 me to think it more charming. Kosie clapped 
 her hands, saying, " ]STo wonder Uncle Samuel 
 Peter keeps young, in a place like this;" and 
 away she ran, up one walk and down another, 
 delighted as a spring bird, while I walked 
 silently and bashfully toward the house. 
 
 There were tears in Aunt Sally s eyes as she 
 met me I thought at first because she was 
 so glad to see me ; but with a glance and a 
 smile she went right past me, and throwing 
 her arms about Uncle Peter, embraced him as 
 though she had not seen him for twenty years 
 " Oh, my dear, I am so glad! I was so afraid ! 
 and has nothing happened, and do you feel 
 well, perfectly well, my dear?" she repeated 
 over and again, holding his hands and look- 
 in sr in his face as a saint would look into 
 
 O 
 
 heaven. 
 
 " Thank you, Mrs. Throckmorton," replied 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 191 
 
 Uncle Peter, benignly, releasing himself with 
 out returning her embrace ; " I feel very tired, 
 very tired; I think I could eat a spring 
 chicken." 
 
 Aunt Sally did not say tea was waiting, as 
 it was, but hastened to order the chicken to 
 be caught and dressed, and in a few moments 
 Westley announced that such a service had 
 been effected. 
 
 Aunt Sally soon brought gown and slippers, 
 and unknotting the ribbon of his overcoat, 
 helped him put them on. "I wish, my dear, 
 you had brought down my reading chair, 
 too," said Uncle Peter ; and away she went 
 again, but it was long before she came back. 
 Alas ! Uncle Peter had no reading chair, and 
 she knew it before she set out on her fruitless 
 search, but so accustomed was she to making 
 some sort of shift to meet his wishes, that she 
 would have essayed to obey him if he had 
 told her to bring in the moon. 
 
 The husband never once thought to ask 
 her if she were well ; of course she was ; he 
 never knew her to be otherwise. When 
 she stooped to kiss me, to say I must not be 
 
192 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 lonesome, but amuse myself till tea-time in 
 the garden, and that I should then have an 
 opportunity of seeing more of my good uncle, 
 he replied that I would not profit much by 
 his counsels I was not wise enough, in short, 
 to understand him ; he would give me to her ; 
 but his charming ward, Kosie where was 
 the dear girl ? and our dignified relation was 
 soon rolling on the grass like a boy, while 
 Rosie threw flowers about him. 
 
 " You are a good girl, I hope," Aunt Sally 
 said, presently, as I sat quietly in one corner, 
 trying to be as much out of the way as I 
 could, for I felt afraid and not quite welcome. 
 I answered that I had tried to be good, and 
 she looked at me inquiringly, and replied, " I 
 hope you are, for if Mr. Throckmorton should 
 dislike you what could I do? That is my 
 footstool you are sitting on," she continued ; 
 " maybe he will want it ; I guess you had bet 
 ter go to your own room and stay till tea- 
 time." 
 
 I obeyed with a heavy heart, for I felt that 
 it was to withdraw me from Uncle Peter s ob 
 servation that the suggestion was made. I 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 193 
 
 heard the merry laugh of .Rosalie, and tears 
 fell silently as the consciousness of my isola 
 tion increased; I thought of our own quiet 
 home, and the meadow with the sheep by the 
 brookside ; and the sugar camp beyond ; they 
 seemed far prettier to me than " the Hall." 
 
 I tried to dry my eyes after a time, and 
 stole to the great looking-glass with a deter 
 mination to observe myself narrowly, for I 
 began to think I must look very ugly, else 
 why should my uncle dislike me ? I had said 
 nothing, I was sure, to offend him. The glass 
 was in a frame bright as gold, but surely, 1 
 had never appeared half so plain in the little 
 cracked glass at home. My eyes were swol 
 len and my cheeks pale, and my frock, though 
 just like Rosalie s, it seemed to me was more 
 faded and less becoming. 
 
 When a servant called me to tea I thought 
 Aunt Sally had not sent the invitation, and so 
 declined to go, saying I was not hungry. My 
 sensitive and suspicious heart was my greatest 
 enemy. I did not know it. 
 
 And so inauspiciously began my life at 
 "Throckmorton Hall." 
 
 9 
 
MARRIED. NOT MATBI, 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 MANY tilings came under my observation 
 in the course of a month s residence at 
 Uncle Peter s, which led me to believe he - was 
 a man of mark in the estimation of most of 
 his neighbors. As for my good Aunt Sally, she 
 had no idea that the world contained his equal. 
 I think she must have felt that she was blessed 
 above all women, and that in her prayers and 
 thanksgivings she was wont to say, " what 
 have I done for heaven that I should be my 
 husband s wife?" Simple minded and credu 
 lous woman! she thought herself incapable 
 of comprehending his profound wisdom and 
 greatness, but I am strongly inclined to sus 
 pect what seemed wisdom and greatness to 
 
MAKEIED, NOT MATED. 195 
 
 her, were in reality foolishness and excessive 
 
 littleness. 
 
 I made some timid overtures for the affec 
 tions of my uncle, but they were fruitless ; 
 he was not capable of understanding a gentle 
 appeal ; it was only the boldest demands that 
 he could appreciate. 
 
 My Uncle Peter, or Samuel P. I. T. Throck- 
 mortori, for so he wrote his name, was in one 
 sense of the word, certainly, an extraordinary 
 person, standing six feet in his stockings, and 
 exceeding in portliness most men it was ever 
 my fortune to see. I do n t know why, but I 
 never couid become familiar with his dimen 
 sions, and each successive time I found myself 
 in his presence, a new button off, or another slit 
 in shoe or glove, impressed me with a new con 
 viction of his unapproachable dimensions. 
 Indeed, he never had vest, trousers, or coat, 
 quite equal to his needs ; whether the fault of 
 his tailor, or whether he grew between the 
 time of the measurement for a suit and the 
 finishing, I do n t know, but certain it is, that 
 always he puffed out like a cushion through 
 every opening of his vestments. He was bluff 
 
196 MARRIED, -NOT MATED. 
 
 and rough, and never having had any ill- 
 health, he had never the least sympathy for 
 the weaknesses of others. 
 
 " There is no need of sickness," he used to 
 say, " if people will only take a little care. 
 Now I have never been sick a day in my life, 
 and it is all owing to my caution. I do n t 
 suppose I am made out of better stuff than 
 others, but I am prudential and abstemious." 
 So Uncle Peter would declare, day after day, 
 greatly to the edification of Aunt Sally and 
 the amusement of Rose, who with hearty 
 laughter never failed to sanction the assertion 
 that he was made of no better material than 
 other men. But though Samuel P. I. T. 
 Throckmorton had never been sick, he gave 
 himself a degree of credit for caution which 
 he did not deserve. It was constitutional 
 ability that resisted disease, and no wise regu 
 lation of his habits. He was accustomed to 
 drink a pint of whisky every day (some 
 persons required just that quantity, Aunt Sally 
 said), and to cat as much roast beef, plum- 
 pudding, rich sauces and condiments, as his 
 capacious stomach would hold ; in short, to 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 197 
 
 indulge his appetite in every way to an unlim 
 ited extent. He never took exercise on foot 
 that was beneath his dignity but, even 
 in giving orders about "the Hall," rode in a 
 sulky, only large enough to receive its 
 appointed burden ; and when circumstances 
 called him abroad, dozed in a coach as ple 
 thoric as himself. In excursions through the 
 farm and neighborhood he sometimes took 
 Rosalie with him, but never me ; it seemed as 
 if I required more room than she, he used to 
 say, when Aunt Sally tremblingly suggested 
 that maybe I would like a ride. She could 
 not exactly understand how it was, but that it 
 was so was undeniable. Ah ! that unpro 
 nounceable Samuel Peter I. T. cost me a great 
 deal. 
 
 There were, by the way, one or two health 
 insurances which Uncle Peter scrupulously 
 observed. He always kept half a dozen aper 
 tures in the crown of his hat for the admis 
 sion of air, wore a galvanized ring, which 
 was almost concealed by the superabundant 
 wealth of flesh upon his fingers ; and would 
 never taste the milk of a black cow to him 
 
198 MARRIED, NOT MA T E D . 
 
 it was rank poison. It was strange, Aunt 
 Sally said, that Mr. Throckmorton should 
 know this positively, without ever having 
 tasted such milk ; nevertheless she classed it 
 with the intuitive discoveries and unquestion 
 able perceptions of his genius. A man of iron 
 constitution, and never having been exposed 
 to hardships, he had resisted to an unusual 
 degree, up to his sixtietli year, the natural 
 wear and tear of life ; and he was never 
 weary of boasting that his good condition 
 resulted more from his intellectual and moral, 
 than from any physical superiority. 
 
 However much such conclusions may be 
 shunned by the reasoning faculties, it is true, 
 beyond all doubt, that most persons feel that 
 there is a correspondence, a harmony, a pro- 
 
 
 
 portion of some sort, between a man s cor 
 poreal and incorporeal attributes. The gener 
 ous Boniface is portly, as the knave is lean. 
 "With the first sight of Uncle Peter, completely 
 filling the seat of his sulky, there was an 
 impression that he was a superior character. 
 The weight of his opinion, in the neighbor 
 hood affairs, as against that of little Jenkins, 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 199 
 
 the saddler, could be determined exactly by the 
 scales in front of the tavern. If mind and 
 matter have a fixed relation of quantity, what 
 mental resources were hidden under that capa 
 cious coat ! Three Jenkinses were scarcely 
 equal to one Throckmortoii. And the autho 
 rity of wealth is every where recognized in 
 the same way. How could my Uncle Peter 
 be so much richer than Jenkins except by his 
 greater wit, his sounder judgment, his more 
 indefectable virtue ? Jenkins s garden was in 
 excellent condition, but it gave him but one 
 acre of public confidence, to Uncle Peter s 
 five hundred. All the people about were 
 seeking to be enlightened respecting Uncle 
 Peter s views, but the poor little saddler could 
 not detain the meanest voter by the button for 
 even a moment. My excellent aunt was not 
 ignorant of all these manifestations of defer 
 ence ; why should not Uncle Peter be regarded 
 by her as a great man ? He was great in per 
 son, great in property, great in the esteem of 
 his neighbors, and unapproachably great in his 
 own conceit. 
 
 I remember, as an illustration of the impor 
 
200 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 tance in which his opinion was held, that 
 when a new turnpike was made, the judgment 
 of all inferior stockholders yielded to his, and 
 a bend which took in various hills and hollows, 
 was made, greatly to the detriment of the 
 general interest, merely for the sake of avoid 
 ing Uncle Peter s barn. Everybody said it 
 was right to make the bend ; it gave variety, 
 and added to the romance of the scenery. 
 But when the surveyor struck through the 
 snug little house of Solomon Delver, a man 
 employed by the company to break stone, 
 nobody thought it would be of any use to 
 make another bend, and Solomon had neither 
 wisdom nor eloquence to save his domicil 
 from destruction. 
 
 When the new school-master came, after a 
 deliberative council, which was all a sham, the 
 trustees laid the case before Samuel P. I. T. 
 Throckmorton Esquire, who had no children 
 to educate, and would not, one would suppose, 
 feel so lively an interest in educational matters 
 as men with families. Nevertheless his care 
 less decision was the law. In reality he was 
 the despot of a little kingdom, and great was 
 
M A tt Ji I E D , NOT M A T E J) . 201 
 
 the consternation which pervaded its borders, 
 when it was rumored that he was ill, and had 
 sent fifty miles for an eminent surgeon to visit 
 him a man who, in the ordinary practice of 
 medicine, was of little repute. 
 
 On returning from a dinner party at Squire 
 Thornton s, one day, Uncle Peter professed 
 himself somewhat indisposed, and though, 
 perhaps, a little exercise and abstinence would 
 have operated as restoratives, he was of a dif 
 ferent opinion, and tumbling himself into bed, 
 and being smothered in blankets, and having 
 hot bricks at his feet, sought by a liberal allow 
 ance of confections to renew the healthy action 
 of his digestive organs. Aunt Sally grew 
 more fidgety and nervous than usual, and 
 having been all her life accustomed to rely 
 with implicit confidence on the judgment of 
 her husband, did so now that his indisposition 
 unbalanced the little sagacity h^ possessed 
 when in his best condition. It soon became 
 apparent, notwithstanding Uncle Peter s stoi 
 cal pretensions hitherto, that he was likely 
 to make an example of himself not at all in 
 keeping with his promises or his intentions. 
 
202 M A B B i E D , NOT MATED. 
 
 Frightened and half-crazed, Aunt Sally ran 
 up and down stairs, bringing whatever the 
 sick man required, without question or hesita 
 tion now hot soup, and now cider or whisky, 
 now a mustard plaster, and now the contents 
 of some old bottle of medicine, originally de 
 signed to cure no one knew what. Under this 
 
 O 
 
 desultory and not very scientific treatment 
 the patient grew worse in the course of a few 
 hours, and when the night came, was persuaded 
 into believing himself greatly worse than he 
 really was. Uncle Peter could not endure 
 even a slight headache calmly, that was past 
 a doubt. 
 
 " Oh, if I could only suffer for you !" Aunt 
 Sally kept saying ; " I am used to headaches, 
 and it is so much harder for you, who never 
 felt a pain till now !" 
 
 " My dear Mrs. Throckmorton, I wish you 
 could," Uncle Peter would answer, and Aunt 
 Sally thought he was very good to notice her 
 at all. 
 
 Such a groaning and moaning he made, and 
 Aunt Sally so often wiped her eyes, that 
 my sympathies were enlisted, and I feared 
 
M A li 11 1 E D , NO T MATED. 203 
 
 Uncle Peter really would die, especially when 
 the great surgeon. Dr. Cutaway, was sent for. 
 Rose seemed not at all astonished, but read 
 on in some book in which she was interested, 
 all the time, looking up now and then, it is 
 true, to ask Uncle Samuel Peter how he felt. 
 It did him good to see her so calm. Uncle 
 Peter said : Mrs. Throckmorton and Orpha 
 did him more harm than good by their offi- 
 ciousness. I went apart to cry, and Aunt 
 Sally followed me, to say I must not be vexed 
 with my poor uncle, he was so sick, that he 
 did n t know what he said. 
 
 In the course of the evening Uncle Peter s 
 punctilious politeness to his dear Mrs. Throck 
 morton underwent considerable modification. 
 First, he addressed that amiable woman as 
 dear Sarah Anna then as dear Sarah 
 then he began to say simply " Sally, my 
 dear;" but before ten o clock it was all Sally 
 Ann! Oh, Sally Ann!" The great Mr. 
 Samuel P. I. T. Throckmorton was changed : 
 
 O f 
 
 he was reduced by intense and torturing 
 pain to a forgetfulness of his own dignified 
 importance. 
 
204: MAKKIKD, NOT MATED. 
 
 " "What shall I do for you now ?" and " "What 
 shall I do for you now 2" was the constant 
 appeal of the wife, though physically exhaust 
 ed, and unable to think of a new expedient 
 with which to amuse his mind. 
 
 " Oh, Sally Ann ! I want somebody to 
 come. Can t you send for somebody, Sally 
 Ann? It seems to me every minute is an 
 hour. Ain t the clock wrong ? Oh ! what 
 shall I do ? I m so bad, it seems to me I 
 can t live from one moment to another. There, 
 Westley, go for Mrs. Perrin tell her to come 
 as quick as she can : tell her, her friend, Mr. 
 Throckmorton, is dangerously ill ; and be sure 
 to be particular and say friend. We are all 
 poor, frail creatures ; and I feel as if I was 
 the friend of everybody. I have not a hard 
 thought laid up against anybody in the world. 
 Oh, Sally Ann ! I wish all my friends were 
 here. I feel as if I wanted to ask them to 
 forgive me, if I have ever done them any 
 wrong. Oh, how differently a man looks at 
 things when he happens to be on his death 
 bed !" 
 
 Westley started at once, to say to Mrs. Per- 
 
M A B B IE D , NO T M A T E D . 205 
 
 riii that her friend was dangerously ill ; and 
 Rosie slily turned away lier face to conceal 
 the effect of such an absurd suggestion upon 
 her countenance. 
 
 Westley had not gone twenty yards when I 
 was sent after him in all haste. Uncle Peter 
 had changed his mind, and would have him 
 go first for Deacon Dole ; he felt in a serious 
 frame of mind, and believed the deacon was 
 a good man, if there was such a thing in the 
 world. 
 
 Long before it was time for him to have 
 delivered the message, the querulous invalid 
 exclaimed, " Oh, Sally Ann! do you think that 
 boy will ever get back ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes, my dear ; it is not time yet." 
 
 " Well, do you think the deacon will come, 
 Sally Ann?" 
 
 " Yes, my dear, he will surely come, if he 
 is at home." 
 
 " But, Sally Ann, will he be at home ?" 
 
 "Yes, it s most likely." 
 
 " Well, then, how long will he bo getting 
 there, Sally Ann ?" 
 
206 M A it it i 
 
 " Perhaps an hour, my dear Mr. Throck- 
 morton." 
 
 " That will be so long ; I can t wait : I 
 wish he had not gone ; I wish he would come 
 back ; I wish we had sent for old Mrs. Per- 
 rin, and not for the deacon at all ; I m afraid 
 he can t do me any good ; do you think he 
 can, Sally ? Do you think a deacon is likely 
 to do a sick man good ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes, I am sure Deacon Dole will do 
 you good ; he is a kind, sympathizing sort of 
 a man." 
 
 " Oh, Sally Ann ! I do n t want sympathy : 
 what good would that do me ?" 
 
 " I did n t say sympathy," said Aunt Sally, 
 " I said sensible." 
 
 " Oh, Lord ! Sally, you say anything : you 
 do n t know what you say." 
 
 Aunt Sally freely admitted that she did not 
 always know what she said ; but Uncle Peter 
 was not to be pacified: he felt so awfully bad, 
 how could he be ? 
 
 " I wish we had sent for Mrs. Perrin," he 
 resumed, after an interval of groans. 
 
MARKIED, NOT MATED. 207 
 
 " I wish we had," said Aunt Sally ; " she is 
 a good nurse." 
 
 " Sally Ann, go to the window, and the 
 moment you see Westley, order him to go 
 after Mrs. Perrin, as hard as he can drive." 
 
 " I will, my dear." 
 
 " Are you at the window now ?" 
 
 " Yes, I am at the window." 
 
 " Well, then, do you see him, Sally Ann ?" 
 
 " No, dear Mr. Throckmorton ; . I wish I 
 did." 
 
 " Oh, mercy ! Sally, can t you hear him, 
 then?" 
 
 " ifo, dear Mr. Throckmorton." 
 
 " Just faintly a great way off?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Oh, mercy, mercy, mercy ! how soon do 
 you think you can hear ?" 
 
 " In ten minutes, I guess." 
 
 " Ten minutes! bless me! that is long enough 
 for a man to die and go to heaven." 
 
 " Yes, Uncle Samuel Peter," said Rosie, 
 " or to a less agreeable place." 
 
 Uncle Peter left off groaning long enough 
 to say his ward was the wittiest young lady 
 
208 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 he had ever the pleasure of knowing, bul 
 hastened to add, " Oh ! Sally Ann, do n t you 
 see that boy ? I wish we had sent for Mrs. 
 Perrin ; do you think she can do any good, 
 Sally Ann ?" 
 
 " Yes ; she has been in sickness a great 
 deal, and she is good company, too." 
 
 " I wish "Westley would come. Do you see 
 him, Sally Ann ? Oh, dear me ! oh! my" 
 
 " Are you in great pain, my dear Mr. 
 Throckmorton ?" 
 
 " No, Sally Ann ; but I am so sick every 
 way." 
 
 " What can I do, my husband ?" 
 
 " Oh, Sally Ann ! I do n t want you to do 
 anything ; nothing you can do will do me 
 any good. Give me a drink of cold water, 
 and a spoonful or two of custard, and put the 
 quilt over me, and take the blanket off; make 
 me some hot tea and a piece of toast, and wet 
 a brown paper with vinegar, and tie it on my 
 head, and shake up my pillows, and put the 
 top one down it s as hot as fire and the 
 down one up. Ain t I fallen away a good 
 deal ? Chafe my temples with your hands 
 
MARKIED, NOT MATED. 209 
 
 harder, harder, harder ! Why don t you get 
 me the cold water, or the hot tea? I want them 
 both. Oh, Sally Ann ! you can 7 t do anything 
 forme nothing in the world. Is that boy 
 coming ? he has been gone a montK. Oh, 
 why don t yon make me better?" 
 
 Such were some of the demands made on 
 the time and temper of good and patient little 
 Aunt Sally. No wonder she was worn down 
 in the course of a few honrs, and willing to 
 send for Deacon Dole or anybody else. 
 
 In twenty minutes after he had been des 
 patched, Westley returned, bringing intelli 
 gence that the Deacon would be there almost 
 as soon as himself; but Uncle Peter persisted 
 in sending for Mrs. Perrin " She can ride 
 over on your horse, and you can walk," he 
 said ; " there is no time to harness the horses. 
 Tell her to come if she will be so good so 
 very good and pass the night with me, if I 
 should live all night. Be sure and say if she 
 will be so very good." 
 
 " Oh Sally Ann ! ain t it time for the Deaeoa 
 to be here ?" 
 
 " Do you feel any worse ?" 
 
210 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 His answer was interrupted by a soft knock 
 ing 011 the door ; the deacon had waived all 
 ceremony, in view of the urgency of the case, 
 and entered the house without ringing. He 
 trod softly, as though in the presence of death, 
 and having wrung the hand of Aunt Sally, in 
 silence, approached the bedside, saying sor 
 rowfully, "Bad enough, Mr. Throckmorton, 
 ain t you ?" 
 
 " Yes, Deacon Dole, I am very low." 
 
 u A high fever, and increasing, I should say. 
 "What have you done for him, Mrs. Throck 
 morton ?" 
 
 The deacon shook his head ; he had seen 
 many similar cases, and critical as this one 
 w r as (he spoke low and looked dubious), he 
 believed, if Mr. Throckmorton would submit 
 to his direction, there would be little for Dr. 
 Cutaway to do on his arrival. He did not 
 pretend but that the patient was in a most 
 dangerous state, and advised him to be pre 
 pared for the worst, for human skill was often 
 unavailing ; and though he had great con 
 fidence in the remedies he proposed, his skill 
 might and probably would be baffled. So, in 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 211 
 
 the beginning of the deacon s treatment, the 
 fears of the patient were greatly augmented 
 to such a degree, indeed, that he would have 
 accepted any treatment. 
 
 "Oh, Sally Ann!" he cried, "do get what 
 ever the good deacon wants, and let him cure 
 me." 
 
 " Do n t be too sanguine, my friend," the 
 deacon replied solemnly ; " yon are very sick 
 now, and it may not be in the power of earthly 
 medicine to do you any good." 
 
 All the hot bricks were carried away, 
 all the clothing tossed off, a chair curiously 
 propped beneath the pillows, the brown paper, 
 wet with vinegar, thrown into the fire, and a 
 half-gallon of saltish warm water administered. 
 After the desired effect had been produced, 
 the patient found himself tremulously weak, 
 and felt that he was growing worse every 
 moment, and sent another messenger for the 
 surgeon, fifty miles away, though of its availing 
 anything there was no hope, one having been 
 sent six or eight hours previously. 
 
 To encourage and confirm his patient in the 
 increasing alarm he felt, the deacon talked 
 
212 MAKRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 of all the horrible diseases he had ever known ; 
 of all the sudden deaths, and all the death-bed 
 omens ; and told how such a man had been 
 well at six o clock, and a corpse at eight ; how 
 another, from going into a cellar, when he w r as 
 in a heated state, had caught his death cold ; 
 and with various other mournful reminis 
 cences, calculated to enfeeble even the bravest 
 courage, he followed up his first prescription. 
 At length Uncle Peter announced his belief 
 that he could not survive the night, upon 
 which the deacon consulted, in whispers, with 
 the almost frantic wife, and returning to the 
 bedside, groaning sympathetically, applied 
 cloths, w r et with camphor, to the nose and 
 mouth of the wretched man, and sedately 
 waved before his face a large palm leaf fan, 
 as if to keep life in him as long as possible. 
 
 At this stage of affairs a little woman, 
 dressed in black, bustled into the room, and 
 in a lively, cheerful voice, inquired what 
 seemed to be the matter. 
 
 The deacon shook his head, and leading her 
 mournfully aside, communicated, in a whisper 
 so loud that both Aunt Sally and Uncle Peter 
 
M A K K 1 K ]) , NO T M A T K D . 213 
 
 must have heard it distinctly, the intelligence 
 that the patient could not live till midnight 
 if he revived, he might possibly last till morn 
 ing, but no longer. 
 
 " Hi ! hi 1" replied Mrs. Pen-in, " do n t tell 
 me such scare-crow stories as that: he ain t 
 going to die to-night more than you be." And 
 approaching the bed she was about to speak 
 when the deacon, resuming his charge, called 
 her a meddlesome old woman. 
 
 Uncle Peter really thought himself too ill 
 to notice her, and Aunt Sally was scarcely 
 mistress of her actions ; so, Mrs. Pen-in, taking 
 umbrage, as well she might, floundered out 
 of the room, saying "She didn t think Mr. 
 Throckmorton needed anything but a little 
 nursing she had been up elsewhere two 
 nights, and was almost sick herself." 
 
 An hour passed, during which the salt water 
 was freely administered, while the sick man 
 mingled his groans with calls on Sally Ann, 
 who, poor woman, sat wringing her hands and 
 weeping. 
 
 At the end of that time the deacon took the 
 responsibility of calling in Farmer Hatfield ; 
 
214 M A K R I E D , NOT MATED. 
 
 apologizing to Aunt Sally, by saying " He 
 might be needed before morning." 
 
 " Oh, Sally Ann ! Sally Ann ! can t you roast 
 me some potatoes, and give me some brandy 
 and water, I just want to see if I can swallow; 
 and read me a sermon, or ask the deacon to 
 read one." 
 
 " Yes, dear Mr. Throckmorton ;" and the 
 
 ashes were filled with potatoes, the brandy 
 
 and water mixed, and the sermon brought ; 
 
 but the deacon had not got through the first 
 
 sentence when Farmer Hatfield came in. 
 
 He wore a cheerful but interested look, and 
 taking Uncle Peter s hand, said he was right 
 sick, but not dangerously so ; and after a little 
 talk about the late damp weather, rheumatism, 
 &c., he grew more cheerful, spoke of the elec 
 tion, the next presidency, and affairs generally. 
 
 The patient professed himself better, or, to 
 use his own words, he " breathed a little 
 easier." 
 
 Mr. Hatfield was a man of impulses ; and 
 upon one of them, he arose and poured the 
 salt and water into the fire, and said lie could 
 concoct a medicine of a few favorite roota 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 215 
 
 and herbs that would be miraculous in its 
 effects. 
 
 " Oh, my good Mr. Hatfield, do you think it 
 possible for me to live ?" asked the patient, 
 opening his eyes, and speaking with more 
 animation than he had before for some hours. 
 
 "Why, to be sure," replied Mr. Hatfield. 
 " I will go home and bring from my garden 
 the things I have mentioned ; meantime, you 
 must have a flannel shirt on, and have your 
 arms and face bathed with camphor : flannel 
 and camphor applied in time will cure almost 
 any disease, but, in the state you are in, you 
 will need a little strengthening syrup." 
 
 And with the assurance that he would return 
 early in the morning, bringing the medicine, 
 which could not possibly do any harm, even if 
 it did no good, he departed ; and the deacon, 
 shortly after, a little offended, took his leave. 
 Uncle Peter renewed his exclamations of " Oh 
 Sally Ann !" but was so exhausted physically, 
 and so relieved mentally, that he presently fell 
 asleep, and woke not until sunrise the next 
 morning. 
 
 Mr. Middleton was the first visitor of the 
 
216 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 day ; he was glad to find his friend no worse, 
 and begged to be allowed to send his own 
 family physician to prescribe for him, till the 
 arrival of the one already summoned. Delays 
 were dangerous, and this physician had given 
 perfect satisfaction to a great number of 
 families, for years, so that he could cordially 
 recommend him. K Now, rny dear Mr. Throck- 
 morton, do allow me this pleasure," concluded 
 Mr. Middletori. Uncle Peter was prevailed 
 upon, and so much better in consequence of 
 the sleep he had had, that he actually arose, 
 and in gown and slippers awaited the con 
 sultation; and furthermore, he expressed a 
 hope that that miserable bore, Mr. Hatfield, 
 would not trouble him with his simples. He 
 was falling back on his old self-sufficiency, 
 when that kindhearted neighbor returned, 
 with a brown earthen jar of syrup, and one 
 of his own new red flannel shirts. Uncle 
 Peter thanked him civilly, and, without com 
 municating the fact of Mr. Middleton s visit, 
 or its result, managed politely to get his 
 honest-minded friend out of the house before 
 the arrival of the doctor ; and well it was for 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 217 
 
 Mr. Hatfield s peace of mind that he did so, 
 as otherwise he would have seen his precious 
 preparations very contemptuously tossed aside. 
 Aunt Sally could not be thankful enough ; 
 she had. prayed all night for her dear hus 
 band s restoration, she said, but did n t sup 
 pose it was at all probable that her prayers 
 had been answered ; Samuel must have prayed 
 for himself, though she had not heard him. 
 
 Tears came into Rosalie s eyes, and putting 
 down her book, she kissed Aunt Sally s 
 withered cheek, saying she would never know 
 till she was asked to sit up higher, in the 
 better world, how good and how humble she 
 had been. 
 
 The doctor was formal, ostentatious, and 
 wise ; and Uncle Peter was so much pre 
 possessed in his favor, that he almost regretted 
 having sent for the surgeon. He inquired 
 minutely all the symptoms, replying, as each 
 was unfolded, " Oh, yes, I supposed so ! precise 
 ly as I anticipated !" and the like ; and left 
 half-a-dozen, small powders, neatly folded in 
 \vhite paper, with a phial containing some li 
 quid, having an unpronounceable name ; and 
 10 
 
218 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 enjoining the strictest observance as to times 
 and small quantities, took his departure. 
 
 " What did lie say was the matter with 
 you ?" asked Aunt Sally. 
 
 " He did n t say," replied Uncle Peter. 
 
 " What did he think of your pulse ?" 
 
 " He did n t feel of it." 
 
 " And your tongue ? 
 
 " He did not examine my tongue, my dear ; 
 hut he is evidently a man of great skill." 
 
 Aunt Sally could not see in what way he 
 had manifested his skill ; nevertheless, she had 
 no doubt that it was as Mr. Throckmorton 
 asserted. 
 
 One thing the skillful man had said which 
 greatly amused Uncle Peter ; he had reported 
 to his patient how the modest and really 
 estimable village doctor had thrust his thumbs 
 into his vest pockets, on hearing that Mr. 
 Throckmorton was ill, and that the great Doc 
 tor Cutaway had been sent for, and observed 
 that the patient might die while the surgeon 
 was on the way to visit him, and that unless 
 he had a Iknb to be amputated the movement 
 was a very unfortunate one. Mr. Middleton 
 
MARK i ED, NOT MATED. 219 
 
 had not added an expression of his own agree 
 ment with his brother of the village. 
 
 This greatly amused Uncle Peter. There 
 was no doubt in his mind but that the little 
 gentleman would like to be his physician. 
 
 Aunt Sally looked inquiringly, to ascertain 
 in what way it was funny ; but even when it 
 was explained that to be physician to Mr. P. 
 T. Throckmorton would give standing to the 
 little doctor, and probably help him to more 
 money than he had had for months, she failed 
 to see it in quite the "light that she felt she 
 ought, for the smile seemed a painful one, and 
 she said she wished everybody had all the 
 money they wanted. 
 
 "Poh! how you waste sympathy!" said 
 Uncle Samuel Peter. 
 
