THE 
 
 CHAPEL OF ST. MART. 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF 
 
 "THE EECTORY OP MOKELAND," 
 
 " Common aa light is love, 
 And its fmilia T voice wearies not ever." 
 SHELL 
 
 ' Suffer me not, in any want, 
 To seek refreshment from a plant 
 Thou didst not set ; since all must be 
 Plucked up whose growth is not in Thee." 
 
 BOSTON: 
 J. E. TILTOX AND COMPANY, 
 
 161 WASHINGTON STREET. 
 1861.
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1860, by 
 
 J. E. TILTON AND COMPANY, 
 in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 
 
 University Press, Cambridge : 
 Stereotyped find Printed by Welch, Bigelow, & Co
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 IT is well known that through the State of 
 New York, and indeed in parts of New England, 
 there are still remnants of families who trace 
 their descent from the original inhabitants of the 
 country. They are, however, rapidly fading away, 
 or mingling with those about them till their iden- 
 tity is lost. We will only detain the reader to 
 say, that " Chet," " Papsy," and the " Judge," 
 in their appearance and peculiarities, as we have 
 painted them, are not visions of the fancy, but 
 true living characters, met in the pathway of the 
 writer. 
 
 HILL-SIDE, Easter.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. PAO 
 MAPLE CLIFF 9 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 AGATHA'S HOME 14 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 HONORA AND GREGORY 19 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 AGATHA AND PAPSY . .25 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 DICK WALBRIDGE 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 DANGEROUS SOCIETY 36 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 THE REPROBATE SON 46 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE GOVERNESS . , 57 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE RIDGWAYS . .64
 
 Vi CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 THE Two FRIENDS 70 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 THE GORGE 78 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 AN UNWELCOME ENCOUNTER 86 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 THE CRUSHED HEART 95 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 A VISIT TO THE GORGE 102 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 GREGORY AND AGATHA . 112 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 THE JUDGE 121 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 THE LADIES' SEWING SOCIETY 127 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 WORK 136 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 WARNING 142 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 THE PRODIGAL 151 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 PAPSY AN OUTCAST 159 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 GOSSIP 170
 
 CONTENTS. vii 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 WALTON AN INVALID 177 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 CHAUNCEY AND CHARLOTTE 185 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 AGATHA'S OUTBREAK 194 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 THE ARTIST'S STORY 204 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 THE FERGUSONS 211 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 ISABELLE WINCHESTER . 217 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE 227 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 YILLANY UNSUCCESSFUL 236 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 MATTERS AT ROCKRIDGE 247 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 THE DISCOVERY 253 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 THE COQUETTE 260 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 PIERRE MCLELLAN 267 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 SELF-CONQUEST ..... 274
 
 Viii CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 THE MASTER OF MAPLE CLIFF . . . . . . .283 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 THE SERENADE 291 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 THE FISHING EXCURSION 297 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 THE OFFER REJECTED . . . 309 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 THE EECTOR'S MARRIAGE . 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 ST. ANNE'S . 
 
 CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 RETURN TO MAPLE CLIFF 334 
 
 CHAPTER XLIII. 
 A VISIT TO OAK BAY 345 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 UNWELCOME VISITORS 355 
 
 CHAPTER XLV. 
 GREGORY'S STOKY . 363 
 
 CHAPTER XLVI. 
 MERITED WRATH 373 
 
 CHAPTER XLVII. 
 FESTIVAL OF ALL SAINTS 382 
 
 CHAPTER XLVIII. 
 CHANGES AND CHANCES
 
 THE 
 
 CHAPEL OF ST. MARY 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 MAPLE CLIFF. 
 
 " The year 
 
 On the earth, her death-bed, hi a shroud of leaves dead 
 Is lying." SHELLEY. 
 
 " Things like him must sting, 
 And higher beings suffer, 't is the charter of life." 
 
 BYRON. 
 
 THE BRIGHT, old-fashioned wood fire burned 
 briskly on the hearth at Maple Cliff. The scene 
 without was dismal ; the wind sighed through the beech 
 and maple trees, that spread their arms and dropped 
 their richly tinted autumn leaves over the roof, and 
 the clouds looked angry and sullen, as they flew swiftly 
 across the face of the waning moon. It was a chilly 
 November night, and the occupants of the library drew 
 nearer the fire. 
 
 1*
 
 10 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 "It seems to me," said a faint, timid voice, "that 
 the child would be happier more contented, certainly 
 if you waited till spring before bringing her here." 
 
 " If she comes here, Madam," was the stern reply, it 
 is for winter and summer, and I would have her know 
 the worst, which will by no means be the outer winter." 
 
 The timid voice again ventured. "Why not take 
 two of your brother's children, they would be com- 
 pany for each other?" 
 
 * " Madam ! when your suggestions are needed I will 
 call for them. I have made up my mind. The hope 
 of a family of my own has disappeared, and from my 
 brother's six I shall take the second daughter. Boys 
 leave home as soon as they begin to realize one's 
 hopes ; besides, a pleasant female influence is much 
 needed at Maple Cliff." 
 
 There was no reply. 
 
 Of the early days of Rodney Douglass we have 
 but little to say ; now he was " past meridian," the 
 owner of large landed property in the village of Rock- 
 ridge, without an heir to inherit his name or wealth. 
 From active business life, Mr. Douglass had settled 
 himself in the old family homestead, a stern, severe man,
 
 MATLE CLIFF. 11 
 
 without any of that genial warm-heartedness so attrac- 
 tive in a " green old age." His wife, naturally gentle 
 and affectionate, had been subdued, by a life of little 
 daily severities, into a reserved, timid woman. She had 
 stepped out of her habitual routine of silent acqui- 
 escence in making the suggestions mentioned in the 
 commencement of the chapter ; now she sunk back into 
 her richly-cushioned chair, and resumed her usual piti- 
 able expression ; while her " liege lord " continued his 
 soliloquy. 
 
 "I go to Boston to-morrow, and shall return in a 
 day or two with the child. It is my determination 
 to make my choice of the family, and that choice 
 will be Agatha. She is thirteen or thereabouts, past 
 the age of childhood. I have seen her but once : inter- 
 course with my brother has never been satisfactory, and 
 I shall provide that there be communication but sel- 
 dom, if at all, between the child and those she leaves ; 
 indeed, there will be but little danger of that, as my 
 brother is bound for California with his family the first 
 good opening. But I wish you to understand, Mrs. 
 Douglass," he added, raising his voice, "that there is 
 to be no acquaintance formed by the child with the
 
 12 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MAKY. 
 
 people in the village. Colonel Clarendon's family and 
 our Rector's are exceptions ; but out of these, she is 
 not to know the people of Rockridge." 
 
 The frightened wife made no reply to this harsh re- 
 striction, till the tall, gaunt figure of her husband stood 
 before her, and, peering into her face with his cold, 
 gray eye, and raising his forefinger in a menacing atti- 
 tude, he whispered, " Am I understood ? " 
 
 " Certainly, certainly," replied she, nervously shrink- 
 ing from his gaze, and trying to smile. "Agatha, Aga- 
 tha! did you say? Isn't that a singular name?" 
 
 " It was my mother's name," replied he, sternly, and 
 she was one* I ever found worthy of my love." 
 
 To his brother's house Rodney Douglass took his 
 way, through the narrow, irregular streets at the "north 
 part of the city of Boston, famih'arly known as " North 
 End." Now and then the proud man would draw him- 
 self up to avoid touching some person or thing in his 
 way, exclaiming against the filth of the city. At length 
 he paused before a small brick tenement, which had 
 the name " Sidney Douglass " unmistakably engraven 
 on the brass plate. The brothers met as if they had 
 parted but yesterday, when in truth ten suns had sped
 
 MAPLE CLIFF. 13 
 
 their annual round since they had clasped hands. How 
 true is it that prosperous life often eats out the heart, 
 and makes those who have slept in the same mother's 
 bosom almost strangers ! 
 
 Sidney Douglass and wife belonged to that ever in- 
 creasing class in society whose life and thoughts are 
 wholly directed to making money ; therefore they were 
 about to leave a situation where they had a comforta- 
 ble living, with privileges of church, school, and society, 
 for the then unknown regions of "gold digging." 
 
 The tempting offer to make one of their children sole 
 heiress to a large estate, upon condition of their re- 
 nouncing their rights as parents, was accepted almost 
 eagerly, and Rodney Douglass became the lawful father, 
 by adoption, of his niece Agatha. Yes, she was sold 
 for a certain number of acres, and a certain amount of 
 bank-stock ; separated from the sympathies of her child- 
 hood, and carried hundreds of miles, to new faces and 
 new scenes.
 
 14 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 AGATHA'S HOME. 
 
 "Strange is it that our bloods, 
 In color, weight, and heat poured all together, 
 Would confound distinction, yet stand off 
 In differences so mighty." 
 
 SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 THE OLD family mansion of Mr. Douglass, the 
 Wuture home of Agatha, \vas built by the Eng- 
 lish ancestor, three generations before the present oc- 
 cupant. It had the appearance of a manor-house, with 
 its long, irregular wings, ample dimensions, and sub- 
 stantial walls. The place had always been known in 
 the region as "Maple Cliff." Below, at the distance 
 of less than half a mile, lay the village of Rockridge, 
 resting on the bosom of a large river, that had its 
 source among the range of mountains in the western 
 border of New England. Woodland Bluff (the resi- 
 dence of the nearest neighbor, Colonel Clarendon), with
 
 AGATHA'S HOME. 15 
 
 its embowered cottage, was in full view from Maple 
 Cliff, on the other side of the stage road that sepa 
 rated the two estates. The right wing of the Douglass 
 homestead contained the rooms that had been appro- 
 priated to the newly adopted daughter, and the win 
 dows overlooked the wooded bluff, and the village and 
 valley beyond. Perhaps it was fortunate for Agatha 
 that her affections, in their depth and capabilities, had 
 never been brought out in the home she had left. 
 Her first tears were shed as she sat in her little dress- 
 ing-room on Sunday afternoon, looking into the quiet 
 street, and wishing she had some one to whym she 
 could speak. She had been in her new hom<I||hree 
 days, and had made acquaintance with the groom, sta- 
 ble-boy, and Papsy, a sort of hanger-on, and "maid 
 of all work " when she chose to be. It was something 
 quite new and pleasant to be called "Miss Agatha," 
 and to be treated with deference by the servants. At 
 home they had but one domestic, and she was always 
 so cross and worn with hard work, that Agatha was 
 glad to escape from the kitchen: at Maple Cuff that 
 part of the establishment outnumbered the parlor, and 
 she found herself always welcome. But Sunday even-
 
 16 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 ing was their holiday, they were all gone, and the 
 little girl leaned her head on her hand while the tears 
 fell fast She started as a shadow crossed her vision, 
 knowing that her rooms were on the second floor ; but 
 when she saw the yellow fingers of Papsy, lifting her- 
 self by the pillars of the balcony, her tears were 
 changed to smiles, and the welcome guest raised the 
 window and stepped into the room. 
 
 Papsy was not an African, neither was she an In- 
 dian, though some of her ancestry were of both these 
 races. She was tall, and straight as an arrow, with 
 high cheek-bones and a tawny skin, but her hair was 
 ^ brown, and her eyes a dark gray. The only trace of 
 African blood was in her full lips and pearly teeth. 
 The mantling color that rose to her cheek, the broad 
 forehead, and the form and color of the eye, betrayed 
 a mingling of the more fortunate Anglo-Saxon race. 
 She belonged to a family who, in some of its mem- 
 bers, had served in the Douglass household from the 
 time when New England had slaves within her bor- 
 ders; but she inherited the spirit of the race that 
 "has never been held hi bondage," and all the disci- 
 pline of Maple Cliff (and rumor said it was very
 
 AGATHA'S HOME. 17 
 
 unsparing) could not tame the remnants of the wild 
 Indian blood that coursed through the veins of Papsy. 
 She had but one excuse for all her wickedness, "It 
 is this pizin mixture," referring to her mixed descent. 
 She had an odd way of talking in disconnected sen- 
 tences, rarely putting more than three or four words 
 together. Two years older than Agatha, she had al- 
 ready contrived to make herself interesting to her "lit- 
 tle missis," as she chose to call her. 
 
 " Homesick, little missis ? " she said inquiringly, when 
 she saw the traces of Agatha's tears. " Thought so, 
 poor thing, lonesome here, go with Papsy, 
 white turkey gone, hunt her up." 
 
 No urging was necessary, neither did the little girl 
 remember that she had no permission for the walk. 
 Daylight faded away, and the stars came out; the ser- 
 vants one by one returned to Maple Cliff, but noth- 
 ing was seen of Agatha and Papsy. Mr. Douglass 
 rebuked his wife in the sternest manner for her in- 
 attention in not informing herself of Agatha's where- 
 abouts. As the evening advanced, a servant was de- 
 spatched to seek intelligence of the child. Young Mr. 
 Clarendon remembered to have seen the missing pair 
 
 B
 
 18 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 entering Elder Sparks's meeting-house, as he passed 
 to a third service in the valley below. 
 
 Before Pat's return with this information, the voice 
 of Papsy was heard, as she came up the avenue to- 
 ward the house, singing, "O Canaan, bright Canaan." 
 If harsh words and severity could have helped her on 
 her way to that happy land, she would have been 
 some distance on the road that night. Agatha's dreams 
 were a mingling of singing and crying, and above all 
 the stern voice of her uncle, as he said, " Go to your 
 room, child, and don't leave it again till I send for 
 vou."
 
 HONOBA AND GREGORY. 19 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 HONORA AND GREGORY. 
 
 Her soul was like a beehive built of glass, 
 And you could see her sweet thoughts, every one 
 Like honey-bees at work; for sweetness she 
 From everything extracted, and to all 
 Dispensed it; never niggard of her stores, 
 Which more for others than herself she kept 
 Within that hive of honey-thoughts, her heart." 
 
 COURT JOURNAL. 
 
 WAS Mr. Douglass's niece in his pew yes- 
 I terday, Honora," said Colonel Clarendon to his 
 daughter, as she wheeled his comfortable arm-chair to- 
 ward the fire. " Do go over, this pleasant morning, 
 and see if you can't do something for the child; her 
 sad face haunts me." 
 
 "Yes, sister," said Gregory Clarendon, rising as his 
 father spoke, "let us go over, and rescue this forlorn 
 child from that imp of darkness who bids fair to be 
 her chief friend."
 
 20 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 " Please don't speak so of Papsy, brother," said 
 Honora, laying her hand on his shoulder ; " she is a 
 Sunday-scholar of mine." 
 
 " She does you credit, Honora ! She should be in a 
 House for Juvenile Offenders. She will ruin that little 
 girl, if they are left to run together in this way." 
 
 " The child of Mr. Douglass's adoption ! " he added 
 impatiently as they walked out, " how much better is 
 it, sister, at Maple Cliff than with the ' Sisters of 
 Charity ' ? It would not take me many hours to choose 
 between these two states of life, if I had a protegee 
 to provide with a home." 
 
 Honora smiled reluctantly, but did not reply. 
 
 The call was more satisfactory than might have been 
 expected. Mi-. Douglass entertained a high respect for 
 Colonel Clarendon's family, and they were always wel- 
 comed at Maple Cliff. Agatha was summoned from 
 her room, where she had remained in obedience to her 
 uncle's commands, to meet Miss Clarendon and her 
 brother. 
 
 Rodney Douglass saw in his adopted daughter the 
 reflection of his own spirit, in her flashing eyes and 
 deepening color, and the cold, haughty tone in which
 
 HONORA AND GREGORY. 21 
 
 she replied to his questioning. The reproaches of yes- 
 terday were rankling in her young heart. 
 
 " Douglass has his match," said young Clarendon as 
 they left the house. " I only wish it was the first in- 
 stead of the last week of my vacation, that I might 
 make the acquaintance of this little Miss, and note 
 progress between her and her adopted father. ' Iron 
 sharpeneth iron.' " 
 
 " But there is something touchingly lovely about the 
 child, with all her pride," said his sister. "How I did 
 long to fold her to my heart, and offer that sympathy 
 she so much needs ! She has deep feeling, one can see 
 in her large thoughtful eyes. A young heart is easily 
 crushed or hardened by want of sympathy. What 
 cause of thankfulness we have, that our dear father 
 is so full of tenderness for us, since we can hardly re- 
 member our mother's love ! " 
 
 "Yes," replied the young man, "but I cannot talk 
 to father as I do to you. I cannot go to him, with 
 my doubts and struggles with unbelief, as I can come 
 to you." 
 
 " And have you, my dear brother, done as your duty 
 requires, and sought counsel of your pastor ? "
 
 22 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 "Yes, Honora, to please you I did. What comfort 
 could I expect from the immaculate perfection of Dr. 
 Walbridge ! Himself too upright, too formal, and un- 
 wavering, ever to suffer a doubt ! How could he look 
 with any kindness upon one devoted prospectively to 
 the ministry, who is full of uncertainties ? When I 
 gave the secret chamber of my soul to his gaze, what 
 do you think he said ? k He could not conceive of 
 such a state of feeling ! ' You may suppose I derived 
 much benefit and satisfaction from the interview." 
 
 " But, Gregory," replied his sister, a shade of gentle 
 reproof mingling with the sweet tones of her voice, 
 " he is our pastor, devoted, humble-minded, and as such 
 we owe him respect. But after all, there is but One 
 who can keep you in the right way, and guide you 
 into all truth. Seek that guidance, and you will yet 
 see clearly." 
 
 * # * * * 
 
 Colonel Clarendon was a retired officer of the United 
 States army. Having been severely wounded in a 
 skirmish with our border Indians, he had left the 
 service, and with his only son and daughter, and a 
 maiden sister as housekeeper, he. had retired to his 
 small paternal estate in Rockridge.
 
 HONORA AND GREGORY. 23 
 
 Honora Clarendon at the time our story opens was 
 not on the list of very young ladies, having already 
 passed her twenty-eighth year. Her life had not been 
 unmarked by sorrow, as might be gathered from the 
 unvarying hue of her black dress, and the subdued and 
 chastened character of her smile, and the somewhat 
 pensive tone of her voice. 
 
 In her early youth she had been betrothed to a 
 lieutenant in her father's regiment. The tune was 
 fixed for her marriage with the brave Norman Wood; 
 but he had fallen, in the same engagement in which 
 her father had been wounded. Her deep, unspoken 
 grief worked out its proper end, and wherever suffer- 
 ing or distress were to be met in her region, she was 
 there with her angel-like presence. She was several 
 years older than her brother, who looked upon her as 
 the personification of goodness. Whether she was beau- 
 tiful no one asked, for there was a depth of soul beam- 
 ing out from those pensive eyes, and a wealth of love 
 in that benevolent mouth, that was magnetic. 
 
 Gregory had grown up a serious-minded boy, under 
 the careful training of a judicious father, and gave prom- 
 ise, now he had reached the estate of manhood, that
 
 24 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 the fondest wish of the paternal heart would one day 
 be realized, and Colonel Clarendon would see his son 
 a clergyman. 
 
 During his college life he had roomed with a young 
 man from New Orleans, a member of a Roman Catho- 
 lic family, earnest-minded and zealous. They had be- 
 come warmly attached as friends, and it was natural 
 that each should strive for the conversion of the other 
 to what he deemed the true faith. Pierre McLellan 
 saw Father Eustace often, and was commended and 
 counselled in his efforts for the conversion of the here- 
 tic by that wily Jesuit, while Clarendon met his antag- 
 onist uncounselled and unadvised. Night after night 
 they sought to vanquish each other, and spent hours 
 that should have been given to study in discussing 
 theological dogmas and practices. These "talks" had 
 had their effect on the ardent mind of Clarendon ; they 
 had served the first purpose of their instigator, and 
 planted difficulties where before all was plain. 
 
 Gregory had fully opened his mind to his sister, and 
 through her influence to his pastor, and he returned to 
 college for his last year with the feeling that at least 
 he must never seek the ministry till his doubts were 
 settled.
 
 AGATHA AND PAPSY. 25 
 
 CHAPTER IY. 
 
 AGATHA AND PAPSY. 
 
 " An unlessoned girl, unschooled, unpractised; 
 Happy in this, that she is not so old 
 But she may learn; and happier in this, 
 She is not bred so dull but she may learn; 
 Happiest in all, that her gentle spirit 
 Commits itself- to yours to be directed." 
 
 SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 T\O, MISS NORA," said Papsy, industriously 
 
 J_/ brushing the front piazza, as Miss Clarendon 
 came up the steps at Maple Cliff, the day after her 
 brother's departure for New Haven. 
 
 " Good morning, Papsy," Miss Honora replied, put- 
 ting out her hand, to take the yellow one that was 
 extended to meet hers; "how are Mr. and Mrs. Doug- 
 lass, and Miss Agatha?" 
 
 " Mister gone to town, little missis homesick, 
 master scold her, cry all night." 
 
 " Homesick is she ? " said Honora ; " we must try to 
 2
 
 26 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 comfort her. But I did not see you at Sunday school 
 last Sunday evening." 
 
 " O Miss Nora, I tired, sleepy, Dr. Walbridge 
 preach so long, I go to bed." 
 
 Honora was somewhat startled by this downright 
 falsehood, and remembered Gregory's remark that 
 " Papsy did credit to her Sunday-school teacher : " 
 but this was not the time to correct her fault ; she 
 therefore passed into the hall. She found Agatha bur- 
 ied in the pillows of a lounge, in the library, devour- 
 ing with avidity the contents of a very ancient-looking 
 book. She blushed when Honora entered, and hid the 
 book hastily, but, soon recovering herself, she did the 
 honors of the house very properly. It was not long 
 before Honora, with her sweet winning ways, found an 
 entrance into the child's heart, ^and a friendship was 
 established which was never broken, a friendship worth 
 more to Agatha than all her landed prospects of Ma- 
 ple Cliff. They sat together nearly an hour, when 
 Mrs. Douglass's cat-like step was heard, and that lady 
 made her appearance, looking cautiously round the 
 room, as if she expected to meet some dreaded object. 
 Honora made known her errand, which was to bring
 
 AGATHA AND PAPSY. 27 
 
 Agatha to Woodland Bluff, to pass the day. Mrs. 
 Douglass stammered in her reply, not daring to give 
 permission in the absence of Mr. Douglass. The child 
 signified by her manner that she would willingly go 
 without his leave ; but Honora said gently, " Well, if 
 you cannot go with me to-day, I can stay part of the 
 day with you, and we will have your visit another 
 time." This arrangement satisfied all parties, and 
 Honora made herself quite at home with Agatha, ex- 
 plaining to her the beautiful paintings that hung about 
 the walls ; playing battledoor with the child one mo- 
 ment, and waltzes for her to dance the next. Child- 
 like, Agatha was desirous her companion should see the 
 pleasant rooms she called her own. They consisted of 
 a large, airy bedchamber, and a pretty dressing-room 
 attached, furnished with everything for comfort. The 
 first thing that met the eye of her visitor was a heap 
 of old musty volumes in the middle of the floor, a recent 
 importation from some secret hiding-place. They were 
 evidently mates to the book in which Agatha was so 
 deeply interested when Honora came into the library. 
 "0, I forgot these old books!" said Agatha, blush- 
 ing crimson, arid ringing the bell violently.
 
 28 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 "What are they?" said Honora, taking up one that 
 looked as if it might have amused the leisure hours 
 of Noah and his family ; it was The Mysteries of 
 Udolpho." " Did you intend to read them ? " she add- 
 ed, taking up another ; it was " The Monk." 
 
 " I was going to look them over," said Agatlrn, hes- 
 itating. " There is nothing in the library but old law- 
 books and histories, with a few memoirs of good peo- 
 ple, that I hate to read. At home, father let us take 
 books from the circulating library, but Aunt Douglass 
 says there is none here." 
 
 " I would n't read these," replied Honora, persua- 
 sively, brushing the dust from her fingers ; " we have 
 plenty of nice books at "Woodland Bluff, and you may 
 take any of them you please ; and then we luiA'e a 
 parish library, and a Sunday-school library, full of in- 
 teresting books for children. Let Papsy put these up 
 where you found them, will you dear ? " she added, as 
 the tall form of Papsy came stalking in. 
 
 " The chambermaid, Belinda, told me of them," said 
 Agatha, almost weeping at the thoughts of losing her 
 new-found treasure. " She said she had read them all." 
 
 " Heaps on um, and more besides," said Papsy,
 
 AGATHA AND PAPSY. 29 
 
 " chock full, noveltry readin', Elder Sparks's dam- 
 nation literature." Papsy took the heap of contraband 
 volumes into her apron, and was off, with a very sober 
 face to Miss Clarendon, and a sly wink to Agatha, 
 which said plainly, " Get um agin, little missis." 
 
 "What a funny thing Papsy is!" said the child. 
 " She is n't negro, and she is n't white. I asked her 
 what she called herself, and she said, ' Pizin mixture.' 
 She is very kind to me, though, and I like her. Aunt 
 Douglass thinks I ought not to go with her so much, 
 but I will." 
 
 Honora* put her hand gently over the pouting lips, 
 and, taking the little head lovingly on her breast, she 
 said, " Papsy is a poor unfortunate girl, and you may 
 do her much good, both by example and precept, and 
 you will always be kind and gentle to her ; but she is 
 not exactly suited for an intimate companion for my 
 little Agatha." 
 
 Thus Honora conversed with the child, gaining her 
 confidence and her love, and Agatha sank to sleep 
 that night more peacefully than she had done. She 
 had found a friend.
 
 30 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 I 
 
 DICK WALBRIDGE. 
 
 " But when to mischief mortals bend their will, 
 How soon they find fit instruments of ill! " 
 
 POPE. 
 
 WEEKS AND months passed, and Agatha was al- 
 lowed to go freely to Colonel Clarendon's. Her 
 nature, naturally joyous and affectionate, was brought 
 out from the sullen pride in which it had at first con- 
 cealed itself. Papsy was restored to her master's fa- 
 vor ; she was ever treated by him as a favorite span- 
 iel would have been, now a kick, and now a caress. 
 There was apparently the same attraction as between 
 the dog and his master. Mr. Douglass, though often 
 severe in his treatment of her, would never suffer any 
 other member of the family to reproVe her or com- 
 plain of her. This course naturally gave Papsy a kind 
 of slavish affection for Mr. ' Douglass. 
 
 It happened, one morning in early spring, that she
 
 DICK WALBRIDGE. 31 
 
 was appointed to go into a meadow, which lay beyond 
 the house, in search of dandelions for the table. She 
 gave a sly wink to Agatha, and, drawing down her 
 face, gravely asked permission of Mrs. Douglass for 
 the little girl's company. 
 
 The mistress of the house hesitated, daring neither 
 to consent nor refuse ; however, she thought Mr. Doug- 
 lass might object, as the grass was wet, and Agatha had 
 a slight cold. The hall door opened at this moment, 
 and the sharp, spectacled eyes of the master peered 
 into the kitchen. His wife shrunk back, as he said, in 
 his usual harsh tones, " Let the child go. Do you wish 
 to deprive her of free air, and sunshine ? " 
 
 They went into the fields together. Spring, in her 
 morning dress of emerald-green, bestudded with violets, 
 was passing lovely. The contrast between the youth- 
 ful pair was striking, so much so as to keep Mr. Doug- 
 lass at the h'brary window, watching them till a turn 
 in the brook, and a patch of woods, concealed them 
 from view. 
 
 Papsy had the Indian tread, erect, firm, and rapid ; 
 while Agatha tripped along gracefully as a fawn, her 
 slight figure, pure red and white skin, auburn curls,
 
 32 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 and delicate hands and feet manifesting her true Saxon 
 descent. 
 
 They proceeded rapidly, Papsy carrying a basket, 
 and brandishing the knife with which she was to cut 
 up the plants, at the same time singing, in a melodious 
 and powerful voice, "Farewell, my friends, I must be 
 gone." At length they came to a piece of ground, on 
 the border of the wood, thickly sprinkled with the golden 
 flowers they were seeking. Very industriously they com- 
 menced work, Papsy cutting up the plants, which Aga- 
 tha deposited in the basket. They had nearly finished 
 their task, when a sound of footsteps was heard among 
 the dry leaves, and presently a young man, whom 
 Agatha had never seen, approached them. He was 
 dressed in a brown hunting-coat, a rifle on his shoul- 
 der, and a game-bag by his side. 
 
 " Dick Walbridge, little missis," whispered Papsy, 
 without once looking up from her employment. The 
 stranger came near, touched his hat to Agatha, and 
 looked knowingly at her companion. 
 
 " I thought I would find you here, Pap," he said fa- 
 miliarly ; " Miss Douglass, I presume," he added, look- 
 ing at Agatha. " What 's the matter," he said, seeing
 
 DICK WALBRIDGE. 33 
 
 the color mounting into Papsy's cheek, and an angry 
 look overshadow her brow. "Why didn't you come to 
 meeting, last night? We missed your voice. Elder 
 Sparks gave us one of his sparkling discourses. He 
 put into father, and you church folks." 
 
 " Better mind his own business," sulkily answered the 
 girl. 
 
 " The Ridgway s were there, mother and daugh- 
 ters." 
 
 " Dare say, smooth-faced hypocrites ! " muttered Papsy. 
 
 " He thanked Heaven," continued the young man, 
 " that the son of one of the followers of ' the Scarlet 
 Lady' had seen the error of his ways, and mentioned 
 several excellent qualities, in his recommendation of me 
 to the notice of Heaven, which I was not aware of 
 possessing." 
 
 "Ugh," was all the reply. 
 
 Agatha was diligently thinking, who " the Scarlet La- 
 dy " could be. So far from the religious discussions of 
 the day had she been kept, not by the care, but by the 
 indifference of her parents, that she had not even heard 
 of her ladyship. 
 
 Papsy took up the basket and knife, and turned home- 
 2* c
 
 34 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 ward, without another word to the young man. They 
 had gone but a short distance, when Mr. "Walbridge 
 called out, " I saw Chet last night, and I have a message 
 for you." The girl turned and walked slowly back to 
 where he stood, and they conversed together for some 
 tune, in a familiar and earnest manner. 
 
 Agatha continued her walk toward home, but was 
 overtaken by her companion before she came to the 
 turn in the brook. 
 
 " Was that Dr. "Walbridge's son, Papsy ? " asked Aga- 
 tha. 
 
 " Y.es, Dick "Walbridge, wicked wretch, breaking 
 his poor father's heart," she replied, with a very sober 
 face, and immediately struck into the tune where she 
 had been interrupted, " Where is now the good old 'Li- 
 jah." 
 
 Agatha, finding Papsy disinclined to conversation, went 
 back to thinking of " the Scarlet Lady," and determined 
 in her own mind to ask Miss Honora Clarendon, at the 
 first opportunity, Avho she was. Could she be any friend 
 of Miss Clarendon's ? She always dressed in black. Then 
 came another question into her busy brain, why Miss 
 Clarendon always wore black. She would not dare
 
 DICK WALBRIDGE. 35 
 
 ask her that ; she would inquire of Papsy. She inter- 
 rupted her singing, therefore, by the question, "Why 
 does Miss Nora always wear black?" 
 
 " Sister of Charity, I spose, Elder Sparks says 
 so," was the reply, and the singing continued.
 
 36 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 DANGEROUS SOCIETY. 
 
 " May God have mercy upon her [the Komish Church], and upon 
 all those gentle hearts within her, who perchance, in her dark, dim 
 
 gloom, be feeling after Christ." 
 
 FABKK. 
 
 " Kind wishes and good deeds they make not poor, 
 They'll home again full laden to thy door; 
 The streams of love flow back where they begin, 
 For springs of outward joys lie deep within." 
 
 DANA. 
 
 DURING THE week following the walk with 
 Papsy, Agatha passed a day at Woodland Bluff, 
 and, a storm of wind and rain coming on, Miss Claren- 
 don despatched a servant for permission for the little 
 girl to stay all night. Colonel Clarendon's family were 
 gathered round the bright fire, rendered necessary by 
 the chilly spring rain, listening to the wind as it swayed 
 the tall forest-trees that overhung the Bluff, and to the 
 roaring of the river, as its swollen waters rushed along.
 
 DANGEROUS SOCIETY. 37 
 
 All at once "the Scarlet Lady" popped into Agatha's 
 head. She sprung to Honora, and, clasping her arms 
 about her, exclaimed, with the eagerness of childhood, 
 " O Miss Nora ! please tell me who anybody means 
 by ' the Scarlet Lady.' " 
 
 Honora looked at her father, and then at the child, 
 with a look of perplexity and surprise. 
 
 "Tell me first darling," she said, recovering herself, 
 and returning the little girl's caress, " who do you mean 
 by ' anybody ' ? " 
 
 "Why, Elder Sparks, and Dick Walbridge," she re- 
 plied. 
 
 " Dick Walbridge ! Agatha, where can you have met 
 him ? " 
 
 The child looked a little vexed, and then said, "Yes, 
 will you please tell me who' she is ? " 
 
 " She is no relation of ours," said Colonel Clarendon, 
 smiling mischievously. 
 
 "I will try to tell you," said Honora, seriously, "all 
 I know about her. ' Scarlet Lady ' is a term of re- 
 proach, applied by many very good people to the Rom- 
 ish Church, because they suppose the prophecies which 
 speak of the woman arrayed in scarlet to refer to that
 
 38 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 corrupt body. But it never seemed to me a very 
 Christian mode of speech." 
 
 "My daughter," said Colonel Clarendon, looking up 
 and speaking very solemnly, "it is hardly possible to 
 take too strong grounds against Romanism." 
 
 " Perhaps not, father ; but might we not show a more 
 Christ-like spirit in our condemnation? I have often 
 thought the chains were riveted more closely on the 
 minds of that community by the unsparing denuncia- 
 tions of Protestants ; by our not allowing that they have 
 any truth, when in reality they have all, but so over- 
 laid with corruption and error as to be hidden from 
 view." 
 
 Observing the perplexed look on the face of Agatha, 
 Honora took her pocket Testament, and read the seven- 
 teenth chapter of Revelation, telling her she supposed 
 this to be the origin of the name " Scarlet Lady." 
 
 She drew from the little girl, after they had retired 
 for the night, the time and place of her meeting with 
 Dick Walbridge, and his conversation. The story chased 
 sleep from her pillow, and when Agatha had sunk into 
 a profound slumber, Honora arose, and looked out into 
 the storm. Richard Walbridge she knew well. He
 
 DANGEROUS SOCIETY. 39 
 
 had always been a reckless boy, and now that he was 
 a man rumor called him dissolute. Her father and 
 Dr. Walbridge had long talks about him, and she had 
 more than once heard her father hint the wish that 
 the young man was well out of the way. Here was 
 Agatha, a young, innocent girl, scarcely passed from 
 childhood, brought in contact with him ; and Papsy, her 
 Sunday-scholar, evidently on questionable terms with 
 him ! What could she do to save Papsy and to keep 
 Agatha from his acquaintance ? She pitied Richard 
 Walbridge, as an angel may be supposed to pity a 
 sinner. She knew his father was stern and rigid in 
 the enforcement of discipline, and the mother over-in- 
 dulgent ; but these were no apologies for base ingrati- 
 tude. Every means had been tried to bring back the 
 reprobate son. Colonel Clarendon had remonstrated, 
 his parents had pleaded and commanded, in vain; he 
 neglected his studies, and spent his time with doubtful 
 characters. He had been suspended from college in 
 his second year, and was ostensibly pursuing his studies 
 with his father; but whole weeks would pass without 
 his appearance at the Rectory, and it would afterwards 
 be discovered that he had spent his days in a gorge,
 
 40 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MAKY. 
 
 among the hills below the village, where a few colored 
 persons, half-breeds and Africans, with a number of 
 families of very poor white people, dwelt. Here Dick 
 had first met Papsy intimately, on her visits to her 
 brother Chet. 
 
 Honora thought of poor Mrs. Walbridge, as she lis- 
 tened to the gurgling waters, and a prayer arose from 
 her heart, that God would bring back the wanderer. 
 She wondered why one baptized and brought up with 
 constant religious teaching, as Richard had been, should 
 be left to alienate himself so far from the household of 
 God. She remembered that it is often so ; and temp- 
 tations to doubt the promises of God to parents were 
 presented to her mind, but her well-grounded faith rose 
 above it, and she said, "He is faithful that promised, 
 who also will do it." It is better to feel that poor 
 human nature has erred in the training, rather than 
 doubt for a moment God's truth. Thoughts of her own 
 dearly loved brother, and the peculiar temptations with 
 which he was wrestling, came rushing into her soul, and 
 she prayed earnestly, that " God, who knoweth us to 
 be set in the midst of so many and great dangers, that 
 by reason of our frailty we cannot always stand up-
 
 DANGEROUS SOCIETY. 41 
 
 right, would grant him such strength and protection, 
 as would support him in all dangers, and carry him 
 through all temptations." She arose from her knees re- 
 freshed, and determined to do what she could for the 
 little slumberer beside her. 
 
 Honora Clarendon was not one of those sensitive, 
 well-meaning persons, who content themselves with weep- 
 ing over the sorrows of humanity. To be in danger, 
 trial, or temptation, ay, to have fallen, elicited not 
 only her prayers, but her active efforts to help. " May 
 it not be mine," she said to herself, as she listened to 
 the soft breathings of the little girl, " to lead this child 
 in the right way ? " From Agatha's own account, and 
 her deficiency in Biblical knowledge, while in other stud- 
 ies she was well advanced, Honora gathered that the 
 influence at home had not been of a religious charac- 
 ter ; neither could she look to Maple Cliff for the train- 
 ing of the little girl's better nature. Providence had 
 brought the child under her influence. She thanked 
 Gocl and took courage. About Papsy she was more 
 doubtful. For a few months past she had avoided her 
 teacher, and felt, as many of her superiors do, that she 
 was too old and large for Sunday school. Honora fell
 
 42 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 asleep, determined on an effort for both. With the first 
 tinge of purple light in the east she arose, and, having 
 attended to her customaiy morning duties, went to seek 
 her father. She found him, as she anticipated, in the 
 library, studying the large family Bible, the employment 
 of his early morning hours for many years. 
 
 "Dear father," said Honora, as she softly entered 
 the room and knelt by his chair, "how are you this 
 beautiful morning? I would not interrupt you, but I 
 wish to ask your counsel, while we can be alone." 
 
 Colonel Clarendon embraced his daughter, and prepared 
 himself to listen. She told him plainly all that trou- 
 bled her, about Agatha and Papsy. He sighed when 
 '6te spoke of Dick Walbridge, and said: "Poor Dr. 
 Walbridge ! 
 
 'How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is 
 To have a thankless child.' " 
 
 " Father," said Honora, looking up confidingly, " if 
 Eichard could be sent away, perhaps into a foreign 
 country, might it not have a good effect upon him? 
 The last time he was here, he said he only wished he 
 was out of this place." 
 
 " If he had been my boy, he would have been sent
 
 DANGEROUS SOCIETY. 43 
 
 away long ago," replied the Colonel ; " but what he 
 said was only a subterfuge. He hoped some of his 
 friends would help him to the means to go. I have no 
 faith in him." 
 
 " But," continued Honora, earnestly, " it seems to me 
 if I could only talk with him, he used to listen to me 
 when we were children together, I might persuade 
 him to go away, at least. Perhaps he does sometimes 
 wish to do well, but here he is so surrounded w r ith the 
 scenes of his guilt " 
 
 " He could hardly be in a place more free from temp- 
 tation than Rockridge," replied the Colonel gravely. 
 
 " Yes, father, but if he could begin anew. O, there 
 is sometimes so much in beginning new ! " 
 
 Colonel Clarendon did not reply, and after a while 
 she resumed the conversation by speaking of Agatha. 
 " Don't you think, father, that she should be attending 
 to her studies?" 
 
 " Certainly she should," he replied, " but you know 
 how strange Mr. Douglass's notions are. He is deter- 
 mined she shall not associate w r ith the village people ; 
 of course he will not send her to the Academy, though 
 I doubt if he finds a better school. Perhaps he might
 
 44 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 like the idea of a governess : but it seems almost wicked 
 to ask any young lady to mure herself at Maple Cliff." 
 
 " A governess ! " exclaimed Ilonora, " to be sure : 
 why did n't I think of it ? and Charlotte Morgan is just 
 the person!" 
 
 " Charlotte Morgan ! " said her father, musingly. 
 " Yes, in most respects she is very suitable. There 
 is only one thing wrong about her ; she would not have 
 compassion enough for the faults and failings she would 
 see in her pupil and employer. Agatha's high-strung and 
 somewhat turbulent nature would dash continually against 
 her propriety. But, after all, Ilonora, you must give 
 the child society of her own age, or she will seek it 
 in Papsy, and the like. Remember, she has lived al- 
 ways with brothers and sisters, and planted as she now 
 is, in that castle of a house, without a ray of sunshine 
 within, do you wonder that she bends towards Avhat she 
 conceives to be the light, in the form of a companion 
 of some sort?" 
 
 " I was thinking, if we could bring it about," sug- 
 gested Honora, " Anne Walbridge might have the bene- 
 fit of Charlotte's instructions, with Agatha. Mr. Doug- 
 lass has no objections to her acquaintance."
 
 DANGEROUS SOCIETY. 45 
 
 "A bright thought, Honora ; I will speak to Mr. 
 Douglass. Let's seef Agatha is fourteen, you say. Is 
 it possible ? how very small she is ! Anne must be a 
 year or two younger. Dr. "Walbridge has been very 
 unfortunate in his family. I trust his little daughter 
 may be a comfort to him." 
 
 Colonel Clarendon walked home with Agatha after 
 breakfast, and, in a way of his own, brought the con- 
 versation between himself and Mr. Douglass around, 
 without seeming in any way anxious about it, to the 
 propriety of having a governess for his daughter. Mr. 
 Douglass first frowned, then looked more favorably up- 
 on the proposal; presently he asked the Colonel how 
 he could find a fitting person, one whom he could re- 
 ceive into the sanctity of the family. Colonel Clar- 
 endon suggested that he should inquire of Honora ; she 
 might have a friend qualified to fill so important a 
 station. 
 
 Mr. Douglass was always impatient when any sub- 
 ject of importance was under consideration ; and be- 
 fore the end of the week, he requested Honora to write 
 to 3Ii.-.s Morgan. Having now settled matters as far 
 as she was able with regard to Agatha, Miss Clarendon 
 turned her thoughts to Papsy.
 
 46 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE REPROBATE SOX. 
 
 "I know, resolve, and do not, and anon 
 The wheel of human custom bears me on." 
 
 WILLIAMS. 
 
 " And men have stamped me with a curse, 
 I feel it is not Thine: 
 Thy mercy, like yon sun, was made 
 On me as them to shine." 
 
 IT "WAS a bright Sunday afternoon when Ilonora 
 went out to teach a class her brother had estab- 
 lished, which met every Lord's day evening in a school- 
 house below the village. This class was composed of 
 children of the poor, who came from Rockridge and the 
 gorge below, children whose parents never entered a 
 house of worship, children of the colored population, 
 and now and then a stray lamb from the flock of for- 
 eigners scattered so liberally through our towns and 
 villages.
 
 THE REPROBATE SOX. 47 
 
 Contrary to Honora's wishes, (for she knew Mr. Doug- 
 lass's opinion of the school,) Agatha had asked permis- 
 sion to go; but her uncle had sternly refused, saying, 
 "I never wish to see you in such a motley crew; and 
 wonder that one as refined and delicate as Miss Nora 
 can find any pleasure in such a low set: but when 
 the demon of religious enthusiasm enters into a person, 
 there is no end to absurdity." 
 
 Honora walked rapidly to her task. She overtook 
 Dr. Walbridge, who always opened the school for her. 
 He looked sad and worn, and she would not intrude 
 on his sorrows, therefore they walked in silence. 
 
 The first thing that met her eye, on entering the 
 school-room, was the form of Papsy, standing in the 
 desk, authoritatively calling the children to order. Dr. 
 Walbridge soon finished his part of the labors, and 
 after the lessons, commendations, and advice of the 
 teacher, which occupied an hour, the school was closed, 
 and Papsy, who had been requested to remain, was left 
 alone with Honora. 
 
 "I have been wishing to see you and talk with you 
 for some time, said Miss Clarendon, taking Papsy's 
 hand. " You know I am interested in you, and can have
 
 48 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MAEY. 
 
 but one motive your good in saying what I shall to 
 you." 
 
 "Yes, Miss Nora, Papsy's good, course," said the 
 girl, drawing down her mouth, and shutting her eyes. 
 
 "I am afraid you do not always keep good company, 
 and I wish to warn you of dangers in your path. You 
 are young, and there are those who will take advan- 
 tage of your youth, and lead you to do what you will 
 deeply regret when you are older." 
 
 The girl did not reply, but, taking from her pocket a 
 large white handkerchief, applied it industriously to her 
 eyes. A deep blush overspread Honora's face, for on 
 the corner of the handkerchief was marked in full, 
 "Richard Walbridge." Emboldened by this tangible 
 proof of their intimacy, she proceeded. 
 
 " Papsy, I refer particularly to Mr. TValbridge. You 
 see him often, and are on familiar terms with him, and 
 I wish to warn you, my child, before it is too late, that 
 he is dangerous society for you." 
 
 "I know it, Miss Nora, know it, but Papsy's 
 nobody, nobody cares for Papsy ! " 
 
 "Do not say that," replied Honora, "the same eye 
 watches over you that guards me, and there is the
 
 THE REPROBATE SON. 49 
 
 same sorrow when you go astray. Your soul is just as 
 precious. Hear me Papsy," she said more earnestly, 
 "shun that man, or he will be your ruin. He can 
 have only a bad design in seeking your company. You 
 used to say you loved Miss Nora. Do, for my sake, 
 for your own sake, quit his society at once, and for- 
 ever." 
 
 "I promised to meet him to-night," said the girl, 
 now really weeping, " and I must," she added, with an 
 earnestness that startled her teacher. 
 
 "Where?" said Miss Clarendon. 
 
 "In the Gorge," replied Papsy. 
 
 "I cannot let you go," reph'ed Honora, with deep 
 emotion, "I cannot let you. Come home with me, be 
 a good girl, and I promise to help you to be some- 
 body; I promise you you shall be respected, yes, be- 
 loved, if you will seek goodness and purity. But if 
 you go on as you are now going, I see nothing before 
 you but a bitter life of suffering; and, O Papsy, a 
 dark, black gulf after." 
 
 "Miss Nora," said the girl, much moved by the 
 earnestness of the appeal, "Papsy go this once, the 
 last time." 
 
 3 D
 
 50 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 Honora hesitated. At length she said, " I wish to see 
 Mr. Walbridge: could you go down to the Gorge and 
 bring him here now ? If you will, I will remain here ; 
 you will not keep me waiting long." 
 
 " Dick won't come," said Papsy, musingly, " nor let 
 me come." 
 
 " Yes," replied Honora, " if you tell him Miss Claren- 
 don calls him, by the memory of school-days to meet 
 her here. Stay!" she added, writing a few words on 
 a slip of paper. " Give him this, I know he will not 
 refuse." 
 
 Honora stood at the window of the little dilapidated 
 school-house, appropriated to the children of the Gorge, 
 arid watched Papsy as she strode along, singing, 
 
 " Sister Matilda 's in the kingdom." 
 
 She thought of the prejudice that consigned this poor 
 girl to a life of degradation, and made her virtue a mat- 
 ter of small importance in worldly eyes ; other bitter 
 thoughts of the wrongs of society came to her mind, 
 and she raised her tearful eyes to Heaven, praying that 
 she might be enabled to save this child, whose soul was 
 bought with the same price as her own, from utter
 
 THE REPROBATE SON. 51 
 
 ruin. Sunlight faded away, and the many-colored clouds 
 that come after grew fainter and fainter, and by and 
 by the moon arose, and she began to fear Papsy was 
 treacherous. As this thought was deepening into cer- 
 tainty, she turned her head, and saw Richard Wai- 
 bridge approaching from an opposite direction, and alone. 
 He entered somewhat timidly, and, bowing coldly, took a 
 seat. Honora's heart beat violently, and she could not' 
 speak. 
 
 "Miss Clarendon flatters me by wishing to see me," 
 said the young man. "It is long since I have been 
 so highly honored." 
 
 "Richard," said Honora, when she recovered her 
 voice, rising and putting on her bonnet, " walk home 
 with me ; I have much that I wish to say to you, and 
 I must leave this place." 
 
 "Will Miss Nora venture so far as to permit me to 
 walk through the village with her?" 
 
 "Yes, Richard," she replied, "ill-natured remark shall 
 not prevent my doing an act of kindness when I can." 
 
 They went into the street together, the pure, noble- 
 hearted girl, and the reprobate son. 
 
 " Richard," she said, eadly, as they walked along,
 
 52 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 " you promised great things when you were a boy. 
 Have you given them all up, and do you mean to con- 
 tent yourself with the life you lead?" 
 
 " Miss Clarendon," replied the young man, " you know 
 as well as I can tell you that the want of means alone 
 keeps me where I am. My father still insists upon 
 my studying. I have no taste or heart for a student's 
 life ; I was born a rover, and should have left the 
 country long ago, only that I did not choose to go as 
 a beggar, without outfit or means to carry me to the 
 next State." 
 
 " Would you leave this part of the country at once, 
 if you had the means ? " inquired his companion. 
 
 " Yes, to-morrow," he replied ; " what have I to bind 
 me here? I have talents for business, and my mother 
 would be willing I should be anything but a sailor ; but 
 my father " he said, with something very like an 
 oath. 
 
 "Hush, Eichard," said Miss Clarendon, in a voice 
 of authority. " Will you promise me, on your honor 
 as a man, that if I will procure the means, and your 
 father's consent, you will go somewhere, and endeavor 
 to retrieve your character?"
 
 THE EEPROBATE SON. 53 
 
 " On my honor, Miss Nora ? Do you believe in 
 such a myth after to-night?" 
 
 "Yes, Richard," she replied, without appearing to 
 understand his look. "If you give me your word, I 
 will trust it. I do not believe you can wholly forget 
 all the teachings we had as children, around that holy 
 altar." 
 
 "I promise to leave this part of the country," said 
 the young man, somewhat sullenly ; " but as to bearing 
 in mind all the pious teaching of my father, backed 
 as it has been by unmitigated severity at home, that I 
 will not promise." 
 
 They parted when they reached Woodland Bluff. 
 "Walbridge walked thoughtfully homeward, while Ho- 
 nora went to the library to consult with her father. 
 
 The Rectory, the nominal home of Richard, was a 
 plain two-story house near the church. Five very 
 tall poplar-trees were the only attempt at ornament 
 about it ; and everything within and without was per- 
 vaded with an air of unapproachable stiffness. 
 
 The study door stood open when the young man 
 entered the hall. 
 
 " Richard," said a stern voice from within, " how
 
 54 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 have you passed the hours of the holy Sabbath? Your 
 seat in church was vacant." 
 
 "The last hour, sir," replied the son, "was spent in 
 better company than I expect to meet again for some 
 time." 
 
 " Eemember, Richard," replied the father, " the curse 
 upon Sabbath-breakers." 
 
 The young man slammed the door with an oath, and 
 went out. 
 
 Dr. Walbridge was a well-meaning man, yes, he 
 was a good man, humble-minded, devoted to his work ; 
 but he could not win souls, for he could not enter into 
 the heart. His ideas of parental authority were clearly 
 denned, and strenuously urged and acted upon. His 
 son, naturally wayward and wilful, had been made more 
 rebellious by the continued preaching and reproving of 
 his father, joined with his stern and rigid discipline. 
 Every boyish folly . was magnified into an offence, and 
 punished with a severity that made little distinction 
 between moral delinquency and the giddy thoughtless- 
 ness of youth. 
 
