THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 THE MOTHER-IN-LAW; 
 
 OR, 
 
 MARRIED IN HASTE. 
 
 BY 
 
 J MRS. EMMA D. E. N. , SOUTHWOBTH. 
 
 AFTHOR OF "ISHMAEL, OR, IS THE DEPTHS," "THE MISSINQ BRIDE," "THE CHANGED BRIDES," 
 -BOW HE WON HER," "A NOBLB U)RD," "TRIED FOR HER LIFE," "A BEAUTIFUL FIEND," 
 
 "DESERTED WIFE," "WIDOW'S SON," "THE LOST HEIRESS," "FAMILY DOOM," 
 
 "THE ARTIST'S LOVE," "GIPSY'S PROPHECY," "HAUNTED HOMESTEAD," 
 
 "FALLEN PRIDE," " VICTOR'S TRIUMPH," " THE CORSE OFCL1FTON," 
 
 "SPECTRE LOVER," "MAIDEN WIDOW," "FORTUNE SEEKER," 
 
 'PRINCE OF DARKNESS," " VIVIA," " BRIDE'S F 
 "SELF-RAISED," "THREE BEAUTIES," "INDI 
 "PISCABDFJ) DAUGHTER." "W1FE'8 VICTORY,." 
 
 STie fias alt 
 TJiat would insure an angf.l's/all; 
 But there's a, cool, collected look, 
 As if her pulses heat by book, 
 A measured tone, a cold reply, 
 A management of voice and eye, 
 A calm, possessed, authentic air, 
 Tltat leaves a doubt of softness there, 
 
 Till look and worship as I may. 
 
 My fevered thoughts willpass away. WlLiaa. 
 
 YORK 
 THE FSDEltA BOOK COMPANY 
 
 PUBLISHERS
 
 CferTSSBKT, ISVO, 
 
 By T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS. 
 Tbe Mother-in-law.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 i. The Isle of Rays, ....... 2t 
 
 n. The Haughty Family, SI 
 
 m. Mont Crystal, . . . ' . . . 84 
 
 if, The Drawing- Room at Mont Crystal, . . 40 
 
 v. The Mother and Daughter, 4T 
 
 n. The Old Wainscoted Hall, 66 
 
 VH. The Crags, 81 
 
 rm. General Stuart-Gordon ' "Own Man," . . 89 
 
 ix. The Mistress and the Maid, .... 74 
 
 x. The Old Country Schoolmaster, ... 84 
 
 ao. The Dovecote and the Dove, 88 
 
 xn. "Lord Lion, King-at- Arms," .... 103 
 
 XOT. Britannia, . . . . . . . 121 
 
 xiv. Kate Jumper, . . . . . . . 126 
 
 XT. The Christmas Party at Mont Crystal, . . . 138 
 
 xvi. Susan Somerville, ...... M2 
 
 xvn. Brutus Lion, ........ 161 
 
 xvra. Brighty's Conquest, ...... Itt 
 
 xix. The Bridal, 184 
 
 xx. The Revelers, ....... MM 
 
 xxi. The Portrait, ....*. 214 
 
 xxn. Spring at the Isle of Says, . . 218 
 
 xxm. A Parlor Storm, ....... Stt 
 
 1563085
 
 28 OOJTTBNH. 
 
 xxiT.-Tke Old Man's Darliag, . . . . XM 
 
 xxv. The L&ir, Ml 
 
 XZTI. Death at the Crags, 804 
 
 xxvn. The Gerfalcon, . .... 323 
 
 xxvin. The Two Attachments, . . * . 381 
 
 .Mrs. General Stuart Gordca at Home, . . 849 
 
 E. A Chamber Scene, ...... Ml 
 
 i. "The Thunderbolt," 171 
 
 .Mont Crystal, 893 
 
 ii. The Solitary, 408 
 
 r. Margaret, ....... 423 
 
 . Litti* Brighty, 434 
 
 xxxvi. The Trarelara, 462 
 
 ZZXTII. Louis and Susan, 488 
 
 zzzmx. Th Swoop of the <HrfalMB, 444
 
 THE 
 
 MOTHER-IN-LAW; 
 
 OR, 
 MARRIED IN HASTE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE ISLE OF RAYS. 
 
 8k shall dwell in some little bright isle of her own, 
 
 By a bine crystal river encircled alone, 
 
 Where the dewy leaf waves in the fresh blooming bowers, 
 
 And the bee banquets on through the parterres of flowers. 
 
 I AM about to attempt the description of one of the most 
 nblime and beautiful landscapes in Virginia. The river 
 
 , taking its rise in the Alleghany mountains, flowa 
 
 through the valley of Virginia, and, passing through a de- 
 file of the Blue Ridge mountains, falls, roaring and re- 
 bounding, from a rocky precipice, and boils howling on, 
 over and between the jagged and pointed rocks sticking up 
 or piled up in its channel. It is a wild, furious, and terri- 
 fying scene, inspiring delirium in the nervous beholder 
 the thundering falls, the mad river foaming between its stu- 
 pendous banks, and the waters hissing and leaping from 
 their rocky bed like frenzied thoughts from the brain of an 
 enchained maniac. A quarter of a mile below this terrific 
 gceue the river declines, and, falling over a second ledge, 
 
 (29)
 
 10 ffXB XOTH1E-IV-LAW. 
 
 spreads ltelf out and opens its arms to encircle a 
 beautiful island, a very gem of tho river. This island, 
 iparkling and glancing in sunshine and water, from the pe- 
 culiar aspect of its dewy and resplendent beauty, was called, 
 in the poetic language of the Indians, " The Isle of Sun- 
 beams," and " The Isle of Smiles and Tears." But the first 
 Anglo-Saxon "invader" of the territory called it " The Isle 
 of Rays." The banks of the river on each side were steep 
 and rocky, and the isle itself arose high from the waters, 
 its base a solid rock covered with a deep, rich soil, and 
 crowned with a luxuriant growth of vegetation. Through 
 the middle of this isle, dividing but not separating it, ran a 
 clear, beautiful creek. This creek was higher than the level 
 of the river. It took its rise in a spring spouting from the 
 rock on the western and higher end of the isle, and flow- 
 ing, singing through it, ran on to meet the rising snn, and 
 tumbled laughing over the eastern rock in the open arms 
 of the river. 
 
 At the time our story opens, a bridge, light and elegant 
 as the handle of a lady's work-basket, arched above this 
 creek. Although the high cliffs of the isle were on a level 
 with the steep rocks that formed the banks of the river, no 
 bridge had been thrown across, uniting it to the main land. 
 Stone steps were cut in the rocky sides of the isle, at the 
 foot of which a boat was moored. Stone steps were also 
 cut in the steep banks of the river, for the convenience of 
 communication. The northern division of this isle of 
 beauty had been left in all the wild loveliness of nature. 
 The southern division had been cleared up, and laid ont in 
 groves, lawns, terraces, gardens, and conservatories. Upon 
 the highest point of this southern division of the isle, stood 
 an elegant mansion, built of white freestone, and surrounded 
 by piazzas, both above and below, and running all aronnd 
 the boose. Below these came a terrace covered with green 
 tar and diversified by shade-trees and by parterres of
 
 fXl ISLK OF BAYS. ftl 
 
 flowers. From this, marble steps descended to 
 the lawn. This lawn was traversed by serpentine walki, 
 which, winding over the turf between borders of bright 
 flowers or rows of pine-trees, by the side of a singing 
 brooklet, beneath the shadow of an old oak or elm, around 
 the margin of a clear pond, over the swell of a green hill, 
 or under the shadow of a gray rock, would terminate at 
 some rustic seat, some tasteful arbor, sequestered grove, or 
 dewy dell, with its half-shaded spring, that " now in laugh- 
 ter, now in tears," sprung from the rock, sparkling in the 
 sunlight glimmering through the overhanging leaves ; or at 
 the stone steps, at the foot of which lay the little boats ; or 
 at the wildly beautiful falls where the glad creek leaped 
 shouting into the river. When the light of the morning 
 sun flashed on the waters of the creek, the falls, and the 
 river, by the contrast of the dark rocks and shadowy woods, 
 the bright waters glanced back to heaven scintillating 
 streams of dazzling light, that gave to the island its appro- 
 priate name of "The Isle of Rays." The picturesque 
 island contained in itself about two hundred acres. The 
 estate attached to it "The Island Estate" comprised 
 several thousand acres, extending over the north side, and 
 up and down the river. This was the great property of 
 the county, and from the first owner of the soil at the first 
 settlement of the country had descended, undivided, from 
 the father to the eldest son. 
 
 The Stuart-Gordons had been settled on The Island 
 Estate for a hundred and fifty years before Margaret, thei 
 the sole heiress of the property, v/as born.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE HAUGHTY FAMILY. 
 
 Tonr ancient honM T No more. I cannot MC 
 
 The wondrous merits of a pedigree, 
 
 Of royal lineage, or a proud display 
 
 Of smoky ancestor* in wax and clay. Clifford. 
 
 WE have come to it at last, reader. The Stuart-Gor- 
 dons were, not one of the first, but positively and incontro- 
 vertibly the first family in Virginia if first in princely de- 
 scent, first in wealth, first in the settlement of the country, 
 and first in pride and pretension, constitute a " first family 
 in Virginia." 
 
 The Stnart-Gordons claimed descent, with what truth I 
 know not, from the Royal House of Scotland. For several 
 reasons, I am certainly inclined to the opinion that their 
 claim was not an unfounded one ; though most probably 
 the Royal quartering of their family escutcheon was crossed 
 by the bar-sinister. One of my own private reasons for 
 believing that the blood of the Stuarts still frets in the 
 reins of the Gordons is this ; in all their old family por- 
 traits, and in the face of every living member of the house 
 of Stuart-Gordon, may be traced, the serious brooding eye 
 the beautiful mouth with that singular blending of strength 
 and weakness of fire and indolence of self-will and inde- 
 cision of intellect and sensuality that irelancholy, naif- 
 spiritual, half-voluptuous, expression of countenance, which 
 distinguished the ill-starred family from the time that their 
 strong Scottish blood wa diluted in the marriage of Jamei 
 T. with Mary of Lorraine, and still farther reduced in tht 
 (M)
 
 TE1 HAUGHTY FAMILY. fti 
 
 anion of their daughter Mary Stuart with the imbecile 
 Henry, Lord Darnley. Reader, did it ever occur to yon 
 to trace the downfall of that Royal House to the degen- 
 eracy of its stock from these two unfortunate marriages ? 
 If this were the place, or I had the time, I could almost 
 prove it. But to proceed with my story. 
 
 Margaret Stuart-Gordon was a great toast in her time, 
 M yon may well suppose. In her face, too, were seen the 
 large tender eyes and sweet arched lips of Mary Stuart and 
 Mary of Lorraine. In her twenty-first year she was given 
 in marriage to Captain Henry Cartwright, a young officer 
 who had distinguished himself in the Revolutionary strug- 
 gle. On the day of marriage, as the sole condition upon 
 which the hand of an heiress of the house could ever he 
 betrothed, he assumed the name of Stuart-Gordon. One 
 only child, a delicate fair-haired boy, blessed this union. 
 To this son, of course, the property would fall in regular 
 entail. When Louis Stuart-Gordon was nearly eighteen 
 years of age, he lost his beautiful and beloved mother, and 
 became the sole and the sufficient consolation of his be- 
 reaved and grieving father ; and it is at this period that our 
 story opens. Louis, at about the age of eighteen, was one of 
 the uo, not handsome as a man but one of the most beau- 
 tiful youths ever seen the image of his lovely mother; the 
 ame wavy, soft hair ; the same large, tender eyes ; the same 
 sweet mouth, delicate complexion, and mild expression. His 
 figure was slender ; his air, gait, and gesture, graceful ; and 
 his manners, gentle. His temperament was poetic. This 
 beautiful isle was his home his heaven ; here he would 
 wander all day among the shadowy woods or hoary rocks, 
 or sail upon the bright waters. Yet, such was the tender- 
 Bess of his heart, that, in all his strolling and sailing, he 
 never caught a fish, killed a rabbit, or shot a bird nay, 
 more, he never wantonly trod np^v a worm or crashed 
 flower beneath his feet.
 
 14 T H K MOTHEE-IX-LAW. 
 
 Between this young poet and his mother had existed the 
 most perfect sympathy ; and at her death the being of the 
 boy seemed severed in twain. He mourned her as sin- 
 cerely as ever son mourned a mother. For a time he had 
 nppressed his own sorrow, and devoted himself to his 
 fthr;'but when, after the lapse of a few weeks, he fonnd 
 the old gentleman recovering his cheerfulness, and even 
 occasionally breaking out into his old mirth and jollity, 
 he withdrew himself, indulging his mood of ~everie in the 
 groves and among the rocks of his beloved isle. Some- 
 times, overcome by the vivid recollections of his dear sister- 
 like mother, he would give way to tears, and, leaning his 
 head upon his hands, let them flow freely. In such moods 
 his father would often find him ; and, without intentional 
 uukindness, and with a mistaken notion of arousing him, 
 would exclaim, " Degenerate driveler 1 you have no man- 
 hood. I blush for you, Louis. Idler I" At another time : 
 " Up with you I and go a courting ! At your age I was in 
 lovfe with half the girls in the country, and had all of them 
 in love with me Up, Louis ! Up I" 
 
 CHAPTER IIL 
 
 MONT CRYSTAL. 
 
 gradual hill, the mansion iwelU 
 In ancient English grandeur ; turrets, spires, 
 And window!) climbing high from base to roof, 
 In wide and radiant rows, bespeak its birth. I 
 
 one visits a country neighborhood for the first 
 time, with ac intention of remaining a few weeks, looking 
 from the windows of the house the first morning, after 
 breakfast, one sees t^ere the square front of fome iplen
 
 MONT CRYSTAL. SI 
 
 did edifice rising in the distance fore the sharp roof of 
 ome humble cottage sticking up through a near thicket of 
 trees and indulges in indolent speculation or eager cari- 
 osity as to who lives in the palace or who toils in the cot- 
 tage. Or, if one takes a walk up the turnpike, or a ramble 
 through the forest, one looks continually on this side and 
 on that, for new developments of scenery and events, with 
 an almost childish love of adventure and almost infantile 
 curiosity. This propensity is an evergreen of the heart, 
 and does not wither or fade with advancing years. So, 
 condescending reader, if you have come, at my invitatioa, 
 to visit the Isle of Rays, it will only be a due courtesy to 
 point out to you the most important seats of the neighbor- 
 hood, preparatory to introducing you to some of the most 
 femarkable neighbors. And first in point of wealth and 
 family is Mont Crystal, the residence of Mrs. Dr. Arm- 
 strong. You will please to observe the elegant edifice of 
 white granite, half embosomed in trees, "crowning" the 
 summit of a hill on the bank of the river, visible from the 
 front windows of the Island Lodge. This "palace" had 
 for generations past been the residence of the Armstrongs 
 of Mont Crystal, as their estate was called. This immense 
 estate comprised many thousand acres, and was second in 
 importance only to the celebrated Island Estate, whose 
 southern boundaries it met. Please, dear reader, note 
 these fa*ts, for I am telling you a true story, some point* 
 of which I wish to fix upon your memory with almost legal 
 precision and distinctness. The Island Estate was thf 
 great property of the whole Valley of Virginia. The 
 Mont Crystal was thft very next in point of importance. 
 Their boundary lines meL the Island Estate lying on the 
 Island, and north of it the Mont Crystal property south 
 from the banks of the river, that formed the division line 
 The sole heir of the Island Estate was Lonls Stnart-Gor* 
 don, an o*ly son, born on the 22d of February, lft~* Th*
 
 M T M I MOTMIE-IK-LAW. 
 
 ole heiress of the Mont Crystal Estate was Louise Hector 
 Armstrong, the only daughter of the late Doctor Hector 
 Armstrong and Hortense Louise Blackistone, his wife, and 
 born also on the 22d of February, two years later. Louis 
 Stuart-Gordon heired his estate in right of his mother 
 Louise Hector Armstrong in right of her father. Th 
 family on the Isle consisted of a father and son the family 
 at Mont Crystal of a mother and daughter, with the gov- 
 erness of the latter. 
 
 Sprung from one of the haughtiest families in Virginia, 
 nd claiming descent from one of the most ancient and 
 noblest houses in the north of England, Hortense Louise 
 Blackistone had in very haughtiness remained unmarried 
 until she had nearly reached her thirtieth year ; her proud, 
 cold heart untouched, while her splendid style of beauty 
 had drawn around her crowds of admirers. Her hand, 
 reserved for the highest and haughtiest aspirant, was at 
 last bestowed upon Dr. Hector Armstrong, a young prac- 
 titioner of medicine, for years a suitor to the "proud 
 ladye," but who might have sued in vain, had not the death 
 of his elder brother left him sole heir to the great Mont 
 Crystal property ; and so Miss Blackistone became Mrs. 
 Armstrong, and Dr. Armstrong bore his bride away to the 
 " palace," as it was called in the neighborhood. This was 
 about two years from the time that Margaret Stuart-Gor- 
 don was given in marriage to Captain Henry Cartwright, 
 afterwards General Stuart-Gordon. Never was a greater 
 misnomer than that of Dr. Hector Armstrong for he 
 never was known to "hector" over anybody or thing, nor 
 wag he strong anywhere, in mind or body. He was a 
 small, slight, fair-skinned, red-headed, blue-eyed manikin, 
 whom people, when they wished to praise him, called 
 "nice," "amiable," "harmless," "mild," "inoffensive," 
 and such other offenrive epithet*. Soon after his coming 
 into hia property and his marrl&f e, which happened abort
 
 MOJNTC&Y8TAL. 27 
 
 the same time, his change of fortune and of life and hli 
 indolence of habits led bin to abandon his profession, and 
 from that time he began to sink into privacy, into insig- 
 nificance, into nonentity ; while Mrs. Hector Armstrong, 
 whose name was no misnomer, flourished " like a greea bay 
 tree," just as yon have seen a weak plant shrivel and 
 brink and wilt down by the side of one of stronger, hard- 
 ier growth, until it is dead. 
 
 Thus Dr. Hector Armstrong's individuality and dignity 
 were absorbed. The very house was called not Dr. Arm- 
 itroTig's, but Mrs. Dr. Armstrong's. This was not inten- 
 tional on the part of the lady. She was too really proud 
 not to wish to throw over her imbecile " lord and master" 
 the prestige of power and dignity ; but, somehow or other, 
 the purple would not hang naturally or gracefully about 
 the shoulders of the little gentleman, and so it fell out quite 
 inevitably that the neighborhood, as well as the household, 
 looked up, as the head of the family, to Mrs. Hector Arm- 
 strong. It was in the second year of their marriage that 
 their only child a daughter was born, and named, as ia 
 frequently the custom in Virginia, after both parents, 
 Louise Hector. This child almost entirely resembled her 
 father : scarcely a single trait of her mother's face, form, 
 or character could be traced in her. When Louise was 
 about four years of age, Dr. Hector Armstrong died, leav- 
 ing the haughty lady in the undisputed possession of tbeir 
 estate and their daughter. 
 
 Can yon conceive, reader, a mother's lore for ber only 
 child, being a passion deep, intense, absorbing ; yet set 
 Hah, jealous, and exacting ? This was the affection, if it 
 deserved the name, that Hortense Armstrong cherished fov 
 her daughter. She had been jealous of the child's affection 
 for her own father, jealous of her attachment to her mulatto 
 nurse, though the state the lady hsbituaily kept continually 
 left the gentle little child in charge of her attendant*. Bit 
 2
 
 S3 THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 after the death of her father, and after the entrance of 
 Louise upon her fifth year, the mother took her more par- 
 ticalarly under her own charge, conducting her education 
 herself; the whole bent of this education was to one object 
 the entire subjugation of the will of Louise to that of 
 herselfr-to gain a life-long ascendency over the heart and 
 mind of the child, and thereby the disposal of her destiny. 
 Not only did she require from her daughter the implicit 
 obedience claimed by and ceded to parents by every law, 
 human and divine, but she aspired to bring down the intel- 
 lect and affections, the very mind and spirit of her child 
 into absolute subjection to her will. Not a " reasonable," 
 but an unquestioning submission she demanded. She 
 would have wielded Louise at her will, as she would wield 
 her own hand or foot. Much as she loved Lonise after her 
 own haughty and condescending manner, it is not to be de- 
 nied that she appeared to regard her child her own child, 
 as she called her somewhat in the light of a chattel. Was 
 she not her own child ? She was very prond of her. Was 
 not she heiress to Mont Crystal, a valuable appendage ? 
 In verity she was extremely proud of her young daughter, 
 as she was of her palace home, her splendid equipages, and 
 her troop of menials. 
 
 I said, her education was directed all to this point the 
 subjection of her will to that of her mother; and, further, 
 the utter annihilation of her mental and moral individuality 
 and responsibility. Filial love, veneration, and obedience 
 inculcated upon her mind as the highest religion "Honor 
 thy father and thy mother, that thy days may be long in 
 the land that the Lord thy God hath given thee." "Th 
 eye that mocketh at his father, and despiseth to obey his 
 mother, the ravens of the valley shall pick it out, and the 
 young eagles shall eat it." These and similar texts of 
 Scripture were copied out and given to Louise to be com- 
 mitUd to memory. This was the creed impressed npon the
 
 MONT CRYSTAL. 19 
 
 docile minu of the infant. Had its object been a righteous 
 OLe, this, as far as it went, would have been very commend- 
 able. Nothing is certainly more reasonable and proper 
 than the exaction of this obedience from children to the 
 parents God has placed as Providences over them ; and 
 nothing is more beautiful than the graceful yielding of this 
 affectionate and reverential submission. But, in this case, 
 the object was not righteous ; and reason and religion were 
 jperverted and inverted, and texts of Scripture garbled, to 
 attain an ascendency over the child's mind for any purpose 
 of good, or evil that might seem good, in the eyes of the 
 not over-scrupulous mother. By nature and temperament 
 Louise was gentle and impressible. What wonder that, in 
 her mother's hands, she should have seemed like clay in the 
 hands of the potter? that she should have become moulded 
 exactly to her will ? Nor is it any wonder that, while fear- 
 ing her awful mother so much, Louise should have loved 
 her with a devotion amounting to superstitious idolatry, 
 for it is ever thus, that most austere and severe parents 
 have the most gentle and affectionate children, even as 
 harshest, sternest husbands have the most tender and sab- 
 missive wives ; as if some gentle natures were created for 
 the amelioration of the harsher, and formed so as to draw 
 from their self-devotion their largest happiness. 
 
 When Louise Armstrong was about twelve years of age, 
 a governess was engaged to finish her education that is, 
 to instruct her in the modern languages, music, drawing, 
 embroidery, &c., Mrs. Armstrong haughtily objecting to 
 the " mixed" society of boarding-schools on the one hand* 
 and feeling a great disinclination to lose the company, or 
 cede over the control of her daughter on the other. Gov- 
 ernesses were not so plenty twenty years ago as at present, 
 or she would never have been driven to the necessity of em- 
 ploying a " wild Irish girl" to cultivate the mind, and per- 
 fect the manners of her only child, the beauty and the heir-
 
 *0 THB MOTHER-IK LAW. 
 
 C88. The governes?, Miss O'Riley, as the haughty lady of 
 Mont Crystal addressed her Britannia O'Riley, as sh 
 wrote herself Brighty, as, for her bright beauty and bril- 
 liant wit and humor, her intimate friends christened her, 
 was a Washington girl of Hibernian parentage ; she wfcs 
 about twenty-five years of age at the time our story opens, 
 of medium height, moderately full figure, black eyes and 
 hair, and dark complexion, features irregular, forehead 
 broad and full, eyebrows slender and black, arched toward 
 *he nose, and elevated toward the temples, bright, piercing 
 eyes, nez retrousse, and lips full, crimson, and quivering, 
 formed the lout ensemble of a countenance irresistibly 
 charming in its sparkling piquancy. 
 
 Such was the parlor circle of the family of Mont Crystal. 
 Let me introduce you. 
 
 CHAPTER IT. 
 
 THX DRAWING-ROOM AT MONT CRYSTAL 
 
 I know the pot ; 
 The enruin'd windows half ezelad the light, 
 
 Yet eager eUll to make their war, 
 A thonitand elfin sunbeams bright, 
 
 Glittering about the carpet play. 
 But what attracts yon ehieCy there 
 Ii one who ID a cuehion'd rocking-chair, 
 Doth lit and read. Mrt. A. If Well*. 
 
 DEAR READER, your story-tellers, some of them, have an 
 Inveterate propensity to describe comfortable firesides, scene* 
 of which they have occasionally caught a glimpse. It is 
 perhaps an effort of the soul to escape the chill realities of 
 lodgings in rented houses, by taking refuge in the hcmei 
 of memory, or of imagination. One can almost 
 
 CJ. T k fc 
 
 f Un im*iaaUoi ot a I*Mt"
 
 TH1 DBAW1NQ- ROOM. 41 
 
 It is the declina of a cold, bright winter's day. Follow 
 me into a vast, luxurious drawing-room, in which the crim- 
 on shadows predominate through which a glowing crim- 
 on gloom prevails, brightly streaked by the rays of the 
 setting sun glancing through the curtains in slanting streams 
 of golden light, kindling into refulgence the various orna- 
 ments of crystal or gilding, about the room, and striking 
 parks of fire from a diamond ring upon the most beautiful 
 white hand you ever saw a hand that held a little Psyche 
 pocket-mirror, and that belonged to a lady, the rest of 
 whose person was hidden in the deep recesses of the velvet 
 chair. Walk around in front of her chair, and take a view 
 of her sire will not see you, even if you were not invisible, 
 as all subjects of imagination are in the scenes they visit, so 
 absorbed is she in her occupation. And what is her occupa- 
 tion in that still, warm, bright scene ? Contemplating her 
 own beauty gazing dreamingly, lovingly, into her own 
 languishing eyes. There is no expression of gratified vanity 
 on that bright countenance there was the emotion, half 
 intellectual, half sensual, of the artist soul in love with its 
 own beautiful incarnation. 
 
 Yes, Britannia O'Riley felt that she was very beautiful, 
 and it made her happy. When at night she thanked God 
 for " health, friends, and raiment," she thanked him also 
 with an earnest sincerity for the gift of beauty. It was a 
 luxury in a quiet room, at the still twilight hour, to sit in 
 the deep chair, and smile dreamingly in her own eyes yet 
 she was not vain. Vanity is a compound of two elements, 
 self-conceit and desire of pnase. Now, Britannia O'Riley 
 had a just self-appreciation, and that excluded all anxiooi 
 thought of the admiration of others, at least of those around 
 her. 
 
 But Britannia knew that hei person was beautiful, and 
 talf worshipped it accordingly. You will condemn her for 
 it I Well, o t* it I I am not holding Britannia up for t
 
 42 TH XOTXlK-Hr.LAW. 
 
 model of excellence, I am r-- r Mng her as she was. Ton 
 will condemn, bat yon will not wonder at her. Observe 
 her as she sit* in that deep chair note her Galwaygian 
 style of features and complexion that matchless Hibernia- 
 Bpanish beauty, indigenous nowhere bnt to the west coast 
 of Ireland. The fall carnation lips the cheeks of bright 
 carnation, shading softly off into the faintest rose tint, and 
 lost in the snowy temples and forehead, in contrast with the 
 lender, arched Jet-black eyebrows the radiant bloe-black 
 eyes, the shining bands of bine-black hair. Britannia mast 
 have been infatuated with the piquante beauty of this tint, 
 for her favorite dress was a rich blue-black figured satin, 
 fitting in exquisite perfection her finely-developed form, 
 relieved here and there by costly and sparkling gems. Her 
 whole costume was rich and rare, and her bearing gently 
 prond and she was nothing but a poor governess. Of 
 course, she expended nearly all of her moderate salary in 
 dress. What did she do that for ? yon may inquire. Did 
 she hope to get a husband among the young Virginian 
 aristocrats ? No, indeed I In haughty England, it is true 
 that once in a long time a gentleman may fall In love with 
 and marry some beautiful governess, but in Virginia, such 
 a republican proceeding is unheard of impossible ! I do 
 not know that it ever occurs to a young Virginia planter 
 that a governess is a woman, or anything else but a teach- 
 ing instrument in the morning ; a parlor ornament in the 
 evening. -1 parlor ornament I am sorry to say, by the 
 way, that in the South governesses are valued more foi 
 dress, style, manner, and other drawing-room accomplish- 
 ments, than for sound and solid qualities of brain or heart 
 As a general thing, Virginians are rather proud of stylish 
 governesses, as elegant appendages to thefr household. It 
 is a preference quite opposite to the English preference, 
 that for fear of m&salliance selects old and plain teachers. 
 Tbe haughtier Yirg'nians never dream of such a chanoe u
 
 THI DRAWING-ROOM. 43 
 
 i>ne of their race wishing to marry a salaried girl. Bri- 
 tannia knew and felt this, and refined, intellectual, and ac- 
 complished, as she was, cared as little for it as yon care for 
 the pride of a South Sea prince. 
 
 While we have been talking, the slanting rays of the set- 
 ting san, after having glided half around the walls, have 
 gradually withdrawn themselves. And twilight has deep- 
 ened into night. And the light that g?ows through the 
 crimson drawing-room comes now from the solid mass of 
 burning coal within the large glittering steel grate, though 
 to a poet's fancy Britannia is brilliantly beautiful enough 
 to light up a dark room. No wonder her young friends 
 called her "Brighty." Brighty could no longer make love 
 to her own beautiful face, because it was no longer an ob- 
 ject of beauty the red glare striking up from the grate 
 reversing all its shadows, and the order of nature at the 
 game time, which is to have the light fall down, threw the 
 rharming features into chaos. So Britannia, released from 
 the toil and care of the day, and losing the pleasure of 
 dallying with her own eyes, sank into th-e sweet repose 
 invited by the quiet luxury of the twilight room, every 
 nerve and sense at rest, and her free thoughts lazily roving 
 whither they would. If no love had brightened the path 
 of Britannia's life, no sorrow had clouded it, no care had 
 roughened it. Left an orphan in the charge of a country- 
 man of her father's at an early age, with barely sufficient 
 money to educate her for a teacher, Britannia O'Riley had 
 been sent to a boarding-school, which she had left to take 
 her present place in Mrs. Armstrong's house, a situation 
 that she had held for nearly three years, with some toil, 
 gome vexation, but much fun. Britannia hud not a "bit 
 of a brogue," yet she was Irish enough to assume it in its 
 richest, deepest n>asic, at an instant's impulse and she 
 was malicious enough to punish the pride of her patroness 
 by falling uito it upon gr>t state occasions. There her
 
 44 THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 stopped she loved ease, beauty, and pleasant 
 thoughts too well to recollect anything disagreeable aftei 
 the day of tryanny was over; and this was her honr of 
 !uii_ry and dreaming. As I said, she had neither griefs 
 nor joys to remember, or any very probable good or bad 
 fortune to anticipate, so her thoughts strayed into the re- 
 gions of ideality. She had not lived long enough, suffered 
 deeply enough, or she was not intellectual and refined 
 nongh, to sufficiently appreciate and enjoy music and poe- 
 try. She had an artist soul, and loved beauty, even her 
 own beauty; but it was the painter artist, not the music 
 artist hers, poetry of form, and not the poetry of sound 
 and measure the harmony of coloring, not the lights and 
 shades of music. And this artist instinct involuntarily 
 lirected everything she did, her dress, attitude, and every 
 gesture and motion. One of poor Brighty's daily vexations 
 was the appearance of Mrs. Armstrong's huge chased silver 
 tea-urn, with its ugly shape, its disproportionate mouth 
 and spigot. 
 
 It was this love of the beautiful in form and color that 
 led Brignty into the extravagances of a recherche toilet, 
 and that ,cnt her into the crimson lights and shadows of 
 the drawing-room, as it always looked in the evening, to 
 dream ovet her romances. She was fain to enliven the 
 tedium of her life and fill the vacuity of her thoughts with 
 novel reading, which was quite a passion with her, but, to 
 do Britannia justice, nothing silly or commonplace in that 
 line was acceptable to her. Sir Walter Scott's novels and 
 metrical romances were just in course of publication, and 
 Brighty, like ten thousand of others, would finish one and 
 wait for another with a whetted appetite. Shakapeare wa 
 her god-poet, though she could not rise with him to hii 
 nighest conceptions She reproduced with her pencil and 
 brnah all her favorite Shakspearean and Waverlej heron, 
 Uroiaes. and landscapes; and her chamber wai hanf
 
 Y H 1 DRAWING-HOOK. 46 
 
 round with her specimens of art. Helena in ghakspeare, 
 Jeannie Deans in Scott, were favorites, and not Beatrice or 
 Die Venion, as you would at first thought suppose Bright/ 
 would prefer. She loved and admired deeper-toned charac- 
 ters than her own. This was perhaps natural we are most 
 likely attracted by our opposites, and value most in others 
 those good or great points of character in which we are 
 deficient. 
 
 Do not despise Brighty because she was not blind to her 
 own beauty. I am afraid you will ; yet, as I am telling a 
 true story, I am determined, for once, to draw characters 
 exactly as they are, without softening or heightening a 
 defect or grace. I hasten to tell you one good trait of 
 Britannia O'Riley. One pleasure she enjoyed more than 
 that of admiring herself, more than reading romances, of 
 reproducing with her pencil their scenes, more than pulling 
 Jhe ears of Mrs. Armstrong's pride even and that was to 
 supply Susan Somerville with plenty of good reading, and 
 to sympathize heartily with her enjoyment of it. Perhap* 
 had there been an opportunity, her benevolence would havct 
 taken a more legitimate and utilitarian tone. But then* 
 was not. The country was too new, too rich, and too 
 sparsely settled, to have many poor or suffering candidate* 
 for charity. We have taken up too much time with Brighty, 
 but in that fault we have plenty of company. Few came 
 into her presence, or sat down by her side, without losing; 
 more time than they at first intended. Brighty 7 s hoar of 
 twilight musing in the deep chair by the coal-fire was 
 short. A servant in livery entered, and, by lighting th 
 lamps, brought out all the flashing, dazzling splendor of the 
 rather gaudily-magnificent drawing-room, and thereby de- 
 stroyed its charm for a poet-artist like Brighty. The room 
 was only beautiful to her in twilight, or in subdued glowing 
 firelight gloom. At soon as the servant bad retired at ons
 
 44 THE MOTHBR-IX-LAW. 
 
 dodr, th other was thrown open, and Mrs. Armstrong 
 Bailed majestically in, accompanied by her daughter. 
 
 Mrs. Armstrong was about forty-five years of age. She 
 was a woman of majestic presence very tall, very full 
 formed w'ih the erect carriage, stately step, and assured 
 manner that expressed conscious power, indomitable will, 
 and accustomed sway. Her features were strongly marked 
 her forehead square and broad ; her nose a high aquiline ; 
 her chin and cheeks full and round ; her lips firmly set ; her 
 complexion opaque white ; her eyes dark gray bright, 
 cold, and hard; her eyebrows were square, heavy, and 
 black ; her hair was glossy, jet-black, and braided in large, 
 aeavy braids down her round, fall, elastic cheeks, and plaited 
 in a thick plait, wound round the back of her head, and con^ 
 fined by a comb. She usually wore a black satin dress, 
 and, as was customary at that day, a light and elegant tur- 
 ban. The whole expression of her countenance, tone, and 
 manner, was high and noble, but it was the nobility of 
 pride, not of goodness. 
 
 The daughter was a beautiful girl of fifteen summers, 
 with a small and delicate figure, fair hair, fair skin, and blue 
 eyes, and that look of timidity and deprecation that some 
 oppressed children wear. 
 
 Miss O'Riley arose, and curtsying, left the ample chair 
 to the lady, who, with a slight acknowledgment, slowly sunk 
 into it, motioning her daughter to take the footstool at her 
 feet. Miss O'Riley, (we must bt formal in the presence of 
 the proud lady,) Miss O'Riley fa ind a seat on a sofa near 
 at hand.
 
 CHAPTER T 
 
 MOTHER AND DAUGHT1B 
 
 She has a oool collected look, 
 As If her pnlie* best by book ; 
 
 A meainre tone, a oold reply, 
 A management of voice and eye, 
 A ctlm, poisoned, aathentio air, 
 That leaves no hope of mercy there. 
 
 Pac* and figure of a child, 
 Though too oad, yoa think, and tender, 
 For the childhood yon \ronld lend her, 
 
 Tet child, .linple, nndeflled, 
 Mnte, obedient, waiting still, 
 On the turnings of your will. Mrs. Browning. 
 
 "ARE you advised, Miss O'Riley, of the manner in which 
 your pupil was engaged at this hour last evening ?" 
 
 There was a deliberate arrogance in the manner of the 
 lofty lady, that called the quick, Irish blood of Britannia 
 to her brow. For au answer she turned her eyes on Louise, 
 who, sitting at her mother's feet, looked pale and nervous. 
 
 " I am very sorry, Brighty " commenced Louise, with 
 tears in her eyes. 
 
 "Attend to me, if you please, Miss O'Riley ; and, my 
 daughter 1 be silent when your mother is speaking, and 
 when you speak, address your governess as I do, remem- 
 bering that we call only our equals by their given names 
 Now, Miss O'Riley, if your convenience serves, I shall b 
 obliged by your favoring me with a reply to my question. Are 
 yen, or rather, were you at the time advised of the manner 
 in which your pupil was engaged at this hour last evening ?" 
 
 "Haven't the slightest idee," said Brighty, with an of-
 
 48 THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 fected brogue, and a delightful nonchalance. Then qulekly 
 blaming herself for impertinence to a lady many years her 
 senior, she immediately changed her tone, and replied, "No, 
 madam, I am not. At the close of her evening lessons, I 
 conducted her to your chamber door, saw her enter, and 
 did not encounter her again, until we met at ten. I hope 
 that In the interval she fell into no error." 
 
 "Into a very grave error, Miss O'Ritey ; into an idle 
 conversation with young Stuart-Gordon, in the grove below 
 the front court yard. I fortunately saw her from an upper 
 window, and dispatched her maid to recall her to her duty, 
 and to my side," replied the lady, looking with cold dis- 
 pleasure upon the governess. 
 
 " I presumed that Louise had not left your side, madam." 
 
 "You presumed that Louise had not left my side! 
 I should feel favored if you would be sure that Miss Arm- 
 strong is always in a position becoming my daughter," 
 spoke the lady haughtily ; then graciously, " That is all I 
 have to say, Miss O'Riley 1 you will oblige me by bearing 
 my expressed wishes in mind ; and now, if you please, w 
 will change the subject of conversation." 
 
 "But that is not all /have to say, Mrs. Armstrong, and 
 if I might venture to differ with you, madam, and offer my 
 own riews on the subject, I should say that 'Miss Arm- 
 strong' is followed, watched, guided, and guarded, in short, 
 like the world, 'governed too much.' I think and believe 
 me, that it is with the most earnest desire of Miss Arm- 
 strong's welfare r 
 
 " My daughter," interrupted the lady, turning blandly to 
 Louise, " withdraw from the room ; go into my chamber, 
 you will find a fire already lighted there, and stay until I 
 recall you." 
 
 Louise arose, and lifting her mother's hand reverently to 
 aer lips, curtsied, and left the room. 
 
 "Procwd, Miss O'Riley, with what yon were saying'
 
 THE MOTHER AND DAUGHTB*. 49 
 
 and remember that in future you will infinitely oblige me 
 by not honoring me with advice in the presence of Ming 
 Armstrong. Proceed ; any suggestion you may have to 
 make relative to your pupil's welfare, shall be heard. I 
 myself fancy that Miss Armstrong grows thin ; that, how- 
 ever, may be adolescence. Nevertheless, I cannot forget 
 that her father died of consumption, nor can I close my 
 eyes to the fact that she inherits his delicacy of organiza- 
 tion. I am waiting your reply, Miss O'Riley." 
 
 "To be frank with you, then, Mrs. Armstrong, I think 
 that Louise I beg pardon Miss Armstrong does grow 
 thin. I think that she is worried with too much care too 
 much culture and that is killing her." 
 
 " I do not understand you, Miss O'Riley." 
 
 " Madam, you have seen a pet killed with kindness, be- 
 fore now, have you not ?" 
 
 " You are still more incomprehensible, Miss O'Riley." 
 
 "Mrs. Armstrong, have you never, in your childhood, 
 handled, petted, and nursed a plump young kitten, until it 
 grew thin and scrawny have you never nursed one to 
 death, in short? /have." 
 
 " You grow enigmatical, Miss O'Riley ; I consult you 
 upon the subject of your pupil's health, and you talk to me 
 of kittens; pray, explain yourself," said the lady, haught- 
 ily. 
 
 "I will," said Brighty, rising and settling the folds of 
 her blue-black satin ; "your daughter is attended to wor- 
 ried hurried too much she wants rest repose Mrg. 
 Armstrong; she wants a heart and mind at ease; she 
 wants more freedom ; she is afraid to stir hand or foot ; to 
 apeak to think iofeel lest she should give her mother 
 pain or displeasura." 
 
 "That is her religion," said the lady, coolly. "Mii 
 Armstrong, I am happy to say, if an example of filial pietj. 
 I repeat it, that is her religion."
 
 50 THE MOTHER-IN -HW. 
 
 " It is her superstition." 
 
 " You will please to remember jou are addressing m^ 
 Miss O'Riley." 
 
 " And it is in full consciousness of that, that I say, Mrs. 
 Armstrong, that your system of education degrades, de- 
 bases, enslaves, yes, destroys your daughter ! and that if 
 it be continued, in two years from this Louise will be an 
 irreclaimable idiot." 
 
 "Yon are speaking of Miss Armstrong," said the lady, 
 white with anger, but speaking steadily. 
 
 " I know it ; and I repeat, that unless a different course 
 is taken, in two years Miss Armstrong, of Mont Crystal, 
 will be an idiot slave !" 
 
 Brighty's eyes were blazing. 
 
 A long pause ensued. It was broken by the measured 
 tones of Mrs. Armstrong, saying 
 
 " I am surprised that Miss O'Riley leaves me the pain of 
 uggesting to her the propriety of retiring from my presence ; 
 I should have supposed that, after her polite speech, she 
 would at least have had the good taste to anticipate me 
 by doing so." 
 
 Brighty arose and stood before her patron 
 
 " Mrs. Armstrong, if I were really malicious, as well aa 
 high-spirited, I should obey you, and leave the room ; yes, 
 I should go beyond orders, and leave the house ; but such 
 is not the case ; my Irish blood takes fire very quickly, but 
 it is a blaze of shavings ; when I am struck, I strike back 
 immediately, and then forgive my antagonist ; I would not 
 forgive on any other terms ; when people are arrogant to 
 me, I am capable of being insulting to them ; and yet, Mrs. 
 Armstrong, I would not be so to yon ; I respect your yean 
 more than your rank, or " 
 
 She was about to inadvertently add " your character," 
 but she bit her tongue in time. 
 
 All Uit time Mrs. Armstrong had sat op erect, cold, and
 
 THE MOTHER AND EAUGHTEB. 61 
 
 fiedt ; neither deigning to speak or look at the bright ear- 
 nest girl standing before her. Britannia continued 
 
 " If I spoke strongly, Mrs. Armstrong, it was because 1 
 felt strongly ; because I wished to rouse your attention to 
 a subject of which I have before spoken, with more modera- 
 tion and less effect ; because I think that if many parents 
 fall into the error of over laxity, a few make the opposite 
 mistake of too great stringency; because you make me 
 think that ladies of your age may sometimes forget the 
 days, and consequently the wants of their own youth, and 
 BO be unable to enter into and understand the necessities of 
 their children ; I am nearer the age of Louise, and have a 
 clearer recollection of what one's little necessities are at 
 fifteen." 
 
 " Proceed, Miss O'Riley." 
 
 " I should say that Miss Armstrong requires exercise, 
 amusement, excitement. Young girls of her age have 
 usually high spirits. She is congealing into apathy inta 
 death, perhaps; to rouse her, she requires that the frozen 
 springs of her life-blood be thawed ; let her mingle freely 
 with those of her own age and sex, at least, that she may 
 feel her youth a little." 
 
 "And how is that to be effected if I may inquire, Misa 
 O'Riley ? Oar neighborhood is not so thickly settled with 
 young people least of all with such as I should introduce 
 to Miss Armstrong." 
 
 "Still there are some." 
 
 "Who, pray, Miss O'Riley?" 
 
 "There is Susan Scmerville." 
 
 "A young lady with whom I would never permit Mist 
 Armstrong to becomo intimate." 
 
 " May I ask why ? 
 
 " Her mother's will is a sufficient reply, Miss O'Riley. 
 I am not called upon to sit in judgment npon Miss Soiner- 
 nor am I addicted to gratuitous censoriousneu."
 
 62 TMl MOTHIR-1N-LAW. 
 
 "Then there is Gertrude Lien." 
 
 " The ' Gerfalcon,' as she is called, partly from ner naa, 
 partly from her nature ; no, she has earned a sobriquet that 
 at once excludes her from Miss Armstrong's acquaintance." 
 
 A pause followed, broken, as before, by the lady of th 
 house. 
 
 " Have you any thing further to suggest, Miss O'Riley ?" 
 
 Britannia smiled as she murmured 
 
 "There is Zoe." 
 
 Here the lady quickly interrupted her with 
 
 " Not to be thought of for a moment 1 By no means." 
 
 "Then I am at the last of my invention, I believe stay! 
 *s there is a dancing-school about to be established at 
 ' Prince of Wales.' Why not send Louise there ; it will 
 b an amusement for her ; they will have practicing quad- 
 rilles twice a week ; I will attend her there ?" 
 
 " No doubt of it," dryly remarked the lady, " but Miss 
 Armstrong's mother has no idea of mixing her up with these 
 dances, and having her hand sullied by the contact of she 
 knows not whom." 
 
 " Then pack her up in a nice rosewood coffin, lined with 
 white satin, and entomb her at once," thought Brighty, but 
 she said nothing. 
 
 The supper bell now rang, and Mrs. Armstrong dispatch- 
 ing a servant to summon her daughter, led the way to the 
 supper-room. 
 
 Louise entered the supper-room, pale and tearful, and 
 going up softly to her mother's side, she whispered low 
 
 " Dearest mother, pray tel". me again that yon forgive me ; 
 I cannot rest, I cannot be satisfied, I do not feel as if you 
 had quite forgiven me." 
 
 " Do not whisper in company, my daughter ; and, beyond 
 all, do not doubt your mother's word. She has told you 
 ?hat she had forgiven your indiscretion, great as it was; 
 et that BuflL.se ; co tr be seated," said the lady, coldly.
 
 fXB JCOTEKB AND rAUOHTlK. Ot 
 
 Tortured by that strange, yet net impossible incident) 
 the simultaneous attraction and repulsion that only the yery 
 utrong can exercise, only the very sensitive feel, namely, the 
 attraction of flesh and blood the repulsion of word and 
 manner broken between her wish to throw herself upon 
 ner mother's bosom and the fear of giving displeasure, 
 Lonise "stiffling the mighty hunger of the heart," sank 
 coldly, dejectedly, into her seat. Strange as it may seem, 
 this coldness in repelling and repressing did but deepen, in- 
 tensify, and concentrate her filial love ; for Louise idolized 
 her handsome, majestic mother, in her regal, matron beauty. 
 She craved her embrace the more ardently, that she seemed 
 ever on the verge, yet never received it. She went to sleep, 
 the dream of caressing freely the beautiful mother, whose 
 jewelled finger she mighly barely raised to her lips. Louise 
 was sickening of a starved heart. A little more coldness, a 
 little more frost, and her affections would have been killed. 
 Mrs. Armstrong knew exactly how far to go, when to stop. 
 Never did scheming woman manoeuvre to retain her lover's 
 affections with more art than did this lady to confirm her 
 influence over her only child. Every emotion, and with 
 some natures every affection, is wasted in proportion to ita 
 manifestation. Mrs. Armstrong understood this perfectly, 
 and according gently repelled her child. " My daughter," 
 was pronounced in the softest key, with the most gentle in- 
 flection of voice and with a look of tenderness, exciting a 
 wish for the embrace that was never yielded a want that 
 gnawed deeper for being repressed. Women instinctively 
 understand this principle, and women of the world practice 
 it ; nnd up to a certain degree a degree to be calculated 
 by the temperament of the subject they repulse the advance! 
 of the man whose affections they wish ultimately to secure. 
 
 It is strange that a mother should have acted so to her 
 only child ; something new un ler the sun incomprehensi- 
 ble incredible, if, in this case, it were not known to be a 
 I
 
 54 TH MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 feet Upon this evening, however, Mrs. Armstrong watched 
 her daughter with some anxiety ; observed that beside her 
 paleness, thinness, tearfulness, and trembling, she scarcely 
 tasted food, and the lady resolved to take some immediate 
 measures for the restoration of her health and cheerfulness. 
 These very measures conspired to form the crisis of her 
 child's destiny. The circumstance which had given BO ranch 
 offense to the haughty mistress of Mont Crystal and drawn 
 upon the head of Miss O'Riley such a severe rebuke was 
 simply this : one day Louis had crossed the river in the little 
 boat, and, ascending the stone steps that led up the bank, 
 wandered down a deep forest path, into a shady dell. Sit- 
 ting down under the trees, he fell into a reverie that wag 
 broken by a clear, soft, lute-like voice, saying, near him. 
 
 " Oh ! Louis, I meet you at last. I wanted to come to 
 you so much, dear Louis, to tell you how I suffer with yon 
 . how I sorrow for you ; but my mother says that it is no 
 longer proper for us to visit you at the Isle, now that there 
 Is nobody to receive us. But you know, Louis, do you 
 not, that I wept to come to you ?" 
 
 " Yes, dear Louise, I knew, if permitted, you would hare 
 come." 
 
 " You know it," said she. " Well, Louis, now I only 
 stopped to say that, and bid you good by ; for mother 
 would not like my stopping here to talk, and I must not do 
 what mother does not think right, you know." 
 
 " How, Louise, would you leave me so soon, long as it 
 lias been since I have had the happiness of seeing you ?" 
 inquired the youth, taking her hand and looking depre- 
 catingly into her face. She drew her hand half out gently, 
 while an expression of perplexity and distress traversed her 
 countenance. " Sit down upon this bank, and let us hare 
 chat, Louise." 
 
 " Oh, no, no !" exclaimed the maiden, now ^uite withdraw
 
 TBK MOTHER AND DAUQHT1B. 5* 
 
 ing her hand ; " mother says it is not right, mother says it it 
 ot proper " 
 
 "What 'is not right? What is not proper, Louise? 
 Tour sitting on a bank and talking with me ? Was that 
 it?" 
 
 " Oh, no, no I I do not mean that mother said that, but 
 Ae would say it if she knew it" 
 
 " Dear Lonise ! me -your old school-fellow 1" 
 
 " No, not you particularly, Louis, but any one. Mother 
 says " 
 
 Here an expression of displeasure, almost amounting to 
 aversion, crossed the countenance of the young man, and 
 arrested the speech of the maiden. 
 
 Presently she said 
 
 " Do not be displeased with me, Louis ; it is so distres* 
 ing to me, dear Louis." 
 
 " Displeased with you, Louise ?" 
 
 " Well, with my mother, then ; for it is equally painfu. 
 to me, Louis. But now, indeed, I must hasten away. Good 
 evening, Leuis. Oh I you can come over to see mother 
 goon, can you not ?" 
 
 "Perhaps so; but do not leave me yetl" pleaded tht 
 youth, still holding her recovered hand. 
 
 " Oh 1 Louis, would you get me a scolding ?" exclaimed 
 the trembling child, while a spasm of petulance contracted 
 her delicately beautiful face. 
 
 " Certainly not, Louise," replied the young man, gravely 
 dropping her hand. 
 
 " Miss Armstrong, your mother wants you," said a voice 
 through the trees ; and the maiden, starting, trembling, and 
 growing pale exclaimed 
 
 " I am missed ; mother has sent Kate after me ; good by, 
 dear Louis," pressed his hand hastily, and disappeared in 
 tb? trees, just as a tall mulatto woman emerged from then 
 to meet her.
 
 66 TUB M T H R I X - L A W. 
 
 With a very sedate brow, Louis Stuart-Gordon retraced 
 his steps to the water's edge, descended the stone stairs, 
 got into the boat, and rowed back to the Isle. 
 
 Louis sauntered abstractedly towards the house, and 
 entered it, passing in at the central door under the piazza, 
 and, opening another door on his left, admitted himself 
 into the family sitting-room. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE OLD WAINSCOTED HALL. 
 
 A dremy aspect doth the parlor wear, 
 
 Pictures and basts and books, uot flowers, 
 
 But a warm hearth where one may doze for hoars, 
 
 Nor note the minutes in their lazy flight, 
 
 Nor ever think to count them as tuey go.lfrt. A. 31. Wells. 
 
 IT was a room some twenty feet square, with two Terr 
 tall windows looking out upon the piazza, and commanding 
 a view of the sloping terrace and ornamented groands in 
 front, of the dividing river and the opposite shore, with a 
 stately white villa crowning the hill, (but of that more 
 anon.) Now turn away from the window, and look within. 
 The dark and highly varnished oak-panelled walls gave that 
 substantial and finished appearance that inexpressible air 
 of tightness, snugness, warmth, and comfort, that nothing 
 else can so well confer upon a room. These wainsc< ted 
 walls were ornamented by numerous fine, large engra^jiga 
 in massive gilt frames. The fireplace stood, as I saji in 
 the corner. It had a very tall, straight mantelpiece, sur- 
 mounted by two small marble images Justice and Mercy. 
 Justice held her scales down in one hand, and held a socket 
 tor a wax ca die io the other Mercy held the olirt
 
 TH1 OLD WAINSCOTED HALL. 57 
 
 branch inverted in one hand, and a similar socket to that 
 under the charge of Justice in the other. Between Justice 
 and Mercy hnng the only oil painting and the only family 
 portrait in the room presenting the sweet face of Margaret 
 Stuart-Gordon. Two tall grenadier-like andirons, polished 
 to a silvery brightness, supported the green hickory wood 
 of which the very warm fires were made. The rug dis- 
 played a pattern of white lilies on a dark-green ground. 
 This rug was soft as wool, as General Stuart-Gordon's pet 
 cat knew. A short, deep, murrey-colored sofa was usually 
 drawn up upon one side of this hearth, and a large study- 
 chair on the other. General Stuart-Gordon still sat upon 
 the old studying-chair, but very sadly looked the vacant sofa, 
 now that the gentle woman that had occupied it so long 
 was missing away from it. Murrey-colored curtains hung 
 at the windows. Lastly, two doors gave exit from this 
 snuggery one on the right into the central passage-way ; 
 one on the left into the vast saloon of the house, furnished 
 in the most splendid style, but never opened except upon 
 grand occasions. On the other side of the wide central 
 passage were the more strictly housekeeping offices, still 
 rooms, &c., but of these we do not need to speak now. 
 
 Louis Stuart-Gordon entered the oak parljr, and found 
 his father sitting dozing in his study-chair before the fire ; 
 the cat was dozing too, as she purred and hummed on the rug; 
 and the green hickory wood was singing a tune as it burned. 
 A pleasant, dreamy twilight gloom pervaded the .room. 
 Justice and Mercy were not yet lighted up, and the sweet 
 face of Margaret Stuart-Gordon was lost in the shadows. 
 
 Louis threw himself upon his mother's vacant sofa, and 
 eeemed to feel that he was nearer to her. His getnr 
 traked his father up ; who, yawning, said 
 
 "Ring for lights and tea, Louis, do; though it is rery 
 lonesome Oh-o-o" (yawning) "very! drinking tea, you 
 and I by curselvss tiresome ; I wish, Louis, yon would
 
 58 I H K *01HBK1MLAW. 
 
 get married I there, ring, do I One can eat and leep, if 
 no more I" 
 
 Lonis pulled the bell-rope, and a servant replied to it ; 
 and, throwing open the door, announced "Miss Susan 
 Somerville ;" and a young lady, followed by a matronly 
 attendant, entered the room. Both father and son arose, 
 General Stuart-Gordon advances with the stately courtesy 
 of a Virginia gentlen.^n of the old school, and, bowing 
 gravely, led the young lady to the sofa, while Louis, after 
 wheeling it closer to the fire, stood until she was seated. 
 The countenance of the General plainly, though courteously 
 asked the question, " To what happy circumstance are we 
 indebted for Miss Somerville's visit ?" as he resumed his 
 seat in the study-chair, while a servant lighted the wax can- 
 dles in the charge of Mercy and Justice. It was beautifiu 
 to observe the contrast afforded by this girl's sweet calm, 
 simple air, to the ceremonious manners of the old General. 
 Taking her time in drawing off her gloves and removing 
 her bonnet without an invitation to do so, she called her 
 attendant, and, placing them in her charge, said sweetly, in 
 her clear, pleasant voice 
 
 " I have ?ome over only to make tea for you and Lonis, 
 General, becanse grandfather has gone to Alexandria, and 
 I am not wanted at home. Grandfather will stay a week at 
 Alexandria, and I can come over and make tea for you 
 every evening, if you would like it. I asked grandfather'* 
 leave before he went away, and he gave it to me, as you 
 might know he would, for dear grandfather never hindered 
 me from doing any thing I liked, in my life." 
 
 She spoke slowly, quietly, as she divested herself of her 
 riding habit, and handing that also to her companion, 
 reseated herself upon the sofa. 
 
 " We are penetrated deeply by your goodness, dear Misi 
 Bomemlie," said the General, while the beautiful, loft eyei 
 of Looif wailed hi* thank*
 
 THB OLD WAINSCOTED HALL. 59 
 
 I wish I could give you any sort of a just idea of Susan 
 Somerville. It were sacrilege to draw her portrait, and not 
 to draw it correctly. She was a medium-sized girl fall- 
 even very fall formed with the well-developed bust, round 
 chin and cheeks, and full, sweet lips, that indicate a fine 
 vital temperament ; her complexion was very fair, her eyes 
 large, dark, and calm, and her hair black and silky, and 
 rippling in tiny wavelets over her head. She wore it care- 
 lessly, but partly twisted up behind, partly drooping down 
 her plump white cheeks and throat. Her dress of dark 
 Btuff was neatness itself; but her air her air there, thai 
 was magic ! She looked like one that calmly and deeply 
 enjoyed her life in every vein. Wisdom and innocence re- 
 posed in her serene face. Her manner was full of grave, 
 sweet comfort. She influenced you like a sedative. It was 
 impossible to be in her company, to look on her heavenly 
 no, not heavenly, for there was a great deal of earth about 
 it, but her dear, good face, without growing serene and 
 quietly happy like herself. The most beneficial mesmeric 
 influence emanated from the presence of Susan Somerville. 
 Hers was a face in which you could place confidence, for 
 you felt that beneath all this quietude reposed great force 
 of character ; nay, that the very consciousness of that power 
 produced this beautiful and profound calm the calm of a 
 self-dependent, self-poised nature, reposing sublimely on its 
 own great strength. She was really seventeen, but she 
 looked twenty. While yot have been reading this descrip- 
 tion of her, she has quietly taken out her knitting, and, to 
 make herself more at houe, gone to work at it, talking 
 sweetly all the time the servant was laying the cloth and 
 getting the table. It was just impossible for General Stu- 
 art-Gordon to go on with his Chesterfieldean manner call- 
 ing her " Miss Somerville," indeed, he never remembered 
 to do it after first greeting her ; and as for Louis, he never 
 had addressed her by any other name than " Susan." Hi
 
 60 THI MOTHER! N LAW. 
 
 had called her Susan in their school-days, and DO w of 
 etiquette ever promulgated could make him call her any- 
 thing else. What an air of home and coziuess her very 
 presence diffused over that late lonely fireside. It seemed 
 good to have her plying her bright knitting-needles, sealed 
 01. the sofa ; and when the tea-urn was set upon the table, 
 it seemed natural for General Stuart-Gordon (what a tire- 
 ome name to write \) to say 
 
 " Come, Susan, my love," and lead her to the table. 
 
 Let no manoeuvring mamma or match-seeking daughter 
 imagine that in Susan Somerville's conduct there was a 
 single covert selfish thought. I affirm that it never occurred 
 to her, that the old man of sixty, or the youth not yet 
 eighteen, " were in the market." No, it was simply Susan 
 Somerville's religion, to minister, in every possible way, to 
 the comfort of those in her reach, perhaps with too little 
 thought or care of self. 
 
 Tea was over. The evening passed cheerfully, delight- 
 fully. General Stuart Gordon related numerous anecdotes 
 connected with the revolutionary war. Louis read an 
 extract from one of Walter Scott's novels, and Susan 
 chatted, or listened, while plying her knitting-needles. At 
 nine o'clock she arose to go ; and, attended by her matronly 
 servant and by the man who waited on them both, she pre- 
 pared to set out. 
 
 "And will you come and make tea for us to-morrow, 
 Busan, my dear ?" very nervously inquired the old gentle- 
 man 
 
 " Oh, yes, indeed ! to be sure I will every evening until 
 grandfather returns, for I am sure if I was to die I should 
 not be happy in Heaven, if I did not know that soae kind 
 girl came and poured out his coffee, sometimes." 
 
 " That is a good girl ! Louis and myself have dozed 
 and nodded at each other all the evenings of this month 
 put, until to-night, when you woke us up j and now wt
 
 THECBAGS 61 
 
 will not doze or sleep any mere over the fire for a week," 
 said he, as he walked with Susan down the terrace, acroai 
 the lawn, and the stone steps, to the water's edge, to the 
 little skiff, and with affectionate care placed her in it, and 
 itood watching its progress across the river, until it stopped 
 at the beach, and he saw her get out, and, with her attend- 
 ant, climb up the bluff, and disappear. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE CRAGS. 
 
 That dear old home ! 
 Something of old ancestral pride it keeps, 
 Thonsjh fallen from its early power and vastnessl 
 The sunlight seems to thy eyes brighter there 
 Than wheresoever else. Fanny Eemble. 
 
 REMEMBER the position of the Isle of Rays, the sunnj 
 centre of our neighborhood and story. Remember that the 
 Isle was divided through the middle by a sparkling creek, 
 and that the southern division of the Isle before and beneath 
 the front of the house was cleared up and laid off in beau- 
 tiful terraces, conservatories, parterres, groves, fountains, 
 serpentine walks, etc., and that fronting this greatly orna- 
 mented southern division, across the river, lay the irnmengfl 
 estate, and, surmounting a hill, stood the splendid mansion 
 of Mont Crystal. Very well now turn to the northern 
 division of the Isle the division lying back of the house, 
 and still left in all the wild and luxuriant beauty of nature 
 It was thickly wooded, full of rocks, and intersected by 
 several narrow paths one of which conducted to a Sight 
 of rough stone-steps, cut in the side of the rocks, that led 
 to the clean, sandy beach where a boat was always moored
 
 62 TEX MOTHEB-IN-L AW. 
 
 for the convenience of communication with the northern 
 shore of the river. This northern bank of the river was 
 very different from the beautifully fertile southern shore, the 
 seat of the Mont Crystal estate. The northern bank was 
 wild, rocky, and picturesque beyons. description, and, a lit- 
 tle further up and back from the river, even sublime and 
 terrific. This locality also comprised an estate that joined 
 the Island Estate at its northwestern boundary. It was 
 called The Crags, and formed the remnant, the wreck of a 
 vast property, once owned by the Somervilles, an old and 
 haughty Virginia family, now fallen from their " great 
 estate." A flight of stone steps, cut in the rocky bank of 
 the river, nearly opposite the Isle, conducted the traveler 
 to the mainland, and, through a gate, to a narrow path 
 leading now up a steep, craggy declivity, now down a rocky 
 dell, now through a thick copse, now into the deep, rich 
 shades of the forest, among the gorgeous foliage of the trees 
 in their splendid autumn dresses the glowing scarlet of 
 the oak, the brilliant yellow hickory, the bright green pine 
 and cedar, and the rich purple dogwood to a high range 
 of rocky and wooded hills, among which stood the irregular 
 pile of buildings called, after the estate to which it belonged, 
 The Crags. This was the retreat of old Major Somerville 
 and his grandchild Susan the unconventional little visitor 
 of the Isle of Rays. Major Somerville had lived to see hia 
 patrimony melt away, acre by acre, under the miserable 
 system of old-fashioned Virginia agriculture that he still 
 persisted in, and that I have elsewhere described, until 
 nothing remained, except the rocks aud stunted copse-wood 
 immediately around the rough-cast homestead ; and to see 
 his family, one by one, die off, until none were left bnt 
 Susan, the only child of his deceased youngest son. She 
 was, indeed, the angel of his o'd age. Susan's father had 
 been the youngest of eight children, and had married late 
 ia life, so that the old nwn, her grandfather, was seventy
 
 THE CRAGS. IS 
 
 of age wten Snsan was born, and was consequently 
 eighty-seven, as Susaii was seventeen at the present time. 
 By the death of both her parents before she had attainted 
 her fifth year, Susan was left in the sole charge of the old 
 man of seveiity-h'ye. Major SonierviJle had no female rela- 
 tive or even housekeeper in his family. His domestic affaira 
 were conducted by a skillful and industrous young mulatto 
 woman, a faithful slave, who was the cook, housemaid, 
 nurse, and seamstress in fact, maid of all work, as hei 
 husband was steward, gardener, coachman, and groom in 
 short, factotum in general to the household. This faithful 
 couple loved their decaying old master as though he had 
 been their own father ; and, coupled with this love was a 
 veneration inexplicable as matchless to those who, never 
 fcaving lived in the South, had never had an opportunity of 
 witnessing the superstition, the self-immolating devotion of 
 some slaves to their masters and their masters' families a 
 consecration of self that is paralleled in ardor, and earnest- 
 ness, only by a woman's devotion to a tyrannical husband, 
 or a Pagan's devotion to his idol, and that is paralleled in 
 disinterestedness by nothing 1 
 
 It was beautiful to observe the solicitous forethought by 
 which this excellent couple averted the annoyance of debts 
 and duns from the old man's door by a thousand little con- 
 trivances and economies, and by appropriating silently 
 their own little earnings of the odd hours of their own 
 time. " Old master's" tranquillity and respectability waa 
 the one thing needful to their happiness, and next in im- 
 portance to this, Miss Susie's interests took rank. Much 
 contrivance is required to confer upon Miss Susie the ap- 
 pearance and throw around her the prestige of little lady- 
 hood in a word, to dress her neatly and to send her to 
 icbool. This was the way in which it was done, and thii 
 was the manner in which the happy illusion of moderate 
 eempeteuey wag thrown around the old nun.
 
 64 TEE M O I II E B - 1 X - L A W. 
 
 After passing his seventy-fifth year, old Major Somerrilk 
 WAS more inclined to doze in his arm-chair than to look 
 into his accounts. His narrow income was derived from 
 the Bale of his small yearly crop, the proceeds of which was 
 locked up in his bureau, divided into twelve equal portions, 
 and given out once a month to George, who, in his charac- 
 ter of steward, conducted the financial affairs of the 
 household. Now, this sum was not much over half what 
 was required for the monthly support of the family ; 
 and the alternative was to contract debt or to raise money. 
 All slaves have certain hours in the twenty-four, called 
 their own time, iu which they may sleep, eat, or work, 
 within the limits of certain time and space. These hours 
 & few have been known to turn to so good account as to 
 make money enough to purchase their freedom. This good 
 couple devoted a portion of these hours to hard work the 
 manufacture of baskets, straw hats, mats, &c., all formed of 
 coarse grass gathered iu a distant marsh, brought home, 
 and dried, cot, and twisted, and made up into various arti- 
 cles of domestic utility, which were afterwards sold in the 
 neighboring villages. And, listen ! the proceeds of these 
 sales, that might have been put by to accumulate, for the pur- 
 chase of their own freedom at some future day, were devoted 
 one half to the support of their " old master" and " Miss 
 Sosie," and the other half saved to buy the liberty of tbeir 
 only child, a little daughter near the age of Miss S'zsie, 
 whose li^le maid she was. Never was a mor eTectionate 
 or considerate little mistress than Miss Susie F.nd never 
 was a more devoted little maid than Annie ; yet never for a 
 moment were their relative positions forgotten by either, 
 although with the feudal, the patriarchal usage of old Vir- 
 ginian families, where the children of the slave mingle freely 
 with the children of the master these two little girls were 
 always together. But, on Miss Susie's part, there was that 
 ntreditary pri ie of famil -, the natural pride c* place. bh
 
 THE CSAGS. 65 
 
 was born with it ; it was i.i her blood ; it was in herbonet. 
 It had been nursed gently nursed, however from earliest 
 babyhood by all the family, and by every circumstance 
 around her. It was a large, generous, noble pride a 
 quiet, gentle pride, however and only manifested itself in 
 a tender, protective consideration for those she supposed 
 beneath her. This was external pride, if one may call it so, 
 or the pride produced and fostered by external circum- 
 stances ; but deep in Susan's bosom reposed a profounder 
 pride the pride of a great and essentially good nature, 
 left untrammelled by restraint, as unwarped by prejudice 
 unfettered by attempts at either. 
 
 Miss Susie was growing up, free, strong, and indepen- 
 dent, in a soil of genial affection and respect. Perhapg 
 this sort of rejariug would not have suited every child as 
 well as it did Susan's fine, deep-toned nature ; at all events, 
 it harmonized beautifully with her. And, on Annie's part, 
 her love for her little mistress was her religion. She had 
 been taught by her parents, with their simple faith in re- 
 ceived opinions, to look up to Miss Susie as to a little 
 queen, a little demi-goddess, a little white angel in a word, 
 whom whom it was piety to worship ; and Annie thought 
 her thoughts, and dreamed her dreams, and prayed her 
 prayers, and saw her visions, through Miss Susie accord- 
 ingly. But when it was necessary to send Miss Susie to 
 school, because she was white, and a young lady, and Miss 
 Somerville oh ! then there were heart-breaking jmes for 
 Annie not because George and his wife had to take away 
 another quarter of their earnings being the half of An- 
 nie's freedom money for Annie was too young to know 
 anything about that, and far too disinterested to care ; but 
 because for six hours a day she should be separated from 
 her little patron saint the little Virgin of her loving wor- 
 ship Miss Susie ! Couldn't she go with Miss Susie, and 
 tarry bw hvjjet of dinner and her atlas ? for of ooum
 
 66 THB MOTH1B-IN-LAW. 
 
 the yonng lady would not carry her own basket and atlas. 
 of coarse not ; but then Miss Susie was to ride the rough- 
 coated pony over the rocks, and George was to lead it and 
 carry her things. Annie slept in Miss Somerville's cham- 
 ber, on a pallet by her bed. Annie cried all Sunday night, 
 because her little mistress was going to school on Monday 
 morning. Miss Susie would not sleep while she heard 
 Annie's smothered sobbing under the quilts. " Say your 
 prayers, Annie, and go to sleep," recommended Miss Susie 
 But, at the sound of her voice, Annie only wept the more, 
 bursting from a low sob into a loud wail, a perfect roar of 
 lamentations. Schoolmasters, she said, were ugly and hor- 
 rid were perfect bugaboos with big ferules were ogres 
 were giants were ghouls and gnomes just nucli as Misa 
 Susie heard about in the ghost stones. Susan stepped out 
 of bed, and sitting down by her side, tried to soothe her 
 in vain ! Every manifestation of kindness from Miss Susie 
 added fuel to flames, or, to say something new, water 
 to the cataract of her grief. At last Miss Susie recollected 
 that she herself, she also, had a will and an inclination of 
 her own in this affair, and she felt that very certainly her 
 inclination sat in favor of taking Annie to school. So Miss 
 Susie very quietly and very peremptorily decided. She 
 bade Annie hush crying, and say her prayers, and go to 
 sleep, for that she shou i go to school with her the next 
 day. Yes, she should go and carry her basket ; the weather 
 was warm, and she could play out doors under the shade of 
 the trees, while she herself was studying in the school-room; 
 and when it blew up cold, or came on to rain, she should 
 come in and sit on a low stool by her desk ; and, as for the 
 choolmaster, of course he woul 1 consent to the plan, for, 
 was she not Miss Somerville, grand-daughter of Major 
 Somerrille of The Crags, and would he think of denying 
 hirf No! 
 The little queen had no idea thai the was of a whit lew
 
 THS ORAftft. <T 
 
 Importance anywhere else than she was within the confine* 
 of her own domain. Early in the morning sne proposed 
 her plan, declaring that she preferred to walk to schoo^ 
 with only Annie to carry her Batchel. After some consul- 
 tation and delay, this plan was agreed upon, and the little 
 maid was rendered happy in the novelties and pleasantries 
 of trudging by the side of her little mistress over the rocks 
 Mid crags, and through the copses, to school. The country 
 schoolmaster was no ogre, but a mild, patient, long-suffer- 
 ing, and self-devoted soul, as nine-tenths of all the teachers 
 I ever saw are. He permitted Miss Somerville's little 
 attendant first to sit upon the door-steps, and afterward, 
 when he found how quiet, gentle, and humble she was, ho 
 sent for a little stool, and allowed her to sit upon it at the 
 feet of her little mistress, where her position was understood 
 aim unquestioned, by the other pupils. It is a singular 
 fact, in the experience of all teachers, that frequently a 
 child will not, or cannot, learn the task assigned, but will 
 catch by ear, or intuition, the lesson delivered verbally to 
 an older and farther advanced class. 
 
 Thus a child too lazy to learn to read, catches by ear the 
 lectures to a class, and thereby attains considerable know- 
 ledge cf geography, or any other branch of education that 
 may strike his fancy. Little Annie sat at Miss Susie's feet 
 with no dull, stultifying column of words to learn, but with 
 her little sharp eyes and quick ears at liberty to catch any 
 eeda of knowledge that might fall in her direction. And, 
 with human perverseneea, and child-like contrariness, sht 
 learned all the quicker and more because she was not de- 
 ired or required to learn. And, daring their walks home, 
 Annie would unroll her bundle of acquired knowledge, and 
 diiplay the treasures to Miss Susie's admiration. 
 
 "I know the shape of the earth, Misi Susie," she would 
 ar, railing her fine, black eye* to to* fret of the little lady;
 
 66 THB MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 and then would follow a precise report of the geographical 
 lecture of the morning. 
 
 "Guess who discovered America, Miss Susie." 
 
 " Oh, Christopher Columbus, to be sure I" 
 
 "Yes! Oh, warn't he a hero! Don't it make your 
 heart swell up big to hear about him, Miss Susie ?" the 
 glance of her superb eye bounding up to the countenance 
 of her young mistress. 
 
 Susie would always acquiesce earnestly, but calmly, as if 
 great heroes and grand thoughts were familiar enough to 
 her mind, causing no surprise. 
 
 But it was history that brought out all the finest points 
 in little Annie's heart that roused all the enthusiasm of her 
 genius. 
 
 One evening, when they had been to school about two 
 years, as they were returning home, Annie walked silently, 
 solemnly, with her hands clasped upon her bosom, and her 
 eyes cast down, in the involuntary and unconscious attitude 
 of prayer. 
 
 " What is the matter, Annie ?" inquired Miss Susie. 
 
 "Sir William Wallace! oh, Sir William Wallace!" and 
 then she suddenly burst into tears. 
 
 She alluded to a chapter in the history of England, com- 
 prising the reign of Edward I., that she had heard read in 
 school that afternoon. 
 
 " So great, so good, so glorious, and to die each a 
 death 1" 
 
 "But, Annie, it was a long time ago ; and now he is 
 prince in glory, crowned with stars. You mast not ory 
 about him." 
 
 " Ah, but it reads as though it had just happened I" 
 
 " Ah, but you see it has not, and could not just happen ; 
 people do not do such things nowadays, particularly in oar 
 country, our free country, you know." 
 
 " Jet, I knor ; bat still, Miss Susie J 1
 
 ITUABT-GORDON'S"OWN MAX." 69 
 
 "Wellf" 
 
 "Will you tcacl: rat to read now? I did not care to 
 learn before, but now I wish to learn, so that I can read 
 more about Sir William Wallace. I kneel down arid 
 worship him." 
 
 "Yes, indeed, I will be very glad to teach you, ai<d yea 
 will read of many like Sir William Wallace ; but you must 
 not grieve for them, they are archangels now." 
 
 A seed of knowledge had fallen on good ground, and 
 was producing fruit. A spark of fire had dropped into an 
 ardent heart, kindling the soul of a poor slave-child into 
 enthusiasm and power. 
 
 Can I portray, justly, the gradations by which thia 
 child's intellect ascended ? Can I presume to describe the 
 Blow, beautiful, and sublime unfolding of her high soul, aa 
 she advanced towards womanhood ? No, I will not even 
 attempt it ; but leave to the progress of our story to re- 
 veal the strange anomaly of a poor slave-girl blessed (or 
 cursed ?) with lofty intellect, profound affection, and high 
 aspirations. 
 
 CHAPTER VI 11. 
 
 GENERAL 8T U ART- Q ORDON ' 8 "OWN MAN." 
 
 M bas a shrewd wit, I can tell yon ; and he is a good man enough ; he's on* it 
 tk soundest judgments, and a prcper man of person. Troilu* and Grartda. 
 
 Doe* he not hold np his head, as it were, and strut in his gait? Tuxl/th ffiykt, 
 
 UPON the morning succeeding Susan Soinervillc's first 
 
 Tisit to the Isle of Rays, General Stuart-Gordon and hii 
 
 ion met in the oak parlor, at an unusually early breakfast. 
 
 Apollo Be'videre, the General's body-servant, ai a gentl*> 
 
 4
 
 70 THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 mau'g valet de chambre \s callea in the South, was in at- 
 tendance with his old master's outer garment ; for the gen- 
 tlemen of the Isle of Rays were already falling into slovenly 
 bachelor habits, converting parlors into dressing-rooms and 
 vice versa. Apollo Belvidere needs a description, even for 
 those who have seen the celebrated statue of the god of 
 poetry, music, and beauty, who was not his antitype as 
 well as bis namesake. Apollo had been "old master's" 
 man ever since both were boys, had attended him in camp, 
 or, to use his own phrase, "had gone with him to the 
 wars;" had cleaned his arms, brushed his uniform, and 
 blacked his boots during the whole Revolutionary strug- 
 gle ; had retired refulgent with the martial glory that 
 blazed around the young hero, and was now reposing with 
 him on his laurels. What feats ! what miracles of military 
 prowess had his master, General Stuart-Gordon, accom 
 plished 1 What folios, what tomes, what libraries would 
 the history of his exploits fill, as related by his biographer 
 Apollo, of evenings, at the side of the great kitchen fire, 
 to the assembled admiring and astonished household ! On 
 comparing Apollo's accounts of his master's slain, crippled, 
 or "captivated," with the army reports of the killed, 
 wounded, or captured, one would be forced to decide that 
 Apollo told lies, (I beg pardon "elevated the real into 
 the ideal") or that no one else had shed blood in the cause 
 of liberty. Aporlo admired his master with all his soul, 
 and imitated him with all his might. When Captain 
 Henry Cartwright first married the heiress and assumed 
 the name of the Stuart-Gordons, and took up his residence 
 at the Isle of Rays, Apollo's pride in his master and glory 
 In the great alliance was somewhat dimmed by the haught- 
 ily-imposed condition, that deprived the young bridegroom 
 of his patronymic, ilhstrious, as he considered it, with mil- 
 itary glory. 
 
 Family pride in America is, with rare exceptions, to bt
 
 ftTUABT GOBDON S "OWN HAV. tl 
 
 found only in Maryland and Virginia, where it character- 
 izes the descendants of the high churchmen, the Catholics, 
 and the cavaliers, who settled these States, or among the 
 rery few families that, emigrating thence, have settled in the 
 Carolinas and the distant Southern States. In the far 
 South, as in the North and the West, there is the pride of 
 wealth, in Maryland and Virginia, only the pride of birth. 
 And this tacit assertion of family dignity is as emphatic 
 in old Maryland and Virginian tobacco planters as the same 
 thing in an Irish baronet or a "Heeghland laird." And it 
 extends from the head of the house to the poorest old slave 
 bred on the plantation. Just as in Scotland and Ireland, 
 peasantry and clansmen fight about the relative dignity of 
 their lords and chiefs, so in Maryland and Virginia, the old 
 family servants dispute about the comparative antiquity and 
 respectability of their masters' families. 
 
 So it was a grievous mortification, as you may judge, to 
 Apollo Belvidere, when his master, abjuring his patronymic, 
 assumed the name of Stuart-Gordon. It was in a state of 
 deep distress, between his pride and his humiliation, that, 
 on the morning after the wedding, in emerging from the 
 dressing-room of his master, at whose toilet he had just 
 been assisting, Apollo Belvidere encountered Seraphina, 
 the dressing-maid of the bride. It was the first time that 
 the Apollo had seen " that Wenus carbed in jet," as he 
 afterwards called her. Apollo made a magnificent bow 
 just such a one as he had seen his master make on entering 
 a ball-room ; Seraphina curtsied just as Miss Stuart- 
 Gordon did on receiving a visitor; and then presumed that 
 she had the honor of speaking to Mr. Apollo, Captain 
 Stuart-Gordon's gentleman, and hoped that he would follow 
 her in to breakfast, which was then ready in the front 
 kitchen. Mr. Apollo winced ; but, drawing himself up, 
 thought that Miss Seraphina was under a " collusion ;" he 
 had n the honor of an acquaintance with Captain Stuart-
 
 72 1HE MOTHEBIN-LAW. 
 
 Gordon, whom, he supposed, was the brother of tha new 
 Mrs. Cartivright, he said, as he accompanied her to the 
 breakfast-table. Then Miss Seraphina, believing his as- 
 sumed ignorance real, explained the conditions of the mar- 
 riage, lu reply to this, Mr. Apollo courteously insinuated 
 that there must still be some mistake ; that such an arrange- 
 meat would be "converting all the substituted usages of 
 society into miscord." Miss Seraphina expounded, with 
 Borne hauteur, too 1 that it was a custom of the Stuart- 
 Gordons, whenever an heiress of the house was given in 
 marriage, to exact of the bridegroom the assumption of the 
 family name ; that this was very proper, for that they were 
 descended from the royal Stuarts of Scotland ; whereas 
 Captain Cartwright, now Captain Stuart-Gordon, was of a 
 comparatively new family. Apollo Belvidere plumed up ! 
 pride conquered gallantry. His Chesterfieldean urbanity 
 and propriety of manner, his Websterian precision and 
 elegance of languge were forgotten ; starting up, he ex- 
 claimed ! 
 
 " Pish ! tush ! tut 1 pshaw ! don't tell me about King 
 Charles' unlegitiraate descendants ! King Charles himself 
 was a rebellion hanged for treason ! If blood were gold. 
 Captain Henry Cartwright (I will call him Cartwright !) 
 could sell and buy the whole house of you 1 He descended 
 from King Charles, were you !" he sneered, with a diabolical 
 grin of scorn and malice contorting his shining black face. 
 "Captain Cartwright can say more than that! Captain 
 Cartwright's nigger was descended from a King I I am 
 great-grandson of Prince Tongataboo, Emperor of Eahei- 
 poewai, and if I'm a man-servant now, it's through the 
 fortunes of war 1" 
 
 I do not know how Apollo Belvidere looked at that time, 
 but I have heard him accurately described as he looked in 
 his old age as he stood that morning, near the door of the 
 oak parlor, with hit master's banting-coat thrown acrau bii
 
 TTTJLRT-GORDON'B "OWN MAW." 78 
 
 arm, his spurs in his hand ; his tall, broad-shouldered, erect 
 figure, dressed in au old suit of his master's blue aud yellov 
 regimentals, was surmounted by a face black as jet, seamed 
 aud wrinkled like an Indian walnut, and shining like a dried 
 prune, and topped by a crop of hair white as snow. 
 
 As the gentlemen arose from their breakfast, and as the 
 the General walked leisurely up to his old servitor, and, 
 laying off his dressing-gown, and receiving the hunting-coat 
 from his hands, addressing his son, he said 
 
 "The hounds meet at Battletown plains this morning; 
 will you not join us for once, Louis ?" 
 
 Louis declined, with a grave smile. He was weary of 
 reiterating his aversion to field-sports. 
 
 " What will you do with yourself, then, Louis ? Stay, 1 
 will tell yon. Ride over to Mont Crystal arid call on Miss 
 Armstrong will you not ?" 
 
 Again Louis gravely declined the proposition. 
 
 "You are a strange youth, Louis. 'Man delights you 
 not, nor woman either.' IIow do you intend to pass the 
 day ? Why not pay your respects to Miss Armstrong ?" 
 
 " Do you not think, father, that there is another lady who 
 has a primary claim to my humble services, this morning ?" 
 
 " Miss Somerville 1 Ah, yes. But Susan is such a 
 recluse, that one scarcely ever thinks of visiting her. How- 
 ever, present my compliments to Miss Somerville, and, 
 thanking her again for her condescension last evening, say 
 that if I dared ask so much of her courtesy, I should entreat 
 her to come over and pour out the old man's tea again." 
 
 Smiling unconsciously at this droll blending of natural 
 social affections with prime conventional ceremony, Louis 
 bowed acquiescence ; and the General, now fully accoutred, 
 went out from the house, aud, mounting his great black 
 hunter, set forth for Battle own Plains.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 f HI MISTRESS AND THE MAID. 
 
 One vrbow life U like star, 
 Wlthoat toll, or rest to mar 
 Id diriuest harmony 
 Its God-iven eternity. Aldridt. 
 
 A being of sadden em'.lsi and tears, 
 
 Passionate Yisions, quick llg'ut and shade. ffemant. 
 
 Louia STUART-GORDON sauntered slowly, abstractedly; 
 feeling, without noticing, the cheering influence of the 
 sunlight, flashing on the bright waters, and burning on the 
 gorgeous crimson, golden, and purple-hued foliage of the 
 trees sauntered down the marble steps, and across the 
 terrace, to a finely-graveled serpentine walk, which con- 
 ducted to a little iron gate on the west, that led from the 
 ornamented grounds into the copse, and thence, through a 
 rough path, to the rocky thicket behind the house. 
 
 Passing through this tangled thicket, and down the rough 
 stone stairs, he stepped into the little boat fastened to a 
 post on the beach, and loosening the chain that confined it, 
 took the solitary oar and rowed for the opposite shore, 
 secured his boat, and ascending the rude steps leading up 
 the rocky bank, stood upon the mainland. 
 
 The path leading through the copses and thickets of that 
 wild and rocky shore towards The Craigs, " the short cut," 
 M it was called, for striking direct through every sort of 
 horrible obstacle, was toilsome and perilous to the most 
 agile and athletic traveller. It was intersected by deep, 
 though narrow, rocky chasms, the descent and ascent of 
 which were rendered more difficult and dangerous by th
 
 THE MISTRESS AND THE MAID. 75 
 
 lippery surface of the rocks, and by the absence of any 
 bush or projection to aid in going down or climbing up. 
 
 An hour's toilsome walk, or rather climbing up and down, 
 yet still ascending as he advanced, brought Louis to the 
 summit of The Craigs, upon which stood the old gray 
 house. It was a large, irregular pile of buildings, con- 
 structed of the gray rock found on the spot. A wall of the 
 same rude material closed in an extensive yard, specked, 
 not shaded, by a few dwarfed pine and cedar bushes. The 
 ground outside of this stone wall, and immediately around 
 the house, waa bare, sterile, and rocky. The first English 
 proprietor of the estate could have no other inducement to 
 erect his mansion here, than was afforded by the fine salu- 
 brity of the air, and the magnificent prospect around. The 
 view from the south front of the house was, on the right 
 hand, beautiful as Eden ; on the left, sublime, and even 
 terrific. 
 
 South from the craggy heights on which the house stood, 
 rough, rocky, and jagged hills, tufted between the clefts 
 with stumps of stunted trees, fell pitching and precipitating 
 headlong toward the river. On the west, toward the Al- 
 leghanies, through a defile of which roared onward the 
 river, till it thundered over the precipice, and, with many a 
 rebounding leap, and re-echoing howl, hurried, boiling and 
 foaming among the jagged rocks of the blasted channel, 
 until falling over a lower decline, it glided on smoothly to- 
 wards the rising sun, dividing to embrace the sparkling Isle 
 of Rays. This was the prospect on the east, the south, and 
 west. 
 
 Behind the house, on the north, the hills reared higher 
 and still higher, while they fell backwards towards the 
 horizon. Once, thousands of acres of the rich plains and 
 luxurious forest lands below, were owned and cultivated by 
 the Someryilles now, nothing remained to the old man 
 and his grand-daughter but the blasted heights known M
 
 76 THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 The Craga. You will wonder where this old ani iinporer- 
 ished gentlemen raised his slender crops. Abont in spots ; 
 on small patches of moderately fertile soil ; on the sunny 
 fall of some of the hills ; on the alluvion between them ; of 
 on the low shore of the river where it glided on below the 
 Isle of Rays. 
 
 There were two or three small out-houses, such as the 
 kitchen, a smoke-hcuse, &c., like the mansion, built of gray 
 stones, and the ruins of many more, stuck here and there 
 within the walls of the large yard. There was an air of 
 great stillness and solitude in the scene as Louis entered 
 the old gate, before the warm, bright, morning sun had had 
 time to rnelt the frost from the steps of the old piazza, in 
 this cold locality. Louis rapped at the oaken door, which 
 was immediately opened by George, foe factotum of tlia 
 household, and who, turning the lock of a second door, 
 namely, on the left of the wide entrance-hall, announced 
 
 " Mr. Stuart-Gordon !" 
 
 And Louis, passing in, found himself in the family sitting- 
 room, and in the presence of Miss Somerville and he' 
 attendant, Anna. 
 
 It was a poor room, large and ill-furnished, with decayed, 
 old-fashioned furniture, consisting of an old carpet whol<>, 
 but faded all into one dark-brov.n hue old high-backed 
 walnut chairs, with leather bottoms; little spider-legged 
 mahogany tables and stands; a tall, right-angular walnut 
 cupboard, with glass doors, in one corner; a tall, oil 
 mahogany escritoire opposite, in the other ; a third corner 
 being filled up with a high, coffin-shaped clock; and ti;e 
 fourth being occupied by the large, right-angled firepln'.'-:>, 
 that crossed it. There was something here that compon 
 Bated for all ;he poverty of the room. Yirgini-.:: 
 accustomed to say, " A good fire is a handsome pSeje o' 
 furniture," an(? here a glorious fire of oak and pint v\cj : 
 olazed on the ample hearth, roaring up the cUjr.ujy, lad
 
 THE MISTRESS AND THE MAID. 77 
 
 diffusing a genial warmth i\ rough the large room. Miss 
 Somerville and her maid were both seated at the fire, with 
 a work-stand between them. Miss Somerville, looking as 
 serenely beautiful as usual, in her dark stuff dress, with her 
 glossy, black hair, half-carelessly caught up behind under 
 her tortoise-shell comb, half-dropping in soft, black, shining 
 rings, down one plump, white cheek. Susan was engaged 
 in needle-work, and her attendant was reading to her, as 
 Mr. Stuart-Gordon entered. The girl immediately closed 
 the book, and keeping her place in it with her finger and 
 thumb, held it upon her lap, while her head was bent, and 
 her large, sloping, gloomy black eyes, half hidden by their 
 heavy lids, fell upon the floor. Miss Somerville arose with 
 her usual serene dignity, and welcoming her visitor, begged 
 him to be seated. Anna also left her seat, and curtsying 
 respectfully, withdrew to the other end of the long room, 
 Susan following her with her eyes, as though she were half 
 inclined to summon her back. She did not do so, however 
 but turning, seated herself, saying : 
 
 "Anna was just reading Ivanhoe to me. Miss Britannia 
 O'Riley, Miss Armstrong's governess, receives all these new 
 things from Washington, and she is so kind as to send them 
 over to me, after she has perused them. Anna reads there 
 aloud, while I sew ; and," added she, tsoUo voce, " Anna 
 possesses that rarest of all accomplishments, a fine elocution. 
 I should like to have you hear her read." 
 
 "I should be very much pleased to do so, indeed," said 
 Louis, " she must have a fine conception of her subject, as 
 well as a musical voice and a good enunciation, to delight 
 so much Miss Somerville's fastidious taste." 
 
 "I am not fastidious, us I do not pretend to taste; yet 
 Anna has all the fine points of a good reader that yon have 
 enumerated, and I think perhaps I have judgment enough 
 to appreciate them poor Anna I"
 
 T8 THE MOTHXB-IN-LAW. 
 
 "And why poor Anna ? Is she not very happy in yoaf 
 gentle service, Miss Somerville ?" 
 
 " You do not know the girl, Lonis, or you wonld not ask 
 me. Look at her now," added she, in a subdued voice. 
 
 Louis turned his eyes to the window at which she stood, 
 and was struck with the attitude &nd expression of utter 
 despair into which the girl had unconsciously fallen. Louis 
 looked at her with an attention that he had never before 
 bestowed on Miss Somerville's attendant. 
 
 And now he observed for the first time that she possessed 
 tho most lofty style of beauty. Her tall, full, graceful 
 figure was finely curved, as she leaned upon the high back 
 af an old leathern chair, looking abstractedly from the win- 
 dow, the light from which fell upon her superb head, covered 
 with a magnificent suit of black hair, that, dividing above 
 Her broad, pale forehead, rippled off into thousands of tiny 
 jet-black, glistening wavelets over her temples and around 
 her cheeks, and was gathered into a large knot confined by a 
 silver bodkin behind. Her sloping, gloomy, but beautiful 
 eyes, the sad expression of her full, red lips, closed as they 
 habitually were, were added to the fascination of a face that 
 attracted without volition or consciousness. Her dress was 
 of the coarse linsey-woolsey worn in winter by Southern 
 house-servants, but hers was plaid, of very brilliant colors, 
 made high in the neck, with sleeves reaching the wrists, 
 fitting accurately her charmingly developed form, and har- 
 monizing well with her dark, imperial style of beauty. 
 Lonis looked at her, at first, in obedience to Miss Somer- 
 rille's indication ; then with surprise and admiration at the 
 singular beauty he had never before noticed ; and lastly, 
 with wonder as to the sorrow, the recollection of which 
 could so suddenly convert the lately ardent and animated 
 reader, glowingly alive to all the beauties and sublimitiei 
 of her subject, into the pale, cold, lifeless statue of despair, 
 o apparently lost to the world around her, at to be totally
 
 fkl MISTRESS AND THE MAID. 
 
 the scene and presence in which she stood. 
 Louis turned his eyes inquiringly to the serene countenance 
 of Miss Somer?ille. 
 
 " She ig * slave /" murmured Susan, in a low, but em- 
 phatic tone. 
 
 Louis locked perplexed, bewildered, and did not reply. 
 Susan smilbd sadly at his embarrassment, as she continued 
 gravely . 
 
 " You would say, Louis, that you were already aware of 
 that fact ; that this was nothing new or extraordinary in 
 ker position that, in a word, you know she is a slave; but 
 do you also know, Louis, all that means to her f" 
 
 He did not reply, but seemed engaged in thought. Susan 
 continued in a low, earnest voice 
 
 " No ; you, like other excellent men I know, look on 
 liavery with indifference. It is the nonchalance of cus 
 torn. But this girl ! I tell you, Louis, that were you o 
 myself now reduced to slavery were we to change positions 
 with one of our slaves become his property subject to hia 
 orders a thing to be chained, imprisoned, beaten, bought, 
 gold, at his whim neither you nor I could have a more 
 poignant sense of degradation than she suffers ; for, Louis, 
 bhe had naturally a sensitive heart and a lofty intellect, and, 
 even in her condition and circumstances, both have been 
 too highly cultivated for her peace." 
 
 " I suppose," said Louis, thoughtfully, " nay, it is inevi- 
 table, that her condition must be painful and humiliating in 
 proportion to her intellect and sensibility ; but was the cul- 
 tivation of this mind and heart well? Was it even merciful, 
 on your part, Miss Somerville ? I think in her case, indeed, 
 where 'ignorance is' so palpably 'bliss, it is folly to b 
 wise.' " 
 
 "Even if I had been disposed, I could not have repressed 
 the growth and development of Anna's intellect ; but do 
 mot tkink that I teas disposed ! No, Louis, let the tool
 
 SO THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 have free coarse to reach its highest life, through sorrew 
 and anguish, if necessary. No, Louis; any life and light, 
 even the life of suffering in the light of fire, is higher tha 
 the death of darkness, of stillness, of nothingness. No, 
 Louis ; give her the fires of purgatory rather than the ease 
 of annihilation." 
 
 The usually calm face of the girl was inspired and glow- 
 ing while she spoke 
 
 "You are right, Miss Somerville, perfectly right," said 
 the youth ; " and," added he, blushing ingenuously, " I feel 
 ashamed of my superficially formed and hastily expressed 
 opinion." 
 
 Seeing now that Anna had withdrawn from the room, 
 Miss Somerville continued to speak of her. 
 
 " She has been my intimate companion from babyhood 
 up. I do not remember the time when Anna was not by 
 my side. She went to school to wait on me. Could any 
 one even had such a one been affected with your just ex- 
 pressed opinion, as to the inexpediency of educating a slave 
 could any one, I say, suspect that a little child, sitting 
 at my feet without books, could pick up an education by 
 eye and ear, feeding her hungry mind with the crumbs of 
 knowledge that fell from the rich man's table; or could auy 
 one have prevented the progress of such a mind, only once 
 awakened and aroused ? Anna has been and is dear to me 
 as a sister. She has more ardor, more fire, than my Anglo- 
 Saxon blood gives me, and even in her childhood I have 
 seen her kindle into enthusiasm when history or poetry gave 
 back the gorgeous past, and heroes or martyrs again lived, 
 struggled, suffered, or died before her. Then her admira- 
 tion, her enthusiasm, was unalloyed joy ! She was so 
 charming, that her society was, to me, unmixed delight. 
 Her appreciation gave effect to books otherwise onlj 
 moderately interesting to me, as her eye and voice kindled 
 her subject into brilliance. Louis, 4 lmt was io her simple,
 
 VKX MISTRESS AND THE MAID. SI 
 
 fwlf-forgetting childhood, when we were sisters and com- 
 panions, and walked with our arms around each other'g 
 waists. But here is now another period a time of self- 
 remembrance and of sorrow to both of us of humiliation 
 to her. Now she will at times glow with something like 
 her old enthusiasm when reading some tale of daring 
 achievement, or of courageous endurance, or self-immolating 
 martyrdom, -ia some old history or high epic poem, and her 
 cheek will burn, her eye blaze, her tongue grow eloquent 
 with the enthusiasm of her soul. Then, suddenly, as 
 memory comes, she will become silent, grow pale as ashes, 
 and, involuntarily, inevitably, fall into an attitude of mute 
 despair. She never speaks of her position, her sorrow ; I 
 never heard her utter a word of complaint, impatience, or 
 repining, in my life. I have seen her suffer excruciating 
 bodily pain, and when I have been distressed to death at 
 her agony, she has smiled a mournful smile at the sympathy 
 that could so far forget, or was so unconscious of the great, 
 the permanent, the all-absorbing sorrow of her life, as to 
 lavish itself upon a minor and transient trial." 
 
 "But is this, must this be, a, permanent sorrow ?" 
 
 "Alas, I greatly fear so! though God knows the only 
 thing needful to my repose is Anna's freedom." 
 
 " And can you not accomplish this object so just and so 
 dear to you, Susan ?" 
 
 "Ah, no! You are aware, or perhaps you are not 
 aware, of my grandfather's peculiar disposition, or, to speak 
 more accurately, his present peculiar state of mind. He is 
 very old, you know, nearly ninety, and he has a nervous 
 dread of losing the control of his own mind a fear lest I 
 should suppose him imbecile in his dotage a suspicion 
 that I think him incapable of self-government, and that I wish 
 to govern him. This makes him exceedingly jealous of my 
 Influence, exceedingly suspicious of any plan I may propose 
 to him, and the more anxious I feel for the accomplishment
 
 82 fHB MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 of my wishes, the firmer he shows himself in V rejection 
 of the proposition, whatever it may be. Tb-% 6ret time I 
 was struck with this was the day on which I first went to 
 him to petition for Anna's freedom. Anna had fallen into 
 one of her fits of deep but mute despondency, froxu which 
 nothing on earth could arouse her. Though she sa ; d no- 
 thing, I gained the cause of her despair, and suddenly, for 
 the first time, the possibility of its removal occurred to me. 
 I went to my grandfather, as he was dozing in his big arm- 
 chair, and spoke my petition. Awakened suddenly and 
 very much surprised, he gazed at me in silent perplexity. 
 [ repeated and urged my petition ; and then he smilingly 
 caressed me, and told me that my patrimony in land and 
 negroes was too small to bear abatement, and that young 
 girls knew nothing about such things. Then I began to 
 reason with him that was unluckily though of; it 
 awakened his jealous self-esteem, and he said gravely, even 
 mournfully: 'My dear Susan, I give you the largest per- 
 sonal liberty ; you may do what you wish to do, in the way 
 you wish to do it; go where you like, when you like, and 
 stay as long as you like ; make what friends or reject what 
 acquaintances you please unquestioned and unreproved by 
 your grandfather. I leave you to your own government, 
 because, Susan, I think you capable of self-guidance. Pay 
 me the repect of believing the same thing of me, my dear 1' 
 What could I say ? I said every thing I could think of, 
 bvt the more I talked the firmer he became he seemed 
 adamant. I have returned again and again to the subject, 
 without any other effect than, of late, that of irritating 
 Mm." 
 
 "And yet there is not a gentler-hearted man in the world 
 than your grandfather." 
 
 "Teal that is it. If the thing had occurred to his own 
 mind first, he would not have hesitated a moment. Bat it 
 is mournful to see Low shakingly he sits upon his tottering
 
 TH1 MIBTBESS AND THE MAID. 88 
 
 throne, and how tremblingly he holds his falling sceptre of 
 self-sovereignty, and how he dreads lest some one should 
 wish to wrest it from his feeble grasp. It is pathetic to see 
 the sad compromise he makes by offering me my free will on 
 condition that I should not seek to fetter his." 
 
 " There is a sadder sight than that Anna ! Yet still, 
 Miss Somemlle, I cannot see why you set the seal of despair 
 upon Anna's sorrow by calling it permanent. In the 
 course of nature, before very long, the destiny of Anna, if 
 she lives, must fall into your hands, and you will free her at 
 
 once. 
 
 Suddenly a dark shadow overswept the countenance of 
 Susan Somerville, and she for an instant lost the power of 
 reply. Then recovering somewhat, she said sorrowfully 
 
 "Alas I you do not know my poor grandfather does not 
 know himself that he is overwhelmed with debt ; that he 
 lies hourly at the mercy of a set of creditors, any one of 
 whom at any time may levy on his property, and swept off 
 house, land, and people. There, sir I that is the great ter- 
 ror of my life the daily expectation of seeing my foster- 
 parents, George and Harriet, that excellent couple, and my 
 dear foster-sister, Anna, sold into redemptionless slavery, 
 and to see my feeble, grey-haired grandfather turned house- 
 less into the world 1" 
 
 Louis was surprised, dismayed, at this unexpected infor- 
 mation he did not for some moments attempt to reply, but 
 fell into deep and serious thought. At last, judging that 
 the hour of their frugal dinner was near, and not wishing to 
 embarrass them by his presence, he arose to take leave, ex- 
 pressing his hope and his father's wish that Miss Somer- 
 tille might come over in the evening. 
 
 "I will do so," said Susan, quietly. 
 
 " Then, dear Miss Somerville, will you permit me to 
 come, and meet, and escort you ?" 
 
 "If yon please," said Susan, absently ; then added, 
 I shall be Terj happy."
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 fHl OLD COUNTRY SCH OO LM A TB1 . 
 
 Bit very manners teach amend, 
 
 They are so even, grave, and holy 
 
 No stubbornness so stiff, nor folly 
 
 To license ever was so light, 
 
 As twice to trespass In hU sight , 
 
 His look wonid so correct it when 
 
 He chid the voice, yet not the men. Ben Jonson 
 
 REMEMBER that the northern bend of the river was wild 
 and rocky, rising to The Crags, and that the southern shore, 
 upon which was situated Mont Crystal, was undulating and 
 hilly. Remember that the northern, the rocky and barren 
 bank was behind the palace on the Isle of Rays the south- 
 ern, the undulating shore, was before and in front of it. 
 Recollect, that in sight of the front windows of the palace 
 were two homesteads. I pointed them out to yon myself. 
 One, the nearer, and far the more magnificent, was the 
 marble-fronted mansion of Mont Crystal, " crowning a 
 gradual hill," rising from the river shore. Of the other, the 
 more distant and the humbler, you could see nothing but 
 the top of a steep gable-ended roof, sticking up from the 
 thicket of trees, on the right hand toward the east of Mont 
 Crystal. 
 