 " I suppose so," was the meek reply of my 
 aunt ; and there followed a silence which 
 her husband, feeling some compunction, per 
 haps, interrupted by saying, "I really feel 
 quite revived ; dear Mrs. Throckmorton, let 
 me prevail upon you to take a little rest 
 you may have to sit up with me all night, yon 
 know." 
 
^20 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 He could not even seem, to be generous, lie 
 was so selfish ; if he asked his wife to take 
 rest, it was after all for his own sake ; but she, 
 dear little woman, saw it not; and, exhausted 
 by so much care and toil, she needed little 
 entreaty, and was soon fast asleep. Her 
 grateful rest, however, was broken before long 
 by the tossings and worryings of her husband. 
 The first effects of medicines, generally, are 
 not very pleasant, and the frightened patient 
 fancied the natural operation of the drugs, to 
 be an augmentation of his disease. Dear Mrs. 
 
 O 
 
 Throckmorton awoke as Sally Ann again, and 
 her anxieties and labors were renewed. Mr. 
 Middleton s doctor was denounced ; not another 
 of his prescriptions w r ould the sick man swal 
 low ; he believed himself poisoned already ; 
 he urged Sally Ann to bring whatever anti 
 dotes she had ever heard of, and with excite 
 ment and counteracting medicines, the symp 
 toms, in the course of the day, took a more 
 serious turn. I was very much troubled at 
 this turn of the matter. I was afraid of death, 
 and it seemed to me that Uncle Peter could 
 not live long. I tried to make myself useful ; 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 221 
 
 but by some strange fatality I did wrong 
 whatever I did at all, and when I would have 
 made amends, with tears, they were an offence 
 also. 
 
 Meantime Rosalie glided along smoothly 
 and happily, most of the time discreetly 
 absenting herself from the sick-room. The 
 smell of the medicine affected her unpleasantly, 
 she said to Uncle Samuel Peter. Now she 
 was reading, in the shade of some tree, smiling 
 to herself; and now going through the garden 
 walks, pulling flowers to pieces, or mocking 
 the birds with her own songs. Once, when 
 the gardener asked her how her uncle was, 
 she replied, that his malady consisted chiefly 
 in groans, and that, consequently, his friends 
 suffered more from it than himself; and joined 
 on her song where she had broken it off. The 
 gardener said she was like sunshine on the 
 path, and he liked better to have her in the 
 garden, than all the birds. When I went 
 there, he said my red eyes would frighten the 
 owls, and inquired if I had seen my mother s 
 ghost, and so I returned to my thankless watch, 
 again. 
 
 It was sunset when the great surgeon came. 
 
222 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 lie had the air of one who drew at least the 
 third part of heaven s host after him. Mr. 
 Throckmorton s was only one of a thousand 
 important cases ; it could not. of course, be 
 expected that he should give much of his 
 personal attention ; he had snatched a moment, 
 as it were, and had probably risked the lives 
 of a dozen patients, to make the visit. He 
 would not flatter his patient by any hopes of 
 immediate recovery ; the case was critical, and 
 would require most skillful treatment. He 
 saw presented not only a dangerous form of 
 disease, but also the action of most deleterious 
 nostrums. lie could not, in fact, warrant a 
 cure at all; and, at best, the patient must 
 expect a long and severe illness. He could 
 not possibly remain above an hour. He 
 recommended and executed blood-letting and 
 blistering ; and, having prepared medicines 
 for a week, on the supposition that eacli one 
 would act thus and so, and laid down direc 
 tions about drops and half-drops, hours and 
 half hours, the distinguished Doctor Cutaway 
 left the room, with an ostentatious sweep, and 
 departed. 
 
 The pretentious airs and the unmeaning 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 223 
 
 magniloquence of the city celebrity were 
 calculated to inspire confidence on the part 
 of his patient ; but to Rosalie they were only 
 amusing, and I could not help a little sym 
 pathy in her skepticism, respecting both 
 Uncle Peter s danger, and Doctor Cutaway s 
 abilities. 
 
 Of course the patient found no immediate 
 relief; he suffered, as the doctor predicted; 
 but after a thousand groans, and as many calls 
 upon Sally Ann, under the influence of a 
 powerful narcotic, fell into a partial slumber. 
 Rosalie sat fast asleep in an easy-chair ; I 
 looked for the first faint streaks of day ; and 
 Aunt Sally walked up and down the room, 
 wringing her hands. 
 
 Doctor Cutaway, as I said, possessed some 
 skill in surgery, but was not otherwise eminent, 
 and though his reputation served him for a 
 wide medical practice, it is probable that our 
 village doctor, so despised by Uncle Peter, 
 was really his superior in knowledge of 
 materia medica. However, it was not so 
 believed, and when the famous personage 
 was summoned, the case was supposed to bo 
 
224: MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 perilous in the extreme ; therefore, it no 
 sooner became known that he had actually 
 visited Mr. Samuel P. I. T. Throckmorton. 
 than that person was declared by all the 
 gossips to be nigh the gates of death, and one 
 and all of his neighbors came to see him, and 
 each one knew of some certain, speedy and safe 
 cure for his disease, if he would only take it. 
 
 For a day, Doctor Cutaway s prescriptions 
 were adhered to ; then the patient began to 
 waver, and on the second morning his faith 
 was quite gone. He was " sinking every 
 moment," he said, which was quite true. 
 
 Uncle Peter began to feel that everybody 
 was his friend again, and even when Mrs. 
 Rachel Muggins was announced, he smiled, 
 and answered " Let the woman come up, 
 bless her ; it is kind of her, I am sure, to come 
 and see me." 
 
 " Mercy sakes, old man !" was her first ex 
 clamation, "be you lying here on your back? 
 now who would have thought it, you that 
 have never had a sick bone in your body ?" 
 
 She had left the baby at home asleep, and 
 just run across the fields for a minute, she 
 
M A K E I E D , NOT MATED. 225 
 
 said, not having taken time to slick up her 
 head ; and to tell the truth she had not done 
 so for a week her declaration no one who 
 saw the frizzled disorder beneath her night 
 cap, could doubt. Making no further apology, 
 she threw aside her neckerchief and cap, and 
 proceeded to make some personal renovations, 
 such as washing her face and hands in my 
 Uncle Peter s convenient bowl, and cleaning 
 her nails with a darning needle, which she took 
 from one of her sleeves. After this she shook 
 loose her tresses, and having asked Aunt Sally 
 for a comb, seated herself by the bed, and 
 began vigorously to work, talking all the 
 time. She had with her the hopeful darling 
 who made the fourth of a donkey s load, when 
 we first saw her, and as she talked and combed 
 her hair, he stood pulling at her dress, and 
 teasing her. "Rache, gim me some," he said ; 
 "I ll bite you, if you don t gim me some, I 
 say Fmhungerry! lam. I ll tell pap, if 
 you don t gim me some." He w T ore stout 
 boots and kicked at his mother by way of 
 enforcing each appeal. 
 
 " Andrew Jackson Muggins !" she ex 
 10* 
 
226 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 claimed, when at last he succeeded in gain 
 ing her attention, " Mother will whip yon till 
 yon hain t hide nor skin of yon left, if yon 
 do n t behave yourself. Now go and sit down, 
 and be pretty." 
 
 " Shan t !" replied Andrew. 
 
 " Well, then, you know what yon will get 
 Just as soon as I go home I ll give yon 
 Jessie." 
 
 The boy now cried lustily, kicking his 
 mother, and entreating her, by the endearing 
 name of Rache, to give him " some." 
 
 u Boo, hoo, woo !" exclaimed Rachael. 
 " What a torment you are ! I declare, a body 
 who has young-ones, has no peace of her life.- 
 She s just between hawk and buzzard, as a 
 body may say ;" and, turning to Andrew Jack 
 son, she said, " Shu ! I 11 sew up your mouth." 
 But such threats inspired him with no whole 
 some awe, and his cries grew turbulent. 
 
 " Bless my life, I can t make the child mind ! 
 He has got a will that can t be broke," said 
 Mrs. Muggins. 
 
 " Ding you, I knowed you could n t make 
 me mind," replied the boy, and, laughing 
 
M A R R i E i) , NOT MATED. 227 
 
 at his precocious humour, the mother now 
 tried the effect of coaxing. 
 
 " Now be a good boy, and mother will give 
 him a lump of sugar. See, he will scare all 
 the folks to death, and if he opens his mouth 
 so wide, a cat will jump into it, and then his 
 mother will have no little boy." 
 
 He did not seem affected by this pathetic 
 appeal, but replied that he wished a cat had 
 jumped into her mouth before she came to Old 
 Throckrnorton s. 
 
 " Did you ever !" exclaimed the mother, 
 laughing behind her hand, in a peculiar way ; 
 " I tell you noAV, he is one of em." 
 
 " I am that," replied the son, and he forth 
 with commenced biting at the arms of his ap 
 preciative parent, by way of bringing her to 
 terms. 
 
 u What under the sun can I do to make you 
 afraid of me ?" she said. 
 
 " Noffen," replied Jackson. " I ain t afeard 
 of you, and sixteen more just like you. So 
 give me some." 
 
 " Hark ! hark ! I hear something," inter 
 posed the mother, speaking almost under her 
 breath ; and having by this device gained the 
 
228 MAKKIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 attention of the child, she proceeded to inform 
 him that a black nigger man lived in Mr. 
 Throckmorton s chimney, and that his eyes 
 were as big as a bushel, and liis mouth as big 
 as a wash tub, and that he ate up bad boys. 
 u Now, then, if you don t lie right down and 
 go to sleep, I 11 call him. Come, big nigger 
 man ! Come and eat Jackson up." 
 
 Jackson looked askance at the fireplace, and 
 seeing nothing of the swarthy enemy, replied, 
 " You are smart, ain t you, Rache ? You can t 
 scare me, though, ding you !" 
 
 " "Will he have some cake or honey ?" asked 
 Aunt Sally ; " or is it nothing I can give him 
 he wants ?" 
 
 "Why, the truth is," said Mrs. Muggins, 
 who had been anxiously expecting some such 
 demonstration on the part of my aunt, " the 
 boy has got a considerable appetite from the 
 long walk we ve had this morning, to say 
 nothing of his having had rather slim fodder 
 for a day or two, and he would like a little 
 of your nice things, and I ara dreadfully 
 afraid he will be obstreperous till he gets 
 some." 
 
 " That s the how, Raehe ; you may look 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 229 
 
 arter yourself now; I guess I m did for," 
 Andrew Jackson Muggins intimated, in a half 
 aside but not at all inaudible speech to his 
 diplomatic mother, as he heard my aunt give 
 directions to Jane to supply his alimentary 
 necessities. 
 
 Thus much accomplished, and Mr. Graham s 
 ancient housekeeper having at length complet 
 ed her toilet and seated herself in order for 
 duty beside my Uncle Peter s bed, she proceed 
 ed with the kindly purpose which " brought 
 her out so early in the morning." 
 
 " I suppose it s none of my business," she 
 said, " but I m such a fool I can t help saying 
 what I think, and I know a-most if you would 
 send for my Indian doctor he would cure you ; 
 he has been with me in all my bad times, and 
 he is just as nice and modest-spoken a man as 
 you would wish to see. I 11 say that for him. 
 The way I heard of him was this : I was 
 over to granmarn s one day a long spell after I 
 was married ; there was a full moon I know, 
 and I went over at night ; I expected him to 
 come after me, but he didn t come and I went 
 home alone. That s the way with your married 
 
230 MARKIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 i 
 
 men, they have n t half as much gallantry as 
 they had when they were bachelors." Here she 
 glanced significantly at Rose. " "Well, I was 
 complaining of a pain in im !ot, it appeared 
 like as I had sprainted it, and granmam says 
 she, < why do n t you send or the Indian doc 
 tor ? What Indian docto. ? says I. < Why, 
 Doctor Snakeroot, says she. c "What a funny 
 name ! says I, it fairly makes a body crawl ! 
 1 Yes, says she, it is funny, but not so funny 
 as a name I heard of when I was a girl. One 
 of my young acquaintances had a beau, and his 
 name was Fish; so she thought, and so every 
 body thought; and just a week before they 
 were to be married, he guessed he would not 
 be prospered if he got married with a lie on his 
 mind, and so he told her his name was Craw 
 fish ! And granmam said the girl said she 
 reckoned she d be a-backing out, for if she 
 didn t, he would being he was likely to be 
 by nature what he was by name. 
 
 " It might seem curious to some that gran 
 mam should recommend Doctor Snakeroot to 
 me, instead of her own son, but them that s 
 been in a house as long as I was at "Woodside, 
 
M A B B I E D , NOT MATED. 231 
 
 know tilings that them do n t know that hain t 
 been in a house so farmilurly ; and, I tell you 
 now, a body finds out things that a body 
 would n t think eT ^ being intimately into the 
 house of some that aie called first cut. 
 
 "I ve seen strairro things, in my time. 
 Have you seen Staff timiham, girls ? or Doctor 
 Graham, as he pretends to call himself," she 
 asked, abruptly ; and, on our reply that we had 
 not, she said she would just warn us not to fall 
 in love with him, for though he was mighty 
 good looking, and had a smile that was like an 
 angel s, he was as proud as old Nick, and she 
 had seen a good many fine ladies try to catch 
 him, who couldn t come it, and she thought 
 there would be a slender chance for the like 
 of us. 
 
 Rosalie replied by a disdainful smile, which 
 made Mrs. Muggins look a little mean, and she 
 went on to say, " I am such a big fool I allers 
 say jist what I think: thar." 
 
 " My good friend, what about the Indian 
 doctor ?" interrupted Uncle Peter. 
 
 " Why," said Rachel, " he cured Jane Hill 
 when all the doctors had given her up, and, in 
 
232 M A K K I E D , NOT MATED. 
 
 fact, she had no hopes of herself, as you may 
 say ; she sent for a preacher and made her 
 peace, and after that, she heard of Snakeroot, 
 some way or other I don t know how it was 
 and she sent right off for him her brother 
 rode all night a-most ; and when he got there 
 the very first w r ord was, i While there is life 
 there is hope, and they said he set right to 
 work like as if he was in earnest. He said a 
 good deal ailed her, but he could cure her ; he 
 bound both her feet up in rattlesnake s grease, 
 and cut a live fowl in two, and clapped it 
 right on to her stomach ; then he gave her some 
 bitters, made of iron rust and peach brandy, and 
 sheep s milk, and it was not an hour from the 
 time she took the first spoonful till she walked 
 from the bed to the fire. Oh, they say she was 
 just as white as a corpse. They say she took her 
 medicine out of a cup that was made of a bear s 
 ear ; I do n t know whether he would give it 
 to you that way likely what is good for some 
 ain t good for others. Now, when I have my 
 bad times, he always tells me to eat rabbit s 
 meat ; he mostly traps them when he is out 
 chopping. Jane wears the skin of a black 
 
M A K R i E D , NOT MATED. 233 
 
 snake round her left ankle she wears it under 
 her stocking no body sees it; it s a charm, 
 Dr. Snakeroot says. I ve heard them say he 
 made some eat boiled bats, but I can t believe 
 that, no body could eat one, I do n t believe." 
 
 Uncle Peter was sure that good Mrs. Mug 
 gins had been sent to him by some interven 
 tion of Providence. - Oh, Sally Ann, don t 
 yon think so ?" he asked, again and again, arid 
 as Aunt Sally could not, by any possibility, 
 have thought anything else, Westley was sent, 
 post-haste, the distance of twelve miles, and 
 in due time returned, accompanied by Dr. 
 Snakeroot, with a variety of dried roots, snake 
 skins, herbs, bears ears, &c. Simples were 
 soon simmering in sheep s milk and the blood 
 of a pullet ; charms were uttered ; and the 
 miraculous course of treatment began. But 
 Doctor Snakeroot met with no such success as 
 he was reputed to have had in the case of Jane 
 Hill ; on the contrary, the patient grew worse 
 and worse. 
 
 " You are killing yourself," said Mr. Clark 
 Boots, a young gentleman who superintended 
 a boys school in the neighborhood, delivered 
 
234: MAKKIED, NOT MATED 
 
 temperance lectures, and got up moral reform 
 societies amongst the ladies. "Just let me 
 take you in hand," he said, " and you will be 
 a well man in the course of a few days ; see 
 here, sir, can you do this?" and he exhibited 
 a variety of feats of strength, with chairs, 
 tables, and the like. 
 
 Uncle Peter, now too ill to offer much 
 opposition, said he was "willing to try any 
 thing" some young men might be wiser, 
 for aught he knew, than some old ones. One 
 thing was sure, he could not live long in the 
 state in which he was; Sally Ann and his 
 dear ward, and everybody who had seen him, 
 knew that ; and, thus encouraged, Mr. Clark 
 Boots commenced operations. Poor Uncle 
 Peter was completely soused in w^et sheets, 
 and required to drink ice-water by the quart. 
 " So soon as you are able to rise," said Mr. 
 Clark Boots, " you must begin a series of 
 gymnastic exercises. First, jump over a chair, 
 then over two chairs first backward and 
 then forward -till you are master of the 
 chair exercise; then jump over the table 
 then place some small obstacle on the table 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 235 
 
 say your hat and jump over the two; and 
 so keep up brisk action till all the muscles 
 are brought into play, and a healthful perspira 
 tion induced. I will myself superintend your 
 gymnastic discipline," said Mr. Clark Boots, 
 who seemed to feel, and I believe really felt, 
 benevolent. 
 
 The ice water and the wet sheet soon affected 
 Uncle Peter very sensibly ; and with an 
 anguish in his voice which I cannot describe 
 he began to call out, ; Oh, Sally Ann, is the 
 house shaking down ? I am going all to pieces ! 
 Put forty blankets over me ; I can t live this 
 way ! Oh, Sally Ann ! oh, Sally, Sally Ann | 
 is not there an earthquake? Look out, and 
 see if the earth is not gaping to swallow us up ? 
 I never felt a house shake like this. I should 
 think there were a thousand elephants working 
 like moles under its foundations. Oh, for hot 
 bricks ! Oh, for the comfort of a great big 
 fire ! Sally Ann, why do n t you keep me 
 from shaking ? Have you any of the feelings 
 of a woman and a wife ?" 
 
 "Don t be alarmed, my dear friend," said 
 Mr. Boots, " the remedies are having precisely 
 
236 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 the effect I foresaw ; yon must not be alarmed, 
 but assist nature a little, by sucli exercises as 
 I have described." 
 
 Uncle Peter was partially dressed, and 
 assisted out of bed ; but to make a picture of 
 him as he appeared jumping over a chair, 
 defies my power. He had little strength, and 
 no courage to use that which he had. Even 
 Rosalie, who could not help seeing how 
 ludicrous was his appearance, began to feel 
 a sincere pity for him. 
 
 He was making this exhibition as well as 
 example of himself, when, to his relief, a new 
 visitor arrived, Mr. Tompkins. 
 
 " Tut, tut !" he exclaimed, resting his hands 
 on his hips, Ci if you want to drown, you had 
 best get into the cistern, and if you require 
 exercise, you had better put on your coat, and 
 chop awhile. Come, Mrs. Throckmorton, let s 
 get him in bed before he faints ;" and, turning 
 to Mr. Clark Boots, he said, authoritatively, 
 "Young man, if you want anybody to jump, 
 you might as well jump yourself out of the 
 house !" 
 
 The medical reformer, who was so nearly 
 
MAKEIED, NOT MATED. 237 
 
 " up to the time," in science as well as in the 
 regulation of society, speedily followed this 
 advice, and Mr. Tompkins was left master of 
 the field. "Now, the first thing is to warm 
 him," he said. Rosalie, was sent to prepare a 
 composition tea ; I was directed to hold the 
 patient s mouth, to keep it from chattering; 
 and Aunt Sally to bring a bundle of blankets ; 
 while Mr. Tompkins himself procured a kettle, 
 with a cover and spout, and set it boiling, at 
 the same time introducing the steam, by a 
 piece of hose attached to the spout, into the 
 bed. Before long the patient began to groan 
 as heartily with the heat as he had before done 
 with the cold, and his wife -was entreated to 
 administer something anything for his relief. 
 " Never do you mind, my good woman, but 
 keep the kettle steaming for an hour," said 
 Mr. Tompkins ; " we must use our own judg 
 ments ; he do n t know what is best." A 
 feeble groan was the only reply. " Arid that 
 is not all," added Mr. Tompkins, "you must 
 pour down this composition, hot and strong 
 no matter whether he dislikes it or not just 
 hold his mouth open, and pour it down." 
 
238 MAKKIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 " Oh, Sally Ann ! my beloved spouse 1 I 
 entreat of you, as it were my last win and 
 testimony, to have some mercy upon me, and 
 as you would be dealt by, deal by me !" 
 
 There was no resisting this appeal, and with 
 tears in her eyes, Aunt Sally threw aside six 
 of the blankets, and removed the steam-pipe. 
 
 Mr. Tompkins was indignant : " When a 
 wife would allow her feelings to master her 
 judgment," he said, "it was needless for him 
 to remain. The treatment he had proposed 
 should have been vigorously applied for two 
 hours, and after a cessation of five minutes, 
 renewed again, and so continued through the 
 night." And having said this, Mr. Tompkins 
 bade us good evening. 
 
 "Sally Ann !" the call was very faint, "send 
 Westley for Mrs. Perrin ; I am afraid she was 
 offended ; I never meant to hurt the feelings 
 of anybody in my life ; I have always wanted 
 to make everybody happy about me ; but I 
 wish, Sally, I had done more good ; tell 
 Westley to go at once, and to take the carriage 
 I am sure Mrs. Perrin has a right to ride in 
 a carriage she is old enough, and has worked 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 239 
 
 hard enough." And Uncle Peter, under the 
 reviving influence of a great fan, indulged in 
 a train of humanizing reflections. Whi]e so 
 
 O 
 
 engaged, a carriage was heard at the gate, and 
 an old lady was seen to descend and make 
 her way to the main entrance. 
 
 " Those who come in coaches are no bettei 
 than those who walk, said Uncle Peter ; 
 " Sally, you have always been too proud ; I 
 want you now to be particular, and pay more 
 attention to the poor friends who come to 
 visit us than to the rich ones; it was never my 
 disposition to seem more than I was, and we 
 are all sparrows of a day, as it were ; but, 
 Sally, Ann ! you, who have always been well 
 and strong, couldn t see with my humble 
 eyes. I do n t blame you ; no, Sally ! I do n t 
 blame anybody in the world for anything." 
 
 Here the old lady came into the room; she 
 presented a strange blending of refinement 
 and vulgarity, both in dress and manner : 
 some articles of her apparel being of extreme 
 elegance, and in good taste, while others were 
 so old, tawdry, and unclean, as to be positively 
 offensive. Her old, rich lace, adorned a cap 
 
24:0 MARRIED, NOT MATED 
 
 of greasy stuff, and her exquisitely wrought 
 handkerchief was tied at one corner to a 
 ragged bandana; her silken hose hung in 
 wrinkles, and her old unpolished shoes were 
 stringless and down at the heels ; her bonnet 
 had been expensive and beautiful in its day, 
 but that day had been years gone ; her shawl, 
 of camel s hair, was in excellent preservation, 
 as was also her dress, of velvet, trailing for a 
 yard behind her, except, indeed, for the 
 gathered dust which doubled its weight. 
 
 " My dear Mr. Throckmorton, it pains me 
 tx3 see you so ill !" she began, " but I hope 
 you do not suffer intensely." 
 
 " Why, yes, Mrs. Graham, God bless you !" 
 said Uncle Peter, " I do suffer as much as a 
 man can, and live ; I in glad you thought 
 enough of me to come and see me ; how are 
 your two worthy sons, Henry and Stafford ?" 
 
 Mrs. Graham seated herself by the bedside, 
 and professing herself an excellent nurse, pro 
 posed to Aunt Sally to remain with us all 
 night. 
 
 The sending for Mrs. Perrin was accordingly 
 postponed. 
 
MAKRIED, NOT MATED. 241 
 
 " And these little darlings are your pretty 
 wardies, are they ?" she asked ; and when 
 informed that we were, she shook hands with 
 us, and talked a good deal about the unity 
 and love with which her family at "Woodside 
 lived together ; " we must come and visit her 
 and her sweet daughter-in-law, Annette ; and 
 Hally her dear son would give us as many 
 flowers as we could carry home, and Stafford 
 would show us his specimens and skeletons, 
 and amuse us all he could, poor boy." 
 
 When it was nine o clock she began to 
 exhibit tokens of drowsiness; still she insisted 
 that she was an excellent watcher with the 
 sick, for that she had not been in the way of 
 sleeping more than two hours out of the 
 twenty-four for the last twenty years. She 
 would watch alone, she said, at first, but 
 finally she concluded it would be solitary, 
 and for the sake of company she would keep 
 the bright-eyed little darling, meaning Rosalie, 
 with her. I remained for Eose s sake ; and- 
 Aunt Sully, after a great deal of persuasion, 
 consented to lie down for an hour or two, in 
 the adjoining room. 
 
 11 
 
242 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 "You look more ill now than your hus 
 band," said Mrs. Graham, "and I should 
 not wonder if lie outlived you by many 
 years." 
 
 Aunt Sally smiled, as though it was to "be 
 hoped he would, and replied that it was 
 strange some persons could be so well and 
 strong, and yet look pale and ill, as she did, 
 while others could be so very sick, her hus 
 band, for instance, and not show it at all. 
 
 " It s a mystery ! a wonderful mystery !" 
 exclaimed Mrs. Graham, and she closed her 
 eyes, apparently to contemplate it. 
 
 Uncle Peter felt easier, he said, and no 
 doubt he did, having the weight of twenty 
 blankets removed ; and Aunt Sally, kissing 
 his hand she dared not kiss his cheek, I sup 
 pose and bathing his face with her tears, 
 retired for a little repose 
 
 We might make temporary beds, so as to 
 be within call, Mrs. Graham said, and she 
 would watch till midnight, and then take her 
 turn of sleep ; but she did not unclose her 
 eyes, as she said so, and otherwise exhibited 
 such unmistakable fondness for the drowsy 
 
MAEKIED, NOT MATED. 243 
 
 god, that we thought it advisable to remain 
 awake. 
 
 " Yes, my children," said Uncle Peter, 
 " make extemporaneous beds, and try to get a 
 little rest;" but not one moment did he give 
 us, wherein to try the promises of sleep ; there 
 was a constant calling and groaning ; never 
 theless, it disturbed not the enjoyment of 
 Mrs. Graham, who snored so loud as almost 
 to drown the sound of the sick man s com 
 plaining, sometimes. Hour after hour lay 
 the old lady on the sofa, at full length, in that 
 forgetfulness of life which seemed to me, at 
 the time, to be the best gift of an indulgent 
 deity. To youth, especially, sleep is grateful, 
 and unaccustomed to watching, and with no 
 love, roused by fear, to aid us, I could not 
 help but think the long hours would never 
 be concluded. Rose was more self-sufficient, 
 and managed to laugh now and then, even at 
 her miseries. 
 
 " Oh, my good ward," called Uncle Peter 
 every few minutes, " do go and call up your 
 aunt ; I want to take my leave of her now, 
 while I am sensible ; I do n t know how 
 
244 M A R K I E D , NO T M A T E D 
 
 my reason ma} 7 be spared. Oh, mercy ! oh 
 dear!" 
 
 And Rose would glide out of the room, and 
 remain till Uncle Peter had fallen asleep 
 again, or in some new want quite forg ot his 
 taking leave of Aunt Sally. 
 
 I thought of our own homely room where 
 we had slept sweetly so many nights ; of the 
 fresh nice smelling straw of which our bed 
 was made ; of the coverlet, bleached white 
 on the clover ; and the birds twittering now 
 and then in the cherry trees, which grew close 
 to the open windows, playing musically with 
 their slender fingers against the panes on 
 breezy nights ; of the floor, scoured white, 
 and the crickets that sang in the warm jamb 
 all the while till the breaking of day. This 
 seemed to me then to have been heaven 
 enough ; and with my larger experience and, 
 I hope, increased wisdom, it seems so now. 
 If I have more knowledge, 1 had then more 
 innocence ; if I have more faith in myself 
 now, I have less in others ; if I have more 
 ability to do, I have less confidence in the 
 results of doing; if I have more to enjoy, J 
 
M A u u i ]: i ) , x o T MATED. 24:5 
 
 have less capacity for enjoyment; if I can 
 better guard myself, they who were better 
 guardians than I are gone ; and the lo\r 
 homely chamber, with green rustling curtains 
 of leaves, will be to me a never-ending regret. 
 How equally, after all, the balance hangs, and 
 how frequently may he whom we pause to 
 pity have better reason to pity us. 
 
 The memory of that long watching brings 
 with it something of the misery I then endur 
 ed. Midnight would never come, I said. 
 Rose kept the candles bright, and, Uncle 
 Peter asleep, for the most part, after the first 
 hour or two. She tried hard to keep me 
 awake, with stories, which she had great facility 
 in inventing ; tried to make me laugh at the 
 train of Mother Graham, as she called her : for 
 the cat had nestled upon it, and indicated her 
 comfort no\v and then by purring. At last 
 the clock struck twelve. J^ow, thought I, 
 Rose will call Mrs. Graham ; but, no she 
 said she would wait till one though 1 had 
 better seek my pillow immediately. This I 
 refused to do, and with my heavy head drop 
 ping, now one way, and now another, contriv- 
 
246 M A 11 K I K I) , N U T M A T E D . 
 
 ed to live through anotlier hour. Hose, at 
 length, yielded to my pleading look, rather 
 than to her own inclination, I think, and 
 awoke our uncle s benevolent neighbor. 
 
 The old woman opened her eyes, after much 
 ado, and sitting upright for a moment said ; 
 " My little dears, I was just about to call you, 
 and you have awakened yourselves bless you 
 dears; well, I am glad of it for I am almost 
 worn out not used to tending the sick, you 
 know. I waited t^Jl one o clock, and now, my 
 pretty birds, you must try and keep your eyes 
 open till daylight it will not be long and I 
 will just lie down here and see if I can t get a 
 little rest !" So saying, she wrapt her feet in 
 her long dress, and in a minute was fast asleep. 
 Rosalie laughed, vexed as she was, and I had 
 tears, without laughter. She was quite as 
 much refreshed, she said, as she would have 
 been by a half night s sleep, and could well 
 afford to watch the remainder of the time. 
 
 Mrs. Graham took leave early in the mor 
 ning : she was so overcome with the watching 
 that in justice to herself she must seek a little 
 rest; she didn t suppose she should sleep 
 
M A R K i E D , NOT MATED. 247 
 
 she never did ; but a recumbent position was 
 grateful to her. She would send Stafford to 
 visit Uncle Peter at once ; she didn t know 
 that personal feelings should prevent her from 
 recommending him as a physician ; she had no 
 doubt but that her dear friend Mr. Throckmor- 
 ton would, in a few days, under the treatment 
 of Stafford, be fully restored. 
 
 Now, as Uncle Peter had slept the greater 
 part of the night, in consequence of not having 
 Aunt Sally to humor all his whims, he was 
 decidedly better, and, having partaken of toast 
 and tea, professed himself desirous of receiving 
 the professional services of Dr. Stafford Gra 
 ham. 
 
 " If he possesses any of his mother s ta 
 lents," said Rosalie, " I should not be sur 
 prised at the most extraordinary results." 
 
 For two hours Uncle Peter waited pretty 
 calmly, but no Dr. Graham made his appear 
 ance. He then grew impatient, and stationed 
 Rose at the window to give him the earliest 
 tidings of the doctor s approach, She prefer 
 red however to seek a position commanding a 
 wider view, as she said, and escaping from the 
 
 t* 
 
M8 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 chamber, seated herself among the flowers in 
 a corner of the grounds. Uncle Peter shortly 
 felt greatly worse, and Westley was sent, in all 
 haste, to summon Dr. Graham. 
 
