X 
 
 fy. 
 
 REDWOOD.

 
 REDWOOD: 
 
 A TALE. 
 
 BY THE 
 
 AUTHOR OF "HOPE LESLIE," ETC, 
 
 ' Whilst the infidel mocks at the superstitious of the vulgar, insults over their 
 creilulous fears, their childish errors, their fantastic rites, it does not occur to him to 
 observe, that the most preposterous device by which the weakest devotee ever believed 
 In- was securing the happiness of a future life, is more rational than unconcern about 
 it. Upon this subject nothing is so absurd as indifference; no folly so contemptible 
 as thoughtlessness or levity." PAT.EY. 
 
 AUTHOR'S REVISED EDITION. 
 
 COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME. 
 
 NEW-YORK: 
 
 J. C. DERBY, 8 PARK PLACE. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 PHILLIPS, SAMPSON AND COMPANY. 
 
 CINCINNATI: H. W. DERBY. 
 1854.
 
 ENTERED, according to Act of Cun.irros. in the year 1850, by ; 
 
 C. M. SKIM;K\VICK. 
 
 in tlio Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Southern District 
 of New-York. 
 
 HOLMAX, GRAY <fc Co , Printers, 
 Corner of 'White and Centre Sts., N. Y.
 
 TO 
 
 WILLIAM CULLEN i^KYANT, ESQ., 
 
 IN TOKEN OF FRIENDSHIP AND ADMIRATION OF HIS GENIUS, 
 THIS VOLUME IS DEDICATED BY 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
 2051354
 
 PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION. 
 
 THE multiplication of books is the cause of much complaint, 
 and it must be conceded that the inconvenience is not trivial 
 to those who are, or suppose themselves, under an obligation to 
 pay some attention to the current literature of the day. When, 
 however, the matter is duly considered, it will be found that 
 this inconvenience, like most others, is not an unmixed evil, but 
 productive of many advantages. It is not a conclusive objec- 
 tion to a new book, that there are better ones already in exist- 
 ence that remain unread. The elements of human nature and 
 human society remain the same, but their forms and combina- 
 tions are changing at every moment, and nothing can be more 
 different than the appearances and effects produced by the 
 same original principles of human nature as exhibited in dif- 
 ferent countries, or at different periods of time in the same 
 country. 
 
 " Tempera mutantur, et nos mutamur in illis." 
 
 
 
 As times and manners change, it must be evident that 
 attempts to describe them must be as constantly renewed and 
 diversified. We are aware that apprehensions are entertained 
 by many intelligent persons, that the stores of wisdom and 
 knowledge which have been collected by our predecessors, will 
 be neglected and forgotten through an insatiable appetite for
 
 Viii PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION. 
 
 novelty : but we think that such apprehensions are often car- 
 ried too far. The acquisitions of knowledge, wisdom, or even 
 wit, once made, are rarely lost, except by some of those great 
 changes which, for the time, subvert the foundations of society. 
 The original fountains may be remote and unknown ; but the 
 river laves our fields, and passes by to diffuse its treasures 
 among other regions ; and even if its waters are lost to our 
 sight by evaporation, they descend again in showers to embel- 
 lish and fructify the earth in a thousand forms. Just so it is 
 with intellectual treasures. Very few persons now read the 
 works of Aristotle, and not many those of Bacon : but the 
 wisdom which they first taught, or perhaps collected, is now 
 spread far and wide by numerous modes of diffusion, and is 
 incorporated into the minds of thousands who know nothing 
 of its origin : and we may even remark that one cannot turn 
 over the pages of a modern jest-book, or the files of a village 
 newspaper, without meeting, embodied in narratives of the 
 incidents of the day, the essence of the same jokes which nearly 
 two thousand years ago Cicero related for the amusement of 
 his patrician friends. 
 
 "We have suggested these reflections with the double view 
 of reconciling the lovers of former excellence to the invariable 
 course of things, which ever did, and ever must, offer the pre- 
 sent to our view in great magnitude and strong relief, and 
 gather over* the past the constantly increasing clouds of ob- 
 scurity. There have been in ages past, and we trust there will 
 be in future, individuals whose productions, in spite of all 
 changes of time and language, will command attention and 
 respect ; but the course of things, nevertheless, has been, that 
 as society has advanced, each generation has drawn more and 
 more upon its own immediate resources for intellectual amuse- 
 ment and instruction.
 
 PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION. UC 
 
 If any doubt the propriety of these remarks as being ap- 
 plicable to the general course of knowledge and literature, they 
 may yet be disposed to admit their justice so far as they relate 
 to fictitious narrative. It is the peculiar province of that de- 
 partment to denote the passing character and manners of the 
 present time and place. There is but one individual (whom it 
 would be affectation to call unknown] who has had eminent 
 success in the delineations of former periods, or what is called 
 historical romance. " The folly of the moment" must be 
 caught " as it flies." 
 
 The attractions of novelty are too numerous and too evi- 
 dent to require argument or detail for their elucidation. Every 
 one knows that new books, and especially new novels, will be 
 sought for and read, while those of more ancient date are dis- 
 regarded. Many read them only because they are new, and to 
 such they do not come in competition with any other descrip- 
 tion of reading, but are merely suffered to seize on a vacant 
 hour which might otherwise be less profitably employed. 
 
 We have dwelt at so much length and with so much com- 
 placency on the advantages and merits of novelty, because we 
 are sure that our production will have that recommendation, 
 and we are not sure that it will have any other it certainly 
 will be the last new novel. 
 
 There are, however, some other considerations which have 
 contributed to overcome our reluctance to appear before the 
 public. The love and habit of reading have become so exten- 
 sive in this country, and the tastes and wants of readers so 
 various, that we cannot but indulge the hope that there will be 
 found some who will derive amusement, if not instruction, from 
 our humble efforts. We will, at least, venture to claim the 
 negative merit often ascribed to simples that if they can do 
 no good, they will do no harm.
 
 X PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION. 
 
 A few words will be sufficient to indicate the design of these 
 volumes. We have not composed a tale professedly or chiefly 
 of a religious nature, as, if left to the bias of our own inclina- 
 tion, we might possibly have done, We do not think that such 
 attempts have heretofore been eminently successful ; or that 
 narrative sermons are of a nature to be particularly interest- 
 ing. Still we are conscious that the religious principle, with 
 all its attendant doubts, hopes, fears, enthusiasm, and hypoc- 
 risy, is a mighty agent in moulding human character, and it 
 may therefore, with propriety, find a place in a work w hose ob- 
 ject it is to delineate that character. It is a principle of action 
 more permanent and more universal than the affection which 
 unites the sexes ; and in the fictitious representations of human 
 life, there can be no reason why the greater should be excluded 
 by the less. On these impressions we have acted. We do 
 not anticipate splendid success, but we are sure that we cannot 
 be deprived of the consolation of having intended well. It 
 will be an ample reward if we can believe that we have been 
 able by our trivial labors to co-operate in any degree with the 
 efforts of the good and great, " to give ardor to virtue: and 
 confidence to truth." Our anxiety is only for the great truths 
 of our common religion, not for any of its subdivisions. 
 
 The sketch which has been introduced of the society of 
 Shakers was drawn from personal observation. It would have 
 been withheld if we could have supposed that it would wound 
 the feelings even of a single individual of that obscure sect. 
 But against this there is a sufficient security. The represen- 
 tation is deemed just, and it is hoped would not be thought 
 offensive ; and, besides, there is little danger that this light 
 volume will ever find its way into a sanctuary from whose 
 pale the frivolous amusements and profane literature of the 
 "world's people" are carefully excluded.
 
 PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION. XI 
 
 Whenever the course of our narrative has thrown opportu- 
 nities in our way, we have attempted some sketches of the 
 character and manners of the people of this country. We 
 have done this with all faithfulness of purpose. If we have 
 failed, we trust the failure will be ascribed, as it ought, to de- 
 fect of capacity. We live in a country which is, beyond par- 
 allel, free, happy, and abundant. As such we would describe 
 it but as no Arcadia, for we have found none. 
 