 That thicket of pir.es. with the sloping plains behind it, 
 forms the Dovecote farm, and the steeped-roofed, gable- 
 ended cottage is the farm-house. The farm is very small, 
 and the soil is very poor is quite worn out, from having 
 been worked too hard and too constantly, and fed too little ; 
 and the farm-house is very small, and very much out of re- 
 pair. The Dovecote farm is called by the name of its old
 
 THB OLD SCHOOLMAriTKB. 86 
 
 owner, Gabriel Dove, a patriarch of seventy years of age, 
 who has been the schoolmaster of the neighborhood for the 
 last fifty years, and after a long life of the most laborious 
 toil and self-denying frugality, and of the most beneficial 
 devotion to others, found himself at seventy a much poorer 
 man in this world's goods than he was at twenty, when he 
 entered the profession. He hud received the teacher's 
 meed of poverty and pleasant memories. It was the old 
 man's pride to claim every child, man and woman, under 
 sixty years old, in the neighborhood, as his some time 
 pupil. The haughty lady of Mont Crystal had conned her 
 ABC under his tuition. General Stuart-Gordon had 
 scrawled his lirst pot-hooks and hangers on his forma. 
 Gentle Margaret Stuart-Gordon had cooed her a-b-abs at 
 his side. And at a later day, young Louis had studied his 
 Greek exercises and solved his Euclid's problems under his 
 eye, and the calm, wise Susan Somerville had studied her 
 grammar, while the eager Annie sat at her feet, drinking 
 in large draughts of knowledge and kindling into enthu- 
 siasm when the chivalry or martyrdom of the past was the 
 theme of instruction ; and how the schoolmaster loved those 
 little girls the serene Susan, the ardent Annie I and many a 
 sly, kind pat on the head and stroke of the cheek did the lat- 
 ter receive for it would not have been expedient to have 
 shown her favor in the presence of the other pupils it 
 would have ended in some of hia proud patrons requiring 
 her expulsion from her humble seat, or have broken up his 
 school I He did not wish the former, he could not afford 
 the latter alternative. So he tried to keep Annie quiet 
 and happy in her lowly station of mere sufferance. Ah I 
 the heart of the gentle old man was gladdened by such 
 pupils as Susie and Annie, and he could ill a fiord to lose 
 them. And there, too, close behind Susie, murmured the 
 voice of another little maiden, conning her little task Zoe 
 the adopted daughter of tie old schoolmaster that irai all
 
 86 THX MOTHKB-IN-LJLW. 
 
 that was Known of her. The old man had opened his doot 
 one fine summer morning, and found a babe packed up in a 
 basket upon the porch ; and after having recovered from 
 the shock and collected Lis scattered senses, and after bar- 
 ing vainly endeavored to prevail on some of the rich neigh- 
 bors to adopt the child, he had carried it to the almshouse 
 one evening, had returned home, and groaned In the spirit 
 all night, and had risen at early dawn, and traveled over 
 to the almshouse, to reclaim the little castaway, had brought 
 it back, and adopted it. One half of the neighborhood 
 gaid the old schoolmaster was mad, and the other half 
 would have hinted that he had been wicked ; but that " the 
 yery fangs of malice" could not have gnawed a flaw into 
 which to insert a doubt so crystal, pure, and polished had 
 been the old man's life. So little Zoe (that was the name 
 he gave his adopted baby) was conveyed to the care of the 
 old free negress, whom he had hired as his cook, house- 
 keeper, &c. 
 
 But now times were very badly changed with the old 
 man. I cannot say that he had seen " better days." He 
 had never seen good days, much less " better" ones. In a 
 worldly and pecuniary point of view, his days had been bad, 
 and now they were worse. He was older, and, for his life 
 of self-devotion, poorer in purse, and feebler in person, than 
 he should have been at seventy. Teachers wear out sooner 
 than other men ; I do not mean spurious teachers, who take 
 up the " trade " for a mere livelihood but teachers anointed 
 by God himself for their mission and their martyrdom. The 
 country boasts no, never boasts of them their " quiet 
 paths of unobtrusive goodness " lead through the unfrequen- 
 ted by-ways of life. Their prospectuses do not fill new* 
 papers, but their labors fill hearts and heads, at least &fev 
 hearts and heads, witb goodness and wisdom the country 
 possesses many such. But times that always had been bad, 
 Wtre now worse with our old schoolmaster ; his energies
 
 THE OLD SCHOOLMASTER, 87 
 
 trere decayed, his steps were tottering, as he leaned more 
 and more heavily upon his stick, as he bent forward toward 
 the scene of his daily labors. His hand trembled as he 
 guided the pen or pencil of his pupils, and his eyes dimmed 
 with reading, ,and the letters of the Latin grammar swam 
 together, even with the aid of his spectacles. 
 
 People began to whisper that the old schoolmaster was 
 getting too old and infirm for his business, and that he 
 ought, in justice to the neighborhood, to resign it to younger 
 hands ; and many began to remove their children from his 
 charge. The old man had now about twelve pupils, at from 
 two to five dollars per quarter each. As is always the case, 
 the parents or guardians of only about half this number 
 paid him ; so that the old schoolmaster's income did not 
 amount to more than twenty-five or thirty dollars per quar- 
 ter. Even this small salary was fast, very fast, decreasing. 
 At the end of every quarter, and especially at the end of 
 every half year, some of his old pupils were sure to drop off, 
 and their places were never supplied by new ones. 
 
 So much for his school. 
 
 At home, changes had also transpired. The old negress 
 who, for many years, had been his housekeeper and servant, 
 was dead, and the old schoolmaster's reduced means did not 
 allow him to employ another. The cares and labors of the 
 household devolved on his adopted child, Zoe, and admira- 
 bly did the little maiden acquit herself of the duties. 
 
 Of all the old teacher's pupils, of sixty years old and 
 under, none remembered or visited him with the exception 
 of two, a brother and a sister : the sister, a girl whose 
 name was a byword and a mockery in the neighborhood 
 Gertrude Lion the Diana, the Amazon, the giantess, the 
 Gerfalcon, as she was called ; the brother, Brutus Lion, a 
 masculine exaggeration of all that was most obnoxious and 
 unpopular in the charac ;er and habits of the Gerfalcon.
 
 CHAPTER 1. 
 
 THE DOVECOTE AND THE DOVB. 
 
 o lift the willing latch the scene explore 
 
 Sweet peace and love and joy thou there shall find; 
 
 For there religion dwells, whose sacred lore 
 Leaves the proud wisdom of the world behind, 
 And pours a heavenly ray on every human mind. 
 
 Dr Ifi.ntlK.gt on, 
 
 There is a light around her hrow, 
 
 A holinesa In those dark eyes, 
 Which show, though wandering earthward now, 
 
 Her spirit's home is in the skies. Moort. 
 
 THROUGH the front windows of the Island Palace you 
 Lave already caught a distant glimpse of the steep gable 
 end of the Dovecote peeping up above the thicket. 
 
 Now, let us take a nearer view. The Dovecote is rather 
 a cot than a cottage. It is the tiniest and the most se- 
 cluded little home in the whole valley. No highway cornea 
 near it. One narrow footpath leads to it. This path leads 
 down the southern descent of the richly-wooded hill of 
 Mont Crystal, and meandering lower and deeper into a 
 glen that opened a narrow vista to the river, and passing 
 through the thicket and across the brook at the bottom, 
 leads gently upward to the little wicket-gate of the small 
 garden in front of the tiny cot, wedged up against and 
 sheltered on three sides by closely pressing and thickly 
 wooded hills. Thus this sweet, secluded little home is visi- 
 ble only from one point, toward the Isle of Rays. This 
 one path, wending past the tiny garden-gate, leads through 
 a short, rich brushwood down to the sandy beach of the 
 river, where to a post is tied a little skiff with one oar, in
 
 TBK DOVECOTE AND DOVJL 89 
 
 which the old schoolmaster rows himself across the river 
 every morning and evening, in going to and returning from 
 the scene of his daily school labors For, be it remem- 
 bered that -the school-house is situated on the opposite 
 bank of the river, and far up toward The Crags. 
 
 The Dovecote, besides beirg extremely small, is con- 
 structed in the simplest form and out of the rudest and 
 readiest materials ; the walls, of twenty feet square, being 
 built of red sandstone found on the spot, and the roof 
 being covered with pine boards, now nearly black with 
 long exposure to the weather. Oue little door, with one 
 little window to the left, are shaded by the projecting eaves 
 of the roof, which, supported by straight pillars made of 
 the slender trunks of the pine-trees with the bark on, forms 
 the rude porch. There is room for the little garden only 
 in front, the sides and back of the house being crowded by 
 the hills. 
 
 So, dear young school-girl reader, the Dovecote is * 
 stereotyped neat white cottage with green blinds, the cus- 
 tom-sanctioned abode of youth, iove, and romance. No ; 
 its colors are those of the Virgin Mary's costume in certain 
 old Flemish pictures, namely : dun red beneath, dusky blue 
 above ; but more picturesque, more beautiful and romantic 
 it is, I assure you, than your sentimental fancy thing of 
 white and green could be. The deep rich hue of the red 
 walls ; the fine dark-blue re of, surrounded by the brilliantly 
 variegated colors of the goigeous autumn foliage ; the glow- 
 ing scarlet of the oak, the dark green of the pines and ce- 
 dars, the bright yellow hickory, the rich purple dogwood 
 crowning the close hills, and the intense blue of the moun- 
 tains in the back ground, formed a fine rich deep-toned pic- 
 ture, that, when the sun mounted to the meridian, kindled 
 into burning refulgence. 
 
 So much for the outside of the picture now come in. 
 
 Thii small front door admits you into the room the only
 
 10 THE MOTHEB-IN-LAW. 
 
 room on the ground floor. Look around this apartment 
 is parlor, kitchen, and dining-room, for the little family, yet 
 it is the picture of neatness. The walls are colored stone- 
 gray ; on the floor is a home-made carpet of red and green 
 plaid, and at the only window is a red and green paper blind 
 to match. Just opposite to the door you enter is the fire- 
 place, where a clear, bright fire is burning ; on each end or 
 the mantelpiece is a bright brass candlestick, and a small 
 clock occupies the centre. On the right hand of the fire- 
 place is a corner cupboard, with glass doors, through which 
 you can see the nice, clean crockery ware. On the left hand 
 is a deal table, scoured white as a curd ; the chairs are or 
 common white deal, to match the table. And in one corner 
 of the room, to the left of the window, is a small stand with 
 a drawer that is Zoe's work-stand, where she keeps all her 
 needlework ; but it is never removed from that corner, be- 
 cause on top of that stand is the cottage library, consisting 
 of the family Bible, Shakspeare, Milton, and the life of John 
 Howard ; and above the work-stand, next to the window, 
 hangs a portrait of John Howard that was the image the 
 old schoolmaster worshiped I Little did he think he was 
 an idolater. 
 
 Above stairs there were two little bedrooms, one occupied 
 by the old man and the other by Zoe. 
 
 And now I want to tell you about this red and green 
 plaid carpet on the floor. It is just laid down. It is the 
 work of Zoe's own hands the product of Zoe's own indus- 
 try and economy. Nothing is lost in that small household. 
 AH the old man's cast-off garments, and all Zoe's worn-out 
 ^othes, have been saved for years past have been washed, 
 ;ut up into narrow strips, twisted into cord, dyed one-hali 
 green and one-half red and is now woven into this fresh, 
 new, bright carpet. Zoe has an especial little housewife'! 
 pleasure in having drawn out from the chrysalis of an old- 
 clothes barrel the butterfly of a new plaid carpet It ii M
 
 THK DOVECOTS AND DOT*, tl 
 
 trent in her life that this new carpet is now finished and laid 
 down, and that she has been able, from her scanty sayings, 
 to purchase the window blind to match it The old man 
 Das not returned from school yet, and she is awaiting hii 
 arrival with great interest, to note his expression of surprise 
 and pleasure when he finds the hitherto bare, cold boards 
 covered with that bright, warm carpet, that gives such an 
 air of comfort and coziness to the room. 
 
 It was the last school-day before Christmas that is, it 
 was Friday, and Christmas was to come on Tnesday there" 
 fore, Zoe had laid down her new carpet, had made up a 
 glowing fire, and re-rubbed the brass fire-dogs to a silvery 
 brightness, and had painted the brick hearth with red ochre, 
 found in the neighboring brook. She had set the coffee- 
 boiler over the blaze, made an Indian-meal johnny-cake on 
 a long pine board, propped it up with a smoothing iron 
 before the fire to bake, and laid two red herrings on the 
 coals to broil. They could not afford a table-cloth, for 
 those were not the days of cheap goods, but Zoe's white 
 deal table did not need one it looked very nice, set out 
 with its blue delf-ware. Zoe was happy, busy, and watch- 
 fnl. She sat down to quilt-piecing, while watching her 
 johnny-cake bake. 
 
 It is time to describe this bonny small housewife. She 
 was a gentle, tender little creature, with a fair, delicate 
 ikin, with soft, dark eyes, and fine silky black hair, inclined 
 to curl, but plainly twisted np. 1 She wore upon this festive 
 evening a dove-colored merino dress, with a black silk apron 
 and little white collar these were presents from her friend 
 " Brighty," who asseverated that a pretty child ought, some- 
 times, at least, to be prettily dressed. 
 
 If I were obliged to describe the cottage and the young 
 cottager by one epithet, I should call them clean. " So 
 neat and clean," was the form of praise every body bestowed 
 upon the little house and the little housekeeper, by all tin
 
 )2 THK MOTHER IN-LAW. 
 
 dnd-hearted neighbors. " Yon might take a fresh pocket 
 handkerchief, and wipe up the floor from one end to the 
 other, without soiling the cambric," would be the assevera- 
 tion of all the admiring matrons of the neighborhood, when 
 holding pp the little housewife as an example to their 
 daughters or to their domestics. Yes, the little apartment 
 was glittering with cleanliness. And now, as the day is 
 declining, th sunbeams smile into the room, and the smile 
 is flashed back, here, and there, and everywhere, by the 
 bright brass candlesticks on the mantelpiece, by the fire- 
 irons, by the mirror, by the clear glass tumblers, by the 
 clean crockery-ware in the corner cupboard, and by the 
 glittering tea-service on the table. Lastly, the sun smiles 
 archly, slantingly, on the glistening little black head and 
 nice gray dress of Zoe, and, withdrawing its rays, sinks 
 below the horizon. Zoe has watched and waited anxiously, 
 her supper is ready, and it is now quite time her father was 
 in. She has laid aside her work, and has gone to the win- 
 dow to look out. The sky has changed, the wind has 
 shifted to the east, and blown up dense white snow clouds 
 a snow storm is rapidly coming on Zoe remains at the 
 window, anxiously looking down the foot-path leading to 
 the river, and hoping that before the snow begins to fall, 
 her father may have reached home. 
 
 " I wish he would come," murmured Zoe to herself. 
 " Oh I how I do wish he would come," and she strained her 
 eyes down the darkening path. Then she ran up stairs, 
 and bringing down his warm, soft, wool-lined slippers, she 
 laid them before the fire, and, taking out his wadded wrap- 
 per from a closet under the stairs, sh tamed the sleeves, 
 and hung it over the back of the chair to warm. Then she 
 resumed her watch. Never did lady watch for h*r lover 
 with more anxiety than did little Zoe for her old father. 
 The snow was beginning to fall fine soon it thickened, 
 o that she could not see an inch from the window. It wu
 
 *H1 DOVECOTE AND DOVI. 
 
 growing quite dark. She lighted a candle, and drew np 
 the paper blind, so that he might see the light from the 
 house, as a^ guide. "Ah! I know what keeps him," said 
 Zoe ; " he is breaking up school for two weeks only, and 
 yet he must give an affectionate farewell lecture to the 
 school in general, and a loving exhortation to each pupil 
 in particular, as his or her wants may require. Dear 
 father I It is getting too dark now ; he will lose his way ; 
 I must go and meet him." And, rising, she ran up stairs, 
 got her cloak and hood, lighted a lantern, and set out, fol- 
 lowed by the cream-colored setter, who had risen and 
 stretched himself, as soon as he saw her come down with 
 her hood on. She walked on through the whirling snow, 
 the dog keeping closely at her side. She reached the beach 
 where the boat was usually tied. It was too dark and 
 snowy to see anything beyond the short glare of the lan- 
 tern ; but she knew, of course, that the little skiff was not 
 there that the old man had, that mrning, as usual, passed 
 asross the river in it and that it was now moored on the 
 other side, awaiting him, if, indeed, he were not now 
 returning in it. She walked down to the edge of the river, 
 and threw the glare of the lantern across it. She could 
 see nothing ; the snow was freezing as it fell, and her cloak 
 was getting stiff with ice. Her feet were like lifeless clods, 
 and her hands so hard and numb, that she could scarcely 
 hold the lantern so she hung it on the branch of a tree, aa 
 a beacon light, and stood waiting. Now she could see the 
 river, and the little boat crossing the line of light thrown 
 by the lantern, and soon it reached the beach, and soon a 
 crackling footstep sounded on the frozen snow, and then 
 the old man's hand was laid in blessing on her head. 
 
 " G-od love thee, my dove-eyed darling !" he said. 
 
 " Oh I father, your hands are so cold 1 Lean on my arm, 
 and let us make haste home. Supper is ready."
 
 94 THl MOTHER. I3f-Li.W. 
 
 " Lan on thy arm, my poor little girl I Walk on before, 
 with the antern, child, and I will follow thee." 
 
 She obeyed him. The thick falling snow prevented fur- 
 ther conversation, and they entered the little cottage before 
 another word was exchanged between them. Then Zoe 
 dropped her own cloak, and helped her father off with his 
 great coat, his boots, and so forth ; and then she brought 
 him his wrapper, and, lastly, the old man sat down in hit 
 study-chair, ran his feet into the warm slippers, and stuck 
 them out to the fire all without noticing Zoe's new carpet 
 Zoe was shaking and carrying off the cloaks, <fcc., and hang- 
 ing them up in the closet under the stairs. And then she 
 came back and placed supper on the table, and the old man 
 turned around to take his seat at it. And now, when the 
 candle was lifted off the mantelpiece, and set upon the table, 
 and its rays fell down upon the bright red and green carpet, 
 the old man exclaimed with surprise, " Why, Zoe 1" 
 
 " Yes, father I aint it pretty ?" said she, with a smile. 
 
 " But but, where did you get it, child ?" 
 
 " I made it, father !" she replied, with honest exultation. 
 
 " You, Zoe," exclaimed the old man, holding his coffee- 
 cup half-way between the table and his lips. 
 
 " Yes, father ; me, Zoe," playfully imitating his tone. 
 
 44 But when ? Where ? How ? What out of?" 
 
 44 When? Where? How? What out of ? One, two^ 
 three, four questions. First, when ? Through all my lei- 
 sure time for the last month. Where ? Up in my cham- 
 ber. How? With those powerful little magicians nee- 
 dle, thread and scissors. What out of ? All the irreclaim- 
 able old clothes that have collected in the house for many 
 years past," replied Zoe, with dancing eyes, so happy in 
 being able to prove that the fine carpet was a creation of 
 ter own." 
 
 "Well done, my little housewife." 
 
 14 Oh, father, I io 90 love to make thing*."
 
 THE DOV1COT1 AND DOYM. 96 
 
 "You do?" 
 
 "Yes, indeed, father; but now, father, as you hare cate- 
 thised me, may I not catechise you *" 
 
 " Presently, Zoe ; but tell me first for my examination 
 is not yet over, there are other questions to be asked, other 
 mysteries to be cleared up where did you get that pretty 
 dress ? Did you make that, too ? I never saw it before." 
 
 "No, father; I was determined to christen my dress and 
 my carpet on the same day the day of yonr relief from 
 school-duties the commencement of our holidays to day." 
 
 "But you have not told me where you got it." 
 
 " Oh ! from Brighty. Miss Britannia O'Riley gave it tc 
 me." 
 
 " Miss Britannia O'Riley gave it to you, my dear I and 
 why did Miss O'Riley give it to yod ?" asked the old 
 schoolmaster seriously. 
 
 " Because she loves to see me nice. Was it not right, 
 father ?" 
 
 " My darling, you used sometimes to speak the truth, 
 however unpalatable it might be to Britannia, did you not 7" 
 
 "Yes, father, sometimes." 
 
 "When she was sarcastic, satirical, irreverent, you were 
 accustomed to keep a grave, serious face and when she 
 would question you on your sobriety, yon would reply with 
 truth that you disapproved of her want of veneration were 
 you not ?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " Yes, you performed that office of friendship honestly ; 
 but now how would it be ? Suppose, now, in such a caM 
 what would you do ?" Could you still gravely rebuke her 
 levity f" 
 
 Zoe was silent and thoughtful. At last 
 
 "Answer me child 1" the old man said. 
 
 "Father, no; I should think of all her kindness to m f ' 
 
 "Of KrZm to yoR.' ;
 
 &6 THE ttOTHKR-IN-LAW. 
 
 Zoe hang her head. 
 
 The old man continued 
 
 " And feel yourself a debtor and a slave in her presence.' 
 
 " Oh, Father I" 
 
 " Yes, child, you compromise your independence, and 
 endanger your integrity, by accepting any favors from thos 
 opon whom you can have no possible claim, and whom yoa 
 cannot hope to repay." 
 
 " Oh, father, what can I do ? I cannot give it back to 
 Brighty, now that it is made up and has been worn ; that 
 would insult her. What can I do ? 
 
 "Nothing that I know of, child; but you must not lay 
 yourself under any unnecessary obligations in future. Zoe, 
 my darling, you have nothing but yonr independence and 
 integrity keep them. And in regard to Miss O'Riley, do 
 not, in the least, change your manner toward her. Do net 
 indulge or flatter one foible of hers, because she has made 
 you a present." 
 
 " Oh, father I Brighty would not ask me to do it. Brighty 
 is noble, generous, frank." 
 
 " But proud, satirical, and high-tempered. She is of A 
 large and highly wrought temperament ; full of good and 
 full of evil. She needs you, Zoe, to take part with hei 
 good nature against her evil. Yes, she needs you, little 
 Zoe; do not fail her." 
 
 "Father, needs me Brighty, with so much genius, beauty, 
 Bpirit ? 
 
 " Yes, Brighty, with so much genius, beauty, and spirit, 
 knows that she needs the little humble Zoe to keep her in 
 mind of duty. Again, I say, do not fail her." 
 
 "Why, father, sometimes, when she has drawn it from 
 me, I have repeated your lectures, second-hand ; I never 
 et up, I never presumed to set myself up, for Brighty'i 
 mentor." 
 
 " And that is the reason, my dear, why ih aooepU 700,
 
 THX DOVECOTE AND DOTS. 97 
 
 toeanse you do not presume. Brighty cannot defy a metk 
 and lowly "mentor. Do you think that if, instead of being 
 born in the manger, Jesus had been born in the purple if, 
 instead of taking the form of a servant, he had assumed the 
 insignia of royalty, that his lessons of reverence, of humility, 
 of self-denial, would have been even so well received as they 
 were ? No, the pride of human nature would have rejected 
 him." 
 
 " And yet, father, human nature is given to worship all 
 the ' pride, pomp, and circumstance' of place, of rank, of 
 royalty." 
 
 " Yes, my dear, but not to hear from them, or to profit 
 by lessons of humility and self-denial. Those who would 
 teach humility with effect, must first have made themselves 
 of 'no account;' he who would teach self-abnegation, must 
 first have ' offered himself a sacrifice for many ;' in a word, 
 my dear, precept can only be effectually inculcated when 
 the sincerity of the preceptor is demonstrated by his ex- 
 ample. My love, whole libraries of sermons, of philosophy, 
 or of ethics, would not do me a tithe of the good effected 
 by the reading of one chapter in the life of Christ. But to 
 return to Brighty ; you are the only one about here who 
 can be of real service to her, and you must not indulge her 
 faults. She herself will not respect you any the more for 
 it." 
 
 " Dear father, I am not a man, and therefore I am not 
 over anxious for the cold ' respect' of those I love ; but you 
 gay true about Brighty, for the other day, after she had 
 given me this dress, she indulged her temper in bitter and 
 pungent sarcasms leveled at Mrs. Armstrong, appealing to 
 me frequently, and I " 
 
 " Yes well, what did you do 7" 
 
 Zoe was silent. 
 
 " Simpered, instead of looking grave, I am afraid, mj
 
 98 TH MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 " Something like that, I am afraid, fcther." 
 
 "And she?" 
 
 " After her temper fit was over, and she had repented, 
 he said to me ' Zoe, why did did you let me go on so ? 
 Why did you not look at me or touch me ?' that is what 
 he said, and she looked so sorry." 
 
 "Ah, you had not come np to her help yon had not 
 taken sides with her good nature against her bad. What 
 withheld you ? 
 
 " I did not like to seem to blame her, just alter she 
 had " 
 
 " Laid you under an obligation ! was that it ?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " I knew it, only I wanted to hear you say it. That WM 
 not gratitude ; it was a mean feeling." 
 
 " Oh, father, 1 am not mean." 
 
 " It was a mean feeling, a spurious gratitude. Every 
 virtue and every emotion, my love, has its base counterfeit, 
 which deceives not only its object by hypocrisy, but often- 
 times its subject by self deception. It made you betray 
 yonr trust for a paltry dress." 
 
 " Father I did not mean to betray my trust, and this is 
 not a paltry dress ; it is a nice, pretty dress : it is such a 
 sweet, dove-colored dress ; I love it. Brighty said that it 
 just suited me, and that there was not another girl in the 
 ralley who ought to have it. But, father, I know what I 
 will do ; Mrs. Armstrong is going to give a great dinner 
 and ball, and there are a great many handsome dresses to be 
 made np, and Miss O'Riley engaged me to make three 
 one for Mrs. Armstrong, one for Miss Armstrong, and one 
 for herself. Now, when they are completed, I will receive 
 payment only for the first two, and when Brighty offers 
 to pay me for hers, I will steadfastly refuse to take it." 
 
 " Do BO, my child that will be right. But why did you 
 ot think of it before P
 
 fHl DOVECOTE AND DOTB. 99 
 
 " Because, dear father, I d'd want so much to buy two 
 blankets one for you and one for me, and it would tak 
 the price of three dresses to buy them." 
 
 " Then, darling, you will have to sacrifice that pleasure 
 to allow for that folly," said the old man, benignly. 
 
 After a silence of some minutes, Zoe said 
 
 " Now, father, I am going to put you on the defensive. 
 Father, what made you stay out so late ? You, at your 
 time of life, keeping me so uneasy making my heart ache- 
 to say nothing of the johnny-cake being burned, the fish 
 scorched, and the coffee boiled muddy ?" 
 
 " My dear, perhaps you had better not have asked me- 
 perhaps it would be better for your cheerfulness not to 
 know but I never keep secrets from my girl ; she shall be 
 brave, and learn to endure ; then, Zoe, two-thirds of my 
 twelve pupils left school at the end of this term, being this 
 evening. If I commence school again at the first of Janu- 
 ary, it will be with four young pupils two dollars per 
 quarter pupils. Do you think, daughter we can live on 
 eight dollars a quarter that is, two dollars and sixty-six 
 cents a month ?" 
 
 " Oh, Father 1" said Zoe, looking tearfully in his face. 
 
 " Poor little thing, it is sad for you, my darling !" 
 
 " Oh, father, not for me you did not think I was think- 
 ing of myself? Oh, no ! I am yonng, I am healthy and 
 strong, and can endure. I am young, and life may change, 
 but you you /" 
 
 " I am old, and have not much longer to suffer or to 
 enjoy, darling ; therefore it is of little moment to me." 
 
 " But oh, father, after your faithful life your life of toil, 
 of self-denial to find yourself at seventy without a dollar 
 beforehand ! The laborer is worthy of his hire, indeed, but 
 the laborer has not received it," complained Zoe, in a tonf 
 
 " The day of ssttlement has not come yet, my tort. 1
 
 100 THS MOTHiK-IN-LAW. 
 
 " Oh, but father, to think that you should be left go." 
 
 "Zoe, I have lived seventy years in this world, and never 
 Buffered long either for food or for raiment ; God, who has 
 brought me to this time of my life, will not desert me now. 
 ' Take no thought for the morrow,' ' sufficient for the day is 
 the evil therefore,' said the divine Master, and that mandate 
 does not strike so much in the light of a command as in that 
 of loving advice a sympathizing reassurance from warm 
 and loving lips. Come, we will accept it in all faith. Come, 
 Zoe, clear away the things from the table. Give me the 
 Bible, and take your needle- work. We have a good fire 
 provision enough in the bouse to last until after New-Year. 
 Come, darling, we will be faithful we will be cheerful. 
 'The cattle upon a thousand hills are the Lord's,' and ' He 
 knoweth that we have need of all these things.' " 
 
 " But, father," said Zoe, as she drew the table up before 
 the fire to the old man's side, and set the candle, the snuffers, 
 the big Bible, and her little work-basket upon it, " father, I 
 do not see a ray of light." 
 
 " Nor I my dear." 
 
 " What are we to do ?" 
 
 " Walk by faith, not by sight. People can walk by sight, 
 and have no need of faith when they can see light. It is iu 
 dark days alone that we can exercise faith. There, now, 
 take up your sewing, darling." 
 
 And Zoe took out her patch-work, and the old man began 
 to read from the Bible the parable of the three sparrows 
 Bold for a farthing, neither of which should fall to the 
 ground without the Father, and the same lesson in the Ser 
 mon on the Mount, and that Psalm of David commencing, 
 "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want." Thus the 
 Did man tried to fortify his soul against the evil days to 
 come. He was strengthened. He closed the Bible, and 
 nia face was very serene was holy was even irradiated 
 He fell into a profound reverie. Zoe had also fallen into f
 
 fHK COTXCOTS AND DOT*. 101 
 
 reverie, a most painful reverie. Zoe had not lived long 
 enough, suffered deeply euo ^gh, observed carefully enough, 
 to have taken note of God's sure providences, and so she 
 had not the cheerful faith of her adopted father. 
 
 " If this had happened in summer, it would not have been 
 so dreadfal ; but in this hard, hard winter, oh, it is terrible I 
 what will he do ? He would not on any account, receive 
 assistance ; no, not a dollar, not a peck of meal." 
 
 So Zoe cogitated. At last, seing her father so silent, 
 he thought him sad and, inquired 
 
 " Don't you find it very lonesome, father, with nobody 
 bat me here 1" 
 
 "Lonesome, darling?" 
 
 " Yes, sir, I should think you would be." 
 
 " Why do you think so, Zoe ? Is it because you feel it 
 lonesome here, wit-h no one but me ? I should not wonder 
 at you, nor blame you, darling, if it were so." 
 
 "He lonesome, dear father ; no, never ! When you fall 
 into a brown study, and don't want to talk, haven't I got 
 my quilt to piece ? You don't know how interesting it is, 
 matching and contrasting these colors. See, for instance, 
 what a pretty hexagon this is ; the centre piece is crimson, 
 then white," said she, laying the pieces on the table. 
 
 " I sometimes pity gentlemen, because they are not privi- 
 leged to take the interesting, amusing, and sedative em- 
 ployment of needlework." 
 
 Soon after this, the old man offered up the evening 
 prayer, and blessing hia child, they separated for the night.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Who thundering comes on blackest iteed, 
 
 With slacken'd bit and hoof of xped ? 
 
 Beneath the clattering iron's sound 
 
 The cavern'd echoes wake around 
 
 In lash for lash, and bound for bound ; 
 
 The foam that streaks the courser's side 
 
 Seem* gathered from the ocean's tide. Byron. 
 
 IT snowed all night. All night, lying awake in Lcr bed, 
 Zoe heard the tinkle, tinkle of the sleet against the window 
 glass. It was day, but dark when at last she fell asleep. 
 When she awoke the snn was shining brightly into the lit- 
 tle room. Zoe arose, dressed herself, looked out. The 
 storm had passed the sun had risen in splendor on the 
 sleet the scene was too dazzling to look upon the whole 
 ground sparkling with a coat of white diamond dust the 
 forest seemed an enchanted one the trees formed of clear 
 shining glass hung with millions of pendent jewels for foli 
 age. Zoe shut her eyes quickly to save their sight, and 
 when she opened them again black spots followed her glance 
 all around the room. Zoe went down stairs to get break- 
 jwt. Like a careful little housewife as she was, she always 
 kept a store of cut wood in the shed at the back of the cot- 
 tage, in case of any such bad spell of weather as this. 3he 
 went in there, and getting an armful, carried it into fcba 
 room, and soon had a nice warm fire. She fiLed her tea- 
 kettle, and, hanging it over the blaze, began to set the ta- 
 ble for breakfast. It was eight o'clock, and her father had 
 not yet come down. While she was busied in nixing her 
 johnny-cake, * sudden crashing and crackEcg, a auddea msL 
 (1M)
 
 "LOBD LION, KINO-AT-ABM8." 101 
 
 and whirr, a sudden shudder and quiver of the earth, ae at 
 the passage of a railway train, and a gigantic rider on a 
 huge black steed shot past, followed by two dogs. The 
 rision rushed past so quickly, that Zoe had but lifted her 
 hand from the meal and looked up, when it was gone. 
 When she turned her head again, it was to see her old fathei 
 entering the room. 
 
 " Good morning, daughter I" 
 
 " Good morning, dear father 1" 
 
 " What noise was that ?" 
 
 " Brutus Lion on his big black horse, Earthquake, fol- 
 lowed by his dogs, Thunder and Lightning." 
 
 " Ah, yes I he has started a fox early this morning, 
 observed the old man, sitting down before the fire, and be- 
 ginning to draw on his boots. 
 
 "After breakfast, the old man, putting on his hat and 
 taking his staff in his hand, said 
 
 " I am going over to The Crags to see the Major. He 
 has returned from Alexandria, I hear ;" and set out. 
 
 In fact, the old teacher could not stay at home ; he had 
 a childish delight in making the most of his holidays. Zoe 
 watched him uneasily down the slippery path, went out, 
 and watched down to the beach, until she saw him enter 
 the boat ; saw him safely cross the river, ascend the oppo 
 site bank and disappear far up the road towards The Crags 
 Bhe could see him distinctly on the brilliant snow, until hit 
 figure seemed a black speck on a distant white hill. Sht, 
 had watched him past the dangers the rest of the way wa 
 safe and easy on that road ; and she returned to the house 
 to clear up the breakfast-table. She set her room in order, 
 went up stairs and made the beds, returned, took out hef 
 " interesting" quilt-piecing, and sat down to it, humming 
 gay air to persuade herself that she was happy. She sal 
 there sowing for hours, stopping only to replenish her fire, 
 to sweep up the Hearth, or to caress her tortoUe-chtU
 
 104 THE MCTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 She sat there while the sun had mounted high Vu 
 the heavens, still quite absorbed in the shaping of hexagoni 
 and the matching of colors, until that crash and crackle, 
 the rush and whirr was heard, the shudder and quiver of 
 the ground was felt, and the huge dark rider on his gigan- 
 tic black steed halted with a shock at the door, sprang 
 heavily to the ground, and, pushing open the cottage-door,,. 
 trode in, and paused before the young cottager. They 
 were a queer contrast the condor and the humming-bird, 
 the elephant and the kitten, t^e giant and the fairy, were 
 something like it. Brutus Lion stood six feet nine inches 
 in his weather-proof boots. His immense chest was 
 "backed" by shoulders of corresponding breadth, and over 
 them hung elf locks black, strong, and wiry and above 
 thetn reared a haughty head, with strong marked American 
 Indian features, and Brutus Lion boasted descent from one 
 of the red natives of the soil. His Anglo-Saxon ancestor 
 had been a furious and blood-thirsty republican, a regicide 
 who had sat upon the trial of King Charles I., and who, on 
 the accession of Charles II., had escaped to Virginia, 
 changed his name, assuming one that suited his character, 
 taken to wife the daughter of a powerful sachem, and settled 
 himself in a defile of the western precipices of the Allegha- 
 nies, to which he gave the significant name of "The Lair." 
 The Lions of the Lair were a gigantic race, and distin- 
 guished in all the wars of the new world in savage war- 
 fare, in the old French war, and in the Revolutionary 
 struggle. Between the wars, in the intervals of peace, they 
 were, both men and women, " mighty hunters before the 
 Lord." Now, the sole representatives of the Lion family 
 were the giant, Brntus Lion, and his sister, Gertrude, the 
 "Gerfalcon." 
 
 At 55oe arose to welcome her visitor, he stooped, and 
 placing his great hands under hor arms, raised her np, and
 
 LORD LION, KINa-AT-ARHi." 106 
 
 tood her npon the deal table facing him, and hi said 
 and not till then | 
 
 "Good morning, humming bird." 
 
 Zoe blushed, langhed, and then blushed again. She WM 
 probably accustomed to this sort of treatment. 
 
 ''Take me down." 
 
 " I won't ! or if I do, it will be to stand you npon th 
 mantelpiece until I have done talking to you ; do you think, 
 dormouse, that I can break my back in stooping to talk to 
 you ?" 
 
 " Oh, you are so proud of your huge bulk ; you exagger- 
 ate its necessities to make us think it still bigger ; you 
 neein't to be. 7, now, whom you try to treat with con- 
 tempt, I have a right to be proud of my size." 
 
 " You, you grain of mustard-seed, you 1 Why, pray, if 
 ori3 may ask you ?" 
 
 ' You have hit it ; just because, little as I am, I am e 
 grain of mustard-seed ; aud you, big as you are, are nothing 
 but a rock." 
 
 Brutus Lion was not quick-witted ; he only looked at her 
 gtupidly, while he searched for an answer. 
 
 " Oh," laughed Zoe, " I can take the conceit out of you in 
 no time at all, and make you admire me ; or at least con- 
 vince you that you ought to. Listen ; every thing very 
 precious that God has made is very small. Take the 
 stones ; first, see how very small and rare the diamonds are, 
 snd what immense piles of sandstone there be. And the 
 metals ; how little gold, how much lead. And the flowers ; 
 bow riny the sweet violet, how tall the scentless sun-flower. 
 And the birds ; how small the skylark, who, 
 
 " Singing still dost soar, and Bearing, ever slngcrt, 
 
 compared with the waddling, gabbling great goose. And 
 the animals ; how small, elegant, and fiery, the tigress, oom- 
 ptred with f he tame, servile dephant. Ah, believe me,
 
 10 THB MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 every thing rare, costly every thing beautiful, elegant 
 every thing brilliant, spicy, fiery, is small. Men put their 
 very piquant spirits and very precious perfumery into very 
 minute vials, they only put fish-oil in hogsheads. Oh, go 
 to, you are a hogshead !" laughed the little one. 
 
 The giant looked at her from head to foot, breathed 
 hard, rubbed mirthfulness, though quite innocent of phre- 
 nology. 
 
 "Zoe, you you you little witch, you, I'll I'll marry 
 you, I'll be shot if I don't, only to pay you for this 1" 
 
 "I wish to gracious you would 1 I wish to goodness you 
 would ! It would be fun alive to torment you to death." 
 
 " You torment me, you little thing you I you small thing, 
 you I" 
 
 " Yes, my dear giant ; I have seen a little wasp drive a 
 great ox mad by buzzing into his face ; his highness the ox 
 being utterly helpless in the case." 
 
 "Ah-h." 
 
 " Will you put me down, now ?" 
 
 "Indeed I am afraid to; I am afraid I should inadvert- 
 ently put my foot on you, if I were to ; I never like to 
 walk about where there are little chickens or very small 
 women." 
 
 Then he took her little head between his large hands, 
 and looked in her eyes as though he wanted very much to 
 kis& them ; but, respecting her loneliness, he lifted her 
 down, and she resumed her seat and her quilt-piecing. He 
 drew the old man's studying chair up before the fire, and, 
 seating himself in it, said 
 
 " Are women always sewing, Zoe ? It used to be carpet- 
 rags you were always cutting into strips, sewing into string*, 
 and winding into balls. Now what is itf I thought, to 
 be sure, when that was done, there would be no moro of it ; 
 BOW, what are you doing ? "
 
 "LOBD LION, LING- AT- IRKS." 107 
 
 " Making a hexagon quilt don't yon see ? It is for f- 
 iner's bed." 
 
 And here, at the name of father, the girl sighed heaviij 
 and fell into thought. 
 
 " What is the matter, Zoe ? " 
 
 "Oh, about father!" 
 
 "And what about him ? " 
 
 " The people think him too old, now, to teach, .and so 
 they take his pupils from him. If he recommences on the 
 first of January, it will be with only four pupiis. What is 
 he to do ? what is he to do ? He has worn his life out in 
 ceaseless toil, and now, near the close of it, has not the 
 wherewithal to smooth his passage to the grave. To think 
 of it ! The incalculable good he has done in this neighbor- 
 hood, and the miserable reward he has got I Old soldiers 
 and old sailors, who have resigned the more profitable pur- 
 suits of agriculture, manufactures, trade, or the learned pro- 
 fessions, are remunerated in their old age by the justice of 
 the power they serve ; but the old schoolmaster, who has 
 spent his days in the most laborious and the most anxious 
 of all pursuits, what is to become of him, what is to become 
 of father ? " And the tears trickled down Zoe's cheeks. 
 
 " Don't cry, Zoe, don't 1 Something must be done for him " 
 
 " A hat carried round, I suppose," sneered Zoe with ua- 
 sual bitterness. 
 
 " Why, Zoe I what has come over you ? That's not like 
 you 1 " exclaimed the Colossus ; " when I said that 8ome~ 
 thing must be done for him, I meant, of course, aooielhing 
 that would not compromise his dignity." 
 
 "And what will that be ? This neighborhood owes him 
 a huge debt that can never be repaid. He has beec tiio 
 missionary, the civilizer of this whole district yea. au^ for 
 the matter of debt, they owe him substantial dollars and 
 cents ; not more than two-thirds of hia toi-dieant 
 hare erar paid him."
 
 1 08 THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 "These debts must be collected their aggregate amount 
 must be considerable.'' 
 
 " No he has sent in his accounts once to each. He is 
 delicate aud sensitive, and will not press those who, knowing 
 his condition, still put him to the shame of dunning them," 
 complained Zoe, wiping her eyes, and resuming her needle 
 
 Brutus Lion mused, sighed, groaned, arose and walked 
 uneasily about the room, reared himself up against the 
 closed front-door, folded his arms, and watched Zoe, ab- 
 sorbed in her needle-work, muttered to himself, "I wish 
 Gertrude Lion, or Zoe, one of these women, had some sense ! 
 I will not, however, indulge the folly of either much longer; 
 so long as their caprice only annoyed me, I could bear it ; 
 but now that it is likely to injure Zoe, it must be corrected." 
 Full five minutes he contemplated the rather pretty picture 
 presented by Zoe at her needle-work. He resumed, speak- 
 ing aloud 
 
 " Study Latin now, Zoe ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " And Greek ?" 
 
 " No. Father says oue thing at a time ; and I am to 
 (?;;routinue the Latin lessons this Christmas, and commence 
 with the Greek this New Year's." 
 
 " What time of the day, Zoe, does your father give you 
 lessons ?" 
 
 ;i W tf i he comes home in the evening, he hears me recite 
 the lesson that I have committed to memory through the 
 day." 
 
 " And is it a great pleasure to him to teach you ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes, father has a passion for the classics ; he growi 
 eloquent in praise of the Latin, enthusiastic in eulogium of 
 the Greek. Latin, he says, ii the language of heroes, Greek 
 l! s tongue of gods." 
 
 " There is not," mused the young man, partly to himself; 
 ytrtly aloud, " much more trouble no, there is positively
 
 "LOUD LION, KIMA-i.T-l.BlCi. 1 * 100 
 
 lees trouble and more interest in teaching a class of attentive 
 and intelligent pupils, than in giving instruction to onej 
 and then how much more excitement and ambition is felt in 
 a class, where there is rivalry and emulation, than by a oiogle 
 pnpil, Zoe 1" 
 
 "Welll" 
 
 " Would'ut he take a class ?" 
 
 Zoe looked perplexed. She did not understand. " Who f 
 What class ?" 
 
 "I have been thinking of forming a Greek class, a&i 
 getting your father to take charge of it. Miss O'Riley, 
 Gertrude, and myself, would form, with you, a small, but 
 rather an interesting class ; don't you think so ?" 
 
 Zoe had been arrested by his past words to that effect, 
 and now she was looking at him with absorbing interest. 
 
 " I say, we all want to learn Greek Brighty, and Ger, 
 and myself; and I say, we are all anxious to form a class, 
 and place ourselves under the instruction of your father. 
 Now do you comprehend ?" 
 
 " I do understand you, good Brutus. I understood you 
 all the time, dear Brutus ! How you, who detest bookg, 
 and loath study, should contract for four or five mortal 
 hours of close application a week, for the benevolent pur- 
 pose of serving my father, without wounding his love of 
 independence. Don't I know, dearest Brutus, how much 
 easier it would be for you to send him five hundred dollars, 
 and have the Greek lessons off your mind, than to put your- 
 self to school, and pay for your lessons 1 God bless you, 
 best Brutus 1" 
 
 Through all this earnest acknowledgement of Zoe, Brutal 
 Lion sat there like an enormous baby receiving a chiding, 
 with his huge frame all unnerved, quivering- to dissolution 
 like a mammoth jelly, under the influence of Zoe's glorifica- 
 tions. At her conclusion he stooped, took up the tortoiw- 
 thell kitten, and '^egan to caress it Praise embarrassed
 
 110 THI MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 Brutus. Zoe's praise overwhelmed him. Dropping tht 
 kitten, he stood dp, his great eyes rolled " I will see yon 
 again about that, Zoe," he said, in a high assumed voice, 
 by way of proving his self-possession. He then rushed from 
 the cottage, mounted his horse, and was soon out of sight. 
 
 Zoe stole to to the little window, and looked after him 
 until r.der and horse had vanished from sight. 
 
 "I think it will do him good to study, and that is the 
 reason I will not interfere with the method of his benevo- 
 Isnce," thought the little maiden ; and all the while her 
 eyes were dancing, and fitful smiles were chasing each other 
 across her cheeks. Ah 1 there were too many pleasant 
 points about this projected class-meeting, for the sobriety 
 of Zoe. First, a relief for an indefinite period of time, from 
 the pressure of pecuniary want upon her father. Then the 
 employment the interest it would afford him; and "last, 
 iiot least," the certain enjoyment, for at least three days in 
 the week, of the society of Brighty, and and but we will 
 not betray her. Perhaps it was the Gerfalcon, whose com- 
 pany she next coveted. She longed for the return of her 
 father. 
 
 " Oh ! I wish he would come home before evening, so 
 that I might tell him, and pave him a day's gratuitous 
 anxiety. Oh I how I do wish he would." But Zoe's wish- 
 ing did not bring him any sooner. She plied her needle 
 briskly, her fingers receiving a new impetus from hope. At 
 twelve o'clock she arose and made her dinner of a slice of 
 cold johnny-cake, and then resumed her work. When the 
 sun was declining, she arose, put away her work, and began 
 to prepare their little frugal supper, knowing that at least 
 ber beloved father would be home to that meal, which he 
 never missed. Upon the strength of her new hopes, Zoe 
 committed an extravagance cooked a chicken, and made 
 wheaten biscuits for supper. And she set the table and 
 dreued herself in her pretty dove-colored frock, and sat at
 
 "LOBD LION, KING-JLT-ABMS." Ill 
 
 ths window, watc_ing for the old man. At last she saw 
 him descending the hill that led from Mont Crystal. She 
 wondered at that, having expected his approach up from 
 the path that led from the river where he crossed every day. 
 She surmised that he had taken the Isle of Raya, and Mont 
 Crystal, on his return ; and this was the fact. The old 
 man, with the new liberty of his holiday, had spent the day 
 in making calls upon his present patrons, or his former 
 pupils. With his childlike faith and carelessness, the old 
 man had forgotten anxiety for the future, in enjoyment of 
 the present. "He had no thought for the morrow" upon 
 this day, at least ; and now he was coming down the hill, 
 supporting himself in the descent by holding the stick 
 before him, and wearing the very peace of Heaven on his 
 brow, down on either side of which the silver hair flowed 
 upon his old brown coat Zoe ran out to meet him 
 Delighted by the divine tranquillity that rested on his beauti- 
 ful face, Zoe exclaimed, taking both his hands 
 
 " Oh, you have heard, then, father 1" 
 
 " Heard what, my child ?" 
 
 " Oh ! you have not heard, then ! I thought yon had, 
 by your looks, and I felt glad that you had been spared a 
 day's anxiety," said Zoe, standing by the side of the old 
 man, and drawing his arm around her neck, so that it was 
 supported upon her other shoulder. 
 
 "But what is it, my child?" he asked, looking gently 
 down into her eyes. " It is some good news, Zoe, I sap- 
 pose, by your glad looks." 
 
 "Yes, it is some good news, and concerns you. 
 
 " Some of my old pupils coming back ?" 
 
 " Yes, father, some of your very old pupils coming back 
 you guessed it so quick did you know it ? I thought 
 you did, by your looking so peaceful and happy." 
 
 " It was the influence of nature acting under my Father, 
 y iore Zoe I look t that setting sun ; it has langoagi
 
 112 THB MOTHER -IK -LAW. 
 
 eloquence, to me. I climbed up the other eide of thii 
 hill wearily, heavily and the ,sun was in a cloud. I 
 thought o e the toil by which I had reached the summit of 
 my life, the top of the hill it was very gloomy, and I looked 
 down the descent of the hill as I contemplated the decline 
 into the vale of years, feeling that in both progresses my 
 only care should be to prevent myself from falling precipi- 
 tately and prematurely down. Then I put out my stick, 
 and began to descend cautiously. It was very dark in the 
 ralley, so that, with ray dim eyes, I could not distinguish 
 the shade of a bush from a hole in the ground, when lo! 
 the sun broke through the dense blue cloud, and smiled in 
 my face ! and smiled on my head 1 What could I do but 
 lift my face and smile back, Zoe ? It glowed, all over this 
 rich scene it glowed all over me it glowed all through 
 me ; what could my heart do but buru within mo, Zoe ? It 
 iaid, ' Bless you, bless you !' so softly so brightly. What 
 could I answer but ' I am blessed ! I am blessed !' " Zoe 
 was walking by his side, looking up in his face with deep 
 reverence. " Do but observe the scene before yon, Zoe,' 
 and the two children the silver-haired man, and the raven- 
 locked maiden paused reverently to receive the large, full 
 deep benedicite of nature. It was not strange, then, that 
 the old man's mind could not fasten on the necessities of hix 
 position. They had descended the hill, reached the cottage 
 and entered it, before he said 
 
 " And now, Zoe, what about new pupils ?" 
 "Yon are to have a class of grown-up pupils, if yon 
 will take charge of them. Brutus Lion and his sister and 
 Brighty O'Riley wish to come and learn Greek. Ob, 
 father I it will be so mf eh better than your school. They 
 will attend you here, so that you need not have to go out 
 in all weathers. The plan is not quite mature yet, for they 
 will need to consult you about the most convenient days 
 and houi-i and about the fee, Ac.," aid Zoe, af she helped
 
 "LOBD LION, KINQ- A.T- ASM*.' Ill 
 
 the old man off with his overcoat He was in deep thought 
 He did not reply to her until they were seated at the table. 
 He did not observe the new luxuries of the broiled chicken 
 and biscuits until he had asked a blessing. Then, when 
 stretching forth his hand to help himself to bread, he 
 looked np smilingly at Zoe, and glanced back at the 
 platter. 
 
 " Yea, father," she said, "yes; I consider we are able to 
 eat wheat bread, now." 
 
 " Little darling," he said, " if we had lived by faith, 
 rather than by sight, we would have thought ourselves able 
 to eat wheat bread yesterday. Little darling, it is well not 
 to waste our daily supply ; but when we have only enough, 
 barely enough for our daily comforts, we should appro- 
 priate the whole to-day and trust the Divine Providence 
 for to-morrow. You have been growing thin and pale, 
 Zoe, by not taking nourishment enough. There is a slow 
 starvation, Zoe, as well as a rapid one. You have bees 
 starving yourself from want of faith ; from want of faith in 
 your Heavenly Father, in your kind Heavenly Father, 
 who loves you, and will take care of you all your life. Oh, 
 Zoe 1 I am moved to tell you, my darling, always to trust 
 God even unto death. Faith is worth nothing, if it doei 
 not go beyond the grave. See, Zoe, yon have had enough, 
 and barely enough, to live on for the last three montas . 
 that is, October, November, and December ; but you were 
 afraid that we should have nothing for January, February, 
 and March, and so you denied yourself proper nutriment 
 and have suffered a waste of flesh and health and energy 
 which it will take some time to repair. If yon had had 
 faith, Zoe, yon would have been in a better condition now. 
 But no, darling; you said to yourself: 'It is true that we 
 have enough for this autumn, and only enough ; but if I do 
 not pinch this fall, we may perish with want next winter 
 Did 700 not, Zoe ?
 
 114 THX MOTHSR-I3-LJLW. 
 
 " Yes, father ; I forgot that ' sufficient unto the day if 
 the evil thereof;' but I remember that poor people do 
 sometimes perish by want." 
 
 " Never, darling 1 No one ever perishes by want, or 
 any other agent. They pass hence, who can conceive to 
 what comfort ? to what joy ? Go en calmly, Zoe : 'take no 
 thought for the morrow 1' Trust God through everything; 
 through all things ; even through the prospective horror* 
 of a death from starvation believing even that to be a 
 dark passage to a bright world. Life is made up of mo- 
 ments. Eternity is made up of moments. Be innocently 
 nappy with all the means and appliances God has given 
 you in the present, and trust hire with your future. There 
 is no danger that he will forget you. He ' knoweth that 
 you have need of these things.' Do not stint yourself, 
 Zoe," continued the old man, elocutionizing his words by 
 helping himself to a whole side of the chicken ; " do not 
 stint yourself, Zoe. It was not until the multitude had 
 eaten and were filled, that the fragments were gathered up. 
 The dependence, the faith, the wisdom of little children are 
 often held up to our view by the Divine Master. The pa- 
 rents of a little child give it just enough for one meal. It 
 is satisfied, happy ; consumes the whole without fear of 
 wanting another. But what would you think of the child 
 who, when its mother had given it a piece of bread, just 
 enough to satisfy hunger for the time being, should deny 
 himself, and putting aside half of it should say, ' I shall be 
 hungry again, and I am not sure my mother will give m 
 bread.' Would it not be monstrous revolting ? Well, 
 just as monstrous, just as revolting, is our habitual mani- 
 festation of distrust of our Divine Parent. I an not ;oun- 
 leling you against economy, but for economy in this ; for 
 was it not bad economy, dear child, to have consumed your 
 flesh and saved yonr means ? Is it not bad economy for a 
 nun to devote himself so exclusively to business as to waste
 
 "LOBD LION, KINO AT-ABMS." 116 
 
 health and strength, for the sake of saving time and making 
 money ? Great labor, great parsimony, are not either of 
 them economy. The proper limitations of getting and 
 keeping are your own necessities and the rights of others. 
 For instance, a man, in overworking himself, frequently 
 both injnres bis own health and deprives some one else of 
 * share of labor necessary to his support. In saving, a 
 snan too often hoards away that which is absolutely neces- 
 sary to the preservation of his own health and strength, or 
 jis neighbor's life. That is not right. Self-preservation 
 is the first law of nature, and should be obeyed. Next, the 
 superfluous coat or cloak should be given to him that had 
 none. But you are not drinking your coffee, Zoe ; drink 
 your coffee, child ;" and the old man, enforcing precept by 
 example, addressed himself to his supper, and did not speak 
 again until near its conclusion, when he said, 
 
 " Yes, I am glad ; I am thankful for this light arising 
 out of darkness ; though I knew before it dawned that the 
 Lord would not forget his old servant. Yes, I like it. It 
 will be pleasant to teach Greek to intelligent and appreci- 
 ating pnpils. It will be pleasant to be able to remain at 
 home, and receive the young people by my own fireside I 
 Yea, it is all pleasant 1" and the old man arose from the 
 table, and settled himself in his large arm-chair for the 
 whole evening. 
 
 Zoe cleared away the tea-things from the table, drew it 
 up to the fire, and seating herself on the opposite side, 
 drew out a half-finished purse and began to knit on it 
 The old man was less abstracted than usual. 
 
 "What is it thee's doing, Zoe f" he said. 
 
 He was frcrn Pennsylvania originally, and whenever hif 
 mood was peculiarly tender 1 3 fell into his Quaker dialect 
 
 " What is it thee's doing, Zoe 7" 
 
 *' Kuhting a purse, dear father." 
 A Christmas offering, darling f
 
 116 THI MOTHER- 1 3-LAW. 
 
 " Yes, father." 
 
 " Dear child, I know who it is for !" exclaimed the old 
 uian, looking in her face with so ranch benevolent affection, 
 bat so expressive of " it is for her old father," that the rose- 
 clouds rolled up over Zoe's face. He smiled at her embar- 
 rassment. She could not bear to deceive him. 
 
 "Dear father," she said, " I have got something for you : 
 omething nice something better than this ; but this is foe 
 for for Brutus." 
 
 A pause, a deep silence, ensued. Zee was silent from em- 
 barrassment ; the old man, apparently, from deep thought. 
 
 At last he said, " Come hither, Zoe ;" and she came. 
 
 " Sit on my knee, Zoe ;" and she sat. 
 
 He drew her arms around his neck, and taking her 
 face between his venerable palms, held it, looking into 
 her eyes, 
 
 " Does thee love Brutus Lion, Zoe ?" 
 
 Her eyes fell, her cheeks crimsoned ; she remained silent ; 
 ho steadily, lovingly gazing on her. 
 
 " Does thee, Zoe ?" 
 
 She, with her deep veneration, forced herself to reply, 
 
 " Father, on my soul's honor I do not know ! I know 
 the full depth of meaning in your question, and would n*t 
 trsat it with levity or evasion, but I do not know." 
 
 " Does he lore you J" 
 
 ' Yes, sir." 
 
 '' Howvdo you know ?" 
 
 "He has told me so many, many times." 
 
 "When?" 
 
 " Oh, often ! I could not tell you how often." 
 
 " He was here this morning P 
 
 Yes, sir." 
 
 ' Did he tell you he loved you this morning f " 
 
 'Yes, sir," replied Zoe, the Hood burning in .* cheek 
 m though it would take fire.
 
 "LORD LION, KING-AT-Aim." 117 
 
 "What did he say, Zoe ?" ask 3d the old man, caresi- 
 .ngly. 
 
 Zoe started, mused, grew pale, then flushed to her very 
 brow. 
 
 " What did he say, Zoe ?" persisted the old man, strok- 
 ing her hair. 
 
 " Father, he said nothing!" 
 
 The old man looked gravely in her face 
 
 "What do you mean, my darling ?" 
 
 Zoe was covered with confusion, she bowed her face in 
 his sheltering bosom, and he felt the tears on his neck. 
 
 "Zoe!" 
 
 " Father !" 
 
 " Tell me what is the matter, my darling." 
 
 But Zoe seemed overwhelmed with humiliation. She 
 eonld not raise her head or look him in the face. He lifted 
 np her head, and kissed her on the brow. She drew a long 
 breath, dashed away the tears and looking at him long and 
 earnestly in the face, said 
 
 " Father, I would not deceive yon willfully would I ?*' 
 
 "No, my darling child." 
 
 " Thank you for saying that, dear father ! Yet, father, I 
 have unwittingly deceived you, because I first deceived my- 
 self. You dispelled the illusion by asking me ' what did he 
 ay?'" 
 
 "I understand it all, my child. The love-tuned voice, 
 the love-beaming eye, speak a language stronger, more elo- 
 quent, more convincing, than words and maidens receive 
 it in all faith. And many an honest and honorable man 
 will hold himself guiltless of the wounded heart that thea* 
 only have won. Bat, Zoe, you are thoroughly convinced 
 that Brutus loves you, and you are not sure whether yo 
 return hia affection. How la that, Zoe ?" 
 
 "Dear father, I do not love to talk of it." 
 
 " Tour heart folds its leaves like the sensitive plant, even 
 7
 
 118 THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 at your father's tonch, dear Zoe ! why can you /id unbosom 
 yourself to me ? You think me old and cold. Ah, Zoe, the 
 heart that has not done or suffered great wron/ is never old 
 or cold. Child ! my hair is white as snow, you see, mj 
 cheeks are withered and fallen, and my eyes are sunken and 
 Tery dim yet, Zoe under this shriveled bosom is a fresh, 
 young heart, and shrined in that heart is an image, which ia 
 also a fountain that keeps it green the image of a dear girl 
 I loved in youth, Zoe, and have loved all my life. She 
 went to Heaven, child, but has not even there forgotten me. 
 She ministers to me often ; she communes with me always. 
 If I were to attempt to prove this to yon, Zoe, you would 
 think the old man fanciful. I reveal this to give you courage 
 to give me your confidence, Zoe ; that you may not think 
 youth and old age, white hair and black, separate hearts 
 too far for sympathy. Now, then, Zoe, tell me I have 
 a motive for asking you how do you feel towards thii 
 man ? 
 
 " Father, I think of him as of no one else. He seems 
 separated and set apart from all the rest of the world. 
 Every face and form, however beautiful, elegant, graceful, it 
 may be, seems to me common, vulgar, by the side of him." 
 
 " fet, Zoe, he is not beautiful, elegant, or graceful f " 
 
 " I am not a coward or a fool, am I father ? yet when he 
 comes into the room " 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 She sank her voice to its lowest tones, and murmured 
 
 " I tremble all over ; and sometimes talk nonsense, with 
 out knowing what words I am using." 
 
 " And sometimes, Zoe, you laugh and talk with him cheer 
 fully and sensibly enough." 
 
 " Yes, sir ! but, father ! that is when he chooses to be 
 gay ; but, if, in the midst of that gayety, he suddenly stops, 
 and only looks me in the face, I fall into gravity, life be- 
 rery serious, very solemn, very real to m. Mirth
 
 "LOBD LION KINQ-AT-^BMS." 119 
 
 eems mockery, laughter seems levtLy. No man's eye affect* 
 my soul so, father." 
 
 14 This is a very painful influence, is it, Zoe ?" 
 
 " Oh, no, father 1 It is deep, sweet, solemn, like a chnrch 
 chant." 
 
 "Zoel" 
 
 "Well, father." 
 
 " You love Brutus Lion, and you can never become hii 
 wife." 
 
 " Father !" 
 
 "Never, Zoe." 
 
 " But I did not expect, I did not hope to ; I am sur* I 
 did not." 
 
 " He is of an old and haughty family you, Zoe, are m 
 foundling." 
 
 " I know it," murmured the maiden. 
 
 " Yet you, in your secret heart, hoped that this might b 
 overcome ; that he might stoop to lift you to bis level on 
 your truth, did you not ?" 
 
 Zoe bowed her head lowly, sadly. 
 
 " He is wealthy, you are penniless ; but you thought never 
 of this as an objection, but believed that his superfluities 
 might supply your deficiencies. Ha, child ?" 
 
 Again she bowed her head, slowly, lowly. 
 
 "All this might happen, Zoe the patrician might stoop 
 to the plebeian ; the millionaire to the beggar. Brutoi 
 Lion might offer his hand and name in marriage to Zoe, 
 yet Zoe can never be the wife of Brutus Lien" 
 
 " Father I" 
 
 " It is true." 
 
 "Father!" 
 
 "It is fixed, inevitable, irrevocable." 
 
 "Oh! father." 
 
 " Zoef" said the old man, rebukingly, " ha* h ever ukd 
 you to tw hii \fe T '
 
 120 THE M OTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 " No, father, ' said she, speaking with more spirit than 
 usual, as if in defense of oue whose honor she felt was in some 
 way implicated in this conversation ; " no father, but he will. 
 He loves me, father, although he never has said so in set 
 terms. What, indeed, would be the use of set terms be- 
 tween us two ? I deceived myself only in thinking that ht 
 rer said so, not in the fact itself; and, father, I honor him, 
 I believe in him, if I believe in any person or thing in 
 heaven or on earth. But, how am I talking ! Oh ! dear 
 father ! how am I talking 1 It is so strange, is it not, for 
 me to be talking so ! But you draw everything out of me, 
 father. Well I go on." 
 
 " You love Brutus Lion ; he loves you. He will offer 
 you his hand ; you will accept it. Yet you will never be his 
 wife." 
 
 " Father will you object to it ?" 
 
 " My child yes." 
 
 " Again, father why ?" 
 
 " An insurmountable obstacle to your union exists, my 
 dear, said the old man, with the tears dimming his eyes." 
 
 " Father,'" said Zoe, in a suffocating voice, " father, I am 
 a foundling, as you say do you know or guess that I am 
 of of very near kin to Brutus ?" 
 
 " You are no kin t^ him, Zoe ; but it is not less cert*ii 
 that you eau never, never be his wife."
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 BRITANNIA. 
 
 Around her playful lips do glitter 
 
 Heat-lightnings of a girlish wora ; 
 Harmless they are, for nothing bitter 
 
 In that dear heart wac ever born. 
 That merry heart, that cannot H 
 Within its warm nest qnietly, 
 Bnt ever, from tbe fall, dark eye, 
 
 Is looking kindly night and morn. Wilii*. 
 
 " THIS lady's arrogance grows intolerable, insupportable^ 
 insufferable 1" exclaimed Britannia O'Riley, flinging open 
 her chamber-door, entering hastily, and walking np and 
 down the floor in excitement. 
 
 It was after some such scene as that of the drawing-room, 
 described in a former chapter. 
 
 " She treats me with more hauteur than sne showg the 
 lowest of her slaves, for the simple reason that she thinks it 
 impossible one of them should presume on her clemency, 
 and she fears it quite possible / might I I cannot endur* 
 it 1 this slow, cold, snow-fall of petrifying pride, congealing 
 as it descends. I wonder it does not dampen and chill me ! 
 I wonder it does not freeze me into apathy into death ! 
 Or I should wonder, if I did not recollect that the avalanche 
 of ice and snow heaped on Vesuvius's summit dots not 
 quench the fire in its bosom, does not prevent it breaking 
 out into a blaze, and burying a city or a province in its 
 lava I I am on the eve of an eruption, and Herculaneum 
 (which is Mrs. Armstrong) does not know it. Yes ; Mrt. 
 Armstrong kindles the fire in my bosom, fans it to flame, 
 and I tremble or the verge of an explosion every moment 
 
 (111)
 
 122 *H MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 I shall blow ont soon ; I know I feel I shall ; and thea 
 how the hot fire of my anger will fuse, scorch np, and an- 
 nihilate this lady's pride." 
 
 Brighty's strong melo-dramatic mood was foaming np ; 
 effervescing into comedy already. Her good humor was re- 
 turning. 
 
 "After all, I would not mini it if I could entirely keep 
 my temper. It is unpleasant to remember that I have said 
 sharp, sarcastic things to a lady of her age and standing 
 and she is a lady, with all her grave faults ; and grave faults 
 they are, capable, I sometimes think, of leading to great 
 crimes." 
 
 She paused and turned around, facing a picture that at- 
 tracted, magnetized her. It was Cordelia, with her fair brow, 
 serious eyes, and sweet lips. She gazed deep down into 
 the face, spell-bound. 
 
 " There is a filial piety free from the superstition, the morbid 
 excess that characterizes that of our Louise. Cordelia 
 eould live, labor, or die, for her father, but could not flatter 
 one weakness of the old king. I wish I had your meekness, 
 Cordelia, as well as your frankness ; then I should be able a 
 to bear this lady's haughtiness better than I do. 
 
 " I go to chnrch on Sunday morning, and I hear a good 
 sermon, and I come home thoughtful, fully determined to 
 conquer my own spirit to get a victory over my besetting 
 lin. Well, I am gentle all day. At night, lying awake, I 
 act over all the scenes in which Mrs. Armstrong is certainly 
 to play the supercilious I, (possibly,) to play the meek 
 and lowly in spirit. Very well. Monday, I keep guard 
 on myself. Tuesday, I grow tired of the sentinelship. 
 Wednesday, Mrs. Armstrocg does or says something offen- 
 sive to me. I am on fire ; I forget meekness ; I only re- 
 member courage, spirit, heroism, and I give her, in return, 
 a small hint of what I may, and, I am afraid, shall giro her 
 one of these lays, if I do not grow in grace farter th&a I 
 
 MSfTOWifif.
 
 BRITANNIA. 12S 
 
 I would there were preaching three times a week. I 
 cannot remember to be good fr:>m one Sunday to another. 
 Or I wish, oh, how I wish, some middle-aged preacher had 
 married me when I was fifteen. I am afraid a preacher 
 would have a terrible home with me now! And yet this ia 
 a poor way to pass life. Even suppose I shall live to b* 
 threescore and ten. I have passed one-third of that time, 
 and what have I done for God, for my neighbor, or even for 
 myself? Nothing! I wish I could be sure that I had been 
 of any real service to Louise in teaching her to read bad 
 French and worse Italian. But I know that I have not. 
 Here I am, lingering on, because the elegant luxury of this 
 establishment pleases me ; because I can enjoy it as if it 
 were my own. I wish I were not so enslaved by this love 
 of ease and elegance. I would go somewhere where I would 
 be of use. How I admire the self-resignation, the ascetic 
 self-denial of the Sisters of Charity. Ah me 1 I love Cor- 
 delia's meekness, and can't be meek. I admire Sister 
 Mary's or Sister Martha's self-devotion, but I can't be self- 
 devoted. A bundle of fine sentiments have I, instead of 
 good principles. How long is this life to last ? It cannot 
 last long ; at least, this Mont Crystal chapter, for Louise is 
 nearly sixteen, and I think her mother will not want my 
 services much longer. And then where ? Ah ! that strikes 
 me pleasantly ; fancy is free to roam all over the earth for 
 another home. 'The world is all before me, where to 
 choose.' The uncertainty is pleasant. Shall I nex.t live in 
 a hilly country or a level one ! in the interior or on the 
 seashore ? Shall I go north, south, east, or west ? At any 
 rate, what new faces, what new landscapes, shall I see? 
 Yes, this vagrant respectably vagrant life, is vastly agree- 
 able. So agreeable, that I wish to redeem it by great 
 ntility. Yes, 'my lines are cast in pleasant places ;' this ii 
 a free, careless life enough. The vagueness of the future is 
 piquant ; truly I would n< t resign the gay liberty of my
 
 124 tHX M3THER-IX-LAW. 
 
 present life ; nothing would tempt me to resign it bat tht 
 prospect no, the certainty of taking the head of some 
 splendid palace as its mistress. Truly there is something 
 of the gipsy in my disposition ; I am a blending of the 
 empress and the Zingaro. Ah, I have it. It is known 
 that the west of Ireland, from whence I come, was settled 
 by a colony of Spaniards, ages ago. Now, I know that I 
 am descended by many generations from one of the old 
 sovereigns of the soil and a Ziugaro emigrant, or squatter, 
 and hence comes my love of elegant palace-houses, and also 
 the wandering liberty of wild nature. No, nothing would 
 tempt me to leave this pleasant, governessing life, with its 
 piquant varieties, and uncertainties, and unexpected crises, 
 except the invitation to take the head of just such a splen- 
 did palace as that upon the Isle of Kays. Mont Crystal is 
 a magnificent place, but the Palace of the Isle is something 
 to go crazy about. And now I wonder why I am always 
 dreaming of that Island Palace. I never dream of its in- 
 mates. Surely I have no half-formed matrimonial design 
 on Louis Stuart-Gordon, the boy heir of the Island Estate. 
 I am only a poor governess, without an eagle left in my purse, 
 yet I should not accept the hand of Louis Stuart-Gordon, 
 were the honor tendered me to-day. I would not take the 
 Island Estate, with that incumbrance, delicate and elegant 
 as he is, or rather, because of his elegance and delicacy. I 
 Lave elegance and delicacy enough myself for two people, 
 and consequently he who marrfes me, must be rough enough 
 to make strength supposable, or I'll none of him. There- 
 fore, I am innocent of all covert designs on Louis Stuart- 
 Gordon. Now, then, why is it, that whenever I call up 
 Images of my possible future homes, no picture but that of 
 the Isle of Rays rises at my summons ? Ah, now I know 
 the reason. It is an epidemic among all the marriageable 
 girls of the Valley, for a hundred miles around, and I have 
 bToluntarily caught the infection ; that is it 1 I must 4^
 
 Jf JL T E JUMFEB. 125 
 
 well. Ah 1 there is Kate Jumper passing into Mrs. Arm- 
 strong's chamber ; a privy council to be held there ; I 
 wonder upon what subject. Happily, it is none of my 
 business." And Brighty began to make her evening toilet* 
 and was soon absorbed in the interesting occupation. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 KATE JUMPER. 
 
 Ton shall find ner the Infernal Ate in strange apparel. I -wish some 
 would conjure her. Much. Ado About Nothing. 
 
 LET us accompany " Kate Jumper" into the chamber of 
 her mistress, whither she had been summoned. 
 
 There was something sinister, appaling, almost spectral, 
 about the look of this woman. 
 
 She was a mulatto of the tallest altitude, in whose face 
 the negro features were not only decided, but grossly exag- 
 gerated. The low, receding forehead, was lower and more 
 receding; the nose larger, flatter, broader; the lips thicker, 
 and more protruding even, than usual. Her goblin-lik* 
 appearance was enhanced by a head of hair, never cut, that 
 grew out an immense black bush all over her head ; by her 
 dress of dusty, black stuff, and by the man's hat that habit- 
 nally surmounted the black bush. Kate Jumper was the 
 loathing of all the neighborhood, and the terror of all the 
 children. She had been the confidential attendant of Mrs. 
 Armstrong in her early youth, and ever since Ler marriage 
 he filled that important post. She had been the nurse, 
 and now also acted as the maid of the young girl of whont 
 her mother took too jealous care to intrust her in the handi 
 ef anothe' servant
 
 129 THE MOTHER-IN-LAW, 
 
 Doffing her hat and setting it down at the door, Cat* 
 Jumper entered the chamber of her mistress, whom she 
 found at her evening toilet, Louise, as usual, sitting on a 
 low chair near her. 
 
 " My daughter, go and sit with your governess nutil she 
 is ready," said the lady, on seeing her maid enter. 
 
 Louise arose, lifted the hand of her mother respectfully 
 to her lips, and left the room. 
 
 The lady brought her attendant to her side by a gesture. 
 
 Resigning the arrangement of her gold-colored Irish 
 gauze turban into the hands of her maid, she continued 
 gome time in silence. At length she inquired, with seem- 
 ing indifference 
 
 " Do you know where young Stuart-Gordon is, and what 
 he is about, just now ?" 
 
 " He is still at home, at the Isle, madam." 
 
 " Ah I I had not seen or heard of him lately, and fancied 
 that he bad left the neighborhood. How does he amuse 
 himself at the present time ?" 
 
 " They say that he is going to see Miss Somerville." 
 
 "Howl" exclaimed the lady, turning around so suddenly 
 and sharply as to throw into chaos the elegant folds of the 
 head-dress under Kate Jumper's hands. But quickly re- 
 covering her composure and dignity, she inquired quietly 
 
 " They say so I Who say so ?" 
 
 "It is the common report of the whole neighborhood, 
 madam. Every one says that it will be a match." 
 
 "And upon what grounds do they, everybody, assert 
 such impossibilities, such absurdities ?" 
 
 " Madam, Mr. Stuart-Gordon spends every forenoon at 
 The Crags ; Miss Susan Soinerville comes every evening to 
 make tea at the Isle." 
 
 " How long haa this gone on ?" 
 
 "For the :,:st two weeks, madam."
 
 KATE JUMPER. 127 
 
 "And Mr. Stuart Gordon has spent every forenoon, foi 
 the last two weeks, at The Crags ?" 
 
 " Yes, madam." 
 
 " And Miss Somerville has come over, every evening, to 
 tea at the Isle ?" 
 
 " Yes, madam." 
 
 " Inexplicable 1 And no lady no matron to counte- 
 nance her visits ?" 
 
 "No madam." 
 
 " Disgraceful 1 What ! do you mean to say that she 
 made these visits alone ?" 
 
 " Not alone, madam ; Harriet, her housekeeper, attende 
 her." 
 
 " No proper attendant on such an occasion ; and, indeed, 
 no proper attendant could have been found, the visit itself 
 being highly improper. How is the General supposed to 
 look upon this strange proceeding ?" 
 
 " He is very fond of Miss Susan Somerville." 
 
 " He offers no impediment to this proposed marriage ?" 
 
 "No, madam." 
 
 "You may go." 
 
 Kate Jumper left the room, and the lady fell into pro- 
 found thought. 
 
 Mrs. Armstrong was no vulgar manoeuvring match-maker, 
 yet she had silently and naturally betrothed Louise to Louis,, 
 from her very cradle, and there seemed every sort of pro- 
 priety in such a betrothal ; the fitness of relative age, rank, 
 wealth, proximity of estates, &c. And there were many 
 strange coincidences in their circumstances. Both were 
 only children, both were sole heirs, both were born on the 
 same day of the same month the maiden being just two 
 years younger than the youth. The coincidence extended 
 even to their names Louis and Louise. They were de- 
 yoted to each other as children. Their birthdays were 
 celebrated together. One year, the festivities would to
 
 128 THE MOTHEB-IN-LAW. 
 
 held at Mont Crystal ; the next year at the Isle. The 
 parents of these children would lave thought it almost sin 
 if they had supposed that, in after life, either would hay* 
 thought of wedding any but the other ; but, though the 
 thought of the future marriage of these children and these 
 estates was ever in the hearts, it was never on the tongue* 
 of the parents, the practice of betrothing children in their 
 cradles never having existed in Virginia, aristocratic and 
 conservative as that patrician State is known to be. Thii 
 is not saying, however, that in Virginia lands are not more 
 frequently married than hearts, and that love -matches are 
 not held in especial contempt " love being a sentiment 
 that Thomas, the coachman, feeis for Betty, the housemaid, 
 and which generally ends in converting the said Thomas 
 from a genteel servant into a slovenly brute, and Betty 
 from a neat-handed Abigail to a haggard slattern, beaten 
 by a drunken husband, and dragged at by ten squalling 
 children." Love is not a gentlemanly or a lady-like pro- 
 pensity. Southern aristocrats, however, leave this to the 
 instinct of nobility supposed to be resident in the bosoms 
 of their young patricians, and, therefore, would never think 
 it necessary to take advantage of the nonage of their chil- 
 dren, to bind them by such contracts if they could. Least 
 of all, would Mrs. Armstrong, withheld by a sentiment of 
 pride or the Stuart-Gordons, restrained by principle least 
 of all would they have affianced their children in infancy. 
 Still it was in the minds of both. The annual celebration 
 of the birthdays was kept up, and a competition of splendor, 
 as to who should distinguish the day with greatest magnifi- 
 cence, interested the families of Mont Crystal and of The 
 Isle of Rays. The very last celebration of the birthdays 
 was held at the Isle of Rays, gentle Margaret Stuart-Gor- 
 don presiding over the festival. This was just a month 
 before her sudden death overwhelmed her bereaved familj 
 with sorrow, the whole neighborhood with gloom.
 
 K A f X J U M P K R. 129 
 
 Wr have sean that Mrs. Armstrong possessed one master 
 , PRIDE; one predominant affection, MATERNAL LOVE; 
 The sovereignty of her soul was a di-uravirate, and the 
 two powers that divided it were equally potent, and for a 
 long time upiied, pride being firmly wedded to, and highly 
 flattered by, the favored object of her maternal affection 
 But, as Louise approached womanhood, these passions 
 began to conflict, thus 
 
 The time was slowly but surely approaching when it 
 would be proper for the heiress of Mont Crystal to be mar- 
 ried. Her pride was interested in seeing her married, and 
 established as the mistress of the most magnificent mansion 
 and the greatest estate in the valley, and pride, enlisting 
 policy on her side, would suffer no delay, run no risk of the 
 loss of this desideratum. But her maternal love, if the 
 fierce, selfish, and exacting passion deserved the name, 
 rebelled against this decision. Pride would have been 
 highly gratified by seeing Miss Armstrong, as Mrs. Stuart- 
 Gordon, mistress of the Island Palace. Maternal love was 
 grieved at the anticipation that her daughter should become 
 the wife of Louis, maternal jealousy aroused by the thought 
 that Louise should derive the happiness of her life from any 
 other than herself. It is true, the mother coveted for her 
 daughter no happiness that did not flow through herself. 
 It is true, the thought of seeing Louise in another home, 
 united to another a more genial, a more beloved, a life- 
 long companion of seeing her surrounded by an infant 
 family, which with her husband should occupy the largest 
 share of her thoughts and affections of feeling herself the 
 mother of one only child, becoming of less and less import- 
 ance to the happinesa of that child, as year by year went by 
 and aged her this thought inflicted upon her selfish heart 
 the sharpest pang it was capable of feeling. Could she 
 feave conquered pride, resign the thought of establishing 
 Kin Armstrong, and even selfishly determine to indnlgt
 
 180 THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 her maternal jealousy, and keep her daughter foiover an- 
 wedded and at home or, could she have subdued her ma- 
 ternal jealousy, and gratified pride by seeing Louise at the 
 summit of her ambition in a word, could one or the other 
 of her evil passions have obtained the mastery of her soul, 
 he would have been a less tortured woman. Hell is the 
 less intolerable for having but one sovereign. If it be the 
 consummation of all horrors to our conceptions now, what 
 would it be in civil war? 
 
 Mrs. Armstrong could not or would not put an end to 
 the civil disturbance ; it was not yet civil war in her own 
 goul. Not from indecision no one had a stronger will 
 when she pleased to exert it but from a selfish, grasping 
 wish to derive the greatest amount of grati6cation from 
 both her ruling propensities. 
 
 She was resolved that ultimately Miss Armstrong should 
 become mistress of the Isle of Rays ; yet, as her daughter's 
 proposed husband approached manhood, she conceived a 
 Btrong and growing aversion to him, as the person destined 
 to divide with her her place in her only chilli's heart, her 
 influence over her only child's life. 
 
 Her manner had grown cold to Louis. She had dis- 
 couraged the intimacy of the children, and the estrangement 
 increased with years, and was interrupted only by the 
 annual birthday festivities. Since the death of Margaret 
 Stuart-Gordon, the estrangement had become total a dead 
 silence fell between the once closely connected families, a 
 ilence broken at last by the strange rumor of Louis 
 
 " Fools 1" silently sneered the lady, as her attendant 
 retired ; " Fools ! Do they really suppose that General 
 Stuart-Gordon for a single instant contemplates the possi- 
 bility of hio only son, Louis, the sole heir of the great 
 Island Estate, marrying a penniless girl, an uneducated 
 rnntlc, like Susan Somerville ? Little would General Stuart- 
 Gordon fel flattertd by tht construction placed by th*
 
 KJLTX JUMPS*. 1S1 
 
 neighborhood upon his politeness to Miss Somerrlllc, and 
 that, by the way, shon.d be a lesson for such mistaken 
 civility and indiscriminate association. No ; there is not 
 in all the mountains a proper bride for Louis Stuart-Gordon, 
 sate one my daughter, Louise Armstrong; no eligible 
 natch for the heir of the Island Estate, except one the 
 fteiress of Mont Crystal. I had supposed there was time 
 nongh" and a shadow fell, softening the hard brow. "I 
 had supposed that there was time enough that Louis 
 needed not for some years to come think of matrimony, 
 lince he will not be eighteen until the 22d of next February, 
 when my daughter will have completed her fifteenth year. 
 But it seems that, since the death of Mrs. Stuart-Gordon, 
 the Island Palace is supposed to need a mistress, taat 
 General Stuart-Gordon has expressed a strong desire that 
 his son should marry early, and give it one. Louis is very 
 young, too young. General Stuart-Gordon's tastes are 
 strictly domestic. He wants a home, and thinks that, in 
 his regal palace, he cannot have one without a woman. 
 Bad 1 foolish ! If Louis does not make a choice soon, he 
 will he will he does not think so, but / know it. He 
 thinks now only of eternal fidelity to that ' ascended saint,' 
 M he calls his deceased wife, but already he has ceased to 
 groan and sigh after his saint in heaven, and begins to feel 
 that he is still on earth, with all earth's wants pressing upon 
 him. He will be mad enough to think of a second mar- 
 riage. I wish Mrs. Stuart-Gordon had not thought proper 
 to die her death has disturbed the economy of my plans 
 rery much. The late Mrs. Stuart-Gordon was a lady, and 
 it really does not suit me to see an inferior take her place 
 M the head of an establishment my daughter is one day tc 
 ester as a bride. She might be one with whom I could not 
 associate ; she might be yonng, and so keep Louise half bar 
 life in a subordinate position in the household. I could not 
 cdv* that ! Mill Armstrong when she enters that bout
 
 132 f H X MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 Mrs. Stuart-Gordo i, must take the head of tne establish 
 ment. Bat I am not disposed soon to part with my only 
 daughter ; yet, a crisis approaches one of three things is 
 likely to happen : General Stuart-Gordon may marry that 
 is the first contingency ; or press Louis to make choice of a 
 wife that is the second ; or Lonis may have conceived a 
 boyish passion for Susan Somerville or some other equally 
 ineligible girl, and all girls are ineligible in my estimation, 
 except one young lady. Louis had a decided preference 
 for Louise. I have estranged them lately, since the decease 
 of Mrs. Stuart-Gordon. Well 1 I do not regret it I 
 would not cheapen my daughter nevertheless, now is the 
 time to change deportment. Mrs. Stuart-Gordon has been 
 dead eight months. It is to be presumed that the first 
 violent effects of grief have passed away ; that the bereaved 
 are willing now to be amused. The doors of Mont Crystal 
 have been closed to festivities since the decease of the lady 
 of the Island Palace, out of compliment to the Island family. 
 The portals of Mont Crystal must now be thrown open to 
 visitors from the Isle. The palace doors of the Isle must 
 swing apart, to give entrance to the ladies of Mont Crystal, 
 when they shall occasionally make a call. The friendly, the 
 intimate association of the families must be resumed. Now 
 is the favorable time to commence. Christmas approaches. 
 Christmas festivity shall again enliven Mont Crystal. I will 
 invite a Christmas party to the house give a ball and 
 dinner. For once, I will invite the Somerville's. I wish 
 to observe for myself the terms upon which these two young 
 people appear to be. Yes, I will gather all the young 
 people of the neighborhood, many of whom I have not seen 
 rince they reached womanhood, and I will take note of any 
 possible rival my daughter may have but, what do I say ? 
 Louise Hector Armstrong must have no rivalry, must enter 
 Into no competition ;" and, rising, the lady entered her 
 private sitting-room, and, ringing the bell, sent the servant
 
 KATE JUMPER. 188 
 
 who answered to request the immediate attendance of MU 
 O'Kiley. 
 
 Brighty entered three minutes afterward. 
 
 "Sit down, Miss O'Riley. I have been planning sorat 
 amusements for my daughter. " 
 
 Britannia looked interested. 
 
 " In accordance with your advice, Miss O'Riley." 
 
 Britannia bowed in acknowledgment of the compliment, 
 snd silently awaited further communication. 
 
 " I shall invite General and Mr. Stuart-Gordon, Major 
 and Miss Somerville, to spend Christmas week at Mont 
 Crystal." 
 
 Britannia smiled to herself when she heard General 
 Stuart-Gordon's name, and started with surprise as that of 
 the interdicted Susan Somerville met her ear. 
 
 "As our party will be a Christmas one, it is not strictly 
 necessary that we be exclusive. All may unbend a little at 
 Christmas." 
 
 " Certainly," assented Miss O'Riley. 
 
 " During their stay, I shall give a dinner and ball, and 
 it is in relation to that, more particularly, that I have re- 
 quested your presence. Will you have the goodness to sit 
 down at my writing-table, and make out, at my dictation, a 
 list of guests to be invited." 
 
 " With great pleasure, madam," said Britannia, taking 
 the indicated seat, and, dipping her pen in ink arid laying a 
 sheet of paper before her, she held herself in readiness for 
 the task. 
 
 A list of about thirty names was made out, and Britannia 
 absolutely dropped her pen and stared in astonishment when 
 the thirty-first name given was Gertrude Lion, and thirty- 
 second, Zoe Dove. What does Mrs. Armstrong mean ? 
 Was she converged ? Was she going to die ? 
 
 "You look slocked, Miss O'Riley, and I am glad to e 
 that you do. I had feared that you favored those young
 
 134 THI MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 ladies to a degree that I should disapprove in Miss Arm 
 strong's governess. I ara glad to see that the idea of inn- 
 ting them to Mont Crystal displeases yon." 
 
 " No ! " said Brighty, " surprises me. I had not expec- 
 ted" 
 
 " Sock a proceeding on my part. Perhaps not. Yet, 
 as my contemplated party is to be quite a large one, it is 
 rot obliged to be very select. There will be several guests 
 at the ball that I would not upon any account invite to 
 Mont Crystal upon any other occasion, and these young 
 ladies are among the number. Yet they are of thoroughly 
 respectable parentage, whatever they may be in other 
 respects. Nevertheless, Miss O'Riley, I shall expect you 
 to keep your pupil separate and at a distance from these 
 persons." 
 
 Britannia bowed coolly, and presently asked 
 
 " May I inquire, Mrs. Armstrong, if there be any thing 
 affecting the moral character of these young women ?" 
 
 " Assuredly not, Miss O'Riley. My inviting them to Mont 
 Crystal at any time and under any circumstances should 
 be a sufficient guarantee that they are stainless, unimpeach- 
 able. Why do you ask such an irrelevant, such a singular, 
 I had nearly said such an impertinent, question ?" 
 
 " I could not conjecture the reason why you dread the 
 contagion of their proximity so much, unless there were 
 Rome pestilential moral malaria evolved from them," said 
 Brighty, with assumed naivete. 
 
 " They at least Miss Lion is eccentric has been dis- 
 tinguished by a sobriquet. Zoe, though sufficiently refined 
 and intelligent, of course* has no claims of equality and tho 
 order of rank is to be o* served, Miss O'Riley. 
 
 Here such a decided curl twisted the pretty upper lip ol 
 Brighty, that Mrs. Armstrong observing it, said, haughtily 
 
 " At least Miss O'Riley, Miss Armstrong's mcther dis-
 
 KATK JUMPER. ISf 
 
 approves of the acquaintance, and has undoubtedly a right 
 to object to certain associations for her daughter." 
 
 "Most certainly," assented Britannia, and gave her atten- 
 tion to her work. 
 
 "When the list of about a hundred names was complete 
 
 " Now, Miss O'Riley, will you oblige me by writing 
 cards of invitation addressed to each name of your list ?" 
 
 Miss O'Riley bowed compliance, and the lady, rising, 
 withdrew to have a consultation with her housekeeper. 
 
 A Christmas party at Mont Crystal ! This was some- 
 thing new under the sun I It disturbed somewhat the 
 majestic solemnity habitually reigning at Mont Crystal. 
 Mrs. Armstrong was engaged ; Brighty excited ; even the 
 pale, wan, spiritual Louise became childishly interested in 
 the new dresses selected for her for the occasion dresses 
 that were to be made long, as ladies wore them the first 
 dresses that she had ever had made so. Her pale, gold 
 hair was to be combed out of curl, trained up around a 
 comb and dressed with sapphires ; the plain gold hoops in 
 her ears were to give place to sapphire ear-rings ; these 
 things had been sent for ; and in short, Louise understood 
 that " Miss Armstrong " was about to " come out " at the 
 ensuing Christmas. That was another subject of excite- 
 ment among the household, who, from Kate Jumper, the 
 prime-minister, down to the tiny mulatto boy, whose office 
 it was to wait on the governess, some from affection, some 
 from mere love of any circumstance that might vary the 
 monotony of their lives, took a lively interest in all the 
 affairs of the family. All were busy, all were happy. The 
 only clouded brow was that of Mrs. Armstrong, who walked 
 majestically through her superb rooms, giving orders with 
 the air of an undertaker directing a funeral. Her occasional 
 appearance in the still-room, (the room set apart for pre- 
 erving, pickling, distilling, &c., is thus called in old Virgi- 
 via mansions,) cast a damper on the spirits of the hons*
 
 136 THE MOTHBE-IN-LAW. 
 
 keeper and her assistants, who were engaged there in pr* 
 paring confectionery for the coming festival. 
 
 A Christmas party in a Virginian planter's house I DJ 
 you know what that is, reader ? I advise those who do not, 
 to set out immediately to the Valley this is the proper 
 geasoa and get their limbs dislocated on the detestable 
 roads the turnpikes are now in a proper trim for such ca- 
 tastrophes and get picked up and carried into some plan- 
 ter's house, for the sake of being a cherished guest in the 
 coming Christmas holidays/ and to have an opportunity of 
 getting over their prejudices against Virginian aristocracy 
 You who have never visited Virginia, (a Summer trip to 
 the White Sulphur Springs is not visiting Virginia, to know 
 it, any more than a trip to Nahant is making a Southerner 
 aufait to the character and habits of New England) you 
 who have never visited Virginia, have no conception of what 
 Virginian hospitality is. It reminds one of the feudal ages, 
 when the ox was roasted entire, whole pipes of ale broached, 
 (I beg pardon of total abstinence,) and the baron's gates 
 thrown open to all comers when hospitality, with a flag of 
 truce, arrested for a time all neighborhood feuds. You, 
 t?ho live in cities, and sneer at Old Virginia and F. F. V's, 
 {all are not F. F. V's who pretend to be so,) have no con- 
 ception of what a Virginian planter's family at home is. 
 You, who provide your families from market-stalls, grocery 
 tores, confectioners, and so forth, have no idea of what a 
 real Virginian housewife of the first class is of what Virgi- 
 nian housekeeping, Virginian cellars, larders, and still-rooms 
 re. Their hams, smoked beef, &c., are quite different arti- 
 cles from those you buy in stores : and their milk, cream, 
 and butter and their poultry and eggs are such as you 
 leldom see in market. Virginian matrons have an old- 
 fiuhioted pride in their housekeeping. Why, they have 
 been preparing for Christmas for weeks past ! And such 
 Itorw u they hart to prepare from There is little to be
 
 CATS JUMP IK.. IS? 
 
 bought every thing is at hand. The still-room closets fur- 
 nish the dried fruits, the preserves, the jellies, and even the 
 domestic cordials, wines, and essences it is for the prepa- 
 ration of these things that the still-room has been set apart 
 The dairy supplies butter, milk, and cream ; the domestic 
 hen-house gives the eggs, large and fresh, the poultry-yard 
 Applies the turkeys, geese, and ducks they have been fat- 
 tening for a month past. Then in the meat-house, the great 
 Christmas round of beef has been down in spices for weeks, 
 and the huge Christmas ham is already cured, and the 
 Christmas pies are in fine order. There will be great doings 
 in Virginian country-houses this blessed Christmas. There 
 will be huge bowls of egg-nog brewed before breakfast, and 
 every negro on the plantations will come up to wish a merry 
 Christmas, and to get his glass of brandy, and will come to 
 breakfast with something extremely extra. And then the 
 family will go to church in the old family carriage, and per- 
 haps bring the preacher, if he is a single man, home to din- 
 ner. The afternoon will be spent in jollity, and the evening 
 will close with a dancing-party. They are great dancers in 
 the country, with an old negro officiating as a fiddler for 
 even a first family cannot at all times command a band of 
 music, if they are resident away up in the mountains, or 
 hidden in remote valleys. So it will be some " old Uncle 
 Ned," or "old Uncle Ben," who " play the fiddle for the 
 ladies." By the way, you could not go into a Maryland or 
 Virginian neighborhood, where there was not some fiddling 
 Old Nick or Old Harry, who was the musical wonder of his 
 email world a perfect Paganini in ebony and whose ser- 
 rices were always in great demand on merry-making occa- 
 sions. You would be sur prised at the musical genius of 
 some of these old negroes. There, Christmas week is the 
 slave's Saturnalia. Those who have been hired out, come 
 home : their year is out on Christmas Eve, and all have a 
 holiday until th 3d of January ; that is, all except a ftw
 
 188 THE MOTHIB-I5-LAW. 
 
 that are needed about the house, and even they take tnrni 
 in going oat. 
 
 We digress. Let us return. There will be great doings 
 at all Maryland and Virginian country-houses this season ; 
 but none, I will venture to say, will approach in splendor 
 the Christmas festivities that will celebrate the coming out 
 of the youthful heiress of Mont Crystal 
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 TH CHRISTMAS PARTY AT MONT CRYSTAL 
 
 Hit the bright goblet ! Spread the festive board I 
 
 Summon the gay, the youthful, and the fair! 
 Through the land hall, iu joyous concert poured, 
 
 Let mirth and music sound the dir^e of ears ! 
 
 But ask tbou not if happiness be there- 
 If the loud laugh disguise convulsive throe, 
 
 Or if the brow the heart's true livery wear ; 
 Lift not the fe&tal mask t enough to know 
 No MCne of mortal life, but teeing with mortal woe. Scott. 
 
 IN Maryland aud Virginia, from a religious sentiment, 
 T from a superstitious observance, most persons choose to 
 eat their Christinas dinner at home. Therefore few invi- 
 tations to dinner on Christmas day are accepted, unless it 
 be in the case of the youug married sons and daughters, 
 who meet to dine at the house of the head of their family. 
 For this reason, the party invited to spend the holidays at 
 Mont Crystal did not assemble until the day after Christ- 
 mas. Mont Crystal and its inmates were in great state to 
 receive their guests. The gold fringed curtains, hanging from 
 the central arch that divided the two apartments, as fold- 
 ing doors divide them now, were drawn up with golden cord 
 and tassel into graceful festoons, thus throwing the twc
 
 TEI CHBISTMAS PARTY. 1S9 
 
 rooms into one magnificent saloon, glowing with Its sob 
 dued crimson lights and shadows. Far down the gorgeous 
 vista, and deep in the burning gloom of its extremity, wag 
 the recess of a large bay window, whose rich drapery of 
 crimson velvet, fringed with gold, swept finely down on 
 either side of a luxurious sofa placed below. Beneath thia 
 gorgeous canopy, and amid the piles of crimson satin 
 cushions, reclined the beautiful form of Miss Armstrong, 
 attended by her governess. Never was a greater contrast 
 in beauty than that presented by these two young girls, aa 
 their figures were thrown out into beautiful relief by the 
 crimson background of their seat both so charming, yet 
 so unlike. Louise, reclining, with her fair, transparent 
 complexion, with her mild blue eyes and pale gold wavy 
 hair, with her fragile and drooping form arrayed in white 
 muslin as soft and pliable as her gentle disposition ; Bri- 
 tannia standing, with her fierce blue-black eyes, her glisten- 
 ing black tresses curling down her snowy forehead and 
 carnation cheeks, with her stately figure, attired in a rich 
 dark-green brocade, embroidered with a deep border of va- 
 riegated flowers a dress dignified as her own spirited tem- 
 per. They were a beautiful contrast, Britannia was hand- 
 some Louise, pretty. Brighty was elegant Louise, grace- 
 ful ; Brighty was brilliant Louise, gentle ; Brighty, stately 
 Louise, graceful ; Brighty was witty and satirical Lou- 
 ise, benevolent and confiding ; Brigbty, audacious Louise, 
 timid ; Brighty lived chiefly on her intellect Louise, on 
 her affections ; in a word, Brighty was fascinating Louise, 
 lovely. 
 
 Far up the other end of the saloon, and facing the main 
 entrance, stood Mrs. Armstrong, her majestic form arrayed 
 in the sweeping folds of a black velvet robe, her rich, abun- 
 dant hair confined in a bla/k bugle net On her right 
 hand, attending her and occasionally conversing with her, 
 stood a young man in the black dress of a clergyman. He
 
 140 THl 1COTHEB-IX-L1.W. 
 
 was of a delicate form ; a thin but highly bat intellectual 
 face, with his pale broad forehead softly shaded by fine, 
 thin, silky black curls. His manners were gentle and cour- 
 teous, and his voice soft and sweet. This was Willis Linds- 
 lay the nephew of Mrs. Armstrong, and a student in the 
 
 Theological College of . He had come down to 
 
 tpend his Christmas at Mont Crystal, and now stood with 
 the lady to assist iu receiving her guests. The visitors, as 
 they in succession alighted from their carriages, were re- 
 eeired by the porter, who throwing open the hall door, 
 pasted them into the care of a servant stationed there to at- 
 tend them to their respective rooms. Thence, after having 
 arranged their toilet, they passed into the saloon at the en- 
 trance of which Mrs. Armstrong received each guest with the 
 stately courtesy of a Virginian lady of the old school. First 
 as punctuality with a lady and hostess was a chivalric virtue 
 of that old gentleman came General Stuart-Gordon, with 
 his erect military air. He advanced with a deep, slow, 
 reverential bow, met by the lady's slight imperial bend, as 
 she said, graciously 
 
 " General Stuart-Gordon, yon are most welcome to Mont 
 Crystal." 
 
 "I am honored in becoming once more the gnest of Mrs. 
 Armstrong," replied the aged Chesterfield, with a second 
 and deeper reverence, as he gallantly took the place on her 
 left hand, after slightly, en passant, acknowledging the bow 
 of the young clergyman. 
 
 Mr. Stuart-Gordon, we are happy to receive yon. My 
 daughter, Miss Armstrong, will be pleased to see her old 
 choolmate. You will find her at the other end of the room," 
 miled the lady, as Louis Stuart-Gordon entered, and she 
 gracefully passed him on. Louis immediately and gladh 
 ought Louise. Next came old Major Somerville, with hb 
 venerable head thinly scattered over by a few Biker hairs on 
 UM temples, vith hia form bowed and tottering witl
 
 TH1 CHRISTMAS PABTY. 141 
 
 extreme old age, as he leaned on the arm of his grand- 
 daughter, the calm Susan. Mrs. Armstrong advanced to 
 receive the patriarch wjth more than usual courtesy. 
 
 " Major Somerville, it affords me pleasure to see you at 
 my house. The ladies of our family have long missed the 
 good and wise counsels of their oldest neighbor, and best 
 and most venerable friend 1 Miss Somerville, you are wel- 
 come ; my daughter will know how to value the privilege 
 of your society, having lost it so long. Mr. Lindslay, Miss 
 Somerville is looking weary ; do me the favor to give Major 
 Somerville the support of your arm to a comfortable seat." 
 
 The old gentleman bowed low, with the reverential gal- 
 lantry of the olden time ; Susan slightly bent her head, and 
 the veteran and the maiden passed on, conducted by Willis 
 Lindslay. 
 
 "Ha, ha, ha ! ha, ha, ha ! ha, ha, ha I" were the peals of 
 laughter that, ringing out like silver bells from the hall, 
 broke upon the decorous silence, startled the stately compo- 
 sure, and shocked the august propriety of this ceremonious 
 reception. 
 
 "Ha, ha, ha I ha, ha, ha I ha, ha, ha I" 
 
 Every one in that superb room paused, looked toward 
 the door, listened ! 
 
 "Ha, ha, ha! ha, ha, ha! ha, ha, ha!" 
 
 Mrs. Armstrong drew herself up in awful majesty. 
 
 " Ha, ha, ha ! ha, ha, ha-a-a-aw," rung out the musical 
 laughter approaching screaming shouting; and Ger- 
 trnde Lion burst into the midst of them like a ball dis- 
 charged from a cannon. 
 
 The effect of her entrte was petrifying. Each member 
 of the company was arrested in the attitude in which he or 
 he happened to be standing or sitting. 
 
 While they stood transfixed enchanted I will describe 
 this girl this savage beauty, as she stood among the con- 
 ventional circle assemble! at Mont Crystal.
 
 142 TEX MOTHEB-IN-LJLW. 
 
 There she stood, nearly six ftet in her gaiters, of so fine- 
 ly proportioned form that every attitude and gesture dis- 
 played the most charming grace, blended with the most en- 
 chanting originality. Back from a brow white as sculp- 
 tured marble, flowed locks of glittering gold rolling and 
 flashing far down upon her blue ridiug habit with the free- 
 dom and strength of a lioness' mane ; the large clear eyes 
 of Saxon blue, blazing with an intolerable light impossible 
 t darker orbs. There she stood with the laugh arrested on 
 her lips still scintillating from her eyes, as though it would 
 explode, with one hand holding up her riding habit with 
 the other grasping her whip. There she stood, with the 
 majesty of Juno and the freedom of Diana blended iu one 
 form of astonishing perfection ; there she stood, caring as 
 little for the startled hauteur of the august lady of Mont 
 Crystal as Queen Vashti cared for the dignity of the inebri- 
 ate king ; there she stood, silent for one moment, while they 
 paused, spell-bound by her beauty and audacity. Then 
 catching up the frozen white hand of the proud "ladye," 
 she exclaimed 
 
 " How do you do, Mrs. Armstrong ? ha, ha, ha 1 Ex- 
 cuse me, it is too good Brutus wishing to learn Greek for 
 love ! Think of a lion in love a lion put to school ! Were 
 yon ever in love, Mrs. Armstrong? Were you, General 
 Stuart-Gordon ? How does it feel, I wonder ? I fancy it 
 Is a sort of intoxication not unlike that produced by alcoho] 
 certainly I know it makes people talk nonsense and run 
 their heads against a post." And so rattling on, the savage 
 girl sprang through the dignified circle, fled up the saloon, 
 and caught and crushed Britannia in her strong arms beforo 
 Mrs. Armstrong had ohosen to relax the frozen rigidity of 
 her stiff face and form. Her cold, steel eye followed the 
 girl as she shot away, then, turning deliberately to her com- 
 panion, she asked, in measured accents 
 
 " Can jo - inform me, General Stuart- Gordon, why thai
 
 THI CHRISTMAS PABTY. 148 
 
 joung woman is permitted to go at large ? By sanity, im- 
 plied from her freedom from constraint, inflicting upon the 
 neighborhood the necessity of recognizing her ?" 
 
 " The Lions are eccentric startling but Mrs. Arm- 
 strong has self-possession and forbearance," was all the 
 reply that the gallant General would attempt, and it \va* 
 made with a grave bow. The "self-possession of Mrs 
 Armstrong " had received a thunder-shock, but it had main- 
 tained its perpendicularity ; not so her temper, for when 
 the next couple, which was our old schoolmaster and his 
 adopted child, came forward, she merely received them with 
 a cold bow, as she swept aside to let them pass. They 
 were followed closely by Brutus Lion. Brutus Lion was 
 " metamorphosed with a mistress," certainly. He wore a 
 suit of new black cloth, and his straight, black elf-locks were 
 combed out and pomatumed until they shone with a purple 
 lustre. lie was the last_ arrival. The guests had observed 
 A punctuality in accordance with the honor due to, and 
 exacted by, the haughty mistress of Mont Crystal. Imme- 
 diately after the last arrival, the dinner-bell rang. 
 