 Mrs. Walbridge was a direct contrast to her husband ; 
 easy and self-indulgent, she weathered the storms of life
 
 THE REPROBATE SON. 55 
 
 on her oars. Her husband's severity she balanced by 
 over-indulgence. They had been blessed with several 
 children ; but the greater blessing had been vouchsafed 
 the little ones, and they had been taken one by one, 
 till only the eldest and youngest remained. Anne was 
 a quiet little girl of a dozen ,years, possessing her moth- 
 er's good-natured, easy temperament, united to her fa- 
 ther's conscientiousness #nd sincerity. She was the sole 
 pet of her father, and when they were alone he would 
 unbend from his tall stiffness, and stoop to caress his 
 "little Nannie." It is doubtful if he had bestowed an 
 act of endearment upon Richard since his infancy. He 
 fancied it would make his eldest boy unmanly. The 
 mother, on the contrary, lavished all the fondness of 
 which she was capable on the son, overlooking all his 
 delinquencies, and even at times encouraging him in 
 wrong-doing, by acts of deception, which she answered 
 to her conscience by the plea, "that young men must 
 have some amusement, and Dr. Walbridge was so strict." 
 
 Such were the parents, and such was the son. 
 
 Honora Clarendon, with her quiet trust in God, could 
 do wonders ; and in less than a week she had procured 
 sufficient funds to carry Richard Walbridge to Califor-
 
 56 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 nia, where he expressed a wish to try his fortune, and 
 procured, what she found far more difficult to obtain, 
 his father's consent to his departure. Dr. "Walbridge 
 was blessed with any amount of persistency, and he 
 had resolved Richard should study. How Honora, with 
 her gentleness, brought him to give up this favorite 
 project, remains a secret; but we may guess that the 
 knowledge she imparted (through her father), when all 
 other arguments failed, of the trystings of Richard and 
 Papsy, had something to do with the change.
 
 THE GOVERNESS. 57 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE GOVERNESS. 
 
 " Labor is rest,^ from the sorrows that greet us, 
 Rest from all petty vexations that meet us, 
 Rest from sin-promptings that lure us to ill. 
 Work, and pure slumber shall wait on thy pillow; 
 TFwA-, thou shalt ride over care's coming billow. 
 Lie not down wearied 'neath woe's weeping willow, 
 Work with a stout heart and resolute will." 
 
 MRS. OSGOOD. 
 
 HONORA WAITED patiently the reply to her 
 letter to Charlotte Morgan. She knew her friend 
 was slow in making up her mind on important sub- 
 jects. Therefore, when two weeks passed, and Colonel 
 Clarendon thought it " very strange," and Mr. Doug- 
 lass begun to be a little sharp about the matter, Honora 
 quietly " kept hoping on." At length, the letter, with 
 the post-stamp of Philadelphia, was put into her hand. 
 It was both satisfactory and characteristic, and we tran- 
 scribe it.
 
 58 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 "PHILADELPHIA, May, 18 . 
 
 " Your letter, my dear Honora, required so much 
 consideration, that I have deferred the reply till I 
 could give you a decided one. My home here is un- 
 comfortable, my position annoying. Your society, and 
 that of your honored parent, my father's friend, would 
 be delightful; and then to live in Rockridge, whose 
 wild and beautiful scenery I have longed to look upon, 
 this too would be only happiness. But all these in- 
 ducements did not make it seem right for me to leave 
 here. I wished to feel, that to go to the situation pro- 
 posed was to go to 'that state of life unto which it 
 had pleased God to call me.' The matter was decided 
 yesterday, by circumstances that break up my home 
 here. Now I am ready to go to Maple Cliff, at such 
 time as shall suit Mr. Douglass. 
 
 "You kindly urge my visiting you, a few weeks be- 
 fore entering on my new charge. After due consider- 
 ation of all that you tell me of the young person to 
 be committed to my care, the length of time she has 
 been out of school, &c., I feel it my duty to forego the 
 pleasure of a visit at Woodland Bluff, and enter at 
 once upon my charge at Maple Cliff.
 
 THE GOVERNESS. 59 
 
 " With kind regards to your honored father, and love 
 to Aunt Martha, 
 
 "I am truly yours, 
 
 " CHARLOTTE MORGAN." 
 
 " How like Charlotte ! " exclaimed Colonel Clarendon, 
 as he folded the letter. " So exact to duty, even at 
 the risk of appearing ungrateful ! Somewhat formal, 
 Honora ? " 
 
 His daughter blushed, for she remembered to have 
 had the same thought, after the first reading; but a 
 second perusal, and the memory of the past, crushed 
 the feeling, and she replied : " But, father, there is 
 not a warmer or truer heart beats than Charlotte's." 
 
 "And yet, daughter," he said, with a look of pater- 
 nal pride mingled with affection, " she does not make 
 friends like my Honora." 
 
 "Her temperament is different from mine, father." 
 
 " No, Nora, it is not that ; she is as enthusiastic on 
 many subjects as you are ; but there is a withdrawing 
 of herself from the common sympathies of her race, 
 that reminds me strongly of my aristocratic friend 
 Morgan."
 
 60 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 The day was fixed for the arrival of the governess 
 at Maple Cliff. Pat had been despatched, with horses 
 and carriage, to meet Miss Morgan at the curs. In the 
 mean time Mr. Douglass had walked the room, scolding 
 till he had worked his wife into a paroxysm of fear, by 
 stopping in his long strides just before her, and saying, 
 in a withering tone, "Madam, you may thank yourself 
 for this encumbrance, yes, yourself. Had you been 
 what Rodney Douglass's wife should have been, our 
 family affairs had not been submitted to the gaze of 
 strangers ! " 
 
 She endeavored to reply, but he stopped her short 
 in a peremptory tone : " No apologies, Madam, you 
 need make no apologies ! The work is yours, and you 
 must take the consequences, if all the world come to 
 know that Rodney Douglass's wife is " 
 
 He did not finish the sentence, but, turning on his 
 heel, stalked into the hall in a towering rage. The 
 door opened, and Miss Morgan was announced. It 
 must be owned, he was somewhat abashed, and de- 
 scended not very gracefully from his high flight, and gave 
 the lady a cool reception. His remarkable penetration 
 into character told him at once, that he had no weak
 
 THE GOVERNESS. 61 
 
 vacillating woman to deal with. He knew she would 
 not be agreeable to him as Honora, but he could re- 
 spect her. 
 
 Charlotte Morgan had been an orphan about four 
 years. Brought up in comfortable circumstances, with 
 a prospect of affluence by the death of her father, at 
 the age of twenty she was left penniless and depen- 
 dent. Descended in a direct line from one of the brav- 
 est of our Revolutionary heroes, poverty was an evil to 
 be met and conquered, and dependence was a slavery 
 to which she would not submit. Her education had 
 been of" a superior order, and with that she entered as 
 governess in the family of one of her father's " friends in 
 prosperity." Her position had been exceedingly uncom- 
 fortable, but she had borne it for years, confiding her 
 sorrows to no one, except very sparingly in her letters 
 to Honora. The sudden failure of her employers had 
 opened the way for her to seek a living elsewhere. 
 
 Honora, in her account of the situation, had mingled 
 enough of her probable trials with her inducements, to 
 convince her somewhat austere friend that her life at 
 Maple Cliff would not be pleasure-seeking. 
 
 The task of bringing Agatha Douglass into habits of
 
 62 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 regularity and discipline was not as difficult as might 
 be supposed. Although the last six months had been 
 days of unrestrained liberty, saving where her will 
 clashed with that of Mr. Douglass, her early life had 
 been spent with brothers and sisters, and there is noth- 
 ing like a large family to bring one to an understand- 
 ing of the rights of others. 
 
 Her reh'gious training Miss Morgan found most de- 
 ficient, particularly her entire want of a sense of re- 
 sponsibility. 
 
 As a work of supererogation (Mr. Douglass said), 
 Charlotte had undertaken to civilize Papsy ; But she 
 found the untamed Indian nature remaining, and fully 
 developed by the h'fe she had led at Maple Cliff. No 
 one had ever attempted to govern her before, save her 
 master; and Charlotte soon found that control in any 
 degree was out of the question. Therefore she was 
 obliged to content herself by endeavoring to keep Aga- 
 tha from Papsy's society. In this she was continually 
 thwarted by Mr. Douglass, who, hi spite of hints from 
 Miss Morgan, and now and then a timid word from his 
 wife, persisted in allowing Agatha to spend her hours 
 of recreation in long walks with her colored friend.
 
 THE GOVERNESS. 63 
 
 Anne "Walbridge became a constant attendant on 
 Miss Charlotte's instructions ; and she, gentle, yielding, 
 and easily governed, with early religious training, soon 
 became (unacknowledged by herself) Miss Morgan's 
 favorite.
 
 64 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 CHAPTER IX.' 
 
 THE RID G WAYS. 
 
 " The world has grown so bad, 
 That wrens may prey where eagles dare not perch. 
 Since every Jack became a gentleman, 
 There 's many a gentle person made a Jack." 
 
 SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 "V TOW, GALS," said Mrs. Ridgway (whom we 
 _L 1 would introduce to our readers), as she bus- 
 tled about the room after dinner, "here you've been 
 tryin' this ever so long to get in with the Doug- 
 lass -family. Here 's a right nice chance ! Just go 
 call on that young woman I heard you say was 
 in the pew yesterday. They say she 's hired to 
 teach that niece of theirn. A mighty, wild piece she 
 is, trailing down to the Gorge with Papsy, and I s'pose 
 they'd think her pizen'd to send her down here to 
 school." 
 
 " A new way of getting into good society, ma, calling
 
 THE KIDGWAYS. 65 
 
 on the governess of the family ! " said Miss Julia Ridg- 
 way, with a toss of her head, and a curl of her very 
 short upper lip. 
 
 "Well, sister," said Eliza, the younger Miss Ridg- 
 way, with a sanctimonious drawing down of the eye- 
 lids, "I think I shall call. I thought of it Sunday in 
 church, she is so pious and devout, and has such a dis- 
 tingue air." 
 
 "How did she know she was 'so devout"?" whis- 
 pered Tom in the ear of his sister Julia. " Eliza," he 
 said in his usual voice, " maybe she is Romish ! " 
 
 u O, don't suggest such an idea ! " she replied, hold- 
 ing up her hands with holy horror. " When I hear girls 
 like Honora Clarendon defending the Catholics, as she 
 did to you the other day, it is time to fear for the 
 truth." 
 
 " Defend the Catholics ! She did no such thing ! " 
 replied Tom. " She merely remarked to one who said 
 Romanists were worse than infidels, that she thought 
 we might take pattern from them in zeal and earnest- 
 ness." 
 
 " She would attack you, Eliza, as she did me, on 
 your use of the word Catholic," said Julia sneeringly.
 
 66 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 "I am not to be taught by Honora Clarendon," re- 
 torted Eliza, a flush of anger passing over her little, 
 pale face. " Any one who carries herself so much above 
 all the rest of the world as she does " 
 
 " False ! false ! " said Tom energetically. 
 
 "Well, don't quarrel about her, children," said Mrs. 
 Ridgway persuasively ; " only try and get into her good 
 graces, for she belongs to a very genteel family. I 
 can remember the Clarendons as long as I can remem- 
 ber anything, and they was always one of the first fam- 
 ilies. Colonel Clarendon married a Wilbur, Judge 
 Wilbur's daughter." 
 
 " Good blood, good blood," grunted the father of 
 this interesting family, from his lolling chair in the 
 corner, where he had been dozing for the last hour. 
 
 " There ! I declare ! Who 's near when you 're talk- 
 ing about him ? " exclaimed Mrs. Ridgway, as she lifted 
 the corner of the curtain, and looked into the street. 
 " There goes Miss Clarendon in her everlastin' black, 
 and that governess woman with her ! Where can they 
 be going?" 
 
 "On some errand of mercy, ma," said Tom. "Sis- 
 ter of Charity, you know the Elder says."
 
 THE RIDGWAYS. 67 
 
 " I wonder if she never means to take off her black ? " 
 continued Mrs. Ridgway. " Pa," she said, addressing 
 her dozing husband, " how long ago is it since young 
 Wood was killed? Six year, ain't it?" 
 
 " More 'n that ! " drawled her better half. 
 
 " See what a proud, haughty gait Honora Claren- 
 don has ! " said Eliza. " Any one could read her char- 
 acter in her step. That Miss Morgan stoops a h'ttle, 
 don't she?" 
 
 "I don't believe Miss Clarendon will ever marry," 
 said Tom, looking over his sisters' shoulders, as they 
 peeped through the Winds, after Honora and Charlotte. 
 
 "Tom," said Julia, "when does Gregory Clarendon 
 finish his studies?" 
 
 " He is in his last year at Yale ; and then his pro- 
 fession. They say he is to be a clergyman." 
 
 " Yes," said little Miss Eliza, musingly, " what a 
 beautiful young man he is! So earnest! so pious! 
 How delightful it is to see a young man giving his 
 best days to the service of religion ! What a fine reader 
 he is, too ! The modulation of his voice is perfect ! 
 And what a lovely hand he has!" 
 
 Ahem ! " said Tom, with a knowing look at Julia.
 
 68 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 "But here comes Deacon Dobbin and his wife, girls; 
 you better scud." 
 
 " O dear, yes ! " they exclaimed in a breath, as they 
 rushed up stairs. "Not at home," they added to the 
 green Irish girl who tended the door. 
 
 The Dobbins were despatched without admittance, 
 much to the disappointment of Mrs. Ridgway, who 
 longed for the nice dish of discourse Mrs. Dobbin was 
 sure to introduce. 
 
 "Tom," she said mournfully, "the gals are crazy to 
 get Nora Clarendon here, and they can't contrive any 
 way but to have the sewing society. Your father 
 would n't like it, I guess. We don't belong to Dr. 
 Walbridge's meetin', and I'm afraid Elder Sparks 
 would blaze about it. I'd just as lief they'd have 
 it. It 's nat'ral they should want to get into the 
 best society, and why should n't they ? Your father is 
 worth more than all the Clarendons and Douglasses 
 together." 
 
 "I wouldn't mind what Elder Sparks says about it, 
 ma," said the young man. " Father won't object. Have 
 the society if the girls want it, now Dick "Walbridge is 
 gone."
 
 THE RIDGWAYS. 69 
 
 " Does anybody know whether he really has gone," 
 said his mother, " and whereabouts ? " 
 
 " Nobody unless it is Julia," he replied. - " Dick is 
 good company, but I don't want him for a brother, at 
 least while he leads the life of a loafer," he said, turning 
 on his heel and leaving the room.
 
 70 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE TWO FRIENDS. 
 
 " She never found fault with you; never implied 
 Your wrong by her right; and yet men at her side 
 Grew nobler, girls purer, as through the whole town 
 The children were gladder that plucked at her gown." 
 
 BKOWNIHG. 
 
 IT WAS a beautiful afternoon in June. Dr. Wai- 
 bridge had sent to Miss Clarendon a note, asking 
 her to go to the Gorge to visit a poor woman, a com- 
 inunicant of the church, who had been taken suddenly 
 ill. Honora requested Charlotte to accompany her, and, 
 as j\lr, Douglass had given Agatha permission to go out 
 with Papsy for strawberries, Charlotte felt at liberty to 
 accept the invitation of her friend. It was a distance 
 of more than two miles, a walk Honora often took, in 
 looking after her Sunday-scholars, and in other acts of 
 charity. There was a way of reaching this wild place 
 by water, that was less than half that distance ; but this
 
 THE TWO FRIENDS. 71 
 
 was seldom practicable for Honora, unless her brother 
 was with her to row the boat. 
 
 As has been said, Mr. Douglass's and Colonel Claren- 
 don's estates lay above the village, overlooking it ; the 
 Gorge was below the village, a narrow valley, between 
 two mountainous bluffs, through which the waters of the 
 river rushed with increased rapidity, from the narrow- 
 ness of their bed. 
 
 It seemed separated from the rest of the world. The 
 huts and hovels of the inhabitants were planted without 
 order among the rugged crags and dense thickets on 
 either side. It was a wild place, and many of its in- 
 habitants partook of its character. It opened to the 
 north and south ; the sun therefore did not penetrate 
 its fastnesses till the world of Rockridge was far in 
 the day, and night came down apace upon the valley. 
 
 Honora and Charlotte interchanged that flow of 
 thought and feeling that characterizes true friendship 
 as they walked. Charlotte, uncommunicative to the 
 world at large, had few reserves with Honora ; Hono- 
 ra, warm-hearted and affectionate to all, reserved her 
 confidences for the ear of Charlotte. 
 
 "Nora," said Miss Morgan, as she pulled to pieces a
 
 72 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 sprig of St. John's-wort she had plucked by the way- 
 side, "do you think I can ever gain an influence with 
 Agatha, a controlling influence ? " 
 
 Honora looked into the thoughtful face of her friend 
 with a sweet look of sympathizing love, and replied, 
 "Yes, Charlotte, influence her to almost any extent, if 
 you can make her love you." 
 
 " Ah ! Honora, but how am I to bring that about ? " 
 
 " ' Love goes towards love,' was one of our copies at 
 school, and it is none the less true now than in the 
 time of Shakespeare," replied Honora. 
 
 " Oh ! " said Charlotte with a sigh, " how I wish I had 
 your faculty of making everybody love me! Agatha 
 is an uncommon child ; her intellectual developments 
 are remarkable, though her ways are childish; but her 
 religious training has been little better than that of a 
 heathen. If she had been baptized, I should have more 
 hope of a good result from my efforts, for the covenant 
 promises are so encouraging, and you can sometimes 
 convince a baptized child that there is something they 
 can do, with the help of God, to assist your efforts. 
 Agatha has scarce a thought of her responsibility to a 
 higher power, and she questions and reasons in matters 
 of faith and duty like a lawyer."
 
 THE TWO FRIENDS. 73 
 
 " I have noticed this disposition in her," replied 
 Honora, " and I am convinced she will never see the 
 truth till her affections are enlisted ; and these can only 
 be acted upon by patient, enduring love and sympathy. 
 It will be a very weary work sometimes, dear Char- 
 lotte ; but then the end! The precious privilege 
 
 'to work for Him 
 Who works for all.' " 
 
 There was a pause for a few moments, and then Miss 
 Clarendon said, very gently, as if half afraid of wound- 
 ing her friend's feelings, "Would you like me to tell 
 you, Charlotte, just what I fear?" 
 
 " Honora," replied Miss Morgan, " why do you ask 
 me? You have always been my truest friend, and I 
 was never more at a loss for the best way than I am 
 now. What is it you fear particularly?" 
 
 "I am afraid, dear Charlotte, that you will make a 
 distinction between Anne Walbridge and Agatha that 
 will hinder your influence with the latter." 
 
 "Looking upon one as a Christian, and the other as 
 a heathen, you mean," said Charlotte ; " I OAvn to hav- 
 ing had the feeling." 
 
 " Anne is a quiet, good child," replied Honora, " but 
 4
 
 74 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MAKY. 
 
 she will never exert half the power, for either good or 
 evil, that Agatha will. Surely it is not this child's fault, 
 st> much as it is her misfortune, that she is no more 
 religiously inclined. We must take the circumstances 
 of life into account in forming our judgment of charac- 
 ter. Imagine Agatha from her infancy under judicious 
 religious teaching, the teaching of the Church ; that 
 unsubdued wilfulness changed into a determination to 
 do right ; that earnest love of the beautiful, and affec- 
 tionate impulsiveness, guided always by the truth ; that 
 proud heart yielding to acknowledged authority, the 
 authority of Christ and his Church ; and what a lovely 
 working character we should have; just such a charac- 
 ter as I am hoping some day to see in Agatha. It is 
 an advantage that she has been kept a child, instead of 
 being made into a little woman." 
 
 The young ladies had now reached the village, and 
 were passing through the main street, and the conver- 
 sation changed. Honora pointed out the residences as 
 they went by, and gave her companion a brief account 
 of the inhabitants. 
 
 "Here lives Mr. Ridgway," she said, as they came 
 opposite the pretentious brick house that loomed above
 
 THE TWO FRIENDS. 75 
 
 the cottages and simple country dwellings around. 
 " He is the owner of a factory village, seven miles be- 
 low, called Ridgeville. He has two daughters, and a 
 son who is destined for the bar. The young ladies 
 have lately come into our parish ; the parents attend 
 Elder Sparks's ministrations. The girls are somewhat 
 peculiar in their ways, and annoy Gregory very much 
 by their display." 
 
 " They must be the same I heard Papsy and Agatha 
 talking about," said Miss Morgan. " Agatha asked Pap- 
 sy who that was at church 'that looked like a full- 
 blown peony, with a sister who drew down her face and 
 looked out of the corners of her eyes to see if any- 
 body was looking at her.' I could not suppress a smile, 
 although I was shocked at Papsy's characteristic reply, 
 ' Scribes, Pharisees, hypocrites, Ridgways.' " 
 
 " Yes," replied Honora, " the poor girl bears a little 
 grudge toward the elder sister. I told you about young 
 Walbridge. He has paid Miss Julia some marked at- 
 tentions the past winter: whether they amounted to 
 anything serious I don't know, but they were enough 
 to excite Papsy's suspicions. Poor girl ! " she added, 
 "when I see how lifeless and indifferent she is since
 
 76 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 Richard went away, I fear she cared more for him 
 than will be for her peace of mind." 
 
 " She is a strange being ! " said Charlotte. " I won- 
 der afc Mr. Douglass allowing such freedom and famil- 
 iarity of intercourse between this girl and Agatha. 
 Don't you think the intimacy will be injurious to the 
 child?" 
 
 "I am afraid she may gain a knowledge of things 
 she ought not to know," replied Honora. 
 
 " I have attempted," said Charlotte, " to speak to Mr. 
 Douglass about this, but there is a certain familiarity 
 between himself and Papsy that I cannot understand. 
 He treats her like a favorite house-dog. She is the 
 only person with whom I ever heard him joke. I can- 
 not reconcile this with his extreme haughtiness and 
 pride. Only last week, he made her stand in a ta- 
 bleau with Agatha. It was really a brilliant thing, and 
 Papsy, with her scarlet robes and glittering jewels, 
 looked like an Indian princess. All went pleasantly, 
 till Mr. Douglass pronounced the name of the picture, 
 ' The pure and mixed races.' Papsy turned deadly pale, 
 clenched her hands, and bit her lips, till the blood burst 
 from them. Mr. Douglass put her out of the room
 
 THE TWO FRIENDS. 77 
 
 forcibly, before she could finish the very impudent speech 
 she had commenced, forbidding Agatha (who of course 
 took her part) to follow. We did not see Papsy for 
 the remainder of the week, and Mr. Douglass was ab- 
 sent-minded and anxious. I asked Agatha if she knew 
 where Papsy was, and she said, ' With her brother Chet 
 in the Gorge.' "
 
 78 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE GORGE. 
 
 " He prayeth well who loveth well 
 Both man and bird and beast; 
 He prayeth best who loveth best 
 All things both groat and small; 
 For the dear God who loveth us, 
 He made and loveth all." 
 
 COLKEIDGE. 
 
 THE YOUNG ladies had reached the entrance of 
 the Gorge, while Miss Morgan was giving the 
 account of the tableau. Charlotte, who had never been 
 in this strange place, was startled by the wildness of 
 the scenery. The houses looked like eagles' nests 
 among the rocks. There was a stone hut, covered 
 with a luxuriant grape-vine, near the very top of the 
 eastern bluff. "That is Chet's castle," said Honora, 
 pointing it out to her friend, " Papsy's retreat in times 
 of trouble. Chetwood married a white girl, two or 
 three years since, and there they live apparently very
 
 THE GORGE. 79 
 
 harmoniously. Chet is the ruling power in this region, 
 almost a lord." 
 
 " What a frightfully beautiful place ! " said Charlotte, 
 as she looked up the precipitous sides of the bluffs. 
 " How do they contrive to get up there ? " 
 
 " There is a winding path, not very difficult of as- 
 cent," replied Honora. " The house to which we are 
 bound is that hut just below Chet's, on that open level 
 spot." 
 
 They came into the winding path, that led now through 
 dense woods, and then across broad open patches, that 
 afforded extensive views of the valley. As they ad- 
 vanced to the second opening^ the figure of a man 
 was seen coming down from Chet's aerie. With agile 
 step he sprung from rock to rock, never in the path, 
 but always on the ledges that lay outside towards the 
 river. One who had seen Chet could never forget 
 him. His powerful frame, broad chest, large head, 
 erect form, dark piercing eyes, and thin lips, marked 
 him as a man of power ; but his cheek was tinged like 
 the faded oak-leaf, and the curse of Indian blood rested 
 upon him. Had he been taught to act, he might have 
 as an Italian or a Spaniard. That the curse of
 
 80 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 his mixed blood cut like a sharp iron into his very 
 heart, might be read in the expression of scorn that 
 curled his lip and deepened the lustre of his eye. He 
 paused for a moment in his descent, on the pinnacle 
 of a very high crag, and, shading his eyes with his 
 hand, gazed eagerly down the river. 
 
 As he turned his head, and saw the young ladies, 
 he stepped for the first time into the path. Charlotte 
 was somewhat timid about going on, but Honora as- 
 sured her Chet was perfectly friendly. As he stood 
 one side to allow them to pass, Honora said, kindly, 
 " Good evening, Mr. Chetwood. How is Rosa ? " 
 
 " Rosa is better ; thanks to Miss Nora's kindness," 
 he replied, bowing. 
 
 "How is Aunt Polly this afternoon?" inquired Ho- 
 nora ; " we came down to see her." 
 
 " Failing fast," he said, sadly ; " she is in another 
 fit just now. I came out to look for the Doctor; he 
 has not seen her since two days. White folks must 
 be attended first," he added, bitterly, suddenly turning 
 ^way, and springing from rock to rock till he was out 
 of sight. 
 
 There could be no mistake in Aunt Polly's descent
 
 THE GORGE. 81 
 
 in a direct line from Ham. For more than forty years, 
 she had been known in and about Rockridge by the 
 appellation of "Aunt Polly;" having served in many 
 families, but always keeping her tumble-down hut at 
 the Gorge as a home. Observation and experience 
 will show that the instinctive love for the little spot 
 called " home " is perhaps deeper in the heart of the 
 negro than in that of his more fortunate white brother. 
 It is rare to meet a free colored person, even in ex- 
 treme poverty, who would exchange his wretched hut 
 to live permanently in any family. 
 
 The motley group that filled "Aunt Polly's" hovel 
 were dispersed by the entrance of the young ladies. 
 There was every shade of color, and almost every age, 
 assembled in the room : shouting, crying, praying, were 
 all carried on in a breath. The sick woman lay in a 
 stupor, and they, supposing her dying, had assembled 
 to speed the parting spirit Orbie, Aunt Polly's only 
 child, was left highly indignant by the loss of so much 
 good company; and when Miss Morgan told her per- 
 haps her mother's life depended on her being kept 
 quiet, she replied testily, " It 's hard keepin' neigh- 
 bors out, when folks is sick." To Honora, it seemed 
 4* r
 
 82 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 all-important that Dr. Woodbury should see his pa- 
 tient at once, and she looked about outside the hut 
 for some one to send for him ; but the group of 
 attentive neighbors had entirely disappeared. Almost 
 perpendicularly above her was the stone hut of Chet, 
 and he standing in the doorway. She beckoned to him, 
 and he was before her almost immediately. " Chet," 
 she said in a tremulous voice, frightened by the rapidity 
 with which he had descended the rocks, " will you go 
 to Dr. Woodbury, and say to him Miss Clarendon 
 urgently begs that he will come now, with you, and 
 see Aunt Polly; and Chet," she added, lowering her 
 voice, "can't you prevent all this noise and confusion 
 in the sick-room." 
 
 " The dirty black crew ! " he said contemptuously. 
 "No wonder white folks treat them like dogs! And 
 yet," he added, fiercely, "who made them what they 
 are ? Who degraded them ? " He did not wait for a 
 reply, but, running down the rocks to the river, seized 
 his oars, jumped into the boat, and was out of sight 
 before Honora went into the hut. 
 
 It was but a short time ere Chet returned, accom- 
 panied by Dr. Woodbury, a spruce, precise little man,
 
 THE GORGE. 83 
 
 full of apologies to Miss Clarendon because he had not 
 seen his patient that day, and disagreeable compliments 
 to herself and Miss Morgan for their unheard-of kind- 
 ness, in walking so far to see "this sort of people." 
 As Honora met him often in her visits to the sick, and 
 it was his invariable custom to talk in this way, his 
 conversation made no impression upon her, but Char- 
 lotte's good sense was so disgusted, that she could hardly 
 reply civilly. Chet stood in the doorway, his whole face 
 and attitude expressive of utter contempt for the little 
 Doctor and his compliments. Active measures soon re- 
 stored Aunt Polly to consciousness, and the gracious 
 disciple of Galen departed, after Honora had requested 
 him to come daily to the hut, and referred him to her 
 father for his fee. 
 
 Miss Morgan bathed the forehead and hands of the 
 sick woman, and Honora arranged her bed and dress 
 with tenderness and care. 
 
 " Lord bless you, ladies," said Aunt Polly, when she 
 found her voice, "I thought my speerit was gone, but 
 He knows best! The Lord be praised for all His 
 marcies ! It is kind on you to come and see us poor 
 folks, but you'll get your reward. 'In'smuch as ye
 
 84 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 done it to the least on um,'- don't it say so?" she 
 said, putting her hand on a greasy Testament that lay 
 by the bedside. 
 
 " Shall I read to you, Aunt Polly ? " said Honora, 
 taking the book. In a low voice she read the thir- 
 teenth chapter of St. John's Gospel. This account of 
 the most touching service of Christ to his disciples 
 seemed almost new to Charlotte. So deep was the im- 
 pression, that she said to herself, " Why is it that I am 
 not what Honora Clarendon is ? " An earnest desire 
 to embrace everybody with her affections sprung up in 
 her soul. Honora read prayers from the Office for the 
 Visitation of the Sick. When they rose from their 
 knees, Chet was in a retired corner of the room, his 
 head bowed on his hands, where he remained unmoved 
 till the ladies left the hut. He followed them, however, 
 before they had gone far, offering to row them home 
 by the short cut, round the bluff; but they declined, 
 as they were to carry their report to Dr. Walbridge 
 from Aunt Polly, on their way through the village. 
 
 " What a singular being ! " said Miss Morgan, turn- 
 ing about to look at Chet, as he leaped from crag to 
 crag. " Honora, is he really Paps/s brother ? "
 
 THE GORGE. 85 
 
 "Yes," replied Honora, with some hesitancy, "per- 
 haps only half-brother. They had the same mother." 
 
 " Pap>y is the darker of the two," replied Charlotte. 
 
 " Her skin is darker, but her hair and eyes are 
 lighter," replied Honora. "If Chet had been relig- 
 iously educated, he might do incalculable good in this 
 neighborhood. They all look up to him, and he guides 
 them like a leader." 
 
 " Is he a bad man ? " inquired Charlotte, turning 
 round again to look after him. 
 
 " He is honest and truthful as the best," replied her 
 companion. " I would trust him anywhere ; but he 
 has the Indian revenge, and it would not be wise to 
 make him an enemy. He is firm and unfaltering as a 
 friend. He would brave any danger to serve my father 
 or Gregory, because they took his part in some town 
 quarrel about the school, in which the Anglo-Saxon 
 blood sought to crush Chet He has never forgotten 
 it, and any favor he can do us as a family is done with 
 zeal. Gregory and he are fast friends.
 
 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 AN UNWELCOME ENCOUNTER. 
 
 " There is some soul of goodness in things evil, 
 Would men observingly distil it out." 
 
 SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 " Other men's sins we ever bear in mind, 
 None sees the fardel of his faults behind." 
 
 HERRICK. 
 
 THE SUN had disappeared behind the western 
 bluff, and the Gorge grew dark, before the ladies 
 came out into the village. There the sky was bright 
 with many-colored clouds. The call upon Dr. Wai- 
 bridge was short, and they had closed the Rectory gate 
 and turned homewards, when three persons approached 
 them as if by accident. They proved to be Tom 
 Ridgway and his sisters, who had planned the meeting 
 when they saw Miss Clarendon enter the Rectoiy gate. 
 Much to the annoyance of Honora, and the vexation 
 of Charlotte, they insisted upon seeing the ladies home.
 
 AN UNWELCOME ENCOUNTER. 87 
 
 In vain Ilonora and Charlotte assured them they 
 were not at all afraid. They declared they would 
 either leave Tom to attend them, or they would all 
 go ; of course the latter proposition was the more ac- 
 ceptable. 
 
 " You have been to the Gorge ? " said the elder Miss 
 Ridgway, taking Honora's arm. " What a horrid place 
 it is ! I should think you 'd be afraid to be thei*e so 
 late as this." 
 
 " We have been to see Aunt Polly," replied Miss 
 Clarendon; "she is very ill." 
 
 " Is it possible ! " exclaimed Eliza, " I am surprised 
 that I had not heard of it ; I really must go down 
 to-morrow. If I had known you were going, I would 
 gladly have made one of the company. It is a de- 
 lightful duty in which you have been engaged," she 
 said, taking Miss Morgan's arm, "visiting the sick and 
 destitute. One really feels as if one was doing some- 
 thing." 
 
 No one replied to this sage remark, and she pro- 
 ceeded. "It is one of my pleasantest duties, I may 
 say, only," she added in an undertone, as if address- 
 ing Charlotte, " there are so many persons I meet in
 
 88 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 my visits with whom I am diffident about speaking on 
 the subject that interests us most." 
 
 " Is it possible ? " replied Charlotte, with a slight 
 shade of irony in her tone. 
 
 '.'Yes, Miss Morgan," she said, in a more confiden- 
 tial manner, " I often find it so. Persons of my sen- 
 sitive nature and conscientious temperament have many 
 struggles in their efforts to do good. I have often 
 wished we had a clergyman who would enter more 
 into the feelings of his people, and would go with me 
 sometimes in my walks of benevolence. A clergyman's 
 wife, too, might do so much in this way ! but poor Mrs. 
 Walbridge is so deficient in this respect." 
 
 " Perhaps," suggested Charlotte, " she finds many 
 young ladies in the parish who can perform the duties 
 much better than herself, and she refrains on that ac- 
 count." 
 
 "Perhaps so," replied Eliza, doubtfully; "but I do 
 think a clergyman's wife should visit the poor." 
 
 " Most country minister's wives," said Tom, in a sar- 
 castic tone, " could not perform that duty better than 
 by staying at home. They rarely find many in their 
 parishes that suffer more from stinted means than their 
 own families."
 
 AN UNWELCOME ENCOUNTER. 89 
 
 " But don't you think, Miss Clarendon," said Eliza, 
 finding Charlotte did not reply, " that we need a more 
 active clergyman than Dr. Walbridge. Look at the 
 Gorge, see its spiritual destitution ! It really makes 
 my heart ache when 1 go down there, and find so. 
 many who spiritually do not know their right hand from 
 their left." 
 
 " More might he effected there," said Honora quietly, 
 " hy a missionary, perhaps, than by a settled clergyman, 
 with so large a parish as Dr. Walbridge, and so many 
 calls upon his time." 
 
 " Elder Sparks visits there a great deal," suggested 
 Eliza, "and he says the field is ripe for the harvest. 
 It seems a pity that our Church should not have her 
 share of the reaping." 
 
 " She surely will, Miss Kidgway," said Charlotte, in 
 a very decided tone, " if her children are faithful to her 
 teachings, and 'do their duty in that state of life into 
 which it hath pleased God to call them.' " 
 
 "Do you know the young clergyman at Ridgeville?" 
 said Eliza, addressing Honora, after a short pause. 
 " Pupa says he never saw so busy a man. He is in 
 the factories talking with the operatives, urging the
 
 90 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 people to church, visiting everybody, and making him- 
 self one with his flock." 
 
 " My brother is somewhat acquainted with the Rev. 
 Mr. Clement," replied Honora, " and was delighted with 
 the systematic operations in his parish." 
 
 " O yes ! " said Eliza, with animation, " Mr. Claren- 
 don, with his zeal and earnestness, would not fail to 
 appreciate these sterling qualities in another." 
 
 The company had arrived at Woodland Bluff, and 
 Charlotte, wearied with the conversation -more than the 
 walk, determined to remain there for a while. Honora 
 invited them to walk in, but an opportune thunder- 
 cloud, which Miss Morgan carefully pointed out, pre- 
 vented, and they turned homewards. 
 
 " How can you bear this so stoically ? " said Char- 
 lotte, taking a seat near a window and fanning herself 
 violently. " I am irritated and chafed by that girl's 
 insufferable self-conceit and self-righteousness to such a 
 degree that I am unfit society for any one just now. 
 How can you bear it, Honora?" 
 
 " How can I help it, Charlotte ? I really pity her." 
 
 " Pity her ! Don't say that. It makes me more in- 
 dignant than ever. Pity her! Pity poor Dr. Wai- 
 bridge, who has such a lynx-eyed inspector ! "
 
 AN UNWELCOME ENCOUNTER. 91 
 
 "Now, really, Charlotte, you are too severe. This 
 girl means well." 
 
 " She means well to herself, no doubt," replied Char- 
 lotte ; " I have no pity for failings like hers." 
 
 "And yet," said Honora, gravely, "in the sight of 
 Heaven ours may be the greater faults." 
 
 " I sit reproved, Honora. I know I am impatient 
 with the faults of others." 
 
 " Particularly when they offend your taste," said 
 Honora, as if finishing the sentence for her friend. 
 
 " Perhaps so," replied Charlotte, " but tell me, was 
 your calmness real, or were there workings of in- 
 dignation underneath during the harangue upon Miss 
 Ridgway's goodness and Dr. Walbridge's deficiencies?" 
 
 " Probably I should have been more moved than 
 yourself if this had been the first time ; but I have 
 sought out palliating circumstances so often, to help 
 Gregory to calmness when he gets outrageous on the 
 subject, that " 
 
 " Then Gregory does get angry about it ? " said Char- 
 lotte. " I am glad I shall have him to sympathize with 
 me. Excuse me for interrupting, but it is pleasant to 
 know that one upright as Gregory has the same temp-
 
 92 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 tations with one's self. But, seriously, Honora, you must 
 tell me the ' palliating circumstances,' that I may not 
 give this lady a, piece of my mind, should I be sub- 
 jected to the same trial again." 
 
 "In the first place, then," replied Honora, "she has 
 received no religious training. Her parents belong no- 
 where religiously, though they attend Elder Sparks's 
 ministrations. The girls came into our parish, I do 
 not know why ; but since they came, Elder Sparks has 
 not ceased to flatter Eliza upon her superior sanctity, 
 till she thinks she is a model of what a religious 
 woman especially, Gregory says, a female member 
 of the ' Protestant Episcopal Church ' ought to be." 
 
 "A lump of Attic salt! ha, Honora?" said Charlotte. 
 
 " That is like Gregory," replied Miss Clarendon. 
 " I would not repeat all he has said to me, after she 
 has tormented him with her flatteries, and the times he 
 has wished her anywhere but with us. But I cannot 
 feel thus ; for though it may seem to us that we were 
 better without such spirits, it is not ours to pick and 
 choose." 
 
 "Always right, my dear Honora," said her frieud. 
 " I see it all as plainly as you do ; and yet, unlike you,
 
 AN UNWELCOME ENCOUNTER. 93 
 
 I cannot look upon Miss Eliza Ridgway with a parti- 
 cle of complacency." 
 
 The ladies were interrupted in their conversation by 
 the entrance of Colonel Clarendon, with a letter from 
 Gregory. It was hurried and brief, for he wa- pre- 
 paring for his graduation. His Roman Catholic friend, 
 Pierre M'Lellan, had been called suddenly home by 
 the death of his father, at the commencement of the 
 term, and therefore the hope that Gregory had ex- 
 pressed to Honora, that he would pass the vacation 
 with him at Woodland, could not be realized. Claren- 
 don, intent upon doing a kindness, had invited a young 
 artist, with whom he had a pleasant acquaintance of 
 some two or tliree years standing, and who appeared 
 to be without family friends to return with him. This 
 young man, Robert Walton, was somewhat out of health. 
 It had been difficult for Gregory to persuade him to 
 leave his close application to business, even for a few 
 weeks; but at length he had consented, allured by the 
 hope of rest, and the refreshment he always found in 
 the society of Clarendon. 
 
 Honora closed the letter with a sensation of relief. 
 She .had dreaded the influence of Pierre upon her
 
 94 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 brother; of Walton she knew nothing, except that 
 Gregory spoke of him as one whom he highly re- 
 spected for his firm religious principles. 
 
 Colonel Clarendon, an ardent lover of the fine arts, 
 was deh'ghted with the prospect of an artist, who would 
 be able to sketch some of the wild scenery about Ilock- 
 ridge. 
 
 Aunt Martha (the housekeeper) was disturbed by the 
 idea of receiving so unceremoniously an artist and an 
 invalid. She told several ancient tales of artists who 
 had proved villains, and invalids who had died on peo- 
 ple's hands. Honora's repeated assurances that Greg- 
 ory would not invite any one to his home without a 
 knowledge of their character failed to convince the 
 careful old lady that her fears were groundless.
 
 THE CKUSHED HEART. 95 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE CRUSHED HEART. 
 
 " Upon her face there was the tint of grief, 
 The settled sorrow of an inward strife, 
 And an unquiet drooping of the eye, 
 As if its lid were charged with unshed tears." 
 
 BYRON. 
 
 THE NEXT week, while the family at Woodland 
 were making changes in their domestic arrange- 
 ments to accommodate Clarendon and his friend, Colo- 
 nel Clarendon was interrupted in advising Honora to 
 give up the little breakfast-room as a studio pro tern 
 to the expected artist, by the sharp, spectacled eyes 
 and quaint figure of his neighbor, Mr. Douglass. His 
 countenance betokened restlessness, and the Colonel, 
 who saw at once that he desired a private interview, 
 led the way to the library. It appeared that he had 
 heard, through the last mail, that a large property in 
 Canada had, by some unforeseen event, fallen to Mrs.
 
 96 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 Douglass. To obtain a true title to the estate, his 
 presence was necessary there, probably for two months 
 or more, and there was a possibility that he might 
 have to go to Scotland before matters could be set- 
 tled satisfactorily ; and who could he leave in care 
 of his family and estate at Maple Cliff? There was 
 no head there. Mrs. Douglass was no more than a 
 child to leave in charge. 
 
 " I can't think of any one more suitable than your 
 nephew Chauncey, Agatha's eldest brother," said Colo- 
 nel Clarendon, after much talk and many plans. " He 
 loves farming and dislikes mercantile life, has no de- 
 sire to go to California with the family, and you have 
 only to offer bim sufficient inducement to secure his 
 services." 
 
 The frown grew very dark on Mr. Douglass's brow, 
 as he said, "Yes, and bring the whole troop of my 
 brother's boys and girls in his trail, to be left on my 
 hands while Sidney seeks his fortune ! " 
 
 "That does not follow," replied the Colonel. "His 
 stay need be but short, and I have an idea your 
 greatest difficulty will be in surmounting the pride that 
 would keep him away, after your gentle hints about 
 Agatha's in'.eroourse \vith her early friends."
 
 THE CRUSHED HEART. 97 
 
 The frown grew a shade less, and after a half-hour 
 the resolution was made, and Chauncey Douglass, with 
 ample offers of remuneration, (for Mr. Douglass, with 
 all liis faults, was not niggardly,) was invited to take 
 the charge of affairs at Maple Cliff, during his uncle's 
 absence. Agatha's delight to meet her brother, who 
 came on immediately, was unbounded; for though he 
 always loved to tease her at home, still he was Very 
 dear to her. She tried in vain to enlist Papsy in her 
 joyful feelings, but that poor girl was changed. She 
 had grown more taciturn, till now even Agatha could 
 only extract from her an occasional monosyllable. She 
 would sit for hours under the cliffs that overhung the 
 river, looking languidly into the water, apparently lost 
 in dreamy abstraction. She absented herself more and 
 more from the house, and altogether from the Sunday 
 school. Honora in vain endeavored to meet her. 
 
 After Mr. Douglass's departure, a cloud seemed lifted 
 from the household, the servants moved more freely, 
 and Agatha, restored to the society of one she had loved 
 from infancy, went running and singing about like a 
 brook when the icy bands of winter are removed. The 
 mi-t rc>> of the house alone remained unchanged. Her 
 5 G
 
 98 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 frightened air and timid step had become habitual to 
 her, through a life of bitter experience. Indifference 
 and hardness would have been the result of her trials 
 on one possessed of native strength and self-depend- 
 ence; the continual dropping would have changed the 
 nature to stone. But her loving, sensitive, but weak 
 spirit vibrated and trembled still, under the severe dis- 
 cipline to which she was subjected. 
 
 When Miss Morgan entered on her life at Maple 
 Cliff, she had been tempted almost to despise Mrs. 
 Douglass for her weakness ; but when she came to 
 know her, and witness her daily sufferings, all the pity 
 of her soul was drawn out to her, and she strove to 
 alleviate the sorrows of her life by delicate attentions 
 and acts of consideration. Charlotte could be sympa- 
 thetic ; her heart went out freely in sorrow for the mis- 
 eries of others ; it was a want of tenderness for follies, 
 to which she had no temptation, that gave her a cold, 
 and at times a sarcastic manner. She pitied Mrs. Doug- 
 lass, and this pity deepened, till it became one of the 
 distinct aims of her life at Maple Cliff to soothe and 
 comfort the mistress of the house. Little by little she 
 had won the confidence of the crushed heart, and learned
 
 THE CRUSHED HEART. 99 
 
 that Mrs. Douglass was not indifferent to the high hopes 
 of a future life. Charlotte's firmness and decision were 
 what she needed ; by them she was led to the contem- 
 plation of her highest duties, and to the prospect of 
 comfort in the performance of them, which would re- 
 move the bitterest sting of life. Charlotte was the 
 first and only person to whom she had confided her 
 sufferings, and the effect and fear afterwards, brought 
 on an illness that confined her to her bed several days. 
 Papsy was her only attendant, and this, with the fact 
 that there was no notice taken of her illness by any 
 of the family, surprised Miss Morgan. There was 
 something mysterious about the matter. Charlotte had 
 sought admittance to Mrs. Douglass's room, but the 
 door was always bolted. Fearing the sufferer was 
 neglected, she determined by stealth to obtain an en- 
 trance, and, following Papsy, she opened the door be- 
 fore the girl had time to turn the key. The color 
 deepened on Papsy's yellow skin, and her forefinger 
 was raised in a menacing attitude. Nothing daunted, 
 Miss Morgan approached the chair where Mrs. Doug- 
 lass sat like a statue, perfectly motionless, though her 
 eyes were opened ; but from their depths came no ray
 
 100 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 of intellect. Qiarlotte spoke, but there was no reply, 
 only a vacant stare, and the hand she raised was cold 
 and lifeless. 
 
 "What is the meaning of this, Papsy?" said Miss 
 Morgan inquiringly ; " what is the matter with Mrs. 
 Douglass ? " 
 
 The attendant made no answer, but rested her head 
 moodily against the window. 
 
 " Has she had attacks like this before ? " persevered 
 Charlotte. 
 
 Still no answer. 
 
 "You must tell me about this Papsy, or I shall 
 surely call in a physician?" 
 
 " Better not," was the response. 
 
 Miss Morgan felt that she could not leave Mrs. Doug- 
 lass thus, with such meagre attendance, and be at ease. 
 Chauncey Douglass had not left the library, and, though 
 he was almost a stranger, he was the nominal head of 
 the house, and she would consult him. She found the 
 young man smoking, with Agatha on his knee. He 
 at once removed his cigar, placed a chair, and begged 
 her to be seated. She apologized for the intrusion by 
 saying that something had come to her knowledge in 
 the family that she felt he should inquire into. Under-
 
 THE CRUSHED HEART. 101 
 
 standing her look toward Agatha, he said, "We will 
 not send Aggie away if you please. I have always 
 found her trusty." Then speaking more playfully, he 
 added, " We seem to be the rightful heads of the family 
 at present, and if you are of the same mind, we will 
 take this little girl, who has good judgment for her 
 years, into our confidence." 
 
 Miss Morgan was glad to escape a tete-a-tete confer- 
 ence with the young man, and proceeded to state the 
 case of Mrs. Douglass. 
 
 His countenance did not express the surprise she 
 expected, but a look of horror filled Agatha's large eyes. 
 
 "I am sorry," replied Chauncey to her recital, "that 
 this unfortunate trouble should have come to your 
 knowledge. My uncle confided to me the secret of 
 my poor aunt's illness, assured me that she had been 
 subject to attacks of partial insanity for years, had 
 been pronounced incurable by the best medical advice, 
 and would be cared for by Papsy, who was accustomed 
 to this duty." 
 
 Charlotte was satisfied by this information ; and de- 
 sired more than ever, when Mrs. Douglass should be 
 restored to conscious reason, to relieve a life that must 
 necessarily be a heavy burden.
 
 102 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 A VISIT TO THE GORGE. 
 
 " Fie ! fie ! unknit that threat'ning unkind brow, 
 And dart not scornful glances from those eyes; 
 It blots thy beauty, as frosts bite the meads, 
 Confounds thy fame, as whirlwinds shake fair buds, 
 And in no sense is meet or amiable." 
 
 SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 "T1TTE PROPOSE," said Gregory Clarendon to 
 f T Miss Morgan, as he rose, with his friend 
 Walton, to take leave after a morning call at Maple 
 Cliff, " to spend to-morrow in the Gorge ; will you join 
 us? Mr. Walton is to select the finest point from 
 which to sketch a view of the valley ; it will take us 
 the hest part of the day to look through the wild place, 
 and we will have a pleasant tea-drinking in some of 
 the fastnesses. What say you, Douglass ? " 
 
 Chauncey was delighted with the proposition, and 
 accepted the invitation at once. Clarendon ohserved
 
 A VISIT TO THE GORGE. 103 
 
 the doubtful expression on Miss Morgan's face, as she 
 looked toward Agatha, who was carelessly turning over 
 a portfolio of fine engravings, trying to appear unin- 
 terested in the result, but evidently impatient to be 
 one of the company for the excursion. Gregory came 
 near the child, and, stooping over her, he said, " Miss 
 Charlotte, I shall take this little one for my compan- 
 ion, so you may put no obstructions in our path." Aga- 
 tha raised her long lashes to meet his pleasant smile, 
 and they were wet with tears. The engraving she 
 held represented a child in the midst of a wild storm, 
 sheltered under the whig of an angel. 
 
 "I don't believe," she said, wiping her eyes, "that 
 I have any guardian angel. Only pleasant, agreeable, 
 gentle children have guardian angels, children that 
 always do just as they're told, and never have any 
 will of their own, like Anne Walbridge." 
 
 "What's the trouble, little one?" he said, playfully 
 stroking her bright curls. 
 
 " I want to go to the Gorge," she replied earnestly. 
 "I want to see Mr. Walton sketch; but I know I'm 
 not wanted," she said, looking after Charlotte a little 
 spitefully, as she stepped on to the balcony with the
 
 104 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 others of the company, to see the fine views about 
 the house. " Of course I shall not go ! " she added, 
 haughtily. 
 