 The message was promptly responded to, 
 and the yonng physician, in an extremely neat 
 carriage, drawn by a fine-blooded and well- 
 groomed horse, was shortly at Throckmorton 
 Hall. 
 
 He came down the walk with easy graceful 
 ness, stopping once to cull a flower, and once 
 to listen to a bird, quite forgetful, apparently, 
 of his patient. Hose sat on the green border 
 of the path by which he approached, weaving 
 a long chain of roses, and singing to herself, 
 nor did she desist from either singing or weav 
 ing flowers as he drew near her, nor even 
 when he turned, and with a smile of exceed 
 ing sweetness, gave the salutation of the morn 
 ing. To her he was simply the doctor, come 
 to see her Uncle Peter, and she was dependent 
 on herself for happiness, and not on anybody 
 else. She was not one to fasten herself as a 
 dead weight upon another, or with longing and 
 pining for things out of her reach to -render 
 
MAKKIED, NOT MATED. 249 
 
 things about her worthless. If she had not 
 wine she drank water, and if she had not a fine 
 equipage she used her feet, and thanked hea 
 ven that they so well answered all needful 
 purposes. 
 
 Doctor Stafford Graham s visit was very 
 brief he had declined making it at his 
 mothers suggestion, he said, but had come at 
 the earliest moment on receiving the summons 
 of Uncle Peter through his man. He thought 
 no medical aid whatever was necessary : care 
 as to diet and a short drive in the open air 
 would insure a night s repose, and the follow 
 ing morning his patient, he -was sure, would 
 be in a condition to sanction his prescription. 
 He begged of Aunt Sally to feel no alarm 
 at all, on her husband s account, as nature 
 would speedily right herself with him, but 
 rather to direct attention to her own case ; and 
 as he took her feverish hand in his, his tender 
 ness of manner and voice contrasted strangely 
 with his proud and almost haughty bearing 
 toward Uncle Peter. 
 
 I could not divert my eyes from him, as he 
 Bat conversing with my dear aunt ; so exceed 
 11* 
 
250 MABKIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 ingly handsome was he, as his face lighted up 
 with a kindly smile ; and yet his was hardly 
 the kind of beauty to inspire a quick affection, 
 and his carriage, though perfectly polite, was 
 ;hat of the worldling, not of the Christian. 
 N"o discipline of sorrow or of dependence had 
 mrified his ambitious and selfish nature. 
 
 I know not whether it was the nobility of 
 manhood, or whether it was a something which 
 it would be useless to try to explain, but I felt 
 drawn toward him, and wished, in childish 
 folly, that I might say or do something that 
 would interest him. I was glad, therefore, 
 when he admired the eglantine that clambered 
 over the window, to give him one of the 
 sweetest of its flowers. His smile thanked me 
 sufficiently, and when, he said they had at 
 Wood side some beautiful varieties of flowers 
 which he would be happy to show me, if 1 
 would give myself the trouble of going so far, 
 [ was disconcerted, and in over anxiety to 
 be agreeable appeared very badly. 
 
 Uncle Peter gave himself a sudden turn in 
 bed, as much as to say, " I am ashamed of 
 you;" and Aunt Sally looked troubled, and 
 
M. A K it i E i) , NO T MATED. 251 
 
 besought the doctor to give* his entire attention 
 to her husband, though he had wrung from 
 her the confession that she was now and then 
 troubled with hemorrhage, that a cough in the 
 norning inconvenienced her slightly, and that 
 Pitches in the side made her nights restless ; 
 frut all these little ailments, she was sure, were 
 not worth talking about, especially when Mr. 
 Throckmorton was so ill. 
 
 "Humph!" said Dr. Graham, and though 
 an expression of contempt curled his lip at 
 first, there was something of pity in his tone, 
 as he made his adieus. 
 
 I watched him from the window, for so 
 faultless in proportion, in air, in action, did 
 he seem, that it was a pleasure to look at him. 
 
 Rose had left the green border where she 
 sat, weaving flowers together, when he came, 
 and with the red wreath wound like a turban 
 about her black hair, was assisting the gar 
 dener in another part of the grounds. By 
 accident or design the doctor turned into the 
 path leading near her, but without arresting 
 her attention. The gardener, having offered 
 ou his own behalf a servile recognition of the 
 
252 MAKKIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 young aristocrat, made an effort to conceal 
 from the observation of that elegant individual 
 the hands of Rosalie, which were soiled with 
 the damp loam in which she had been adjust 
 ing the roots of some shrubs requiring unusual 
 care, by stepping before her, and bending dex 
 terously a lilac bush so as half to hide her per 
 son. But his helper was more ostentatious 
 than ashamed of her homely occupation, and 
 with a derisive laugh challenged his assistance 
 in her work, holding up her fingers as if to 
 display their taper proportions, and looking 
 the question, " Is that all ?" into his astonished 
 eyes. 
 
 The doctor seemed to understand something 
 of the degree of indifference with which he 
 was regarded, and quickened his step, looking 
 meanwhile the other way ; though I observed 
 he took an opportunity of turning toward her 
 again, as he drove off; but Rose had forgotten 
 his existence, and her own muddy hands and 
 red turban, and was intent only on the flower- 
 bush she was tending. The doctor gave his 
 beautiful horse a vigorous lash, whether from 
 vexation or habit, I know not, and was soon 
 
M A R it i E D , NO T MATED. 253 
 
 lost to my view ; and I, who had been watch 
 ing him so intently, received no glance for my 
 trouble. When I asked Rose if " the doctor " 
 was not charming? she asked, " Which one ?" 
 Dr. Snakeroot had engrossed as much of her 
 thoughts as our handsome neighbor. 
 
 Uncle Peter was a good deal vexed that he 
 had received so little attention, but his humi 
 liating and Christianizing fears were subdued, 
 and, strive as he would, he could not take him 
 self back to the door of death. 
 
 A dismal night set in, such as comes some 
 times in seasons of the greatest beauty ; and 
 the gloomy time imparted a sombre feeling 
 to all, so that none of us were sorry when 
 Uncle Peter renewed his request that Mrs. 
 Perrin should be sent for. Westley brought 
 her in the coach, and her plain wrinkled face 
 was really like sunshine when she entered the 
 chamber. The wind and rain drove against 
 the windows, and the sick man groaned, when 
 a quick step trod the stairs, and the old mourn 
 ing garments rustled into his presence. 
 
 " It s a right stormy night," said Mrs. Per 
 rin, removing and folding her black shawl; 
 
254: M A li li I E D , NOT MATED. 
 
 " bad weather for cattle that are out ;" and she 
 placed a small basket on the table, approach 
 ed the bed, and bending over it, said : 
 
 " Here s Aunty Pen-in, come to see you ; 
 won t you shake hands with her ? Why, your 
 head is sunk down, and you don t lie good, do 
 you?" And slier bolstered, and patted, and 
 turned Uncle Peter about, saying directly, 
 "there, isn t that better?" 
 
 Having made these comfortable arrange 
 ments, she seated herself on the bedside, and 
 asked what had been done ; and when informed, 
 expressed great wonder that the patient was 
 still alive. 
 
 " They sha n t abuse him no more, 5 she said, 
 " I will just stay here arid take care of him; 
 and he shall have some nice supper, and no 
 more old hot bricks and steaming kettles to 
 bake him or bile him to death. Aunty Perrin 
 will make him well." 
 
 Uncle Peter was soothed, and groaned a 
 kind of thankful and satisfied groan. 
 
 Adjusting the bedding to the proper thick 
 ness, she bathed the face and hands of the sick 
 man in pure cold water, and having given him 
 
M A is K i E D , NOT MATED. 255 
 
 a cordial,, trimmed up tlie candle, and began 
 some sewing-work she had brought with her, 
 
 O O / 
 
 talking as fast as she stitched : now of her 
 
 o 
 
 kicking cow, and now of the exorbitant rent 
 
 O ? 
 
 she had to pay, and then, turning from her 
 own domestic affairs, regaling us with a little 
 harmless gossip. That some people should do 
 such queer things, as everybody said they did, 
 was a matter of curious speculation, to her and 
 to all of us. Presently, to the music of her 
 voice, and our pleased surprise, Uncle Peter 
 fell asleep, and after an hour, awoke quite 
 revived ; he even thought he " could eat a 
 mouthful." 
 
 Mrs. Perrin now brought into notice her 
 little basket, and removing the napkin, disclo 
 sed a variety of delicacies that might have 
 tempted an appetite nicer than Uncle Peter s. 
 Having eaten ail his stomach would bear, he 
 said we thought it was all it would hold he 
 fell asleep again, and did not awake till broad 
 daylight. 
 
 True to her promise, Mrs. Perrin remained, 
 nursing and watching, till Uncle Peter was 
 quite well, and though all his visitors took to 
 
25G M A K K i E i) , NO T MATED. 
 
 tliemselves the credit of effecting liis cure, I 
 liave always thought she deserved the largest 
 share of gratitude ; arid Uncle Peter thought 
 so, too, as the future proved. 
 
M A E. P. i K D , NOT MATED. 257 
 
 CHAPTER IY. 
 
 UNCLE PETER was quite recovered, but 
 in compliment to his late severe illness lie 
 kept Iris chamber most of the time, and adhered 
 pertinaciously to morning gown and slippers. 
 Poor Aunt Sally could not get over the con 
 viction that Mr. Throckinortori s nerves had 
 sustained a shock from which they would 
 never entirely recover; day by day she saw 
 him drifting unconsciously nearer and nearer 
 to a visionary tomb. Every now and then 
 I observed her making her way into some 
 closet, or behind some curtain, benevolently to 
 conceal her tears from the doomed victim. 
 She might have spared herself the trouble, or 
 have wept on her own account; good, dear 
 woman ! it was she who was doomed there 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATKT. 
 
 was a tomb a little way before her, but not 
 for him she loved so much more than herself. 
 
 " My dear ward, I think I could take a 
 sandwich and a glass of wine." said Uncle 
 Peter, lifting his eyes toward Rose, who sat 
 reading, apparently oblivious of everything 
 but her book. I waited a moment, and seeing 
 that she did not avail herself of the oppor 
 tunity of serving him, hastened to do so myself. 
 
 "Thank you, Ifose," he said, when I sat 
 down the salver. Uncle Peter either would 
 not, or could not believe that I was capable 
 of doing him a favor. 
 
 " My ward, a little more sugar." 
 
 I hastened to bring it, while Rose continued 
 to read on, undisturbed. 
 
 " I^ow, my dear Rosy ! another spoon," still 
 seeming deceived. 
 
 "Yes, Uncle Samuel Peter," she answered, 
 closing her book over one of her fingers, and 
 leaving the room, with a sly nod at me. As 
 she did not return with the spoon, I presently 
 followed, and found her waiting me at the 
 foot of the staircase, with our hoods concealed 
 beneath her apron. 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 259 
 
 " Do let us get out of this atmosphere for a 
 while, if we can," she said ; " it aifects me 
 disagreeably ;" and with a nod, that said 
 come on, she went out. I lingered a moment, 
 questioning whether it was quite right to steal 
 away thus, and as I did so, heard Aunt Sally 
 struggling with a little faint cough, which she 
 seemed trying to suppress, lest the noise 
 should annoy Mr. Throckmorton. She was 
 coming down herself for the teaspoon. My 
 conscience smote me, and I stole after Rose, 
 who stood, archly smiling, behind a lilac bush, 
 and repeating to Uncle Peter, who saw her 
 from the window, " One lean goose upturned 
 a slanting eye." 
 
 So we turned aside from the window 
 strolled through the garden then leisurely 
 under the apple boughs, trembling and whis 
 pering together crossed a green meadow, 
 and struck into a narrow path leading by a 
 long hedge, and worn deep and smooth. 
 
 "Where are you going, Rose?" I said, at 
 last ; for skipping and singing, and tossing up 
 and catching her bonnet, she kept before, 
 while I, in silence, followed, thinking of Aunt 
 
260 MARRIED, NO T M A T E D . 
 
 Sally s pale face and hollow cough, and won 
 dering whether Uncle Peter would not scold 
 on our return. 
 
 " Where am I going ? why, I do n t know 
 or care any where wherever this path 
 leads ; I guess it will take us to some good 
 place do n t you think so ?" 
 
 I shook my head, for it was not in my 
 nature to anticipate finding a good place at 
 any time. We had gone a mile, or more, 
 Ttose often stopping to admire the landscape, 
 which, she said, did set off the Hall beauti 
 fully, when the path terminated in a gap, and 
 we found ourselves in a green, quiet lane, 
 bordered with cedars, and spicewood, and 
 gray mullen stalks, all starry with flowers. 
 
 I thought Rose would return now, but she 
 ran laughingly on, saying she knew we should 
 come to something good, and the prospect 
 seemed to justify her words. Away and 
 away the lane stretched, till it was lost in 
 thick woods, and not a human habitation 
 was visible ; but when we gained a green 
 eminence, half a mile from the road along 
 which run the path and the hedge, we saw 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 261 
 
 lying immediately beneath us, insulated with 
 hills, the prettiest little homestead we had 
 ever beheld. We could only catch glimpses 
 of the white walls of what seemed a very 
 small house, so closely grew the trees and 
 shrubs about it. A plurnp cow, with breath 
 smelling sweet as the clover which she ate, 
 lifted her head over the lane fence, as if to 
 give us welcome, and the chickens cackled, 
 dividing from our path as we approached the 
 porch, before which glistened bright tin pans 
 and all other dairy garniture. Everything 
 looked pleasant and cheerful ; the very pinks 
 along the garden beds grew up in trim, thrifty 
 bunches, as though they were just as sweet 
 smelling as any other flowers, and enjoyed 
 just as much of the glad sunshine. The white 
 curtains at the open windows fluttered, as it 
 were with a lively satisfaction, and the birds 
 chirped and twittered along the low eaves, as 
 though they were that morning rehearsing an 
 opera. 
 
 Dividing away the bushes, that sometimes 
 hung almost across the path, Hose made her 
 
262 MAREIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 way right to the porch, as if assured of a 
 welcome. 
 
 "Don t Kose," I said once or twice; "do 
 let us go back ; what will you say ?" 
 
 "Oh, I don t know," she answered gaily; 
 " when I see whom I shall see, I shall be able 
 to tell what to say." 
 
 "-Bless my life ! your faces look good to a 
 body ; how is Aunt Sally, and Uncle Peter, 
 and all?" 
 
 It was a familiar voice that accosted us, 
 and, peering through a rose bush, we saw the 
 tidy little person of Mrs. Perrin, standing 
 beneath a cherry tree, a little apart from the 
 door, and makinsr her morning s butter. We 
 
 j O O 
 
 helped her to churn it seemed easy work 
 while she sat by, chatting as fast and as lively 
 as the birds. When the butter making- was 
 ended, she must pull some weeds from the 
 garden beds, and we assisted at this, too; then 
 she prepared vegetables for the dinner, and 
 kindled a lire, which crackled and blazed up 
 the chimney, as if glad to obey her will, and 
 when the lid of the dinner pot began to dance 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 263 
 
 over the steam, Mrs. Perrin untied her checked 
 apron, and hanging it over the coffee-mill, and 
 exchanging her plain cap for one with black 
 ribbons in the border, took up her sewing 
 work, and sat do*wn on the shady porch, look 
 ing as neat as though fresh from a dressing 
 room. The folds of the ironing were in her 
 dark dress, and her cap ribbon had none of 
 the rusty look which mourning ribbons are 
 apt to have. Her shoes squeaked as she 
 walked, and had a new look, and though 
 her face was wrinkled, and her hair grey, 
 her heart seemed as fresh and joyons as all 
 the smiling nature about us. 
 
 "It looks rather too shiftless," she said, "to 
 see two great girls like you, big enough to 
 be married, sitting idle," and she hastened to 
 supply us with sewing, telling us she was 
 particular, and it must be neat. 
 
 Rose laughed at the idea of beiner bi^ 
 
 o o o 
 
 enough to be married, and said she feared 
 she was not wise enough to choose a husband, 
 though one should offer, which was not likely. 
 "Just let me tell you," said Mrs. Perrin, 
 putting down her work, "there is no choosing 
 
264: MAKKIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 about it first thing you know there will be 
 somebody in your heart that all the world 
 could n t buy, and that will be the right one 
 no matter whether he is rich or poor no 
 matter about nothing else." .And Mrs. Perrin 
 seemed to glide away back into the distance, 
 and for a moment a shadow came over her coun 
 tenance ; but she presently resumed her sewing, 
 with a quicker stitch, if possible, saying, as a 
 smile struggled with , shadow, "It s of no 
 use for a body to be bringing up their mel 
 ancholy feelings." 
 
 I looked at her kindly face and neat mourn 
 ing dress, with new interest. She had been 
 young, perhaps pretty sometime, and had had 
 a lover he was gone now, and the mourning 
 dress linked him in our thoughts with the 
 grave ; but in the widow s heart there was 
 a memory of blessedness, and this it was 
 which kept it young, for through the ages 
 of eternity the affections of some will not 
 grow old. Try as she would, the old lady 
 could not quite recover her accustomed cheer 
 fulness, till, with a sudden energy, she threw 
 down her work, and brought out the breakfast 
 
M A K R i E D , NOT MATED. 265 
 
 table to the shady porch, when the clatter of 
 the dishes had the effect of restoring her 
 spirits. "If a body don t want to get lone- 
 Bome, a body must not take time," she said ; 
 and I h:ive often thought since, that she 
 understood the true art of life. Rust wears 
 away the iron that is not kept bright with use, 
 and the moth frets out the idle garment. 
 
 A pleasant dinner we had on the shady 
 porch with good Mrs. Pen-in, and when it was 
 concluded, she asked if we would like to take 
 a little walk with her ; she had some work to 
 do, which it was lonely doing alone. 
 
 We said yes, she provided herself with a 
 garden-knife, and we set out together, Rose 
 and I wondering very much what it was she 
 proposed to do. We struck across the fields, 
 going further and farther from home, and 
 gradually nearing the woods. At last, when 
 we had gone nearly a mile, Mrs. Perrin said, 
 "Yonder, where you see the man at work 
 there is where I am going." And looking 
 across to the next hill, where a thin growth 
 of maple trees cast their dark shadows, we 
 saw a tall, slender young man, who wore 
 12 
 
266 M A R K I E D , NOT MATED. 
 
 neither coat nor hat, digging in the ground. 
 We could not think what our friend proposed 
 to do, but as we climbed the hill we saw it 
 was a grave-yard that we approached, and 
 that the young man had been cutting away 
 the weeds, and tending the flowers. Hearing 
 our voices, he desisted and came forward, 
 shaking hands with Mrs. Perrin, and bowing 
 politely to us ; she introduced us as girls 
 from the Hall, and before she named him, 
 I recognized the brother of Doctor Graham 
 not so handsome, certainly, as he, but with 
 a strong family likeness. 
 
 1 said so, and this person, whom Mrs. 
 Perrin called Henry, evidently felt it to be a 
 compliment, for with a color a little height 
 ened, and an almost grateful look, he at once 
 resumed his coat, which had previously hung 
 over a white marble tombstone, and smooth 
 ed his yellow curls, as if in complaisance to 
 me. 
 
 "I came over to see how my grave was 
 looking, but you have kept all so nice, I do n t 
 think there is much to do ;" and Mrs. Perrin 
 bent her steps toward a mound, a little apart 
 
MARKIED, NOT MATED. 267 
 
 from the two others : there were only three 
 in all. 
 
 " It is the grave of her husband," said 
 Henry, looking toward the woman, as she 
 pulled the weeds from among the flowers 
 about it. 
 
 " Strange, she has no headstone," said I ; 
 but Rose answered, " JSTo ! only she cares 
 where he lies, and she can find her way to 
 the place without such a guide." 
 
 " Yes," said Henry, " even through that 
 dark place she will find her way to him, I 
 hope," and he turned away, and plucked 
 weeds, busily, from a little green hillock, 
 over which lay a marble slab, on which was 
 sculptured an angel, leading by the hand a 
 child. 
 
 "Where the shadow fell most darkly on the 
 green earth, and the flowers seemed to flourish 
 most brightly, stood a simple, white stone, with 
 the name of "Nellie," surrounded with a 
 wreath of roses. 
 
 Now and then Henry would cease work, 
 and say to us some pleasant thing ; but there 
 
268 M A K R i E D , NOT MA TED. 
 
 seemed a gloom settling, rather than settled, 
 in his face, and he stooped slightly, as though 
 used to some burthen. 
 
 I liked him, in part for his kindly smile, 
 and in part for the amiable work he was 
 doing. I felt that he must be good, and 
 that he was not happy, and wished to say or 
 do something for his pleasure ; but, while 
 1 meditated what it might be, Rose fell 
 to assisting him, and they were soon talking 
 cheerfully, if not gaily, together. Now and 
 then, however, the gloomy look came back, arid 
 whenever it did, I observed that he turned his 
 eyes in the direction of the house in sight, 
 which I supposed to be his home. 
 
 " Well, well," said Mrs. Perrin, wiping the 
 sweat from her forehead, " that will do, now, 
 I guess, and in another year, if I should n t be 
 here, some of you children will keep the weeds 
 down, and set a flower or two in another place, 
 may be." 
 
 "Somebody has been at work there," she 
 continued, looking at Henry, "and I don t 
 think it was Stafford ;" and I remarked then, 
 
 
MAKKIED, NOT MATED. 269 
 
 and afterward, that she never said Doctor 
 Graham, except with such an emphasis, as 
 made it seem a jest. 
 
 She had boxed his ears many a time, and 
 how could she call him Doctor Graham, " in 
 good earnest." 
 
 When the work was finished, Henry leaned 
 against the tombstone of "Nellie," and seemed 
 loth to turn his steps homeward ; at last he 
 said, "Won t you go with me?" but though 
 he had appeared anxious to be very polite 
 to us, I thought that he would have preferred 
 our answering, ~No. 
 
 We looked to Mrs. Perrin, and she accepted 
 the invitation ; she had not seen Mrs. Graham 
 for a long while, and would like right well to 
 have a chat with her. Mr. Graham said his 
 wife would be glad of our company, but the 
 words struck me as without much meaning. 
 
 Mrs. Perrin talked fluently as we passed 
 along, clipping the top of a weed now and 
 then, from the mere habit of being busy. 
 She found something to admire every where 
 now the cows in the meadow ; now the 
 bright water-spring overflowing its stony 
 
270 MAKE IE D, NUT MATED. 
 
 border and making a strip of green down 
 the valley ; now some highly cultivated field 
 that she thought would more than pay the 
 labor it had cost ; and now a fine tree that 
 would make such nice fire-wood. Only one 
 thing she saw to find fault with a hedge 
 of willows along the brook : she could n t see 
 what good they did. 
 
 " Oh, they beautify the landscape," answer* 
 ed Henry. 
 
 " What do they do ?" asked the old woman, 
 with a puzzled look. 
 
 " It is a foolish fancy of mine to leave them 
 there : that is all ;" and falling back a little, 
 Henry said something to Rosalie about never 
 being understood, and concluded, with a sigh 
 which escaped him ere he was aware, and 
 which he attempted to make her believe was 
 only a mockery, " I do n t know perhaps I 
 never understood myself." 
 
 We were now coming near the house, and 
 Henry walked slower and slower, and looking 
 on the ground, became silent. 
 
 Close by our path (we were now within the 
 door-yard), grew a willow, its branches trailing 
 
MARRIED. NOT MATED. 271 
 
 almost to the ground ; suddenly a pale little 
 face peered out from the shadow they made ; 
 and a smile of peculiar and quiet beauty ex 
 pressed more joy even than the words, " Oh, 
 father !" This was all the child said, and see 
 ing strangers, she retired within the shadow. 
 
 " It s my little girl," said Henry, and his 
 face grew radiant ; " come out, Xell, and let 
 them see you ;" and he parted the boughs, 
 but not till he had taken his daughter s hand, 
 and almost forcibly led her, would she come 
 out ; and when she did, her great brown eyes 
 had a beseeching, almost a tearful expression, 
 as she held her torn and unfastened dress to 
 gether with her hand, as if saying, " Do not 
 blame me it is not my fault." 
 
 The father tried to smooth away the curly 
 tangles of her abundant hair with his hand; 
 but it defied his skill, and with a "Xever 
 mind, my dear," he pinned the untidy dresfl 
 over the thin and sun-burnt shoulders of the 
 girl, remarking, u We will go in, and see if WG 
 can t improve your toilet a little." 
 
 " Xo, father ! r said Xellie, " I will stay here. 
 
 "Why, my child?" 
 
272 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 " Jimmy is here, asleep," she said. 
 
 " Oh, we will wake him up ;" but Nellie 
 prevented her father from doing so, by pulling 
 his head down to hers, and whispering some 
 thing in his ear, of which I caught the mean 
 ing sufficiently to know she had been charged 
 by her mother to keep the baby out of her 
 sight all the afternoon. 
 
 "Well, then," said the father, letting go 
 her hand, as if there were no appeal, " but it 
 seems to me Jimmy ought not to lie on the 
 damp ground." 
 
 " Mother says it won t hurt him," answered 
 the little girl ; "but I have spread my apron 
 on the grass, and I keep his head on my lap 
 a most all the time." 
 
 "Well," he said again, and we left her 
 there. 
 
 I felt uncomfortable, and could not keep the 
 delicate and sweet-faced creature out of my 
 mind ; she had an air, as if meekly yielding to 
 a hard destiny, that I had never seen on the 
 face of a child till then, and her unkempt hair, 
 bare feet, and untidy garments, attested the 
 negligence with which she was treated. 
 
M A B K 1 E D , NOT MATED. 273 
 
 The doors and windows of the hon se stood 
 open, and it had a dusty and empty look, 
 as though the mistress were dead, or gone on a 
 journey. With no work-basket, no easy-chair, 
 no flowers, the stiff old-fashioned furniture had 
 the appearance of having been bought a cen 
 tury before, and of having remained all that 
 time in the position in which it was placed 
 at first, without renovation, without dusting, 
 even. Flies darkened the windows, and fre 
 quent holes in the faded Turkey carpet showed 
 an accumulation of dirt beneath which might 
 have been useful in the garden. 
 
 After considerable search, through kitchen, 
 cellar, and the premises in general, Henry 
 succeeded in finding a sluttish, ill-bred girl, 
 supposed to be a servant, whom he dispatched 
 in quest of Mrs. Graham. 
 
 This young woman, who answered to the 
 name of Jo, returned, after an absence of 
 unreasonable length, and informed us that the 
 lady would see us in her own room. In 
 response to Mr. Graham s direction to show 
 us up, she grinned, and slapped the wall with 
 a dish-cloth, as she led the way. 
 12*. 
 
274 MA KB i ED, NOT MATED. 
 
 The apartments seemed pitched together, 
 one a little above another, and there were 
 many corners, and points, and turnings, so 
 that we could form no idea where our journey 
 was likely to terminate, till the brown-armed 
 maid suddenly wheeled about, and kicking 
 backward, forced a door open, when, saying 
 " She is in there," she retreated, beating the 
 wall again with her wet and dirty napkin. 
 
 The room we entered, though Mrs. Gra 
 ham s own, presented no better aspects ; it 
 had the same glaring, staring, dirty, and 
 empty air. Soiled towels, in strings, were over 
 the chair-backs ; basins half full of water, 
 which seemed to have been dipped from 
 some stagnant pool, and pitchers with their 
 gilding mostly concealed under greasy ac 
 cumulations, garnished the seats and floor ; 
 bundles of dirty clothes protruded from 
 beneath the bed; night-caps and old hats 
 hung over the pictures ; spider-webs were 
 about the cornices and windows ; dishes of 
 fruits and parings, soup-plates, and spoons, and 
 bottles of oil, and pill boxes, added to the vari 
 ous confusion. The book-case was open, and its 
 
MAKKIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 contents were piled in a sort of wall, around 
 the great cliair in which Mrs. Annette Gra 
 ham, mistress of Woodside, sat, enveloped, 
 for the most part, in a bed blanket. Having 
 removed various obstacles, and dusted one of 
 the chairs, Mrs. Perriii seated herself, glancing 
 about in a way that seemed to say, "I ex 
 pected to find things bad enough, but this 
 surpasses the ideas I had formed even of your 
 slovenliness." 
 
 Not at all discomposed was Mrs. Graham 
 by these astonished and reproving looks ; 
 scarcely, indeed, did she lift her eyes from 
 the jeweled fingers that locked themselves 
 together on her lap. 
 
 She had no energy, she said, and had lost 
 the hope of ever regaining that she once had ; 
 she was quite reconciled to her prison, withal, 
 from which she hardly expected ever to go 
 out again. 
 
 Her eyes looked purposeless out from their 
 black setting ; her hair was quite gray ; and 
 her face lifeless and inanimate. 
 
 "Do you want to read all these books?" 
 said Mrs. Pen-in ; and yielding to a natural 
 
276 MAKKIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 impulse, she began to replace them, one by 
 one, in the case, dusting them as she did so. 
 
 "No," said Mrs. Graham, in the same im 
 passive tone, " I have been turning them over 
 a little." 
 
 " Whyj can t you find anything to do to 
 amuse yourself?" asked the dame, sharply. 
 
 "I am not well enough to work," she re 
 plied, " and I do n t know anything worth 
 doing, if I were." 
 
 Mrs. Perrin s look grew more compas 
 sionate ; perhaps she is really ill, she thought, 
 and by w r ay of awakening her interest, if any 
 thing could, she spoke of her children, saying 
 how pretty Nellie was, and how pale the baby 
 looked, as if he were falling away. 
 
 " I do n t know as Nell is pretty ; her hair 
 is like her father s;" answered the mother; 
 and there was a little more energy in this 
 than anything she had said. 
 
 "Well, her father has fine haii-, I am sure," 
 said Mrs. Perrin, emphatically ; " it s just the 
 color John s was, when we were married." 
 
 "It s well enough," replied Annette, and 
 removing a ring from one of her fingers, idly 
 
M A R K i E D , NOT MATED. 277 
 
 she tossed it with an unwonted effort toward 
 some spot upon the wall." 
 
 " Lord ! have mercy," cried Mrs. Pen-in ; 
 "is that the wedding ring?" 
 
 "I don t know; it s quite immaterial," 
 she replied, and locked her fingers together, 
 as before. Mrs. Perrin stood still, in .astonish 
 ment. The door opened softly, and Nellie, 
 putting her face into the room, asked if she 
 might come in. 
 
 "To be sure," said Mrs. Perrin; "I hope 
 you do n t have to ask to come into your own 
 mother s room?" 
 
 " She is so sick, you know," answered 
 Nellie, "I don t like to disturb her." .And, 
 bent with the burden of a three years old 
 helpless child, she came timidly in. 
 
 "Bless his little soul!" said the kind 
 woman; and, relieving Nellie of her little 
 brother, she expressed her feelings in the 
 most endearing caresses. 
 
 The poor child drooped his head on his 
 bosom quite resignedly, and indifferent, as it 
 appeared, to all the affection she could display 
 Vr him. 
 
278 M A it K I E D , NOT MATED. 
 
 She held him erect and tried to make him 
 smile ; but he fell back on her bosom, and 
 never smiled at all. "What are you doing 
 for him?" she asked, addressing the .mother; 
 but her attention seemed to be following a 
 cloud seen far off through the window, and 
 she did not hear. " I say, do n t you give him 
 no medicine, nor nothing?" she repeated, in a 
 louder voice. 
 
 " No, he do n t need medicine ; he is always 
 just so quiet." 
 
 " I wish he was n t, mother ; I would rather 
 he played, and was more trouble," and Nellie 
 pulled the hair over her eyes to hide tears 
 that would come into them. 
 
 u And has he never more color ?" inquired 
 Mrs. Perrin, trying to kiss some into his 
 cheeks. 
 