 " Will General Stuart-Gordon lend me the support of his 
 arm to the dining room ?" said Mrs. Armstrong, in the tone 
 of one giving a command that conferred a high honor, as it 
 did. The General acknowledged the honor by a stately 
 and reverend bow, and, taking the tips of the lady's kid 
 glove in his hands, led her reverently, at arms length, across 
 the hall to the dining room. There were no familiar lock- 
 ing of arms between a lady and gentleman in those stately 
 days. The company followed in couples, and to the astute 
 Mrs. Armstrong, the order in which the company came to 
 the dinner-table afforded a good clue by which to trace tht 
 mutual attractions of the young people. Finesse in con 
 cealing preferences until the last moment from the world 
 was not in vogue among the young men and maidens of that 
 4*j and icighborhood. Nearly all the youn^r people of the
 
 144 THI MOTHSB-IN-LAW. 
 
 ame rank in that sparse neighborhood were collected in 
 that saloon, therefore the state of their friendships might b 
 guessed by their selections of partners. Mrs. Armstrong 
 bad taken her place at the head of the dinner-table, Gen- 
 eral Stuart-Gordon standing at her right hand. She watched 
 covertly the entree of her guests. What was her mortifica- 
 tion when Miss Armstrong entered, led by Willis Lindslay, 
 the student the poor cousin the beggar, whose every 
 attitude, gesture, tone of voice, and expression of counte- 
 nance, involuntarily betrayed his devotion to her what was 
 ner consternation when Louis Stuart-Gordon followed with 
 Susan Somerville, his pale, intellectual countenance irradi- 
 ated, bending down to hers, and listening to her words, as 
 though he lived upon the light of her beautifully serene face, 
 and the deep, sweet tones of her musical voice. Mrs. Arm^ 
 strong saw no further of her guests. The other couples 
 might come as they listed, her mind was too absorbed in 
 the study of this annoying contre-temps. It was well that 
 her servants were properly trained to their business, and 
 that, the service of the dinner-table went on with great pro- 
 priety without her for a few moments while she recollected 
 herself. It was well that Mrs. Armstrong, however inwardly 
 discomposed, could never be surprised from her self-com- 
 mand. 
 
 When the last couple had taken their seats at the table, 
 he sank majestically into her chair, and the dinner com- 
 menced. It was an almost interminable affair. I will not 
 tire you with the three courses the stately compliments of 
 the gentlemen, the dignified reserve of the ladies nor of 
 the firm resolution formed by Mrs. Armstrong as she saw, 
 without seeming to see, the poor cousin's worship of Louisa 
 the devotion of Louis Stuart-Gordon to Susan Somer- 
 ville. The most annoying thing to her was the thought 
 that it was not possible, with any sort of propriety, to ma-
 
 THE CHRISTMAS PABTY. 14ft 
 
 nmavre aid prevent the young people returning to the 
 drewing-roon in the precise order in which they left it, or 
 even to prevent their tete-a-tete afterwards, until the hour 
 for dancing arrived. Thus, when the company left the din- 
 ing-room for the saloon, she had the pain of seeing Willii 
 carried off to a distant recess by the simple-minded Louise, 
 who wished to show him a collection of rare shells and 
 fossils, and Susan Somerville enticed away by Louis to look 
 at a fine original Titian, representing a gorgeous autumn 
 landscape. In another corner of the room, General Stuart- 
 Gordon and Brutus Lion were standing before a sofa, upon 
 which sat Britannia O'Riley, with Gertrude on her right 
 hand and Zoe on her left. These five persons were engaged 
 in a lively conversation as Mrs. Armstrong sailed majes- 
 tically toward them, hoped that they were amusing them- 
 selves, and then blandly requested Miss O'Riley to say to 
 her pupil that she was standing too near the window. 
 Britannia understood not only all that was said by the 
 tongue, but all that was meant by the look. She withdrew 
 herself from the circle, and sought Louise, at whose side 
 she remained the rest of the evening. Mrs. Armstrong 
 >hen turned from the sofa General Stuart-Gordon offering 
 his hand to attend her across the room. This was precisely 
 wnat she wanted to interrupt the tete-a-tete of Louise and 
 Will's, and to obtain, without formally demanding it, a 
 pri^te conversation with General Stuart-Gordon, with the 
 int:ntion of calling his attention, in a diplomatic and digni- 
 fied manner, to the fact, of which he seemed entirely nn- 
 cnnscions, namely tbe decided preference of his son and 
 heir for the penniless Susan Somerville. Having suffered 
 Verself to be seated in a large arm-chair ; and having, with 
 * gesture full of graceful hauteur, indicated her wish that 
 the General should assume the seat on her left, bending 
 ly towards him, she said
 
 U6 THK MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 "* earnestly congratulate yon, General Stuan-'Jordan, 
 npon the happy prospects of your son " 
 
 "Madam?" 
 
 " His choice does high honor to his intellect and heart." 
 
 " Pardon me, Mrs. Armstrong ; I am not sore that I un- 
 derstand you." 
 
 " Miss Somerville is a young lady of great good sense 
 and amiability." 
 
 " Really, my dear madam, you must pity and forgive my 
 stupidity ; I am utterly at a loss to comprehend the full 
 bearing of the subject of your conversation." 
 
 " I speak, of course, of the approaching marriage of your 
 BOQ." 
 
 "Oi my son, madam ?" repeated the old gentleman, with 
 a deprecating slowness and a softness, as though his man- 
 ner implored pardon for the rudeness of his repetition. 
 
 " Of your son, Louis." 
 
 " The approaching marriage of Louis, did I understand 
 you to say, madam ?" 
 
 "Yes, General, I congratulate you upon the approaching 
 marriage of your son, Louis." 
 
 " May I inquire with what lady his name has been asso- 
 cate-i, madam?" 
 
 " With the name of a young lady every way worthy of 
 Mr. Stuart-Gordon's regard with one of the most ancient 
 names in the country with that of Miss Somerville. I had 
 named her in the commencement of our conversation." 
 
 The General started with surprise, then rooted his eyei 
 npon the carpet, then looked up, seeking Louis by a sweep- 
 ing glance through the room. 
 
 " I had not dreamed of this 1" he exclaimed, in a tone 
 of deep regret, as his eyes fell upon Louis and Susan Som 
 errille, in a close and apparently very interesting converea 
 tion upon that crimson -s'aaded sofa at the extremity of thf
 
 THS CHRISTMAS PABTY. 147 
 
 " Mr. Armstrong ! ;> 
 
 " General Stuart-Gordon !" 
 
 "Will yon pardon me for inquiring your authority foi 
 gpeaking of the possible, or probable union of my son with 
 Miss Somerville ? Do you merely suspect it from your ob- 
 servation of the parties, or have you heard it ?" 
 
 " The report is common in the neighborhood, and the 
 deportment of the young couple seems to confirm it." 
 
 " Madam, there is not one word of truth IL. this report of 
 tiie marriage engagement at all not one word, I assure 
 you, upon my soul's honor," said the General, with great 
 emphasis. 
 
 "Yet there seems to be a decided preference in that 
 quarter," smiled the lady, with a successful assumption of 
 good humor. 
 
 " No, madam ! no no not so ! a mere friendship, I 
 assure you ; mental affinity, &c. Miss Somerville looks 
 upon him as a brother Louis regards her in the light of a 
 sister. No, madam, no ! I think I am advised as to the 
 preference of my sou. I think I know what sweet flower, 
 what delicate snow-drop Louis Stuart-Gordon would fain 
 place in his bosom. I know at what shrine the orisons of 
 Loais Stuart-Gordon are offered," exclaimed the General, 
 with earnestness ; and, rising, with a profound bow, he 
 sauntered forward to arrest, or at least to make a third in 
 the conversation of Louis and Susan. As he approached 
 them, he looked covertly but keenly at each, and took note 
 of the following facts, namely that Louis was now con- 
 versing in a v*ry free and disembarrassed manner, upon 
 general subjects, and that Susan, usually so calm, was look- 
 ing down upon the geranium she held in her hand, and now 
 ns'bty trembling in every nerve her cheek, always so white 
 anc cool, was now warm and flushed her eyes, ever so 
 uer^ely clear and open, were now downcast, each gemmed 
 whk a tear-drop, quivering to iti fall. " My ion hai woi
 
 148 THK MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 thf heart of Susan Somerville, whether he wished to do BO 
 or not,' ; was the comment of the old man, as he stood be- 
 fore them. Then, taking his seat on the opposite side of 
 Mita Somerville, he began talking to her in a lively and 
 complimentary vein, and so completely threw Louis out of 
 the conversation in which he had been engaged. They had 
 no word together the remainder of the evening. This Mrs. 
 Armstrong had at last, in the face of all difficulties, discov- 
 ered every incipient flirtation, and successfully manoeuvred 
 to arrest them. 
 
 By reason of the number of guests at Mont Crystal, 
 General Stuart-Gordon and his son occupied separate beds 
 in the same chamber. When they had retired to their 
 room, General Stuart-Gordon commenced, in his fatherly 
 and affectionate manner, to banter Louis upon the subject 
 of his affection not for Susan Somerville he was deter- 
 mined to be blind, deaf, and dumb, upon that affair when 
 with Louis, unless it should be forced upon his attention in 
 a manner that should compel him to take cognizance of it 
 but upon the matter of his old childish affection for Louise 
 Armstrong. This was with a view of discovering the true 
 state of his heart ; for General Stuart-Gordon by no means 
 felt the assurance upon this subject now, that he had ex- 
 pressed when speaking upon it with Mrs. Armstrong. 
 
 "What is the matter Louis between you and Miss Arm- 
 gtrong ? You did not speak the whole evening, I think." 
 
 " Father, Louise has been, by her mother, I think, fright- 
 ened into avoiding me. Within the last few weeks, wher- 
 ever I have chanced to meet and speak to her, at church, t 
 the village, or elsewhere, she has exhibited such terror and 
 distress, that I could not, and cannot, find it in my heart to 
 persecute her with annoying civilities. I merely made mj 
 bow this evening, on first entering the room, and thc I 
 retired." 
 
 "Do you like Louise, Louis f"
 
 TH CHBISTMJL3 PAKTY. 149 
 
 " Our lives, from Infancy up, have been knit together, 
 father. My heartstrings f.?s interlaced with hers. The 
 withdrawal of Louise's hsart tears mine." 
 
 " So you really .io like Louise ?" 
 
 "Like her, father 1" exclaimed the young dan, ia a tone 
 of deep emotion. 
 
 " Yes, like her. Well, I like her too ; like her every 
 way. She is Vae very bride I should select for you, if I had 
 that privilege, .riierefore, marry her, and receive my bless 
 ing," jaid the old man, rubbing his hands. 
 
 "But, my father, Louise avoids me." 
 
 " Wouldn't give a cent for a girl that didn't." 
 
 " When I enter the room she leaves it I" 
 
 "Follow her out." 
 
 "She hates me." 
 
 " Love her." 
 
 " She will certainly reject me." 
 
 " Then marry her. Nonsense, Louis, do not you know 
 that every woman is an Atlanta, and flies only to excite the 
 ardor of pursuit ?" 
 
 In the very next room to this, but separated by a wall so 
 thick as to prevent the passage of the sound of conversation, 
 another confidential interview was held between a parent 
 and child. Mrs. Armstrong and Louise were alone in thel 
 bed-chamber, for Louise had always shared the sleeping 
 apartment of her mother. Mrs. Armstrong had sunk into 
 an easy chair, and Louise had seated herself on a lo~7 
 cushion by her side, with her head resting upon her mother's 
 lap. Mrs. Armstrong's ice-like face bad almost thawed, her 
 marble-like features were almost flexible, as here, in the 
 privacy of her bed-chamber, she conversed with her daughter, 
 eeking alas ! it was almost too late to win the confi- 
 dence of the child whose innocent revelations of herself had 
 been repulsed and driven back, until all her thoughts and 
 feelings were closely, timidly inclosed in brain and hear 4 .
 
 150 THE 
 
 There was too much fear and dread blended wuh -he lor 
 of Louise's idolatry of her 'mother, to admit of perfect 
 sympathy and confidence. Mrs. Armstrong's favorite rnaiicn 
 was, that "familiarity breeds contempt ;" an-i so she had 
 "guarded her strangeness" all but too successfully. Now, 
 as she sat there, with the head of Louise for the first time 
 ince infancy laid up*n her knees, and while she ran her 
 fingers through the pale hair, she would have given much 
 for an hour of the warm, free, full intercourse of mother and 
 daughter ; but the natural flow of cor fiding affection, re- 
 peatedly checked, congeals at its fount, and is not so easily 
 unloosed by the sunshine of sympathy as the ice-bound 
 waters are by spring. 
 
 " My daughter, it appeared to me that your manner wai 
 cold to Louis." 
 
 " Was I wrong, mamma? Indeed I wished to do right." 
 
 "You were wrong, Louise." 
 
 " I wish I ever knew what to do I Dear mother, am I 
 not stupid ? I try to do well, and am always doing ill. 
 How is that 1 I was wrong in conversing with Louis on 
 the ground some weeks since, and I am wrong in not con- 
 .ersing with him now. I am afraid, mother, that I have a 
 very feeble understanding have I not ?" 
 
 It was just now, in this exigency, that Mrs. Armstrong 
 divined the difficulty of making a rational and responsible 
 moral agent of one, out of whom she had crushed all free- 
 dom of thought and feeling. 
 
 " My daughter !" she replied, in a slightly subdued tone, 
 "my daughter, 'circumstances alter cases.' Miss Arm- 
 foug in her own halls must display a courtejas hospitality 
 to Mr. Stuart-Gordon as her guest. And," co jtinued the 
 lady, sinking her voke to a still lower and rnoie confidential 
 key, " Louise must console Louis must win him from the 
 melancholy that still so darkly colors his conversation and 
 manners my daughter !"
 
 THE CHRISTMAS FABTT. 151 
 
 44 My dear mother 1" 
 
 "You did not reply to me. Understand, Miss Arm- 
 strong, that I wish yon to be amiable to M. Louis Stuart- 
 Gordon." 
 
 Louise bowed her head, in reply. 
 
 "Now, my love, ring the bell for Kate, th* ; *be mj 
 oome and put your hair in curl." 
 
 Louise obeyed. 
 
 This act of commanding a girl to be sympathetic was in 
 perfect keeping with Mrs. Armstrong, who did not under- 
 stand sympathy. But in the course of a few days the astute 
 ladj, perceiving that her presence imposed the greatest 
 possible restraint upon the manners of her daughter, 
 gradually withdrew herself as much as possible from her 
 neighborhood, and covertly watched the progress of her 
 drama. She withdrew herself, and intt herself, and a dark 
 shadow of gloom, bitterness, and rescue settled upon her 
 countenance. Her soul was an instance of a kingdom 
 divided against itself. The destiny she had designed for 
 her daughter was certainly approaching. Yet, as it drew 
 on and on toward its consummation, the cloud darkened 
 blacker and blacker upon the brow of the mother.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 UBAN BOMERYILLK. 
 
 They neom'd to those who RAW them BMt, 
 
 The worldly friend* of every day ; 
 Her smile w* unJisturb'd and sweet, 
 
 Hit courtesy was free and gay ; 
 And yet if one the other's name 
 
 In eome nnjfnarded moment heard, 
 The heart you thought BO cold nd tame 
 
 Would natter like a captive bird. Xilntt. 
 
 Tc Ac morbidly fastidious nature of Louis Stuart-Gor- 
 ton, V*re was something extremely repulsive in the idea of 
 the interference of a third party in his wooing, even when 
 that third party was his father, and well-wisher in his suit. 
 Handlmg, however tenderly, brushes the down from the 
 wing oi the butterfly love. He found a difficulty in court- 
 ing "to order," even the girl he loved. "Marry Louise" 
 he wished no less ; but now, if he did but speak to her, 
 look at her, he felt himself watched watched with a solicit- 
 ous affection, with a bon voyage to his suit, it is true, but 
 till vatvked; and his delicate Cupid folded its wings, 
 tccked its head beneath one, bird fashion, and would have 
 composed itself to sleep but that an incident roused and 
 larmcd hlui. This was the assiduous attentions of Wil'ii 
 Licdslay to Louise to his Louise his delicate flow.r- 
 his sheltered exotic, whose greatest cbarm for him vas her 
 rare crystalline purity from the contact of the world from 
 those frequent, so-called, harmless, but really debasing flirta- 
 tions, in which the aroma of a girl's first affections are apt 
 to be exhaled from those pressures of the hand, glancing! 
 of the eyes from those sighi, and tears, and whispered 
 (1*S)
 
 S U 8 1 N SOMEBVILLK. 
 
 tones of love, that, breathed upon his flower, would 
 carried off its dew, and withered its freshness fo? him. You 
 will smile, reader, but it is a fact that Louis Stuart-Gordon 
 congratulated himself that his little lady-love had neither 
 b -other nor father to familiarize her with what his rr>orL" 
 delicacy termed coarse caresses nay, that even her mother 
 was too cold and proud to touch the polished brow of the 
 girl with her lips. True, vitality had been chilled within 
 her, but it was not dead he could warm her to life again 
 and such a life of love ! These had been the thoughts, 
 wishes, and intentions of Louis Stuart-Gordon. Now, how- 
 ever, his divinity was iu danger of losing in his eyes some 
 of her exclusive glory ; ever close by her side, stooping to 
 her ear, and whispering in a low and love-tuned voice, stood 
 Willis Lindslay. How he sped in his wooing it was im- 
 possible to tell, from the habitually subdued and quiet 
 manner of Louise. 
 
 The life, the sting, of jealousy, is its uncertainty. Where 
 there is assurance one way or the other, the passion may 
 become love and joy, or it may become despair or revenge 
 but it ceases to be jealousy. How dissimilar, in unlike 
 natures, are the manifestations of passion and emotion 
 How various, in different subjects, is the pathology ot 
 jealousy. In the bosom of Louis Stnart-Gordon, its rise 
 was slow, sorrowful, rather than sudden or angry, disposing 
 him to self-immolation, rather than to vengeance. 
 
 " If Louise, my darling Louise, falls away from the affec- 
 tion of her infancy and childhood, of all her young life if 
 she has ceased to love me, and has given her heart to this 
 happier cousin of hers why then what then ? Shall I 
 dim her joy with the knowledge of my sufferings? No, 
 Louise ! that may be demon-love, but it is not angel-love 
 it is not even human love. No, Louise 1 I would not cast 
 the shadow of another cloud upon that young brow too 
 overcast already. No, darling Louise ! be happy and
 
 154 THJ5 MOTHEB-IN-LAW. 
 
 God give ine some other way of contributing to her happi 
 ness. I will even enrich that poor, young cousin, if hii 
 poverty stand in the way of your union, Louise ! I will be 
 the unseen providence of your happiness, Louise ; and then 
 and then ! a sf-ort life, God ! oh, God I a short 'ife.'" 
 
 So saying, Louis Stuart-Gordon, with the thought of the 
 happiness of OMe being absorbing his mind, went straight to 
 make the misery of another. 
 
 There are more mistakes made, more sins committed, 
 more wrongs done, by mere thoughtlessness, than by all the 
 evil propensities and malign passions put together. 
 
 There was in the soft seeming form, serene countenance, 
 and quiet tone of Miss Somerville, a mesmerizing influence 
 that possessed the power of composing the most turbulent 
 emotions of the most disquieted souls that approached her. 
 I believe she could by her look and tone have calmed a 
 maniac. How healthful was her influence upon the mor- 
 bidly excitable temperament of Louis-Stuart Gordon ; but, 
 oh I at what a fearful price she imparted it! When the 
 diseased woman touched the hem of the Saviour's garment, 
 Christ felt "virtue depart from" him. The health that 
 healed the sick, the strength that raised the feeble, departed 
 from the Saviour and how ill and weak it loft him in Geth- 
 gemane 1 How ill and weak, until " angels ministered unto 
 him, strengthening him !" It is not irreverent to say that 
 the life of the humblest disciple has its type in the life of 
 Christ 1 
 
 Grief for the loss of his mother, separation from Louise, 
 ennui, tedium vitce, the maturing and the disquiet of ener- 
 gies that had not yet found their proper direction, the 
 ycuthful want of 'ove rather than love itself, these were tbe 
 nixed motives fiat first drove Louis to seek solace in the 
 company of Susan Soraerville, little dreaming that, while 
 be was gaining from her health, strength, and cheerfulness, 
 that she was ksing the same tc him. Her soft mannen
 
 SUSAN SOHERYILL1. 160 
 
 were so soothing to him, how could he deem that the peact 
 that was falling upon his spirits was departing from heral 
 that, in benefiting him, she was growing to lov? him ? that, 
 In loving him, she was losing her old tranquillity, her inde- 
 pendence, ay, for a while, the very power of guiding hei 
 own life ? And so, day after day, thoughtlessly he had 
 Tisited her, sat by her side, read, conversed with her, until 
 his society became a habit, a necessity to her, in propor- 
 tion as his returning cheerfulness rendered her's needless to 
 him. Now, at Mont Crystal, he sought again the society 
 of Susan Somerville as a balm for the deep wounds hia 
 heart had received in the supposed defection of Louise ; 
 and he met again the same sweet welcome, the same gentle 
 glances and soft tones that ever fell, like cooling dew, upon 
 the fever of his spirits. 
 
 And Susan, how fared it with her ? Calm, cool, and 
 wise in all other affairs, in this she was but too blind She 
 nad suffered her heart, not head, to interpret the meaning 
 f Louis's constant visits, his long tarrying, his earnest 
 glances, and his breathless listening for her words ; and, 
 even as Zoe had received the silent manifestations of her 
 lover's regard in all confidence, so S'isan accepted the tacit 
 friendship of Louis, translating it love ; and if she lost her 
 erenity and grew hurried and agitated, it was as yet rather 
 with hope than with fear. 
 
 It was under these circumstances that, upoo one -Hom- 
 ing about a week after their arrival at Mont Crystal, 
 Louis sought the side of Susan Somerville. The family 
 had not yet assembled to breakfast, and she was the sole 
 occupant of the drawing-room. She was seated upon that 
 crimson sofa at the extremity cf the saloon. Louis en- 
 tered, slowly sauntering toward her, and took the seat DJ 
 her sice, dropped his head upon his open palms and mar 
 mured, 
 
 44 Susan, dear Susan."
 
 166 THE MOTHXB-IN-LAW. 
 
 Louis." 
 
 That was al' she said, but the round, full, melodious toni 
 In which that single wor * waa breathed might hare stilled 
 tb* tumult of a tempest. 
 
 "Stsan, I have need ot tVe I have need of thy affec- 
 tion ; give it me, Scsar. He-e ! v ^y one cool hand on my 
 How, the other ou my heart PO. Sr.san, I ba\o neithef 
 mother, sister, nor love; and I do need some iceman's 
 affection so much give me yours, Susan." 
 
 "Yon have my best love you shall have my best effort! 
 to promote your happiness, dear Louia " 
 
 " Thank you, my dearest sister tba i"r you, S'isan. Alas, 
 Susan, you will despite me ; I au growing sentimental, 
 maudlin, mawkish ; I am beginning to despise myself. 
 Susan, give me the secret of your cheerfulness of the 
 cheerfulness of all the people I see around me. How is it 
 that they live without a gr*t love, Susan ? How dc they 
 fill up their hearts ? Why Cannot /do so ? Is it for the 
 want of good mother wit, feood strong common-sense, 
 Susan, that I moan my hear* out because a young, pale, 
 frail, trembling girl does not -eturn my love ? Tell me, 
 Susan." 
 
 Susan Somerville had been startled by the commencement 
 of his last speech, had grown pale as it progressed, and at 
 its conclusion she replied, in a sink : ng> voice 
 
 "I do not at all understand yon, dear Louis." 
 
 " Ah, my sister Susan ! I love an*) adore Louise Arm- 
 strong, while she has given her heart t* another pity me, 
 Susan." 
 
 " I do, I do indeed," murmured Snsan in a dying tone. 
 "But I pity you because you are I lind ; sh does not lovt 
 any one except her mother." 
 
 " Are you sure of what you say, Susan ?" 
 
 "Very sure of it, Louis. And now I must bW jr- fp*4 
 morning."
 
 UBJLN SOMEBVILL1. 157 
 
 And BO saying, the girl arose and left the room. Meet- 
 ing a servant, she requested him to have Major Somerville's 
 horses saddled and brought around. 
 
 Susan Somerville passed on up the stairs, her smooth 
 white cheeks a shade paler, her quiet step a degree slower, 
 her calm voice a tone lower these were all the signs the 
 O8t acute observer could have discovered of the darkness, 
 coldness, desolation, that bad fallen upon the poor girl's 
 life. I know that this word "desolation" is strong is 
 hackneyed. Yet, let the reader remember that a first dis- 
 appointment in the affections, falls upon the young heart 
 like the knell of a doom more terrible than the death of the 
 body a spiritual annihilation. To them the destruction 
 of their love hopes is indeed despair, "desolation." They 
 have seen the sun set for the first time, and have no expe- 
 rience to teach them that it will rise again. They have seen 
 vegetation blighted by a first frost rivers and brooklets 
 frozen by a first winter, and they have no knowledge that 
 flowers will bloom and waters flow in a second spring. Ah 1 
 no ; the darkness of perpetual night, the coldness of eternal 
 winter, the agony of an infinite void, seems within and 
 around them. The long weary years of life, stretching out 
 toward the future, seem too terrible to bear. Death would 
 be welcome to the most cowardly during this heart-sickness. 
 So felt Susan, as she passed slowly np the stairs, without a 
 single thought in her mind, with only the feeling of a hor- 
 rible nightmare of the spirit weighing her down. She 
 eould not think, she could only feel. She could not wonder 
 why the sunlight glancing through the window on the stair- 
 landing, fell gloomily upon her why the distant shouts of 
 Gertrude Lion's laughter grated harshly upon her ear why 
 the flashing of Britannia's purple satin dress, bright ring- 
 lets, and sparkling face, as ghe bowed and smiled her hastjr 
 good morning, in crossing the upper passage, struck pain- 
 folly upon her why all the gay sights, merry sounds, happj
 
 168 THI MOTHKR-IN-LAW. 
 
 Borroandinjs, were snddenly in discord with her jarring, 
 grating, torturing her nerves. She did not think, she only 
 felt. It is at a long distance that one can look back *ad 
 analyze emotion reason upon feeling. Instinctively and 
 mechanically she closed the window sbutteis of her room, 
 laid down upon her bed, and doubled the pillow around her 
 bead, and in the deep darkness and profound silence of hsr 
 chamber, her whole consciousness of existence merged iato 
 one absorbing sense of loss. The alarum of the breakfast 
 bell did not arouse her. Half an hour after it soiinded, a 
 soft hand laid upon her hand that clasped the pillow over 
 her ears, a soft voice murmuring close by her side, caused 
 her to put aside the smothering pillow, and look up. Her 
 maid, Anna, who had attended her to Mont Crystal, was 
 standing by her side, now looking with sad surprise at the 
 disordered dress, disheveled hair, and pa'.o face of her 
 mistress. 
 
 " Yon are ill, Miss Susan," said she, taking her hand, 
 and looking with earnest affection at her fallen features. 
 
 " No, Anna," replied Miss Somerville, rising upon her 
 elbow. Anna looked at her keenly, incredulously, then in 
 her turn growing very pale, she inquired, hurriedly, ear- 
 nestly 
 
 "Have you heard from The Crags? Has anything 
 happened there, Miss Susan ?" 
 
 " No, Anna, nothing. And now, Anna, do not question 
 me further. Dou't look distressed, Anna, I am not dis- 
 pleased with you, my dear Anna ; and I but I am very, 
 very, very tired of everything and of almost everybody." 
 And Susan Somerville slowly arose, gathered up her long 
 hair in her hands, let it fall again heavily with a de*ep sigh, 
 and finally resigned herself into Anna's hands, to have hef 
 toilet re-arranged for breakfast. Immediately after break- 
 fast, Susan Somerville intimated to her grandfather her 
 Retire to return borne ; and, on receiving bis consent to the
 
 SUSAN SOMERVILLB. 169 
 
 proposal, announced to her hostess their intention of return 
 Ing to The Crags. 
 
 Through the delay of Major Soraerville their departura 
 was deferred till after dinner, so that it was nightfall before 
 they found themselves ascending the rocky aeclivity leading 
 to The Crags, and it was pitch-dark when they alighted at 
 the door. Susan went at once to her room to change her 
 dress, and Anna, after helping her aged master to disen- 
 cumber himself of his great coat and leggings, and after 
 handing him his dressing-gown and slippers and settling 
 him in his dozing chair, went out into the kitchen, and tak- 
 ing her mother aside, said, 
 
 " Mother, Miss Susan is very unhappy about something ; 
 some sudden grief has fallen upon her. Mother, what is it ? 
 and what can we do to relieve her ? Miss Susan is wretch- 
 ed I indeed she is 1" 
 
 "Anna, perhaps she has discovered the ruin that threat- 
 ens us every hour I" 
 
 " No, indeed, she has not, far wide of it. She knows 
 aer father is in debt, at the mercy of his creditors ; but she 
 does not know how near, how imminent, how inevitable our 
 ruin is I No, thank God ! she does not yet know ; for even 
 when I forget to guard myself, when 1 manifest anxiety or 
 grief, the dear girl ascribes it to my condition, as if I could 
 realize it in her gentle service ! She thinks I am self-seek- 
 ing and ambitious : she does not know me. No, mother: 
 some other deeper sorrow preys upon Miss Somerville'a 
 mind ; and it is you, mother, who must tell me how to corn* 
 fort her ; for you have lived long and know everything, I 
 know ubthing." 
 
 Harris was kneading dough : she paused in her occup* 
 fcisn and seemed to reflect, then she asked, 
 
 "Is Mr. Stuart-Gordon at Mont Crystal?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " WM he attentive to Miss Suaji P
 
 1(JO THB MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " What do they say about him there ?" 
 
 "That he has long been engaged to Miss Aimstrong, 
 and that this Christmas party is in honor of their renewed 
 betrothal." 
 
 " I feared so 1 Miss Somerville needed a mother to 
 watch over her. After all, a nurse one in my position- 
 cannot meet every want in a young lady's daily life. But, 
 new, listen, Anna. We must keep our young lady quiet, 
 comfortable, and occupied. Subdue everything to soothe 
 her excited nerves. Let no sunlight into her room. Do 
 not let the fire blaze too brightly keep all loud noises far 
 from her temper even your own services for her, so that 
 they do not become obtrusive. And now, go and set the 
 table, and make all things comfortable, my child." 
 
 The woman who gave this advice was no common, coarse- 
 minded menial. The reader need not be surprised at this. 
 Delicacy in perception of character and emotion, and in 
 adaptation and manifestation of sympathy, is the result of 
 cultivated affections rather than of educated intellect. And 
 Harriet possessed the first in a large degree. 
 
 The Christmas party lasted a fortnight at Mont Crystal. 
 At the end of that time, Louis Stuart-Gordon and Louise 
 Hector Armstrong were affianced. Upon the strength of 
 the new relations, Mrs. Armstrong was induced to accept 
 the earnest invitation extended by General Stuart-Gordon 
 to herself, Miss Armstrong and Miss O'Riley, to pass a few 
 days at the Isle of Rays. It was while the family of Mont 
 Crystal were staying at the Island Palace, that the marriage 
 day of the youthful couple was fixed for the twenty-second 
 of the next month, Fibruary, the anniversary of their birth, 
 when Louis should complete his eighteenth, and Louise her 
 tixteenth year.
 
 CHAPTER XYII. 
 
 BBUTU8 LION. 
 
 HU face is dark-net very quiet ; 
 It teems like looking down the threat'nlng month 
 Of cone great cannon. John Sterling. 
 
 MAY the devil fly away with Zoe ! God bless her \* 
 cursed Brutus Lion, as hills and valleys sped be- 
 towd his flying horse's hoofs. "Drown Zoe ! for a blind 
 kitten or a supernumerary puppy 1 What is she, a little 
 quilt-piecing, carpet-sewing huzzy, that I should be worried 
 by her ? Is she a hunting-knife, a gun, or a game-bag, that 
 I should wish to possess her ? A shot-flask, or a powder- 
 horn, that I should want her hung about my neck ? A 
 horn or a hound, a pointer or a setter, that I should need 
 her every hour ? Have I been so used to her, that I should 
 miss her every moment ? Confound Zoe! God love her! 
 Is she either deer, fox, pigeon, or goose, that I should be 
 for ever hunting her ? Now this morning ! a fine morning ! 
 a glorious morning 1 when my blood is heaving up like the sea 
 at high tide when Earthquake is champing the bit and 
 pawing the ground when Thunder and Lightning are 
 snuffing the air when the scent would lie so beautifully 
 upon this sublime morning created for a hunter what am I 
 about to do ? By Nimrod ! Going to school to learn ton, 
 ti t ta. No wonder Gertrude laughs at me. By thunder, 
 isn't it ! I, with my giant limbs and thick head, sitting down 
 with my elbows on a table, and " Readings from Herodotus" 
 before me. Sink Herodotus I Come I Enough of this 
 nonsense I Fire the old schoolmaster with his pride and hii 
 Greekomanial I'll have done with this tomfoolery. Ill 
 
 (111)
 
 162 THl MOTHER-INLAW. 
 
 marry Zoe at once and I'll see who'll prevent me ! Then 
 I shall have a right, as his son-in-law, or his adopted son- 
 in-law, to support the old man, without having to learn les- 
 sons devil take them ! into the bargain, by way of saving 
 his pride ! I'll marry Zoe I will do itf" thundered Brutus, 
 bringing his hand down so heavily on the flank of his horse, 
 that the beast bounded under him. Then, falling into a 
 more thoughtful mood and a slower pace, he muttered to 
 himself "And Gertrude Lion, Satan fleece her ! Gertrude, 
 with her fierce blue eyes, her rolling yellow mane that cat- 
 aract of golden hair and her shouts of laughter 1 Ger- 
 trude Lion, with her body of adamant and soul of frost, 
 with her sneers, scoffs, and unbelief! my God 1 I would 
 give half my patrimony to any fine fellow who would win 
 the love and break the spirit of that sister of mine for 
 without a doubt it would be doing her and me a service. 
 But who could do it? Strong as a lion, wild as a chamois, 
 aspiring as an eagle, and colder, harder, than anything that 
 lives cold as an iceberg, hard as a rock, is Gertrude Lion I 
 And she will not sympathize with me, will not love, my Zoe, 
 or agree to accept her as a sister. And my Zoe will not 
 venture to encounter her scorn. Zoe is proud, the little 
 wretch I as if she were called upon to be proud with me, 01 
 for me. Who to see Zoe about her domestic affairs, would 
 suspect the substratum of self-appreciation that forms the 
 basis of her character, or suppose that she could say to me, 
 MB, the last of the Lions ' Brutus, I am a penniless girl, 
 and you a millionaire/ I am a nameless, and you are Lion 
 of the Lair. I am a foundling, a child dropped from the 
 clouds, thrown up by the tide parentless, forsaken, un- 
 claimed. You are descended from a family that dates back 
 to the Norman Conquest ! Brutus, I can never be your 
 wife I Mr. Lion I am your very humble servant !' Think 
 of the irony, the impudenre of that 1 Just as though I 
 had oot the power I, Brutus Lion of the Lair, to raise any
 
 BRUTUS LIOK. 168 
 
 girl, however hnmble, into the jrst rank. What a devil of 
 a mistake in Zoe to foster proud scruples against ' entering 
 a haughty family against the consent of any one of its mem- 
 bers.' 'Any one of its members!' meaning no 'one' but 
 Qusen Gertrude. If / am satisfied, if I can overlook the 
 obscurity of her birth, Zoe should be. If /am pleased, let 
 others, meaning Mistress Gertrude again, submit! And 
 they shall. I'll not put up, one week longer, with the 
 schoolmaster's pride and Greek, with Zoe's self-esteem, or 
 with Gertrude's arrogance. I love Zoe, and Zoe loves me ; 
 and that gives me a claim to her. That love is a deed of 
 assignment written on her heart by the hand of Nature, and 
 it is my warrant for taking her. Hold, eh, Earthquake 
 here we are !" exclaimed Brutus, bounding with a shock, to 
 the ground, turning his horse loose, and striding on to the 
 cottage. 
 
 He rapped for etiquette, but, without waiting to be ad- 
 mitted, pushed the door open, and entered. The same 
 bright, clean cottage the same fresh, gay domestic carpet 
 the same blazing wood-fire the same gentle, busy little 
 housewife by its side. The only new feature was the pine 
 table in the middle of the floor, with the schoolmaster's 
 chair at one end, and with Greek books piled up on it. 
 
 " What, no one here yet where is the old man, Zoe 1" 
 inquired Brutus, on seeing that she was the sole occupant 
 of the room. 
 
 " Father has not returned from Major Somerville's, where 
 he went yesterday evening. But I expect him every mo- 
 ment ; and, as you see, his class has not yet assembled. 
 Indeed, dear Brutus," added she, "if it were not for your 
 punctual attendance, our class might be said to be broken 
 up. Britannia does nft come now ; she is too busy assist- 
 ing Mrs. Armstrong to prepare for the wedding." 
 
 " What wedding ?" 
 
 " That of Mr. Stuart-Gordon and Miss Armstrong "
 
 164 THE MOTHKB-IK-LIW. 
 
 " Those children nonsense !" 
 
 " They are going to be married on the 22d of next month, 
 the birthday of Lonis and Louise." 
 
 "And Low old will their reverences be then ?" 
 
 "Louis will be eighteen, and Louise sixteen." 
 
 " And I, Zoe, am twenty-four ; and you, Zoe, are seven- 
 teen. Come, see how much time we are losing. Zoe, my 
 darling, to-morrow is somebody's birthday, or somebody 
 else's ; or, at all events, some other day is, if it is not mine 
 or yours ; therefore, Zoe, go to church with me to-morrow ; 
 will you ! say, Zoe, won't you ? Just do, Zoe, that's a 
 good girl. Will you ? I'll take such good care of you. 
 Zoe ; and the cameo-colored pointer, and the old man, and 
 the tortoise-shell kitten, too ! say, Zoe, speak." 
 
 " Brutus." 
 
 "Brutus! Well? Hal Brutus! What?" 
 
 "Brutus, you know I cannot." 
 
 " Cannot I Ob, nonsense, Zoe. Fiddlestick and the 
 devil about 'canjnot.' You can, you must. Listen, Zoe; 
 I have not told you all yet. It is very comfortable at the 
 Lair. Listen ; very for you, and the old man, too ; and 
 the tortoise-shell kitten, and the pointer. The pointer I 
 hall take under my protection. There is a quantity of rats 
 for the use and amusement of the kitten, and such a lot of 
 old books for the schoolmaster. Very learned books they 
 must be, for they smell very musty ; and listen, Zoe, I have 
 not told you the best yet. There is an inexhaustible lot of 
 old coats, cloaks, and trowsers, long past mending, of which 
 you can make an infinite number of carpets, which will be 
 the more interesting, because there is not a floor-carpet in 
 the whole house at the Lair. Just think of it, Zoe. Gra- 
 cious, Zoe, won't you enjoy yourself?" 
 
 Zoe sighed deeply, and answered with a charming 
 naivete 
 
 " Yes, indeed, Brutus ; it woold, as you say, jfie me great
 
 I BUI US LION. 166 
 
 delight to reduce all that chaos into order to metamor- 
 phose several barrels of o!^! rags into several beautiful car- 
 pet*, to cover your bare floors. It would all be very nice 
 and very interesting, but you know I can't. Oh, Brutus, 
 you know I can't." 
 
 " ' Can't,' ' can't,' it is all can't, I believe. Why can't 
 yon, then, if one may ask ?" said he, going towards her, 
 dragging his chair, sitting down by her, and putting 1m arm* 
 round her waist to draw her upon his lap. 
 
 She gently withdrew herself, saying 
 
 " Brutus, I am in earnest ! I am not a coquette, practic- 
 ing npon your affection. I am in earnest ; therefore respect 
 me, Brutus." 
 
 " Prude peacock rock icicle I" 
 
 " None of the four, Brutus, but simply eerious. I tell 
 you that my adopted father says that an invincible obstacle 
 to our union exists. That being the case, Brutus, you 
 should consider me as one set apart a nun and respect 
 my isolation." 
 
 " ' Invincible obstacle !' I wonder if you are my sister ? 
 Can't be both my parents being dead twenty years. May 
 be yon are a leper, or subject of hydrophobia. Say, ar* 
 you sound in mind and body, Zoe ?" 
 
 Zoe laughed. 
 
 " How do I know ! I sleep sound and eat hearty, and 
 and have a good memory and a good power of calculation ; 
 for the rest, I never should know I had a body, if I did not 
 sometimes see it in the glass ; and I should be unconscious 
 of a mind if I did not sometimes overlook it." 
 
 "Perhaps you are too high for me may be George 
 Third's daughter ; or too low for me may be Kate Jump- 
 er's child. Zoe, have you any idea of what this ' invincible 
 bitacle'ii?" 
 
 "Not the slightest." 
 
 " Zoe, there is no obstacle 1 I MJ It, Zoe. The devil I
 
 166 THE MOTHXR-1K-L1.W. 
 
 Don't make me swear. What obstacle can exist, if I chooM 
 to look it out of existence ?" 
 
 Before Zoe had time to reply, the cottage door opened, 
 and the old schoolmaster entered. 
 
 " How do yon do, Brutus ? What ! no one here but you f * 
 inquired the old man, as he sank into the chair Brutus hast- 
 ened to baud him. 
 
 "Where is Miss Lion where is Miss O'Riley ?" 
 
 "Miss O'Riley is particularly engaged at home, as I 
 understand, and my sister is breaking in a colt to-day, and 
 begs you will excuse her attendance. That latter clause is 
 a lie, by the way," whispered Brutus to himself; " Gertrude 
 never sent an excuse in her life." 
 
 "Excuse her excuse her," exclaimed the old man, in a 
 sharp and rasping tone ; " excuse her ! yes, I'll excuse her 
 attendance, but not the payment of her fees. Her lesson 
 will be charged all the same as though she had received it.' 
 
 Had a shell fallen and exploded in their midst, the asto- 
 aishment, the consternation of Zoe could not have been 
 greater. At the first words of his last reply, she had 
 pricked up her ears incredulously; she heard his conclusion 
 with dumb-founded amazement. Her old father her sim- 
 ple, child-like, old father grown mercenary. Her liberal 
 father grown miserly. Her generous father grown exacting. 
 
 " Yes, you may look at me," continued the old man, 
 doggedly drawing his chair to the fire, " yon may look at 
 Me, Zoe. Brutus, get your lesson ; you have nothing to 
 do with gazing at my daughter. You may look at me, 
 Zoe, but I am determined to turn over a new leaf, I am. 
 determined not to be imposed upon any longer. I am de- 
 termined to have money, money, money! And that re 
 minds me, Brutus, that it is time for you to pa; your second 
 month, if you are going to pay it in advance." 
 
 Zoe looked at the old man, and then at the surprised and 
 perplexed face of Brutus, and pressed both small hand* to-
 
 BBUTUS LION. 167 
 
 gather. Glad, perhaps, to have an excuse for leaving the 
 hateful lessons, now that the presence of the old man im- 
 posed a restraint upon his conversation with Zoe, Bratns 
 Lion arose to his feet, and reaching his hat, said, 
 
 " 5Tes, I forgot ; this is the first of the month. Suffer me 
 to return home, and I will bring my own and my sister's 
 tuition fees for February." 
 
 " Yes. I suffer you ; go, go," said the old man, holding 
 open the door for him to pass. 
 
 " No, Brutus, no ; don't go," exclaimed Zoe, springing 
 past her father, and catching his hand. " Father is ill; 
 he does not know what he is talking of. Don't you see he 
 is ill ?" 
 
 " Sit down, Zoe," growled the old man. 
 
 " I will return soon, dear Zoe," said Brutus, hurrying 
 from the door. 
 
 " Oh, father I" said Zoe, dropping into a chair, " for yon 
 to serve Brutus so." 
 
 But the sight of the old man startled her. He had sunk 
 into a chair, pale and exhausted, and tears were coursing 
 down his withered cheeks. Alarmed for him now, Zoe 
 started up and ran to him. 
 
 " What is it, father ? dear father, what is it ?" 
 
 " Oh, Zoe, ray child, my baby my poor baby I if the 
 Lord, in his mercy, would take him to himself to-night 1" 
 
 "What is the matter, dearest father?" exclaimed Zje, 
 pale with a vague terror. 
 
 " Alas, Zoe, how much money have we got F 
 
 " Enough to last two weeks yet, father six dollars." 
 
 41 Six dollars I My Lord, what is six dollars, Zoe F" 
 
 "Sir?" 
 
 " How much will this new carpet sell for F" 
 
 " Dear father, I am sure I do not know. It cost almost 
 nothing, and I do not know how much the work is worth." 
 
 " We must sell it, Zoe ; we mu- f , sell everything that wi
 
 168 THE MOTHEB IN-IiJLW. 
 
 can ; we most get money. And," broke forth the old 
 with savage energy, "my pupil* 1" they Khali pay mel 
 hare money 1" 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 BRIQHTT'a CONQUEST. 
 
 A fcrow ialf aurtl&l nd hlf diplomatic, 
 
 JLA y up*ring, Ilk* n e&gle'i wing. Ualbc*. 
 
 IT was near the last of January before the family of Mont 
 Crystal concluded their visit to the Isle of Rays and returned 
 home. The day appointed for the marriage of Mr. Stuart- 
 Gordon and Miss Armstrong drew near. 
 
 For weeks before that day dawned, the gloomy mistress 
 ot Mont Crystal had been preparing for it. She had been 
 almost tempted, for the first time in her life, to leave her 
 isolated palace-home, and subject herself to the annoyance 
 of inconvenient packet-boats, ill-provided hotels, and hired 
 domestics, and go to New York, for the sake of ordering a 
 trousseau, incomparable for richness and elegance. Doubt- 
 less she would have done so, but that she had more con- 
 fidence in Miss O'Riley's taste in such matters than in her 
 own; and, remarking coldly to her daughter that ''ladies' 
 maids and milliners, and such people, understood the mi- 
 nutla of the toilet better than ladies could be expected to 
 do," she placed Louise in charge of Miss O'Rilcy, and dis- 
 patched them both to New York, under the escort of Ge- 
 neral Stuart-Gordon, who was traveling to the North with 
 ao better excuse than that of ordering new furniture for 
 the lilaiid Maniiuu, and a Bet of diamonds for its futnrt 
 
 Certainly, tat Arrogant an~Tiptlon of Mrs. Armitronf
 
 CONQUEST. 169 
 
 jtrangely deceived her when she sent a beautiful, brilliant, 
 and fascinating girl, with a decided taste for palaces in ge- 
 neral, and The Isle of Rays in particular, traveling day and 
 night through a fine and picturesque country, in charge of 
 an elderly gentleman, with an eye for beauty and a soul for 
 poetry, who was just beginning to feel the solitude of hia 
 own suite of apartments. 
 
 But Mrs. Armstrong quietly and tacitly assumed that no 
 gentleman of her circle could see in Miss O'Riley anything 
 but " the Governess ;" or rather, to speak still more cor- 
 rectly, Mrs. Armstrong never thought about it at all. She 
 was entirely incapable of receiving such an idea. She never 
 saw Brighty as she really was a sparkling, dazzling, be- 
 wildering girl radiating beauty fascinating more from 
 the soul of truth and goodness, ever burning through her 
 face,, than for any regularity of features, or brilliancy of 
 complexion. No, she never realized the attractions of 
 Brighty. She saw her through a mist the cold, frosty 
 mist of pride. Of course the image was dimmed to her 
 vision ; she saw " only the Governess." In that Mrs. Arm- 
 strong was alone. No one else viewed Miss O'Riley 
 through a disparaging false medium. Mrs. Armstrong saw 
 in Britannia nothing but the dependent; no one else could 
 see the dependent at all ; they could only see the native 
 lady. There was nothing assumed, affected, or forced 
 about Britannia. Her habitual elegance and propriety of 
 costume, dignity, and grace of manner, and brillianay of 
 conversation, were always the natural and truthful mani- 
 festations of her real character. Had Britannia crowned 
 herself with rubies and diamonds, you must have felt, by all 
 the correspondence, that they were made for her. General 
 Stuart-Gordon also saw Britannia through a mist, but it 
 was a brilliant golden mist like that which illuminated the 
 Isle of Rays on a gorgeous autumn morning. He saw her 
 through this illusion, for he could not sea the " Governed
 
 170 TH MOTHKR-IN-LAW, 
 
 at all ; but then he had never seen her at her duties ; bad 
 only met her in the drawing-room of Mont Crystal, or at 
 The Isle of Rays, where she impressed him only as a very 
 " queenly" women ; and his manner toward her evinced a 
 respect approaching to reverence. And this Mrs. Arm- 
 strong, in obtuse arrogance, mistook for a haughty reserve, 
 or a more hanghty condescension to the governess. Britan- 
 nia, on her part, received all this veneration and deference 
 naturally, as a matter of course as her due ; and without 
 a single thought as to its reason or its results. 
 
 And Louise poor little Louise had a dim notion that 
 Brigbty was not positively hateful to her future father-in- 
 law ; and so, in her little faint heart, she feebly nursed a 
 timid wish to persuade her governess to take up her resi- 
 dence, at The Isle of Rays, as her companion. As yet, 
 however, Louise durst not breathe this desire to any one. 
 In fact, the poor, oppressed girl had never been known to 
 give utterance to a wish of any sort in her life. 
 
 It was in these moods of mind that, upon the morning of 
 the first of February, the three travelers set out in General 
 Stuart-Gordon's carriage for the village of Battletown, 
 where they were to meet the Washington stage. 
 
 Two days of stage-coach traveling, through a mountain- 
 ous, then a hilly, and lastly an undulating country, brought 
 them to Washington city, where they met the line of stages 
 then running from the metropolis to New Ycrk. These 
 were not tlie days of railway traveling, and so it was quite 
 n week from the time they set out from Mont Crystal until 
 they reached the city of New York. Have yon ever tra- 
 yelled two or three days in a stage-coach, with almost the 
 game party ? Do yon know how mnch more sociable it is 
 than railway traveling ? How well acquainted people be- 
 come the first day hov^ friendly the second how intimate 
 the third ? Thes > coaches were arranged with three seats for 
 Bine passengers. General Stuart-Gordon always ooeipitd
 
 a EIGHTY'S CONQUEST. 171 
 
 the back seat, between bis two young ladies. Louise wai 
 timid, reserved, and silent. Britannia had to sustain the 
 conversation. Britannia was seldom taciturn or out of 
 spirits ; always alive, awake, and keenly observant. Espe- 
 cially was she so now, in passing through a part of the 
 country very picturesque, and entirely new to her. Not a 
 smile of sunlight on the mountain-tops, uoi a frown of 
 shadows in the valleys, not the singing of a single brooklet, 
 not the laugh of a single waterfall, or the roar of a solitary 
 torrent, escaped her notice. Nay, to her poet-mind and 
 artist eye, the very loneliest and rudest hut upon the road- 
 side, with children's little red flannel petticoats drying on ita 
 struggling fence, was picturesque in appearance, and inter- 
 esting in association in it was a home somebody's home. 
 General Stuart-Gordon first heard, and lastly listened to 
 her talking ; was first attracted, then amused, and finally 
 deeply interested in her conversation. There was contagion 
 in her poetry ; it galvanized into new life all the long-for- 
 gotten enthusiasm of his youth. I lay it down as a general 
 rule, subject to very few, if any exceptions, that when love 
 or fever attacks an elderly gentleman, it makes quicker work 
 with him than with a younger one. The reason in the first 
 rase is obvious ; they have no time to lose 
 
 "In wooing ; 
 IB seeking and pursuing 
 The light th*t !! 
 la woman's eyes." 
 
 I said, th&t at the commencement of the week of travel 
 there was contagion in Brighty's romance ; at the end, 
 there was joy in the meeting of her eye, an electric shock 
 in the contact of her hand. There was life, vigor, youth, 
 buoyancy in being jacked into that back seat between 
 Brighty and Louise (although little Louise was no more 
 than a bandbox or a bundle in the account) ; and there 
 was a relapse into despondency ay, reality in the separa-
 
 172 THE MOTHER IN-LAW. 
 
 tion ; and in his rebellious heart he cursed the hoar of 
 evening that daily brought them to an inn-door, and broke 
 up the party for six or eight hours. For his part he pre- 
 ferred to ride all night ; but Britannia, though never divin- 
 ing his motive to be the love of her own company, would 
 not permit Louise to become fatigued. In this state o! 
 progress the party reached New York city. A week wai 
 spent among jewelers, milliners, and upholsterers in the 
 mornings, and at theatres, operas, and concerts in the 
 evenings. This was all very new and delightful to both 
 the young ladies as well to the timid Louise as to the 
 wittj Britannia ; aad for General Stuart-Gordon's part, he 
 desired nothing better than to attend them in their shop- 
 ping expeditions or on the evenings' amusements. At the 
 end of the week, having dispatched all their purchases by 
 packet-boats to Alexandria, to be conveyed thence to their 
 place of final destination, the travelers set out on their re- 
 turn home. It was now that the attentions of General 
 Stuart-Gordon became so evident and pressing, that Bri- 
 tannia communing with herself one night at an inn, where 
 the stage stopped to sleep, thought 
 
 "It is certain that I have been in very high spirits, yes, 
 and high beauty, too, ever since we set out on this journey. 
 I know I have been excited by the novelty of traveling, the 
 sublimity of the scenery, the poetry of painting and the 
 drama, ay, and the poetry of the jeweler*' shops, tool I 
 know that I have been enthusiastic, inspired, brilliant some- 
 times ; and I know that, almost isolated here with General 
 Stuart-Gordon for Louise is nobody that I have, with 
 out intending it, won his good opinion. Pshaw 1 I will be 
 honest with myself, and not affect a mock honesty to my 
 own heart, his admiration. I know, also, without a doubt, 
 that I admire General Stuart-Gordon, / do. He may be 
 more than doable my age, bat I do. He is a good-looking 
 old man, I mean, a handsome and dignified elderly geati*
 
 BI3HTY'S CONQUEST. 178 
 
 man, with a magiificeut air; and I admire his splendid 
 home on the Isle of Rays, with its gorgeous furniture, iti 
 rare and costly pictures and busts, and its fine old library ; 
 do I not ? And I should be well pleased to become the 
 mistress of that paradise ; oh, should I not ? Yes, rerily, 
 so much, that I began to distrust the sincerity of my admi- 
 ration for its master ; for who shall know their own hearts f 
 But I do know, also, that I never thought to win the admi- 
 ration of General Stuart-Gordon ; and I know, also, that 
 though a gentleman under any circumstances at all very 
 freely forgives a woman for setting her cap for him, and is, 
 upon the whole, rathered flattered by the same, yet General 
 Stuart-Gordon must not be permitted to suppose that Bri- 
 tannia O'Riley would condescend to manoeuvre for the 
 heart and hand of a monarch. No, indeed ; by the elastic 
 pride of down-trodden Ireland and the O'Rileys, never ! 
 
 "No; much as I admire the princely General, I adore 
 Britannia O'Riley, as she is now, more, highly as I prize 
 the Island Estate, I prize Britannia's self-esteem more I I 
 should lose this fine swan-like carve of the neck and should- 
 ers ; this strong elastic spring of the instep ; this free stag- 
 like step; this natural and involuntary feeling of royalty, 
 if I could cherish a mean thought or do a mean action I 
 Certainly I would ! Therefore, General Stuart-Gordon, if 
 you are debating with yourself upon the relative policy and 
 propriety of sacrificing your inclination or marrying the 
 Governess, leave the conflict with yourself; be at ease 
 another shall decide for you. Or if, General Stuart-Gor- 
 don, you have decided to lay your fortune at my feet, with 
 many thanks for honor intended, I shall decline it. The 
 price would be my self-respect, my health, my beauty. 
 And yet I do admire that regal man ; I should be proud 
 of him, and there is no other man, I know, of whom I 
 would be proud 1 Certainly of none of the young men I 
 we, who appear tc me to be frivolous. Heigh-ho I what
 
 174 THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 are you thinking of, Louise ?" she asked, suddenly turning 
 to Miss Armstrong who shared her chamber. Louise wa 
 sitting in her white wrapper and little lace-frilled nightcap, 
 gazing into the wood-fire, at which she was warming her 
 feet pievious to going to bed, a practice that her mother 
 had taught her to preserve the purity and delicacy of her 
 complexion, by drawing the blood from her head and face. 
 
 "What are you thinking of, Louise?" 
 
 " Of my mother, Brighty. She has, for many weeks past, 
 looked so very gloomy, so severely ; as if I had displeased 
 her. What can be the reason ?" 
 
 " Yon have displeased her, Louise unwillingly dis- 
 pleased her. You are about to be married " 
 
 "But she wishes it," interrupted Louise, with her eyes 
 wide open. 
 
 "My dear," said Brighty, turning suddenly to her, "I 
 remember hearing a story of a sect of Christians, who taking 
 Bt. Paul's permission, or St. Paul's command, 'saluted each 
 other with a holy kiss,' which was all very well, being a part 
 of their worship. But one day, a young brother was expelled 
 from the society for kissing a pretty sister, with an appetite. 
 Mrs. Armstrong wishes to see Miss Armstrong at the head 
 of a splendid establishment; and so Louise is about to ex- 
 change the cold and haughty affection of her mother for the 
 genial love of her youthful husband ; and so Louise, so long 
 iepressed, feeble, frozen, apathetic, almost dead, is begin- 
 aing to warm into a little life, just as the flower-roots in the 
 frozen ground do when they feel the first life-giving sun- 
 warmth, in the early spring ; and Louise betrays this in her 
 looks and manner, and her mother is offended by it. It 
 mast be a trial to any mother, Louise, to give her daughter 
 in marriage, even when she has a half score of them to pro- 
 ride for, or establish ; even when she has strongest reasons 
 for wishing it, and the most disinterested desire for her 
 rhlld's well being. Yes, it must be a heart-trial to a mother
 
 BRIGHTY'S CONQUEST. 176 
 
 to see her life-long, unselfish devotion superseded by another, 
 a newer, and often a more selfish affection. To marry off 
 her daughters, is a necessity, but it is a cruel necessity, 
 under the present domestic arrangements of families, that 
 separates parents and children at the marriage altar, sepa- 
 rating them, sometimes, for thousands of miles, and some- 
 times without the possibility of meeting again ; thus, inter- 
 cepting by the dark cloud of parting, the sunlight of joy 
 that should fall upon the head of the bride. It seems to 
 me there might be some remedy for this evil ; it seems to 
 me that the brightness of the bride's morning should not 
 thus be overcast the evening of her parent's age not thus 
 left desolate. There are seldom more than three genera- 
 tions on earth at the same time, and it seems to me that 
 houses might be built large enough to accommodate three 
 generations. And how united a family would be, then I 
 What permanency, what security, what peace it would give 
 them the certainty that they need never be separated on 
 earth." 
 
 " But Brighty, suppose that when a pair were married, 
 he parents on both sides should dispute as to who should 
 keep the young couple ?" 
 
 " They should, in most cases, reside with the parents of 
 the bride, for several reasons." 
 
 " For what reasons, then, Brighty ?" 
 
 "Parents love their sous with more pride, more enthusi- 
 asm ; but this does not make a parting with them very 
 painful, when they send them to a happy destiny. But they 
 love their daughters with tenderness, and suffer very much 
 in dismissing them/rom their fostering bosoms, under the 
 happiest circumstances. They know that marriage changes 
 the whole phase of a woman's life that it is a much more 
 lerious thing to a woman than to a husband. She i , 
 physically, the weaker party, and in every conflict, 
 , is most likely to be the greatest sufferer. Be*ide
 
 176 THX MOTHIR-IN-LAW. 
 
 a young wife, amid the toils and cares of a new maternity, 
 ever needs the experience, advice, assistance, and sympathy 
 of her own mother. And lastly, there is Scripture for it" 
 
 " Scripture for it F" 
 
 " Yes ; from the first of Genesis to the last of Revela- 
 tions, it is nowhere commanded that a woman shall leave 
 her parents ; but it is very frequently written and re-written, 
 that a man shall leave father and mother, and cleave to hi 
 wife ; and the reason and justice of this is obvious from 
 what I have just said. I have often thought as I think 
 all sorts of things that if I had a little daughter, the more 
 I loved her, the more I should suffer in the thought of the 
 approaching age when she should be taken from me ; and I 
 sympathize with all mothers, even with Mrs. Armstrong, 
 who would consider it unnecessary, or insulting for you 
 are her only child, Louise, and she, perhaps, is not the moat 
 disinterested iu her affection for you, and therefore is more 
 jealous, exacting, unhappy, in her love wanting the con- 
 volution that seeing you happy might give her. But you 
 are weeping, Louise 1 Do not weep, Louise ;" and the 
 kind girl, regretting that in her love of talk she had 
 wounded the daughter's heart, left her night toilet half com- 
 pleted, and went to caress and console her. 
 
 Presently she inquired, with a view of changing the sub- 
 ject, and suggesting a more agreeable train of thought 
 
 "Do you love Louis, Louise?" 
 
 ' Certainly I do," replied Louise, wiping her eyes. 
 
 "I do not believe it, you little child ; you say it so com- 
 posedly. Young ladies ought to blush when such a ques- 
 tion is asked them." 
 
 " For what ?" 
 
 " I don't know, but I know that you committed a breach 
 of etiquette, when you omitted to be covered with confusion 
 at my abrupt question. Therefore, I do not believe you
 
 BRIGHTY'S COVQUBSI. 177 
 
 love Louis according to established rules. Say which do 
 you love most me or Louis ?" 
 
 " Louis but I love you, too," hastily added the gentle 
 girl, taking the hand of her governess. 
 
 " Louis or your mother ?" 
 
 " Oh, my mother 1" 
 
 " I thought so I Unlucky Louise," said Brighty to her 
 elf. " The only reason, then, why you are miserable witb 
 your mother, and happy with Louis, is because the forme; 
 is selfish, proud, jealous, and exacting in her affection, a&d 
 the latter is noble and disinterested. Because Mrs. Arm- 
 strong constantly suppresses the manifestation of her ma- 
 ternal love, while Louis freely expresses his generous affec- 
 tion." 
 
 " But, Brighty, what do you know about love ?" timidly 
 inquired Miss Armstrong. 
 
 " Nothing, experimentally, Louise ! Nothing, at least, 
 of such love as exists, or is presumed to exist, between a 
 bevrothec couple. I have a sort of protecting affection for 
 you, and a sisterly regard for Susan Somerville and Zoe 
 Dove. That is the growth of time, association, and esteem ; 
 but for any other love for the love that poets rave about 
 I know nothing of it, and I am twenty-five years old. 1 
 never wish to marry, except to attain my proper elevation 
 in society, and to escape the unjust reproaches vented upon 
 old maids." 
 
 " You would make a good nun, Brighty " 
 
 " Certainly ! that would be a way of solving the problem. 
 I might thereby attain a handsome establishment, and escape 
 the odium of old maidenhood winning the glory of self- 
 acrifhe, instead. Yes, Louise, I think I might be per- 
 inaied to take the veil ; I should make a very good nnn, 
 provided they would elect me Abbess, and set me at the 
 heal of a magnificent Abbey always providing that the 
 Abber ihould be magnilcent the dresi of tke Abbey dig .
 
 178 THE MOTHEB-IN-LAW. 
 
 rifled and becoming, and the ritud of the sisterhood subHmt 
 I will think of it, Louise " 
 
 Thus Britannia rattled on, to restore the cheerfulness of 
 her pupil. Louise went to draw the window curtains, tc 
 snut out the full moonbeams that were flooding the chamber 
 with silver light. 
 
 " Does the moonlight disturb your s^ep, Louise ?" 
 
 " Oli, no never." 
 
 "Ihen do not shut it out, love; it is churlish to shut it 
 jut. I like, when lying awake, to gaze through the window 
 at that glorious world floating free in space. And some- 
 times it seems to me a bright spirit, smiling a blessing in 
 upOii n.e." Louise left the blinds open and the curtains up, 
 and the two girls retired to bed. They occupied the same 
 couch. Neither fell asleep. Britannia's thoughts had 
 reverted to the " to be, or not to be." of her own possibly 
 brilliant destiny, and Louise was thinking of her mother. 
 At last, at the end of half an hour, she said 
 
 " Brighty, are you awake ?" 
 
 " Yes, my child." 
 
 " Brighty, I am troubled about mj dearest mother. How 
 do you know that she is gloomy about my marriage ?" 
 
 " Louise, I was wrong to say anything to you upon the 
 subject. My besetting sin is conversation ; if I could not 
 converse, I should have to scribble, and that would ink my 
 fingers think of something else, my dear." 
 
 " But, Brighty, yon who are so young, and who have 
 been without family ties of any sort, from your earliest 
 infancy up, how is it that you can enter so deeply into the 
 emotions of a mother parting with her daughter, a daughter 
 leaving her mother; the relative and comparative nature 
 of parents' love for their sons and their daughters yon, who 
 were never a mother, and, I was go'ng to say, never 
 davght-tr T'
 
 BBIGFTY'S CONQUEST. 17t 
 
 "Ton might \ave said it. I do not remember my 
 parents." 
 
 "Bat how GO you know a parent's hesrt, then 1" 
 
 " In a small way, as Shakspeare knew a ironnreh's heart, 
 a villain's heart, a woman's heart he who was neither a 
 king, rascal, nor woman by INTUITION. You do not know 
 what the idea is that that very r- hinon word protends to 
 present. The lexicons define it by synonyms, without ex- 
 plaining it. Instinctive krowiedge inspired knowledge 
 what is it ? whence conies it, then, Louise ? It may be 
 the answer, the sum total, of past expediences the expe- 
 rience* without the memory of a pre- existence. Inspiration, 
 Genius what are they, Louise I They may be condensed; 
 the precipitated wisdom of a iong chain of many links of 
 past lives. We sink into a reverie, we catch the gleam of 
 a new ray of light, or the tons of a new prophetic voice ; we 
 seek it, pursue it eager'.y, to lose sight and sound of it away 
 down in the caves of our inner life, whither it has withdrawn. 
 We watch, and wait, and listen, foi the voice within to 
 speak for the light within to shine- in vair ! It has died 
 away in silence died away in darkness until some unex- 
 pected sight or sound, some merest trifle the shadow of a 
 cloud upon the hills, a cadence in the laughter of a child- 
 brings back the ray in a flood of glor'ous light brings back 
 the voice in a diapason of sublime harmony We call it 
 inspiration genius 1 May it not be poetical memory , 
 rather the recovery of lost knowledge and wisdom with- 
 out the recollection of its acquirement ?" marmured Brighty, 
 half awake, half asleep, sinking dreamily into unconscious- 
 ness. 
 
 " It is the moon ; yea, of course, it is the full moon, 
 falling on Brighty's head, that it keeps her awake and 
 makes her fanciful," said Louise, stepping out of bed and 
 eloiing the blinds. Then returning to her coucl\ she 
 changed her pillov and fell asleep.
 
 190 THE MOTHIK-IK-LAW. 
 
 The stage left the next morning, after an early breakfast 
 Brighty, on re-entering the coach with Louise and General 
 Stuart-Gordon, began to put in practice her resolution of 
 distant reserve. She was perfectly sincere in her intention 
 to persevere in gently repulsing the General's advances ; 
 yet the most skillful coquetry could not have devised a 
 better plan for bringing matters to a crisis. 
 
 The end of this day's journey brought the travelers to 
 Baltimore. Here they designed remaining one day, for the 
 purpose of seeing something of the city, and of making a 
 few more purchases. They spent the day in talking or 
 riding through the city, and returned to their hotel at night 
 BO fatigued, that the ladies retired to their apartment very 
 early in the evening. 
 
 On reaching their room, Br'ghty observed on the toilet- 
 table a small packet, addressed to herself, having the card 
 of General Stuart-Gordou attached to it She opened the 
 packet, and found a casket ; she raised the lid, and a beau- 
 tiful set of jewels flashed into her eyes ! First an exclama- 
 tion of admiration and delight escaped her lips, as she held 
 them nearer the light, to examine their brilliancy ; but in 
 the next instant she fell into gravity raised the card and 
 looked at it then glanced at Louise, who was undressing 
 in a distant part of the room and q-iite unconscious of the 
 treasures on the dressing-table ihjn she looked again in 
 admiration on the jewels. They consisted of ear-rings, 
 breastpin, necklace, and bracelet, of fine topazes. Lastly, 
 he closed the casket, wrapped it tgain in its envelope, tied 
 it securely, and taking writing materials from her trunk, 
 stood there, and penned the following characteristic note : 
 
 "Britannia O'Riley offers her eer']e;t and most respect- 
 ful esteem to General Ptuart-Gordon, and solicits his per- 
 mission to return the accompanying casket, -ith dep gra- 
 titude, and with thli ejplacation :
 
 BKIGHTY 8 CONQUEST. 181 
 
 "Britannia O'Riley's circumstances, by denying her the 
 privilege of making aostly presents, deprire her of the plta- 
 Bnre of receiving them." 
 
 When she had folded, sealed, and directed this note, she 
 attached it to the top of the packet by slipping it in between 
 the cords and the envelope, and rang the bell. A chamber- 
 maid answered it. 
 
 " Do you know the number of the room occupied by the 
 gentleman who accompanied us hither?" 
 
 "Yes, Miss; it is number twenty-six the next room 
 but one." 
 
 " Has he retired yet ?" 
 
 " No, Miss ; I have just seen him enter the reading-room. 
 
 " Then, if his door is open, take this packet and leave it 
 on his dressing-table, and return and let me know when you 
 have done so," said Britannia, handing the casket. 
 
 The girl took it and went, and in two minutes returned 
 to report her errand accomplished. 
 
 " What was that, Brighty ?" inquired Louise, as the girl 
 left the room. 
 
 " Oh, only a purchase of the General's, left upon our toi- 
 let table." And the girls retired to rest. 
 
 Early the next morning, and as soon as he had ascertained 
 that the young ladies had arisen and dressed, General Stu- 
 art-Gordon rapped at their door, and, upon its being 
 opened, offered his arms to the girls with an air of sad cere- 
 mony, to conduct them down to breakfast. 
 
 The passage of breakfast was rather amusing, could the 
 spectator have been in the secret. The General was very 
 grave, ate but little, and heaved great sighs as he buttered 
 hia bread. At the end of breakfast, both the young ladies 
 arose to return to their room, and get ready to resume their 
 journey. But General Stuart-Gordon stepped after them 
 and arrested their further progress by taking the hand of 
 11
 
 182 THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 Britannia, and inquiring in a low but assured tone if Misi 
 O'Riley would grant him the favor of an interview. Bri- 
 tannia bowed her head in assent, and suffered herself to be 
 conducted to the ladies' parlor, then vacant, and led with 
 great deference to a seat. 
 
 General Stuart-Gordon, standing respectfully before her, 
 aid 
 
 "Miss O'Riley, you have humbled me." 
 
 "I am very unhappy in having undesignedly offended 
 you, sir," said Brighty. 
 
 "I said that you had humbled me, Miss O'Riley." 
 
 "The terra is inadmissible, applied to General Stuart- 
 Gordon. I would not hear my best friend use it in connec- 
 tion with your honored name." 
 
 " Miss O'Riley, I am humbled ; you will restore my 
 self-respect by the acceptance of the small offering laid 
 upon your shrine." 
 
 " General Stuart-Gordon, you will pardon me, and per- 
 mit me to adhere to a rule that circumstances make U 
 necessary for my self-respect that I should observe." 
 
 " Then it seems to be a question of pride between us." 
 
 " Of propriety." 
 
 " Miss O'Riley, you are proud." 
 
 " Perhaps so, sometimes, and with some people." 
 
 "Arrogant." 
 
 "Never." 
 
 " Disprove the charge, then, by receiving from a friend 
 bauble, that any other young lady, under the same cirsum 
 glances, would accept without hesitation." 
 
 " But I ?m not ' any other young lady,' " replied Britan- 
 nia, rising, and drawing up her slight, elastic figure. 
 
 " I said that you were arrogant, and so you are." 
 
 " Yon misapprehend me, sir. I humbly thank yon for all 
 and sundry your benevolent wishes and intentions toward 
 mt, ' uid Brighty.
 
 BRIGHT Y' 8 CONQUEST. 185 
 
 "Miss O'Riley," questioned General Stuart-Gordon, after 
 a pause, " what disposition shall I make of this casket ?" 
 
 "Your own discretion will direct you aright, General 
 Stuart-Gordon. It would be great presumption in me to 
 suggest their proper destination." 
 
 "The boudoir of the future Mrs. Stuart-Gordon " 
 
 "Would be a very fitting disposal of them." 
 
 "I perfectly agree with you. Ani I lay them at the feet 
 of the future Mrs. Stuart-Gordon, if Miss O'Rilcy will 
 honor the ancient name by accepting it, with the devotion 
 of its oldest representative," exclaimed the General, suiting 
 the action to the word, by gallantly dropping on one knee, 
 and depositing the casket at the feet of Britannia. 
 
 (Don't laugh, or rather do if you like; but this was 
 something like the style of wooing i* our grandmother's 
 days the days of hoops and high-heele shoes of damask 
 and brocades of high head-dresses stately, minuet walks 
 elaborate double curtsies, first to the. /ght and then to 
 the left of gallant toasts, and set spe-^hec when Lord 
 Chesterfield's letters, Sir Charles Grandison &c., formed 
 the light literature of the day. Yes 1 this was ihe style of 
 courtship in favor with gentlemen of the old school, especi- 
 ally where the gentlemen were old themsslvei, and somswhat 
 stiff and proud. Many a reported courtship of the olden 
 time have I heard from the lips of my grandmother and 
 grand-aunts. It may be that these stately airs were assumed 
 only by the descendants of the cavalier settlers, the citizens 
 of aristocratic Maryland and Yirginia. It may be that the 
 republican children of the Puritans never affected such.) 
 
 But while I have been talking with you, Britannia has 
 been standing there with her eyes cast upon the ground, 
 with hand clasped in that of General Stuart- Gordon, re- 
 ceiving his declaration. 
 
 At its close, she gravely withdrew her hand, and, saying 
 calmly, "General Stuart-Gordon amuses himself at mj
 
 184 THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 expense/' curtsied, and was passing from the room, when 
 he stepped quickly uftcr her, and, taking her hand, said 
 
 " Miss O'P-iley, I admire you 1 I would say, Britannia, 
 I love thee, but that your lip might curl to hear such a 
 declaration from a man of my years. But, Britannia, I do 
 very earnestly respect you, very highly esteem you my 
 happiness is dependent upon your society. I wish to make 
 you my wife, the mistress of my house, the companion of 
 my domestic life, the partner of my social and solitary 
 hours. Britannia, do yor. think that a woman could be 
 happy as the wife of a iran many years her senior ?" 
 
 There was a deep-toned sadness in his voice as he asked 
 the question, ihat appe.- . to Brighty's sympathies. She 
 answered him gentlv - 
 
 "Oh ! yes I I thin so when all other circumstances are 
 tn harmony " 
 
 "Could you be nappy thus situated, Britannia?" 
 
 ".could." 
 
 " Then T av A o understand that you entertain my suit, 
 Brighty ?" 
 
 Again Britannia gravely withdrew her hand, and replied, 
 earnest j 
 
 " General Stua.",- 3fordon, I feel very highly honored, and 
 Tery deeply grateful for your preference. But permit me to 
 hope for your happiness in a union with some other lady 
 more worthy the distinction of your high alliance." 
 
 " ' Some other lady ?' Alas ? Britannia, thirty years ago 
 uch a transfer might have been possible such a transfer 
 teas possible was made! But when men of my age form 
 an attachment, it is their laf-t, their last. There is no more 
 hope in life ! It is the very latest autumn flowering of the 
 ieart. There is no more blooming in the winter !" 
 
 "Permit me to retire, General," said Britannia, respect- 
 fnJly. 
 
 "Go, Brtannia," said he, sadly. And she curtsied
 
 EIGHTY'S CONQUEST. 186 
 
 and left the parlor. "Go, Brighty," murmured the sexa 
 genarian lover, more maudlin, sentimental, desolate, heart- 
 broken, than a boy of eighteen in his first love trrablei. 
 " Go, Brighty 
 
 " ' Go, thon vision ! brightly gleaming, 
 
 Softly on my son! that fell- 
 Go ! for me no longer beaming 
 Hope and beauty, fare thee well.' " 
 
 As his biographer, I arr ashamed of General Henry Cart- 
 wright Stuart-Gordon, U. S. A., just at this crisis 1 I am 
 mortified that he should thus abandon his dignity, even 
 
 when solitary in the parlor of the Hotel. And I think 
 
 it was well that, before he grew any worse or got any 
 further, the shrill blast of the matter-of-fact and peremptory 
 stage-horn broke in upon his music and his poetry, hia 
 passion and his foolery, and called him from his ramble in 
 the meandering paths of fancy, to the rough turnpike jour- 
 ney of real life. 
 
 In half an hour, the travelers were once more on tha 
 road, and in three more days they had reached Mont Crys- 
 tal in safety,
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 THE BRIDAL. 
 
 Bring flower*, fresh flowers for the bride to wear I 
 They are born to blush In her shining hair, 
 She Is learing the home of her childhood'* mirth, 
 She hth bid farewell t- ur father's hearth, 
 Her place, Is now by auutner's side- 
 Bring flowers for the brow of the fair young bride Hemarti 
 
 BUT there were no flowers in bloom on the wedding-day 
 of our bride. The pale brow of Louise was indeed crowned 
 with white roses, but they were lifeless, scentless, artificial 
 . lifeless as the chilled heart of the bride false as the cour- 
 tesy of her mother artificial as the forced smile with which 
 Susan Soraerville accepted her post as bridesmaid to the 
 youngest, fairest, and wealthiest bride that had appeared in 
 the country for the last qnarter of a century or since the 
 marriage of Margaret Stuart-Gordon, the sole heiress of the 
 Island Estate, the almost fabulous splendor of whose bridal 
 is still a tradition of glory in the neighborhood, and which 
 it was Mrs. Armstrong's ambition to supersede and eclipse 
 with superior magnificence. Having but one daughter to 
 marry off one who was about to be wedded to the most 
 wealthy man in the State and having ample means, Mrs. 
 Armstrong felt the propriety of sparing no expense ; and 
 the spared none. Everything that ingenuity could invent, 
 taste devise, luxury desire, or money purchase, was procured 
 everything but "fresh flowers for the bride to wear." 
 There were no flowers alive on the day of Louise Arm- 
 strong's marriage. The roses had been dead for months
 
 THE BRIDAL. 18? 
 
 the rose-bushes, stripped of their leaves, stuck up, stiff and 
 stark, as skeletons from the ground. Even tne lilies and 
 the tulips were long ago in their graves. 
 
 And what a day it teas/ that 22d of February, 18 ! 
 
 " The Devil is doing all he can to dramatize the four ele- 
 ments !" swore Brutus Lion, who at four o'clock in the 
 morning had jumped out of bed, with a bound that shook 
 the house yes, and the rocks on which the house was 
 founded, too and had dashed open the window blinds with 
 a blow of his fist, to look out upon the weather. 
 
 " What is the matter ?" shouted his sister from the next 
 room. 
 
 " Matter ! matter 1" growled Brutus ; " no hunting again 
 to-day, Ger ! What will we do with ourselves, you and I ?" 
 
 " Start a stag ! I don't mind the weather ! Ha I ha 1 
 you are growing effeminate, Brutus !" and Gertrude with a 
 shout of laughter, broke into the room while Brutus was 
 drawing on his coat. "I should like to seethe weather 
 that would keep me in aoors. / shall hunt/" said the 
 giantess, shaking 'oose her cataract of rolling yellow hair. 
 
 " Hunt what, on such a devil of a day ! Satan would not 
 hunt a soul to-day !" 
 
 " / shall, nevertheless. Let the weather do its worst. 
 Lord ! Brutus, I defy the elements ! Let them rage ! I 
 glory in defying them ! I glory in the sublime strength that 
 enables me to defy them. See here, Brutus I" 
 
 And going to the window, she threw it up, and, baring 
 her neck and bosom to the sharp and driving sleet, stood 
 there, while her large, fierce, light-blue Saxon eyes danced 
 with a jubilant exultation. 
 
 Oh, shut it d^wn i come away !" impatiently exclaimed 
 Brutus. 
 
 Gsrtrnde laughed, and folding her blue cloth pelisse ovef 
 her bosom, stiU full of sleet, exclaimed
 
 188 THE MOTH1B-IN-LAW. 
 
 " And now you expect me to get a wheezing, don't yoi 1 
 Pooh 1 aa soon expect the wild reindeer of the Arctic 
 regions to catch a cold ! No ! It is only your domestic 
 animals brut^ md human that take cold from exposure 
 to the elements 1 Oh 1 Brutus, Low you and I have divided 
 the inheritance of our fathers. You, with the strongly- 
 marked North American Indian features and complexion, 
 have inherited the habits of an English fox-hunting squire. 
 I, with the form, features, and complexion of the Anglo- 
 Saxons and the Danes, have all the great hardihood of un- 
 tamed Indian nature I Nothing affects me but confinement. 
 Oh 1 Brutus, I never was sick 1 I never shall be sick ! I 
 defy all the Influences of earth to make me sick I I could 
 sleep all night in the open air in such weather as this, and 
 never freeze nor get sick ! Oh I Brutus, 1 can scarcely be- 
 lieve that I can die! 'ina- thh firm, white flesh of mine 
 shall ever perish i Y ;t I know that some time after I have 
 passed my hundredth year that tbis body will begin to wear 
 out, and dry away, and fall off :r?m me, and then I suppose 
 I shall ride a winged steed and hunt through the regions 
 of air. I wonder if there is any hunting in the other world, 
 Brutus 7 I swear to you, Brutus, that heaven would not be 
 heaven to me without it 1 The ' happy hunting grounds' of 
 our Indian fathers 1 That is my idea of heaven 1" 
 
 And in truth it must be confessed that the Gerfalcon's 
 prospect for any other seemed very small. 
 
 '' SHUT DOWN THAT WINDOW ! will you ?" roared Brutus 
 again. " Don't let the room be filling with sleet and snow 
 while you talk ! God help you I I mean the man that gets 
 you for a wife ! only it is to be hoped that no man will be 
 donkey enough to try !" 
 
 " Ha, ha, ha I I am pretty independent of your lord- 
 ships !" laughed the ;old and savage beauty ; " twrj inde- 
 pendent 1"
 
 THE BRIDAL 189 
 
 " And very detestable for being so independent 1 What 
 ihould make you so independent ?" 
 
 "That is a jibe ! but I will answer you. This should 
 make me independent or healthful, cheerful, and free, 
 which is the same thing I live by the laws of nature." 
 
 " Of savage nature 1" 
 
 "Of nature! Clothes were made to cover, not to fetter 
 people, and I wear mine lightly and easily. Houses were 
 made to shelter, not to suffocate people, and I stay in ours 
 only to eat and sleep in tempestuous weather ; in a word, 
 only when I cannot enjoy my life more out doors Food 
 was made to nourish and sustain, not to enervate and disease 
 people. Therefore, I live upon apples, nuts, turnips, and 
 dried fruits all those fresh, sweet products of the earth, 
 fchat, having in them the elements of life and health, will 
 keep almost for ever and not upon cooked victuals, that, 
 having the principles of decay within themselves, spoil in 
 a day or two, or upon your more horrid and disgusting 
 animal food. A food pah I which, as soon as life is 
 gone, falls into rapid dissolution. I live upon fresh living 
 roots and fruits, and receive their life into my veins. Ah 1 
 believe me, I shall live a hundred years, in spite of the 
 necessarily defective physical organization inherited from 
 meat-eating ancestors. And believe me, that the reason 
 why the antediluvians lived so long was, that they lived 
 upot the living vegetable productions of the earth not 
 upon the dead, and disguised cooked food, and the horrid 
 animal food. And believe me, that the Biblical account of 
 the original sin, and the heathen fable of Prometheus' theft, 
 referred to the same epoch in the world's history, namely, 
 the time when the curiosity or the luxury of man tried ani- 
 mal food, and fire, the fierce element, was captured and 
 debased to culinary purposes, just to disguise the cannibal 
 aieal of meat, and then to change, cook, and kill the living 
 fruits that were to have Heeu the healthful and life-giving
 
 190 TMl MOTHER- Ilf-LAW. 
 
 food of men. And what have been the results? The 
 human race has become luxurious, sensual, debased, and, 
 even amidst the advance of civilization, has declined in 
 ite, in health, in strength, and in length of life ! Instead 
 of living nine hundred years, men do not live ninety. 
 Water was made to drink, and to bathe in, and not to steep 
 tea and coffee in, or to dilute wine and brandy with ; and I 
 bathe in water like a duck, and drink water, which is alive 
 aa the fruits are, and not your tea, and your coffee, and 
 your wine, and your brandy, which, with all their spirit, 
 have no life or life-giving power. And that is the reason 
 why I have glorious health, strength and spirits ; that ia 
 the reason why I can defy the storm, when I wish to do it ; 
 that is the reason why I shall never be ill never decay 
 till I am past a hundred years old never die till then, 
 unless somebody sends a bullet through my head or heart" 
 
 " You may break your own neck I" exclaimed Brutus, in 
 a tone as if he wished she might do so. 
 
 "Break my neck impossible! There is not a horse in 
 the wide world could throw me, and not a fall on earth from 
 which I have not the agility to recover myself. I could 
 ride a lion 1 I wish some enterprising man would bring 
 one here, and dare me to do it ! You are not a lord of 
 creation, Brutus, nor do I know one man who is a luxuri- 
 ous and enervated pack I But I am a lady of creation, and 
 I tell you I could ride a lion !" 
 
 " Should like to see you try wonder how you would ac- 
 complish it ?" 
 
 By STRENGTH, Brutus. God bless you, Brutus, look at 
 me ! I am STRONG 1 I could subdue, bind, lay at your feet, 
 the strongest beef-fed man in the State I any man but 
 yourself, Brutus, by mere muscular force 1" 
 
 "Yes, by 'mere muscular force' you will never 'subdue' 
 a man by the force of your beauty, Gertrude, although you
 
 THE BRIDAL. 191 
 
 are beautiful, or ' bind' a man by the fetters of lore, Ghw- 
 trade, for you are not lovely." 
 
 " As your Zoe 1" 
 
 " As ray Zoe 1 Now why, Gertrude, do you disapprove 
 of Zoe ? why do you hate Zoe ?" 
 
 " I don't hate Zoe ; neither do I hate humble-bees, bat 
 I do not particularly affect either ; and I will not have a 
 little coffee-brewing, cake-baking fool in the house." 
 
 " You despise her for her birth !" 
 
 " I do not despise her for her birth, although I know, M 
 you do not know, that she is a mulatto !" 
 
 " A mulatto 1" echoed Brutus, in dismay. 
 
 "Yes, a mulatto 1" 
 
 " For God's sake ! how do you know ? Do you know 
 anything of her origin ?" 
 
 "Do be quiet, Brutus, and let go my shoulder. Fes, a 
 mulatto I No, I know nothing of her origin that personal 
 observation does not teach me." 
 
 " Nothing else ?" 
 
 "No, I say I" 
 
 " Then I am easy. I really thought you had a warrant 
 for what you said." 
 
 "What warrant did I want more than my own eyes f 
 Zoe is of mixed African blood, I tell you. Look at the 
 dead white skin" 
 
 " Susan Somerville's is the same." 
 
 " Susan Somerville's is pure white clear white. Zoe'i 
 is opaque white. Look at the darkness around her finger 
 nails ; look at her rippling black hair not brownish black, 
 like the English or American hair, or bluish black, like the 
 West of Ireland hair, or purplish black like Italian hair, but 
 jetty black like African hair, and with the little, undulating, 
 wavy curl all through i." 
 
 " Poh ! Nonsense I The devil I It is not true. YOU
 
 192 THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 know nothing about it I exclaimed Brutus, very pale, and 
 rery ranch troubled. 
 
 "It is so, I tell you I" said Gertrude. "And I tell you 
 that that circumstance does not trouble me a great deal, and 
 that I shall go by for Zoe this evening, and wrap the liltle 
 one up in a cloak and take her in my sleigh to Miss Arm- 
 strong's wedding. Ha, ha, ha ! Little does Mrs. Arm- 
 strong guess that in Zoe Dove she will have a mulatto 
 guest ! 
 
 " Gertrude I what do you mean ?" 
 
 " Little does Mrs. Armstrong suspect that her daughter'i 
 second bridesmaid is a mulatto a slave /" 
 
 " Heavens ! Gertrude I" 
 
 But, reader, we are on our way. This is the wedding- 
 day of Louise and Louis, and, tempestuous as it is, we must 
 visit other houses before the breakfast hour. 
 
 The family at the Isle of Rays was np at the first dawn 
 or, rather, at the earliest hour, for day 'jould scarcely be 
 said to dawn on that 22d of February. Apollo Belvidere, 
 fit herald of the bridal morn, rapped at his young master'i 
 door at four o'clock. 
 
 " How is the weather, Apollo ? it was clouding up last 
 night before I went to bed ; how is it this morning ?" in- 
 quired Louis Stuart-Gordon, jumping out of bed ; and 
 opening the door, Apollo entered, set down the wax taper 
 and hot water, and, lifting up both his hands exclaimed. 
 
 " Br?ss the Lor, massa, de wedder do seem to be a tryin' 
 of itseif. > 
 
 At The Crags, George and Hannah had arisen at an 
 early hour. Anna had left her humble cot in a small room 
 within that of Susan Somerville, and, passing to the bedaid* 
 of the latter, had whispered softly 
 
 " It is time to rise, Miss Susan, if you are going to Mont 
 Crystal to lay ; but the Mother is dreadful; a furioup
 
 THE BRIDAL. 165 
 
 wind, with a driving sleet of snow and hail, and the roads 
 impassable ; the very landmarks lost in the drifted, and atill 
 drifting mow." 
 
 " I wi.l go," sa d Susan, leaving her couch. 
 
 " Yes, I will go," thought Susan, as she performed her 
 simple toilet. " The fierceness of the storm ! I shall lik 
 it, methinks. Certainly, I shall not feel it ! Yes, I will 
 go. If I do not, Louis may suspect the extent of my 
 credulity and folly, and his kind heart will be pained. I 
 will go." 
 
 She went, but who could compute the trials of that young 
 heart, when, to save her friend from the mere possibility of 
 uneasiness, she declined to avail herself of the chance of 
 escape, and resolutely determined to be present at the mar- 
 riage of Louii, the funeral of her own hopes. 
 
 It was on the stroke of five o'clock in the morning when 
 Kate Juuaper entered her mistress's stately bed-chamber, 
 and, drawing aside the curtains, said 
 
 " Oh, madam, what a day I" 
 
 " Is it raining, then, Kate ?" inquired the lady, who, 
 through the closed blinds, and closely curtained windows, 
 and heavily draped alcove in which stood her bed, could 
 not hear the tempest. 
 
 "It has been storming, madam ; it has been storming all 
 night ; sleet and snow driven by a high wild ; the ground 
 is covered ; you cannot see the tops of the fences, and the 
 tempest is still raging fiercely ; the roads, I am sure, must 
 be impassable," said the mulatto, (who, from constant asso- 
 ciation with the family, spoke better English than Taost of 
 her race,) and she laid the velvet slippers of l --? mistreat 
 ready for her to rise. 
 
 Mrs. Armstrong, rising, drew ja her wadded dressing- 
 gown, and going to the window, and drawing aside the 
 curtains, an^ "Growing open the shatters, looked oat with 
 dismay
 
 194 TEB MOTHlB-Ilf-LJLW. 
 
 Roused from her light slumbers by the sudden blast o" 
 the storm against the windows, Louise started from he* 
 conch, and, nervous and superstitious as she was, shook with 
 terror at such an awakening on her bridal morn 1 She 
 lipped from her bed and went and stood by her mother's 
 side. With something like tenderness for the child that had 
 just passed the last night she ever would pass in her mo- 
 ther's chamber, Mrs. Armstrong put her arm around her 
 daughter's waist, and, divining her thooghts, said 
 
 "It may clear away before evening, Louise ; nay, it must 
 clear away before noon ; it has been storming all night, 
 tuid a storm seldom lasts so long." 
 
 "'Blessed is the bride that the sun shines on ;' is not that 
 the proverb, mother ? 
 
 " Proverbs^ are vulgar, Miss Armstrong," replied the 
 haughty woman, who for five minutes would not give way 
 to tenderness. 
 
 " I wish the sun would shine out to-day," mnrmured 
 Louise. 
 
 "The san of fortune shines upon your marriage, Miss 
 Armstrong : and Mrs. Stuart-Gordon will to-morrow be 
 independent of any other light. It will be her mother's 
 halls that will be left in gloom," coldly and bitterly con- 
 cluded the lady. 
 
 " Mother mother I" exclaimed Louise, throwing herself, 
 tor the first time, sobbing, into her mother's arms. " Mo- 
 ther mother I will stay with you, if you wish it 1 Do 
 irith me aa you please !" for am I not your own child ? Do 
 J not owe yon life ? Mother mother you are my creator 
 almost ; take me to your bosom, and nourish me with your 
 lore, at you once did in my infancy, mother, and I will 
 neter, n-jver ICAVC you." 
 
 "And Louis then?" inquired the lady, 'u cold tone*, 
 Hst with secret satisfy tion, thong 1 ! she would not aart 
 rtopped the marriage now for the world.
 
 THJC BKIBAL. 196 
 
 " Look 1 oh, yes, poor Louis I" raurm i id LoiiM in a 
 
 roice of distress. 
 
 "Yon are ridiculous, Miss Armstrong," said her mother, 
 coldly turning away. 
 
 The sun did not shine out that day. At noon, the tem- 
 pest subsided, and there seemed some prospect of a clear 
 afternoon. It was in the lull of the storm that Susan Somer- 
 Tille, attended by Anna, arrived in a sleigh, driven by 
 George. Mrs. Armstrong received her with much polite- 
 ness, and conducted her at once into the apartment of the 
 bride. Mrs. Armstrong augured well for this arrival, for the 
 success of her fete. 
 
 "If Miss Somerville could pass the frightful road leading 
 from The Crags, others can come, " she thought And 
 soon, indeed, was seen another sleigh, containing little Zoe, 
 carefully wrapped in blankets, and driven by Gertrude Lion 
 Coming up with a sudden jerk, Gertrude flung the rein 
 upon the horse's reck, springing out knee-deep in the snow 
 caugh'; Zoe up in her arms, and bearing her on through th 
 drifts, carried her in the hall, and set her down, laughing 
 uproariously. Mrs. Armstrong, drawn from the saloon by 
 tlie noise, caine out to meet them. 
 
 " There, Mrs. Armstrong, I have brought you your second 
 bridesmaid. You would not have got her but for me. 
 
 " Thank you." 
 
 " 0, by no means ; I had a particular wish thit yott 
 should not aiss your second bridesmaid 1" 
 
 " If we had been so unfortunate as to have miised the as- 
 sistance of this young lady, another could have been found 
 among the guests." 
 
 " But," said Gertrude, fixing her blaring light eyea npoa 
 the face of the lady, " / had a particular wish that ioe 
 thould attend her" 
 
 She passed paused in astonishment. The haughty wo- 
 man ucdir.; before ae had changed si if wddealy etnwi
 
 196 THI KOTHKK-IN-LAW. 
 
 with palsy. Her form was braced back against the wall 
 and shuddering ; her stony brow blanched and corrugated ; 
 her cold, sleet eyes riveted on the radiant face of Gertrude. 
 
 " Well ?" she exclaimed hastily ; " go on ; why do you 
 top ?" 
 
 "Well, I had a particular wish that Zoe should attend 
 her friend" said Gertrude, in a calm voice, with a care- 
 less look. 
 
 " But, Mrs. Armstrong, you are not well ; you have been 
 agitated," said she with an affectation of interest. 
 
 "I have been agitated and over-fatigued," replied the la- 
 dy ; " and really, Miss Lion, your manners are somewhat 
 boisterous and startling, in a quiet house ; you are so em- 
 phatic on trifles that but pardon me, I keep you in the 
 draught." Then, touching a bell, which was immediately 
 answered by Kate Jumper, she said 
 
 " Kate, show Miss Zoe Dove into the dressing room -jf 
 your young lady, and then attend Miss Lion to the apart- 
 ment prepared for her." And with a stately bow, Mrs 
 Armstrong swept on from the hall. 
 
 An hour or two later, other sleighs with guests began to 
 arrive. The bridal toilet of Louise Armstrong was com- 
 mencing in the gorgeous dressing-room prepared for her 
 use. Although her two bridesmaids were in attendance, it 
 was the artistic taste of Britannia O'Riley that arranged 
 her dress. The bride sat before a large cheval-mirror. She 
 wore a robe of Mechlin lace, with a deep, rich border of 
 embroidered rosebuds entwined with orange flowers, and worn 
 over a white satin under-dress. Her pale, blond hair waa 
 braided over her ears, to suit the gentle madonna style of 
 her countenance. Near her, on the back of a chair, waa 
 thrown a large and splendid Mechlin veil, of a similar pet- 
 tern to that of the dress. On the toilet-table were various 
 gloves, fans, essences, extracts, &c., and a case of diamonds,
 
 THE S a I D A L. 197 
 
 the bridal offering of General Stnart-Gordon, and a caiket 
 of pearls, the gift of her mother. 
 
 Britannia stood behind the bride, smoothing with her 
 hand the bands of her fair hair, until they shone again. Zoe 
 lifted the casket cf diamonds, and taking from it a bandean, 
 held it towards Miss Armstrong. Louise reached her hand 
 for it. 
 
 " No, no, my lore," said Britannia, returning the jewels, 
 " no gems for you ; not one, Louise ; they are too cold and 
 glittering, and too hard and sharp for the touch. They 
 suit me, Louise, not you ; me, Louise, who am unloving 
 and unloved ; who, upon occasions, can be hard, cold bril- 
 liant, and sharp ay, and regal like them ; me, who flash 
 out anger with the sparks of my rubies, and scorn with the 
 gleam of my emeralds. But you, Louise, loving and loved 
 . fair, soft, and gentle you must present no hard surfaces, 
 no sharp points ; no flowers for you, Louise." 
 
 Zoe, attentive, alert, opened a band-box, and took out a 
 white wreath. 
 
 "No, no, it will not do," smiled Brighty, "fresh bloom- 
 ing flowers we want. I will go and gather a wreath from 
 the conservatory. But what are yon doing there, Zoe ?" 
 
 "I am scenting her handkerchief." 
 
 " Oh, throw the via', in the fire ! I detest those odious 
 and sickening French extracts. The aroma from her rose- 
 buds and orange blossoms, the fresh living breath of the 
 flowers will be best." And Brighty, leaving the bride, 
 went down stairs to select the wreath and bouquet. 
 
 On opening the glass doors leading from the saloon into 
 the conservatory, Brighty started violently, and repressed 
 an exclamation of dismay and horror at the sight of blasted 
 desolation that met her eyes. That fine conservatory of the 
 most beautiful and fragrant flowers of our own clime, and 
 of the rarest tropical exotics ; that splendid conserratory, 
 that was the winder and the envy of the whole coanty; 
 12
 
 198 THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 that cherished conservatory, that for years and yean haa 
 received the most careful attention ; hi-d, in the bustle and 
 hurry attendant upon the wedding, been forgotten and neg- 
 lected, the fire iu the furnace had been suffered to go out, 
 and the night had fallen intensely cold ; and now, cpon tho 
 bridal morning the flowers were found dsad ; rll withered 
 by the blighting cold 1 
 
 " What an ominous day I" exclaimed Brighty, is she 
 turned from that scene of blasted life, and thoughtfully and 
 slowly returned to the bride. 
 
 " I do not like her toilet at all," said Brighty, " her beau- 
 tiful robe and veil are both perfect, but her brow crowned 
 with artificial roses, and her handkerchief saturated with a 
 venomous French extract. No, I do not like it." 
 
 " Now you are quite ready," said Zoe, " and oh, so beau- 
 tiful and sweet, Louise ! Now, Susan, we will put on om 
 white muslins, for Louis will be here presently." 
 
 Susan Somerville, who had taken no part in this toilet, 
 because her assistance was unnecessary, now arose, and. 
 laying off her dark riding-habit, was preparing to change 
 her dress, when, seeing Louise looking very pensive, she 
 went up to her and said, in a low voice, not to be heard by 
 any of the others 
 
 " You are very serious, Louise ; can I do any thing for 
 you ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes, Susan, I want to see my dear mother once 
 more, here, before Louis comes." 
 
 " I will go and bring her," said Susan, leaving the room 
 
 Soon Miss Somerville returned, and, stooping down, 
 whispered 
 
 "Your mother is particularly engaged, and cannot come, 
 Louise 1" 
 
 The bride burst into tears 1 
 
 " Ah, well 1 yes, here is a pretty catastrophe I You 
 mt breik ycrr heart because ' mother' cannot tare tht
 
 THE BRIDAL. 199 
 
 reception of her gnests, to make % scene with yon !" ex- 
 claimed Brighty, will well-feignod petulance. 
 
 " Oh, it is not that, Brighty ; you know it is not that!" 
 
 "Well, then, becanse she will not because she is selfish, 
 coW and hard, and " 
 
 Here the gentle hand of Zoe fell softly on the arm of 
 Brighty, and the gentle eyes of Zoo were raised reprovingly 
 and imploringly to her face. 
 
 " Yes, I was wrong, Zoe, my little mentor. But, Zoe, 
 thank God that, like me, you are alone in the world, and 
 BO, are sure that your spirit will never be wounded, your 
 heart never bruised; for none but those we love have power 
 to break the spirit or crush the heart, Zoe." 
 
 " Mr. Stuart-Gordon, with his attendants, await your 
 leisure, Miss Armstrong," coldly announced Mrs. Arm- 
 strong, as she swung open the chamber-door, and stood 
 among them. 
 
 " Let them enter" said the bride, in a low voice, repelled 
 and chilled by the coldness of her mother. 
 
 Britannia, lifting the elegant vail from the chair, throwing 
 it over the head and form of Louise, gracefully arranged it, 
 and soon the little party were marshaled down stairs, and 
 into the saloon. 
 
 Owing to the frightful tempestuousness of the weather, 
 the vast saloon was very sparsely sprinkled with company. 
 
 "What a beautiful couple!" "What a well-matched 
 pair !" " So youthful !" " So interesting !" " How hand- 
 tome is Louis !" How pretty is Louise !" " What an 
 elegant bridegroom!" "What a lovely bride !" were the 
 whispered words of admiration that greeted their entrZe. 
 
 As the bridal group took its station in the middle of the 
 floor, the company arose and gathered around. The ser- 
 yice commenced it went on amid the howling of the 
 Btofm that drowned the responses it was over. The white 
 bands or Susan Somerville reverently raised the gorgeou
 
 200 THJ MOTHEB.IN-HW. 
 
 rail from the head of the bride, and carried it HWPJ and 
 BO one noticed how pale and ill was Miss Somerville, whilf 
 friends and neighbors crowded around to congratulate 
 ' Mrs. Stuart-Gordon." 
 
 " What a grand uame for such a little body !" whimpered 
 Zoe, laughingly, to Britannia. 
 
 " Yes : and what a fierce name Lion would be for such a 
 gentle little love as you, Zoe !" 
 
 Zoe crimsoned, and slunk away behind the ample folds 
 of Mrs. Armstrong's purple velvet gown. 
 
 General Stuart-Gordon advanced at this moment to offer 
 his congratulations to his son and daughter-in-law, and met 
 the bright face of Miss O'Riley, while the smile and glance 
 of mirth still lingered there. With a deep bow to Brighty, 
 he addressed himself to the fair bride. 
 
 The newly-married pair now took their seats with their 
 attendants. 
 
 It was now that Brutus Lion and his sister Gertrude 
 I beg their pardon, Mr. and Miss Lion of The Lair ad- 
 vanced to pay their compliments. Brutus, in his new suit 
 of Lincoln - green with gilt buttons, his elf locks cut, 
 brushed, and pomatumed, and Gertrude, looking like the 
 Queen of the Amazons, with her mazarine blue satin and 
 her rolling yellow hair or yellow mane, as Brutus, the 
 brute ! called it with her rolling yellow hair gathered into 
 a huge knot, and pierced and held by a long jeweled 
 arrow. 
 
 " Mr. and Mrs. Stuart-Gordon, I salute your highnesses I 
 You sit there as calmly as though something astounding 
 had not just happened to you 1 I especially refer to Mm. 
 Stuart-Gordon. This little creature," and here the golden- 
 haired Amazon took the delicate and white-gloved hand of 
 Louise in her own, "this little one, was this morning 
 'Louise' a little girl to be snubbed by her waiting-maiu, 
 eolded by her governess, and lectured by mamma ; this
 
 THI BRIDAL. 201 
 
 reningsheis 'Mrs. Stuart-Gordon I' Stupendous! Louise, 
 can you bear it ? I declare to you, Louise, thrt there is 
 not a young lady present who could not support your 
 honors with a more imposing dignity than you do ! Myself 
 for instance ! I am tall and strong, and could sustain the 
 burden of a great name ! And Brighty there ! I assert 
 that Brighty seemed born to be the mistress of The Isle of 
 Rays ! Why, even Susan Somerville would look Mrs. 
 Stuart-Gordon better than you do, little one I the ugh Susan 
 Sowerville will make a Virginian matron of the first class, 
 and of the most approved stamp ! Where is Susan ? Yes I 
 where is she ? I have not seen her since she raised the veil 
 from your head, Louise !" 
 
 " Yes I where is Susan, love ?" whispered Louis to 
 Louise. 
 
 " I do not know ; I will send and see. Miss Dove, will 
 you seek Miss Somerville ?" 
 
 Zoe sprang to obey, but Britannia, by a sudden thought, 
 caught her arm, arresting her flight, and saying 
 
 " Stop Miss Somerville carried off your veil, inad.."3, 
 and will soon return, without doubt." 
 