 We have indeed little sympathy with that narrow-minded 
 patriotism which claims honors that are not yet merited. Our 
 republicanism is founded on a broad and general principle, 
 which is opposed to all coronations. We cannot, therefore, 
 unite in hailing our country the " Queen of the earth :" and 
 our religion is too catholic to permit us to claim for her the ex- 
 clusive title of " Child of the skies :" but we have a deep and 
 heart-felt pride thank Heaven a just pride in the increasing 
 intelligence, the improving virtue, and the rising- greatness of 
 our country. There is something which more excites the ima- 
 gination and interests the affections in expanding energy and 
 rdpid improvement, than even in perfection itself, were that 
 attainable on this earth ; and therefore we will ask, what coun- 
 try there is, or has been, whose progress towards greatness has 
 been in any degree correspondent with our own ? Our change 
 is so rapid that the future presses on our vision, and we enjoy 
 it now. We heed not the sneer that our countrymen are " pro- 
 phetic boasters." The future lives in the present. What we 
 are, we owe to our ancestors, and what our posterity will be, 
 they will owe to us. 
 
 NEW- YORK, June, 1824.
 
 PREFACE TO THE NEW EDITION. 
 
 No reader can be so fully aware of the defects of the following 
 pages as their writer certainly no one half so sorry for them. 
 But whatever they are, I am consoled by believing that they 
 do not offend against religion or sound morality, and that 
 they are true to the condition of society in New England, and to 
 the individuality existing there which I attempted to describe. 
 The book may seem very dull to the reader of the brilliant 
 novels with which the press is teeming. I confess that 1 
 cannot judge its merits. To me it is endeared by the memory 
 of the glowing sympathy of the beloved brother who first 
 incited me to literary labor, and whose approbation (height- 
 ened doubtless by affection) gave me as keen enjoyment as I 
 ever derived from it. 
 
 The description of the religious community of the Shakers 
 may have a permanent interest for those who are curious in 
 investigating the history of the human mind, as developed in 
 the infinite varieties of religious faith. Only an imperfect 
 knowledge of this community can be obtained from reading 
 their few books. I had an advantage from long residence in 
 their neighborhood, from frequent opportunities of personal 
 observation, from a kindly intimacy with some of their mem- 
 bers, who, in common with the whole Society in Massachusetts
 
 XIV PREFACE TO THE NEW EDITION. 
 
 professed an allegiance to my father in requital for some civil 
 immunities his intervention procured for them. 
 
 It was my intention to describe them truly, without exag- 
 geration or false coloring, but I had the mortification to find 
 that my best friends among them, " the Elder Sisters," were 
 dissatisfied with my representations. It is not easy for a 
 philosophic, or even an impartial observer, to satisfy those 
 who tenaciously and enthusiastically hold to peculiar modes 
 of faith and worship. It is difficult to perceive the accuracy 
 of a landscape painting if we have not stood at the painter's 
 point of sight. 
 
 The Shakers regard their Mother Anne as equal to Jesus 
 Christ. Both, in their belief, were human beings in whom 
 the fulness of the Godhead dwelt to use their own language, 
 " God was manifest in them, in the female as well as in the 
 male." With these high claims for their founder, they mis- 
 took language by which no disrespect was intended, for 
 irreverence and derision ; and to them 'the modes of speech, 
 the usages, the assumptions what, in short, may be termed 
 the costume of the community was profaned by its exhi- 
 bition in the person of Reuben Harrington, a hypocrite and 
 apostate. 
 
 The Elders, as the organ of the Hancock Society, ad- 
 dressed a letter to me, shortly after the publication of "Red- 
 wood," expressive of indignant and wounded feeling. This 
 document was accidentally destroyed. I deeply regret its 
 loss, as I should be very glad to do them the justice to place 
 their own contemporaneous comment before the public. At 
 the time, I made such explanations and apologies as a sincere 
 regard and respect for them dictated, and they magnani- 
 mously forgave me. 
 
 On revising the book, I see no reason for any material
 
 PREFACE TO THE NEW EDITION. XV 
 
 change. What then seemed to me true, now appears so. The 
 sister, a woman of rare gifts, in the general acceptation of 
 the phrase, whose history, under the name of Sister Susan, 
 I have told substantially as she related it to me, has long 
 since passed to the reward of a self-sacrifice, a holy self-denial 
 that places her among the Christian saints, no matter by what 
 earthly sectarian designation named. 
 
 The followers of Mother Anne have now maintained their 
 Society in its integrity and good order for more than sixty 
 years. That it is thus preserved by a sincere faith, and 
 sound morals, cannot be questioned, for the tendency of false 
 pretension and bad morals is inevitably to dissolution. There 
 can be no mistake as to their actual condition, as they exist in 
 the midst of a suspicious, keen-sighted, and vigilant popula- 
 tion, where there is something like an atmospheric pressure on 
 every side, and at a period, and in a country of constant 
 mutations, where old faiths are every year dissolving, and new 
 ones every year forming.
 