 "I don t know; I have not noticed him 
 lately," said the mother, lifting her eyes 
 languidly, but evincing no new interest. 
 
 " He do n t seem to notice anything," Mrs. 
 Perrin said, and laid the boy on the lap 
 of his mother. He uttered a feeble and dis 
 tressed cry, but she spoke not to quiet him, 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 27!) 
 
 and with a little purposeless moving of one 
 hand, as though it sought something, but with 
 out touching his mother s bosom, he stretch 
 ed himself across her lap, clasped his white 
 fingers together, and moaning to himself, fell 
 asleep. 
 
 "ISTell," said Mrs. Graham, at last. 
 
 The daughter, who had been standing 
 meekly apart, with hands locked behind her, 
 waiting in the hope to receive some notice, 
 came forward with a flush of joy in her face, 
 and a smile, which illuminated it as when she 
 said " Father." 
 
 The mother motioned her away, as though 
 her animated movement disturbed her, and 
 said calmly, "Take this boy to your grandma, 
 and ask if she thinks he is ill : I have not 
 seen her these ten days or a fortnight." 
 
 Nellie took him up fondly and softly, and 
 went away from the room meekly and quietly 
 as she had come into it. 
 
 Mrs. Perrin, who till now, with that house 
 wifely art she understood so well, had been 
 endeavoring to put the place in order, sud 
 denly desisted from the task, and taking up 
 
280 MAKKIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 her garden knife, gave a cut in the air with it, 
 as though saying " It s no use : I can t stand it 
 any longer ;" and with the words, " Come chil 
 dren!" and an abrupt "Good bye," was gone. 
 
 I made my courtesy at the door, but the eyes 
 of Mrs. Graham had not followed me. 
 
 "Woodside!" exclaimed Mrs. Perrin, as 
 she descended the broad stair-case : " a fine 
 place to have a name, to be sure ! I might as 
 well name my little house Goodside." 
 
 " Why, yes, Mrs. Perrin, and with a good 
 deal more propriety," answered Rosalie, and 
 laughed, as she always did, at everything, 
 informing the dame that she had felt on 
 setting out as if she was to find something 
 good that day, but that her discoveries had 
 beggared all anticipations. 
 
 Mrs. Perrin also laughed, in spite of her 
 momentary vexation, and tied the bonnet 
 strings which she had indignantly flung back 
 over her shoulders. 
 
 " Well," she said, " if there is any better 
 place about here, suppose we try to find it." 
 
 We were at the foot of the stairs now, and 
 Jo presenting herself, Mrs. Perrin asked to be 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 281 
 
 sliown into the room of the elder Mrs. Gra 
 ham. 
 
 " You can go if you want to," said the girl, 
 pointing in the direction of a door near by, 
 " but she is as cross as an old bear, and do n t 
 want to see anybody ; may be though she will 
 pretend to be good as honey ; so, go in if 
 you want to ; that ? s her den." Our rap was 
 answered by a sweet " Come in." It was not 
 honeyed, however, as Jo had prophesied, but 
 grated a little as though it had been dipped 
 in sugar on the instant. Madam s face took 
 upon itself an expression which was meant 
 to be one of glad surprise, and in the same 
 accents assured us that she had been expect 
 ing to see something very pleasant, but not 
 exactly the Millenium. 
 
 Nellie was gone, with the sick baby ; the 
 grandmother had not found it ill, I suppose, 
 for she was bestowing a large amount of fond 
 ness on a cat and three kittens, which she held 
 in her lap. 
 
 "Sweet little retreat, this, isn t it, dears?" 
 she said, looking round her den admiringly 
 " I have been in it these twenty years !" 
 
282 MARKIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 I know not how to describe her or the 
 medley about her. She was seventy years 
 old now, and seemed to have been heedless 
 and slatternly ever since she was born ; and 
 both herself and her sweet little retreat looked 
 as much worse than the younger Mrs. Gra 
 ham and her apartment, as her forty years 
 more of experience in habits of slovenliness 
 could make them. Mrs. Perrin kept her dress 
 tucked from contact with anything about her, 
 and well she might do so. We declined an 
 invitation, though it was in the sweetest 
 phrases, to take a cup of tea, and left her, 
 while she was telling us of what a lovely 
 disposition her daughter Annette was, and 
 how beautifully they all lived together. She 
 called Jo, as we were retreating, and ordered 
 her to show us the nursery, and the beautiful 
 and elegant rooms occupied by her dear 
 sonny, Stafford. 
 
 Sullenly that young woman proceeded to 
 execute this commission. The nursery de 
 manded our first admiration, and such a 
 collection of cheese crumbs, spoons, ginger 
 bread, rattles, cradles, broken chairs, and 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 283 
 
 dishes, as were strewn over the molasses- 
 smeared carpet, I never expect to see again. 
 In the midst of all, brushing the flies from 
 the face of the baby, sat little Nellie, 
 meek and patient, with the child who lay 
 straight, just as he had done across his 
 mother s knees, and with his hands clasped 
 on his bosom just as we had seen them there. 
 
 " Do n t you get tired, darling ?" asked Mrs. 
 Perrin. 
 
 A smile illumined her face ; she had not 
 been called darling often, perhaps ; and she 
 answered, "No, my arms ache a little some 
 times, but I do n t get much tired ;" and so 
 we left her. We next visited the beautiful 
 and elegant apartments consecrated to the use 
 of Stafford, and here were agreeably surprised 
 to find order and cleanliness. How it was 
 created or preserved in the midst of so much 
 filth I know not, but it had been, for there 
 everything was nice and polished, shining 
 right in our faces and demanding astonish 
 ment as well as admiration ; pots of flowers, 
 geological specimens, books, writing imple 
 ments, music, and various other tilings, all 
 
284 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 tastefully arranged, and over all an air which 
 evinced refinement, pride and exclusiveness 
 on the part of their master, as plainly as 
 words could have done. 
 
 JSTo particle of the spirit of disorder which 
 ruled other portions of the house had ap 
 parently ever entered that door. "We did not 
 feel at liberty to remain there long enough to 
 take very particular cognizance of things ; 
 something seemed to inquire of us whether 
 we had any especial business there, and we 
 withdrew, feeling very much as if we had 
 been intruders. 
 
 As we passed through the yard toward the 
 garden, where the flowers bloomed attractively, 
 we saw sitting on a bench in the sunshine an 
 old man, silent and very thoughtful. A small 
 basket of fruit was beside him, in the grass, 
 and Mrs. Perrin, taking it up, exclaimed, 
 " Why, Mr. Furniss, where in the world did 
 you get such beautiful apples ?" He had not 
 seemed to notice us till then, and a slow smile 
 broke over his face as he said, " I brought 
 them from home, Mrs. Perrin, in the hope that 
 Annette would like them, but she says she 
 
MA KB i ED, NOT MATED. 285 
 
 don t eat apples any more ; so it appears nothing 
 I can do will please anybody." 
 
 " Hi ! hi ! do n t say that, Mr. Furniss, now 
 this basket of apples would please me right 
 well, and if you will go home with me I will 
 fill it up with another sort." 
 
 The old man looked solemn again ; he might 
 as well walk along toward town ; he could n t 
 do her any good that he knew of; Annette 
 had not come down stairs to see him, though 
 he had walked so far to see her ; and ho 
 continued, " Well, it s no matter ; I shall soon 
 be out of the way; I am old and worth 
 less." 
 
 " So be I old," replied Mrs. Perrin ; " but I 
 am not worthless, nor no more be you." 
 
 The old man smiled again; and seeing 
 Henry busy in the garden we went forward 
 Rose and I to join him, leaving the two elder 
 people to conclude their conversation at leisure. 
 Mr. Henry Graham showed us through the 
 grounds, gathering flowers for us, and explain 
 ing many things about horticulture which w r e 
 had not known. 
 
 "But it costs you so much pains," said 
 
286 MAKRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 Rosalie, looking about the plats, and avenues, 
 that were kept so nicely. 
 
 " Yes, but work is the best thing for me ; I 
 must keep busy;" and with an energy that 
 had in it something irritable, desponding, and 
 nervous, he resumed his tasks, saying in an 
 under tone, "Thank Heaven for the consola 
 tions of work !" 
 
 Mrs. Perrin joined us now; she had Mr. 
 Furniss with her ; and it seemed to me that 
 he looked considerably younger than when I 
 first saw him sitting on the stone bench. Mi s. 
 Perrin told us that if we preferred to go home 
 by the nearest route our ways would be 
 separate ; she would like to have us accom 
 pany her, but she thought it right to tell us this, 
 as we did n t know the ways so well as she. 
 
 " I do n t think I do know the ways quite so 
 well," said Rose, archly ; and she beckoned 
 me to follow her. 
 
 We were soon in the woods, for Rose pro 
 tested that she felt inclined to explore the 
 country, and preferred to return by a cir 
 cuitous route. The dry leaves made a rustling 
 beneath our feet; the undergrowth was thick 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 287 
 
 here and there ; and Rose said if we should 
 get lost it would complete a day s odd adven 
 tures. We wandered about so long, gathering 
 flowers, and talking of our life at Uncle 
 Peter s, and of the " example " he had made 
 of himself, at which she laughed a great deal, 
 that I became tired, for I was never very 
 strong, and we sat down on a mossy log 
 together. 
 
 It was cloudy, and almost twilight in the 
 woods, now, and I said we had better go 
 home ; but Rose demurred ; she did not be 
 lieve it would rain ; she was sure it would 
 be a good day to us ; thus far she had had 
 nothing to regret, except our failure to see 
 that exemplary young man, Doctor Graham ; 
 and I too wished in my heart we had seen 
 him, for his smile lingered in my memory, 
 and I felt that I would like if possible to 
 correct the unfavorable impression which I 
 was sure I had left upon his mind. Not a 
 straw cared Rose what notions he had carried 
 home of her ; but what was to her a jest, was 
 a serious matter to me. 
 
 " My sentimental sister," she said, seeing 
 
288 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 that I looked thoughtful, and playfully but 
 vainly trying to make dimples in my cheek, 
 "rest here a little while, and I will go and 
 see if I can t find a flower like one I have lost, 
 and then we will go home." 
 
 I said I w r ould wait, but she must not be 
 long absent ; and leaning my head against a 
 tree listened to a bird that sung in the 
 branches above me ; it was a quiet mono 
 tonous song, in keeping with the silence and 
 the dusky shadows. Presently I was aware 
 that the notes grew fainter ; the bird was 
 flying away I thought, and all was a blank 
 till I awoke from sleep, startled and afraid. 
 Hose had not returned, and the wood was 
 darker than when she left me. 
 
 I could not tell how long I had slept; it 
 might have been a great while, and fright 
 made me think it had been. Rose must be 
 lost, was my first thought ; and, throwing 
 down my carefully gathered flowers, I started 
 in search of her. Now and then I called, but 
 only echo answered ; the woods grew gloomier 
 every minute ; it would rain presently, and I 
 could not tell which way I was going. If I 
 
MAKKIED, NOT MATED. 289 
 
 had paused to reason I should not have been 
 alarmed so much ; but I did not ; I was lost, 
 and Rose was lost ; it was near night, and 
 raining ; these were all the facts I knew. I 
 thought once I heard the bark of a dog, and 
 the largh of Rosalie, but listening I heard 
 only the rustling of winds through the trees, 
 and the p),. shing of large drops of rain. 
 
 I could aot restrain my tears ; Rose was 
 nowhere to be- found, and for her I cried more 
 than for my golf. All at once I crossed a foot 
 path hesitated a moment -struck into it- 
 and dashed forward with all my might. 
 
 The rain fell heavily now, and I could have 
 heard nothing but the roar in the woods if 1 
 had listened ever so long ; so, with the thunder 
 howling behind me, and the lightning flashing 
 right it my face, I hurried on and on. It 
 seemed to look a little lighter before me, and 
 lighter yet. I was not mistaken ; there was a 
 small clearing in the woods ; I saw a log house 
 now, and the smoke crowding its way up into 
 the rain. I leaped the low fence almost at a 
 bound, and paused beneath a shed that kept 
 dry a huge brick oven, and, a little more 
 13 
 
290 MAR nil-:.]), NOT MATED, 
 
 calm, surveyed the premises. A large kettle* 
 which had probably been boiling at the com 
 mencement of the rain, stood steaming a little 
 apart from the door; some chickens were 
 holding a social meeting under the shed, and 
 one cock, defying the storm, stood boldly out, 
 but with tail sadly out of trim, and dripping 
 together. He elevated his head, to atone for 
 the disarray of his feathers, and crowed right in 
 the face of the thunder, evidently confident 
 that he had made the loudest noise. A pig 
 pen ornamented one corner of the door-yard, 
 and a dozen squealing inmates were either 
 elevated on their hind legs and enjoying the 
 spectacle of the storm, or putting their noses 
 through the cracks of their well-ventilated 
 habitation ; and a long-legged colt, to be com 
 pensated for the pitiless peltings he was obliged 
 to endure, leaned his head far over the fence 
 and gnawed the bark from a young apple tree. 
 A glance round sufficed for these observations, 
 and they were just completed, when a great 
 brindled dog placed himself, erect, in the open 
 door, and barked at me furiously. The noise 
 brought two children to the door, and a woman 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 291 
 
 whom I at once recognized as my friend Mrs. 
 Muggins. 
 
 " By the living hokeys !" she exclaimed, 
 " if here ain t one of the young gals from old 
 Pete s. Come in, little gal, you look like a 
 drownded rat !" 
 
 She turned me around, viewing me from 
 head to foot dripping hair, muddy stock 
 ings, garments wringing wet and the more 
 she looked the more her surprise was manifest. 
 She hadn t done justice to her subject, she 
 seemed to think, in her first exclamations, and 
 strove to make what amends she might by 
 new ejaculations: "Peter, the Hermit! you 
 look like rag-shag-and-bobtail ; now I ll be 
 darned if you do n t ! Lord, help me I I never, 
 since I was knee-high to a bull -frog, did see 
 such a sight ; it s as good as to go to the 
 museum ; Mart, look at her !" But the indi 
 vidual thus addressed no sooner complied with 
 her request, than, apprehensive, perhaps, that 
 my maiden modesty would be outraged, she 
 retorted, " You are smart, ain t you ? Now 
 histe yourself up the ladder with you, and let 
 me take these things off before she gets her 
 
202 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 death of cold. I knowed a woman oncet, and 
 she had a daughter that just changed her 
 shoes: she had been used to rearing lioss- 
 hide, and she put on a pair of dog-skin ones. 
 They had a great big dog, and his name was 
 Hover, though they called him Rove mostly, 
 and one morning they found him dead, and 
 they allowed how t he d been poisoned ; it 
 appeared like they couldn t give him up, and 
 the man that buried the dog after he was 
 dead, took and tanned his skin, he did, and 
 made a pair of shoes for Annie that was the 
 girl s name and the first time she put them 
 on she took cold and died, she did. She had 
 been used to wearing hoss-hide, she had ; she 
 was going to a night meeting ; some said she 
 was engaged to marry Low Dartfoot do you 
 know Low Dartfoot? any way, he took it 
 awful hard when she died. They said some 
 of them could n t bear to hear the name of the 
 dog afterwards ; he looked almost just like 
 our dog, the dog did, only he was about as 
 big again, and his tail wasn t half as long as 
 Spot s is, and he was as black as he could be, 
 and Spot is spotted, and he had white paws, 
 
MAKKIED, NOT MATED. 293 
 
 he had ; some said they was afeard of him as 
 they would be of a wolf; it was just before 
 we were married that she died." 
 
 Mart, who was about half-way up the ladder, 
 seemed at this point overcome with admiration 
 at the colloquial powers displayed by his wife, 
 and the easy gracefulness with which she gave 
 me entertainment, and looking back, fondly 
 said, " You are one of em ; some fellers has 
 got a wife that has a tongue that s fast at one 
 eend, but I ll be dod-blasted, your n is hung 
 in the middle and runs at both eends !" 
 
 The pleased tone, and charmed look that 
 accompanied it, quite took the edge off from 
 any severity the speech might have otherwise 
 possessed ; and- Rachel, feeling complimented, 
 replied, that if she knew where to find a good 
 kettle-maker she would have enough brass 
 taken out of her husband s face to make a 
 forty or fifty gallon one, and then he would 
 have enough left to stare white folks out of 
 countenance, he would. 
 
 "Go it, shoes!" retorted Mart; and then, 
 addressing me, as I. supposed, he said, " If I 
 had her to get over again, she J d never be got 
 -that s all." 
 
294: MAKKIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 He Lad disappeared in tlie little loft, but 
 Rachd elevated her voice so that he might be 
 benefitted as well as I, while she said she had 
 married him chiefly to get rid of him, for there 
 was no other way to do it. 
 
 Such was the pleasant banter, as the parties 
 seemed to regard it, that passed while I 
 exchanged my wet garments for the dry go-to- 
 meeting ones, rarely, if ever, used for their 
 nominal purpose of Mrs. Muggins. 
 
 " How did you happen in granmam s 
 woods, any how ?" asked my hostess. 
 
 I explained all : the visit to Mrs. Perrin, 
 our parting with her at Mrs. Graham s, and 
 ramble in the woods where Rose, as I appre 
 hended, was lost. 
 
 This childish fear of mine caused my friends 
 great amusement ; and Mart put his hat on 
 the head of Spot, as some excuse for his laugh 
 ter, and Rachel said she was giggling at the 
 rain, but she shortly corrected herself, and said 
 it was at her own thoughts, and she wasn t 
 thinking at all. 
 
 Aware however of my real anxiety, they sub 
 dued their mirth, and assured me there was no 
 possibility of Rose being lost, and Mrs. Mug- 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 295 
 
 gins diverted me by asking if I did n t think 
 the old man Furniss and Mrs. Perrin would 
 make a match. She believed it, she said, for 
 she onct heard Mrs. Perrin say she was sorry 
 for the old man, and we all knew pity was 
 kin to love ; arid she descanted at length on the 
 probabilities of their happiness, asseverating 
 over and again, that, for her part, she would 
 not lay a straw in their way. Some folks, she 
 said, thought it was a dreadful thing for old 
 folks to marry, but as far as she was con 
 cerned, she thought that w r hen the children 
 were all grown up, it was n t nobody s busi 
 ness. 
 
 Mr. Muggins told me not to fret while I 
 had a ruff over me, and said that as soon as 
 the rain should stop falling in pitch-forks, he 
 would bridle his colt and take me home, upon 
 which I grew more content, and became 
 more interested in my new acquaintances than 
 I had previously been. It was twilight now, 
 and having made a log-heap lire, Martin put 
 the table-cloth about his shoulders, and went 
 forth to milk the cow, and Mrs, Muggins, 
 rocking the cradle with one foot, and having 
 
296 MAKKIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 two babies on her knees, entertained me with 
 a continuation of her accumulated gossip. 
 
 "Did you see anything of his reverence, 
 Staff? I suppose he would like to have me 
 say doctor, but I won t ; well, I tell you, he 
 is a proudy ; he used to be so dreadful high 
 tempered, that grandmam herself, was afeard 
 of him. I call Mrs. Graham grandmam be 
 cause, you see, she raised me. Well, I do n t 
 know as I ought to say anything, but them 
 that s lived in places, finds out a heap of 
 things that them do n t know that hain t lived 
 in places. E~ow, a stranger wouldn t think, 
 to see grandmam, that she was the awfulest 
 tyrant and scold that ever lived; but, I tell 
 you, you had better believe she is. She used 
 to make Jim jump before a broomstick ; he s 
 dead, poor cretur ; he was a fool no, I 
 oughtn t to say that he s dead and gone 
 now. Henry got him the nicest sort of a 
 coffin, and put flowers about him, and the 
 preacher said, at the grave, he had been a 
 blind little one, or something like that. I 
 thought he was a most too flowery in his 
 remarks, but some liked it. Grandmam never 
 
M A it it i E D , NOT MATED. 297 
 
 shed a tear, but Henry took on like he was 
 crazy; I told him it wasn t like as if the boy 
 had had good sense oh, I forgot! well, 
 I didn t say that; it s no difference what I 
 said; them that s been in places shouldn t 
 tell everything they have seen in places. 
 Henry is a man that sees his own trouble ; 
 he calls his own little boy James, I always 
 thought, in honor of the fool; oh, I didn t 
 mean nothing at all things slip off a body s 
 tongue sometimes ;" and she shook her head, as 
 she continued, " Henry Graham sees trouble ; 
 if their walls had ears they could tell things ; 
 I foreseed them when he married his beautiful 
 wife; I knew we should see what we should 
 see. It s no use talking," she added, after a 
 moment s silence, "about things that s none 
 of a body s business, but if two women that I 
 know of were where the dogs would n t bite 
 them, I would n t be the one to cry." And 
 then, " Do you believe there is any such thing 
 as love ?" she asked me very abruptly. On 
 my replying "yes," she proceeded: "Well, 
 some marries and do n t know what it is, and 
 that is the reason that some is unhappy 1 
 13* 
 
298 M A K ii i E D , NO T MATED. 
 
 am just fool enough to believe that. But 
 there is one wuss thing than to marry a man 
 you don t love;" and having waited for my 
 curiosity to reach its climax, she added 
 " to love one you do n t marry, at the same 
 time." I said I hoped there were few such 
 cases. "I know one woman who did that," 
 emphatically observed Rachel, "and her name 
 is Annette Graham ; she was in love with 
 Staff, and she married the tother one. Staff 
 wouldn t have her, and so she bit off her nose 
 to spite her face : that is about my notion 
 of things out thar. When she first come to 
 Woodside, things went on ever so nice ; a new 
 broom sweeps clean, you know ; they rode 
 about in their carriage, and it was all My 
 dear, and c my love ; but I knowed it could n t 
 last, cause there was no foundation ; and after 
 awhile the carriage was n t used no more, and 
 Annette sat all day in her room, and was sick 
 like ; and grandmam growled all day in her 
 den ; and Henry sent away the gardener, and 
 took to hoeing, mostly hisself; it appeared 
 like he worked to keep hisself company, for 
 his wife didn t speak to him week in and 
 
MAiiiiiEi), NOT MATED. 299 
 
 week out ; and then Nellie was born, and we 
 all thought may be Annette would be more 
 natural like ; but she took no more notice of 
 it than she would of a cat, at first ; but when 
 the baby began to look like her father, it ap 
 peared like she hated the sight of her, and 
 when she was no more than three years old, 
 Nellie would sit in the garden, or other place, 
 alone all day ; it seemed like as if she had an 
 old head on young shoulders. Oh, she s the 
 best little thing !" 
 
 I had noticed her meek, patient look, and 
 sweet smile, and said so. 
 
 " Yes," said Rachel, " she smiles like her 
 Uncle Staff, and he smiles as sweet as an 
 angel, though he has a divel in him as big as 
 an ox ; and yet I do n t blame him so much 
 sometimes, nuther; they re just like ile and 
 water, all of them : they won t mix. Henry, 
 he takes to work, and has a plainer nater, 
 somehow ; and Annette was proud and high 
 flying at first, and I guess she thought some 
 things would make up for others ; but you 
 can t make a silk pus out of sow s ear, and 
 there ain t no use in trying; and you couldn t 
 
300 MAEKIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 make nothing of Henry, but Henry, if you 
 Lad put a king s crown on his head. Oh, I 
 have hearn that woman say things to that man, 
 that she might just as well have put a knife 
 into his heart ; this was along before the baby 
 was born." She lowered her voice to a 
 whisper as she said these last words, and 
 added in a loud tone, by way of explanation to 
 the children, " before the doctor-man brought 
 little Jim to her." 
 
 " Did the doctor man bring us to you, 
 Rache ?" asked Jackson, his curiosity excited 
 by his mother s concluding observation. 
 
 " You musn t ask questions," she answered. 
 
 " I say, Rache, if you do n t tell me, I 11 set 
 Spot onto you." 
 
 Mrs. Muggins whispered me that she did n t 
 mean her children should know anything, and 
 she thought it better that they should believe 
 a whopping big lie than know anything ; after 
 which she stated to Master Jackson, that an 
 old man with a blanket on his shoulders, let 
 him down out of the sky in a bucket, by a 
 rope a thousand miles long, to which the 
 young gentleman replied : " Yes, in a horn ;" 
 
MA EH IK i>, NOT MATED. 301 
 
 and added presently, for lie seemed disposed 
 to trace things to first causes, as all children 
 are ; " where did tothers come from ?" 
 
 " I found one of them in an old hollow 
 stump in the woods," said Rachel ; " and 
 tother, the ugliest old critter that ever lived 
 in the world brought to me one midnight 
 when the lightning was going faster than a 
 hoss could trot." 
 
 " How was she ugly, Raehe ?" asked the 
 boy, enforcing his mother s attention by a 
 sharp blow with a stick : " tell me, Rache, tell 
 me ; how was she ugly ?" 
 
 " Oh, Lord ! how you do torment a body ! 
 She was ugly, cause she had eyes as big as 
 the moon ; and cause her mouth was a good 
 deal like yourn, and cause she had a body 
 like a snake, and crawled, and was speckled 
 and spotted, only her face and hands, and they 
 was white." 
 
 " Oh, mommy, was n t she ugly !" exclaimed 
 the boy, frightened into something like filial 
 affection ; " if ever she comes again, let me 
 see her; didn t she skeer you? I ll knock 
 her down with an axe, and I 11 shoot her with 
 
302 M A K K 1 ED, N O T M AT E D . 
 
 a pop gun ; I 11 shoot her to death, I will ; 
 and I 11 kill her, and I 11 chuck her into the 
 pond," and brandishing his stick he rushed 
 out to do battle with the old cow, or the hens, 
 or the pig-pen. 
 
 "It appears to me," said Rachel, musingly, 
 " to be sure I hain t got no book learning nor 
 nothing, and I may be mistakend ; but, it 
 appears like some folks are just pizen to 
 others, and the more they are together, the 
 more pizen they are. I ve heard them say 
 that there was some things that was good in 
 themselves, and other things that was good to 
 themselves, that when they was put together 
 and mixed up, made rank pizen I heard 
 Doctor Snakeroot say that ; and onct I heard 
 a preacher say perty much the same thing ; 
 and often when I ? ve seen grandmam s folks, 
 I ve thought of that. Grandmam, you see, 
 was rich in the first place, and a real gentle 
 man that was poor as a church mouse married 
 her, and brought her to "Woodside ; and, for 
 the most part, he left her there, while he 
 travelled about all over the world, as you may 
 eay. I suppose he had seen almost everything 
 
M A K K I E D NO T M A T E D . 303 
 
 that is on this earth ; but he was restless, like, 
 and took sick of a fever and died ; and the 
 children seemed to take half after him and 
 half after her, and not to be right no way. 
 The youngest of em was a perfect fool 
 powerful weak in his jints, and no better in 
 his head. Poor Jim ! he had a mighty fine 
 coffin. 
 
 "Well," Rachel continued, "whatever it 
 was fust, or whatever it was last, you see how 
 it is now ; the old woman s turned bear, and 
 Nette has turned to stone, and Staff, they say, 
 is like his father; and though he seems so 
 proud and hateful, I ve seen him try to make 
 of Hen, and his mother, too ; but it appeared 
 they wouldn t be made of, and something in 
 him would n t let him make of them long ; 
 and some times, it appeared, like lie was, was 
 ashamed of them. Poor Henry ! he lias more 
 goodness in him than twenty Staffs ; but I 
 don t know how it was, something ailded him, 
 that he couldn t be one thing nor tother. 
 
 CD 
 
 And now, Nellie has come into this neck 
 of woods, and it appears like it is only to suffer; 
 she minds little Jim as good and motherly as 
 
304: M A R ii i E D , NOT MATED. 
 
 can be, and never troubles her mother from 
 week s end to another ; I ve always thought 
 she would be took, she is so good ; but, may 
 be, the baby will go fust. They say he likes 
 cow s milk queer, ain t it? Fool like," con 
 cluded the little woman, "I have been saying 
 what was none of my business ; but them that 
 are in a house as I was in that house, learn a 
 heap of things that outsiders do n t know 
 nothing about ;" and rising, she tied the baby 
 to a chair with her husband s pocket handker 
 chief, and shaking off the other child, told him 
 to scratch for hisself a time, while she began 
 to prepare the supper. 
 
 " That s the way !" exclaimed Martin, set 
 ting down his milk pail : " she has been a 
 gabbing all this while ; she gabs more, she 
 does, than any woman in four states. !N"ow, 
 just see at her, how long she will be getting 
 the grub ; I wish I had my courting days to 
 come over again." 
 
 I can t explain by what process of inter 
 pretation, but the inference I drew was alto 
 gether favorable to the excellent qualities of 
 Mrs. Muggins; in short, that Mr. Martin Mug- 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 305 
 
 gins would not exchange, barter, sell, or other 
 wise convey away Mrs. Rachel Muggins, for 
 any other woman in the world. 
 
 Rachel replied, that she wished to goodness 
 their courting days was to come over, and she 
 would chuck a turnip in his mouth when he 
 teased her to say "Yes," for that he would 
 have to take " No " for an answer, that was as 
 sure as rolling off a log, if she had it to say 
 agen ; which, also, being interpreted, signified 
 that Mrs. Rachel Muggins would be exceed 
 ingly averse to the aforesaid barter, sale, or 
 conveyance. 
 
 " He is always just so funny," said she, 
 when Martin had gone down to the brook to 
 sharpen her butcher-knife on some accom 
 modating stone. 
 
 "May be we would not have got along so 
 well, but you see we had not the first red 
 cent to begin with, and it was, Root, pig, or 
 die that s the way him and me begun ;" and 
 she looked proudly about her house, as though 
 all her ambition had been amply gratified. 
 
 Against the rough wall hung a side-saddle, 
 which she said was a weddin gift from grand 
 
306 MAHEIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 mam ; some pegs, and an oak chest which he 
 had made he was so handy held the 
 clothes of herself and children ; a bedstead, 
 which she said cost five silver dollars, a table, 
 some chairs, and a few shelves, containing the 
 Bible, hynin-book, a volume of famous murder 
 cases, and the dishes, constituted most of the 
 furniture. 
 
 Martin speedily returned, and by way of 
 thanks, Rachel told him she thought he had 
 stayed to make a knife ; and he replied, if I 
 would just see at her, now. I d find how lazy 
 and good-for-nothing she was. Having thus 
 called my attention to the quickness and in 
 dustry of his better half, Mr. Muggins threw 
 himself on the bed to sleep an hour or two, as 
 he said, while he was waiting for the grub. 
 
 The rain had ceased falling, and the scent 
 of the near onion bed came on the breeze to 
 the open door, where lay the wet and shaggy 
 Spot. The baby folded itself together over 
 the handkerchief with which it was tied to 
 the chair, and was quiet ; the second boy 
 mounted his father s foot and rode to grand- 
 niam Graham s, that being, no doubt, the only 
 
M A R K I E D, NOT MATED. 307 
 
 point embraced in his geography ; and Rachel, 
 having made two or three dives and pitches, 
 gave the table a push with one foot which 
 landed it in the middle of the floor, rattled 
 down some knives forks and tea-plates, flung 
 up the chairs in. a twinkling, snuffed the 
 candle with her fingers, carried the blazing 
 wick to the door and threw it out, and asked the 
 second boy, still furiously riding towards grand- 
 mam s, to pull his father s nose, by way of 
 announcing that supper was ready. 
 
 I w r ould have been glad to go home, but 
 they would not hear of it until I had partaken 
 of their fare. A substantial meal of bacon, 
 eggs, milk, and tea, was spread before me, to 
 which I should have done more justice, per 
 haps, but for my uneasiness about Rose. I 
 feared she was wandering about the woods, 
 and felt that it was wicked to eat or smile 
 while her fate remained unsolved. 
 