 In the meanwhile, where was Susan Somerville ? All 
 through the day, all through the toilet of Louise, she had 
 sustained herself by an almost superhuman exertion of will. 
 She had thought herself prepared by steady and firm antici- 
 pation for the meeting with Louis ; but at the first sight of 
 his face, the first sound of his voice, her courage had for- 
 saken her. All through the ceremony she stood, her brain 
 reeling, her heart sinking, her limbs failing under her ; yet 
 he stood seemingly very quiet, so calm and white was the 
 habitual style of her face. I said that the ir arriage of Louis 
 was the funeral of her happiness. Each word of the ritual 
 that severed her forever from Louis fell upon her ears like 
 the reiterated blows by which a limb may be slowly and 
 painfully cut off fell upo her heart like clods upon a coflU
 
 203 THE MOTHKR-IN-LAW. 
 
 lid. At the conclusion of the ceremony she felt her sen&ei 
 going the scene all mingled into chaos and swam before 
 her sight a confused and painfu 1 flashing of lights, and 
 glancing of eyes, and glittering of trinkets a confused 
 clashing of sounds, where girlish laughter, mingled with 
 deep-toned, heart-felt words of sympathy, and with moaning 
 of the storm without pressed in upon her brain. To save 
 herself, and with a last effort of self-control, she raised the 
 veil from the brow of the bride, and bore it away. Falter- 
 ing through the long passages, and up the great staircase, 
 she found her room. A little fire was burning there, and a 
 dim tiper was standing on the mantelpiece. Anna was 
 seated by the fire. Unheeding this, she approached the 
 side of the bed, sank down upon her knees, dropped the 
 veil upon the bed, her arras upon the veil, and her head 
 npon her arms, and unconsciously gave way to a succession 
 of low, deep moans, like one in acute bodily pain might do 
 eproaching herself bitterly the while for the sin and shame 
 of her present sufferings. A rap was heard at the door, 
 but Susan did not heed. Anna went to the door. It was 
 Mrs. Armstrong 
 
 " Is Miss Somerville in her chamber ?" 
 
 " Yes, madam ; and as soon as she has arranged her 
 dress, she will return to the saloon," Anna hastened to say, 
 in order to prevent questions. 
 
 Let Miss Somerville know that we await her presence to 
 commence the quadrilles," said the lady, and turned and 
 left the passage. 
 
 "Miss Somerville," murmured Anna, softly, near the ear 
 of Susan. 
 
 The poor girl started, blushed, and, rising in confusion, 
 he crossed the room, and seated herself in the chair by the 
 fire, unconsciously, av 1 without replying. 
 
 " Miss Susan, Mrs. Armstrong has gent for you. They 
 ixrect you in tk > saloon.
 
 THIS BBIDAL. 203 
 
 The fire-light, flaring up upon the face of Snsan Somer- 
 rille, showed the features contracted with suffering. Sht 
 gazed at Anna with confused and half-conscious expression 
 of countenance. 
 
 " Shall I assist you to arrange your dress, Miss Somer- 
 ville ?" 
 
 " Oh ! Anna, tell them that I am fatigued ill !" 
 
 "In that case, dear lady, your room would be filled by 
 officious and inquiring people better try to go down." 
 
 "Yes I I had ! But, oh, Anna I if you knew!" 
 
 "My dear and honored mistress, I do know! I know 
 all 1" said Anna, kneeling at her feet, and taking and press- 
 ing and kissing both her hands. 
 
 Susan dropped her head upon the bosom of Anna, and 
 wept freely long and freely. These were the first tearg 
 she had shed, and they relieved her, of course. Still Anna, 
 kneeling at her feet with the attitude and tones of deepest 
 -espect and warmest sympathy, still caressing her hands, 
 ipoke, gently, as follows 
 
 " He is not worthy of you, Miss Somerville ! Oh, believe 
 it 1 believe the instincts of affection that assure me when I 
 tell you he is not worthy of you not wise and strong 
 enough for you. And I would rather see you weep here, 
 than be the wife of one not fitted to retain your esteem, 
 though that man were master of The Isle of Rays. And 
 I, Miss Somerville I, poor Anna Wood would rather bo 
 the isolated being that I am, cut off by education from one 
 class, and by position from the other I would rather be 
 myself with my full heart and brain, capable of deeply 
 loving, profoundly thinki ag, and greatly suffering than be 
 that poor, little bride down stairs, with her brilliant position 
 and her famished heart and head. Yes, weep ! Grief breaks 
 np the soil of the heart, and tears water and fertilize it. 
 Ton will have a rich heart for hearts grow rich by suffer- 
 if at lea** 10 it teems to me. You will bare rich
 
 204 THE M T H E R - 1 X - L A W. 
 
 heart a rich mind perhaps. There is compensation la 
 most things. Xo tear ever fell, no pang was ever wrung in 
 vain. Those who have spent a life of tears and pains must 
 find consolation somewhere. Oh, believe this, if you pre- 
 tend to believe in the justice and mercy of God. I, Miss 
 Somerville, with all my cravings after a full life of affections 
 and you know that people of my race and color live more 
 through their affections than through their intellects I 
 know that I shall have to pass through life alone alone 
 but for you now, Miss Somerville, and quite alone when 
 you shall be married, as you will be in a few years ! Well ! 
 I shall pass through life alone. I am not, therefore, un- 
 happy ! I devote myself to somebody's interests, to some 
 worthy object and I live. Ah ! Miss Somerville, I feel 
 that my words only annoy you now ; that you would prefer 
 silence to all this talk. No matter, you will think of my 
 words hereafter; and for the silence you will have it at 
 last. But now, Miss Somerville, a duty lies before you a 
 duty that you owe to yourself. You must rouse yourself 
 and go below. For days, weeks, perhaps, you must mingle 
 with this g y edding party ; and then we will go home 
 to our quiet home at The Crags where we will have pro- 
 found peace and old books the company of our 'brave un- 
 fortunates' the heroes and martyrs of the past, whose 
 example will lend us strength to endure our own trials. 
 Come, Miss Susan ! let me arrange your hair." 
 
 Miss Somerville, ca.med by her fit of wee.ping consoled, 
 too, by the delicate attachment of Anna suffered her hair 
 to be le-dressed and her muslin robe to be re-arranged, and 
 then descended the stairs to the saloon. 
 
 Btttaunia and Zoe, with Gertrude and Brutus Liou, met 
 her * Ite door. 
 
 " Ton are BO pale 1 Arc you ill, Susan ?" inquired Zoe, 
 irtta interest
 
 T H S B R I D A L. 205 
 
 This question drew the close attention of the whole group 
 *pon Miss Somerviile. 
 
 'Are you not well?" abruptly inquired Gertrude. 
 
 " I perceive that Miss Somerviile has taken cold, as I 
 thought she would," remarked Britannia, drawing Susan's 
 arm within her own, and carrying her off. 
 
 " My dear Mrs. Stuart-Gordon you will do me a plea~ar 
 if you will invite Miss O'Riley to accompany you to the 
 Isle of Rays when we return," said General Stuart-Gordon 
 to his daughter-in-law, as his eyes followed admiringly the 
 elegant form and radiant face of Brighty through the room. 
 
 " Oh, thank you ! I will do so with great pleasure ! I 
 had even wished to ask your permission to do so !" ex- 
 claimed Louise, her usually downcast eyes now raised and 
 sparkling. 
 
 " My permission !" smiled the General, pleased at her 
 happy acquiescence and amused at her girlish humility. 
 " My permission I ray dear Mrs. Stuart-Gordon 1" he said, 
 playfully, emphasizing her new nnine and title. "Get 
 accustomed to your new dignity as a housekeeper, and invite 
 your own company, and select your own society, without 
 dreaming that I shall interfere I" 
 
 At this moment, Brutus Lion, coming forward with a 
 grave bow, solicited the hand of the -bride for the first 
 quadrille, and led her off to the head of the set. 
 
 "Take Susan, and bring her to make up this set," whis- 
 pered the bride. 
 
 And in two minutes more Louis stood opposite to them, 
 with Susan Somerviile by his side, and her hand clasped 
 within his own. 
 
 The music now broke forth in peals of joy, but failed to 
 drown the noise of the tempest, which had revived in all 
 iU fory. 
 
 The raging of the storm, the terrible state of the roads, 
 and the pitch darkness of the sky, prevented the return 
 that vifffet ^ asy of the wedding fMffe
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE BEVKLKK8. 
 
 King, Joyous chord* 1 Bat who art thou, 
 
 With the shadowy locks o'er thy pale young brow, 
 
 And the world of dreamy gloom that lies 
 
 In the misty depths of thy soft dark eyes T 
 
 Thou has lored, fair girl ; thon hast loved too well ; 
 
 Thou art mourning now o'er a broken spell ; 
 
 Thou hast poured thy heart's rich treasures forth, 
 
 And art nnrepald for their priceless worth. 
 
 Mourn on ; yet come not here the while, 
 
 It la but a pain to see thee smile ; 
 
 There is not a tone in oar song for thee 
 
 Home, with thy sorrows, flee ! Hemaiu. 
 
 MRS. ARMSTRONG rang her bell at an early hour the next 
 morning. Kate Juniper answered it. 
 
 " Let Miss O'Riley know that I shall be pleased to see 
 her alone here, at her earliest convenience," commanded the 
 lady. 
 
 Kate Jumper handed her mistress her dressing-gown, 
 and disappeared to obey her orders. 
 
 She returned in an instant to say that Miss O'Riley 
 would wait on Mrs. Armstrong in half an hour And, by 
 the time the stately toilet of the dowager was completed* 
 Britannia rapped for admittance. 
 
 Britannia, in an elegant morning-dress of dark-blue satio, 
 with black lace falls Brighty always made "une grand* 
 toilette " when she expected to encounter pride and arro- 
 gance in others so Brighty presented herself, making her 
 morning salutation with easy dignity. 
 
 " You may retire, Kate. I sent for yon, Miss O'Riley, 
 10 iy, that, after to-day, as jour sorrices to MiM Am- 
 
 (to
 
 THE REVELERS. 207 
 
 trong or, rather, to Mr. Stuart-Gordon will no longer 
 oe required, your furtliei stay at Mont Crystal can be di- 
 p^nsed with. I am awaie that you are engaged by tho 
 jr, and that four or five months remain. Will you draw 
 that writing-desk toward me ?" 
 
 " If yon will excuse me, no, Mrs. Armstrong." 
 
 "No part of your service, eh ? Well, truly, I hired you 
 kit a governess, not a waiting-maid ; and servants of all 
 grades are great sticklers for rank." 
 
 "Excuse me again, Mrs. Armstrong, but the desk is in 
 your reach and out of mine ; besides, I fancy you are stronger 
 in the arms than myself. However" and Brighty, by a sec- 
 ond and better impulse, took hold of the desk and wheeled 
 it before the lady. 
 
 " I was about to say, Miss O'Riley," said the lady, un- 
 locking the desk and taking from it a roll of bank-notes, 
 "that for these four or five months I am willing to pay 
 you a half-year's salary." And she tendered Britannia 
 the money. 
 
 Brighty waved it back. 
 
 " No, Mrs. Armstrong ; I cannot accept a dollar beyond 
 Ike amount of my salary up to this day. I shall leave 
 your house to-morrow." And curtsying, Britannia with- 
 drew from the room. 
 
 In truth, the prospects of Britannia were not cheering. 
 She would have died rather than have accepted one dollar 
 beyond her saiary up to the date of her dismissal, or have 
 remained another day at Mont Crystal. 
 
 Poor Brighty ! Extravagant love of dress and jewelry 
 kept her nearly penniless ; and when she regained her own 
 apartment and counted over her slender stock of money, 
 and found only the change of her last half-eagle, she was 
 nearly in despair. 
 
 Brighty was no heroine ; and you are not to expect any 
 of thf hercic virtues to be manifested in her character ot
 
 208 THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 conduct; so she walked about the floor, communing rilh 
 herself as follows, 
 
 " Well, well, what am I to do ? I might have savec 
 threB or four hundred dollars if I had been economical 
 and worn calico dresses and horn combs; or, being extrav 
 agant as I have been, I might have still remained here if 
 I had submitted to Mrs. Armstrong's arrogance. Oh 
 Brighty, Brighty ! see what you have done by being vaia, 
 extravagant, and ill-tempered 1 Economy is so commenda- 
 ble, and meekness is so charming, and J do so thoroughly 
 admire both ! Yet the mischief of it is, 1 can neither fret 
 my senses by coarse clothing, nor my temper by other peo- 
 ple's arrogance. Oh, Brighty 1 you were cut out for a 
 princess and spoiled in the making up I You are a dis- 
 located queen. Now, where away ? I shall never, never 
 find another luxurious home, another really superb patron 
 (for Mrs. Armstrong is that, with all her illness), or an- 
 other refined pupil in the State I Oh, I shall probably find 
 myself governess to half-a-dozen double-chinned, short- 
 nosed girls and boys, who munch raw turnips in school, 
 and whose mother cuts out her own cloth-clothes and cow- 
 hides her own maids. Oh, Britannia, Britannia I see what 
 you have done for yourself by your regal airs ! And 
 then you must refuse General Stuart-Gordon ! Was tl^re 
 ever such an egregious fool as Britannia O'Riley ?" And 
 Brighty thought gratefully and remorsefully of General 
 Stuart-Gordon. 
 
 " He is fond of me, nt any rate, and after all, is it not ai 
 well for a girl like me to be passively loved as actively 
 loving ?" said Brighty, smoothing her ringlets and adjust- 
 ing her dress. 
 
 " Brighty 1" said the bride the same morning, " ther Li 
 one great privilege in having a home of one's own." 
 
 "You always have had such a home, my love." 
 
 14 In befog mittresi cf a home, then ?"
 
 THE B1V1L1BS. 809 
 
 "And such a splendid home, Louise I" 
 
 "It is that one may share it with their best friends!" 
 exclaimed the bride, throwing herself in Brighty's arms. 
 " Oh, Brighty 1 come home with me, and be my sister, until 
 you are married yourself." 
 
 Brighty slightly started at the last supposition, and 
 looked keenly at Louise. She only saw the hitherto pale 
 girl with her eyes bright as stars and her lips apart and 
 dewy with happiness and hope. Brighty smiled in her 
 eyes and caressed her hair. 
 
 " My love, I thank you ! But consider ! This is a most 
 unreasonable request of yours !" 
 
 " Why, Brighty ?" exclaimed the bride, in astonishment. 
 
 "Why, yes, love. Think of it! You and Louis would 
 be the most insupportable hosts on earth for the next teonth 
 or two. Think of it! A month with a newly-married 
 bride and groom 1 I should expire of ennui 1" and laughing, 
 Brighty hurried away to escape her further importunity. 
 
 Then, hastening back with a sudden impulse, she caressed 
 her 
 
 " My sweet Louise, I am grateful for all your love aud 
 goodness, indeed I am ! But I cannot accept it, Louise ! 
 It is not expedient that I should 1" 
 
 " Oh, Brighty, if you would be persuaded, I should be so 
 happy I" 
 
 " You will be happy, Louise I you are happy I and I am 
 o glad to witness it. There is Louis ! Go meet him I" 
 nd Brighty, disengaging herself from the embrace of Louiee, 
 hastened away hastened away from the breakfast-room, 
 where this conversation took place, to the saloon in which 
 most of the guests who had remained all night were assem- 
 bled. 
 
 Here she encountered General Stuart-Gordon, who, taking 
 both her hands, and pressing them, looked with 8 penatr*- 
 ting gs in htr eyes, and began to tar
 
 S10 THJB MOTHJBi-IN-LAW. 
 
 "Brighty I" 
 
 " I pennit no one bnt the young girls of my acqialntanoe 
 to address me so familiarly, General Stuart-Gordon I" said 
 Brighty, trying to withdraw her hands, and to repress the 
 smile that would gleam out from under her long eyelashes, 
 and flutter in the corners of her lips. 
 
 "Au rev&ir, young lady," said the mature lover, gayly, 
 squeezing both her hands until the jeweled rings upon 
 them dented his fat hands, and bowing ceremoniously he let 
 her pass. 
 
 General Stuart-Gordon had caught a glimpse of that re- 
 pressed but gleaming smile, and it was wonderful the effect I 
 wonderful how lightly stepped about that heavy man ! how 
 gayly smiled and talked that grave man I until several 
 matrons in the saloon, wishing to compliment him said 
 
 "The marriage of your son restores your youth, General 
 Stuart-Gordon 1" 
 
 A piece of information with which the ungrateful Genera, 
 did not seem to be particularly delighted. 
 
 " This popular idea of growing old is an illusion, Met- 
 dames 1" he said. " 'Age Is a movable feast.' " 
 
 "A movable fast rather, General," replied the ladies, 
 laughing. 
 
 General Stuart-Gordon smiled, bowed, and passed out to 
 seek his daughter-in-law, of whom he was beginning to grow 
 very fond. 
 
 Britannia had hurried off to the bevy of girls whom the 
 lored well enough to permit to call her " Brighty." 
 
 "Gertrude Lion, Zoe Dove, and Susin Somerville were 
 grouped upon their favorite crimson sofa in the recess of 
 the bow-window at the further extremity of the saloon. 
 Mrs. Armstrong was doing the honors of her house to a 
 group of elderly ladies assembled in the front of the room. 
 
 At this moment Louise entered, leaning on the arm of 
 her 'tther <-law and looking so beautiful, with her slightly
 
 YBB B1TXLBRS. Hi 
 
 brightened color, her radiant blue eyes, and her fair 
 plexion and petite figure set off to the best advantage by 
 the pale bine silk of her morning-dress. 
 
 Mrs. Armstrong, seeing her blithe countenance, grew 
 black in the face and muttered to herself, 
 
 " This it is to have a fickle and ungrateful child I Al- 
 ready she rejoices at the near prospect of leaving her 
 mother's house for the full liberty of her husband's." 
 
 Mrs. Armstrong, in her blind pride and jealousy, failed 
 to reflect that she herself had left to others the task of cul- 
 tivating the affections of her child. And, indeed, the heart 
 of Louise was expanding as well under the paternal fond- 
 ness of General Stuart-Gordon as in the warm and earnest 
 affection of Louis. 
 
 " What are you going to do, Brighty ?" inquired the 
 girls as Britannia took her seat with them. 
 
 " I do not know, indeed I I have decided on nothing aa 
 yet," said Brighty, growing serious in spite of herself. 
 
 Susan Somerville had not joined in the inquiry, but now 
 she looked up with interest upon the sobered face of 
 Brighty, and passing her hand once or twice across her 
 own pale and troubled brow, fell into thought. 
 
 * Miss O'Riley Brutus and myself would be very happy 
 to have you pass some months with us at The Lair. It ii 
 true that the house-keeping is rather topsy-turvy, and that 
 the old garden has more rocks, brambles, and snakes in it 
 than flowers, fruits, or birds ; but then our horses are the 
 finest in the country, and our dogs equal them," said the 
 Gerfalcon, with a blending of rudeness, arrogance, and 
 courtesy that was very strange. 
 
 Britannia O'Riley bowed courteously ; but, before she 
 oonkl decline this invitation, Zoe Dove caught her hand 
 and exclaimed, quite breathlessly - 
 
 44 No, no ! no, no ! come to the Dovecote, Brighty The 
 tauekeeping there is first-rute. Ton shall have mj littl*
 
 212 THI MOTHEB-1N-LAW. 
 
 chamber. I hare just made a nice blue-and- white quilt foi 
 the bed, and I will sleep on a pallet in father's room." 
 
 Britannia took her hand and pressed it affectionately, 
 Hud then said 
 
 " I thank you both very sincerely, dear girls ; but as yet 
 my future is all undetermined." And the tears swam in 
 Brighty's eyes, as much from a sense of wounded pride in 
 the thought that her homeless condition had moved th 
 sympathy of these girls, as from an emotion of gratitude 
 for their kindness ; and then she thought of General Stuart- 
 Gordon as one who could deliver her from all such mortifi- 
 cations in the present, and protect her from their return in 
 tho future ; and her heart warmed toward him with the 
 grateful but unimpassioned affection that the young-loved 
 sometimes feel for the aged-loving. 
 
 Susan Somerville had remained silent ; but as soon aa 
 ehe got an opportunity of speaking to Brighty unobserved, 
 Bhe said 
 
 "Will you come to iny room as soon as you can, Miss 
 O'Riley 7" 
 
 "I will attend you there now, if you please," said 
 Brighty. 
 
 And the girls rose %nd sought the apartment of Miss 
 Somerville. 
 
 As soon as they were seated by the quiet little wood fire, 
 Susan again passing her hand over her brow, like one who 
 tries to dissipate a pertinacious and intensely concentrated 
 idea, said slowly, and in a broken voice, still like one trying 
 unsuccessfully to break the bondage of an over-mastering 
 thought, and give attention to the subject in hand 
 
 "Britannia, after these these wedding festivities art 
 over, come with me to The Crags. It is wild, blasted, 
 not nice now ; bat it will be better in the spring 1" And, 
 without waiting for an answer, Susan relapsed again into 
 tboight, forgetting that ihe had given the invitation.
 
 THE REVELERS. 213 
 
 Brighty had penetrai ed her secret. She gazed on that 
 pale and altered brow, those wasted cheeks and hollow eyes 
 eyes grown twice their natural size through dilation of 
 their pupils and the emaciation of the face upon that col- 
 lapsed and quivering frame, and turned abruptly away to 
 hide the tears that suffused her eyes. Not for the world, 
 by any betrayal of her own sympathy, would she have vio- 
 lated the sanctuary of her friend's sacred delicacy. Re- 
 covering her own composure she returned to Susan, and, 
 by way of arousing her, took her hand and said cheer- 
 felly 
 
 " I thank you, dear Susan, and I accept your invitation 
 very gladly." 
 
 " It is a dreary waste a bleak, desolate scene, Brighty ; 
 but it has the advantage of healthfulness," observed Susan, 
 in some degree recovering herself. 
 
 The dinner-bell rang, and the young ladies separated U 
 arrange their dresses. 
 
 I had occasion to tell you once before, that wedding fes- 
 tivities in the country parts of Maryland and Virginia are 
 conducted on quite a different plan to that adopted in fash- 
 ionable city circles. 
 
 The honeymoon, usually passed in solitude by fashionable 
 city bride and groom, is here spent in a round of dinner- 
 parties, balls, <fec. It is an occasion of merry-making that 
 quiet country people seize with great avidity and improve 
 to its utmost extent. 
 
 Thus oar bride and bridegroom were kept in a continual 
 whirl of dissipation for five weeks, which brought April be- 
 fore they were finally settled io their beautiful home of Hit 
 Jile of Rajs. 
 
 13
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 THX PORTRAIT 
 
 Tiers it a meekness In the upturned eyes, 
 A tearful Instre eueh as fancy .'ends 
 To the Madonna ; and a wrapt surprise, 
 As if It found strange beauty In the air. 
 
 " Now, Susan, when we have breakfasted, I want you to 
 how me all over this house ; the shut-up old drawing 
 rooms, and the dilapidated old bed-chambers ; the attics ; 
 the cupboards; the cuddies and all." 
 
 "Dear Britannia, the house is a ruin." 
 
 " I have a romantic love of ruins." 
 
 " But, dear Brighty, this is not a ruined castle or manor 
 house, in the old world, but simply a dilapidated old farm- 
 house in Virginia. What becomes of your romance ?" 
 
 "Yet, I like it ; it is nearly two hundred years old ; it 
 was erected in a time full of adventure ; it must be rich in 
 legendary lore, early Indian warfare, French warfare, revo- 
 lutionary heroism. Anna, you take an ardent interest in 
 the heroism and adventures of the past, and the traditionary 
 lore of Virginia is generally, I find, preserved in the old 
 domestics of the family. Anna, your fathers have been in 
 the service of the Somervilles for more than a hundred 
 years ; you have heard from your father, who heard from 
 his grandfather, many a story ; you can tell us of some 
 heroic young Somerviile who distinguished himself in the 
 frontier war with the savages; of some yorng Captain 
 Bomerville, who raised a company to fight against the 
 French ; of some young patriot among the Somervillea, 
 who, after achieving miracles of valor, fell riddled with
 
 THK PORTRAIT. 215 
 
 wounds upon the field of victor)-. You can teil me that, 
 oh! Anna." 
 
 " My father does, indeed, remember many anecdotes of 
 the revolutionary war, and is well acquainted with many 
 stories of the early settlement of the State ; he delights to 
 recall and repeat them ; it would give him pleasure to do 
 o, Miss O'Riley." 
 
 "Very well, then, Anna ; to-night, after we have sopped, 
 we will have a blazing hickory fire built in this great old 
 chimney, and we will have a basket of nuts and apples, and 
 George shall come in, and tell us tales of old times, like 
 the retainer of some old feudal family, who delights to relate 
 the heroic exploits of the house." 
 
 This conversation took place at the breakfast table at The 
 Crags, upon the morning after the arrival of Britannia 
 O'Riley with Susan Somerville, and six weeks from the 
 marriage of Louise Armstrong. 
 
 As soon as the young ladies arose from breakfast, Brighty, 
 with a wish to arouse Susan from the sad reveries into which 
 she was continually relapsing, again renewed her desire to 
 be shown over the house. 
 
 " It is a wreck, Britannia the other half of the building ; 
 a mere skeleton a shell. It is even dangerous to venture 
 in when the wind is so high as it is now. Beams and raften 
 ometimes fall old window-shutters blow down " 
 
 " Happily, no one has ever been injured by their fall." 
 
 "No but you will be disappointed, Brighty." 
 
 " It will serve me right, then, for obstinacy. Come. 
 
 With a slight expression of reluctance, Susan laid aside 
 her knitting, and led the way from the large sitting-room 
 into a wide, bleak hall, into which the wind poured, and 
 through which it roared, seemingly from every quarter, 
 through the broken plastering and gaping timbers. They 
 crossed this, and entered a large apartment, once the salooa 
 f the aooae, bat now much dilapidated aid rudely
 
 1,6 THI MOTHKR-IN-LJLW. 
 
 "Thia was once the saloon; and, on festive occasions, 
 was brilliantly lighted up, and filled with distinguished 
 guests. Now you see what it is; it serves at once the 
 threefold purpose of kitchen, workshop, and bedroom for 
 y old foster-parents." 
 
 Brighty surveyed the old and extensive apartment with 
 Interest. It was a mixture of departed grandeur and pres- 
 ent poverty. The lofty windows at both extremities of the 
 room had been broken up, and were rudely repaired ; the 
 places of some missing panes of glass had been supplied ; 
 some by pine shingles, some by tin plates, and some by 
 pasted paper ; but all was clean. The great arch that, after 
 the manner of most old Virginian mansions, divided the 
 apartment in the middle, had been broken in many places. 
 In the back part of the room was a large arched fireplace, 
 whose marble mantelpiece was covered with rude wooden 
 candlesticks, and hung above with wooden ladles, spoons, 
 bowls, &c., carved by George. On each side of this fire- 
 place were rough shelves, put up by George, and laden with 
 the commonest delf-ware and pottery. Harriet was stand- 
 ing at one of these shelves, washing up her breakfast 
 things. 
 
 Half way down the middle of the long room, and against 
 the end of the arch, was a rough work-bench, with a pile of 
 flags on one side, and a pile of bottomless chairs on the 
 >ther. George was sitting there, engaged in putting a new 
 >0ttom into an old chair. 
 
 On the other side of the arch, and at the farthest e*> 
 jfemity of the room, was an humble bedstead, cnrtained 
 nth blue check, and a poor old-fashioned chest of drawers, 
 with a sloping lid. 
 
 OL 1 those memorials of old times, how dear they were 
 to the poor family J 
 
 On the other ld of this chest of drawers WM a large
 
 TH1 PORTRAIT. 217 
 
 itock of baskets, mats, and children's little chairs, made of 
 flags, by George. 
 
 Britannia took all this in by one sweeping glance. Sh 
 had seen Harriet several times since her arrival, but not 
 George. Now she went up to George, and held out her 
 hand to shake hands with him. Brighty had a thorough 
 respect for honest George. George lifted the old white felt 
 hat he habitually wore, and stood up to speak to the young 
 lady. Miss O'Riley examined and praised the neatness of 
 his work, ordered a work-basket, and then followed Susan 
 Somerville from the room. 
 
 " George supports us all by flag-work. Our land, the 
 little of it that is left, is entirely worn out. We can scarcely 
 raise vegetables and grain and fruit enough for our own 
 small family consumption. But George has taken up this 
 trade of flag- work, and contrives to make a living by it." 
 
 Then they crossed & short passage, and entered a room, 
 once the large dining-room of the family, now a depository 
 for sacks of corn, barrels of apples, bags of wool, hanks ot 
 yarn, <fcc., and then passed through several ruined apart- 
 ments, and returning to the wide hall, went up the broad 
 staircase to the second story. After having gone through 
 nearly the whole range of upper rooms, " Now," said Susan, 
 " I will take you into my chamber." 
 
 She then conducted Brighty into a large room, in which 
 was a tall tent-bedstead in an arched alcove, and near it a 
 cot-bed. This room had neither carpet nor curtains, but 
 the walls were literally covered with old family portraits, all 
 of them faded, tarnished, and unfit to be seen that is, all 
 were so, with the exception of one, which looked fresh and 
 modern. 
 
 "Ah I you are looking at my pictures, Brighty 1 Well, 
 Viey too are wrecks, but I have not the heart to throw them 
 away. They are unpresentable therefore I keep them in 
 ay chamber !"
 
 418 THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 Brighty was, in fact, going from one picture to the other, 
 examining them with an artist's interest. She paused befor* 
 one ; it was the fresh and modern-looking portrait of which 
 we spoke. It was the portrait of a young, beautiful girl, 
 with a dark, bright complexion, large, soft, dark eyes, and 
 rippling black hair, flowing down in wavelets on her neck 
 and bosom. Brighty gazed on this picture with surprise, 
 with deep interest. 
 
 " Here is a portrait, at least, that would grace your dt- 
 ting-room, Susan I" 
 
 "That! yes but " 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " Nothing," replied Susan, with some embarrassment. 
 
 Britannia was suddenly silent, fearing that she had com- 
 mitted she knew not what indiscretion, by asking questions. 
 Susan perceived this, and hastened to say 
 
 " It is the portrait of Genevieve, my father's youngest 
 sister. She died young, and her death was sudden tragi- 
 cal. My grandfather cannot bear to hear her name men- 
 tioned. He has not seen her picture for fifteen years." 
 
 " I am sorry, Susan, that I recalled this circumstance to 
 yonr recollection," said Brighty with interest "And yet, 
 what a strangely beautiful face 1 it is a study, I should like 
 to copy it." 
 
 " I rembember her nothing like that portrait I remem- 
 ber her as one recollects a bad dream. She was pale, thin, 
 nervous, and wild looking. She died at sixteen, when I 
 was three years old. Now, Brighty, yon are welcome to 
 copy the portrait, but on these conditions that you do it 
 in this room, that you never show the copy to any one ii 
 the State, and that you never mention her name or allude to 
 nor fate after to-day." 
 
 "I promise with all my heart." 
 
 " This was her room," continued Susan, throwing open 
 eeond door. "Bat who would have thought of such
 
 THE POETBAIT. 219 
 
 picture and such a story in this house, Susan ?" asked 
 Brighty. 
 
 " Every house has its skeleton, Britannia ; and I fear no 
 house ever stood fifty years without its tragedy I" and Susaa 
 shuddered. 
 
 41 You are cold, Susan. I have been selfish in dragging 
 you .through all these passages and staircases, full of 
 draughts. Come, we will go down. 1 ' And the girls de- 
 cended to the sitting-room. 
 
 Faithfully determined to persevere in drawing Susan from 
 her abstraction, and forcing her to occupy herself, even 
 when seemingly seeking only her own selfish amusement, 
 Britannia adhered to her plans for their evenings. 
 
 As soon as the cloth was removed from the supper-table, 
 Brighty, making herself at home, ordered a liberal supply 
 of the heaviest hickory logs, and herself superintended the 
 piling upon the great iron fire-dogs. Oh 1 Brighty was an 
 artist in the smallest matter, and she perfectly subscribed 
 to the Virginian adage, that " a good fire is a handsome 
 piece of furniture." And a wonderful fire soon crackled, 
 blazed, and roared up the chimney. And then the old sofa 
 was drawn up on one side of the fireplace, and two or three 
 chairs on the other side, and the table with the lamp on it 
 wheeled to the middle. And then Brighty, fixing Susan 
 with her knitting on the end of the sofa nearest the table, 
 eated herself by her side, and sent Anna to summon George 
 to bring in his flag-work and his legendary learning. 
 George soon appeared, bringing in his hands a half-finished 
 basket and a bundle of flags, and drawing a stool to the 
 opposite side of the fireplace from the sofa, sat down ana 
 prepared to commence. 
 
 And thus the group around the hearth sat : 
 
 On the old sofa on the left sat Susan and Britannia, 
 Anna occupying a low seat by the side of Miss Somerville, 
 with her hand resting affectionately on her lap. On th
 
 220 TEX MOTHIB-IW-LAW. 
 
 opposite side old Harriet sat, with a reel by her side, win i- 
 Ing yarn ; George by her on a low cricket singling ont h?i 
 trip of flags. The table with the lamp dividing the two 
 little groups. 
 
 " Well, we are all ready," said Brighty. " Come, begin." 
 
 "Hem 1 hem-m-m !" commenced George, laying away bii 
 white felt hat. " Hem-m-m ! you see, Miss, when this part 
 of the country was fust settled " 
 
 " Hash !" 
 
 " Ma'am ? 
 
 " Some one rapped," said Brighty. 
 
 "It was the wind," said Anna. 
 
 " It was the rats," said Harriet. 
 
 "You must expect to hear strange noises about this 
 house, Brighty not that it is haunted, but that it is old, 
 and filled with rats and mice, and exposed to the winds." 
 
 " Go on George," commanded Brighty. 
 
 " Hem-m-m I Well, you see, Miss, when this part of tht 
 country was fust settled, the Injius " 
 
 " Rat-tat- tat-tat-te-r-r-r !" 
 
 There was no doubt upon the subject now. The short, 
 sharp, rasping rap of the metal head of a riding whip against 
 the door arrested George's legend, and startled everybody. 
 George laid aside bis baskets and went to the door. 
 
 " Who can it be, this time of night ?" asked Brighty. 
 
 " We are just about to see," replied Susan. 
 
 George opened the door, threw it wide open, and an- 
 nounced 
 
 "General Stuart-Gordon." 
 
 All arose to their feet. Britannia crimsoned with 
 pleasure, I fancy. Miss Somerville advanced with quiet 
 eour'"esy to welcome her visitor while George, gathering 
 up his flags, and Harriet, taking up her reel, withdrew ^iti 
 Anna from the room.
 
 THI POBTBAIT. 221 
 
 " Have you supped, General ?" inquired Miss Somcrville 
 u soon as her guest was seated. 
 
 General Stuart-Gordon was about to reply in the affirm- 
 ative, and to beg that his young hostess would not give 
 herself any tiouble but, impelled by a second thought, he 
 replied 
 
 " I have not, Miss Somerville ; and as I have had a 
 rather long and cold ride, I will feel particularly obliged 
 for a cup of your excellent tea. And, Susan, my dear! 
 perpare it yourself. I have a lively and grateful recollec- 
 tion of the tea you made for us at the Isle." 
 
 Smiling faintly at the reminiscence, Susan arose and left 
 the room. 
 
 General Stuart-Gordon immediately left his seat, and, 
 crossing before the fire, took that next to Brighty on the 
 sofa, took her hands in both his, and bending forward 
 sought to meet her eyes. At last she raised her eyes and 
 met bis glance. 
 
 "Well, Britannia 1" 
 
 " Well, General." 
 
 "It is a blustering night." 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "More like the middle of March than the middle of 
 April." 
 
 "I agree with you, General." 
 
 " Britannia, I have had a very cold ride facing the wind 
 p this bleak ascent." 
 
 " I regret it, sir." 
 
 " Then prevent its frequent recurrence, Brighty." 
 
 She was silent. 
 
 "How many more such rides shall I have to taka 
 Brighty?" 
 
 She did not reply. 
 
 " Britannia, I am more desolate than ever Instead of 
 gaining a daughter by the marriage of Louis, I have lo*t a
 
 221 THI MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 on. I once had the company of Lonis. Now my son and 
 daughter-in-law, absorbed in their own loves and j>ys the 
 egotists ! forget my very existence. They spend long houri 
 in their own apartments, or, coming out, wander hand in 
 hand like two children, all over the Isle. The gardener and 
 his hands are breaking up the soil and trimming the rose- 
 bushes and shrubs and vines of the gardens, and Louis and 
 Louise, hand in hand, as I said, superintend their work. 
 Then they ride out together, read together, play check to- 
 gether, and involuntarily look annoyed if any person inno- 
 cently wishes to make a third in their diversions ?" 
 
 " But, General, be reasonable ; consider that this poor little 
 Bride and bridegroom have been tantalized to death with 
 company for six weeks past, have scarcely had a moment 
 to themselves in which to cultivate each other's acquaintance. 
 Be generous and indulge them," smiled Brighty, who could 
 reply to anything except the point at issue. 
 
 " Very well ! Agreed. Let them amuse themselves. I 
 do not complain of that ! But, in the mean time, I am not 
 enchanted with the delights of my own solitude." 
 
 "You should read a sermon on contentment, General." 
 
 " Britannia !" he said, pressing both her hands in both 
 of his own ; " Britannia, have I misunderstood your kind- 
 ness toward me for the last month ? If so, Brighty, 1 will 
 not press upon you a suit that may be very unwelcome the 
 nit of a man past middle age; for, above all things, 
 Brighty, I wish to secure your happiness. I had dreamed 
 to have secured it with my own. Let it pass it was but a 
 dream, Brighty." 
 
 "General Stuart-Gordon." 
 
 " I have misunderstood yon." 
 
 " General Stuart-Gordon, if you have understood me to 
 be coldly disregardful of your friendship, callously ungrate- 
 ful for your kindness to me, l\en you have misunderstood
 
 THE PORTRAIT. 228 
 
 " Britannia ! do I comprehend you ? Is it possible, then, 
 tbftt you can love " 
 
 " General, I did not talk of love." 
 
 " Oh, Britannia I" 
 
 "You do not love me." 
 
 " Britannia, I assure you " 
 
 "You are, probably, past the age jf loving me." 
 
 " Miss O'Riley " 
 
 " Or perhaps you should be." 
 
 " Miss O'Riley, I affirm that this is very cool on your 
 part." 
 
 General Stuart-Gordon, have patience with me ; you will 
 be better pleased when I have concluded. It is certain that 
 you do not love me, and I am constitutionally incapable of 
 falling in love with anybody ; and therefore it is that I 
 can ring the changes on this word without embarrassment." 
 
 " Madam 1 " 
 
 "But you are lonesome listless. You expect to live 
 some thirty years in the world yet, and you do not wish to 
 pass that time either in solitude, or, what is quite as bad, 
 with a young couple who are quite too much taken up with 
 each other to attend to you. You want a companion who 
 shall be handsome, cheerful, witty, elegant, and who shall 
 be your ovm, and happy in that condition." 
 
 "You are a singular girl." 
 
 " Very singular in some matters, General 1 uniqw even ! 
 
 But to return to the subject ; do you expect th&, want ol 
 fours to be met ?" 
 
 " A companion, yonng, handsome, witty, gay, elegant, 
 and happy as the wife of an elderly man ? No, Britannia ! 
 You have convinced me. It was an unreasonable wish ; 
 yet, of that presumption I have been guilty. No, Brighty, 
 fchat want will never be supplied that companion never 
 b found." 
 
 "Then I suppose you consider me as a poor
 
 114 THE MOTH1B-I14-LJLW. 
 
 for inch a prodigy T" said Brighty, smiling, and av 
 her face. 
 
 " Britannia 1 Britannia I yon are more than all yon have 
 described as my dream brilliantly beautiful, sparklingly 
 witty, of queenly elegance, and in the first bloom of your 
 youth but Brighty! dear Brighty I yon could not be 
 happy, (that is the requisite) you could not be happy with 
 me could not love me 1" 
 
 "I am not in love with you, General Stuart-Gordon, any 
 more than you are with me ; pray do not insist upon ray 
 being so. It would be no compliment to yon." 
 
 "No compliment to me I" 
 
 11 No sir ! I only love when I pity and protect ! Do 
 you want me to pity and protect you ? I love your soft 
 Louise, the gentle little Zoe, the quiet, simple Susan So- 
 merville. I love enough for my happiness. I have a 
 greater want than that. It is to respect, admire, esteem 1 
 It is not necessary to my peace that I should be in love 
 with the gentleman who gives me his name it is indispen- 
 sable that I shall be able to honor him that I shall be 
 proud of him !" 
 
 "And I then, Britannia?" 
 
 " I honor you, General Stuart-Gordon !" 
 
 " And I -love yon, Brighty I love you but I will not 
 lacrifice you 1" 
 
 And he drew her to his bosom, and kissed her tenderly, 
 and, rising, walked away. 
 
 With his hands clasped behind his back, with bis head 
 bowed upon lis breast, he slowly and thoughtfully paced up 
 and down the room, heaving great sighs. At last he walked 
 back toward her, took the seat by her side, took both bi 
 hands again in both of his, and bent forward, seeking hei 
 eyes again. She averted them, while a deep blush over- 
 spread bet face. Tet sht did not withdraw her hand*,
 
 THE PORTRAIT. 225 
 
 which he continued to press. He spoke again, in deep, 
 Berious, and earnest tones and he said 
 
 " Britannia, I want you to be serious, and listen to me,, 
 my dear, for / am very serious. Two months ago, I ad-- 
 mired you, and told you so. I loved you, Britannia, bat 
 dared not tell you so dared not expose my earnest anc 
 deroted affection to your girlish scorn ; for, Britanni^ 
 there is a sad, sorrowful diffidence in the love of the old foi 
 the young and therefore, Britannia, I offered you my hand, 
 without speaking of my heart. I laid my name, rank, and 
 fortune, at your feet, and thought that, by investing you 
 with all my possessions, by surrounding you with every 
 elegance and luxury that wealth could procure, that I might 
 gecnre your happiness, and, with your society, my own hap- 
 piness I offered you my hand, and you refused it !" 
 
 "I would not marry only for wealth and rank, General." 
 
 "I thought that a delicate, elegant, and refined girl, like 
 jou, would set a due value upon the splendors and luxuries 
 of life, and yet you refused me." 
 
 "I would not marry only for splendor and luxury, General." 
 
 " I thought, also, that a sensible girl like you, seeing her- 
 gelf alone and unprotected in the world, would see the ex- 
 pediency of a prudent marriage, and yet you refused me." 
 
 " Because I would not marry for prudence, alias policy, 
 alias selfiskness, General Stuart-Gordon 1" 
 
 " You refused me, Britannia, and I did not press my suit 
 did not press it, because, as I said, there is a diffidence in the 
 unselfish love of age, that youth does not even know. Brighty, 
 had I been younger by twenty years, I should not so readily 
 bare resigned you. For Brighty, I loved you, loved you. I 
 wished for your constant presence I wished for your undi- 
 rided affection ; but more than all this, Brighty, I wished 
 for your happiness ; and seeing your aversion to marrying 
 an old man, I refrained from persecuting you with my ad- 
 dresses. Now, hear me, Brighty. Within the last month
 
 226 THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 you have seemed to have a softer cadence in your roice, a 
 softer light in your eyes, as you looked at or spoke to me. 
 This gave me new hopes nay, hear me out, dear Bntannia 
 and I came here this morning, full of foolish confidence, 
 with the design of renewing my offer. Stay, stay, Britannia, 
 and hear me out. I came here to renew my offer ; I see 
 the repugnance it excites, and, Brighty, I withdraw. Do 
 not believe / my dear, that I would annoy you. But, Brighty, 
 since I have been sitting here, I have thought of another 
 plan. Brighty you are alone in the world, without the love 
 of mother or sister, without the protection of father or bro- 
 ther ; and with your rare beauty and refined tastes, you 
 are exposed to all the dangers and hardships of a homeless 
 and unsettled life. Brighty, listen to me, my dear. I have 
 no daughter or sister ; I shall have no wife, since you refuse 
 me; I have no female relative at all and, Brighty, I want 
 one. Since you cannot be my wife, be my daughter, Brighty. 
 Forget that I ever dreamed of any other relation between 
 us, and be my daughter, Brighty. I will regularly and le- 
 gally adopt you. You shall come home to the Isle, and live 
 with Louise, who loves you. Will you be my daughter, 
 Brighty ? 
 
 " No, General Stuart-Gordon." 
 
 " What ! not even my daughter, Brighty f* 
 
 " No, General Stuart-Gordon but " 
 
 " Well ? 
 
 Britannia turned her blushing face quite away from him, 
 as she held out her hand. He carried it to his lips. 
 
 " Well, Brighty ?" 
 
 "But" 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " I will be your urife, if you will take a wayward girl, 
 whose pride and petulance makes her quite unworthy of you." 
 
 "My own dear Brighty my darling, sparkling treasure i 
 Tom but how can you love me, Brighty f "
 
 THE PORTRAIT. 227 
 
 And again, with that eager, anxious, scrutinizing gaze, 
 DC sought the eye of Britannia. She turned her head away, 
 saying softly 
 
 " Do not look at me so closely, for I wish to be frank 
 with you, sir, because I owe it to you, and I shall not have 
 courage to say all that is on my heart, if you look at me so." 
 
 "There, then, Brighty. Now tell me, do you love me, 
 can you love me, Brighty ? Ah, I am so anxious upon that 
 point, dear Britannia." 
 
 Britannia answered in a low, trembling, but persevering 
 voice. 
 
 "I know you are anxious, because you are doubtful, sir; 
 therefore, I force myself to speak. Yes, General Stuart- 
 Gordon, I do esteem you. Do not think I would accept 
 the high destiny you offer me, without. You are covered 
 with military glory, and I honor you for that. I am proud 
 of you for that. I shall be proud to bear your name to 
 be your wife. You are the first the only one who has 
 ever opened the shelter of his heart to give me a home there, 
 ind I am grateful, deeply grateful for it, sir." 
 
 "Yet, Britannia, my dearest child, esteem, honor, pride, 
 gratitude, are not love " 
 
 " And I would not rnarry for these only," said Brighty, in 
 a very low voice. 
 
 "Then you do love me, Brighty?" said the General, 
 holding her hands, and bending forward to read her 
 countenance 
 
 Now she turned the fufl light of her radiant face upon 
 him, and looked up clearly, as she replied 
 
 "My only friend and benefactor, at least I have no one 
 but you to love." 
 
 "Alas, it is necessity, not choice, then Brighty I" 
 
 "You have no peer, in my estimation, General Stuart 
 Gordon." 
 
 "Then why did you refuse me, Brighty?"
 
 828 THE M OTHER- IN-LAW. 
 
 "Prom a little pride and petulance, from a little donbt 
 of the reality and permanence of your affection for me." 
 
 "Ob, Britannia!" 
 
 "Sir, I have faults, very serious faults; I know them 
 too well. But, alas, self-knowledge does not help me to 
 lelf-improveraent. I am proud, vain, high-spirited, and ex- 
 travagant ; yet, in my heart, I do love humility, meekness, 
 and moderation ; yet, with all my faults, I am sincere and 
 grateful ; and at least I bring you a true and single heart, 
 Bir." 
 
 "Your faults ! my dearest Brighty I I love you just as 
 you *re, my frank, ingenuous Brighty. I love you for just 
 what you are." 
 
 Five minutes after this, Susan Somerville entered the 
 room, followed by George, bearing the tea-tray. And Gen- 
 eral Stuart-Gordon took his tea, and shortly after took hi 
 IMIVC, tenderly shaking the hand of Susan, and fervently 
 f *ssing that of Britannia. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 SPRING AT THE ISLE OP RAYS. 
 
 Spring with it* rosebnda ! Spring; 
 
 The gladdest time in the capricions year, 
 
 With its gren foliage, and its sunlight clear, 
 
 And with a drowsy tnne 
 Of the bright leaping waters as they pan 
 Laughingly on amid the listening grass. IT. // Burlty 
 
 On The Isle of Rays in Spring! It was A scene nur 
 tnchanting than a poet's dream of Eden a Mussulman*! 
 Tigion of Paradise. It was an elysium of beauty, music, and 
 fragrance. It was a rapture merely to Btand there in thf
 
 FBIVft AT THE IBL1 OF BAYS. 229 
 
 morning's silvery flood, and breathe, though every other 
 feculty were suspended. 
 
 It was a heaven of beauty. The mansion, with its white 
 freestone walls, and its piazzas above and below, supported 
 by the light and elegant white marble pillars of the Corinth- 
 ian style of architecture. Its terraces, with its beautiful 
 hade-trees dropping shadows on the fresh and dewy grass ; 
 its parterres of flowers, of every form and hue ; it* lawn, 
 with serpentine walks and meandering streams with grovel 
 of trees and vine-clad arbors with the black shadows of it* 
 rocks, and the bright flashing of its waters, leaping, spark- 
 ling, and glancing in the sunshine radiating streams of 
 dazzling light. "The Isle of Light! The Isle of Sun- 
 beams 1 The Isle of Hays !" would break inspired from 
 the lips of the spectator. 
 
 It was a heaven of music, when the full, rich diapason of 
 Nature's morning hymn was sounding there, from the lowest 
 notes the almost inaudible murmur of a foliage-hidden 
 stream, and the whispered confidences of the breeze wooing 
 the leaves to the clear, rippling, ringing song of the rivu- 
 let, and the shouting laughter of the cataract ; and from 
 the harmony of the bee, beguiling the flowers, to the grand 
 harmonic chorus of a thousand birds, breaking out in their 
 rapture, till all the sun-bright air above seemed shattering 
 with silvery sound, and the particles falling around you in 
 a rain of radiant light and music. " The Isle of Harmony I 
 The Isle of Music ?" a blind one wou.d exclaim, in delight. 
 
 And it was an elysium of the breath of millions of flowers. 
 The delicate perfume of the violet, the fine fragrance of the 
 lily, and the rich aroma of the rose, mingled with the in- 
 toxicating odors of the rarest exotics, filling with sweotneeg 
 the sun-lit and music-freighted atmosphere of thii Isle of 
 Fragrance! 
 
 The Isle of Rayi ! The Isle of Mode ! The lilt of 
 Fragrance ! The elysium of beauty, melody, and perfomt I 
 14
 
 230 THE MOTHER-IN -LA. W. 
 
 It was a rapture to stand and receive all this flood of beauty 
 harmony, and fragrance ! 
 
 And Louis and Louise wandered through its groves ani 
 gardens, like another Adara and Eve through another Eden. 
 And it delighted Louis to see how Louise reveled in th 
 light of her new liberty. At last the elasticity of youth had 
 thrown off" the pressure of long habits of restraint. Her 
 itep became so free, so light, so fleet ; the tones of her 
 roice so high, clear, and cheerful ; her laughter so gay and 
 ringing I And, oh I Louis loved her more and more, for 
 everv good his love had brought her ! He had feared that 
 the long-fettered mind, the long-repressed affections of his 
 fittle bride, would never escape from their captivity never 
 throw off their chains. But it was wonderful delightful 
 how soon Louise cast off the habit of restraint ! How soon 
 she chipped the shell, and fluttered out a jubilant and full- 
 fledged singing bird ! How soon she emerged from the 
 chrysalis, and flew off a joyous, radiant butterfly I And 
 how she loved Louis, as one who had given her freedom, hap- 
 piness new life 1 And how Louis loved her ! How deeply, 
 how profoundly ; how much more deeply, how much more 
 profoundly, as he saw her gladden and brighten in the light 
 of his love ! It was now that the depth and strength of 
 his devotion to Louise was revealing to him the greatness of 
 his own soul. He saw her happy in his affection happy 
 through his means and he felt in his profonndest heart, 
 that were the sacrifice of his life yea, of his soul demanded 
 as the price of her happiness, it would be made. Sometimes 
 he even regretted that every good she enjoyed was so readily 
 at hand, that he was not required to toil for her. There is 
 an intensity of idolatry in some love that cannot be ex- 
 pr3ssed but by suffering for the beloved. This may be excesa 
 insanity fanaticism or it may be profonndest religion ; 
 but it is truth truth on earth. The deepest love cannot bt 
 Mfafted but by tu/ering for the toelfare of the Waved,.
 
 SPBING AT THE ISLE OF BAYS. 231 
 
 The bve of Louis for his bride was intense profound- 
 powerful. The love of Louise for her husband was onlj 
 grateful, glad, and confiding. That was the difference be* 
 tween them. 
 
 This was the under-current of feeling on both sides 
 Superficially they appeared like two children, wandering 
 through the groves, or sitting together in the bowers, of 
 The Isle of Rays. And the countenance of Louis would 
 radiate joy, as his dancing eyes would follow the flying feet 
 of Louise, when she would spring from his side to chase a 
 bird or pluck a flower. That changed Louise ! whom he 
 remembered pacing in slow, lady-like steps through the lofty, 
 cold halls of Mont Crystal ! The enfranchised spirit of 
 Louise electrified even the grave old General, who would 
 sometimes catch his little daughter-in-law up in bis arms 
 and toss her until she laughed aloud ! 
 
 But for the most part General Stuart-Gordon had the 
 good taste to withdraw himself from the company of these 
 newly-wedded lovers. Sometimes by shutting himself up in 
 his library, sometimes by joining the hunt, of which he was 
 still very fond, and sometimes by riding over his estate, and 
 giving his personal attention to its management. But still 
 more frequently his horse's head would be turned in the 
 direction of The Crags. 
 
 Thus happily passed the time at the Island Palace, until 
 Mrs. Armstrong, at the invitation of Louis, came to pass a 
 month with her daughter. The presence of this haughty 
 and frozen woman cast a cloud over the brightness of The 
 Isle of Rays. She radiated a spiritual cold that chilled all 
 who approached her. She had arrived in her coldest, 
 hardest, and haughtiest mood ; and all that she saw, heard, 
 and felt there, aroused the most malignant passions of her 
 oul. She saw Louise, instead of being pale and dispirited 
 at her long absence, looking rosy and joyous ; and if aha 
 did not hate the child for daring to be happy, except by bet
 
 * \ THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 permission and through her means, at least she loathed hei 
 daughter's husband, for superseding her in the work. Yes, 
 he began to hate Louis in proportion as Louise loved him. 
 And sometimes she would look at Louise in astonishment, 
 wondering that she presumed to be so free, so glad, in her 
 presence ! She grew alarmed for the permanency of her 
 Influence over her child's intellect and aflt-ctions. "In one 
 short mouth I have lost so much ground. In a year longer 
 I shall be nothing in the sum of Mrs. Stuart-Gordon's life 1 
 And she is my child! MINE ! I gave her life ! She came 
 into the world by my will mine! And who is this Louis 
 Stuart-Gordon ? Perdition catch his soul 1 to come be- 
 tween me and the child I bore 1" And deep in the heart 
 of this woman, whose external appearance was so cold, so 
 hard, so sttern, whose manners were so guarded, so haughty, 
 BO freezing deep in the heart of this diabolical woman 
 burned and burned a concealed, intense, and growing jeal- 
 ousy, as under the snow-clad surface of Etna glow the most 
 dangerous fires. 
 
 " I will not leve my child alone with these people an- 
 other month," she said ; " they shall not win her affections 
 entirely from me. Louise is not the same being; in an- 
 other five or six weeks she is lost to me. I will remain with 
 her. Yes, I will remain with her. I will marry this old 
 creature this old Stuart-Gordon. True, he is some fifteen 
 years cider than myself true, this will be a descent on my 
 part that it is a grave departure from high self-respect in 
 a woman of my mature age, to marry, under any circnm- 
 itances ; but I must maintain my authority over Lc nise 1 
 I must do it by residing with her ; and I can only reside 
 with her as the mistress of this house and estate. I cannot 
 take a lubordinate position in the house of my daughter 
 and son-in-law. I must make up my mind to marry this 
 old Stuart-Gordon. The neighborhood, I presume, will 
 hare a great deal to say upon the subject, when it is know*
 
 flPKINO AT THE I8LX OF BATS. 2$S 
 
 to be in prospect. Let them say it ! It I can gain my own 
 
 consent to the step, the opinions of others are unimportant, 
 M they are impertinent. Moreover, these opinions will 
 only be whispered in subdued tones ; none will be found 
 daring enough to raise their voices against any act of 
 mine. After all, this will be only an alliance. It will 
 give me almost absolute power over this estate ; for, 
 once mistress here, I shall do as I please with the old 
 man, with his son, and I will see if the affairs of this 
 estate will not be better administered by me, than they 
 have ever been by this fox-hunting and dinner- giving 
 bon-vivant, or this flute-playing, verse-making sentimen- 
 talist ! The government of two such estates as those of 
 Mont Crystal and The Isle of Kays estates that, joined 
 form half the county, will give me as large a share of power, 
 ay, and more absolute power, than that enjoyed by anj 
 petty sovereign in Europe. Come 1 it is decided 1 I will 
 form an alliance with this old General." And recognizing 
 no appeal from her own high will, the arrogant woman set 
 about the execution of her purpose. She became very ex- 
 acting of attentions from General Stuart-Gordon, pressing 
 him with commanding haughtiness into her service upon all 
 occasions. She never arose to cross the room, without say- 
 ing, with the air of an empress ordering her chamberlain 
 " General, I will trouble you for the support of your arm." 
 She made him fetch and carry her fan, reticule, and knot- 
 ting, open and shut doors, hand her water, pick up her 
 handkerchief, and do her errands, and all with the air of 
 conferring a great honor upon his Generalship. The cli- 
 max was in the evening, when she would command him to 
 open the chess-board, and play a game of chess with her. 
 General Stuart-Gordon, gallant, good-natured, and at lei- 
 ure, was very ranch at the command of any lady who 
 would do him the honor of exacting his services. Beside 
 which, he had a Tery great respect for Mrs. Armstrong
 
 2ft4 THE MOTHER-IN -L4.W. 
 
 boih npon account of her impDsing rank, character, a&4 
 deportment, and by reason of her position as his guest. In 
 addition to his universal gallantry and particular devotion, 
 General Stuart-Gordon had two very important reasons for 
 employing and conciliating Mrs. Armstrong. First, h 
 taw that her surveillance over Louis and Louise impaired 
 their happiness, and he wished to deliver his children, as he 
 called them, from her espionage, by absorbing her attention 
 himself. Secretly, he stood in great awe of Mrs. Arm- 
 strong ; he felt a presentiment that she would be horrified 
 and outrageous at the news of the projected marriage be- 
 tween himself and Miss O'Riley, and he wished to con- 
 ciliate her good feeling before he should dare to announce 
 it. And as the marriage was already appointed and ap- 
 proaching, this annunciation was an imperative necessity. 
 Ah ! little did he dream of the matrimonial designs of the 
 lady herself upon him ! Old gentlemen see nothing impro- 
 per or unusual in their own connubial intentions, yet are 
 grievously shocked when they hear of any such projects 
 finding a lodgment in the brain of an elderly lady. This 
 feeling may be natural and right. General Stuart-Gordon, 
 then, never suspected the drift of Mrs. Armstrong's thoughts 
 and purposes. He was charmed that she treated him well, 
 with kindness, with sympathy ; and as days passed, and as 
 every day saw them somehow better friends, he did not 
 despair of her consent to his marriage with Miss O'Riley. 
 And this consent was of more importance to the General 
 than any one at first thjught would suppose; for General 
 iStuart - Gordon loved family peace and good fellowship 
 above all things except Brighiy! Encouraged by Mra. 
 Armstrong's gracious and condescending manners, he began 
 to feel his way, as it were, toward an explanation. 
 
 Finding himself alone with the dowager in the morning,, 
 when Louis and Louise would be roaming about the gak 
 Sen, or reading poetry in their room, he would begin to B S
 
 iPRING AT THE ISLE OF BATS. 235 
 
 lomething pathetic about the solitnde of his position, for- 
 getting the egotist ! that the lady to whom he spoke was 
 just precisely in the same predicament as himself, and 
 therefore extremely likely to misapprehend the drift of his 
 discourse. And so he would say very moving things about 
 his loneliness very touching things about going down th 
 rale of years alone expecting to move Mrs. Armstrong's 
 pity for his condition, and by and by win her consent to his 
 marriage. And Mrs. Armstrong, totally misunderstanding 
 his purpose and misapplying his words, would receive these 
 conGdences with much more indulgence than he could have 
 hoped to obtain. Nay, Mrs. Armstrong would fully agree 
 with General Stuart-Gordon, that it was a serious thing to 
 be left alone in the decline of life that as young people 
 would take to themselves partners and leave their parents 
 alone, it behooved the latter to secure companions on the 
 downward journey of life. And it was wonderful upon 
 what good terms they would part after just such confidences 
 as these each misunderstanding the other very thoroughly ! 
 General Stuart-Gordon would step off on tiptoe, as though 
 ne trod on air, thinking his paths made straight before him ! 
 Mrs. Armstrong would sail out with her stately mien, 
 nd assume an extra degree of authority over Louise, Louis, 
 the negroes, the mansion, and the estate fully believing 
 ihis authority to be but slightly anticipated. 
 
 The decisive hour arrived. General Stuart-Gordon was 
 to be married in a month ; and no one, as yet, suspected it. 
 It was now absolutely necessary that the announcement of 
 this approaching marriage should be made. 
 
 One morning, immediately after breakfast, Louis and 
 Louise as usual left the house. They were to take the boat 
 and have a little voyage. Mrs. Armstrong sailed majes- 
 tically into the drawing-room, and seating herself in one of 
 UM high-backed chairs near tb front windows, took oat he?
 
 2S6 THE MOTHER IN-I AW. 
 
 knotting and commenced work. The door opened, and 
 General Stuart-Gordon, having screwed his "courage to the 
 sticking-place," stalked superbly down the room, and, draw- 
 ing a chair opposite to that of the dowager, sank into it, 
 and and unluckily forgot the speech a piece of the 
 most convincing logic and the most subduing eloquence 
 erer composed that he had prepared to conquer Mr& 
 Armstrong with. He found nothing to say but that which 
 he had said a hundred times already, namely 
 
 "You perceive that those young people have left us alone 
 again, madam ! the egotists the egotists ! They forget 
 every one else every thing else except themselves, and 
 the presence of nature I" 
 
 " Happiness is selfish sir," replied the laconic lady. 
 
 Silence a deep pause a great sigh from General Stuart- 
 Gordon, who breaks the spell by saying, pathetically 
 
 "It is a dreadful thing to be alone, madam." 
 
 "It is, sir." 
 
 "Ah! dreadful I" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 Silence again another pause expectancy on the side 
 of the lady embarrassment on the part of the gentleman, 
 who again finds courage to speak in moving tones, say- 
 ing- 
 
 "To go down the vale of years alone, Mrs. Armstrong J* 
 
 "Certainly, sir." 
 
 " Is a deplorable prospeot 1" 
 
 "Undoubtedly, General." 
 
 "Ah!" 
 
 " I perfectly agree with your riew of the case, General." 
 
 "To have no gentle female friend to smooth the pillow 
 ofthe pillow of of " 
 
 Silence a third time the lady out of patience the ft* 
 kleman oat of courage. 
 
 The lady at last comes to his assistant*
 
 8PBING AT THE ISLI OT BITS. 287 
 
 I am surprised, General Stuart-Gordon, that yon who 
 io not like the loneliness of your life, should never think of 
 taking a consort." 
 
 " Madam 1 oh!" 
 
 " That yon should never think of marrying." 
 
 " Mrs. Armstrong, if I presumed, If I thought, if I 
 fcoped " 
 
 "Well, sir?" 
 
 " If I dared to hope" 
 
 " Well, sir ?" 
 
 " In short, madam, I have dared to hope your approba- 
 tion to my suit. I " 
 
 A pause. 
 
 " I listen, sir." 
 
 "In one word, madam, I have selected a lady," said Gen- 
 eral Stuart-Gordon, in an earnest tone of voice, looking in- 
 tently at the dowager, who kept her eyes fixed upon her 
 knotting. 
 
 " I await your further explanation, sir." 
 
 "A lady of the finest intellect, of the highest spirit, of the 
 most dignified manner " 
 
 "You are extravagant. I fear, sir." 
 
 "A lady in whose praise no terms of admiration could be 
 thought extravagant" 
 
 "You are an enthusiast, General." 
 
 A lady worthy of the highest honor." 
 
 " Your panegyric is embarrassing, sir." 
 
 "A lady who has my whole heart's affection my whole 
 kead'* approval." 
 
 A pause. 
 
 "I listen to you, sir." 
 
 "A lady who will be singularly acceptable to my dear daugh- 
 ter-in-law one bound to her by the ties of affection ont 
 bound to her by the obligations of gratitude one whose 
 care and instruction has contributed to make LoaiM what
 
 ISS THB MOTHKR-IN-LAW. 
 
 he is one with whom it will delight Louise to pass heff 
 whole existence one beloved, idolized by Louise." 
 
 "And this lady " 
 
 " 7s one whom Mrs. Armstrong cannot for a moment be 
 at a loss to designate," said General Stuart-Gordon, in a 
 deep, earnest tone of voice, and looking intently in the face 
 of Mrs. Armstrong. 
 
 Mrs. Armstrong arose, with an air of majestic grace, 
 and, standing, placed her hand within that of General Stu 
 art-Gordon, and said : 
 
 " Sir, I cannot, as you have asserted, be at a loss to de- 
 signate the lady whom you have honored by your preference 
 and I thank you in the acceptance of your overtures ! 
 Do not, however, suppose by that I receive all the extrava- 
 gant encomiums that you have been so polite as to lavish 
 upon me. I listen to them merely as the stereotyped com- 
 pliments gentlemen are please to pay upon these occasions 
 [ will, however, dispense with them from this time, sir, as 
 wa are rather mature to make or receive gallant speeches. 
 Nevertheless, there is a singular propriety in your selection, 
 anil a most becoming fitness in our alliance, sir. The 
 house of Blackistone and of Armstrong, like that of Cart- 
 wright and Stuart-Gordon, is one of the oldest in the coun 
 iry. I shall not dishonor the old and haughty name of 
 Stuart-Gordon ;" and, bending her head graciously, the lady 
 iras sailing majestically from the room, when 
 
 I wish you could have seen the countenance of General 
 Stuart-Gordon, as his face blanched and blanched, his head 
 grew dizzy, his back grew weak, and his knees smote to- 
 gether. Here was a catastrophe ! In truth the sky wag 
 falling. He felt the fragments shattering his nerves. With 
 an adjuring gesture of despair and desperation, he advanced 
 toward her 
 
 "Mrs. Armstrong." 
 
 sir?" said the lady., turning quietly aroand
 
 IfftlNG AT THE ISLI OF RAYS. 289 
 
 * My dear madam." 
 " Well, sir ?" 
 
 " I am covered with confusion." 
 
 " I do not understand you, sir." 
 
 " Madam 1 my dear lady ! you have misunderstood me.* 
 
 " Sir ? 
 
 "Excuse me ! you have mistaken my meaning." 
 
 " Sir ? 
 
 "Forgive me ! I never presumed to the distinguished al- 
 liance of Mrs. Armstrong." 
 
 "Sir?" 
 
 "Pardon! pardon! The lady of my choice does not oc- 
 cupy so high a place in society. The lady of my choice " 
 
 " Is" 
 
 " Miss Britannia O'Rilcy .'" 
 
 Words would fall to express the dumbfounded astonish- 
 ment, the astounded dismay, of that haughty woman, struck 
 statue-still, with wonder, where she stood ! Yes, at first it 
 was simple stupefied wonder that fixed her there, with rigid 
 limbs, pallid cheeks, and darkly corrugated brows. Yes, it 
 was wonder, before it was even rage or vengeance. 
 
 " BRITANNIA O'RILEY 1" 
 
 " Britannia O'Riley." 
 
 "A governess I a domestic! a hired servant!" 
 
 "Britannia O'Riley! a beautiful, graceful, elegant, and 
 accomplished woman." 
 
 "A beggar! a low Irish beggar !" 
 
 "A lady ! a lady to whom I shall be proud to give my 
 name. " 
 
 "A poor, miserable Irish beggar, whom I hired to senrt 
 jay daughter I" 
 
 "My intended wife, Mrs. Stuart-Gordon, senior, and 
 mistress of my house within one month from this." 
 
 "Are you dreaming insane intoxicated?" 
 
 * Madam, I should lay myself under the suspicion of b
 
 J40 THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 ing influenced by one of the three states, if I permitted you 
 for one moment longer to indulge in the intemperate lan- 
 guage you have just used." 
 
 "General Stuart-Gordon, I shall leave your house." 
 
 11 Mrs. Armstrong, I trust you will see the absolute, th 
 Inevitable necessity of yonr leaving this house before the ar- 
 rival of my wife." 
 
 "Am I to be insulted outraged under the roof of my 
 daughter ?" 
 
 " No, Madam ! nor are you to insult or outrage the in- 
 tended wife of her husband's father." 
 
 "Enough! I leave this house to-morrow, and my daugh- 
 ter fjlurns to Mont Crystal with me." 
 
 " Madam !" 
 
 " My daughter came hither a bride entered this house 
 as its mistress. She should not have entered it upon any 
 other terms she shall not remain in it in any other capacity. 
 She shall not cede her place, and give precedence to a low- 
 born Irish serving-wench." 
 
 " My wife will be mistress of my house without a doubt, 
 madam. And Mrs. Louis will certainly give precedence to 
 Mrs. Stuavt-Gordon, as becomes her." 
 
 "Indeed, sir ! You forget that Louis Stuart-Gordon in- 
 herits The Isle of Rays in right of his mother, Margaret 
 Stuart-Gordon not in right of the man who bartered his 
 patronymic for a fortune I That, therefore, Louis Stuart- 
 Sordon is master of the estate and mansion-house, as his 
 wife is mistress of the same." 
 
 " I think you have been misinformed upon some of thea 
 points, madam, I think you will find yourself seriously mis- 
 taken." 
 
 "Sir ! my daughter and myself have too much self-re- 
 spect to strive for precedence with an Irish waiting-maid, 
 or the dotard whom her cunning has enslaved. My daugh 
 ter returns with or to Mont Crystal.'
 
 A PAKLOB 6TOBK. 241 
 
 " Ton return alone, madam ! Mrs. Louis remains whew 
 he is." 
 
 "We shall see, sir I" exclaimed the lady, purple with 
 rage. 
 
 " We shall see, madam !" replied the General, bowing 
 ceremoniously, as he held the door open for her to pass 
 through. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 A PARLOR STORM- 
 
 Her's was not tbat blind capricious rage, 
 A word can kindle and a word assuage ; 
 Bat the deep workings of a mol unmixed. 
 With aught of pity where its wrath had ftxd. Sjfron. 
 
 Mas. ARMSTRONG reached her chamber, and by a pel 
 of bells brought Kate Jumper to her presence 
 
 " Have Mr. and Mrs. Stuart-Gordou left the shores of 
 the Island yet 7" 
 
 "Yet, madam." 
 
 " How long since ?' 
 
 "An hour, madam." 
 
 " Do yon know what direction they took ?" 
 
 "Up the river toward the falls, madam." 
 
 " It is too late and too far to recall them. You may go I 
 -tay!" 
 
 "Madam " 
 
 " Go into Mrs. Stuart-Gordon's room and pack up BOI 
 wardrobe. We return to Mont Crystal to-night." 
 
 "Yea, madam." 
 
 "And, oberve, be tileni npon this mattei." 
 
 "Yet, madam."
 
 242 THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 " When you have completed the packing of Mrs. 8taart 
 Gordon's wardrobe, return hither to pack up my own 
 Go I" 
 
 And thus dismissing her attendant, the lady seated her- 
 self in stern calmness by the window, and took out her 
 knotting. 
 
 The tall mulatto stalked on to the apartments of the bride, 
 to execute her mistress's orders. 
 
 The suit of apartments appropriated to Louis and Louise 
 consisted of one bed-chamber, between two dressing-rooms, 
 and connected with them. The dressing-room assigned to 
 Louise was fitted up in the most costly and elegant style. 
 It was a front room on the second floor, and its two tall 
 windows overlooked the terrace, lawn, river, the opposite 
 bank, and the bride's own home, Mont Crystal. Between 
 these two high front windows hung a tall cheval-mirror 
 and the windows and the mirror were curtained and fes- 
 tooned with blue silk and white lace, tied up with ribbons, 
 and wreaths of violets. The carpet on the floor and the 
 paper on the walls were of the same color and pattern 
 blue violets running over a white ground. The bureaus, 
 wardrobes, dressing-tables, &c., were all of that beautiful 
 white satin-wood that looks so much like ivory. 
 
 When Kate Jumper stalked into this room, she found it 
 already occupied by a little, old, short, thick-set negresa, 
 who was not employing herself by setting the room in order, 
 bnt amusing herself by trying on one her young mistress'i 
 exquisite little French hats, and viewing with much self- 
 satisfaction the effect of the soft white velvet and delicat* 
 white plumes surrounding a face black, shining, seamed, 
 and wrinkled as a dried prune. 
 
 This was Seraphina, the wife of Apollo, and the nnrat 
 and waiting maid of all the Mistresses and the Misses Stnart- 
 Gordon for the last "fty years, now the personal atteadaa 
 of Louise.
 
 A PARLOR STORM. 249 
 
 "Good morning, Mrs. Jumper," said the seraph, laying 
 off the white hat and feathers indifferently. 
 
 Kate Jumper disdained to answer except by a short nod, 
 and, striding up past the Abigail, she took the bunch of 
 keys from the dressing-table, and began to unlock the bu- 
 reaus 
 
 "What are yon going to do, Mrs. Jumper?" 
 
 The mulatto did uot think it worth while to reply. 
 
 " I say there 1 I say there ! don't tech them Brissles lacea 
 and ribbons 1 I never 'low anybody to tech 'urn but myself. 
 I say 1 why don't you hear me ? why don't you stop ? Are 
 you crazy ? Stop o' rummidgin' my missis's thingumies 
 will you ? Here, give me the keys 1 I never seen sich im- 
 pidence in all my life ! You must be cracked I Here, gim 
 me them keys 1" and running and waddling toward her, the 
 little woman possessed herself of the disputed keys with a 
 sudden jerk. 
 
 Kate Jumper, without speaking, quietly held out her 
 hand to get them again. Seraph hugged them under her 
 fat chin with both hands. With a silent but peremptory 
 gesture the mulatto started to her feet, and demanded their 
 return. 
 
 " I won't 1 I shan't I Set you up with it, indeed ! Eum- 
 midgin' my young missis's drawers I You don't look lik 
 the mos' honestest person in the worl', no how 1 / don't 
 know nuffin 'boat your corrector. " 
 
 With a quiet, quick dart of her hand the mulato gripped 
 her talons round the throat of Seraph, and choked her until 
 she grew full in the face, and dropped the keys ; then draw- 
 ing her toward the door, she silently thrust her out, closed 
 the door and locked it on the inside. 
 
 All this passed so quietly, that one in the next room 
 would not have known what was going on. 
 
 Seraph, on the floor outside the door, convulsed, heaved, 
 ipluttered, sneezed, coughed, and recovered herself
 
 244 THX MOTHBB-IX-LAW. 
 
 " The Lor, a massy upon me ! Dis is wuss 'an de laadia' 
 o' de British. I say in dere t you no nation ! I'd holler 
 murder, only I won't make a 'fusion to 'sturb de family. 
 But I'll have you put in jail for 'salt and battern' me I an' 
 for abreakin* open of my missis's drawers. Oh, you won't 
 speak ! Never you min' ! you'll see I you good for nothin' 
 poor white man's darter you /" 
 
 There ! that was the most insulting taunt a pure-blooded 
 Virginia negro could cast upon a mulatto. And having 
 spent the force of her fury on this last expletive, Seraph 
 gathered herself up and waddled down stairs, leaving Kate 
 Jumper to go on with her packing. 
 
 Kate pursued her task until she had completed it, even 
 to the strapping of the trunks, and then, taking with her 
 the bunch of keys, she went out of the room, locked the 
 door to prevent the re-entrance of her antagonist, Seraph, 
 and took the keys to the chamber of Mrs. Armstrong. She 
 found that lady still seated at the window, knotting with 
 apparent composure. 
 
 " Have you done ?" 
 
 " Yes, madam, every thing is packed and ready, and Mrs. 
 Stuart-Gordon's shawl and hat are laid out upon the bed 
 for her to wear Here are the keys." 
 
 " Very good 1 I shall keep my room until dinner. When 
 Mrs. Stuart-Gordon returns, let her know that I expect her 
 here. Now, go 1" 
 
 And she went on very quietly with her knotting. By no 
 outward sign could the most suspicious and acute observer 
 have detected the fell determination of this pitiless mother. 
 
 There she sat by the open window, watching the summer 
 ran slowly decline, unmindful, unconscious of the resplendent 
 beauty of the scene stretched out before her a landscape 
 whose gorgeous glory would have caught the breath from 
 any other beholder. There she sat watching the sun'i splea- 
 id descent, impatient for its setting, which would bring
 
 A FABLOB BTOBM. 246 
 
 Louis and Louise home, and hasten the hoar of her depar- 
 ture with her daughter the hour of her vengeance. There 
 he sat, resolved, though knowing how much Louise 
 Joved Louis ay, and hating her for thus loving him 
 Knowing how this separation would torture Louise, and 
 taking a secret and diabolical pleasure in the idea of the 
 torture smiling grimly to herself at the thought of this 
 separation smiling grimly at the thought that Louise 
 should suffer for having thus transferred her affections 
 that Louis should be agonized for having won from herself 
 this love that General Stuart-Gordon should be humiliated 
 for having doubly mortified her, in the disappointment of 
 her ambitious projects both for herself and her daughter. 
 This signal separation and its cause would lay his pride in 
 the dust. For herself, she was too really and essentially 
 proud to care what construction might be put upon her 
 actions. She sat there, stern, erect, resolute, determined, 
 bnt calm, except when occasionally that diabolical grin dis- 
 torted her features, going on with her knotting without 
 dropping one stitch, or missing one mesh. 
 
 At last, when the sun had sunk behind the mountain, 
 and when the slanting shadows had stretched quite acrosi 
 the river, darkening the whole scene, a rap was heard at 
 her door, and soon after Kate Jumper entered 
 
 " Mrs. Stuart-Gordon has just returned, madam, and ii 
 coming up to her room to change her dress for dinner. Lot 
 me have the keys." 
 
 " Did you deliver my message to her f" 
 " Yes, madam ; but she prefers to dress first." 
 " Louise pays very little regard to my wishes since her 
 marriage," thought the mother, bitterly ; then she said, 
 "Go and tell Mrs. Stuart-Gordon that I am waiting for her 
 here." 
 
 The woman had scarcely left the room before the light 
 itcp and clear voice of Louise wa* heard tripping and aing-
 
 246 THB MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 ing up the stairs, a merry, trilling quadrille air. Tht 
 dancing and singing abruptly ceased us she reached th 
 door of her mother's apartment, and rapped before venturing 
 to enter. 
 
 " Come in, my daughter I" said the voice of the lady, in 
 kinder tones than those she usually employed in speaking to 
 her child, or to any one else in fact 
 
 Louise opened the door sofily, and entered the room. 
 
 " You have a very unlady-like manner of entering a house 
 and ascending a flight of stairs, my daughter. I am pleased, 
 however, that your boisterousness moderated a little as yon 
 neared my door." 
 
 "Dear mother, Louis loves to see me merry encourages 
 me to be wild ; and indeed I lately have a tendency that 
 way, so that I sometimes forget you " 
 
 " Oh, I have no doubt in the world that you forget me. 
 It was not that, however, of which I wished to speak to you. 
 Come and sit by my side, Louise." 
 
 The girl took the indicated seat, the foot-stool at her 
 mother's feet, and laying her arms over her mother's lap^ 
 looked up into her face to see what she was about to say. 
 
 " Do you love me, Louise ?" asked the lady in a serious 
 tone. 
 
 " My dear mother I would yon only let me love you 1" 
 
 " Yet for a month past you have neglected and forgotten 
 me for a comparative stranger." 
 
 This was partly true, as under all the circumstances it 
 was very natural. This was true, and Louise could not 
 deny it. She was conscience-stricken and pricked to the 
 heart. She was silent. 
 
 " Yes 1 my child has ceased to love me my child has 
 forsaken her mother for a comparative stranger 1" 
 
 Louise hung down her fair head, and the tears began to 
 gather in her eyes and roll down her cheeks. 
 
 " My chi'd, thai I bore and nursed that I brought tp
 
 A PARLOR STOBM. 247 
 
 and educated thai. I never would send from me, even to 
 sleep my only child has ceased to love me." 
 
 The tears of the daughter were falling fast. She was 
 ubdued by the thought that her mother her proud, lofty 
 mother should bend thus a supplicant for a share in her 
 child's heart. 
 
 " Yes, she has ceased to love her mother ; her mother, 
 whose whole and sole thought has been in her welfar* 
 alone." 
 
 Louise, filled with remorse, had no power of replying. 
 
 " Yes, she has ceased to love me me, who remained 
 through all the best years of my life unmarried for her sake ; 
 she has ceased to love me, and I am desolate a widow, 
 childless, and desolate." 
 
 Here, with her deep knowledge of human nature, she 
 purposely touched a chord at which the bride's and the 
 daughter's heart vibrated to the quick. With the one idea 
 of the young wife, the one idea of wedded love filling her 
 mind, she suddenly recollected that her mother was a 
 widow, and her whole soul filled with an overpowering ten- 
 derness of love and pity, and casting her arms around her 
 mother, she exclaimed 
 
 "A widow ! Oh, my dear, dear mother, forgive me that 
 I never thought of that before I A mdow f Oh, my 
 mother, I never knew how much sorrow was in that word 
 before ! A widow ! Oh, my poor mother, how much, in- 
 deed, you must have suffered! A widow! Oh, may the 
 Lord in mercy preserve me from ever becoming a widow! 
 
 And a shudder ran through all her frame. 
 
 " Oh, my dear mother, I do love you, will love yon, all 
 that you will let me. It is sweet to be permitted to lov 
 you so, mother." 
 
 Mrs. Armstrong soothed and caressed her child. 
 
 Had this tenderness in the mother been a customary thing, 
 It would not then have possessed such all-subduing pow
 
 348 TXl XOTHIB-IV-LAW. 
 
 orer Louise. It was the long-desired, unhoped lore, thai, 
 suddenly manifesting itself, completely subjected the wil of 
 the daughter. 
 
 And Mrs. Armstrong pressed her to her ktsom, smoothed 
 back her golden hair, and kissed her snowy IMQOW, while 
 Louise would murmur softly 
 
 " Oh, it is so sweet to hare yon lore me so, meihtr 
 vwther" lingering orer the last word, " mother," slowly, 
 with ineffable tenderness. 
 
 Suddenly Mrs. Armstrong said to her, rery grarely 
 
 " Now, my daughter, I hare something very serious to 
 ay to you." 
 
 " Say it, my dear mother." 
 
 " Louise, I hare been insulted, outraged." 
 
 " Insulted ! outraged 1" repeated Louise, looking up ii 
 astonishment. 
 
 " Ye, my daughter." 
 
 " Insulted I you 1 n she exclaimed, raising herself up in a 
 sitting posture, and gazing at her mother in amazement 
 " Mother, you I Who has dared ?" 
 
 " General Stuart-Gordon ; no less a person." 
 
 " General Stuart-Gordon !" reiterated Lonise, in stupefied 
 wonder. 
 
 u General Stuart-Gordon." 
 
 "Hot Mother, I am thunderstruck! Mother, am I 
 awake ? Shake me, mother. " 
 
 "You are awake, Louiie." 
 
 " And saie ? am I sane, mother P 
 
 "And sane, Louise." 
 
 " It seems to me that I have the nightmare I I wish I 
 could route myself. General Stuart " 
 
 " My dear child, listen ; I will tell yon all aboit it 
 General Staart-Gordon informed me yesterday, that he WM 
 about to be married" 
 
 " To b married!"
 
 A PARLOR STORM. 241 
 
 " My dear cnild, pray cease these vexatious exclamatory 
 repetitions, and listen to me. Yes, he informed me that h 
 was about to be married to Britannia O'Riley " 
 
 " Britannia O'Riley ! what ! Brighty coming here ? Oh w 
 
 "Once more, Mrs. Stuart-Gordon I mean my dear 
 Louise I must entreat you to cease repeating my words ; 
 it impedes and embarrasses me. Well, General Stuart- 
 Gordon informed me, as I said, of his approaching marriage 
 with Miss O'Riley. Louise, what do you think of thil 
 marriage ?" 
 
 " I cannot believe it. It cannot be true." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "It is too unlikely." 
 
 " Upon what account ? Miss O'Riley's want of birth 
 fortune ?" 
 
 "Oh, no ; that is nothing." 
 
 " What then ?" 
 
 " Why, Brighty's a girl, and General Stuart-Gordon is 
 an old gentleman. Oh, you know, of coarse, mother, it 
 was a joke ; that was a joke ; though I admit that it was 
 almost insulting to jest with you about it, mother." 
 
 " My dear, it was no joke ; it was truth. This marriage 
 is to come off in a month." 
 
 " No, mother, no ; it must be a mistake. It cannot be 
 true." 
 
 " I tell you that I am assured of it beyond a possibility 
 of a donbt. Besides, I am not apt to be mistaken in any 
 thing, my daughter." 
 
 "But poor, dear Brighty, then dear, brilliant, sparkling 
 Brighty to be lost so." 
 
 "And that is the light in which you view it, Louise. 
 You, had you been never so poor, could not have married 
 an old man ?" 
 
 Louise shuddered and paled. 
 
 " Qh, mother, don't j it makes my blood run eol<i" e
 
 250 THE MOTHEB-IN-LAW. 
 
 claimed Louise, who ful.y believed herself the type of al f . 
 womankind in this respect. " Poor Brighty, dear, radiant 
 Brighty, to be so extinguished. Mother, dear mother, tell 
 her not to have him. Save her." 
 
 " I cannot, unfortunately. Miss O'Riley is very capable 
 of marrying a dotard for the sake of attaining a brilliant 
 position. Your sympathy is besides quite thrown away upon 
 Miss O'Riley, who is a clear-headed, cold-hearted, selfish, 
 and calculating woman, who will be happy in her destiny." 
 
 " A brilliant position 1 so is that of the Hindoo suttee a 
 brilliant position, and one, it strikes me, as being as great 
 an immolation as the other. Dearest mother, since you are 
 BO kind, and permit me to speak so freely, let me entreat 
 you to talk to General Stuart-Gordon on this subject. Beg 
 him not to take advantage of Brighty's poverty, and her 
 love of elegance, and her inexperience. Tell him Brighty 
 Is nothing but a bit of a girl," continued the little matron, 
 "tell him that she will grievously repent it. Tell him to be 
 magnanimous, magnificent, princely. Tell him to adopt 
 Brighty as his daughter; to bring her here and make her 
 feel at home among us. Tell him, if he wants to marry, to 
 find some lady near his own age, who will not be compelled 
 to wish him dead all the days of his life, and to leave poor 
 Brighty alone tc seek her own share of this world's life, 
 lore, and joy." 
 
 " You are very much changed, Louise I" said her mother, 
 in surprise " very much changed. Who would have sup- 
 posed that you had reflected so much that you would have 
 confidence to give utterance to your reflections ?" 
 
 " Mother, it is dearest Louis 1 He talks with me, and 
 encourages me to talk. He listens to me stimulates me 
 to think. Oh, mother, I have thought more, heard more, 
 talked more, and lived more, in the last month, than in all 
 my past existence 1 I seem tc have received an impulse 
 to have taken a new start in Lfo. The viata of a universe
 
 A PAKLOR STOBM. i61 
 
 WDM opening before me ; my soul seems to have dropped 
 its fetters escaped its prison and revels in liberty and 
 right. And Louis has given me this new life, mother!" 
 The brow of the lady darkened. " And that is the reason, 
 mother, why I do so pity dear Brighty. She closes upon 
 herself the prospect of a happiness like mine," arrested by 
 a feeling of bashfulness, Louise suddenly stopped in tu 
 full-flowing stream of her confidences, and blushed. Soon 
 she recovered her composure and said, " You will speak to 
 General Stuart-Gordon about this, will you not, my mo- 
 ther ? 
 
 " My daughter, it was of that I wished to talk to yon. I 
 have spoken to him upon this subject." 
 
 "Andhef" 
 
 " Became offended." 
 
 11 And" 
 
 " Used offensive language to me." 
 
 "Mother!" 
 
 " Violent language, Louise." 
 
 " Mother /" 
 
 "Ordered me to quit his roof." 
 
 "MOTHER! NO I" exclaimed Louise, starting to her feet, 
 as the blood rushed to her brow. 
 
 " Be calm, my daughter. Be composed ; be lady-like. 
 Remember yourself. Recollect that all such manifestations 
 of feeling are vulgar. Be quiet you see that I am." 
 
 "Oh, my dear mother! but you have been outraged!" 
 said Louise, bursting into tears. 
 
 "My daughter, let us talk composedly. It is certain 
 that I cannot remain here I" 
 
 " Nor /, mother !" 
 
 " What do you say, Louise ?" inquired the mother with 
 surprise and delight, thinking her paths made very straight 
 before her. " What do you say, Louise f " 
 
 "I aay that /cannot stay here, mother I"
 
 262 TEX MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 "Explain, my daughter." 
 
 " Could I remain under the roof of a house from winch 
 my mother has been driven ? No, mother, no ! Louis will 
 will not expect it. Louis will not desire it. Louis will 
 respect a daughter's feelings. I will entreat him to hire a 
 house and take me hence. We will leave this gorgeous 
 palace to General Stuart-Gordon and any lady he may be 
 pleased to set over it, and we will go into some humbler 
 house, in which at least, my mother can be safe from insult, 
 and secure of respect." 
 
 "A new, revised, and improved edition of love in a cot- 
 tage," sneered the lady, but quickly remembering that her 
 cue was love and confidence, she replied, " my daughter, I 
 thank you ; but this plan of yours is impracticable 1" 
 
 " Impracticable 1" 
 
 " Yes, my daughter ! Louis is just eighteen. He yet 
 wants three years of his majority. Until that period ar- 
 rives, he has not a dollar but what his father gives him. 
 When that period arrives, he is in possession of all this 
 vast estate. Until that period arrives, he has no means of 
 hiring a house, or servants, or in any way supporting him- 
 gelf or his wife, apart from his father." 
 
 " Oh, Heaven 1 what shall I do ?" 
 
 " You cannot, of course, remain under a roof from which 
 your mother has been expelled !" Louise did not reply. 
 "You do not think of it, I trust, my daughter." Louis* 
 was weeping silently. "Why do you not answer, my 
 daughter ? You do not think of remaining here after ". 
 have been thrust forth." 
 
 " Mother, I cannot leave Louis 1" 
 
 " My child has ceased to love me my only child 1" 
 
 Here followed the same line of argument, the same logic, 
 loquence, and passion the same pathos about the widow- 
 hood, the solitude, the desolation that had melted the 
 heart of Louise in the first of this scene. It subdued hei
 
 A PARLOR STORM. 25ft 
 
 gain, and more completely than before. While she laid 
 her head, sobbing, upon her mother's lap, she asked, 
 
 "What am I to do, then, mother ? Tell me what I am 
 to do ?" 
 
 "Return with me this evening to Mont Crystal I" 
 
 " Mother ! mother 1" 
 
 " If Louis loves you, he will follow you thither. I will 
 invite him to remain, and we will all live there together nntu 
 the majority of Louis puts him in possession of the Island 
 Estate and the Isle of Rays. Will you agree to this, 
 Louise ?" 
 
 " Mother 1" 
 
 " Will you return with me this evening to Mont Crystal ?" 
 
 "Mother, my heart is breaking, but I will do it." 
 
 " You promise this ?" 
 
 "I promise it." 
 
 " God bless you, my daughter." 
 
 "God pity me, my mother." 
 
 The ringing of the dinner-bell aroused them. 
 
 "Will you go down, mother ?" 
 
 "No, my daughter." 
 
 " And I, then, mother what shall I do ?" 
 
 " Go and prepare for your journey, my daughter ; and 
 when you are ready, meet me in the drawing-rooin." 
 
 Louise left the room, weeping. 
 
 " Dinner waits, madam," said a servant, rapping softly 
 at the door. 
 
 "Let it wait," was the curt reply of the lady, who was 
 adjusting the folds of her ample black velvet cloak. 
 
 la a few minutes more, Mrs. Armstrong, in fall carriage 
 costume, descended into the hall. General Stuart-Gordon 
 advanced from the drawing-room to meet her. 
 
 " Mrs. Armstrong, I have come to solicit your pardon 
 for the intemperate words uttered in my excitement of 
 'his morning Will you honor me by accepting the up-
 
 864 THB MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 port of my arm to the drawing-room, in token of forglTe 
 ness ?" said he, in a deep, earnest, and deprecating ton* 
 and manner. 
 
 " Sir !" replied the lady, drawing her majestic figure np 
 to its full height ; " I bear no malice toward beasts, idiot*, 
 or dotards; I only protect myself from their violence in 
 fatnre.' 1 
 
 With a grave, deep bow, General Stuart-Gordon receded, 
 and allowed her to pass. 
 
 "I ordered my carriage at five o'clock. You will be so 
 good as to see if it waits, sir ?" she said, in an arrogant 
 tone of an offended despot speaking to a slave, as she sailed 
 on. 
 
 " Certainly, madam, with pleasure," replied the General, 
 with a second and deeper bow. 
 
 She entered the drawing-room, and stood there waiting 
 until Louise should join her. She had not long to wait. 
 Louise soon entered, arrayed for her ride in a white crape 
 shawl, white bonnet, and veil. Her veil was down, to hide 
 her flowing tears. 
 
 "Your carriage attends you, madam," announced Gen- 
 eral Stuart Gordon, re-entering the room. 
 
 " Are you quite ready, my daughter ?" inquired the lady. 
 
 " Yes, quite ready, mother ; but oh ! I must see Louis 
 first. I have not seen him for an hour not since we re- 
 turned from rowing. I do not not know where he can 
 be," replied the bride, in a distressing tone. 
 
 "Where are you going, Louise?" inquired the General, 
 walking up to his daughter-to-law. 
 
 " Home with mother !" she murmured, sinking weeping 
 into a chair. 
 
 " May I inquire, Mrs. Louis, if your husband is advised 
 of this proceeding on your part ?" 
 
 "No, ilr"
 
 A PARLOR STORM. 261 
 
 * And you leave this roof without his knowledge or con- 
 tent f" 
 
 " Oh, sir," murmured the poor little girl, in an almost 
 inaudible voice, "I cannot find him. My mother alone- 
 insulted all the child she has got how could you ?" and 
 melted into a sea of tears. 
 
 " SIR, address your conversation to ME, who well know 
 how to answer you and do not browbeat the child, like a 
 dastard 1" exclaimed Mrs. Armstrong, striding up, and 
 placing herself between them, and in front of Louise. 
 
 " Then, madam, I desire to know the meaning of all this." 
 
 " It is very plain, sir. My daughter returns with me to 
 Mont Crystal." 
 
 " And for what purpose, and to what end ?" 
 
 " To reside henceforth under ray own roof." 
 
 Here Louise raised her tearful face from the handkerchief 
 in which it was buried, and looked up with surprise. Gen- 
 eral Stuart-Gordon's brow grew hard and stern, as that of 
 the lady to whom he spoke, as he replied 
 
 " And I say, madam, that Mrs. Louis does not stir out 
 of this house without her husband's permission being first 
 obtained." 
 
 "Ha! ha! we shall see. Give me your arm, my 
 daughter 1" 
 
 11 Lay off your bonnet and shawl, Louise !" commanded 
 the General in a tone so stern and peremptory, that the 
 poor girl started, and instinctively and hurriedly obeyed. 
 
 " My daughter, are you mad ? What are you doing f 
 Resume your bonnet and let us go ?" 
 
 " Do not budge, Mrs. Louis. Do not stir a step." 
 
 " Give me your arm, Louise ! I command you I" 
 
 " Move at your peril, Mrs. Louis !" 
 
 " Am I to be obeyed, Louise ?" sternly demanded the lady. 
 
 " Do you hear me, Mrs. Louis?" thundered the General 
 
 " Oh, pity, Lo-d !" prayed Louise, with clasped handi
 
 256 THB MOTHEB-IN-L1W. 
 
 and blanched cheeks, her very tears congealed with terror- 
 looking from one antagonist to the other. 
 
 " Ah ! good I here is Louis I" exclaimed the General, aa 
 Louis Stuart-Gordon quietly entered the room, and stood 
 arrested in an attitude of surprise, in the midst of them. 
 
 "Louis! Louis 1" exclaimed Louise, as, throwing out 
 her hands, she flew to his arms, as a bird to her nest flew 
 from the storm of anger raging around her, and casting her 
 fair arms up around his neck, and burying her head in his 
 bosom, she hung there, palpitating, her pale gold kicks and 
 white muslin drapery flowing over his black dress. And 
 Louis ! He stood there, encircling her with one arm, while 
 with the other hand he stroked her locks and shoulders 
 soothing her perturbation and instinctively mesmerizing 
 her. Meanwhile the war of words raged on. 
 
 " Sir, my daughter returns with me to Mont Crystal !" 
 
 "Madam ! my son's wife abides under our roof!" And 
 Louise shuddered, even in the shelter of her husband's arms. 
 
 It was now that Louis Stuart-Gordon looked up, and 
 with a gesture of the most imposing command, arrested the 
 storm of controversy. Then, with a silent but peremptory 
 inquiry, he demanded the explanation of the scene. Both 
 antagonists essayed to speak at once. Mrs. Armstrong 
 turned full upon him, and commenced 
 
 " Mr. Stuart-Gordon, circumstances have transpired, and 
 are about to transpire, that constrain me to remove my 
 daughter from this house " while General Stuart-Gordon 
 was saying 
 
 " Louis, this lady designs to separate you and your wife I" 
 
 " My dear father, let me entreat you to grant the lady 
 precedence in this explanation," said Louis. 
 
 " Certainly, my son ! Be so good as to proceed, madam.*' 
 
 And Mrs. Armstrong, in a few curt, haughty words, ex- 
 plained the motive of her act. 
 
 " So you peneive, Louis, that thii good lady wishes to
 
 1. PAR LOR STORM. 257 
 
 Rparate yon from your wife. Of course yon will not con 
 eent to any such measure," decided the General. 
 
 " My daughter SHALL retura with me 1" persisted tht 
 lady, with awful sternness. 
 
 " My son's wife ' SHALL' abide where she is I" concluded 
 the General. 
 
 Louise started and shuddered in the arms of her husband. 
 Louis pressed her closer to his bosom, stooped and soothed 
 her ; and then, erecting his slight but elegant form, he 
 waved his hand, and imposed silence by a gesture full of 
 dignity. And, looking from one to the other, with some- 
 thing of grave rebuke in his tone and manner, he said 
 
 "My honored father, and my esteemed mother-in-law, 
 you do battle over my wife as though she were a slave in 
 whom both of you possessed a property to whom both of 
 you laid a claim. This must cease! ' Shall ' and ' shall 
 not' are terms that must not be applied to my wife. Com- 
 mands and threats are things that she must not suffer. 
 Louise is free free as God made all creatures ; and she 
 must not be deprived of her divine birthright of her own 
 God-given freedom ! She shall direct her own life, control 
 her own destiny. No one shall compel her choice no one 
 shall even so much as unduly influence her will. Louise 
 shall decide in this matter, as in all others, for herself 
 and," continued the young man, growing a little pale, 
 "and I will abide by her decision." 
 
 "Good 1 I accept the condition," said Mrs. Armstrong. 
 " Let Louise decide for herself. / too will abide by her 
 decision." 
 
 " BAD ! I say it will not do You commit an error, 
 Louis. You give this gid her own way, and her will must 
 succumb to the first strong will it encounters must suc- 
 cumb to her mother's. She has never been accustomed to 
 aelf-guidance never will be Gt for solf-gnidance." 
 
 " Never, unless she is permittee to guide hereel( V
 
 &58 THI MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 father. Enough 1 We will hare the decision of Louis*, 
 and accept it." 
 
 "And abide by it," chimed in Mrs. Armstrong, who fell 
 no doubt in her mind as to the favorable (for her plan) de- 
 Iiiou of her daughter. 
 
 "Zounds! can there be two sides to this questioa ?" ex- 
 claimed General Stuart-Gordon, put past his gallantry. 
 
 " Look up, Louise ; look up, my own 1" murmured Louis, 
 bending over her until his lips were at her ear. " Look up, 
 Louise, and set this vexed question at rest. No one shall 
 constrain yon will. Look up and tell us will you remain 
 with me, or depart with your mother ?" 
 
 She pressed closer to him, weeping. 
 
 " Say, my darling will you remain with me " 
 
 " "With you, Louis with you, angel Louis you, you," 
 murmured Louise, dropping words and tears both in his 
 bosom. 
 
 " "What does she say ? You are not to coax her," ex 
 claimed the mother. 
 
 "She eays that she will remain with me," said Louis. 
 
 Mrs. Armstrong turned pale, strode up to her daughter, 
 and exclaimed, bitterly and sorrowfully 
 
 " My child ! mine only child ! do you abandon me thus ! 
 me in my age me in my widow-hood me to endless, child- 
 less solitude ? Oh, Louise I" 
 
 " Mother, no no I" exclaimed the poor bride, suddenly 
 starting from the gentle arms of Louis, and throwing her- 
 elf upon the bosom of her mother. " Mother, no I I will 
 go with you." 
 
 " Come, then ; your shawl and bonnet where are they ? n 
 
 "But, Louis! oh, Louis!" once more casting herself in 
 the anas of her husband. 
 
 "Again, my child, will you come ? " 
 
 " Yei, I will go with yon no, stay with Loul* ! Mo- 
 tto! Iiotii! mother! oh, mercy, ford!"
 
 A FA&LO* STGMM. 269 
 
 And, broken between conflicting claims and emotioaa, 
 the poor bride and child fainted over the arm of hr hoi 
 band. 
 
 " THANK GOD I" exclaimed General Stuart-Gordon, sa- 
 vagely, in the tone of an oath. " Take her to her room, 
 Louis ; lock the door on the inside, and remain with her. 
 Don't be alarmed a fainting-fit is nothing. Call Seraph 
 to attend yon, and be quick, for she will recover in five 
 minutes, and all this trouble will be to go over again." 
 
 And Louis, raising her in his arms, and calling loudly for 
 assistance, bore her from the room. Mrs. Armstrong started 
 to follow, but General Stuart-Gordon, with a spring, placed 
 himself before her in the doorway. 
 
 "Let me pass, sir." 
 
 "No, you shall not, by Heaven, madam! Louis is a 
 fool; and you are Mrs. Armstrong! Thank God that I 
 am alive to save my daughter-in-law from perishing through 
 the folly of her husband, or being destroyed by the cruelty 
 f her mother." 
 
 " Let me pass, sir." 
 
 " Your carriage waits, madam, and your way to it lie* 
 through the other door." 
 
 "LET ME PASS, SIR." 
 
 "Your carriage waits, madam. Will it please you to 
 deliver us from the inconvenience of your presence f " 
 
 Haggard with rage, but perfectly impotent, at least for 
 the time being, Mrs. Armstrong turned abruptly, strode 
 from the room, entered her carriage, and was driven back 
 to Mont Crystal, there to brood secretly over och^maa of 
 deeper vergeance.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 THE OLD MAN'S DARLING. 
 
 The more than Michael of his bloom. 
 
 Tho Abighag of his age. Christopher SmarCi Song of **. 
 
 LOUISE recovered from her fainting fit to find her mother 
 fine. All night she wept bitterly. The next morning she 
 awoke pale and hollow-eyed. She wrote a letter full of the 
 tenderest expressions of filial affection, and sent it to Mont 
 Crystal. This letter was returned with the seal unbroken. 
 Then she would have set out for Mont Crystal immediately, 
 but a thunder-storm arising a violent equinoctial storm, 
 lasting all the afternoon and evening prevented her. The 
 next day, from the flood, the roads were impassable for a 
 carriage, and Louise could not ride on horseback. She 
 was forced to content herself with writing another and more 
 earnest and impassioned letter to her mother. The second 
 letter, like the first, was returned unopened and Louise 
 went to bed and wept herself to sleep. 
 
 General Stuart-Gordon had ridden over to The Craga 
 that afternoon, to pass the evening with Brighty. He en- 
 \ered the wainscoted parlor with a singularly light and brisk 
 itep, threw off his coat, drew on his wadded gown, and set- 
 tled himself comfortably in his study-chair by the side of 
 the table to read the papers that had arrived in the evening's 
 nail. Running his eyes over the columns, his attention wag 
 arrested by the following advertisement : 
 
 "NEXT OP KIN. 
 
 " If the heirs of Riley Frobisher O'Riley, of Athlone, 
 tj of Westmeath, Ireland, be yet living, and should
 
 THE OLD MAN'S D A B L I N G. 261 
 
 lee this advertisement, they are requested to report them- 
 selves to James Frobisher, Secretary of Legation, to th 
 British Embassy at Washington, where they will hear 
 oraething to their advantage." 
 
 "'Riley Frobisher O'Riley, late of Athlone!' Why, he 
 was the father of my Brighty," thought the General, reading 
 over the advertisement again, " ' Will hear something to 
 their advantage* to her advantage for there is only she. 
 That means that a fortune is left her, if it means anything ? 
 Oh, Brighty I shall I lose you at last ? Shall this sole pri- 
 vilege of making your future prosperous be taken from me 7 
 But this is selfish. I said her happiness was dearer to me 
 than anything else, yet now I am alarmed at a piece of good 
 fortune promised her ; yet, after all, this may be a mistake. 
 I will write at once, and ascertain what this means." 
 
 And, turning round to his writing-table, he penned a 
 hasty letter of inquiry to the Secretary of Legation, and, 
 ringing for Apollo, bade him, late as it was, to saddle a horse 
 and take it to the post office, that it might go out in the 
 morning's mail. 
 