 " Well done, my little maiden," said Clarendon. 
 " Pray how old are you ? " 
 
 " I am in my fifteenth year," she said, drawing her- 
 self up to her full height. 
 
 " You are really quite a young lady," he replied, 
 smiling at her efforts to make her very small, slender 
 figure appear large in his eyes. " But I have taken 
 you for my special charge to-morrow, as you have 
 heard, if you like to go with such an escort." 
 
 The frown passed from Agatha's face ; and in a few 
 moments she was conversing freely with her companion. 
 Among other things, they spoke of different places and 
 people at the Gorge, and the little girl displayed a 
 familiarity with that locality that surprised Clarendon. 
 
 " Do you go to the Gorge .often ? " he said gravely. 
 
 The child colored, but, reassured by his kind manner, 
 she replied, looking confidingly into his face : " Yes, I 
 go there always with Papsy, when we go to walk. Miss 
 Morgan hates Papsy, because her skin is yeilow. But 
 she can't help that, you know. Miss Morgan don't like 
 I should go with her, but I do."
 
 A VISIT TO THE GOEGE. 105 
 
 " Miss Charlotte does not hate Papsy, my child," 
 replied Gregory ; " she naturally wishes to introduce 
 you into more improving society. But is your uncle 
 willing you should go to these places, and among these 
 people ? " 
 
 " O .yes," she added eagerly ; " I heard him say there 
 was but a shade of difference between you and Chet." 
 
 Gregory colored, but laughed heartily. "I am 
 obliged to your uncle for the compliment. We are 
 both dark, Chet, however, will bear the palm for 
 beauty. But, Agatha," he said in an undertone, "do 
 you ever hear from Dick Walbridge at the Gorge ? " 
 
 " no ! " she exclaimed hastily, " that is what troubles 
 Papsy ; he promised " She checked herself, for, in 
 her admiration for Gregory, and her confidential free- 
 dom, she had said more than she intended. 
 
 " Ah ! " said Gregory, and changed the subject, with 
 an inward feeling of regret that her youthful mind 
 should be made the repository of Papsy's peculiar sor- 
 rows. 
 
 The next day was a hazy July day, not uncomfort- 
 ably warm; indeed, the wind, as they sailed round 
 the bluff, came down through the Gorge, causing Ho-
 
 106 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 nora to draw her shawl about her. Chet plied the 
 oars, while Clarendon stood at the helm. Robert "Wal- 
 ton sat near the bow of the tiny vessel, in silence, while 
 Honora, unobserved, watched the variations of his calm, 
 sorrowful face. There was a strange mingling in his 
 countenance. He seemed born with a happy, joyous 
 nature, intensely sensitive, and keenly alive to the beau- 
 tiful ; but some great sorrow had marked him, and the 
 smiles, when they came to his lips, were broken by 
 a look of sadness that went to the heart of the be- 
 holder. 
 
 There was a fascination about him to Honora; it 
 might be the sympathy of suffering. A great grief 
 had shut up her heart to the influence of any love 
 but that of a friend ; but it seemed to her, if she could 
 know his sorrow, she might soothe. He \vas older than 
 either Gregory or Chauncey, but, unlike them, his fig- 
 ure was slight, and his hands and feet delicate as a 
 girl's. It is meet to say he was beautiful, with his 
 fair, high forehead, shaded with chestnut curls, his soft, 
 deep blue eye, and every feature delicately chiselled ; 
 but it was a beauty marked out for the grave. Honora 
 observed an increase of sadness, and sometimes a look
 
 A VISIT TO THE GORGE. 107 
 
 of distress, when Agatha, full of buoyant spirits, ran 
 before him, teasing Clarendon to let her steer the boat. 
 
 " Chet, we '11 take the lower landing," said Gregory, 
 turning to Chet, whose broad chest and brawny arms 
 worked at the oars. 
 
 " Yes, sir," replied he, proudly. 
 
 " No one lives in the cottage we used to call the 
 'Bird's Nest,'" remarked Gregory. "I am of opinion 
 the finest view of the whole valley will be from there. 
 That is the spot," he added, pointing it out to Walton. 
 
 The direction which Clarendon indicated was near the 
 lower opening of the Gorge, on the west side. Here, 
 elevated from the bank of the river by the bold bluff 
 on which it stood, backed by a dense evergreen wood, 
 that crowned the bolder bluffs above, peeped out a little 
 cottage. The neglected vines that trailed about the 
 low porch, and the tangled bushes and shrubs before 
 it, told that it was unoccupied. 
 
 -What a beautiful spot," said Charlotte. "It is 
 rightly named a 'bird's nest,' so sheltered and sur- 
 rounded. But why is it unoccupied?" 
 
 " I really cannot tell," replied Honora. 
 
 "I know," said Agatha, from the other end of the 
 boat. "Papsy told me it was haunted."
 
 108 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MAKY. 
 
 Gregory observed Chet bite his lips, and ply the oars 
 more rapidly. 
 
 "Yes," continued the child, "she told me it was 
 haunted ever since her mother lived there, and " 
 
 The blood mounted into Chefs face, and there was 
 an impatient movement of his foot. Clarendon drew 
 Agatha's attention, before she could finish the sentence, 
 to a strange-looking fish, and whispered to her not 
 to tell any more of Papsy's stories before Chet. 
 
 At the lower landing, the company, with the provis- 
 ions for the day's comfort, were safely deposited on a 
 green, mossy bank, below the bluff. Chet stood with 
 arms folded in the stern of the boat, awaiting or- 
 ders. 
 
 " We wish to go over to your castle," said Claren- 
 don, " some time during the day ; will it be agreeable ? 
 and how shall we cross the river ? " 
 
 " My door is never closed to Mr. Clarendon and his 
 friends," replied Chet. " A whistle from here will bring 
 me to row you across." 
 
 " Thank you," said Clarendon, " we value your kind- 
 ness ; but as I am a poor whistler, I will raise this," 
 taking out his handkerchief for a signal.
 
 A VISIT TO THE GORGE. 109 
 
 " This is better," replied Chet, loosing a long, red 
 scarf from about his waist. 
 
 Gregory had scarcely taken it, before the man was 
 half-way across the stream. 
 
 " A strange mortal ! " said Chauncey Douglass, as 
 Le watched the powerful strokes that propelled the 
 skiff. "Do tell us his history, Clarendon. It must be 
 a romantic one. By the way, I had my hand on a 
 piece of money for him, but there was something in 
 his looks and manner that restrained me." 
 
 " Luckily for you, Douglass," reph'ed Gregory. " If 
 you had offered him money for his friendly services to- 
 day, you would have made him an enemy for life." 
 
 " Is it possible ! " exclaimed Miss Morgan and Chaun- 
 cey Douglass in a breath. " Pray how does he live ? " 
 
 "Nobody knows, and nobody better inquire," said 
 Clarendon, looking fixedly into Agatha's great eyes. 
 
 " He is very remarkable in his appearance," said 
 Mr. Walton, who 'was watching Chet as he clambered 
 the rocks, like a goat, on his way to his dwelling. 
 " Such a powerful chest and broad shoulders ! He 
 must have the strength of two common men." 
 
 " Charlotte thinks he is very handsome," said Ho- 
 nora, smiling.
 
 110 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 " Young ladies like anything foreign" replied Chaun- 
 cey, " and he might pass for a Spaniard. He is finer- 
 looking than his sister, though they do not look alike." 
 
 " They are not own brother and sister," said Agatha, 
 eagerly ; " Papsy told me " 
 
 " Here, you little witch ! " said Clarendon, putting 
 his hand over her mouth, " take this basket of cherries 
 for your part of the load, and don't let's hear any 
 more of Papsy's stories to-day." 
 
 Agatha was offended ; she drew herself up haughtily, 
 and strode on before the company, without touching 
 the basket. Clarendon called after her, teling her he 
 was alone, but she would not reply or turn her head. 
 
 " What a volume of pride walks there ! " said her 
 brother, " real Douglass pride ! " 
 
 " Somebody must help her subdue that spirit," replied 
 Gregory, gravely ; " it must be exorcised." 
 
 " It is not in the power of man," replied Chauncey ; 
 " she will pout and fling for a week* to come." 
 
 " O not so bad as that," said Clarendon. 
 
 "Well, try and see," replied her brother. "I wager 
 my watch that she does not speak decently to an indi- 
 vidual for the remainder of the day ; if, indeed, she
 
 A VISIT TO THE GORGE. Ill 
 
 allows us again to hear the sweet tones of her 
 voice." 
 
 Clarendon did not reply, but, stepping behind the com- 
 pany, walked in silence. When they reached the level 
 before the cottage, the young men with their priming- 
 knives cut away the thick bushes that intercepted the 
 path to the door, and the company were glad to rest 
 under the broad stoop.
 
 112 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 GREGORY AND AGATHA. 
 
 "And as this landscape broad, earth, sea, and sky, 
 All centres in thine eye. 
 So all God does, if rightly understood, 
 
 Shall work thv final good." 
 
 KEBLE. 
 
 "O, when she's angry she is keen and shrewd, 
 And though she be but little, she is fierce." 
 
 SHAKESPEAKE. 
 
 FTIHE SCENE from the porch of the cottage was 
 J_ peculiar. The sun had climbed so far in his daily 
 course that his beams came down into the valley light- 
 ing its dark recesses, while the fleecy clouds scattered 
 their shadows over the masses of ragged rock. Below 
 the cliff on which the cottage rested the river flowed 
 with rapid current, its deep-blue waters sparkling and 
 heaving in the sunlight. The opposite shore was in 
 full view, steep, almost precipitous, but inhabited, as 
 the smoke which curled lazily up from many a thicket
 
 GREGORY AND AGATHA. llo 
 
 betokened. Here and there a hut could be seen, but 
 generally they were hidden by massive rocks or a dense 
 growth of hemlock. On the very highest bluff stood 
 Chet's castle. At first you were in doubt whether this 
 were really a dwelling, or only a mass of the rocks 
 which were about everywhere, partially covered with a 
 luxuriant grape-vine. But the regularity of its* shape, 
 and the port-holes for windows, but, more than all, the 
 open door and the chimney with its blue wreath, marked 
 it as a human habitation. 
 
 " God has made everything very beautiful," said 
 "Walton, faintly, as he sunk back exhausted by the 
 walk. Honora poured out a glass of wine and begged 
 him to drink it. He barely touched his lips to the 
 
 " Take it Robert," said Clarendon. 
 
 The invalid shook his head and placed his hand on 
 his forehead. " It is past now," he said quickly. " I 
 have no need of it." 
 
 In a few moments he had recovered himself, and 
 was preparing his utensils for sketching. Clarendon, 
 finding Agatha was nowhere to be seen, went in pur- 
 suit of her. Behind the house there had once been
 
 114 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 an orchard, and here and there an old apple-tree still 
 spread its gnarled, mossy branches. The tenants of the 
 forest had encroached upon the orchard, and it was 
 now a thicket of half-grown pines and hemlocks among 
 the remaining fruit-trees. 
 
 Clarendon would perhaps have failed to find Agatha 
 but for her white dress. She was in the topmost crotch 
 of an old apple-tree, evidently in no conversable mood. 
 
 " Ha ! Agatha, my child ! My runaway ! " said Greg- 
 ory, at the same tune climbing the tree. "Is there 
 room for me ? " 
 
 He did not wait for a reply, but seated himself by 
 her side. 
 
 "Agatha," he said, "perhaps I spoke hastily when I 
 reproved you. I am sorry if I hurt your feelings ; it 
 was not my intention." He took her hand in his, and 
 she did not withdraw it. He continued: "The reason 
 I spoke to you so abruptly was, that your judgment is 
 not sufficiently matured to tell you how far Papsy's 
 confidences may be agreeable to the ears of ladies and 
 gentlemen. I am very much interested in you, my 
 child, and if I am abrupt in reproving you, will you 
 not put it down to my love for you, and desire for
 
 GREGORY AND AGATHA. 115 
 
 your welfare?" He looked into her eyes, and they 
 were dimmed with tears. 
 
 "I have such a dreadful temper," she said, sobbing. 
 " I get angry at the least thing, and when Miss Mor- 
 gan scolds me, and Chauncey calls me ' Firebrand,' it 
 only makes me worse. You and Miss Nora speak 
 gently to me, and it goes away, and I feel sorry ; but 
 when I get angry at home I am very saucy, and uncle 
 and Miss Morgan shut me in my room whole days ; 
 but that don't do me any good, it only makes me mad- 
 der," she added, her temper evidently rising at the re- 
 membrance. 
 
 " My dear child," said Clarendon, soothingly, " we 
 all have more or less of this wicked thing to contend 
 with. I have naturally a fearful temper: we can't rid 
 ourselves of it, Agatha, without help." 
 
 " I have n't anybody to help me," she replied. 
 " Besides, sometimes I don't wish to be rid of it." 
 
 " That thought, dear Agatha," said Clarendon, very 
 sorrowfully, "does not comport with your duty to God 
 or man, as you learn it from the Bible and in the 
 Catechism." 
 
 "I don't read the Bible nor learn the Catechism," 
 she said, abruptly.
 
 116 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 " Not read the Bible nor learn the Catechism ! " he 
 exclaimed with real surprise. 
 
 " No," she replied firmly. " Miss Morgan teases me 
 to study the Catechism ; but uncle said I might do as I 
 pleased, and as I am not baptized, it did not seem to 
 be the truth coming from my lips." 
 
 Gregory was silent a moment ; then, taking both her 
 hands in his, he said, very seriously, " Do you ever 
 think that you are quite old enough to make those bap- 
 tismal vows yourself, to confess Christ before men? 
 and are you living without learning your duty, because 
 your parents have not fulfilled their duty to you ? O 
 Agatha, you will not let it be so ! How can you ex- 
 pect Divine help in subduing and governing your tem- 
 per, if you will not submit yourself to rightful author- 
 ity. The Church requires her children to study the 
 Bible and learn the Catechism; and though you may 
 say you are not her child, you will not, you dare not 
 say, that you never wish to be one of her children, 
 that you will never come 'to wash and be clean'?" 
 
 The child did not reply to his earnest appeal, but 
 laid her head on his arm and wept. 
 
 "We will talk of this again," he said, looking at his
 
 GREGORY AND AGATHA. 117 
 
 watch, " but now we must go to the company." Step- 
 ping from his seat, he put out his hands to receive 
 Agatha, but she drew back, and shook her head. 
 
 -Why not?" said Clarendon. "Come, don't pout: 
 be a good girl and go, because I wish it." He lifted 
 her from her seat with one arm, and sprung to the 
 ground. " Come," he said, soothingly, " give up this 
 pride ; come out and make us all happy by your mer- 
 ry laugh." 
 
 " I may say something improper," she replied, purs- 
 ing up her lips and walking slowly. " If I could tell 
 you all I was going to say, then you could tell me 
 whether it was improper." 
 
 Clarendon smiled, and bade her keep close to him, 
 and he would talk more with her by and by. 
 
 No one apparently noticed the return of Agatha to 
 the company, except Chauncey, who suggested to Char- 
 lotte, that "his watch was in danger." 
 
 Walton had commenced sketching. Already the lines 
 marking the river, the horizon, and some of the bolder 
 bluffs, were apparent. Agatha came and stood near 
 him, while Honora and Charlotte disappeared, to find 
 a fitting place for their repast.
 
 118 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 "What an influence Gregory had upon Agatha," said 
 Charlotte. " Did you notice the expression of her 
 countenance, how changed, subdued ? And she had 
 been weeping." 
 
 " Gregory is like our father," replied Honora ; " they 
 both have a way of influencing children that is remark- 
 able. I have known my brother, in a most violent fit 
 of passion, when a child, controlled by a single look 
 from his father, and yet he was never severe." 
 
 "I wish I had that magnetic power," said Charlotte, 
 with a sigh. " Matters are getting somewhat desperate 
 at Maple Cliff. Miss Agatha obeys only when she 
 chooses. I am glad there is to be a controlling power 
 to fall back upon, for I do not see the end of this vio- 
 lent intimacy with Papsy. To-day's disclosures show 
 the confidential terms on which they stand." 
 
 " I see it," replied Honora ; " and brother sees it, 
 and regrets it as much as we do." 
 
 " How do you account for it in a child of so much 
 pride ? " inquired Charlotte. 
 
 "I think," replied Miss Clarendon, "she looks upon 
 herself as a sort of champion of Papsy's, which gives 
 her a bit of heroic feeling. Papsy has evidently done
 
 GREGORY AND AGATHA. 119 
 
 wrong in listening to Dick Walbridge, which must 
 make us all desire to keep Agatha as much as pos- 
 sible from her society. I am persuaded Gregory 
 knows more about it than either of us, and he will 
 seek the best way to break up this intercourse. An 
 abrupt or ill-timed measure would only raise Agatha's 
 determined self-will. Here is a nice place for our re- 
 past," added Honora, willing to change the subject, as 
 they came to a broad open space under the shadow of 
 a rock. 
 
 " This is very secluded," said Charlotte ; " and how 
 cool and refreshing!" 
 
 When the time came, a flat rock was spread with a 
 white cloth, and covered with such viands as are usual 
 at an out-of-door lunch. 
 
 " I think Aunt Martha did not mean we should re- 
 turn quite sober," said Gregory, as he drew bottle 
 after bottle from the baskets. 
 
 " She thinks nothing is too good for you, brother," 
 replied Honora. 
 
 "But she knows I seldom take wine, and you never 
 do. It must have been for you, Robert," he said, turn- 
 ing to his friend. "You are getting so much into
 
 120 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 Aunt Martha's good graces, that I begin to be jealous 
 of you. But what shall we do with the wine, Nora?" 
 
 " We can distribute the bottles among the sick peo- 
 ple here in the Gorge ; send one to Rosa, who is fee- 
 ble, one to Aunt Polly, and another to " 
 
 " The Judge," said Gregory, laughing. " I saw the 
 old man sculling up stream awhile ago. I would like 
 you should see him, Chauncey. He is an original pe- 
 culiar to our Gorge."
 
 THE JUDGE. 121 
 
 CHAPTER XYI. 
 
 THE JUDGE. 
 
 " Methinks I love all common things, 
 The common air, the common flower, 
 The dear, kind common thought that springs 
 From hearts that have no other dower, 
 No other wealth, no other power, 
 Save love." 
 
 BARRY CORNWALL. 
 
 AS THE company finished their repast, and re- 
 turned to the stoop of the cottage, the tiny skiff 
 of the Judge rounded the point, and approached the 
 lower landing. The party commenced the descent to- 
 ward the river, and were nearing the landing, when 
 the boat touched the shore. The skiff contained the 
 figure of an old man, whose white hair and beard con- 
 trasted strangely with his shining black skin. He was 
 very infirm, as the slow, wearied motion of the oar 
 indicated; 
 
 6
 
 122 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 " How are you, Judge ? " said Clarendon, stepping 
 forth from the clump of trees that concealed the com- 
 pany, and giving his strong arm to aid the feeble old 
 man in bringing himself safely to land. " How are 
 you to-day?" 
 
 " Purty cute, thank ye, Mr. Gregory, 'cept these 
 rhumatis'. I'm thankful for seeing you all" he said, 
 nodding to the company, who thought themselves hidden. 
 
 " Do you get along comfortably at home, now ? " said 
 Gregory, with real interest. 
 
 " Why, we jist stay, me and my old 'oman," re- 
 plied the Judge. " You see, I telled the Deacon if 
 he 'd let us have the old hut to die in, he 's welcome to 
 all arter." 
 
 "Is it possible," said Clarendon, indignantly, "that 
 Deacon Dobbin troubles you about that old debt yet ? " 
 
 " Well, now, Mr. Gregory," said the old man, twist- 
 ing the immense quid in his mouth, " he come about 
 every day, till I was clean tired out, and tell'd him 
 to take us down south and sell us for what he could 
 get. This made the old feller mad, and I suppose he 
 would ha' turned us out, neck and heels, straightway ; 
 but Chet come along just then, and, I tell ye! the old
 
 THE JUDGE. 123 
 
 feller looked as pale as a baby ; for Chet hauled out 
 his pistol and swore he 'd shoot him, if he ever catched 
 him there agin on that business." 
 
 " Bravo, Chet ! " said Clarendon. " I 'm glad there 'a 
 one person the old reprobate is afraid of." 
 
 The party had drawn near the old man, and were 
 listening attentively to his conversation, which he gar- 
 nished with knowing looks out of his one keen black 
 eye, and energetic gestures with his rheumatic body. 
 " Why, they tell'd me," said the Judge, winking at 
 Chauncey, " they tell'd me, Mr. Gregory, that you was 
 going to be a minister. I knowed yoi^'d too much 
 fire for that business. Elder Sparks, now, when he 
 comes into the Gorge, it 's like as if you heaped brush, 
 and sot fire to it. All the niggers and white folks, 
 and the rest on 'um, is a screamin' and shoutin', and 
 tearin' round ; and what comes on 't ? Why it jist lasts 
 while the Elder is blowing up." 
 
 " It is n't well, you think, Judge," said Chauncey, 
 who was enjoying Gregory's embarrassment, "for a 
 clergyman to have too much spirit?" 
 
 " In a way, in a way," replied the old man. " Na- 
 tur' will out in the best on us, sometimes, and there
 
 124 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 is n't a nicer man walks than Mr. Gregory," he said, 
 emphatically striking the ground with his crutch. 
 
 " Thank you, Judge," replied Clarendon, in a manly 
 tone. " I was hasty in speaking of Deacon Dobbin, 
 though I own to no very good opinion of him." 
 
 " He 's arter his sort," said the Judge ; " very pious 
 Godward, but manward rather twistical." 
 
 This remark caused a general smile, but Clarendon, 
 observing that "Walton looked at his watch, went for the 
 signal. Agatha insisted upon holding the long staff, 
 after the scarf was fastened to it It had been raised 
 hardly a moment, when diet was seen at his cottage door. 
 
 " Poor Chet ! " soliloquized the Judge, as the ladies 
 remarked on his prompt attention to the signal, "I'm 
 feared he '11 come to some end, one o' these days. He 's 
 dredful on 't now, 'cause he 's part nigger blood ; but I 
 tells him he ought to be thankful, jest to read how kind 
 Jesus talked to poor old Niggerdimus, and see that nig- 
 gers is jist as likely to get to the good place as white 
 folks ; and arter all there aint nothin' else worth nothin'." 
 
 The old man was too much occupied with his own 
 reflections to notice the smile that went round the com- 
 pany at his allusion to Nicodemus. Honora stooped
 
 THE JUDGE. 125 
 
 over the basket to hide her laughter, and Charlotte was 
 just then very busy searching for the bottle of wine 
 for the Judge. Honora gave it into his hand, telling 
 him it was for himself. 
 
 "Bless your pretty face, and may you have a hand- 
 some " 
 
 Clarendon interrupted the ill-timed blessing, by re- 
 questing the Judge to move his boat one side, to make 
 room for Chet. 
 
 Clarendon walked with Chet away from the com- 
 pany, while Chauncey and Walton arranged the ladies 
 in the boat. All the persuasions of Honora, and the 
 commands of Miss Morgan and her brother, could not 
 induce Agatha to get into the boat: she would wait 
 for Gregory. Chauncey, a little piqued by her obsti- 
 nacy, jumped to the shore, and would have carried 
 her in forcibly, but she ran off towards Clarendon, and 
 interrupted the conversation as he said, " Don't be rash, 
 Chet; matters may not be as bad as you fear. What- 
 ever comes, rely on me as a friend." Then turning to 
 Agatha, he said affectionately, " Ah, my little miss, 
 what's the trouble now?" 
 
 " Chauncey is angry with me because I would wait 
 for you," she replied, wilfully.
 
 126 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 " Thank you," he replied, taking her hand, as she 
 skipped along by his side, " I must tell your brother 
 you are under my authority for to-day." 
 
 " I wish it were for always," she said earnestly, 
 u you are so kind and gentle to me, and don't scold me." 
 
 The row across the river was a silent one. The 
 sun had passed the meridian, and the western bluff was 
 in the shade. A soft mist hung about the base, and 
 crept upward among the cliffs and forests, giving a 
 mellowness to the landscape which the morning view 
 had not. The party agreed, after resting from their 
 fatigue, by special invitation, in diet's domicile, that 
 the view already taken gave a truer picture of the 
 valley than could be obtained elsewhere. 
 
 The look of wonder on Walton's face was almost 
 ludicrous, when he beheld the very fair, flaxen-haired 
 girl Chet had taken for his wife looking happy and 
 contented, the master and mistress of the castle evi- 
 dently very proud each of the other. 
 
 The return home was unattended by any misadven- 
 ture, and the party assembled in the veranda at Wood- 
 laud Bluff, somewhat fatigued, but delighted with their 
 day's ramble.
 
 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 127 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE LADIES' SEWING SOCIETY. 
 
 " A needle which, though it be small and tender,. 
 Yet it is both a maker and a mender, 
 And for your country's quiet you would like 
 That womankind should use no other pike. 
 It will increase their peace, enlarge their store, 
 To use their tongues less and their needles more, 
 The needle's sharpness profit yields and pleasure 
 But sharpness of the tongue bites out of measure." 
 
 THE DAY was fixed for the long-talked-of meet- 
 ing of the "Ladies' Sewing Society," at Mr. 
 Ridgway's. Special invitations had been sent to each 
 member of the families at Woodland Bluff and Maple 
 Cliff, including Agatha. Charlotte, finding her presence 
 there would contribute to the comfort of Honora, who 
 was one of the directors of the society, consented to 
 go, provided they could dispose of Agatha. Much to 
 her surprise, she found the child did not wish to go, '
 
 128 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 but was looking forward to a ride with Anne Wai- 
 bridge on the hay-cart. Chauncey Douglass declined 
 the invitation on account of the busy haying season. 
 
 There was a very promiscuous assemblage at the 
 Ridgways'. There was Mrs. Dobbin and her five 
 daughters, all grown girls ; Elder Sparks, with his wife 
 and pair of twin boys, about three years of age, who 
 employed all Mrs. Sparks's leisure moments in keeping 
 their fingers, sticky with the cakes and candy they were 
 stuffing, from Miss Clarendon's dress. Charlotte un- 
 fortunately found an uneasy seat between Miss Eliza 
 Ridgway and Mrs. Dobbin. Eliza's attention was ab- 
 sorbed in watching her mother, correcting her mistakes 
 in grammar, and now and then hitting her elbow, and 
 saying, "Don't, ma!" as Mrs. Ridgway related some 
 of her daughter Eliza's pious performances. No sooner, 
 however, did Mrs. Dobbin find herself with an auditor, 
 than she broke out in a shrill voice, twisting her 
 straight little neck, and bobbing her head about toward 
 Charlotte. 
 
 " Now, Miss Morgan, I 'm one of them sort as al'ays 
 speaks my mind, and I want to know if you have any 
 idee how much that nigger of Mr. Douglas's and that
 
 THE LADIES' SEWING SOCIETY. 129 
 
 little girl you have the care of are together ? There 
 ain't a day passes but I see 'urn going round the cor- 
 ner, down to the Gorge, as lovin' as sisters. I would 
 n't let my girls run round so, I know. I'm favorable 
 to niggers, but I don't want 'um nigh me, or to make 
 company on 'um." 
 
 Charlotte paused a moment, and then replied coldly, 
 "Mr. Douglass does not object" 
 
 " Very like," replied Mrs. Dobbin, with a sneer. 
 " There was a time, when the Deacon and I both 
 thought well of Papsy; we counted on her and Dick 
 Walbridge as Elder Sparks's converts." 
 
 " Perhaps they were," said Charlotte, a little ironically. 
 
 " No," replied the sharp-voiced woman, " they never 
 came out! My Ann 'Tilda did though. There's Ann 
 'Tilda," she added, pointing to a girl of twenty, who 
 sat with her mouth and eyes wide open, staring at 
 Honora, who had entered into conversation with the 
 mother of the twins, about measles, whooping-cough, 
 fec. Charlotte noticed this interesting representative of 
 the Dobbin family, in hopes thereby to change the 
 current of the conversation ; but the indefatigable Mrs. 
 Dobbin soon returned to "speakin' her mind." 
 6* i
 
 130 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 " You know I s'pose," she said, with an attempt to 
 whisper which seemed to make the shrillness of her 
 voice more apparent, " that Mr. Douglass aint thought 
 much of about here. He treats his wife like a dog ; 
 and it is well known " 
 
 " Excuse me, Mrs. Dobbin," said Miss Morgan, ris- 
 ing with dignity, "I would rather not hear about Mr. 
 Douglass." 
 
 " "Well, I never ! " exclaimed Mrs. Dobbin to Eliza 
 Kidgway, as Charlotte walked across the room. " How 
 proud everybody is that has anything to do with them 
 Douglasses ! " 
 
 Charlotte, in the midst of self-gratulation at having 
 escaped Mrs. Dobbin, saw Elder Sparks rise and bring 
 his chair near hers. She blushed painfully, but the 
 Elder introduced himself, by saying, " I make it a 
 point to know everybody." 
 
 " How delightful is this meeting ! " he said, after 
 duly wiping his nose, and spreading his hands on his 
 knees. " Unity, unity among Christians, after all, is the 
 sine qua non. You go to Brother Walbridge's meet- 
 in' ? " he added inquiringly. 
 
 "I am a member of the Episcopal Church," replied 
 Charlotte, with freezing coldness.
 
 THE LADIES' SEWING SOCIETY. 131 
 
 " Well, I may say I 've nothing against Episcopali- 
 ans, except their want of charity for us, and to that 
 there are noble exceptions. Now, here's Miss Eliza 
 Ridgway; I may say, I love her like one of my own 
 converts. She is so humble-minded and devoted ! " 
 
 "Indeed!" said Charlotte. 
 
 " Yes," resumed the Elder, " she tells me, she believes 
 exactly as I do, and approves of all my measures." 
 
 Charlotte could not resist the desire to say, "I won- 
 der at her leaving you." 
 
 "O, you are a little more genteel" he replied, with 
 a smirk that was very disgusting to Charlotte's taste ; 
 but she forced herself to say, " That is hardly a worthy 
 motive for a Christian to act upon in so important a 
 step." 
 
 " She is young, you know, Miss Morgan," said the 
 Elder, in a confidential whisper ; " and where there is a 
 young clergyman in the question, one can hardly blame 
 her." 
 
 This speech was accompanied with another smirk, 
 and Charlotte, thoroughly disgusted, escaped as soon as 
 possible, and took a seat near Ilonora, who was hi the 
 midst of an earnest conversation with her next neigh- 
 bor about the mysteries of cooking.
 
 132 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 Towards the latter end of the afternoon, Dr. Wai- 
 bridge came in, accompanied by the young clergyman 
 from Ridgeville. The Misses Ridgway were earnest 
 to introduce the stranger to everybody, but at the first 
 pause the Rev. Mr. Clement came towards Honora, 
 and, extending his hand, said hi a kind, cordial tone, 
 "I am happy to see you, Miss Clarendon, for, though 
 we have met but once, I do not feel as a stranger, 
 having so often seen your brother." It was very pleas- 
 ant to Honora to meet one of whom she had heard so 
 much good. "I came up," he said, after greeting Miss 
 Morgan, to whom Honora introduced him, " to visit the 
 Gorge with Dr. Walbridge." 
 
 " You find much to be done there," said Honora 
 gently. 
 
 " Yes, a work that has been too long neglected. Dr. 
 "Walbridge's health is feeble, and his parish large. He 
 wishes me to undertake this part of his parochial dudes 
 for him at present, and, with the help of you ladies," 
 he added, looking at Charlotte and Honora, " I shall 
 hope something may be done for this wild place. The 
 Doctor referred me to you, Miss Clarendon, for many 
 particulars of the inhabitants, with whom he said you 
 were better acquainted than himself."
 
 THE LADIES' SEWING SOCIETY. 133 
 
 Honora blushed, and replied, modestly, " I have often 
 visited these poor people, but I think you will find 
 Chet a useful auxiliary if " she hesitated, " if you 
 take him in his way." 
 
 " Chet," replied the clergyman, musingly, "I have 
 often met him hi the lower village with game, but 
 could never prevail upon him to enter into conversa- 
 tion with me. May I inquire, Miss Clarendon, what is 
 his way ? " 
 
 "My brother can tell you better than I," said Hono- 
 ra, smilingly; "they have been firm friends from boy- 
 hood." 
 
 " If he is a friend of Mr. Clarendon's, I must find 
 the way to make him mine," replied he warmly. "Is 
 that mulatto girl that is passing," he added, looking 
 into the street, " one of the inhabitants of the Gorge ? " 
 
 Honora and Charlotte instinctively turned to the 
 window ; down the way came Papsy, accompanied by 
 Agatha. The child was dressed in a white muslin 
 robe, her gypsy hat, trimmed with fresh hop-vines, hung 
 lightly over her neck. Her face was flushed, and she 
 was in earnest conversation with her colored friend, as 
 she skipped along by her side, unable, in an ordinary 
 walk, to keep up with Paps/s long strides.
 
 134 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 " That is Chet's sister," replied Honora ; who re- 
 covered herself before Charlotte from her surprise, at 
 seeing the child, whom she had supposed making hay 
 with her brother, evidently on the way to the Gorge 
 with Papsy. Tea was announced before Miss Morgan 
 could recover from her bewilderment ; and for the re- 
 mainder of the evening, though Gregory and Mr. Wal- 
 ton came down, and music was introduced as an enter- 
 tainment, Charlotte's thoughts were elsewhere. She 
 could not rid herself of a painful sense of neglect of 
 duty, and, when Gregory rallied her on her very long 
 face, there was no answering smile or reply. 
 
 "What troubles Charlotte?" whispered Gregory to 
 his sister. 
 
 " Agatha has gone by on her way to the Gorge with 
 Papsy, and she is grieved because she was not at home 
 to prevent it," replied Honora. 
 
 Clarendon bit his lip, but said nothing. From that 
 moment he too lost his vivacity, and seemed anxious 
 to have the evening come to an end. He caught him- 
 self several times, while Miss Eliza was entertaining 
 him with an account of her " sensitive feelings " and 
 " peculiar position," thinking of something else, and
 
 THE LADIES' SEWING SOCIETY. 135 
 
 obliged to reply indefinitely, or not at all. At length 
 the meeting was closed with prayer, the Rev. Mr. 
 Clement leading the devotions of the people. His voice 
 and manner were very effective ; so much so, as to 
 cause Mrs. Dobbin to say to Mrs. Sparks, that " she 
 was glad to hear one of them Church folks that could 
 pray from the heart How different from those book- 
 prayers they generally read ! " Charlotte was amused, 
 even amid her concern for Agatha. The prayers had 
 been the form for Evening Family Devotions, with 
 which every Churchman is familiar.
 
 136 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 WORK. 
 
 " Labor is glory. The flying cloud lightens, 
 Only the passing wing changes and brightens, 
 Idle heart only the dark future frightens, 
 Play the sweet keys wouldst thou keep them in tune." 
 
 MRS. OSGOOD. 
 
 THE CLEAK, hot July days had passed into the 
 hazy, sultry hours of August. The five weeks 
 of Robert Walton's stay at Woodland Bluff were gone 
 like a dream. His health had improved, and there 
 seemed perhaps a shade less of sadness on his finely 
 chiselled face. He had won the hearts of the family 
 so completely, that they had obtained a promise for the 
 Christmas holidays, when he would see Rockridge and 
 the Gorge in their glittering winter robes. He had 
 taken sketches from many of Colonel Clarendon's favor- 
 ite points, and finished the painting of the first view 
 of the Gorge. Aunt Martha had become satisfied that
 
 WORK. 137 
 
 artists might be honest men ; and she had petted 
 Robert, to the great amusement of Gregory, with the 
 hot drinks and herb teas she had long offered in vain 
 to her nephew. She was much concerned because she 
 had not been able to discover what the young man 
 "had on his mind." Even to Gregory he had never 
 spoken of parents or home ; and there was something 
 that made the most curious diffident about questioning 
 him. The family knew nothing of his history when 
 he left Woodland Bluff, except that Aunt Martha had 
 made the discovery that he had once had a mother, 
 from an English Prayer-Book in his possession, in 
 which was written, " From my Mother." Colonel Clar- 
 endon had half resolved, in his hours of familiar inter- 
 course, to ask of his parentage ; but he was gone before 
 the Colonel, with all his bravery, could attack the cit- 
 adel of "Walton's reserve on this point. 
 
 There was an important w r ork going on at the Gorge, 
 through the influence of Mr. Clement. Gregory and 
 Walton were warmly enlisted in it. A regular Sun- 
 day service had been established there, and was 
 well attended. Mr. Clement had taken Chet in "his 
 way" and was on friendly terms with the " lord of the
 
 138 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 Gorge," and by his help obtained admittance into all 
 the huts and hovels in the region. The Sunday school 
 in the dilapidated school-house had passed into Greg- 
 ory's hands, and this, with the assistance he could 
 render Dr. Walbridge, whose health grew every day 
 more feeble, occupied most of his leisure hours. He 
 had spoken to Honora of the doubts that had haunted 
 him the previous year ; and once, in the presence of 
 Mr. Clement, he wondered where they had vanished. 
 "You have gone to work," replied the clergyman, 
 smiling. " There is nothing like work, work in the 
 Church, to settle one's mind. What you needed was 
 active employment for your religious energies. The 
 old lines are true of the mind and soul, as of the 
 
 body: 
 
 ' Satan finds some mischief still 
 For idle hands to do. ' 
 
 Young men in college are not particularly active in do- 
 ing good. Now, Clarendon, if you make up your mind 
 to enter the Seminary, WORK. There is work enough 
 everywhere. Visit the poor and sick ; have your class 
 in Sunday school ; seek out objects of benevolence. 
 Don't spend your little leisure in dogmatical discus-
 
 WORK. 139 
 
 sions, but in active service ; take hold with your ear- 
 nestness in behalf of the suffering, the ignorant, the fallen, 
 and I think I can assure you, doubts will be like ' the 
 morning cloud and early dew.' " 
 
 Gregory had made many an effort to enlist Chauncey 
 Douglass hi the good work. Since this young man had 
 come to Rockridge, he had witnessed intimately, for the 
 first time, life guided, governed, and controlled by ear- 
 nest, abiding faith in Christ, manifesting itself by works 
 of love. Religion had hitherto been something with 
 which he had nothing particular to do. Now he looked 
 on while Mr. Clement, Clarendon, and Walton, like 
 himself young men, in all their acts referred to a re- 
 sponsibility above and beyond anything earthly ; and 
 he wondered why he had never felt what was their 
 life. Several long talks with Miss Morgan ended in 
 making him very dissatisfied with his wholly worldly 
 existence, and gave him indefinite longings for something 
 better. 
 
 Charlotte continued her efforts in behalf of poor 
 Mrs. Douglass. After the severe illness we have men- 
 tioned in a previous chapter, she returned to her daily 
 round of duties, as if nothing had happened. Miss
 
 140 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 Morgan endeavored to interest her in the new efforts 
 that were making for the good of the community, but 
 the heart that might have overflowed with benevolence 
 was crushed with its own heavy sorrows. Dr. Wai- 
 bridge had welcomed the suffering soul to the Lord's 
 Table, and from that time she became a child indeed, 
 bending submissively beneath her overwhelming load 
 of grief, but looking forward with hope and trust to 
 that time, so soon to come, when all tears should be 
 wiped from her eyes. 
 
 The family had occasional intelligence from Mr. 
 Douglass ; letters to Agatha, descriptive of the gay 
 life he was leading, and minute directions to Chaun- 
 cey about farming operations ; but seldom a line to 
 denote that he remembered that there was one whom 
 he had promised " to love and cherish." He anticipated 
 a voyage to Scotland ere the estate could be fully set- 
 tled, but he should return to Maple Cliff before he 
 went abroad. Now and then he inquired for Papsy, as 
 one might ask after a pet cur, and always cautioned 
 Chauncey about interfering with her strange ways, so 
 long as she was not troublesome. She crossed the 
 path of the young man but seldom ; nevertheless, he
 
 WORK. 141 
 
 began to look upon her with suspicion, and united his 
 efforts with Miss Morgan to prevent the intimacy be- 
 tween her and his sister. 
 
 He had once or twice, by force, hindered Agatha from 
 walking out with Papsy after nightfall. These forcible 
 measures excited the indignation of the child, and often 
 led to open warfare in the family.
 
 142 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 WARNING. 
 
 '' The plain good man, whose actions teach 
 More virtue than a sect can preach, 
 Pursues his course unsagely blest, 
 His tutor whispering in his breast; 
 Nor could he act a purer part, 
 Though he had Tully all by heart. 
 And when he drops the tear on woe, 
 He little knows, or cares to know, 
 That Epictetus blamed that tear, 
 By Heaven approved, to Virtue dear." 
 
 MOORE. 
 
 ONE EXCEEDINGLY hot afternoon, toward the 
 latter end of August, Colonel Clarendon and his 
 family had assembled in the north veranda at Wood- 
 land Bluff. Gregory was amusing his father and sis- 
 ter with a graphic account of his experience as a Fresh- 
 man, when suddenly Colonel Clarendon pointed toward 
 Maple Cliff. 
 
 " Look there," he said ; " that child Agatha running
 
 WARNING. 143 
 
 in this broiling sun, and without a bonnet ! She is 
 coming here." 
 
 Gregory took up his broad Panama, and went down 
 the steps, saying, " There must be something wrong at 
 Maple Cliff; I will go and meet her." 
 
 The long avenue, shaded with lindens and horse- 
 chestnuts, that led to the residence of the Clarendons, 
 was a gradual descent, winding toward the road, and 
 Gregory was soon in its shadow. He met the child 
 near the entrance-gate, heated with running, and pant- 
 ing for breath. He gently drew her to a seat under 
 the broad shade of a clump of hemlocks. 
 
 " I got away," she exclaimed, hastily, her face flushed 
 with anger, and her whole frame quivering, " and I '11 
 not go back," she added, catching her breath. 
 
 " Don't try to talk, darling, till you get your breath," 
 said Gregory, soothingly, stroking her tangled curls, 
 " and then you shall tell me all." 
 
 She rested but a moment, then, jumping from her 
 seat by his side, her face crimson with passion, and 
 stamping with her little foot, she exclaimed, "I will 
 go ! That hateful Miss Morgan has no right to pre- 
 vent me. neither has Chauncey ! I will go to the
 
 144 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 Gorge with Papsy to-night. I promised her, and they 
 shall not keep me. If I would have told a lie, as 
 Papsy wished me, I could have gone without their 
 knowing." 
 
 Gregory took both her hot hands in his, and, looking 
 mournfully into her angry eyes, he said, " Agatha, you 
 and I have sad tempers to control. I have been as 
 violent as you are now, many times in my life, but 
 sorrow always followed, even if I obtained what I 
 wanted." 
 
 He spoke sadly, and there was such a depth of sym- 
 pathy in his voice and manner, that the child sunk sob- 
 bing into her seat. 
 
 "Agatha," he said, after she had wept some time in 
 silence, " do you think Miss Morgan or your brother 
 can have anything but your good at heart, when they 
 refuse you this walk with Papsy?" 
 
 The demon was roused instantly. "Yes," she re- 
 plied angrily ; " they do it to tease me, and Miss Mor- 
 gan likes to show her authority, but I '11 " 
 
 Gregory turned away sorrowfully, saying, " If you 
 never mean to submit to rightful authority, I can do 
 nothing for you."
 
 WARNING. 145 
 
 '* But I will submit to Cousin Nora and you," she 
 replied, weeping bitterly, " for you speak kind and 
 gentle to me." 
 
 " But my authority is only self-constituted, and you 
 are not bound to submit to it ; while Miss Morgan is 
 your teacher, placed over you in the Providence of 
 God, and it is your duty to yield to her, more es- 
 pecially in the absence of your uncle." 
 
 The child continued to sob in silence. 
 
 " Furthermore, Agatha," he continued, drawing her 
 towards him, " if you wish me to continue my charge 
 over you, my commands would agree with those of 
 Miss Morgan. I should say, by no means go to the 
 Gorge with Papsy to-night." 
 
 " Poor Papsy," said the child. " It is too true, as 
 she says, nobody cares for her but Agatha.'' 
 
 " That is not true," said Gregory, decidedly. " Think 
 how my sister has striven for her good, and You 
 don't know, Agatha, all that has been done for her, 
 nor why she is wholly an unfit companion for you. 
 She is wilful and disobedient, and I am afraid a life 
 of suffering is before her." After a moment's pause, 
 he continued. " I hear of you often at the Gorge after 
 7 j
 
 146 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 nightfall. Will you tell me where you go, and whom 
 you meet?" 
 
 The little girl turned away from his gaze. 
 
 "You are truth itself, my child," he added; "and 
 I see at once you are in no proper company." 
 
 The young man arose, and walked, back and forth, 
 the shady path where they were, leaving Agatha in 
 the garden chair. He was determined that this meet- 
 ing in the Gorge should not take place ; but decision 
 must be mingled with gentleness, if he would carry out 
 bis determination. Presently he came back to his seat, 
 and, taking the child's hand, he said affectionately, " Aga- 
 tha, you are a pet of mine ; we all love you very much 
 at Woodland; now would you rather keep Papsy and 
 her company, whoever it is, at the Gorge, or the love 
 and esteem of us at Woodland ? " 
 
 She hid her face on his shoulder. 
 
 " Now, my child, one question more. I give yon 
 my word that no one shall know of what you tell me ; 
 but look me in the face and say, does Papsy commu- 
 nicate through you with Dick Walbridge ? " 
 
 A deep blush dyed Agatha's face, neck, and arms, 
 though she did not look up.
 
 WARNING. 147 
 
 " Enough," said Clarendon ; " you have not spoken, 
 but it is quite as well. Now, I will tell you what I 
 know of Dick. He is a notoriously bad man, and 
 seeks Papsy's ruin; and I cannot I cannot have you 
 in any way associated with them." 
 
 " I do not think Papsy meant harm to me," said 
 Agatha, looking up into his face for the first time ; 
 "she was afraid to go to the Bird's Nest alone, be- 
 cause it is haunted, and besides she could not read the 
 letters herself." 
 
 " Letters ! ah ! " said Clarendon in a tone of sur- 
 prise. " Does Dick wish her to follow him ? How 
 many have there been ? " 
 
 "Three," replied the child, reluctantly, " and there 
 will be another to-night, and I promised I would go 
 with her, and read it for her." 
 
 "No, Agatha," he said determinedly, "if you value 
 my friendship, you will renounce this scheme. If you 
 knew the pleasure it will give Miss Nora and me, to 
 see you an obedient little girl, I am persuaded you 
 would give up this intimacy with Papsy." 
 
 " But I promised to go to-night," she replied timidly. 
 
 "That promise you have no right to keep. You
 
 148 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MAKY. 
 
 promised to do wrong ignorantly, and your obligations 
 to your Maker, now you know it is wrong, require you 
 to break it. Promise me," he said gently, " prom- 
 ise me that you will not go." 
 
 She promised, half reluctantly. 
 
 " You have done so much for me," he continued, 
 " that I will promise to do what I can for Papsy, and 
 will now go with you to Maple Cliff and make your 
 apologies to Miss Morgan." 
 
 j Agatha drew back a little, but his soothing manner 
 prevailed, and tli'-y went out the gate together. 
 
 " Where is Gregory, all this time ? " said the Colonel 
 to his daughter, as she arose to go into the house. 
 
 " I think he must be in the shrubbery with Agatha," 
 replied Honora. 
 
 " Yes, I '11 be bound," he said, " she is in some pet, 
 and he is endeavoring to soothe her. You see, daugh- 
 ter, it is as I said with this child and her teacher. An 
 alkali and an acid cannot mix without effervescence. 
 There they go," he added, as Gregory and Agatha ap- 
 peared ascending the road to Maple Cliff. " The little 
 minx ! how small she is ! " 
 
 " She is scarcely above Gregory's elbow," replied 
 Honora.
 
 WARNING. 149 
 
 That evening, Gregory Clarendon took his way to 
 the Gorge. His promise to Agatha to do what he 
 could for Papsy, and his own desire to do right, im- 
 pelled him on the errand he had undertaken. Had 
 Mr. Douglass senior been at home, he would have gone 
 at once to him with his suspicions, but now it would 
 be better to act alone. The thought occurred to him 
 that he was placing himself in an awkward predica- 
 ment. What a nice bit of scandal, should it come to 
 the ears of Mrs. Dobbin and Company, that the im- 
 maculate young Clarendon went down^tb the Gorge 
 to meet Papsy. But the brave heart was nerved with 
 a sense of right. As he came near the cottage, he saw 
 a dusky form skulking around the corner of the house. 
 He approached, and said in a tone of authority, " Papsy, 
 are you alone ? " 
 
 She did not reply, but stepped forth from the shadow 
 of the trees and confronted him with folded arms and 
 downcast eyes. 
 
 " I have come to you," said Clarendon earnestly, 
 " as a friend, to warn you for the last time of the wicked 
 designs of Dick Walbridge. He seeks only to make 
 you as bad as himself, to make you a companion for 
 the vicious."
 
 150 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 " Go, Mr. Gregory," she said, in a low tone, waving 
 her hand ; " useless, useless ! " 
 
 " No, Papsy," he replied ; " remember the wrongs 
 and sufferings of your mother. Let her warning voice 
 be heard. Come away from the spot. Come to Wood- 
 land, and Miss Nora and I will find you a shelter where 
 you may live and be virtuous." 
 
 " Papsy's virtue," she replied bitterly ; " who believes 
 in it ? who cares for it ? Whites tread on her ! Blacks 
 won't trust her ! Despised of all ! No, Mr. Gregory, 
 go, useless, useless ! " 
 
 " Papsy," said Clarendon, " what you have said is 
 not true. Your brother would save you from rum if 
 you would let him." 
 
 "Yes, to slave to his white chickens," she replied 
 quickly. 
 
 " Once more," said Gregory, solemnly pointing up- 
 ward ; " you are perilling your immortal soul. Re- 
 member, no unclean thing can enter there."
 
 THE PRODIGAL. 151 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE PRODIGAL. 
 
 " But when we in our viciousness grow hard, 
 (0, misery on't!) the wise gods seal our eyes; 
 In our own filth drop our clear judgments, make us 
 
 Adore our errors." 
 
 SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 "And yearns not her paternal heart 
 To hear their secret sighs, 
 Upon whose doubting way apart 
 
 Bewildering shadows rise." 
 
 KEBLE. 
 
 FEOM THE first wanderings of Richard Walbridge 
 from his father's roof, Papsy had been the medi- 
 um of communication between himself and his mother. 
 This brought them often together in intimate and fa- 
 miliar intercourse. Many a wild winter night had the 
 child Papsy led Richard to a place of shelter, when 
 but for her, intoxicated as he was, he might have 
 perished in the storm. The fall of this young man, 
 from the comparative innocence of his boyhood, to the
 
 152 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 life he was leading when first introduced to our read- 
 ers, had been very gradual. It cost him many a bitter 
 struggle, and many a secret tear, to trample under foot 
 all the teachings of his childhood. How mercifully the 
 path of the Christian child is hedged about, so that he 
 that would break down the barriers that separate him 
 from the world must crush out some of the warmest 
 instincts of his nature, defy the grace given him in 
 baptism, and quench the spirit of love, that strives ever 
 with him. 
 