 I felt but little less wretched when, at last, 
 Mr. Muggins took down the side-saddle from 
 its peg, and said he would carry me to old 
 Throck s in the crack of a cow s thumb. The 
 donkey which I had seen Mrs. Muggins ride, 
 
308 M A R II I E D, NOT M A T E D . 
 
 and the colt that ate the apple-tree, were soon 
 led beside a stump, and, dressed in the ill- 
 fitting clothes of Rachel, and with my own in 
 a wet bundle on the saddle-horn, I rode away, 
 Mrs. Muggins having invited me some fifty 
 times to visit her again, and saying to Mr. 
 Muggins she hoped that was the last she 
 should ever see of him. 
 
 " My wife," said Martin, " speaking very 
 loud, so that she might hear him, " sours all 
 the vinegar in the neighborhood ;" and with 
 these parting salutations, the loving couple 
 separated for an hour. 
 
 A woful picture I made as we rode into the 
 broad light at the door of Uncle Peter s, " ac- 
 coutered" as I was, and with my red eyes 
 and anxious face. 
 
 A merry laugh w r as the greeting in reserve 
 ior me. Rose had been home for hours, her 
 dress as neat and orderly as when we set out, 
 and her face radiant with a beauty that I had 
 never seen in it before. Uncle Peter said I 
 was very stupid to lose myself in an acre of 
 woodland, and Aunt Sally kissed me, when 
 he did not see it, and told me, in a whisper, I 
 
NOT MATED. 309 
 
 had better go to bed ; it would be best for 
 myself, she thought it would be best for the 
 good nature of her husband ; and I affected 
 to believe her, and obeyed. 
 
 " Mrs. Throckmorton," I heard him say, as I 
 left the room, " I wish you would repeat my 
 order to Westley." 
 
 "What order, my dear? I did not hear 
 any." 
 
 " You astonish me, Mrs. Throckmorton : my 
 order about the easy-chair." 
 
 "Oh, I believe I did hear it," said Aunt 
 Sally ; " did you want it brought up, my 
 love ?" 
 
 Now, Uncle Peter had no easy-chair, nor 
 had he given "Westley any orders about one, 
 and Aunt Sally knew it, nevertheless she Re 
 lieved she had heard such a direction ; and I 
 heard her feebly supporting herself along the 
 stair-case, and keeping down her cough, as 
 she went in search of the myth. 
 
 That was a lonesome night to me. Hours, 
 it seemed, I lay, striving with my tears, before 
 Rose joined me. What could she be about? 
 and why did she not come to tell me how she 
 
308 M A K It T V I), N O T M A T E D . 
 
 and the colt that ate the apple-tree, were soon 
 led beside a stump, and, dressed in the ill- 
 fitting clothes of Rachel, and with my own in 
 a wet bundle on the saddle-horn, I rode away, 
 Mrs. Muggins having invited me some fifty 
 times to visit her again, and saying to Mr. 
 Muggins she hoped that was the last she 
 should ever see of him. 
 
 " My wife," said Martin, " speaking very 
 loud, so that she might hear him, " sours all 
 the vinegar in the neighborhood ;" and with 
 these parting salutations, the loving couple 
 separated for an hour. 
 
 A woful picture I made as we rode into the 
 broad light at the door of Uncle Peter s, " ac- 
 coutered" as I was, and with my red eyes 
 and anxious face. 
 
 A merry laugh was the greeting in reserve 
 lor me. Rose had been home for hours, her 
 dress as neat and orderly as when we set out, 
 and her face radiant with a beauty that I had 
 never seen in it before. Uncle Peter said I 
 was very stupid to lose myself in an acre of 
 woodland, and Aunt Sally kissed me, when 
 he did not see it, and told me, in a whisper, I 
 
CARRIED, NOT MATED. 309 
 
 had better go to bed ; it would be best for 
 myself, she thought it would be best for the 
 good nature of her husband ; and I affected 
 to believe her, and obeyed. 
 
 " Mrs. Throckmorton," I heard him say, as I 
 left the room, " I wish you would repeat my 
 order to Westley." 
 
 "What order, my dear? I did not hear 
 any." 
 
 " You astonish me, Mrs. Throckmorton : my 
 order about the easy-chair." 
 
 "Oh, I believe I did hear it," said Aunt 
 Sally ; " did you want it brought up, my 
 love?" 
 
 Now, Uncle Peter had no easy-chair, nor 
 had he given "Westley any orders about one, 
 and Aunt Sally knew it, nevertheless she Re 
 lieved she had heard such a direction ; and I 
 heard her feebly supporting herself along the 
 stair-case, and keeping down her cough, as 
 she went in search of the myth. 
 
 That was a lonesome night to me. Hours, 
 it seemed, I lay, striving with my tears, before 
 Rose joined me. What could she be about? 
 and why did she not come to tell me how she 
 
312 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 Who I expected to see, or why any one should 
 be there, I did not know. If the dog barked, 
 I was awake, and if Aunt Sally coughed, ever 
 so faintly, I heard it. Rose, I thought was 
 much awake, too, though she lay quite still, 
 as if her thoughts were sweeter than mine. I 
 was glad when the morning came, but I could 
 not rid myself of the disagreeable impression 
 the previous day had left. 
 
 " What a foolish child you are !" Rose said, 
 when I told her of my emotion. She said 
 " child " again, and I counted how much I was 
 younger than she ; it was not two years, yet 
 she seemed in the last day to have become a 
 woman, while I was still a child. 
 
 Two or three days after this we were sitting 
 in the shadow of a tree, near the main road, 
 Rose reading, and I fringing napkins for our 
 aunt, when Doctor Graham, who was riding 
 in his handsome phgeton, accosted us. He 
 had heard of my exposure to the rain ; hoped 
 I had not suffered ; and complimented me by 
 saying the inquiry was superfluous. He smiled 
 kindly while he asked his questions, but the 
 smiling seemed not for me. To Rose, he paid 
 
MAKRIED, NOT MATED. 313 
 
 no compliments, but when he spoke to her, 
 there was a deference in his manner, which 
 outweighed a thousand pretty things, though 
 he had said so many to me. 
 
 " And so you did n t think my flowers worth 
 coming for," he remarked to her. 
 
 " Oh !" she replied, ingenuously, "I forget 
 all about them !" 
 
 ~This was not very flattering ; yet so far was 
 he from being offended that he gave her a 
 look of the sweetest tenderness, and asked if 
 he should have the pleasure of bringing them. 
 Oh, no ! Rosalie would not trouble him ; she 
 would go to Woodside another day. Doctor 
 Graham was often in the w T oods with his dogs ; 
 would she oblige him by saying when she 
 might be expected f She was no authority for 
 herself, just then: it might be that clay it 
 might not be for a week. If she found her 
 self at leisure, his carriage was quite at her 
 service ; he only regretted that it would not 
 accommodate a third person bowing to me. 
 I was very grateful, but had promised Aunt 
 Sally to fringe her napkins, and could not 
 have gone, though it had been twice as large. 
 14 
 
314: M ,\ R R I E D . NOT M A T E D . 
 
 I stumbled upon this excuse, though I see not 
 that I could have done better. 
 
 "Tell Uncle Peter/ said Rose, "that he 
 must pardon my running away ; I have an 
 opportunity of bringing him, from "Woodside, 
 some of the fairest flowers in the world." 
 
 And in her simple dress, ungloved hands, 
 ttnd hood of blue, she was sitting beside the 
 proudest man in all that part of the country. 
 
 I remained in the shadow, at my task, ay 
 long as I could see the carriage, and the feeling 
 that Rose was my fond sister no more, came to 
 me, if not so turbulently, at least as solemnly, 
 as when I found myself alone in the woods, 
 and heard the thunder muttering in the 
 darkness. I could not bear to stay by 
 myself, and returning to the house, repeated 
 Rose s apology to Uncle Peter. 
 
 "Bless her, what a dear girl she is!" he 
 replied, rubbing his hands, assured that she 
 was gone especially for his pleasure. 
 
 " Some has one way, and some another, of 
 showing a good heart," said Aunt Sally, 
 meekly ; " now Orpha stays at home and 
 helps me." 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 315 
 
 " Poll !" said Uncle Peter. 
 
 " Well, you know if I did n t talk, I would n t 
 say anything," replied my aunt, deprecatingly, 
 and as though she had been guilty of saying a 
 very foolish thing. 
 
 I bowed my head lower and lower over my 
 fringing, that Uncle Peter might not see how 
 much I was affected by his words, and Aunt 
 Sally, quietly leaving the room, beckoned mo 
 to follow. I might, she said, if I chose, go 
 over to Mrs. Perrin s, and carry her a tea 
 cake ; she had some fresh ones, and the old 
 lady was fond of thorn ; "But don t say any 
 thing," she enjoined, " to anybody ;" by which, 
 I understood, that I must not tell Uncle Peter 
 that I had taken Mrs. Pen-in the cake. She, 
 good woman, thought it would amuse me, but 
 feared to do good, except by stealth, lest it 
 might displease her master. 
 
 " Mrs. Throckmorton !" he called. 
 
 " Yes, my love !" she replied, in her most 
 obedient tone. 
 
 " Just look round the house, a little, and see 
 if I have n t dropped my handkerchief," ex 
 claimed the authoritative man. 
 
316 M A it R i E i) , NO T MATED. 
 
 " Yes, darling, right away." 
 
 I dissuaded her with a motion of my hand, 
 and went down myself. I searched diligently, 
 but no handkerchief was to be found. She 
 was waiting at the landing, and when I had 
 communicated my want of success, she de 
 scended herself, but in vain. Uncle Peter 
 held the lost handkerchief in his hand ; but 
 Aunt Sally attached no blame to him ; she 
 blamed herself for having been so stupid as 
 not to look about a little up stairs before going 
 down. The exercise and the worry brought 
 back the troublesome cough ; but she said it 
 was nothing; she had always been troubled 
 with it more or less. 
 
 It was a lonesome walk to Mrs. Perrin s. I 
 missed Rosalie all the way; it seemed that 
 we should never be one again as we had been 
 when we played in the sugar camp. 
 
 My long shadow went beside me, for it was 
 near sun-set, but my thoughts, which had been 
 sombre enough, took a more cheerful color 
 when I saw Mrs. Perrin s windows ablaze, and 
 the smoke drifting from the chimney in fan 
 tastic curls; it was as if nothing melancholy 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 317 
 
 could come near her Lome. I saw her passing 
 in and out, and up and down, and it seemed 
 to me that she looked more youthful and 
 happy than I had ever seen her. She w r as 
 spreading the table in the porch, and I saw at 
 once that it was in holiday style, and for two. 
 She was " dreadfully obleeged for the tea- 
 cake," she said ; it came all in good time ; 
 she happened to have an old friend, a very 
 old friend, to drink tea with her ; it had not 
 been his intention to stay so long, she sup 
 posed, but they had got to talking about old 
 times, and the first thing either of them knew, 
 it w T as sunset, and then he had said that as he 
 had hindered her so long ; he would try and 
 help a little, and he was accordingly at that 
 very moment milking her cow for her, which 
 Mrs. Perrin was sure was very good of him. 
 
 Presently the old friend made his appear 
 ance, steadily carrying the milk pail, brim 
 ming full. The wo-Jbegone look which I had 
 noticed at first, seemed to have been unsettled 
 in his face, and a smile was struggling for 
 existence there, for the visitor was none other 
 than Mr. Furniss, whom I had last seen carry 
 
318 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 ing Mrs. Perrin s little fruit-basket. She in 
 troduced him by saying he was the father of 
 Annette Graham, and at "Woodside very often; 
 and when he was so near, she did n t know as 
 it was any harm for him to come over and see 
 her. But some folks, she supposed, could 
 make a good deal of talk about it, if they 
 chose. 
 
 " Why, Polly," said Mr. Furniss, " let folks 
 talk, if they will : we are both of age, ain t 
 we?" 
 
 Mrs. Perrin seemed not very well to like 
 this allusion to age. " As for being so terribly 
 old, I have known older folks than either of us 
 begin life anew, as it were." And as she said 
 this, she suddenly disappeared into the cellar, 
 with her milk pail. Mr. Furniss thought she 
 would, perhaps, be afraid there, alone, and so 
 followed her down, which I thought exceed 
 ingly kind of him. I heard them chattering 
 like two magpies, but distinguished nothing 
 except the words Ri chard and Polly, which 
 seemed to be in frequent use. 
 
 When they came up, Mrs. Perrin told mo 
 her friend (he was a very old friend, and came 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 319 
 
 often to see her) had been so good as to 
 examine some turnips which she had proposed 
 putting out as seedlings, She had known 
 Annette Graham s father for twenty years, 
 and it was nothing uncommon for him to do 
 such little favors for her. She was afraid it 
 might have appeared a good while to me, that 
 they remained away, though she supposed 
 they had not really been more than three 
 minutes. 
 
 " There is a difference in the length of 
 minutes, Polly," said Mr. Furniss ; " I have 
 not seen them so short as they have been to 
 day. not since I was left alone." 
 
 " Too much of one thing is good for noth 
 ing," replied Mrs. Perrin, " and you arid me 
 have both been alone more than has done any 
 good." 
 
 Mr. Furniss looked at Mrs. Perrin as if she 
 had said a very wise thing, and the longer he 
 looked, the more his admiration seemed to 
 grow. At last he said, " Why, Polly, you 
 don t seem to me to have grown a day older, 
 these twenty years." 
 
 " Oh, yes, I have, though I m just as smart 
 
320 MAEKIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 to work, and everything ; but you, Richard, 
 look young enough to go to see the girls." 
 
 " Why, Polly Pen-in !" replied Mr. Furniss, 
 evidently well pleased ; " 1 know I look older 
 than you, though I believe I have kept my 
 years pretty well. I will leave it to this little 
 girl here, now ;" and he placed his chair close 
 to " Polly s " and his face so against hers, that 
 I wondered she did n t remove a little. I had 
 never been arbiter in so important a case, and 
 in my distrust of myself, referred them to the 
 looking-glass, to which, with their faces in the 
 same close relation they resorted. 
 
 " Mercy, Richard !" exclaimed Mrs. Pen-in, 
 " you seem to have the feelings of a young 
 man, at any rate ; if I had thought of such a 
 thing, I would n t have come to the looking- 
 glass with you," and she returned to the porch 
 in a flurry, and held up one hand in quite a 
 girlish manner, as if saying, " ISTow, Richard 
 Furniss, repeat that, or even come one inch 
 nearer, if you dare." Nobody likes that " if- 
 you-dare " insinuation, and Mr. Furniss was 
 no exception, and at once braved the prohibi 
 tion by sidling up to the widow, and remark- 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 321 
 
 ing, as lie exhibited some turnip sprouts with 
 which he had been dallying, " They are 
 pretty, ain t they, Polly : almost like artificial 
 flowers ?" 
 
 She had evidently never thought them so 
 curious and pretty till then. 
 
 " They would do to trim your cap, would n t 
 they ?" and he twined the pale and delicate 
 sprouts among the black ribbon. 
 
 " Oh, you make me look like a bride !" 
 
 " And if you were to look like one," replied 
 Richard Furniss, "you would only look like 
 what you might be, if you were a mind to." 
 
 Mrs. Perrin did n t suppose there was a man 
 in the world that would have her. 
 
 "Why, Polly, you don t say what you 
 think ;" and the look of real admiration which 
 he bestowed said very plainly that he did not 
 suppose there was a man in the world so great 
 a fool as not to marry her if he had an oppor 
 tunity. Mrs. Perrin received from his eyes 
 some such meaning as this, I think, for she 
 hastened to ask me if Rose were well, and why 
 she had not come with me. I explained that 
 she had gone to Woodside. 
 14* 
 
322 M A K R i ED , N o T MATED. 
 
 " Woodside ! how did she happen to go 
 there ?" 
 
 What would be impertinence in some per 
 sons, was only the manifestation of kindly in 
 terest in her; so I explained the whole matter. 
 She thought a little while with a pleased ex 
 pression on her face, and then asked how I 
 should like to be left to dance in the pig-pen. 
 
 I said I should not like it, for I did not 
 understand her meaning, till she continued : 
 " Yes, yes ; you will lose Hose the young 
 doctor will carry her off how will you like 
 him for a brother, do you think ?" 
 
 The mist cleared away ; I understood now 
 why Rose had seemed so far from me ; there 
 was something she had not confided to me ; 
 she had gone into a new world; she was, 
 indeed, lost. I felt wronged and grieved, yet 
 did not blame her. I, too, could have loved 
 him, but with my life s devotion 1 could not 
 have purchased that which her carelessness 
 had secured which she claimed as her right, 
 or stooped to receive. 
 
 I was young, and had always been a child 
 till my mother died ; but when T left the 
 
M A R It I li I) , NO T M A T E D . 323 
 
 homestead I seemed to have left my child 
 hood behind me, and when I saw Stafford 
 Graham my heart had stirred as it never did 
 before. I had longed to please him, even to 
 be noticed by him ; and though I could not, 
 at the time, define my own feelings, nor 
 suspect, as I sat on the rustic porch with Mrs. 
 Perrin and her friend, why the sky looked so 
 black, and why the world seemed so wide and 
 dreary, I understood it all now. 
 
 I tried to divert my thoughts from myself, 
 by recalling what Rachel had said of the 
 "match" Mrs. Perrin would probably make. 
 I tried to listen to the conversation of the 
 ancient beau and the awakener of his me 
 mories and emotion, as they recalled how such 
 an one had gone to school with them ; how he 
 or she had lived his or her life, and was dead 
 long ago. Most of their mates were gone, they 
 said ; they had grown old faster than they ; and 
 while they did not seem to think the cutting 
 off of their own friends untimely, they re 
 garded themselves as only in the middle of 
 the race. 
 
 I have thought often that it is one of tho 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 most beautiful provisions of God, that to our 
 selves and to those we love, we never grow 
 old. The aged man talks of the boys that are 
 old men, and the husband sees in the wrinkled 
 face of the wife, the beauty of the girl of long 
 ago. 
 
A K R 1 E D , NOT MATED. 325 
 
 CHAPTER Y. 
 
 I STATED at the close of the chapter about 
 Uncle Peter s illness and the way he made 
 an example of himself, that he felt more in 
 debted to Mrs. Perrin than to any one else for 
 his recovery. 
 
 Mr. P. I. T. Throckmorton for he liked to 
 read that name on his cards was not ungrate 
 ful nor unmindful, he hoped, of the excellent 
 qualities of his neighbor; though Mrs. Perrin s 
 sphere of life was not his sphere of life, she 
 really was an excellent woman. In view of 
 this complaisant recognition of a fellow-being 
 on the part of Uncle Peter, Westley was often 
 commissioned to bring the good dame to tea- 
 drinkings with Aunt Sally, or to invite her 
 
N O T M A T E J> . 
 
 to accompany her friends in drives to the city, 
 which tea-drinkings and drives Mrs. Pen-in 
 doubtless found a pleasure, the drives espe 
 cially, for they enabled her to give an old 
 friend a call, a very old friend, whom she had 
 known for twenty years and upwards : some 
 times to carry him a basket of apples, or a 
 pound of butter or cheese he had done so 
 many kind offices for her that deserved some 
 return. Whether the cap trimming with the 
 turnip sprouts was among the kind offices I 
 cannot say, but incline to think that was not 
 forgotten. 
 
 Notwithstanding these small shows of amia 
 bility and gratitude, Mr. P. I. T. Throckmorton 
 felt oppressed by an indebtedness of which he 
 could not rid himself. He would sometimes 
 (and Mrs. Throckmorton remarked, that it was 
 generally after eating a late supper, or the 
 tapping of a new cask of the nice brandy 
 which did him so much good) awake in the 
 night, and groan, as if in extreme distress ; 
 upon which occasions " Mrs. Throckmorton 
 was in the habit of saying : " Peter, what is 
 the matter?" And it was not unfrequently 
 
M A K K I E D , NOT MAT E D . 327 
 
 the case, that Mr. P. I. T. Throckmorton re 
 plied : " Oh, Sally Ann ! my sense of grati 
 tude won t let me sleep; it is as if a great 
 weight was oppressing me ; there is a sense of 
 fullness that I can t give utterance to. Sally 
 Ann, are you asleep ? Keep awake a little 
 while, Sally Ann, and talk cheerfully, if you 
 can ; think of anything cheerful ; I am so 
 weighed down, so burdened, as it were ; it 
 would have been better if I had died, Sally 
 Ann ; do n t you think so, or do n t you think 
 anything about me, any more ? I believe you 
 are fast asleep. Oh, dear ! Oh, mercy ! I 
 wish I could sleep ; I do n t close my eyes 
 from one hour to another ; and I dream such 
 ugly dreams. Sally Ann, are you asleep ?" 
 
 " No, Mr. Throckmorton." 
 
 "But what can I do?" 
 
 " Shut up your eyes, and see if you can J t go 
 to sleep ?" 
 
 " Oh, Sally Ann ! you think everybody 
 can sleep because you can ; if all your system 
 had been racked, as mine was, by that dread 
 ful spell, you would find as much difference 
 as- there is betwixt day and night; be patient, 
 
328 M A It Ii I E D , NOT MA T E D . 
 
 Sally Ann ; may be I won t be with you 
 long." 
 
 My aunt could not resist so pathetic an ap 
 peal, and never failed to rub open her eyes at 
 this point, and ask her husband if he remem 
 bered when they were married, and how it 
 rained, and she spoiled her white dress, walk 
 ing in the garden, and had to put on the sky- 
 blue satin, the first day ; and then she would 
 inquire if he had not been afraid, upon that 
 occasion, that she would draw largely upon 
 his purse for her wardrobe. But the relieved 
 gentleman seldom got further than, "My 
 dear Mrs. Throckmorton, I do perfectly re 
 member our wedding-day, and the white dress, 
 and the rain, and the garden-walk." Here he 
 would drowse away, and continue, "I re 
 member ; yes no ^ white dress what did 
 you say ? Are you asleep, Mrs. Throck-k-ock 
 Sally An-n-n-n ?" 
 
 Here a long, heavy respiration terminated 
 Mr. P. I. T. Thro ckmor ton s sense of oppres 
 sion, for an hour ; and Mrs. Throckmorton, 
 after tucking the coverlids comfortably about 
 his shoulders, would succeed, by continued 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 329 
 
 musings on that blessed wedding-day, in 
 wooing back lightly her interrupted sleep. It 
 might be that a blush would just have mantled 
 her cheek as in fancy she heard Peter for the 
 first time calling her " My dear Mrs. Throck- 
 morton," when the whole bed would move to a 
 new paroxysm of the husband s discontent, and 
 the bride would awake but Sally Ann again. 
 
 " Oh, dear ! Oh, mercy! where am I? Sally 
 Ann, wake up and speak to me, and get me 
 out of this dreadful state !" 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Throckmorton ; but what can 1 
 do?" 
 
 " Why, you can t do anything as I know of. 
 I was so shattered by that dreadful spell, and 
 then the memory of Mrs. Perrin, and all she 
 did for me, is just like a nightmare. I wish 
 I had never been sick nor seen Mrs. Perrin ;. 
 sometimes I try to think she didn t do me any 
 good, but I know she did ; she was just the 
 saving of me ; I d been a corpse, Sally Ann, 
 but for that woman ; this sensible, warm being, 
 would have been as kneaded mud, as the poet 
 says ; Sally Ann ! ain t you going to do any 
 thing r 
 
330 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Throckmorton ; shall I get you a 
 drink ?" 
 
 " Is r o, no, no, no! yon can t do anything 
 unless you feel what I feel. How, sharper 
 than a serpent s tooth, it is to have a thankful 
 child!" 
 
 " What do you say, Mr. Throckmorton ?" 
 
 " Oh, nothing ; I was trying to give expres 
 sion to my feelings in the language of a sublime 
 and sorrowful mind ; don t question my ravings 
 it will make me worse. You haven t done 
 anything yet." 
 
 "You said I couldn t do anything, Mr. " 
 
 " Well, but a man do n t always mean what 
 he says, especially when lie has been broken 
 down, as I have. Oh, dear ! Oh, mercy ! I 
 thought, may-be, you could put your hand on 
 my head and stop its aching, and hold my 
 hands, they tremble so, and add a blanket to 
 the clothing, I in all in a chill, and get up and 
 see what time it is, and ask me how I feel, or 
 some little thing like that ; but it s no differ 
 ence, I could n t stand it long any how ; and 
 I might as well go first as last-, I suppose." 
 
 Here my aunt, weak and nervous, and a 
 
M A E R I E D , NO T MATED. 331 
 
 little irritable, and a great deal alarmed, would 
 place lier thin, trembling hand on Peter s head, 
 and ascertain how his pulse was, and add a 
 blanket to the clothing, and see what was the 
 time, and then in tenderest accents inquire how 
 he felt, and if that frightful weight seemed at 
 all lightened. 
 
 Uncle Peter would generally be relieved at 
 this juncture ; and upon one occasion he was 
 sufficiently so to relate a dream which had 
 disturbed him. 
 
 " Oh, Sally Ann, how you do sleep ! Just 
 while I was talking you went to sleep ; but I 
 had n t the heart to wake you, and so I tried, 
 hour after hour, to slumber, but all in vain ; 
 and when I did, for a minute, get the better 
 of this dreadful oppression, I had a dream that 
 was enough to make a man crazy." 
 
 " What did you dream, Mr. Throckmorton ?" 
 
 " Oh, Sally Ann ! I thought I was walking 
 along the meadow, and I saw one of our car 
 riage horses eating grass ; I saw him just as 
 plain as ever I saw anything ; and all at once, 
 while I looked, he turned into a great big 
 elephant, and swung his trunk up and down, 
 
332 M A B B I E D , NOT MATED. 
 
 and looked just as mad as lie could look, and 
 though I am not naturally a coward, you 
 know, Sally Ann nobody can accuse me of 
 that I felt afraid. You know I was asleep, 
 Sally if I had been awake I would not have 
 had a fear, but I was asleep, and I was a little 
 scared. I never had such a feeling in my life, 
 Sally Ann not when I was awake, Sally 
 Ann ; but you see I was asleep, half as sound 
 asleep as you was, it may-be, though it ain t 
 often that I any more than just forget myself 
 in the course of the night. Are yon asleep 
 again, Sally Ann ?" 
 
 "No, Mr. Throckmorton, I hear every 
 word." 
 
 " Well, as I said, this astonishing elephant 
 shook his trunk at me, and it was as big, it 
 seemed to me, as the sill of my barn. Did 
 you ever see my barn sill, Sally Ann ? 
 
 " No, Mr. Throckmorton, I do n t know as 
 ever I did, but I can guess." 
 
 " No, you can t, Sally ; you do n t know 
 nothing about it if you never saw it; you 
 might as well have said you knew how the 
 reigning emperor of Russia looked, because 
 
MAKEIED, NOT MATED. 333 
 
 you have seen Westley. What shall I compare 
 the trunk of that beast to. Sally Ann, that will 
 make you aware of its enormity ?" 
 
 " Compare it to a big tree, Mr. Throckmor 
 ton." 
 
 " Well, Sally Ann, imagine a big tree with 
 its top all trimmed off have you got any 
 imagination, Sally ?" 
 
 "I don t know, Mr. Throckmorton." 
 
 "What do you think the king looks like V 
 
 " I think he looks like you, Peter, if you had 
 a gold crown on your head." 
 
 " Why, Sally Ann, you surprise me ; I had 
 no idea that your imagination was so brilliant. 
 Well, then, you can imagine the tree, denuded, 
 as I said." 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Throckmorton." 
 
 u Well, then, imagine it swinging up and 
 down before your very face, and the beast 
 behind it big enough to have a trunk of the 
 diminutiveness described. Can you imagine 
 a beast as big as that, Sally Ann ?" 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Throckmorton." 
 
 " Well, but have you thought how big his 
 feet would be ?" 
 
334: M A R K I E D , N O T MATED. 
 
 " Oil, as big as our carriage-house, nearly, 
 if the roof was off." 
 
 " Ain t an elephant s foot an ugly thing, 
 Sally Ann ?" 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Throckmorton, so large an one 
 must be very, very ugly." 
 
 " It was, Sally Ann ; you can t fully get 
 the idea of it, but even as you see it, in your 
 Blind s eye, I mean, you don t wonder I was 
 a little stirred a little moved, like ?" 
 
 "No. Mr. Throckmorton, it s a wonder 
 you were not frightened out of your senses ; 
 I would have been." 
 
 " I 11 dare say, Sally Ann ; but women have 
 no nerve none of the qualities that go to 
 make up a soldier. If I had been awake, and 
 in my meadow, and had actually seen as huge 
 an elephant as I have described, and with a 
 trunk as large as the tree you have partly 
 imagined : Sally Ann, are you asleep ?" 
 
 " ]N"o, Mr. Throckmorton, how could I be, 
 and you telling about that terrible fright ?" 
 
 " I was asleep, Sally Ann, you know ; I 
 would have stood firm, all unarmed as I was, 
 if I had been awake ; but it was in sleep, and 
 
M A K R I E D , NOT M A T E D . 335 
 
 I started a little, as I said, but didn t run till 
 the big beast started at me like a battering 
 ram, and then I thought it discreet to fly, Sally 
 Ann, and set forward, or was about to set for 
 ward, with the agility of twenty -years, but it 
 seemed to me I could n t run ; my legs became 
 palsied, as it were, and refused to obey my 
 will, and I fell powerless, and yet I was per 
 fectly conscious of all the perils of my awful 
 situation. I tried to call, but my tongue was 
 like a piece of lead, and there I lay, at the 
 point of the bayonet, as you may say, and if it 
 had been to save my life I could not have 
 cried, nor, in fact, have stirred so much as my 
 
 little finger, and in that perilous crisis 
 
 Can you imagine it, Sally Ann, or are you 
 asleep ?" 
 
 " I can imagine it, Mr. Throckmorton, and 
 1 m not asleep." 
 
 " Well, in that deplorable condition I lay, 
 and saw the beast as I have depicted, with a 
 trunk as big as a denuded tree, a body cor- 
 responding, and a foot as big as our carriage 
 house, as you justly imagined, standing right 
 over me. I saw that foot uplifted saw it 
 descending ;nid I could not so much as say, 
 
336 MARRIED, NOT MATED, 
 
 Amen ! It fell, Sally Ann it fell on this 
 bosom, where thy head so oft hath lain and 
 instead of crushing me as I anticipated, and 
 as I had a right to anticipate from the circum 
 stances, it fell just like a feather ; did you ever 
 have such a dream, Sally Ann? ever think 
 you were falling and come down just as soft 
 as could be ?" 
 
 " Yes, I have dreamed such dreams !" 
 " And, Sally Ann, do you think you felt at 
 the moment those dreams had possession of 
 your mind, anything as I felt in the catas 
 trophe described ? for though each blow of 
 that preponderating foot fell so softly, just like 
 a feather, I may say, I could not but be appre 
 hensive that the next would stave me in : how 
 could it be otherwise, Sally Ann ?" 
 a I do n t see, Mr. Throckmorton. 
 "Nor I, Sally Ann! in my own mind, I 
 stand exempt from censure ; but I fear this 
 recital may have lowered your estimate of 
 my manhood, to think that I should not have 
 speared the defiant creature to death, even in 
 a dream, Sally Ann." 
 
 " But, Mr. Throckmorton, you had no spear. 
 " ]S"o, Sally Ann, I wns all unarmed; if I had 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 337 
 
 had a weapon, I think I would have struck, 
 even at the risk of still farther enraging the 
 furious animal. I did lift my arm for at last, 
 after the-terriblest struggles, I got a little use 
 of one arm. Are you asleep, Sally Ann ?" 
 " Wide awake, Mr. Throckniorton." 
 " Well, I succeeded in uplifting one arm, to 
 fell the creature to the earth, and then what 
 do you think, Sally ?" 
 
 " I do n t know what to think." 
 " Well, guess, Sally Ann." 
 " Guess what, Mr. Throckniorton ?" 
 " Why, guess anything : if I tell you what 
 to guess, it won t be guessing at all." 
 