 " It will then be two days before I can receive an answer," 
 thought the General, as he retired "to bed, bnt not to 
 sleep." 
 
 Two days elapsed a week passed away General Stu- 
 art-Gordon had received no answer as yet to his letter to 
 the British Secretary of Legation. He had not failed te> 
 mention the advertisement to Britannia, but she tsok it <v- 
 quietly seemed to think it of so little importance that Hit 
 fears had been set at rest; and, indeed, his self respect bad 
 prevented him from expressing to Britannia an uneasine* 
 for which at heart he condemned himself. He had even 
 grown to think that the notice might possibly hare refer- 
 ence to some one else. 
 
 Upon the second week after the family quarrel, one ren 
 II
 
 262 THE JCOTHEB-IN-LJLW. 
 
 ing, as soon as Louise had, weeping, left ths oak-prlor, 
 and as soon as Louis had, sympathizing, followed her, Ge- 
 eral Stuart-Gordon, putting on his dressing-gown and slip- 
 pers, and sinking into his easy chair, began to make himself 
 comfortable by stretching out his feet and resting them upon 
 the fire-irons, and drawing his candle-stand laden with pa- 
 pers to his side. He had scarcely commenced reading, 
 when Apollo rode up to the door, and, jumping from hig 
 horse, entered the room with the evening mail. 
 
 " Give them to me, here, Apollo 1" said the General, drop- 
 ping his paper ; and Apollo, undrawing the strings of the 
 bag, and taking hold of the bottom of the corners, emptied 
 the letters out. 
 
 There were letters from exporting grain and tobacco mer- 
 chants of Baltimore and New York ; there were political 
 letters ; and there was one that was immediately torn open 
 and read. It bore the Washington post-mark. It waa 
 from James Frobisher, Esquire, Secretary of the British 
 Embassy from the Court of St. James to Washington. It 
 raa thus : 
 
 " WASHINGTON, April 30, 18 
 '' To General Stuart- Gordon : 
 
 " SIR : Yours of the 20th April is at hand. The adver- 
 tisement of the heirs of Riley O'Riley in the Intelligencer 
 of the 10th April, to which your letter alludes, relates to the 
 following facts, viz : 
 
 " Joyce Riley O'Riley, last Earl of Clonmachnois, died 
 at Castle Clonmachnois, near Athlone, county of West- 
 meath, Ireland, on the 22d of last February, aged uinety 
 years. He died intestate and without heirs, unless the 
 daughter of the late Riley O'Riley, the youngest gon of the 
 Earl's fourth son, can be found. 
 
 " If this young lady lives in the person of Miss Britnnnia 
 O'Riley, an i can prove her identity, she ia ole faeireu to
 
 THE OLD MAN'S DARLING. 268 
 
 the late Earl's titles and estates, and Countess of Clonmach- 
 nois in her own right. I shall do myself the honor of wait- 
 ing upon you, in relation to this subject, in the course of 
 th week. 
 
 " Sir, yours, most respectfully, 
 
 " JAMES FROBISHEB " 
 
 The letter dropped from the hands of General Stuart- 
 Gordon, and a mortal coldness and weakness seized hit 
 frame ; his heart sunk. 
 
 " This is a blow. Just Heaven ! this is a blow. Within 
 three days of my marriage, too." 
 
 And he arose and walked up and down the floor, with his 
 hands clasped behind his back, and his head bowed upon 
 his bosom, as was his custom when troubled. 
 
 " Well well 1 well well ! this is severe this is heavy 1 
 She will no longer have a reason for marrying a man old 
 enough to be her father and yet I would have made her 
 happy. I feel that I should have done so. But it is over, 
 it is over, this last, last dream. Countess of Clonmach- 
 nois 1 Oh, Brighty, after all, will you ever meet with one 
 who will cherish you tenderly as I have done ?" 
 
 General Stuart-Gordon did not go to bed that night. 
 Early the next morning, without saying one word upon the 
 subject to any member of his family, he took pen, ink, and 
 paper, and wrote the following note to Britannia : 
 
 "IsLE OP RAYS, May 15th. 
 
 11 DEAREST BRITANNIA : Let your most earnest and sin- 
 cere friend be the first to wish you joy in your dawn of for- 
 tune. I have just received a letter from the Secretary of 
 Legation, and am pleased to be the first to announce to you 
 the brilliant change that awaits you to be the first to ad- 
 dress you by your new title. 
 
 " There ! that is as far as I can g, and as much as I cav
 
 264 TEE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 do, Britannia. I cannot offer you my congratulations ifl 
 person ; I have no strength to do so. I am stricken, 
 Brighty I am stricken. 
 
 " Like the slave in the Brazilian mines, I have found a 
 diamond of the first water, only to see it snatched from me, 
 and set in a coronet. 
 
 " When I found a young, beautiful, accomplished, and 
 amiable girl, alone and unprotected, a girl of elegant man- 
 ners and refined tastes, exposed to all the evils of an unset- 
 tled life, I had thought to take that girl to my bosom, and, 
 by cherishing her tenderly, to have made her happy and 
 won her affections. 
 
 " But all this is changed now. The Countess of Clon- 
 machuois has a splendid destiny before her. The diamond 
 will blaze all the more brilliantly when set in the coronet ; 
 Britannia will lend lustre even to the high rank she will 
 reach. 
 
 " Brighty for to me you are Brighty, and no countess 
 Brighty, then, in three days more we were to have been 
 married. I know the strict integrity of your heart, and I 
 know that you would have kept your engagement under all 
 circumstances, but I release you fully and freely from it. 
 I wish you joy. God bless you, my dear Brighty. 
 
 " I inclose you the letter of the Secretary of Legation, 
 There will be no difficulty in proving your identity ; and I 
 need not say, dearest Britannia, that I am at your command 
 always, to render any service in my power. 
 
 " Your friend, as ever, 
 " CARTWRIGHT STUART- GORDON." 
 
 He folded, sealed, and directed this letter, and calling 
 Apollo, bade him saddle a horse, and take it to The Craga. 
 
 Louise kept her room with a nervous headache all that 
 day. Two weeks of crying hail completely exhausted tht 
 delicate girl.
 
 THE OLD MAN'S DARLING. 266 
 
 Louis came to breakfast, looking disturbed. Genera) 
 Stuart-Gordon told him, gravely, to take comfort; that 
 the evil fates would probably be conciliated by the sacrifice 
 of one member of any one family, and that iliat member 
 would probably be himself. And, without explaining hii 
 meaning further, General Stuart-Gordon left the oak parlor, 
 nd shut himself up alone in his library, trying to read a 
 Hebrew dictionary, placed upside down before him. He 
 iid not go down to dinner. 
 
 Soon after dinner, Apollo Belv4dere returned from hia 
 errand to The Crags, and rapped at the door of the library. 
 
 " Come in," groaned the General. 
 
 And Apollo came in, bowing and scraping, and holding 
 his hat in one hand, and a little note in the other. 
 
 " Did you find the young lady ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " Well, how was she how was the family ?" 
 
 "Miss O'Riley and Miss Soraerville, sir, were well, sir; 
 they was a-sittin' at the table, sir, and old Major Somer- 
 yille, sir, he was a-prophesying of the Bible, sir." 
 
 " Well, what is that you have in your hand a letter ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 And, with another bow and scrape, Apollo advanced and 
 handed the note. 
 
 It was a little three-cornered-folded thing, and directed 
 in the hand or Britannia. He opened it hastily, and read 
 as follows : 
 
 "Will General Stuart-Gordon favor Britannia O'Riley 
 with an interview this evening ?" 
 
 That was all. 
 
 " Saddle my horse quickly, Apollo then come and assist 
 me to dress. Tell Seraph to bring me some hot water," 
 exclaimel General Stuart-Gordon, rising hastily, and pew 
 ing from his library ou Vis way to his bed-chamber
 
 266 THK MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 In half an hour General Stuart-Gordon was on Ll romi 
 to The Crags. In two hours he had arrived. 
 
 The family had just arisen from tea. Major Somerville, 
 as usual, bad retired to rest. Susan and Britannia were sew- 
 ing, and Anna was reading "Paradise and the Peri" aloud 
 to them. Anna, ai was her invariable custom, as soon as a 
 rlstor entered, arose and withdrew. General Stuart-Gordon 
 advanced, bowing. 
 
 " Good evening, my clear Miss Soraerville," he said, press- 
 ing Snsan's hand. Then- going to Britannia, " How shall 
 I address you now, madam, in offering again, and in person, 
 my earnest congratulations upon the splendid future open- 
 ing before you ?" he asked, in a very low voice. 
 
 Britannia arose from her seat, giving him her hand, and 
 looking at Susan, said, quietly 
 
 " My dear Miss Soinerville, I wish to converse with Gen- 
 eral Stuart-Gordon for a few minutes, if you will give me 
 leave." 
 
 Susan smilingly arose and left the room 
 
 Britannia reseated herself, pointing out a chair on the 
 apposite corner of the fireplace to the General. He took 
 t, seated himself, and drawing up his portly form, and 
 throwing one arm over the back of the chair, addressed hia 
 companion as follows : 
 
 "Well, Britannia, I said that I was at your command, 
 and accordingly, when you summoned me to your presence, 
 I lost no time in obeying you, though I could have wished, 
 Britannia, that you had spared me the pain of this inter- 
 view at least for a few days at least until I had in some 
 measure recovered from the shock of this most heavy blow, 
 and regained a portion of my calmness and self-control. 
 However, Britannia, I am here, and ready to serve you." 
 All this time, Britannia had sat quite still, looking down 
 mpon her own wMte and jeweled hands, that lay one npcn
 
 THI OLD MAN'S DABLINO. 267 
 
 tho other on her lap. She did not speak, even now that 
 he had finished his sentence. 
 
 "Well, Britannia, what do you wish to do first? How 
 can I assist you ? Tell ine ; I am quite at your orders. 
 Why do you not reply, Britannia ?" 
 
 " I do not wish anything done until after Sunday, Gen- 
 eral," said Britannia. General Stuart-Gordon started 
 looked at her earnestly. Sunday was to have been their 
 wedding-day. 
 
 " Oh, Britannia ! But this allusion is thoughtless or 
 wanton on your part." 
 
 " Why, General ? Have we not enough to keep us busy 
 ontil Sunday ? After Sunday, can we not take Baltimore 
 and Washington in our route, and attend to this business ?" 
 
 " Oh, Britannia, cease to torture me. You know that 
 this is all changed all all all !" 
 
 " Then you do really mean to break with me, General ?" 
 
 "I do really mean to release you from your engagement 
 to myself, Britannia." 
 
 " And upon what account ?'' 
 
 " Upon account of the new and brilliant position in which 
 you will shortly find yourself. I told you my reasons in my 
 letter." Britannia arose from her seat, and coming around, 
 rested her hand upon the back of his chair, while she asked 
 gravely 
 
 " My friend, why did you write that letter to me ?" 
 
 "Brighty, oh Brighty, all is over! You know that I 
 feel it too well too surely too powerfully." 
 
 *' My friend, this grows very serious. Explain yourself," 
 said Britannia, very gravely. 
 
 " Britannia, my letter explained this. Do not affect to 
 misunderstand me." 
 
 "Your letter and jour conversation, General Stuart- 
 Gordon, coincide perfectly neither contradicting the otker 
 Both, however, are uniutelligib\ to m*."
 
 268 THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 "Howl DD you not understand that by the death of 
 your great-grandfather, the aged Earl of Clonmachnois, 
 and by the previous demise of every intervening heir, you 
 are left sole heiress of his titles and estates, and that you 
 are, at this moment, Countess of Clonmachnois in your own 
 right ? Do you not understand that?" 
 
 "Yes ! I understand, believe, and accept that, as though 
 it were one of the thirty-nine articles of the Christian faith," 
 exclaimed Brighty, lifting her eyes, gleaming with pride 
 and mirth, to his face. 
 
 "You do I" exclaimed the General, irritated and offended 
 at her smile. " Then you understand that you may choose 
 from the elite of young aristocracy ! You understand that 
 there is now no necessity to sacrifice yourself to an elderly 
 man, whom you cannot love !" Britannia had kept her 
 eyes steadily on him during this sharp speech. At its close 
 ehe drew her elegant form up to its proudest height, lifted 
 her regal head until her ringlets, though drooping, scarcely 
 reached her bosom, and said, lowly and slowly 
 
 " My position necessarily exposes me to many humilia- 
 tions, but that which is most difficult to bear is a taunt 
 from General Stuart-Gordon I" 
 
 All the chivalry of Virginia started in his veins to re- 
 proach him for this rudeness. He arose, and with a stately 
 suavity took her hand, bowed over it, and said, gravely 
 
 " Forgive me, madam ! Make some allowance for the 
 many disturbances of my mind by this sudden and grievous 
 calamity the loss of a treasure so nearly received." 
 
 "Sir!" said Britannia, "a girl who would have accepted 
 /our hand from merely convenient motives, is no treasure 
 to be regretted 1" 
 
 " Bat, Britannia, recollect. Ton said, yourself, that you 
 did not love me." And his whole frame shook, as he wiped 
 the perspiration from his brow. 
 
 " Nor do I, as poets, painters, and playeri understand
 
 TH1 OLD MAN'S DARLING. 269 
 
 the term. My friend, you are seriously disturbed ; so 
 seriously disturbed that I must forget the injurious lan- 
 guage you nse toward me, aud I must try to reassure you ; 
 let us understand each other. Will you sit down ? I have 
 never seen you so greatly moved. I regret this exceed- 
 ingly regret that any circumstances should possess the 
 power of moving you so. Sir, I beseech you, recover your 
 elf-possession I scarcely recognize General Stuart-Gordoa 
 thus." 
 
 "When I am about to lose you, Britannia." 
 "But you are not to lose me, my dearest friend." 
 " But you never loved me, Britannia ; and now, as there 
 exists no necessity for your sacrificing yourself, you shall 
 not do it." 
 
 "Again! You urge that point so strenuously. No; 1 
 do not love you after the manner of young ladies who sigh 
 over sentimental poetry, and die over doleful ditties ; I am 
 incapable of the thing. Nor do 1 lament ray incapacity for 
 the tiapricious and evanescent emotion ; but I have a very 
 profound friendship for you, General a friendship that I 
 have for no other human being and a very high respect for 
 you, a respect that makes me, with all my pride, regret that 
 I have the power of moving you so ; and I have to bring 
 to mind David, Solomon, Marc Antony, and all the great 
 heroes of antiquity, who in the grave autumn of their lives 
 have thus forgotten their high self-appreciation, in order to 
 understand you, sir 1" 
 
 " It is because you love me not, while I love you, Britain 
 nia I" said General Stuart-Gordon, pressing har hand with 
 grave tenderness. " Brighty, I had hoped, by blessing your 
 life with all my power, to have won your heart. What can 
 I offer you that the world will not lay at your feet ?" 
 
 Again that inexplicable gleaming smile of suppressed 
 and self-mocking mirth puzzled and answered the General, 
 Kiting with Ugnity, he laid
 
 270 THE MO THEE -IN -LAW. 
 
 " This has continued long enough, madam. I am at youf 
 lervice when you please to advise me of any assistance I 
 can render you in this affair. Good evening, madam. 
 Pray make my excuses to Miss Somerville. Once more, 
 good evening, madam ;" and, bowing very low, General 
 Stuart-Gordon raised his hat from the table, and was pass- 
 ing out. But just as his hand was laid upon the lock of 
 the door, the jeweled fingers of Brighty fell upon his wriit 
 He tnrned around. 
 
 "Will yon come back r 
 
 "At your command, madam." 
 
 " Will you sit down ?" 
 
 He replied by seating himself, throwing himself back, and 
 preparing to listen to her. 
 
 "It is a great thing to get a character for integrity, 
 fidelity, and magnanimity ; and I should like very well to 
 own such a one," said Brighty, as if communing with her- 
 lelf; "unfortunately for the success of my wish, this dear 
 General contends the crown of generosity with me 1 Well ! 
 let him take it!" Then turning to where General Stuart- 
 Gordon sat in offended majesty, she said 
 
 " I am Countess of Cloumachnois in my own right, am I 
 not 1" 
 
 " I presume there can be no doubt of the question, 
 madnm ?" 
 
 " Of Castle Clonmachnois, Athlone, ?onnty of Westmeath, 
 Ireland." 
 
 "Correct as a city directory, madam." 
 
 " That has a very magnificent sound ! It is quite u 
 brilliant as the flashing of the frost and ice that lay upoa 
 the dead flowers in the garden of Mont Crystal." 
 
 " Yea Britannia," said the General, gravely and motra- 
 fully, acd again overcome in her presence, "yaa, Britaaala, 
 but my life ii the blighted winter garde*, aad jovr fortnoi
 
 TH1 OLD MJLK'8 DARLING. 271 
 
 <*T6 the ice and sleet that hare killed it with cold brilliance, 
 *nd covered it with a frozen and glittering shroud." 
 
 " That is to say, my title, if I return to Ireland, Conntesi 
 of Clonmachnois, and my estates, the castle and lands of 
 Clonmachnois ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Oh ! the vast difference between names and things I A 
 month ago I was called by Mrs. Armstrong a dependent, 
 while I was simply myself, Britannia O'Riley ; to-day I am 
 called Countess of Cloumachnois, still being myself, Britan- 
 nia O'Riley ! a wayward girl, with some natural graces, 
 and some acquired accomplishments very proud not of 
 the accident of birth, but by the accident of an unusual de- 
 velopment of the brain in the region of self-esteem. Listen 
 to me, sir ! I was proud as a Governess. I could not be 
 prouder as an Empress ! I could not be unfaithful, un- 
 grateful, inconstant, as either ?" Here Brighty dashed the 
 flashing tears from her eyes, and went on 
 
 " Set yourself at rest, my dearest and best friend. If 
 there is any generosity, it will be upon your part, who will 
 take a petulant and penniless girl to your heart and home I" 
 and stooping down, Brighty offered her cheek to his kiss. 
 
 " Penniless, Brighty 1" he exclaimed, in scarcely repressed 
 astonishment. 
 
 " Yes, listen I This Castle of Clonmachnois ! It is a 
 ruin not half as good as this old house we sit in. The 
 estates of Clonmachnois consist of some two or three hun- 
 dred acres of unreclaimed and unreclaimable morass. Tha 
 rent of Clonmachnois might scarcely be collected from a 
 few half-naked and half-starved wretches, who have found 
 miserable shelter in the mud huts built upon the meagre 
 spots of half dry land that are dotted about in the bog, like 
 iteppiug-stones in a marsh. The rast Earl of Clonmachnoii 
 died, since he is dead, in the deepest poverty his sons and 
 grandsons having perished before, in their efforts to retrieve
 
 272 THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 their fortunes some under the burning sun of HindosUn. 
 some amid the snows of Uppe: Canada, and some in the 
 forests of Brazil. All that retrains to me is the barren 
 title the bitter mockery. Oh ! for Heaven's sake, General, 
 keep it a secret, lest democratic Virginia should amuse 
 itself at the expense of the beggar Countess 1 I have not 
 pride enough to defy ridicule. Only Mrs. Armstrong haa 
 pride enough for that." 
 
 General Stuart-Gordon was somewhat relieved ; still, with 
 a shade of uneasiness, lie inquired 
 
 "But how know you all this, Britannia?" 
 
 " Oh 1 from the correspondence of my father and my 
 uncles old letters in my possession." 
 
 " These will be necessary to prove your identity, if there 
 is any call for them. Dearest Britannia, I am so relieved." 
 
 " That I have not a fortune." 
 
 "it is selfish, Britannia, but it is human." 
 
 "i wish I had a fortune to bring you." 
 
 ' And I wish to confer every thing upon you, Brighty." 
 
 " But I do not understand why this English Secretary of 
 Legation should take such an interest in discovering a beg- 
 gared heiress." 
 
 " Nor I, Britannia ; and it gives me uneasiness. Depend 
 upon it, Britannia, this inheritance is not the trifle you 
 think it." 
 
 And rising now, as it was getting late, he took his leave, 
 and departed. Returning home with a somewhat lighter 
 heart than he had set out with, still he wondered why any 
 one should take the trouble of advertising the heiress of a 
 ruin half sunk in a bog. 
 
 The mystery was soon explained. 
 
 The next morning, as General Stuart-Gordon sat upon 
 the piazza, enjoying his cigar, his paper, and the beautiful 
 landscape stretched out before him, he saw a traveling
 
 THE OLD MAN'S Di.BLIJT. 27* 
 
 arriag} descend the road leading from a neighboring 
 Tillage, and taking th direction to the little bridge, recently 
 constructed, connectu g the bank of the river with The Isle 
 of Rays, pass over it, and, entering upon the circular car- 
 riage road leading to the front entrance of the mansion, 
 drive slowly up and pause. The coachman jumped from 
 the box, opened the door, let down the steps, and stood 
 aside to let a gentleman descend. The General arose, and 
 advanced to receive his visitor. He was a neatly and ele- 
 gantly dressed man, of about twenty-six years of age, tall, 
 slender, handsome, dark-complexioned, and of very graceful 
 manners and charming address. 
 
 " I have the honor of addressing General Stuart-Gor- 
 don ?" 
 
 " That is my name, sir." 
 
 "I am James Frobisher, of the British Embassy." 
 
 " I am happy to see you, sir. Walk in," said the Gene- 
 ral, bowing, and leading the way to the oak parlor. 
 
 " I shall feel obliged if you will grant me a private inter- 
 view, sir." 
 
 " Certainly, sir, with great pleasure. Will you accom- 
 pany me to the library ?" 
 
 The handsome visitor bowed gracefully, and followed his 
 conductor to the library. As soon as they were seated 
 
 " I presume, sir, that I am speaking to the guardian of 
 Miss Britannia O'Riley ?" inquired the visitor. 
 
 " Sir, I am, in some sort, the guardian of that young 
 lady." 
 
 " Yon know her intimately, then ?" 
 
 " I do, sir." 
 
 " Where was she educated ? What is she like f " 
 
 "At Hartford, Connecticut, sir; and she is Ufa a beau- 
 tiful, elegant, and accf mplished woman." 
 
 'I am pleased to hear you say so, sir. Is she at youi
 
 274 THE MOTHBB-IK-LAW. 
 
 aouse at this time ? If so, bow soon can I be presented ta 
 her?" 
 
 " Sir, the young ady is at present on a visit of ora 
 weeks to & young friend, whose residence is two miles dis- 
 tant. If you wish it, I will send a messenger to announce 
 your visit at any hour you may name." 
 
 "Thank you, sir. Will it be asking too much of your 
 goodness to request your company on this visit ?" 
 
 " Oh, no, sir ; I will attend you with pleasure, at any 
 time." 
 
 " Then the sooner the better, my dear sir, as I am impa- 
 tient to be presented to this young lady." 
 
 General Stuart-Gordon rung the bell and said 
 
 "I will send a messenger immediately to announce our 
 visit, and we will set out in half an hour. Excuse me a 
 moment, sir," and, going to a writing-table, he wrote 
 
 " MY DEAREST BRITANNIA Mr. Frobisher is here, and 
 we will both be with you in an hour. 
 
 " C. S-G." 
 
 and folded it, just as Apollo made his appearance at the 
 door. 
 
 " Take this to Mias O' Riley." The man bowed and 
 withdrew. 
 
 "As you are the young lady's guardian, and as I have but 
 a few days to remain, I will tell you, sir, the motive of my 
 anxiety to be presented tc her. In a word, it is this : The 
 Castle of Clonmachnois is a ruin ; the estates are dwindled 
 down to a few acres of marsh land, tenanted by a few 
 wretched peasants, who are Lot able to pay for the mud 
 huts in which they starve." 
 
 "Thw coincides with what I have heard from the young 
 lady herself, sir." 
 
 "Nothing, therefore, remains but tht title. 4
 
 TMB OLD MAN'S DARLIN*. ITS 
 
 "That is understood, sir." 
 
 " Well, sir ; I am a distant relative of the familj of Olon- 
 machnois. I have an ample fortune, and am under no ne- 
 cessity to mnrry an heiress of property. I wish to get in- 
 to the House of Peers, for the sake of serving there 
 the interests of Ireland. My father has interest at Court, 
 and has obtained for me the promise of the reversion of the 
 title of Earl of Clonmachnois, in the event of my marrying 
 the heiress of that house." 
 
 General Stuart-Gordon did not reply. He sat staring at 
 the young and handsome speaker with the frank and grace- 
 ful manners, as though he had been the Gorgou that had turned 
 him into stone. Happily the General sat with his back to 
 the window, so that the young man could not see the dis- 
 may blanching his countenance as he continued his dis- 
 course 
 
 " Yes ; that is the reason why I wish, without delay, to be 
 presented to this young lady, to see whether she is by edu- 
 cation and manners fitted to be introduced to London soci- 
 ety." 
 
 " Sir," said the General, " I have never seen a more ele- 
 gant or accomplished woman than Britannia O'Riley. Yon 
 will see her, however, this morning. There is no carriage 
 road leading from the Isle of Bays to The Crags, so that we 
 hall have to get into the saddles ;" and again ringing the bell. 
 General Stuart-Gordon gave directions for two horses to be 
 addled. In a few minutes the two gentlemen were on 
 horseback, and ambling toward The Crags, the younger 
 traveler stopping frequently in the ascent, and turning to 
 look with a poet's enthusiasm at the entrancing beauty, sub- 
 limity, and splendor of the landscape of mountains, rocks, 
 falls, river, isle, and verdant banks, with all the glories of 
 the earth and sky, doubled and reflected in the clear water 
 
 " Why, this is a scene of divine beauty. There is nothing 
 t the Rhine like this. Nothing in Bwitierland, or Italy,
 
 276 THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 like this. The Isle of Rays ! It scintillates and sparklet 
 like a diamond. Emits lines of light like a cluster of dart- 
 ing sunbeams. I wish my friend Turner were here, to 
 gketeh this Eden." 
 
 Moody and silent, the General scarcely heard or replied 
 to the enthusiastic admiration of his companion. They 
 reached The Crags at last, rapped, were admitted. Bri- 
 tannia aud Susan Somerville arose to receive their visitors, 
 General Stuart-Gordon presented " Mr. Frobisher." BrU 
 tannia received him with a curtsy, and placing her hand 
 in that of the General, returned the pressure with which he 
 greeted it. General Stuart-Gordon looked from Britannia 
 to Frobisher, to note their mutual effect upon each othe/. 
 He saw in Frobisher the surprise, the quick and ardent ad- 
 miration he expected to find. He saw in Britannia the im- 
 passible dignity, presenting the cold and brilliant surface 
 that ever distinguished her manners to strange gentlemen. 
 They were all seated. The presence of Susan Somerville 
 restrained conversation upon the subject of the inheritance. 
 They discussed general topics the beauty of the spring 
 the splendor of the landscape stretching down before them, 
 and visible at a great distance from this bleak height. Then 
 they discussed Washington, Mr. Jefferson, Thomas Moore, 
 who was then there, and, in short, everything, but the 
 business nearest the hearts of all. General Stt art-Gordon 
 percehed that Frobisher's admiration of Britannia grew by 
 what it fed on. And very soon he arose to take his leare, 
 as this was only an experimental visit. 
 
 " You have seen Miss O'Riley, sir," said the General, ai 
 Boon as they were on the road. 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "And you aie pleased with her, no doubt." 
 
 " Sir, I feel that any praise of mine of that yonng lady, 
 would be an impertinence. She is without a peer I" 
 
 roth gentlemen now sunk into silence, each occupied with
 
 THI OLD MAM'S DABLlff*. 177 
 
 ais own thoughts. They reached The Isle of Kays in time 
 for dinner. Jealous as he was, General Stuart-Gordon, 
 with Virginian hospitality, invited and pressed his visitor to 
 become his guest while he should remain in the neighbor- 
 hood, and, after some hesitation, the young man accepted 
 his invitation, remarking that nothing in America struck 
 him more forcibly than the resemblance" between English 
 country life and Virginia country life. That it appeared to 
 him that the planters had retained, in a great degree, the 
 domestic manners and customs of their English fathers. 
 
 At dinner, the young stranger was presented to Mr. Stu- 
 art-Gordon. Louise did not make her appearance, nor did 
 the young man see her while he remained. It would have 
 saved him from a serious mistake, and all parties from much 
 future sorrow, if he had. 
 
 General Stuart- Gordon was absent and taciturn during 
 the meal. When the wine was placed upon the table, the 
 General arose, and bidding Louis entertain his guest, ex- 
 cused himself upon the plea of urgent business, and left the 
 room. In truth, he could not stand his suspense any longer. 
 He must know what impression Frobisher had made upon 
 Britannia. He mounted his horse, and rode rapidly up the 
 ascent of The Crags. It was sunset when he started. The 
 full moon had arisen before he was half-way up The Crags, 
 and was flooding with a silver glory the whole refulgent 
 landscape ; but he did not pause to look at the river, rolling 
 on in a torrent of light between the dark rocks, or as The 
 Isle of Rays, with its rivulets and waterfalls, glanced ir 
 lines of silver light under the moon-beams. He saw neither 
 the glory of the heavens nor the splendor of the earth. He 
 aw nothing but the black shadow of the Crag House high 
 up before him, and he sped on toward it. The sweet 
 notes of the violin floated out on the moonlit air as he 
 neared the house. Britannia, Susan, and the two women, 
 wert ont on th porch, and George was playing the flddlt 
 17
 
 278 TMl MOTHI*-IK-LAW. 
 
 for them. Bright^ separated herself from the party, and 
 advanced into the silver light to meet him, just as he had 
 got down from his horse. 
 
 " I am very glad you came again very glad. That stiff 
 and formal call, this morning, could scarcely be called a 
 risit As you may judge, I wanted to see you, also, after 
 our comedy of yesterday evening." Somewhat startled by 
 the friendliness of her manner, he drew her arm within his 
 own, and, instead of going on to the house, he took her to 
 walk down the crags. 
 
 "Well, Britannia, what do you think of this young 
 Frobisher ?" 
 
 " His person and manners are faultless, and his dress th 
 perfection of exquisite elegance " 
 
 "And his mind his conversation what do you think of 
 that, Britannia ?" 
 
 " His mind appears to he highly cultivated, and his con- 
 versation at once profound and brilliant." 
 
 "Oh, Heaven I" growled the General. "Britannia, do 
 you know that this young man this Adonis of the faultless 
 figure and face, and the elegant dress and address this Apol- 
 lo of the profound and brilliant discourse has come to this 
 eoontry with the design of marrying you ?" 
 
 " Without ever having seen me ? Cool and confident, 
 that." 
 
 " Nay ; he wished to see yon, before deciding " 
 
 "A prudent precaution, to ascertain if I would pleaat 
 him, and pass in good English society. Very flattering 
 that, also." 
 
 " He is Tery much pleased with you, Britannia " 
 
 " How kind of him." 
 
 " He admires you excessively," 
 
 " Does he ? ' I'll be at charges for a looking-glaaa,' and 
 et up o' nights to admire myself." 
 
 " You are gay, Pritannia."
 
 TH OLD MAX'* DABLI*. 379 
 
 " Oh ! look at the glorious heavens above, and look at 
 them again reflected in the waters below ; see The Isle of 
 Rays coquetting with the moon glancing back laugh for 
 mile, and flash for beam ; hear the cataract shouting as it 
 leaps into the river, dashing up millions of diamond sparks ; 
 aee the solemn dark rocks watching the play with grave joy, 
 like demure chaperons of young folks at a ball. Oh, I am 
 glad and gay to-night." 
 
 "I would /were this young man, Britannia." 
 
 " Well I what is it now ? 
 
 ' Ha hnras and he hanker*, he frets and he cankers, 
 Ya never can please him, do a' that you can ; 
 He's peevish and jealous of a' the young fellows.' " 
 
 inng Brighty, changing her manner to one of lightest 
 merriment. 
 
 "Be serious, Britannia, for I am." 
 
 "Instanter, sir! I am as serious as an owl." 
 
 " I was about to say that this young man will certainly 
 propose to you." 
 
 "Exactly! Now we are going to rehearse yesterday 'a 
 scene over again." 
 
 "You are in one of your wayward humors to-night Bri- 
 tannia." 
 
 "Speak, sir, if yon please I attend," said Brighty, now 
 really serious. 
 
 "I wish, then, to set before you the claims this younf 
 Frobisher has to your attention. You see what his per- 
 sonal merits are, beside which he is wealthy. He is pro- 
 mised the reversion of the title that yon will bear ; he ad- 
 mires and wishes to marry you. Finally, he can place yoi 
 near the head of London society." 
 
 " Have you done, sir ?" 
 
 "Yea." 
 
 " Then, if this gentleman should honor me with the ififcr 
 rfhla hand, I should moat reapectfully decline it"
 
 260 THS MOTHER-IIC-LAW. 
 
 14 Why, Britannia ?" 
 
 " Why ? First, because I am pledged." 
 
 "But I release you." 
 
 " Secondly, then, because I could not be proud of him." 
 
 "Not proud of him handsome, elegant, accomplished 
 and a member of the English aristocracy." 
 
 " No, I could not honor him in my heart. He wants the 
 prestige of age, wisdom, a name made glorious by himself; 
 he wants all, in fact, that I most highly honor in you." 
 
 "But, Britannia, he may gain all this nay, his aun may 
 be rising to its meridian glory while mine will be declin- 
 ing." 
 
 " Lastly, then, I must refuse him because I love you." 
 
 " Love me at last, Brighty ?" 
 
 " Yes, I love you at last, my dearest and best friend. 
 Hearts are not won in a day bless me," and Brighty turned 
 and dropped her head upon his bosom. He folded her in 
 his arms, murmuring 
 
 " My boon, my blessing, my comfort 1 I do ble* 1 
 bless thee" 
 
 Having been duly apprised of the intended marriage, 
 Mr. Frobisher set out for Washington the next day. 
 
 A month had now passed away, during which no inter- 
 course was held between Mont Crystal and the Isle of Rays. 
 The separation of the families was as complete as though 
 the Atlantic had frozen up between them. Louise, timid, 
 docile, pliable, and ever under the influence of those nearest 
 to her, made no effort to rejoin her mother, or to reconcile 
 the families. Louis continually cheered her with the hope 
 that this estrangement would pass away, that all wonld b 
 genial again. On the next Sabbath-day, after morning- 
 service, a quiet, respectable wedding-party filed out of the 
 Boiart-Gordon pew, and arranged itself before the altar 
 It consisted of General Stuart Gordon, attended by Brutal
 
 THE LAIR. 281 
 
 Lion, and Miss Britannia O'Riley, attended by Gertrude 
 and in ten minutes from the opening of the prayer-book at 
 the marriage ceremony, General and Mrs. Stuart-Gordon 
 received the congratulations of their friends. A traveling- 
 carriage, with two out-riders, was at the church-door. On 
 leaving the church, General Stuart-Gordon handed his bride 
 into the carriage, where Louis and Louise were already 
 seated, and the whole party set out on a bridal tour to 
 Niagara and the Lakes. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 THl LAIS. 
 
 The mountains t the mountain* ! amidst them Is my home, 
 To their pure and sparkling fountains ernltingly I com* ; 
 Where bleak and towering summits invade the dark blue sky, 
 And o'er their rudest ridges upon my steed I fly. Dickton. 
 
 THE Monday succeeding the marriage of Britannia ani 
 the General was a glorious day. The sun rose in cloudless 
 splendor, gilding the summits of the Alleghanies and throw- 
 ing their shadows broad and black upon the valleys. And 
 all this sublime beauty of earth and sky was reflected and 
 duplicated in the diamond-clear waters. 
 
 The songs of myriads of birds mingled with the laugh of 
 a thousand rivulets and the shouts of many cataracts. And 
 all this grand harmony was repeated and re-echoed from 
 cavern, rock, and glen. 
 
 f t was a glorious, jubilant morning. 
 
 Above all this thunder of music was sometimes heard 
 clear, strong, ringing note. It was the passing shout of 
 Gertrude Lion, as she cleared an &irful chasm, or gained *
 
 2SS TM MOIHSK-Hf-LAW. 
 
 The passage of the Mad River through a defile of the 
 Alleghanies is one of the most sublime aud terrific scenes hi 
 nature. Upon this all-glorious morniug the traveling car- 
 riage of young Frobisher wound slowly up the ascent of 
 this most fearfd pass. The young man had left the Isle 
 of Rays on Saturday had reached the hamlet of the Peaks, 
 from whence he had set out upon this morning, with the 
 intention of continuing his journey. He had left the village 
 of the Peaks some miles behind, when his horses began to 
 struggle up this steep, rugged, and perilous ascent Fro- 
 bisher looked out upon tins wild scene with all an artist's 
 enthusiasm, thoughtless of danger. 
 
 Here the rocks seemed to have yawned apart to admit 
 the passage of the river, or rather, to have started apart, 
 aghast at the frenzy of the torrent that tore a passage 
 through their crags, and hurried, howling, leaping, and 
 rebounding, into the abyss far below. 
 
 Mrre and more difficult and dangerous became the 
 ascen*; of this pass, until, having gained the summit, they 
 began to descend. 
 
 Suddenly, piercing the thunder of the cataracts came a 
 cry 
 
 " STOP, ON YOUR LIVES ! You have missed the road." 
 
 The young man put his head from the carriage window, 
 and caught a glimpse, high upon the precipice across the 
 torrent, of a golden-haired Amazon in a blue riding-dress, 
 upon a gigantic white horse. 
 
 " STOP, ON YOUR LIVES 1 DEATH IS BEFORE YOU 1" sh 
 
 shouted again, with frantic gestures. It was too late! 
 With rapidly accelerating velocity, f ie carriage, rolling, 
 pitching, and rebounding, thundered down the precipice, 
 and was dashed to atoms on the rocks of the abyss I 
 
 Clearing the chasm by a flying bound, Gertrude Lion 
 prang from her horse, and, leaping from peak to pe^k, 
 precipitated herself down to the scene of death below.
 
 THX LAIR. ass 
 
 With scowling precipices above, and overhanging clifV 
 around, and jagged rocks below, pitch dark was the cavern- 
 ous abyss but for one strong gleam of sunlight, that, striking 
 through a cleft in the rocks, fell red upon the ghastly wreck, 
 a mingled heap of broken shafts and wheels, crushed and 
 writhing horsec, and dead and dying men ! 
 
 One instant, aghast with horror, Gertrude stood, then she 
 sprang to the spot. The horses were convulsed in their 
 last death-throes. The coachman lay with his form shat- 
 tered out of every resemblance to humanity. She saw all 
 this at a glance. A second look showed her the form of a 
 young man, with his head, shoulders, and arms, drooping 
 backward over the broken windows of the carriage. H 
 hung there, pallid, still, and rigid. This might be from a 
 concussion, or a swoon there was no proof of death at 
 least. She saw that, and hastened to render assistance 
 where alone it could be available, if any, to him. She took 
 hold of his shoulders and tried to draw him out of the car 
 riage. Finding that a part of the timbers had been crushed 
 apon his form, she let him go, and went to work with her 
 strong hands and hunting-knife until she had cut, torn, and 
 wrenched an opening large enough to draw him through. 
 She took him in her powerful arms, and laid his helpless 
 head over her robust shoulders, and her fine, fierce eyes 
 rolled from precipice to peak, and from rock to torrent, in 
 learch of a dry, smooth spot on which to lay the mangled 
 form. She saw nothing of the sort until her eyes fell upon 
 the spot near her feet, where the coachman lay in a heap 
 with the horses all still in death. 
 
 She laid her burden gently down, and with a "Poor fel- 
 lows !" bestowed impartially upor man and horses, she 
 stooped and with her great strength, succeeded in stretching 
 them out, and arranging them into a sort of bed, to keep 
 the bruised form of the living invalid from the sharp rocks 
 and framing water. Then she lifted her patient, and laid
 
 him on the heap, arranging him as tenderly as possible* 
 wounded and insensible man, resting on a couch formed of 
 the dead I 
 
 Seizing a crashed hat from the ground, she stooped to th 
 water, and dipped it full. Kneeling oa the sharp rocks, 
 unmindful of the pain, she laved his head and his face, the 
 while gazing with a savage admiration at the \>ale, aristo- 
 cratic features, surrounded by their frame of black silky 
 hair and whiskers. 
 
 " How beautiful he is I how beautiful ! she said, lifting 
 the delicate hand, and examining with a half savage, half 
 childish curiosity the white and tapering fingers, one of 
 which was encircled with a rich seal ring. " Beautiful as a 
 sun-gilded cloud I beautiful as a mountain rainbow! Oh! 
 I hope he will not die." And she renewed her efforts to re- 
 cover him. " What shall I do ? Oh ! what shall I do f 
 What do people do for dead people ? I mean drowned 
 people no, killed people ? Oh ! they bleed them. The 
 doctor bled Brutus when he was thrown from his horse, and 
 had his head broken stop" she took her hunting-knife, 
 and felt its point then flying to a rock, she sharpened it 
 then running back to her patient, she ripped up his coat- 
 sleeve, and bared his arm, encircling it with her thumb and 
 finger, and compressing it, she started up the vein. Then 
 gazing on the fair transparent skin, with the bine veins 
 meandering beneath, she paused. For the very Qrst time in 
 her life the rock of her heart was smitten, and a fount of pity 
 and tenderness gushed forth into a flood of tears, that rolled 
 flashing down her face, like one of the sparkling waterfalls 
 of her native mountains. 
 
 " Oh 1 what shall I do 1 I cannot! No, I cannot stick 
 this ghastly blade into that fair arm. Oh I I cannot ! i' 
 would give him so much pain. But if I do not he will die 
 Yes, he will dissolve away from me, beautiful and evan* 
 wnt as the rainbow of this morning."
 
 THE LJLIB. ttft 
 
 She opened the vein, and, as the blood began to flow, 
 
 Hie young man slowly unclosed his eyes. 
 
 " How do you feel ? Do you know me ? (Yes, that was 
 what the doctor said to Brutus, when he opened his eyes 
 after the bleeding.) How do you feel ? Do you know me ?" 
 
 But a spasm convulsed the young man's face, and he 
 fainted again. 
 
 " Oh I Heavens I what shall I do now ?" exclaimed Ger- 
 trude, as she cut off the linen sleeve of his shirt, stripped it 
 up, and bound up his arm. " I must get him home to The 
 Lair ; but oh ! I am fearful that he cannot bear the removal." 
 
 She dashed water in his face. He revived again. 
 
 " Do you know me now ?" she asked, fixing her eyes ear- 
 nestly on his countenance. He looked at her with a trou- 
 bled expression, and closed his eyes, as if in weariness, 
 while spasms of pain traversed his countenance. 
 
 " Oh I if I could get a doctor here ! but that is impossi- 
 ble neither man nor beast but myself, or some poor, hunted, 
 desperate fugitive slave, could reach this frightful wild. I 
 must try to get him home to The Lair." She attempted 
 to raise him, but spasms of agony convulsed his whole frame 
 on being moved. " Oh ! I could carry him home, but the 
 removal would kill him. What shall I do with him ? Let's 
 see these rocks are full of caverns, the occasional retreats 
 of runaway slaves. I must find one as a temporary shelter." 
 
 And laying the wounded man down gently, she started 
 off, diligently searching among the rocks. At last she came 
 to the opening of a cavern. Entering it, she saw that it 
 was smooth, though not level, and quite dark. Stripping 
 off her blue cloth pelisse, she laid it down as a pallet ; re- 
 turning to the side of her invalid, she gently drew him away 
 from the body of the coachman, stripped the c2othes from 
 the dead man, and carrying them off to the cavern, laid a 
 part of them on the pelisse, to make it softer, and rolled up 
 a part of them ai s pillow, and placed it at the head.
 
 t$4 TMI MOTHEK-IN-LAW. 
 
 returning to her patient, she raised him in her arms, laid 
 his head gently over her shoulder, and bore him carefully 
 along till she reached the cavern. Here she laid him down 
 tenderly, and going to a waterfall close by, she 511ed the 
 hat, and returning, made him drink a portion, and bathed 
 bis face, head, and hands with the rest. Suddenly a noise 
 In the darkest recesses of the cavern startled her. Think- 
 ing of a wolf, she drew her hunting-knife, and stood upon 
 her defense. The animal came out from his lair, and stood 
 before her, amazed, as one startled from sleep a wild, hag- 
 gard, half-famished fugitive slave, in tattered garments. 
 Getrade P x x)d on her defense with the raised knife. The 
 man glared at her, a^ery wolf of desperation and ferocity. 
 He seemed to measure her size and strength, and then made 
 a step toward her. 
 
 " Stand 1" shouted the Amazon ; and the man stood, 
 arrested as by a shock. " Advance another step, and this 
 knife is sheathed in your heart, and you are hurled to the 
 bottom of these precipices. I am Gertrude Lion, and you 
 know me. But, pause, and listen, and I may do you good." 
 The haggard and wolfish features of the slave relaxed a 
 little, as he said, in a hoarse voice 
 
 "And you'll not set the constables on me, Miss Ger- 
 trude f" 
 
 "Explode the constables! no, I'd do yon good, I said. 
 Listen ; I know you, Antony, you are Mrs. Annstrong'i 
 fugitive slave. Now, I don't adore Mrs. Armstrong my- 
 self, and if you will do me a favor, I will assist your escape 
 from the State." 
 
 "What is it, then, Miss Gertrude f" 
 "You see this wounded boy ? He was half killed by the 
 breaking of his carriage ; he is too ill to be removed ; watch 
 by him here, bathe his face and hands, and keep ap his 
 trength by pouring water down his throat, while I return 
 to The Lai 1 to fetch necessaries for him."
 
 TAX L A I B. 237 
 
 " But if you should bring a posse with you to take mr,. 
 Miss Gertrude." 
 
 " Why should I ? Besides, would any venture their neck 
 ID this terrible descent ?" 
 
 "That is true enough." 
 
 "And Jam true." 
 
 " And so you are, Miss Gertrude." 
 
 "Certainly; reassure yourself ; and here, take my knife. 
 Now nurse your patient tenderly, while I am gone, and 
 when I return, I will not forget you ; I will bring you 
 food, clothing, and a pass that will enable you to leave the 
 State." 
 
 Then kneeling, and placing her hand once more upon the 
 pallid brow of her patient, and arranging his rude couch, 
 she arose and hurried from the cavern, clambered up the 
 rugged ascent, and sprang from peak to peak, until she had 
 gained the spot where she had left her horse. He was no 
 longer there. Placing her fingers to her lips, she blew a 
 clear, shrill call, and soon her white horse came ambling up 
 the side of the precipice toward her. She placed her hand 
 upon his neck, leaped into the saddle, and sped like an 
 arrow from the bow toward The Lair. 
 
 It was late in the morning before she returned, with linen, 
 wine, and food. She found Antony faithfully watching his 
 patient. With the aid of the restoratives she had brought, 
 the young man revived. 
 
 " Now, Antony," she said, " we must move him ; but first, 
 here is the pass I wrote for you." 
 
 She took it out and read it 
 
 " Antony Burgess has my permission to again pass ad 
 re-pass from Peakville to Alexandria, free of molestation, 
 between the first of June and the first of July inclusive. 
 
 "OKttTRUDE LlOS". 
 
 Ob., **
 
 288 THB MOTH1B-I1T-L1.W. 
 
 " There, Antony, that is exactly the pass that I give *" mj 
 own men when they want to go to town. Now, it is tvue, 
 that you are not my own man, but that is no reason why I 
 should not give you my consent to go where yon please, 
 since I have no objection to it ; and so, when you present 
 that, people will naturally think it comes from your owner. 
 And even if it fails, it cannot get you or me into trouble, 
 ince I only express my consent. Now, Antony, since 
 they cannot be removed from this abyss, first inter that poor 
 dead coachman, and then take his clothes, dress yourself, 
 take this food and wine, and this purse, and God bless 
 you." 
 
 " Shan't I help you to tote the young gentleman up the 
 rocks, Miss Gertrude ?" 
 
 " Oh, no ; two carrying one burden could not climb the 
 ticent, you know." 
 
 " Sure enough, Miss ; but can't I tote him myself?" 
 
 " No, no you could not do it tenderly enough ; besides, 
 I doubt whether yon are now strong enough. No, do yon 
 attend to what is left behind ; bnry the poor dead coacii- 
 man, and don't forget to recite the ten commandments over 
 the grave. Now, good by." And shaking hands with 
 him, Gertrude turned and lifted up her patient. 
 
 " No, no do not ; yon cannot," muttered the young 
 man, in a feeble voice now seeming, for the first time, to 
 note what was going on. 
 
 " Hush," replied Gertrude, laying his head tenderly over 
 her shoulder, while she let his arm rest npon her bosom, and 
 drooped her own head, unconsciously caressingly, over hii 
 silky curls. 
 
 She left the cavern, and carefully picking her way among 
 the rocks, not to jolt her patient, began to climb the ascent, 
 with unusual difficulty. 
 
 " Oh, do no do not ; you will hurt yourself," vo
 
 THK LAIR. 289 
 
 feintly muranred the young man, feeb y straggling to get 
 down. 
 
 " Hush, hush there, there, be still that's a dear boy ; 
 be easy that's a good boy." 
 
 He was still, from exhaustion, until they had nearly 
 reached the ascent, when the youth again grew restive. 
 
 " Come, come, lie still : be quiet, or I'll get mad, and I 
 am dangerous when I'm mad ; ask any one if I'm not," 
 said Gertrude, as, resting a moment with her burden, she 
 raised her fingers to her lips, and blew the shrill, clear call, 
 that brought her white horse bounding toward her. Laying 
 the youth on the horse's neck, and holding him there by 
 one hand, she sprang into the saddle, and, gathering him 
 to her bosom again, she set off in a slow and easy gait to 
 The Lair. 
 
 Going down the opposite descent of this ridge, and pass- 
 ing through a defile, and climbing up another ridge of rocks, 
 and passing down it, a tall and thickly-wooded mountain 
 cleft, open near the summit, like the open crater of an ex- 
 tinguished volcano, stood before them. The opening neat 
 this mountain-top was shaped like a mammoth tea-cup with* 
 a piece broken out of its side, the break being in front ; or r 
 as I said, like the partly caved-in crater of a burnt-out vol- 
 cano. This crater was thickly and richly grown with copse- 
 wood, and might indeed have served as the lair of some 
 fabulous giant. In the midst of this lofty green hollow, 
 lurked a shy, half-ruined, old building of red sandstone, 
 looking like a wild beast in his hole, gloomy enough to 
 growl at you. Up this mountain, and toward this house, 
 scrambling over rocks, broken walls, and through tangled 
 bushes and briers, Gertrude bore her charge. 
 
 " What the blazes are you doing, Gertrude ?" ex- 
 claimed Brutus Lion, entering the stone-paved kitchen of 
 The Lair that e *ening. The Gerfalcon had swooped down
 
 290 THE MOTHBB-IM-LAW. 
 
 before the great fireplace, and hovered there before a br.gfct 
 blaze that cast her shadow to the ceiling. 
 
 " What the devil are you doing, Gertrude ?" again he 
 asked, thrusting his hands into his breeches' pockets, and 
 poking his head forward. 
 
 Gertrude started to her feet like a guilty thing, a sauce- 
 pan in one hand and a spoon in the other, her sanguine 
 blood crimsoning her brow. 
 
 "Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha-a-a-r!" shouted Brutus. "WHAT! 
 you cooking! you! Tou a ' coffee-brewing, cake-baking 
 little fool !' 
 
 " HUSH I" muttered the giantess, in a deep, strong tone. 
 
 " ' Hush ?' why, what in thunder am I to hush for ?" 
 
 " Be still, I say, or, please the loving Lord, I'll gag you, 
 Brutus I" exclaimed the Araazoi, setting down the sauce- 
 pan, and stepping toward him. 
 
 " Hum ! ' I'll roar you softly an' it were a sucking dove? 
 but what's it all about, that these stone walls, that usually 
 resound with noise, must now be silent as the ' cnshat'i 
 downy rest ?' " 
 
 " The doctor says he must be kept quiet." 
 
 * What doctor Iwho kept quiet ?" 
 
 " The poor boy the beautiful boy up stairs." 
 
 " Boy up stairs !" 
 
 " Yes, that was killed almost by having his carriage 
 dashed to pieces." 
 
 " Where when how ?" 
 
 " This morning, at Mad River Pass, by taking the wrong 
 road down the precipice." 
 
 " And he has been brought here 7" 
 
 " Yes ; and the doctor has been here, and prescribed 
 rest, and bandages, and salves, for his bruises and wheys, 
 and custards, and jellies, and what not, that I know 
 Hothing about. See, I're scalded myself alread/, trying to 
 Bake this *ta whey. Wont yon be 10 good at to go orti
 
 THE Li. IB. 291 
 
 ko the Dovecote, and fetch Zoe, and the schoolnaster, too, 
 if he cannot be left behind ; she knows how all these thing* 
 onght to be got np." 
 
 " Oh, the little ' coffee-brewing fool' can be made useful 
 in a case of emergency." 
 
 Very glad of any commission that would bring him in 
 company with Zoe, who, by her father's command, had 
 shunned him entirely for the last two months, Brutus threw 
 himself upon his horse, rode rapidly down the mountain 
 side, and entered the glen at the bottom of which the Dove 
 cote lay. Winding round the circuitous path, he came in 
 front of the cottage, as it rested against the back rocks. 
 Throwing himself from his horse, he opened the little wicker 
 gate, and here a sad sight met his view. 
 
 The flowers in the garden had all been plucked, and 
 many of them torn up by the roots, and lay in bunches and 
 piles around. The cottage windows were bare of blinds, 
 and he saw through the open door that the pretty carpet 
 was gone from the floor. On one side of the house stood 
 Zoe, clasping two white Bantam chickens to her bosom, 
 and tears were rolling down her cheeks. Zoe looked pale 
 and wasted, and seemed to have passed through a spell of 
 illness since he saw her last. Near her stood the old school- 
 master, bent nearly double with age, infirmity, or sorrow. 
 Twenty years seemed to have passed over his hoary head 
 iiuce Brutus had last met him. He was feebly trying to 
 tie the legs of chickens that he dropped into a hamper at 
 his feet, already half full of poultry. He turned tiemblingly 
 around, as he saw Brutus, and asked, in a querulous tone 
 
 " What do you come here for, sir ? Didn't I tell you to 
 keep away from here ? that I wouldn't have you here ? It 
 u very strange that you will persist in coming where you 
 are not wanted." 
 
 " Oh, Brutus 1" wept Zoe, coming closj to bis side, ' ht 
 MM 'oft hii mind h who was 10 generous ! h thinks ef
 
 202 THE MOTHKB-IN-LJLW. 
 
 othing but money. He has carried to town-market all my 
 things, and sold them my new carpets and quilts my new 
 iocks and gloves my herbs and flowers. Well, I was sorry, 
 but I did not cry for them, because they were dead things ; 
 but now, oh, now, he is tying my poor dear hens and chick- 
 ens to take them to market to-morrow 1 Look see 1 Poor 
 dear Speckle, and and sweet darling Blossom and 
 and and now he wants to take lovely Snowdrop and " 
 here choking sobs convulsed the child's bosom, as she 
 hugged her white Bantams closer to her bosom. 
 
 " What are you sobbing for, you miserable little wretch ? 
 Save your tears you'll have a use for them. Hand me the 
 chickens here ; and if you weep, weep for yourself. I must, 
 must make up two hundred dollars, and I have not got fifty 
 yet ;" and the old man held out his trembling and claw-like 
 fingers for the Bantams. 
 
 "Give them up, Zoe, my darling; I will save them save 
 them all ; not a feather of your pets shall be ruffled." 
 
 After having showered tears and kisses upon them, Zoe 
 handed the Bantams to the old man. 
 
 " Say, sir," exclaimed Brutus, touching the old man's 
 elbow to arrest his attention, for the schoolmaster in his 
 occupation had apparently forgotten him ; "say, sir!" 
 
 " Well, you here yet ? Didn't I tell you to go ?" 
 
 " We have got a sick young man up at our house, and 
 tiie doctor has ordered him to eat chickens. I want to buy 
 a dozen." 
 
 " Eh ? yes I well 1 what f these are good chickens, and 
 must bring a good price ; and since it is for a sick man, and 
 ince he is obliged to take them say a dollar a pair." 
 
 " Oh, father 1" exclaimed Zoe 
 
 " Never mind never mind Zoe, dear, I'm no Jew. 
 That is it, sir I I'll take as many as yea will let me hare 
 at that price." 
 
 14 Tak than all"
 
 TAX LAIJL S9S 
 
 ' Agreed. Well, my good sir, there if another thing 
 the doctor, besides ordering this rich young man to eat 
 chickens, has ordered him to divert his mind by learning 
 Greek lessons." 
 
 "Eh! well?" 
 
 " And we want to engage a teacher for him in the hoot*. " 
 
 "Eh t well, yes, what then ?" 
 
 " We were thinking of you, sir." 
 
 "Ah, yes, to be sure. Bat then as it is to save his life 
 it is valuable, and must be liberally compensated, this 
 private tuition." 
 
 " Certainly, sir ; he is a wealthy Englishman, and can 
 afford it ; in the time of his illness I am his banker, and I 
 can secure it to yon," said Brutus, hardening his conscience 
 with lie after lie. 
 
 " Zoe, go pack up Herodotus, JSschylus, Euripides, and 
 Sophocles; go. When is it that yon want me to come, sir?" 
 
 "To-night, sir, to be ready to commence in the morn- 
 ing." 
 
 " Well, well. Yes, but what am I to do with Zoe ?" 
 
 " Sir, my sister, you know is a wild girl ; she does not 
 know how to prepare delicate dishes for an invalid, and all 
 our negro women have run away, and so my sister told me 
 to entreat her friend Zoe to come to The Lair, and give her 
 some directions in these matters." 
 
 " Yes, but Zoe ought to be paid. No, she ehall not, 
 either ; I cant degrade Zoe." And the old man bunt into 
 tears. 
 
 " Oh, what a wreck ?" muttered Brutus, looking down oa 
 the gray head, bowed upon the withered hands. 
 
 At last he looked np imploringly to the young DUB'S 
 face, and said 
 
 "Bratoa, I want to sell the Dovecote; how much wiU 
 you give me for It ? w 
 
 " Bat I do not want to buy it, dr." 
 18
 
 294 THK MOTHJCR-IN-LAW. 
 
 " You don't* Come, I will sell it to you cheap. I mart 
 have money for Zoe's sake." 
 
 " For Zoe's sake, sir ? I love Zoe ; I wish to marry 
 Zoe ; I will devote my life to her happiness ; consent to oof 
 uuriage, and her future is secured." 
 
 " Brutus, you love her." 
 
 " God knows it 1" 
 
 " Only her ?" 
 
 " Only her, of all womankind." 
 
 " Brutus, yon cannot marry her." 
 
 " You have said so before, but that does not prove it." 
 
 "Brutus, swear that you will not divulge what I tell you ** 
 
 " I swear it, sir." 
 
 " ZOE is A SLAVE." 
 
 Brutus Lion reeled as if struck by a cannon-ball. 
 
 " Great God, sir I" 
 
 " And there are some in this neighborhood that know it." 
 
 " Sir ! sir 1 how did this come to your knowledge ?" 
 
 " Two months ago, through an old midwife ; yesterday, 
 through Mrs. .Armstrong." 
 
 " Through Mrs. Armstrong 1" 
 
 " Yes, yes ; she sent for me, and told me, advising me to 
 get the child out of the State ; but lord, poor baby, whet* 
 can I send her, alone and unprotected ?" 
 
 "And who is the owner?" 
 
 "Major Somerville." 
 
 " And who are her parents ?" 
 
 " His slaves, Harriet and George." 
 
 " Impossible I" 
 
 " TRUE, I tell you." 
 
 " But the particulars 1 for God's sake give me the parti- 
 onlars !" 
 
 " Well, then, this is it : You remember after na/ Qrtek 
 rlaai?" 
 
 "Yu,"
 
 THE LAIR. 296 
 
 * How I came borne one evening, and found no one hen 
 bat you, with Zoe ? 
 
 " Yes, yes 1 And I remember your agitation I" 
 
 " Well I might be agitated" 
 
 "Well! well!" 
 
 14 1 had been dining with Major Somerville, and sat witb 
 him smoking our pipes until the sun got low very low. 
 Then I happened to think of my Greek class, and I started 
 to come home. I paced down the steep of The Crags, and 
 turned into the deep dell that lies between my old school- 
 house hill and the river. At the bottom of this glen the 
 woods are very thick, the trees very tall, and their branches 
 meeting overhead, together with the very high hills around 
 and behind them, throw the path into deep shadow, like 
 night at noon. Well, I had reached the middle of the 
 glen when I overtook old Nancy Jumper, the midwife." 
 
 ' Kate Jumper's white aunt !" 
 
 "Yes well! She was riding slowly along on her mule. 
 Oh I she's an ugly horror, more hideous, than her niece 
 Kate" 
 
 "Yes! well?" 
 
 " The path was so narrow that I could not pass her. She 
 turned at the sound of my horse's feet, and said, ' Good 
 evening, master.' ' Good evening, Nancy,' I replied. ' How 
 is Zoe, master ?' ' My daughter is well,' I answered, not 
 liking her familiarity ; and a silence ensued. Still we had to 
 keep company on the road. At last, without turning her 
 head, she asked, ' What day is this, master ?' ' The fifteenth 
 of April.' ' I thought so ! this reminds me of this day 
 seventeen years ago.' ' Why ?' inquired I with some inter- 
 est, remembering her calling, and knowing that it was the 
 fifteenth of April, seventeen years ago, that Zoe was found 
 on my porch. 'Because,' she replied, 'something strange 
 happened to me in this glen, upon that lery night 
 1 What WM it, tkra ?' I a*ked.
 
 296 TKB MOTHXB-IK-LAW. 
 
 " No ir, my son Brutus, I will give you the story In her 
 own words : 
 
 "'Well, master, that Friday, the first of April, airly in 
 
 the morning, I had been called upon to wait on a lady up 
 
 in Rappahannock county. It was a mortal bad case one 
 
 of the worst of cases, aud kept me there till iiear midnight, 
 
 afore all was over. I would a'staid all night, but it was 
 
 like for rain, and I memorized that my bedroom windows 
 
 was left open. So when I had seen the lady and the child 
 
 comfortable, I sets off for home, atween eleven and twelve 
 
 o'clock. I wan't afeard, for I never memorize seeing 
 
 nothiuk more worser than myself.' ' Likely not,' said I. 
 
 ' No, sir ; much as I have been called up at all hours of the 
 
 night to travel through the most lonesomest places, I never 
 
 seen nothink more worser than myself BO I wan't afeard. 
 
 80 me aud Jinny not this Jinny I'm a riding of now, but 
 
 her mother so Jinny and me come along slow like, down 
 
 this deep, narrow path, where you see it is dark enough in 
 
 the daytime, but in a cloudy midnight it is the most darkest 
 
 place as ever was hern tell on 1 Well, Jinny and me, we 
 
 was a coming through this black hollow, when we got into 
 
 the midst of the blackness, Jinny she started, driv' her feet 
 
 plump into the ground, and stood stock still ! I seen 
 
 nothink in the dark, and sure us I'm a livin' sinner, master, 
 
 I thought Jinny seen a sperrit ! Now, I ain't afeard of 
 
 nothink in the brute form, nor yet in the human form, but I 
 
 must say as how I'm afeard o' sperrits, specially black ones. 
 
 I bursted all over in perspiration, just as if I had been 
 
 drinking of a sweat, and I said, 'In the name off the angels, 
 
 smd off the saints, and off the devils, what do you want P 
 
 Are you Granny Jumper ?' says a gruff voice, says it. Says 
 
 I, 'Yes.' 'Well, yon're wanted to go to a lady. I hare 
 
 been at your house to look for you, and come from there to 
 
 meet you, as the gal said you'd be sure to be coming home. 
 
 Then he- -ft was a he comes np close to me and says, saj*
 
 THE LAIB. 97 
 
 he, 'Granny, this is a secret business.' 'I'm used to rich, 
 says I. ' A yonng lady who has been privately married 
 'Without being beholden to the parson,' says I 'Ton 
 are at fault; bot this must be kept a secret, and you 
 shall be paid well,' says he. 'But, Granny/ says he, 'you 
 most be blindfolded.' 'I won't,' said I. 'Granny, do you 
 know a guinea when you feel it ?' ' Yes,' says I. ' Her* 
 are two. Suffer me to blindfold you and you shall have five 
 more when the affair is over.' ' Well,' thinks I, ' the blessed 
 fool may blindfold me, but it will go hard if I don't know 
 the road he's a taking of me.' So I let the man blindfold 
 me, and then he led my mule down that path, and made a 
 circle to fool me, and took me by another path straight up 
 The Crags. I kept the general route well enough. Then 
 we stops dogs barks he speaks to them, and they hushes 
 Then he helps me down, and takes my arm, and draws it 
 through hisen. Well, when I was so close to him, I knows 
 he was not one of my own color ; still I never let on. He 
 takes me through a door, and through a room, and through 
 another door, and up a flight of stairs on the left hand, and 
 into a room on the right. Here he took the bandage from 
 my eyes, and he might's well have left it on. The room was 
 rayther darkish. He led me up to a bed as was curtained. 
 Well, there was no light brought into the room until jist 
 after the babe was born, and even then I did not see the 
 mother's face, for she concealed it. The woman that brought 
 the light in had her face muffled up in a shawl, and she took 
 the babe and carried it out, with the light also. And then, 
 in the dark, came the same man, and blindfolding me, put 
 five guineas in my hand, and took me away. Well, he took 
 me by still another road, and left me in the middle of the 
 same glen where he had stopped me. Well, it was very 
 nigh on to dawn when I got home. I was younger and 
 stronger then than I am now, and more usen to lose my rest; 
 to, Instead of going to bed at the dawn of day, I makes my
 
 298 THB MOTHER- IIC-LAW. 
 
 self a strong cnp of coffee, and goes across the river to pick 
 horse-mint afore the dew was off. You know there's 
 nothing like that grows on this barren side. Well, the son 
 wasn't nothink nigh up when I passes close to the Dovecote. 
 I seen a woman going towards it with a somethink in her 
 arms. The woman didn't see me. I stoops down where I 
 was a gathering of the horse-mint, and watches her. She 
 lays down her bundle on the porch, and, as she tamed 
 around to come away, I seen it was Harriet, Major Somer- 
 ville's quadroon 'ooman. She looked ill and ghastly, and I 
 know'd how it was her own child she had laid there. And 
 I guessed her motive. I know'd how she and her ole man 
 had been a tryin' to save money to buy the freedom of their 
 first child, Anna, and I memorize of hearing her say that 
 phe never would bring another child into the world to be a 
 slave, and I knew that she had concealed the birth of this 
 child, and laid it at your door, that it might be fotch up as 
 a free white child.' 
 
 " ' Did you speak to Harriet when she turned from mj 
 cottage-gate ?' 
 
 " ' No, master.' 
 
 "'Why?' 
 
 " ' Because I did not wish to let on as I know'd anj 
 think about it.' 
 
 " ' Again why?' 
 
 " ' La, master, keeping of things to myself comes sort * 
 nat'rel to me.' 
 
 " ' Why, then, do you tell me now ?' 
 
 " ' Why, master, you see for a reason. I am getting old, 
 and a losing of my custom, and a wantin' of money, and it 
 eome to me as if I let on any think about the girl to old 
 Major Somerville's creditors, how they might pay me some'at 
 imart for tellin' all about it ; some'at to keep me in my eld 
 days but I thought how I wouldn't like to 'aturb you, M
 
 TKX LAIR. 2W 
 
 jou like the little gal, if you could manage yourself, to make 
 me up a little something to keep me in my old days.' 
 
 " In a word, Brutus, the old crone wished to extort 
 money from me." 
 
 " I hope you did not pay her to keep the secret, sir 7" 
 
 " I could not, Brutus. I did not even give her the leart 
 ncouragement to hope that I would." 
 
 " I am glad of it, sir. This whole story sounds to m 
 very much like an imposition." 
 
 "But it is not." 
 
 " Not, sir ? 
 
 "Noi ! Listen, Brutus. Within a week, the old woman 
 has divulged the secret." 
 
 " How, sir ?" 
 
 "Yes, to Major Somerville's largest creditor 1" 
 
 " Oh, heaven !" 
 
 " Yesterday morning Mrs. Armstrong sent for me. I 
 tffcflt to her ; she was in her bed-room, looking very ill, 
 propped up with pillows in her easy chair. She haa 
 changed very much since her last visit to The Isle of Rays. 
 ' I have sent for you, sir,' she said, ' upon the most im- 
 portant business your adopted daughter, Zoo, sir. Are 
 yot advised of her origin ?' I could not reply. I grew 
 giddy, and turned pale, and she saw it. ' Sit down sir,' 
 he said (she had not invited nie to do so before.) ' I see, 
 sir, that you know or suspect something of this girl's birth. 
 May I inquire how long it has been since you have knowK 
 or suspected this ?' 4 Madam, I know nothing. 
 
 " ' Very well, sir ! I do not insist upon your committing 
 yourself by rash words ; but let me tell you, sir, that / knew 
 all ; and that I have sent for you from the kindest motives 
 to advise "you to send this girl away from the States. She 
 is the second daughter of Gecrge and Harriet, two slaves 
 of Major Somerville. They dishonestly concealed her birth, 
 to secure her education aud freedom. This secret cannot
 
 800 THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 be kept forever. I have lately learned it, as others will. 
 The creditors of Major Somerville are growing impatient 
 They will not molest him now but he is in extreme age. 
 If anything were to happen to him, they would swoop dowa 
 upon his property, and sweep it all away ; and though, aa 
 Major Somerville's largest creditor, ray claims are just, and 
 1 promise to forego them, yet others will not, or cannot afford 
 to be so merciful. Therefore, I advise you to get your pro- 
 teg out of the State, with all possible expedition. It ia 
 a pity that a young girl, so nearly white as to pass for 
 *hite, ar.d with a mind and heart so rich and so highly cul- 
 tivated, should be reduced to slavery.' And, ringing the 
 bell for her servant, Mrs. Armstrong dismissed me." 
 
 " Well, Brutus, what do you think of this story ?" 
 
 " Sir, I am confused amazed ; but I think that when 
 the devil or Mrs. Armstrong grows philanthropic, some- 
 thing is to be suspected, and people should be on their 
 guard," moaned Brutus iu a tone of deep sorrow. 
 
 " And /, Brutus. My brain reels, sometimes, my memory 
 fails. I am unable to fix my attention upon anything 
 This child, Brutus ! I loved her as my own 1" 
 
 " Ah, sir 1" heavily sighed Brutus. 
 
 "You do not know all she was to me I" 
 
 " Oh, sir ! yes I do." 
 
 " She was the life of my heart." 
 
 " Oh, Heaven, sir 1 of mine too !" 
 
 " / called her Zoelife!" 
 
 11 God have mercy on us 1" 
 
 " I taught her GREEK 1" 
 
 " God have me^cy on us !" again prayed Brutai, OMUOI 
 fttely clasping his hands. 
 
 " Brutus !" 
 
 "Sir!" 
 
 " You can neTer marry her." 
 
 "Oh I I know it," groaned the young man.
 
 TMB LJLIK. 101 
 
 44 Therefore, Brutus, there must be no more lore passage! 
 between you." 
 
 " Oh ! no, no, sir," sighed the Lion, dropping his shaggy 
 head upon his hands, 
 
 " If I take her to The Lair, where indeed she will b 
 afer, in some respects, you will regard her misfortunes." 
 
 " Yes, sir, oh yes I But tell me does she no, she does 
 not this unfortunate child suspect her real position ?" 
 
 "Ah, no 1 I hare not had the courage to tell her yet " 
 
 At this moment the coming up of Zoe arrested their con- 
 versation. 
 
 By nightfall they were all at The Lair. The old man, as 
 is frequently the case with the extremely aged, had, after this 
 spasmodic clearing up of his intellects, relapsed into the con- 
 fused, abstracted condition of mind that had of late marked 
 him. 
 
 Immediately on reaching The Lair, Brutus had a fire 
 lighted in a musty old study, filled with mouldy books, and 
 conducting the schoolmaster there, told him that that opened 
 into a sleeping-room, and that they were to be his apart- 
 ments. Here, seated at a wood fire, the old man fell into a 
 reverie, forgetting even to inquire about his pupil. 
 
 In the old stone kitchen below, little Zoe busied herself 
 in making a whey for the patient, while Brutus walked 
 moodily up and down the floor. Gertrude remained at the 
 bedside of her invalid. She did not even join the school- 
 master, Brutus, and Zoe, at supper ; but after supper ; she 
 came down, and sent Zoe up to watch, while she took some 
 refreshments. The schoolmaster had retired again to the 
 musty study. Gertrude took a seat near the window, and 
 while she.ate some strawberries, she talked to Brutus. 
 
 " How is your patient, Gertiude ?" he asked. 
 
 " Feverish, restless, tumbling about his bed, and worry- 
 ing himself to death about some State papers tht must bt 
 MturLed to Wellington."
 
 $02 THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 " Where are they now ?" 
 
 " In his coat pocket." 
 
 " Send them to the post-office." 
 
 " He will u''; trust them to our uncertain country mails; 
 besides he knows that this is not mail-day, and it is of the 
 utmost importance that these papers be in the minister's 
 hands the day after to-morrow. Unless his mind can be set 
 at rest upon this subject, he will be excited into high fever, 
 perhaps delirium. The physician, who left him just as you 
 returned, says so. I was about to ask you, Brutus, if you 
 could not possibly go to Washington with these papers. 
 Earthquake will take you there and back in two days. Oh 1 
 Brutus, you would so much oblige me if you would, and it 
 might be the saving of the young man's life." 
 
 Brutus mused Gertrude coaxed. It seemed not unplea- 
 sant to Brutus to get away, if possible, from torturing re- 
 grets. Nothing could happen, or at least was likely to 
 happen, to Zoe, in so short a space as two days. 
 
 " Brutus, I never asked a favor of you before in my life, 
 and I beg one of you now." 
 
 "I will go, Gertrude." 
 
 Inleed, both brother and sister were wonderfully subdued 
 an<* softened the one by pity the other by sorrow both 
 by love. 
 
 In order to lose no time, Brutus arose before dawn and 
 called Gertrude, who had watched by the wounded man's 
 couch all night. Taking Gertrude down into the dark and 
 silent hall, he there related to her the secret history revealed 
 by the schoolmaster, at which Gertrude expressed no sur- 
 prise at all ; on the contrary, she replied 
 
 "I suspected it all along." 
 
 " You did, Gertrude. But from what circumstances ?" 
 
 " I can scarcely tell you. From the vaguest things, that 
 yet impressed me strongly ; things so intangible that they 
 would vanish whev I would try and seize and prove then.
 
 TUB LA I ft. SOS 
 
 And, moreover, what I feel most certainly, is (hat Ifft. 
 Armstrong is darkly, and perhaps criminally implicated 
 in this same business." 
 
 " Your reasons 7 Your reasons f n 
 "I cannot give any that yon wonld not set dovrn as flws- 
 ciful aud absurd. If I were to tell you, for instance, only 
 of certain looks, tones, and gestures, upon certain occa- 
 sions starts and pallors, upon the naming of certain sub- 
 jects you would consider them fantastical, as I do when I 
 really examine them ; yet I feel in my inmost heart that 
 Mrs. Armstrong is criminally implicated in this affair. For, 
 Bometimes, by little hints capable of a double meaning, I 
 frighten her into the idea that I know something, when I 
 know nothing. Brutus groaned deeply, and then said 
 
 " Gertrude, old Major Somerville has been threatened 
 with an apoplectic stroke. It is scarcely likely that any 
 tiling should happen before my return ; but if it should 
 chance that the old man is stricken down his creditors 
 only wait his death, to swoop down upon his property in 
 a word, Gertrude, if the sheriff should attach Zoe as his 
 property, you will defend her ?" 
 
 "With my life. Come, you know me." 
 " You will not permit the constables to take her ?" 
 " TAKE HER, Glory ! We shall take the constables. I 
 muff the battle afar off!"
 
 ? 
 
 CHAPTER XXTI. 
 
 DIATH AT THK CRAOB 
 
 Ho pleasures, hopes, affectioni goa, 
 The wretch may bear and yet 11 re ot, 
 Like things within the coid rock found 
 Alive when all's congeal'd around. 
 Bat there's a hlani repose In this, 
 A calm stagnation that were bliss 
 To the ken, burning, harrowing pain, 
 Now felt through all that breast and brain. 
 
 " WHY is this ? "Why do I walk about in a conscioni 
 death, dead seeming to live. Dead ! yes, were the gray* 
 closed over me, I could not be more completely dead. And 
 it would be better so, for then I should not be conscious as 
 I am now. Death in the grave 1 why, that is not bad. The 
 unconscious body lies there, and the freed spirit revels in 
 liberty and space. Death in the grave 1 that were a boon. 
 But it is the body that is a sepulchre where my soul lies 
 entombed alive. 
 
 " T have no strength of heart to love, believe, or hope- 
 none. How cold and hard I grow. My poor old grand- 
 father, old, sick, and poor, no longer moves my sympathy, 
 because I think it is not such a misfortune to grow old and 
 die. 
 
 " Anna no longer shares my love. I wonder at her ha- 
 bitual resignation, and cannot understand it. A river of 
 ice seems to have frozen between us. 
 
 " I cannot pray or believe as once, for hard thoughts of 
 Pi evidence come between my prayer and His throne. 
 
 " Yes 1 my life of love, of hope, and faith is gone. I am 
 dead dead. Oh 1 Lord, complete this dissolution ; let EM 
 (W4)
 
 DEATH AT THE CBAS. 805 
 
 die, indeed, or else give me life some life a life of anguish, 
 rather than thin conscious, living death I" 
 
 Such were the half-crazy moanings of Susan Sornerville 
 when she returned home from the marriage of General Stu- 
 art-Gordon and Miss O'Riley. 
 
 "Give me life or death! Any life! a life of anguish, 
 rather than this conscious death !" 
 
 It seemed as if her wild prayer had been heard and an- 
 swered. Anna entered the room, .pale and trembling. Su- 
 san turned and looked at her with languid surprise. 
 
 " Your grandfather, Miss Susan." 
 
 "What of him?" 
 
 11 In a fit dying !" 
 
 " Oh, God, forgive me, and spare him !" exclaimed th 
 tonscience-stricken girl, suddenly thinking remorsefully of 
 ner repinings a moment before. She hurried from the room 
 wildly paused in the hall, and asked hastily, " Where is 
 he?" 
 
 " In his room, Miss Susan." 
 
 " Have you sent for the doctor ?" 
 
 " My father has gone, Miss Susan." 
 
 " Who is with him ?" she inquired, still hurrying on. 
 
 "My mother, Miss Susan." 
 
 " Who found him ?" 
 
 " I did, Miss Susan. I went to call him down to dinner, 
 and found him on the floor in a fit." 
 
 " On the floor in a fit I Oh, my God 1 we have neglected 
 him, Anna. Oh, Anna, we have neglected him 1" 
 
 "I do not think so, Miss Susan." 
 
 " He ought never to have been left alone a moment. Oh, 
 Anna, not a moment i Oh, Anna, who knows how long he 
 goffered before you fonnd him !" 
 
 " Not five minutes, Miss Susan. He had been reading 
 the Bible all the morning, while you were at chnroh, and un- 
 til JOB cam* Home. When be law you go up to your room
 
 S06 TEE MOTHIB-IJf.-JLW. 
 
 to put off your bonnet, he went into the yard and plucked 
 a bunch of wild eglantine roses, and told me to put them in 
 water and set them on the table for you, and to call him to 
 dinner when you came down ; and then he went to his room 
 and in five minutes, or less time, I found him in a fit." 
 
 The end of this rapid conversation brought them to the 
 bedside of the invalid. Tears were streaming from the eyes 
 of Susan as she gazed at the convulsed form and features 
 of the old man. Even while she gazed, a violent spasm 
 agitated the poor old frame. 
 
 " Ob, what can we do for him ?" she sobbed. " Grand- 
 father I dear grandfather I can't you speak to us ?" 
 
 " Hush, Miss Susan I He is past that long past that." 
 
 " Oh I what can we do for him ?" 
 
 " Nothing, Miss Susan, till the doctor comes. This is 
 ipoplexy." 
 
 " Apoplexy ! Oh, Heaven !" 
 
 " Calm yourself, Miss Susan." 
 
 " Grandfather ! oh, dear grandfather, look at me I jurt 
 look at me !" sobbed Susan, seeking to fix the glance of the 
 rolling eyes. But there was no consciousness in those orbs 
 Dropping on her knee by the bedside, she took and ki8sed f 
 again and again, the old, withered hand that hung helplessly 
 over the quilt, and gave herself up to a passion of sobs. 
 " Grandfather ! Oh, I would give the best years of my life 
 for one single woid, for one single glance of recognition 
 This poor hand 1 its last act was for me. Ingrate ! oa t 
 iugrate that I was." Agaiu a violent fit of sobbing choked 
 her utterance. "His last words to me were, 'God love 
 you, baby !' just as we set out for church, and his last words 
 were, 'Put these roses in water for Susan.' Ingrate! ob, 
 ingrate, that I was." A spasm again convulsed the dying 
 man. " Grandfather, oh, grandfather ! if I could change 
 places with you, Go 1 knows I would do it ' A moon front
 
 DKATH AT THE CRAGS. 80? 
 
 the breast of the old man a short, rasping respiration a 
 quick, violent spasm and all was still. 
 
 " He is at rest, Miss Susan," said Harriet. Snsan started 
 to her feet gazed one moment on the stiffening face ; a mist 
 passed before her eyes, her head swam, her limbs failed, and 
 she fell. Anna caught her, placed a cup of water to her 
 lips, and drew her from the room drew her to her own 
 chamber, where Susan fell upon the bed and turned upon 
 her face, extending her arms in an attitude of utter and 
 helpless abandonment. And there she lay all day, and there 
 she lay all night, without a change of position. 
 
 Anna returned to the death-chamber to assist her mother 
 The doctor had just come ten minutes too late. 
 
 Major Somerville died on Sunday afternoon. 
 
 On Tuesday, at the very hour that Brutus Lion was set- 
 ting out for the metropolis, without having heard of what 
 had happened at The Crags, ten miles off, they were mak- 
 ing preparations for the funeral. 
 
 The funeral took place on Tuesday afternoon. 
 
 On Wednesday morning, Miss Somerville and Anna were 
 itting ont on the piazza. Both were in mourning. Susan 
 was engaged, mechanically, with her everlasting knotting 
 work. Anna was reading to her from Felicia Hemans' 
 poems. They had been left to Susan by Britannia O'Riley, 
 who bestowed upon her, her whole collection of books, 
 casts, and pictures, before leaving The Crags. They were 
 few who read poetry with more appreciation, sympathy, or 
 finer elocntion than Anna. She was reading the " Crown- 
 ing of Corinne at the Capitol," and when she finished 
 
 M Badlact daughter of the ran ! 
 Vow thy llTlng wrath ID won, 
 Crowned of Rome ! oh, art thon not 
 Happier in that glorious lot T 
 Happy, happier far than thon, 
 With the laurel on thy brow, 
 If the that makes the hnablert kMlO. 
 Lorely bat to MM *rtk 1"
 
 SOS THB MOTHER IIC-LJLWV 
 
 "Read on. I like it," said Stsan. " There if the wtfl 
 of a broken heart in every line she has written." 
 
 Bat Anna resolutely closed the book. 
 
 " This is unhealthy, Miss Susan, this is morbid in you, 
 in Corinne, and in the poetess whose sweet but enfeebling 
 trains we have jnst been reading. The heart of this ideal 
 Corinne was destroyed by a conflagration of passion what 
 then 7 She had a glorious brain. It was impossible to 
 live in a ruin what then ? She might have lived in a 
 palace. She had no life in her affections well, she might 
 have had a glorious life in her intellect. The soul lives in 
 the heart and the head in the affections and in the intel- 
 lect. A strong soul driven out from its own wounded heart 
 ascends into its brain, and finds a higher if a colder life. 
 It is only in despair, in inaction, that such a spirit suffers 
 long. The stronger the faculties of the soul, the more it 
 gaffers in inaction. An idiot will sit all day, and day after 
 day, happy in idleness ; an intelligent child will be miser- 
 able if confined an hour without employment or amuse- 
 ment. An extremely aged person will sit week after week 
 in the same arm-chair, in the same corner of the same room, 
 pleased and happy ; a young person grows weary if a day's 
 rain confines him to the house. A feeble and subdued pri- 
 soner will linger out years in his cell in a sort of torpid 
 resignation ; a healthy, strong captive struggles and chafes 
 in his fetters. The soul is a sort of prisoner in the body 
 and the stronger and more healthy it is, the more it chafei 
 and frets, until it finds its life in action its freedom in 
 action. A young person, full of repressed life, health, and 
 energy full of strong powers that crave their development 
 experiences a lassitude, a Lstlessness, a weariness of life, 
 for which they cannot account, especially when they hear 
 the season of youth spoken of as the season of joy. Such 
 a yonng person will take to reading or writing sentimental 
 poetry, and grow weaker, more weary, and more nseleai
 
 DIXIE AT THE CRAGS, 809 
 
 rerj day. Now, sentimental poetry has its mission, but 
 it is to soften the hard not to liquefy the already soft. 
 The cure of such brain-sick youth is not in that. Let any 
 young man or woman, tormented by this terrible ennui, 
 take my word for it, that the nature of their suffering 
 proves them to possess great powers undeveloped. Let 
 Buch seek their vocation and pursue it. And this is a 
 sure guide. Let them find out that useful occupation in 
 which they take the most pleasure, and then bring all the 
 powers of mind and body to a focus to bear upon that point 
 to break down every obstacle, conquer every difficulty, 
 and press onward to the end, however distant, however 
 difficult, however seemingly unattainable for then at least 
 the powers of the soul will be brought out in all their glo- 
 rious life, energy, and joy. Every one has his talent, and 
 he will suffer in proportion as he lets it rust in his heart. 
 And this I lay down as a rule, without an exception, that 
 no healthy human being however young, beautiful, loving, 
 and loved however intellectual, however wealthy, power- 
 ful, honored that NO HEALTHY HUMAN BEING CAN BI 
 
 HAPPY WITHOUT LABOR. LABOR 18 DESTINY." 
 
 " I am knotting," smiled Susan, with a sad sarcasm, "yet 
 I do not find in accumulating yards of cotton fringe and 
 piles of toilet covers and valances, any peculiar pleasure ; 
 nor am I sensible of any great happiness in counting these 
 meshes." 
 
 " That is not labor, Miss Somerville, though it serves to 
 calm your nerves. That is not labor; it goes on mechani- 
 cally, almost without your consent-, your fingers act at 
 your heart beats, as your hugs breathe involuntarily. 
 Yon are strong and idle, and you want work. Labor & 
 destiny." 
 
 "And how, with your limited knowledge of the world 
 and of books, have you arrived at that conclusion f" 
 
 " One does not need a library, or a tour round the world.
 
 310 THI MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 Miss Somerville, ti work out some things. All human 
 nature is contained in one small village church I had 
 almost said, in one small child. All books of ethics and 
 philosophy are contained in one pocket Bible. The Bible, 
 a few histories, and a few poems, have been my library, an 
 yon know. The party at Mont Crystal was my tour of the 
 world. For the rest, Miss Susan, while you were loving, 1 
 was thinking. I saw scores of young girls and young men 
 at Mont Crystal, all seeming, at first sight, bright and 
 happy ; but all in proportion to their strength of soul, 
 deadly weary of the monotonous round of eating, drinking, 
 dressing, and flirting. Yet that was said to have been a 
 very delightful party ; the young people was said to have 
 enjoyed themselves heartily. I know better ; they tired of 
 it in three days, and only continued it because nothing 
 better offered by which to employ themselves. No with 
 all other means and appliances, toil is an indispensable 
 requisite to happiness. As I said, every one has his or her 
 appointed work, and is tormented with restlessness until 
 they have found it. What do you take most pleasure in 
 doing Miss Susan ? I know I have studied you, Miss 
 Susan. You are happiest when working for others, without 
 minding what that work may be. Miss Susan, you must 
 eeek a position where you can spend your days in the service 
 of others. If I could choose a destiny for you, you should 
 be the wife of some wise, calm, strong, country clergyman, 
 with an extensive field of labor before him. But see, Miss 
 Susan," said she suddenly, " while we are talking, you ara 
 missing the effect of this beautiful moving panorama of 
 clouds over the sky and river. The descent from The Cragi 
 to the river level is said to be monotonous, because almost 
 destitute uf vegetation but look 1 it is varied with every 
 form of rock, and every shade of gray. Gold in the sun- 
 shine and bronze in the shade ! Every little fragment of 
 tone is golf, on the one side wd bronze on the other. Now
 
 DEATH AT THB CRAGS. 811 
 
 look at the sky and the river ; see the gilded clouds sailing 
 through the blue ether, and their shadows moving on th 
 waters ! See The lile of Rays, how it sparkles in the sun I" 
 
 "Yet it is a forsaken and emp'y house." 
 
 " Just now, yes ; but it beams and scintillates all the 
 Mine. And now raise your eyes to where Mont Crystal 
 towers on the opposite bank, with its white granite walli 
 and rows of crystal windows glancing in the light." 
 
 "Yes, but its cold splendor incloses an aged and solitary 
 woman." 
 
 "You find gloom in every thing to-day, Miss Susan." 
 
 "Ah! Anna, I cannot help it." 
 
 "But look at this picture,- that God has hung out before 
 you. See how the sky smiles in blessing on the earth and 
 waters. See how they smile back in love. See how the 
 clouds combine, dissolve, and change, with a misty bright- 
 ness, an ever-varying radiance. Did ever skies beam with 
 more love did ever earth smile with more gladness than 
 now? Oh! look and listen, and acknowledge God in his 
 works. The halls of the Island Palace are lined with the 
 rarest works of the greatest masters. Recall that master- 
 piece of Claude Lorraine, and tell me if it approaches this 
 in value, though that cost a thousand guineas, and could 
 only be purchased by a millionaire ; and this is hung out in 
 the sight of all, for nothing. The soul of the artist was in 
 that, but the soul of God is in this. The painter expressed 
 himself there the Creator reveals himself here. How can 
 yon be gloomy, while God is smiling on you through the 
 ikies?" 
 
 Suddenly Anna grew pale started as she gazed down 
 the flight of rocks turned, as by an instinctive impulse, to 
 fly seated herself again as by a second resolution, and 
 gazed steadily out upon the rocks. 
 
 "What is the matter, Anna?" inquired Miss Somernlle. 
 Ana* pointed to where three horsemen were just coming ia
 
 812 THE 11 T H E B - 1 N - L A W. 
 
 light, up the ascent They approached the house, dif 
 mounted, and walked toward Miss Somerville and Anna. 
 Anna grew paler still, trembled then setting her teeth, 
 and clinching tightly both hands, with a gesture full of 
 strength of soul, she summoned her physical energies to 
 their post. 
 
 "Miss Susan Somerville, I presume," said the first man, 
 lifting his hat to the young lady. 
 
 "That is my name, sir," replied she, rising to receive them. 
 
 "My name is Power, deputy sheriff of county." 
 
 "Will you come in, Mr. Power?" asked Susan, who 
 heard this announcement with surprise, but not fear. She 
 was ignorant of any cause she might have to dread the 
 deputy sheriff. 
 
 "Thank you, Miss," he replied, and followed Susan to 
 the sitting-room. 
 
 "Take a chair, sir." 
 
 "No, I am much obliged to you, Miss," he said, setting 
 his hat and whip down on the table, and rummaging in hii 
 pockets for a paper. 
 
 Susan watched him with increasing perplexity. 
 
 "Let me see; how many negroes have you on the place, 
 Miss Somerville ?" 
 
 "I have no domestics to hire out, sir," replied Susan, 
 believing that she had now divined the motive of his visit. 
 
 "How many slaves have you about the house, then, Mi* 
 Somerville." 
 
 "None, sir." 
 
 "What! my dear young lady." 
 
 " Sir, I have my foster-parents, George and Harriet, who 
 bronght me up, and my foster-sister and companion, Anna, 
 who has always shared my room, my table, and my school. 
 They are quadroons. I do not call them slaves." 
 
 "They were the *laves of the late Major SomerTiUt,
 
 BJSATH AT TH1 OBAftfc ill 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "And they are yours now." 
 
 "No, sir! I do not for a moment acknowledge any 
 right in myself to hold them. My dear grandfather's funeral 
 took place on yesterday afternoon, an ^to-morrow morning 
 I go to Richmond to take measures for their emancipation i" 
 said Miss Somerville, in a cold, severe tone for now she 
 believed herself in conversation with a would-be purchaser. 
 
 "Will you? Ah! yes, well! A generous and praise- 
 worthy design on your part, my dear young lady," said the 
 deputy sheriff, perceiving for the first time that Susan wai 
 entirely unsuspicious of the object of his visit. 
 
 " Will you, however, let me see these people, my dew 
 Miss Somerville?" 
 
 "Oh, he is the tax-gatherer!" thought Susan. 
 
 "Certainly, sir," she replied; then, turning to Anns, sh 
 aid, "Anna, will you call your parents?" 
 
 Anna who had conquered herself, and now stood calm, 
 co'.d, and impassible, went out to obey. 
 
 "Is too* one of them?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "IVwtf girl?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "Why, she is white!" 
 
 "Very nearly, sir." 
 
 Anna now returned to the room with her parents. Pi,cr 
 George entered from his work-bench, with his white felt hat 
 on his head, and a wisp of fine-cut flag and his working 
 knife in his hand. He pulled off his hat at the door, and 
 stood waiting to be spoken to. Harriet stood by him, with 
 her hand resting on his arm. Anna went and stood by 
 Susan. 
 
 " Your name is George, my man ?" asked the deputy 
 heriff, seating himself at a table, and taking out a pocket 
 apparatus for writing.
 
 414 THE MOTHER- 1 V -LAW. 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " Your age ?" asked the sheriff, beginning to 
 
 " Sixty years, sir," replied George. 
 
 )" And your wife's name is Harriet ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " Her age ?" he inquired, continuing to make cote*. 
 
 "Forty-five, sir." 
 
 " That young girl is your daughter ?" 
 
 "Yes, sir," replied the father, the muscles of his fwg 
 twitching. 
 
 " Her name age ?" 
 
 "Anna aged eighteen," answered the poor father, in a 
 broken voice, clutching the old white hat convulsively. 
 
 The sheriff now went to the door, and called in the three 
 men who had remained in the piazza. Two of them entered 
 and remained standing near the door. The third accom- 
 panied him to the table. 
 
 "This in Mr. Jones, the assessor, MIBS Somerrille," ke 
 laid, as they passed Susan. 
 
 "I thought that you were the assessor, sir," said Suiaa, 
 simply. 
 
 "No, Miss," said the deputy, without smiling at feet 
 mistake. "Jones," he said, addressing the assessor, "look 
 at that man and tell me how much you think him worth." 
 
 "How old is he?" 
 
 "Sixty." 
 
 "Hum! he looks nearer seventy; but these mulatto*! 
 break down very early. He looks very worthless." 
 
 "Say one hundred and fifty dollars?" 
 
 " Ye-e-e-s scarcely that " 
 
 " One hundred ?" 
 
 "Well-11; ye-e-esl" 
 
 " Look at the woman. What is he* value f 
 
 "How old ie she?"
 
 DXJLTH AT THB CRJOB. 816 
 
 "She looks more like fifty. Put her at at Has your 
 wife good health, my man ?" 
 
 Yes, sir," sighed George. 
 
 "Well! there is some work in her yet. Put her at two 
 hundred dollars." 
 
 "Now, then, for the girl; you see what her personal 
 appearance is eighteen years oldj well educated, and all 
 that now, what is her value?" 
 
 The assessor looked at Anna; and, as his sensual eyes 
 roved all over her girlish figure,.gloating on her beauty, he 
 muttered an exclamation 
 
 "She is a handsome girl, and it would be a good spec' to 
 take her to New Orleans. She'd bring twelve or fifteen 
 hundred dollars!" 
 
 "Gentlemen," said Susan Somerville turning toward 
 them, "you will do me a favor by getting this assessment 
 over as quickly as may be. Set your valuation as high as 
 you please. I do not care for u few dollars more or less 
 of taxation, but I do care to have my privacy invaded and 
 my friends here subjected to this indignity the last, if it 
 please Heaven, that they shall ever suffer, for to-morrow I 
 will take measures for their immediate emancipation I Pray, 
 gentlemen, be expeditious will you ?" 
 
 "A moment, young lady, a moment. At what do you 
 ralue the wench, Jones?" 
 
 The assessor walked toward Anna, still keeping his 
 brutish eyes riveted upon her; and, walking around her as 
 though she had been a horse for sale, he lifted his hand to 
 turn her about. 
 
 "T)EATH! Hands off my daughter, sirl" exclaimed tht 
 hitherto patient George, springing to his child's side. 
 
 But, even before he had reached her, the calm-souled 
 dignity of Anna, breathing through every look and attitud*, 
 had repulsed him. He returned to the table.
 
 816 THI MO THE B IN.Li.tf. 
 
 "She would bring fif.een hundred or a thousand loll an 
 te New Orleans." 
 
 "That is not the question ; what would she bring here f 
 
 " Gentlemen, I beg of you" commenced Susan Somet 
 rille. 
 
 (< Be patient, young lady. What is her value here, 
 Jones ?" 
 
 " Gentlemen, I insist" began Susan again, with her 
 cheeks burning and her eyes flashing, " I insist that this ia 
 arrested. I command you to finish your business and 
 leave us." 
 
 "One instant, Miss Somerville. Well, Jones her valut 
 is" 
 
 " Three hundred dollars I" 
 
 "My dear Anna, can you forgive me, that this outrage 
 Is offered you before my face ?" 
 
 "Yon cannot help it, dear Miss Somerville," replied 
 Anna, calmly. 
 
 " Have you done, gentlemen f " indignantly demanded 
 Miss Somerville, as the deputy and the assessor folded up 
 .heir papers, and returned them to their pockets, and pro- 
 **eded to button up their coats, " have you done, gentle- 
 men f" 
 
 " Miss Somerville," began the deputy, " I h&ve now to 
 perform a very painful duty ; a simple and shcrt one, how- 
 ever." 
 
 " Yes, as short as an execution," muttered George. 
 
 " Miss Somerville, I attach this property at th.3 suit of 
 Spier & Co., Grocers, Peakville." 
 
 8: *an started to her feet, clasped her hands, and turned 
 deadly pale, as the truth suddenly struck her. 
 
 Anna stood still and white. 
 
 George and Harrht threw themselves in each other's 
 arms, with a cry. 
 
 41 To m 94O&8, Briggs and Brown ! look to the doors t*
 
 DIATH At THE CRAGS. 317 
 
 shouted the deputy, whom this action had alarmed, spring* 
 lag to his feet. 
 
 The two constables sprang to the doors, securing them. 
 
 " Cock your pistols 1" 
 
 "It is unnecessary, sir; we will make no resistance," said 
 George, gently disengaging the arms of his wife from about 
 his neck. 
 
 " Oh, my Saviour, ray Saviour, have mercy on us 1" cried 
 Susan, wringing her hands. 
 
 "Be patient, Miss Susan, dear Miss Susan," said Anna, 
 caressing her. 
 
 " Have you the handcuffs, Jones ?" 
 
 "Yes; here they are." 
 
 " Oh, my God, no ! you will never do that," cried Susat, 
 in anguish. 
 
 " My dear young lady, if men were turned by the tears 
 of women, we should never do our duty. Give me the fet- 
 ters, Jones ; here, we will secure the two women together, 
 and then the man by himself." 
 
 And the deputy, taking the fetters, went up to the spot 
 where Anna and her mother now stood, locked in each 
 Other's arms. 
 
 11 YOU SHALL NOT DO IT I Away ! YOU SHALL NOT DO 
 
 tr I" shouted George, bounding between his wife and child 
 and the officers, and brandishing his knife all the latent 
 and terrible ferocity of the MIXED BLOOD leaping, like 
 forked lightning, from his eyes. 
 
 " I have been patient ! I would have followed you like a 
 whipped hound follows his master ; you might hare hand- 
 cuffed me, but not them. See, I am her father ; and I will 
 bury this knife in your heart or in hers, sooner than yo? 
 shall place a fetter on her wrist." 
 
 "What! the devil! You <f d mulatto rassal, do f* 
 resist an officer of the law ?" 
 
 " To THJJ DEATH I in this case."
 
 318 THE MOTHKB. IK-LAW. 
 
 With no more ado, the deputy suddenly raised th ent 
 of the loaded whip and brought it down in a sharp and 
 tunning blow upon the head of the gray-haired slaye, who 
 dropped in a heap at his feet. 
 
 With a piercing scream, Susan Somerville sprang for- 
 ward, and fell upon her face in a death-like swoon. 
 
 Harriet, pale with terror, clung helplessly to her daugh- 
 ter. 
 
 Anna alone was self-possessed. 
 
 " Sit down, dear mother, and let me attend to Miss Susan 
 and father ; or, mother, try to attend father while I get 
 Miss Susan up stairs." And gently easing her trembling 
 mother down upon a chair, she went to Susan's side, and, 
 lifting her head, and addressing herself to one of the men 
 who had taken no part in this violent scene, beyond guard- 
 ing the doors, she said 
 
 "Will yon be so good as to lift this young lady and 
 bring her up stairs with me ?" 
 
 The man looked at his superior for permission. 
 
 " Yes, take her along," said ti.e deputy ; " it's the deriPi 
 own business, an affair of this kind, where there are io 
 many women about." 
 
 And the officer raised Susan in his arms, and bore hei 
 after Anna, who led the way up stairs. 
 
 Taking advantage of Susan's swoon, Anna'g absence, 
 nnd George's insensibility, to finish the afltoir quickly and 
 quietly, the deputy sheriff attached the little old family 
 cart, the old family horse, and harnessing it up, bound 
 George and laid him in the bottom of it ; placing Harriet, 
 who willingly accompanied him, by his side. Then, leay- 
 fog a bailiff in charge, the deputy set off for the county town. 
 
 They were a mile from The Crags before Susan Soraer- 
 yille recovered from her swoon. She recovered painfully 
 with spasmodic twitchings opened her eyes, groaned, ghiy
 
 D11.TH AT THS C R i. 8. Sit 
 
 red, closed them again. Soon reopening them, she looked 
 around, and, seeing Anna, said 
 
 "Anna! Anna! are you there ? Oh, Anna, I have had 
 the most dreadful nightmare 1" and sighed heavily again, 
 and covered her eyes with her hands, as shudderings con- 
 vulsed her frame. Then flaring her eyes wide open, she 
 started up in bed, caught both Anna's hands in her own, 
 and gazed long and scarchingly in her face. Then groan- 
 ing, " Oh my God ! It was no dream! It was true I 11 
 fell back and covered her face with her hands. In a few 
 Biinutes, without uncovering her face, she inquired, " Where 
 are they, Anna ?" 
 
 " Gone, Miss Susan." 
 
 " I mean your mother and father ?" 
 
 " Gone /" 
 
 " Oh, my God ! And you, Anna !" 
 
 " I am left here in charge of a bailiff nntil some other 
 assistance can be sent to you. Perhaps I shall stay all 
 night with you. And now, Miss Susan, pray and try to 
 calm your mind, for to-morrow you must do something." 
 
 "What is it, Anna ? Oh, suggest something that I can 
 do, and never fear but that I shall get better, and grow 
 strong enough instantly to do it. It is the helplessness of 
 our situation that makes me despairing and ill." 
 
 " Then, Miss Susan, you had better write to General Stn- 
 art- Gordon ; he will assist us, without doubt. Notice will 
 have to be given a certain number of days before any sale 
 is made, and in that time General Stuart-Gordon can bt 
 heard from." 
 
 " I will write to-night, Anna." 
 
 " No, Miss Susan, you could not hold a pen ; to-morrow 
 will be quite time enough." 
 
 " Alas 1 Anna, what has not ' to-morrow ' cost us already 7 
 It was to-morrow that 1 was to have gone to Richmond to
 
 820 THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 ee about doing you justice ! Ah, Anna ! if I had gone 
 to-day, you and your parents might have been saved !" 
 
 " Not so, Miss Susan I We were matched ; they would 
 have followed and attached us on the road." 
 
 " Ah I if I thought it was inevitable, I should not suffer 
 guch pangs of remorse ; but, oh ! I fear it was my delay 
 Alone. Yet I never dreamed of an execution." 
 
 "It was inevitable, Miss Susan. You could not help it 
 Try to be composed." 
 
 " You are so composed, Annal How it it that you art 
 o composed ?" 
 
 "Ah, Miss Susan, a misfortune long looked for does not 
 startle one when it arrives." 
 
 " You expected this long, then ?" 
 
 "For more than six months, Miss Somerville." 
 
 " Ah ! why did you not tell me ?" 
 
 "You could not have averted it; why torment you with 
 it, then, Miss Susan ?" 
 
 " Then, when I supposed you to be grieving over your 
 own position, you were only dreading this catastrophe i* 
 
 " That was it, Miss Susan." 
 
 " Oh, my dear Anna ! I have never done you justice." 
 
 " Try to rest, Miss Susan." 
 
 A silence ensued. Anna supposed Miss Somerville to be 
 toniposing herself to sleep, but presently the low sounds of 
 weeping, under the sheets, stole on her ear. At last 
 
 " Anna, are you there yet?" murmured Susan. 
 
 "Yes, Miss Susan." 
 
 ' Go to bed, Anna ! Do go to bed. Something muM 
 oe done, if it be in the power of human tears, and prayers, 
 and persuasions. I will humble myself to these men, Anna. 
 Oh I if ^uman hearts can be moved by human misery, yon 
 hall be aaved, Anna." 
 