 The home of Chet had been open to Richard till 
 the brother mistrusted his intercourse with his sister; 
 then the mixed blood boiled in his veins, and some- 
 thing terrible would have ensued ; but Richard, know- 
 ing he was no match for Chet in physical strength, 
 had taken himself out of the way. Chet had threat- 
 ened Papsy with his utmost vengeance, if she did not 
 at once and forever spurn "Walbridge from her sight; 
 but she, his equal in deadly passion, had taunted him 
 with his own white wife, and asked by what right he 
 interfered. 
 
 When Honora Clarendon sought out Richard, the 
 young man was glad of the means to escape the wrath
 
 THE PRODIGAL. 153 
 
 of Chet, which he knew must come upon him in the 
 end. 
 
 Papsy had often obtained money for him, in small 
 sums, to pay his gambling debts and give him means 
 of further dissipation; but she had never brought 
 enough to carry him far out of that region. With the 
 means Miss Clarendon procured, he could begone. The 
 heart of a man was in his bosom, and the wailings of 
 Papsy, when she discovered his purpose, smote him 
 with a bitter pang. The stings of conscience, that told 
 him that he had done a wrong that a lifetime of re- 
 pentance could never repair, were quieted only by the 
 intoxicating cup. 
 
 Between the Gorge and the lower village there was 
 a low tavern, the bane of all the good, a perfect nest 
 of wickedness. This had latterly been the home of 
 "Walbridge, and here he had prepared himself, soul and 
 body, for the life he afterwards led. When he parted 
 from Papsy, he had torn her clinging arms from about 
 his neck, promising to write often, and soon to send for 
 her. In these promises, the poor down-trodden girl 
 trusted. Snubb, the idiotic stable-boy at the tavern, 
 was appointed to convey Dick's letters to Papsy. Few 
 7*
 
 154 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 had they been ; but to her like the far-off sail to the 
 shipwrecked mariner. 
 
 Agatha had often wondered in her own mind, why 
 Richard Walbridge, with his education, was not able to 
 spell. Neither she nor Papsy guessed that he was de- 
 ceiving her even then. The letters were written by 
 one of his low companions, and despatched regularly to 
 the place appointed. 
 
 The temptations of New York caught the young 
 rover in their clutches, and before Walbridge had been 
 two weeks from Rockridge, every penny of the money 
 that had been procured for him with so much care 
 was squandered. The last year or two of his life had 
 fitted him for low company, and he soon found his 
 level. There was plenty of occupation in the gambling 
 saloons, and it was not long before he was initiated 
 into the mysteries of a large class of society in cities, 
 who get their living by drawing others into the same 
 net in which they have been caught. After a few 
 months, Dick found it convenient to assume a disguises, 
 he having been very nearly discovered by a merchant 
 from Rockridge. He' colored his very fair skin a deep 
 olive, and blackened his eyebrows and the light brown
 
 THE PRODIGAL. 155 
 
 waves of his hair. To this disguise of person he add- 
 ed a new name, and was known among his associates 
 as Dan Washington. Having thus fairly plunged into 
 the vortex of sin, he fast ripened into a thorough rogue. 
 
 "When souls nurtured in the bosom of the Church 
 throw off the bands of righteous restraint, and yield 
 their powers servants of sin, they plunge to greater 
 excess, and are found bolder in wickedness than those 
 who have sinned against no such grace, and broken no 
 solemn vows. Richard had talents and perseverance, 
 but they had not been put to any proper use. The 
 excitement of getting his living by his wits called them 
 forth, and his ingenious and brilliant schemes for mak- 
 ing money without labor were the admiration of his 
 companions. These schemes were continual, for an un- 
 occupied, solitary moment rung in his soul the knell of 
 departed goodness, purity, and worth. 
 
 In the mean time there were few hi Rockridge, except 
 the dark-browed girl whom he had ruined, and his 
 parents, who mourned for him, or thought of him. To 
 his little sister he had ever been like some far off ob- 
 ject, that she might look at, but could never approach.
 
 156 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 The end of Agatha's first year at Maple Cliff was 
 drawing to a close. To say she had changed in that 
 time, would be to say only what is true of every girl 
 at her age. She had gained a little in size, and her 
 manners had acquired a less childish tone. But her 
 independence and wilfulness, though not so apparent, 
 were unsubdued. She still questioned and cavilled at 
 every point of disagreeable duty, and at every doctrine 
 she could not comprehend. Often she proposed ques- 
 tions to Miss Morgan, which that lady, in her well- 
 defined, unquestioning faith, found difficult to answer. 
 Charlotte had no charity for her doubts, and would not 
 reply to her cavils. Yet they were real doubts, and 
 the child would have been strengthened hi her unbe- 
 lief, and settled in her habit of questioning, if she had 
 not been blest with the confidence of one who had 
 himself known difficulties, and felt the temptation to 
 doubt To Gregory therefore she went, straightway, 
 with all questions, whether moral or religious; and he 
 and Honora, from whom she had no reserves, often 
 wondered at the depth of her thoughts. 
 
 "It is a critical time with that child, sister," said 
 Gregory, after a return from a walk with Agatha,
 
 THE PRODIGAL. 157 
 
 where she had been questioning him on the doctrines 
 of the Catechism, which, by his request, she was dili- 
 gently studying, settling hi her own mind, as she pro- 
 ceeded, how much she should believe. " It is a critical 
 time with her, Honora. She will never give her affec- 
 tions to any faith till her intellect assents, and with her 
 pride it will be difficult to convince her of the depravity 
 of man and his utter helplessness without Divine aid, 
 and " He paused, i 
 
 Honora looked up from her work, and replied : 
 
 " ' 'T is He that works to will, 
 'T is He that works to do.' 
 
 And we must pray and work for her, dear brother, 
 trusting in that grace which is vouchsafed to those who 
 sail for it by diligent prayer." 
 
 "Yes," said Gregory, thoughtfully; "but I wish 
 Charlotte's influence was a little different She is a 
 nice girl, intellectual, lady-like, conscientious, and de- 
 vout ; but there is something wanting. Agatha respects 
 her, without caring a fig for her opinion. You must 
 have an eye to the child's reading this winter; she 
 has a perfect mania in that line, and you know the 
 library at Maple Cliff has lately had an addition of
 
 158 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 many modern infidel writers, full of subtle poison. I 
 have warned Agatha of the effect of such reading, and 
 asked her to consult you about books ; and she has 
 promised to write to me while I am away. I don't 
 know," he added, " why I feel such an interest in this 
 child, except that she is uncommonly interesting her- 
 self as a study."
 
 PAPSY AN OUTCAST. 159 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 PAPSY AN OUTCAST. 
 
 " Think gently of the erring; 
 O, do not thou forget, 
 However darkly stained by sin, 
 He is thy brother yet! 
 Heir of the self-same heritage, 
 Child of the self-same God, 
 He hath but stnmbled in the path 
 Thou hast hi weakness trod." 
 
 " If they who hate the trespass most, 
 Yet, when all other love is lost, 
 Love the poor sinner, marvel not, 
 Christ's mark outwears the rankest blot." 
 
 KEBLE. 
 
 THE YELLOW leaves of autumn had appeared, 
 and yet Gregory Clarendon still lingered at 
 Woodland Bluff. His natural diffidence to seek the 
 clerical profession had given way to the urgent wishes 
 of his father and the gentle solicitations of his sister. 
 He would have left home for the Theological Semi-
 
 160 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 nary early in the autumn, but for the dangerous illness 
 of his father. His parent had now nearly recovered 
 his usual health, and in two days Gregory was to take 
 his departure for New York. Mr. Douglass the elder 
 had been at Maple Cliff the last week, and was pre- 
 paring for his departure to Scotland. 
 
 Honora was enjoying a quiet evening with her 
 brother, after the Colonel had retired, when suddenly 
 the door of the library was opened, and Chauncey 
 Douglass entered, with Miss Morgan and Agatha. The 
 tearful eyes of the child drew the attention of Claren- 
 don as he stooped to greet her. " Eyes wet with 
 tears ! " he said ; " why is this ? " 
 
 The tone and manner overcame Agatha's forced com- 
 posure, and she sobbed violently. Clarendon looked to 
 her companions for an explanation. 
 
 " It is her sorrow for her yellow friend," said Chaun- 
 cey. " You know, I suppose, that my uncle has driven 
 
 the has turned Papsy out of doors." Seeing the 
 
 astonishment of the Clarendons at this announcement, 
 he added : " It was high time, for the credit of the fam- 
 ily, she should leave. Had my authority extended to 
 her, she would have gone long ago."
 
 PAPSY AN OUTCAST. 161 
 
 Agatha did not reply angrily to her brother's re- 
 marks, as Gregory feared she would, but whispered 
 between her. sobs, " But he has turned her into the 
 street, and Chet has forbidden her to come there, and 
 she has been out two of these cold nights, without any- 
 body to care for her." 
 
 " Is this so, Charlotte ? " said Honora, whose quick 
 ear had heard the sad tale. 
 
 "I do not know to the contrary," replied Miss Mor- 
 gan. "I know that Mr. Douglass and Chet have closed 
 their doors against her." 
 
 " Gregory," said Honora, going to the hall for her 
 overshoes, " this must not be ! A place of shelter 
 must be found for the poor girl." 
 
 "To-night, sister?" he replied, going towards her. 
 " It is late and quite dark ; you will hardly find her 
 to-night. I would not go till morning?" 
 
 " It is not like you, brother, to say that," she said, 
 putting back the black locks that shaded his brow. 
 " Could I sleep quietly, and know that a human being, 
 a woman, a child, I may say, was near me without 
 a covering for her head? No, Gregory, you may go 
 with me, but I shall go." 
 
 K
 
 162 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 "Dear, dear, gentle, good, sweet cousin Nora!" ex- 
 claimed Agatha, clasping her arms about Honora's 
 neck. "How I wish I could go with you, but uncle 
 has forbidden me ever to do anything again for poor 
 Papsy." 
 
 " Honora," said Charlotte, going towards her as she 
 prepared herself for the walk ; " do you really mean 
 to go? To-night?" 
 
 Honora looked at her friend with a slight shade of 
 displeasure, as she said, " Charlotte, are you a woman, 
 and ask me that question?" 
 
 " But do you know," replied Charlotte, in a whis- 
 per, "how she has conducted, what disgrace she has 
 brought upon the family? She really deserves to suf- 
 fer a while for her sin?" 
 
 " Deserves to suffer, Charlotte ! " said Honora, sor- 
 rowfully. " Let him that is without sin cast the first 
 stone ! " 
 
 " Dear Honora," said Charlotte, while tears stood in 
 her eyes for the uncharitable word, "I was hasty, 
 very hasty. I will not ask you to stay. Let me go 
 with you." 
 
 "No, Miss Charlotte," said Chauncey Douglass, who
 
 PAPSY AN OUTCAST. 163 
 
 overheard the last remark; "you must not go. If 
 these foolish people wish to put themselves to incon- 
 venience for this " A look from Clarendon checked 
 him ; but after an instant he added, " I know my uncle 
 so well, that I assure you disobedience to his peremp- 
 tory commands, in any member of the family, would 
 bar the doors against that person forever ; and he swore 
 by all that is sacred " 
 
 "You are right, Chauncey," said Clarendon, inter- 
 rupting the young man, who was getting somewhat 
 excited. " You and Miss Morgan and this little girl," 
 he added, patting Agatha's head, "may not go. Mr. 
 Douglass would never forgive you. Honora and I can 
 do very well ; indeed, I think I may go alone." 
 
 "No, brother," said Honora, who had busied herself 
 in putting up articles of comfort for the sufferer, "this 
 is not an errand for you to do alone." 
 
 Charlotte's uncharitable thought, and the remem- 
 brance of her unforgiving example, were causing her 
 bitter anguish, and she was forbidden to do anything 
 to relieve the poor girl. 
 
 The moon had not risen when Clarendon and his 
 sister went on their errand of mercy. Hazy clouds 
 obscured the stars, and it was beginning to rain.
 
 164 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 "Does this strike you, brother, as it does me?" said 
 Honora, as they went rapidly along. " I feel such a 
 sense of injustice for Papsy." 
 
 "Yes, I understand," said Gregory, holding tightly 
 the little arm that trembled in his. "If this were a 
 white girl, or a black girl, she would find friends 
 somewhere ; but cursed as she is with a mixed blood, 
 she is left without a shelter. Is that what you would 
 say?" 
 
 " Partly, brother," she replied hesitatingly. " Poor 
 Papsy ! so young ! She is but seventeen. It does 
 seem intensely cruel in Mr. Douglass to cast her off 
 thus, when he has left her to run wild all her life ? " 
 
 "Cruel!" replied her brother; "in this case his con- 
 duct" is fiendish ! " 
 
 "Don't you think we can persuade Chet to take her 
 in?" she asked after a long pause. 
 
 " If I can prevent his putting an end to Dick TTal- 
 bridge the first opportunity, it is all I can hope from 
 Chet. If Dick should cross his path, I would not in- 
 sure his life for a moment." 
 
 " But Dick will not come to Rockridge," said Hono- 
 ra. "Why then shouldn't Chet take in Papsy?"
 
 PAPSY AN OUTCAST. 165 
 
 " Rosa would object," replied her brother. " Per- 
 haps we may get her in with Aunt Polly, if I can 
 induce Chet to look at the matter a little calmly." 
 
 "I think we shall find her at the Bird's Nest," said 
 Honora ; " and we can go over in the Judge's skiff. It 
 is moored about here." 
 
 " Perhaps I had better run up and ask the Judge 
 for Papsy, before we cross the river," said Clarendon. 
 
 Honora waited on the brink of the stream while her 
 brother went to the hut. He found the Judge about 
 to close up his accounts for the night, in his red-flannel 
 cap. 
 
 " Do you know where Papsy is, Judge ? " said 
 Clarendon, as the occupant of the hut slowly opened 
 the rickety door. 
 
 " Lor' bless you, Mr. Gregory," he replied, " you 
 eenermost scared the life out on me. Well, now, 
 you see, Papsy came over here, to-day is two days, 
 and me and my old 'oman would ha' taken her in 
 just like that," he said, snapping his fingers, "only 
 the Deacon came down and said, if we harbored such 
 varmint, he 'd turn us out neck and heel-." 
 
 ' Can you tell me, Judge, where she is now ? My 
 si-tt-r and I have come down to find her a shelter."
 
 166 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 "Well, now," replied the Judge, "my old 'oman 
 see'd her just at daylightin' down over yonder," 
 pointing to the Bird's Nest. Gregory ran down the 
 bank, unmoored the boat, and struck out into the 
 river. The old man stood peering out into the dark- 
 ness for a moment, then, closing the door, he muttered, 
 "The good Lord does give us some kind critters." 
 
 As Clarendon and his sister came near the cottage, 
 they discerned a figure prostrate in the stoop. 
 
 " Stay here, brother ; let me go to her," said Honora, 
 gently loosing her arm from his. She came and bent 
 over the prostrate form. "Papsy," she whispered; but 
 there was no sound, and the hand she raised fell life- 
 less by her side. 
 
 Gregory raised the head till it rested in Honora's 
 lap. " Exposure to hunger and cold ! " he said, mourn- 
 fully. His sister's tears fell fast, as she strove to pour 
 wine between the closed lips of the miserable girl. 
 
 "What shall we do?" said Gregory. The tone was 
 unusually despairing for his resolute nature. 
 
 "My brother," said Honora, "go to Chet, reason 
 with him, plead with him. He must hear you. Go, 
 brother J " 
 
 " And leave you here ? " questioned Gregory.
 
 PAPSY AN OUTCAST. lt)7 
 
 "Yes," she replied, "I am not afraid. Of what 
 should I be afraid?" 
 
 He hesitated ; then, taking off his cloak, he wrapped 
 it about his sister, saying, "I can keep warm walking, 
 but you, my brave girl, may chance to take cold, sit- 
 ting in this chilly night 'air." 
 
 In a few moments the door of Chet's castle was 
 opened to Gregory by the master of the house: Claren- 
 don beckoned to him, and they walked out. 
 
 " I have come," said Gregory, pausing on the brow 
 of the cliff, " to plead for Papsy. Remember your 
 mother, Chet, and let us go together and bring this 
 poor homeless girl to a place of shelter." 
 
 " Mr. Gregory," replied Chet, " my mother suffered 
 for her sin. Papsy has chosen the same course. Let 
 her take her choice. I warned her, I threatened her, 
 but she only taunted me; and the white villain," he 
 said, laying his hand on the pistol he always carried, 
 "I swear shall know my vengeance!" 
 
 " Stay," said Gregory, putting his finger on his arm, 
 "don't make rash vows. Let us not think of the in- 
 jurer, but the injured. I ask it as a personal favor 
 to me and my sister, who is waiting in the valley be-
 
 168 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 low, watching over Papsy, who lies in an insensible 
 state ; I ask it as a proof of your friendship for us, 
 that you will come and help us find a roof to shelter 
 this friendless girl.~ She has done very wrong, I grant, 
 Chet ; but if Miss Nora forgives her, and seeks to help 
 her, should you and I be bitter against her ? " 
 
 The appeal was felt. Chet's hand dropped from 
 his pistol, as he said, " Miss Nora is an angel ! I will 
 
 g-" 
 
 " Can 't we find room for her with Aunt Polly ? " 
 said Clarendon. This suggestion was evidently a relief 
 to Chet. 
 
 Old Aunt Polly was glad to do anything to please 
 Mr. Clarendon, but the black face of Orbie gath- 
 ered a new cloud as she said, "Why don't white 
 folks take her in ? Nasty, dirty tramp ! " and then 
 followed a string of degrading epithets. 
 
 " Shut up, Orbie !" said Chet, authoritatively. "Papsy 
 has disgraced herself, but there are those older in the 
 ways of sin than she." The storm was hushed by this 
 gentle reminder, and a bed was prepared for the girl 
 whom she professed to hold in such contempt. 
 
 In the mean time, Honora watched for the first
 
 PAPSY AN OUTCAST. 169 
 
 symptoms of returning life. Once the eyes slowly 
 opened, and then closed painfully. 
 
 " Poor Papsy," whispered Honora, tenderly. 
 
 " Wicked Papsy," muttered the girl, in a husky voice. 
 
 " ' He is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, abun- 
 dant in goodness and truth,' " replied Honora, in a low 
 tone. 
 
 Miss Clarendon knew that her brother's errand must 
 necessarily consume much time, and she waited pa- 
 tiently. She was aroused from a real nod by the sound 
 of the splashing oars. Holding out her hand as Chet 
 came near, she said, "Thank you." He touched the 
 tip of those delicate fingers, and bowed low, without 
 speaking. He raised Papsy in his arms, and Claren- 
 don and his sister followed in silence. Chet never 
 wearied of his burden, or paused to rest, till he laid 
 her on the cot prepared for her. Honora, with Orbie's 
 help, removed the outer garments, which were saturated 
 with the night dew, and it was not long before increas- 
 ing warmth restored Papsy to consciousness ; and Clar- 
 endon, who had made arrangements to have her well 
 cared for, insisted that Honora should now return 
 home. 
 
 8
 
 170 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 GOSSIP. 
 
 " The circle smiled, then whispered, and then sneered, 
 The misses bridled, and the matrons frowned; 
 Some hoped things might not turn out as they feared, 
 Some would not deem such women could be found." 
 
 BYRON. 
 
 "YTOU DON'T say so ! " exclaimed Mrs. Ridgway 
 JL in a half-whisper to her friend Mrs. Dobbin, 
 as that lady mysteriously held up her finger, and sig- 
 nified that the story she had related was really true. 
 "Well, now, Mrs. Dobbin, this comes hard on them 
 old folks, Walbridge and his wife. How '11 they stand 
 it?" 
 
 " So much' for bringing up children as if they was 
 Christians," replied Mrs. Dobbin. " I tell'd the Dea- 
 con how matters would turn out long ago." 
 
 " The young feller won't dare to show himself in 
 these parts, I reckon," said Mrs. Ridgway, looking
 
 GOSSIP. 171 
 
 askance at her daughter Julia. This amiable young 
 lady was professedly practising at the piano, but really 
 listening eagerly to the gossip. 
 
 " Why not, ma ? " she said sharply, rising and coming 
 towards her mother. " Nobody will think the less of 
 Richard Walbridge for this faux pas. I know I sha'n't 
 for one," she added, tossing her head. 
 
 " To be sure," replied Mrs. Dobbin ; " Julia is right. 
 But I really don't know who 's to take care of the girl. 
 I think the town ought to oblige Mr. Douglass to do 
 that." 
 
 " Of course," said Mrs. Ridgway, " one would sup- 
 pose he 'd do that for his own credit. But Rodney 
 Douglass never did care a pin for what folks said 
 about him." 
 
 " I guess this niece he 's adopted takes after him," 
 replied Mrs. Dobbin. ",I spoke to her last summer 
 about racing the streets with this Papsy. My good- 
 ness gracious ! How mad she was ! She said she 
 believed she should n't ask the people of Rockridge 
 who she should walk with." 
 
 " She is an impertinent little huzzy," said Julia ; " and 
 so mighty fond of this Papsy ! The chambermaid at
 
 172 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MABY. 
 
 the Cliff told our cook that Miss Morgan and young 
 Douglass locked her up to prevent her going with her, 
 and she got out of the window and ran away." 
 
 " They say," interrupted Mrs. Dobhin, " that Honora 
 Clarendon, after all, is really going to marry ; and to 
 that poor painter who was there last summer. War- 
 ner's son Bill told Ann Tildy there was letters to him 
 often." 
 
 " I don't believe that ! " said Julia, positively. " He 
 is as poor as Job's turkey, and you '11 find Nora Clar- 
 endon will look out for the main chance, as well as 
 other folks." 
 
 " I always thought our Tom liked her," timidly sug- 
 gested the fond mother. 
 
 " Tom ! " replied Julia, sneeringly. " She would n't 
 wipe her old shoes on him." 
 
 " I don't see why you should say so," whined Eliza, 
 who had left her book of devotional reading, which she 
 had produced when Mrs. Dobbin entered, and joined 
 the group, who were hashing up their neighbors. 
 " I 'm sure our Tom is fine-looking, and then, you 
 know, father is worth a groat deal more -than Colonel 
 Clarendon."
 
 GOSSIP. 173 
 
 "Colonel Clarendon!" replied Mrs. Dobbin con- 
 temptuously. " Why, he has only a very small income, 
 and your father is the richest man in these parts. I 'm 
 sure Honora Clarendon may be thankful to jump into 
 such a fortune. I know my girls would be, any time. 
 But somehow, I take the most of a fancy to her 
 brother, though the Deacon will have it that he 's very 
 nigh a Papist ! " 
 
 " no," said Eliza eagerly, reddening to the very 
 temples as she spoke, "the Deacon is mistaken. Gre- 
 gory Clarendon has no Romish tendencies whatever. 
 He is a zealous, active Christian, a little too stren- 
 uous, perhaps, for church practices, but age and ex- 
 perience will soften these. Indeed, Mrs. Dobbin, he 
 is " 
 
 " A model of a man," said Tom Ridgway, who had 
 entered the room during her eulogies upon Clarendon. 
 " A model of a man, at least in your eyes." 
 
 "Now, Tom, you are too bad," replied the dam- 
 sel in a mincing voice. " I was only defending Mr. 
 Clarendon against the imputation of Romish tenden- 
 cies." 
 
 " Romish fiddlesticks ! " said the brother contemptu-
 
 174 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 ously. " But, Eliza," he added, with a look at Julia, 
 " what do you think of your model, out last night 
 till near midnight, searching for Papsy, getting her 
 in with Aunt Polly, and providing for all her present 
 wants." 
 
 " How you talk ! " exclaimed Mrs. Ridgway and Mrs. 
 Dobbin, in a breath. 
 
 " His model sister was with him in the search," added 
 Tom, observing a triumphant look on Mrs. Dobbin's 
 face, " and through her persuasions a shelter was ob- 
 tained for the poor thing." 
 
 " Well, that is queer ! " said Mrs. Dobbin, in a doubt- 
 ful tone. 
 
 " Now, girls," continued Tom, " here 's a chance to 
 show your* Christian charity you tatk so much about ; 
 this girl is wholly destitute." 
 
 " You don't propose for us to go and see her ! " said 
 Eliza, rolling up her eyes with holy horror. 
 
 " Why not, little sis ? " replied the young man. " She 
 will not harm you, any more than she did Miss Claren- 
 don." 
 
 "You speak as if you were personally interested," 
 said Julia with a sneer.
 
 GOSSIP. 175 
 
 " You are, or ought to be, personally interested," he 
 retorted. 
 
 " Does Dr. Walbridge know these reports ? " inquired 
 the mother. 
 
 " Yes," replied the young man ; " there are always 
 those who carry such news. I am told he wrings his 
 hands and weeps continually. Such an event, in a 
 town so noted for morality and uprightness, makes a 
 great stir among the dry bones." 
 
 It was true, as Tom Ridgway had said. The ex- 
 pulsion of Papsy from her home at Maple Cliff, and 
 its cause, was more than a nine days' wonder at Rock- 
 ridge Post-Office, the centre of gossip and town talk, 
 from which the streams of intelligence radiated to the 
 homes and hearths of the inhabitant?. The dignity and 
 high position of Dr. Walbridge in the community, Mr. 
 Douglass's connection with Papsy, his having turned 
 her into the street, her brother's doors barred against 
 her, and the Clarendons having come to her relief, all 
 served to season the gossip, and dish it up in a most 
 palatable., form. Before many weeks, Dr. Walbridge re- 
 signed his situation as Rector of the Church in Rockridge. 
 tie could not stay where the face of every man seemed
 
 176 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MAKY. 
 
 gazing into his heart's bitterness. Before Christmas, he 
 had journeyed no one knew whither. Mrs. "Walbridge 
 consoled herself with the thought that her dear Rich- 
 ard would return from California laden with golden 
 stores, and make amends by his wealth for all his de- 
 linquencies.
 
 WALTON AN INVALID. 177 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 WALTON AN INVALID. 
 
 "Mistake me not; nor let one shadow fall 
 Upon thy heart already worn with pain; 
 Let me but love thee, serve thee, this is all; 
 Grant me but this, and I am strong again. 
 Strong, for to love thee, though thou art not mine, 
 Is to my homeless heart an altar and a shrine." 
 
 CHRISTMAS WAS near at hand. Mr. Douglass 
 had sailed for Europe, after disgusting his nephew 
 by the directions, minute and exact almost to absurdity, 
 that he had given in writing for the management of 
 his estate. The young man would have thrown ~'9 
 the whole affair, but for an incipient feeling in his 
 heart unacknowledged even to himself. The respect 
 which from the first he had entertained for Miss Mor- 
 gan was sftwly ripening into something* Very like love. 
 Honora alone, of all the world, with her habit of watch- 
 ing the variations of countenance, had allowed the
 
 178 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 thought for a moment to cross her mind. But indis- 
 tinct as was the feeling, it had served to curb the pride 
 that would have broken away from liis uncle's restraint, 
 and kept Chauncej still master at Maple Cliff. 
 
 There had been doubt about Walton's return with 
 Gregory for the holidays, on account of feeble health ; 
 but Colonel Clarendon would not hear of a disappoint- 
 ment, and had written himself to the artist, urging rest, 
 as necessary for him ; and two days before Christmas, 
 a letter came from Gregory which settled the matter, 
 and will give an insight into young Clarendon's daily 
 doings. 
 
 NEW YORK, Dec. 23, 18. 
 Mr DEAR SISTER : 
 
 Father's letter to Robert did what I fear I could 
 never have accomplished, and he has consented to 
 return with me for the holidays. He has a trouble- 
 some cough; but I wrote him Aunt Martha would 
 delight in " nursing him up." I had a precious letter 
 from Agatha yesterday, full of that outgushing child- 
 like warmth of heart that makes her so IdVely. She 
 gives good accounts of her reading and studies, but 
 does not speak in the most loving manner of your new
 
 WALTON AN INVALID. 179 
 
 rector, my friend Mr. Clement. It seems, in reply to 
 one of her strange, mystical questions, he told her 
 "submission was more becoming in a child than ques- 
 tioning." 
 
 You speak of my walks among the poor ; I wish you 
 would join in my deep interest in a destitute English 
 family in this large city. I long to transplant them 
 to a purer atmosphere. One of the most trying fea- 
 tures of life in town is the surrounding misery that 
 one cannot relieve. The father of this family is full 
 seventy, totally blind, supported by his two daughters, 
 who get a meagre living by copying. 
 
 They have evidently been deep sufferers, and there 
 is an air of refinement and good breeding about them 
 that is very attractive. 
 
 Please say to father I met General Winchester and 
 his belle daughter, at the only party I have attended. 
 Miss Winchester is the reigning beauty in their set, 
 a splendid girl personally, but I judge an inveterate 
 flirt. She inquired lovingly for you. 
 
 The days seem long, my own sister, till I fold you 
 to my heart. 
 
 YOUR LOVING BROTHER.
 
 180 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 Christmas Eve had brought the friends to the fire- 
 side at Woodland. But alas ! for the fallacy of all hu- 
 man hopes, Walton had taken cold on the journey. 
 His cheeks were flushed, and his breathing so impeded, 
 that before the dawn of the great festival Dr. Wood- 
 bury was summoned, and pronounced his patient on 
 the verge of lung fever. 
 
 This was a grand finale to the projected walks to the 
 Gorge, and plans for a chapel there, which Mr. Cle- 
 ment proposed, and for which they, as gentlemen of taste, 
 were to select the most suitable site. To Walton came 
 the trial in its severest form, not only to lose the de- 
 light of his anticipated visit, but the putting his kind 
 friends to trouble and inconvenience distressed him. He 
 had been disciplined and nurtured in the school of trial, 
 however, and he did not murmur. The sick man's cham- 
 ber was brightened by a group of friends, each striving 
 to relieve him of physical suffering and anxious care. 
 
 Thus passed the holidays, and Clarendon began to 
 feel that he must return to his studies. Walton was 
 convalescing, and Gregory was preparing to exact a 
 promise from him, that he would not leave Woodland 
 Bluff till the physician pronounced him in a condition 
 to return to his studio.
 
 WALTON AN INVALID. 181 
 
 "I suppose I must give up this pleasant life again 
 in a few days," said Gregory to his sister, as he showed 
 her the last plan for the chapel, which, with the feeble 
 help of Robert, he had been sketching ; " it is high time 
 I was back to my work." 
 
 At the mention of his return, the sick man started, 
 turned pale, and covered his face with his hands. The 
 movement was noticed by Honora, and with instinctive 
 delicacy she rose and left the room. As the door closed 
 after her, Clarendon stooped over his friend and said, 
 " Why this sudden grief, Robert ? Is it because I must 
 leave you ? " 
 
 " Sit here," said the invalid, pointing to a seat near 
 by. " Clarendon, I am weak, very weak ; my nerves 
 are in a wretched state. You must not leave me," 
 he added, raising his eyes, whose lashes were wet with 
 tears. u You see, I am completely unmanned. You 
 know not with what temptations I am surrounded, 
 what I have dared to do." 
 
 His friend took the thin hand in his. " Robert," he 
 said, " you speak hi mysteries. Tell me your grief more 
 plainly. Sickness makes women of us all. Be sure 
 of my sympathy."
 
 182 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 " Your sympathy, Gregory ? You know not what 
 you promise. I have dared, without thought of the 
 future, without thought of the present, I have allowed 
 my affections to wander, to fix themselves with a strength 
 that, in my condition, is irresistible, upon one on whom 
 I ought never to have looked but as an angel. This 
 was why I so strenuously refused to return here with 
 you. I knew my weakness, but allowed my better 
 judgment to be overcome, and placed myself in the 
 way of temptation. Had I been well, Gregory, you 
 would not have known my secret; but this weakness 
 here," he added, placing his hand on his head, " ex- 
 posed me. With you by me, I am safe ; but do you 
 think I could meet alone that gentle tone, that quiet, 
 heavenly smile, and not betray myself ? " 
 
 During this confession, Clarendon's lips were com- 
 pressed painfully. At length he said in a whisper, 
 " You refer to my sister ? " 
 
 The sick man replied, " Do not hate me, Clarendon ; 
 the secret shall remain with us ; only help me with 
 this struggle till 1 am strong enough to go away, 
 away forever." 
 
 " Robert," said Clarendon, gently, " why should I be
 
 WALTON AN INVALID. 183 
 
 angry with you ? I am grieving for a result I might 
 perhaps have prevented. With your sensitive nature 
 and ardent admiration for the loveliest qualities in wo- 
 man, and your entire seclusion for several years from 
 female society, by ordinary forethought I might have 
 foreseen the result. Had my sister a heart to give, 
 Robert, there is no one among my friends worthier 
 of her than yourself. But it is vain. Her heart lies 
 with the dead. I cannot give you a ray of hope." 
 " Hope ! '" replied Walton ; " I never dreamed of it 
 
 ' It were all one, 
 That I should love a bright particular star.' 
 
 No, Gregory, your sister will never learn my love from 
 me ; it shall go down to the grave with this feeble 
 body. This weakness is induced, you may be assured, 
 by physical debility, and returning health will give me 
 again the governing and controlling power ; only that 
 you must leave me " 
 
 " Say no more, Robert. I will stay with you as long 
 as you plea?e ; but I am grieved for you, and looking 
 forward to the thought that you will never feel that 
 you can come to Woodland again." 
 
 "The future is with God," reph'ed Walton.
 
 184 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 Mr. Clement came in at this moment, and with the 
 precious offices which the Church provides for the 
 sick and suffering, raised the thoughts of the invalid 
 to a brighter world, and calmed his troubled spirit. 
 Clarendon watched faithfully by his bedside, resisted 
 all calls elsewhere, and strove in every way to keep 
 Houora busied about household and parish matters.
 
 CHAUNCEY AND CHARLOTTE. 185 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 CHAUNCEY AND CHARLOTTE. 
 
 " Lowliness is the base of every virtue, 
 And he who goes the lowest builds the safest. 
 My God keeps all pity for the proud." 
 
 FESTOS. 
 
 TO THE inhabitants of Maple Cliff, during the 
 early days of January, came a change so sudden 
 and unexpected as to startle and shock the household. 
 Miss Morgan had declined a pleasant evening at Wood- 
 land Bluff with Chauncey and Agatha, and was sitting 
 with the mistress of the house, who was growing daily 
 more feeble, and had reclined for hours on the sofa 
 without apparently noticing anything. Suddenly Char- 
 lotte felt a cold hand laid on her shoulder, and a 
 breath came upon her cheek. Mrs. Douglass was stoop- 
 ing over her. " Never marry a Douglass ! " she whis- 
 pered, in a husky voice ; " I warn you by my crushed 
 heart, never link your fate with one of the family."
 
 186 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 Charlotte did not reply, though the varying color 
 that came and went, like flashes of lightning in a 
 summer sky, told that she understood. After a mo- 
 ment's hesitancy, she led the unfortunate woman to the 
 sofa and sat down by her. Mrs. Douglass smoothed 
 the hand that held hers. "You have been kind to me," 
 she said, speaking timidly, "and I want to tell you all 
 about " she started "about the past." Assured by 
 Charlotte's encouraging manner, as she said, "You may 
 safely tell me all," she proceeded : " I want to tell you 
 about my life. I was born in Scotland, and had one 
 only brother, who was driven from home by my stern 
 father." For a moment she was lost ; then, speaking 
 again, she said, "Sister Catherine brought me to Can- 
 ada, the House of the Blessed Virgin, after they died." 
 
 " After the death of your parents ? " inquired Char- 
 lotte. 
 
 "Yes," she replied; "till I saw Mr. Douglass I had 
 a pleasant home with the sisters : but I married him, 
 because I was afraid to say no." Here she again fal- 
 tered, but, summoning resolution, she proceeded : " My 
 life has been one long, long night ; day dawned when 
 you came ; I thank God for it," she said, clasping her 
 hands and raising her streaming eyes.
 
 CHAUNCEY AND CHARLOTTE. 187 
 
 Charlotte, fearful of the effects of excitement, changed 
 the subject, by asking for her brother, if she had 
 ever seen him since he left home. 
 
 " Never ! " she said, sadly. " He was a proud boy, 
 and made his own way in the world. He married in 
 England, and never knew for there was no one to 
 search for him that my father did not disinherit him. 
 Often, often, have I urged Mr. Douglass to seek him, 
 begged him to make an effort to restore my brother 
 his own; but in vain. He may be now living a beg- 
 gar, and I defrauding him." 
 
 The deep feelings now broke forth uncontrollably; 
 her eyes grew wild and fixed; she sunk back upon the 
 couch, moaning in a low, melancholy tone, which gradu- 
 ally grew fainter. To Miss Morgan there seemed some- 
 thing deathlike in the utter exhaustion that followed the 
 meanings. She apprised Chauncey of Mrs. Douglass's 
 condition when he came in; he rallied her on her pale 
 face, and assured her his aunt would be well in the 
 morning ; but, in spite of his entreaties to the contrary, 
 she kept vigil herself. The cold hours of the night 
 crept along drearily. The caution of Mrs. Douglass 
 was ringing hi Charlotte's ears. Can there be need of
 
 188 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 this warning?" she said again and again to herself. 
 " Have I conducted in a way to give encouragement 
 to the thought?" 
 
 From her girlhood, Miss Morgan's mind had been 
 filled with present duties. She had never given the 
 reins to her imagination, as young ladies of more lei- 
 sure and less self-control might have done, and matri- 
 mony had scarce entered into her visions of the future. 
 Her highest ambition, in the days when the most com- 
 monplace dream, was to exert a wide-spread religious 
 influence. In the Romish Church, she would probably 
 have sought a convent, where she might have become 
 Lady Superior. 
 
 The labors of Mrs. Fry and Miss Dix excited her 
 warmest admiration ; but to her no such path opened, 
 for she had a wise dread of going out of the place in 
 which God had placed her. Through the hours of 
 that lonely night, life's realities and life's purpose 
 came pressing upon her. As the first ray of morning 
 light dawned, she observed a marked change in the 
 countenance of Mrs. Douglass. Slowly the eyes turned 
 to her, with their customary sad look. " Rodney, I for- 
 give you all," she faintly whispered, "yes, all, even 
 that, even that."
 
 CHAUNCEY AND CHARLOTTE. 189 
 
 Charlotte read the severe struggle that followed, and 
 despatched a servant to Mr. Douglass's room ; but be- 
 fore he arrived, the freed spirit was rejoicing in her 
 freedom. The funeral rites were over at Maple Cliff, 
 and the departed was scarce missed, except by Char- 
 lotte, who began to realize the peculiarity of her posi- 
 tion in the household. With this realization came a 
 change in her manners toward Chauncey, so marked 
 as to be felt. It would have been better could she 
 have continued her former kind ways to Mr. Douglass ; 
 but this with her was an impossibility. The cares of 
 the household, which she conscientiously undertook, cur- 
 tailed her walks with Honora, and brought her more 
 intimately in contact with Chauncey, but she avoided 
 unnecessary conversation with him, and answered him 
 in monosyllables. 
 
 It happened one afternoon, in the latter part of Jan- 
 uary, that Gregory Clarendon and his sister drove up 
 the avenue at Maple Cliff. The tempting bed of snow 
 had brought Agatha and her brother to the lawn, 
 where they were busily engaged building a snow fort. 
 The child sprung forward to meet the sleigh. 
 
 "We are come," said Clarendon, returning her warm
 
 190 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 greeting, "to persuade Miss Charlotte to ride. She 
 confines herself to the house too much. I expect to 
 leave town next week, if Robert continues to gain, and 
 this may be my last chance." 
 
 "If you can persuade her to go," said Chauncey, a 
 little piqued, " it will be more than I have been able 
 to do for the last fortnight. All my lessons on air and 
 exercise are thrown away on Miss Morgan." 
 
 " Agatha profits by them," replied Clarendon, looking 
 with admiration upon the brilliant glow of health in 
 the little one's cheeks. 
 
 Chauncey soon had the satisfaction (for it must be 
 owned it was a satisfaction) of seeing Gregory return 
 to the sleigh without Charlotte. " So you were unsuc- 
 cessful, like myself ? " he said, gayly. 
 
 " Yes," replied Clarendon, " but we have permission 
 to do what is the next best thing. To take away your 
 playmate." 
 
 "Oh!" cried Agatha, "I am not fit to go!" point- 
 ing to her red hood and cloak. " They will take me 
 for the ' Scarlet Lady ' ! " 
 
 Clarendon laughed heartily, assured her there was 
 no danger of such a mistake, as that lady was reprc-
 
 CHAUNCEY AND CHARLOTTE. 191 
 
 sented to be of respectable size. " Besides," he added, 
 as he lifted her into the sleigh, "you never looked 
 better in your life." 
 
 Here was a time for which Chauncey had sought : 
 a time to see Charlotte alone. He opened the library 
 door with alacrity, thinking he would sit there and col- 
 lect his thoughts before seeking Miss Morgan. With 
 delight he saw Charlotte on the topmost of the library 
 steps, looking for a missing volume. She blushed 
 deeply, but in attempting to descend hastily her dress 
 caught in the curtain-knob, and she would have been 
 precipitated to the floor, but the strong arm of Chaun- 
 cey intervened, and saved her from what might have 
 been a serious injury. She thanked him coldly, and 
 would have passed out, but he stood between her and 
 the door. 
 
 " Miss Morgan," he said, his voice slightly tremu- 
 lous with the struggle between pride and affection, 
 "we have heretofore been friends, and, as such, I 
 would ask if anything in my conduct has caused the 
 great change in your manner toward me. Instead of 
 the freedom of a friend that marked our earlier inter- 
 course, I am met with the coldness of enmity. The
 
 192 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 change is so noticeable as to excite the observation of 
 my sister." 
 
 Charlotte felt at once her mistake. Chauncey's 
 kind consideration and interest might have been the 
 result of friendship, and she saw that she had dwelt 
 morbidly on the subject, and on the warning of Mrs. 
 Douglass. It would be strictly true to say, she was 
 thoroughly ashamed of herself. For a moment she re- 
 mained silent, being too truthful to gloss over her 
 conduct ; at length she brought herself to say, " Mr. 
 Douglass, if I have done wrong, excuse me. You have 
 shown yourself friendly, and I would not be ungrate- 
 ful." 
 
 Her nerves were weakened by care, and, over- 
 come by her very efforts at composure, she sunk down 
 into the nearest seat. A show of tenderness on her 
 part was all that Chauncey needed ; and before she 
 could recover herself, he had made a manly declara- 
 tion of the love that had grown up in his heart, his 
 admiration for her virtues, and his trust and repose in 
 her strength of character. 
 
 " Mr. Douglass," she said, as soon as she could com- 
 mand herself, at the same time withdrawing coldly the
 
 CHAUNCEY AND CHARLOTTE. 193 
 
 hand he had taken, "say no more on this subject. We 
 may continue friends ; we can never be nearer." 
 
 " Do not say never" he replied, wrestling with the 
 pride that was sorely wounded by her coldness. " Give 
 me at least hope that time and a better acquaint- 
 ance " 
 
 " Mr. Douglass," she said, rising, " say no more ! 
 This declaration cannot but render my position here 
 uncomfortable." 
 
 Stung by the haughtiness of her reply, and disap- 
 pointed by her utter want of sympathy, he drew him- 
 self up haughtily as she passed, and replied, "You 
 need fear nothing, Miss Morgan ! you shall never be 
 troubled by me again." 
 
 Thus parted the two, Charlotte not quite sure 
 whether she had done right ; Douglass chafed and 
 Irritated by her want of comprehension of the depth 
 of his feelings.
 
 194 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 AGATHA'S OUTBREAK. 
 
 ' Through the night, 
 
 The hoar-frost gathered o'er each leaf and spray, 
 Weaving its filmy net-work thin and bright. 
 
 Turf and tree, 
 
 Pranked with delicate embroidery; 
 And every withered stump and mossy stone 
 With gems incrusted and with seed-pearls sown." 
 
 MRS. WHITMAN. 
 
 'T is not her talent to conceal her thought, 
 And carry smiles and sunshine in her face, 
 When discontent sits heavy at her heart." 
 
 ADDISON. 
 
 UPPOSE WE drive up to Chefs," said Greg- 
 ory, as he dashed through the village with his 
 sister and Agatha. " I hear through Mr. Clement that 
 the baby there is quite ill, and the steep, rough path 
 will take a little of the mettle out of my Bucepha- 
 lus." 
 
 The winter garments of the Gorge were white and
 
 AGATHA'S OUTBREAK. 195 
 
 glistening. Every rock was crystallized, and presented 
 in the dancing sunbeams numberless rainbows. The 
 last fall of snow had been light and fleecy, and hung 
 like a pure drapery over the broad hemlocks that 
 studded the rocks and crags. 
 
 They found Rosa in deep grief, wringing her hands 
 and weeping hopelessly. Chet walked the room with 
 the babe, soothing its moaning with a low, monotonous 
 chant. Honora took the child from its father, and the 
 mother came and knelt by her side. 
 
 " Must I lose her ? " she exclaimed, looking piteously 
 into Honora's face. " O must I lose her ? O Miss 
 Nora, if the good Lord would but spare her ! I know 
 I have loved my darling Nellie too well. O Lord ! 
 save her ; O my God ! spare her," she said, throwing 
 herself prostrate on the floor. 
 
 Chet came forward and soothed her tenderly, while 
 Clarendon offered fervent prayers for a sick child. 
 
 " I shall stay with Rosa to-night," said Honora, as 
 Gregory indicated it was time to return ; " please drive 
 down for me in the morning." 
 
 Honora had much knowledge of the ills of childhood. 
 There was seldom an infant ailing among the poor,
 
 196 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 but she was there to assist or advise. Towards morn- 
 ing, as she held the suffering child, she observed a 
 change for the better. Rosa was overwhelmed with 
 joy, and poured out her thanks to Miss Nora, min- 
 gled with self-reproaches, owning in the end, without 
 a question, that it was her influence that had prevented 
 Chet from opening his house to the sinning, suffering 
 Papsy, and adding the promise that it should be so 
 no longer. 
 
 ***** 
 
 When Gregory came for his sister in the morning, 
 she saw at once, from the face she had read so many 
 years, that he had pleasant news. 
 
 " What is it, brother ? " she said, as they drove 
 round the steep bluff that separated Chet's castle from 
 the main road. "I know you have something nice to 
 tell me." 
 
 " You are a witch or a clairvoyant, Honora, I be- 
 lieve," he replied. " I am perfectly aching to tell you 
 the news. You know how anxious I have been that 
 you should spend some time in the city, as you used 
 to do ; your nun-like life is unfitting you for the world." 
 
 " Polite to your elder sister ! " she said, playfully ; 
 " as if she was not calculated to adorn any society."
 
 AGATHA'S OUTBREAK. 197 
 
 " That you are," he replied, " and I am loath you 
 should ' waste your sweetness on the desert air.' " 
 
 "I think our friends at Woodland and Maple Cliff 
 would be much obliged by your insinuations. But, 
 seriously, brother, tell me what it is ? " 
 
 " Well, you are to go to New York in two weeks, 
 with father and me. Father had a letter last evening 
 from General Winchester, urging his attendance on a 
 festive meeting of military officers. As his early friend, 
 the General claims him for his guest, and you of course 
 are included. The remains of military spirit are really 
 roused. Father made up his mind at once to go, and 
 I know you will not be left behind." 
 
 Honora smiled at her brother's impetuosity. " You 
 will not carry me off, nolens volens" she said ; " and 
 I see cogent reasons to prevent. In the first place, 
 Mr. Walton is not in a condition to travel ; it would 
 be almost foolhardiness for him to take a journey at 
 this inclement season." 
 
 " We have settled that, Honora," replied Gregory. 
 " Aunt Martha will be in her element when she can 
 have Robert to herself, and he will serve the double 
 purpose of company and employment. You may be
 
 198 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 sure," he said more seriously, " this arrangement will 
 relieve Robert of a load that now presses upon him 
 and retards his recovery. No power would keep him 
 here if he felt he prevented the journey. Have you 
 other cogent reasons?" 
 
 " I am afraid," she said, laughing, " it is so long since 
 I have been into the beau monde, that I shall mortify 
 you by my countrified ways." 
 
 " I will not allow you, Miss Clarendon, to speak thus 
 of my sister," he replied gayly. " There as not a lady 
 in New York whose manners will bear the scrutiny 
 of the world any better than my Honora's. I only 
 wish Isabelle Winchester may take pattern." 
 
 " To tell you the truth, brother, I must say, one great 
 objection I have to this plan is the fear that Isabelle 
 and I have diverged so far since we were school-girls 
 together that there will hardly be common ground to 
 meet upon." 
 
 " Never fear, sister. I can assure you she will do 
 the conversation, and you can listen to the account of 
 the lovers slain, and look at the trophies of victories, 
 and say, 'Ah! indeed!' That will be all that will 
 be required of you. " It will at least be helping you
 
 AGATHA'S OUTBREAK. 199 
 
 practise self-denial. I only wish Agatha could be in 
 town with us ; she will explode or turn into stone, like 
 all the inhabitants of Maple Cliff. I met Chauncey 
 to-day, and he was positively as tall and cold as an 
 iceberg. They are worse than ever there, since Mrs. 
 Douglass's death." 
 
 " Yes," replied Honora, hesitatingly ; " Charlotte has 
 trouble on her mind, of which she does not like to 
 speak. Her position there is a trying one." 
 
 " How you women see ahead," replied Clarendon, 
 laughing heartily. " It is as clear as daylight ! Chaun- 
 cey Douglass has made a fool of himself, by making 
 love to Charlotte Morgan, he had the look of a re- 
 fused lover this morning, and Mademoiselle is dying 
 of dignified indignation. The worst feature of the case 
 is, that nobody can sympathize with them. It is pitia- 
 ble," he added, with another hearty laugh. 
 
 " You seem to feel deeply for them," said Honora, 
 smiling. "I hope you may profit by their example." 
 
 "Trust me for that," he replied, as he alighted at 
 the door of his home. 
 
 It was decided during the day that Honora should 
 accompany her father and brother to the city the next
 
 200 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 week, and the news was declared to Charlotte and Aga- 
 tha, who came over for the evening. Agatha heard the 
 intelligence with vexation, disappointment, and dismay. 
 To lose Gregory's society was hard, but to part with 
 Honora and Colonel Clarendon also, she could not. 
 In vain Mr. Walton promised to give her lessons in 
 painting in oils, and Aunt Martha offered to initiate 
 her into the mysteries of cake-making. The burst of 
 passionate weeping was violent, and continued so long, 
 in spite of the soothing efforts of her friends, that 
 Charlotte severely and cuttingly reproved her for her 
 want of self-control. Then followed a scene that Miss 
 Morgan might well regret to have produced. Agatha's 
 fine eyes, from whose depths in repose came the 
 reflection of a loving heart, flashed and sparkled with 
 intensity of passion. The paleness of death spread 
 over her countenance, and from her lips burst keen 
 and bitter reproaches, for want of sympathy, coldness, 
 and even unkindness. It was evidently the outgushing 
 of a stream long restrained. Her slender figure was 
 drawn up to its full height, her head thrown back, and 
 her little foot planted firmly forward. The family were 
 taken by surprise. Walton looked wonderingly at the
 
 AGATHA'S OUTBREAK. 201 
 
 cliild from out his sorrowful eyes. In the height of 
 the paroxysm, as Agatha spoke of the " intolerable 
 assumption" of her teacher, the door opened, and 
 young Clarendon appeared. He did not speak, but 
 his look caused her to pause in the midst of her de- 
 nunciations. Pride forbade her to sink into her seat 
 and hide her head, and she walked haughtily from 
 the room. 
 