 " Well, Mr. Throckniorton, I guess a cow." 
 " Oh, no, Sally Ann ! just as I lifted my 
 arm to fell the extraordinary animal, it seemed 
 to me it was no elephant at all, but Clark 
 Boots, beating me, with his fist, for the rheu 
 matism in the heart. I could n t strike a fellow 
 creature, you know, and while at that humane 
 employment ; so I tried, once more, to run, 
 but he kept me still, by the asseveration that, 
 so surely as I attempted flight, that wretched 
 Doctor Tompkins would get his steaming tea- 
 15 
 
338 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 kettle under my vestments, and parboil all my 
 unresisting limbs ; so I feared to fly, for I 
 dreaded that treatment excessively, as you 
 have reason to know, and do you hear, Sally 
 Ann?" 
 
 "Not one word is lost, Mr. Throckmorton." 
 " And, just as it came into my mind that 
 my last breath was gone, and that there was 
 no other way but that I must sleep in a coffin, 
 the next time I went to sleep an unpleasant 
 reflection, you know, Sally Ann I felt a 
 little relief, and, opening my eyes, as I thought, 
 I saw Doctor Snukeroot stuffing a live pullet 
 in the mouth of Clark Boots. Then it was 
 that a joyous jerk of my whole person caused 
 the bed on which we repose to vibrate. 
 Were you conscious of the movement, Sally 
 Ann P 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Throckmorton, your sudden 
 jump waked me ?" 
 
 " Well, Sally Ann, was ii t that a dreadful 
 dream ?" 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Throckmorton, it was." 
 " Is that all you can say to your poor hus 
 band, and when he has just escaped from the 
 
M A K E I E D , NOT MATED. 339 
 
 jaws of death ; for, though it was a dream, I 
 suffered what no money would hire me to go 
 through with. Oh, dear ! the memory of it 
 seems to interrupt my regular respirations ; 
 but if I had gone, may-be it would have been 
 as well !" 
 
 " Oh, my heart is too full for utterance ; if 
 you were taken, I could not find another Mr. 
 Throckmorton in all the world." 
 
 "No, Sally Ann, I don t believe you could. 
 I am the only one of my name that sustains 
 the ancient character of the Throckmortons. 
 Pardon me, my dear Mrs. Throckmorton ; of 
 course, I could not breathe this to another ; 
 but you, as I may say, are a part of myself." 
 
 "Mr. Throckmorton, you are so kind !" 
 
 " Do n t go to sleep, Sally Ann ; I am a 
 little nervous yet; I shall never get over that 
 dreadful bad spell I had; and just to think 
 of the things they did with me, Sally Ann ! 
 you can t begin to know the things I suf 
 fered." 
 
 " ISTo, Mr. Throckmorton." 
 
 " Sally Ann, I am afraid you are going to 
 sleep; don t you think its nearly daylight? 
 
340 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 its as dark as pitcli in the room ; not that 1 
 am afraid of darkness ; I rather like it ; it calls 
 up a man s braver} 7 Sally Ann, keep awake, 
 and see how pretty this deep blackness that per 
 vades the room, is; are you asleep, Sally Ann?" 
 
 " Mr. Throckmorton, I am not asleep." 
 
 " Ain t there something white, Sally, in that 
 further corner of the room ? Seems to me I 
 see something." 
 
 " It s only my petticoat, hong over a chair, 
 Mr. Throckmorton." 
 
 u Oh, I thought it was some such thing ; I 
 was sure the daylight was not breaking yet ; 
 I wasn t afraid, Sally Ann; but it wouldn t 
 be any wonder, would it, Sally, if I was afraid, 
 after such an awful spell of sickness? you see, 
 it quite unstrung me ; I. do n t feel that my 
 courage is less, but I feel it in other ways. 
 Do you hear, Sally Ann, what I am saying, 
 or don t you hear nothing? It was a big 
 elephant, was r. t it ? and its feet, and Clark- 
 Boots, and Doctor Snakeroot, and the dress, 
 and Mrs. Pen-in gratitude Sally Ann" 
 
 Here Mr. P. I. T. Throckmorton drowsed 
 away again. My aunt was soon in happy un- 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 341 
 
 consciousness ; but the respite was a brief one. 
 Her hero-husband clutched hold of her arm, 
 with a power that would have broken a sleep 
 seven-fold deeper. 
 
 " Oh, Sally Ann ! save me ! save me !" 
 " Dear Mr. Throckmorton ! I am right here. 
 What is the matter ? I thought somebody 
 was killing you." 
 
 " Oh, Sally Ann, I thought I was sick, and 
 that some devil of a doctor was dashing cold 
 water over me, so that I was drowning ; and 
 I thought you were Mrs. Perrin, and I grabbed 
 at you to save me, and so I awoke. Seems to 
 me all the sheets are deluged with his horrid 
 cold bath ; don t they seem to you to be wet, 
 Sally Ann ?" 
 
 " No, Mr. Throckmorton ; it s all your fancy." 
 " Oh, mercy ! Oh, dear ! that dreadful spell 
 has so shattered me ! Sally Ann, you can t 
 keep awake, can you ?" 
 
 "Why, yes, Mr. Throckmorton." 
 "But you fall asleep while I am talking, 
 fn.d I can only just forget myself, all I can 
 do ; how can you sleep so, Sally Ann ? I be 
 lieve you are going now." 
 
34:2 MARK i ED, NOT MATED. 
 
 " No, Mr. Tlirockinorton ; I hear you ?" 
 "I wish there was a light, Sally Ann ; it s 
 company, when a man is lonesome. Did yor 
 hear me, Sally Ann ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes, I hear yon," says the good woman, 
 and forthwith, she rises and strikes a light. 
 Uncle Peter lifts himself on one elbow, and 
 looks about the room, screening himself from 
 the observation of Mrs. Throckmorton, by lifting 
 the coverlet between their faces. When he 
 has finished his survey, not omitting to peep 
 under the bed, he nestles close to her, and 
 begs that she will talk to him a little ; say 
 something anything- he don t care what ; 
 and his admiring wife, her eyes fast shut, 
 revives, dreamingly, the happy memories of 
 their bridal day; repeats how the morning 
 was bright, and how pretty Mr. Throckmorton 
 said she looked ; and how they walked in the 
 garden, and how the young husband was vexed 
 because that she accepted some flowers from 
 Colonel Mitchel, and how they sat in the 
 arbor, not seeing; the clouds till the rain beirafP 
 
 O O 
 
 to fall, and so the white dress was soiled, and 
 she compelled to assume the blue the first day. 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 343 
 
 Happy day ! she still keeps the blue dress as 
 a memento of it. 
 
 He remembers the dress, perfectly, and, 
 in his joy, puts forth his hand to extinguish 
 the light, but concludes it may be more agree 
 able to Mrs. Throckmorton, to leave the light 
 burning. Women are timid, and so it is suf 
 fered to burn. , 
 
 " Oh, Sally Ann !" he exclaimed, suddenly, 
 " there has a great thought come to me." 
 
 " What, Mr. Throckmorton ? But it is not 
 uncommon for you to have great thoughts." 
 
 " You are a discerning woman, Sally Ann, 
 few see as clearly as you." 
 
 " You will spoil me with praise, Mr. Throck 
 morton. But what did you think ?" 
 
 " Would you be willing, Sally, that I should 
 convey away the blue dress ?" 
 
 " Convoy it where, and what for, dear ? it s 
 never been out of the drawer, except to be 
 sunned (you know the moths will get into 
 things), since we were married, and I can t 
 think what you would convey it away for." 
 
 "This was my thought, my dear Mrs. 
 Throckmorton; that dress, by its happy as 
 
34:4: MAKEIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 sociation, and not by its extrinsic value, 13 
 prized by me beyond a ruby, by us both, I 
 may say ; and what could so well express my 
 gratitude as the conveyance of this article, so 
 valued by us both, into the hands of the 
 estimable Mrs. Perrin ? for we must not be 
 ungrateful, nor unmindful that it is to that 
 good woman we are indebted for all we have 
 enjoyed posterior to that bad spell. I, Sally 
 Ann, would have been a corpse, a stony, 
 white corpse, but for that estimable woman s 
 interfering prevention. 7 
 
 u Mr. Throckmorton, you will break my 
 heart." 
 
 " Forgive me, Sally Ann, I ought not to say 
 corpse ; I wish I had n t said corpse ; corpse is 
 an ugly word ; I do n t know an uglier word 
 than corpse, unless it be coffin. Ugh ! it seems 
 to me I can see one of the long red boxes now. 
 Look, Sally : do n t the light make the shadow 
 of a coffin on the wall. Oh, Sally, forgive me; 
 it s as bad to talk about coffins as corpses, and 
 I really do n t know which has shocked you 
 the most, coffin or corpse." 
 
 " But the blue dress, Mr. Throckmorton," 
 
M A K it i E D , NOT MATED. 345 
 
 said my aunt, humbly remonstrating ; " there 
 are two reasons why I object to your arrange 
 ment ; in the first place, the dress is dear to 
 me, from association, and in the next place, 
 it would be quite useless to Mrs. Perrin." 
 
 "Explain, my dear Mrs. Throckmorton, why 
 it will be estimable to you, and inestimable to 
 the excellent woman to whom I must make 
 some fitting expression of my gratitude. I 
 sometimes think it would be better to die 
 than to live under a weight of gratitude. It s 
 a debt we can t pay, my dear Mrs. Throck 
 morton. Of all things, it seems to me that 
 blue dress, that so graced your youthful form, 
 would be the most fitting expression of my 
 grateful emotions. It s daylight, my dear Mrs. 
 Throckmorton, clear, white daylight. Surely, 
 you can t feel timid now, and I may as well 
 put the light out. I do n t like a light burning 
 in the night : it makes me wakeful." 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Throckmorton, do n t burn a light 
 on my account; I don t want any light. I 
 thought you " 
 
 " My dear Mrs. Throckmorton, don t say a 
 word ; you can t, for a moment, suppose that 
 
34:6 M A E R 1 E D , NOT MATED. 
 
 my manly courage quails for a little harmless 
 darkness, and so why should a light burn, 
 unless on your account ? Ah, Mrs. Throck- 
 morton, own that you have a woman s weak 
 nesses. You rather like a light, in a dark 
 night, and when I am asleep, don t you, my 
 dear 2" 
 
 Aunt Sally assented, of course, and Uncle 
 Peter dozed once more. 
 
 In the pleasant light of the afternoon, my 
 Uncle found the weight of gratitude pressing 
 less heavily on his bosom. He begged that 
 Mrs. Throckmorton would offer some " infeasi- 
 ble plan," as she had objected to his ; where 
 upon, that worthy woman timidly suggested 
 the propriety of consulting the personal in 
 clination of the nurse. To this he immediately 
 and decidedly objected. The delicacy of that 
 excellent woman might prevent the indication 
 of her wishes. He would procure a pair of 
 cupids, or a lap-dog to amuse her leisure 
 hours, or an antique vase, or something else 
 really elegant. Mrs. Throckmorton shook her 
 head. She still favored the idea of consulting 
 Mrs. Perrin. "Not the lap-dog, nor the pair 
 
M A it K i K D , NO T MATED. 
 
 of cupids, nor the vase, would be prized ; she 
 was sure of that. So, after much deliberation, 
 and various propositions, it was finally deter 
 mined that Westley should be dispatched with 
 the best carriage to bring Mrs. Perrin to drink 
 tea. 
 
 In due time, she was set down at the door. 
 She carried in her arms a great bundle, com 
 prising no less than three meal bags and two 
 sheets. This was work for the afternoon. 
 Sewing was mere play, at best, she said ; she 
 always felt as if she was doing nothing when 
 using her needle. 
 
 Mr. Throckmorton wore ruffles, and his dia 
 mond-pin, in honor of the guest ; and, as she 
 sewed up the bags, made various artful at 
 tempts to ascertain what small addition to her 
 present possessions would be acceptable. A 
 black silk dress Mrs. Perrin already had. To 
 be sure, she had owned it, and occasionally 
 worn if, for twenty years ; still it was about 
 as good as new, and if she had the money to 
 get one with, she didn t know as she should 
 buy a black silk dress. 
 
 " You see," said Uncle Peter, hitching his 
 
34:8 M A R K I E D , NOT MATED. 
 
 chair a little closer to her; "I am a grateful 
 man, Mrs. Perrin, and to you I owe my life, I 
 may say, and if I could persuade you to accept 
 some trifle -some antique, or something or 
 other, of a high style of art, it would really be 
 another charity." 
 
 " Grateful ? nonsense ! what have I done 
 for you ? And I am sure I should n t know 
 what to do with an antique, if I had it, and it s 
 no use for a body to have what they don t 
 know the use of." 
 
 It was fearful to be indebted to any fellow- 
 being, as he was. "Why, just think of it, 
 Mrs. Perrin," said Uncle Peter ; " I was al 
 most a dead man, and you came and enervated 
 me. I should have been in my shroud but 
 for you; and so I said to Mrs. Throckmorton, 
 last night ; or, more strictly speaking, I said I 
 should have been a corpse but for you. I 
 said corpse, though, on remembering that 
 corpse was a word disagreeable to the ear of 
 Mrs. Throckmorton, and especially since my 
 bad spell, I amended the form of speech, and 
 instead of saying I should have been a corpse 
 but for you, I said I should have been in my 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 349 
 
 coffin, but for you ; and it .is true, I certainly 
 should now be a corpse, in my coffin, but for 
 your tender solicitude. Pardon my use of the 
 words corpse and coffin, my dear Mrs. Throck- 
 rnorton ; I will not use the words corpse and 
 coffin again. And now, my excellent Mrs. 
 Perrin, what will you accept at my hands ?" 
 
 " What nice, great bags !" she exclaimed, 
 holding one up admiringly. "They make a 
 body feel almost rich. One is to hold bran, 
 for my cow, and two are for flour." 
 
 " What say you to a lap-dog ? I will try to 
 get one, of the King Charles breed ; they re 
 very beautiful." 
 
 " Get along with you !" exclaimed Mrs. 
 Perrin ; " I would as soon be caught with a 
 sheep on my shoulder, as with a dog on my. 
 lap." 
 
 " Oh, dear ! Oh, mercy ! what can I do ?" 
 
 "Just do nothing at all for me, except to 
 send for me when I can do any good. Why, 
 I had a real pleasant visit the time I stayed 
 here all night." 
 
 Mr. Throckmorton withdrew to the open air, 
 he felt that he was stifling, and my aunt, 
 
350 MAKE i ED, NOT MATED. 
 
 by a little praising of the bags and sheeting, 
 soon worked herself into the confidence of her 
 guest, and, without obtrusive inquisitiveness 
 or patronizing overtures, managed to get at 
 one of her long-cherished wishes. Mrs. Perrin 
 would really like to visit one of her children, 
 in a neighboring state, if she had a little spare 
 money. 
 
 Mrs. Throckmorton remained discreetly 
 silent, but resolved that the necessary funds 
 should be at her disposal. 
 
 Great was the joy of Uncle Peter, when he 
 learned that he could pay his debt of gratitude ; 
 but the joy was of short duration, and Mrs. 
 Perrin had no sooner packed her black silk 
 dress, than an uneasy feeling took possession 
 of his heart. He hoped she would make her 
 visit a short one. To be sure, he was glad to 
 have her make the visit, but two things still 
 
 O 
 
 oppressed him : the sense of gratitude was in 
 nowise lightened he was perfectly satisfied 
 that money could not pay for some things, and 
 he was still under as great obligations as ever; 
 and then, suppose he should get sick, and that 
 estimable woman be out of the neighborhood, 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 351 
 
 a hundred or two hundred miles away ! the 
 thought was a terror to him. 
 
 Mrs. Pen-in was advised of his uneasiness, 
 and when she told him she should not be from 
 home more than two weeks, and that he looked 
 so well she thought it would be quite impos 
 sible for him to get sick, if he should try, he 
 almost concluded it would be so, and, ashamed 
 of the fears he had expressed, shook hands 
 cordially and wished her good-bye. 
 
 But when it was certainly known that there 
 was no fire on Mrs. Perrin s hearth, and that 
 her old cow had been sent to one of the neigh 
 bors, and that the door was locked, and the 
 windows dark at night, there came a change 
 over the spirit of Mr. P. I. T. Throckmorton. 
 
 He insisted that the lamp should burn all 
 night. Something might happen; there was 
 always danger. He was more fearful for Mrs. 
 Throckmorton than for himself. Two or three 
 restless nights went by, and Westley was re 
 quired to sleep within call, in case of a sudden 
 and severe attack. My poor aunt ! it was 
 little rest she had. During the day her hus 
 band was less apprehensive, but at night-fall 
 
352 MAKRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 he would begin to inquire how he looked, and 
 whether Sally Ann thought he would be able 
 to rest at all. He would count on his fingers 
 the number of days Mrs. Pen-in had been 
 away, and calculate the probabilities of her 
 returning sooner than she had proposed. 
 " Do n t you think she will get tired, and feel 
 disposed to return, Sally Ann ?" 
 
 Mrs. Throckmorton would assure him that 
 nothing was so likely as that Mrs. Perrin 
 would return earlier than she had intended. 
 There was no place like home, especially to 
 old people, she would say. 
 
 "May-be she has got home, now," Uncle 
 Peter would suggest. "Had we not better 
 send "Westley, Sally Ann? She may be at 
 home, and hurt at our want of attention ;" 
 and so, after a week had passed since her 
 departure, Westley was sent regularly to her 
 house each night to see whether she had not 
 come back ; and night after night, as he re 
 turned with the intelligence thjff^ie was not 
 to be found, Mr. P. I. T. Throckmorton felt 
 the probabilities of a sudden and severe at 
 tack increasing. 
 
MAKKIED, NOT MATED. 353 
 
 He was one evening observed to take the 
 measurement of his breadth of shoulder and 
 waist very exactly, and such a measurement 
 he repeated nightly, afterwards, and though 
 he could not discover any visible diminution 
 of his dimensions he could not resist a belief 
 that he was falling away. The effect of that 
 bad spell, he said, remained in his system, and 
 he was sure that, sooner or later, he must fall 
 a victim to the villainous experiments prac 
 tised upon him. 
 
 And, in truth, his friends inclined to the 
 belief that he was not far wrong. His consti 
 tution had really been unhinged by the con 
 tradictory and sudden transitions of treatment 
 to which he was subjected. 
 
 Ten days of Mrs. Perrin s absence had been 
 worried through : for Mr. P. I. T. Throckmor- 
 ton had not only the old weight of gratitude 
 to crush him, but the fear of a relapse added 
 thereto. It was no wonder he grew nervous. 
 The tenth rifght came. Westley returned 
 from his errand of inquiry with intelligence 
 that Mrs. Pen-in had not appeared, and Mr. 
 Throckmorton protested that the measure, 
 
354 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 which fitted about his waist a week before, 
 would then lap a hand s breadth ; and, after 
 surveying himself in the glass, and repeatedly 
 questioning my aunt as to his appearance and 
 the probability of his becoming a corpse be 
 fore morning, the lamp was lighted, Westley 
 stationed at the door, in case he should be 
 needed, and, groaning and prophesying evil, 
 the miserable man retired. 
 
 It was near midnight, when Sally heard 
 the familiar call, " Oh dear ! Oh mercy ! I 
 knew it would be so. I am taken ! Sally 
 Ann ; I am taken ! Can t you never wake, 
 woman ? Oh, if I could sleep as you do ! 
 Hour after hour I lie awake here, and you 
 asleep. Oh, Sally Ann ! look at me, and see 
 if I ain t very sick ; white as my shirt, ain t I, 
 Sally Ann ? Yes, I know I am : there is no 
 need that you should tell me. Say, Sally 
 Ann, ain t I as white as the sheet?" 
 
 She was soon astir. " Dear Mr. Throck- 
 morton, what is the matter ?" she said. 
 
 " Oh, Sally Ann ! I am so dreadful sick ; I 
 believe I shall be worse than I was before, 
 and no Mrs. Pen-in to do for me. Wake 
 
MARKIED, NOT MATED. 355 
 
 Westley, and send him ; may-be she got back 
 in the night. If she is at home, tell him to 
 bring her without loss of time ; every minute 
 is worth its weight in gold. Qh, is he not 
 awake yet ? He ought to be half-way there. 
 Call him, Sally Ann ; louder ! louder ! louder! 
 Button his waistcoat for him ; he 11 never get 
 dressed. Westley ! your master is almost 
 gone ! Sally Sally Ann I can t hardly 
 speak ; see if I ain t very bad ; tell me what 
 you see ; if there s any signs of immediate 
 dissolution? Oh, Sally Ann, you wouldn t 
 tell me, if you did see the fatal color on my 
 lips. Oh dear ! Oh mercy ! Oh my !" 
 
 " Where do you feel so bad ? Can t you 
 tell me, Mr. Throckmorton ?" 
 
 " Oh, it s all over ; I m sick all over, Sally 
 Ann ; if that skillful woman was only here ! 
 Is that boy yet there, do you think ? "Well, 
 how far do you think he has got, Sally Ann ? 
 
 "I think he is about half-way >a little 
 more than half-way, may-be." 
 
 " Oh, Sally Ann ! do n t you think he ia 
 further?" 
 
 " Not much further, Mr. Throckmorton." 
 
35G MAKKIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 " Oh, lie must be, Sally ! He has sense 
 enough to put spurs to his lK>rse, has n t he, 
 Sally Ann ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes, Mr. Throckmorton ! I think West- 
 ley will ride fast." 
 
 " Oh, I wish he was back ! Do you think 
 she will be at home, Sally Ann ?" 
 
 " I am afraid not, Mr. Throckmorton." 
 
 " Oh, Sally Ann, it s cruel to say so ; how 
 do you think I am now, Sally Ann ? any 
 worse ? But I know I am worse ; it s no use 
 to ask you." 
 
 I need not repeat all that Mr. P. I. T. 
 Throckmorton said on the memorable night 
 
 o 
 
 about which I am writing. Let it suffice, that 
 Mrs. Throckmorton was sent down stairs to 
 bolt and bar the doors, lest Mr. Clark Boots, 
 or Doctor Snakeroot, or some other of the tribe 
 whom the nervous man regarded as his tor 
 mentors, should by one or another means 
 obtain admittance and make an end of him ; 
 that she was sent to the window a dozen 
 times to ascertain if Westley were coming ; 
 required to bring a looking-glass to the bed 
 side that my calm and courageous uncle 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED 357 
 
 might survey himself, and know accurately 
 how much he had fallen away in the last hour 
 of suffer! n<j; and that she was further directed 
 
 O > 
 
 to bring the measuring string, and pass it 
 about the shoulders and waist of the agonized 
 man, and repeat, again, and again, how very 
 ill she thought he was, and whether the attack 
 was not more violent than the first, and how 
 soon she thought Westley would come, and 
 what were the probabilities of Mrs. Perrin s 
 accompanying him, and whether she could do 
 any good if she did come, and if she could 
 do him good, how much she could do, and 
 how soon she could do it. All these things 
 and many more she was expected to do and 
 say in the space of half an hour. 
 
 Mr. P. I. T. Throckmorton had just an 
 nounced it as his firm conviction that he 
 should not survive much longer, when the 
 servant returned. Mrs. Pen-in was not with 
 him. 
 
 " Oh dear! Oh mercy !" he cried. " Come, 
 Westley, and look your last on your old 
 master. Do n t grieve for me, Sally Ann ; I 
 hope some other will fill my place, and be 
 
358 M A R K i E D , NOT MATED. 
 
 more comfort to you than I have ever been. 
 Do n t cry, Sally Ann ; we should have to part 
 sooner or later, and we should never be ready. 
 Seems to me, I heard somebody say a new 
 doctor had come to the village." 
 
 "Yes, sir," answered Westley, "there is a 
 new doctor, and they say he can nigh about 
 raise the dead." 
 
 " Go. Westley, and bring him, quick as you 
 can. May be the breath of life can be kept in 
 me till he gets here. Sally, do you think the 
 breath can be kept in me till the doctor gets 
 here 3" 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Throckmorton, I think so." 
 
 " Do you think lie can do me any good, 
 Sally Ann ? It will be like raising the dead, 
 you know. Sally Ann, tell me I ain t so bad 
 as I think I am ; but I expect I arn worse 
 than I think I am ; but, Sally Ann, tell me 1 
 am not so bad. Ain t I awfully white, Sally 
 Ann ? Say you do n t think I am, Sally Ann." 
 
 Sally Ann, said she did n t think he was 
 very white ; she did n t see, in fact, that he 
 was much changed at all. 
 
 But Uncle Petei^, replied that it was useless 
 
MARKIED, NOT MATED. 359 
 
 for her to say what she did not think ; he 
 knew he must look very bad, and as white as 
 a corpse, and if she thought lie was dying, it 
 would be better to say it ; there was no use in 
 trying to deceive him. And so, do as she 
 would, my aunt could not please the nervous 
 and irritable man. 
 
 A loud and quick ringing of the bell put an 
 end to the disputation as to whether he were 
 as white as a corpse. 
 
 " Sally Ann, if that is the doctor, you must 
 tell him how I am ; I can t speak above my 
 breath ; I feel myself sinking every moment. 
 He must move very slow ; I guess he is a man 
 of no energy. Sally Ann, tell me what you 
 think about his energy. Oh dear ! Oh mercy ! 
 I \vish I had not sent "- The sentence was 
 cut short by the entrance of the doctor. 
 
 He was a slight old man, with a large head, 
 and thin grey hair, a mild and benevolent 
 countenance, and wearing a benign smile. 
 
 " This is the patient, I suppose ?" he said to 
 Mrs. Throckmorton, waving one hand toward 
 the bed, but passing to another part of the 
 room. 
 
360 MAUKIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 " Yes, doctor, and he is very impatient. I 
 wish you would look at his tongue, and 
 examine his pulse, if you will be so kind ;" 
 and, taking up the lamp, she moved toward 
 the bed, but on reaching it discovered that 
 the doctor remained motionless. His face was 
 turned from the invalid, and his hand was 
 pressing down his eye-lids. She observed him 
 with bewildered surprise, still holding the 
 lamp, and expecting some motion, but for 
 at least five minutes the doctor retained his 
 position. Uncle Peter, meantime, raising him 
 self on one elbow, assumed a look of indigna 
 tion, as well as of despair. 
 
 "Pardon me, my dear madam," said the 
 doctor, at last, in a tone so gentle it was im 
 possible not to pardon him ; " I was trying to 
 get an impression of my patient." 
 
 "What does he say he is trying to get. 
 Sally Ann?" asked the sufferer, but my aunt 
 could only shake her head, dubiously. 
 
 " The patient, I think," resumed the doctor, 
 " has not been ill a very great length of time ; 
 that is the impression I get. Am I correct, 
 madam ?" 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 361 
 
 " You are correct ; it is only to-night that 
 he has been seriously affected." 
 
 " Ah ! I thought so. I could not see him 
 sick any length of time back." 
 
 Here he closed his eyes again, and remained 
 silent for five minutes more, when, dropping 
 his hand from his eyes, he asked whether the 
 patient were not a slight man, like himself: 
 that was the impression he received. 
 
 Sally Ann informed him he was quite to the 
 contrary. 
 
 " Well, madam, I had two impressions," 
 replied the doctor. "I first saw a stout man, 
 a very stout man. We can t always tell what 
 impression to trust, provided we get more than 
 one, as is often the case." 
 
 " Ho must be a wonderful man," whispered 
 my aunt to her uneasy lord. 
 
 "It is strange," resumed the doctor, musing 
 ly, " how reliable impressions are how much 
 more reliable than the conclusions of reason. 
 The poet beautifully said, long before our 
 doctrine prevailed, that is, to any great extent, 
 for it has in all ages had its adherents 
 
S62 M A R E I E D , NOT M A T E D . 
 
 " Reasoning, at every step he treads. 
 
 Man yet mistakes his way ; 
 While meaner things, by instinct led, 
 Are rarely known to stray." 
 
 %4 He seems to know a good deal," whispered 
 my aunt, and Uncle Peter smiled, and said he 
 felt a little easier. 
 
 The doctor now bowed his head very low, 
 and, after a silence of five other minutes, 
 opened his eyes and illuminated the minds 
 of his listeners with an impression. He re 
 cognized in his patient a middle-aged man : 
 that was to say, not a very young man, nor 
 yet a man a hundred years old. This impres 
 sion was also correct, and educed new signs 
 of astonishment. 
 
 " Oh dear ! Oh mercy ! I should like to 
 have you do something for me, if you are 
 ever going to. I can t survive this way," said 
 Uncle Peter. 
 
 The doctor arose slowly, and, adjusting his 
 spectacles, approached the bed, where he 
 waved his hands slowly up and down, before 
 the sick man s eyes, into which he looked 
 steadily with his own. 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 363 
 
 "I don t want to be fanned; Oh, mercy! 
 I don t want to be fanned. Tell him so, 
 Sally Ann. I am all in a chill now ; tell 
 him that, too, Sally Ann." 
 
 "You hear his request," said the meet 
 woman. 
 
 "My dear friend, I am not fanning, but 
 mesmerizing you. Do n t you feel easier ?" 
 
 "Oh, dear! I can t tell how I feel. Ask 
 Sally Ann." 
 
 Mrs. Throckmorton thought he felt better ; 
 upon which her husband concluded that he did 
 feel better. 
 
 " Feel any disposition to sleep ?" asked the 
 doctor. 
 
 " Oh, mercy ! Do you think a dying man 
 can sleep ? No, I do n t feel like sleeping ; 
 do I, Sally Ann ?" 
 
 " No, my dear Mr. Throckmorton, I think 
 you do not." 
 
 "No, doctor, I knew I did n t." 
 
 " Oh, I do n t mean a natural sleep, but a 
 mesmeric sleep. Don t you feel a winking 
 of the eye-lids !" 
 
 " Sally Ann, do you think I feel any wink- 
 
364: MARRIED, .NOT MATED. 
 
 ing of the eye-lids. Tell the doctor what you 
 think." 
 
 " Well, Mr. Throckmorton, I think you do 
 a little a very little." 
 
 " Oh, dear ! Oh, mercy I Well, I suppose 
 I do. But can t you do something more ? I 
 can t live long this way." 
 
 " Are you in a state of physical pain, sir ? 
 Exteriorly you do not present any alarming 
 symptoms ;" and the doctor pressed two of his 
 lingers on the eye-lids of my uncle for some 
 moments. " Now sir," he said, " see if you 
 can open your eyes." 
 
 He at once opened his eyes. 
 
 " Did you find it hard to do so ? Did they 
 not incline to remain closed ?" 
 
 "No, sir, not as I know of; they opened 
 themselves." 
 
 The doctor said his patient was not impres 
 sible ; he would proceed to administer a com 
 posing draught, after which he should, he 
 thought, have no difficulty in putting him to 
 sleep. 
 
 He now requested to have a glass of fresh 
 water brought, and gave particular charge 
 
M 
 
 AKKIED, NOT MATED. 365 
 
 that the tumbler should be rinsed perfectly 
 clean, and that the bearer should not on any 
 account touch a drop of its contents. Uncle 
 Peter looked anxiously at Sally Ann, but she 
 was mystified, and that to her was as much 
 as to be edified. She smiled encouragingly, 
 and he seemed to take heart. The water 
 was brought, but the doctor, after looking at 
 and tasting it, discovered signs of a human 
 touch about it, and Westley was dismissed to 
 refill the glass. He muttered something, as 
 he went, to the effect that he was bidden by 
 a great old fool, but no one heard him. 
 
 "Ah, that w T ill do," said the doctor, as the 
 fresh water was brought him, and taking it 
 in his hand he touched it with the tip of one 
 finger, and afterwards tasted it. He then pro 
 nounced it a healing article, and proceeded to 
 administer one tea-spoonful. 
 