 " Ahl* thought Anna, " they will have but one aniww 
 rf> your prajers, Miss Sesan ' the lav 1' *' bat ibe MI4
 
 DKATH AT THE CRAGS. 821 
 
 "Yes, hope, Miss Somerville." And feeling that Susan 
 eould not grow quiet unless she herself seemed to rest, Anna 
 lifted Sasau's hand, pressed and kissed it, and bade her good 
 night. Susan turned on her pillow, seeming to sleep, bit 
 really busying herself with a thousand impossible plans for 
 saving her foster-sister, and redeeming George and Harriet. 
 
 Anna withdrew to the window to draw the curtain and 
 exclude the moonbeams, that her mistress might sleep more 
 quietly. And she looked out upon the rocks falling down 
 to the river, the river and the banks floating in a flood of 
 silvery radiance, and The Isle of Rays glancing towards the 
 sky in streams of light, like a sheaf of diamond-tipped ar- 
 rows. She whispered, " Oh, beautiful ! My old father 
 my gentle mother ! it is in the midst of God's beautiful cre- 
 ation that these deeds of hate are done. Yet, not of hale 
 let me be just. Let me be patient. Let no passion of 
 mine distort a local necessity into a deed of hate. Oh, 
 thou CruciGed ! who rememberedst amid the agony of the 
 cross that Thy executioners knew not what they did, and 
 prayed for them, give me a portion of Thine own divine 
 calmness, patience, and justice. Let me remember the posi- 
 tion, the education, the prejudices, the undisciplined pas- 
 sions of these men, and do them justice. How beautiful, 
 how holy, this night. How sublimely calm. Let no storm 
 arise in my own bosom to desecrate this holy calm." 
 
 And, oh ! a divine peace was let down from Heaven into 
 the depths of her spirit, and her heart was flooded with pa- 
 tience and love, still dilating into a strange joy. 
 
 " What is this ? oh, angels 1 what is this I Jrerything, 
 from the cer.tre of my own spirit to the bounds of creation, 
 eems expanding, brightening, and rising." 
 
 A heavenly languor was stealing over her frame ; she 
 bowed her head upon the window-sill and fell asleep. 
 
 Heavenly dreams visited her the wall of the room dit- 
 appear*d- -the horizon expanded the sky was lifted up
 
 822 THl 
 
 the hearens opened the wings of angels brightened the 
 
 ky the voices of angels made melodious the air. 
 
 Oh, ye sorrowing I make clear the paths of the angels to 
 four souls. Dismiss anger, fear, and selfishness, that the 
 angels may come and minister to yon. 
 
 " nil sorrow, touched by God, grow* bright 
 
 With more than rapture'* ray, 
 As darkneM ihowi c worldi of light 
 
 We sever uw by day !" 
 
 ******** 
 
 Early in the morning, Susan Somerville arose, and seeing 
 the form of Anna reclining on the window-sill, and bathed 
 In the glory of the morning sun, she went up to her, spoke 
 to her, and receiving no reply, touched her, and started 
 back with terror ANNA WAS DEAD ! 
 ******** 
 
 The physician pronounced her death to have proceeded 
 from some organic disease of the heart. 
 
 And no one disputed the decision of the modical faculty. 
 The coroner's jury came nearer the truth in their rerdict 
 "A VISITATION o? GOD."
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 THl QIBFALOOM. 
 
 Tito ill :mU hT fceem a noble ere* t w*, al 
 
 Bath all til* energy that would hare a<U 
 
 A goodly frm of R lorione olemenU, 
 
 B*d they been wisely mingled M it in, 
 
 An awful chaos light and darknea*. 
 
 And mind and dust, and passions and pare thoiffc*. 
 
 Mixed and contending without end or order, 
 
 All dormant or dwtrnctire : she will perUh 
 
 And jet the mnst not ; anon are worth redeapUoa. Jyrew 
 
 IT was a queer place the chamber where young Fro 
 bisher lay at The Lair. The house beiug near the top of 
 the mountain peak, and the room near the top of the house, 
 ft looked down a dizzy height. 
 
 The side of his bed was placed against one of the front 
 windows, so that the patient had only to turn over toward 
 it to enjoy a sublime prospect from the top of this loftiest 
 peak. This window had been so obscured by cobwebs and 
 fly-stains as to make a curtain superfluous, until the arrival 
 of the neat little housewife, Zoe, who at once washed it off 
 and sent to ,ne Dovecate for a clean, white mnslia curtain, 
 which was always looped back to permit the invalid to look 
 out. This, with Zoe's new blue-and-white quilt, mad* 
 the chamber look neat and comfortable enough, " consider- 
 ing-" 
 
 Imagine an elephantess iu a poultry-yard, trippJag ft 
 lightly aad softly about, for fear of treading on the young 
 chieken*, aad yea will have some little notion of how our 
 JLaaMi stepped about tke siek room of her patient ipoa 
 the moninf after Bratas had left hone for the metropolis 
 
 (HI)
 
 124 THE MOTHEB-IN-L1.W. 
 
 It was very difficult for Gertrude to step softly or speak 
 low. She was in the habit of shouting, roaring, leap- 
 ing, running, and demolishing everything she happened to 
 touch, and otherwise expending her excess of vital energy ; 
 and now she trippsi about the room as awkwardly as a 
 condor in a quadrille might do. Zoe was in the room, too, 
 but gliding BO spirit-like about, that you would scarcely 
 have known her presence. Their patient was supposed to 
 
 " Hush-sh-sh-sh 1 Gertrude," whispered Zoe, as the for- 
 mer brought down a vial on the table, with the bang of a 
 hammer on the anvil, shivering the vial in the act. 
 
 " Sh-sh-sh 1 ain't I sh-sh-ing all I can ! 1 do wonders 
 Something will happen to me yet, with all this 'sh-sh-sh-ing. 
 Didn't I like to fall down stairs by coming softly up ? And 
 I shall break a blood-vessel, too, by trying to talk low I 
 know I shall ; keeping in so much breath will explode my 
 ribs I know it will !" 
 
 "Hush-sh-sh! Gertrude; don't whisper ; a whisper in a 
 sick-room is more annoying than a talk," murmured Zoe, 
 moving from the chamber, as the most effectual way of pre- 
 venting conversation. 
 
 " Left alone, Gertrude stepped up to the side of the bed, 
 and, tossing back her heavy fall of yellow hair, stooped 
 over the sleeping patient. He was lying with his face to- 
 ward the window, his eyes closed, his black silky hair drop- 
 ping soft shadows over his temple and throat. Gertrude 
 looked over him as one might look at a very charming pic- 
 ture, or a beautiful sleeping child, and a smile dimpled her 
 mouth, and half closed her eyes, as she looked then the 
 fair Amazon cautiously put out one finger, and softly 
 touched a black curl that coiled upon the transparent tem- 
 ple then suddenly drew back her hand, as though she 
 feared that at a touch this Adonis might blow up, or 
 Belt away. Still she looked at the sleeping fact, aa tbt
 
 THE ftEBFALCOir. 126 
 
 child looks at something very charming aid curious, but 
 which it is forbidden to meddle with. " Oh, be is so beau- 
 tiful I so beautiful I" she ixurmured to herself, still curi- 
 ously fascinated by the exquisitely delicate features and 
 complexion. At last, however, as she looked, she saw the 
 black eyelashes of the youth begin to tremble on his white 
 cheeks, and the corner of his chiseled lips began to quiver 
 with suppressed humor. Her sanguine blood rushed to her 
 brow just as he lost command of his countenance, and 
 opened his eyes with an angelic smile. 
 
 " I was not asleep, dear Gertrude I" 
 
 " Oh ! thank you for confession immediately following 
 detection," said the Gerfalcon, moving from the bedside. 
 
 " Come back, dear Gertrude, I want to talk to you." 
 
 " No you must sleep." 
 
 "I cannot, Gertrude; I have had sleep enough." 
 
 " But you haven't," said Gertrude, returning ; " you 
 have not. Come, shut your eyes, and go to sleep that's a 
 good boy do that's a dear boy think what your mamma 
 would say if she knew how you trifled with your precious 
 health. Come, now, shut your eyes, and go to sleep, while 
 I draw these curtains that's a sweet boy !" and stooping 
 down, Gertrude placed her two hands each side of his head, 
 patted him, and ran away. 
 
 " What a strange girl ! and how singular that she talks 
 to me a? though I were a child ! But, perhaps, it is not so 
 strange, since every American youth I have met with looks 
 older at fourteen in the face, at least than I do at 
 twenty-six; that is the reason she takes me for a boy. 
 Well ! that mistake is not unpleasant in some of its effects. 
 What a magnificent girl ! the largest woman I ever saw, 
 yet the most elegantly proportioned, and the most delicately 
 finished. There is nothing coarse in her vast beauty. Why, 
 her finger-ends, her eyelids, her nostrils, have that exquisite 
 transparency, that fin< ness of fibre, belonging to the highert
 
 526 THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 order of Caucasian beauty. But where are my thought! 
 wandering to now ! I began by thinking how I should de- 
 light ray friend Lawrence, by giving him a sketch of this 
 Amazonian beauty found in the wilds of America I iavf 
 ended with Well I I must not have those soft finger* 
 elasp my face rich lips hover over my lips so often !' 
 And the youth raised himself on his elbow, shook his pillow 
 Yehemently, turned it, and dropped again exhausted. While 
 looking through the window, his eye roved over mountain, 
 wood, and water. " Oh, how I wish my friend Turner 
 were only here, to paint this scene. Singular, they roam 
 all over Europe ground that has been traveled, painted, 
 and described, until every part of it is familiar to all while 
 these unknown scenes of wildest beauty, of the most terrible 
 sublimity, remain unsought," he murmured ; then, " Pshaw ! 
 I talk of one thing and think of another. That peerless 
 girl ! She is unique 1 there is but one of her species ! The 
 clearest, purest eyes, the clearest, purest soul that ever any 
 one looked through and through. That wondrous girl ! 
 She draws me toward her with the force of a maelstrom. 
 I wonder who she is who brought her up ?" Then rising 
 on his elbow, he looked out again upon the mountain-scene, 
 while his thoughts roved from one subject to another with 
 feverish vehemence. Growing tired of this occupation, he 
 took a stick that stood near the head of his bed, in lieu of a 
 bell, and struck it three or four times on the floor. Soon 
 he heard a rushing up the stairs, and Gertrude entered, 
 bearing a clean shirt in one hand, and a bundle of linen in 
 the other. 
 
 "Ah! you have slept. That is right. You are strong 
 enough to have your wound dressed and change your shirt, 
 and then you shall have a broiled partridge for dinner. 
 Zoe is broiling it now." And, approaching the bedside, 
 he laid down her bundles and began to open his shirt-bo- 
 gom to dress bis w )und, saying, all the time. " Now, dont
 
 THI GBBFALCOIT. 32T 
 
 wince, don't shrink ; I won't hurt yon, rough as I 
 indeed I won't. There, be a good boy, and take it pa- 
 tiently." 
 
 After she had finished dressing the wound, he said 
 
 " Thank yon, dear Gertrude. I will trouble you to bring 
 me a glass of water." 
 
 " Yes, certainly," and she went below ; and by the time 
 the young man had performed his toilet, she returned with 
 glass of water, followed by Zoe bearing his nice little dinnei 
 on a tray. He took no more notice of Zoe than if she had 
 been a little kitten. When the meal was over, Zoe took up 
 the tray and left the room. Gertrude was about to follow, 
 when the young man called her back. 
 
 " Will you not remain with me an hour, dear Gertrude, 
 to help me to while away the tedious afternoon ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes ! certainly. I only want to go down and feed 
 Borealis; then I'll return." 
 
 " Borealis !" 
 
 "Yes my white horse." 
 
 " Oh !" 
 
 And Gertrude left the room for about half an hour. 
 " Decidedly, Frobisher, you will have to do one of two 
 things make up your mind to woo and wed this young 
 Amazon, or to avoid her altogether. I wonder what sort 
 of an education she has received ?" Seeing Gertrude re- 
 turn and take her seat by his bed, he turned around on his 
 pillow, rested his head on his hand, and asked 
 
 " Will you read to me, Gertrude ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes I" said the Gerfalcon, rising and going into an- 
 other room. Presently she came back, took her seat, and, 
 opening her book, prepared to commence. 
 
 "What have you got there, Gertrude ?" 
 
 " It is the legend of the Seven Champions of Christen- 
 dom. It is a very grand thing. Takes my breath quit*
 
 M8 THK HOTHBR-IW-L1.W. 
 
 away o read it, although few things have the power to de 
 that. Yes, a great work this I such splendid fighting ! n 
 
 " Is that your first favorite, Gertrude ?" 
 
 "Yes; but I have others." 
 
 " And what may they be ?" 
 
 " Oh, I like St George and the Dragon, Una and tht 
 Lioo, and a Gerrjan story Brighty read to me once th 
 Wild Huntsman" 
 
 " That who read to you ?" 
 
 " That Brighty, Mrs. General Stuart-Gordon " 
 
 " Ah 1 you know her then ?" 
 
 "Yes: do you?" 
 
 " I have met her ; but now tell me your other favorites.' 
 
 " Well, I like all those I named, because they had suck 
 splendid riding and racing and fighting and flying all 
 through it ; but, oh ! my favorite of favorites !" 
 
 " Well, dear Gertrude, and what is that ?" 
 
 "Oh, Milton's Paradise Lost I MiKon's Paradise Lost ! 
 Oh ! there was magnificent fighting there ! Heaven and 
 Hell in battle-array all space for a battle-field the throne 
 cf the universe the stake and angels and devils hurling 
 planets at each other I Oh, that was a touch above the 
 ublime. I can conceive that it took a blind man to write 
 that ! 
 
 " Yes, dear Gertrude, a blind man a man in spiritual 
 a* in visual darkness. War in heaven ! Gertrude, does 
 not that strike you as horrible blasphemy ?" 
 
 "No, it don't." 
 
 " Well ! we will not argue that question now. Now, 
 Gertrude, is that all your reading ?" 
 
 " Yes, I believe so." 
 
 "You should read history, and travels, and voyage*, 
 Bertrade." 
 
 "Oh, I do."
 
 THE GERFALCON. 829 
 
 " Ah, that is well. What history and whose travels do 
 you read." 
 
 "Oh, I read the history of Jack the Giant-Killer, and 
 Gulliver's Travels, and the Voyages of Sinbad the Sailor. 
 Hash 1 what are you laughing at, boy ! If yon laugh so 
 loud as that, you'll make your uose bleed no, I mean youi 
 wound." 
 
 The young man was, in fact, laughing very heartily. 
 
 " Come I I shall get mad. I think it is very improper 
 for boys to laugh at their elders." 
 
 " I beg your pardon, dear Gertrude. Now, go on with 
 your reading." 
 
 " I won't , there now ! You have put me out, and so 
 you may just do without it." 
 
 44 I submit, dear Gertrude," said the young man, in hia 
 mellifluous tones. 
 
 Gertrude looked at him, with her blazing eyes a little 
 softened. 
 
 41 Oh, I'll read to you," then she said. 
 
 "No, Gertrude." 
 
 " Oh, but I will." 
 
 14 I will not hear you now, Gertrude." 
 
 " But I was only joking, my boy." 
 
 "Nevertheless, 1 will not trouble yon." 
 
 44 You are angry ! that's what you are 1" exclaimed the 
 Amazon, bursting into fury, throwing down the book, and 
 sending it with her foot to the opposite end of the room. 
 44 Yes, you are angry ! thaPs what you are. Now, if yen 
 are angry, why don't you quarrel and have done with it, 
 and then hear the reading. Why don't you quarrel, and 
 not lay there saying ' No,' and ' No,' in your flute tones, to 
 make me miserable. I never was crossed in my life, and I 
 won't be crossed now and made miserable by a refractory 
 boy I and I'll let you know, sir, that your tutor is in the 
 kouse, and, if you d~ not behave yotrself, he shall come np
 
 ISO THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 and gire you a lesson in Greek. Why don't you quarrel, 
 hey ? What are you sulking about ? If you are angry, 
 why don't you quarrel ? You won't ? Well, I don't care 
 a dumb devil is better than a talking one I" 
 
 " Gertrude 1" 
 
 The two syllables fell on her ears like two low, sweet* 
 IW1 music notes. She wheeled abruptly round to see him 
 looking at her with his large, tender eyes. With a quick 
 rernlsion of feeling, Gertrude burst into tears, and hurried 
 toward him, covering him with caresses. 
 
 " Poor boy ! poor boy ! It is I who am a barbarian T 
 but then I always was so used to Brutus. He quarrels back 
 again, and we get our accounts evenly balanced. So I am 
 not fit to deal with a gentle* boy like you." 
 
 " Let us now return to the subject of your books. " 
 
 " Shall I read to you ?" 
 
 "No!" 
 
 " Oh ! yon won't let me do that. You are stubborn." 
 
 "What other books have you read ?" 
 
 "None others at all, except the heathen mythology." 
 
 " And you like that ?" 
 
 " Oh I very much indeed. The schoolmaster used to tell 
 as that these heathen fables were a bunch of keys that 
 each fable was a key to unlock the mystery of some truth, 
 tf we would but fit the key into the right lock." 
 
 "Who brought you up, Gertrude ?" 
 
 11 Nobody ! I came up of myself." 
 
 " Who educated you ?" 
 
 "The schoolmaster." 
 
 " Satisfactory that" 
 
 " If you mean who raised me, Brutus did." 
 
 " Only Brutus ?" 
 
 "Yes ! that is, we were left in charge of an old grand- 
 incie, but he fell into dotage before I can remember. Bra* 
 fcu took eare of :
 
 THE eiBrALooir. SSI 
 
 "Ah I that explains everything. So yon never had a 
 mother's or any female relation or friend's care in your in- 
 fancy and childhood." 
 
 " I had an old black nurse, who used to curse and shake 
 me when she got angry, and smother me with offensive ca- 
 resses when she was in a good humor, until I got big 
 enough to scratch and bite, and resist, and then Brutus took 
 me away from her, and took care of me himself." 
 
 " How old are you, Gertrude ?" 
 
 "I am nineteen." 
 
 " How old where you when your mother died f" 
 
 " My mother died the same hour that I was born ; my 
 father dted four years after." 
 
 " Poor girl 1" 
 
 " But, poor boy, are you sure that you are not hurt by 
 my rudeness ? Oh, I am so sorry about it ! I would not 
 hurt you again for the world. Say, are you sure ?" 
 
 The youth pressed her hand affectionately as an answer; 
 then 
 
 "Who are your friends and companions, Gertrude 7" 
 
 "Oh, I don't know; almost every body in the county 
 knows uie. They don't like me, I believe, but that is be- 
 cause they don't know how well I like them, and I have not 
 time to teach them." 
 
 " Then you are no favorite in your neighborhood 7" 
 
 "N-no. You see the young men give me nicknames 
 call me the Gerfalcon, and what not ; and old men bob their 
 chins down in their neckcloths, draw down the corners of 
 their mouths, and look at me over the tops of their spec- 
 tacles ; and young ladies glance over their shoulders, avert 
 their eyes, and whisper together when I come among 
 them." 
 
 "Bo you have no friends, Gertrude, besides baring BO 
 relations 7" 
 
 " Oh, bleu you, yes these people are not
 
 832 THl MOTHER-IN LAW. 
 
 only they do not know how to lake me, yon tee ; and for 
 friends, I have one very dear friend little Zoo, who broiig 
 your partridges ; only I don't intend to let Brutus marry 
 her; and there is Britannia, who does ine justice. Ah, by 
 the way, you said you knew Britannia ; how did you know 
 kerf" 
 
 "She is my cousin." 
 
 "She your cousin ! Ah, now that you tell me, I declare 
 I see a resemblance. Your hair and eyes are bluish, black, 
 like hers only that her cheeks and lips are of rich carna- 
 tion, and yours are so pale oh, so very pale," said Gertrude, 
 her eyes softening, as she laid her hand upon the pallid fore- 
 head of the youth, " so pale. Oh, how could i have been 
 uch a bear as to growl at you, my poor boy ! Ah, well, you 
 came down here to see Brighty as your cousin ?" 
 
 "Yes, dear nurse." 
 
 "Won't you tell me something about yourself, now?" 
 
 " Yes, dear Gertrude, and more than you expect to hear, 
 perhaps : 
 
 "Gertrude, in the neighborhood where I was born and 
 brought up, in Ireland, there are hundreds of miserable men 
 and women living in mud huts, on lumps of hard ground, 
 spattered about (so to speak) through a vast morass. This 
 great marsh is all that is left of the once valuable estate of 
 Clonraachnois. The Earl of Clonmachnois died last winter 
 in extreme poverty, leaving nothing but the marsh, the 
 ruined house, and the empty title to his heirs. The sole 
 heiress of this swamp, ruin, and coronet, is my cousin, Bri- 
 tannia O'Riley. Before the death of the old Earl, I used 
 to walk about the margin of that vast bog, and saying to 
 myself ' Here are hundreds of men, women, and children, 
 tarving in idleness ; here are hundreds of acres of ground, 
 producing nothing bnt malignant fevers ; if these acrei 
 were drained they could be made to support thia population ; 
 there ii work to be done, and people starving for the
 
 THE GERFALCON. 883 
 
 of work ; it only needs capital to adjust the one want to 
 he other.' I was wealthy ; I would gladly have purchased 
 this bog from the old Earl, and with my own means, have 
 set the peasantry to work, and drained it or filled it up. 
 That would have given the starving people present work 
 and wages, and opened a fair prospect in the future to all 
 concerned. 
 
 " Unfortunately for my project, the old Earl refused to 
 part with any more of his acres. When he died, I wevii 
 immediately to London saw a relative who was in tho 
 cabinet related to him all my plans and wishes for my 
 native parish, and received from him the suggestion of 
 seeking out and marrying the heiress, and then applying 
 for the reversion of the title, which would give me a seat in 
 the House of Peers, and so greatly facilitate my dearest 
 projects for Ireland. At first, Gertrude, I revolted at the 
 idea of looking up an heiress for the sake of marrying her ; 
 but after much thought, I decided that, as my heart was 
 really free, as the happiness of hundreds defended upon 
 my getting possession of that marsh, that I would seek out 
 the young heiress; and, if I should love her, and be so 
 happy as to win her love, that I would offer her my hand 
 and fortune. Having gained a clue to the young lady's 
 residence, I obtained, through ray relative, an appointment 
 as attache to the present embassy ; came out, and, through 
 an advertisement, discovered the abode of my cousin, and 
 came and found her sufficiently beautiful, elegant, and ac- 
 complished, to grace the highest circles, and found her, 
 only to see her marry another." 
 
 Gertrude had been silent all this time At last, sighing 
 lastly like a rising gale, she asked 
 
 "And did you did you did you fall in love with 
 Brighty?" 
 
 "Why no," smiled the youth, "not precisely. I had 
 tome aerial castles, it u true, but," thett, sighing
 
 SS4 THK MOTHJCR-IN-LJLW. 
 
 deeply, said, " it is a serious disappointment to me tht 
 downfall of my hopes for Ireland." 
 
 Gertrude re-echoed his sigh. Gertrude was puzzled also. 
 She could not reconcile the delicate features and complex- 
 ion, the almost infantile clearness of brow, with the manl 
 discourse of her patient. SLe did not call him " my boy 
 again, and she did not caress him after that. At last 
 Yentnred to say, 
 
 " I wodner how old you are ?" 
 
 The young man smiled again, as he looked gently at her, 
 and replied, 
 
 " I am twenty -two 1" 
 
 " Twenty-two ! No, you can't be. Louis Stuart-Gor- 
 don is only eighteen, and he looks much older than you do." 
 
 " That is because he is an American, and I am an Irish- 
 man. Even children's faces dry and wrinkle in your dry 
 climate, while men and women retain an infantile freshness 
 and softness of complexion long past middle age, in the 
 climate of England and Ireland." 
 
 " Your countenance is very fair and clear, and oh I yon 
 have one beautiful place on your face." 
 
 "Where, Gertrude?" 
 
 " Oh 1 just between your eyebrows, so open, so clear so 
 benignant ; it reminds one of celestial arches, of rainbowi, 
 and of angels." 
 
 The furious yelling of the dogs started Gertrude to her 
 feet. She ran to the window. 
 
 " What is the matter with them, Gertrude 1" 
 
 "It is the bailiff," she exclaimed, her color rising, her 
 eyes sparkling, as she fastened from the room. " It U thi 
 bailiff Now FOB IT. GLO*T 1"
 
 CHAPTER XXTIII. 
 
 THE T*0 ATTAOHMKNTi. 
 
 Wonldrt be*rd the lion In hit lair 
 Th tlgrww la her denT Scott. 
 
 "WmcN srtrude reached the hall, she found Zoe standing 
 midway its length, with the two bloodhounds crouched at 
 her feet. She had just called them off the bailiff, who waa 
 now standing just within the door, his hat in his hand. 
 Without deigning to notice him, Gertrude walked straight 
 up to the standing rack, and taking her riding-whip down, 
 began to crack it for pastime, just as a lady would open 
 and shut her fan, or a dandy would twiddle his cane for 
 amusement. The bailiff bowed hemmed loudly twice or 
 thrice to attract her attention, but Gertrude went on fling- 
 ing out the lash of her whip and bringing it up with a loud 
 report, while her fine, transparent nostrils expanded and 
 quivered with spirit. 
 
 " Beg your pardon, mum ! but you are Miss Lion, I pre- 
 lurae f " 
 
 11 Sir, you are very presuming 1" exclaimed Gertrude, with 
 tartling, supercilious surprise, and glancing at the intruder 
 from head to foot. Apparently used to rebuffs, the bailiff 
 proceeded, without embarrassment, to say 
 
 u You harbor a girl here who goes by the name of Zoe." 
 " I harbor a fellow here whose name I do not know." 
 "Excuse me, mam ! my name is Jones." 
 " And a very pretty name it is, too isn't it Zoe ?" 
 "Ah, Zoe I That is the girl, is it ? Well, Miss Lion, 
 I lure an attachment for this girl." 
 
 * IncU>d, hare yoa, til ? ReftUy, how condescending M 
 
 (06)
 
 S36 THE MOTHEtt-IN-LAW. 
 
 yonr part I how flattering to her ! Do you hear, Zoe f 
 This gentleman declares that he has an attachment for yon. 
 What do you say to it, Zoe ? Can you bid him hope ? He 
 is a nice-looking young man enough a trifle bandy-legged 
 and club-footed ; a trifle round-shouldered, and a wee-bit 
 cross-eyed ; not fair to look upon in particular, and rather 
 hard-favored in general ; still, no doubt, he has an excellent 
 heart at least his attachment does him credit ! What do 
 you say to him, Zoe ?" Unable to comprehend this scene, 
 Zoe gazed from one to the other, in distressing embarrass- 
 ment. " You see, Mr. Jones, Zoe and myself proper 1 .] 
 appreciate the honor you have done us, while we gratefallj 
 decline your attachment. I am afraid, indeed, that in Zoe'i 
 case there is a prior attachment ; we, therefore, decline 
 yours, with many thanks, and with a high appreciation of 
 its value. We think it does honor to your intellect and 
 affections 1" said Gertrude, with scathing irony. The bailiff 
 was confused. Making an effort to recover himself, he 
 said 
 
 "Miss Lion, you cannot affect to misunderstand that I 
 come at the suit of Cassinoe & Co., clothiers, Peakville." 
 
 " Oh-h-h ! sure enough ; he don't speak for himself. 
 Modest soul 1 He presses another man's suit ; he is not 
 courting on his own hook. He is not Cupid himself only 
 Cupid's messenger I It's a merchant-tailor that has fallen 
 in love with you, Zoe I" 
 
 "Miss Lion, I say that I have an attachment for thi? 
 girl." 
 
 " Oh, you have. Just now it was Cassinoe & Co. now 
 It's you! Poor fellow, love has turned his brain ; he doesn't 
 know what he is talking abont. Presently, he won't know 
 which end he is standing on." 
 
 " Miss Lion, I repeat it, I have an attachment for thii 
 girl, and shall proceed to serve it." 
 
 " I think you won't, sir To say nothing Df ray brothei'i
 
 THK TWO ATTACHMENTS. 337 
 
 prior attachment, I have an attachment for this girl that 
 will be likelv to stand in your way." 
 
 " Miss Lion, I attach Zoe Wood as the property of Misi 
 Susan Somerville, and at the suit of Cassinoe & Co., cloth- 
 iers, Peakville 
 
 " Oh, you do. Well, / attach Zoe Dove as the be- 
 trothed of my brother, at the suit of Brutus Lion, lover 
 and avenger ! and we'll see whose attachment is the 
 stronger !" exclaimed Gertrude, her bosom visibly heav- 
 ing her nostrils quivering. The bailiff walked up to Zoe, 
 and touched her on the shoulder. 
 
 " HANDS OFF 1" shouted Gertrude, bringing the loaded 
 end of her riding-whip down upon the floor with the force 
 of a hammer on the anvil, the walls resounding with the 
 report. The bailiff involuntarily started back. 
 
 "Come here, Zoe," said Gertrude, holding out her arms 
 for the child. The poor girl the victim of a vague terror 
 fled to her protector. Gertrude, with flashing eyes, 
 raised the end of her whip, menacing the bailiff, while she 
 encircled the waist of Zoe by one arm, and laid the head 
 of Zoe gently on her own broad, soft bosom. 
 
 " There, there, there, there, don't ba trifled, Zoe ; no. 
 thing shall hurt you, Zoe. I'll horse-whip the fellow within 
 an inch of his life, if he does but lay his hand on you again, 
 o I will." 
 
 "Miss Lion, are you aware that you are transgressing 
 the law P. 
 
 " Mr. Bailiff, I don't care a fox's brush for any law but 
 the ten commandments. 
 
 "Don't you know thht in harboring a slave you expos* 
 yourself to " 
 
 " Mr. Jones, your way home lies straight out behind you. 
 I give you two minutes' grace ; and if at the end of that 
 time you are not out of this hall, I'll put you out I" ex- 
 claimed Gertrude-, her bosom heaving Mke the ocean
 
 888 THK MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 in a tempest, her lips quivering, her nostrils distended, hef 
 eyes flashing, sparkling, and scintillating, as though they 
 would explode. 
 
 " Miss Lion, do you know, are you aware, that you are 
 threatening an officer of the law ?" 
 
 " Ha, ha, ha, ha I ha, ha, ha 1 Yes, and if an ' officer 
 of the law' don't take himself out of my sight in double 
 quick time, I'll take an ' officer of the law ' by the nape of 
 his neck and the straps of his pantaloons, and throw an 
 'officer of the law' over the precipice. You know me, sir. 
 lam Gertrude Lion!" 
 
 " I know, and the county knows, Miss Lion, that you 
 are one who sets at defiance all the laws of delicacy proper 
 to your sex." 
 
 " Hear the fellow, Zoe. Arn't you ashamed of being a 
 woman, Zoe, when every ' critter ' who sticks his spindle- 
 shanks into a pair of ragged pants, thinks himself invested 
 with the robes of a judge, and entitled to pronounce 
 upon what is delicate and proper for the sex. Whewl 
 what a famous thing it must be to be a man ! One might 
 be a great empress, a great actress, a great poetess. But 
 what's all that to being a little ' man 1' But this par paren- 
 thesis. I waste time. Come 1 Your two minutes are up, 
 lir. To the right about -forward march /" commanded 
 Gertrude. 
 
 Deep thunder seemed to reverberate around the feet of 
 the Amazon. It w,a the low growls of her two bloodhounds, 
 that crouched on either side of their mistress. They lay 
 with their fore paws extended, their large heads laid upon 
 them, their great red eyes glowing like balls of fire. They 
 heard the altercation, and instinctively longed to spring at 
 the throat of the intruder. Gertrude looked down, and no- 
 ticed them for the first time. She smiled, laughed, crowed, 
 shouted with delight as she looked at them. Then turning 
 to the bailiff, she said" See here, Mr. ' Officer of UM law,'
 
 TMB TWO ATTACHMENTS. 118 
 
 I am going to count ten just ten and please the patient 
 Lord I if you don't get out of here before I get to ten, it 
 will go very badly with you ; for, as soon as I get to ten, I 
 hall say, ' Seize him, Thunder I Seize him, Lightning!'" 
 
 Before she had said another word, mistaking her threat 
 for a command, the bloodhounds made a spring at the bai- 
 liff, who turned and fled, they pursuing him, they gaining 
 OB him down the hill. 
 
 "Good Heaven I he'll be torn to pieces !" exclaimed Zoe, 
 in terror, while Gertrude fled out to recall the dogs. In 
 ten minutes she returned followed by them. 
 
 "And now," she said, "my dear Zoe, you must be put 
 in a place of safety. I can't whip six men, and there is no 
 doubl that six or eight will return here this afternoon. I 
 did not believe it I mean the worst of it. No, I did not 
 dream it could be true, else I would have had you safe from 
 this fright before this time!" 
 
 " Bat, dear Gertrude, what is it, then ? Can they take 
 me up for father's debts ?" 
 
 " My dear Zoe, my dear little one, it is all a mistake. 
 Have confidence in me, and rest easy until Brutus returns, 
 and then all will be well. Zoe, promise to obey me in all 
 things until Brutus comes, will you ?" 
 
 "But my father!" 
 
 " My dear Zoe, the hand of extreme age has fallen on 
 your father's head, calming his brain to infantile repose. 
 Do not disturb him, and he will not interfere with you," 
 
 " Well, I will promise you, Gertrude." 
 
 " Then, Zoe, go now, and make yourself up a little bundle 
 f provisions, to last one day. Pack up a pillow and a 
 beet into as small a compass as possible ; then put on your 
 bonnet, and come down here while I go and catch Borealis \ n 
 
 Greatly wondering, Zoe went and did the bidding of her 
 protectress. By the time she had returned to the hall, Gr- 
 trad* had saddled Bc-ealis, atd denned her own riding oap
 
 140 1HE MOTHER-IK-LAW. 
 
 Mounting her horse, and taking Zoe before her, she can- 
 tered down the precipice, through the valley, up the ridge 
 of rocks to Mad River passage, and took the path down 
 the same frightful gorge that had witnessed the wreck of the 
 wtrriage. 
 
 " Where are yon taking me, Gertrude ?" 
 
 " My dear child to a place of safety. Don't ask any 
 more questions wait till Brutus comes home have faith in 
 me I am the most disinterested friend you have in the 
 world, except your poor old father, who cannot help you." 
 
 Zoe asked no more quehtion until they got to the grotto. 
 Gertrude put her down, dismounted herself, and led her into 
 the cavern. 
 
 "You are not a coward, Zoe ?" 
 
 "Oh, no." 
 
 " Not afraid to stay by yourself all night 7" 
 
 " Oh, no. I have been used to it all ray life, when father 
 would stay away all night with Major Somerville." 
 
 "Well, this is a safer place, under all circumstances, than 
 the Dovecote. It is safe because it is inaccessible that is 
 to every body but me. Zoe, my child, you must stay here 
 for a few days. I will bring you clothes, food, fruit, and 
 books, and pictures and every thing to amuse your solitude ; 
 and I will come two or three times to see yon. And you need 
 not confine yourself to this cavern, but can wander at will 
 through all this glen, for it is perfectly safe and inaccessible," 
 
 "Thank you, dear Gertrude. But if you will bring me up 
 my needle, and thimble, and scissors, and my little work-bas- 
 ket, with the hexagon quilt, I shall not be lonesome. And, 
 Gertrude, don't forget to feed my Bantam hens withltdian- 
 meal dough and be sure you don't forget to tuck father op 
 warm when he goes to bed." 
 
 " I will remember everything, Zoe. And now I must re 
 torn to my poor patient, who is alone, you know. I will re-
 
 THE TWO ATTACHMENTS. 341 
 
 turn again this evening. Qood-by, Zoe !" she said, stop- 
 ing and kissing her. 
 
 " Good-by, Gertrude !" 
 
 " God bless you, child I" 
 
 " And you too, Gertrude !" 
 
 Aui the friends parted. 
 
 The bailiff returned to Pcaksville, breathing vengeance 
 against the audacious Amazon. He would have a writ out 
 against her. He would have her arrested, he swore in hii 
 wrath. Somewhat cool and exhausted by his long walk 
 back, however, and upon cooler reflection, he decided not 
 to take any further notice of the matter, feeling very doubt- 
 ful of its final issae, and having a shrewd suspicion that he 
 would not figure to much advantage in the business added 
 to which was the knowledge that Brutus Lion was not a 
 man to be enraged with impunity, he contented himself 
 with the design of returning the next day to The Lair, with a 
 posse comilatus, to take the girl. 
 
 On the next day, as Gertrude was waiting on her patient, 
 the sound of many feet was heard in the hall below, accom- 
 panied by the furious barking and yelping of dogs, and rat- 
 tling of blows. 
 
 "It is a descent, or rather an ascent, of the Goths and 
 Vandals," exclaimed Gertrude, laughing ; " however, I am 
 ready for them," and she marched below. The hall was half 
 full of men. The two dogs were kept at bay. 
 
 " Ha, ha ! ha, ha, ha I Really, gentlemen, there is 
 strength in numbers," shouted Gertrude as she bounced into 
 the midst of the room,, flung her torrent of hair behind her, 
 and let fly her blazing eyes over the circle. 
 
 " Ha, ha ! ba, ha, ha ! Try to keep each other in heart do 
 ru>w ; for I do not know what I should do with seven fainting 
 men. Oh, don't be alarmed ; I won't tread on you ! I am al- 
 ways careful when I walk among ants. See, there are seven of 
 you 1 Seven men come to take one little girl out of tka 
 21
 
 842 THl MOTHBB-IV.LJLW. 
 
 of one big girl I Lord-'a-mercy I dear me, what heroiiml 
 Seven of you. You remind me of the Seven Champions of 
 Christendom. You're an honor to your native country. 
 Seven of you ! seven heroes ! Lord, if Brutus had been 
 home, you'd have come seven hundred. Seven hundred he- 
 roes I What a gallant army 1" 
 
 " Miss Lion," said the deputy sheriff, advancing from the 
 group, " we have come to search the house for a girl by the 
 name of Zoe, and, with your leave, we will proceed." 
 
 "And pray, sir, who are you ?" 
 
 Her scornful eyes crawled over him from head to foot 
 
 " I aia the deputy sheriff of county." 
 
 " Oh I Mister Deputy Sheriff of county, I am so 
 
 proud to make your acquaintance ! Mister Deputy Sheriff 
 
 of county, I am a hero- worshiper; and I have, thig 
 
 morning, for the first time, heard of your heroic exploits at 
 The Crags. How, with a posse at your back, you coura- 
 geously made an onslaught upon three feeble women and a 
 weak old man how manfully you terrified the two women 
 to death, and how valiantly you in single combat knocked 
 the aged man down I how you bound and carried him off iu 
 triumph in company with his wife. Oh-h wonderful Mis- 
 ter Deputy Sheriff of county, my poor house is im- 
 mortalized by your visit ! The ground you tread is classic 
 ground !" declaimed Gertrude, waving her hand theatrically. 
 
 Every one laughed. The brow of the deputy sheriff 
 liaison ed. 
 
 " Miss Lion, your pride and scorn are not to interrupt 
 me in the discharge of my duty. I proceed to its execution. 
 Gentlemen, follow me." 
 
 " Mister Deputy Sheriff, I do yon homage I" exclaimed 
 Gertrude, grounding her riding-whip, and bending her head 
 in mockery. 
 
 A peal of laughter br ,ke from the crowd. The deputy 
 sheriff rushed out in a rage. Gertrude sprang to her feet, 
 flboatiif with laughter.
 
 fMK TWO ATTAOHMI5TI $4* 
 
 The icarch was made unsuccessfully, of course ; and, at 
 fee end of the circuit of the house, the whole party returned 
 to the hall, where Gertrude again mercilessly opened upon 
 them her battery of sarcasm. 
 
 Just as they were preparing to depart, horse's feet were 
 heard rapidly approaching, and Brutus Lion was seen to 
 throw himself from his saddle and stride into the room. 
 
 " What's all this ? what the devil is all this, Gertrude ?" 
 he exclaimed, looking around him in astonishment and anger. 
 
 " Oh ! it is Mister Deputy Sheriff and his myrmidons 
 come to take Zoe. It takes seven of them to do it, you 
 gee ! and they have not succeeded." 
 
 " Where is Zoe ?" exclaimed the giant, trembling in his 
 Pessian boots. 
 
 " Ah I that's what Mr. Deputy Sheriff would be glad to 
 find out." 
 
 " Then they have not arrested her." 
 
 " Arrested her ! Pooh ! am / not her keeper ? Had 
 Susan Somerville been me, Mister Deputy Sheriff would not 
 have marched off with flying colors from The Crags." 
 
 " Then Zoe is safe, Gertrude ?" 
 
 "Yes! Zoe is safe." 
 
 "Thank God I" 
 
 " Now, Brutus, don't turn a Miss Molly on my hands. 
 8'pose she hadn't been safe. S'pose she'd been in danger. 
 Could not you have rescued her ?" 
 
 "Gertrude, my dear sister," said Brutus, without noticing 
 her epeech, but taking a packet from his pocket, "here, 
 take this letter up to your patient it is from some of his 
 friends in England and tell him I will wait on him in the 
 coarse of the evening." 
 
 Gertrude took the letter and ran up stairs. 
 
 " Now, Mr. Power, I will speak with you alone, if JOB 
 please I" said Brutus, beckoning the deputy sheriff into an- 
 ether i^om " At whose suit have you attached this girl ?"
 
 844 THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 "At the suit of Cassinoe & Co., clothiers, Peakville." 
 
 " How much is the debt ?" 
 
 "One hundred and seventy-fire dollars." 
 
 " I assume it. Come with me to Peakville, where tht 
 business can be legally arranged !" and, without another 
 word, Brutus Lion remounted his horse, and rode rapidly 
 to Peakville, followed by the posse, most of whom had 
 come to the Lair rather from curiosity than necessity. 
 
 In an hour, Brutus Lion had arranged the transfer of th 
 liabilities, and again mounting his horse he galloped fu- 
 riously towards The Crags, saying " Now to purchase 
 the freedom of this poor girl, before another writ of attach- 
 ment at the suit of some other creditor is served upon her." 
 
 He reached The Crags, threw himself from his horse, and 
 entered the sitting-room. 
 
 What a scene of misery met his eyes. A corpse was laid 
 out on trestles in the midst of the room. It was covered 
 by a snow-white sheet, that, clinging closely to the body, 
 revealed its deathly rigidity. By its side sat one solitary 
 mourner, clothed in black, her arms extended over the body, 
 her head fallen upon her arms, in an attitude and expression 
 of hopeless grief. 
 
 Brotus approached reverently 
 
 " Miss Somerville." 
 
 The mourner did not seem to heai. 
 
 " My dear Miss Somerville." 
 
 " Oh 1" moaned Susan, without moving. 
 
 " My dear Miss Somerville, I am grieved, deeply grieved, 
 to see you sorrowing thus." 
 
 The mourner raised her head, revealing a face frightfully 
 mvaged by grief. 
 
 "Look there I oh, look there! She is dead dead I 
 They said it was disease of the heart ! enlargement of th 
 heart They were right. Oh, yes 1 they were right. Her 
 kMrt fillffi ud filled with sorrow, till it could hold uo Bore,
 
 HIS TWO ATTACHM1N1S. S45 
 
 and then her strong heart broke it broke! Anna! Anna!" 
 and, with convulsive but tearless sobs, down went her arms 
 again upon the form of the dead. 
 
 Tears filled the eyes of Brutus Lion. At any other time, 
 and under any other circumstances, he would have left the 
 mourner alone with her dead ; but now, for the sake of the 
 living, he was forced to intrude upon this sacred sorrow. 
 In order to shorten the business as much as possible, Brutus, 
 before leaving Peakville, had taken the precaution to get a 
 bill of sale drawn up, ready for signature, and to draw his 
 money from the bankers ; so that what he now had to do 
 was very simple to make Miss Somerville understand that 
 Zoe was her property, to gain her consent to the sale, and 
 her signature to the deed. Again he reverently addressed 
 the mourner 
 
 " My dear Miss Somerville, I am very, very sorry for the 
 cruel necessity that compels me to intrude on your sacred 
 grief, but the welfare of a fellow-creature depends upon my 
 gaining your attention. Can you give it to me for a few 
 minutes, a very few minutes ?" 
 
 Moans only answered him. 
 
 Brutus laid his hand upon her hand, to attract her attem- 
 tion, as he said with deep earnestness 
 
 " Miss Somerville, listen to me 1 The vital interest of 
 Zoe Dove hangs upon this hour ! The happiness of her 
 whole life depends upon my gaining your attention for a few 
 minutes. Will you hear me ?" 
 
 And, taking her hand, he led her unresisting to the seat 
 at the window. 
 
 Then, sitting down by her, he told her the whole story 
 of Zoe, as the reader knows it. He told her in a very few 
 words. Susan heard it with all the apathy of deep sorrow. 
 She expressed no inrprise ; she felt none. Her deep grief 
 ghut out every other emotion. Brutus now proposed to 
 purchase Zoe. He lad to repeat this proposition sem*!
 
 646 THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 times before Susan, preoccupied by her sorrows, could b 
 made to understand and receive it. Then, speaking slowly 
 and brokenly, like one trying to break the spell of an over- 
 mastering thought, she said 
 
 "But if she is mine, as you say, I will free her at once." 
 
 " But my dear Miss Soraerville, that will not do. To 
 emancipate her would require time and trouble. In the 
 meanwhile, another writ of attachment, at the suit of some 
 other creditor, would be served on her, and your benevolent 
 designs defeated. What I propose is the only safe ay. 
 It is very easy. Here is the deed. You have only to write 
 your name at the bottom, and she is mine she is safe. 
 Come, Miss Somerville, do it," pleaded Brutus, putting the 
 pen in her listless fingers, and laying the deed before her. 
 
 "Well, well; as you think best." 
 
 And, scarcely conscious of what she did, Susan Somer- 
 rille wrote her name at the bottom of the bill of sale, and 
 Zoe became the property of Brutus Lion. 
 
 Susan Somerville tottered back to her seat by the corpse, 
 threw her arms across the body, dropped her head on them 
 as before, in the abandonment of profound sorrow. 
 
 Brutus Lion sprang into his saddle and galloped towards 
 The Lair. 
 
 That evening, Gertrude hastened to the grotto, and 
 brought back Zoe in triumph to The Lair. That night, 
 Brutus, Gertrude, and Zoe, were grouped around the 
 kitchen fire. 
 
 " Now, then, dear Gertrude, remember your promise, that 
 as soon as Brutus should return you would explain thii 
 mistake" 
 
 Gertrude looked at Brutus ; and Brutus, taking the hand 
 of Zoe in his own, began and slowly, cautiously, tenderly, 
 rtvealed to her the secret of hei birth, and her present con 
 ditioii. The shadows of the fire-light danced so fitfully
 
 THE TWa ATTACH MJBNT 8. 847 
 
 upon her face that he co; Id not see its expression while h 
 poke. He told her all aft. 
 
 At the conclusion of his story, Zoe remained silent, with 
 her hands clasped upon her lap, with her head bowed upon 
 her bosom. At last broke from her lips in passionate grief 
 these words 
 
 " Oh 1 my parents 1 my parents ! what misery this decep- 
 tion has made ! Oh ! that I had never been born I My 
 heart is breaking, breaking. Let me die, let me die now 
 I never shall look up again ; never ; no, never 1" and, over- 
 come by grief and shame, she a<tuk upon the floor and rolled 
 upon her face. 
 
 Gertrude and Brutus made a simultaneous spring to lift 
 her. Brutus caught her to his bosom, laid her head against 
 his chest, laid her arm up over his shoulder, and soothed 
 her. This kindness touched the fountain of her tears, and 
 she wept, long and freely. This weeping relieved her, af 
 weeping always does. Her grief expended itself as a rain- 
 cloud in showers. It is only quiet grief that kills, as in the 
 case of Anna. " Reaction equals action." At last, Zoe 
 looked up clearly through her tears, and said 
 
 " At least it is you who have bought me ; is it not, Bru- 
 tus ? Come, it is not so bad as it might have been. There 
 is comfort in all things, and at least I am to live with you 
 always, dear Brutus. And I am to cook you nice dishes 
 that you like, and to mend your clothes, and to make your 
 house comfortable, and to make you happy in many ways. 
 Indeed, it is not so bad, after all. It is not bad at all. 
 After all, it is nothing but the name ; only it came on me 
 like a shock ; and I was a little proud ; that's all. I shall 
 not be sad. People will say that the schoolmaster's adopted 
 daughter, who used to be so proud of her housekeeping, is 
 slave. Well ; I shall not hear them say it. I shall bt 
 here with Brutus; waiting on Brutus ; and I shall be happy. 
 Don't grieve for me, Brutus; indeed, I am not ui happy.
 
 848 THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 Do yon tnlnk that Zoe considers it snch a misfortune t be- 
 long to Brutus ? No, indeed. Corue ! don't weep, Bru- 
 tus ! dear Brutns ! I hate to see tears in manly eyes ;" 
 and she raised her apron and wiped away the tears from the 
 eyes of her great big lubberly nurse, who was quivering 
 with emotion like a mammoth blanc mange. 
 
 " Zoe, my child I" he said, " did you think I would hold 
 yon bound a moment longer than I could help ? Zoe, yon 
 should have been free to-day, but that the court-house was 
 closed before I had even completed the purchase. Zoe, 
 you shall be free to-morrow ; and then you must return with 
 your adopted father to the Dovecote." 
 
 " Must I leave you, Brutus ?" 
 
 " Zoe, my dear child, yes. You cannot be my wife, Zoe 
 and I will not make you my mistress ; and loving you as 
 I do, Zoe loving me as you do that would be your fate 
 if yon lived with me, dear child. Take her, Gertrude ;" 
 and pressing one passionate kiss upon her lips, he tossed 
 her in his sister's arms, and bounded from the room, 
 bounced into his chamber, where the great big fellow might 
 have been seen extended on his bed, sobbing, blowing, and 
 floncdering like a harpoc aed whale.
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 MRS. GENERAL STUART-GORDON AT BOMB 
 
 Oh, sweetly is bedeck 'd her bower, and gorgeously her hall* ; 
 
 Here treads the foot on springing buds, and there on yelvet fall*. 
 
 The massy tmrtain's graceful flow, the vase, the painting warm, 
 
 Those household echoes, mirrors bright, revealing the fair form ; 
 
 Exotics that perfume the air with odors sweet and strange, 
 
 And shells that far in foreign climes mid ocean wonders range, 
 
 With countless gifts of taste and art, In classic beauty rife, 
 
 Are laid upon her homestead snrine, and grace her daily life. (7. Gumm* 
 
 IT was autumn before the Stuart-Gordons returned to 
 The Isle of Rays. It was impossible to tell which were the 
 prouder General Stuart^Gordon of his brilliant young 
 bride, or Britannia of her grand old husband. She gloried 
 in him ; there is no error upon this subject it is the truth. 
 And he delighted in her ; brightening and gladdening in 
 her presence that is another truth. And The Isle of Rays 
 itself flashed, sparkled, and scintillated more splendidly thaa 
 ever, when illuminated by the presence of Britannia. Ai 
 for Louise, you know she was a ninny, and as for Louis, he 
 was a pale face ; the Island Palace was quite thrown away 
 upon them. They might wander among the groves and 
 arbors, with music and poetry, and such nonsense, all 
 day, but the halls and saloons of the Island Palace were 
 alone fitted for our grand General Stuart-Gordon and our 
 brilliant Britannia. Mrs. Armstrong might say as she 
 pleased, but her downy-hearted little Louise never could 
 have " done" the Island Palace. For my part, I think 
 each pair was well bestowed, and I sympathize with Brighty 
 and the General don't you ? Mrs. General Stuart-Gor- 
 6a cane home in state, and astonished the neighborhood
 
 160 fHB MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 with many innovations. A- new and splendid carriage WM 
 set up five Arabian horses purchased servants put in 
 livery three white domestics engaged, namely, a Parisian 
 girl as lady's maid, an English matron as housekeeper, and 
 a French cook. 
 
 What was the harm of it ? It was not extravagance. 
 General Stuart-Gordon could well afford twice the expendi- 
 ture. It made everybody happy, (except Mrs. Armstrong,) 
 it gave people employment, and circulated idle money. At 
 for the darkies, they were delighted with their new liveries 
 as ever raw recruits with new uniform, or baby boys with 
 their first breeches. 
 
 The day succeeding the arrival, the two ladies were 
 seated together in the luxurious boudoir of Britannia. 
 
 " In truth, my dear Louise, you could have done nothing 
 with this establishment without me. You would never 
 have thought of any improvements. You would have 
 received no suggestions from the gentlemen of the family. 
 Men are apathetic in domestic matters never think of re- 
 fining their own comforts, while yet they keenly relish these 
 comforts when quietly falling in their daily life. I admire 
 keen and delicate senses, as an evidence of perfect physical 
 development ; but I do not like to see a lofty mind always 
 debased in the service of these senses. I would not have 
 the General thinking always of his dinner, his lounge, and 
 his chibouque, though it gives me pleasure to see that he 
 enjoys them, when, in the slipping off of the hours, they 
 properly succeed physical or intellectual exertion." 
 
 Louise was pale, dispirited, disinclined to converse at all, 
 still less to cavil at anything Britannia might say or do. 
 
 " You are so pensive, Louise and you always are, even 
 by the side o: Louis. By thr way, where is the y)ang 
 gentleman thii morning ?" 
 
 " Gone over to The Crags to see Misa Somerville. Ht
 
 MBS. 8TU ABT-GORDON AT H O M 1. S51 
 
 leemed very anxious to meet her, and so be left me immedi- 
 ately after breakfast." 
 
 " I wish he would not go there," said Britannia ; then, 
 immediately repenting her hasty speech, she paused abruptly. 
 
 Louise looked at her with a slightly querulous expression 
 upon her pretty features, and asked 
 
 " Why, Britannia? why do you wish Louis would not 
 go there ?" 
 
 "My love, it is time to dress; some one will be calling 
 here to-day ; ring for Fleurine." 
 
 " But, Brighty, why do you wish Louis would not call at 
 The Crags ?" persisted Louise, glancing keenly, but fur- 
 tively, at Britannia's face. 
 
 Mrs. Stuart-Gordon turned her eyes full upon the face 
 of Louise, and, looking at her steadily, replied, slowly and 
 gravely 
 
 "Because Susan Somerville is a grief-stricken woman, 
 and the visit of a gay young bridegroom may be unwelcome, 
 as unsuitable." 
 
 Louise dropped her eyes beneath the steady rebuking 
 gaze, and sighed. 
 
 "Now, Mrs. Louis, will you please to dress for dinner?" 
 
 " Oh, Britannia, I will dress ; bnt I want to see my 
 mother so much." 
 
 11 The carriage is at your command, Mrs. Louis." 
 
 " Oh, Britannia, I cannot go alone. The General might 
 not like it Louis might not " 
 
 " I hope there is not a negro on this plantation as great 
 a slave as you are, Mrs. Louis. Why should they dislike 
 it ? Why should they stop you if they did ? You pay a 
 poor compliment to General and Mr. Stuart- Gordon. If 
 they disliked any act of yours, Louise, believe me, neither 
 would think of imposing a eingle restraint upon yonr 
 actions ; and, indeed, I should very much dislike to ide 
 them make the attempt. Poor little thing, you hare bees
 
 S52 THE MOTHEB-IN-LAW. 
 
 confined and fettered so long, that yon hare lost the use of 
 yourself. You ARE FREE. Can I not electrify you witfc 
 the fact into some life ? Pray use your freedom a little. 
 King and order your carriage at your own house ; and go 
 try it, to see how it will feel, Heavens, child I are you 
 all torpor f " 
 
 " Yes ; why don't you SWAGGER, Louise ? make a big fust 
 sail about the house order the servants order the 
 horses order the master himself make every body stand 
 around you, or pitch over each other, in their haste to do 
 your bidding ! Oh ! you'd see how Pd do it ! How do 
 you do, Brighty ?" exclaimed the Gerfalcon, who had 
 wooped suddenly down into this soft cushat's nest. 
 
 " How do you do, Miss Lion ? I am pleased to receive 
 you." 
 
 "Dear Gertrude, what a surprise I We did not hear you 
 come up." 
 
 " How could you hear me run up on these soft woolly 
 carpets? Lord, I wouldn't live in this house for two 
 General Stuart-Gordons. I couldn't make noise here ; if 
 one shouted, the sound would be smothered in satin and 
 down. What a place 1" 
 
 " Sit down, Gertrude." 
 
 " Can't. Don't like the looks of the house ; besides, I 
 was just going over to The Crags to see poor, dear Susan, 
 and I thought I would not pass you. I thought I would 
 just run up, and see you, Mrs. Staart-Gordon." 
 
 " You put quite a surprise upon us," said Britannia. 
 
 " A shock, why don't you say ? I 'spose I ought to have 
 rang. Lord, I never had patietce to wait until a servant 
 came to open the door, and a lady came down. I never 
 indulged Mrs. Armstrong even her High-loftineas { i 
 uch notions. Oh, have you seen your mother, Louise ?" 
 
 " Ok, BO, dear Gertrude ; I have not even heard
 
 MB. STUART-GORDON AT HOMS. 801 
 
 Mr for four months. Just to think of ;hat. How is ahe, 
 Gertrude ? Can you tell me ?" 
 
 " Mrs. Armstrong keeps very close house sees no on* 
 but the minister and the doctor " 
 
 " The doctor ! Is my mother in bad health ?' 
 "Well, no; I do not think so ; but having nothing elM 
 to amuse herself with, she thinks of nothing but herself- 
 her own body, and her own soul which is the reason I 
 suppose." 
 
 " Oh, Brighty, you hear. My mother in bad health." 
 " I do not believe it," said Mrs. Stuart-Gordon. 
 " Well, good by, good by ! I must go, I must go, I 
 should smother in sweets here. 
 
 " ' Some lore to roam o'er the wide sea foam, 
 
 Where the shrill winds whistle free, 
 
 Bat a chosen band in a mountain land, 
 
 And a home in the woods for me!' " 
 
 And singing and shouting, she ran and bounded down 
 stairs and out of the house. 
 
 " Oh, Brighty, do you mark that ? My mother in bad 
 health." 
 
 " I do not believe so, Louise. Her minister and physician 
 Tisit to amuse her, while they eat her dinners." 
 
 " Oh, Brighty, this family estrangement is killing to me ; 
 it is, indeed it is. Four months I have not heard from my 
 mother. I, her only child, who never left her an hour 
 during sixteen years. Oh, Brighty, go with me to see 
 ler." 
 
 " My dear Louise, I will attend you, if positively neces 
 sary, but my opinion is that you had better go alone. My 
 Tisit might not be acceptable." 
 
 "But, oh I Brighty, do go. Surely you owe that muck 
 to my mother." 
 
 " I sent her our cards yesterday ; she therefore knows that 
 we art at home."
 
 St4 THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 "That was a proud thing in you to do, Brightj." 
 
 "I was dealing with a proud woman." 
 
 " It would have been more friendly to have driven or* 
 to Mont Crystal this morning." 
 
 "Mrs. Armstrong should call here." 
 
 " Oh, Britannia, Britannia 1 do not cherish pride in view 
 of all God's bountiful blessings to you. Go with me to 
 Mont Crystal. Make the first advance yourself; yon are 
 the younger. This quarrel must be reconciled. It must 
 it must. It kills me. Oh, Britannia ! I am not strong ; I 
 suffer so much ; I eat nothing, scarcely ; I sleep but little, 
 and I am growing so feeble. I am sinking under it, Bri- 
 tannia. I shall die. Look how thin I am." And the poor 
 child turned up her muslin sleeves, and held up the two 
 slimmest little white wrists that ever were seen. 
 
 " Poor little arms 1 poor, dear little arms 1" said Brighty, 
 taking them and kissing them. Come sit in my lap, LOUISA 
 I want to pet you 1" and she held out her arms. Louise 
 dropped into them, sobbing. " Louis loves you so much, 
 my dear. You ought to be happy." 
 
 " Ah ! how can I while this estrangement lasts ? Oh I I 
 feel a sense of guilt, of treachery even, in the comfort I re- 
 ceive from Louis's affection." 
 
 " Sweet Providence ! was there ever such a perverted 
 head. You have been taught from your earliest infancy up, 
 as a religion, to worship your mother, only her, and have 
 been misled in respect to all your other womanly duties. 
 But, poor thing, I will not distress you. I will go with 
 you." And touching the bell, " Send Mrs. Louis's maid to 
 her dressing-room," she said to the servant who obeyed the 
 nmmons. The man bowed and withdrew. Now, love, go 
 make your toilet." 
 
 Britannia proceeded to make hers. In truth, Britannia 
 herself desired the reconciliation of the families. A house 
 divided against itself cannot stand. Britannia knew that th
 
 MBS. STUARTGORDON AT HOME. S55 
 
 horses of Mont Crystal and of The Isle of Rays were all- 
 powerful united ; that, divided, they parted the influenc* 
 over the neighborhood. Besides, Britannia saw that Gene- 
 ral Stuart-Gordon, whom she adored, was himself uneasy at 
 this estrangement, and she wished to see him comfortable 
 In addition to this Brighty rather admired Mrs. Armstrong 
 In some respects rather sympathized with her pride, and 
 cherished rather pleasant recollections of her late home at 
 Mont Crystal. The reader must have observed one pecu- 
 liarity of Brighty namely, the propensity to look on th 
 bright side of every event, and the fair side of every charac- 
 ter ; thus, though she perceived the darker traits of Mrs. 
 Armstrong's character, she never dwelt upon them in her 
 heart ; and though she had experienced some disagreeable 
 things at Mont Crystal, she only brought away with her its 
 pleasant memories. This was no happy system of philoso- 
 phy with Brighty ; it was simply her happy nature. And 
 then Britannia sympathized with Louise's sorrow, and with 
 Louis, as suffering with Louise. Lastly, Brighty, like her 
 old General, was too cordial-hearted not to like family, 
 peace and good-fellowship. But as there is a leaven of un- 
 righteousness in most human motives, so Brighty took a 
 little wicked, womanish pleasure in going in state to make 
 a visit of ceremony at the house from which she bad been 
 so summarily discharged fire months before. Britannia made 
 a grand toilet. Brighty became a rich and tastefui costume 
 perfectly. Her appearance was decidedly distinguished. 
 There was an ait or high-bred refinement in the expression 
 of her elegantly-chiseled profile in repose, and seen beyond 
 the edge of her white French hat and drooping plumes. 
 Never were satins, velvets, plumes, and cygnet down, Setter 
 bestowed than upon Britannia. Taking a little card-cast 
 o wrought gold in her hand, Brighty descended tbe stairs, 
 where she was soon joined by Louise. 
 Tkejwtered % carriage, and were d^ym to Mont Oryt-
 
 ftntt THE MOTHKB-IN-LAW. 
 
 tal. Hopes, fears, and anxieties in regard to her reception 
 torturing the heart of Lonise a little genial desire for fam- 
 ily amity, a little feminine exultation, agitating the bosom 
 of Brighty, as the carriage crossed the bridge between the 
 Wand and the shore, and wound up the hill, bringing them 
 in sight of the splendid front of Mont Crystal. The car* 
 riage drew up before the massive iron-bound green gate al- 
 ways kept closed. The porter opened it, and the carriage 
 drove up the broad avenue, flanked on each side by a row 
 of locust-trees, and stopped before the door. A footman 
 alighted from behind, and opened the door. The heart of 
 Louise paused in its beatings she could scarcely sit she 
 grew pale. Britannia gave her footman her card MRS 
 GENERAL STUART- GORDON. 
 
 " Take this to Mrs. Armstrong." 
 
 The man bowed his head and waited to receive that of 
 Mrs. Louis. 
 
 " Tell mother I'm here, and dying to see her," faltered the 
 half-fainting Louise. 
 
 The footman went up the broad marble steps, rung, sent 
 in the card. Brighty watched him from the carriage. She 
 snailnrl to herself, her cheeks flushed, her eyes danced. 
 
 " Oh I she will not receive us, I know perfectly well, 
 BOW," said Brighty. 
 
 Brighty was mistaken. " Mrs. Armstrong's compliments, 
 and she feeh grateful for Mrs. General Stuart-Gordon's call, 
 and begs that she will alight." 
 
 Brighty'ft heart smote her for pride, vanity, and injustice, 
 in an instant. 
 
 " What word did mother send to me what to me f " 
 aiked Louise, nervously. 
 
 The footman bowed " Nothing more, madam." 
 
 " Oh, Britannia 1 she is angry with me I why U fh a&jry
 
 MB*. ?UARX-aODON A 1 MOXB. 857 
 
 ' 3j r^rs, mere is some mistake ; your message wai cot 
 delivered. There is some mistake alight." 
 
 They descended from the carriage, and walked up tht 
 stain, Louise clinging, half-fainting, to the arm of Britannia. 
 They were shown into the west saloon the crimson draw- 
 ing-room ; and going down its whole length, they seated 
 themselves upon the crimson satin sofa in the recess of the baj 
 window. The eyes of Brighty sparkled as she remembered 
 that jnst six months before, seated on that very sofa, her 
 eyes had filled with tears at receiving offers of hospitality 
 from two poor girls, who pitied her poverty, and homeless 
 and friendless condition. What a splendid contrast to that 
 was her present condition. For Louise she thought of the 
 day when she sat upon that sofa a happy bride happy in 
 the love of her mother and her husband happy in the fath- 
 erly affection of General Stuart-Gordon, and in the friend- 
 ship of Britannia and her young companions. Who could 
 have foreseen the blight that fell upon her joy. The door 
 opened, and Mrs. Armstrong sailed in. 
 
 She always sailed her stately form, ample robes, aud 
 slow gliding step, forcibly suggested the idea of a frigate 
 under full sail. Louise arose to meet her, but growing very 
 weak, she sank again into her seat. Mrs. Armstrong ap- 
 proached, and offering her hand to Britannia, who rose re- 
 spectfully to receive her, she said 
 
 " I am happy to see yon, Mrs. Stuart-Gordon. Permit 
 me to offer you my best wishes for your happiness in yonr 
 new position." 
 
 Britannia curtsied, sat down, and said "I hope you 
 have been well since I had the pleasure of seeing you lad* 
 Mrs. Armstrong." 
 
 Quito well, I am much obliged to 700. Tour appear- 
 ance saves me the necessity of inquiring after your haalth, 
 and leaves me only the pleasure of congratulating JOB npoa 
 fthtutywt" Then turning to Lomiw, the arid
 
 858 THE MOTHEB-IN-LAW. 
 
 "My daughter!" 
 
 " My dear mother I" 
 
 They embraced Louise sobbed 
 
 " I cannot say the same for Mrs. Louis she does not 
 look well," said Mrs. Armstrong, sitting down in her eaay 
 ehair. 
 
 " I am sorry to admit that Mrs. Louis does not enjoy 
 good health. I have no doubt, however, that meeting with 
 you, madam, will restore her." 
 
 Mrs. Armstrong looked at her daughter again, and with 
 more scrutiny. She was more than ever impressed with th 
 fearful change in Louise's appearance. 
 
 " Come here, my daughter. Mrs. Stuart-Gordon, will 
 you excuse us ? You will find some admirable prints on 
 yonder table. I would have an interview with my daughter." 
 
 " Oh, certainly, certainly, Mrs. Armstrong. I am no 
 tranger at Mont Crystal." 
 
 Mrs. Armstrong left the room with her daughter. They 
 went up stairs, into her chamber. 
 
 " Well, my child, you are looking around upon this room, 
 what emotion does the view awaken in your bosom ?" 
 
 " Oh, mother ! mother !" exclaimed Louise, throwing her- 
 self upon the bosom of her mother. 
 
 They sat down upon a lounge. 
 
 "You are looking very thin and pale, Louise ?" 
 
 "Oh, mother I I have suffered so much." 
 
 " Is Louis kind to yon ?" 
 
 " Oh, mother I good as Heaven to me." 
 
 " And General Stuart-Gordon f " 
 
 " Pets me like a pet kitten, mamma." 
 
 "And Mrs. Siiart-Gordon ?" 
 
 " Treats me better than she treats herself. Nursw ra# M 
 though I were her baby, mamma." 
 
 " Too are very happy, then ?"
 
 MB 8. STUART-GORDON AT DOME, 669 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " Oh, mamma ! this estrangement 1" 
 
 " It is very serious, then, on their part. They apeak of 
 Bie with great aversion." 
 
 " Oh, no 1 dearest mamma ! there is no member of the 
 family who does not deplore it, I am sure ; who would not 
 do anything to heal the breach." 
 
 " You are looking very pale, Louise, but perhaps there 
 is a natural cause for this," said the dowager, taking her 
 hand, and looking in her face. 
 
 "Ma'am?" 
 
 Mrs. Armstrong put a question. 
 
 " Oh, no ! mamma ! no I no I" replied Louise, blushing 
 like a peony. " No ! no ; mamma ! nothing of the sort 1 
 It was the parting with you, mamma, without taking leave 
 of you. It was the not hearing from you for so long, 
 mamma. And you are looking haggard, mamma; you have 
 been sick." 
 
 "I have been sick at heart, Louise." 
 
 " My dear mother I" 
 
 " I have been alone, Louise." 
 
 " Oh, my dear mother, if you knew how glad I should 
 have been to have had you with us, or to have been with 
 you I" 
 
 " But, Louise, are you quite sure of what you tell me ?" 
 
 " Oh, very sure, dear mamma. Please don't ask me," 
 pleaded Louise, crimsoning with confusion. 
 
 " We will rejoin Mrs. Stuart-Gordon new. That waa all 
 I wished to ascertain," said the dowager, with a diabolical 
 mile, which was happily lost upon her daughter. 
 
 "And, mamma, this misunderstanding shall be recon- 
 ciled, shall it not ? 
 
 " Yes, my daughter, as far as it lies in my power." 
 
 11 Oh, thank you, dear, dear mamma I Now, now I ih%L 
 be happy again."
 
 160 TMl MOTHIR-IN-L1.W. 
 
 They went down-stairs, and entered the crimson drawing- 
 room. Britannia was standing at the table, looking orer 
 some prints. She tamed smilingly to meet the mother 
 and daughter. She saw nothing in Mrs. Armstrong's face, 
 always cold and impassible ; bat she saw in Louise'i radiant 
 yes that peace was about to be proclaimed. 
 
 "Mrs. Stuart-Gordon, hare you any engagement for to- 
 morrow ?" 
 
 " None, madam. Mrs. Louis and myself are perfectly at 
 jronr disposal to-morrow." 
 
 "Then I will waive ceremony, and dine at The Isle of 
 Bays to-morrow." 
 
 Britannia curtsied low, in acknowledgment of thii 
 grace Louise caught her mother's hand and raised it to 
 her lips. 
 
 " We shall be most happy to receive yon, madam," said 
 Britannia. 
 
 " Oh, mamma, Louis and the General will be so over- 
 joyed 1" 
 
 Soon alter, the ladies took their leave. 
 
 " A proud, presuming huzzy 1" exclaimed Mrs. Arm- 
 itrong, as the carriage rolled away. " llow dare she, 
 after ejecting my daughter from her full position in that 
 family how dare she come here, with her carriage and 
 liyeried servants, to insult me, and triumph over me ! My 
 ex-governesa ! I hate her hate her ! She blasts my sight I 
 I wish she were dead 1 I cannot bring about her death, 
 bnt I will see if she does not tramp from The Isle 
 of Rays. I think I have the lever by which to move her. 
 Yea, my lady Britannia, yon shall tramp. We want BO 
 eoond brood of children growing up on The Isle of 
 Rays." 
 
 Th carriage of the fitaart-Gordoni returned to the Il 
 of JUyi. The level beams of the setting sun were glancing 
 tbt .aland, as Uw carriage, recroMfng the bridge,
 
 MBS. ifUABT-GORDOH AT MOXK. Ml 
 
 irouad on tetween rows of cool shade- tree* around the cir- 
 cular road that led up to the front entrance of the Island 
 Palace. The whole front of crystal windows flashed back 
 in streams of dazzling light the very last rays of the level 
 an, as the carriage paused before the portals. 
 
 General Stuart-Gordon wua standing, smiling, on thfe 
 Marble steps, waiting to receive his ladies. He advanced 
 to meet them as they alighted 
 
 " Welcome home, ladies," he said, gladly, as he opened 
 his arms, and, receiving them both in one embrace, pressed 
 them together to his bosom. " You are radiating beanty 
 this evening, my lady Britannia !" he exclaimed, as Brighty, 
 just permitting him to touch her brow with his lips, sprung 
 gayly past him into the house. " And you, also, my little 
 Louise," he added, detaining her in her intended flight. 
 " One would say that something highly agreeable had hap- 
 pened to you." 
 
 " Oh ! there has there has ! I hare seen mother dear 
 mother 1 and it is all made up, and she is coming here to- 
 morrow. Are you not glad ?" 
 
 "You have just seen 'mother,' little darling. Well, 
 then, come and kiss father!" 
 
 " Oh, I will ! I will ! I will give you the kiss mothei 
 left upon my lips at parting. It shall be a peace-offering 
 a love-offering ; take it 1" and Louise clasped her arms 
 around his neck, and pressed her lips fervently to his. 
 
 " You are a sweet girl, Louise." 
 
 " But, oh ! did you hear me say that mother was coming 
 here to-morrow ?" 
 
 " Yes, love, I did ; and she shall have such a welcome as 
 shall make her forget everything unpleasant that has passed 
 between us ; and now, my dear, I must go and thank Brighty 
 for having taken you to Mont Crystal so soon." 
 
 " Has Louis returned !" 
 
 * No, darling, not ye* Now ran and yet ready for dta
 
 S42 THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 fter, or we shall have to dine by candle-light. Ya, we 
 positively shall have to do that, any how." 
 
 Louise hurried off to he: room. Upon her dressing-table 
 he found a note from Louis. Opening it hastily, she 
 lead : 
 
 "DEAREST Sudden and urgent business calls me te 
 Peakville. I shall not be able to return to-night L. w 
 
 A momentary shade of vexation passed, as a light cloud, 
 over the visage of Louise, and vanisked. Louise wag too 
 happy to be annoyed by trifles. The family met at dinner. 
 Louise explained, as far as the note did, the absence of 
 Louis, and General Stuart-Gordon surmised that this busi- 
 ness was in connection with the execution at Major Somer- 
 ville's, and then he proceeded to give the account of it that 
 he had heard in the course of the day. 
 
 Early the next morning, Mrs. Stuart-Gordon summoned 
 her housekeeper, and gave her orders for the dinner. Lit- 
 tle Louise was almost as happy as it was possible to be ; 
 and General Stuart-Gordon walked about leisurely and 
 smilingly 
 
 " And In the fullness . ,oy and hope 
 Seemed washing his hands with Invisible soap, 
 In imperceptible water." 
 
 Nothing was wanting to complete his happiness but this 
 family reconciliation, and now it was about to come oflf 
 When three o'clock struck, he mounted his horse, and, at- 
 tended by Apollo on a second, rode down to the bridge, to 
 wait for and welcome Mrs. Armstrong there. He waited 
 on the bridge, amusing himself by looking at the reflection 
 of the green banks and graceful trees in the clear water, or 
 in looking toward Mont Crystal for the appearance of the 
 carriage. At last it came in sight, and wound slowly down 
 the hill General S*"art-Gordon rode forward, and, whilt
 
 MBS. STUABT-GOBDON AT H O M 1. 868 
 
 Apollo held open the wide gate to admit the carriage whwi 
 It had crossed the bridge, the General advanced to the car- 
 riage door, and, bowing to his very stirrup, said, earnestly 
 
 " Mrs. Armstrong, I am most happy to see you. Permit 
 me to attend you to the house, where the ladies await youi 
 coming with much impatience." 
 
 "I thank you, sir, and welcome you back to our neigh- 
 borhood." 
 
 Not one allusion, even by apology, was made to the past 
 The only difference was an elaborate deference of mannei 
 on the part of General Stuart-Gordon, and a stately gra- 
 ciousness on the side of the lady. Sending his servant on 
 to the house to announce madam's arrival on The Isle of 
 Rays, the courtly General himself rode at the lady's carriage 
 side, opening the gates, pulling aside the boughs thai 
 crossed the road, &c. When the carriage drew up befort 
 the mansion, and Mrs. Armstrong prepared to alight, the 
 General threw himself from his horse, opened the carriage 
 door, put down the steps, and, after assisting the lady to 
 descend, drew her arm within his own, and led her up tb& 
 stairs to the piazza, from whence Britannia and Louise ad 
 yanced to receive her. Then, to show her the highest pos 
 sible respect, instead of ringing for a servant, Britannia 
 conducted Mrs. Armstrong to a dressing-room herself, per- 
 formed the part of femme de chambre, by assisting the lady 
 to lay off her bonnet, shawls, tippets, &c. Louise wu 
 there also with sal volatile, cologne, and a glass of wine in 
 case her mother were fatigued. 
 
 The whole family strove, by showing Mrs. Armstrong th* 
 highest honor, to testify their appreciation of her risit. 
 Britannia, entirely disarmed by Mrs. Armstrong's seeming 
 kindness, and reproaching herself for the pride and vanity of 
 her display on the day before, put off all state, sunk for the 
 time the " Mrs. General Stuart-Gordon," became " Brighty," 
 Md fare her personal attendance to Mra. Armstrong with
 
 894 THi MOTHER-IX- LAW. 
 
 a deference she bad never shown in her governessing days, 
 As for General Stuart-Gordon, he was so enchanted with 
 Brighty's goodness as to fall freshly in love with her that 
 day, and kissed her every time he got a chance. 
 
 If Mrs. Armstrong's seeming kindness had worked Mch 
 miracles of reform, and created such happiness, what cannot 
 real kindness do ? Try its effect, reader, upon your worst 
 enemy. 
 
 But Louis had not come home. Where was Louis ? It 
 wa four o'clock, and the family were all in the drawing- 
 room, and dinner was about to be served without Louis. 
 Louise was not an exacting little wife. Her affection for 
 Louis was too moderate and too disinterested for that ; but 
 she was getting a little impatient for his arrival would 
 kave felt a little lost and lonesome but for the presence of 
 her mother. They dined without him. 
 
 At last, late in the evening, Louis Stuart-Gordon ar- 
 rived in haste, weary, haggard, dusty, and travel-stained. 
 Without presenting himself in that condition in the draw- 
 ing-room, he hurried at once to his own apartment, and 
 ent for Louise. She hastened to him. 
 
 " My dearest Louise," he said, coming forward and em- 
 bracing her, " how happy I am to meet you again after a 
 day's absence." 
 
 " So am I glad to see you, Louis and oh, Louis, mother 
 feas come." 
 
 " I saw her carriage. I shall be very happy to see her." 
 
 "Now, dearest Louis or rather, I mean, you naugbtj 
 Iraant, you I what kept yon away so long ?" 
 
 "Ah, Louise 1 a sad, sad business. Perhapi you heard 
 f the execution at Major Somerrille's 7" 
 
 " Yet ! yes well ? 
 
 " Well, it appeari that Satan wrote to My fetor for m 
 4cUnee, and we never got the letter." 
 
 -Oh! what a pity."
 
 MBS. STUART GORDON AT HOXB. 365 
 
 "And, of course, knowing nothing about the execution, 
 did nothing to arreit its ill effects, and, in one word, Louise, 
 when I called on Miss Somerville this morning, I found her 
 lone, plunged in grief at the expected sale of her foster- 
 parents, George and Harriet, who were then supposed to 
 be in the slave-pen at Peakville. The sale was to have 
 come off to-day. I hurried to Peakville at once, but 
 arrived too late. A slave-trader from Alexandria had 
 already purchased them, and had set out for that town this 
 very morning. So, my own Louise, I went back to Miss 
 Somerville with this news. She was so much distressed, 
 and I sympathized with her so keenly, that I have deter- 
 mined to set out for Alexandria to-morrow morning, hoping 
 to reach that city before the poor couple are shipped to 
 the South." 
 
 " And so you will leave me again so soon, Louis ?' 
 
 " Would you have me hesitate a moment, Louise ?" 
 
 " Ob, no ! Poor Susan I But how long will yon be 
 gone, Louis ?" 
 
 " A week, perhaps, my dear." 
 
 " Oh, dear me, a week ! It is so lonesome here without 
 you, Louis." 
 
 During this little talk, Louis Stuart-Gordon had been 
 changing his dress. His toilet being now complete, they 
 went down stairs into the drawing-room. Louis Stuart- 
 Gordon advanced to Mrs. Armstrong and welcomed her 
 with an easy grace, raising her hand respectfully to hii 
 lips with an affectionate gallantry, as if nothing had aap- 
 pened. Then turning, he explained to his father the nature 
 of the business that had detained him from home, at the 
 same time announcing his intention of leaving for Alexan- 
 dria the next morning. 
 
 " In that case, my dear son-in-law," said Mrs. Armstrong, 
 "I shall invite your wife to pass the days of your absence at 
 Mont Crystal, Do you consent to this, Loufc 1"
 
 S46 THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 "With great pleasure, my dear madam, if Louise will b 
 pleased, as of course she will, to avail herself of your kind 
 invitation." 
 
 44 What do you say, my daughter ?" 
 
 "Oh, I shall be too happy." 
 
 Mrs. Armstrong remained all night at the Isle of Rays. 
 After breakfast, the next morning, Louis departed for Alex- 
 andria, and Louise returned to Mont Crystal with her mo- 
 ther, there to spend the week of her husband's absence. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 
 A CHAMBER SCENE 
 
 A light, commodious chamber 
 Looking out to the hills where the shine 
 Of the great sun may enter. Mary Howitt. 
 
 THE second day from the arrival of Louise at Mont 
 Crystal saw the carriage of Mrs. Armstrong drawn up be- 
 fore the Island mansion. General Stuart-Gordon advanced 
 from the house, and came down the steps to assist the lady 
 to alight 
 
 " I am overjoyed to see you again so soon, my dear ma- 
 dam, and my little daughter-in-law whom we have missed so 
 much. She is within there, of course. Mrs. Stuart-Gor- 
 don will be so delighted to see her " 
 
 " My daughter has not accompanied me, sir. I cam* 
 jnly upon a matter of business, to which I crave your atten- 
 tion for a few moments, sir." 
 
 " Certainly, madam," said the General, offering his arm 
 to the lady, with certain vague misgivings. " Certainly, 
 madam. Apollo, lead the way into the library, and then lei 
 your mistress know tha* Mrs. Armstrong is here,"
 
 A CHAMBER S01VX. 16? 
 
 " Sir, excuse me. I shall not present myself to you 
 lad} this morning." 
 
 " Can we not persuade you to spend the day vith us, ma- 
 dam ?" said the General, in his blandest tones. 
 
 " Once more, sir ! business alone brought me to The Isle 
 of Rays," replied the lady in a freezing tone. Again vague 
 but gloomy presentiments darkened the mind of the General, 
 s he led Mrs. Armstrong into the library and handed her a 
 ehair. She seated herself with cold dignity. General 
 Btuart-Gordon followed her example, and remained waiting 
 for the lady to speak. 
 
 " Be so good as to send your man from the room," said 
 Mrs. Armstrong. 
 
 "Go, Apollo," commanded the General; and Apolio 
 rent. " Well, Madam, how can I serve you ?" asked 
 General Stuart-Gordon, after waiting some minutes for her 
 to begin. 
 
 " Sir. who is the heir of this Island Estate ?" 
 
 " My only son Louis, of course." 
 
 " Bv what right does Louis inherit this property F" 
 
 "In right of his mother, Margaret Stuart-Gordon." 
 
 " Then Louis Stuart-Gordon is master of this estate and 
 mansion-house ?" 
 
 " Not as yet, madam !" 
 
 " Let that pass for the present. But, when I bestowed 
 the hand of my daughter, Miss Armstrong, upon your son, 
 Mr. Stuart-Gordon, it was understood that she should take 
 the head of this establishment. Was this so, or was it 
 not so ?" 
 
 " Certainly, madam, that was the tacit understanding, 
 but" 
 
 "Never mind 'but.' This house was refurnished, fitted 
 p, to suit the taste of Louise, was it not ?" 
 
 " Of course, madam, but " 
 
 " Louise was tr have been its mistress was ski not I*
 
 t8 THI MOTH IB IN LAW. 
 
 " Certainly, madam, bat " 
 
 " Who is its mistress 1" 
 
 " My wife, Mrs. Stuart-Gordon, senior." 
 
 " Then the conditions of the marriage contract hare ic< 
 been fulfilled on your part." 
 
 "Thetmpfted conditions, I grant you, madam, bare been, 
 to far, infringed. It was rather assumed than stipulated, 
 that Mrs. Louise should take the head of this establish- 
 ment and at a time, too, when my own marriage was not 
 in contemplation." 
 
 " Sir, I, for one, make no allowances for after-thoughts." 
 
 " Mrs. Armstrong, pardon me, but this is really very ex- 
 traordinary on your part." 
 
 " General Stuart-Gordon, I am one of very few words ; 
 and, in one word, my business here to-day is to remind you 
 of the conditions upon which the marriage of Louia 
 Stuart-Gordon with Louise Armstrong was contracted, and 
 to request your fulfillment of your part; in short, to ask 
 you to give up possession here to the rightful owners your 
 gon and his wife." 
 
 "Mrs. Armstrong, if any other than yourself had 
 made so strange a proposition, I should ascribe their words 
 to a disordered intellect." 
 
 "Do I undertand yon to refuse this, sir ?" 
 
 " Most certainly, madam ; your singular proposition is 
 not to be entertained for a single moment." 
 
 " Then hear me, sir. I said that I was a woman of few 
 words ; you know that I am not a woman of vain words ; 
 and I tell yon," she said, rising, folding her arms, standing 
 before him with her determined jaws firmly set, her determined 
 yes firmly fixed upon him " I tell yon," she said, slowly, 
 through her closed teeth, " that, until you and your wife 
 evacuate these premises, Mrs. Louis Stuart-Gordon never 
 seta foot upon The Isle of Rays, and never exchanges one 
 word with any one member of the Island family. I wa!t4
 
 A CHAMBER 301VB. M9 
 
 7 time. I have her. She is in my hands now! and, 
 taming haughtily, she strode from the room, leaving Gene- 
 ral Stuart-Gordon standing, wonder-struck, in the middle 
 of the floor, standing stock still, and staring straight ahead, 
 until a pair of jeweled hands flashed down upon his breast, 
 and a pair of sparkling eyes glanced up into his. Britannia 
 was standing before him. 
 
 "Well, what is it? You are all amazed. What is th 
 matter ?" 
 
 " Ruin ! ruin 1 Brighty. Do you see that woman ?" he 
 said, drawing Britannia after him to the front window, and 
 pointing to where Mrs. Armstrong's carriage was rolling 
 away. " Do you see that woman ? ' She is the infernal 
 Ate in good apparel.' She has deceived us all ; her visit, 
 her pretended reconciliation, was all a ruse, to get Louise 
 into her power again. I would give ten thousand dollars 
 to have Louise once more within the walls of this house. 
 My dear Britannia, if, with your woman's wit, you will 
 only conjure Louise back again to this room, ask me for 
 any boon that moment, and it is yours." 
 
 " Nay I am no match for Mrs. Armstrong neither da 
 I understand one word of all this quarrel, from first to last." 
 
 " Then, Brighty, I suppose that, first or last, you must 
 hear it. Mrs. Armstrong had honored me with her pre- 
 ference was highly infuriated at my marriage and now 
 that she has Louise safe under her own thumb, and know- 
 ing as she knows her absolute power over Louise; and 
 knowing as she does that Louis is too fastidious to resort 
 to legal measures for the recovery of his wife, she hai 
 arowed her determination that Louise shall not set foot 
 within the limits of The Isle of Rays, or hold any inter- 
 course with any member of its family, until weyou and 
 myself shall have evacuated the premises. There 1 I said 
 to. Tour bright eyes, my dear, are as wide open with as- 
 toidshmmt as mine were when you cam* in and foud *."
 
 170 THl UOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 Brightys eyes were now cast down ; she seemed buried 
 in deep thought for a few minutes, then suddenly breaking 
 the thread of her reverie, she took his hand and said 
 
 " Come I luncheon is served in the oaken parlor," and 
 drew him out. Over that luncheon the General and Brighty 
 had a long and confidential conversation. 
 
 It was yet early in the morning when Mrs Armstrong 
 returned to Mont Crystal. Louise sat sewing in one of the 
 large front chambers, whose lofty windows command the 
 river, isle, and opposite shore. This was Mrs. Armstrong'! 
 summer sleeping-room. Every summer she migrated from 
 the thickly carpeted and heavily curtained crimson bedroom 
 to this large airy chamber, with its many tall windows, its 
 white mantelpiece, its straw-matting floor, and its white 
 iimity curtains, counterpanes, and toilet-covers. This was 
 an airy, fragrant chamber, with a fine prospect from itg 
 windows. Louise shared this apartment with her mother, 
 and now she sat at one of the front windows, idling with 
 her needle and thread, while her heart went forth gladly 
 into the morning glory of the sunlight. The morning air 
 had tinged her delicately fair cheek with the faintest rose 
 tint, a little deepened as it budded into the classic lips. 
 Louise had always been pretty, but there was the germ of 
 an exquisite beauty in her face, that could only be developed 
 by a happy love. She was still pausing, with her needle in 
 her hand, still looking forth upon the glorious landscape, 
 when her mother entered from her drive. Mrs. Armstrong 
 had already divested herself of her riding-dress, and now 
 taking out her knotting, she sat down near Louise, who 
 took her hand and pressed i* reverently to her lips, still 
 gazing forth upon the river, as hough something thert 
 fascinated her glance. 
 
 "You seem to like this front window, my daughter 1" 
 "Ob t I d? dearest mother I I like the prospect from it
 
 A CHAMBEE SCKN1. STl 
 
 o much. Look, mother, look See The Isle of Raja, 
 hooting streams of light radiating sunbeams like an arch- 
 angel's crown ! Oh, mother ! that Isle, with its sparkling 
 'contains and flashing waterfalls, seems to me as a glad, 
 glad spirit, rejoicing in its life of light, and for ever and for 
 ever chanting its song of joy to its Creator! Oh! I love 
 that Isle 1 I love it 1 I almost pray to it, as to some guar- 
 dian and when I am there, it seems to me as if the vast 
 and radiant wings of some bright angel enveloped me 1 and 
 even now its waters seem to smile at me its trees to wave 
 their arras to me it attracts, fascinates me wooes, invites 
 me. Oh, see ! it seems to nod and smile at me, mother ; 
 and my spirit flutters in my bosom, and plumes its wings, 
 as though it would spread them, and, cleaving through all 
 this sun-bright air, seek the bower of the blessed angel 
 Islet" 
 
 "Ahem I poetry is very well in its place that is, in gilt- 
 edged books, bound up between embossed covers, and laid 
 upon pier and centre tables, to while away the hours of idle 
 morning visitors and loungers ; but it is very much out of 
 place here. You will please to remember, Mrs. Stuart- 
 Gordon, that sentimentality is decidedly vulgar. Your 
 manners, since your residence at The Isle of Rays, have 
 deteriorated lamentably. You have lost that air repoat, 
 that once distinguished yon " 
 
 " But, oh, mother ! it is so difficult only to pace when one 
 wishes to run only to smile when one wishes to laugh 
 to speak low when one wishes to break out in a song 
 Why may not one be glad and gay in a free mountain 
 scene like this, mother ? Oh, look, mamma 1 the fountain! 
 on the Isle flash and play in the sunbeams all day long as 
 they please and the cataracts leap into the bosom of the 
 river, making glad muax; through all the sunny hoars 
 and the river flows on in light with its silent hymn of joy ; 
 and tin forest trees wave "h ! see how they bead and
 
 ITS TIB MOTHKB-IS-LAW. 
 
 od ond throw up waves of green light to the 
 offering of love to the skies, that smile back in lore upoi 
 them. And the flowers, mother ! Oh I stoop a moment 
 from the window, and smile at them if an open flower ex- 
 presses anything on earth, mother, it is an open smile. 
 And, mother, did you ever notice the rose leaning its cheeki 
 ideways, caressingly, upon the green leaves that cluster 
 tenderly around it? Oh! mother, is there anything in 
 human nature that expresses beautiful love more beautifully 
 than that ? Now, mother, when I look out upon nature^ 
 and see nothing but beauty, love, and joy and when my 
 own heart leaps in my bosom to join the grand diapason o? 
 grateful harmony -why must its expression be checked and 
 suppressed ? It kills me, mother I it kills me 1" 
 
 " It is Louis who has put all this nonsense into your 
 head. You must never heed poets, my daughter. They 
 re all to use an expressive Scotch term 'daft.'" 
 
 " Yes, it was Louis who revealed the life, the soul of 
 nature to me who translated the language of nature for 
 me. One day we sat on a bank of violets, and I stooped 
 to pluck one, and his gentle hand dropped softly upon mine, 
 and stayed its purpose. ' Do not pluck it, Louise,' he said, 
 ' but look at it I see how full of expression it is !' And I 
 looked. The violet had nestled itself under the shelter of 
 its green leaves, and it peeped out at us with as much arch- 
 ness of expression in the bend of its head, in the droop of 
 its petals, as ever you saw in the sidelong glance of a sky- 
 bird, with its head bent aside or the speaking eyes of % 
 irild kitten, backing itself up into a corner. And we botli 
 watched the violet, as it seemed to watch us, and we would 
 no more have plucked it than we would have tortured th 
 bird or the kitten. Louis never kills a bird or squirrel, 01 
 anything else, or even pulls a flower. He lets everything 
 lone everything live. Everything lives to Louii I" 
 
 " Oh, how childish and puerile, not to say ridiculous, all
 
 A OHAMB1B SC1JT1. ITS 
 
 ikil it/ I see that I shall hare a good deal of trouble ta 
 reforming and perfecting your manners, my dear Louise." 
 
 " No, yon will not, my mother," said Louise, whoM 
 gayety had been gradually subsiding. " No, you will not, 
 my mother. There is something in the very air of thil 
 house that subdues me its walls have the cold grandeur of 
 the glaciers ; they awe and chill me. It is only when look- 
 ing forth from its windows upon The Isle of Rays, that, 
 remembering my life there, I feel glad and wild." 
 
 "That is an over-long speech for an epigram, Mrs> 
 Stuart-Gordon." , ' 
 
 "Dear mother, I did not mean that excuse me forgive 
 me, I did not know what I was saying." 
 
 "Exactly, Louise. When you are not absurdly gay, you 
 are ridiculously petulant. Why can you not be serene, like 
 Miss Somerville ? Then, perhaps, you would stand a better 
 chance of retaining your hold upon your husband's heart." 
 
 " Why, mother how is that ? What do you mean ?" 
 
 " I mean, my dear child, that you are not quite so much 
 to the taste of Louis as your friend, Susan Somerville, is." 
 
 " Mother, you distress me so much," said Louise, her 
 features growing pale and sharp. 
 
 " My poor girl my dear Louise, there is but one disin- 
 terested and ever-enduring l"ve in the world, and that is the 
 lore of a mother." 
 
 " Well, mother, I know that. You hare told me a mil- 
 lion of times. I have read it in all the books you ever pat 
 in my hands. I have even written it in copy-books. I 
 know that. Bat still I do think Louis loves me with a 
 'disinterested and ever-enduring love,' although I may not 
 be so worthy of him as Susan Somerville would have been. 
 We do not alioay* l>ve only what is superior we some- 
 times love inferior beings for their very need of as so 
 Louis, so Brighty, so the General loves me." 
 
 "Poor child, they none of them love you they eajole, 
 23
 
 174 THE MOTHKR-IN-L^W. 
 
 caress, flatter ihe heiress of Mont Crystal. No one loref 
 Louise, but her mother " 
 
 " Louis, mother, Louis loves me." 
 
 "How do yon know that?" 
 
 "Oh, by a thousand signs by every look, word, tone, 
 and gesture by every loving act of his by every happy 
 emotion of mine." 
 
 " Ah ! good. Did you ever see a play, Louise ?" 
 
 " Yes, mother, but I am sick at heart. I do not wish to 
 talk about plays or other indifferent matters. Mother, 
 Louis" 
 
 " Nonsense ! What was the play you saw, Louise ?" 
 
 " Romeo and Juliet." 
 
 "There could not be a better play for the illustration Oi 
 my subject. I can imagine that this play moved the sym 
 pathies of your unsophisticated heart, Louise. Who played 
 Romeo ?" 
 
 " George Barrett, mother." 
 
 " A celebrated tragedian, to judge by newspaper criti 
 cism. Well, the passiou was well counterfeited, wat it 
 not?" 
 
 " Ma'am ?" 
 
 " The love, the tenderness, the pathos was well played 
 /was it not ?" 
 
 " To the life, mother. It wrung my heart like a real 
 tragedy enacting before me." 
 
 " Yet you know it was acknowledged acting ?" 
 
 "Certainly, mother." 
 
 " Well, my dear Mrs. Stuart-Gordon, there is more act- 
 ing, and more consummate acting off the stage than on it. 
 The family at The Isle of Rays is a corps of consummate 
 actors, of which Louis Stuart-Gordon may be called th 
 tar. They love you n:t, Louise. There is not one of 
 them who would not have preferred that Louis had married
 
 1 CHAMBER DCKNK. 876 
 
 Somerville, had she possessed a fortune equal to 
 yoors." 
 
 " Oh, mother, mother, what makes you think so ? Mo- 
 ther, Louis likes me ; indeed, Louis does like me." 
 
 "Yes, he likes you as thj Romeo of the acted drama 
 liked the Juliet, but he kves Susan Somerville." 
 
 " Oh, mother 1 this is not true ! You are mistaken ; oh, 
 you must be mistaken; this cannot be true;" and Louise 
 dropped her head upon her hands and sobbed. 
 
 "Recall, if you please, Louise, the agitation and illness 
 of Miss Somerville at your wedding recollect her precipi 
 tate retreat immediately after the ceremony " 
 
 " Oh, yes 1 yes 1 I remember that ; oh, I recollect many 
 things that then I could not account for, that now seem 
 clear enough to me. Yes, I remember now that many of 
 the young girls bantered Susan, and said that it had been 
 generally reported that she and Louis were to have been 
 married." 
 
 " And so it had been generally reported, and Louis had 
 given every color to the report by going every afternoon 
 and spending the whole evening at The Crags, and, when- 
 ever her grandfather was absent, sending for Miss Somer- 
 rille to The Isle of Rays. In a word, both the General 
 and Louis admired and loved Miss Somerville, and Louis 
 would gladly have married her, and the General would 
 gladly have consented to the marriage, had the yonng lady 
 possessed an adequate fortune ; and the grievous wrong is, 
 that Louis, after selfishly winning the affections of this girl, 
 has cruelly abandoned her, and married another woman 
 whom he cannot equally love." 
 
 " Yea, he does love me, mother. But oh, poor Susan ! 
 Ah, yea ! it is true, to j true 1 I feel sure of it when I re- 
 call her agitation, her change of color whenever Louia 
 looked at or apoke to her. Then her fearful lapse of spirits, 
 her rapid ietUne of health and strength in the dayg that
 
 176 THX MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 followed my marriage; and I remember that Brightj al- 
 ways sought to ward off observation from her." 
 
 " Yes 1 that young lady was in the secret ! She was 
 leagued with them, and against us." 
 
 " Poor, dear Susan ! But oh, mother ! why did you not 
 tell me all this before it was too late ?" 
 
 " Because I have only recently suspected it myself, and, 
 following out my suspicions, have confirmed them." 
 
 " Poor Susan ! how could Louis have been so thought 
 less 1 for whatever of wrong has been done or suffered, it 
 has been from thoughtlessness; Louis intended no wrong." 
 
 " ThougJitlessness ! His actions have sprung from else 
 than thoughtlessness ; his course has been calculated with 
 mathematical exactitude. Susan Somerville was not rich 
 enough to be his wife, but she is poor enough, pretty 
 enough, and loving enough to be his mistress." Louise 
 suppressed a cry of horror and disgust " Certainly ; so he 
 marries the unloved heiress, and takes the loved beggar 
 nnder his protection." 
 
 Louise dropped her head upon her mother's ahoulder, 
 and groaned 
 
 " Oh, mother 1 what horrors are these you are revealing 
 to me ! My brain is reeling, reeling ! my mind wanders. 
 This is very dreadful, and yet it is of Louis Louis that 
 you speak ! Oh, this is very very horrible, and yet it is my 
 mother that tells me. Yes, yes I my micd wanders loses 
 itself. All support, all reliance seems falling beneath me 1 
 I am lost dying 1 Mother! mother!" and Louise lost 
 her roice, and grew deadly pale and faint. Mrs. Armstrong 
 mpported her on her bosom, while she bathed her temples 
 with Cologne. 
 
 " No, not all support is lost to yon, my child. Yonr 
 mother still remains, Louise." 
 
 " Oh, my mother ! but this that yon tell me, this that 701 
 UU DM I It is too horrible to b true ; bat you, you fell H
 
 A UHAMBB1 101*1. S7T 
 
 to me you, whose word is troth ; and to doubt your word,, 
 my mother, would be blasphemy." 
 
 " Do not sink under this, Louise. Your mother remains 
 to you, my child. Yon have suffered a cruel, cruel wrong, 
 but do not die under it." 
 
 " Alas 1 Louis. The lost angel himself was not mort 
 beautiful, more treacherous than Louis. Lay me down, 
 mother; I am weak all over; I cannot sit up. Lay ma 
 down, mother." Mrs. Armstrong supported her to one of 
 the white dimity-covered settees, laid her on it, sat by her, 
 fanned her, bathed her forehead with Cologne, and talked 
 to her in a soothing and subdued tone. Seeing that, even 
 with the aid of these efforts, she did not revive, Mrs. Arm- 
 strong touched the bell and summoned Kate to bring a cor- 
 dial. When Louise swallowed that, a little faint color 
 came back into her cheeks, and she looked up. Then Mrs. 
 Armstrong said to her, in order not to lose an inch of 
 ground 
 
 " Do you know that I have been to the Isle of Rays thii 
 morning, my daughter ?" 
 
 "No, my mother, I did not." 
 
 " Yes, my child, I went there again ; I went there to hart 
 justice rendered my child." 
 
 " Justice ! Alas 1 mother, if Louis does not love me, 
 and loves Susan Somerville, he cannot help it ; and there ii 
 an end. Nothing can be done, and nothing remains to me 
 but to die /" 
 
 " My poor Louise, like a heart-sick child as yon are ! 
 that is not the justice I spoke of. You know that you were 
 to have been the mistress of that house, Louise, and that 
 you are not ; that your former governess is elevated to that 
 dignity." 
 
 " She is welcome to it, mother. I do not care about it. 
 Oh 1 if you knew how little I care for such distinction how 
 I loTed Brighty how willing I was that she nhoald
 
 S78 THE MOTH1B-IN-LAW. 
 
 take the burden, with the dignity, off my shoulder*. Akt 
 BOW I care for nothing 1" 
 
 " Bat I care for you, Louise ; I, your mother, feel inter 
 ested in your welfare. And I say, Louise, that you have 
 been cheated out of your affections and your rank both." 
 
 " For the latter I do not care. Let us talk no longer of 
 the former, mother." 
 
 "Let me conclude, my dear, and then we will be silent 
 for ever upon the subject." 
 
 "Yes. Silence! darkness! quietude! death! that ii 
 what I want, mother." 
 
 " Louise, when I went this morning to The Isle of Rays, 
 I was met with refusal defiance." 
 
 " Alas, mother !" 
 
 " That affected reconciliation, Louise, was all a piece of 
 wicked hypocrisy. As soon as I demanded justice for my 
 daughter, I was met with insult that obliged me to leave 
 the house." 
 
 " Oh, mother ! I do not know what justice we want. 1 
 want peace. My very heart is dying in my bosom, and my 
 mind wanders wanders wanders !" she groaned turning 
 her head from side to side, uneasily. 
 
 "Be at rest, Louise. Remain with your mother, who 
 loves you. I do not flatter and cajole my child, it is true, 
 for my affection it as dignified as it is disinterested and 
 widuring." 
 
 " There is no doubt about your affection, at least, my 
 mother." 
 
 "Then you will content yourself to remain with me, 
 Louise ? 
 
 " Alas I where else should I go, mother ? Back to * neet 
 of ; and yet I do love thorn Brighty, the General, 
 and dearest Louis. And though they should betray me a. 
 thousand times, I cannot help loving them still, loving then
 
 CHAPTER XXil. 
 
 "THE THUNDERBOLT." 
 
 I part with the* 
 
 At wretches that are doubtful of hereafter 
 Part with their lives unwilling, loath, and fearful 
 And trembling at futurity. .Row. 
 