 " I am disappointed, sadly disappointed," said Honora, 
 after she had gone out. 
 
 " I am not," replied Gregory ; " I have been expect- 
 ing something of this kind, but did not look for any- 
 thing quite so savage." 
 
 If I had been told of this," remarked Walton, in 
 a grieved tone, " I should have said it must be an over- 
 drawn picture." 
 
 " The bow is bent too far," said Colonel Clarendon. 
 " The child wants companionship and recreation. She 
 will grow up a warped character, proud, tempestuous." 
 
 " I think not, father," said Gregory deferentially. 
 " There is too strong an effort for the right, and too 
 many pious hearts interested, to fear an utter failure." 
 
 When Gregory appeared to attend Miss Morgan to 
 9*
 
 202 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 her home, the little girl was nowhere to be found. 
 He followed Charlotte into the drawing-room at ^la- 
 pie Cliff, meaning to speak with her plainly of some 
 defects in her management of the child. They were 
 both surprised to find Agatha curled up hi the bay 
 window, where she had evidently wept herself to 
 sleep. Her bosom, even then, heaved with an occa- 
 sional sob. It was a favorable moment for Gregory. 
 
 " Charlotte," he said, looking up into her sorrowful 
 face, "love this child. Deal gently with her, very 
 gently. You may help her to be a lovely, winning 
 character, or you may leave her a haugbty, wilful wo- 
 man. An indifferent person she can never be, and 
 with you in a great measure rests the result." 
 
 He spoke strongly, and his words had their effect. 
 Charlotte had great confidence in his judgment and good 
 sense; and when he added, "For this night's fail- 
 ings, give her unwonted tenderness and kindness," she 
 seemed to gain a glimpse of the secret of Gregory's 
 influence. 
 
 Agatha awoke from her disturbed slumber, and the 
 pressure of her hand in Gregory's caused her to start ; 
 but he said very gently, " Agatha, my child."
 
 AGATHA'S OUTBREAK. 203 
 
 She opened her eyes in astonishment, and, raising her- 
 self from her recumbent position, stood by Gregory's side 
 resting her head on his shoulder. 
 
 " Can you love me after to-night, Cousin Gregory ? " 
 she said sorrowfully. 
 
 "More than ever," he replied tenderly, "for though 
 we fall, we shall not be utterly cast away. You will 
 yet obtain that for which you are striving, self-control 
 and submission. To-night you were taken unawares, 
 suffering with the thoughts of parting from us all ; and 
 reproof at such a time came like irritation upon an 
 open wound. This palliates, though it does not excuse 
 your fault. The penitence you now feel is a promise 
 for the future." 
 
 He then spoke of that future, with its high hopes 
 and responsibilities, making even the unpleasant duty 
 of apologizing to her teacher (upon which he insisted) 
 less repulsive by his sympathy.
 
 204 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 THE ARTIST'S STORY. 
 
 " New Eves in all her daughters came, 
 As strong to charm, as weak to err, 
 As sure of man through praise and blame, 
 Whate'er they brought him, Pride or Shame, 
 Their still unwearied worshipper." 
 
 MOORE. 
 
 " It is a quiet picture of delight 
 Your humble cottage hiding from the sun, 
 In the thick woods. Crowding leaves 
 Of glistening green and clustering bright flowers 
 Of purple 
 Woo the gentle eye and delicate touch." 
 
 SIMMS. 
 
 /COLONEL CLARENDON and daughter were 
 \J hospitably entertained in the superb mansion of 
 his early friend, General Winchester. All the appoint- 
 ments of the place were on a scale of magnificence, 
 which to Honora, with her simple tastes, savored of 
 ostentation. Many of Gregory's evenings, of course,
 
 THE ABTIST'S STORY. 205 
 
 were given to the pleasure of his father's and sister's 
 society. 
 
 " What do you think of Isabelle ? " he said to Ho- 
 nora, the first opportunity. " Peerless, is n't she ? " 
 
 " She is," replied Honora, " the personification of my 
 idea of the women in the Arabian Nights." 
 
 " Oriental" said Gregory. " That expresses it ex- 
 actly." 
 
 " But she is fascinating and bewitching," said Ho- 
 nora, " as well as beautiful. My sober senses are 
 sometimes bewildered, and even father is among her 
 worshippers." 
 
 " I can't understand it," replied Gregory. " To me 
 she appears an arrant coquette, than which there is no 
 more despicable character among women." 
 
 " You are so warm in the matter," said Honora, 
 laughing, " that I shall look to see you among her 
 train of followers before spring." 
 
 " And hung up like the rest of them," replied Greg- 
 ory, "as little Bo-Peep hung up the remains of her 
 lost sheep." 
 
 Honora thought her brother severe in his judgment 
 of Isabelle Winchester. She knew there must be mo-
 
 206 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 ments when the fashionable lady tired of all this adu- 
 lation; moments in which her better nature craved 
 something more substantial. But, surrounded as she 
 was, at home and abroad, with admiration, the idol of 
 her fond father, the pride of her twin brothers, with 
 every wish gratified, and none to remind her that 
 
 " Life is real, life is earnest," 
 what could be expected of poor human nature ? 
 
 General Winchester's family were well-bred, but 
 Honora had occasional hints about being " righteous 
 overmuch," because she was constant at church, ex- 
 pressed her disapprobation (when questioned) of many 
 fashionable amusements, and visited the poor with her 
 brother. 
 
 Honora had become deeply interested in the English 
 family of whom Gregory had written, and was as ear- 
 nest as he that they should be removed to a more 
 fitting home than the dark alley they now inhabited, 
 and suggested the Bird's Nest, reminding Gregory that 
 the daughters could support themselves and father by 
 designing for the large mills at Eidgeville, a talent 
 which Honora discovered in the elder sister, after two 
 or three interviews.
 
 THE ARTIST'S STORY. 207 
 
 Miss Clarendon's sombre dress excused her from all 
 but family parties, as are called gatherings of one's 
 " dear five hundred friends," and she found leisure for 
 long letters to Charlotte and Agatha. By the advice 
 of her friend, given in parting, Charlotte had striven 
 to return to her old land manner with Chauncey Doug- 
 lass. He was one of the proudest of his kind ; the 
 wound she had made had been a deep one, and he met 
 all her efforts to be on comfortable terms with a cool 
 indifference that reminded her so strongly of his uncle 
 as to make her look back and shudder. 
 
 In the mean time Agatha had become a pet with 
 Mr. Walton. She came to him daily for instructions 
 in painting. In looking over his pictures one after- 
 noon, for a suitable subject for her next lesson, Agatha 
 selected one of a pretty English cottage, embowered in 
 trees and vines. There was nothing striking about the 
 picture, except the exquisite lights and shadows, that 
 gave to the landscape a beauty such as comes after a 
 summer shower, when the sun shines forth from the 
 bosom of the scattering clouds, into the heart of every 
 leaf and spire of grass, making rainbows in the spark- 
 ling drops.
 
 208 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 " O, this is a dear love ! " exclaimed Agatha. " I 
 will take this." 
 
 " That ! Oh ! " he said in a voice of agony. Re- 
 covering himself however in a moment, he added in 
 a low tone, " You may take it, my child, and, if I can 
 nerve myself to it, I will give you its history. That 
 is a picture of my early home, my English home, which 
 I left when but a few years older than yourself." Aga- 
 tha's eyes looked sympathy, and he proceeded. " I 
 have never told any one of my home, and I tell you 
 now, that you may see to what uncontrolled self-will 
 may lead. I was an only son, wayward and wilful, 
 longing continually for freedom from restraint, unwill- 
 ing to submit to rightful authority. I left the gentle 
 influences, the mild government of the household, and 
 enlisted in the army." His voice grew faint, and he 
 spoke with difficulty. 
 
 " Mr. Walton," said Agatha, observing his deep 
 emotion, " I am afraid you will be ill again, if you 
 try to tell me what causes you so much grief." 
 
 "Agatha," he replied, "I have never known one 
 unclouded day since my final act of rebellion. The 
 excitement of life, even a soldier's life, could never
 
 THE ARTIST'S STORY. 209 
 
 drown the voice of conscience. I enlisted, as I have 
 said, and left my parents and sisters forever." 
 
 Agatha looked up, horror and amazement pictured 
 on her countenance. " Did you never go back ? " she 
 said earnestly. 
 
 " The regiment I joined," he replied, " sailed at once 
 for India. My health was much broken by the cli- 
 mate, and more than all, distressed as I was, pride 
 would not suffer me to write even to my mother. I 
 flattered myself I would return and astonish them all 
 by my knowledge of the world. After an absence of 
 eight years my feet trod again my native soil. In 
 Liverpool I learned from an acquaintance the dread- 
 ful truth, that my mother had died soon after I left, 
 and my father, broken by grief and loss of property, 
 had sailed two or three years before my arrival for 
 America. I had no relatives on either side that I had 
 ever known, and I desperately resolved to follow my 
 father and sisters, not with the hope of finding them, but 
 with that restless desire to do something that haunts the 
 soul tilled with remorse. I thank God," he added with 
 deep emotion, " that the very depth of my loneliness 
 led me to seek shelter in my Heavenly Father's house." 
 
 N
 
 210 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 "And you have never known any more of your 
 friends?" said Agatha, wiping her eyes. "How very 
 sad ! " 
 
 " No," he replied ; " my life for the last six years 
 has been a struggle for a subsistence, which I have 
 obtained by a talent inherited from the mother whose 
 heart I broke." 
 
 " It seems," said his companion, rising, and walking 
 uneasily about the room, " as if I could not wait. 
 if I had money, and was a few years older, I would 
 search every nook in America, till I found your friends." 
 
 " That would be the labor of more than one life- 
 time," he said, smiling faintly. " America is a wide 
 place, and my friends are poor and unknown. 
 
 This long and exciting conversation brought a re- 
 newed attack of fever to Mr. Walton, and to the child 
 it gave food for thought and fancy, and plans for many 
 a long winter evening.
 
 THE FERGUSONS. 211 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 THE FERGUSONS. 
 
 " We have our younger brothers too, 
 The poor, the outcast, and the trodden down. 
 They are a hungered for our love and care; 
 It is their spirits that are famishing; 
 And our dear Father in his Testament 
 Bequeathed them to us as our dearest trust." 
 
 UNCLE, I am glad to see you ! " cried Aga- 
 tha, as she sprung down the slippery steps at 
 Maple Cliff, one cold morning in February, and em- 
 braced Mr. Douglass. He kissed her with unusual 
 warmth. Charlotte noticed a painful contraction of the 
 brow when he entered the drawing-room, and a care- 
 ful avoidance of the chair and corner Mrs. Douglass 
 formerly occupied ; but this was all the notice he took 
 of a vacancy he must have felt. Foreign travel and 
 society had worn off some of the rough edges of his 
 character, and he was perhaps more than ever a man 
 of the world.
 
 212 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 Charlotte observed him frequently look at her with 
 a scrutinizing glance, and back again to his nephew. 
 The truth was, in the close of a business letter from 
 Tom Ridgway, a bit of scandal was inserted, that had 
 hastened the master's return. "Rumor says, that the 
 heads of the family at Maple Cliff will erelong be 
 the united head" Inquiring of Clarendon, in New 
 York, as to the truth of this report, Gregory, enjoying 
 his evident dissatisfaction with something that was 
 really none of his business, had told Mr. Douglass, 
 that " stranger things than that had happened," and 
 the next day found him (wholly unexpected) at his 
 own home. 
 
 To frustrate at once all plans of this kind, he an- 
 nounced his intention, the next morning at breakfast, 
 of taking Agatha to New York with him for a few 
 weeks, and his desire that Miss Morgan should accom- 
 pany them. 
 
 Agatha's joy was boundless. To go to New York, 
 which, to her youthful imagination, embraced the best 
 part of the world, of her own land, at least. She 
 could not sleep till she had despatched a letter to Ho- 
 nora and Gregory, communicating her joy.
 
 THE FERGUSONS. 213 
 
 " I am sorry she is coming here just now," said 
 Honora, as she closed the letter, " much as I should 
 really love to see her." 
 
 " The fresh, youthful speeches will be refreshing 
 after so much flummery," replied Gregory ; " but I 
 dread this atmosphere for her excitable temperament 
 and unsettled state of mind." 
 
 " Yes," said Honora, sadly ; " I hoped she would 
 think of Baptism and Confirmation at Easter, and a 
 sojourn here will surely drive all these thoughts from 
 her mind ; her love of the bright and beautiful will 
 give an influence to Isabelle that may be hurtful." 
 
 " I shall fear more," replied Clarendon, " the effect of 
 going about from one scene of amusement to another, 
 as she will ; for Mr. Douglass will live upon excite- 
 ment, I fancy. But we will keep her with us as 
 much as possible," he added, thoughtfully. 
 
 The brother and sister had gone out during the con- 
 versation, and had reached the narrow alley which con- 
 tained the home of the Fergusons, the English family 
 before mentioned. The passage was dark, and they 
 were obliged to go slowly up the rickety stairway. 
 Sounds of swearing men, scolding women, and crying 
 babies resounded from every side.
 
 214 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 " The Bird's Nest would be free from these annoy- 
 ances," whispered Gregory, as Honora clung more 
 closely to his arm. 
 
 As he spoke, a man dressed in dirty finery at- 
 tempted to push himself between them. They paused 
 to let him pass, and he suddenly turned and rapidly 
 ascended the fourth flight of stairs. Honora was too 
 essentially frightened to speak, but she knew at once 
 that she had seen that face and figure before, disguised 
 as they both were. 
 
 The surroundings of the suffering family were mea- 
 gre, but the faultless cleanliness of every article in their 
 one apartment, and the neat and ingenious devices to 
 give the room an air of comfort, were to Honora an 
 ever-new delight. The proposed removal had been 
 suggested to the family, and matters were in a train for 
 maturing the plan as soon as spring opened. The 
 prospect had infused new life into the daughters. 
 Catherine, the elder, was a girl of plain, straightfor- 
 ward common-sense, well fitted for the life she had 
 been called to lead since her womanhood. Stella, the 
 younger, was a fairy-like, gentle being, of sixteen sum- 
 mers, with eyes that seemed to have gathered color
 
 THE FERGUSONS. 215 
 
 from the violet, and expression from a soul thoughtful 
 beyond her years. 
 
 The aged father was a gentleman in his appear- 
 ance and manners, though clothed in garments that 
 would not have been presentable on Fifth Avenue. 
 His hair and beard, silvered with age, hung in a luxu- 
 riance quite remarkable over his shoulders and breast. 
 This, with his broad forehead and Roman nose, gave 
 him a look strikingly patriarchal. After conversation 
 about their removal, &c., Gregory inquired if they were 
 not annoyed by the noise of the house. 
 
 " Not so much by their noise," replied the father, 
 "as by the insolence of some of them. We are obliged 
 to keep our doors closely barred ; and I believe Katy 
 has other means of keeping them at bay," he said, 
 pointing to the wall. They looked in the direction 
 which he indicated, and saw two pistols protruding 
 from their holsters. 
 
 "Yes," said Catherine, calmly, as Honora turned to- 
 ward her with surprise ; " I do not keep them to look 
 at; I am prepared to use them if we are beset as we 
 have sometimes been." 
 
 She then conversed aside with Honora, telling her
 
 216 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 of a notorious villain who had dogged the steps of her 
 sister till she was afraid to trust her out alone. Ho- 
 nora's heart sunk within her as she heard of the 
 snares and pitfalls that beset the path of the poor. 
 
 " Gregory," she said, as they emerged from the dai'k 
 alley into the open street, "did you know that wicked- 
 looking man we met in the passage, both going and 
 coming ? " 
 
 " Know him ! " exclaimed her brother. " I did not 
 dare even look at him, lest I should be tempted to 
 knock him down for his insolence, and thus risk your 
 life as well as my own." 
 
 " I am sure it was Richard Walbridge," she said in 
 a low. decided tone. " It is dreadful to leave these 
 people these girls in such a neighborhood." 
 
 "The wretch!" muttered Gregory. "We must work 
 quickly if we would not be outwitted by this scoundrel. 
 I will leave you at General "Winchester's door, and 
 write at once to Mr. Clement and Tom Ridgway to 
 settle this matter* of the Bird's Nest. One can hardly 
 sleep quietly, knowing that these unprotected girls are 
 in danger."
 
 ISABELLE WINCHESTER. 217 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 ISABELLE WINCHESTER. 
 
 " She who only finds her self-esteem 
 In others' admiration, begs an alms, 
 Depends on others for her daily food, 
 And is the very servant of her slaves." 
 
 JOANUA BAILLIE. 
 
 " 0, life, how pleasant is thy morning! 
 Young Fancy's rays the hills adorning, 
 Cold, pausing Caution's lesson scorning, 
 We frisk away. 
 
 We wander here, we wander there, 
 We eye the Rose upon the Brier, 
 Unmindful that the Thorn is near 
 
 Among the leaves." 
 
 BURNS. 
 
 HOXORA HAD gone to her room after her walk, 
 and was preparing to dress for dinner, when a 
 light tap was heard at her door, and Isabelle Winches- 
 ter answered the summons, " Come in." She was still 
 in her morning dishahille, and sunk languidly down 
 10
 
 218 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 into the fauteuil. " So your brother would not stay for 
 dinner," she said, in an indifferent tone. "He is very 
 chary of his company. Is he afraid of me ? " she in- 
 quired, looking archly out of the corners of her be- 
 witching eyes. 
 
 "I have never heard him express such a fear," re- 
 plied Honora, with a smile. "Nevertheless, it would 
 not be surprising if he were, considering the numerous 
 victims." 
 
 "Pshaw!" said Isabelle, impatiently; "I'm tired to 
 death of them ! " She placed her small hands over 
 her face, and rested her head. 
 
 "Are you tired of all of them?" said Honora, gayly 
 " Is there no preference ? " 
 
 "Yes, every mother's son of them," replied the pet- 
 ted girl. "It is'nt I, Isabelle "Winchester, they care 
 for. There is not one of them who would not turn 
 and worship the first handsome face belonging to the 
 only daughter of a wealthy gentleman ! " 
 
 " Isabelle," said Honora, sitting down by her com- 
 panion and smoothing her black tresses, "is there 
 after all* nothing satisfying in all this admiration ? " 
 
 Isabelle shook her head. "Nothing," she said, laugh-
 
 ISABELLE WINCHESTER. 219 
 
 ing faintly; "and yet, I suppose I should be wretched 
 without it. 'Just as the twig is bent,' you know. But 
 I am really disappointed Mr. Clarendon did not stay for 
 dinner. That stupid Count Morier is to be here, and 
 I wanted Gregory as a sort of foil." 
 
 Honora looked disappointed. She had hoped that 
 Isabelle was really dissatisfied with the thoroughly 
 worldly life she was leading, so contrary to her early 
 professions, and was longing for something better. Is- 
 abelle saw the change in her countenance. 
 
 "Now, please don't look so grave," she said, coax- 
 ingly ; " I know I 'm a dreadful sinner, and I suppose 
 that is the reason why your brother dislikes me so 
 heartily; but I can't act the hypocrite, even for him," 
 she said, proudly. 
 
 " Has he told you he dislikes you ? " said Honora, 
 smiling. 
 
 "I can tell," replied Isabelle, shaking her head in- 
 credulously. " Ah, here comes my maid ! " 
 
 Celinda entered, and gave her mistress a card ac- 
 companied with a bouquet of choice flowers. 
 
 " Engaged," said the imperious beauty, haughtily, as 
 she looked at the card. " Touching and tender," she
 
 220 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 added, sarcastically, as she took a slip of paper from 
 among the flowers, and read the sentiment. " The 
 poor fellow must be really demented ! But I will in- 
 troduce you," she said, passing the card to Honora. 
 
 " Pierre McLellan ! " exclaimed Miss Clarendon. 
 
 " Do you know him ? " said Isabelle. 
 
 " Not personally," she replied ; " but brother roomed 
 with him in college, and was much interested in him." 
 
 " An associate of Mr. Clarendon's ! " said Isabelle, 
 with surprise. "I suppose, then, he was a fine fellow; 
 he was indeed, when I made his acquaintance in New 
 Orleans, more than a year since. But, O, his infatua- 
 tion about me, it was really ludicrous ! He has run 
 down since then, till he has run out his fortune, and 
 of course his friends. It is reported that he has gam- 
 bled indefinitely." 
 
 "Poor young man!" said Honora, with a sigh. "His 
 course downward must have been a rapid one, for it is 
 but little more than a year since Gregory knew him, 
 and he could hardly have been in any way of dissipa- 
 tion then." 
 
 She looked at her watch, and her companion, yawn- 
 ing, said, " Well, I suppose I must dress for dinner."
 
 ISABELLE WINCHESTER. 221 
 
 The next week Mr. Douglass arrived with his niece 
 at the Astor House. Miss Morgan had considered the 
 subject, reflected upon her position in the city, at a 
 public house, as governess, under Mr. Douglass's pro- 
 tection, and felt that she might take this opportunity 
 to visit an aged aunt, her only surviving relative, living 
 among the Green Mountains. Her aunt was miserly, 
 ill-tempered, and in feeble health, and Charlotte knew 
 that, in preferring her society, she was not "pleasure- 
 seeking." Mr. Douglass was angry at her decision, 
 and secretly mistrusted her reasons for this course ; but 
 he was too proud to urge the matter, and Agatha and 
 her teacher were separated. 
 
 Mr. Douglass had not been a week in town, before 
 the imperious Isabelle, charmed with the little country 
 girl, as she called Agatha, insisted that a hotel was no 
 place for such a child, and brought her to her father's 
 house. This change did not entirely please Gregory or 
 Honora. The admiration of Isabelle and her brothers, 
 and their exertions to entertain their new guest, left 
 the child no time for quiet, rational thought. Gregory 
 in-i-tnl upon taking Agatha with him in his visits to 
 the poor, and these were the only times he could
 
 222 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 meet her out of a room filled with gay, worldly peo- 
 pie. 
 
 The intelligence came, that all was ready for the re- 
 moval of the Fergusons to the Bird's Nest, and Clar- 
 endon called to take Agatha and Honora with him to 
 communicate the glad news to the waiting household. 
 He found Isabelle and her brothers with Honora and 
 Agatha, deeply engaged in an interesting discussion. 
 The moment he took a seat, the child came and rested 
 her flushed face on his shoulder. 
 
 " Perhaps we should do well to consult my brother," 
 said Honora, gravely. 
 
 "O, of course he will agree with you," replied Isa- 
 belle, gayly. " An incipient minister too ! He could 
 hardly do otherwise." 
 
 "I think," said Duncan Winchester, looking at Aga- 
 tha with interest, " Miss Douglass is fully competent 
 to decide for herself." 
 
 The blush deepened on Agatha's cheek. 
 
 "What is it?" said Gregory, looking at her flushed 
 face. 
 
 " Only that we are urgent," replied Isabelle, " that 
 Agatha should go to Madame Dolan's fancy ball. It
 
 ISABELLE WINCHESTER. 223 
 
 will be a quiet affair, and she will have me for u 
 chaperone, and my brothers for protectors." 
 
 "I think," replied Honora, modestly, "that, if there 
 were no other objections, she is too young for such 
 amusements." 
 
 " Even if it were not the season of Lent," added 
 Gregory, slowly, at the same time looking fixedly into 
 Agatha's eyes. 
 
 " Surely, Mr. Clarendon," said Isabelle, " you would 
 not require such a child to keep Lent ? " 
 
 "It is not I that require it," replied Gregory. "A 
 child that is old enough to go to balls, should have ar- 
 rived at years of discretion. Is n't it so, Miss Win- 
 chester ? " he said, bowing to that lady. 
 
 "You can't suppose I intend to condemn myself," 
 replied Isabelle, laughing. " Nevertheless, it is pleasant 
 to hear something besides praise. It is a comfort to 
 find one man who will not flatter ! " she said, a little 
 pnrcnstically. 
 
 Gregory colored. "If I do not natter, Miss Isa- 
 belle," he replied, "neither would I condemn any one. 
 But this child," he said, taking Agatha's hand, "is a 
 little protegee of mine, and I feel in a measure re- 
 sponsible for her well-doing."
 
 224 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 His sympathizing tone and manner almost persuaded 
 Agatha to give up the thought of the amusement. 
 She had an earnest desire to go to the ball, but a re- 
 luctance to grieve her best friends. Higher than this 
 she did not yet look. 
 
 As she went for her bonnet for the walk, she met 
 Duncan Winchester on the stairs. " Miss Agatha," he 
 said, pausing before her, " by what right does this 
 young parson assume this authority over you ? " 
 
 Agatha felt inclined to smile at the indignation ex- 
 pressed in his tone of voice, but she replied, " It is 
 not authority, Mr. Winchester, that Mr. Clarendon would 
 exercise, but the liberty of giving advice." 
 
 " One would suppose your uncle's permission and 
 our wishes were sufficient," said the young man per- 
 
 " I shall probably do as I please," she replied, a 
 little proudly. 
 
 At this moment her uncle's voice was heard in the 
 hall, and her contemplated walk was brought to an 
 end, Clarendon and his sister departing without her 
 as they went, discussing the removal of the Fergu 
 sons.
 
 ISABELLE WINCHESTER. 225 
 
 " Did you ever think," said Gregory, " that Stella 
 Ferguson reminds one strongly of Robert Walton?" 
 
 "Indeed she does!" replied Honora. "It is Robert 
 she is like. The same deep blue eyes, the same pen- 
 sive expression, the same fair, open brow." 
 
 "And the same toned voice," said her brother. 
 "Agatha saw the resemblance at her first interview, 
 and was possessed with the idea that they must be 
 relatives of Robert's. It seems he told her the history 
 of his life. She did not feel at liberty to repeat it to 
 me ; but he acknowledged that his friends had removed 
 to America, that he had never seen them here, and 
 that he supposed he had two sisters." 
 
 "The surname being so different, might have satis- 
 fied her," said Honora. 
 
 " So it would a reasonable person," replied Gregory. 
 
 " But you know Agatha's determination. She was 
 sure the Fergusons had assumed a name, and I was 
 obliged to exercise all my authority to prevent her 
 from doing some foolish thing; and then I could only 
 persuade her by promising to ask Mr. Ferguson my- 
 self if that was his family name in England." 
 
 " And you really did it ! " said Honora, laughing. 
 10* o
 
 226 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 " Charlotte has often wondered at your influence over 
 the child; I think I may wonder now at hers over 
 you." 
 
 "I was ashamed of myself," he replied, "as soon as 
 the words were out of my mouth; for the old man 
 drew back his noble head, and answered my question 
 in the affirmative, adding, that 'he had never had rea- 
 son to be ashamed of his name.' "
 
 A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE. 227 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE. 
 
 " The sorrows of my spirit are enlarged, 
 My eyes are full of tears, 
 The grief with which my soul is overcharged 
 Excites strange doubts and fears." 
 
 AFTER TAKING leave of the Fergusons in 
 the cars that were to take them to Rockridge, 
 Clarendon and his sister returned to General Winches- 
 ter's. 
 
 " Come in, dear brother," said Honora, as they reached 
 the door, " it is an hour when I can see you alone, and 
 that is a privilege I have learned to prize." She led 
 the way to the library. 
 
 " Gregory," she said, as she sunk on the sofa, and 
 covered her face with her hands, " I am very weary 
 of life here, and long for home. I thought I would 
 never say so to you, but I cannot help it, existence 
 seems so aimless and without purpose among these
 
 228 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 frivolities and fashions." She smiled through her tears 
 as he stooped to kiss her cheek. 
 
 "It must be unsatisfying to you, dear Honora," he 
 said, taking a seat by her side, " except as you see 
 father amused and refreshed by opportunities, of which 
 he has deprived himself for years, of indulging his taste 
 for the fine arts." 
 
 " I was wrong," she replied, " even for an instant 
 to give way to my selfish feelings. Yes, very selfish," 
 she added. " But I have had such an unaccountable 
 weight upon my heart all day, that I could bear it no 
 longer without the sympathy of my brother." 
 
 " It may be partly anxiety for Agatha that gives you 
 this depression just now," he replied. " I own to hav- 
 ing had something of the feeling myself. In this whirl- 
 pool of dissipation, I fear all her better feelings will 
 be sunk." 
 
 " Yes," said Honora with a sigh ; " to-morrow is the 
 night of the fancy ball, and her uncle urges her at- 
 tendance ; the next night there is a juvenile party in 
 the neighborhood, the next a dancing-school ball, and 
 Friday I heard Mr. Douglass tell her she must hold 
 herself engaged to go with him to see some celebrated
 
 A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE. 229 
 
 danseuse. He is in ecstasies over her dancing, which 
 Isabella tells her is ' divine.' On the whole, her young 
 head must be well balanced not to be turned with all 
 this admiration." 
 
 "Agatha's nature will never be satisfied with these 
 frivolities," replied her brother, after a pause. "They 
 are attractive to her now from their novelty, but she 
 is too young, altogether too young to " He looked 
 from the window, and saw Agatha on horseback, ac- 
 sompanied by Duncan Winchester. 
 
 " Astonishing ! " he exclaimed, " that two such chil- 
 iren should be trusted on these city horses alone." 
 
 "Young men rarely count themselves children at 
 nineteen," said Honora, looking after the equestrians. 
 " But must you go, brother ? " 
 
 "Yes," he replied, taking up his hat "It is late, 
 and I have yet to look after that pet dove of Stella's." 
 
 The kiss with which the brother and sister parted 
 was followed by a sigh from both hearts. At the cor- 
 ner of the street the equestrian "children" dashed by 
 Mr. Clarendon. He could not even raise a smile for 
 Agatha, but touched his hat and walked on. It was 
 many weeks before the reflection of that sad look passed 
 from the remembrance of Agatha,
 
 230 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 The child's conscience reproached her, amid her prep- 
 arations for the great ball; but, like many older and 
 wiser than herself, she strove to quiet the voice of the 
 inward monitor by plunging more deeply into the gaye- 
 ties around her. The Winchesters were all devotion 
 to her, and everything was put in requisition for her 
 gratification. Mr. Douglass, too, was charmed by the 
 ease and self-possession with which she received all 
 this admiration, and wrapped himself around with an 
 additional garment of " Douglass pride ; " and when 
 Honora spoke very gently of " Agatha's extreme youth," 
 and the fear she had of " bringing her forward too 
 soon," he replied " that the Douglass family matured 
 earlier than most families. His mother was married 
 at sixteen" 
 
 Two days passed, the fancy ball was accomplished, 
 and the juvenile party and private theatricals followed. 
 Colonel Clarendon rallied Agatha on her non-appear- 
 ance at breakfast after this last performance, telling 
 her " she would hardly fulfil a destiny like her grand- 
 mother if she gave out so easily." 
 
 Honora had a foreboding that something was wrong 
 with Gregory. He had not been to the house since
 
 A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE. 231 
 
 their interview in the library, and after a sleepless 
 night she begged her father it being the third day 
 of his absence to send to his rooms. Isabelle laughed 
 heartily at the idea, and Duncan Winchester hazarded 
 the remark (aside to Agatha), that a young man above 
 twenty-one should be capable of taking care of himself. 
 The shadow of Gregory's last unsmiling look remained, 
 and Agatha joined her entreaties with those of Honora, 
 A servant was immediately despatched to his lodgings, 
 who returned with the startling, confounding intelligence, 
 that Mr. Clarendon had not been seen there for three 
 days. Now, indeed, raillery and smiles were exchanged 
 for hearty sympathy and deep sorrow. Inquiries were 
 set on foot ; the police were put in requisition ; every 
 movement was made which a father's heart could de- 
 vise, or a friend's affection prompt, but without suc- 
 cess. 
 
 Honora walked her chamber, wringing her hands, 
 agitated by contending hopes and fears. Isabelle sought 
 to comfort her, but the sister looked at her imploringly. 
 " Don't, Isabelle, please don't," she said ; " you distress 
 me. There is only One who can give me comfort in 
 this time of suspense." Peace came to her soul, when
 
 232 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 she could bring herself to feel that One eye neither 
 slumbered nor slept, and that that eye was surely 
 watching over Gregory with more than a human fa- 
 ther's love. When the calm stole upon her own spirit, 
 intent upon the comfort of others, she sought Agatha. 
 
 The child had thrown herself prostrate on the floor, 
 and was convulsed with weeping. Isabelle and her 
 brothers in vain had striven to soothe her hysteri- 
 cal sobbing, and Honora met with no better success. 
 She was at length, by the advice of the physician, car- 
 ried fainting to her own room. The gentlemen returned 
 late at night, without intelligence of the absentee. They 
 had no trace of him after he left the house where the 
 Fergusons lived. Days went by with weary monotony ; 
 Providence had indeed given them a season of mourn- 
 ing and weeping. Agatha was confined to her bed 
 with a low nervous fever, and Honora, between her 
 bedside and endeavors to quiet the unrest of her poor 
 father, found ample employment. 
 
 It happened, about a week after the disappearance, 
 that Honora, leaving Agatha under the influence of an 
 opiate, went out to attend one of the Lenten services. 
 She desired to carry her grief to the house of God.
 
 A MYSTEEIOUS DISAPPEARANCE. 233 
 
 As she turned the corner of a retired street, a step 
 near her caused her to look around. A paper was 
 thrust into her hand, and she could only tell that the 
 giver was a female. She opened the dirty scrawl as 
 she took her seat in church. The handwriting was 
 familiar. Her heart beat violently as she read : 
 
 " If Miss Clarendon wishes to hear of her brother, 
 she must meet me a half-hour before sunrise, to-mor- 
 row, at the east corner of Street. Miss Clar- 
 endon need fear nothing if she is secret" 
 
 In deep thanksgiving did her soul pour itself out 
 for the life of her brother, and in earnest prayers for 
 guidance. She had but one opinion about her duty 
 in the matter of the communication she held with such 
 a tight cla^p. For her to meet by appointment, se- 
 cretly, a notorious blackleg, on familiar and conversable 
 terms, seemed to her positive sin, and she took the 
 note at once to her father. 
 
 " God be praised he is alive ! " he exclaimed eagerly, 
 as he read the lines. 
 
 " Father," said Honora, after much thought, " Aga- 
 tha suggests that Chet might be of service hi this 
 search."
 
 234 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 " Certainly, certainly, daughter. Bless the child Aga- 
 tha. Chet would be invaluable. I wrote to Mr. Clement 
 to come to us. I will despatch some one for Chet." 
 
 He had stepped into the hall, but, the door-bell ring- 
 ing, he passed again into the library ; he could not 
 meet strangers. A well-known voice reached Honora's 
 quick ear, and, regardless of everything but her brother, 
 she rushed forward to meet the Rev. Mr. Clement. 
 Standing behind, with arms folded, as if doubtful wheth- 
 er he should come in, was Chet. This was no time 
 for distinctions or conventionalities. Deep sorrow, like 
 death, is a great leveller, and Chet was soon seated in 
 the library, listening to the oft-repeated tale of Clar- 
 endon's departure and non-appearance. When the 
 ground was gone over, and the necessity of secrecy 
 enjoined, Colonel Clarendon produced the letter Ho- 
 nora had given him. 
 
 "Who is this?" said Mr. Clement. "He writes 
 like an old acquaintance." 
 
 " He is that notorious scamp, Dick Walbridge," said 
 Colonel Clarendon, indignantly. " This is his way of 
 showing gratitude to his friends. It is to him we owe 
 this suffering."
 
 A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE. 235 
 
 Chet instinctively put his hand into his bosom, say- 
 ing, " He deserves to die." 
 
 " But not by your hand," said Mr. Clement, laying 
 his finger on Chet's arm. " Vengeance is mine. I 
 will repay, saith the Lord." 
 
 "Yes, Chet," said tke Colonel, "you must not let 
 your hot blood get the better of your cool judgment." 
 
 Chet bowed, but did not speak.
 
 236 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 VILLANY UNSUCCESSFUL. 
 
 " You must not think 
 That we are made of stuff so flat and dull, 
 That we can let our beard be shook with danger, 
 And think it pastime." 
 
 SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 WE WILL now return to Gregory, whom we left 
 in sad meditation. He proceeded on his mis- 
 sion to the lone dove, promising a child in a tenement 
 near by something very nice if she would watch it 
 well, intending himself to take it to Stella at Easter. 
 
 The entrance of the alley was very dark ; the friendly 
 lights did not penetrate its recesses. Gregory was won- 
 dering how anything as pure and refined as the Fer- 
 gusons could have come out like the spotless ermine 
 from so much filth, without a mark, and chiding him- 
 self for venturing at such an hour into the place, when 
 a well-aimed blow from behind, but not a severe one,
 
 VILLANY UNSUCCESSFUL. 237 
 
 struck him senseless to the ground. Returning con- 
 sciousness found him in a small apartment in the upper 
 story of a very high house. By his bedside sat a wo- 
 man. The dreadful lines of neglected childhood and 
 corrupted youth marked her countenance. 
 
 "Where am I?" he. said, endeavoring to rise. 
 
 The coarse reply we will not repeat. It caused 
 Gregory, with a strong effort, to raise himself and put 
 the greatest possible distance between himself and the 
 female. The high window in the roof, from which he 
 could only see the blue sky, was heavily barred. He 
 tried the door; that was secured in the same manner. 
 His eye soon accomplished the survey of the apart- 
 ment, and there, wherever he turned, sat that hideous 
 object, grinning and mouthing at him. Robbery, he 
 taw, was not the purpose of the attack upon his person, 
 for his watch hung in its place, and his pocket-book 
 was where he left it. "What enemy," he continually 
 asked himself, "have I, that would dare do so bold a 
 thing." Suddenly it flashed upon his mind that it was 
 Dick Walbridge. Yes, he had removed the Fergusons 
 beyond the reach of his violence, and this was Dick's 
 revenge. He remembered, through life, wicked
 
 238 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 planned by Richard, that he had frustrated. Presently 
 he heard the hoarse voices of men in the passage, the 
 bars were loosened, and the woman was called out. 
 This was an inexpressible relief. To be imprisoned 
 was severe, but to be shut up with such company was 
 unendurable. " What can I do ? " he said to himself, 
 as he paced to and fro the narrow apartment. There 
 was but one reply, " Nothing." With Clarendon's im- 
 petuous, determined nature, it was no easy matter to 
 come to this decision. After contemplation and prayer, 
 the first desire, to make Richard feel the force of an 
 arm nerved with a sense of injury, passed away. The 
 Christian arose superior to the man, and, committing 
 his case to One whom his firm faith believed to be 
 " the Ruler and Governor of all things," he sunk into 
 a disturbed slumber. 
 
 Day succeeded day, with weary, lagging pace. Clar- 
 endon heard nothing from the outer world, except the 
 rough voices of men in the passage, whenever the door 
 was opened to admit the hideous woman who brought 
 him his daily allowance of bread and tea. He had 
 been tempted to try his single strength with the out- 
 siders, but his better judgment prevailed, and he re-
 
 VILLANY UNSUCCESSFUL. 239 
 
 raained quiet. He was surprised one morning, as he 
 leaned wearily against the wall, gazing at the little spot 
 of sky that was visible, by the footsteps of a man, after 
 the unbarring of the door, and, turning his head, he at 
 once recognized his visitor. 
 
 " It is to you, then, Dick ? " he said, carelessly, " that 
 I am indebted for this durance vile. This is gratitude 
 for my sister's mistaken kindness. How long do you 
 intend to keep me thus?" 
 
 "Till they pay well for you," said Dick, sullenly. 
 
 " A ransom ! " replied Gregory, contemptuously. 
 "Never!" 
 
 " Yes, but they must," said Richard, tauntingly. " I 
 have you snug here, and they may mourn to their 
 hearts' content. Besides," he added, " you crossed my 
 path, and carried off my pet dove for your own pur- 
 poses." 
 
 " Stop, Richard Walbridge," said Gregory, haughtily. 
 
 "You ever had a false tongue. Solitude is preferable 
 
 
 to your company. 
 
 " I am not to be put off thus," replied Richard. 
 " You must write to your sister to meet me and pay 
 your ransom, or she may weep her pretty eyes out 
 for 3-011. ns she did for her lover, in vain."
 
 240 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MABY. 
 
 The color mounted to Clarendon's brow, fire gleamed 
 from his eye, but he checked the rising wrath, and 
 walked to the other side of the room without reply. 
 
 " Come, none of this," said his companion, with a 
 cowardly laugh ; " write to Miss Nora to meet me, 
 and I will tell her where to bring the money." He 
 took pen and paper from his pocket, saying, " She will 
 come if you bid her." 
 
 " Bid her meet you ! Faithless, cowardly reprobate ! 
 Never ! Your look would defile her ! " 
 
 " I have looked on brighter faces than hers," he said, 
 sneeringly. " But if you will not help me," he added, 
 with an oath, " I must tiy what I can do myself, by 
 crossing her path." 
 
 Alone again, Gregory was harassed by new fears. 
 Perhaps Honora might risk hersrlf with the hope of 
 saving him. " O Thou who rulest and governest all 
 things, in heaven and earth," he repeated, over and 
 over again, fully realizing that it is one thing to say 
 these words, and quite another to believe and practise 
 upon them. Honora brought in contact with the wretch 
 who held him in custody, was a thought that greatly 
 aggravated his present misery.
 
 VILLANY UNSUCCESSFUL. 241 
 
 The conference in the library at General Winches- 
 ter's occupied a long evening. Colonel Clarendon was 
 unwilling Honora should be brought out in this matter ; 
 and yet there seemed to be no way to meet the emer- 
 gency but through her. Chet modestly assured him 
 that Miss Nora would be safe under his protection.' 
 In physical strength he could match two or three like 
 Dick. The first step was to disguise Chet. His home- 
 spun clothes were exchanged for a suit of the finest 
 broadcloth, cut in the extreme of the fashion. A hat of 
 superior finish and fabric, half-boots of patent leather, 
 yellow kid gloves, a Spanish cloak about his shoulders, 
 and a sword cane in his hand, transformed " the lord 
 of the Gorge " into a figure that might well be envied 
 by the pale-faced, miniature dandies who promenade 
 our thoroughfares and drink mint-juleps in our saloons. 
 Chet was well acquainted with the streets of New 
 York. Autumn and winter often brought him there 
 with game from his rocky home. 
 
 With the first gray light of morning, Chet, in his 
 new suit, approached, by a devious path, the place of 
 meeting. By the straight course from General Win- 
 chester's, a little later, Honora Clarendon walked 
 11 r
 
 242 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 thoughtfully. Now and then a policeman would pause, 
 turn, and look after her. A thick black veil saved her 
 the consciousness of being observed. As she approached 
 the corner of the designated street, a man stood, appar- 
 ently waiting for her. Casting her eyes on the oppo- 
 site sidewalk, she was reassured by the sight of Chet, 
 who was proceeding at a slow, negligent pace. 
 
 Richard approached when he saw he was observed. 
 There is something in the presence of a gentle, Chris- 
 tian woman that awes for a moment the most hardened. 
 His eyes sunk to the ground as Honora looked at 
 him. 
 
 " Richard Walbridge, is this you ? " she exclaimed ; 
 " and is it you that have caused such anguish in the 
 hearts of those who have shown themselves friendly ? " 
 
 " Your brother crossed my path," he said, fiercely ; 
 " not for the first time, neither, he shall pay for it, 
 and I demand a heavy ransom, and you must bring it," 
 he added, laying his polluted hand on her arm. 
 
 "Name your price, Richard Walbridge," she said, 
 drawing back ; " it grieves me even now that your 
 heart can only be reached by money." 
 
 " Beware, Miss Nora," he said. " Do not rouse me.
 
 VILLANY UNSUCCESSFUL. 243 
 
 Money I must have, money I will have, and you must 
 bring it here. No, not here," he said, hurriedly, as a 
 gentleman crossed the street and approached them. It 
 was Chet, who came by, in an indifferent manner, pass- 
 ing so near Honora that her veil caught in his dress. 
 He disengaged himself, bowed and went on. Richard 
 turned and . gazed after him, deceived by the disguise. 
 
 "Mr. Walbridge," said Honora, almost faint with 
 excitement, " if I obtain money for you, some other 
 way must be appointed for receiving it These meet- 
 ings are too painful." 
 
 The villain looked at her ; she did not quail. 
 
 " Speak at once," she said, more boldly. " Name 
 the price at which my brother must be ransomed. Let 
 it be done speedily." 
 
 " You shall hear from me again," he said, " to-mor- 
 row, perhaps. Is my touch so defiling, that you draw 
 back thus ? " 
 
 She escaped from him, almost fainting, disappointed 
 with herself that she had proved so timid. She had 
 accomplished nothing. All her heroism vanished, and 
 she went home to weep bitterly. 
 
 When Miss Clarendon left Walbridge, Chet followed
 
 244 THE CHAPEL OP ST. MARY. 
 
 at a distance till he saw him enter a low tavern in the 
 suburbs of the city. He hesitated. Should he meet the 
 rogue alone ? He might lose all by one imprudent act. 
 Five minutes earned him to General "Winchester's ; 
 and, without waiting to explain, he simply said, " Gen- 
 tlemen, if you will go with me, I think I can show you 
 the rogue." 
 
 They came into the low inn as Dick, having hur- 
 ried his morning meal, called for a room. 
 
 " Show the gentleman to No. 5," was the command 
 Chet heard given to the slipshod waiter, and he fol- 
 lowed, at a respectful distance. Before Dick had made 
 fast the door on the inside, it was quietly opened, and 
 Chet stood before him. 
 
 " Richard Walbridge," said he, slowly, never once 
 removing his eyes from the young man, "tell me 
 where you have hidden Gregory Clarendon. Other 
 things I have to settle Stay," he said, striking 
 down the pistol that Dick pointed towards him, " this 
 shall not serve you." 
 
 He drew his own trusty weapon from his breast, 
 while he held the young man's right arm in his pow- 
 erful grasp. By a quick movement, Dick regained his
 
 VILLANY UNSUCCESSFUL. 245 
 
 own weapon, but it was discharged in the effort, the ball 
 passing through the floor. The lithe and nimble Rich- 
 ard was no match for the stout arms of his antagonist, 
 and he soon lay prostrate. The pistol-shot, however, 
 brought the keeper of the house, and several men, to 
 the spot. A carriage conveyed the rogue through the 
 streets, accompanied by Chet and liis friends, with a 
 police-officer. 
 
 Finding himself in the worst, he sunk into dogged 
 silence, supposing, of course, that they intended to de- 
 liver him to justice. They alighted, however, at the 
 door of General Winchester's elegant mansion, and a 
 council of war was held over the prisoner in the 
 breakfast-room. Some of the parties were for deliv- 
 ering "Walbridge at once into the hands of the law; 
 but the uncertainty whether thereby they should dis- 
 cover the retreat of Clarendon held them back. It 
 was at length proposed to the rascal, without leaving 
 any alternative but imprisonment, that he should give 
 them the knowledge of Gregory's whereabouts, and 
 accept a free passage to Australia in a vessel about 
 to sail for that port. He did not long hesitate. Liberty 
 was dearer to him than revenge, and he gave them a
 
 246 THE CHAPEL OF ST". MARY. 
 
 passport, in a jargon they could not understand, that 
 liberated Clarendon ; but the Australian mission was 
 a failure. During the hurry and bustle of a large ship 
 preparing for so long a voyage, the vigilance of both 
 Chet and the officer was at fault, and the rogue es- 
 caped to his old haunts.
 
 MATTERS AT ROCKRIDGE. 247 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 MATTERS AT ROCKRIDGE. 
 
 " They '11 sit by the fire, and presume to know 
 What's done i'the Capitol; who's like to rise, 
 Who thrives, and who declines; side factions, and give out 
 Conjectural marriages, making parties strong, 
 And feebling such as stand not in their liking." 
 
 SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 T OOK HERE, Deacon ! " said Mrs. Dobbin, one 
 I 1 chilly morning in early spring, as she pushed 
 up her spectacles and clapped her hands, as if she 
 had heard some news of an exceedingly interesting 
 nature. "Look here, husband! Ann Tildy, just poke 
 the fire, and sit down while I read you this. This 
 will make their ears tingle!" 
 
 The obedient Ann 'Tildy seated herself at once near 
 her mother, eyes and mouth saying plainly, "I am 
 listening ! " 
 
 The paper from which Mrs. Dobbin read was one
 
 2-48 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 which good people condemn, for its notorious habit of 
 insinuating against the characters of the upright, and 
 its delight in dishing up disgusting gossip to suit the 
 palate of the fastidious. The Deacon took the paper 
 for its politics and its extensive circulation. Mrs. 
 Dobbin fed her love of scandal from its column?, and 
 chuckled over its detailed accounts of delinquent minis- 
 ters and depraved fellow-Christians. 
 
 " MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE ! ! 
 " For some days, our city has been moved by the 
 sudden disappearance from our midst, of a young gen- 
 tleman, a student of theology, belonging to a highly re- 
 spectable family in a neighboring town. For five days 
 he has been seen neither at his rooms, nor by any of 
 his circle of distressed friends. The police, though (as 
 usual) active in the matter, have failed to discover his 
 whereabouts. A certain notorious gambler is suspected 
 of spiriting away the young clergyman. It is rumored 
 that the gentleman crossed the path of the rogue in 
 some affair ! " 
 
 " There ! " exclaimed Mrs. Dobbin, when she had 
 finished the paragraph. " This must be young Claren-
 
 MATTERS AT ROCKRIDGE. 249 
 
 don ! It is astonishing how young men behave when 
 they get to New York ! A minister, too ! Well, I 'm 
 ,glad he ain't one of our sort ! " 
 
 " Tom Ridgway says," replied the Deacon, as if the 
 matter had been fully discussed by the lords of crea- 
 tion, in the centre of newsdom, " Tom says, that good- 
 for-nothing Dick Walbridge is at the bottom of this ! " 
 
 " Well, now, I wonder how Tom knew ? " said the 
 amiable spouse. "Them Ridgways think a sight of 
 Tom. I dare say he 'a no better than he should be ! 
 To think of his marrying that New York girl, with 
 her stuck-up airs, when he might have had his choice 
 of the pretty girls at home," she said, looking at Ann 
 'Tildy. 
 
 She was interrupted in her judgment upon Tom 
 Ridgway by the entrance of his sisters. Receiving 
 them as her " dearest friends," she rallied Eliza on her 
 pale looks, telling her they were "mighty becoming." 
 
 " She may well look pale," said Julia, untying her 
 bonnet-strings, evidently preparing to stay ; " she has 
 done nothing but lament the fate of Clarendon, since 
 the news came. I say it serves him right for bring- 
 ing another set of beggars into Rockridge. Father 
 11*
 
 250 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 says this family that have come to the Gorge are mis- 
 erably poor and helpless, and withal so mighty grand ! 
 I hate grand poor folks ! Then here is Mr. Clement 
 urging Eliza and me to call upon them ! If Tom's 
 wife chooses to make a fool of herself in this way, 
 and you too Eliza, you are welcome, but you need 
 never ask me to go!" she said, tossing her head, and 
 throwing down her outer garments. 
 
 " Sister," replied Eliza, without looking up from her 
 crochet-needles, which she had already taken out, anx- 
 ious to preserve her reputation for industry, " you 
 know I told you my reasons for calling. Mr. Clem- 
 ent's wishes ought to be a sufficient motive, certainly, 
 in so slight a matter." 
 