 Mr. Throckmorton looked at his wife, to 
 ascertain whether he felt any better ; but she 
 appeared uncertain, whereupon he began to 
 groan. The draught was not of sufficient 
 power, the doctor said, and Westley was 
 directed to walk in a northerly direction till 
 
366 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 he should see a well, to draw water from the 
 north side of it, and return speedily. All this 
 was accomplished in the course of half an 
 hour. Tumblers of water from the different 
 sources were then mingled, and the doctor 
 wet the tips of two fingers in it, after which, 
 he added a drop or two from a small vial that 
 he carried in the left pocket of his waistcoat. 
 Another tea-spoonful \vas now administered, 
 which he had no doubt would compose his pa 
 tient in a few minutes. 
 
 " Oh, Sally Ann, do you think it will com 
 pose me ? I can t see, for the life of me, how 
 it will do any good to give me water to drink. 
 I have drank water all my life, and it do n t 
 keep these bad spells off. Oh, dear ! Oh, 
 mercy! can t you do something else some 
 thing more efficient ?" 
 
 "I will have you easy in a few minutes," 
 said the doctor, and forthwith commenced 
 manipulations, but instead of quieting, they 
 seemed only to irritate. 
 
 " Oh, dear ! Oh, mercy ! Oh, Sally !" were 
 constantly cried. 
 
 "There must be," said the doctor, "an 
 
MAKKIED, NOT MATED. 367 
 
 internal disorder of which. I am not cognizant. 
 I will send at once for my clairvoyant, Mrs. 
 Charity Seeaway." 
 
 " Oh, do anything ; do something. I can t 
 live long in this state." 
 
 Another dose of the water was admin 
 istered, and Westley dispatched for the clair 
 voyant. 
 
 It seemed a great while to the querulous 
 invalid before his return, for Mrs. Charity 
 Seeaway lived six miles away, in another part 
 of the town. It would be tedious to tell all 
 that my aunt had to say and do in the mean 
 time, and all the wonderful cures the deserter 
 from Galen tcld of. It was evident that 
 Uncle Peter did not understand the new mode 
 of treatment, and was not altogether satisfied, 
 but in the absence of Mrs. Pen-in what could 
 be done ? Anything seemed better than a 
 resort to his old tormentors. It was an hour 
 after sunrise, when the little nervous woman 
 arrived. 
 
 Ah, my dear Mrs. Seeaway," said the 
 doctor, shaking her cordially by the hand ; 
 "I am so glad you are come. We Iwvo a 
 
368 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 very critical case, here. Don t suffer your 
 eyes to rest on the patient, if you please, but 
 at once put yourself to sleep, and allow me to 
 profit by your observation of the patient s 
 interior." 
 
 " Yes, sir. The initials of the patient s 
 name, if you please ?" 
 
 up J ip rp " 
 
 " Yes that is all ;" and Mrs. Charity See- 
 away sat herself down, and stared at noth 
 ing. Presently her eyes began to wink, and 
 in a moment more they were fast shut, and 
 she breathed heavily. 
 
 " She is now~in what we term the clair 
 voyant state," said the doctor, and he pro 
 ceeded to question her : " What do you dis 
 cover, my dear Mrs. Seeaway ?" 
 
 She seemed to speak with difficulty, but 
 answered, " I see a diseased man." 
 
 " Yes ; go on." 
 
 " I see a black spot on the left lung." 
 
 " Oh, dear ! Oh, mercy ! Oh, Sally Ann !" 
 exclaimed Uncle Peter, "come and place your 
 hand on my left side ; there is a dreadful pain 
 there." And, lifting himself on one elbow, he 
 
MABKIED, NOT MATED 369 
 
 gazed at the sleeping Charity, in an agony 
 of despair. 
 
 "I see a bottle," she continued, "I think 
 the diseased man I see has been in the habit 
 of drinking too much spirituous liquor." 
 
 " What more, Mrs. Seeaway ?" 
 
 "I see a fever, a little way in the future. 
 He is to have a long and severe illness." 
 
 Uncle Peter held the hand of Sally as if life 
 depended on it, and the devoted wife began to 
 shed tears profusely. 
 
 " What do you see now ?" asked the doctor. 
 
 " Nothing more." 
 
 " Well, how far in the future can you see 
 this diseased man ?" 
 
 C I can see him just three weeks ahead." 
 
 " No further ?" 
 
 " No, I can fc see him any further." 
 
 Uncle Peter grew actually white, and 
 begged that Westley might at once be sent 
 to bring Mrs. Perrin : not that it was likely 
 he should live to see her, but he would like 
 to have her attend his funeral, and to com 
 fort his beloved Sally Ann at that afflicting 
 time. 
 
 16* 
 
 
370 M A B it i E D , NOT MATED. 
 
 Westley soon departed, with directions to 
 make all convenient speed. 
 
 " Do n t spare horses, and don t spare 
 money. And now look at me, my good 
 "Westley ; may-be you will never see me 
 again." 
 
 Westley did look at his master, but if a 
 thought of not seeing him again gave him any 
 uneasiness, he did not manifest it. 
 
 " Calm yourselves," said the doctor ; "it does 
 not certainly indicate your death, that this 
 woman can only see you for three weeks. 
 You disappear at that time, but you may be 
 well at that time ; and how can the clair 
 voyant see a diseased man, when you are a 
 well man ?" 
 
 Uncle Peter thought he breathed a little 
 easier, and reclined on his pillow, looking 
 more earnestly at heaven than he had ever 
 looked till then. 
 
 " Can you see any remedies for the diseased 
 man, my dear Mrs. Seeaway ?" 
 
 " Yes ; I see a bottle, filled with what seems 
 to be sugar of the maple tree, and I see a 
 quantity of the berries of the currant bush, 
 
MAKKIED, NOT MATED. 371 
 
 and I am impressed to say that, if a tea-spoon 
 ful of the berries is added to every table- 
 spoonful of the sugar, and the mixture placed 
 in the sun for half an hour, it will become 
 curative to the diseased man I see." 
 
 " What more do you see ?" 
 
 3ee quantities of weak herbs, and quanti 
 ties ^f bitter herbs, and I am impressed to say 
 that if a poultice be made of the weak and 
 bitter herbs, and applied to the chest of the 
 diseased man, it will be of benefit to him. I 
 can now see tubercles forming in his lungs, 
 and three weeks is the furthest I can see him 
 at all." 
 
 Here Mrs. Charity Seeaway began to trem 
 ble and twitch, and presently she unclosed her 
 eyes and sat upright. 
 
 Bitter and weak herbs were procured, the 
 poultice made and applied, and the maple 
 sugar and currants placed in the sun, mixed 
 as the clairvoyant directed. 
 
 Through the day, my uncle thought him 
 self a little better, but when the evening 
 shadows began to steal through the windows, 
 he grew suddenly worse, and, an hour after 
 

 372 MAKKIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 dark, the doctor, with his clairvoyant, was re 
 called. He saw no alarming symptoms. He 
 strove to quiet his patient by a few mani 
 pulations and some cheerful words, but he 
 could not thus be solaced. 
 
 " Oh, Sally Ann !" he cried, "do get him 
 to do something ; but I do n t want that 
 
 O 7 
 
 woman to look into me. Oh, dear ! Oh, 
 mercy ! there never was a man cured who 
 was as bad as I am, was there ? Oh, doctor, 
 what are you going to do ? Oh, Sally Ann, 
 get him to do something. May -be it would 
 prevent this dreadful fever to take a little 
 blood. Oh, my !" 
 
 " Ha^e you a pine table at hand ?" asked 
 the doctor, of Mrs. Throckmorton. 
 
 " Oh, gracious ! mercy ! mercy ! Is the 
 man about to dissect me, before I m dead ? 
 Oh, Sally Ann, don t let him dissect me, right 
 before my face and eyes. Seems to me I hear 
 a sound like grinding a knife. Sally Ann, 
 remember that I am bone of your bone. Oh, 
 if Mrs. Perrin, that excellent woman, was 
 only here ! it seems to me, if I could see her 
 old black dress, it would do me good. Sally 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 373 
 
 Ann, see what that man and woman are 
 doing." 
 
 " Do n t be alarmed, my dear sir," said the 
 doctor, compassionately, " we only want to 
 see if we can get some manifestations. You 
 will allow us to have the table for that pur 
 pose, surely." 
 
 "Manifest what, do you say, sir? Sally 
 Ann, do you know what he means ? He is a 
 dreadful man to me." 
 
 Here the doctor entered into some explana 
 tion, looking piteous and benevolent in view 
 of the great ignorance of his patient. The 
 pine table was produced, and Mrs. Throek- 
 morton was invited to assist in forming the 
 circle, which she did, looking tremblingly at 
 Uncle Peter. 
 
 " Is there a spirit present ?" asked the doc 
 tor, after a silent sitting of some minutes. All 
 listened, with heads inclined toward the table, 
 but no response was heard. 
 
 " I fear," he said, " we shall not be able to 
 get any manifestations to-night ; some cause 
 we can t conceive of, prevents." 
 
 "See that?" exclaimed Mrs. Charity See- 
 
374: M A It li I E D , NOT MATED. 
 
 away, in a lively tone, looking at one of her 
 hands. 
 
 " No," said the doctor, " I saw nothing. I 
 think, though, I feel a slight vibration in the 
 table. Mrs. Throckmorton, do you see any 
 thing?" 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 "Do you feel any peculiar sensation in your 
 hands?" 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 "There! I thought I heard a rap on the 
 floor ! Did you hear anything, Mrs. Seeaway ? 
 Did you, Mrs. Throckmorton ? There ! I felt 
 it distinctly, then, under my right foot. It s 
 a bad spirit, and comes up from below." 
 
 "There has one got hold of my hand!" 
 exclaimed the clairvoyant. " See that ! see 
 that !" And, as she spoke, her hand began to 
 move about the table, very slowly at first, and 
 then with greater velocity now at one side, 
 now at the other. Presently, the hand of 
 my amazed aunt was violently pushed off the 
 table. 
 
 "Excuse the spirit, madam," said Charity; 
 "it means to indicate that you destroy the 
 
 
MAI:KIEJ>, ISOT MATED. 375 
 
 harmony. We shall get better manifestations 
 without you." 
 
 Obedient to t.he supposed indication, she 
 withdrew to the bedside, to administer such 
 consolation as her kind heart suggested. 
 
 Poor, dear, faithful Aunt Sally ! that was 
 a trying time to her. It was not long before 
 the table began to move from side to side, 
 under the hands of the doctor and his clair 
 voyant, and it was announced that a tipping 
 spirit was come. 
 
 " What has the spirit to communicate ?" 
 was the first inquiry. 
 
 A series of tips followed, which being inter 
 preted meant that the spirit was the deceased 
 brother of Mrs. Throckmorton. But my good 
 aunt meekly affirmed that she never had 
 had a brother, upon which it was concluded 
 that the spirit had been misunderstood, or 
 that it was a bad spirit, which was not 
 improbable, and they proceeded to test its 
 truthfulness, 
 
 " Can t you rap ?" was asked of the invisi 
 ble intelligence. 
 
 But the spirit indicated, by tips, that it 
 
 
376 MARRIED, NOT MA T E D . 
 
 could not rap, unless a circle should bo 
 formed. 
 
 " Let us call a good spirit to drive it away," 
 he said ; " it is evidently a mischievous 
 spirit." Then both cried, with great earnest 
 ness : " Get away with you ! Begone, bad 
 spirit ! we won t talk with you. Go away, 
 and let a good spirit come." 
 
 The table was in rest, and it was believed 
 that a good spirit was present, and had driven 
 out the other. It was also thought that some 
 more satisfactory manifestations would shortly 
 be obtained. 
 
 The man and woman changed positions at 
 the table, to produce a greater degree of har 
 mony, and, after sitting nearly an hour, Mrs. 
 Seeaway became quite confident that theie 
 was a faint tapping under the thumb of her 
 left hand. The doctor thought he felt vibra 
 tions, but he might be deceived ; the groans 
 of the patient might produce the jar. I have 
 not attempted to record all the painful excla 
 mations uttered by the miserable man during 
 the progress of these manifestations. But not 
 withstanding the unfavorable intervention of 
 
MARRIED. NOT MATED. 377 
 
 the groans, the raps became audible before 
 long, when a conversation, something as fol 
 lows, ensued : 
 
 " Does the spirit wish to communicate ?" 
 
 " Yes." This response was, cf course, rap 
 ped out through the alphabet. 
 
 " Of what nature is the communication the 
 spirit wishes to make ?" 
 
 " Remedial." 
 
 " It has come to do you good, Mr. Throck- 
 m or ton." 
 
 " Can you give us a prescription ?" 
 
 Here Mrs. Charity Seeaway affirmed that 
 the spirit said " yes," and the doctor inclined 
 to the opinion that it said u no ;" whereupon 
 the interrogatory was repeated, and both, this 
 time, agreed that the response was a plain 
 affirmative. 
 
 " We are ready to hear it," said the doctor. 
 " Mrs. Seeaway, charge your memory with 
 every word ; life may be depending on it. 
 Now, spirit, will you be so kind as to please 
 to favor us with the prescription ?" 
 
 Raps, calls of the alphabet, and groans, 
 mingled together ; but, after half an hour, 
 
378 M A K R I E D , NOT MATED. 
 
 Mrs. Seeaway was enabled to repeat this 
 important direction: "Take one bird s egg, 
 and one ounce of the oil of corn, and a small 
 piece of the flower of mustard, and two leaves 
 of the mountain herb called tansy : stir to 
 gether with the forefinger of a child, not five 
 years old; place the mixture in the sun for 
 five minutes, and feed it, at intervals, and in 
 small quantities, to a male cat the best shoes 
 of the patient being, meantime, placed on his 
 pillow." 
 
 "Has the spirit anything further to sug 
 gest?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Will the spirit be so good as to please to 
 tell us what to do, to make this poor sick man 
 well?" 
 
 "Yes, the spirit says it will," announced 
 Mrs. Seeaway ; "but, Mrs. Throckrnorton, it 
 stipulates that you and the doctor shall leave 
 the room meanwhile. Do you object, madam ? 
 Spirits are so particular." 
 
 Oh, Sally Ann !" exclaimed Uncle Peter, 
 catching the trembling wife by her dress, 
 " Do n t leave me ! Oh, for mercy s sake, 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 379 
 
 do n t leave me with that unnatural wo 
 man !" 
 
 The doctor tried, in vain, to conciliate his 
 patient, but he persisted in the decision that he 
 would not be left alone with the " unnatural 
 woman." 
 
 " Wo n t the spirit be good enough to write 
 the prescription if we remain in the room ?" 
 asked the doctor ; and Mrs. Charity Seeaway 
 responded that, if they would cover their eyes, 
 the spirit consented to communicate. 
 
 This was acceded to, and the spirit pro 
 ceeded to say, a young pig must be bled, 
 under the right ear, between the hours of 
 one and two, that night, for the relief of the 
 patient. 
 
 " Oh, dear ! Oh, mercy !" exclaimed my 
 querulous uncle; "it all looks to me like the 
 greatest foolishness in the world. I do n t see 
 how it can do any good, to feed a cat, and 
 bleed a pig, and place my shoes on my pillow. 
 Oh, Sally Ann, can yon see how it can do any 
 good to a dying man like me ? Oh, mercy I 
 Oh, dear !" 
 
 "We can t," said the doctor, "understand 
 
380 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 the connection of these things with your well- 
 being. Doubtless, however, there is a connec 
 tion, and you might experience almost mira 
 culous relief from that which, to our ordinary 
 apprehension, would seem foolishness." 
 
 Mrs. Charity Seeaway here informed us 
 that the spirit impressed her to believe that 
 Mr. Throckmorton could only escape death 
 through spiritual agency. 
 
 What a running to and fro there was, for 
 the young pig, the mountain tansy, the flower 
 of mustard, the cat, and all the other things 
 thus recommended ! The shoes were placed on 
 the pillow ; the doctor soothed and encourag 
 ed, and Mrs. Seeaway gave out her impres 
 sions ; but the patient could not discern that 
 he was at all relieved. My poor aunt was 
 scarcely able to stand up, at daybreak, but 
 she gathered courage from the fact that her 
 idolized lord was really better, though he 
 knew it not. The doctor said so, and Mrs. 
 Seeaway affirmed, in her clairvoyant state, 
 that the black spot had disappeared entirely 
 from the left lung. When the sun rose, the 
 doctor and his medium were permitted to 
 
M A 11 it 1 i; i) , NO T MATED. 38 1 
 
 retire. The patient felt some slight allevia 
 tion, he thought ; indeed, lie could not tell 
 what made him so bad. His appetite was 
 better than common, and everything tasted 
 good to him. He was not in any pain, and 
 he thought he could not have much fever, or 
 he would know it. Still, that he was very 
 sick, was certain, and he often besought my 
 aunt, in the course of the day, to tell him 
 what made him so bad ; but she was puzzled 
 no less than he, to know what caused him to 
 ]JQ so she only knew he was bad. Once 
 or twice she closed her eyes, in forgetfulness ; 
 but he seemed to know, instinctively, though 
 fast asleep, when such was the case. He was 
 impressed, he said, to ask for water, or for 
 food, as often as that faithful woman became 
 unconscious. She saw the sun set, with tearful 
 eyes ; she feared that Peter would not survive 
 the night. She did not fear on her own ac 
 count, but blamed herself that she should get 
 tired or sleepy at all. " If Mr. Throckmor- 
 ton were only well !" was all she could say. 
 
 " Oh, Sally Ann ! if I was well, I would not 
 ask for anything else. Do you think I can 
 
382 M A R K I E D , NOT MATED. 
 
 live till that excellent woman, Mrs. Perrin, 
 arrives ?" 
 
 It was the conviction of my atrf t that dis 
 solution would not immediately take place, 
 but she dared not ask herself how soon she 
 might be deprived of her Peter. 
 
 As the time went by, he became more im 
 pressed with the notion that he should not 
 live till morning. " Oh, Sally Ann !" he ex 
 claimed, " I might as well call executioners, 
 and write my will. Yes, Sally Ann, my will 
 and testimony." 
 
 Uncle Peter, propped on pillows, and with 
 the open Bible for a desk, had written " I, 
 Peter I. T. Throckmorton, being of sound 
 mind, and conscious of my liability to be 
 called" when the lively exclamation of 
 " Hi ! hi !" arrested his hand, and, lifting his 
 eyes, he saw the old black dress of Mrs. 
 Perrin, and Mrs. Perrin s cheerful counten 
 ance above it. 
 
 " Oh, Sally Ann, here is the excellent- 
 woman !" he said ; " tell her how bad I am." 
 
 " Tut ! tut ! tell me yourself," replied Mrs. 
 Perrin. " I have rid fifty miles, to-day, to get 
 
M A K R I E D , N (> T -d A T E D . 383 
 
 here, and now yon want to put me off, without 
 speaking to me ;" and, putting aside the will 
 and testimony, she seated herself, and taking 
 the sick man s hand, chafed it softly, drawing 
 from him meantime a full account of the bad 
 attack he had experienced. 
 
 She shook up the pillows and straightened 
 the bed, administered a little brandy and 
 water, set the chairs about in order, brushed 
 the -floor, and presently had a fire kindled, 
 though it was not cold ; and, as she worked, 
 she talked on and on of the pleasant visit she 
 had had, how young her daughter looked for 
 her years, and what she called all her children, 
 what an awful pretty country she had seen, 
 and how powerful weak she was after the long 
 ride, with a thousand other items of news and 
 gossip, of little interest in themselves, but all 
 fitted to soothe the mind and induce a sense 
 of cheerfulness, until, going near the bed to 
 feel of the sick man s pulse, she found him 
 fast asleep. She laid her hand first on the 
 wrist and then on the cheek, elevating her 
 eyebrows slightly as she did so, and then 
 softly approaching my aunt, whispered that 
 
384: MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 her husband was no more like to die than she 
 was that he was "nervous and lidgetty, that 
 was all. Them merciless doctors Scared him 
 out of his right senses, and he never will be 
 himself again. "We must humor him a little, 
 Mrs. Throckmorton ;" and, surprised that she 
 had made no reply, she peered in her face, 
 and lo ! she was asleep too. 
 
 Mrs. Perriii left the room on tiptoe, and 
 directed supper enough for a dozen hungry 
 men to be prepared, herself assisting in the 
 preparation of some delicacy for Uncle Peter. 
 
 Two long hours passed before the sleepers 
 awoke, and, w r hen they did, it was to the 
 sound of Mrs. Perrin s " ^scat" 
 
 She had discovered the cat, no matter how, 
 she said, but she had discovered him, and he 
 was making nimble leaps before her broom 
 stick, when Peter and Sally Ann became 
 conscious. 
 
 "And mercy on us! she said, "if there 
 ain t your shoes on your pillow! Why, 
 you. have been out of your head, haven t 
 you?" 
 
 "Tell him, my dear Mrs. Throckmorton, 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 385 
 
 about the manifestations, arid all," said Uncle 
 Peter. 
 
 Mrs. Throckmorton smiled. He was better, 
 oh, so much better ! It was an unmistakable 
 evidence of it that he did n t say " Sally Ann." 
 So she related the proceedings of the spiritual 
 physician and the clairvoyant, and could riot 
 avoid a smile, as Mrs. Pen-in exclaimed, " I 
 never! if that don t beat everything!" and 
 when Aunt Sally pulled on the stockings of 
 her dear lord, he thought that, with an arm 
 through one of the arms of each of the women, 
 lie might get down stairs, and eat a mouthful 
 or two of something nourishing. 
 
 As we were at supper, no one could have 
 suspected that Mr. P. I. T. Throckmorton 
 " was a very diseased man, with a black spot 
 on the left lung." 
 
 "It beats all," said Mrs. Pen-in, " what fools 
 there are in the world. No\v, I believe in 
 ghosts, and omens, and such things as that, 
 that have some sense in them ; and a body is 
 sometimes foretold things, I think, in their 
 dreams. So, when I dream of seeing the 
 dead, I hear good news of the living; and a 
 17 
 
386 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 good many dreams I think there are signs in. 
 Before I was ever married, I dreamed of seeing 
 my old man, just as plain as I see, you now. 
 Another cup of tea, if you please, Mrs. Throck- 
 morton. Sha n t I give you a bit of the breast 
 of this chicken ?" and Uncle Peter, to whom 
 this was addressed, said, "Just a mouthful, 77 
 not that he wanted it, but he thought it would 
 be nourishing ; then his cup was refilled, only 
 to keep the excellent woman company ; and 
 she resumed : " My grandfather was a man 
 who had no faith in ghosts ; he never would 
 allow one of his children to say ghost, I have 
 heard my father say ; and he often said if 
 there was any such thing to be seen he 
 wished he could see it. Well, he got to be 
 an old man, but he worked still on the farm, 
 as he always did, and one day, as he was 
 plowing in the field, he saw. all at once be 
 fore him, the most beautiful woman he had 
 ever set his eyes on. She smiled as he came 
 near, and said she was come for him. He 
 looked incredulous, and she added, Go to the 
 house and ask Ruth (that was grandmother) 
 to put new strings in your shoes, and if she 
 
M A B R I E D , NOT MA T 15 D . 387 
 
 does it without speaking you will know that 
 what I say is true. Now, grandmother would 
 never so much as lift grandfather s shoes from 
 the floor, and he had no reason to think she 
 would put new strings in them without speak 
 ing, and, still doubtful, he dropped the reins 
 at the feet of the strange woman, and went to 
 the house. Grandmother was crimj ing the 
 border of a cap, a work in which she disliked 
 very much to be disturbed, but grandfather 
 no sooner said, Ruth, put new strings in 
 my shoes, than, putting down the cap, she 
 obeyed, smiling as she did so. Grandfather 
 sunk in a chair, and said, Euthy, you will 
 wear that cap at my funeral. He then went 
 to the field, and there stood the horses in 
 the furrow, but the woman was gone. He 
 loosened the traces from the plow, and that 
 night he was taken sick, and in three days he 
 died." 
 
 " That was strange," said Aunt Sally. 
 
 "Remarkable," said Uncle Peter. 
 
 " Yes, and I have seen some things myself," 
 added Mrs. Perrin. " Before my baby died, 
 there were three raps on the door one night, 
 
388 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 and the baby started to open the door ; she 
 could just walk then ; but no one was there, 
 and I felt right away that she would be 
 taken. La, me ! if it ain t twelve o clock !" 
 So, laughing at one superstition, they indulged 
 in another. 
 
 I need hardly say that a light had to burn 
 for Uncle Peter that night, and that Mrs. 
 Perrin kept within call. But, before she 
 retired, she asked, aside, of Eosalie and my 
 self, whether we had been at TVoodside during 
 her absence, and if there had been anybody 
 there from town, and if we knew whether 
 anybody was expected. 
 
M A E R [ E D , NOT MAT K D . 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 SEPTEMBER was with us, and the grass of 
 the orchard was dry and brown ; there had 
 not been rain for twelve weeks ; the cattle 
 waded in the water, for the shadows were not so 
 thick and cool as they had been a while past ; 
 the flies sung drowsily on the window pane ; 
 and the katydids made shrill music among 
 the dry leaves ; their good time had come. 
 You might almost see the dust rising up 
 behind the furrow, so dry were the fields, 
 and often the plowman rested his steers, for 
 it was hard work to cut through the baked 
 earth. Fruits were ripe, cider-presses busy, 
 and barns full. "We had been at Uncle Peter s 
 since March, and Rosalie had become mistress 
 
390 M A. R R T E D , NOT MATED. 
 
 of the house, and of the garden, and fields 
 almost, for she had her way in everything, 
 while I was scarcely more at home than at 
 first: I had not learned to say Uncle Samuel 
 Peter, naturally and easily. 
 
 Aunt Sally, who had been all the summer 
 trrowinir better, she said, was so feeble now 
 
 o o / 
 
 that she could not sit np all day. It was 
 nothing; we must not listen to her com 
 plaints ; she w^as foolish to make them ; espe 
 cially while Uncle Peter was so much worse 
 than she ; if he were only well, she should 
 soon be up again ! She would not allow me 
 to bring her wine or fruit, or to fan her, or 
 perform any little office, as though she were 
 sick ; all kindnesses must be reserved for 
 Uncle Peter. She lay on a sofa by an open 
 window, but the air was sultry and seemed 
 not to revive her. She wished she had a little 
 more strength, and could do something for 
 Uncle Peter; she was afraid she should never 
 see him well again. 
 
 "Mrs. Throckmorton," said her husband, 
 throwing down the cigar he had been puffing 
 almost in her face, " it appears to me you 
 
MAKEIED, NOT MATED. 391 
 
 do n t look quite well to-day ; you do n t stir 
 about enough, my dear. Now, if you should 
 go down stairs and make a plum-pudding, 
 it would strengthen you and elevate yonr 
 spirits;" and he reached and took from her 
 the fan with which she was endeavoring 1< 
 keep her poor fainting self alive. My aunt 
 smiled, as though he had done her a favor, 
 and made an effort to rise, but her strength 
 was not equal to her will, and she sank down 
 again, saying she was ashamed to be so worth 
 less. Uncle Peter made no reply, but seemed 
 to think she ought to be ashamed. 
 
 " How thin you are growing," she said 
 to him, as soon as she could speak at all : 
 < let me feel your pulse, my dear ;" and she 
 took his great, moist hand in her thin and dry 
 one ; if he had had any soul or any heart, and 
 not been the great lump of selfishness he was, 
 he would have perceived how hot and trans 
 parent that little hand was, and would have 
 cast himself down in meanness and abject- 
 ness before her goodness and purity. But 
 my aunt, so long as she was not beaten with 
 stripes, utterly repudiated and denounced, 
 
392 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 was grateful, and fancied slie had even more 
 than she deserved. 
 
 " Bless my soul !" exclaimed Uncle Peter, 
 locking from the window, " here comes that 
 miserable dunce, Rachel Muggins ; Mrs. 
 Throckmorton, do oblige me by saying you 
 are not in, for of course she has not presumed 
 to come to see me." 
 
 "Of course, not," said Aunt Sally, "but I 
 would not like to send her away when she has 
 come so far through the heat to see me ; and 
 you know, Mr. Throckmorton, you received 
 her very kindly when she came to visit you 
 while you were so ill." 
 
 " I do n t know any such thing," he replied ; 
 "she may have been here when I was un 
 conscious of it ; and I am surprised that you 
 presume to contradict me." 
 
 Aunt Sally was frightened into submission, 
 and not only directed that the woman be 
 informed she was not in, but said to Uncle 
 Peter that no doubt he was quite too ill, at 
 the time of Mrs. Muggins s visit, to retain any 
 recollection of it violating her conscience 
 for the sake of pleasing him. 
 
MARRIED, NOT MA T E D . 393 
 
 " Goodness alive !" exclaimed Mrs. Mug 
 gins, from the hall, "you can t come it over 
 me in that way; I m half- white, and free- 
 born, and I can see into the woods as far as 
 them that have gold specs, and Sally Throck- 
 morton is not gone out; she is sick a-bed, 
 that s whar she is, and I have come to see 
 her, and I will see her ; so just clap a stopper 
 on your jaw." And with this expression of 
 her convictions and intentions, Mrs. Muggins 
 made her way up stairs. " I do n t wonder, 
 old fellow," she said, addressing Uncle Pter, 
 " that you told a big lie, rather than see me, 
 because, of course, you can t get over the 
 ingratitude of some in a minute ; do n t it beat 
 all the bare-faced est things you ever did see ? 
 I was never more surprised than when I heard 
 it ; I just told him to carry mo out ; you see 
 he s been at work chopping wood, at old 
 Mose Thill s ; Mose gives him seventy-five 
 cents a cord and finds him, and he often 
 chucks some apples in his pockets as he is 
 coming home, for the young ones. You know 
 Miss Thill is a right nice woman, but lie is 
 headstrong like some others; and he drinks 
 ]?* 
 
394: M A B K I E D , NO T M A T E D . 
 
 too much, they say. Well, he come home 
 from his choppin work at old Mose s, and 
 I d been washing, and had the toothache 
 some, and did n t feel none too good : the 
 baby was cross and colicky, and I was flying 
 about like a hen with her head cut off, when 
 in he comes from old Mose s, and says he, 
 Kache, if you 11 guess the news, I 11 give you 
 a buss: says I, Go long with you : none of 
 your humbugging about me ; and he makes 
 at me again, and says he, Now, guess, old 
 woman. And he was so funny, Mart was, I 
 could n t help but laugh. Well, I guessed, the 
 first thing, that Mrs. Throck w r as dead that 
 was the likeliest thing I could think of. And 
 says Mart, says he, No you do n t ; and saj r s 
 I, Then it s Hen Graham, and the Lord 
 knows I hoped it was, for there is no more 
 comfort for him in this world than as if he 
 had stuck his head in a bumble-bee s nest. 
 i No, says Mart, you re tracking the wrong 
 rabbit. Well, I mistrusts, right away, then, 
 that somebody had been yoking themselves, 
 and says I, Doc and Kose are married, and 
 says he, No, it s a good deal younger folks ; 
 
M A Ji K I E D , NO T M A T K 1.) . 395 
 
 and then the truth just busted in upon me, 
 and says I, ; It ain t old Polly Pen-in T and I 
 just fairly upset the dinner pot I was that 
 much took by surprise though I had been 
 expecting it all along, for you know all the 
 fools never die." 
 
 " Unfortunately, 110," replied Uncle Peter ; 
 " but, do you really mean to say that Mrs. 
 Perrin, whom I have taken into my house, 
 just as if she had been my sister; who has 
 slept beneath my roof, and eaten at my table : 
 do you say that this person woman I can t 
 .all her has been guilty of such base ingra 
 titude ?" 
 
 " She lias coaxed old Furniss to go and live 
 with her, and got the preacher, I suppose, to 
 say it was right," replied Eachael, striving to 
 look important, as the bearer of such news 
 had a right to do. 
 