 Louis STUART-GORDON had hurried to Alexandria ai 
 fast as his horse could take him thither ; had reached the 
 city in season, and had been so fortunate as to repurchase, 
 at a small advance, the two old people. Giving them a 
 pass and money to bear their expenses, he had left them to 
 follow him, and set out for home. Blithely Louis started 
 on his return. He was far too young not to feel a keen de- 
 light in making others happy. He was very happy just 
 now. The sunshine was so bright ; the air so fresh ; 
 the landscape so beautiful ; the song of the birds so thril- 
 lingly rapturous ; the voice of the waterfalls so glad ; his 
 own physical organization so harmoniously attuned to all 
 this beauty and joy, that it was no wonder the heart of 
 Louis beat in response to all this glory of nature. Then all 
 the past was so delightful to recall ; the future so blissful 
 to anticipate. Had he not just made a whole family hap- 
 py ? Was he not about to be supremely happy himself, in 
 meeting Louise ? Was he not in the very morning of life- 
 just eighteen with a beautiful and beloved wife two yean 
 younger ; with an Eden home ; with congenial friends ; 
 with immense wealth ; with a heart and mind capable of 
 enjoying his position in the highest degree; with every 
 blessing himself with great facilities of blessing others F 
 Never had Louis so keenly appreciated the blessedness of
 
 MO THI MOTHER-IN-LJLW. 
 
 his lif, as yery late, on the evening of his return, when ap> 
 proachkg the river, the white walls of Mont Crystal, be- 
 tween the divided forest that crowned the hill, loomed np 
 in his sight, just discernible in the bright starlight. He 
 would go there first, and defer his visit to The Crags and 
 his return to the Isle until the next day. He spurred 
 bis horse into a gallop, and rode rapidly up to the 
 outer gate ; and flingir.g Limself from the saddle, he at- 
 tempted to open it. It was locked on the inside. It was 
 a heavy oak gate, painted green, and fastened with a strong 
 chain and padlock. He rapped loudly with the loaded end 
 of his riding- whip. The noise of his rap dying away in 
 echo, left silence. He listened. Nothing was heard but 
 the chirping of those little insects that wake at night, and 
 the slight rustle of the leaves, and the low murmur of the 
 waters. He waited. No one replied. A vague fear 
 passed over his mind. Was Louise ill ? He looked np 
 the long locust avenue at the house, some hundred yardt 
 back. It was closed up but then it was always so after 
 dark. He rapped again, loudly, and long ; watched, lis- 
 tened. Again the sound died away in silence, leaving noth- 
 ing but the low rural night sounds audible. He rapped a 
 third time, as loudly as possible, and shouted, " The house, 
 the house, there ?" Again he watched, listened, watched. 
 This time he perceived a figure approaching down the shaded 
 avenue. It was Kate Jumper, who stood now at the gate, 
 
 " Ha, Kate, how do you do ? How is Mrs. Louis and 
 your mistress ? Yon kept me waiting here a long time, 
 my good Kate. Where is the porter ? Come Kate, my good 
 woman, unfasten the gate ; I am impatient ; be quick 1" 
 
 " The ladies are not at home, sir," replied the mulatto, 
 stolidly. 
 
 " Not at home ! Ot I an: sorry for that I Where har 
 they been spending the day ? They are late on their mil 
 However, admit me, Kat ; I will await their return."
 
 "THE THUNDERBOLT." 181 
 
 "The ladies will not be back to-night, sir." 
 
 "Not to-night? How singular! Where have they 
 gone ?" 
 
 "I do not know, sir." 
 
 " When are they coming back ?" 
 
 "I do not know, sir." 
 
 "When did they go?" 
 
 " I do not know, sir," said the mulatto, still guarding 
 the gate. 
 
 "You 'do not know' when they went you, who wer 
 here all the time 1 Kate, what does all this mean ?" ex- 
 claimed the young man in surprise. 
 
 "1 do not know, sir. " 
 
 "You 'do not know' still ! Explain yourself, woman," 
 commanded Mr. Stuart-Gordon, looking severely at her 
 iogged countenance. 
 
 She paused in silence. 
 
 " Speak 1" 
 
 " What must I say, sir ?" 
 
 " Where are your ladies 7" 
 
 "I do not know, sir." 
 
 " Tut I I am a fool to grow impatient at a sulky negro," 
 thought Louis. 
 Then his countenance lighted up, and he exclaimed 
 
 " Oh, I have it I They are at The Isle of Rays. Yes, 
 certainly, they are at The Isle of Rays. Strange I did not 
 tnink of it at once* Say, Kate, are they not at the Isle ?" 
 
 "I do not know, sir." 
 
 " Tchat !" exclaimed Louis, between impatience and 
 amazement at the woman 3 sullenness, as he hopped into his 
 addle, and turned his horse's head toward the Isle. 
 
 " So best ; expecting me to go home first, Louise ha* 
 gone home tc receive me that dear, gentle Louise." And 
 Louis quickened his horse's pace into a gallop, and in half 
 an hour reached the Isle, fully expecting to find the draw
 
 SSI KB MOTHBB-IN-LAW. 
 
 fnf-roora lighted up, and wearing a festive appearano* 
 for his reception. He galloped rapidly up to the door. 
 There was no unusual brilliancy about the front entrance. 
 He threw himself from the saddle, gave the bridle to 
 Apollo, wh ) stood to take it, and with a hasty question of 
 "All well at home, Apollo?" to which Apollo replied, 
 " Yes, sir," he hastened into the house, through the hall, 
 and entered the oak parlor. His father and his belle mere, 
 as he fondly termed Britannia, were at supper together; 
 and a third cover was laid for himself, as though they had 
 expected him, but finally sat down without him. 
 
 Louis started, looked around with surprise ; then, hav- 
 ing hastily shaken hands with his father, and kissed the 
 eheek of his step-mother, Louis, again looking rapidly 
 around, exclaimed 
 
 " Where is Louise 7 I expected to find her here." 
 
 " She is at Mont Crystal," said Britannia. 
 
 " No, she is not, madam. I have just come from there, 
 and felt sure of finding her here." 
 
 " You have been to Mont Crystal, then, Louis ?" 
 
 " Certainly, sir. I went there just as a matter of count, 
 with the expectation of meeting Louise." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " And Mrs. Armstrong's attendant met me and told me 
 they were not at home, nor could I get any satisfaction as 
 to where they were." 
 
 "Sit down, Lonia, and take your tea," said Britannia. 
 Louis took the seat indicated, and received a cup of tea 
 from Britannia, still looking all around anxiously. 
 
 " My dear father, it is absurd to feel uneasy about this 
 chance absence, but I do feel so, nevertheless. I suppose 
 it is the effect of the mere disappointment ; that there is 
 oh, surely no, there can be no real cause for anxiety I" 
 
 " Nonsense 1 Compose yourself, and drink your tea, 
 Louis. Y^a cannot see your wife to-night ; and that upon
 
 "TH1 THUNDERBOLT." S&S 
 
 title nigbo of your return, is a serious disappointment, I 
 grant. But you are fatigued ; you will sleep it through, 
 and to-morrow is a new day." 
 
 " But, father, it was so strange in Louise to go off on 
 the evening I was expected home " 
 
 " My son, she was with her mother, and if that lady au- 
 tocrat chose to take her off on a visit, Louise could not 
 resist her will." 
 
 " True ; but then there was something strange in that 
 woman's Kate's I mean conduct toward me." 
 
 "My dear Louis, Kate was always a sulky devil; never 
 heed her. Eat, Louis, eat, and afterward sleep. To- 
 morrow hurry to Mont Crystal as early as you please." 
 
 There was a self-possession, a freedom from anxiety, in 
 the manners of both the General and Brighty, that calmed 
 the perturbation of Louis ; so that, though certainly a little 
 pensive from his disappointment, he was no longer uneasy. 
 To shorten the hours of absence by sleep, Louis goon re- 
 tired to his room. 
 
 " We were right not to tell him any bad news to-night, 
 dear Brighty," said the General ; " it would have spoiled 
 nis appetite and sleep. As it is, his hearty supper and 
 good night's rest will him make stronger to encounter Mnu 
 Armstrong to-morrow morning. For the present let hint 
 rest." 
 
 They were early risers at The Isle of Bays. Indeed 
 upon these glorious mornings in this paradise of natart, 
 every hour spent in sleep seemed a wanton waste of happi- 
 ness. The most cheerful place in the world was the break- 
 fast parlor at The Isle of Rays. You shall judge. It was 
 at the angle formed by the front and side of the 
 The front windows looked out upon the piazza, and 
 manded a view of the beautiful terrace with its graceful 
 locust trees dropping soft shadows on the grass the lawn, 
 with its shaded walks, its brooks, its waterfalls, and groTW 
 tht rail the river that pufttd Utwtw tte I*U
 
 S34 THE MOTHER-IN-L AW. 
 
 and the opposite shore upon the green Jrllp rising, reoed 
 ing, and losing themselves in the dim and distant moun 
 tains, with their tops in the clouds, at the utmost verge of 
 the horizon. Through these front windows also shone th 
 morning sun, whose first beams fell upon the breakfast- 
 table, shining dazzlingly upon the snow-white damask cloth, 
 and kindling into splendor the tea and coffee service. 
 Th6 back windows of this cheerful room opened upon a 
 garden of roses, now so fresh with morning dew that their 
 odor filled the room. And then the birds ! throwing all 
 their souls of joy in their rapturous morning reveille. 
 
 Brighty was in this room very early ; Brighty in her cool 
 and graceful morning-dress of India muslin, moving about 
 blithely, occupied with the thousand and one little cares 
 and pleasures of housekeeping that not all her staff of ser- 
 vants could deliver her from. Now stopping to adjust upon 
 the table some dish just brought up, now arranging at the 
 back windows the branch of some rose-bush peeping 
 through, now at the front windows, pausing, in entranced 
 delight, to receive the inflowing of all the divine beauty 
 and melody around her. The door opened ; Louis Stuart- 
 Gordon entered. Brighty came forward, smiling and hold- 
 ing out her hand. Louis gayly and fondly carried it to his lips. 
 
 "Madam," said Louis, "how long will it be before we 
 shall have breakfast ?" 
 
 "Ah ! yon are in a hurry to reach Mont Crystal. Too 
 need not be, for if the family remained abroad all night, it 
 is likely that they will not be at home until after breakfast. 
 We only wait for the General." 
 
 " Madam," again said Louis, smilingly taking her hand, 
 "do you know that I find some embarrassment in addressing 
 you ? To call you Mrs. Stuart-Gordon, is quite too formal ; 
 to call you ' mother,' would be absurd, and I dare not call 
 yen Britannia. Twenty times, my belle mire I have boi 
 on the point of asking you wnat I sball call 700."
 
 "fflE THUNbERBOLf." 885 
 
 Call her Brighty I call her Brighty, Louis I" said the 
 tih-oeral, who suddenly stood among them. "Call her by 
 the pretty contraction of Britannia Brighty for she is the 
 brightness of your father's house the brightness of hu 
 heart and life;" and the General drew her to his bosom 
 and kissed her fondly. 
 
 "And, Louis, never raise the tips of her fingers to your 
 lips, when her cheek is glowing so near you. Love Brigh- 
 ty, Louis, as Louise loves her. Brighty always carried a 
 heart under that glowing bodice of hers." 
 
 " Come ! to breakfast 1" smiled Britannia, leading the 
 way to the table. 
 
 Breakfast passed off in a gay chat. Louis soon dispatched 
 his coffee and muffins, and excusing himself, arose to leave 
 the table. 
 
 "Off, Louis ?" asked the General. 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "To Mont Crystal." 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " Stay, Louis ; sit down, my dear son ; Brighty and my 
 elf wish to have a little conversation with yon before you 
 set out." 
 
 Louis resumed his seat, and turned his face toward his 
 father with au attitude and expression of attention. 
 
 " We would not disturb you with anything unpleasant last 
 night, Louis, because it was too late too do anything, and 
 because it would only have spoiled your supper and your 
 rest and we consider that every good meal and every 
 good sleep is so much real gain in this world of infirm- 
 ity and sullenness. For the same reason, Louis, I said 
 nothing until you had breakfast and, Louis," continued the 
 General, buttering his muffin, " I should have said nothing 
 until you had digested your breakfast, only that your haaU 
 make* the disclosure necessary."
 
 886 THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 Louis had been growtug uneasy anxious; his looki 
 xpressed it. 
 
 "Well, sir 1" 
 
 " Well, Louia but my son, do not look so alarmed " 
 
 "But Louise I Louise 1" 
 
 " Is well and happy, for aught I know to the contrary " 
 
 "And" 
 
 " At Mont Crystal with her mother of course, where I 
 strongly suspect she was at the very moment you called 
 there." 
 
 "Sir! my father !" 
 
 " Wait Louis, and hear me explain. The affected recon- 
 ciliation was all a stratagem on the part of Mrs. Armstrong 
 to get Louise into her power. She shuts hcr up at Mont 
 Crystal, denying admittance to every member of our family." 
 
 " My wife ! What can be the reason ?" exclaimed Louis, 
 divided between astonishment and indignation. 
 
 " Ah I the reason 1" repeated the General, sipping his 
 coffee. "Who can fathom the heart and discover the 
 motive of a bad woman for her bad acts ?" 
 
 " But her ostensible reason ?" 
 
 " Her ostensible reason is that the terms of the marriage 
 contract have not been kept, inasmuch as Louise is not at 
 the head of this establishment. This reason, she gave on a 
 visit she made me about a week since, affirming at the same 
 tine that, until myself and my wife should give up posses- 
 sion here, Louise should not see or speak to her husband, 
 or any member of his family." 
 
 " The old controversy, then, sir F" 
 
 " Exactly. Bat her real reason is a concealed mortifica- 
 tion and desire of revenge. 
 
 Here General Stuart-Gordon, for the first time, related 
 to Louis the mutual and terrible misapprehension of hla- 
 elf and Mrs. Armstrong, wkn conversing apoa matrbsw-
 
 "THK THUNDKBBOLT." S8f 
 
 Louis aud Britannia, despite of the serious matter ia hand, 
 gave way to the ludicrousaess of the scene as described by 
 the General, and laughed heartily. The laugh did Louis 
 good. It raised his spirits. 
 
 " Now, Louis," continued the General, " we do not oou- 
 rider the matter very grave. Of course this lady must give 
 mp your wife. It would be absurd to suppose that she 
 would refuse steadily, the worst will be a rupture between 
 the families of Mont Crystal and the Isle. Thaf will be 
 unpleasant certainly. But really perfect happiness is not 
 the lot of any human being, and, as we have so many bless- 
 ings, we must reconcile ourselves to this unpleasantry, con- 
 sidering, meanwhile, that to be struck from the visiting 
 list of Mrs. Armstrong is one of the lightest miseries that 
 could happen to us. But, Brighty, my doar, you are look 
 ing gloomy. What is the matter ?" 
 
 "I am thinking of Louise poor child; that whoerer 
 gains the victory, she must be the loser ; and I am wishing, 
 if possible, that, for her sake, a permanent peace could be 
 effected." 
 
 "I wish so, too." 
 
 "Have you anything further to say to me, my dear 
 rir?" 
 
 " Oh, no 1 oh, no ! I thought it right to pnt yon in 
 possession of the facts before yon left ; that is all. I did 
 not, myself, consider them very important, except that they 
 might have given you unnecessary anxiety." 
 
 Louis bowed, and left the room. 
 
 "Yon have eaten no breakfast, my dear Brighty," s!i 
 the General. 
 
 " I am thinking of Louise and Louis. They !OT cst 
 another fondly; and they are ooth so gentle poorchildra; 
 and they should be so happy ; and I sympathise so modi 
 ia their affection for each other, that I dread 
 tkat Beriousl) threatens their peace,"
 
 888 THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 " Do not feel so ranch, my darling. Yon did not seea 
 to think this very serious till now." 
 
 " Nor did I, sir for I did not know until now how great 
 * humiliation she had suffered ; how lasting a cause of 
 vengeance that will be to a woman like her." 
 
 "Yet Mrs. Armstrong will not dare to brave public 
 opinion by attempting to keep Louise from her husband." 
 
 " Mrs. Armstrong will dare to do anything she pleases 
 to do ; a*nd Mrs. Armstrong would think it very imperti- 
 nent in public opinion to sit i- judgment on any of her ac- 
 tions. Take my knowledge of her for that." 
 
 "Yet you did not seem to know her very well, Brighty. 
 She deceived you, as all of us, in her affected reconcilia- 
 tion." 
 
 " I did not know her duplicity, sir, certainly ; and it 
 was the very last vice of which I should have suspected her. 
 I knew her almost omnipotence of will, her immutability of 
 purpose ; but I supposed her too haughty for duplicity ; 
 and a woman like her resorting to duplicity, only proves 
 how deeply seated her desire of vengeance is, and that 
 alarms me the more." 
 
 " Oh 1 nonsense, my dear. Would you make me believe 
 that Mrs. Armstrong is a Lady Macbeth ? Come," said 
 he, going to the table and pouring out a cup of coffee 
 "drink this, darling, and discover for yourself what a differ- 
 ent aspect affaire will wear after a good cup of coffee." 
 
 Brighty's smile broke out like sunshine, chasing the 
 shadow from her brow, as she received the cup so affection- 
 ately tendered, and sipped its contents. 
 
 "There now, you shall have your song as usual, before 
 you go out," she said, rising gayly, and leading the way to 
 the parlor "A hunting song, of course, my dear Nirn- 
 Tod ? 
 
 "Of course, my dear Brighty." 
 
 She played a prelude and commenced singinc an inpu>
 
 "THE THUNDERBOLT." 389 
 
 Ing old song, of which the General was very fond " Hark 
 away 1 hark away ! hark away to the downs !" the General 
 standing at the back of her chair, and joining in the chorus. 
 Ats it conclusion she would have left the piano, but, the 
 General telling her that he should not go out until the re- 
 turn of Louis, she resumed her seat, and played and sung 
 several other pieces to fill up the time, until the horse of 
 Louis galloped into the yard, and his step sounded in th 
 hall. He entered, pale and agitated. 
 
 " Well, Louis !" anxiously exclaimed both the General 
 and Brighty. 
 
 Louis threw himself into a chair before speaking ; then 
 he said " I have been denied admittance." 
 
 " Certainly, we expected that. Indeed, we considered 
 your visit merely as a matter of form a preliminary ne- 
 cessary before making a formal demand for the restitution 
 of your wife. Now, Louis, you are to write to Mrs. Arm- 
 strong, demanding the return of Louise." 
 
 " No," said Louis, " I shall first write to Louse, request- 
 ing her to come home." 
 
 " Do so, then, my son." 
 
 " Take my word for it, Louise will never get your let- 
 ter," said Britannia, " unless you take some indirect and 
 secret way of getting it into her hands." 
 
 "Zounds ! It would be a relief at this moment to swear. 
 Was ever a respectable family placed in so awkward and 
 ridiculous a position before ?" 
 
 "Louis, don't be a fool take no more conciliatory mea- 
 sures at all. It is loss of time and labor. Raise the devil 
 about the ears of that old Hecate ! Get out a writ ol Tia- 
 beas corpus. Sue for your marital rights." 
 
 " Sue for my marital rights ! Saints and angels ! my 
 
 father, but you have forgotten all that is lovely in love, to 
 
 dream of such a thing. Sue for my marital rights ! Sue 
 
 whom ? Sue Louise, that gentle and tender Louise f Sue 
 
 34
 
 890 THC MOTHEB-IX-LAW. 
 
 her! Yes. Heaven knows, if I could get adraittaice U 
 Ssr dear presence, how I would sue her ! With bended 
 knee and uplifted hands and eyes, I would sue for the privi- 
 lege of passing my whole life with her, of devoting my whole 
 life to her. That is the manner in which I would sue 
 Louise." 
 
 " And you are right, my dear, noble-hearted Louis. You 
 would not shock her delicacy, or wound her sensibilities, by 
 any other suit, at least." 
 
 " May God mend the wits of all poets, I say ! That's 
 for your benefit, Louis I And for you, Miss Brighty I 
 bright eyes bright hair bright lips do you run away ! 
 Nay, I implore you to do so ; that I may show Master Louis 
 how long I should sit here, twisting my fingers, with my 
 eyes on the ground, in patient widowhood !" exclaimed the 
 General, in a half-petulant, half-caressing tone. 
 
 " No, I am much obliged to you, sir. I prefer not. Like 
 Mrs. Armstrong, I think that all scenes are decidedly vul- 
 gar ; unlike Mrs. Armstrong, I cannot defy public opinion !" 
 Then turning to Lonis, she said " All I beg of you, Louis, 
 is, that you will do nothing in haste. Be patient for a little 
 while. Do not, above all things, let this matter become 
 public through any imprudence of yours. Let the world 
 believe for the present, that Louise is on a visit to her 
 mother. Wait; this cannot last. It is preposterous to 
 think that a young husband and young wife, who love each 
 other tenderly, can be separated finally by any thing but 
 death. All that is to be feared now, is, that this matter 
 will get out, and reflect discredit upon the family. That 
 would be so shocking ! Guard against that, Louis ? Be 
 patient, wad I will do all that I can for you. All will b 
 well. Come, Louis, be cheerful I" 
 
 "Ah, madam ! if you did but know how this treatment 
 of me by Louise pierces my heart 1" 
 
 " I do kmw it dear Louis ; but you must not blame Ixraift
 
 "THE THUNDERBOLT.* 811 
 
 too severely. A rule that would apply to any other wo- 
 nan will not apply to her. Louise had received a peculiar 
 education. It was in consideration of that fact that I ap- 
 plauded your resolution of not suing otherwise than as a 
 lorer might. Louise loves you tenderly, and suffers in this 
 separation from you, but she considers that her first duty ie 
 obedience to her mother. Thai duty has been impressed 
 on her mind from her infancy up. She knows nothing of 
 her duty as a wife; that has never been taught her." 
 
 " But one would suppose," said Louis, "that her natural 
 instincts would enlighten her." 
 
 "Dear Louis, her mother has taught her to consider her 
 mere instincts as so many temptations of the evil one. 
 Louise had been taught but one of the Ten Commandments, 
 'Honor thy father and thy mother' but not ' Love and 
 honor thy husband ;' she knows nothing of that. The whole 
 of the life of Louise has been spent in learning and prac- 
 ticing one lesson filial honor and obedience. It is her id- 
 iosyncrasy her monomania. All her life she has been in 
 the hands of her mother, and that mother has used that time 
 in obtaining and confirming an almost omnipotent power 
 over the heart of her child. And at her mother's command 
 she will renounce her husband, although her heart were to 
 break in the renunciation !" 
 
 "But this is unnatural 1 monstrous !" 
 
 " Tes, it is unnatural monstrous but it is the effect of 
 education ; and you know the all-powerful influence of edu- 
 cation. One educated in a particular belief, creed be it 
 ever so far from right reason will die, if necessary, for that 
 treed I Some of the gentlest, tenderest, and most timid 
 women that have ever lived, have suffered themselves to bo 
 tanged, burned, or torn by wild horses, rather than renounc* 
 ome point of duty in which they believed, no matter how 
 far from the truth it might be. So with Louise She wit
 
 02 THK M OTHER- Ilf. LAW. 
 
 endure all suffering rather than disobey her mother, 
 that is her religion." 
 
 " Louis I get her back home ; get her home. She it 
 yonng yet, and you can teach her a new creed. I woald 
 not give a cent for a young man who could not induce his 
 young bride to believe that the stars were all angels, or 
 anything else he pleased. Only get her home by fair 
 means or foul," exclaimed the general. 
 
 " Hush-sh-sh !" said Brighty, laying one hand on hi* 
 lips, and throwing the other arm affectionately over Ma 
 shoulder. " Do not urge Louis to any such a step. You 
 do not know Louise as well as I do. She is morbidly sen- 
 litive very frail and nervous. Any violent controversy 
 oetween her husband and her mother would kill Louise." 
 
 " And yet you bade me wait and hope. 0, madam, was 
 not that a mockery ?" asked Louis, turning reproachfully 
 toward Britannia. 
 
 " No, Louis, I am incapable of mockery. I advised you 
 not to shock and alarm Louise by any hasty or violent 
 measures. And I told you all I know of her own and her 
 mother's peculiarities, that you may know that violence will 
 do no sort of good, but all harm. And I entreated, and 
 still entreat, you to have patience to take time to reflect 
 I will think for you, and do all in my power to bring mat- 
 ters to a happy issue use only prudent and conciliatory 
 means at first and all must be well." 
 
 With a heavy sigh, Louis took his hat and left the room 
 General Stuart-Gordon, shaking his head dubiously, soon 
 arose and followed him. 
 
 Four days passed away, during which Louis had writ- 
 ten both to Mrs. Armstrong and to Louise. These let- 
 ters might as well have been dropped into a well, for aay 
 reply they received. Sunday came. Mrs. Armstrong was 
 a regular attendant at church.
 
 MONT CRYSTAL. 868 
 
 " I shall see Louise at morning service," said Louis, and 
 he hurried off to church. 
 
 The Armstrong pew was empty, and remained empty 
 during the whole service. 
 
 A month elapsed, during which Louis had presented 
 himself many times at Mont Crystal, and had been con- 
 stantly denied admittance a month, during which he had 
 written and written, agaic and again, to Louise and to 
 Mrs. Armstrong, without producing the slightest effect. 
 By no token could he be sure that they received his letters. 
 They gave no sign, not even by returning them. Mrs 
 Armstrong maintained a stern but inflexible silence. He 
 attended church regularly, but never met Louise or Mrs. 
 Armstrong there. General Stuart-Gordon wrote to Mrs 
 Armstrong. His letter also seemed to have fallen into a 
 grave. Then the General called at Mont Crystal, and was 
 told the ladies were not at home. Britannia had also made 
 a call with no better success. Thus two months passed 
 away. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 MONT CRYSTAL. 
 
 O'er that house there hangs a solemn gloom ; 
 That step falls timid In each gorgeous room, 
 Vast, sumptuous, dreary as some Eastern pile, 
 Where mates keep watch a home without a smile 
 
 How many a sleepless form has no other watcher than 
 the patient moon I One quiet night, about the last of 
 October, rsar midnight, the moon arose, and as it as*end4
 
 IV* TH1 MOTHKR-IIT-LAW. 
 
 toward the zenith, shed a flood of silver radiance over tb 
 river, The Isle of Rays, and the lofty mansion of Mont 
 Crystal. Near the dawn of day, stealing through the front 
 windows of Mont Crystal, the moonbeams looked into that 
 ame front bed-chamber, once described as the summer 
 Bleeping -room of Mrs. Armstrong. This chamber con- 
 tained two bedsteads a large tent bedstead, with ita 
 white dimity curtains down, and a little cot, covered with a 
 white Marseilles counterpane. The little white cot stood 
 between the tent bedstead and the front windows. The 
 moonbeams, coming through the window, fell upon the cot 
 and upon the wan face of Louise, glistening upon the tear- 
 drops that hung upon her eyelashes. Her emaciated hands 
 were clasped above her head. She lay so still, and looked 
 BO white, that but for the glistening tear-drops, and the 
 occasional convulsion of her bosom, she might have been 
 supposed to be asleep or dead. At last, a slight move- 
 ment from the tent bedstead startled her. She unclasped 
 her hands, and listened. The noise, as of some one turn- 
 ing in the bed, was repeated. Lonise raised upon her 
 elbow, and listened again attentively. She now heard 
 something between a hem and a groan, as of one waking 
 p. Now she murmured softly 
 " Mother, dear, are yon awake ?" 
 " Yes, Louise I" proceeded from the curtains. 
 "Oh I I am so glad. I have not slept to-night, mother. 
 I have counted every hour the clock has struck. I have 
 waited for you to awake, so long." 
 
 " You have had a sleepless night, my child ! Why did 
 you not touch the bell, and summon Kate to give you a nar- 
 cotic ? What has been the matter ? Nothing but yonr 
 sual nervousness, I hope ?" 
 
 " Mother, I could not sleep for joy and fee sorrow." 
 " Strange paradox, that ! what do you mean, Louise J n 
 Louise s'typed softly eat of bed, and going to the side of
 
 MONT CRYSTAL. 896 
 
 the ,ent bedstead, and putting aside the curtains, stooped 
 and kissed her mother, dropping a tear upon her face. Then 
 kneeling by her side, she took her hand and covered it with 
 kisses. 
 
 "Mamrna, I must return to Louis ! indeed I must, mam 
 ma, if he will take me back 1 Indeed, I most, mamma, if he 
 were twenty times a traitor!" 
 
 " Hey ! what I how ! what is all this wretched nonsense, 
 now f" 
 
 " Mamma, I shall be a mother soon !" said Louise, in a 
 voice between timidity and tenderness. 
 
 " WHAT 1" exclaimed the lady, raising upon her elbow, 
 and gathering her black brows into an awful frown 
 " WHAT 1" 
 
 " God has blessed me ! I too, shall be a mother, dear 
 mamma 1 Oh 1 mamma, kiss me now that I have told 
 you ! 
 
 " It is not true ! It cannot be true 1" exclaimed Mrs, 
 Armstrong, still glaring at her daughter. 
 
 " Mamma, it is so ; and I must return to Louis indeea 
 I must, mamma !" 
 
 " To a man whose whole heart is given to his mistress ?" 
 
 " If it be so, it is dreadful, mamma, but I cannot help it. 
 He does love me a little. Any how, I know /love him en- 
 tirely ; and bankrupt that I am, I could be happier, even ia 
 his divided affection, than I am, severed from him here. 
 And oh, mother 1 being separated from him under these 
 circumstances, gives me a feeling of degradation of shame I" 
 
 " I do not wonder at it, if these circumstances were aa 
 you fancy, Miss Armstrong." 
 
 " Oh, mamma I do not call me ' Miss Armstrong ' any 
 onger, I beg of you ; for, although as you say I am but a 
 mere child, yet I am not Miss Armstrong ; ' and to hear 
 you call we so, mother, covers my face with burning
 
 196 THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 " Oh ! beg your pardon, Mrs. Louis Stuart- Gordom 
 I will try to bear in mind your dignity for the future." 
 
 " Mamma, can you not call me Louise ? Speak to m 
 kindly, dear mamma." 
 
 " I am not sufficiently well pleased with y >u, ma'am, to 
 address you so familiarly." 
 
 " Mamma, how have I given yon offense f 
 
 "By the subject of your conversation. Now, let me hear 
 no more ridiculous nonsense about returning to that young 
 scapegrace, nor the other miserable shift-about pshaw I 
 fudge ! stuff! you ought to be ashamed of yourself to have 
 such fancies." 
 
 " It is not fancy, it is fact, mamma." 
 
 " SILENCE! hush! not a word more of this, I command 
 you, Louise. It is false I false f you are too young far 
 too young. You should blush at such imaginings." 
 
 " It is not imagination, mamma ; " persisted Louise, with 
 a tender earnestness. 
 
 " HUSH ! I command you I Never dare to hint this sub- 
 ject to me, or to any one else, at the peril of my grave dis- 
 pleasure. Shameful ! But you are really out of health. 
 You are ill and nervous, and so, of course, full of idle fan- 
 cies. You are too much confined. Yon do not take exer- 
 cise enough. You must go out more. You shall ride on 
 horseback. Nothing is better for low spirits than hard 
 riding on a trotting horse. Come, you shall have your first 
 ride to-morrow. We will see if we cannot cure you of these 
 nervous fancies. Now, return to bed, and try to get some 
 sleep. Don't you know you are taking cold, by kneeling 
 here with bare feet ? Go to bed. Stay ! come batk a mo- 
 ment." 
 
 "Well, mamma?" 
 
 " This is a very absurd fancy of yonrs, Louise ! Now, I 
 charge you, do not betray your folly to any one. Do not
 
 MONT CRYSTAL. Wl 
 
 peak of this conceit of yours to a soul. It woali subject 
 yon to ridicule." 
 
 " I shall be silent, dear mamma." 
 
 And Louise crept back to bed " but not to sleep." 
 
 It was a glorious autumn morning that rose upon the 
 world that day. Mrs. Armstrong always arose with the 
 ran precisely. This morning, as soon as its earliest beams, 
 glancing between the half-closed shutters, gilded the op 
 posite wall, Mrs. Armstrong was up, and arrayed in an 
 Ample flannel wrapper, sitting before her tall dressing-glass, 
 while Kate Jumper stood behind her, combing out her 
 abundant long black hair, that was still beautiful, though 
 slightly mixed with silver. Mrs. Armstrong glanced from 
 time to time upon Louise, who still lay extended upon her 
 white cot, perfectly motionless, her eyes closed, her slender 
 fingers interlocked upon her pale brow occasionally a 
 spasmodic sigh, agitating her bosom, breaking from her 
 lips. 
 
 " What do you think of that child, Kate ?" asked the 
 lady, looking searchingly in the face of her attendant. 
 
 " Well, madam, I think she is indeed all the women 
 about the house know she is " 
 
 "In bad health!" said the lady, emphatically, and looking 
 sternly and threateningly at her attendant. 
 
 "Yes, madam, of course, just as you say, in bad health." 
 
 " Listen to me ! She is out of spirits, and she neglects 
 her toilet sadly more than I choose that my daughter shall. 
 I shall dismiss her maid, and do you take her place, and 
 superintend the dressing of your young lady. Do not per- 
 mit her to go about as loosely and carelessly arrayed as hai 
 been her custom of late. See that she wears her stays ; do 
 you hear ?" 
 
 "Yes, madam, I hear and understand." 
 
 " Hear and literally obey. Do not trouble your under- 
 fending with m^re than the literal command."
 
 898 THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 Another glance at Louise found her gentle eyes now 
 open, and calmly turned on her mother. 
 
 " It is time to rise, my daughter. You are to take a 
 ride this morning, directly after breakfast. Kate will dress 
 you," said the lady ; " and Lonise I insist upon your paying 
 more attention to your personal appearance. Kate has my 
 orders." And the lady, whose turban was now arranged, 
 took up her bunch of keys, and marched from the room. 
 
 One thing Mrs. Armstrong wished to avoid in these 
 rides that was, the possibility of a rencounter with Louis, 
 or, what was worse, with that old " Island Seal," as she 
 called the General. To avoid such a rencounter by a keen 
 vigilance, and, in the event of a chance meeting, to prevent 
 Louise from "falling into the hands of the enemy," Mrs. 
 Armstrong, who was an excellent equestrian, determined to 
 accompany her daughter. 
 
 "We will go down to see Zoe. Since the girl knowa 
 her place, and does not presume on our former notice of her 
 to appear at Mont Crystal, we can show her some kind- 
 ness can engage her to do some work for us," said the 
 lady, as soon as she and her daughter were in their saddles. 
 And whipping her horse into a smart trot, she set out for 
 the Dovecote, attended by a mounted servant to open the 
 gates. Arrived at the summit of the hill, and before begin- 
 ning to descend the narrow bridle-path leading down into 
 the glen where was situated the Dovecote, Mrs. Armstrong 
 took out her glass, and threw a sweeping glance over the 
 ground that lay stretched down before them. Apparently 
 satisfied by her survey, they began to descend the path. 
 They arrived at the cottage without meeting with any one. 
 
 The external appearance of the Dovecote was certainly 
 improved. The yard was a wilderness of roses. The win- 
 dows were open, and rare and beautiful exotics in flower 
 pott tat upon the sills ; they filled the air with their fra 
 Mr* Anu^onf looked around with turpriat, u*
 
 MONT CRYSTAL, iff 
 
 Louise with delight, as they alighted from their saddle* 
 and passed through the little wicket up the walk. 
 
 The inside of the cot was as much improved as the ex- 
 terior. Pale pink gingham curtains at the windows, shed 
 a delicate rose-colored light through the room. Zoe's own 
 carpet, fresh as ever, was upon the floor. A few choice 
 pictures, all of cheerful or of loving subjects, were on the 
 wall. A small mahogany book case, filled with books, 
 and surmounted by a little plaster-cast statuette, stood 
 between the rose-curtained, flower-filled windows. More 
 than all the idol of the little housewife a nice mahogany 
 workstand, with two folding leaves and two drawers, and 
 lurmounted by a workbox, completely furnished, stood near 
 the corner of the hearth. Zoe, neatly dressed in white 
 muslin, sat at this workstand in a little rocking-chair with- 
 out arms, her feet resting upon a little embroidered footstool 
 On her lap lay a piece of work, in which she seemed to 
 take great delight. It, was an infant's slip she was em- 
 broidering. Zoe was humming a lullaby tune to some 
 imaginary baby, and looking the picture of content. 
 
 Did you expect that Zoe was heart-broken? Zoe wa 
 too much of a child and a housewife to break her heart for 
 what had happened to her, after her first fit of crying 
 There was not a single capillary vein of tragedy in all Zoe's 
 happy organization. She perfectly understood that the 
 coffee-pot must boil through all sorts of troubles. Govern- 
 ments might be subverted, but supper must be got. Kings 
 might be decapitated, but clothes must be cut, and so Zoe 
 unconsciously sung the imaginary baby to sleep, while SJQ 
 wrought mimic heart's-ease and rose-buds in the border of 
 the cambric slip. 
 
 On the opposite side of the work-table, in a large eagf 
 chair, sat the old schoolmaster. He had grown fat, and 
 was clothed in a cool, loose white linen jacket and trowsers, 
 and bis face wore an air of celestial calmness. He was play-
 
 400 THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 ing with two beautiful, frolicsome, tortoise-shell kittni 
 that continually leaped about him, or climbing upon hi 
 shoulders, licking his hands, or nestling in his bosom. It 
 was plain that the old man had reached his second child- 
 hood, and that it was as innocent and as happy as his first. 
 There was not a singlt, care, or fear, or doubt, on that di- 
 Tinely serene countenance divinely serene, except when 
 changed by a laugh, as glad as ever rang from his boyhood's 
 lips. Such a laugh had just rung out. The tortoise-shell 
 kittens had made a simultaneous spring to reach his back, 
 and tumbling over each other, had rolled upon the floor, 
 and the old man had just laughed aloud when the door 
 opened, and Mrs. Armstrong and Louise appeared. 
 
 Zoe laid down her little slip upon the stand, and came 
 forward, curtsying, and setting chairs. Mrs. Armstrong, 
 with a condescending nod to the schoolmaster, seated her- 
 Belf. But Louise turned and tenderly embraced Zoe, while 
 she said, with a gentle smile 
 
 " Why, Zoe, have you not been to Mont Crystal of late ? 
 Didn't you know, Zoe, that nothing that could happen to 
 yea, without your own fault, could make any change in my 
 feelings toward yon ? Oh ! Zoe ?" she said, sinking her 
 voice to a low whisper, "don't you know that I would have 
 hastened to yon as soon as ever I got home if I had been 
 permuted ?" 
 
 " I know you would have done so, Mrs. Stuart-Gordon,* 
 said Zoe, pressing her hand. 
 
 " Why don't you call me Louise ?" 
 
 " Circumstances have so changed with me, young lady, 
 that I must remember ray own position, lest others should 
 be obliged to remind me of it," said Zoe, with something of 
 gentle dignity in her manner. Then, still holding the hand 
 of Louise, with the other hand she gracefully indicated the 
 ehair, and seated her in it. 
 
 Mrs. Annstvng was endeavoring tc converse with the
 
 MONT CRYSTAL. 401 
 
 old schoolmaster. Loiise and Zoe were seated at th 
 work-table. 
 
 " I am glad to see yoa looking so happy and well, dear 
 Zoe." 
 
 "Why should I not be ? What is changed, except ia 
 name ? Oh I I cried at first, though 1 Oh I I cried my 
 eyes out, nearly I I thought I should be cast out ! I 
 thought that all my friends whom I loved so dearly, wonld 
 abandon me. But, ah ! it has been so different ! My friends 
 have changed indeed but to greater kindness. Gertrude 
 Miss Lion, I should say who used to treat me very ca- 
 priciously, sometimes petting, sometimes abusing me Miss 
 Lion treats me with the affection of a sister; and Brighty 
 I mean Mrs. General Stuart-Gordon oh I she has been 
 an angel to me and to my adopted father, there. Look 
 around upon this room, madam ! all this cheerful beauty is 
 her work her bounty although she conceals it all under 
 the veil of a liberal pay for the sewing I do for her. Ah ! 
 surely never prosperity blessed a worthier one than that 
 lady." 
 
 Louise was turning over and examining the baby-slip 
 with curiosity and interest 
 
 " Do you sew for any other family except that of the Isle, 
 Zoe 7" 
 
 " No ; Mrs. Stuart-Gordon gives me as much sewing aa 
 I can possibly do, and pays me most liberally. Then she 
 always gives me a great deal, and with her true native deli- 
 cacy, gives me only the work of her own hands, or the pro- 
 duce of her own garden or conservatory. Look at those 
 pictures on the walls ; they were painted by her. This 
 little ottoman I use when sewing was worked by her. Look 
 at those tea-roses and heliotropes in the pretty porcelain 
 flower-pots in the window they were sent from her ccn- 
 erratory. And the variety of roses in the yard wer &J1
 
 402 THX MOTH1B-1N-LAW. 
 
 eot from her garden of roses at the back of the Islaad 
 breakfast-room." 
 
 " Dear Brighty ! she is an angel ; but, indeed, dear Zoe, 
 my will to serve you was as good as hers." 
 
 "I know it, my dear young lady." 
 
 Louise was still turning over the little slip measuring 
 the little waist running her fingers into the little sleeves. 
 Zoe now observed her occupation, and forgetting her par- 
 posed reserve, and smiling and blushing, she bent her head 
 to the ear of Louise, and whispered with a girlish confi- 
 dence 
 
 " Do you know, Louise, that notwithstanding all that hat 
 happened to ine, I only need one thing to make me com- 
 pletely happy." 
 
 " And what is that, Zoe ?" 
 
 " A baby ! Oh ! I do want to find a baby so bad ! Ever 
 since I left off my doll, I have thought, if I only had a liv 
 baby to dress and nnrse, I should be the happiest of mor- 
 tals." 
 
 "Then suppose yon should go out as a nurse," said 
 Louise, half-jestingly. 
 
 "No, that would never suit me, never! I have been 
 mistress of my own honse ever since I was nine years old, 
 and I could not live in any body else's," said the littl* 
 housekeeper, with gentle pride. " No, Louise, I would like 
 to find a baby under a tree, or on the door-step, some fin 
 day some dear little lost baby, that I could take care of; 
 dear me, how I should love it 1 They say that every human 
 being's eyes and hopes are fixed on some 'far off, unai- 
 tained,' and unattainable good ! My eyes are fixed on 
 baby 1 and please the loving angels, I will some day pick 
 op one of the Lord's lost little ones, and raise it for my 
 own, and it shall call me nother, and then I shall not car* 
 straw if I M an old naid ! Bat I say, Louise," added
 
 MOKT CRYSTAL. 40i 
 
 rite, laughing slyly, " it it not dismal, wi.cn we young girl* 
 can no longer cheat ourselves with nursing dolls ?" 
 
 Louis* smiled sadly, and asked, still examining the Uttl 
 dip 
 
 " Are you making this for your Utopian baby ?" 
 
 "N no that is for Brighty I mean Mrs. Staart- 
 Gordon ! 
 
 "Ha! what?" 
 
 " Certainly ; here" continued Zoe, drawing out a large 
 work-basket from. under the table "look at all the sweet 
 pretty little things I" 
 
 The two girls were soon quite absorbed in examining tiny 
 caps, bibs, slips, &c. While thus engaged, Louise stooped, 
 and whispered in the ear of Zoe this question 
 
 " How is yonr father, Zoe ? He looks better and happief 
 than I ever saw him ; happier, indeed, than any one I see 
 anywhere ; yet there is something strange about him what 
 isit?" 
 
 11 Listen, Louise ! I will tell yon all about it. He has 
 passed an innocent and a beneficent life ; oh 1 has he not ?" 
 
 " Indeed he has ! from all that we have heard of him, and 
 from all that we have observed ourselves." 
 
 "Yet a life foil of toil and privation." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " His life has been like a cloudy day, that ends in a clear 
 Ing up at set of sun a sunset glorious as the gates of 
 Heaven. When the revelation of my true position wai 
 suddenly made to him, the shock, together with his appre- 
 hension of the most terrible results, shook his mind and 
 body nearly to dissolution. For months he was metamor- 
 phosed unrecognizable mad almost. When we got to 
 The Lair, Brutus, by pledgirg himself to avert the worst 
 consequences that might fall upon my head, trauqnilized 
 kirn ; bat he did not recover his normal state of mind ; he 
 fell into tcrt of abstraction, tfet iMtod all tht ttet of eu
 
 404 THE MOTHflR-IN-LAW. 
 
 lay at The Lair. After oar return to this cottage, he 
 began to rouse up from this doll abstraction, and awake, 
 not to what he ever had been since I knew him, but to a 
 sort of gladness and boyishness. And he has grown fat and 
 fair, and there he is the happy child-angel that you see 
 him. It is profane to call this beautiful emancipation o. 
 this guileless spirit dotage ' it is ' second childhood' indeed 1 
 a state very near beatification ! Oh, Louise ! nothing has 
 ever revealed Heaven to me with so much power as this old- 
 man's so-called 'dotage.' The dotage of a life innocent as 
 his has been what is it but the blissful trance of a spirit 
 standing on the confines of both worlds communing with 
 both, bearing from the one a glory that enlightens the other 1 
 He seems to me always an angel, or a child. Listen, Louise .' 
 While we sit here together I with my needle, he with hit 
 pets sometimes he lets them run off, and closes his eyes, 
 find sinks into a sort of happy abstraction, a beautiful calm 
 iiffoses itself over his countenance, which anon grows 
 brighter and brighter, until it seems to radiate light and 
 beauty, as an angel's ; and I pause from my work, and gaze 
 with awe, until my faith in Heaven reaches certainty. And 
 presently he will awake from that abstraction, and begin to 
 look around, and chat with me, and play with his pets, and 
 laugh as gleefully as a child at the merest trifle. Yet there 
 is no folly, no imbecility, not the least in all this it is 
 always the innocent joy of the child, or the inspiration of 
 the angel." 
 
 Mrs. Armstrong, while apparently occupied with the old 
 nan, had lost no part of this conversation ; and her brow 
 had grown very dark at those parts that had concerned Bri- 
 tannia. The old man now arose, and approached the girls, 
 and looked wistfully into the face of Louise ; then he 
 itretched forth his hand, and laying it on her head, 
 blessed her. Then he stooped, and sa'd confidentially te 
 Zoe, pointing to Mrs. Armstrong.
 
 MONT CRYSTAL 406 
 
 " Don't let her come and sit by me again, Zoe, She haa 
 made me feel cold all over, and made my eyes dim. And 
 this little child, Zoe," he said, laying his hand on the head 
 of Louise, " this poor little chilled blue-pale child, she must 
 not stay near her, or she will be frost-bitten, as the flowen 
 are, and die as the flowers do." 
 
 " What does he say about his flowers ?" asked MM. 
 Armstrong, now approaching the table. 
 
 " He says they will be frost-bitten, if exposed to the 
 cold," answered Zoe. 
 
 The old man shrunk gently away at the lady's approach, 
 passed around the table, holding by it, and tottered back to 
 his seat. 
 
 " Have you engaged this girl to make up your autumn 
 dresses, Lonise ?" 
 
 " No mamma ; Zoe has as much work as she can do," 
 replied Lonise. 
 
 " Then we need not delay our return," said Mrs. Arm- 
 strong. 
 
 Lonise arose to take leave of Zoe, and found an oppor- 
 tunity of saying to her 
 
 "I have no room, not a nook or corner, at Mont 
 Crystal, for my private use, Zoe I share my mother's 
 apartments ; but if ever I should get back to The Isle of 
 Rsys, a spare room there shall always be at your service, 
 Zoe ; and in the meantime, dear Zoe, I shall be very happy 
 to see yon at Mont Crystal, if you can take any pleasure in 
 seeing me always in the company of others." 
 
 They then took leave of the schoolmaster and left the 
 cottage. 
 
 Remounting their horses, and followed by their attendant, 
 Mrs. Armstrong and Louise entered the bridle-path leading 
 through the glen and up the hill. 
 
 This path was very narrow, with a high thick wood on 
 both sides. They rode in sinp'e file Mrs. Armstrong first,
 
 406 TMl MOTBBB-IK-LAW. 
 
 Loniie next, and their servant behind. The lady had nearly 
 reached the top of the hill, when a lady acd gentleman on 
 horseback, appeared suddenly in eight, riding down the 
 path, meeting them. 
 
 It was Britannia, in high beauty, attired in an elegant 
 dark-bine velvet riding-habit and cap, with a floating white 
 plume, and mounted on a jet-black horse. She was fol- 
 lowed by Louis Stuart-Gordon, looking pale and haggard, 
 in his usual dress of simple black, and mounted on his dark- 
 bay horse. 
 
 There was no avoiding the meeting now. Mrs. Arm- 
 strong and her party paused and drew aside for the new 
 comers to pass. 
 
 Mrs. Armstrong drew up her majestic figure to its loftiest 
 height, gathered her dark brows into an awful frown, and 
 looked sternly and straight ahead. 
 
 Louise grew deadly pale, dropped her head upon her 
 bosom and her eyes upon the ground. 
 
 Britannia passed first. She threw a glance of indigna- 
 tion at the haughty countenance of Mrs. Armstrong, and 
 turned a look full of pitying affection upon the pale face of 
 Louise. 
 
 Louis came next. Lifting his cap from his head, and 
 bowing low as his saddle, he held it thus until he passed 
 them. They rode down the hill. 
 
 With a frowning brow and curling lip, Mrs. Armstrong 
 whipped up her horse, just as the servant sprang before 
 her and caught Louise, who was falling from her saddle. 
 
 " Take her before you on the horse. Take her before 
 you on the horse. Fly with her to Mont Crystal ! Quick, 
 quick, quick I" exclaimed Mrs. Armstrong, who, by a rapid 
 glance, had perceived that Louis, looking back, had seen 
 Louise swoon, and waa now spurring his horse rapidly op 
 the hill *oward them.
 
 XOVT OBT8TAL. 407 
 
 Th man raised the fainting girl, and fled with her to- 
 ward Mont Crystal. 
 
 Lonis Stuart-Gordon overtook Mrs. Armstrong, who, 
 keeping in the middle of the path, would not suffer him to 
 pass her. 
 
 He addressed her with respectful courtesy, requesting her 
 to gi?e way, that he might ride on and see Louise. x 
 
 Mrs Armstrong sat straight up in the saddle, looked 
 traight on before her, and rode leisurely, without replying. 
 
 He spoke to her again, earnestly, and inquired after the 
 health of MB wife. 
 
 Mrs. Armstrong did not answer. 
 
 He argued with her, entreated her. 
 
 Mr. Armstrong persevered in a stern silence, until they 
 had reached the gates of Mont Crystal, when, turning to 
 
 m, she said 
 
 " Sir, my daughter is in fine health and spirits. You 
 need gire yourself no impertinent uneasiness about her." 
 
 She passed the gateg. They clanged to behind her, 
 tearing Louis reining up hit horse without. 
 
 " And Louise is dying slowly dying 1 I know it !" he 
 exclaimed, as he galloped madly back to The Isle of Rays I" 
 
 The waiter who went to snmrnon Louis to breakfast the 
 next morning found him in high delirium. 
 
 The grief, suspense, anxiety of the last two month*, 
 acting upon a singularly delicate and susceptible organisa- 
 tion, had now bronght a crisis, and Louis Stuart-Gordon 
 wai raring in a brain -ft rer.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 THE SOLITARY. 
 
 > b* mre of my love by thy treason forgiren ; 
 LI my prayer* by the blessings they win thee from Heavm I 
 Of my ffritfgnea* the length of the sword by the sheath's ; 
 By the silence of lifemore pathetic than death's. 
 Go be clear of that day t 
 
 Eliz. B. Browning. 
 
 "WELL, Katel" 
 
 " Well, madam, I went to the bridge, leading from tht 
 rirer shore to The Isle of Ray?, as you commanded me, 
 and there I waited until old Seraphina passed, as I ex 
 pected." 
 
 " Go on." 
 
 " Well, madam, as you told me to find out all I could 
 without going on to the premises, or asking questions, I 
 thought there was no other way of discovering what was 
 passing at the mansion, than by picking a quarrel with her; 
 80 I stooped down, and pretended to be looking for mani- 
 nosies ; placing myself directly in her path as she had to go 
 by me, I tripped her up she fell upon her face " 
 
 " Well ?" 
 
 " She scrambled up, with her nose and mouth bleeding, 
 foaming with fury, and swore " 
 
 " Well, well go on, will you what did she say ?" 
 
 " She said ' If you and your missus don't go to de debi 
 A don't see use ob habbin any debil to go to ! and I thinkg 
 d Lord might's well turn hira out ob office.' " 
 
 " Silence insolent 1 I do not ask you for those petty 
 details. In one word, now, what did you learu ? What to 
 th state of Louis Stnart-Gord Vs health ?" 
 (408)
 
 TMZ SOLITABT. 409 
 
 " Madam, Mr. Stuart-Gordon is still extremely ill, aad 
 no hopes are entertained of his recovery." 
 
 " Hnmph ! The comfort is, that Louise and her child 
 are his heirs that is, if the latter should live after. I am 
 almost sorry now one can never tell what turns affairs are 
 going to take," muttered the lady to herself 
 
 " Madam ?" 
 
 " Hold your tongue. I am not talking to you." 
 
 The mulatto clenched her teeth. 
 
 "Well this other story about the woman ?" 
 
 " About Mrs. Stuart-Gordon, madam ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " It is all true, madam. Seraph told me so, shaking net 
 fist in my face, in triumph, that you might kill Mr. Louis, 
 but that his loss might be replaced that an heir would no 4 
 be wanting to The Isle of Rays." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 '' I tossed my head and told her certainly not, for uwugb 
 Mr. Louis might die, Mrs. Louis was " 
 
 " Wretch ! you did not tell her that " 
 
 " Pardon, madam, pardon ; but conld I stand there and 
 see her triumphing over me ?" 
 
 " But yon told her a lie a lie that you are to contra- 
 dict to-morrow. Do you understand me ?" asked the lady, 
 fixing her severe eyes sternly upon her attendant. 
 
 " Madam, I will do so ; but there is one thing I should 
 tell you." 
 
 " Tell it." 
 
 " The morning upon which Mrs. Stuart Gordon and Mr. 
 Louis encountered yourself and Mrs. Louis upon the hill, in 
 returning from the Dovecote, it seems that Mr. Louis, as 
 well as Mrs. Stuart-Gordon, observed Mrs. Louis's ill looks, 
 and saw her faint ; and that from that circumstance, the 
 family at The Isle of Rays have inferred that Mrs. Louis ifl 
 griaring berielf to ieath at separation from her husband.
 
 410 THE MOTHIB-IN-LAW. 
 
 Now, madam, I wished t<r give Mrs. Louis's delicate ap. 
 pearance another cause. I could not bear to have them 
 think that our young lady ever threw away a thought upon 
 them. Thus I had two motives for telling the " 
 
 "Falsehood!" finished Mrs. Armstrong, with a deter- 
 mined look. 
 
 "Yes, madam; of course, the falsehood." 
 
 " And thus I have two motives for compelling Louise to 
 go to this grand ball : first, that they may not flatter them- 
 selves that Louise is breaking her heart. Ha, ha, ha ! 
 They will no longer do so when they hear of her dancing 
 at a ball while her husband is dying. And my second 
 motive is, that the story told by this stupid Kate may be 
 tacitly contradicted," thought the lady ; then raising her 
 voice, she exclaimed 
 
 " Kate." 
 
 "Well, madam." 
 
 "My daughter, as yet, knows nothing of the illness ot 
 Mr. Stuart-Gordon, nor will I have her mind disturbed bj 
 it. Therefore, be silent upon that subject, in her pres- 
 ence." 
 
 "Yes, madam." 
 
 "To-morrow, contradict that story yon told the old 
 gossip ; and be sure to tell her that Mrs. Louis is well and 
 cheerful, and will attend, as usual the annual ball at the 
 Prince's school." 
 
 "Yes, madam; I understand." 
 
 " You are not to say that Mrs. Louis is ignorant of Mr. 
 Locis's illness." 
 
 "Oh, no, madam by no means! Of course not." 
 
 * I think now that you perfectly comprehend me ?" 
 
 " Perfectly, madam. " 
 
 " Kate, I have promised to leave you free. If you will 
 deserve it at my hands, I will leave you comfortably pro- 
 vided for If yon do not merit this "
 
 ffHK SJLITABST. 411 
 
 "Qwrgjl" 
 
 "Exactly." 
 
 la the early part of this true story, I had occasion to 
 mention a collegiate school at Peakville, called the Prince 
 of Wales Academy, and sometimes, for brevity, the Prince's 
 School. This was a sort of smaller college, consisting of 
 a president, four to six professors, and five or six hundred 
 pupils, collected from all parts of the South. The presi- 
 ident and professors of this Academy were mostly from 
 New England, but the greater part of the pupils were from 
 the Southern States. Such of these professors as were 
 unmarried lived at the Academy, but those who had fami- 
 lies occupied private dwellings in the village. Many of the 
 pupils boarded at the Academy, some with the families of the 
 professors, and a few with private families in the village or 
 neighborhood. The ages of these young men ranged from 
 fourteen to twenty-five years, and their character as a class 
 ranked high nay, "a student of the Prince of Wales 
 Academy " was another name for integrity, honor, gener- 
 osity, gallantry, chivalry, magnanimity in short, in that 
 neighborhood, " a student" was a compendium of all the 
 social and chivalric virtues. In that respect, the Prince 
 of Wales Academy was different yes I diametrically oppo- 
 site to any school or college I ever heard of, before or since. 
 I do not know how it was, but so it was. The first two 
 weeks of every December they held an annual festival, at 
 the close of which the school broke up for the Christmas 
 holidays. This festival, for its variety of delightful enter- 
 tainments, its gayety, and its continued length, might be 
 called a carnival. The parents and guardians of the pupils 
 came even for hundreds of miles to be present on the occa- 
 sion, and remained until the close of the ceremonies. Let 
 this be made known for the credit of hospitable " Old Vir- 
 ginia/- that, wherever the pupils boarded, the parents ot 
 guardians weri received and entertained during their stay
 
 412 TUB MOTMl*-Ijr-LAW. 
 
 M gniMfe, The Tillage and neighborhood of the Price* 
 of Wales Academy would be as much crowded as a fash- 
 ionable watering-place at the height of the season, or aa 
 Washington city during the long session of Congress. 
 During the first week of the "carnival," (I prefer t> bor- 
 row that term,) the days were spent in examinations of all 
 the pnpils through all their studies. This was a great 
 solemnity, carried on by the professors in the presence of 
 the hundreds assembled in the chapel of the institution. 
 The evenings were spent in exhibitions, recitations, decla- 
 mations, theatricals, etc. ; and there was no telling how 
 many enthusiastic boys become stage-struck, or fired with 
 desires to become orators, actors, or preachers, or how 
 many sensitive girls lost their hearts when gazing upon 
 some handsome young aspirant for histrionic or oratorical 
 honors while spouting Shakspeare or Sheridan ! The 
 econd week, the first three days were devoted to the dis- 
 tribution of the premiums, and the last four to public break- 
 fasts, great dinners, suppers, and dancing parties. The 
 grand ball was always given upon the last day of the fes- 
 tival, and followed by a public breakfast the next morning, 
 after which the company dispersed, the students returning 
 with their friends to spend the holidays, and the people of 
 the neighborhood going quietly home to keep Christmas 
 on their own farms. The season of the annual festival now 
 approached. It was the 1st of December. Already the 
 village and neighborhood were filling with strangers, and 
 the solemnities of the examination had commenced. The 
 family at Mont Crystal and at The Isle of Rays had re- 
 ceived tickets of invitation. Of course, the Stuart- Gordons 
 decided not to appear in public at such a time and under 
 nch circumstances. 
 
 Mrs. Armstrong resolved to confront the world, as well 
 to mortify the Island family as to show her haughty defiance 
 of public sentiment. Mrs Armstrong signified he? wishes
 
 TXB SOLITAKT. 411 
 
 to IMT daughter. At first Louise was surprised and dis- 
 tressed at the proposition, or rather the command, but soon 
 reflecting that she might meet Louis there that there he 
 had been educated that there he had always appeared 
 and that there he would almost certainly be, Louise cheer- 
 fully consented to go. 
 
 The evening of the ball came. Louise was dressed with 
 great care. She wore a white gauze over a rose-colored 
 satin, with open and falling sleeves. Her fair arms and 
 neck were bare, and adorned with pearl necklace and brace- 
 lets. Her hair was arranged in madonna bands, and encir- 
 cled by a wreath of white roses. White kid gloves and 
 white satin slippers completed her toilet. These two deli- 
 cate colors, rose and white, suited the fair and soft beauty 
 of the young woman, and never had Louise appeared so 
 lovely. 
 
 Mrs. Armstrong wore a garnet-colored velvet her still 
 rich black hair banded on her temples, and surmounted by 
 a white gauze turban adorned with a bird of Paradise. 
 
 At eight o'clock precisely, they entered the carriage, at 
 tended by Kate Jumper, and were driven to the Prince of 
 Wales Academy. 
 
 The halls, saloons, and lecture rooms of the Academy 
 were converted into dancing, card, and supper rooms. The 
 tudies of the grave professors were metamorphosed into 
 ladies' and gentlemen's dressing-rooms. The president 
 himself was master of ceremonies, the masters were mana- 
 gers of the ball, and the most elegant of the young men 
 stood in crowds at the doors, and out upon the piazzas, to 
 wait on the young ladies as they were driven up in theii 
 carriages. 
 
 These things belong to the past, they have gone out of 
 fashion along with ruffled shirts, knee breeches, bncklss, 
 hooped petticoats, plumes, and farthingales gone out of 
 fashion, yet not quite. Some of this old-school, chivalria
 
 414 TXB MOTHEB-IN-LAW. 
 
 gallantry may be found in the interior and older counties 
 of Maryland and Virginia. We digress. 
 
 It took Mrs. Armstrong's carriage just two hoars to 
 reach the Prince's School. It was consequently ten o'clock 
 when the carriage drew up before the vast illuminated front 
 of the building. A crowd of carriages filled the court-yard 
 a crowd of young men waited on the piazzas a flood of 
 light blazed from the hundred front windows and thun- 
 ders of music shook the air. Mrs. Armstrong's carriage, 
 winding its way among the crowd, pulled up close by the 
 steps of the piazza, immediately in front of the principal 
 entrance. 
 
 Several young men started forward to open the door and 
 let down the steps ; but, on recognizing the carriage, drew 
 back, some with frowning brows and scornful lips some 
 with flushed cheeks and downcast eyes. Not one advanced 
 even to hand the ladies from the carriage. The coachman 
 an unprecedented thing in that neighborhood had to get 
 down from his seat to assist the ladies in alighting. Arro- 
 gant as she was, Mrs. Armstrong's brow crimsoned as she 
 gave her hand to her coachman and alighted, to see a crowd 
 of youths standing still, with averted or downcast eyes, any 
 of whom, six months ago, would have felt but too highly 
 honored in rendering her family the slightest attention. 
 Throwing a sweeping glance of scorn over the assemblage, 
 and gathering the ample folds of her velvet mantle around 
 her, she threw back her head, and passed on with a haughty 
 and regnant step. 
 
 Louise dropped her eyes as she appeared at the carriage 
 door. Then a young man advanced from among the crowd, 
 and held out his hand to assist her in alighting. Louise 
 just raised her eyes an instant to the pale and haggard face, 
 and lightly touched the cold and emaciated hand extended 
 to assist her, as she sprang lightly past and joined her 
 mother T^en 1 irning her head to look again at the gea-
 
 TB1 SOLITABY. 415 
 
 fleraea who had assisted her, she uttered a half-stifled cry, 
 full of bitterest anguish, and fell fainting into the arms of 
 her mother. 
 
 The coachman sprang forward at Mrs. Armstrong's call, 
 and receiving Louise from her arms, bore her it.to the 
 bouse, followed by the lady, and carried her up stairs into 
 cne of the ladies' dressing rooms. She was laid on the 
 settee. Several ladies some of them strangers from differ- 
 ent parts of the State hurried to her aid ; but Mrs. Arm- 
 strong coldly declined their proffers of assistance, and dis- 
 patched the coachman to hasten the arrival of her own con- 
 fidential attendant, Kate. The mulatto soon entered, and 
 with her help, Louise soon opened her eyes. 
 
 " Oh, mamma, was he living or dead ?" were the first 
 words faltered forth by the blue lips of Louise. 
 
 "Collect, yourself, my daughter." 
 
 " But on, mamma, that that spectre was Louis !" 
 
 "Go down stairs, Kate, and bring me a glass of wine," 
 said the lady, still bathing the head of Louise. 
 
 " Oh, mother, to meet Louis so again again 1 So 
 changed I did not recognize him at first so changed 1 Oh, 
 mother, when we met him on the hill, and he passed me 
 with a gentlemanly bow bowing to the pommel of his sad- 
 dle holding his hat off till he passed me. me, his wife, his 
 own Louise I thought the spasm of my heart had killed 
 me ! But now but now to meet him again so unexpect- 
 edly ; to have him bow and coldly hand me from the car- 
 riage me, his own Louise for charity, mother, because 
 no one else would do it ; to see him looking so ill ; to 
 merely touch his hand as I sprang past him that emaciated 
 hand which, had I recognized it, I should have covered 
 with tears." 
 
 " You are excited, frenzied, Louise ; here, drink some 
 sold water." 
 
 " Wow long doe* t take a heart \ > break, mother 7 hoi
 
 414 TMl MOTHJSB-IN-LAW. 
 
 kmg 7 Oh, it is such a alow slow slow deatk. I betweei 
 the pangs there are so many intervals of ease, or forgetful- 
 eta, or idiocy ! n 
 
 The dressing-room was now quite deserted, the ladiei 
 haring all completed their toilets, and gone down into the 
 ball room. 
 
 Weeping and talking will generally exhaust a fit of grief, 
 leaving a sort of weary calmness. Cold water is a great 
 sedative. Under all these influences, Louise, after a little, 
 became quiet. 
 
 At this moment, Kate entered with a glass of wine. 
 
 " It will not do," said the lady ; " besides, I have changed 
 my mind about giving it to her, for, though wine may raise 
 the spirits of a dull person, it will make the grief of a sor- 
 rowing one too eloquent. No, if you please, bring her a 
 cup of very strong coffee ; there is no mistake in the effects 
 of that" 
 
 Kate again left the room. Mrs. Armstrong bolted the 
 door ; and then assisting her daughter to stand up, she ar- 
 ranged the folds of her dress, smoothed her hair, replaced 
 her wreath, and going to one of the dressing-tables, took a 
 pot of rouge left there by one of the ladies, and delicately 
 touched the lily cheeks of her daughter. Then she made 
 her sit down and wait for the coffee, while she went herself 
 and unfastened the door. Kate soon after returned with the 
 fragrant stimulant, and noticing her young lady, the unsus- 
 pecting woman exclaimed, " Why, I do declare she is better, 
 madam. She looks better than I have seen her for a long 
 time. Her cheeks are as red as roses. Indeed, she is quite 
 beautiful I" 
 
 Louise drank the coffee a large cup of very strong cof- 
 fee and then rising, took her mother's arm and they went 
 down stairs. 
 
 It if a very awkward thing in Qii country for ladies to en- 
 tr public assemblies withc-it the escort of gentlemen. Mm
 
 TMK SOLITARY. 41? 
 
 Armstrong had frequently preferred to go to such places 
 attended ouly by her servants, bat she had always found 
 upon the spot many gentlemen who were proud to rendei 
 her service. 
 
 Now, howerer, remembering the coldness of her reception 
 at the door, she had many misgivings that herself and her 
 daughter would be obliged to enter and pass down the ball- 
 room unattended. That would be mortifying 1 She had 
 expected to have to defy public sentiment, but not to en- 
 counter public scorn and indignity. However, there was no 
 retreat now. She drew the arm of her daughter within her 
 own, elevated her haughty head, and prepared to enter the 
 saloon with a majestic mien. The room was blazing with 
 light, and thundering with music, and filled to suffocation 
 nearly, with splendid company. As she sailed haughtily 
 into the room, Louis Stuart-Gordon advanced from the side 
 of the door where he had apparently waited their entree, and, 
 bowing, took his place on the other side of Louise, walked 
 by her side down the whole length of the room, saw them 
 seated, and then with a second and a deeper bow, he left them. 
 All this passed without a word said on either hand. Mrs 
 Armstrong had never deigned to acknowledge his presence, 
 even by a look. Louise had been silent because the eyes of 
 the whole company were on them, and, perhaps because she 
 waited for Louis to address her, or that she feared her 
 mother, or had lost for the time the power of speech who 
 eould tell? Mrs. Armstrong and her daughter had no 
 sooner seated themselves than the effects of the coffee, as- 
 sisted by the glare of lights, the sound of music, the brilliant 
 company began to show itself in the appearance of Louise, 
 Between the effects of the rouge, the stimulant and the 
 scene, her complexion had assumed a beautiful, but always 
 delicate glow ; her eye, a strange, Clear brilliancy ; and her 
 expression and manners, a fascinating gayety, that no one
 
 418 THB MOTHER-IN-LAW 
 
 who had not known her before could have supposed mm* 
 taral ; that no one who had no*, witnessed the events of th 
 last hour could have supposed feverish nearly delirious f 
 Her sparkling gayety soon drew around her a circle of young 
 men who were either not so particular as those upon the 
 piazza, or else having seen her attended by her husband, 
 drew the most favorable inferences. Louise had never been 
 witty before, but now repartee, quick and brilliant as light- 
 ning, flashed from her glowing lips. She bewitched the 
 ci r >le around her; still not one among the youth took her out 
 to dance, until, at last, a young gentleman from a distant coun- 
 ty, looking at her from across the room, seeing her surrounded, 
 and believing her to be some celebrated belle as, unmar- 
 ried, she would have been and wishing a presentation to her, 
 went up to one of the managers and requested an introduction. 
 The manager immediately took him up, and begged leave 
 " to present Captain Fairfax, of Jefferson county, to Mrs. 
 Stuart-Gordon." 
 
 "Oh 1 a youthful widow," thought the Captain, and mak- 
 ing a graceful bow, he begged the honor of Mrs. Stuart- 
 Gordon's hand in the set that was forming. At a sign from 
 her mother, Louise arose, gave him her hand, and was led 
 to the head of a quadrille. 
 
 " My daughter is in high beauty in fine spirits greatly 
 admired she will dance. We will see whether those Island 
 people shall please themselves with the idea that her heart is 
 breaking," exclaimed the lady, in a low voice, as she gazed 
 in triumph upon Louise upon the arm of Captain Fairfax- 
 Captain Fairfax being the lion of the evening 1 Soon her 
 triumph was turned to humiliation. Captain Fairfax had led 
 his beautiful partner off to the head of the set, admiring her 
 with enthusiasm, wondering what the young gentlemen could 
 have been thinking of, not to have secured the honor he waa 
 now enjoying, and heartily congratulating himself upon his 
 gingular goo 1 fortune. He perceived that all eyes were
 
 THE SOLITARY. 419 
 
 tamed upon himself and partner, he heard all lips whispef 
 about them, and he flushed with gratified vanity, for he ver- 
 fly thought it was in admiration of his partner and envy of 
 himself. It was not until one or two ladies had retired from 
 the set, that was not yet completely formed, that he began 
 to perceive that the unusual buzz was one of surprise and 
 disapprobation. Now the light broke on him, and he un- 
 derstood that he had committed himself in some ridiculous 
 way. The perspiration started from his brow. There are 
 some vain men who would rather commit a crime than a, faux 
 pas. He was one of them. Wiping his brow, he turned to 
 his partner ana said 
 
 " The room is very close crowded Mrs. Stuart-Gordon, 
 had we not better sit down ?" 
 
 Louise raised her eyes steadily to his face, and said, with 
 a strange smile, "Oh, sir ! I am a very small woman con- 
 sume but little air fill but little space ; is it not strange, 
 then, that as soon as I appear, the atmosphere should grow 
 BO close the set be found so crowded ?" 
 
 Captain Fairfax only replied by a grave bow, as he led 
 her back to her seat. The artificial gayety of Louise was 
 over for that evening. Defeated, mortified, and enraged, 
 Mrs Armstrong soon arose to retire from the saloon. 
 Again Lonis Stuart-Gordon suddenly appeared, and walk- 
 ing by the side of Louise, attended them from the room, 
 waited for them at the foot of the stairs, and when they 
 came down cloaked and bonneted, still walking by the side 
 of Louise, he attended them to the carriage. Mrs. Arm- 
 strong drew herself up haughtily on one side. Louis handed 
 his wife in saying, as he pressed her hand 
 
 " Do not appear in public again, Louise," and retired. 
 
 "Oh! I will not, I will not!" replied Louise, sinking, 
 sobbing in one corner of the carriage. 
 
 Mrs. Armstrong could have strangled him on the spot. 
 Repealing his proffered assistance wi^.h a haughty gesture, &
 
 THE XOTHEB-IN-LAW. 
 
 tepped proudly into her carriage, which was immediately 
 driven off. The darkness of the winter's night, the dark- 
 ness of the carriage prevented Mrs. Armstrong from seeing 
 the face of Louise. She heard her stifled and convulsive 
 obbiug, but feeling disinclined to converse, she was silent 
 during the whole drive. Arrived at Mont Crystal, they 
 alighted. She drew the arm of Louise through her own, 
 and led her up into their sleeping apartment. It was now 
 between three and four o'clock in the morning. The room 
 was well warmed and lighted, and every way comfortably 
 prepared for their reception. Mrs. Armstrong threw her- 
 self into an easy-chair by the fire, and called Kate to assist 
 her in undressing. Without removing any of her clothes, 
 Louise paced in a nervous and excited manner up and 
 down the floor. 
 
 " Come to the fire and war i yourself, my daughter," 
 said the lady. 
 
 " No, no ; I am not cold." 
 
 "Undress and retire to rest, then, my dear." 
 
 " I cannot I cannot 1 I cannot rest anywhere." 
 
 Mrs. Armstrong now turned around in her chair, and 
 noticed the frightful pallor of her daughter's countenance as 
 she walked wildly up and down the floor, wringing her 
 hands. 
 
 "Louise, sit down and compose yourself I insist upon 
 it." 
 
 Still Louise, with pallid brow and bloodshot eyes, paced 
 distractedly up and down the floor. 
 
 " Kate, leave me 1 I can undress myself. Go and pre- 
 pare your young lady for bed." 
 
 Kate left her mistress, and weLt to Louise. She turned 
 away from her, wildly exclaiming 
 
 " No, no I no, no 1 I cannot ! I will neither sleep nor 
 at, until I hare rejoined Louis. " 
 
 " What doei she say ?" exclaimed Mrs Armstrong, riling
 
 IMft SOLITARY. 
 
 to her feet, and gazing in astonishment upon the 
 ezdted girl. " What does she say ?" 
 
 " I lay, mother 1" exclaimed the half-delirious girl, walk- 
 ing rapidly up to the lady, and standing before her with her 
 thin hands writhing together, and her haggard eyes strained 
 hah* out of her head " I say, mother, that this separation 
 ia cruel, monstrous, insupportable ! It is killing me thai 
 is of no consequence ; but it is killing Louis too that no- 
 ble Louis, whose only weakness is to love a weak and worth- 
 less fool like I am ! I say, mother, that Louis is so noble 
 so generous so magnanimous ! I say, I love aud ad- 
 mire him more and more every day I live ! I say, I do no.. 
 believe one no, not one of the base calumnies that you have 
 heard of him and from my heart, I beg his pardon for a 
 moment's doubt of his immaculate honor ! I say, mother, 
 that no one can look upon his face, hear his voice, and doubt 
 his probity ; and I say, mother, that I must, must rejoin 
 Louis, if indeed he will forgive and receive me again. 
 Must ! mother, do yon hear me. Oh, I have treated him 
 shamefully, and he has behaved like an angel to me. Yes, 
 you may curse me, mother, as yon have often threatened. 
 You may kill me ; but I will not eat, drink, or sleep, until 
 \ have sought the feet of Louis, and obtained his forgive- 
 ness!" 
 
 " Oh, she is crazy, frantic," exclaimed the lady, taking 
 the hands of Louise, and forcing her into a chair. " Un- 
 hook her dress, Kate, and then go and get me some opium. 
 She is nervous, hysterical, delirious." 
 
 And BO she was. Mrs. Armstrong heard all her raving 
 without alarm, confident in her own confirmed power over 
 her daughter, and knowing full well that when all this ner- 
 TOU excitement was over, she would relapse into a state of 
 more complete feebleness than before. And she judged 
 rightly. Louise fell asleep under the influence of the 
 piate, and slep till a late hour the next day ; thta ihf 
 20
 
 422 THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 awoke, feeble in body and mind, depressed in spirit* TV 
 king advantage of this mental and physical exhaustion, 
 Mrs. Armstrong sat down by the bedside of Louise, and 
 gravely charged her with discreditable levity at the ball- 
 with gross irreverence to herself, and violent and unlady- 
 like conduct in presence of the servants repeating all the 
 most objectionable things that poor Louise, in her nervoui 
 delirium, had said and done. 
 
 Louise listened without attempting to defend herself, and 
 after talking with her for an hour, Mrs. Armstrong left her 
 with her ideas of right and wrong again all confused hef 
 confidence in herself destroyed, and her will and fate alto- 
 gether in her mother's power. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV 
 
 MARGARET. 
 
 Tls dawn within a curtained room, 
 Pilled to faintuees with perfume, 
 A lady lies at point of doom. 
 
 Tin morn a child hath seen the light 
 
 Bat for the lady, fair and bright, 
 
 She sorrow* in a rayletss night. Anon 
 
 SEVERAL months passed away, and winter gave place to 
 spring. Again the scenery in the neighborhood of Mont 
 Crystal bloomed out in the perfect glory of beauty. Again 
 The Isle of Rays seemed a terrestrial paradise. But still 
 Louise faded in the light of Mont Crystal still Louis with- 
 ered in the sunshine of The Isle of Rays. Will it be :redited 
 that these two young people, fondly attached to each other, 
 placing implicit faith in each other, united by the holiest tie, 
 M they had been, were still kept separated by the in? placable
 
 MARGARET. 43 f 
 
 irill of one determined woman ? The neighborhood had 
 exhausted conjecture as to the cause of the separation. 
 Some said that Mrs. Armstrong was incensed at the mar- 
 riage of the General ; some said that a prior attachment had 
 been discovered to have existed between Louis and Susan 
 Somerville; some thought it was from a dissatisfaction about 
 the settlement of the property. As usual, there weixi a few 
 grains of truth mixed up with much falsehood. At last, 
 however, the facts of the case crept out, and it was gene- 
 rally known that this state of affairs existed by the simple 
 will of the mother-in-law; and then the whole party on both 
 sides was condemned by public sentiment ; for although the 
 weight of public censure fell heavily upon Mrs. Armstrong 
 and her daughter, yet the family at The Isle of Rays did not 
 escape the charge of weakness. I have often heard the con- 
 duct of Louise and Louis both arraigned and judged with 
 great severity, and as I think with gross injustice. The 
 full force of public reprobation fell most heavily of all upon 
 Louise. In this she was cruelly wronged. No one con- 
 sidered her extreme youth, her natural weakness of will and 
 gentleness of temper, and the almost omnipotent sway of 
 her mother over her nor her peculiar education, taught, 
 as she had been, filial obedience as a religion, ready as she 
 was to sacrifice to that filial sentiment her heart's most na- 
 tural instincts and warmest affections nor her physical 
 delicacy of organization, through which she would have 
 perished in any violent conflict. No one considered these 
 things but Louis Stuart-Gordon, who for her peace denied 
 himself the society of his wife, refrained from opposing the 
 influence of Mrs. Armstrong, or importuning Louise thai 
 exposing himself to the animadversions of a neighborhood 
 incapable of understanding his motives of action. I have 
 heard Louis called weak, timid. Nothing could be more 
 stupid or unjust than this opinion. Of a high-toned sense 
 of honor, of fine oaoeptibilities, of warm temperament,
 
 434 THl MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 Louis Stuart-Gordon yet suffered this long estrangement 
 from a young and lovely wife, to whom he was fondly at- 
 tached, and braved the scorn of society, rather than give her 
 pain by a conflict with her unscrupulous mother. Louis 
 was brave to defy and strong to endure suffering in his own 
 person and reputation. Louis was not weak or timid, ex- 
 cept in giving pain or causing misery to others. No 1 I 
 have always wished to vindicate the motives of Louis, whose 
 loTely character approached the angelic. 
 
 Four months had passed away since the ball of the 
 Prince's School. Every letter written from The Isle of 
 Kays to Mont Crystal had been cast into the fire without 
 being read. As has been said, Louis had at last ceased to 
 importune them with letters. Many times indeed poor 
 Louise had rebelled, as on the evening of the ball ; but it 
 was always under nervous excitement, which, subsiding, left 
 her weaker and more enslaved than before. They were 
 mere spasms of courage and resolution, ending in apathy 
 abortive struggles of her feeble will, always to be repented 
 of and atoned for as sin. 
 
 It was early in April that Louise, then little over seven- 
 teen years old, became the mother of a little girl a fine, 
 hearty child, of firm muscle, brilliant eyes, and strong lunge 
 who persisted in living, despite all Mrs. Armstrong's dia- 
 bolical machinations to the contrary. Let us be exactly 
 'just. Under existing circumstances, the expected maternity 
 of her daughter had been a source of great grief and mor- 
 tification to Mrs. Armstrong so much so that the fact had 
 been kept a profound secret in the neighborhood, up to the 
 Tory day that the babe was born. Nevertheless, now, that 
 the infant was laid living on her lap, she no longer wished 
 to tmether it By a law of nature, acting unexpectedly 
 vpoa a heart like hen, she felt the appeal of this helpless 
 And beautiful being, (young babies are all beautiful, mai 
 pinion to the ecatrmry notwithstanding,) and Mn. Ana-
 
 426 
 
 strong wu *urprised to find in her own heart a possibility 
 of loving this child. This sentiment, however, instead of 
 softening her heart toward its father, only gave additional 
 force to her jealousy of Lonis, as she wondered whether he 
 might not wish to deprive her of the care of the babe. The 
 reader had already seen that the maternal instincts were 
 trong as they were selfish in Mrs. Armstrong. 
 
 11 A boon, mamma, a boon !" cried Lonise, a few mo 
 mente after the birth of her child, still pale and palpitating 
 with her recent agony ; " a boon, a boon !" 
 
 " Well, well, my daughter, what is it ?" inquired the lady, 
 disturbed with the fear that Louise was about to make some 
 request of which Louis Stuart-Gordon might be the object. 
 
 " This, mamma ; that I may name this little girl myself." 
 
 " Certainly, Lonise ; certainly, my daughter ; that is the 
 one thing with which I will not interfere a mother's con- 
 trol over her own child," said the astute woman, aduing 
 mentally, "she cannot name her Louis, or Henry Cart- 
 wright ; she will not call her Britannia, and ai.y other n^me 
 is indifferent to me. Yes, Louise," she repeated tikud, 
 " that is the one thing in which I will not seek tc control 
 you your disposal of your own child." 
 
 " She is all mine, then, mother, all mine," said Louise, 
 with brightening eyes. 
 
 "As much as you are mine, Louise; remember that 
 The tie between a mother and child is a chain to which all 
 other ties are as shreds of cobweb. Ah, you must know it 
 BOW, Louise." 
 
 "I do think so, indeed, mother; and yet " 
 
 " There, yon have talked enough, Lonise ; not another 
 word not one, my daughter! yon must sleep now." And 
 nipping the threatened controversy in the bud, Mrs. Arm- 
 strong drew the embroidered curtains, and retired frtrm tit 
 bediide.
 
 424 THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 For the next three days, carriages were coming and going 
 to and from Mont Crystal. Although the country people 
 severely censnred the conduct of the mother and daughter, 
 and although they had entered into a sort of tacit conspiracy 
 to mortify them at the ball, yet few of the county ladies 
 could resist the attraction of the new-born baby, the heiress 
 of two such vast estates as Mont Crystal and The Isle of 
 Rays, or the temptation of calling upon the childlike mother. 
 Her marriage had been such a splendid triumph as to dazzle 
 the county her separation so sudden and unaccountable as 
 to shock and stun the neighborhood. Now a babe was un- 
 expectedly born. The doctor had spread the news. Doc- 
 tors are great gossips ; that is one of their methods of cur- 
 _ng, especially hypochondriacs. Now a babe was born I 
 Who would have thought it ? she was so young it was 
 Kept so close. In fine, the county ladies wished to see how 
 Louise looked, and how Mrs. Armstrong deported herself 
 under all these circumstances ; and so for three or four days 
 carriages stood before the gates of Mont Crystal. Like all 
 secluded people, they wanted a spectacle a scene ; but in 
 this they were disappointed. "Not at home," "Particu- 
 larly engaged," were the words with which the major- 
 ity of the visitors were received. A few privileged in- 
 dividuals were admitted to the drawing-room and received 
 by Mrs. Armstrong. But even with these she maintained a 
 cold and reserved manner ; and, in reply to their inquiries 
 concerning Louise, they were told that Mrs. Stuart-Gordon 
 was still too weak to receive visitors in her apartment. 
 
 Some certainly sympathized with the youthful mother, 
 and called to see her from a better motive than mere curios- 
 ity. Their reception, however, was no nrore favorable than 
 ihat of less deserving neighbors. 
 
 It was abont a week rroui the day of her accouchement 
 hat LOP!=K. vap sitting, propped up with pillows, in a deli- 
 cate lav -ap and a rose- Colored wrapper, near cne of tht
 
 MARGARET. 427 
 
 front windows of her chamber. It was the same large, airy 
 front chamber called the summer room, and was furnished 
 with the same white draperies. The window near whicn 
 Loise sat was closed, and the muslin curtains were drawn ; 
 and near the easy chair of Louise stood the crib of her baby, 
 all draped with white. The young mother's attention was 
 divided between the crib and a little spy-glass she held in 
 her hand, and with which after drawing aside the curtain 
 from the window, she would contemplate The Isle of Rays. 
 It was while she was thus occupied that the door was opened, 
 and " Miss Somerville " was announced. Susan was clothed 
 in deep black, and very pale and thin, yet wearing her hab- 
 itual expression of profound serenity. She entered and ad- 
 vanced quietly, and taking both the hands of Louise, kissed 
 her with affection. Louise received Susan with a sorrowful 
 tenderness, as she remembered her former injustice. With- 
 out speaking, only returning her caress, she made room for 
 Susan in the large easy-chair, big enough for both. Miss 
 Somerville took the seat, and again threw her arms around 
 Louise, and kissed her affectionately. Then she inquired 
 
 "Where is your mother, Louise ?" 
 
 " Closeted with her overseer." 
 
 " How long shall she remain there, Louise ?" 
 
 " For two or three hours yet ; they are arranging about 
 the crops. But, dear Susan, you have not been to Mont 
 Crystal before since ray return. Why was that, Susan ?" 
 
 " My love, I might return the charge and the question 
 You have not been at The Crags." 
 
 "Ah, Susan, I am not my own mistress. Besides, I 
 have been so unhappy, dear Snsan." 
 
 " I know it, my poor girl I know it ; and I should have 
 eome to you, but that I have been very ill, and my illness 
 left me very feeble ; and I have no horse now, Louise, and 
 the ten irMes between the Craps and Mont Crystal if
 
 426 THB MOTHBB-IJT-LAW. 
 
 too long a walk for me. This is the first time I tart 
 attempted it" 
 
 " Susan ! you do not say that von hare walked all this 
 distance to see me ?" 
 
 " Yes, my love." 
 
 "And yon, too, hare had troubles, severe sorrows, that 
 you do not speak of, dear and generous Susan strong and 
 courageous Susan I" 
 
 As in tacit contradiction of her thoughts, Susan turned 
 a shade paler, and trembled slightly. 
 
 " And Anna is dead, Susan ?" 
 
 Susan bowed her head in reply. 
 
 " And poor old George and Harriet, Susan how do they 
 bear her death ?" 
 
 " Better than they bore her life, or rather the uncertainty 
 of her future " 
 
 " Are they cheerful then ? 
 
 " At last yes, an old couple like them, married in early 
 youth, living nearly half a century together, become all in 
 all to each other but, Louise, you are weeping I Do not 
 weep, Louise," said Susan, pressing her arms around her 
 and kissing her. 
 
 " No matter 1 Do not mind my tears. There ! they ar 
 gone. Tell me about Zoe. She was somehow mixed up in 
 all that dreadful business ?" 
 
 " It was all a mistake, or rather a conspiracy. Zoe ii 
 lot a mulatto, never teas a slave. Brighty knows that ; so 
 does Gertrude and Brutus ; and they all visit her and receive 
 her freely now." 
 
 " Then why do they not prove it why do they not estab 
 Uah it why do they not punish those who have belied and 
 persecuted her. 
 
 " Alas, yon do not know what you say, child I She has 
 
 .^i order the strongest circumstantial evidence adjudged 
 
 to be a rim aid OM been sold, bought, and eafooehfeed
 
 MARGARET. 43t 
 
 M nch. We know better from conviction, bat we hare no 
 means on earth of proving it." 
 
 " And Brutus, then, cannot marry her ?" 
 
 " Certainly not, my lore, until her true position is under- 
 tood ; but Lonise, let me say this to you let me force it 
 earnestly upon yon treat Zoe with all the affection that is 
 in your heart for her she has a claim upon you and upon 
 me. And, Louise, my love, another favor keep what I 
 have said about Zoe to your own bosom." 
 
 " I have no secrets from mother," replied Louise. 
 
 Miss Somerville looked troubled for an instant, and then 
 her countenance cleared off as she said to herself "It is 
 well I told her no more." 
 
 "Who is Zoe, then, Susan?" 
 
 " My dear Louise, I have told you enough to enlist your 
 respect for Zoe. I dare tell you no more." 
 
 " You will at least inform me how our dear old teacher 
 is. The dreadful shock drove him mad for a while, but his 
 madness subsided into a happy dotage." 
 
 " The schoolmaster is dead." 
 
 " Dead ! dead 1 He, too, Alas ! every one can die but 
 me 1 The maiden and the old man 1 Every one but me ! 
 Why cannot I die ?" exclaimed Louise, as hev pallid fea- 
 tures contracted violently, and relaxed as she burst into 
 tears. 
 
 This was one, of the spasmodic fits of grief to which she 
 had been subject of late. 
 
 Susan Somerville had started, looked at her in surprise ; 
 then, rising, she took the sleeping babe from the crib, and 
 laid it on her lap. The child awakened, opened its eyes, 
 and looked up. In a moment, the c,uick emotions of her 
 childish mother changed. Wiping her eyes, she looked 
 down at the babe with a new realization of possession and 
 consolation. She looked in silence a long time, seeming 
 quite Ust in the contemplation of her treasure, while
 
 4$0 THl MOTHKB-IN-LAW. 
 
 tood bending over them and half embracing her. JLt last, 
 taking the hand of Susan Somerville, without lifting her 
 eyes from the babe, she asked 
 
 " What do you think of my baby, Susan ?" 
 
 " She is a fine, strong, hearty child." 
 
 " Bnt whom does she resemble ?" 
 
 M Not you, Louise, and not Lonis. The form of her 
 head, neck, and jaws, express the sign of great strength 
 and determination. She will resemble General Stnart-Gor- 
 don and Mrs. Armstrong," replied Susan, looking with 
 great interest on the babe. " What are you going to call 
 her?" 
 
 " Margaret, after the idolized mother of Louis. Susan, 
 tell Louis when you see him that there is another Margaret 
 Stuart-Gordon. Susan, do you often see Louis ?" 
 
 "Yes, very often. He spends nearly every evening with 
 me at The Crags." 
 
 " With you, Susan ?" exclaimed the young wife, while a 
 slight spasm of distress agitated her violet-pale face. 
 
 " Yes, with me," replied Susan, calmly. " You know I 
 always was his friend. I am so still. He needs me in hia 
 sorrow, and I will not fail him !" 
 
 Louise pressed her hand, and said " But people are so 
 censorious, dear Susan ; and under all the circumstances " 
 
 " The world will make no mistakes about me," answered 
 Susan, with a gentle dignity. 
 
 Louise raised her eyes to that pale but angelic counte- 
 nance, and acquiesced from her profoundest soul. 
 
 " Since you have named Louis, will you permit me to 
 ask you some questions about him ?" 
 
 " Yes, yes ; oh, yes I Heaven bless you for coming, since 
 you may be said to come from Louis. ro on." 
 
 " Have yeu ever received any letters from Louie sine* 
 your residence here 1" 
 
 "Not one."
 
 MARGARET. 481 
 
 " Yet he wrote to you many, many times, until he aban- 
 ioned it in despair of getting an answer. Have you never 
 written to him." 
 
 " Oh, yes ; many, many letters." 
 
 " Yet he never received one ! It is plain, Lonise, that 
 all your letters have been intercepted." 
 
 " Oh, who could have been so cruel ?" 
 
 " It is not for me to say, Louise ; it is a dreadful thing. 
 Let Providence reveal it in his own time and method 1" 
 
 " Oh 1 Susan, I am so glad you are here to tell me thig. 
 *Jod bless you for coming ! Come again, Susan ! come 
 often ! and since you see Louis, tell him, Susan, that I 
 I love him still, and always that I pray for him day and 
 night that I thank him devoutly for his forbearance to- 
 ward my mother that I admire him more than ever that 
 I would die for him but that I cannot break my mother's 
 heart, or dare her curse ! Tell him I have named my child 
 after his mother. Tell him that I love this child more than 
 life. Yet, assure him, that if he desires it, I will press my 
 last kiss on this infant's lips, and send her to him, if her 
 presence would comfort him. Tell him, for my own part, 
 I feel weak, and altogether unworthy of his thoughts ; that 
 I only wish to die, as the only means of extrication from 
 this trouble. To die, that he may be happy. Grief for 
 the dead is less severe than sorrow for the living." 
 
 " Louise ! Louise 1 you will perish in this conflict be- 
 tween the prejudices and perversions of your strange edu- 
 cation and the natural and good qualities of your heart. 
 Yes, Louise 1 that is an internal conflict worse than the con- 
 troversy between your mother and your husband's family ; 
 and it is a suffering from which even the angelic gooduesi 
 of your Louis cannot save you. You are not doing well, 
 Louise, ani your heart tells you so, for yon call yourself 
 weak and unworthy.' Resolve return to Lonis. 1 will
 
 482 THX MOTHIB-IN-LAW. 
 
 bear any message to him. I will bring him here to-tconow 
 to-night" 
 
 " No, no 1 no, no 1 not for a thousand worlds," ex- 
 claimed the imbecile girl, turning very palt, "Do yon 
 know my mother, that yon propose that ? Oh ! the scene 
 would be frightful. I can bear anything else but I can- 
 not dare a mother's curse." 
 
 Louise suddenly started, and suppressed a scream Mrs. 
 Armstrong stood before them 1 She had entered nn per- 
 ceived, while they were absorbed in conversation. Susan 
 Bomerville arose and curtsied, without offering her hand, 
 or reseating herself. Mrs. Armstrong bowed coldly, and 
 then addressing herself to Louise, asked her how long she 
 had been sitting up ? 
 
 " Nearly two hours, but I am not tired, mamma ;" 
 pleaded the daughter. 
 
 " Nevertheless you must lie down !" decided the lady, 
 lifting the baby from her lap, and replacing it in the crib. 
 
 " Miss Somerville I am sure, will excuse us." 
 
 " I am about to take my leave, madam," replied Susan. 
 
 " Mother, Susan walked here," said Louise. 
 
 " Then, Miss Somerville, you must either give us the 
 pleasure of your company all night, or permit me to send 
 you home in the carriage," said Mrs. Armstrong, who, with 
 all her deviltries, was a Virginian lady still ; and, as such, 
 a loyal observer of all the laws of hospitality. 
 
 Miss Somerville thanked Mrs. Armstrong, but informed 
 her that she was engaged to spend the afternoon and night 
 at the Dovecote with Zoe. Snsan then embraced Louise, 
 and took her leave. Mrs. Armstrong had apparently for- 
 gotten her intention of putting Louise to bed, for she 
 wheeled an easy-chair close to the crib near her daughter, 
 and sat down, saying 
 
 "I am constrained to declare that Miss Susan Somerville 
 fc far too independent for her sex and years. To think of
 
 XAROABST. 4M 
 
 her openly visiting the Dovecote I If she continues to d 
 that, the doors of Mont Crystal shall be closed against her." 
 
 " Oh, but mamma," said Lonise, " Zoe is not what she 
 has been represented to be. Susan, and the Lions, and 
 even Brighty, have found out something a conspiracy, 
 they say but Susan did not tell me what it was but 
 mother! good heavens, mother! What is the matter?" 
 
 Mrs. Armstrong had started from her chair, grown 
 ghastly pale, sank back again, with her face crimson, and 
 the veins in her forehead and temples full and distended. 
 
 " Oh, my Heaven I mother mother !" exclaimed Louise, 
 starting forward; "Kate Kate I here here! help ! my 
 mother is dying!" and she ran and pulled the bell violently 
 Several servants ran in. Mrs. Armstrong was placed upon 
 tne bed. The physician was sent for. Ice was placed at 
 her head, and bottles of hot water at her feet. Louise was 
 frightened and helpless as usual. 
 
 " Do not be alarmed, madam," said Kate Jumper, who 
 seemed to understand the case " this is only a rush of 
 blood to the head ; she will be better soon." And, in fact, 
 before the arrival of the physician, Mrs. Armstrong was 
 relieved. 
 
 But now came the strange part of it As soon as her 
 senses had quite returned, she dismissed all her attendants 
 from the room ; and, regardless of her own exhaustion, or 
 her daughter's feebleness, she summoned Louise to her bed- 
 side, and made her repeat all the conversation of which Zoe 
 had been the subject. Then partially reassured, she dis- 
 missed her to bed, and recalled her attendants, by means of 
 the bell whose handle was in her reach. 
 
 The next morning Mrs. Armstrong was up early, and 
 having seen Louise made comfortable at her favorite win- 
 dow, with her babe beside her in the crib, and having given 
 orders that no one should be admitted during her absence, 
 Mrs Armstrong entered her carriage and drove out Sbf
 
 434 THB MOYHEB-IN-LAW. 
 
 was erone all day. She returned haggard and wretched U 
 the evening. The next clay she was closeted with a lawyer, 
 a stranger, and her overseer; and at the close of the confer- 
 ence, looked better satisfied. The third day, letters were 
 written, and packets sent off to the post-office. The re 
 mainder of the week there \vas a great bustle all through 
 
 the house. 
 
 ******* 
 
 The 1st of May, a neighbor passing by Mont Crystal, 
 found the house shut up. Inquiring of a man who was su- 
 perintending the working of a contiguous field, he was told 
 that the family had removed quite suddenly so suddenly, 
 that no one had suspected their intention until they had 
 gone no one knew whither not even their relatives at 
 The Isle of Rays. That the house was closed and tha 
 lands leased and the negroes hired to the lessee ; that he 
 himself was the overseer appointed by the planter who had 
 taken the Mont Crystal estate. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 LITTLE BRIGHTT. 
 
 An airy, pleasant chamber, with the rose Tinea 
 Woven around the casement. JRse Mitford. 
 
 A youthful mother to her infant smiling, 
 Who with spread arms and dancing feet, 
 And cooing voice, returns! an answer sweet. ifig BaOtlt. 
 
 I AM about to take you into a pleasant room, and into 
 pleasant company. If there was one room more delightful 
 than all the others at The Islo of Rays, it was Bri^hty'i 
 ummer room. It was on the ground-floor, and opened la 
 front by glass doors upon the piazza, and at the back by
 
 LITTLE BKIGHTT. 486 
 
 similar doors into the garden of roses ; in fact, it was th 
 room on the left, corresponding to the pleasant breakfast- 
 room on the right the garden of roses running the whole 
 length of the back of the house. Brighty had chosen this 
 room for her midsummer boudoir, for the sake of her two 
 passions the music of birds, and the fragrance of flowers, 
 borne npon the summer breeze into the chamber. These 
 eonld not be had in an up-stairs room, for Brighty could 
 not delight in the songs of birds imprisoned in cages, or the 
 perfume of flowers dying in vases. To give her pleasure 
 there must be freedom and gladness in the bird, and life and 
 freshness in the breath of the flowers. Brighty said she 
 would always feel a quaver of sadness in the merriest trills 
 of a caged bird, and a scent of faintness in the richest odor 
 of a plucked flower. But perhaps Brighty was fanciful 
 which, as mistress of The Isle of Rays, and as the darling 
 wife and spoiled child of General Stuart-Gordon, she had a 
 right to be. Well 1 this summer room, with its vine-shaded 
 piazza in front, and its garden at back, and the cheery trill 
 of birds and the dewy fragrance of flowers wafted through 
 it this beautiful room ! with the carpet on the floor, 
 and the paper on the walls, both of the same pattern, 
 namely, a white ground, with red roses running over it, 
 with its white muslin over pink curtains, with its lounge 
 and chair covers of fine pink and white Marseilles quilt- 
 work this cheerful room, with its bevy of gay girls gath- 
 ered around one, leaping, crowing, laughing baby that is, 
 
 to wit, upon the fifteenth of July, in the year . 
 
 As might have been expected, both from her position and 
 her personal accomplishments, Mrs. General Stuart-Gordon 
 became the leader of the ton in the county. The Isle of 
 Rays became the seat of elegant hospitality. And never 
 had the black satin vest of the stout General required 
 greater breadth for expansion of the chest, than when seated 
 at the foot of his own table, doing the honors of a dinner-
 
 4M THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 party, at which his young and beautiful wife presided with 
 eqnal dignity and grace. 
 
 And Britannia enjoyed her position immensely, I assure 
 yon. Yea I am affaid above everything else, until one 
 fine Bummer's morning, while the sun was shining and the 
 dew glistening while the flowers were blooming and tho 
 birds singing little Brighty arrived, anJ Britannia had a 
 revelation of another heaven than that of marble palaces, 
 silver plate, aud priceless jewels ; and the gates through 
 which that heaven was visible were the azure gauze curtains 
 of a rosewood crib. Yon know that Britannia, even in her 
 cold, polished girlhood, while eschewing love with youthful 
 Bcorn, admitted that she did love whom she pitied or pro- 
 tected judge, therefore, how she loved this bright new 
 claimant for her pity and protection. 
 
 " And I am very glad she is a little girl." thought Bri- 
 tannia; because this dear General has a son already: De- 
 Bides which, he has such a partiality for girls of all ages, 
 from infancy to old maidenhood." 
 
 So the General had especially since his two Brighties 
 his damask rose and bud had rejuvenated him. So the 
 General had a grandfatherly fondness for baby girls, a 
 fatherly fondness for young girls, and a brotherly fondness 
 for old girls. Oh ! it was no wonder the General required 
 such a very large black satin vest he had such a large 
 heart under it. And, as for the girls babies, maidens, 
 and spinstecs they all loved the General, as kittens love 
 hearth-warmth, or as flowers love sunshine. 
 
 But the fifteenth of July, in the rose -colored, rose- 
 scented summer-room at The Isle of Rays, were assembled 
 Britannia, Susan Somerville, Gertrude, and Zoe. Miss 
 Somerville, at the earnest and repeated solicitation of 
 General and Mrs. Stuart-Gordon, had been persuaded to 
 ipend some weeks of the midsummer at The Isle of Rays. 
 Zo waa engaged to assist in making up an infinite number
 
 LITTLE BRIGHTT. 4S7 
 
 of summer garments there, and Gertrude, beiug Ibr th 
 time deprived of visiting The Crags or the Dovecote, 
 favored The Isle of Rays with an nnnsual portion of her 
 time. 
 
 And now these three girls were all down on the row- 
 figured carpet, contending for the favor of whom? A lit- 
 tle, wilful, bright-eyed sprite of fourteen months' old, who 
 would go to one, and wouldn't go to another, just as its 
 capricious will dictated. Britannia was passing in and oat, 
 engaged in some pleasant household duty, assumed more 
 from choice than necessity. The General was walking 
 about the room, riding-whip and hat in hand, now pausing 
 to smile at the group around the babe, now jestingly wish- 
 ing that he hai a magic chair in which to enchant Britan- 
 nia, so that she should not make him nervous by fidgeting 
 about 60 ; in fine, quite unable to take himself wj from 
 the charming room and its lovely inmates. 
 
 Presently Britannia entered, preceded by old Seraphina 
 c- Serry, as the girls called her bearing a basket of plnms, 
 peaches, and grapes ; and now the General laid down his 
 riding-whip and hat, and drew off his gloves, calling 
 through the vine-shaded window to Apollo, who stood oe- 
 fore the door with two horses saddled, one for his master, 
 and one for himself, to put up the horses, for he should not 
 ride to-day, as it was growing late and getting warm. And 
 then the General threw himself upon one of the settees, and 
 Brighty turned sharply round, and, smiling gayly, clasped 
 his rough chin in her hand, by way of a saucy welcome ; 
 and Zoe, bouncing up, ran up stairs, and returned with hii 
 blue-and- white chintz dressing-gown, and his sheepskin 
 slippers, and then she took his coat and gaiters, and carried 
 them away. Of course, little Zoe got a caress for her paint, 
 and then she bat down and selected the ripest grapes for the 
 baby, which she held upon her lap, while the others ate 
 fruit Little Zoe had always need of some one to wonhip
 
 4S8 THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 and wait on, and since the death of her adopted father, and 
 the estrangement of Louise, she had attached herself, lichen- 
 like, to Britannia and the General. Zoe sat there with 
 little Brighty, carefully peeling ripe grapes for her until old 
 Serry had carried away the basket and returned. 
 
 Wanting an excuse to remain in the room, old Serry 
 went up to Zoe, and saying, " Gira me de chile, Miss Zoe," 
 took the little one away, and sat down with her near the 
 window. 
 
 " Where is Louis ?" asked Gertrude, paring her peach, 
 " I never see anything of him lately." 
 
 "I have not seen him since breakfast," replied the 
 General. 
 
 " I hab," said Serry, putting in her word with the freedom 
 of an old Virginia domestic, " I hab see Marse Louis dis morn- 
 in*. You see, Miss Drertrude, Marse Louis, he never let me 
 put Miss Louise's rooms to rights never. Wont let me 'slurb 
 a single thing no more an nothin' at all. Dat room is a scan'- 
 lous sight. Dere's Miss Louise's workstan' jes' as she done left 
 it drawers all out, things all strowed all over de top, and 
 even so much as her needle a stickiu' in her sowin', jes' as 
 she got np an' left it de day she went home with bar ma 
 Oh I my blessed Heavenly Marser, don't I pray for dat 
 'oman's 'version three times down on my knees every day, 
 reglar as the day comes. 'Taint no use dough not a 
 gingle bit. I goin' to stop of it ; I goin' to stop a botherin' 
 my Heavenly Marser about her, 'cause yon see, Miss Drer- 
 trude, and young ladies, it aint no sort o' use. Marser 
 can't do nothing 't all wid her ; he done let her alone ; he 
 done gib her right up to de debbil. " 
 
 " Bat where is Louis, Aunty ?" reminded Gertrude. 
 