 Julia shrugged her shoulders, and looked knowingly 
 at Mrs. Dobbin. 
 
 "They say," said Mrs. Dobbin, in her shrill voice, 
 " that these folks are English. Their name is Fergu- 
 son, any way. Ferguson was Mrs. Douglass's maiden 
 name. It aint possible they are any relation, is it ? " 
 
 " Of course not," replied Julia. " Mr. Douglass 
 never was fond of his poor relations. lie and the 
 Clarendons are so thick, he must have known of their
 
 MATTERS AT ROCKRIDGE. 251 
 
 coming, and have prevented it, if he did not wish 
 it." 
 
 " Have you seen Papsy ? " said Mrs. Dobbin, turn- 
 ing to the girls so suddenly as almost to startle them. 
 
 " No indeed," they replied eagerly. " Have you ? " 
 
 "Yes; the Deacon and I felt it to be our duty to 
 go. You know, Chet has taken her home ; she '& 
 dreadful sick, and hardly speaks to anybody. Your Mr. 
 Clement was there when we called. I asked the poor 
 thing if she knew what a sinner she was ; but she 
 never made me even a nod for an answer ; but she 's 
 going, I guess, where she can't get away from that 
 question." 
 
 "Will she die?" inquired Julia. 
 
 "I think so," replied Mrs. Dobbin, with indifference; 
 " you know her mother died, not much older than she, 
 a poor miserable thing." 
 
 While in the midst of this talk, Tom Ridgway came 
 to secure the company of his sisters for his first call 
 with his wife on the Fergusons. Julia refused to go, 
 decidedly. Eh'za hesitated, between her fear of com- 
 promising her dignity and her desire to do something 
 which would recommend her in the eyes of young
 
 252 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 Clarendon or the Rev. Mr. Clement, it was immaterial 
 which ; a clergyman she had long ago decided the 
 happy man must be. The latter motive prevailed, and 
 she accompanied her brother to the Bird's Nest, Miss 
 Julia congratulating herself upon the prospect of finish- 
 ing the talk with Mrs. Dobbin without the presence 
 of a third person.
 
 THE DISCOVERY. 253 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 THE DISCOVERY. 
 
 " There are some happy moments in this lone 
 And desolate world of ours, that well repay 
 The toil of struggling through it, and alone, 
 For many a long, sad night and weary day. 
 They come upon the mind like some wild air 
 Of distant music, which we know not where 
 Or whence the sounds are brought from." 
 
 HALLECK. 
 
 THE HOUR was fixed for the return of Colonel 
 Clarendon and his daughter to Woodland Bluff. 
 They had many pleasant memories of their visit Gal- 
 leries of paintings, the studios of artists, rooms of stat- 
 uary, and private collections of fine arts, had been 
 freely opened to Colonel Clarendon. He had enjoyed, 
 too, the society of brother officers, and lived over with 
 them the stirring scenes of soldier life. Honora, though 
 her yearning for home had been constant, could not 
 leave persons with whom she had lived for several
 
 254 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 weeks without a shade of sadness. She had, with 
 great difficulty, persuaded Mr. Douglass to allow Aga- 
 tha to return to Rockridge with her, provided the child 
 herself wished it. Her strength had not been restored 
 since her illness, and physicians advised quiet and rest. 
 Her uncle, immersed in the gayeties of a city life, 
 needed, perhaps, an excuse for his strong desire for 
 amusement, when he assured Honora he remained 
 there himself " wholly on Agatha's account." His pride 
 had been flattered by the impression she had made 
 with the Winchesters. He was a man of the world, 
 shrewd, planning, far-seeing. It had occui-red to him, 
 when he had seen the devotion of the young Winchesters 
 to his niece, their evident admiration of her, and rivalry 
 with each other for her hand in the dance, that, in 
 due time, Agatha was now fifteen, and his mother 
 was married at sixteen, it might be well to secure 
 so fine a prospect for his adopted daughter as the wife 
 of the son of the wealthy, distinguished, and aristocratic 
 General Winchester. That there are such planning 
 fathers and mothers, who take many " a long look 
 ahead" for their children, is a truth that every one's 
 observation will corroborate. The matter, however, of
 
 THE DISCOVERY. 255 
 
 Agatha's immediate return to Rockridge was left with 
 the child herself, and, with her innate strength of char- 
 acter, she decided that energy and vigor were dearer 
 to her than all the smiles and adulations of her new- 
 found friends. 
 
 It was really charming to see Honora once more in 
 the cottage at Woodland. She went over the rooms 
 again and again, as a child goes over a familiar pic- 
 ture, discovering new beauties continually. The little 
 conservatory Gregory had built for her with his own 
 hands was full of choice plants that had been tended 
 by a careful hand, and promised plenty of bright blos- 
 soms for Easter. 
 
 There had been changes, even in Rockridge, during 
 the few weeks of Honora's absence. Tom Ridgway had 
 bought a piece of ground next Mr. Douglass's estate, 
 and was building an Italian villa. Chauncey Douglass 
 was still at Maple Cliff, living the life of a recluse. 
 
 Honora found Papsy, feeble and suffering, with a 
 meek, blue-eyed babe on her arm, whose influence on 
 the child-mother was like the gentle dew on the open- 
 ing flower. 
 
 ' O Miss Nora ! " she exclaimed, as Miss Clarendon
 
 256 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 put out her hand to take the baby, " good out of evil, 
 God has done it, Papsy sees it now." 
 
 Robert Walton was still a visitor at "Woodland. He 
 had been but once into the open air, and was re- 
 manded by a sharp pain in his chest ; however, he had 
 gained strength, and with prudence, Dr. Woodbury 
 said, he would be prepared for his journey when spring 
 opened. 
 
 As soon as it was practicable, Honora and Agatha 
 visited the Fergusons in their new home. They were 
 full of grateful thanks for the blessings that surrounded 
 them. The few articles of furniture were arranged 
 to the best advantage, and the father's arm-chair a 
 remnant of better days stood in the corner of the 
 tiny parlor. Over the mantel-shelf was a picture Ho- 
 nora had never seen. Agatha's attention was attracted 
 by it at once, and as she gazed Catherine remarked, 
 " That is a sketch of our home over the water. We 
 value it as the work of our mother." 
 
 Honora noted the deadly paleness of Agatha's cheek, 
 and the trembling of her limbs, and led her to the 
 arm-chair, apologizing by speaking of her recent ill- 
 ness and probable fatigue. Six months before, Agatha
 
 THE DISCOVERY. 257 
 
 would have openly told the cause of her agitation, but 
 she was growing into womanhood, and gaining in self- 
 control. 
 
 As soon as they reached home, she threw her arms 
 about Honora's neck, crying, "It must be, it must be. 
 The Fergusons are Mr. Walton's father and sisters." 
 
 Miss Clarendon acknowledged the proofs were strong, 
 as Agatha told the tale of the two pictures. Colonel 
 Clarendon was sanguine that it might be as she felt 
 it must be. Childlike, Agatha was exceedingly desi- 
 rous to communicate to Walton the joyful news, and 
 after many cautious, she hastened, with a flushed face 
 and beating heart, to meet the object of her solicitude. 
 
 He welcomed her into the conservatory by saying, 
 " I am glad to see you, dear. I was wishing for some 
 little person who could get on those steps and reach 
 me that tiny cape jasmine. But, my precious child, 
 what has happened ? " he added, observing the alter- 
 nate glow and paleness that came over her cheek. 
 
 All Agatha's set speeches vanished. " You remem- 
 ber," she said, with downcast eyes, for slfe did not 
 dare trust herself to look him in the face, ki you told 
 me about your home and your sisters. I have thought 
 
 Q
 
 258 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 of them continually, and longed to restore them to 
 you. You never told me their names," she added, 
 somewhat perplexed lest she should divulge the secret 
 before she was quite sure of the result. 
 
 " God bless you for thinking of them ! " he said mus- 
 ingly. " Their names," he added, " names that I 
 have breathed only in prayer, Catherine and Stella." 
 
 " They are found ! They are here ! " exclaimed 
 Agatha, fairly jumping up and down with excitement, 
 " Catherine and Stella Ferguson ! " 
 
 "Walton looked at her a moment, with an expression 
 of wondering doubt ; and then, a deadly paleness spread- 
 ing over his face, and beaded drops of sweat standing 
 on his forehead, he whispered, " Agatha, you would 
 not trifle with my feelings. What can you have heard ? 
 I must not be disappointed," he added eagerly. " No, 
 it cannot be," he said, sinking back, fainting, into his 
 chair. 
 
 Agatha's composure returned with his agitation. She 
 told him at once, in a calm, straightforward way, the 
 story of their discovery and removal to Rockridge, 
 closing with the account of the two pictures. 
 
 " How unworthy am I of this blessing ! " he ex-
 
 THE DISCOVERY. 259 
 
 claimed, raising his eyes to heaven, " coming, too, in 
 the end of life to soothe my last moments." 
 
 "O Mr. Walton!" said Agatha, eagerly, "you will 
 be better now, you will have such a sweet home, so 
 near to all you love." 
 
 " The ways of Providence how wonderful ! " he re- 
 plied. " God has kept me here, in spite of all my 
 uneasy, restless longings to get away; and all to bless 
 me in the end with blessings for which I had hardly 
 dared hope ! But I must go," he said, rising, though 
 scarce able to stand ; " the blessing is within my reach, 
 I must seize it."
 
 260 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY, 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 THE COQUETTE. 
 
 " Mine eyes 
 
 Were not in fault, for she was beautiful; 
 Mine ears, that heard her flattery; nor my heart, 
 That thought her like her seeming." 
 
 SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 And thou, thou didst throw- 
 That crushed affection back upon thy heart ! " 
 
 MRS. HEMANS. 
 
 REGORY CLARENDON walked the customary 
 \^M round of duties after the departure of his friends, 
 and endeavored to excuse himself, as week after week 
 went by without a call at General Winchester's. But 
 his conscience waa not easily quieted, and one drizzly 
 afternoon found him at the door of that hospitable 
 mansion. He was well known, and received by the 
 servants as one of the family. The door of the break- 
 fast-room stood ajar, and he ventured to take the lib- 
 erty which he had often done, of looking at a fine old
 
 THE COQUETTE. 261 
 
 painting that hung there, before joining the family in 
 the library. He flattered himself he would be more 
 genial, and better-natured, for a few moments spent in 
 communion with the great artist. He gently pushed 
 the door, then drew back instantly, but not till he had 
 been observed. 
 
 By the writing-table sat Isabelle, her raven locks 
 unbound, and flowing in long curls over her neck and 
 shoulders. Her dress was an elegant neglige, and her 
 tiny foot rested gracefully on a hassock. The table 
 was covered with dainty notes of many sizes, mostly 
 sealed with wax of a cerulean tint ; under her right 
 hand was a miniature, and in her left she held an 
 open letter, which had evidently produced not the most 
 pleasing impression, for her long lashes were heavy 
 with tears. 
 
 " Come in, Mr. Clarendon," she said, hastily wiping 
 her eyes. " You find me, like the day, weeping, and in 
 negligent attire : but I am troubled, and you may be 
 able to help me." 
 
 Gregory came in at her bidding, but did not take a 
 seat. " If I can help you, Mi-s Isabelle," he said, " I 
 shall be happy to do so, but I must apologize for my 
 intrusion."
 
 262 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 "No apology is needed," Mr. Clarendon, she replied 
 quickly, " if you will only be seated, and exercise your 
 benevolence on my case." 
 
 " I fear yours is a case that does not come within 
 my power," he said, with a slight shade of irony in 
 his tone. 
 
 "If you cannot help me," she replied, sadly, "you 
 can at least pity me. Read that!" she added, giving 
 him the letter she held. 
 
 " Pierre McLellan ! " he exclaimed, in a tone of sur- 
 prise as he glanced at the signature. " Pierre McLel- 
 lan in New York ! " 
 
 " Pierre, when you knew him, was worthier of your 
 friendship than at present. But read," she said, some- 
 what imperiously ; " I am eager for your advice." 
 
 Gregory read, and the varying shadows that passed 
 over his face were like the reflection of the clouds on 
 the bosom of a lake before a summer shower. He 
 finished his rapid reading without a word, Isabelle 
 watching him closely, and moving her foot impatiently. 
 
 " And you trifled with such affection as this ! " said 
 Gregory, as he folded the letter with a sigh. 
 
 "No," replied she, moved by his sorrowful tone,
 
 THE COQUETTE. 263 
 
 " not trifled : he was no more to me than a score of 
 others. But I pity him," she added, hesitating, "be- 
 cause because he seems so crushed by it." 
 
 "Then you would not utterly ruin your victims," 
 said Clarendon, sarcastically, "only bring them very 
 near the precipice ! " 
 
 It was a cutting speech, and he felt sorry for it as 
 it passed his lips. Isabelle was touched, her face 
 flushed crimson, and her lip quivered, as she said, 
 " Gregory Clarendon, you despise me ; but am I to 
 blame, because to blame for " 
 
 "To blame only," he replied, more kindly, "for not 
 being true to yourself. A true woman seeks not to 
 slay her thousands, but reserves the wealth of her af- 
 fections for one only." 
 
 " But can we do anything in this case ? " said Isa- 
 belle, earnestly wishing to impress upon Gregory her 
 desire to retrieve the consequences of her coquetry. 
 " Can anything be done for poor Pierre ? " 
 
 " I must look him up," he said, gravely ; " the poor 
 fellow must be strangely broken down to write thus ; 
 his mind is evidently shattered." 
 
 "You will hardly find him in any respectable place;
 
 264 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 he has lost caste completely," said Isabelle, "and I beg 
 you will not again expose yourself to danger. What 
 would my brothers say, if they knew that he presumed 
 to send me this?" she added, passing the miniature. 
 
 Gregory took it in silence. Yes, there was Pierre, 
 the same delicately pencilled features, the same rla>-u- 
 head, the same speaking mouth ; and this man, honor- 
 able, devout, this thoughtful, generous friend, wa* 
 transformed, by the siren smile of the coquette, into a 
 weak, passionate man, lost to self-respect, and to the 
 respect and confidence of others. The letter told the 
 tale. He had met his charmer in New Orleans, and 
 she with her peerless beauty had fascinated him. The 
 passion, nourished in his heart by months of intimate 
 intercourse in the sunny South, had so completely un- 
 manned him, as to render him only an object of pity. 
 
 " I will seek him, till I find," said Gregory ear- 
 nestly. " He endeavors to drown in dissipation the re- 
 membrance of the past ; but you see by his letter his 
 heart is not in it. Pierre I must find ! " he added, as 
 he rose to go. 
 
 Isabelle held his hand in parting, and said in her 
 sweetest tone, and with real emotion : " Don't peril
 
 THE COQUETTE. 265 
 
 yourself, Mr. Clarendon ; I am grateful for your as- 
 sistance, but I shall feel continually anxious if you put 
 yourself in such company." Her beaming eyes were 
 fixed full upon him, and as she spoke, large tears 
 dropped slowly. 
 
 Gregory was forced to reply, "Thank you, Miss 
 Isabelle, but my former misadventure has made me 
 so notorious, that it would be unwise to try tricks 
 upon me. You need fear nothing," he added, as she 
 again pressed his hand, and renewed her thanks. 
 
 General "Winchester's family were taken by surprise, 
 when Isabelle informed them at tea, that Mr. Claren- 
 don had spent the afternoon alone with her in the 
 breakfast-room. 
 
 " Ha ! sister mine," said her brother Duncan, " I 
 congratulate you more than all on this conquest: the 
 siege has been equal to that of Troy. But I 've no 
 patience with the cold dignity of this sprig of divinity." 
 
 " Probably because he treats you with such silent 
 contempt," said Isabelle. 
 
 "Or his meddlesome interference with the little Ag- 
 atha," said his brother. 
 
 With Gregory, a subject of particular interest was 
 12
 
 266 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 always so absorbing as to drive all little things from 
 his mind, and he soon forgot, in the intensity of his 
 desire to help his friend, the peculiar look and tone 
 of Isabelle at their last meeting. 
 
 His nature too had been chastened and subdued by 
 a power beyond himself, and he had learned to ad- 
 mire earnest well-doing, better than the most brilliant 
 charms. Nevertheless, she had played her game well, 
 and the strong desire she had expressed to help Pierre 
 had left the impression on his mind that she was not 
 altogether heartless.
 
 PIERRE McLELLAN. 267 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIY. 
 
 PIERRE McLELLAN. 
 
 "To raise the devil were an infant's task 
 To that of raising man." 
 
 " Some souls lose all but the love of beauty, 
 And by that they are redeemable; 
 For in love and beauty they acknowledge good, 
 And good is God." 
 
 FESTUS. 
 
 finO FIND McLellan, and to rescue him from a life 
 I of degradation, was now the earnest wish of Clar- 
 endon. His first step was to obtain the assistance of the 
 police. Many notorious gambling-houses were visited, 
 and weeks passed without any success. Clarendon was 
 ready to believe that Pierre must have left New York. 
 He had written to him urging him to come to his 
 lodgings, but had received no reply. At length, the 
 search was successful : the officers of justice had made 
 a descent upon a notorious gambling-saloon, and cap-
 
 268 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 tured several of the occupants, among whom was a 
 young man answering to Clarendon's description of 
 McLellan. 
 
 Gregory proceeded to the station-house, and there dis- 
 covered his former friend, the same, and yet changed. 
 He had won largely during the evening, and there was 
 a fiendish glance of triumph in his brilliant eye; but 
 Gregory, with the far-reaching penetration of a friend, 
 read misery in those compressed lips, and clutching 
 fingers. How utterly useless for a moment did all 
 efforts of man for his guilty brother appear to Claren- 
 don, as he gazed upon one he had once regarded with 
 the respect of friendship, now bound and led captive 
 by a deadly vice ! 
 
 At the sight of Gregory, the countenance of Pierre 
 changed, the wild eye and impatient gesture gave way 
 to a look of mingled remorse and despair. It was with 
 some difficulty that Clarendon persuaded the young 
 man to accompany him; but the earnest heart and 
 strong will prevailed, and together they went to Greg- 
 ory's rooms. Clarendon led his companion at once to 
 his bedchamber, bidding him rest, assuring him that 
 he was too wearied to talk that night ; and returned
 
 PIERRE McLELLAN. 269 
 
 himself to his study. Several letters had been brought 
 in during his absence. He glanced hastily at them, 
 and they were laid by with one exception, a letter 
 from home, the superscription was Agatha's. It must 
 be owned, however, that he paused a moment over a 
 daintily perfumed note, sealed with blue, and then, with 
 the slightest possible curl of the upper lip, accompanied 
 with the play of a lurking smile, he placed it with the 
 others, and, breaking the seal of Agatha's, read as fol- 
 lows : 
 
 "ROCKBIDGE, March, 18 . 
 "DEAK, DARLING COUSIN: 
 
 "I know you will be delighted, when I tell you 
 that the Fergusons are Robert's relations. I wish you 
 were here to see how happy they are. You laugh at 
 me for weeping so easily ; but we should have seen 
 your tears, I know, if you could have been present 
 when dear old Mr. Ferguson, who always makes mo 
 think of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, folded Robert in 
 his arms and cried over him for joy. Catherine was 
 calm as a summer morning. I told cousin Nora, she 
 would make you a good wife; you liked calm people." 
 (Here Gregory shrugged his shoulders and smiled.)
 
 270 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 " Cousin told me, I must never pick out husbands and 
 wives for persons, but let them make their own choice ; 
 and then she gave me a lecture, no, not a lecture, 
 a talk, about proper subjects of thought and conversa- 
 tion. I told it over to Stella Ferguson afterwards, 
 and she said it ought to be printed. I love Stella, 
 dearly, better than anybody but you and Cousin 
 Nora. When I look into her eyes, it seems as if 
 I was looking right into a fresh violet. And I hope 
 uncle will not forbid my going with her, when he 
 comes home. 
 
 " Brother Chauncey, who has grown very odd and 
 sober, told me to-day, that he had purchased the old 
 farm-house covered with woodbine that stands on the 
 brink of Oak Bay. He will have no more to do with 
 uncle, and means to leave Maple Cliff next week. 
 
 " The Judge and his wife are to keep house for 
 him. I laughed at him about his choice of company; 
 he said, he did not wish anybody he must entertain. 
 
 "I expect to see you frown, when you hear how 
 disrespectful I was to Mr. Clement yesterday. Your 
 father laughed, because I said, he was like Miss Mor- 
 gan, and I wished he would marry her, so that uncle
 
 PIERRE McLELLAN. 271 
 
 need not ask her back to teach me. I was sorry 
 afterwards, because it grieved Cousin Nora. What a 
 foolish little-girl letter I am writing! but you told me 
 to write just as I would like. 
 
 " Papsy comes to see Cousin Nora often ; she is not 
 as she used to be. Mr. Clement has christened her 
 baby, and she and Rosa and Chet are to be baptized 
 Easter even. 
 
 "I hope you will be here at Easter. 
 
 " This long sheet is filled, mostly with nonsense. 
 Have I worn out your patience ? 
 
 "Your affectionate little 
 
 " AGGIE." 
 
 " Worn out my patience ! no indeed, darling," said 
 Gregory, as he closed the letter ; " there is something 
 reviving in the freshness of your thoughts." He took 
 up the pretty, dainty note, and, carefully opening it, 
 read: 
 
 "Nzw YORK, Tuesday Eve. 
 " MY DEAR MR. CLARENDON : 
 "I am so anxious for the effects of my imprudence 
 in exposing you to danger, that I beg you will report
 
 272 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 yourself soon at my father's, and relieve my anxiety, 
 which last night would not suffer me to sleep. 
 "Very truly yours, 
 
 " ISABELLE." 
 
 "I shall take care of the victim first," he said, as 
 he heard a groan from the adjoining room, at the same 
 time indignantly throwing the note into the fire. 
 
 In the morning interview with the broken-down 
 Pierre, Clarendon learned from his own mouth the 
 course of his temptation and fall. To remove his 
 stricken friend from the scenes of his guilt and the 
 object of his affections, was the first thing to be done. 
 Gregory looked upon him as an insane person ; and his 
 sunken eye, and the nervous twitching of his fingers, 
 showed the absence of accustomed stimulants. Where 
 could he be sheltered and cared for, till the balance 
 of his mind could be restored ? 
 
 Like the vision of a sure haven of rest, away from 
 temptation, came the farm-house of Chauncey Douglass. 
 Bachelor's hall, too ! It was not many days before 
 that gentleman answered a summons from Clarendon, 
 by appearing at his rooms in New York. The plau
 
 PIERRE McLELLAN. 273 
 
 was talked over together, and in the presence of Pierre, 
 he only begging that Clarendon "would not leave him 
 alone." 
 
 Chauncey consented to receive him as an inmate at 
 the farm-house, provided he was in no way accountable 
 for his well-doing. Books, fishing and hunting appa- 
 ratus, drawings, and music, were provided for the young 
 man ; and Clarendon had the satisfaction of seeing him 
 depart with Chauncey, all having agreed that a pro- 
 found silence should be maintained about him, and 
 Douglass insisting that he would consider him as his 
 friend " De Lue." 
 
 During his next call on Miss Winchester, Clarendon 
 took occasion to tell her that Pierre was in a safe 
 place, and doing well ; politely evading all her inqui- 
 ries as to his whereabouts. 
 
 12*
 
 274 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 CHAPTEE XXXV. 
 
 SELF-CONQUEST. 
 
 " Wilt thou find rest in thy returning 
 
 To that old path thou hast so vainly trod ? 
 Hast thou forgotten all thy weary yearning 
 To walk among the children of thy God ? " 
 
 IT WAS midsummer, and the hot breath of the 
 steaming city gave Clarendon a longing for the 
 cool breezes of his Highland home ; and he was to 
 leave town to-morrow. He must first do his father's 
 bidding, which he had already deferred too long, and 
 renew the invitation to the Winchesters to pass a 
 month at Rockridge during the season. He blamed 
 himself that he could not give the invitation heartily ; 
 sadly ungentlemanly and unhospitable was it in him, 
 but he did begrudge the quiet walks with Honora, and 
 the refreshing converse of Agatha, which he knew he 
 must renounce during their stay. He could not but 
 be relieved when the invitation was accepted for the
 
 SELF-CONQUEST. 275 
 
 month of August, and not immediately. He found 
 on his return home that Mr. Douglass had taken no 
 step to recall Miss Morgan, and Agatha and some half- 
 dozen girls of her age, among whom was Stella Fer- 
 guson, were pupils of Mr. Clement. There had sprung 
 up between these two, Aggie and Stella, one of those 
 girlish friendships, of which earth offers no equal for 
 perfect confiding trust and love; and the arrangement 
 was perfectly delightful to them. Agatha stood per- 
 haps more hi awe of her teacher than of any other 
 human being; and now that he assisted her progress 
 in intellectual knowledge, a distant friendship was 
 growing daily between them. There had been no 
 tune of trial. Fond of study, and quite as urgent 
 to progress as her instructor was to put her forward, 
 she had as yet received no reproof. 
 
 It happened, one bright day in July, that Gregory 
 walked out, designing to meet Agatha on her return 
 from school. He was blessing his ancestors for the 
 double row of elms that shaded the street of Rock- 
 ridge, when Mr. Clement came out of the Rectory 
 gate. The gentlemen greeted each other, and Clar- 
 endon inquired for Agatha.
 
 276 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MAEY. 
 
 The clergyman's face wore a perplexed and grave 
 expression, as he said : "I am sorry to say that Miss 
 Agatha is in disgrace. She has displeased me exceed- 
 ingly, and the matter has gone so far, that I must 
 either give up my authority, or resort to severer 
 measures ; probably expel her from school." 
 
 Gregory did not speak for a moment ; at length he 
 said : " Mr. Clement, I cannot tell you how grieved 
 I am for you in this trial ; and for this child," he 
 added. " May I ask the nature of her fault, making 
 my interest in her an excuse for the question ? " 
 
 " Certainly," replied Mr. Clement. " This morning, 
 during the recitations of the second class, I looked at 
 Agatha, and found she was reading instead of study- 
 ing ; this is a breach of the rules of the school. I 
 requested her to bring me the volume. She hesitated, 
 till I repeated my request for the third time. She 
 then arose, and, with a violent ebullition of proud 
 temper, threw the volume on my desk. It was a 
 book written with modern infidelity on every page. 
 Had she given me the volume in a quiet way, 3 
 should not have spoken of it before the school ; as 
 it was, I told her at once that I must forbid her
 
 SELF-CONQUEST. 277 
 
 reading it at any time. She was exceedingly angry, 
 answering me very impertinently, and positively refus- 
 ing to study or recite. I did not dismiss her with the 
 young ladies, but have just finished a conversation 
 with her, that has had no more effect than if I had 
 spoken to the wind ; while her friend Stella was 
 drowned in sorrow, begging her to submit, urging her 
 to apologize. She must give up this will, or I shall 
 send her home, not to come back without a public 
 
 " You are right, Mr. Clement," said Gregory, in a 
 sorrowful tone. " Agatha will yet mourn over this 
 burst of passion with a bitterness that will be as great 
 as her temper has been violent. If you had known 
 her when she came to Maple Cliff, you would see how 
 much she has gained in self-control in the last year 
 and a half. She was a perfect little firebrand, ready 
 to light and blaze at the least spark." 
 
 " She has had kind friends," replied the clergyman, 
 " in Miss Clarendon, Miss Morgan, and yourself." 
 
 The gentlemen had walked together during the 
 conversation, and now stood at the entrance of the 
 Gorge.
 
 278 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 " You know this little miss better than I do, Clar- 
 endon," said Mr. Clement. " Do you think she will 
 be more likely to return to her duty, if I keep her 
 where she is, or send her home ? " 
 
 " Send her home, by all means ! " replied Clarendon. 
 " Liberty is necessary that she may fully realize her 
 position." 
 
 They parted again at the Rectory gate, Clarendon 
 going towards home. He knew that Agatha, in her 
 present state, would soon overtake him. It was not 
 many minutes before he heard the light, quick step. 
 He turned and took her hand ; instinctively she felt 
 that he knew all. Neither spoke till they came to the 
 entrance gate at Woodland Bluff, when Gregory led 
 her gently to a garden chair in the thicket of shrub- 
 bery. 
 
 " Tell me all," he said, drawing her towards him. 
 
 She did not once raise her eyes to his, as she went 
 through the story in a low, determined tone, blaming 
 Mr. Clement in the severest manner for taking a book 
 from her that her uncle had given her to read. She 
 had learned her lessons, and was disturbing no one. 
 " And now," she added in the close, " he wishes me
 
 SELF-CONQUEST. 279 
 
 to apologize ! Apologize ! That is something I will 
 never " 
 
 " Stay, Agatha," said Gregory, placing his finger on 
 her lips. " Your tongue is impelled by a rebellious 
 spirit. Look me in the face as you used to do, and 
 I can soon tell how much of what you say is indeed 
 the real sentiment of your heart, and what is the re- 
 sult of anger and wounded pride. Agatha," he added, 
 more gravely, "it is long since you have had such a 
 test of the earnestness' with which you struggle with 
 self. How I wish you would let me help you ! " 
 
 She made no reply, and a long silence ensued. At 
 length Gregory spoke : 
 
 "Poor wandering soul! 1 know that thou art seeking 
 Some easier way, as all have sought before, 
 To silence the reproachful inward speaking, 
 Some landward path unto an island shore. 
 
 The cross is heavy in thy human measure, 
 The way too narrow for thy inward pride." 
 
 He paused in his repeating, for her head had sunk 
 upon his arm, and she was weeping. He did not seek 
 to restrain her tears, but led her backward to past 
 resolutions, and forward to new hopes. 
 
 "Dear Cousin Gregory," she said, still sobbing, "I
 
 280 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 shall never conquer ! What shall I do ? What can 
 I do?" 
 
 " Do you really wish me to tell you how you may 
 conquer ? " he said. " Perhaps I shall require more 
 than you will consent to perform. Do you still wish 
 me to tell you, dear ? " 
 
 She gave a token of assent. 
 
 " Raise your head, then, and rest it here," he said, 
 laying his hand on his shoulder, " and I can talk with 
 you." 
 
 " No, no," she replied in a despairing voice. " I 
 shall never be I am not worthy to look up." 
 
 " Worthiness, Agatha, is not for us mortals," he said, 
 raising her head by his superior strength, till it rested 
 where he wished. "You ask me to tell you, then, 
 what I think you should do ; how you may conquer 
 this enemy of your peace," he said, looking for the 
 first time into the depths of those brown eyes. " Your 
 first object, my child, will be to recall the gentle Dove, 
 who had begun to nestle in your heart, and who is 
 driven away by passion, pride, and wilfulness. Hum- 
 ble yourself deeply and entirely before God. You can 
 never be sure, however, that the wilful spirit is sub-
 
 SELF-CONQUEST. 281 
 
 dued, till you are ready and desirous to humble your- 
 self before your justly offended fellow-man. I would 
 advise that you see Mr. Clement ere you sleep. Try 
 to realize your relations to him, your duty to submit 
 to his authority, not only as your teacher, but your 
 spiritual pastor. It is due to Mr. Clement that you 
 should freely confess to him your sorrow and shame, 
 of course, I know you will say nothing that you do 
 not really feel, and then you are to submit willingly 
 to any punishment he may appoint for your offence. 
 Can you do all this, Agatha ? " 
 
 "I will try," she said in a low voice, followed by 
 a deep sigh. 
 
 " God bless you, my child," he replied. " Be sure, 
 if you do all this, you will, in time, come off conqueror 
 of yourself, by the grace of God, through Him that 
 loves us." 
 
 One hour before sunset found Agatha at the Rec- 
 tory. Mr. Clement was out, but she resolutely re- 
 solved to wait his return. He was deeply touched 
 by the ingenuous sorrow of her repentance, and the 
 earnest simplicity with which she sought his forgive-
 
 282 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 " My daughter," he said, affectionately, " you are 
 fully and freely forgiven, and I wish it was in my 
 power wholly to remit your punishment" 
 
 " No, sir," she replied quickly, struggling with her 
 feelings. "My offence was public, and I feel that my 
 apology should be the same." 
 
 "I will make it for you, Agatha," he said, much 
 affected; "and I feel, my dear child, that this will be 
 the only time I shall be called to fulfil so painful a 
 duty for you. You will be helped by a Divine power, 
 if you persevere in the course you have commenced." 
 
 He then talked with her affectionately of the path 
 of the Christian's life, and of the many helps he has, 
 that are nowhere promised to those who will not 
 seek the appointed means of grace. 
 
 Having prayed with her, and given her his blessing, 
 she departed, half resolved at once to overcome her 
 scruples, and seek admittance into the fold of the 
 Church.
 
 THE MASTER OF MAPLE CLIFF. 283 
 
 CHAPTER XXXYI. 
 
 THE MASTER OF MAPLE CLIFF. 
 
 " His days are spent 
 
 In chaining down his heart, and watching when 
 To rise by human weaknesses. His nights 
 Bring him no rest, in all their blessed hours." 
 
 WILLIS. 
 
 MR. DOUGLASS, occupied, as lie had been the 
 year past, in the gayeties of foreign and city 
 life, could not readily settle down into the old hum- 
 drum course he led during Mrs. Douglass's days. There 
 was, besides, a fearful reckoning going on in his own 
 conscience, and solitude was unendurable. To drown 
 thought, he had contracted a wonderful intimacy with 
 Tom Ridgway. The young lawyer had rendered him 
 valuable service in establishing his claim to the prop- 
 erty in Scotland. The Italian villa, too, rested on the 
 slope between Maple Cliff and the village, and Tom's 
 wife was agreeable company. Thus it came to pass, that
 
 284 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 Mr. Douglass, who had kept himself aloof from every- 
 thing at Rockridge, found congenial society in a family 
 whom he had previously despised. 
 
 The room occupied by his wife he had never en- 
 tered since his return. There were papers there that 
 should be examined, but Mr. Douglass was a coward, 
 and feared to meet the rebuke of the departed. 
 
 Now and then the idea of a second marriage flitted 
 across his mind, but his good sense told him that money 
 could be the only object of such a union with him. 
 At times he meditated the recall of Papsy to his lonely 
 and desolate home, that he might have one over whom 
 he could exercise unlimited authority. But, unprincipled 
 as he was, he would not risk a renewal of Agatha's 
 intimacy with one who had proved herself so weak. 
 With regard to Papsy's having become religious, he 
 ridiculed the idea, as he did all Mr. Clement's efforts 
 for the Gorge and its inhabitants. 
 
 The master at Maple Cliff sat smoking in the library, 
 one August morning, with his friend Ridgway. He 
 wn* mourning with that gentleman the dulness of 
 country life, when Agatha came running in from the 
 greenhouse, almost wild with delight, exclaiming. "They
 
 THE MASTER OF MAPLE CLIFF. 285 
 
 are coming! they are coming! I saw the carriage 
 driving into "Woodland Bluff! I am so glad!" And 
 she skipped up to her uncle, and asked, "Are not 
 you glad, that the beautiful and brilliant Isabelle, and 
 her gay brothers, are come to town ? " 
 
 "Yes indeed," he replied, more heartily than usuaL 
 "There's a woman worth looking at, Tom," he added, 
 at the same time casting a glance at the mirror, that 
 reflected a fine set of teeth, and aided him in adjust- 
 ing his black wig. 
 
 "Agatha, my daughter," he continued, "a part of 
 the Winchesters' visit, of course, will be with us. Do 
 you feel competent to do the honors of the house?" 
 
 " O, uncle ! " she replied, looking towards Ridgway, 
 as if she wished him at home. " If you would let 
 Stella Ferguson come and stay with me, we could 
 manage beautifully. She knows how to do all sorts 
 of things!" 
 
 " Stella Ferguson ! " said her uncle ; " pray who is 
 she? I heard Clarendon speaking of the Fergusons. 
 Where do they live ? For my part I have lost the 
 run of the comers and goers in Rockridge. There's 
 that friend of Chauncey's," he continued, addressing
 
 286 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 Ridgway, "I never heard of him till yesterday. De 
 Lue did you say was his name?" 
 
 " Yes," said Ridgway, rising to go. " Rather cracked 
 here," he added, putting his hand to his heart. "I'll 
 bring that dog up to-morrow," he said, as he closed 
 the door. 
 
 "Ferguson! Ferguson!" said Mr. Douglass, looking 
 uneasily at Agatha. " Where did this family come 
 *rom? What do you know about them, child?" 
 
 Agatha felt a little vexed by her uncle's tone and 
 manner, and disinclined to continue the conversation. 
 But he persisted in knowing all, and presently she had 
 given him the information. 
 
 "Then Gregory Clarendon imported them from the 
 streets of New York!" said Mr. Douglass, in a tone 
 of bitter sarcasm. "The young man might have been 
 in better business! But it is clear, child, from your 
 account, that they are not people I should choose for 
 your associates. As you are alone, I am willing you 
 should have this girl here occasionally, but I am not 
 willing," he added, raising his voice authoritatively, 
 "that you should visit them, and mix with such low 
 people ! "
 
 THE MASTER OF MAPLE CLIFF. 287 
 
 " Low people ! " said Agatha, rising haughtily, and 
 stamping her little foot, while her eyes flashed with 
 the anger that threatened to overcome her; but the 
 next instant she sunk upon the sofa, and bowed her 
 face in her hands. Mr. Douglass retired at once, 
 a weeping woman he could never endure. Agatha 
 was V5ry angry ; it did seem cruel, very cruel, to 
 deprive her thus of the society she so much loved. 
 It was unjust, too ! " The Fergusons low people ! " 
 The expression would rise continually. Hours after, 
 when her uncle sent for her to call on the Winches- 
 ters, she overcame the pride and rebellion that would 
 have bid her decline the walk, and went out to meet 
 him with a smile. 
 
 Cordially were the "Winchesters welcomed at Wood- 
 land Bluff and Maple Cliff. Tired of admiration, 
 wearied with a continual round of hangers-on, Isabelle 
 was now where in her heart she had long wished to 
 be. The unsubdued human affections reach out often 
 for that which is beyond their reach. Isabelle, with 
 scores of lovers at her feet, turned with an unresisted 
 yearning toward one who had come within the 
 charmed circle of her witchery, and gone free. Now
 
 288 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 she was under the same roof. Intimate intercourse 
 would follow, and she must succeed. With her 
 fortune, she could place th- object of her choice 
 in an elevated position ; without her, he would prob- 
 ably be only a country clergyman, of very limited 
 means. Thus and thus did she meditate, as she 
 went to rest in the oval chamber in "Woodland 
 Cottage. 
 
 Mr. Douglass's thoughts, after he had retired for the 
 night, arranged themselves somewhat in this form : 
 " Now I will make my plans. To-day has convinced 
 me that Duncan Winchester is really charmed with 
 Agatha. I suspected it before. I must find employ- 
 ment for the other brother, three spoil love-making. 
 Stella Ferguson ! I don't like the name. Agatha 
 says she is well-bred ; I will bring her here for these 
 few weeks. General Winchester will hardly thank me 
 for introducing his son ; however, a flirtation will not 
 hurt him. Yes, Agatha is very young, but she and 
 Duncan would make a pretty couple ; the two for- 
 tunes, ^ they would be immensely rich. They, might 
 marry after an engagement of a year or more, and I 
 could take them the tour of Europe. Agatha gave
 
 THE MASTEB OF MAPLE CLIFF. 289 
 
 up finely to-day ; she is getting subdued. I '11 bring 
 this girl Stella here to-morrow ; visiting the Fergu- 
 sons need not follow. She said they were English. 
 She was Scotch, but then her brother Frank married 
 an English girl. How she begged me to look after 
 them. The papers would shed light on his age. 
 What if this old man is her brother, turned up under 
 my nose? Why should I trouble myself? No, I'll 
 help these pleasant people enjoy themselves. I don't 
 like all this drilling the child Agatha into religion. 
 This Clement impertinent fool ! to advise me 
 about her reading, as if I intended to help him and 
 Clarendon make the child believe something I don't 
 believe myself. Isabelle is splendid ! If I was only 
 twenty years younger, I 'd defy Clarendon and his 
 aspirations. Ridgway ! nice, clever fellow, drinks good 
 brandy, and smokes fine cigars, and has a mighty 
 charming wife ; but these boring sisters of his ! How 
 I do hate low people ! I wish that brat of Paps/s 
 would die, I 'd do something for the girl. She used 
 
 to say I wonder what she said when she was 
 
 dying. Hush ! what noise ? How foolish, nothing ! 
 Hush ! I hear her cat-like step. There it is again ! 
 13 8
 
 290 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 I was cruel ! Good God ! what is it ? This is 
 dreadful ! I will strike a light." 
 
 Thus hour after hour of darkness went by, and but 
 little rest came to the soul of tiie miserable man. 
 By day, the proud, domineering worldling ; by night, 
 the coward sinner, anticipating his doom.
 
 THE SERENADE. 291 
 
 CHAPTER XXXYII. 
 
 THE SERENADE. 
 
 1 How beautiful is all this visible world! 
 How glorious in its action and itself! 
 But we who name ourselves its sovereigns, we 
 Half dust, half deity, alike unfit 
 To sink or soar, with our mixed essence, make 
 A conflict of its elements, and breathe 
 The breath of degradation and of pride." 
 
 BTKON. 
 
 A SERVANT was despatched with a note from 
 Agatha, inviting Stella to pass the vacation at 
 Maple Cliff. Her friends, innocent of any suspicions 
 of Mr. Douglass's motives, gladly gave their consent. 
 At the same time, this gentleman very hospitably urged 
 the superior accommodations of Maple Cliff, and the 
 society of the young ladies, as a reason why the Win- 
 chester brothers should make his house their home dur- 
 ing the visit: this invitation was also accepted. 
 
 Gregory and Honora were annoyed by this arrange-
 
 292 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 ment. They considered Agatha as a child, but saw that, 
 in the present plan, Mr. Douglass had thoughts of his 
 child's future. She would be thrown into daily, hourly 
 companionship with a person upon whom they had 
 no doubt her uncle looked as her future husband, but 
 in whom they could only see a frivolous, half-educated, 
 fashionable young man. They regarded her as entirely 
 too young to think of so near a relation with any one. 
 Mr. Douglass's plan succeeded to a charm, so far as 
 pairing off the young people. Stella, two years older 
 than Agatha, much taller and larger, gentle in her man- 
 ners, and very lovely, was an interesting companion for 
 Dudley ; while Duncan, in his first flush of manhood, 
 was really enamored with the bright brown eyes and 
 roguish look that continually thwarted all his attempts 
 at love-making. There were parties of every descrip- 
 tion, for riding, walking, berrying, sailing, and dancing. 
 Mr. Douglass and Colonel Clarendon exerted them- 
 selves to the utmost for the entertainment of their 
 guests; and as the guests were moving people, motion 
 of some sort was the order of the days and weeks. 
 There were no quiet, sober talks between Gregory and 
 Agatha, and scarcely between Honora and her brother,
 
 THE SERENADE. 293 
 
 except they sought the early morning hours, before 
 the family arose. These precious moments were often 
 interrupted by Isabelle, who seemed to possess an in- 
 stinctive knowledge of Gregory's whereabouts. She 
 did not appear intrusive, but came in so naturally, and 
 apologized so prettily, that Clarendon accused himself 
 of vanity and uncharitableness in thinking she planned 
 to meet him. These days could not be said to be days 
 of enjoyment to either Honora or her brother; they 
 had tasted of higher pleasures, and these soon lost 
 their charm. 
 
 The stay of the Winchesters was drawing to a close, 
 and Isabelle was spending the last week at Maple. Cliff. 
 Sitting in the window of her chamber, after the family 
 had retired, she seemed nearer the goal of her wishes. 
 She was becoming interested in things that interested 
 those she loved. She was conforming in externals to 
 the stricter notions of her friends. That day, she had 
 ridden to the Gorge with Gregory, to select a site for 
 the chapel, talked of for so many months. But little 
 was collected towards its erection ; but faith was to lay 
 the corner-stone. On her return, Isabelle had deli- 
 cately placed in Mr. Clement's hands a sufficient sum
 
 294 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MAEY. 
 
 to finish the building, in the original and beautiful de- 
 sign ; and for this act she received from Gregory a 
 look of admiration, and a warm pressure of the hand, 
 that well repaid her for the sacrifice. The moon was 
 at the full, and the whole scene from the window of 
 her bedchamber, was suggestive of peace and repose. 
 
 From the river a curh'ng mist arose, which concealed 
 the village, leaving the tree-tops visible, like islands in 
 the midst of a wide sea, and the tower of the old 
 church, with its gilded cross, seeming in the pale light 
 like a huge rock, with the precious sign on its sum- 
 mit, a beacon-light to the tempest-tost. 
 
 Woodland Bluff was between Isabelle and this phan- 
 tom sea; the quiet beauty of its cottage contrasting 
 with the bold bluff on which it stood. How did she 
 long to know that there was one beneath that roof 
 dreaming of her ! A rustling in the shrubbery caused 
 her to draw back from her position in front of the 
 window, and presently there came floating on the even- 
 ing air the sound of a flute, soft and melodious. Was 
 it the melody alone that caused her hastily to pull 
 down the blinds, sink into her seat, and weep bitterly? 
 The chords that fell so sweetly on the ear brought
 
 THE SERENADE. 295 
 
 wretchedness and misery to her heart. There could 
 be no mistake; she had listened to those tones under 
 brighter skies. The memory of the past came with 
 agony to her soul; companionship with the good and 
 upright was doing its work. The next morning found 
 her in a state of nervous excitement, but returning 
 day brought the hope that no other ear had caught 
 the music of the night. 
 
 A fishing party had been proposed for that day, got 
 up by Tom Ridgway. Fishing-grounds were numer- 
 ous about Rockridge, but none with the capacities of 
 Oak Bay. For some reason, which no one pretended 
 to understand, Gregory stoutly set his face against that 
 place for the day's pastime. He gave no particular 
 excuse for this "freak," as Duncan Winchester called 
 it, and Honora wondered that he cared enough for the 
 place to say so much about it. He was overruled, 
 however, by the other gentlemen, and Oak Bay was 
 decided upon. Clarendon looked grave when he came 
 over to Maple Giff to make arrangements for the 
 party. Agatha rushed to him, and in her old eager 
 way, with a slight twinkle in her merry eyes, asked 
 him if he made the beautiful music she heard during
 
 296 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MABY. 
 
 the night in the shrubbery. Isabelle attempted to si- 
 lence her, but Gregory insisted upon hearing her inno- 
 cent description of the kind of music, and her earnest 
 declaration, that "she thought it must be he, serenad- 
 ing Miss Isabelle." 
 
 Gregory looked graver than before, and immediately 
 walked on to the balcony. Isabelle hesitated; it was 
 an unmaidenly act that suggested itself, but she must 
 risk something, and she followed. 
 
 " Mr. Clarendon," she said, in a low tone, " you would 
 pity me if you knew what I have suffered. I would 
 do anything, be anything, to cancel the effect of my 
 wickedness." She sunk down into the carved seat, and 
 hid her face. 
 
 "Isabelle," said he, kindly, "there is only one thing 
 you can do. Cease coquetry, cease flirtation. Be 
 what you may be, what you should be, a Christian 
 woman." 
 
 "I will," she said, earnestly. 
 
 He gently drew her trembling arm within his, and 
 walked across the balcony till she had recovered her 
 calmness, and then led her back to the company.
 
 THE FISHING EXCURSION. 297 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 THE FISHING EXCURSION. 
 
 " To know all human skill, all human strength, 
 Avail not ; to look round and see 
 The mountain wave incumbent with its weight 
 Of bursting waters o'er the reeling bark, 
 God ! this is indeed a fearful thing ! " 
 
 SOUTHEY. 
 
 THERE WAS a great gathering for the fishing 
 party, and boats of all sizes and orders. The 
 day was a true dog-day, hazy, sultry, cloudy, the 
 sun occasionally straggling through the clouds with 
 burning heat In the boat with Gregory were Miss 
 Isabelle (of course) ; Chauncey Douglass, who had 
 joined this party solely with the desire to look upon 
 the beauty that had caused the fall of Pierre ; Tom 
 Ridgway and wife, with Chet at the helm. Agatha, 
 to the annoyance and discomfort of Honora and Greg- 
 ory, was thrown, as if by accident, but really by the 
 13*
 
 298 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MAIIY. 
 
 arrangement of her uncle, into a small sail-boat, with 
 Stella and the brothers Winchester. 
 
 A better fishing day could not have been chosen. 
 Noise and merriment were there, and sometimes quiet, 
 reflective fishing, with a loud scream and hurrah, at 
 each successful haul, from the young people. Now 
 and then the boat in which were Agatha and her 
 young friends would pass near Gregory, convincing 
 him by their movements that they knew nothing of 
 its management. Once when they came suddenly 
 across the bow of his boat, he requested the young 
 men to take Chet to steer for them, but they scouted 
 the idea of danger, and went boldly down the bay, 
 the breeze bearing back to Gregory's ears the song 
 which Duncan, with his rich, musical voice, was car- 
 olling : 
 
 " Here let my home be, 
 Oil the waters wide: 
 I roam -with a proud heart, 
 Aggie 's by my side." 
 
 The intense heat of the sun added to Isabelle's 
 nervous headache, and she looked wretchedly. Mrs. 
 Tom Ridgway suggested that it would be kind to
 
 THE FISHING EXCURSION. 299 
 
 cany her to the shore, and proposed to remain 
 with her; but this Gregory knew would displease that 
 lady's husband, and he landed himself with Miss Win- 
 chester. He really felt pity for the mental suffer- 
 big she was enduring, and exerted himself to relieve 
 her. 
 
 It was an unfortunate position for Clarendon, as 
 they sat together under an overhanging bluff, crowned 
 with willows, that dipped their long branches to the 
 very water's edge. Miss Winchester was relieved by 
 the cool shade ; and the conversation naturally turned 
 to Pierre and the serenade, and she expressed herself 
 completely subdued and humbled by the remembrance 
 of the part she had acted. Gregory pointed out the 
 farm-house on the opposite shore, the home of the poor, 
 demented McLellan. They talked of life, with its 
 joys and sorrows, and Gregory became interested hi 
 her frank avowal of the utter folly of her past days, 
 with her resolutions for the future. 
 
 " But I have no one to counsel me," she said, sor- 
 rowfully ; ' no mother, no sister ! " 
 
 Gregory was about to speak of the true source of 
 help in all efforts for the right, as she continued in a
 
 300 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 low tone : " If I had one like you, Mr. Clarendon, 
 to guide me, I might hope that my endeavors would 
 not utterly fail." 
 
 Gregory was silent. He was thinking whether she 
 could mean anything particular, when she proceeded : 
 " You will despise me, Gregory, you will have a 
 right to despise me, when I make known to you the 
 truth that is burning in my bosom. I know the forms 
 of society, maidenly reserve, common modesty, are 
 against me. I determined to commit my secret to you, 
 to throw myself on your generosity. I know your 
 noble nature will not betray me. O Clarendon ! if 
 you could look into my heart " 
 
 " Miss Winchester," he replied, rising coldly, " I must 
 not permit you to say more." 
 
 " O Gregory ! " she said, passionately seizing his 
 hand as he turned away ; " do not leave me thus ! 
 Do not cast me off as accursed ! Do not hate me ! " 
 
 " Isabelle," he replied, somewhat softened by the 
 intensity of her emotion ; " sit down, and let me speak 
 reasonably with you. Your secret is safe ; but, as a 
 man of honor, I must tell you plainly, once and for- 
 ever, that what you wish can never be ! "
 
 THE FISHING EXCURSION. 301 
 
 " You love another ! " she said, eagerly looking into 
 his face, for a confirmation of her suspicions. 
 