 "Well," said Uncle Peter, "I think there 
 is one thing more she had better do now 
 jump into the river, or hang herself;" and he 
 pressed his lips together with the gold head 
 of his cane, and remained silent for the space 
 
396 MABBIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 of half an hour repeating only, at intervals 
 of live minutes, "Humph !" 
 
 " "Well, Uncle Samuel Peter," said Kose, 
 " you can t determine what to do in the 
 premises, can you ?" 
 
 "JSTo, my ward," he answered, receiving 
 her question seriously. 
 
 " I do n t see what you can do," she re 
 peated. 
 
 " Humph !" he said, presenting Mrs. Mug 
 gins the fan, and entreating her to lay aside 
 her bonnet. 
 
 The rough little donkey was presently led 
 to the stable, and supplied with a double por 
 tion of oats and hay. 
 
 It is an ill wind that blows nobody good. 
 
 " Mrs. Throckmorton," said Uncle Peter, at 
 last, in a calm and collected manner, and as 
 one conscious of having nothing to blame 
 himself for, " did you hear the shocking 
 intelligence which our friend Mrs. Muggins 
 has brought ?" 
 
 Aunt Sally said she had heard -. 
 
 "You did?" 
 
M A K ii i E D , NOT MATED. 397 
 
 " Why, Mr. Throckmorton ?" 
 
 " Why ? can you ask why ! that person 
 who won our esteem by pretending to good 
 ness that person who has set by my bed 
 side that person whose care I would have 
 given more for in time of sickness than for 
 what half the doctors in the country could do 
 for me that she should marry! Why, if 
 she had stolen my horse at midnight, I could 
 and would have forgiven her ; but now she 
 shall never be sent for again to do for me 
 what she has done ; I 11 never call her Mrs. 
 Furniss ; no never !" and he set down his cane 
 as though he had awarded her proper retribu 
 tion. 
 
 "Yes," said Rachel, "I expect that s just 
 what she would like to be called Mrs. 
 Furniss a pretty-looking bride she, and 
 after your making of her so, and all !" 
 
 " It is scarcely creditable to believe," said 
 Uncle Peter, and he continued, " I suppose 
 what you said was no worse than the truth ; 
 they have got together there in Mrs. Perrin s 
 old house ; it s a mighty snug place, and they 
 have just made it up between them that he 
 
398 MAKKIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 should milk the cow, and she darn the stock 
 ings ; in short that they would live together, 
 and so they have got some preacher or squire 
 to say they might, and that I 11 just bet you 
 all the world, or Throckmortoii Hall, if you 
 are a mind to say so, is the whole amount of 
 it." 
 
 "I don t doubt it," said Eose, biting her 
 
 UP. 
 
 " Doubt it, no, who could doubt it ? Mrs. 
 Muggins, shall I offer you wine ? you look 
 faint." The awful news had the effect to 
 warm Uncle Peter s heart towards every body 
 but the perpetrators of the crime, and Mrs. 
 Muggins and he drank wine together. 
 
 It seemed that they would never have done 
 dwelling on the suspicion that the offending 
 parties had mutually agreed to help one 
 another in fact, to be married and that 
 a grave, legally-authorized individual, had 
 actually pronounced them husband and wife. 
 Aunt Sally tried sincerely to discover what 
 was so outrageous in the transaction, but 
 failed, and concluded her perceptions were 
 growing weak, for that Mr. Throckmorton 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 399 
 
 could be mistaken was not for a moment to 
 be supposed. 
 
 "How old do you think the bride is, 
 colonel?" asked Bachel, brightening up under 
 this new patronage. 
 
 " Sixty-five, at least." 
 
 " Lord bless you ! she is more like seventy- 
 five. Why, as long ago as I can remember, 
 she was an old woman ; her husband died 
 twenty years ago, and on his grave-stone it 
 says, aged fifty ; and allowing that they were 
 both of one age, and that s most likely, she is 
 seventy now, and I would not wonder if she 
 was seventy-five. She is as smart as a cricket, 
 though, especially at talking." 
 
 At this Uncle Peter laughed as much as the 
 grave subject w r ould admit of, and Mrs. Mug 
 gins, thus encouraged, continued : " I know 
 something she has said about you." 
 
 " Humph !" said Uncle Peter, as though 
 nothing Polly Perrin could do would shock 
 him further, and Mrs. Muggins proceeded : 
 " She s a dreadful gossip, that woman is 
 there is nothing happens far nor near that 
 she hasn t something to say about it; she is 
 
4:00 M A R K I E D , NOT MATED. 
 
 as full of news as an egg is full of meat ; oh, 
 she is a dreadful gossip. She come to see me 
 a good deal along when Jackson was a baby, 
 and, I tell you, I got so tired of her gab, I 
 thought sometimes I d tell her she was 
 meddling with what was none of her business, 
 and I did show her that I thought so, as plain 
 as I could, except by word of mouth ; but 
 some folks can t take a hint." 
 
 " Humph !" replied Uncle Peter, " well I 
 dare say ; and it s a wonder she had n t talked 
 you to death." 
 
 u She would have done so, twenty times," 
 said Rachel, " but that I clapt my hands to 
 my ears when she got to going on too bad." 
 
 "I am enabled to state," said Uncle Peter, 
 and his tone and manner indicated that it 
 gave him great satisfaction to be able to make 
 the declaration, "that there was always some 
 thing in that woman s face that I didn t 
 exactly like. I can t tell what it was, but 
 there was something, invisible as it were." 
 
 " I know what you mean," replied Rachel, 
 " it was as if she pretended to be awful good 
 and was n t so ; well, I never did like her, to 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 401 
 
 speak the truth talking as she did about 
 you." 
 
 " I thank my God," said Uncle Peter, but 
 he looked as though he thanked himself, "that 
 my reputation can t suffer by anything that 
 woman can say. She can t burn up Throck- 
 morton Hall, and she might just as well be 
 quiet, and not meddle with things that do n t 
 concern her." And he had not, apparently, 
 the remotest idea that that advice was suited 
 to his own condition, as he walked up and 
 down the room, in angry excitement. 
 
 "Did she say I was a liar?" he asked, 
 directly. 
 
 "No, not exactly," replied Rachel, in a 
 tone which indicated that she had very nearly 
 said so. 
 
 " Did she say I stole ?" 
 
 " Oh, do n t mind what she said," replied 
 Rachel, " she ain t worth minding." 
 
 " She shall suffer for it," said Uncle Peter ; 
 " I 11 sue her at law. I 11 catch her talking 
 about me." 
 
 " Oh, she did n t say anything so very bad," 
 interrupted Rachel, "she said you were not 
 
402 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 half so sick as you thought yourself, and that 
 Mrs. Throckmorton was worse than you 
 were." 
 
 " Humph ! that woman is ungrateful." And 
 he called upon my aunt to say whether there 
 was not something about that woman that she 
 did n t exactly like. 
 
 Thus urged, Aunt Sally said she never liked 
 the fashion of her caps very well. 
 
 "I never liked the fashion of her face," 
 said Eachel; "and her old black dress 1 
 couldn t bear it s about as good now as 
 the first day she wore it, and that was ten 
 years ago, to Jim s funeral. Did I ever tell 
 you how black he turned? just as black as 
 your hat, colonel, before he was buried. You 
 see, grandmam took on, and said she could n t 
 part with him, and when she came to take her 
 last look they had to fairly pull her away 
 from the coffin ! Oh, it was such a fine one, 
 and grandmam took it so hard." 
 
 Aunt Sally tried to raise herself from the 
 sofa, as if thoughts of sickness and death were 
 dreadful. Rachel felt, in some crude way, 
 that she had disturbed her, and hastened to 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 403 
 
 soothe her, by saying: "Don t be scared, 
 mam. We can keep you a week, if we want 
 to ; you are so thin, you see." 
 
 " If that woman," said Uncle Peter, " ever 
 presumes to speak of me, again, tell her not to 
 speak of me ; that s my wish, that she shall 
 not speak of me." 
 
 "I don t like to talk against folks," said 
 Rachel, " but I went there oncet, and what do 
 you think old Polly was doing ?" 
 
 Uncle Peter could n t tell ; she might have 
 been coining, for all he knew. 
 
 " Well," said Rachel, " she was sifting flour 
 to make bread. ISTow, anybody that will sift 
 flour to make bread ! that s all I. want to 
 know about them." 
 
 Aunt Sally groaned aloud. Her face \vas 
 white and her lips trembling. Water was 
 brought ; she had yet strength enough to raise 
 her hand and push the cup towards Uncle 
 Peter, and. waiting for him to drink, her eyes 
 closed, and she became insensible. 
 
 " Oh, Sally ! Sally !" called Uncle Peter, 
 " she is dead ! she is dead !" 
 
 " Mercy ! I would n t touch a corpse, for 
 
404: M A K E I E D , N O T MA T E v< . 
 
 the life of me !" cried Rachel, and, forthwith, 
 both ran out of the room. 
 
 We poor frightened children did the best 
 we could, and after a few minutes our dear 
 aunt partially revived, and insisted that she 
 should not be carried to her bed until her 
 husband s return. He might think her worse 
 than she was, if he should come in and see 
 her there ; and so, with some pillows, we 
 made her as comfortable as she thought she 
 ought to be, and w r aited anxiously for the 
 presence of the fugitives, whose disappearance 
 we could not account for. At the end of an 
 hour they came, and with them good Mrs. 
 Pen-in, or Mrs. Furniss, as we should say, 
 I suppose. Obedient to the first generous 
 impulse of their hearts, and forgetful of the 
 little spite which, I doubt not, is felt by some 
 persons whenever a marriage takes place, 
 they had visited her, and besought her to 
 come to the Hall. 
 
 The well-fed donkey was led forth pre 
 sently, and Rachel, having invited Mrs. Fur 
 niss, a dozen times, to come and drink tea 
 with her, and bring the old man along to 
 
M A E, n i K D , NOT MAT E D . 405 
 
 be sure and come very soon mounted, and 
 rode homeward. 
 
 And days passed ; and no rain fell. The 
 c.^ads looked thin and dry and far away, and 
 fell apart, time after time, and seemed to 
 mingle with the dust that filled all the at 
 mosphere. The yet green leaves crisped and 
 curled up, and the garden flowers blackened, 
 together, like roses in a drawer ; the grass 
 withered white ; and the hungry cattle sullen 
 ly came to the well to drink ; for we could 
 see all the bottoms of the brooks parched by 
 the hot sun ; the red and green crawfishes lay 
 dead along the pebbly courses of the brooks ; 
 and the crows came down and had a feast. 
 
 Aunt Sally was still getting better, she 
 aid ; if it would rain, if it would only rain ! 
 she should be quite well. And Mrs. Furniss 
 frequently stayed all day, and all night too. 
 She could stay from home better, now, than 
 she used to, and we were all glad that it was 
 so. Sometimes, Mr. Furniss himself came, and 
 brought ripe apples and peaches, which Aunt 
 Sally could not eat, but which pleased her, 
 
406 MARRIED, N o T MAT E D . 
 
 nevertheless, for we are cliildren, to the last, 
 when receiving kindness. She would eat them 
 another time, she always said, smiling; but 
 the time never came. 
 
 And, day by day, Uncle Peter brought a 
 button to the bedside to be sewed on, or a 
 torn glove to be mended, telling my aunt, 
 to comfort her, that he was slowly gaining 
 strength, though he had great reason to com 
 plain of his appetite, which, indeed, the cook 
 had, also. Sometimes he would ask her if she 
 felt like riding out with him that day, for he 
 had the sun-set and the sun-rise to manage, 
 outside of the Hall, and could not have 
 neglected his drives about the neighborhood, 
 on any account. She fretted that his obliga 
 tions were so heavy that he must brave heat 
 and dust ; and then, too, though he did not 
 speak of it, it pained him to be from her side. 
 She wished it would rain, on his account. 
 She did n t feel how much her own dry hands 
 and cheeks needed a moist atmosphere. " If 
 Mr. Throckmorton could only be with me 
 more," she said ; " but he must not neglect his 
 duties, and I must not complain. I am so 
 
M A E E I K D , N O T M A T E I) . 407 
 
 much weaker than he ; he never murmurs, 
 and it is very hard for him." 
 
 And all these days, so dreary to me, the 
 cheeks of Rose had been blooming more and 
 more. I knew what was the cause of her 
 happiness, though she never spoke of it. 
 There was nothing to tell ; she had told me 
 so once, and I made no further inquiries. 1 
 saw little of Doctor Stafford Graham. His 
 smile was the same, when we met. I felt that 
 it might be sweet to others, but it had lost its 
 power over me. He seemed very cold 
 haughty, I thought sometimes. Rosalie said 
 he was not so. Perhaps he was not, to 
 her. 
 
 One morning he inquired for Mr. Throck- 
 morton, instead of Rosalie, and, after a brief, 
 and w T hat seemed formal interview, they drank 
 wine together. Uncle Peter then called Rosa 
 lie, and kissed her,, and she and her lover 
 walked apart, in the garden. He bent softly 
 toward her, and spoke with a tenderness 
 which her gay and independent nature had 
 never seemed to me to demand. Aunt Sally, 
 and Mrs. Furniss, and all, now talked of 
 
408 MAKRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 Woodside as the future home of Rose, and 
 she asked me what the style of her wedding- 
 dress should be, having never said there was 
 to be a wedding ; and I tried to smile ; for, 
 though she was lost to me, she was not lost to 
 herself. 
 
 There was something so beautiful in the 
 perfect happiness of my sister, and in her 
 confidence that it would last always, that we 
 all felt some little portion of her blessedness. 
 Old Mr. Fnrniss actually laughed, once or 
 twice ; but this might have been accounted 
 for, in part, by the fact that he had lately 
 almost renewed himself, in his happiness. 
 The cow and the garden gave him employ 
 ment. Even Aunt Sally revived, somewhat: 
 her own blest wedding-day was so forcibly 
 brought to her mind. 
 
 "You will be well enough to witness the 
 marriage," said Uncle Peter. He would not 
 listen to a perhaps; it must be so. And, 
 having laid his hand on a dry pine table, he 
 received an impression that Mrs. Throckmor- 
 ton s little indisposition was solely owing to a 
 deficiency of will. If she would exert a little 
 
 
MAKE i ED, NOT MATED. 409 
 
 will, she would get up at once. In fact, slie 
 was up ; she did n t know it, that was all. 
 Fro ji that day, she blamed herself more for 
 being ill than she had previously done ; all 
 the power, all the will she had, she exerted, to 
 appear better than she was ; she would get up 
 and sew a little, when Uncle Peter came into 
 the room, though the needle often fell from 
 her fingers, and her eyes grew blind. 
 
 "Have me a new cap made," she said to 
 Mrs. Furniss, one day, " and let it be just like 
 yours ; just that style, Mrs. Furniss, be very 
 particular about that." 
 
 I understood that this was designed as a sort 
 of atonement to our neighbor for Aunt Sally s 
 having said she did n t like the fashion of her 
 caps. 
 
 The old wedding-dress was laid on the 
 grass, to bleach the grass, still brown and 
 dry, for there had been no rain and, under 
 the supervision of Mrs. Furniss and Uncle 
 Peter, the preparations for the wedding went 
 forward. Every day my aunt said she was 
 belter, and every day her hand grew more 
 transparent, more like flexible pearl. She 
 18 
 
410 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 could only make a pretence of work now, but 
 she kept her basket by her, that my uncle 
 might think she was sometimes busy. " How 
 is the will to-day, Mrs. Throckmorton?" he 
 would ask, and she, with difficulty repressing 
 her cough, would answer, " Thank you, Mr. 
 Throckmorton; I am better I shall be 
 dressed by "Wednesday." This was the day 
 appointed for Rosalie s marriage. 
 
 Now and then Mrs. Furniss, who had grown 
 young and active since that notable exhibi 
 tion of her ingratitude toward the master of 
 ,he Hall, would steal away to Woodside, to 
 inquire of the health of Mr. Henry Graham, 
 about which she felt an instinctive alarm ; and 
 sometimes, when she met his brother, the 
 doctor, would question him very closely on 
 the subject; but he could not perceive the 
 least occasion for uneasiness, he said ; u Henry 
 lias no disease ; he seems to be depressed, 
 indifferent to everything, that is all ; if he 
 would summon back a little courage, he 
 would be well enough in a fortnight." But 
 the good woman had been the nurse of the 
 neighborhood too long, and too observant of 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 411 
 
 mortal maladies, to be very sanguine, even 
 when she heard that Henry Graham was 
 again with Nellie, out in the woods. 
 
 "Wednesday came, and was almost over. 
 The sun had set, but no dew fell on the 
 parched and withered grass, and the stars 
 winked sultrily through the dusty haze. My 
 aunt s white dress, scented with roses, was 
 brought into her room, and she said she was 
 
 O / 
 
 well enough to have it put on. She sat 
 feebly, half-reclining, on the sofa, leaning her 
 burning cheek upon her thin, pale hand, and 
 as we adjusted some few flowers in her cap, 
 she said, over and over, " Oh, if it would rain ! 
 everything is so dry !" 
 
 Hose looked very beautiful. A day in the 
 city, with my uncle, had enabled her to select 
 a costume for the occasion that illustrated the 
 perfection of her taste, which, in everything 
 connected with personal appearance, was 
 intuitively correct. There was some sadness 
 in all our hearts for Aunt Sally s illness, but 
 my sister was, nevertheless, filled with that 
 still and almost divine happiness, which, in the 
 last hours before a longed-for bridal, if ever 
 in human life, has dominion over us. 
 
41 2 MARRIED, N OT MATED. 
 
 I saw her when, her toilet complete, she 
 came into my aunt s room, and kissed her, 
 with tears and smiles struggling for dominion 
 over her sweet face. There was a noise and 
 a cloud of dust at the gate. I held her hand 
 a moment tight in mine ; I could not let her 
 go; but she said, tremblingly, "He has 
 come !" There was one whose claim was 
 greater than mine, I felt, and let her go, and 
 the next moment her blushes were hid in the 
 bridegroom s bosom. "With a smile that said 
 the pride and power of manhood were strong 
 beneath it, he looked down upon her, and put 
 his arm about her waist, and between her and 
 me. 
 
 The guests came in, and were greeted by 
 Uncle Peter with his customary phrase, and 
 more than his customary self-importance ; the 
 minister came, and gossipped of the last ten 
 years marriages in the neighborhood; and 
 at length the solemn service was said, and, 
 " forsaking all others," my sister was the wife 
 of Stafford Graham. 
 
 There were lights, and flowers, and guests 
 pi the parlor, and Aunt Sally sat upright on 
 the sofa, in her apartment, lamps burning 
 
MAKKIED, NOT MATED. 413 
 
 about her, and making the atmosphere hotter 
 and dryer than before, waiting for Uncle 
 Peter to help her. She could not walk with 
 out him, and had asked for him till she was 
 weary, and now sat quite still. 
 
 " My clear Mrs. Throckmorton," he said, at 
 last, appearing at the door. For the first time 
 she did not answer him. He had not come 
 to help her as she had desired, and she w r as 
 gone alone. Gone where her thirst was satis 
 fied in the full fountain of love. 
 
 I will attempt no description of the funeral. 
 It had all the pomp and circumstance which 
 my uncle deemed appropriate for the obse 
 quies of Mrs. P. I. T. Throckmorton. *He 
 sustained the office of chief mourner with 
 an evident consciousness of the dignity with 
 which it invested him. When all the melan 
 choly rites were done, and all the incentives 
 to display over, he must have felt some com 
 punctious visitings ; but the world about him 
 never had reason to suspect, from his 
 demeanor, that he did not doubt whether she 
 were a gainer in being removed to Paradise 
 from Throckmorton Hall. 
 
4:14 M A K R I K D , NOT MATED. 
 
 I was at Woodside, whither I had been pre 
 ceded by my sister and her husband. It was 
 the morning of the Sabbath, and the leaves 
 rattled, for there was a little wind stirring 
 now, and one black, heavy cloud, was low in 
 the west. As the day went by, the wind 
 strengthened, and occasional gusts swept 
 through the grounds, wailing and hurried, and 
 the cloud rose and widened until it covered 
 half the sky. Little Nellie, looking weary, 
 but patient and meek, carried the baby from 
 room to room now where the elder Mrs. 
 Graham sat, in the midst of her incongruous 
 accumulations, growling discontent as the 
 children approached; and now where the 
 mother, pale and cold as a marble statue, sat 
 quietly in moody and hopeless reveries. 
 With a wave of the hand she would repel 
 their approach, and, then, with a flushed 
 countenance, that betrayed her sensitive 
 nature, Nellie would softly close the door, 
 lest her mother should be disturbed, and 
 slowly climb the stairs to the highest room in 
 the house, where she was sure of a welcome, 
 for there lay her sick father, the weaknesses 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 415 
 
 of whose nature, whatever they were, all 
 leaned to the side of virtue, and invested his 
 affection for his children with even a touching 
 tenderness. There poor Nellie was called a 
 dear good child; her worn-out clothes were 
 pinned together, and a holiday dress promised 
 her. ]S r o wonder she went up to the lone 
 some garret ; but the baby, puny and weak, 
 grew fretful there, and her visits were short 
 ones. 
 
 The day passed along till near the evening, 
 and there was still no rain. I had been about 
 the garden till I was tired. It was a beauti 
 ful place, to be sure, for Hemy had watered 
 the flowers, and kept them fresh through all 
 the drought. At the foot of a shady slope I 
 had been sitting, for there was a pool of 
 water, with lilies undulating on its surface. 
 Over the margin of its stony basin it flowed 
 away, and the grass was green where it went. 
 Toward night I gathered some flowers that grew 
 there, fragrant and dewy, and seeing Nellie 
 ascend the stairs as I entered the house, put 
 them in her hand, a present for her father. 
 
 "Come with me," she said, smiling, and I 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 followed the long, dusty way. It was in a 
 most cheerless- looking attic that he lay, color 
 less and thin. The sunshine had poured all 
 day on the roof. The curtainless windows were 
 full of spiders, working busily at their nets, 
 which, heavy with dust, reached along from 
 rafter to rafter. The mice crossed the floor 
 fearlessly, and a pie, with a fly-specked crust, 
 stood on a chair by the side of the cot-bed 
 whereon the miserable invalid lay, and next to 
 it a cup, partly filled with cold coffee, that told 
 something of the neglect he suffered. Accu 
 mulations of old clothes were here and there in 
 musty and moth-eaten heaps, making unwhole 
 some the hot air ; and the floor seemed not to 
 have been in contact with water for a life 
 time. A pile of curious shells and stones, 
 some stuffed birds, abused books, and a broken 
 violin, were in one corner. They had been 
 there, he said, since he moved up stairs, 
 though how long that had been, or for what. 
 purpose he had moved up stairs, I could not 
 guess. The last winter s blankets and cover 
 lets, and sheets, too, apparently, were spread 
 over the bed, and the one pillow was too 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 417 
 
 small. He was watching the flies as they 
 struggled in the spider-webs overhead, and as 
 he turned towards us, his blue and sunken 
 eyes twinkled with something like pleasure. 
 There was not much that I could do just then. 
 The unsightly pie I removed, and put my 
 flowers in its place. Jo, at my request, 
 brought water, and while I bathed the 
 neglected patient s face and hands, she sprin 
 kled the floor. Clean white sheets were 
 brought, and fresh pillows, and at the sunset 
 Ife said he was better. I sat down by the 
 bedside ; the baby was placed near him, and 
 with his hand on its head he listened, while 
 I expressed the regrets felt that he had 
 been unable to attend the marriage of Rosa 
 lie, and my anticipations of happiness in 
 residing with her at Woodside, and told some 
 thing of the plans we had already thought 
 of for rendering the house itself as cheerful 
 as his taste and industry had made all the 
 grounds around it. His eyes brightened, and 
 a new interest beamed in them. Everything 
 had been neglected, he said, since he was ill; 
 but I assured him the flowers were as fresh 
 18* 
 
4:18 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 about the fountain as if his training hand had 
 been over them that very hour. The enthu 
 siasm of his nature was awakened, and Nellie 
 could not help saying, " Oh, father, how much 
 better you are !" 
 
 He smiled upon her, and said, " Go, my 
 dear, and see if your mother will not come 
 and see me a few moments, and tell her our 
 new sister is here." The answer with which 
 the child soon returned, that the mother did 
 not feel like coming, brought back the air of 
 melancholy depression from which he had 
 been aroused, but after a moment he said, 
 abruptly, u I wish Stafford would come up ;" 
 and Nellie flew to find him. Her uncle was 
 drinking tea with Aunt Rosalie; he would 
 come presently ; and the promise was a new 
 inspiration. But we waited a long time ; 
 waited an hour; and Dr. Graham did not 
 come ; and, then, softened as a tender-hearted 
 boy might be by an unkind surprise, his eyes 
 filled with tears, until, partially recalling the 
 little energy of his nature, he remarked to me, 
 "You are so nearly one of us, now, and 
 your relation to the family seems so natural 
 

 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 419 
 
 and settled, that I may tell you why I was 
 anxious to see Stafford. He will not trouble 
 himself to come up to this gloomy place to 
 see me to-night, and I have a presentiment 
 that when he does come it will be too late for 
 all I should have it in iny heart to say, if he 
 were here. We have held this property of 
 Woodside together. We have not agreed, 
 nor yet agreed to disagree. I have worked 
 hard, but have not fared so well as he. All 
 has been wrong, in someway, and I have been 
 thinking we might arrange it for our mutual 
 benefit. I want to give him all that he can 
 ask ; submit my will in everything to his ; 
 and, by removing causes of distrust, see if lib 
 cannot be won to a more fraternal regard for 
 me see if we cannot really be brothers. His 
 marriage furnishes a suitable occasion for such 
 a settlement of our business. He would not, 
 I think, be ungenerous ; for myself, I shall 
 have little use for anything any more ; but the 
 claims of these dear children, and and all 
 the claims that can exist through me, I would, 
 to-day, submit unreservedly to his decision 
 and compel him to feel, while I remain in the 
 
20 MARKIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 world, some affection for me. You see, how 
 ever, that he has forgotten me." 
 
 " He has just gone into a new world, you 
 know," I said, u so it is no wonder he forgets 
 the old ; but I will find him ;" and I descended 
 in search of Stafford. 
 
 " A new world," I heard him say ; " who 
 can tell what such worlds may be !" I went 
 from room to room, searching for the brother, 
 but he was nowhere to be found, and extended 
 my inquisition to the garden, and up and 
 down the various walks, and into the beauti 
 ful arbor, where the harvest flowers still were 
 fair, despite the weeks of dry heat, which had 
 made deserts of the open fields. It was true 
 that Henry feared; he had been quite forgot 
 ten ; but Stafford would go now, with Rosalie, 
 and he inquired if I proposed returning again 
 to see " the attic philosopher." I wanted 
 only to gather a fresh bouquet, and as I did 
 so, a slight sound, like a distant footstep, 
 arrested my attention, and looking down the 
 elope, I thought I saw a human figure moving 
 along. The cloud was rapidly coming up the 
 sky, and the wind blowing. It was, in part, 
 
MAURIS, NOT MATED. 421 
 
 the noise of the dry leaves, and the rest fancy, 
 I concluded, and, with my flowers, returned to 
 the house. Up and up we went, to the garret, 
 and as I opened the door, the wind blew out 
 my lamp. 
 
 "Well, Henry," said Stafford, going close 
 to the bed, "you must forgive me," and he 
 reached out his hand, but none was extended 
 to meet it. " Get a light," he said, passing 
 his hand hurriedly and alarmedly along the 
 bed. The light was brought, and there lay 
 the baby fast asleep, and there sat little 
 Nellie, her head on the bedside, and fast 
 asleep too. " Father is better," she had said, 
 and had yielded to Nature s sweet restorer, 
 with t an unwonted look of pleasure beaming 
 all over her face. 
 
 Stafford bent, with the lamp in his hand, 
 over the uncomfortable bed, and then moved, 
 with an expression of anxiety, touched with 
 remorse, along the garret, saying, " It is not 
 strange that he is ill ; these things must be 
 changed ;" and to his accusing conscience, 
 "I never dreamed he was so badly cared for." 
 And Rose said, " Oh, we have been so happy, 
 
4:22 MARRIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 arid your brother here ! it shall not hereafter 
 be so." We have been selfish in our joy; 
 come, I will find him ;" and, directed by her 
 heart, she went to the parlor of Annette. 
 "He has not been here; pray do n t disturb 
 me, was all the answer here given to her 
 inquiries, and thence she proceeded from 
 room to room ; and all this time there had 
 been an awful fear upon my heart, that I 
 dared not speak; but when I saw the face of 
 Stafford grow white, I said, I thought, as I 
 gathered the flowers, I had seen some one in 
 the garden. 
 
 The cloud had spread all over the sky now, 
 and the slow rain was falling. With lanterns 
 we went out, all together. ]STo one spoke, but, 
 by one instinct, we sought the pool at the 
 foot of the grounds. The water was shallow, 
 scarce two feet deep, so that when our lights 
 were lowered to its surface, we could see all 
 it contained. The knowledge I had of the 
 poor man s temper and melancholy life, had 
 brought a fear that forbade surprise. In the 
 last struggle he had reached one hand up 
 through the lilies, as though there was some- 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 423 
 
 tiling in the world to take hold of yet, and the 
 fingers had stiffened about a stone. 
 
 When, afterward, I told Stafford of the 
 generous purposes for which Henry would 
 have seen him that fatal night, his heart was 
 softened, and he even shed tears. 
 
 The days brightened ere long, and gaiety 
 came to Woodside, with the hope of prospe 
 rous years. I cannot yet read clearly the des 
 tinies of Stafford and Kosalie, but the signs 
 are propitious, and if they are not mated as 
 well as married, why it is fortunate that 
 neither is so constituted as to die of a broken 
 heart. 
 
 Mrs. Annette Graham is slowly recovering, 
 and proposes making a long journey, in com 
 pany with her mother-in-law, for the complete 
 restoration of her health, and the dissipation 
 of her grief. Whether that venerable dame 
 will leave her den, is, however, somewhat 
 doubtful ; but Woodside is less agreeable to 
 her than formerly; she feels that her dominion 
 there is broken for ever; and Hose indulges 
 the pleasant dream, not only of her under 
 taking the journey with Annette, but that she 
 
4:24 MARKIED, NOT MATED. 
 
 I 
 
 may make up her mind to pass the remainder 
 of her life with a dear, distant relative, of 
 whom she talks a great deal. 
 
 Mrs. Furniss spreads her table for two, and 
 finds pleasure in the addition to her house 
 keeping cares. Her husband rents advanta 
 geously his property in town, makes the cot 
 tage his home, and declares that seeing to the 
 cow and the garden is just what is necessary 
 for his health. Rachel says she shall not rest 
 till grandmam and Annette have " cleared 
 out," nor then, unless she believes " that 11 be 
 the last we shall hear of em," and when she 
 sees the handsome monument which has 
 already been placed above the remains of 
 Henry, she places her arms akimbo, and con 
 fesses her belief that "Jordan is a hard road 
 to travel." 
 
 The last time I saw Uncle Peter, he had 
 his hand on a pine table, in the hope of 
 receiving "a communication" from poor 
 Aunt Sally, whose shade he entreated more 
 tenderly than I ever knew her living self to 
 be. He had just received, he told me, an 
 " impression," through the dear deceased, 
 
MARRIED, NOT MATED. 425 
 
 that Gabriel would thenceforth abide at 
 Throckmorton Hall, and that he himself should 
 become his " medium." 
 
 So my characters are all disposed of, as 
 well, perhaps, as their respective qualities, 
 and the average chances of the world, admit 
 ted, and yet how different their histories 
 might have been, if all parties had been 
 MATED, as well as MARRIED 1 
 
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