 " Oh yes, where is Louis ?" asked Zoe. 
 
 " Well, I gwine tell yon. I see Miss Louise's icomt 
 open, an' I thinks now I take dis chance, and go ia dere 
 and ean np Bless yon, I aint done gone in dere
 
 LITTLE BBIGHTT. 489 
 
 Mi 1 a year, so I gone in, an' as I tell you, dere work all 
 etrow over floor, dere wreaf of roses hung over de glass al! 
 done gone, 'cept the stems and de string, an' leaves all dry 
 as powder, all strow over de toilet cloff an' Miss Louise's 
 loose wrapper, all lying over de side ob de bed and Mr. 
 Louis, he kneelin' down by de side ob de bed. all white, 
 wid his curls tangled, and his face on de wrapper, and his 
 arms stretched over it. So I jes' looks in, an' I saw dat, 
 an' I jes' pulls de door to softly, an' comes away I wa 
 hurted to the heart and soon after I sees him get on his 
 horse and ride away. Dere 1 dere's where he neen all day 
 a takin' on in Miss Louise's room. Now he cione, lock it 
 up again, and gone away. Ah, Lord, I like to see tne 
 'oman as would part me from my ole Apple. f)ere, dere 1 
 dere, dere ! its Aunty aint forgot de baby us Aunty will 
 peel another peach for de baby bunton 1" And the old 
 lady gave her attention to her little charge. 
 
 " But do you never hear from Louise ?" auctioned Ger- 
 trude of Britannia. 
 
 " Never. We have discovered that they are living at 
 New Orleans, in great splendor; that they aie very much 
 in society, and give large parties " 
 
 "Does Louis never write?" 
 
 " Never. All his first letters seemed dropped into a bot- 
 tomless well, for any response they called forth n 
 
 " Nothing will be done with Mrs. Armstrong until I 
 take her in hand, and I shall do it eventually," said Ger- 
 trude, with a determined look. " There is no particular 
 hnrry, Louis and Lonise are young enough yet dear me, 
 yes, Louis is but twenty, and Louise but eighteen. Bide a 
 bit, Mrs. Armstrong." 
 
 " Ah, Lor' ! I wonders, I does, ef she nebber think of 
 her end when that shet-up-eye come 1 Don'i; she memo- 
 rize dat Louis has got a mother up in Heaven an angel 
 always standin' in de presence of the Lord, who can say
 
 440 THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 to him, ' Lord, look down through de slopes of space on 
 arth, and see what is goin' on there; see how a wicked 
 'oman is a sarvin' out ray son, dat I love.' I wonder she 
 don't think ob dat. I wonder she aint afeard to injure a 
 youth, as has a mother standin' in de presence ob de Lord, 
 night and day. Goodness ! here comes Marse Louis now 1" 
 exclaimed the old woman, as horses' feet clambered up to 
 the door ; and Louis, throwing himself from the saddle. 
 nurried, pale and agitated, into the room. 
 
 All were struck with surprise and dismay at his extreme 
 perturbation. He sank into a chair, grasping in his hand 
 a paper. Susan Somerville poured out a glass of water, 
 and handed him ; he drank it pressed the kind hand that 
 offered it ; as he thanked her with his eyes. Then turning 
 to his father, he said, "I wish to speak with you, sir;" and, 
 rising, he left the room. 
 
 General Stnart-Gordon followed. 
 
 When they had reached the study, and were both seated 
 
 "There, sir," said Louis, "there are the hopes of a life 
 destroyed." 
 
 And he laid the Virginian Republican upon the table be- 
 tween them, pointing out a paragraph. It was under the 
 head of " Proceedings of the Legislature," and was as fol- 
 lows : 
 
 " Hon. J. 0. La Compte, from the Committee of the Ju- 
 diciary, reported a bill for the divorce of Louis Stuart- 
 Gordon from his wife, Louise H. A. Stuart-Gordon, which 
 was read, and laid npon the table." 
 
 " There was some foul work here, Louis I Upon what 
 pretense could this have been claimed upon what trumped- 
 p story what perjury J" 
 
 " Heaven knows, sir. I only see the conduct of of 
 Louise, in this. I only feel that I have grossly deceived 
 myself in my estimate of that young lady." 
 
 11 Exactly ! Precisely 1 Compare her with MiM Somer-
 
 LITTLE BBIGHTT 441 
 
 ville, Zoe, Gertrude with my own queenly lady with any 
 right-minded, right-headed girl or woman and then judge 
 her." 
 
 Louis was very pale and thin, and he seemed drooping 
 with a general lassitude as he leaned back in the high- 
 backed chair, his paleness thrown out into ghastly relief by 
 the black leather of its covering and the black cloth of his 
 dress ; and his very voice, when he spoke, seemed faint and 
 broken, from physical debility or mental despair. General 
 Stuart-Gordon looked at him for some moments in silence. 
 Then he said 
 
 " You are a Stuart, Louis a genuine Stuart. It is cu- 
 rious to observe in you the very same traits of character, 
 with the same cast of features, that ruined your ancestors 
 the same tenderness of heart, the same infirmity of purpose, 
 the same infatuated attachment to the one object of idol- 
 atry, whatever that may be. Oh, Louis 1 be a man rouse 
 yourself. Zounds, boy 1 it is a very lackadaisical thing to 
 pine away and die of a broken heart for any woman, even 
 your fugitive wife." 
 
 Louis did not reply. There was a weight upon his bo 
 som, a general sinking, that made it difficult to sustain hi* 
 part of the conversation. 
 
 " Listen to me now, Louis. I think I am rather health- 
 ier in mind and body that yourself. I will volunteer my 
 counsel ; you will accept it or not, as you see fit. First 
 then, you know, of course, that Louise can never obtain a 
 divorce, however much she may wish it, since nothing cat 
 be brought against you since she herself is the faithlesa 
 party, while you are guiltless toward her. It is only the 
 blameless and the injured party with whom remains the pri- 
 vilege of divorcing; and certainly in justice it should be 
 10. Therefore, no power on earth can free Louise from 
 her matrimonial bondage, but your own. Are vou heeding 
 mo, Louis ?"
 
 441 THI ftOTHIR-IN'LAW. 
 
 "Yes, sir, I listen." 
 
 ' My advice to you, then, is, to write to Louise.* 1 
 
 1 Of what avail were that, sir ? They take no notice if 
 my letters. I do not know that they even open and read 
 them." 
 
 " Ah ! you may be very sure that Mrs. Armstrong readi 
 very letter you address to Louise, or to herself, though I 
 presume that Louise never sees them, and that Mrs. Arin- 
 atrong would certainly not lose the advantage over us of 
 gaining a knowledge of our sentiments and wishes, by read- 
 ing our letters, while she studiously avoids revealing or 
 committing herself by replying to any one of them. Nev- 
 ertheless, I am riure she would reply to the letter that I ad- 
 rise yon to write. It is this : write to Louise, and ask her 
 if her happiness is involved in this matter of freedom from 
 her marriage bonds ; tell her that, if so, you, in whom, 
 from her faithlessness, rests the only power that you will 
 free her, by an application for a divorce to the Legislature. 
 They will reply to that letter I" 
 
 " A letter which I shall not write, my father !" answerea 
 Louis, ri&ing and walking the floor. 
 
 " Why not, Louis J n 
 
 " Oh, sir 1 the whole matter is repugnant, repulsive." 
 
 " I know that you are morbidly delicate fastidious even 
 *x> a fault ; but no odium can attach to your divorce that 
 does not now attach to your separation." 
 
 " Sir, it is not altogether that. There are higher, 
 broader, deeper motives of conduct than general odium or 
 approbation, or individual happiness or misery. Marriage 
 is the most sacred tie on earth. The peace of families, the 
 social welfare of the whole community, depend upon it* 
 being held so. If Louise ai>d myself have contracted an 
 ill-judged marriage, we must suffer for it, and bear the 
 penalty Better that individuals should suffer, than that the 
 general tone of moral sentiment should be lowered. Oh!
 
 LITTL1 BRIGHTT. 44* 
 
 obfem, iirl in modern times, in Christian countries, di- 
 TOrceB were so rare as to he almost unheard of, until two 
 men in the power of place set a very baleful example, that 
 ipread like a slow pestilence over their respective countries 
 Since the divorce of the Empress Josephine by Napoleon, 
 and that of Queen Caroline by George IV., divorces hava 
 become far more common. I trace it to the influence of 
 
 that high example I My father, we exert in county 
 
 an influence quite as strong, if not as extensive, as that of 
 the illustrious persons I have named, and, believe me, it is 
 dangerous to introduce a respectable precedent for an act 
 of questionable morality in a neighborhood. Still still 
 I have not considered this very deeply, the suggestion is 
 new. Perhaps, were the happiness of Louise really in- 
 volved, I might be induced to set aside all objections not 
 positively founded on pure right, were it not for one thing 
 one fetter that binds us together, and must never, never be 
 broken but by death !" 
 
 " And that ?" 
 
 'Is our daughter." 
 
 ' Louis ! nonsense I The little one is in the hands of 
 her mother and grandmother, who, it is to be presumed, love 
 her fondly. She is sure of the best education that wealth 
 can procure for her, and will be, besides, the heiress of a 
 large fortune. And, Lonis, more than all, by the time you 
 are thirty-five or six years, when you will be still young, 
 though not youthful, she, your daughter, will be grown, and 
 most probably married and settled in life. Mrs. Armstrong 
 is a great hand at early marriages, as you know to your 
 cost and you at thirty-six will find yourself unsettled ai 
 now, Louis. No weakness, if you have any regard for me. 
 Observe 1 you married this child of sixteen, lived with her 
 for five or six months, when she left you. She became a 
 mother, and took away her child to a distant city, and hat 
 Absented herself for near y two years, refusing to hold com*
 
 4*4 TUB MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 mnnleation with yon or your family, even by letter. Pooh 
 pooh ! Your marriage was a farce." 
 
 " Not so, sir 1" said Louis, with a sort of bitter smile, 
 "since we have a daughter who is heiress to two immense es- 
 tates that comprise more than one half of county, 
 
 and are valued at nearly two millions I" 
 
 "Hum I you might marry again and have a son, a Prince 
 of Wales might disinherit the Princess Royal. Zounds, 
 sir ! this girl has abandoned yon with the levity of a mis- 
 tress. Treat the case even so. Divorce her ; settle prop- 
 erty on her; and forget her as a paid-off mistress." 
 
 The pallid brow of Louis Stuart-Gordan flushed to crim- 
 son, as he replied 
 
 "Enough, sir I I will not. The honor of my wife and 
 daughter are dearer to me than my own ;" and, lifting hie 
 hat from the table, he bowed and left the room. 
 
 " I wonder if I could not get a writ of lunacy out against 
 that young gentleman 1" exclaimed General Stuart-Gordon, 
 testily, as he rose to join the ladies. 
 
 A month passed away a month during which nothing 
 more was heard of the Mont Crystal family. Then General 
 Stuart-Gordon, accompanied by all his family and Miss 
 Somerville, went to spend August and September at the 
 Bea-shore. They returned to The Isle of Rays about the 
 middle of October. 
 
 Gorgeously beautiful was The Isle of Rays in early au- 
 tumn. The scarlet foliage of the oak, the golden leaves of 
 the hickory, the rich purple hue of the dogwood-tree, and 
 the bright dark green of the pine and cedar, all growing 
 tall from the Isle, made it resemble from a distance a large 
 and splendid bouquet, set in the clear waters. 
 
 The family returned in renewed life to their gorgeon* 
 home. Even Louis, by the healthful ministrations of nature 
 and the soothing companionship of his good angel, Susan, 
 WM riiibly improved in health and spirit*.
 
 LITTLE BBI6HTT. 446 
 
 It wa* late in the afternoon of a glorious day, just cool 
 enongh to make the prospect of home, a blazing fire, and a 
 warm supper, highly inviting ; and twilight was gathering 
 duskily on, giving the neighborhood a sweet, dim, myste- 
 rious obscurity ; and the wind was rising in the northwest, 
 with that shrill, hollow blast so pleasant to bear in the early 
 winter, when one has a snug fireside, and new warm-hued 
 autumn dresses, waiting to be enjoyed when the large 
 family carriage stopped before the portico at the Island 
 mansion. 
 
 Lights were glowing through the crimson-curtained win- 
 dows of the drawing-room ; and as the carriage approached, 
 a perfect flood of radiance poured from the hall doors, that 
 were flung wide open by Gertrude Lion, who bounded out 
 to welcome the new-comers, as they descended from the car- 
 riage. She caught Britannia in her arms first. 
 
 " Oh I Brighty, you are so handsome ! your check is like 
 a carnation rose 1 And you, too, Susan, you are blooming 
 like a peach blossom 1 And Louis !" roared the Amazon, 
 breaking into a loud laugh, " I vow and declare how Louis 
 does grow if he is not almost a man. And you, General," 
 exclaimed she, starting back, and clapping her hands 
 "you, General! drums and fifes I steeds and spurs! how 
 grand how snblime how heavy and pompous you look ! 
 Oh 1 General Stuart-Gordon, shake hands with me, that I 
 may catch some of the glorification, as school-children catch 
 the" 
 
 Here General Stuart-Gordon interrupted her, by starting 
 .forward and offering a warm response to this saucy Baluta* 
 tion. But the beautiful giantess arrested bim by one 
 strong grip of the shoulder, and held him with one hand, 
 while she lifted the other, and raising her snowy finger, 
 shook it admonishingly at him, as she said, with a queer 
 mixture of fun and solemnity 
 
 2f-n-o you don't I I'm not Zoe, nor Louiga My
 
 446 THE XOTH1B-IN-LAW. 
 
 Hp are not as common as a barber's chair ! Everybody 
 has their pet pride. You are proud of your military fam 
 of a name that will blaze down the centuries, illuminating 
 the history of our country. Britannia is proud of herself- 
 Britannia ! Mrs. Armstrong is proud of her pride. 1 
 also am proud." 
 
 " It must be of your incredible strength, my audacioui 
 beanty 1" 
 
 " It is this that my lips have never been stained by a 
 falsehood, or touched by a kiss ! No, never, even in my 
 loving childhood ; and that which made the sorrow of the 
 child, makes the glory of the woman ! There ; I've made 
 my speech ; and now you'll understand, sir, that if in your 
 exceeding great affectionateness, you were to deprive me of 
 that glory there would be a row !" 
 
 And the Amazon relaxed her hold, gathered up her fall- 
 Ing torrent of golden hair, and fastening it, stepped back to 
 let them pass to the house. General Stuart-Gordon 
 Iftughed heartily, as he drew the arm of Britannia through 
 His own, and walked into the house. Louis followed, with 
 Susan on one arm, and leading little Brighty by the other 
 hand. Gertrude shook hands with the coachman, patted 
 the horses' heads bespoke for them a good supper and a 
 good rubbing down and then sprung with three bounds 
 into the house. The travelers had retired to their rooms, 
 to change their dresses. Zoe, after having welcomed the 
 party, had gone into the wainscoted parlor to await them. 
 
 This room was the very perfection of comfort. The dark 
 and polished oak walls, the crimson carpet, curtains and 
 chair covrs, and the blazing hickory fire, all imparted a 
 glowing and genial warmth. The tea-table was set, and 
 the wax-candles on the mantelpiece shone down upon the 
 dazzling white damask cloth and the glittering silver tea- 
 service. Zoe was tripping about, receiving dishes from the 
 waiter as he brought them in, and arranging them on th
 
 LITTLE BRIGH T Y. 447 
 
 table. At last, all was ready, and Zoe rang a peal of belli. 
 Soou Britannia and Susan entered, looking charmingly in 
 their first fall dresses Sasan in a dark slate-colored silk, 
 and Britannia in a rich purple satin. They were attended 
 by the General and Louis. Never was a more genial and 
 cheerful company assembled around a social tea-table in a 
 comfortable parlor. Even Louis glanced, and smiled, and 
 talked and the ghost of Mrs. Armstrong and her victim 
 rhild was not suffered to intrude, for that one evening at least. 
 
 " Now think of that dear little girl taking it into her 
 gentle heart to come over here to prepare for us, and wel- 
 come us home 1" exclaimed the General, looking with affec- 
 tion at Zoe. 
 
 " How came yon to think of it, darling ?" inquired Bri- 
 tannia. 
 
 " Why because it is so dismal, coming home to a cold, 
 dark house, with no one but the servants, though they are 
 warm-hearted poor creatures, to welcome you. Coming 
 home should be a festival ; and so I told Gertrude that we 
 would come over here and make some cakes and jellies, and 
 have things bright and nice, and give you a family-wel- 
 come. Besides, to tell you the truth, I was pining for a 
 little extra housekeeping flourishes. I was dying to make 
 jellies and cakes. Gertrude, though she hates everything 
 of the kind, indulges me in everything ; so dear Gertrude 
 came over here with me, to keep me in countenance." 
 
 The evening passed in gay conversation. Gertrude and 
 Zoe had a million questions to ask, and a million of items 
 of neighborhood news to relate. Nevertheless, as the ladies 
 were somewhat fatigued, they retired early. Then General 
 Stuart-Gordon and Louis sen ; for the mail-bag, which wa 
 emptied on the table between them. There were a number 
 of business letters of various dates within the week past, 
 bat these were soon thrust aside, when one, directed in the 
 hand of Mrs. Armstrong to Louis Stuart-Gordon, and bear*
 
 448 THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 ing & black seal, caught their eyes. Louis seized and tort 
 this letter open with a trembling hand. It was from Mra. 
 Armstrong, and read as follows : 
 
 "RICHMOND, September 15, 18 . 
 
 "Ma. Louis STUART-GORDON: It becomes my painful 
 duty to break the long silence maintained heretofore between 
 us, by announcing to you the demise of your infant daugh- 
 ter, Margaret, who died of scarlet fever, after an illness of 
 six days, and upon the 12th instant. 
 
 " I presume any offers of condolence on ray part would be 
 a work of supererogation. Yon will not probably be incon- 
 olable for the loss of a child, after whose welfare you have 
 never once inquired " 
 
 " Never once inquired I" interrupted General Stuart-Gor- 
 don indignantly. " Why, was ever such a consummate piece 
 of hypocrisy as that ? when she knows she has received let- 
 ters monthly, weekly, sometimes daily, from you. But I 
 tee ! she is cautious not to commit herself. Go on Louis. ' ; 
 Louis passed his hand once or twice over his brow, and 
 resumed the perusal of the letter. 
 
 " The last tie that binds you to my unhappy child is thua 
 cut in twain. You can now have no excuse for retaining 
 a claim upon the hand of one whose peace depends upon 
 your freeing her. You surely cannot value the possession 
 of one whom you have never written to " 
 
 " She actually wishes to make us believe that she has re 
 eeived none of our letters!" again interrupted the General 
 " Read on, Louis." 
 
 Louis finished the letter, the remainder being a consum- 
 mate piece of eloquence, by which, without descetding from 
 her pride, she artfully appei.led, now to his disinterested love, 
 now to his chivalric devotion, and all to one end what sh 
 tailed the emancipation of her heart-broken child. 
 
 " New, then, what do yon intend to do, Loaia F
 
 LITTLE BRIGHT T. 449 
 
 " My daughter is gone 1" Louis buried his face in hii 
 hands for a few moments, and then rising, said " Yes, I 
 will write to this poor sorrowing young mother I I will 
 write to her, and ascertain if I can by any means promote 
 her happiness" and, excusing himself, he retired to his 
 own apartment, where he spent the night in writing a long, 
 passionate, and eloquent letter to his wife, expressing hi? 
 earnest sympathy, his deep affection, his infinite patience, 
 his willingness still to wait, and hope for their future re- 
 union his resolution to renounce that hope, if her peace 
 of mind demanded the sacrifice. He closed by beseeching 
 her to reflect deliberately, prayerfully before she decided. 
 This letter was mailed the next morning. 
 
 The news of the death of the little girl was announced 
 the next morning after breakfast. It threw a gloom over 
 the heretofore merry family party. Britannia clasped her 
 own child with tremulous affection close to her bosom, as 
 she wept in pity of Louise. Susan Somerville wished to 
 return home, but General Stuart-Gordon would upon no ac- 
 count hear of it. " You must not leave Louis now, my 
 dear young lady. You alone, of all the world, understand 
 and know how to console Louis. He loves you as his twin 
 sister ; do not leave him just now," he said, " and you 
 shall never leave him if I can prevent it," he resolved. 
 
 Miss Somerville was thus constrained to remain. Zoe 
 also remained to make up the mourning ; but Gertrude, who 
 had a mortal repugnance to grave faces and bombazine 
 dresses, fled from a spot where she felt unhappy without 
 being able to alleviate the nnhappiness of others. 
 
 Louis had scarcely expected an answer to his letter for 
 week or two. He was surprised to receive a reply by re- 
 torn mail. It was from Mrs. Armstrong, stating that she 
 wrote at the request of her daughter, who was too ill to 
 write herself. The letter assured Mr. Stuart-Gordon that 
 the happiness nay, the very life of Louise., deoended UDOP
 
 460 T H 1 MOTHERIN-LAW. 
 
 tor deliverance from her matrimonial ties. A single lir* 
 at the bottcm of the letter was in the hand of Louise, 
 though the letters were nearly illegible, looking as though 
 they were written with a tremulous hand. This was the 
 Bme: 
 
 "Ye*, Louis, my happiness, my repose, depends upon 
 your complying with the request contained in this letter. 
 
 " LOUISE SlUAKT-GORDON." 
 
 " It is done," exclaimed Louis, growing deadly pale. 
 
 The Legislature met in December. Among the firut 
 petitions presented was that of Louis Stuart-Gordou. His 
 case was so well known had excited so much general sym- 
 pathy, that the divorce that had been indignantly refused 
 to the petition of Louise, was at once granted to the appli- 
 cation of Louis. The bill passed without a dissenting 
 Toico. 
 
 It was Christmas at The Isle of Rays, and all the neigh- 
 borhood was assembled there to spend the holidays. It was 
 the day after Christmas, at night, that a large party were 
 gathered together in the drawing-room, when Mr. Turner, 
 the solicitor of Louis, was announced. Louis immediately 
 retired with him to the library, where the solicitor laid 
 before him a copy of the act dissolving his marriage. Pre- 
 pared as he had been for this the announcement the 
 printed bill before him like the sight of the fabled Gorgon, 
 teemed turning him to stone. lie gazed, without reading, 
 for the letters swam before him. All had seemed unreal 
 till now. He had seemed to have lived in a dream till now. 
 How the terrible, the strange reality, that Louise, his be- 
 loved wife Louise, his own from infancy up, still loving 
 was nothing to him swam in upon his brain with a force 
 Of conviction that again overpowered bit delicate argaaixa-
 
 LIITLB BBIGHTY. 461 
 
 lion, and with a heart-bursting groan, Louis fell forward 
 upon his face. A long and severe spell of illness followed 
 the events of this evening. Miss Somerville remained and 
 nursed him. She alone, of all the family, possessed the 
 power of soothing him. Even in his wildest delirium, hii 
 frenzy was best controlled by the gentle voice and soft hand 
 of Susan. He could not bear to miss that gentle sedative 
 tone and touch. He would lie for hours quiet, with the 
 hand of Susan on his brow ; but if she left him for an hour, 
 to take needful rest or food, Louis would, with the thought- 
 lessness or selfishness of illness, grow restive, and fret him- 
 self into a fever. 
 
 In truth, the gentle and considerate Louis Stuart-Gordon 
 ras thoughtlessly cruel but to one being on earth to the 
 one who lovea him most strongly, purely, and disinterest- 
 edly, of all the world. How many spoiled children, old 
 and young, resemble Louis in that particular. With every 
 effort Miss Somerville would make to return to The Crags, 
 Louis would suffer a relapse. Poor Susan I She was not 
 his happiness only his comforter ; not his health only his 
 nurse ; not his pleasure only the anodyne of his pain. 
 Yet not now, as formerly, did the life she gave Louis depart 
 from her own soul. Susan was calm, strong, and mistrwa 
 of herself now. Her love was now so high and pare that 
 he could have resigned him without a pang to aoy other 
 ore beloved
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 THE TRAVELERS. 
 
 " She stV.l go east, she shall go west, 
 
 To seek for that she shall not find 
 A heart at peace with Hi own thought*, 
 A quiet and contented mind." London. 
 
 Mas. ARMSTRONG, from the time of her leaving Mcnt 
 Crystal, seemed possessed with a perfect furore for travei- 
 fng. She who, until near her fortieth year, had lived entireif 
 in one sumptuous but retired home, now with the stranet 
 restlessness of remorse, or fear, or both, wandered from city 
 to city, with a troop of attendants, equal in number to a 
 queen's retinue. Only she avoided the Northern cities, to 
 which she could not carry her slaves. Mrs. Armstrong 
 abhorred the attendance of any one over whom she did no 
 possess absolute control. Her winters were passed at New 
 Orleans, Charleston, (South Carolina,) Washington City. 
 or Richmond, and her summers at the Capes, the various 
 Sulphur Springs of Virginia, or at other fashionable South- 
 ern watering-places. And everywhere, the majestic grace 
 of the mother, and the fragile beauty of the daughter, at- 
 tracted great attention. It was in February of the first 
 winter of their wanderings, that^they found themselves in a 
 suite of apartments in the most fashionable hotel in Wasn- 
 ington. It was the long session of Congress, and the oitr 
 was very full of strangers. Mrs. Armstrong had her rooms fk- 
 ted up with ostentatious magnificence, and soon found herself 
 and her daughter "the cynosure of neighboring eyes." Mrs. 
 Stuart-Gordon was supposed to be a wealthy young widow. 
 ttftl)
 
 THE TRAVELERS. 468 
 
 Louise excited a very general interest; her extreme y>;mth, 
 her fragile beauty, her deep melancholy and habitual absence 
 of mind, were an inexhaustible subject of surprise and com- 
 miseration. In the deep blue eyes of Louise brooded an 
 eternal sorrow ; the lids seemed heavy with suspended tears 
 that yet never fell. This was of course supposed to be the 
 grief of a youthful widow, mourning for the premature loss 
 of her husband. And without committing herself by saying 
 it directly, Mrs. Armstrong favored the opinion by impli- 
 cation. 
 
 Among the many who from various motives paid great 
 
 attention to the mother aud daughter, was Mrs. M , 
 
 the lady of the President. Mrs. M was perhaps the 
 
 most dignified and gracious of all the ladies that ever pre- 
 sided at the White House. Certainly her general affability 
 made her the most popular. It was at a public reception 
 that she first saw the pale young beauty who, to her eyes, 
 seemed a sorrow-stricken orphan child, scarcely old enough 
 to be presented ; but when she was presented as Mrs. 
 Stuart-Gordon, and when she understood that the broken- 
 spirited girl was a widow, all the sympathies of her benevo- 
 lent heart went out to her. Louise, also, by a corresponding 
 
 instinct, was attracted to this lady, forcibly. Mrs. M 
 
 occasionally went to the parties given by the ladies of the 
 members of the Cabinet, and here she sometimes met 
 Louise; and even in the thickest crowd, Louise would find 
 herself, she scarcely knew how, in the immediate circle of 
 
 the President's lady. Mis. M , quick to discern and 
 
 prompt to distinguish excellence of character, had another 
 profe</. This was young Frobisher, the secretary of lega- 
 tion, whose high intelligence, and, more than that, whose 
 deep sensibilities, attached her to him with an almost mater- 
 nal tenderness. Louise was frequently admitted to the 
 
 domestic privacy of Mrs. M 's apartments. Here she 
 
 o*teu met young Frobisher, who more than anj other per* 
 28
 
 464 T H 1 MOTHKR-IjN-LJLW. 
 
 on, deeply sympathized with her sorrows. Louise waa 
 reserved, and Frobisher was almost distant, in his veneration 
 for that reserve. And when he had occasion to address her, 
 there was a deep-toned tenderness and respect in his voice, 
 that spoke to the heart of the sorrowing one, and the glance 
 and voice of Louise revealed the gratitude that her words 
 failed to express. I am afraid that all married ladies are, 
 more 01 less, match-makers. After having finished up their 
 own marriage, they set about, from various motives of be- 
 nevolence, interest, or the want of amusement or occupation, 
 to make up the matches of friends and acquaintances. Cer- 
 tainly, it was from motives of benevolence that Mrs. 
 
 M wished and hoped that the deep sympathy of 
 
 young Frobisher might ripen into a warmer sentiment, and 
 that the supposed young widow might be able to find con- 
 solation in the affection of so amiable a youth. And there 
 was the attraction of sympathy on the one side, and the 
 need of it on the other, that drew this young man and 
 woman forcibly together. It was not love, but one of those 
 illusive counterfeits of love, that often deceive both subject 
 and object. It was near the close of the session of Con- 
 gress, that is to say, upon the first of June, that young 
 Frobisher presented himself at the lodgings of Mrs. Arm- 
 strong, and requested a private audience. Here be made a 
 formal announcement of his regard for Mrs. Stuart-Gordon, 
 and requested permission to pay his addresses to her. 
 
 Mrs. Armstrong bowed haughtily in acknowledgment 
 of this honor, and coldly requested information as to hii 
 fortune and prospects, stating that she had heard a rumoi 
 of his recall by the British Government. Mr. Frobisher 
 informed her that he was recalled, at his own request 
 preferred for the following reasons, namely: that he had 
 recently purchased the estates of Clonmachnois, and that 
 he wish<l to return to Ireland, for the purpose of impror 
 fabg the lands and the condition of bis tenantry : and also
 
 THK TBAVKLIR8. 406 
 
 to apply for the reversion of the title of Earl of Clonmach* 
 nois, the title of Countess having been voluntarily renounced 
 by Mrs. Stuart-Gordon, by the sale of her patrimony and 
 by her self-expatriation from her fatherland. The heart of 
 the haughty woman bounded at this announcement. Some- 
 thing of this Irish earldom she had heard before, bnt no- 
 thing with certainty, so that she bad been altogether 
 incredulous. Now, however, there was no doubting the 
 fact ; and a flush of malign triumph crimsoned her cheek, 
 as she thought that, notwithstanding all their humiliations, 
 Louise would at last wear the title and the coronet that 
 might have graced Britannia's brow. Concealing her joy, 
 however, she spoke of her daughter's deep sorrow, that was 
 only now beginning to yield to time, and to the sympathy 
 of friends. She knew, she said, of her daughter's high 
 esteem of Mr. Frobisher nay, more, of her affection, yet 
 unacknowledged to her own heart, jealous of its fidelity, 
 and superstitious in its devotion to a first love, yet plainly 
 visible to the solicitous love of her mother. Yet she feared 
 that Louise, in her religious attachment to a mere memory, 
 might renounce the happiness within her reach. In fine, 
 she requested time to ascertain her daughter's sentiments 
 upon this projected marriage, before presenting Mr. Fro- 
 bisher to her as a suitor. Forced to accept this for a 
 present answer, Mr. Frobisher bowed and took hia leave, 
 his rather moderate inclination for "the pale young widow'' 
 some what increased by the prospect of a little opposition. 
 
 The reader knows, as well ag I do, that she only wished 
 an opportunity of laying her despotic commands upon 
 Louise. The reader knows, as well, how this interview 
 was likely to terminate. Worn out by a long, long sorrow, 
 now quite incapable of opposing any one, much less her 
 imperious mother, and quite in despair, Louise yielded, 
 though her whole nature revolted at the projected marriage. 
 It was some relief to her, to know that Frobisher was going
 
 4W TH1 MOTH1B-IN-LAW. 
 
 wo England, to remain for at least twelve months, before 
 be returned to claim her hand. " Who knows ?" she said 
 to herself; " perhaps I may die before he comes back, or he 
 may be shipwrecked?" for she almost loathed the youth 
 whom, previous to this engagement, she had loved with a 
 isterly affection. 
 
 As for Frobisher, he went away completely deceived 
 entirely believing his betrothed to be a widow. Once, 
 indeed, he had casually inquired if the late Mr. Stuart- 
 Gordon, was not a connection of the Stuart-Gordons of The 
 Isle of Rays. Mrs. Armstrong replied, quietly, that her 
 late son-in-law was a connection of that family. And the 
 subject was dropped. 
 
 Perhaps nothing on earth but the prospect of a title and 
 coronet would have induced Mrs. Armstrong to compel 
 her daughter to renounce, by a divorce, her claim upon the 
 immense Island estate. Nothing but two such powerful 
 passions as ambition and hatred, coupled with a desire for 
 revenge, and acting upon the mind of a supremely haughty 
 and unscrupulous woman, could have impelled her to the 
 daring career of crime into which she at once entered. To 
 have her daughter once legally divorced, and legally and 
 magnificently remarried to have that once accomplished, 
 ahe was audacious enough to defy all evil consequences to 
 herself. There is nothing more wonderful in the history of 
 erime, than the fatuity with which a criminal dares almost 
 certain detection and disgrace. It was in this frame of 
 mind that she went to Richmond, Virginia, where the 
 Legislature was still in session, and where she forced Louise 
 to memorialize that body for a divorce. 
 
 We have seen how the shallow petition was at once re- 
 jected. Mortified and alarmed at this failure, Mrs. Arm- 
 strong determined to act upon the other party to induce 
 Louis Stuart-Gordon, if possible, to petition the Legislature 
 Umielf. Hi* petition, she felt sure, would be received.
 
 *HK TRAVELERS. 457 
 
 There are few secrets in a family where there are many 
 servants. Mrs Armstrong had another line of communica- 
 tion with The Isle of Rays besides that of Louis's occasional 
 notes, which she invariably read and put into the fire, -with- 
 out communicating them to Louise. She had left her 
 faithful coadjutor, Kate in the neighborhood, and it was 
 rather through the gossiping propensities of poor old Serry, 
 than from the treachery of any of the servants, that the 
 conversation of Louis with the General, in which the former 
 expressed his determination of taking no step that should 
 affect the future happiness of her daughter, was reported in 
 triumph to Kate, and conveyed to Mrs. Armstrong at 
 Richmond. 
 
 It was then that Mrs. Armstrong put in practice the 
 most daring and adroit deception that ever Satan suggested 
 to self. It was now late in July, and under a pretense of 
 relieving Louise from the care of her child, she sent the 
 former to the sea-shore for change of air, and kept the latter 
 at home. It was while lingering out her weary days at 
 Old Point Comfort that Louise received a letter from her 
 mother, recalling her to the sick-bed of her child, who, she 
 said, was lying dangerously ill of scarlet fever. Louise 
 hurried at once to Richmond, but was told on her arrival 
 that the babe was dead and buried ; that the danger of in- 
 fection had induced the necessity of a speedy interment. 
 Shock after shock had nearly paralyzed the sensibilities of 
 the poor young woman, so that the impression made by this 
 last blow was not so deep as in other circumstances it might 
 have been. 
 
 "Oh 1 I shall soon follow !" was all she said, with a tear- 
 less eye, and a wan smile. 
 
 She was conveyed to her bed in a state of nerroug ex- 
 haustion, that prostrated her for many weeks. It wai 
 daring her illness that Mrs. Armstrong wrote to Louia 
 announcing the death of his daughter, and assuring him that
 
 <58 THI MOTKKR-IK-LAW. 
 
 fle peace of Louise depended npon her freedom from mar- 
 riage ties. The reader remembers that the answer of Look 
 requested to see this wish expressed in the handwriting of 
 Louise herself, before he would consent to act npon it 
 Mrs. Armstrong smiled grimly to herself, and sitting down, 
 wrote the letter describing the exhausted state of her 
 daughter's health, and reiterating the assurance that not 
 only the peace of mind and health of body, but that the 
 very life of her daughter hung upon his answer. This 
 letter she took to the bedside of Louise. Louise was lying 
 with her two emaciated hands upon her pallid brow, shut- 
 ting out the light from her eyes. Sitting down by her side, 
 ghe laid her own cold hand over those of her daughter, and 
 said, " How are you now, my love ?" 
 
 " I don't know, mother," heavily sighed the invalid, with- 
 out uncovering her eyes. 
 
 "Louise, ray love, would you like to see Lonis ?" 
 
 The effect of this question upon the poor girl was like 
 that of a galvanic battery on a corpse. She started up witL 
 ft spasmodic motion, and looked intently into the face of hei 
 mother. 
 
 "I inquired if yon would like to see Louis, my love." 
 
 " Like to see Louis ! Oh, mother I" 
 
 " Well, my child, in consideration of our late and common 
 bereavement, and of your precarious state of health, I have 
 written to Louis to come and visit us." 
 
 " Oh, mother, have you ? May the Lord of Mercy bless 
 fon 1 bless you ! bless yon 1 my own good mother !" cried 
 Louise, throwing herself from the pillow upon her bosom. 
 
 " Calm yourself, my child, calm yourself," said the mother, 
 reaching a cordial from a table at hand, and holding it to 
 the lips of her daughter. 
 
 Then she laid her back upon the pillow. Her eyes were 
 ihi'iing like stars, and there was a bright hectic spot on each 
 cheefc, as she smilingly said "I see how it is, mother: you
 
 THK TBAYBLERS. 469 
 
 know that I am dyiug, and you are willing for me to tak 
 leave of Louis before I go. Heaven bless you, mother! 
 Look out the window, mother. It has been cloudy all day 
 long. Look at the west, where the heavy dark-blue clouds 
 lower almost to the verge of the horizon ; but not quite, for 
 see, the shining sun illuminates the lower edge of this cloud, 
 and shoots out direct rays of glorious light aslant the earth 
 and now it has sunk below the horizon. Even so, mother. 
 My life resembles this day but you are willing to provide 
 for me a ray of sunlight before the night of death falls on 
 me forever. God bless you, mother 1" 
 
 Her eyes and cheeks blazed with the fire of fe^er while 
 she spoke. 
 
 " My love you must not talk so. You are utterly mis- 
 taken. You are young and sound, and only suffering from 
 alternate nervous excitement and exhaustion. You will 
 recover your health. But now, Louise, you must attend to 
 this matter in hand. I have written to Louis, requesting 
 him to lose no time in coming to see us. But, after all that 
 has passed, Louis may not be persuaded to come by me. 
 You must add your request. I know that you can scarcely 
 hold a pen, my dear, but you can write one line, to endorse 
 what I have written. Just write ' Louis ! my happiness, 
 my repose, depend upon your granting the request con- 
 tained in this letter.' " 
 
 "Give me a pen quick, mamma." 
 
 Mrs. Armstrong placed a portfolio before her, and sup- 
 ported her in her arms, while Louise wrote with trembling 
 hands, at the foot of the letter, the very words of her mo- 
 ther's dictation 
 
 "Louis! my happiness, my repose, depend upon you 
 granting the request contained in this letter. 
 
 " LOUISE STUABT-QQRDOX," > 
 
 aud exhausted by the effort, faint*** *n4 fell back.
 
 460 THE MOTHKR-IN-L1.W. 
 
 It was thus that Louis and Louise were mutually de* 
 ceired. 
 
 It is wonderful how much sorrow, suspense, and anxiety, 
 she most fragile human being can bear, before the frame 
 gives way. Breaking a heart is the slowest of all methods 
 of torturing a soul to death. No language, I am sure, can 
 describe the sufferings of Louise for the next fortnight 
 We have seen the apathy with which she bore the news of 
 he death of her chill It was the insensibility of the vic- 
 tim exhausted by previous torture. But now a cordial had 
 been given her in the hope of a new happiness. This had 
 revived her sensibilities, her power of suffering, to a morbid 
 excess. She could not sleep at nights, nor rest during the 
 flay without an opiate, as days and weeks passed without 
 Aer hearing from or seeing Louis. 
 
 " He will not lose time in writing he will come at once, 
 mother, he is so forgiving so magnanimous !" had been 
 her first hopeful and enthusiastic assertion. " What can 
 be the reason he does not write, at least, if anything pre- 
 rents him from coming, mother ?" was her despairing in- 
 quiry a week later. 
 
 " Mother, write again, do write I Tell him that I am 
 dying that I shall never see Heaven if I pass hence with- 
 out his forgiveness and blessing !" 
 
 And Mrs. Armstrong, to humor her, preUnded to write. 
 
 Another weary week of mental torture passed, and then 
 Louise pleaded 
 
 " Write once more, mother I once more ! Plead with 
 him 1 it is not for MS to be proud, if he is justly obdurate. 
 Tell him that I am fastened here to a bed of illness that 
 I cannot put my foot to the ground that I cannot raise 
 my hand to my head that, for weakness I can scarcely 
 make my words audible even to your listening ear I Tell 
 him that I may not lire, and cannot die until he blew**
 
 TXK TRAVELERS. *61 
 
 So the hearj weeks passed in torturing suspense, or sor 
 rowfal pleadings. So October passed. Louise had told 
 the truth. She could not die. A strange vitality of anx- 
 iety held her life, as some sharp pains sometimes keep their 
 Yictim from fainting. Nay, more ; with good medical at- 
 tendance, with the bracing air of the fall, and the gradual 
 subsidence of suspense into certainty, she recovered the toue 
 of her nervous system sufficiently to leave her bed. No- 
 vember passed. December came ; and then her mother, after 
 preparing her for it gradually, informed her of the appli- 
 cation of Louis for a divorce. Louise received it with 
 resignation. 
 
 " It is justice, it is justice," she said. " I had no right 
 to hope for mercy." 
 
 Upon the 1st of January, Mrs. Armstrong placed in her 
 ftands the copy of the bill of divorce that had been for- 
 warded to her. 
 
 " It is over!" said Louise, using the very words with 
 which Louis had received his doom ; and at the very time 
 that Louis lay at the point of death with an inflammation 
 of the brain at The Isle of Rays, Louise was again pros 
 trated by a low nervous fever at Richmond. 
 
 " Well 1" exclaimed Mrs. Armstrong, with a sort of dia- 
 bolical patience; "all this 'weeping, and wailing, and 
 gnashing of teeth' is terribly disagreeable ; it is the duat 
 and smoke and smell of brimstone, the blood and groans, 
 remaining after the hard-fought battle upon the field of 
 victory. Patience! we shall bury our dead, clear our field, 
 and then for the triumph then for the illumination ! la 
 other words, Louise will wear through this misery and ill- 
 ness ; and then soon, in another country and under prouder 
 circumstances, onr minister shall present a new Peeress at 
 the Court of St. James." 
 
 There was little danger that Mr. Probisher should be 
 prematurely informed of the real state of affairs with hit
 
 Mi THE MOTHKB-IN LAW. 
 
 betrothed. Those were not the days of steamships and 
 telegraphs ; and little individual villainies perpetrated in 
 Richmond, Virginia, were not then, as now, common themes 
 of gossip in the lobbies of the Houses of Parliament ia 
 London. And for the rest, Mrs. Armstrong was willing 
 to dare his after knowledge of her antecedents, when her 
 daughter was justly and legally bound to Frobisher in mar- 
 riage. 
 
 Letters from Mr. Frobisher announced his expected re- 
 turn to Washington in February. Thither Mrs. Arm- 
 strong, accompanied by Louise, went. They arrived at 
 Brown's Hotel upon the first of February. There they 
 found on the list of new arrivals, the name and title of the 
 Right Honorable James Frobisher, Earl of Clonmachnois ; 
 and Mrs. Armstrong's heart bounded with pride and joy 
 when she saw it. The young Earl met his betrothed, after 
 an absence of many months, with renewed affection. He 
 passed the evening in her boudoir, and pressed her to name 
 an early day for their marriage. Mrs. Armstrong named 
 that day three weeks. 
 
 " Mother ! Oh, mother ! that is the twenty-second of 
 February the anniversary of my marriage I" 
 
 " It is, certainly ; but I never thought of it when naming 
 *he day I What a singular coincidence I"
 
 CHAPTER XXXTII 
 
 LOUI8 AND SUSAN. 
 
 tTaeaiy now becomes perforce 
 Tk Inevitable Intercourse, 
 
 Too grateful heretofore: 
 Each In the other can descry 
 The tone constraint, the alter'd eye, 
 They know that each to each can seem 
 
 Ho longer as of yore ; 
 Yet each, while than estranged, I deem 
 
 Eeveres the other more ; 
 Hen It, perhnpt, the saddest heart 
 His, the more forced and painful part. Southey. 
 
 AT the earnest entreaty of General Stuart-Gordon, Mist 
 Bomerville remained at The Isle of Rays until the convales- 
 cence of Louis ; then she took her departure for her solitary 
 home on The Crags. It was a bright, sharp morning near 
 the last of January that she found herself there. Old 
 George and Harriet welcomed her home, with heartfelt de- 
 light. George displayed with glee a bunch of birds that 
 he had brought home for " Miss Susie's" dinner ; and ex- 
 hibited with great pride a vast pile of flag-mats, baskets, 
 sad children's, men's, and boy's coarse straw hats; all the 
 work of his hands, which he said would bring sixty dollars 
 when he could take them to market. And Harriet dis- 
 played some of the whitest spun cotton, which she said 
 would knot beautiful fringes and toilet covers. Both feared, 
 however, that " Miss Susie" would find the house very 
 rough, in comparison with the beautiful Island mansion. 
 Miss Somerville smiled away their doubts ; and, having 
 looked through her house and then laid off her riding-habit,
 
 464 THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 she quietly settled herself with her needle-work by h 
 lonely fireside. 
 
 " I am but twenty-one," said Susan to herself, "and yt* 
 I begin to feel very much like an old maid." 
 
 But she did not look so, with her tender peach-blossom 
 cheek, and the silky black curls dropping soft shades npon 
 them. 
 
 The day was heavy it was no nse to disguise the fact 
 Susan found it so ; and often rising from her seat, she 
 walked to the windows and looked out from very weariness. 
 And as she remembered the pleasant family circle at The Isle 
 of Rays the hearty General, the gay Britannia, the spark- 
 ling little Brighty, and Louis, her prote'gd ; her patient, suf- 
 fering, sad, but the more interesting on that account Su- 
 san nearly regretted the morbid self-respect that forbade her 
 to yield to the pressing entreaties of the Stuart-Gordon 
 family, and take up her residence among them. 
 
 Night closed around her, and then more than ever she 
 missed the social family circle that nightly gathered around 
 the bright hickory fire in the oak-paneled parlor at The 
 Isle of Rays. She imagined them as they sat there, after 
 the tea-table was cleared away, the General and Britannia 
 with the chess-board between them. The General, with his 
 deep, hearty laugh, and Britannia with her beaming glance, 
 and half-mocking smile ; and Louis ? what might Louis b^ 
 doing now, that she was not there to keep him alive ? re- 
 clining back in his crimson velvet chair, watching the game 
 with languid eyes. 
 
 A wild blast of wind against the window aroused her from 
 her reverie. She arose and looked out, and found that a 
 snow storm had suddenly arisen. She resumed her seat ; and 
 while the tempest howled around the old honse, Susan felt 
 more desolate in her loneliness than ever. George came in 
 with tea and toast, and a lighted candle, upon a waiter
 
 LOUIS AND SUSAN, 445 
 
 He set it down on the table by Miss Somerville's side, and 
 then he quietly withdrew. 
 
 "The truth is, I have no appetite," thought Susan, as 
 he turned to her solitary meal. "That long sojourn at 
 The Isle of Rays has spoiled me entirely ; I can no longer 
 enjoy a meal that is at once very frugal and very lonely." 
 
 A second and a wilder blast of the storm startled Susan 
 from her chair, and at the same moment the door was pushed 
 open, and Louis Stuart-Gordon suddenly stepped into the 
 room, stamping the snow from his boots, and throwing off 
 his sleet-covered cloak, and revealing his black suit, slight 
 figure, and pale face. 
 
 Miss Somerville paled herself. 
 
 " In the name of Heaven, Louis, what tempted you out 
 on such a night as this ? you, who are barely convalescent!" 
 exclaimed the young nurse in displeasure, as the imprudent 
 patient dropped exhausted in a chair beside her. 
 
 41 Do not scold, my loved physician ; the storm had not 
 arisen when I set out it overtook me at the top of The 
 Crags." 
 
 "Yet you should not have left the house upon any ac- 
 count no, not nntil spring." 
 
 44 Yon are mistaken, Susan ; I am stronger than yon 
 think. I am recovering rapidly. Give me a cup of your 
 nice tea, and it will set me up I'' 
 
 Miss Somerville went to the othe door, called George, 
 and directed him to bring another cup and saucer. 
 
 " I missed you we all missed you so much to-day, 8n 
 Ban, but / most of all. I seem to be a supernumerary at 
 Phe Isle, now. In short, Susan, I was terribly bored with 
 my own company, and having a great deal of listless new 
 on hand, I have come to bestow a part of it on you. Have 
 patience with me, Susan." 
 
 George now entered with another cup aud sancer and 
 wore toast, and Susan ponred ont his tea.
 
 4*6 TMB MOTHBB-HT-LAW. 
 
 The table was soon after cleared off, and Louis dw lift 
 ehair in closer to the fire, while the storm raged more fiercely 
 around the house. Miss Somerville qnietly pursued her 
 needlework, but a heavy gloom lowered slowly and darkly 
 upon her spirits. It was a vague sense of error, or wrong, 
 or danger, or dread or all these together that oppressed 
 her. She could not avoid sighing frequently and heavily, 
 and glancing nervously at the windows, as she hoped and 
 prayed and watched for the violence of the storm to abate. 
 Louis, for bis part, sat there looking the very picture of 
 repose and contentment. He was silent, and sometimes 
 rery abstracted, seeming perfectly satisfied to be near Susan, 
 without entering into conversation with her. A wild blast 
 of the hail-storm rattled against the windows. Unable to 
 control her nervousness, Susan arose and put her hand to 
 the latch of the door, intending to look out, but a furious 
 gust of wind blew it violently open sending a tempest of 
 snow and hail into the room. Susan with all her strength 
 was nnable to close the door, and Louis had to get up to 
 help her. Then they resumed their seats, and then, for the 
 first time, Louis noticed her sullenness. 
 
 " What is the matter, Susan ?" he inquired naively. 
 
 "Matter? nothing," replied Susan, more disturbed than 
 ever. 
 
 " Bat there is, "my dear Snssax. I have never no nevei 
 een yon so agivaiea 1" 
 
 Susan's brow flashed to crimson, sini she turned her head 
 aside. Louis took her hand, pressed it, and bending for- 
 ward, looked searchingly into her eyes. 
 
 " Susan, I never had a sister, but you are dear to me as 
 any sister could be my loved Susan, tell me what disturbi 
 you ?" 
 
 " I am so sorry that you risked your health by exposing 
 yourself to this storm !" replied Miss Someiville, with
 
 LOUIS AMD 8USAW. 4tf 
 
 Lenii pressed her hand again, and dropped it. The clock 
 track ten. Louis then arose and resumed his cloak and 
 took his hat. 
 
 Miss Somerville started up. " What ! Louis ! you do 
 not think of venturing out in this horrible tempest I" 
 
 " Assuredly, Susan 1" 
 
 " But you must not, indeed. Pull off your cloak, sit 
 down, remain here. I will have a fire lighted in my g-^and- 
 father's room for yon." 
 
 "Do you not understand that I must return, Susan- - n 
 
 " No no I you are mad to think of it. You should not 
 have come at first but being here, you SHALL NOT depart 
 in the midst of the night and storm." 
 
 " But my dearest Susan " 
 
 " But Louis, it is as much as your life is worth ! Sit 
 down be quiet don't fidget me I have had trouble 
 enough on your account already so sit down ! I am out 
 of breath." 
 
 Instead of sitting down, Louis opened the door, but a 
 violent blast of wind and sleet nearly blew him down, and 
 again it took all his strength to force to the door. He 
 shut it, and throwing off his cloak, sat down. It was lite- 
 rally impossible to reach The Isle of Rays that night. 
 
 " Do you know, Susan, that with all your gentleness, yon 
 are very audacious in some things ?" 
 
 " Very, very courageous in some things, Louis ! Yes, I 
 am when I know I am doing right ! Do not be uneasy, 
 Louis. No one will misunderstand or misrepresent me." 
 
 And so, Miss Somerville tried to think ; but as she re- 
 membered the censorious propensities of the neighborhood, 
 the sinking of her heart belied her noble words. Never- 
 theless, Miss Somerville, by turning a guest out in the 
 torn, would not do a wrong to escape the imputation of 
 
 WTOUf.
 
 468 THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 " Mr. Louis, I will trouble you for a half hoar's conver- 
 sation with me in ray study," said General Stuart-Gordon, 
 rising from the breakfast-table, pushing back his chair, and 
 leading the way thither. 
 
 Louis arose and followed. 
 
 When they had arrived there, and were seated, tht 
 General said 
 
 " You spent last night at The Crags, Louis 7" 
 
 "Yes, sir. The storm prevented my return." 
 
 " The threatened storm should have prevented your going 
 forth, Louis." 
 
 Louis bowed and remained silent. 
 
 "You remained all night at The Crags 1 Well, this capi 
 the climax. If you do not consider the question intrusive, 
 Louis, will you favor me with your reason for going to The 
 Crags ? 
 
 "I went thither to see Miss Somerville, sir." 
 
 " Hum 1 you went thither to see Miss Somerville. Louis, 
 do you know th*t yon are seriously compromising that poor 
 girl?" 
 
 " SIR I" exclaimed Louis, starting. 
 
 " My dear Louis, do you know, or has selfishness blinded 
 you, that you cannot now visit Miss Somerville so frequently, 
 without subjecting her to calumny 7" 
 
 " Heavens ! sir, it cannot be so 1" 
 
 "It is so. Miss Somerville has already been made the 
 jubject of invidious remarks." 
 
 Louis grew very pale. 
 
 " Tell me, sir I by whom by whom has Susan been 
 tendered ? If by any living man, by Heaven, he shall pay 
 dearly for his temerity if by any living woman, her father, 
 brother, or husband, shall settle the account." 
 
 " Pooh ! pooh ! Louis, I did not say slander disparag- 
 ing speculations. Can you call a man out because his wife 
 r daughter ' wonders/ what Susan meant, and ' hopes it trill
 
 LOUIS AND SUSAN. 469 
 
 afl end well.* Pshaw J but, Louis, you are doing Susan a 
 more serious injnry than in subjecting her to the gossip of 
 the neighborhood. You are trifling with her affections, 
 Louis." 
 
 "No no, sir! God knows that I am not 1 Oh, my 
 father, for what do you take me ?" 
 
 "For a heart-sick, brain-sick, thoughtlessly selfish, and 
 cruel young man. " 
 
 " In the name of Heaven, what do you mean, sir ?" 
 
 " That you have won the heart of Susan Somerville a 
 heart not lightly won or easily lost." 
 
 " No, sir I no 1 It is not so it cannot be so. Susan, 
 BO good, wise, and calm, love a broken reed like me. Come, 
 sir, I am not a coxcomb." 
 
 " My dear Louis I it is just such good girls as Susan 
 Somerville that are apt to love such good-for-nothing fel- 
 lows as you. It is a law of nature. If the good married 
 the good, and the strong the strong, and the evil the evil, 
 and the weak the weak what a world of beauties and of 
 monsters, of demons and of angels, we should have. I tell 
 you, that this Susan good, wise, calm, strong, as she is 
 loves with all her heart and soul this brain-sick, heart-sick, 
 broken-down son of mine." 
 
 41 Oh, sir, this cannot be so. Heaven forbid that it 
 hould be so, indeed. Susan loves me, it is true, but it ia 
 as a sister lores a brother, as an angel loves a sufferer ! 
 not else." 
 
 " She loves yon as a lover, Louis ! and you, Louis ?" 
 
 " And If I love Susan as a dear sister I revere her 
 as a guardian spirit not else." 
 
 " Louis, you should marry her." 
 
 "Sir." 
 
 " Yon should marry Susan Somerville." 
 
 " Good Heaven, sir I impossible ! I do not love her in 
 tkat way." 
 
 M
 
 4TO * MOTHBK-1K-LAW. 
 
 " And yet yon cannot for a single day do without th 
 company of this girl, whom yon do not love well enough to 
 marry ! Lonis, as a man of honor you must do one of two 
 things marry Susan Somerville, or never see her more ! 
 You said that she loved yon as a brother, 1 say that she 
 loves yon as a lover." 
 
 " Are yon sure of this, sir ?" 
 
 " Sure of it, Louis." 
 
 " Sir, I will take one week to think of it At the end 
 of this time I will either resign the consolation of Susan's 
 society for ever, or I will offer her my hand !" 
 
 " My dear Louis, that is right !" 
 
 The week Louis Stuart-Gordon requested was for this 
 purpose : to write once more to Louise once more, and 
 for the very last time ! This letter was an eloquent appeal. 
 He concluded it thus : 
 
 " Though an act of the Legislature has divorced my 
 hand from yours, no power on earth can divorce my h^art 
 from yours, best beloved Louise ! I am not twenty-two 
 years of age, Louise, yet a few silver hairs are already min- 
 gling with the brown on my temples ! I have no hope of 
 happiness in the future, except in the feeling that you still 
 live! that while there is life there is hopel Write to me 
 once again, Louise, and write to me frankly, for my destiny 
 and that of others, hangs upon your words. Decide my 
 fate for me. There is a lady to whom I am bound by the 
 deepest ties of gratitude My father wishes me to marry 
 her. I have not yet named the subject to her ; for, though 
 her society has been a great solace to me, I regard her only 
 as a sister, and I wished to hear from you again, and for 
 the last time, before taking any step that might raise an 
 insuperable barrier to our future reunion I JN'o other wo- 
 an has erer approached your throne in my heart, Louise '
 
 LOUIS AXD susAir. 471 
 
 Writ* to me frankly. If you will return to me yea, evea 
 If you give me the least faint hope of a vague and distant 
 prospect of a reunion I will never offer my hand to anotliei 
 woman ! If, however, on the other hand, you destroy my 
 slight hopes in that raepect, knowing that I shall never be 
 happy in myself, I will offer my d^ys a living sacrifice for 
 the contentment of others. "Write to me immediately and 
 frankly, Louise ! Remember that the slightest hope oi a 
 far-distant future reunion will keep me waiting patient 1 / ; 
 for, in spite of all that has corae and gone, 
 
 " I am still thine own 
 " Louis STUART-GORDON.''* 
 
 By return mail, Louis received the following reply, writ- 
 ten by Mrs. Armstrong : 
 
 " BROWN'S HOTEL, WASHINGTON, 
 
 " Thursday, February 1, 18 
 "MB. STUART-GORDON : 
 
 " SIB : I am constrained to express my astonishment and 
 indignation at the insolent assumption of your last letter 1 
 Nor should I, sir, take the least notice of the insult, were 
 it not for the sake of announcing to you the following fact, 
 namely, that my daughter, Mrs. Louise Armstrong, will be 
 married on the 22d of the current month, to the Right 
 Honorable James, fourth Earl of Clonmachnois. Imme- 
 diately after the ceremony, the newly- married couple will 
 depart for New York, whence they will sail by the first 
 packet to England. I accompany them. 
 
 "With due respect, 
 " HOBTBNSE BLACKISTONE ARMSTBONO. W 
 
 Whenever Louis received a wound, his instincts sent him 
 to Susan Somerville, to have it dressed. So, as soon as he 
 had received this cruel letter, he felt that he needed tat 
 
 BTilMUloa uU prful wu
 
 iff THJC MOTHKB-IN-LAW. 
 
 gentle girl, whose kind words, and soft tones and glanoet 
 had such power to soothe his excited mind. He placed the 
 letter in his father's hand, and stood, cap and ridiug-whip 
 In hand, waiting for him to read it. 
 
 " You are going to The Crags, Louis, I suppose," said 
 the old gentleman, caking o3f his spectacles, and returning 
 the letter. 
 
 " I am, sir." 
 
 "You remember your promise, Louis never to return 
 thither, unless it was with the intention of offering your 
 hand to Susan Soraerville." 
 
 " I remember it, sir, and I go for that purpose." 
 
 " It is well !" 
 
 " Susan Susan Somernlle I knou tnat I am utterlj 
 nworthy of yon ! I am a bowed, miserable, and despair- 
 ing man ! You are firm, strong, and calmly happy in your 
 strength. Yet, Susan, now I cannot live without you ; at 
 least, so it seems to me, and I am about to ask you to un- 
 dertake the resurrection, the redemption, of just such a lost 
 wretch as I am I" 
 
 The face of Susan grew deadly pale, and then flashed 
 back to crinuon. She withdrew the hand that he had 
 taken, arose, and walked in an agitated manner to the win- 
 dow. Louis got up and followed her. 
 
 " Susan ! dear Susan ! is it such presumption to hope 
 that I may be able to persuade you to give me your hand 
 in marriage ?" Why do you not speak to me, Susan F" 
 
 " Louis 1" she faltered, and her frame trembled from head 
 to foot. 
 
 " Well, dearest Susan, but that is no answer 1" 
 
 "Alasl Louis, do not dream of another marriage espe- 
 cially with me with me, who had such an affection for " 
 
 " For one to whom I will now allude for the very lait 
 hut twae. She is to be married in three weeks, SQMO I"
 
 LOUIS AND SUSJLJT. 47| 
 
 Gracious Heavans ! No 1" 
 
 41 This is so I" 
 
 "And yon, Louis ?" 
 
 " Look at me, Susan 1 I am very calm and quiet 1 Come, 
 Susan I I have passed two years of widowhood ; that is a 
 long time to wear the willow for a faithless woman. She 
 will marry, she will go to England ; an ocean will separate 
 as ; we shall never meet again. She is indeed dead to me. 
 Read Mrs. Armstrong's letter !" 
 
 " Oh I all this is very horrible I" Susan said, when she 
 had concluded it. 
 
 " Now, then, Susan, during all this time that she has de- 
 serted me, you have been my good angel; you have kept 
 me from the grave. Say, Susan, will you not bless the life 
 that you have saved ? I feel, Susan, as though I could not 
 lire without your society. Come, Miss Somerville, make 
 my father, Britannia, and myself, happy 1" 
 
 " Louis, as far as in me lies, I will make yon all happy. 
 I will be your friend and sister, as heretofore and nothing 
 more, Louis." 
 
 " Alas I Susan, do you not know that the world does not 
 recognize such a relation between those whom the ties of 
 blood or of marriage do not unite." 
 
 Susan leaned her elbow on the window sill, dropped her 
 brow npon her hand, and remained silent. 
 
 " Susan, you must either give me your hand, or I mart 
 totally resign the comfort of your society. Nay, I hare 
 passed my word to my father, to do BO." 
 
 " Louis ! this is strange ! this startles me 1 Louis, lenv* 
 e." 
 
 " Not without my answer, Susan." 
 
 " Then take it, Louis. An impulse, strong as life, impeli 
 me in one direction a power inexorable as the grave, holdi 
 me back. Between them I am on the rack. Go, Lonii t 
 anjrol tempter ! Go, a^d lot me draw into the quiei "
 
 174 THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 " Not without my answer, Susan." He took her hand, 
 nd pressed it to his lips ; he argued, implored, but failed 
 to persuade. After some hours he left, and returned to 
 The Isle of Rays. 
 
 Susan dropped, pale and languid, upon the old settee. 
 When Harriet came in to give her a cup of tea, she looked 
 ^> languidlj and said 
 
 "Harriet, you are old and experienced; did you ever 
 know any one who was miserable all their lives?" 
 
 " No, Miss Susan, I never knew any one, not even the 
 poorest slave, who was miserable from youth to age ex- 
 cept it was from remorse. No, Miss Susan, but I have 
 Been many a cloudy morning clear off beautifully toward 
 mid-day. Is not the sun breaking through the clouds of 
 your life now, Miss Susan ?" 
 
 General and Mrs. Stuart-Gordon came up to The Cragi 
 in the afternoon. Their object was to persuade Susan to 
 accept the hand of Louis. The truth is, that General 
 Stuart-Gordon was tired of having his family deranged with 
 uncertainty, anxiety, grief, anger, and illness, and all tde 
 various passions, emotions, and calamities, that had agitated 
 the Island manor for the last two years. He longed to see 
 Louis comfortably married, and with a young nursery grow- 
 ing up around him. He knew that Louis never could be 
 persuaded to address any young lady, unless it was Susan j 
 he knew, also, that such was the feeling against divorce in 
 the neighborhood, that scarcely any father could be induced 
 to give the hand of his daughter to a divorced man. Misi 
 Somerville had no parents or guardians to interfere, and, 
 besides, she loved Louis. Lastly, she had a great venera- 
 tion for " those in authority," and for the opinions of her 
 elders in general, and General Stuart-Gordon in particular. 
 She would be likely to yield her prejudices to his persua- 
 ions. As for Britannf a, she loved sunshine ; and Louis, 
 delicate as he was, made a great shadow at The Isle cf
 
 LOUIS AND SUSA1T. 476 
 
 especially when Susan was away. And she wanted , 
 a female companion ; she could not make one of her house- 
 keeper, or her maid. She wanted a lady, an equal. So 
 that I am afraid there was a little alloy of selfisnness in the 
 pure gold of benevolence with which the General anl 
 Brighty wished to secure the happiness of Louis and Susan 
 Miss Somerville did not long hold out against all those 
 influences brought to bear upon her. Not because she was 
 alone and poor, and denied the pleasures of a social family 
 circle, and the comforts of wealth not because she loved 
 Louis not for all these strong reasons would Susan Som- 
 erville have consented, but because the happiness of Louis 
 and the cheerfulness of his family seemed to depend upon 
 her decision. At last, while Britannia was clasping her 
 hand, and smiling in her eyes, Susan assented. Then 
 Brighty fondly embraced her. The next day, Britannia, 
 attended by Louis and a servant with a led horse, came up 
 to The Crags, to bring Miss Somerville back to The Isle of 
 Rays. Having arrived, Brighty took Susan up stairs. A 
 wide hall divided the second floor, as the first. This hall 
 VT&B lighted by two large bay windows, one at the front, and 
 one at the back. It was also lined with paintings, and fur- 
 nished with book- cases, rich reading desks, and lounges. 
 On the right side of this hall were the winter rooms of Bri- 
 tannia. Throwing open a door on the left side of the hall, 
 Brighty said, smilingly, "These are to be your apartments, 
 Miss Soraerville those on the opposite side being mine. 
 Throwing this fine wide hall between us, we shall not come 
 in contact, or quarrel you know." Then she conducted 
 Susan in. They vr<;re a beautiful suit of rooms, consisting 
 of a boudoir, a dressing-room, and a bed-chamber, running 
 parallel with the haL" from front to back, in the order I have 
 narrated them, conntcted by doors, and each having a door 
 opening upon the hall. The draperies were all light-blat 
 ilk, and gave a singularly cheerful aspect to the rooms.
 
 4T6 THE MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 " Now, my room*, you know," said Britannia, "are in the 
 reTerse order of this. My bed-room is in the front, my 
 dressing-room in the middle oh ! that is just where yonn 
 It ; and my boudoir in the back is turned into a nursery for 
 little Brighty. It was once Louis's dressing-room. 
 
 All that week Britannia was occupied in preparing for the 
 wedding. 
 
 But now came the trouble and the mystery. From the 
 moment of their engagement from the moment that the 
 firmness of Susan Somerville had yielded to much solicita- 
 tion on the part of Louis Stuart-Gordon and his family 
 from the moment that the factitious interest of the struggle 
 was over, and the object was attained the spirits of Louis 
 flagged he sank day by day into a deeper depression 
 Unlike the lover he had been for a day unlike even the 
 friend he had been for years Louis became gloomy, ab 
 stracted, and absented himself as much as decency would 
 permit from his betrothed. 
 
 And Susan ! she watched his increasing despondency 
 with a sad, though quiet surprise and silently set herself to 
 discover the cause and means of curing his malady. 
 
 General Stuart-Gordon observed the ungrateful neglect 
 of Miss Somerville by his son, and became seriously dis- 
 pleased. 
 
 Brighty was as much vexed as it was possible for Brighty 
 to be. 
 
 The marriage ceremony was to be pe rformed very quietly 
 on the next Sabbath, at church before the morning service. 
 
 Saturday came ; and the despair of Louis was frightful to 
 look upon. General Stuart-Gordon was indignant, and 
 Britannia herself was struggling against an increasing irrita- 
 bility. 
 
 Gertrude Lion and her brother were to be the bridal at- 
 tendants. They arrived to an early dinner intending to
 
 LOOIi AKD SUBAJT. 4fT 
 
 all day and night. The family met at tie dinner- 
 table, bat the sorrowful abstraction of Lonis, much as he 
 struggled to overcome it, damped the spirits of the whole 
 party even Gertrude's laughter was smothered in some- 
 thing very like a great sigh. 
 
 In the afternoon little Zoe arrived. 
 
 After an early tea, the household separated that is to 
 say, Louis went off to his own apartment Susan disap- 
 peared no one knew where the General betook himself to 
 his wainscoted parlor to sulk, and Brighty followed him, in 
 an amiable spirit of contradiction, to defeat that profitable 
 object. Brutus Lion stalked off to the stables, and the two 
 girls, Gertrude and her pet, went to their own rooms to 
 have a good confidential girlish talk about matters and things 
 in general, and the approaching marriage in particular. 
 Up to this time, be it remembered that Gertrude had not 
 chanced to know that the aspirant to the hand of Louise 
 Armstrong was her own ci-devant admirer, Frobisher. No ! 
 that Gertrude had now to learn ; but we will leave the girls 
 gabbling in their chamber in good time, before the unlucky 
 little tongue of Zoe, shall have told the news, or applied 
 the match that shall explode our dear grenade, Gertrude. 
 We will follow Lonis, though he is not just now an agree- 
 able object of study. 
 
 Lonis had left the tea-table, and wandered in an abstrac- 
 tion to his own chamber. It was situated in the front of 
 the house, as I said. It was so early in the evening that 
 the window blinds had not been closed. The windows 
 oTerlooked the river and the opposite high banks the high- 
 est crowned by Mont Crystal, the old home of Louse. It 
 was very distinct in the evening light. 
 
 The sun had already set ; but the western sky was glo- 
 riously beautiful, with its reflected light. Gorgeous criin- 
 on, purple, tnd golden clouds were piled up like the monu
 
 478 THE MOTHEB-IN-LAW. 
 
 tains of ruby, topaa, and amethyst, in the Arabian Nighto, 
 and reflected in all their marvelous splendor in the crystal 
 river below. On the eastern side the moon was just rising, 
 and striking an arrow of diamond light down the stream. 
 Before him was the opposite bluffs crowned by the lofty 
 colonnaded white front of Mont Crystal. 
 
 It was a lovely and a soothing scene, yet Louis sickened 
 at it. 
 
 He closed the blinds, and sat down in darkness. He sat 
 down in a deep and high-backed chair, and dropping his 
 head upon his open palms, gave himself up to sad thoughts. 
 
 An hour passed, and he had not changed his attitude. 
 
 Suddenly he felt two light, soft hands descend like a bles- 
 sing on his head. 
 
 He looked up in surprise, and recognized Susan Somer- 
 Tille. 
 
 Her hands slipped down over his temples, and then 
 dropped kindly upon his hands, which they took and 
 pressed. 
 
 " My dear Susan !" exclaimed Louis, in a tone between 
 surprise and remorse. 
 
 She silently pressed his hands, went quietly to the win- 
 dow, opened the blinds, letting in a flood of moonlight, and 
 returning, half leaned over his chair, as she addressed 
 him 
 
 " Louis, you are very wretched why do you not deal 
 frankly with me ?" 
 
 " My dear Susan " 
 
 " Why do you not honestly tell me the cause of your re- 
 morse ?" 
 
 " Oh Susan ?" 
 
 " Why not have said to me, ' Susan, I loved thee as a 
 dear sister, I drew health from thy presence, and cheerful- 
 ness from thy talk ; but, Susan, I mistook my heart when I 
 thought that I c^ild wed thee.' "
 
 LOUIS AND SUSAN. 479 
 
 "gnsan! Susan!" 
 
 " Come, ijouis I we have both acted foolishly we hart 
 both been weak and wicked ; let us retrace our footstepi 
 while there is yet time." 
 
 " What mean you, Susan ?" 
 
 " Let us break this ill-omened engagement it wot 
 wrong ; do not let it become fatal come let us consider 
 it." 
 
 "Never, Susan 1 Never! Pardon, dear Susan I par- 
 don a few regrets given to the past they will soon them' 
 selves be past ! they are past. Susan, you merit my entire 
 devotion you have it." 
 
 " Thank you, dearest Louis ! but my purpose is fixed. 
 Since you will not agree with me to annul this engagement, 
 I break through it. I came here for that purpose." 
 
 " But, Susan, this is haity this is rash. You have not 
 considered all the consequences." 
 
 " My friend 1" said Susan, with a mild solemnity, " I 
 have erred, and suffered somewhat from rashness. I will 
 ever be rash again ! No, Louis I I have thought of thig 
 some weeks, but I resolved to do nothing rashly." 
 
 "But, Susan" 
 
 " To-night, my mind is made up finally, and," said Miss 
 Somerville, standing up and resting her hand upon the 
 dressing-table "and Louis! here I take God and his 
 holy evangelists to witness, that I will never, under any 
 possible circumstances, give yon my hand in marriage, or 
 sustain any other relation to you than that of sister and 
 friend." 
 
 Louis started to his feet would have arrested the hand 
 that fell upon the Bible, but it was too late ; the oath WM 
 recorded. 
 
 With a sudden revulsion of feeling by a strangt oon- 
 tradict'on, Louis was struck powerless by the sight of &
 
 480 THl MOTHXB-IN-LAW. 
 
 consolation BO unexpectedly, so irretrievably snatched from 
 him At last he faltered ont 
 
 "Oh, why why have you done this, rash and hard- 
 hearted girl ?" 
 
 " To cat this matter short at once and forever, Louis. 
 
 And now, dear Louis, we shall be .riends again. "We 
 have been snch strangers since our betrothal, Louis. Now 
 that it is annulled, we shall be friends again. I shall be 
 thy sister and consoler as heretofore. Whenever thon art 
 lonely, or wearied, or troubled, thou shalt come to me 
 yes, in season and out of season, at all times and at all 
 hours, Louis, and find a sister's affection and a sister's con- 
 solation." 
 
 " Oh, but, my dear Susan, the world the world I" 
 
 " As I told one gentle one, who is nameless here, the 
 world will make no mistakes about me. Good-night, 
 Louis. I go to announce this new phase of affairs to Bri- 
 tannia." 
 
 Louig caught her hand, and pressed it fervently to hi* 
 lips, and then permitted her to leave him. 
 
 She went out, with the purpose of descending into the 
 oak parlor to talk with Brighty, when the opposite door 
 of the chamber, jointly occupied by Gertrude and Zoe, was 
 thrown open, and Gertrude Lion, in a state of high excite* 
 ment, burst out and fled past her down the stairs, and into 
 the oak parlor. Amazed, Susan drew back and returned 
 to her own room. 
 
 " I'll be hanged, drawn, and quartered, before I stand it! 
 Ml be torn to pieces by wild beasts before I stand it 1 I'D 
 be blown up from the crater of my own volcano before I 
 stand it !" thundered Gertrude Lion, bounding like a itona 
 In the midst of the room her tall figure elevated, her fiat 
 head thrown back, her yellow hair falling like a cataract, 
 her broad white bosom now red and heaving, her neck, hef 
 chwki, her very brow flashed to a bright oftroattot, tot
 
 LOUIS AND SUSAN. 481 
 
 tranBparjnt nostrils distended, quivering, her light-blue 
 Saxon eyes dilated, blazing. 
 
 General Stuart-Gordon and Britannia looked at her ii 
 iilent astonishment. 
 
 M II shall break a blood-vessel ! I wish I might, it 
 Would be a relief. I shall choke to death I shall burst I" 
 cried the giantess, shaking with her thunder from head to 
 foot. 
 
 " Why, what is the matter Gertrude ?" inquired the Gen- 
 cral. 
 
 " HOLD YOUR TONGUE !" shouted the Amazon, strutting 
 op and down the room like a chafed bearess in her cage. 
 " Don't speak to me, I am aangerous ; I shall do damage ; 
 T shall explode and blow the house up 1" 
 
 " Can you guess what has angered her, Britannia ?" 
 
 BrigLty shook her head. 
 
 " It is insufferably hard, so it is, that out of all the mil- 
 lions on this burdened earth, I only care for one boy, and I 
 am to be swindled out of him I" cried Gertrude, flinging 
 back tj<- torrent of hair, every golden thread of which bris- 
 tled with agitation. " You all part with your sweetheart* 
 and wivjs with as much indifference as yon would resign the 
 partner o? a dance. By my own heart's strength, 7 will not 
 I have feh * long time as though I ought to roll up my 
 UHffs and to>e that woman in hand I This is a judgment on 
 me for no. doing it. I have let her scheme and plot, and 
 marry and unmarry, and torture and break hearts to her 
 Dwn heart's content. Oh, just God ! that I have spent so 
 much time in ridditg the woods and mountains of wolves 
 and bears, and that I have left this human hyena walk abroad 
 among women, and never resolved to deal with her, until 
 be struck her fangs into my own heart ! Selfish that I 
 was ! Not for the sake of Sn*an, of Louise, of Louis, of 
 Zoe, of all the hearts that she has trampled in the dust, did I 
 idolrt to punish her t Now she would plant bor etorw
 
 462 THl MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 foot open my bosom would marry off my boy my own, 
 own boy the gift of the mountain cataract to me ; my own 
 beautiful white water-lily, that I found broken and hall 
 drowned amid the foam of the torrent and the peaks of the 
 rocks. He took the wrong road then, and was nearly 
 dashed to pieces over the precipice of Mad River Pass, and 
 I saved him. He has taken a wronger road over a madder 
 pass, and is in danger of being thrown over a worse precipice 
 than before, and I'll save him again. That I should let the 
 Armstrong marry him off to a milk-sop like Louise, who is 
 not capable of taking care of him. Set her up with it! 
 What would Louise do with his Irish bog-trotting peasants ? 
 /would make them work and support themselves. I can't 
 drive slaves somehow. There is a pride in my heart tbat 
 keeps me from it. But oh, glory! how I can drive ^r>rth- 
 less free people! I'd soon have the hillocks leve'.ol, and 
 the bog filled up. But how can Louise help him iv jig 
 plans of life ? Oh, he has been charmed, fooled ; h? i- ir 
 bewilderment. He shall be saved I" 
 
 The storm had nearly expended its fury. From teariLc 
 and striding from thundering, blazing, and roaring, Ger. 
 trude subsided into sauntering, crying, and exclaiming. The 
 storm has subsided, but not the resolution to which it hau 
 given birth. General Stuart- Gordon took his paper an 
 walked out of the room. Brighty arose, and taking the 
 band of the still somewhat excited girl, led her to a seat by 
 the fire, and placing one hand upon her heaving breast, sLe 
 inquired, " Xow, what is all this about, Gertrude ?" 
 
 " What is all this about ? Why that I have just heard 
 from Zoe Dove the name of the young man to whom Mra. 
 Armstrong is going to marry Louise. It is James Frobisber, 
 my own betrothed !" 
 
 " My cousin, the Earl of Clonmachnois, whose life yoa 
 lared ! Bat were you betrothed !" 
 
 "Yet no That is to say, I do not really know if h
 
 LOUIS AND CUSAK. 483 
 
 was actually so or not. This was the way of it : He passed 
 six weeks with me at The Lair. Jr.st before he went he 
 asked me to have him but just to go to a boardbg-school 
 for a year, and learn some accomplishments. Well I told 
 him NO, very decidedly ; of course I was not going to haf-i 
 a man for the first asking. I wanted to be courted like other 
 Tomenl I suppose he misunderstood me, or he hadn't 
 time ; at any rate, he took my word NO, and went off with 
 it ! Something in my own bosom assures me that he pre- 
 *ers me to every other woman. Mrs. Armstrong knew it 
 all. She was in the neighborhood all the time while you 
 were away ; and in two words, I am going to Washington 
 to forbid the banns." 
 
 "You are mad, Gertrude 1" 
 
 " Then I am the better company for those I go to see !' 
 exclaimed the Amazon, with spirit. " Good night 1 Late 
 as it is, this night i go to The Lair, and to-morrow, with 
 early dawn, I set out for Washington. Oh, I'll strike her a 
 blow! I'll give her a turn 1 I'll purposely wait until the 
 last moment until the bridal circle stand before the parson I 
 then I'll denounce her vi lainy 1 Then I'll insist upon 
 being heard then a-.d there I will denounce her I" 
 
 " You are mad 1 jfonder, ray dear Gertrude bethink 
 you, We have no proofs ! nay, we are not certain even in 
 our own hearts of her guilt." 
 
 " THEN and THERK ! in her pride of place, in her hour 
 of triumph, I will denounce her as a traitress as a mur 
 deress ! and I will trust to her own conscience, in that mo- 
 ment of surprise and horror, to corroborate my testimony 
 if I am right, or cover me with confusion if I am wrong. 
 Good-night, once more. I have no time to lose in vain 
 ceremonies. Make my adieus to the family." And the 
 Amazon bounded from the room. 
 
 The next morning, at breakfast, Britannia mentioned the 
 nad freak of the Gerfalcon
 
 484 THK MOTHJCB-IN-LAW. 
 
 " WLat ! do each a desperate act ag that? She will no*, 
 with all her madness." 
 
 "Kely upon it that Gertrude will do it." 
 
 " If she has such a design, she most be prevented from 
 carrying it out. It would kill Louise." And Louis aros 
 from the table and rang the bell. 
 
 " Saddle the fleetest horse in the stable !" was the orde 
 he gave the servant who appeared. 
 
 In fifteen minutes Louis Stuart-Gordon was galloping 
 rapidly toward The Lair. He arrived in two hours. Ger- 
 trude had set out for the metropolis at four o'clock that 
 morning. It was now eleven. She had seven hours in 
 advance of him. Gertrude, with her strong, fleet horse, 
 and her hard riding, would irobably reach the city by 
 nightfall. He, were he to set out now, might reach it by 
 ten or eleven o'clock at night. He resolved to attempt it 
 Writing a hasty lino to his family, and sending it by a bey, 
 he set out for Washington. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 T1IS SWOOP OF THE GERFALCON. 
 Am Mfle md rpnt wreathed In flght. Shellt^. 
 
 IN Washington city are several elegant mansions, npcn 
 the building, adorning, and furnishing of which the owner* 
 hare spent fortunes, and from which they derive comfort- 
 able revenues, by letting them to foreign ministers, mem- 
 bers of the Cabinet, Senators, or other wealthy men, whose 
 temporary sojourn with their families in the metropolis make 
 such an accommodation desirable. One of these mansions 
 had lately been vacated by the Spanish minister, recalled
 
 WOO? G* 1HI SERlALOOir. 485 
 
 le Madrid. Mrs. Armstrong established herself in thi 
 dwelling for the season of bar sojonrn in "Washington 
 Here she commenced the sphndid preparations for the 
 marriage of her daughter. The first week was spent in 
 ordering an elegant trousseau for the bride, and passed 
 among jewelers, dry -goods merchants, milliners, and 
 mantua-makers ; the second week, in superintending the 
 work of the upholsterers ; who were engaged in fitting up 
 the rooms in festive style. The third and last week be- 
 fore the marriage was employed in issuing cards of invita- 
 tion to the wedding. During all these three weeks the 
 gates of Mrs. Armstrong's city residence were besieged with 
 private carriages or hackney-coaches, and the gold basket 
 on her centre -table laden with the cards of distinguished 
 visitors, who had called to pay their respects to the wealthy 
 widow. Mrs. Armstrong had also renewed her acquain- 
 tance, and Louise her intimacy, with the amiable and dig- 
 nified Mrs. M , the lady of the President. 
 
 Louise 1 crushed with sorrow, bewildered, lost in tbe 
 moral maze in which she found herself Louise faded day 
 by day. She must have taken to her bed, but that her 
 waning strength was sustained by powerful tonics and 
 stimulants and still her paleness, her emaciation, was at- 
 tributed to mere physical delicacy. 
 
 And young Frobisher ! if there was anything he ad- 
 mired with enthusiasm, it was fine physical strength and 
 beauty this had been the strong attraction that had drawn 
 him to Gertrude , if there was anything he pitied with all 
 bis heart, it was physical delicacy. Thus, as he had loved 
 Gertrude from admiration, he now loved Louise from pity. 
 
 Still it must be confessed that of late the memory of tb 
 glorioui mountain-girl haunted him like some grand fantas- 
 tic dre*ia. And he sometimes sent a sigh Coating OTOT 
 the hills and forests up into the far mountain? of Ybgtclt* 
 I have bad little time to analyse the nature of yonog Fr
 
 486 THI MOTHER- IN- LAW. 
 
 bisher to show the struggle in his heart between admira* 
 tion of the beautiful Amazon, and dread of introducing such 
 savage into the refined circles of English gentility. Young 
 Frobisher lacked combaiiveness and firmness. With the 
 most elevated aspiration he wanted decision of character, 
 strength of will, and frequently needed the force of external 
 circumstances, or the influence of another stronger will to 
 impel him in this course or in that. Thus he had acquiesced 
 in Gertrude's negative with very little resistance. Thus he 
 had yielded to the attraction of his sympathies, and the 
 magnetism of the strong and decided wills by which he was 
 surrounded, when he offered his hand to Louise. This 
 subtle influence, this spiritual magnetism, still impelled him 
 in a course which he fancied he was pursuing of his own 
 free will. 
 
 Some women want a master, and some men need a mis- 
 tress. Frobisher was one of the latter. 
 
 The day before the wedding came. Louise was very 
 feeble. Frobisher regarded her with visible anxiety. Mrs. 
 Armstrong sought to reassure him. 
 
 " Once out of this country," said she, " where she has 
 suffered so much, her health will improve." 
 
 And she lectured Louise in private, and administered 
 quinine. 
 
 Night came the night before the wedding. Louise lay 
 on her bed, with her hands clasped over her brow and eyes 
 eyes that seldom now closed in slumber. 
 
 "I shall die I feel that this is the last night of my life, 
 unless a miracle be wrought to save me ! I cannot save 
 myself 1 I am so feeble I am a very slave. When I was 
 younger, happier, and stronger, then I suffered myself to be 
 blinded by a moral illusion. Now, that the scales have fal- 
 len from my eyes ; naw that I see how wrong oh, my God 1 
 how deplorably wrong, I b we been, it is too late ( Louis ii
 
 WOOF OF TBJfi GERFALCON. 487 
 
 lost to me, and, worn cut by slavery and suffering, I ha* 
 no power to resist this marriage this execution 1 I shall 
 die I I shall die there before them all, and then Loais wiiJ 
 know how I loved and mother will know how she erred I' 1 
 
 Thus mourned the broken spirit, in its still despair. Some 
 times wild impulses would traverse her brain, like forked 
 lightning across a cloudy sky. 
 
 " Louis lives he lives ! While there is life there is hope : 
 What hinders me from flying to him now ? Because he ia 
 not my husband ? He is my husband he is I though a 
 million of Legislatures in a thousand halls should have pro- 
 nounced our divorcement. What hinders me now from fly- 
 ing to him ; and, if I die, die on his bosom if be casts me 
 off at his feet I" 
 
 She started up with the impulse, but her hca* reeled, her 
 limbs failed, and she sunk back upon the bed. 
 
 " In vain in vain I I have no longer the power to exe- 
 cute even my own weak purposes. The hanu of death ia 
 suspended over me ere I be the bride of that man it wili 
 fall on me ! Louis only can save me now I I feel that Gol 
 has deputed the power of life and death into the hands of 
 Louis. Louis the forsaken ! Louis the betrayed ! Oh, tlat 
 Louis would come and save 1" 
 
 Thus all night the sick heart mourned. Tims all aight 
 the wild brain toiled ; and morning dawned, and the sun 
 arose, and found the bride feverish, excited, yet pale and 
 faint. 
 
 Night came again the wedding-night. The house va^ 
 one blaze of illumination. The grounds around it a forefet 
 of carriages. The splendiu saloons were filled with a bril- 
 liant company. Mrs. Armstrong herself never looked s-. % 
 imperial as on this night, when her daughter was to h 
 w*dded to an Earl. In truth, Mrs. Armstrong was a very 
 queen-like woman, and stood among her guests as theii sove- 
 reign, and her imperious eye, lighted with the triumph &
 
 *$8 f*l XOTH1B-IH-LAW. 
 
 pride, shone over the distinguished assembly with an almost 
 youthful brilliancy. Members of the house of Represent*- 
 tires, Senators, members of the Cabinet with their families, 
 foreign Ministers with their suites, were preseut. The Pre- 
 sident himself honored the occasion with his presence. Yet 
 the centre of all eyes was Mrs. Armstrong herself, in her ma- 
 tronly grace and majestic beauty. 
 
 The arrival of the Right Rev. Bishop H , in his car- 
 riage and canonical robes, caused a sensation. The arrival 
 cf the Bishop was soon followed by the entrance of the bri- 
 dal part; a magnificent spectacle I 
 
 I wish I could daguerreotype the following scene, and 
 place it in form and color, vividly before you. I will try. 
 
 The wall of the vast saloon was hung with yellow damask, 
 and formed a warm back ground to the picture. Three im- 
 mense chandeliers hung from the ceiling. The brilliant 
 company that filled this room had fallen back on all sides, 
 having a ppiee in ~he centre of the saloon, immediately nn- 
 der the blaze of tne central chandelier. In this broad light 
 Biood the bishop in his canonical robes. On his right hand, 
 at the distance of a few yards, stood Mrs. Armstrong, hei 
 majestic form arrayed in a royal purple velvet, her black 
 hair arranged in massive braids, and adorned with a circlet 
 of diamonds and a tuft of white ostrich plumeu. She leaned 
 
 np-yn the arm of General , General-in-chief of the 
 
 American Army, in his gorgeous uniform. Upon the left 
 of the Bishop stood the British Minister and his suite, in 
 LeJr court-dresses. The bridal party advanced, and ar- 
 .Angtd itself in a semicircle before this group. The bride 
 wu arrayed in a rich white latin, aud over that an open 
 robe of gauze, with n deep border of embroidered silver 
 fiowen. Her head, her neck, her arras, her stomacher, were 
 literally blaiiag with iiuinond:. The woman was nearly 
 Invisible in the son-like splendor. To her left ran a line of 
 six young btidtmmild*, with their white silk dresses and
 
 maths of white roses. Bj her Bide stood the bridegroom, 
 and on hi right a line of six young groomsmen. The) 
 were dressed in that elegant gentlemen's wedding costume 
 that needs so little description, viz : the fine blue dress coat 
 the white satin vest, and kid gloves. 
 
 The full light of the chandelier blazed down upon this 
 gorgeous spectacle. It was the focus of the eyes of all that 
 TMt company. Some said that the fine aristocratic features 
 of the bridegroom were very pale, like those of a man going 
 to his doom but that might have been from the contrast 
 of the black silky cnrls and whiskers that encircled his clear 
 white face. Others said that the bride trembled, and rested 
 languidly upon the arm of her first bridesmaid. 
 
 The bishop opened his book. 
 
 A dead silence fell upon the crowd. Their eyes were 
 riveted upon the group. Many noticed the fearful paleness 
 of the bride's face, and saw her lean heavily upon the arm 
 of the bridegroom. The Bishop, in a deep and earnest 
 Toice, thus commenced the impressive marriage ceremony : 
 
 "Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in tbe 
 sight of God, and in the face of this company, to join to- 
 gether this man and this woman in holy matrimony, which 
 is commended by St. Paul to be honorable among all men, 
 and therefore is not by any to be entered into unadvisedly 
 or lightly ; but reverently, discreetly, advisedly, soberl , and 
 in the fear of God. Into this holy state these two peoph 
 come now to be joined. If any man can show just cause 
 why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now 
 speak, or else hereafter forever hold his peace." 
 
 " I CAN I" shouted a clear, high, imperious voice, and th 
 doors flew open, and Gertrude Lion burst, "a beautiful em- 
 bodied storm," among them. She, too, in festal garments ; 
 a shining dark-blue satin studded with glittering sapphires, 
 and her magnificent hair rolling a golden glory to her feet. 
 Her commanding stature her glowing color her blarinp
 
 490 THE MOTHIB-IN-tJLW. 
 
 eye* the glory of her imperious brow, might hare 
 
 the guilty ill that crowd deem that an avenging angel stood 
 
 among them. 
 
 Struck statue-still, less by the interruption than by the 
 splendidly beautiful Amazon that made it, the assem^.. 
 company was held in a spell of silence while they gazed at 
 Ler. 
 
 There she stood in her sublime beauty, radiating a cold 
 Bp?e..doi, like a sun-struck iceberg. 
 
 Ouly one instant was the crowd held in that spell, of won- 
 der-stricken silence, and then a hum of many voices rolled 
 through the crowd, as they exclaimed or inquired of one 
 another, " Who is this 7" "What does this mean 7" " Hal" 
 " What I" " How 7" " Who is she 7" 
 
 " SILENCE EVERY ONE OF YOU 1" thundered the Amazon, 
 bringing the loaded end of her riding-whip down upoii the 
 table with a resounding ring. 
 
 " Who is this woman 7" asked the Bishop, in a low whis- 
 per, of Mrs. Armstrong. 
 
 ' Oh, a lunatic ! a mad woman of the mountains 1 Arrest 
 her I" 
 
 " HCLD YOUR TONGUE, MRS. ARMSTRONG !" shouted the 
 giants?, raising the end of her riding-whip, and making a 
 step toward her, " I am GERTRUDE LION 1 and you know 
 me ; and so does James Frobisher, Earl of Clonmachnois 1" 
 i aid she, Sxing her eyes on the bridegroom. 
 
 Jauies Frobisher, Earl of Clonmachnois, was standing 
 iiieie, giving his whole attention to the half-fainting bride. 
 
 " Leave that man 1 come to me, Louise 7" said Ger- 
 i-ade, in a voice full of commanding tenderness, opening 
 her arms anc holding them out to the poor V ride, who with 
 in instinctive bound cleared the circle, and fell upon the 
 kroad and sheltering breast of the Amazon. 
 
 " There, there, there, there, be a good girl," dove-likt 
 ooced frVe Falcon, gently caressing her
 
 SWOOP OF THE GERFALCON. 491 
 'Young lady," began tbe Bishop, "will you please 
 
 M> w 
 
 "SHUT UP," supped the giantess, and then gave her 
 Attention to her charge. " There 1 there I don't weep, 
 Louise, or /shall." 
 
 " Madam I the assembled company are amazed, con- 
 founded at your singular conduct. In their name I demand 
 the meaning of this. Upon what pretense have you ar- 
 rested this marriage ?" asked the Bishop, advancing and 
 standing before her in all the venerableness of his agu and 
 office. " I insist instantly upon bearing from your lips from 
 what cause and to what end you have arrested this mar- 
 riage ? 
 
 The Amazon raised her imperious brow, and looking him 
 iteadily in the eye?, answered, " Because the would-be bride 
 is the wife of another man I" 
 
 " How what I" exclaimed the bishop. 
 
 A thrill of exclamatory astonishment ran through the 
 crowd. 
 
 "Madam, you should be very sure of what you ad- 
 vance !" exclaimed the bishop with solemnity. 
 
 "Ask the bride herself. Louise, answer, I command 
 you I Are you the wife of Louis Stuart-Gordon, or not ?" 
 
 "Oh, I amf I am/ Indeed I am, the wife of Louis 
 Stuart-Gordon 1" 
 
 " You hear her 1" said Gertrude, triumphantly. 
 
 " She is mad ! mad, I say I" exclaimed Mrs. Armstrong, 
 striding forward. " Gentlemen, will none of yon arrest 
 this mad woman ?" 
 
 Gertrude threw a glance of mingled triumph and defiance 
 over the astounded crowd. Her aye lighted in its rovingt 
 upon a new com.r. Louis Stuart-Gordon, pale, travel- 
 stained, and dusty, stood among them. 
 
 "Take her, Lctris," exclaimed she, tossing her charge 
 hto his arms ' Take her, Louis, as my free gift, and
 
 4M THl MOTHXB-I1T-L1W. 
 
 by the name of Gertrude Lion henceforth and fof 
 evermore, men ! Take her and bear her hence, for I ban 
 the devil'i own work to d 5 now !" 
 
 "An avenging angel's, rather I" replied Louis, receiving 
 the fainting form of Louise in his arms ; " an avenging 
 angel'*, rather !" 
 
 "It amount* to about the same thing," replied Ger- 
 trude. 
 
 And terrible was the brow that the Gerfalcon now tnrned 
 toward the assembled company. 
 
 "Arrest her 1 she is mad 1" exclaimed Mrs. Armstrong, 
 terror-stiieken by the appalling look of the Amazon. 
 
 Gerlrnde raised one hand up, as though appealing to 
 Heaven. 
 
 " dCear me, all who are gathered in this house. I de- 
 nounce Hortense Armstrong as the murderer of Genevieve, 
 the first wife of Dr. Armstrong ! I denounce her as having 
 abandoned the eldest child of her husband, and as having 
 concealed and suppressed the will by which that child wag 
 acknowledged and constituted the heiress of the half of the 
 Mont Crystal estate ! I denounce her as having conspired 
 against the liberty of that child, in having procured her to 
 be sold as a slave ! And I appeal to Heaven to confute or 
 corroborate my testimony !" and the avenger raised her 
 hand reverently. ***** BEHOLD ! LOOK TO Maa. 
 ABMBTRONO ! She is falling I" 
 
 Mrs. Armstong had suddenly dropped to the floor, her 
 throat iwollen, her face purple, her whole frame convulsed I 
 She was lifted and borne f 'om the room, and the company 
 broke np in confnsioi . 
 
 **A word with yon, Gertrude the Destroyer I" cora- 
 tttded the Ear 1 of Clonmachnois, beckoning the Amazon 
 to tbt reoMi of ft v iy window. Gertrude, still " vibrating
 
 WOOF OF THE 3ERFALC01C. 498 
 
 with the thunder" she Lad spent, followed him, weak as r 
 feinting elephant! 
 
 " Terrible denounce.* ! what have you dote I Hare yon 
 ny proofs of what you charge this woman with ?" 
 
 ' Proofs ! Every proof that will satisfy my own mind I 
 i'oue, perhaps, that would convict her in a court of jus- 
 -oe 1" 
 
 '* Explain I" 
 
 " That little girl, Zoe, the schoolmaster's adopted child, 
 who was attached at The Lair as the property of Miss 
 Somerville that same Zoe was the eldest daughter of Dr. 
 Hector Armstrong and Genevieve Somerville, his first wife 
 by a secret marriage. This marriage was concealed to 
 avert the anger of his father and the disinheritance of the 
 on. Genevieve had no proofs of her marriage in her own 
 possession, and the birth of her child was concealed by 
 Harriet, her foster-mother, to save the poor motherless girl 
 frcn the terrible wrath of her father. This concealment 
 ws effected under circumstances inducing the suspicion 
 that Zoe was the child of George and Harriet. By the 
 machinations of Mrs. Armstrong, these circumstances were 
 long afterward used to procure the attachment of Zoe as a 
 slave, in order that she might be got out of the way 1 
 This, however, in advance of my story. Soon after the 
 birth of her child, Genevieve Somerville died suddenly, and 
 nnder suspicion of poison. Soon after that event, Misg 
 Blackiston married Dr. Armstrong. He promised Harriet, 
 who was in his confidence, to acknowledge and take home 
 his daughter a promise that he deferred to perform from 
 time to time in fact, he stood in awe of his wife. Finally, 
 he died without having performed his promise. Just before 
 he was taken to his bed, he saw Harriet, and told her that 
 he had made a will acknowledging his marriage with Miss 
 Genevieve Somerville, aiknowledging her daughter Zoe, 
 and conititatirg her heiress to half his estates. He &
 
 494 THE MOTHKB-IN-LAW. 
 
 that he was resolved to reveal th_e whole matter to la's wifb. 
 We believe that he did. But he died, and no mention wai 
 ever made of a will, and no step was taken by his widow to 
 restore his eldest daughter to her rights. If there was a 
 will, as we fully believe tJere was, Mrs. Armstrong probabL 
 destroyed it, with all that could have proved the parentage 
 efZoe." 
 
 " But the servant, then Harriet ! Why did she not di- 
 ;lose the secret ?" 
 
 " Because it would have done every sort of harm, and no 
 good. It would have covered an honest family with shame 
 and confusion, without restoring Zoe to her rights." 
 
 " I do not see that." 
 
 " Do you not know, then, that, however honest and good 
 they may be, the oath of a slave or other colored person, 
 will not pass in a slave State against a white person ? The 
 disclosure would have nearly killed the proud old Major 
 Somerville, because he could not prove the marriage. 
 Therefore Harriet determined to keep the secret, at least 
 aritil the death of Major Somerville. You know the events 
 that followed that death. Harriet and George were taken 
 for debt ; Zoe was attached. It was two months before 
 Harriet and George wore redeemed from prison. When 
 they came out, the first thing they heard, with astonishment, 
 was, that Zoe had been attached, but was now at liberty. 
 The first thing they did then was to divulge to Miss Somer- 
 ville and to Mrs. Stuart-Gordon and myself the secret of 
 Zoe's birth. Then General Stuart-Gordon was admitted 
 to the confidence, and he busied himself in investigating 
 the affair. Being unable to find the clew to any other 
 proofs but those of George and Harriet, it was deemed 
 prudent to take no rash step in the matter, but to watch 
 the course of circumstances, and in the mean time to be M 
 kind as possible to Zoe. And I suppose, with their rma- 
 6*Uy proden*, they would have 'watched the count f
 
 WOOF OF THE G1BFALOOV. 495 
 
 drcnmstanoes' to this day, if I had not taken the 
 up, and trusted ii God for the result." 
 
 " Gertrude the Avenger I But this other matter of Mrs. 
 Louis Stuart-Gordon; explain that." 
 
 " Mrs. Armstrong, through her omnipotent influence over 
 ''er daughter, separated her from her husband for no other 
 reason than because General Stuart-Gordon married a 
 econd time. Afterward she effected a divorce, and would 
 have broken her heart, and Louis's heart, and drawn you 
 Into the marriage with a woman whom yon know very well 
 jroi o*ily pitied, and did not love, Jamie, if it had not been 
 form*." r i,- 
 
 " Q-euude the Preserver ! Gertrude, I never admired yon 
 o much Jv all my life as this evening." 
 
 ****** 
 
 In the rrean time a scene of death was transpiring above 
 rtairs. In a thickly curtained room, upon a stately bed, lay 
 tae wreck 01 tLe haughty and majestic Hortense Blackistone 
 .^-mstrocg, still in her robes of state a magnificent ruin 1 
 T'-e Biehop, still in his canonicals, and another clergyman 
 of ;he Episcopal faith, stood on one side of the bed ; a 
 p^a/siciar and a surgeon on the other ; Louis Stuart-Gor- 
 don stood supporting Louise at the foot of the bed. The 
 Bishop, anpimoned to the house to perform a marriage cere- 
 nony, was now reading the solemn service of the dying. 
 
 Mrs, Armstrong had never spoken, or given the slightest 
 Big" of ie ot-lligence from the moment of her fall. Her 
 t. v ,tack was apoplexy a disease to which her full habit of 
 body rendered her peculiarly liable. Terrible was the 
 struggle between Death and the strong physical organisa- 
 tion he had to conquer I AH night long that swollen and 
 purple face was contorted all night long that strong body 
 was convulsed. It was the dawn of day before that haughty 
 face was composed before that proud form was still in th
 
 496 THI MOTHBB-IK Li.W. 
 
 rigidity of death before that imperious spirit had 
 to the great secret !" 
 
 Peace be with her I We do not know whether or not she 
 were guilty of the worst crimes laid to her charge, line* 
 nothing but strong circumstantial evidence rested against 
 her. We heard her accusation we heard not her defense. 
 She was struck speechless and powerless ! Let ns judge 
 her leniently, or leave her with her God ! 
 
 Immediately after the funeral, Louii and Louise Stuart* 
 Gordon returned to The Isle of Rays. Though the papen 
 of Mrs. Armstrong were diligently searched, no vestige of 
 a will or of a marriage certificate, or of any other -pipe- 
 identifying Zoe, as the legitimate daughter of Dr. Arm- 
 strong, could be found. Her fate rested upon the gen^rosU 
 of Mr. and Mrs. Louis Stuart-Gordon, who at once 
 leged her as a sister, and settled one-half of the 
 properly upon her. 
 
 Among the papers of the deceased, however, were found 
 some letters, dated near Richmond, Virginia, and touching 
 the health and well-being of a certain little child. Margaret, 
 there at nurse. Simultaneously struck with a wild hope, 
 Louis and Louise hastened to the village, and found there, 
 with more joy than surprise, their beloved child, Margaret, 
 now a brave little girl of three years old. 
 
 It was clear that Mrs. Armstrong had practised this de- 
 ception to effect the divorce. It was not certainly knowi; 
 whether ghe ever meant to reproduce the heirest, tut it wa* 
 thought probable. 
 
 Some months from thig time a double wedding was cele- 
 brated at the Island mansion, and the county papers the 
 next day announced the two folk wing marriages, one imm* 
 tttaUlT under the other
 
 8WOCP OF TH1 GKBfALCOJT. 417 
 
 MABBIID. 
 
 On May 1st, at The Isle of Rajs, the seat of his Excel- 
 toncy Governor Stuart- Gordon, by the Rev. Wilton Linds- 
 lay, pastor of the Church of the Transfiguration, the Right 
 Honorable James Frobisher, Earl of Clonmachnois, to 
 Gertrude, only daughter of the late Wolfgang Lion. 
 
 At the same time and place, Brutus Lion, Esq., of The 
 Lair, to Zoe, eldest daughter of the late Dr. Hector Arm- 
 strong, of Mont Crystal. 
 
 Brutus Lion and Zoe reside at Mont Crystal ; Louis and 
 Louise of course remain at The Isle of Rays, with Brigbty 
 *nd the General. 
 
 A year from this time, Wilton i'-iLis'ty ana Susan 8*-C 
 errille were married ; and in the attractive dnties of wife, 
 mother, and pastor's helpmate, for all the sorrows of h 
 sarly youth, SUM Somerrille found rich compensation,
 
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