 He did not reply, but turned coldly away from her 
 searching glance. At that instant her eyes were di- 
 rected to the bluff above, and, uttering a wild scream 
 of terror, she fell fainting to the earth. Clarendon's 
 attention was recalled, and he bore her in his arms to 
 the water, calling to the boat in which were Honora 
 and his father, with the General, which immediately 
 headed toward the shore. Gregory, explaining the 
 fainting as partly the result of fatigue and headache, 
 resigned Isabelle into the hands of her friends, and, 
 mortified and distressed, sauntered down the beach. 
 
 He was disgusted with Isabelle, vexed by his own 
 uneasy, restless state of mind, and troubled about Aga- 
 tha and Stella. He could discern, far down the bay, 
 the boat in which the thoughtless young people were 
 sailing away. The clouds were gathering, and presently 
 came the sound of distant thunder ; but it did not alarm 
 the fishermen and women, so intent were they upon 
 their pleasure. Gregory walked around the bend 
 of the bay, and now the probabilities of a heavy 
 shower were more apparent. The wind was rising,
 
 302 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 and he hurried back, shouting to Chet, and all who 
 were within hearing, that they would hardly have time 
 to land before the rain. The wind, at the same mo- 
 ment, came rushing down the Gorge, and across the 
 bay. Every vessel was instantly headed for shore. 
 The breeze bent and swayed the tall forest-trees, and 
 carried the leaves about in wheeling eddies. The skiff 
 manned by the brothers Winchester made no headway ; 
 wind and current were both against them, and the gust 
 rent their sail into ribbons. The first row-boat that 
 landed its passengers, was seized upon by Clarendon, 
 and he put off to the rescue. Chet followed, in a 
 second boat, but he had made but few strokes with his 
 oars, when another gust struck the little sail-boat on 
 her side, and she was instantly capsized. 
 
 Intense terror ran through the watching group on 
 shore. Every man that could find oars and boat was 
 instantly on the water, while the horror-stricken women 
 stood on the beach, longing to help, but powerless ; the 
 rain pouring in torrents from the leaden-colored clouds, 
 the thunder pealing and rattling around them, with 
 vivid flashes of lightning that made the after darkness 
 more terrible.
 
 THE PISHING EXCURSION. 303 
 
 The strength of a giant nerved Gregory, and he was 
 first at the spot where the vessel went down. Chet 
 had come to the assistance of Dudley and Stella, who 
 were swimming towards shore ; and Chauncey had 
 picked up Duncan, with his right arm disabled in the 
 accident. But Agatha, the child Agatha, was nowhere 
 to be seen. Clarendon's presence of mind did not for- 
 sake him. He laid down his oars, and looked into 
 the waters, as if he would pierce their very depths. 
 There was not a word from the group of boats that 
 gathered round. Presently, not a rod from the bow 
 of his boat, floating down rapidly with the current, 
 Clarendon discerned the form he was seeking, just 
 rising to the surface. Instantly he was in the water, 
 and before the deadly element closed again over those 
 brown curls, his right hand, with a grasp for life or 
 death, bore her above the waves. 
 
 He held the lifeless girl in his arms, and motioned 
 Chet to row to the farm-house. Chauncey, Mr. 
 Douglass, and Honora followed, while the company 
 returned, with saddened hearts, to the homes they had 
 left that morning so joyously. Duncan Winchester 
 was in a sorry plight. His fractured arm, and the
 
 304 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 knowledge that by his foolhardiness the prize just 
 within his reach was snatched forever from him, ren- 
 dered him miserable. 
 
 All the customary means of resuscitation were used 
 upon Agatha, but without success. Chauncey stood 
 over her, his hand on her heart, to note the least pul- 
 sation; Gregory watched continually for the first flut- 
 ter of the eyelids; but watched and waited in vain. 
 Clarendon had not spoken, till Dr. Woodbury pro- 
 nounced her beyond reach of assistance ; then he raised 
 his eyes, and, in a hoarse voice, said, " She must live." 
 
 Other urgent calls the physician had, and after hours 
 of unwearied exertion, he left, giving all needful direc- 
 tions to Honora, in the event of a change, saying as 
 he went out, " It is of no use." 
 
 Mr. Douglass walked the room with hasty strides, 
 continually reproaching , himself as the cause of the 
 trouble. Hope had almost died out of the heart of 
 Honora, though she still labored on, supported by the 
 earnest efforts of her brother, in the use of means. 
 Gregory's countenance denoted settled sorrow; when 
 the very faintest possible sigh came from that breast 
 that had so long lain in the stillness of death. Honora
 
 THE FISHING EXCURSION. 305 
 
 was faint with joy, while Gregory was completely over- 
 come with the revulsion of feeling from despair to 
 hope. By much persuasion, Mr. Douglass was induced 
 to return with Chet, to give the joyful intelligence that 
 there was hope to the waiting hearts at home, while 
 Honora kept watch, with her brother, over the slow- 
 returning life. 
 
 It had grown dark; the wild waves, lashed by the 
 angry winds, came tumbling and roaring down the 
 Gorge, into the bay. Shower succeeded shower through 
 the night. Flashes of lightning, followed by quick, 
 sharp reports, came in rapid succession. Mr. Clement 
 came down, amid the storm, to offer his assistance and 
 sympathy, and to comfort their fainting hearts with 
 needed prayers. Long after midnight they watched 
 and waited for the first look, the first word. Pulsa- 
 tion was restored feebly, the breath was low and short, 
 regained by fearful struggles, and life still hung by a 
 gossamer thread. Gregory observed a slight movement 
 of the lips ; he stooped over the pale form, and whis- 
 pered, "Agatha." 
 
 "No, Duncan," she replied, very faintly, striving to 
 remove the hand that held hers ; " don't speak of it. 
 
 T
 
 306 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MABY. 
 
 I am only a child," and she tried to laugh her gay, 
 brilliant laugh, but it died in a gurgling sound. 
 
 " It is as I feared," thought Gregory ; " they would 
 deprive you of your girlhood, burden you thus early 
 with the cares of life. It shall not be ! " 
 
 As the morning sun came forth, clear and cloudless, 
 the drooping child, aroused more fully, opened her large 
 eyes, and gazed around till they fixed themselves upon 
 Gregory, who sat by her side ; and then came slowly 
 back the remembrance of the last waking scene. She - 
 made an effort to raise her head, but could not lift it 
 from the pillow ; but reaching out her arms, she clasped 
 Gregory tightly to her heart. It was the embrace of a 
 soul returning to life and love. 
 
 Her friends would not suffer her to speak, but gen- 
 tly soothed her into a quiet slumber. 
 
 Now Honora could look out on the devastations of 
 the tempest. Trees were torn up by the roots, and 
 shivered by lightning. The bluff on the opposite shore 
 was blasted, and the willows that overhung it lay 
 stripped and dead beneath it. 
 
 Pierre had been forgotten during the excitement of 
 the previous evening, and it was found, on inquiry, that
 
 THE FISHING EXCURSION. 307 
 
 he had not been seen since an hour before the storm. 
 Agatha was sleeping quietly, and Gregory walked out 
 to breathe the morning air. Presently Chet appeared 
 on the opposite shore, accompanied by two men, bear- 
 ing a burden from beneath the willows, where Claren- 
 don had sat with Isabelle. 
 
 Like a flash came the thought to Gregory and 
 Chauncey, as they watched the scene, that it was the 
 body of Pierre. They were not mistaken. He had 
 been found where the willows had been shivered by 
 lightning, dead many hours. Chauncey discovered in 
 the breast-pocket of his coat a slip of paper, on which 
 was written with a pencil : 
 
 "I have seen thee, loveliest, fairest of them all! 
 Yes, I have seen thee, carried in his arms. He is 
 worthy of thee, thou peerless one ! I give thee up, 
 yes, give thee up to him. Fond heart, lie still. Clar- 
 endon is all goodness, all honor, and I sacrifice to his 
 love what is dearer than life. 
 
 " Beautiful ! thou art more than beautiful. Heaven 
 can contain no brighter presence. Farewell. The 
 Storm comes on, and I may not stay. Peace be about 
 thy pillow! Poor Pierre will never disturb thee! 
 Once more, farewell."
 
 308 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 " Poor fellow, how mistaken ! " said Gregory, look- 
 ing Chauncey full in the face. "Were you deceived 
 also, Chauncey?" 
 
 "Never!" replied the young man, decidedly. 
 
 A crowd was assembling, attracted by the news, 
 and they hastened into the house, lest Agatha should 
 be disturbed. 
 
 As Pierre had been to the last a Roman Catholic, 
 Gregory thought proper to send to Ridgeville for the 
 Romish priest. This act of common courtesy magni- 
 fied itself, in the eyes of many of the good people of 
 Rockridge, into an offence against Protestantism, so 
 little is the spirit of toleration, or forbearance, under- 
 stood.
 
 THE OFFER REJECTED. 309 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 THE OFFER REJECTED. 
 
 "He hums and he hankers, he frets and he cankers, 
 You never can please him do all that you can, 
 He 's peevish and jealous of all the young fellows." 
 
 BCRNS. 
 
 " One hour hath passed and o'er the deep blue sky 
 A dimness hangs, whose chill is in my heart; 
 The wind with funeral moans goes sweeping by, 
 And asks in every whisper, where thou art." 
 
 TSABELLE AND her restless brother were an un- 
 I happy pair. She had humbled herself for naught; 
 and now, in the midst of her intense feeling of shame, 
 came the news of Pierre's sudden and awful death, to 
 add the bitterness of remorse to her sense of degrada- 
 tion. They were to follow their father to New York 
 as soon as Duncan's arm was in a state for the jour- 
 ney. Mr. Douglass was irritated because the Doctor 
 would not say that Agatha might be removed to her 
 home, and spent his time in rapid rides between
 
 310 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MABY. 
 
 Maple Cliff and the farm-house. On one of these oc- 
 casions, he had said to Agatha, that " Duncan "Winches- 
 ter was savage as a bear, because every one but he that 
 had the best right could see her, and he had engaged 
 Chet to come after her in a few hours." Gregory over- 
 heard the remark, as he stood near the sofa where she 
 was reclining. He felt the changing color in his own 
 cheek, and saw the disturbed blush that lighted Aga- 
 tha's pale face. 
 
 When Mr. Douglass went out, Clarendon sat down 
 by her side, and said in as calm a tone as he could 
 command: -'Agatha, is Duncan Winchester correct in 
 supposing he has the best right here?" 
 
 She looked at him, questioning whether he was in 
 earnest in his inquiry. 
 
 "I would they had kept you a child," he continued, 
 in a disappointed manner. " I would they had left you 
 the freedom of girlhood, untrammelled by such words 
 as Duncan has whispered in your ear." 
 
 "They were not pleasant to me," she replied quick- 
 ly. " I am vexed and annoyed that Duncan will not 
 understand that his professions are displeasing. I will 
 be 'little Aggie' still; I have no wish to be a woman,
 
 THE OFFER REJECTED. 311 
 
 and Duncan Winchester must desist ! " she added, in 
 the old positive way. 
 
 "He shall desist!" said Clarendon, earnestly; "you 
 shall not be thus annoyed ! " 
 
 " Perhaps," she replied, the blush spreading over 
 her face and neck, "he may mean only to tease me. 
 I have sometimes thought so." 
 
 "If he speaks thus to tease you," said Clarendon, 
 " it is ungentlemanly, and should be stopped : if he is 
 serious in his addresses, though but a child, you have 
 a right to answer for yourself, and if he is agreeable, 
 simply refer him to your uncle." 
 
 Gregory forced himself to make this speech, as a 
 matter of duty. It came very reluctantly, and he was 
 frightened when he saw how the thought sent the 
 blood from her cheek. 
 
 " Never ! never ! " she said, earnestly. " Uncle and 
 all the world cannot make me marry a man I do not 
 respect." 
 
 " Spoken like a noble girl ! " said he, drawing her 
 towards him. " But you are weary ; rest here." 
 
 She lay like a tired child, resting her head on his 
 shoulder, till the sound of her uncle's carriage-wheels 
 were heard on the beach.
 
 312 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 "They are coming," she said, raising herself, and 
 speaking in a sad tone. " Gregory, I wish I may never 
 see Duncan Winchester. Is that wicked?" 
 
 " Poor child ! " he replied, soothingly. " Speak as 
 decidedly to him as you have of him, and I think he 
 will not trouble you ; if he does " 
 
 Mr. Douglass and Honora entered with Chet at this 
 moment. The shawls and cloaks were wrapped about 
 Agatha ; and Gregory, in spite of Mr. Douglass's mo- 
 tion to Chet, took the little girl in his own arms, and 
 placed her in the carriage. 
 
 Agatha's youthful vigor soon returned, and in a few 
 days she met the family as usual. Duncan still lin- 
 gered, determined to make one desperate effort for the 
 prize he had so well-nigh lost. Dudley had returned 
 home with his sister, with the memory of a pair of 
 violet eyes that haunted him pleasantly. The day 
 after his departure was the commencement of one of 
 those chilly storms that sometimes darken the month 
 of August. The rain beat against the panes, and the 
 wind tore off the multiflora that covered the library 
 windows. Agatha reclined on the sofa that had been 
 drawn towards the fire by Gregory. He had just left
 
 THE OFFER REJECTED. 313 
 
 her for church ; it was St. Bartholomew's day, and 
 Agatha was wishing, as she watched the bright embers, 
 that the church had chosen some other day for the 
 saint, when Duncan Winchester walked in. She rose 
 from her recumbent posture as he came forward, apolo- 
 gizing for his intrusion. 
 
 " No intrusion, certainly, Duncan," she replied ; " the 
 library is free to the family." 
 
 He sat down, and examined the pretty work she 
 held in her hand. 
 
 " It is my birthday," he said, " to-day I am out 
 of my teens, twenty to-day." 
 
 " More than four years older than I," said Agatha, 
 innocently. 
 
 " Just the right difference in our ages," said the 
 young man, blushing. 
 
 There was a pause, and Agatha, fearing something 
 she dreaded, attempted to leave the room; but he 
 would not suffer her to rise, but plainly asked her 
 consent to speak to her uncle of an engagement. 
 
 Once she felt inclined to laugh at the idea of her 
 thinking of marriage at her age, but she replied very 
 properly : " Duncan, you have spoken thus before, but 
 14
 
 314 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 I could not think you were serious. I am but a child. 
 I do not wish to think of what you propose. I wish 
 to be free, free as a bird, at least till I leave school." 
 
 " But you are not free," he said, hastily. " Do you 
 think I cannot read Clarendon's course during and 
 after the storm. But you must be mine. Your uncle 
 favors me" he added, a little softened. " Give me one 
 word of hope." 
 
 During the first part of this speech, Agatha listened ; 
 but when he spoke of Clarendon and the storm, she 
 drew herself up haughtily and left him ha solitude. 
 
 " There ! I have finished the matter now," he solilo- 
 quized. "Why need I have spoken so warmly of 
 Clarendon ? His long tete-a-tete call this morning vexed 
 me. I am afraid it will take many days of humility 
 on my part to bring this proud little thing to terms. 
 I '11 speak to Mr. Douglass, rouse his suspicions of 
 Clarendon, though really I believe this managing young 
 parson has no idea of Agatha, except as a child of 
 whom he wishes to make a saint, like himself. I like 
 her spirit, a spice of temper gives variety. I am 
 really sorry I said that about the storm. It seemed 
 to strike deeper than I intended."
 
 THE OFFER REJECTED. 315 
 
 In the evening Agatha was summoned from her 
 chamber to the library. There was a presentiment 
 that caused her to tremble as she stepped across the 
 hall. Her uncle was walking the room, as usual, with 
 hasty strides, his hands in his pockets. He placed a 
 chair for his niece. 
 
 " My child," he said, in a voice more gentle than 
 she had ever heard from him, "young Winchester 
 has been with me for the last hour, pleading for an 
 engagement with you. You are very young, Agatha ; 
 but that need not be a reason for refusing his hand. 
 I would be glad to see you married, and settled on 
 your own estate, after, an engagement of a year or 
 two. With your united fortunes " 
 
 He was checked by the very ghastly look of Aga- 
 tha's face. As soon as he paused, however, she spoke 
 in a voice struggling with emotion : " Don't speak of 
 it, uncle, please don't speak of it. Mr. Winchester 
 is not agreeable to me, even if I were old enough to 
 marry." 
 
 " Agreeable, child ! and why not, pray ? He is 
 young, handsome, sensible, rich, and of good family. 
 What more can you ask? The objection you make
 
 816 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 for yourself is growing less every day. You hardly 
 know your own mind. You shall have time to think 
 of it, but I can tell you this is not an every-day 
 chance." 
 
 " I need no time to think of it, uncle," she replied, 
 with downcast eyes. "I could never marry Duncan 
 Winchester ; I have neither love nor respect for him." 
 
 "Agatha Douglass," said her uncle, rising, his kind 
 manner vanishing, and he towering above her. " Look 
 me in the face, and tell me instantly, what does this 
 mean?" 
 
 His terrible manner frightened the poor child out 
 of the power of speech. 
 
 " Answer me ! What am I to understand ? " he 
 said, in a voice like the sound of distant thunder, at 
 the same time taking her very roughly by the arm. 
 "This, then, is the meaning of all this devotion," he 
 added, finding she did not speak. " It is for this, that 
 I left you and Clarendon together at Oak Bay ? Ag- 
 atha, Gregory Clarendon shall rue the day he saw 
 you ! " 
 
 "Uncle," said the little girl, recovering herself from 
 the state of astonishment into which she had been
 
 THE OFFER REJECTED. 317 
 
 thrown by her uncle's accusations, " Gregory Claren- 
 don saved my life, and I owe him a debt I can never 
 repay ; but you have mistaken his feelings. He re- 
 gards me only as a child, which I am," she added, 
 clasping her hands and weeping bitterly. "Why will 
 you not let me be your child, your Aggie ? Do not 
 deprive me of my girlhood, and make me " 
 
 " Artful girl ! " exclaimed her uncle, fixing his sharp, 
 spectacled eyes upon her ; " you know you are speak- 
 ing false ! " 
 
 All Agatha's resolutions of self-control gave way, 
 amid the storm of indignation that followed this di- 
 rect falsification of her word, and she burst forth into 
 bitter, burning words against her uncle for his neg- 
 lect in her training, at the same time telling him that, 
 if there was any good thing in her, it was the result 
 of the Clarendons' influence. She might have gone on 
 to any extent, but she had drawn out with her hand- 
 kerchief a card, on which Gregory had written, " He 
 that ruleth his own spirit is better than he that taketh 
 a city." One glance of her eye over it, and she sunk 
 down, overwhelmed with the thoughts of her want of 
 self-control. Mr. Douglass stalked out of the room, livid 
 with rase.
 
 318 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 Duncan Winchester left for New York in the morn- 
 ing, and in the evening Mr. Douglass journeyed with 
 Agatha towards Baltimore, where she was placed at 
 school, in a convent near that city. She was pre- 
 vented from leaving even a farewell for her friends, 
 so peremptory and rigid were her uncle's commands. 
 Clarendon was deeply distressed at the turn of affairs, 
 and confided to Honora his suspicions as to the cause 
 of this sudden movement of Mr. Douglass. Maple 
 CM", with its closed windows and doors, was very des- 
 olate, for the master had broken up the household, 
 and gone on a Western tour. 
 
 Gregory was glad when the last sad week of vaca- 
 tion was at an end, and he could return to his studies. 
 The remark he had made to Honora, before his first 
 call upon Agatha, came with stinging freshness to his 
 mind: "What better, sister, is life at Maple Cliff, than 
 with the Sisters of Charity. It would not take me 
 many hours to choose between these two states of life, 
 if I had a protegee"
 
 THE RECTOR'S MARRIAGE. 319 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 THE RECTOR'S MARRIAGE. 
 
 " Let me not die before I 've done for Thee 
 My earthly work, whatever it may be. 
 Call me not hence with mission unfulfilled ; 
 Let me not leave my spot of ground unfilled ; 
 Impress this truth upon me, that not one 
 Can do my portion that I leave undone." 
 
 IT IS necessary that we return for a while to our 
 friend, Miss Charlotte Morgan, an exile from her 
 friends, deprived of the religious privileges she prized 
 most highly, and the daily companion of a thoroughly 
 worldly, niggardly old woman, whom she could not 
 leave after having once established herself there. Dis- 
 ease had rendered her relative nearly helpless, and ill- 
 temper had driven from her all but mercenary attend- 
 ants. It may be supposed that Charlotte did sometimes 
 look back with longing to the dear society of Honora ; 
 but the resolute performance of daily present duty led 
 her forward to the one ami of her life.
 
 320 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 Charlotte made no acquaintance in Spring Valley, 
 except among the very poor, whom she visited in the 
 midst of her aunt's continued opposition. During the 
 month of July, she heard by accident of a family with- 
 out the village, friendless, and struggling with sickness 
 and poverty, and her steps took the direction of the 
 humble cottage for her afternoon walk. In reply to 
 her knock at the door, it was opened, and two fair 
 arms were about her neck in an instant, and her tears 
 were mingling with those of the gentle Anne "Wai- 
 bridge, Then she saw plainly, as if it had been a 
 revelation from Heaven, the Hand that brought and 
 kept her at Spring Valley, when she would gladly 
 have sought a more congenial home. 
 
 She found the broken-hearted father in the last 
 stages of consumption, meekly resigned, but longing for 
 the sympathy and blessing of a brother clergyman. 
 Not many days after the discovery of her friends, 
 Charlotte, by Dr. Walbridge's request, wrote to the 
 Rev. All-. Clement, begging his presence at the dying 
 bed. 
 
 In the mean time, old Mrs. Freeman, Charlotte's 
 aunt, in looking for her will, having heard the rumor 
 that Charlotte had come on as her heir, had fallen,
 
 THE BECTOK'S MARRIAGE. 321 
 
 and injured herself past recovery. The niece watched 
 and tended her captious relative like a daughter; it 
 never suggesting itself to her truthful mind, till Mrs. 
 Walbridge mentioned it, that she could be suspected 
 of worldly motives in her labors. 
 
 In a short time her letter was answered by the 
 arrival of Mr. Clement. He looked inquiringly on 
 Charlotte's pale face and thin figure, when a voice 
 from an inner room said, captiously, " Do bring him 
 in, I have n't seen a minister these ten years." 
 
 It needed but a short stay by the bedside of Mrs. 
 Freeman, to convince Mr. Clement of the life of self- 
 denial Miss Morgan had endured for the last six 
 months. 
 
 Dr. Walbridge had sent for his brother clergyman, 
 to give into his charge his daughter Anne. Mrs. Wal- 
 bridge, more indolent and self-indulgent than ever, 
 seemed relieved at the thought that her child might 
 be provided for without her exertion, while she could 
 return to the paternal roof. 
 
 Mr. Clement, disposed to do all for the child that he 
 could, consistently with other duties, promised to direct 
 her education and care for her for the next three years, 
 14* u
 
 322 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 when she would be able to help herself. After admin- 
 istering the consolations of religion to the dying man, 
 he returned to his parish, leaving Anne under the 
 watchful guidance of Miss Morgan, till death should 
 separate her from her father. 
 
 The mutual care of this child led to a correspond- 
 ence which resulted in a better acquaintance, and be- 
 fore autumn the engagement of the Rev. Mr. Clement 
 to Miss Morgan was made public. 
 
 Colonel Clarendon smiled and half sighed, as he said, 
 " Poor Agatha ; she was the first to make this match." 
 
 Charlotte's durance by the uncomfortable couch of 
 ner relative did not continue into the autumn. The 
 poor creature died, as she had lived, clutching the 
 bunch of keys that lay on her pillow. 
 
 Her will gave Charlotte the sum of one hundred 
 dollars, while the remainder of her large property was 
 deeded to a wealthy college, into whose coffers the 
 miser pours his hoarded wealth, to make himself a 
 name, when he can keep it no longer. 
 
 In answer to a letter from Honora, begging her to 
 come to Woodland and prepare for her marriage, Char- 
 lotte released herself from Spring Valley, and, with
 
 THE RECTOR'S MARRIAGE. 323 
 
 Anne, who was now her particular charge, came again 
 to Rockridge. 
 
 There was only one spirit in the parish that openly 
 rebelled against the matrimonial engagement between 
 the Rector and Miss Morgan. All the devotion of 
 Eliza Ridgway to the little dirty children her pastor 
 had given to her class ; all her zealous endeavors to 
 win attention, by her earnest talks about religion; all 
 her eloquent admiration of the preacher's talents ; all 
 her tete-a-tete conferences, in which she had feelingly 
 regretted the low state of religion in the parish, all 
 was in vain ; he had not been won ; he was positively 
 engaged, to Miss Morgan, too ! the poor governess, 
 when Eliza's portion of her father's property might 
 have been his ! " What infatuation ! what ingratitude ! " 
 thought the damsel, as she entered the house of Mrs. 
 Dobbin, to talk it over with her dear Ann Matilda. 
 
 We must now pass over many mouths of the exist- 
 ence of our friends at Rockridge, with but brief notice. 
 Charlotte Morgan, quietly married, at Michaelmas, in 
 the parish church, was settled in the old Rectory, the 
 people never having united on the spot for the new 
 one. Anne Walbridge, separated from her weak 
 mother, and under the invigorating guidance of her
 
 324 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 kind guardians, was putting forth characteristics that 
 had before lain dormant. 
 
 The Bird's Nest, with its patriarchal head and re- 
 united family, presented a picture of quiet domestic 
 bliss. Catherine supported her father by designing, in 
 which she was assisted by Robert, who, though feeble, 
 was suffered to enjoy, on the borders of life, the bless- 
 ings of home and friends. Stella still received, through 
 the generosity of the Clarendons, the benefit of Mr. 
 Clement's instructions. 
 
 Chauncey Douglass often left the solitude of the 
 farm at Oak Bay for a call at the Bird's Nest, with 
 game and fish for the invalid. It was rumored among 
 the gossips that there were other attractions; but none 
 who knew the pride and haughtiness of his nature 
 gave credence to the reports. 
 
 Early in the spring following Agatha's departure, 
 the first green grave was made in the chapel yard at 
 the Gorge, and in it was laid Papsy's little Harry, hi 
 all his innocent beauty ; the young mother mourning 
 deeply for the bud thus broken, although Mrs. Dobbin 
 said, " She ought to be thankful it was dead," and 
 Miss Eliza Kidgway gave her opinion, that It was a 
 great mercy."
 
 THE RECTOR'S MARRIAGE. 325 
 
 Gregory Clarendon gave himself wholly to study, 
 hardly taking time for necessary recreation. He 
 made no effort to communicate with Agatha. After 
 his lessons upon submission to rightful authority, to 
 tempt her to disobey would be a poor sequel to his 
 instructions. It was a hard lesson to submit to this 
 restriction, to know nothing of one for whom he had 
 cared so deeply, but the discipline of severe study 
 prevented his brooding over events he could not con- 
 trol. His ceremonious calls upon General Winches- 
 ter's family consumed but little time. Isabelle excused 
 herself, and Duncan met him with a haughty, con- 
 temptuous bearing, that he sometimes found difficult 
 to brook. During the winter Mr. Douglass had come 
 to the Winchesters, and plunged into every gayety of 
 the season. Isabelle, soured and disappointed, worn 
 with excitement and dissipation, bore on her face 
 already the lines of her life. She had lost that spark- 
 ling, bubbling flow of spirits ; or rather it was changed 
 into bitter, cutting sarcasm, that cast its arrows right 
 and left indiscriminately. Her train of admirers was 
 not diminished, but they were no longer the young 
 and the noble ; they were the shrewd man of the 
 world, the worn, the cold-hearted.
 
 326 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 ST. ACNE'S. 
 
 " My soul is like a bird, my flesh the cage 
 Wherein she wears her weary pilgrimage. 
 The keys that lock her in, and let her out, 
 Are birth and death; 'twixt both she hops about, 
 From perch to perch, from sense to reason, 
 Then from higher reason down to sense again. 
 From sense she climbs to faith, where for a season 
 She sits and sings; then down again to reason; 
 From reason back to faith, and straight from thence 
 She rudely flutters to the perch of sense." 
 
 QUAKLES. 
 
 IN THE mean time, while Isabelle was reaping 
 the fruits of her undisciplined, self-indulgent life, 
 Agatha was under the supervision of the Sisters of St. 
 Anne's. Her first feelings after being torn from her 
 home were those of indignation, but they were sad- 
 dened, softened, by the memory of the grief she knew 
 must be in the hearts of those she had left. The as- 
 siduities and kindness of her teachers soon brought out
 
 ST. ANNE'S. 327 
 
 her affectionate nature. She had here opportunities for 
 improving her education ; and, exceedingly fond of study, 
 earnest and hopeful, she did not long mourn over the 
 past. Protestants justly fear Romish schools for their 
 children ; but it is not by argument or discussion that 
 their young minds are impressed, but by the novelty, 
 and the beauty of the self-denying, devoted lives of the 
 Sisters. Agatha, however, had seen the "higher life," 
 as exhibited in the daily walk of the Clarendons and 
 Fergusons, who, " though in the world, were not of it." 
 She made many pleasant acquaintances during her 
 stay at St. Anne's, but her dear Stella was never for- 
 gotten for the daughters of the noble families of 
 Maryland and Virginia. More than two years of 
 Agatha's life were spent in this house. To none 
 would two years bring more changes than to the girl 
 from fifteen to seventeen. Her figure increased rapidly 
 in height, and to the graces of girlhood was added the 
 roundness of womanhood. The quiet, even discipline 
 of the convent served to strengthen her in the prin- 
 ciples of self-government. During her long sojourn, she 
 left the place but once, a vacation spent in "Wash- 
 ington with one of her schoolmates. Her uncle visited
 
 828 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 her occasionally; but she could obtain from him no in- 
 formation of those she loved best. He could tell her 
 of General Winchester's family, of Isabelle's attractions, 
 or Duncan's advancement to a post of honor; but from 
 Rockridge he brought only one piece of news, that 
 Julia Ridgway had eloped with the village school- 
 master. "Whether they were married," he added, 
 " was a matter of uncertainty." 
 
 One lovely afternoon in April, Agatha walked the 
 terrace at St. Anne's in mournful contemplation. Her 
 uncle had been there the week previous, and brought 
 her intelligence that had cut off from her hopeful na- 
 ture the thought she had always cherished, that her 
 own earliest friends would some time be restored to 
 her. Her father had lost his life in his search for 
 gold, and her only sister had died from the effects of 
 the climate ; but sadder yet to Agatha was the news 
 of her mother's hasty second marriage, in that far-off 
 land. All this had served to add to the melancholy 
 that was slowly creeping over the natural joyousness 
 of her young heart. The monotony of convent life 
 had become tedious, and her affections reached forth 
 for something beyond those walls. She had been
 
 ST. ANNE'S. 329 
 
 watching the brilliant panorama before her. The vel- 
 vet green of spring had tinted the broad lawn that 
 swept away to the banks of the bay. The city, in the 
 dim distance, with its many sparkling domes and spires, 
 shone like a diamond set in emeralds of living green. 
 The sun was sinking behind the horizon, and golden 
 and purple shadows played over the surface of the 
 blue waters. Agatha leaned her head against one of 
 the massive pillars that supported the balcony. Her 
 heart beat to the pulsations of sorrow, when a gentle 
 hand was laid on her neck, and a soft voice whispered, 
 " Daughter, you are sad. Can I comfort you ? " 
 
 " No, sister," replied Agatha, " I am homesick ; my 
 heart yearns for my long-absent friends." 
 
 " The world then still looks lovely to you, daugh- 
 ter ? " was the reply. " I hoped that to one so ear- 
 nest for the right as my darling Agatha, the conse- 
 cration of her life to her loving mother, the Church, 
 might have some attractions. Yes, the world is beau- 
 tiful, and friends are very dear; but oh!" she said, 
 clasping her hands over the crucifix she held, and 
 raising her eyes to heaven, " there is a brighter world, 
 and dearer watching friends, a world that never grows
 
 330 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 old, and friends that never fail." Agatha sunk upon 
 the neck of Sister Clarice, and sobbed violently. 
 
 "And you long to leave us, dear child?" she con- 
 tinued, soothingly ; " perhaps the tune may come sooner 
 than you expect; and when you are gone, and the 
 world's waves beat over you, and temptations assail 
 you, and your frail, unguided bark is driven hither 
 and thither, Sister Clarice will still pray for you, and 
 you may even then turn to the shelter the Church 
 offers you, and be at rest." 
 
 "It may be too late then," said a solemn voice from 
 behind ; and a tall, gaunt female figure, dressed in the 
 long black uniform of the sisters, swept on without 
 another word. Sister Clarice held the trembling form 
 of Agatha to her heart in silence. 
 
 For the last year, finding themselves unmolested in 
 their efforts, the nuns had sought to win to the bosom 
 of the Romish Church one so promising as Agatha. 
 They had first endeavored to alarm her with the dan- 
 ger of living unbaptized, and begged her to receive 
 that sacrament at the hands of a priest, assuring her 
 that all her friends would consider that valid baptism. 
 They had rendered her uneasy and unhappy, though
 
 ST. ANNE'S. 331 
 
 they had not gained their point. She was wrestling 
 sorely with the temptation to take this step, which 
 was represented to her as the only one that would 
 secure her salvation, when there came a summons to 
 her from the Lady Superior. 
 
 Did the deep flush that overspread her features, as 
 she sunk into a chair, after she had heard the com- 
 mands of the Superior, denote pain at the intelligence 
 that her uncle lay at the point of death; or joy, that 
 the bondage she had begun to feel was about to termi- 
 nate? 
 
 A messenger would convey her to New York by the 
 first train of cars. She had not given a thought as to 
 who would be the probable person whom they would 
 send for her, and her indignation was visible in the 
 haughty manner with which she met Duncan Winches- 
 ter. They had both changed, certainly in externals, 
 since they parted. His dress and appearance bespoke 
 him a man of the world, one who had seen good soci- 
 ety, and the look of admiration with which he met 
 her was somewhat modified by her cold greeting. 
 
 From Duncan she learned, after the first distance 
 had worn away, that her uncle had spent a winter oi
 
 332 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 dissipation, proper, fashionable dissipation. He was 
 leading a dance with Isabelle, at a fancy ball, when 
 he was seized with the illness that promised to be his 
 death, of the nature of apoplexy. 
 
 Agatha was prepared for her uncle's appearance, but 
 she was shocked when she met Isabelle. The bril- 
 liant bloom was gone from her cheeks and lips, her 
 eyes had lost their mellowness of expression, and in 
 its place was a sharp, withering look. She was very 
 thin, and her voice and manner were cold and repel- 
 ling. Nevertheless she made an effort to meet Agatha 
 kindly, and looked down into the depths of those pure 
 eyes with a look that made her blush and turn away. 
 
 " Aggie, my child," she said, when they were alone ; 
 "did Duncan tell you that you and I were to be re- 
 lated by marriage if " 
 
 "Never," said Agatha, in her old proud way, draw- 
 ing herself up to her full height, which was by no 
 means contemptible. 
 
 " Hush, dear ! " said Isabelle, placing her finger on 
 Agatha's arm; "you don't understand me. You 
 were " 
 
 "Isabelle," replied Agatha, turning away hastily,
 
 ST. ANNE'S. 333 
 
 "unless this subject is dropped, I must, I will refuse 
 to listen." 
 
 Isabelle laughed a faint, hollow laugh, like the knock- 
 ing on a coffin-lid. 
 
 "Agatha, child, don't be so hasty! I wished to tell 
 you that your uncle and I were engaged." 
 
 " Impossible ! " replied Agatha, in a horror-stricken 
 voice. 
 
 " It is true, nevertheless," said Isabelle. " We were 
 to have been married after Easter, and I was to pre- 
 pare Maple Cliff, and send for you home. A pleasant 
 surprise, you know, darling ? " 
 
 Agatha could not reply ; she sunk down on the floor, 
 and hid her face in her hands. 
 
 The subject was never mentioned to her again; she 
 always checked the introduction of it in a summary 
 way.
 
 334 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY, 
 
 CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 BE TURN TO MAPLE CLEFF. 
 
 " Happy thou art not, 
 
 For what thou hast not, still thou strivest to get, 
 And what thou hast forget'st. 
 
 Friend hast thou none. 
 Thou hast nor youth nor age, 
 But as it were an after-dinner's sleep." 
 
 SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 " Let me deem that 
 
 Some unknown influence, some sweet oracle, 
 Communicates between us, though unseen, 
 In absence, and attracts us to each other." 
 
 A GATHA'S EASE and self-possession, which 
 _/JL had matured with the rest of her character, 
 were of great service in her present position. She 
 wrote at once, consulting only General Winchester, to 
 Honora, requesting her, with the freedom of a friend, 
 to have Maple Cliff put in readiness for the reception 
 of her uncle ; physicians ordered change of air.
 
 RETURN TO MAPLE CLIFF. 335 
 
 Honora and Gregory (who was at home for the Eas- 
 ter holidays) read the letter together, Gregory looking 
 into her beaming eyes as he closed, and saying, " Our 
 own Agatha still ; God be praised ! " A new life was 
 infused into the household by the intelligence. Papsy's 
 sorrowful face betokened a shade of pleasure, and she 
 was foremost in making ready rooms for her "little 
 missus." It was her first entrance into Maple Cliff, 
 since she had been so cruelly driven from there; and 
 no persuasions of her best friends could induce her to 
 stay there alone after dark. The remains of early su- 
 perstitions hung about her heart, and Heaven's light 
 alone could dissipate them. 
 
 Duncan Winchester now more than ever desired 
 to make Agatha his wife. He did love her, with the 
 love of a proud, selfish heart, and had imagined, 
 because her haughty mood had given way before his 
 devotion, that she was not indifferent to him. Never- 
 theless, so proper and dignified was she, and so con- 
 stantly occupied with her uncle, that no opportunity 
 offered of renewing his addresses during her "tay in 
 New York. 
 
 "Sister," said Clarendon, the morning Mr. Douglass
 
 336 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 was expected, " will you go to the cars with me, to 
 meet Agatha? They come back to Maple Cliff; the 
 non-intercourse system must necessarily fall to the 
 ground." 
 
 " Certainly," replied Honora, " Enfeebled as Mr. 
 Douglass is, mind and body, Agatha will need friends 
 more than ever. Poor man ! what a life he has led ! 
 But do you believe this story of an engagement be- 
 tween him and Isabelle?" 
 
 "I had it direct from Dudley," replied Gregory. 
 " I hope Agatha may never know it. It may be the 
 means of bringing the Winchesters to Rockridge, which 
 will not be very desirable." 
 
 " Isabelle would not come under the circumstances," 
 said Honora. 
 
 " O sister ! " he replied, " you still have faith in that 
 woman. She would not scruple at anything to carry 
 out her plans." 
 
 The journey fatigued Mr. Douglass, and it was 
 many days before Agatha could leave his room, ex- 
 cept at long intervals. Her friends were all devotion 
 and kindness. Gregory called daily, during the re- 
 mainder of his vacation, asked after her studies, and
 
 RETURN TO MAPLE CLIFF. 337 
 
 expressed his sympathy for her, in the same gentle, 
 manly way she remembered when she came a stranger 
 to Maple Cliff. He returned to New York, for his 
 last term at the Seminary, with a light heart. The 
 one whose absence he had mourned was restored to 
 him, no longer a child, but a woman, with the same- 
 childlike confidence and trust in his word. And yet 
 she did not come and rest her head on his shoulder, 
 as she used to. He could hardly decide in his own 
 mind whether he wished she would. 
 
 As the spring advanced, the mind of Mr. Douglass 
 grew brighter; but from his memory had faded all 
 the events that had transpired since his return from 
 Scotland. He inquired for his nephew, and when 
 Chauncey came to his room, he called up a deep 
 blush, and haughty curl of the lip, by asking him, " If 
 it was true, as Tom Ridgway had said, that Miss 
 Morgan and he were to be married soon." Agatha 
 explained to him, that Charlotte was now Mrs. Clem- 
 ent ; but of Mr. Clement he had no recollection. 
 
 One sunny afternoon in July, the chair of Mr. 
 Douglass had been wheeled, for the first time, into 
 the library, which opened, with its low windows, to 
 15 V
 
 838 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 the east. Poor wreck of manhood ! his ghastly fea- 
 tures distorted by disease, and his gaunt figure bent 
 with infirmities. Agatha watched by her uncle, her 
 heart gladdened with the presence of her dear Honora, 
 who had come to say that she expected her brother 
 in the evening train. 
 
 With returning consciousness had revived her uncle's 
 old habit of domineering, and his niece was rarely 
 permitted to be long out of sight. 
 
 " Agatha, child ! " he said, in a sharp tone, as Hon- 
 ora went out, "bring me the papers, the papers." 
 
 "What papers, uncle?" was the reply. 
 
 " Her papers ! her papers ! " said the old man, ner- 
 vously clutching her arm. "Her papers, her desk, go 
 get it child ! " 
 
 Agatha waited a moment meditating if she under- 
 stood aright, and then tripped up stairs, calling to a 
 servant to remain with her uncle. She felt a little 
 timid as she turned the key of the room that had 
 been so long desolate. Everything was as Mrs. Doug- 
 lass had left it, even to a morning wrapper that hung 
 on a chair by the bedside. It was like entering a 
 tomb. Agatha hurriedly took the writing-desk from
 
 RETURN TO MAPLE CLIFF. 339 
 
 the table ; it was unlocked, and as she lifted it, a letter 
 fell from between the lids. She started back as if she 
 had seen the pale, meagre face of her dead aunt, when 
 she stooped to raise the letter. It was directed to Miss 
 Agatha Douglass. Collecting her thoughts as well as 
 she could, she put the strange epistle into her pocket, 
 and hastened to her uncle with the desk. 
 
 " Let it alone, child ; let it alone," he said, as he 
 tried to snatch it from her; but his trembling hands 
 refused their office, and it dropped into a chair by his 
 side. 
 
 " Read the headings of these papers ! " he said, sink- 
 ing back exhausted, as he handed her a bundle from 
 the desk. 
 
 Agatha read: "Certificates of Stock in Bank of 
 Montreal ; Deed of House-Lot on King Street ; 
 House-Lot on Duchess Street ; Wood-Lot in Dis- 
 trict of Montreal ; Mortgage on Estate in Quebec ; 
 Will of Robert Ferguson " 
 
 "That's it! That's it!" gasped the old man, eager- 
 ly. " Give it to me, give it to me, I say ! " 
 
 Although untrained in deception, her knowledge of 
 her uncle's character, and the name on the will, made
 
 340 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 Agatha hesitate ; something held her back, and she put 
 another paper into his hand. "With a low chuckle of 
 delight, he tore it into many pieces. 
 
 " Now let them prove it if they can ! " he said, as 
 he pushed the desk from him. " Put it up, Agatha ; 
 the rest are nothing but diaries and journals of a life 
 that had better never have been." 
 
 The young girl dropped a tear to the memory of 
 the broken heart whose records she now held in her 
 hand, and, putting by the desk, placed the will of Rob- 
 ert Ferguson with the strange letter. 
 
 " Now the money and land will all be yours, duck," 
 said the old man, with a silly laugh. " It is all in my 
 name now. Every dollar of it shall be yours. These 
 strange people might turn up relations. That would 
 be inconvenient." 
 
 Agatha had been broken of her rest for several 
 nights; nevertheless, when, after satisfying all the de- 
 mands of her uncle, she retired to her room about 
 midnight, it was not to sleep. The letter and will 
 claimed her attention. The first was written while her 
 uncle was in Scotland, not long before the death of 
 her aunt, and it was signed " Ermina Douglass." It
 
 RETURN TO MAPLE CLIFF. 341 
 
 called upon Agatha, as heir of her uncle's property, 
 to get possession of the will of Robert Ferguson in 
 the desk, wherein she would find who had claims on 
 the property besides herself. Then followed a detailed 
 account of her brother, Frank Ferguson, his marriage 
 to an English girl, by name Catherine Walton. Last 
 of all, the letter urged upon Agatha the claims of 
 Papsy, saying, in mysterious language, that she had a 
 right due from Mr. Douglass at least for a home. 
 When Agatha had finished the letter, she read the 
 will. After the usual formula, it gave the bulk of 
 Robert Ferguson's property to his widow, and, at her 
 decease, to his daughter, Ermina Ferguson. There 
 was a codicil, dated some three years after the will, 
 which gave five thousand pounds to his son, Frank 
 Ferguson, married to Catherine Walton, and living in 
 Shropshire, England. 
 
 Agatha closed the papers with new and strange 
 thoughts. The Fergusons were her relatives, and the 
 property that was theirs, but for the finding of this 
 paper, would have passed into her hands. She thanked 
 God, who had kept her from defrauding the poor. 
 
 She felt that she ought to act at once, and yet she
 
 342 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 knew that all must be done judiciously, coolly. Wholly 
 unacquainted with business, she looked around for some 
 one to consult Her early friend and adviser at once 
 came to her thoughts, and a blush dyed her neck and 
 arms ; and then she chided herself for blushing, ques- 
 tioning with herself what he was to her, except like 
 a very dear brother. Her dreams, when at last she 
 fell asleep, were of a compound of wills, letters, and 
 deeds, scattered over the library floor, and she was to 
 arrange them. In the midst of the confusion, a low 
 voice whispered, " Can I help you, Agatha ? " She 
 turned, and Gregory's bright smile met hers. She 
 awoke with a start ; the maid was by her side trem- 
 bling violently ; her uncle was seized again with apo- 
 plexy. Without a moment's hesitation she despatched 
 one servant for the physician, and another for Ho- 
 nora ; she could not bear the dreadful sight before her 
 without a friend. 
 
 But a few moments elapsed before steps were heard 
 in the hall and the tread of a man on the stairway. 
 Honora entered with her brother, who had returned 
 from New York too late in the evening for a call at 
 Maple Cliff. He raised the sick man from the very
 
 RETURN TO MAPLE CLIFF. 343 
 
 low position in which he had fallen, and anxiously 
 watched, with his finger on the pulse, while Doctor 
 Woodbury took blood from the arm. The excitement 
 and fatigue of the spring and summer had worn upon 
 Agatha, and, as she stood silently noting the black 
 drop-, as they fell from the vein, her head swain, she 
 had just strength to say, " I am faint." Gregory car- 
 ried her into the hall, and Honora stood over her, 
 bathing her forehead and hands till she revived. 
 
 " You are worn with watching, Agatha," said Greg- 
 ory, as she strove to rise. " Lie still, dear child, till 
 you are stronger; there are plenty of persons in the 
 sick-room." 
 
 Agatha rested her head on a couch in the oriel 
 window. The lamps that lighted the hall cast but a 
 faint gleam into the recess. Honora was called into 
 the chamber, and Agatha strove again to rise; but she 
 was still faint, and obliged to rest her head against 
 the window for support. 
 
 "My dear Agatha," said Gregory earnestly, "do 
 you wish me to leave you, or may we be to each 
 other what we were when you left Maple Cliff ? " 
 
 " Dear Cousin Gregory," she replied, bursting into
 
 344 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 tears, " if I could be ' little Aggie ' as I was then, 
 I should be so happy. Home does not seem home 
 without it." 
 
 "It shall be so again, Agatha," he said, taking her 
 hand in his. " There shall be no barrier of reserve 
 between us. You shall talk to me as you did when 
 you were just up to my elbow. But first we must 
 break up this watching and confinement. I am sur- 
 prised that you have endured it so long. Don't you 
 think," he added to Honora, who came out at that 
 moment, " that Papsy might come over now and re- 
 lieve Agatha of a part of this care ? " 
 
 Honora assented warmly to her brother's remark, 
 and then informed them that the doctor thought Mr. 
 Douglass might be restored to feeble consciousness, but 
 would probably never leave his chamber. 
 
 Agatha had feared the effect of Papsy's presence on 
 her uncle ; but the mind was too far sunk into obliv- 
 ion to recall the past, and, knowing as the girl did 
 all Mr. Douglass's ways, and the ways and means of 
 the household, Agatha was relieved in a measure of 
 her life of servitude.
 
 A VISIT TO OAK BAY. 345 
 
 CHAPTER XLIII. 
 
 A VISIT TO OAK BAY. 
 
 " 0, woman is a tender tree ! 
 The hand must gentle be that rears 
 Through storm and sunshine patiently 
 That plant of grace, of smiles and tears. 
 Let her that waters at the font 
 Life's earliest blossoms have the care, 
 And where the garden's Lord is wont 
 To walk His round, O, keep her there!" 
 
 A. C. COXK. 
 
 HAVE COME to take you by force of arms," 
 said Gregory, smiling, as Agatha ran down from 
 her uncle's chamber to meet his sister and himself. 
 " Honora is here to sit with Mr. Douglass, while you 
 go to ride with me, as a matter of duty." 
 
 He took the road to the chapel in the Gorge, which 
 
 Agatha had never seen. It was a little gem in its 
 
 way, that Chapel of St. Mary. The front porch with 
 
 its bell-gable, surmounted by the precious emblem of 
 
 15*
 
 346 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 our faith, was visible from every part of the valley ; 
 while the tall monarchs of the forest, in their pristine 
 beauty and grandeur, spread their arms over the roof, 
 and shadowed the enclosed burial-yard. 
 
 Within, all was plain, neat, and appropriate, designed 
 mainly for the poor, but furnished with everything a 
 true worshipper would need. 
 
 "I would like to worship here," said Agatha, in a 
 low tone, as she stood by the chancel-rail. 
 
 " Would you ? " replied Gregory, with evident pleas- 
 ure. "I am glad you like it. Do you know, Agatha, 
 it was one of my boyhood's dreams, and has been the 
 desire of my manhood, to break the bread of life to 
 these poor people, whom I have known always." 
 
 " A very pleasant vision," replied Agatha, and then 
 followed a long pause. 
 
 " Cousin Gregory," she said at length, looking into 
 his face with that full confidence that had always 
 marked their intercourse, " do you think Mr. Clement 
 would be willing I should come here to be baptized ? " 
 
 " I see no reason why he should not willingly, nay, 
 gladly receive you here," replied the young man, tak- 
 ing both her hands. " And you will come ? "
 
 A VISIT TO OAK BAY. 347 
 
 "I will" she said gently. 
 
 They knelt in silence at the chancel-rail, one pre- 
 paring for an entrance into Holy Orders, the other 
 seeking Holy Baptism. 
 
 " There is one ride I would like to take before that 
 time," said Agatha, as they stepped into the chaise at 
 the chapel gate. 
 
 " To Oak Bay," replied Clarendon, as if reading her 
 thoughts. "There is ample time now," he added, look- 
 ing at his watch, "and we have the day before us." 
 
 It was a clear July day, reminding Agatha strongly 
 of a day four years before, when she came first under 
 Clarendon's guidance. He thought of that time also, 
 and of the many changes those four years had brought. 
 He longed to make known to Agatha the depth and 
 extent of his affection for her. He feared she re- 
 garded him only as a brother, he was quite sure she 
 had never thought of him in a nearer relation ; and 
 yet he would not make his confession now, while she 
 was contemplating, and ought to have continually be- 
 fore her, an entrance into a higher life. Such a decla- 
 ration could not but disturb her thoughts; therefore he 
 forbade himself to improve this favorable opportunity.
 
 348 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 As they came round the bend of the bay, by her 
 request he stopped the horse, while they walked along 
 the shore. Agatha stepped thoughtfully, shading her 
 eyes with her hand, and looking far out over the 
 waters. 
 
 "Gregory," she said, turning eagerly towards him, as 
 they came where a boat was moored, "could you row 
 me to the very spot 1 " Her face was pale, and her 
 eyes larger than ever, as she spoke. 
 
 "Yes, Agatha, if you wish it," he replied. "But 
 you are agitated already ; I am afraid a nearer view 
 would quite overcome you." 
 
 He spoke low, and his voice trembled, but the old 
 will was there, and she stepped firmly into the boat, 
 he following in silence. 
 
 It was a long and silent row ; and when Clarendon 
 rested on the oars, she knew by his compressed Up 
 that they were very near the scene of the accident. 
 She leaned over the side of the vessel, and gazed 
 down into those deep, blue waters, that had so nearly 
 been her grave. When the waves had closed over 
 her head, she had made a vow that she was now pre- 
 pared to ratify before the world, and she wished to
 
 A VISIT TO OAK BAY. 349 
 
 grave that spot upon her memory as with the point 
 of a diamond. 
 
 She remained thus lost in thought, till Gregory 
 raised her, saying, " My dear Agatha, I can bear this 
 no longer." 
 
 " You saved my life ! " she said, slowly and ear- 
 nestly. 
 
 Powerful was the temptation then and there to tell 
 her the love that nerved his arm in that dreadful mo- 
 ment ; to paint the feelings with whioh he watched 
 the slow return to consciousness ; how he had curbed 
 his will during her long exile from home and friends. 
 It was a struggle that caused him to turn away his 
 face, and work rapidly and in silence at the oars. 
 He spoke not till the boat was moored at the land- 
 ing, when, lifting her in his arms to the shore, he whis- 
 pered, "Forgive me, dear, if I was rude just now; I 
 cannot speak or think calmly of that hour of agony." 
 
 His hand trembled as he held hers, and a glimpse 
 of the truth came darting into her soul, like the first 
 sunbeam into the bosom of the unfolding rosebud. 
 
 True to her womanly nature, she sought to conceal 
 the light she had gained, and commenced, much to the
 
 350 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 astonishment of Gregory, talking zealously oil indiffVr- 
 ent subjects, as they rode rapidly to the bridge that 
 would carry them over to Chauncey's Gum-house. The 
 ruse succeeded, and before many minutes they were 
 chatting cheerfully, as if they had never been over- 
 come with deep emotion. 
 
 "Is it possible that is the old house I used to call 
 the salt-box ? " she exclaimed, as they approached the 
 farm-house. 
 
 " The same still," replied Gregory laughing. " Paint 
 and carpenters' work have made it habitable, and that 
 low stoop in front, and long piazza toward the water, 
 give it a look quite ornee. They say," he added, look- 
 ing into Agatha's flushed face, " that Chauncey tires 
 of his bachelor's life ! " 
 
 "I knew," she said, clapping her hands and laugh- 
 ing, " that these improvements were not his. Some 
 woman's hand ! Look, how neat the door-yard ! But 
 who is it, pray ? Anybody in Rockridge ? " 
 
 "I leave you to guess, little chatterbox," replied Gregory. 
 
 " Let me see ! " she said, putting her hand to her 
 head, with mock gravity. " I don't know a girl in 
 Rockridge Chauncey would marry ! "
 
 A VISIT TO OAK BAY. 351 
 
 " Don't be sure, Aggie ; you have not mentioned your 
 dear Stella." 
 
 " Stella ! " she replied hastily ; " 0, she could n't 
 marry Chauncey ! " 
 
 " Why not ? " said Gregory, enjoying her confusion. 
 
 " O, because because I must not tell you, but she 
 could not." 
 
 " Some little girl's fancy, ah ? " said he. " You are 
 remarkably stupid not to have thought of Catherine." 
 
 " Catherine Ferguson ! " exclaimed she. " I never 
 thought of her marrying." 
 
 "You forget you once recommended her to me," re- 
 plied Gregory ; then adding more soberly, " But it is 
 really true; Chauncey is engaged to Catherine. They 
 would have been married in Spring, only she could not 
 leave Robert in his low state." 
 
 "And Chauncey never told me," she said, a little 
 displeased. 
 
 " They preferred keeping their plans to themselves," 
 he replied. "I heard of it accidentally, and tell you 
 because you have a right to know. Chauncey is proud, 
 and exceedingly sensitive, and the Fergusons are very 
 poor ; and though Chauncey loves Catherine, he feels
 
 352 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 deeply the truth that the family were brought here 
 from the dregs of society. What a hinderance to one's 
 comfort is pride ! " 
 
 He looked at his companion as he spoke ; she 
 leaned wearily against the side of the carriage. 
 
 " You are fatigued," he said, hastily. 
 
 "No," she replied, laying her hand on his arm, as 
 he reined in his horse ; " not faint, not wearied, but 
 troubled. I have something on my mind that I can 
 bear no longer; it relates to the Fergusons." 
 
 She gave him the will of Robert Ferguson, and 
 the letter of her aunt, which she had carried about 
 with her, wishing, yet not daring, to speak of their 
 contents. " Read these," she added, " and tell me what 
 ought to be done?" 
 
 They had reached the door of the farm-house; the 
 Judge hobbled out to meet them. 
 
 " Ah, Judge," said Gregory, jumping from the 
 chaise, and lifting his companion after him, " how 's 
 ' these rhumatiz ' ? " 
 
 " Much after the old sort, goin' and comin,' " re- 
 plied the old man, opening the door into a cool parlor, 
 comfortably furnished. " I specs you can jist take care
 
 A VISIT TO OAK BAY. 353 
 
 of yoursels, for Mr. Chauncey has gone down to mill, 
 and won't be back these three hours. I declare," he 
 added, as Agatha walked across the room, to raise 
 the curtain, " how that little mite of a gal has growd 
 to be the prettiest sort ! And I guess I beant the 
 only one as thinks so; at any rate, I knows one as 
 agrees with me," he added, shuffling out of the room, 
 carefully closing the door after him. 
 
 " Why not look at these papers now ? " said Gregory, 
 drawing a little table near the sofa, and putting out 
 his hand for Agatha to sit by him. She took her 
 seat, and gave a detailed account of the way in which 
 the papers came into her possession. 
 
 Gregory did not speak till he had carefully read the 
 papers, and listened to the recital. Then he brought 
 his hand forcibly down upon the table, and said, in a 
 very decided tone, "Indeed, something should be done, 
 and somebody must know more of this business. I 
 am afraid there may be truth in the report that Tom 
 Ridgway was not perfectly upright in the settlement 
 of the Scottish estate. Probably there was very little 
 effort to discover the lost son and brother. You were 
 with your aunt when she died, Agatha?"
 
 354 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 " No, Gregory, Miss Morgan Mrs. Clement I 
 mean was with her." 
 
 " I must see her, then, he replied, " and talk with 
 Mr. Ferguson, before I proceed to the law. Agatha," 
 he added earnestly, " this will make you less rich, 
 but far more happy. I rejoice in the native strength 
 of character that led you to see the right, and act 
 upon it so understandingly. I cannot but be thankful, 
 too, that we may be the honored instruments whereby 
 so worthy a family shall be restored to their rightful 
 inheritance."
 
 UNWELCOME VISITORS. 355 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 UNWELCOME VISITORS. 
 
 " Curse the tongue 
 
 Whence slanderous rumor, like the adder's drop, 
 Distils her venom, withering friendship's faith, 
 Turning love's favor." 
 
 HlLLHOUSE. 
 
 ON HER return to Maple Cliff from Oak Bay, 
 Agatha found on the table the cards of Miss 
 Winchester and the brothers. Her feelings had been 
 excited by the events of the morning, more than all 
 by the discovery she had made of the secret of her 
 heart; therefore it came that, when she saw the cards, 
 she gave way to what young girls call "a good cry." 
 She was still in tears, when Honora came down from 
 the sick-room. Agatha pointed to the cards. 
 
 " How shall I act ? " she said, putting her arms 
 about Honora's neck. 
 
 "As a Christian lady," whispered Honora.
 
 356 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 " Honora, dear," said Agatha, after a pause, " do 
 you think I should invite them to come here?" 
 
 "I do not see any necessity for that. Indeed, in the 
 present state of things here, I think they would prefer 
 the hotel. Perhaps my father may wish to invite them 
 to Woodland." 
 
 Miss Clarendon, ignorant of the unwomanly conduct 
 of Miss Winchester towards her brother, inquired of 
 her father, in Gregory's presence, whether he wished 
 to invite the Winchesters to partake of the hospital- 
 ities of their cottage. She observed at once a change 
 in her brother's countenance, the dark look that came 
 but seldom, and argued a depth of feeling, she did 
 not care to arouse. Colonel Clarendon was on the point 
 of walking out, and simply said, " As you please, my 
 daughter." 
 
 "What troubles you, brother?" said Honora, coming 
 near him. "Is anything amiss?" 
 
 His look into her calm face was like a flash of 
 lightning. 
 
 " If Isabelle Winchester comes here, I must leave ! " 
 he said, in a severe tone. "However, if you wish it, 
 that is an easy matter."
 
 UNWELCOME VISITORS. 357 
 
 He had rarely spoken in this way to his sister. He 
 was vexed that the Winchesters had come, thus un- 
 bidden, where they were not wanted; and not a little 
 annoyed, that Honora had forgotten all the tricks and 
 arts of Isabelle on her former visit, though he well 
 knew that her crowning act of boldness was a secret 
 in his own bosom. 
 
 "Forgive me, sister," lie said, after a pause, as he 
 looked at Honora's sad face; "I was hasty. You do 
 not know all, or you would not perhaps wonder " 
 
 "I wonder at nothing," she replied, in a low, sor- 
 rowful voice, " but that my brother should suffer his 
 temper to get the better of his reason." 
 
 " Honora," said Gregory, rising, " you do not know 
 Isabelle Winchester. She is an artful, designing woman, 
 more unprincipled than you, with your pure, truthful 
 nature, can conceive; and I feel that her coming here 
 now, after what has passed, would compromise my rep- 
 utation as a man, to say nothing of my name as one 
 who has in view the sacred ministry. I did wrong to 
 speak to you hastily. The rash temper which my 
 mother gave me made me forget myself. Forgive me, 
 sister."
 
 358 . THE CHAPEL OF ST. MAEY. 
 
 The kiss of forgiveness was sealed, and Honora 
 went out, not knowing exactly what to do, but certain 
 that neither sense of obligation, nor any other motive, 
 must make Isabelle a guest at Woodland Bluff. 
 
 No rules of etiquette bound Miss Winchester where 
 her will was concerned, and next morning, before Aga- 
 tha had exchanged her wrapper for a proper dress, 
 she came running in quite unceremoniously. She was 
 all day at Maple Cliff, and Gregory, in his usual after- 
 noon call, found not only herself, but her brothers, with 
 Agatha. He greeted them with cold politeness, and 
 went away without once changing his grave looks. 
 
 He overtook Dudley Winchester at night, as he 
 strolled down to see his friend Robert. They came 
 together at the first landing, when Clarendon paused, 
 and, looking the young man in the face, he said, " Ex- 
 cuse me, Dudley, for the liberty ; but I feel constrained 
 to ask, do you seek to be to Stella Ferguson more 
 than a common acquaintance ? " 
 
 Dudley replied, in a manly tone, " I would not bear 
 that question from any other man, Clarendon, but I 
 know you are friendly to both of us. I have never 
 forgotten Stella."
 
 UNWELCOME VISITORS. 359 
 
 Gregory did not move; he marked figures with his 
 cane upon the sandy beach. At length he spoke very 
 gravely: "The Fergusons are very poor, Dudley, but 
 honest and well educated. I cannot see why the 
 daughters should not be sought by any gentleman ; 
 but your father might think differently." 
 
 " I am free to make my own choice," replied the 
 young man, "and Stella shall be my wife, if I can 
 gain her consent." 
 
 " Good success to you," said Gregory, taking up the 
 oars ; " I like your spirit, and admire your choice. I 
 only wished to be assured of the honesty of your pur- 
 pose." 
 
 "You do not know Stella," replied Dudley, a little 
 haughtily, " or you would not have said that" 
 ***** 
 
 " So, my brother ! you have really offered your hand 
 in lawful marriage to this girl, this Stella ! " 
 
 The tones were tho.se of Isabelle Winchester, bitter 
 sarcasm, mingled with careless indifference. She sat at 
 the window of her private parlor, in the only hotel of 
 which Rockridge could boast. The windows overlooked 
 the road leading direct to "Woodland Bluff and Maple
 
 360 THE CHAPEL OP ST. MARY. 
 
 Cliff. The entrance avenues of both estates were in 
 full view to Isabelle, as she sat lazily cutting the leaves 
 of a new French novel. Dudley did not reply to her 
 speech. Just then he cared very little for all the world 
 save one. 
 
 " Do you know what you 've done ? " continued his 
 sister, turning round angrily towards him. 
 
 " Who was her father? Who was her mother? 
 Had she a sister? or had she a brother?" 
 
 "Isabelle," said Dudley, more calmly than might 
 have been expected, "let Stella's parentage be what 
 it may, I seek not to marry her parents or relatives." 
 
 "Affectingly romantic!" replied Isabelle ; "but I 
 doubt if my aristocratic father will be willing to give 
 his name to one whom Gregory Clarendon picked out 
 of the streets of New York, and who has been linked 
 in the public papers with a notorious blackleg." 
 
 "Isabelle, you are malicious as the " 
 
 He did not stay to finish his complimentary speech, 
 but rushed out, pale with rage. On the stairs he met 
 Duncan, but he drew his hat over his eyes, and passed 
 on without a word. 
 
 " What have you done to Dudley ? " said the brother 
 to Isabelle.
 
 UNWELCOME VISITORS. 361 
 
 " O, nothing," she replied, carelessly ; " only asking 
 after his lady-love. He has really shown himself a 
 man before you, Duncan. Faint heart never wins." 
 
 " No, not faint heart, sister," he replied, " but an 
 impenetrable barrier of reserve. Agatha is more dis- 
 tant than ever ; and I begin to think Clarendon has 
 secured the prize by a system of privateering." 
 
 " Gregory Clarendon ! " said Isabelle, flushing crim- 
 son. " Never ! He shall never marry Agatha Doug- 
 lass!" 
 
 " How unfortunate this illness of Mr. Douglass proves 
 for both of us ! " said the brother, with a sigh. 
 
 The color grew deeper on Isabelle's face, then faded 
 away in a sallow paleness, as she said, bitterly, " Yes, 
 unfortunate that I cannot victimize myself to carry out 
 my plans ! What do you suppose, Duncan, was my 
 motive in engaging to marry this miserable old man ? " 
 
 " Riches ? " said Duncan. 
 
 " Poh ! try again ! That is too commonplace." 
 
 " An old man's darling," suggested he. 
 
 " Darling ! " she said, bitterly ; " I am not that fool ! 
 I wished to be near Gregory Clarendon, to make 
 him feel my influence, to force him to acknowledge 
 16
 
 362 THE CHAPEL OF ST.' MARY. 
 
 my power, to give you Agatha, to Is there 
 nothing we can do," she added, in a low, revengeful 
 tone, " nothing we can do to thwart them ? " 
 
 The young man leaned his head thoughtfully on his 
 hands. Then passed through his mind plans, of wlu'ch 
 a few were simply ridiculous, and others fearfully 
 wicked. Isabelle too gave herself up to plotting and 
 replotting, till her busy brain grew faint, and her heart 
 sick. Thus this worldly pair spent the hours as they 
 went by, in contemplating the manner in which they 
 would accomplish their own objects, and gain their 
 own ends, forgetting that "man appoints, but God dis- 
 appoints."
 
 GREGORY'S STORY. 363 
 
 CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 GREGORY'S STORY. 
 
 " Lord, what a change within us one short hour 
 Spent in thy presence will avail to make! 
 We kneel, how weak ! we rise, how full of power ! 
 Why therefore should we do ourselves this wrong, 
 Or others, that we are not always strong, 
 That we are ever overborne with care, 
 That we should ever weak or heartless be, 
 Anxious or troubled, when with us is prayer, 
 And joy, and strength and courage are with Thee T " 
 
 TRENCH. 
 " I will cling 
 
 To the fixed hope that there will come a time 
 When we can meet unfettered, and be blest 
 With the full happiness of certain love." 
 
 PKRCTVAL. 
 
 MR. CLEMENT had received Agatha's desire for 
 baptism joyfully, led her through the maze that 
 had been cast over her spiritual vision at St. Anne's, 
 and appointed an early day for that event, so long 
 looked forward too with trembling fear. At the quiet 
 hour of sunset she stood at the chapel font, waiting
 
 364 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 for those solemn words, and that sign and seal, that 
 were to convey to her such great blessings. Why she 
 had come to this lowly chapel to receive this sacra- 
 ment, those whom she loved best had not asked. 
 
 But how was Isabelle employed during this solemn 
 hour. She had watched the departure of each group ; 
 and, as Papsy, who had gone to be present soul and 
 body with her " little missis," disappeared down the 
 Gorge, Miss "Winchester quietly passed over to Maple 
 Cliff, and proceeded unmolested to the chamber of Mr. 
 Douglass. He was more rational than he had been 
 for some weeks ; he welcomed her with a silly laugh, 
 and with the familiarity of a lover. She could hardly 
 hide her disgust; but she had an end to gain. 
 
 After many attempts to speak to him of Agatha and 
 Clarendon, she succeeded in making him understand 
 that Gregory sought only the heiress ; that he was 
 looking forward to the time when he should be sole 
 proprietor of Maple Cliff. Desperate she was, or she 
 would not have dared to play such a game with a 
 dying man. 
 
 Agatha, on her return from church, found her uncle, 
 whom she had left quiet, raging like a caged lion.
 
 GREGORY'S STORY. 365 
 
 He denounced her in the most awful terms ; took her 
 savagely by the arm ; and, grinning with his ghastly 
 lips, cursed Gregory Clarendon with frightful curses, 
 ,and called down eternal maledictions on her head if 
 she listened to his addresses. He commanded her to 
 send at once for Ridgway, that he might alter his will, 
 and cut her off with nothing, unless she would take an 
 oath that she would never marry Gregory Clarendon. 
 As she went, pale and trembling, to execute tliis com- 
 mand, Isabelle followed. 
 
 " What can have come over Mr. Douglass ? " she 
 said, trying to put her arm about Agatha's neck. "I 
 never saw him so furious." 
 
 Agatha drew back and looked at Isabelle without 
 speaking. 
 
 " I would n't send for Ridgway," added her tormen- 
 tor, coaxingly ; " your uncle will get over it in a few 
 moments." 
 
 "Miss Winchester!" said Agatha, curbing the indig- 
 nation that was burning in her bosom, "I am mistress 
 here at present ! " 
 
 Ridgway was out of town, and Agatha despatched a 
 special messenger for the Doctor. Isabelle talked pri-
 
 366 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 vately with the physician, and thought he should urge 
 Agatha to make the promise her uncle required; it 
 would quiet him, and of course, under the circum- 
 stances, would not be binding. Agatha said plainly, 
 that he must forbid Miss Winchester's attendance in 
 her uncle's room. The dapper little man was much 
 puzzled. He looked at the matter scientifically, enter- 
 tained the ladies with a long dissertation on disease as 
 it was, and as it is, ending in general directions about 
 quiet, &c., &c., and soothed the old man with a sopo- 
 rific. 
 
 When all was still, the Winchesters gone, and the 
 household at rest, Agatha stole down to the library 
 sofa, and gave vent to her feelings in bitter weeping. 
 Papsy came softly in, and kneeled at her mistress's 
 feet. 
 
 " Little missis, commit thy way unto the Lord. 
 He shall deliver thee from the snare of the hunter." 
 
 " We will never both leave him again," said Agatha, 
 sadly. " Do you think he will remember those awful 
 curses when he wakes ? " she added, putting her hands 
 to her ears as if the sound still lingered there. 
 
 " Curses, like chickens, go home to roost," replied 
 Papsy.
 
 GREGORY'S STORY. 367 
 
 " What can Isabella Winchester want ? " said Agatha, 
 after she had become somewhat composed. " What 
 can be her object in making such disturbance ? " 
 
 " Wants to marry Mr. Gregory herself," replied the 
 girl. 
 
 " But Papsy, Mr. Clarendon does not care for her," 
 said Agatha, a deep blush overspreading her features. 
 " It cannot be ! " she added, eagerly. " How could she 
 engage herself to my uncle, if she loves Gregory 
 Clarendon ? " 
 
 " Little missis don't know much about wicked folks, 
 wicked women, wicked men," she whispered, with emo- 
 'tion, her thoughts evidently going back to her own 
 sad history. 
 
 "0 what a dreadful world!" said Agatha, with a 
 sigh, 
 
 " But the good Lord has overcome it for us ! " replied 
 Papsy, reverentially. 
 
 The next morning Mr. Douglass awoke strangely 
 oblivious to all late occurrences. Mr. Clement had 
 come in, as he did daily, for prayers. Agatha sat by 
 her uncle, and Papsy stood at the foot of the bed. 
 Suddenly Mr. Douglass seized the arm of his niece,
 
 368 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MAEY. 
 
 and, looking her fiercely in the face, said to her in 
 the tone that had so often chilled the life-blood of the 
 departed : " I tell you again yes, yes the mixed 
 races," he added, with a savage laugh. " I shall fetch 
 her here for you to bring up: the boy Chet may 
 look out for himself, but Papsy I must take, or she 
 will go on the town." His voice had risen and his 
 grasp had become so powerful, as he proceeded, that 
 Mr. Clement was obliged to interfere, and take Aga- 
 tha from him. Papsy kept her position, like a bronze 
 statue ; but with earnest gaze she drank in every word. 
 Slowly the truth dawned on Agatha's mind, the mys- 
 tery of Papsy's life was explained. 
 
 As the clergyman went through the shrubbery, he 
 met Gregory, on his way to the house. 
 
 " Clarendon," he said, " it is dreadful that Agatha 
 should be subjected to hearing the details of such a life 
 as Mr. Douglass has led." He then recounted the 
 scene of the morning. 
 
 " I am almost wicked enough to wish death would 
 put an end to it," said Gregory. " I am going now to 
 take Agatha for a walk. She will lose her health if 
 this anxiety and confinement continue much longer."
 
 GREGORY'S STORY. 369 
 
 The first glance told the sufferings of the past night 
 and the present day. 
 
 "Agatha, my precious one, how you are troubled!" 
 said Gregory, drawing her towards him. " Do you feel 
 equal to a walk over the hill ? " 
 
 They took the way above Maple Cliff, over the 
 high bluff beyond. It had ever been a favorite ramble 
 with Agatha, in the days when she and Papsy ran 
 wild together. On the very summit of the hill was a 
 clear, glassy lake, shut in by a grove of pines, except on 
 the side towards Mr. Douglass's dwelling. From there, 
 the eminence overlooked the estates of Mr. Douglass 
 and Colonel Clarendon, and the village and valley 
 beyond. It was a difficult ascent, and had never been 
 made easier, because the proprietor did not wish it to 
 be accessible. It belonged to Mr. Douglass's farm, and 
 the fountains about his grounds were supplied by the 
 crystal waters found there. Agatha, worn by excite- 
 ment, could not trip over the rocky pathway, as she 
 had done in bygone days. She was entirely out of 
 breath, and glad to reach a rude kind of seat which her 
 brother had prepared for her in her earlier rambles. 
 The day was clear and bright, the opening day of 
 16* x
 
 370 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 Autumn. The first flush of autumnal beauty had 
 tinted the maples about the family dwelling; all else 
 wore the greenness of Spring. The waters of the 
 river, far below, made a silver line of light among the 
 green fields and bare, rugged rocks, and dancing leaves 
 dimpled the surface of the little lake. 
 
 Clarendon sat down by Agatha, and, gently laying 
 her head on his shoulder, bade her listen to a story. 
 She innocently obeyed ; but only a few choice sen- 
 tences had been spoken, before she dropped her eye- 
 lids and strove to hide her burning blushes. The story 
 was well told, and the speaker waited a reply ; but 
 it did not come. 
 
 " Will you not tell me, Agatha," he said earnestly, 
 " will you not tell me if my love is returned, if 
 you will be mine ? " 
 
 Courage came back to her, when she heard how the 
 shadow of a doubt made his voice tremulous, and look- 
 ing up confidingly, placing her hand in his, she whis- 
 pered, " Gregory, I will never be another's, but 
 but," she continued, hesitatingly, "you must hear my 
 story now ; and I have such faith in your teachings 
 that I know you will help me look only at the rigid"
 
 GREGORY'S STORY. 371 
 
 She then recounted to him the history of the last 
 evening, repeating with lips that paled at the remem- 
 brance, the awful curses of her uncle, if she listened 
 to his love. The part that Isabelle had acted could 
 not be concealed, though Agatha strove to leave her 
 uncondemned. When she spoke of Isabelle and her 
 doings, he frowned and bit his lip. 
 
 " Would you rather not hear ? " she inquired. 
 
 " Go on," he said, while a flash of anger kindled his 
 dark eye. "I am indignant that one so good and pure 
 should come in contact with such fiendish wickedness 
 as dwells in the heart of Isabelle Winchester. Please 
 go on, dearest," he added, soothingly, " I am impatient." 
 
 "Indeed," she replied, "I have finished my story. 
 I only wish you to tell me if if I can give you the 
 promise you ask, and which," she added, blushing, "I 
 would willingly give, without practical disobedience to 
 my uncle's authority ! " 
 
 There was a pause, an evident struggle. 
 
 " We may safely wait," said Gregory, when he could 
 command himself. " No vows or protestations can make 
 us more truly one. I will ask no promise from you 
 till I claim you at the hand of God's minister as my
 
 372 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 wife. Till then be to me the same simple, warm- 
 hearted girl you were when I bore you in my arms 
 from a watery grave, and I shall be satisfied." 
 
 She again placed her hand confidingly in his, telling 
 him, as she had always told him, the inmost thoughts 
 of her heart 
 
 To her were confided Gregory's plans for future 
 usefulness. To her love and confidence were given 
 thoughts treasured thoughts that had never sought 
 the light of human sympathy. It was hardly noonday 
 when they left Maple Cliff, but the evening mists en- 
 veloped the landscape before they retraced their steps. 
 Gregory did not even confide his joy to Honora. 
 Like a miser, he treasured each look, and word, and 
 the touch of that gentle hand that held his destiny.
 
 MERITED WRATH. 373 
 
 CHAPTER XLVI. 
 
 MERITED WRATH. 
 
 " What profits us, that we from Heaven derive 
 A soul immortal, and with looks erect 
 Survey the stars, if, like the brutal kind, 
 We follow where our passions lead the way." 
 
 " God hath two families of love, 
 In earth below and heaven above; 
 One is in battle sharp and sore, 
 And one is happy evermore." 
 
 fTHHE BUSINESS affairs relating to the letter and 
 J_ will that Agatha had so providentially discov- 
 ered engrossed much of Clarendon's time and atten- 
 tion. He had put the matter, at length, into the hand 
 of a lawyer in a neighboring town, having gained ne- 
 cessary information from Mr. Ferguson and Mrs. Clem- 
 ent. About a week after the important event recorded 
 in the close of the last chapter, he was called out of 
 town to attend to this business. They were long days
 
 374 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 to Agatha, the days of his absence. Isabelle ceased 
 not to persecute her, coming every morning, and, in 
 her blandest manner, asking for Mr. Douglass ; but 
 since the dreadful disturbance she had caused in the 
 sick-room, Papsy kept close watch, and she was never 
 again permitted entrance there. Papsy was unwearied 
 in her attendance, day and night, and when Agatha 
 begged her to take rest, she would say, "No, little 
 missis, Papsy can do it all now." 
 
 The third day after Gregory's departure, Agatha left 
 Isabelle, who had been all day at Maple Cliff, and 
 walked out to seek rest and refreshment. Rosa's young- 
 est babe had been very ill, and she took the road to 
 the castle, walking leisurely, enjoying the beauties of 
 the foliage, dyed afresh by the rays of a gorgeous 
 sunset. Her heart, that had been ruffled by the ill- 
 omened presence of Isabelle, was calmed. Her call at 
 the castle was hurried by the lateness of the hour; 
 but more, perhaps, by the information that Rosa gave, 
 " that Chet had gone to the cars to fetch Mr. Greg- 
 ory." 
 
 She had passed the first patch of woods on her 
 homeward way, and entered the grove that skirted the
 
 MERITED WRATH. 375 
 
 chapel, when she was startled by the figure of a man, 
 leaning against the trunk of a tree. She comforted 
 herself with the probability that it might be Mr. Clem- 
 ent, but a nearer view showed her mistake. 
 
 " Good evening, Miss Agatha," said the voice of 
 Duncan Winchester. " Chance has given me the op- 
 portunity I have been seeking these two weeks." 
 
 He approached, and drew her arm within his. 
 
 " I have something to tell you," he continued. " Do 
 you know that I love you with an intensity that defies 
 control, and you will not give me the privilege of a 
 man, and suffer me to throw myself at your feet. You 
 hardly allow me to be civil." 
 
 " When you cease to talk of love," said Agatha, 
 haughtily withdrawing her arm, "and confine yourself 
 to proper subjects of conversation, I may listen." 
 
 " But you shall listen," he said, taking both her 
 hands in one of his, and tightly grasping her arm with 
 the other. " Gregory Clarendon saved your life, and 
 he demands in return what is dearer to me than h'fe. 
 He is a knave, and " 
 
 " I will not hear it," said Agatha, turning away her 
 face, and uttering a faint cry.
 
 376 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 The next instant, Chet, who was on his return home, 
 and had heard from the cliff below the last words of 
 Duncan, and the exclamation that followed, sprung for- 
 ward, and held the young brute by the collar, unloos- 
 ing his grasp from the arm of Agatha. 
 
 " Coward ! " muttered Chet, " you shall not go un- 
 punished ; " and holding Winchester in his powerful 
 grip, he gave the young man a thorough castigation 
 with his own riding-whip. It was the last time Dun- 
 can Winchester was seen in Rockridge. 
 
 Agatha rested in the chapel porch, endeavoring to 
 compose herself, while Chet stood in a listening atti- 
 tude. 
 
 " He is coming," said Chet ; " I hear his carriage- 
 wheels. Mr. Gregory is coming." 
 
 " I am afraid they may meet," she said, trying to 
 rise, still trembling with fear. 
 
 " He knows nothing of this," replied Chet ; " and 
 if the young rascal insults him, he may possibly get 
 a second edition of what I have given him." 
 
 The wheels came nearer, and Chet went into the 
 road to meet Clarendon. It may be supposed he was 
 somewhat excited when he heard the tale. He sup-
 
 MERITED WRATH. 377 
 
 ported Agatha to the carriage, warmly thanking Chet 
 for his opportune interference. He had gone at once 
 to Maple Cliff; but finding Agatha out, had come in 
 pursuit, growing a little anxious as he proceeded with- 
 out meeting her. 
 
 " My darling," he said, as he drove swiftly through 
 the thick grove below the chapel, "you will not ven- 
 ture out without me, while this impertinent young ras- 
 cal is about. It is fortunate for both of us that we 
 did not meet." 
 
 Agatha did not reply when Clarendon inquired the 
 next morning if she had recovered from her fright, 
 but, turning up her loose sleeve from her fair, round 
 arm, she showed the print of fingers in deep purple 
 lines. 
 
 " Base coward ! " muttered Gregory. " I cannot be 
 too thankful he has left town ; I should be tempted 
 to do something, were he here, that I might regret in 
 calmer moments." 
 
 " O, it is nothing," replied Agatha. " It will be 
 well in a day or two." 
 
 " Nothing ! nothing," he said, " that a person call- 
 ing himself a man should leave the print of brute
 
 378 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 force on the delicate arm of a woman ! Think of 
 living one's life with such a man ! Of being his wife !" 
 
 Agatha shuddered as he spoke, remembering that 
 this fate her uncle had sought for her. 
 
 " Gregory," she said, after a pause, speaking a little 
 timidly, " I could not sleep, thinking of those blows. 
 Was it quite right for Chet to strike him ? " 
 
 " My precious, Christian child," he replied earnestly, 
 "you have gone further than I in your heavenward 
 course. Can you forgive this wanton brutality ? " 
 
 " I don't think he meant to hurt me so much," she 
 said, as if thinking rather than speaking ; " only his 
 temper rose beyond his control, because I would not 
 listen to his words ; and you know," she added, shading 
 her eyes with her hand, and speaking very low, " I 
 can pity those who have ungoverned tempers." 
 
 " You are more 'charitable, dearest, than I," replied 
 Gregory. " I have reason to think his course was 
 premeditated. He intended to frighten you into listen- 
 ing to his suit," 
 
 They were interrupted by Mr. Clement, who came 
 with a summons for them to attend the wedding of 
 Catherine and Chauncey. Robert had failed rapidly for
 
 MERITED WRATH. 379 
 
 the last day or two, and was desirous the marriage 
 ceremony should take place before his death. 
 
 " May I congratulate you, Clarendon ? " said the 
 clergyman, as Agatha left the room to prepare her- 
 self. 
 
 " We hope to call upon you before many weeks to 
 complete our happiness," replied Clarendon, returning 
 the warm pressure of his hand. 
 
 They found the bridal party in waiting. Robert, 
 upon his couch in the adjoining room, was within 
 sight and sound of all that passed. 
 
 " Don't pray look so mournful," whispered Greg- 
 ory, as he came and stood by Agatha. " The whole 
 party is more funereal than bridal." 
 
 The ceremony proceeded ; they had risen from their 
 knees, when Stella, looking towards her brother, ut- 
 tered a scream. His eyes were fixed and glassy, and 
 the clergyman went from the prayers for the mar- 
 ried pair to supplication for the dying. The bridal 
 was indeed changed to a funeral. 
 
 The physician's chaise stood at the door when Aga- 
 tha reached home, and she hurried to her uncle's 
 room. Life was ebbing away, and, as the sun went
 
 380 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 down in a mass of dull leaden clouds, the soul of the 
 miserable old man left the earthly tenement- 
 Robert, by his own request, was laid in the chapel 
 burial-ground, while Mr. Douglass reposed in the old 
 churchyard, by the side of her whose life he had 5m- 
 bittered. Thus passeth away alike, to the eye of man, 
 the evil and the good : let them rest. It is not for 
 us to lift the veil, they are in the keeping of a just 
 and merciful Saviour. 
 
 Chauncey Douglass proved himself son and brother 
 to the bereaved household, opening his home and heart 
 to the family, thus again leaving the Bird's Nest un- 
 tenanted. 
 
 Mr. Douglass's will was read, after the funeral, by 
 Tom Ridgway, in the presence of the friends. It left 
 his large property, without limitation or legacy of any 
 kind, to his adopted child, " Agatha Douglass." After 
 the reading, Colonel Clarendon rose, and in the name 
 of Miss Douglass stated the relationship existing between 
 her late aunt and Mr. Frank Ferguson, and the claims 
 that gentleman had on the estate, with the wish of 
 the heiress, that all that by right was his should be 
 restored.
 
 MERITED WRATH. 381 
 
 There was one who followed among the mourners, 
 in long widow's weeds. But the tears she shed feign- 
 edly for the departed, were dropped to the memory 
 of her own unsuccessful machinations. She had been 
 outwitted by the dead, and the homestead of Maple 
 Cliff, which Mr. Douglass at their engagement as- 
 sured her should be hers, was in the hands of Aga- 
 tha. She had waited for this triumph, but it was de- 
 nied her.
 
 382 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVII. 
 
 FESTIVAL OF ALL SAINTS. 
 
 " Who but the Church can every power 
 
 Of the true woman nurse to life, 
 Till, fit for every changeful hour, 
 Is seen the maiden woman wife? 
 
 " When the pale mother clasps her child, 
 
 And pats her darling to its rest, 
 Or sinks to slumber undefined, 
 Her bride ring shining o'er her breast, 
 
 " Again to hallow that pure joy, 
 
 Comes Holy Church, and tells her then 
 Of Mary and the Holy Boy, 
 And claims the turtle-doves again." 
 
 A. C. COXB. 
 
 THE FIRST day of November proved to be a 
 warm, sunny day for the season. Colonel Clar- 
 endon had just read from the last evening's paper of 
 the sailing of the Eureka from New York for Paris. 
 In the list of passengers were Mr. and Miss "Winches- 
 ter, and servant.
 
 FESTIVAL OF ALL SAINTS. 383 
 
 Father," said Gregory, as he took his hat for hia 
 usual morning call at Maple Cliff; "service at the 
 chapel this morning. You will go ? " 
 
 " Certainly," replied Honora, surprised at the ques- 
 tion. 
 
 There were present at the holy feast in the Chapel 
 of St. Mary many of the poor wanderers in the Gorge, 
 who had been brought in by the indefatigable labors 
 of Mr. Clement. Papsy took her seat with the bou- 
 quet she never failed to bring for little Harry's grave, 
 and Chet and Rosa had come to offer thanks for the 
 restoration of their little one. 
 
 The services of All-Saints, always solemn and affect- 
 ing, were unusually so on that day. It might be the 
 deep feeling manifested in the tones of the rector. 
 His wife was present there for the first time since the 
 birth of her babe, to offer the customary thanksgiving; 
 and he deeply felt the bond that "knit together the 
 elect in one communion and fellowship." The inhab- 
 itants of the Oak-Bay farm-house had been drawn 
 thither by the remembrance of a son and brother who 
 had lately joined " the innumerable company which 
 no man can number." The congregation seemed loath
 
 384 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 to rise from their kneeling posture, after the benedic- 
 tion ; and they were recalled by the voice of God's 
 minister, as he said : " Dearly beloved, we are gath- 
 ered together here in the sight of God and this com- 
 pany, to join together this man and this woman in 
 holy matrimony." 
 
 Every one rose at the words " Dearly beloved." 
 Gregory and Agatha, with Colonel Clarendon and Ho- 
 nora (who had caught the idea at once), standing at 
 the chancel rail. As the benediction was pronounced, 
 a pair of robins perched on the sill of the chancel 
 window, and sung merrily in the sunshine. To Pap- 
 sy's imaginative nature, this was an omen of every- 
 thing pleasant and good for the bridal pair. 
 
 Colonel Clarendon was the first to fold Agatha to 
 his heart, and whisper, " My daughter." Gregory and 
 Agatha returned to Woodland Bluff, to dine with their 
 friends, and passed over to Maple Cliff in the after- 
 noon, as if that had always been their home. There 
 was no party, no expensive wedding presents or wed- 
 ding dresses, but a quiet scene of domestic bliss, the 
 choice of both. 
 
 "There," said Mrs. Dobbin, when she heard of it,
 
 FESTIVAL OF ALL SAINTS. :X~> 
 
 "that is just like that girl, never does anything like 
 other folks. Everybody knew that Clarendon would 
 marry her if he could, with such a heap of money. 
 But deary me ! she 's nothing but a child ! One of 
 those imprudent early marriages." 
 
 Mrs. Charlotte Clement was much of the same 
 mind, though she did not express it openly. She 
 could not resist telling Honora, that she thought Greg- 
 ory rather " hasty." " She could not think of Agatha 
 as a suitable person for a minister's wife." Her hus- 
 band, overhearing the remark, reminded her " that cler- 
 gymen must be allowed to have different tastes, as 
 well as other men." 
 
 The nine days' wonder of Clarendon's sudden mar- 
 riage was superseded, in the mind of the good people 
 of Rockridge, by the startling intelligence that Eliza 
 Ridgway and Ann Matilda Dobbin had gone, in com- 
 pany with the Romish priest from Ridgeville, into the 
 Convent of the Blessed Virgin, in Canada. A letter 
 was found in Miss Eliza's room, addressed to nobody, 
 but stating the fact, that this was not a hasty step, 
 but taken after months of deliberation. It would be 
 useless, she said, to look after them. They sought 
 17 T
 
 386 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 such a separation from the world as acknowledged no 
 ties of blood or kindred, and, being both of age, parents 
 had no control. 
 
 Mr. Clement grieved sorely lest, through his neglect, 
 blindness had happened to one of his flock ; but Colonel 
 Clarendon assured him that the desire for notoriety, 
 which from childhood had been a distinguishing char- 
 acteristic of Miss Eliza, was sufficient to lead one of 
 her shallowness to take the step that had fixed her for 
 life. 
 
 "For life?" said Gregory, incredulously. "Who 
 knows but hi tune we may have the 'disclosures of 
 Miss Eliza Rldgway,' bound in a uniform edition with 
 ' Maria Monk ' ? " 
 
 * * # * * 
 
 The third anniversary of Agatha's wedding-day was 
 a quiet, happy day, like their bridal, and yet not like 
 it. A new tenderness had grown up in their hearts; 
 new ties had twined their affections more closely to- 
 gether. On the pale mother's breast rested two little 
 heads, and over them stooped a fond father, who looked 
 at them with wondering love. 
 
 " Have you thought of names, darling, for these pre- 
 cious gifts?" he said, fondly.
 
 FESTIVAL OF ALL SAINTS. 387 
 
 The faint color came into the mother's cheek, as she 
 replied, " Have you ? " 
 
 "No, Aggie, I have really been so anxious about 
 you, that these little ones have hardly had their share 
 of their father's attention. But tell me your names; 
 for your sweet, pale face is just as transparent to me 
 as the rosy one I used to read." 
 
 Agatha smiled, and then, looking thoughtfully down 
 on her little ones, she said : " Do you think Honora 
 would be pleased if we call them Norman and Ho- 
 nora?" 
 
 "She will be delighted ; that is, she ought to be," 
 said Gregory, with animation. 
 
 "Will you ask her, dear?" she said. "Norman may 
 be too sacred with her for common use." 
 
 He assented, and then they talked of their baptism, 
 and of the deep and awful responsibility of their train- 
 ing. 
 
 " I could not bear it, but for you to help me," whis- 
 pered Agatha. 
 
 " I am sure I could not think of it without you," he 
 replied, tenderly.
 
 388 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVIII. 
 
 CHANGES AND CHANCES. 
 
 "A chance may win what by mischance was lost; 
 The net that holds no great takes little fish; 
 In some things all, in all things none are crossed; 
 Few all they need, but none have all they wish; 
 Unmingled joys here to no man befall ; 
 Who least hath some, who most hath never all." 
 
 ROBERT SOUTHWELL. 
 
 FROM THE time of Mr. Clarendon's ordination, 
 which took place not long after his marriage, 
 the people of the Gorge were under his pastoral care, 
 Mr. Clement still retaining his position as rector of the 
 old church. Gregory found an efficient helpmeet, in 
 all his efforts for his increasing parish, in his young 
 wife. She entered with her earnest nature into the 
 needs and sorrows of the poor to whom he ministered. 
 Mr. Clarendon was summoned, one cold night in No- 
 vember, to the dying bed of a woman whom Chet had 
 found, in the hut formerly occupied by the Judge,
 
 CHANGES AND CHANCES. 389 
 
 with a young child in her arms, both nearly dead 
 with cold.. 
 
 The clergyman observed the hasty movement with 
 which the woman turned her face away when he ad- 
 dressed her, and he recognized, amid the wan and 
 faded features, the lineaments of Julia Ridgway. He 
 spoke to her of the mercy that never faileth, of the 
 rescued Magdalene and the comforted outcast, and led 
 the weary soul to the cross of Christ He drew from 
 her the sad tale of her life. She had fallen lower 
 and lower after her first disgrace, till, in some haunt 
 of the most vicious, she had met Dick Walbridge. In 
 the days of their comparative innocence he had won 
 her affections, and there lingered around her worn and 
 trampled heart the memory of that early love. They 
 went through the ceremony of marriage before a jus- 
 tice of the peace, and she had followed him faithfully, 
 brutal, degraded as he was, for the last two years, till 
 the hand of justice met him, and Julia had closed his 
 dying eyes in the shelter of a prison. It was in utter 
 despair that the poor woman had sought her home, 
 not for herself, but for the sake of the helpless infant 
 at her breast. 
 
 17*
 
 390 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 After the funeral of the miserable Julia, Mr. Clar- 
 endon recommended the child to the care of its grand- 
 mother ; but she declined the charge, and the little one 
 was left to the tender mercies of the town. 
 
 " Do you notice, dear," said Mrs. Clarendon to her 
 husband, not long after the burial of poor Julia, "how 
 sorely Papsy takes the fate of this wretched woman 
 to heart ? Her countenance wears the mournfully dis- 
 tressed look it did after Dick went away, when she 
 would sit for days looking down into the water as if 
 she longed to lie there." 
 
 " Yes, I remember," said Clarendon, smiling ; " that 
 was when I suffered most on your account. But I will 
 tell you, Agatha," he added, more gravely, "what is 
 her trouble. This child of Richard's she longs to adopt 
 as her own. Her romantic devotion to him is really 
 worthy of a better cause." 
 
 "And will she, dear husband?" said his wife, com- 
 ing towards him, and looking up earnestly into his 
 face. 
 
 "She would willingly," he replied, "if I thought it 
 best; and she may as it is, if she can make up her 
 mind to leave yon."
 
 CHANGES AND CHANCES. 391 
 
 " Leave me, Gregory ! " she said. " Why need that 
 follow ? " 
 
 "And would my precious one be willing," he whis- 
 pered, drawing her towards him, " to have the child 
 of vice, the child born among the very dregs of 
 humanity, brought up with our little ones?" 
 
 " By nature born in sin, even as others," she replied, 
 musingly. " You will not refuse," she said, putting her 
 arms about his neck, and looking imploringly into his 
 face. "The little thing may be such a comfort to 
 poor Papsy." 
 
 " But my little pleader," he said, solemnly, " the sins 
 of the fathers shall be visited upon the children." 
 
 " Yes, Gregory," she replied, hesitatingly, " but we 
 can have the little one made a member of Christ, and 
 you can help Papsy to bring her up as she ought. 
 And you know the promises ! " she added, looking per- 
 suasively into his eyes. 
 
 "I cannot resist you, Aggie. Papsy shall have the 
 child, and she shall carry her to baptism with ours." 
 ***** 
 
 Ten years have passed over Rockridge, ten years 
 of change. The inhabitants have multiplied, and busi-
 
 392* THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 ness has increased rapidly. Five large manufactories 
 have gone up below the Gorge, and already, with their 
 busy wheels and industrious operatives, interrupt the 
 quietude of Oak-Bay farm. But Chauncey Douglass 
 has learned to feel the bond of brotherhood, and does 
 not chafe at the intrusion. 
 
 The chapel at the Gorge is filled to overflowing 
 with devout worshippers, and the graveyard has spread 
 its peaceful resting-places abroad among the sheltering 
 forest trees. Chefs castle is unmolested. Time deals 
 kindly with its inmates. Chet retains his dignity as 
 " lord of the Gorge," and his peculiarities ; but they are 
 tempered with the spirit of the Gospel. Aunt Polly, 
 helpless and senseless, has been sheltered and fed for 
 years in the home of Chet, and the blessing descends 
 in the docility and obedience of their household. As we 
 come up the Gorge, which retains its wildness, though 
 more thickly settled, we notice the Bird's Nest, where 
 it stands in its shelter of old gnarled apple-trees. But 
 the house is enlarged, and many dwellings have gone 
 up above and below it. Before the low stoop swings 
 a sign, "Valley Hotel, J. Dobbin." Here the Deacon, 
 having met with many reverses of fortune, has estab-
 
 CHANGES AND CHANCES. 393 
 
 lished himself, or rather his wife, as innkeeper. She 
 has succeeded, since this move, in making a match for 
 one of her girls ; but three remain on her hands. Here 
 Elder Sparks, long past meridian, holds forth, with his 
 pristine vehemency, against the " Scarlet Lady " ! 
 
 In his exhortations to his people to avoid " her 
 daughter and granddaughter," he refers to the exam- 
 ple of Eliza Ridgway, who went from the bosom of 
 one to the embrace of the other, forgetting that Eliza 
 was trained under his teachings, and that his own Ann 
 Matilda went and did likewise. The Ridgway family 
 have disappeared from Rockridge. Ridgeville has a 
 new owner and another name. 
 
 Tom has parted with the pretty Italian villa, and 
 lives, with his worldly-minded companion, a thoroughly 
 worldly life amid the din of New York. The villa 
 has become the summer residence of Dudley Winches- 
 ter. The General has turned the affections of his 
 old age around his daughter Stella, and they are in- 
 separable. Isabelle still drinks deep of the draught 
 of pleasure. Worn, haggard, and gray, by the aid of 
 paints and other artificials she is still brilliant in the 
 ball-room. She visits her brother Dudley but seldom;
 
 394 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 her heart cannot endure the quiet happiness that per- 
 vades that neighborhood. Duncan has sunk in a for- 
 eign whirlpool of dissipation, and will probably never 
 live to see again his native land. 
 
 Woodland Bluff is more embowered than ever, ex- 
 cept one window, on the side toward Maple Cliff. It 
 is the low window of the Colonel's room, and many 
 little feet come running through the shrubbery to see 
 " dear grandpapa." " Aunt Nora " lives her life again 
 in the manly, brown-eyed Norman, and the brilliant, 
 black-eyed Honora. 
 
 Maple Cliff is the same in externals. The tall ma- 
 ples cast their shadows, and drop their many-colored 
 leaves over the roof; but within we mark changes. 
 The rooms are not as stately and stiff in their ap- 
 pointments as formerly, and the slates and school-books 
 about the library, and the small chairs and toys here 
 and there, speak of the presence of childhood. It is 
 the hour for morning recitations, and the pupils are 
 assembling. First come the twins, always inseparable, 
 and now mingling their curls in a whispered conversa- 
 tion about the celebration of the morrow, their birth- 
 day. Close in their steps follows little Miss Agatha,
 
 CHANGES AND CHANCES. :', '..") 
 
 whom her father designates as "my little Saxon," 
 her very fair skin and deep blue eyes justifying the 
 name. After this little creature of five summers walk 
 two persons whom we do not at first recognize ; a 
 lady, perhaps of twenty-eight years, leading by the 
 hand a pale, pensive girl of eleven. To bring up the 
 rear come those whom we cannot mistake, our own 
 Agatha, very lovely in her maturity, and her noble 
 husband. But why is the mother's face pale, and her 
 dress of a sombre hue, a quiet sadness resting on her 
 brow, and reflected in the face of her husband ? Why 
 is that band of children so noiseless and hushed in 
 their movements? The tiny cross hi the chapel-yard 
 tells the tale : the angels have been there, and carried 
 away their babe, their Stella, the plaything of the 
 house ; and little Agatha often brings tears to the 
 mother's eyes by asking, " When will baby come 
 again ? " 
 
 This is the school; and the father, like a true patri- 
 arch, begins the daily instructions by invoking the 
 blessing of Heaven upon them and their teacher. 
 That fair lady is their teacher. Have we never seen 
 her? We shall surely know the gentle Anne Wai-
 
 396 THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARY. 
 
 bridge. There is still one we do not recognize, that 
 girl of eleven years, slender and delicate as a reed, 
 with a pensive shadow on her young face, whom Mrs. 
 Clarendon beckons to a seat near her. We must ask 
 her name, although she is well known in Rockridge 
 as "Paps/s little Mary." 
 
 THE END. 
 
 Cambridge : Stereotyped and Printed by Welch, Bigelow, & Co.