 REDWOOD. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 " A 5ne heroine, truly ? 
 
 A Pstagonian monster without a show of breeding." ANON. 
 
 ON the last day of June, in the year , a small vessel, 
 
 which traversed weekly the waters of Lake Champlain, was 
 seen slowly entering one of the most beautiful bays of that 
 most beautifn.1 lake. A travelling carriage with handsome 
 equipments, i coachman in livery and an outrider, were drawn 
 up on the shore, awaiting the approach of the vessel. On the 
 deck stood a group of travellers for whom the equipage was 
 destined : a beautiful young woman, and her attendant a fe- 
 male slave, were surveying it with pleased and equal eager- 
 ness, while the father of the young lady seemed quite absorb- 
 ed in the contemplation of a scene which poetry and painting 
 have marked for their own. Not a breeze stirred the waters ; 
 their tnirror surface was quite unbroken, save where the little 
 vessel graced its dimpled pathway. A cluster of islands lay 
 in beautiful fraternity opposite the harbor, covered with a rich 
 growth of wood, and looking young, and fresh, and bright, as 
 if they had just sprung from the element on which they seem-
 
 18 REDWOOD. 
 
 ed to repose. The western shore presented every variety of 
 form ; wooded headlands jutting boldly into the lake, and 
 richly cultivated grounds sloping gently to its margin. As 
 the traveller's delighted eye explored still farther, it rested on 
 the mountains that rise in four successive chains, one above the 
 other, the last in the far distance dimly defining and bounding 
 the horizon. A cloud at this moment veiled the face of the 
 sun, and its rich beams streamed aslant upon the nountain 
 tops, and poured showers of gold and purple light into the 
 deep recesses of the valleys. Mr. Redwood, a true admirer of 
 nature's lovely forms, turned his unsated gaze to tie village 
 they were approaching, which was indicated by a neat church 
 spire that peered over the hill, on the height and declivities of 
 which were planted several new and neat habitatbns. " Oh 
 Caroline, my child," exclaimed the father, "was there ever 
 any thing more beautiful !" 
 
 " Never, certainly to my eye," replied the daughter ; " but 
 I think a carriage far less handsome than our would look 
 beautiful, after those little vile caleches, and viler ponies, with 
 which we made our entree into Montreal. Oh papa !" contin- 
 ued the young lady, tao.intent on present pleasure and past 
 mortification to IK it ice the shade of disappointment that had 
 chased away the animation 01 -her fathers face ; " Oh papa, I 
 shall never forget our odious little Canadian driver, half In- 
 dian, half French ; the rose tucked i^ito his button-hole the 
 signal of one nation, and the wampum "belt of the other and 
 then his mongrel dialect, and that ' marse done,' with which 
 he excruciated his pony and us at the same moment, Iocs it 
 not ring in your ears ?" 
 
 " I cannot say that my recollections are quite as lively as 
 yours, Caroline," rejoined Mr. Redwood. 
 
 " You are such an old traveller, papa, and besides you are
 
 REDWOOD. 19 
 
 always thinking ; but it is quite a different affair with me. 
 My heavens ! you had no imagination of my misery from the 
 moment I entered the cale'che at la Chine, until I was safely 
 sheltered in my room at the hotel : you sat rolling your eyes 
 around the green fields as if they were all drawing-rooms, and 
 every dew-drop a diamond, while I would gladly have drowned 
 myself in the St. Lawrence !" 
 
 " Really, my dear," replied the father, his tone bordering 
 on contempt, " I did not suspect you of any such mad designs 
 on your own sweet person you seemed very quiet.' 1 
 
 " Quiet, yes, indeed, quiet enough ; how could I help my- 
 self? but you must own, papa, that it was excessively mortify- 
 ing to make our entrance into the city in such style. Grand- 
 mama says that people of fortune should never lay aside the 
 insignia of their rank." 
 
 " Your grandmother's jumble of fortune and rank have a 
 strong savor of republican ignorance. I would advise you, 
 Miss Redwood, not to adopt her wise axioms as rules for the 
 conduct of your life. And you really allowed yourself to 
 suffer mortification on account of entering the little city .of 
 Montreal, in the best mode the country provides for travellers 
 a place too, where not a creature knew you from any other 
 member of the human family?" 
 
 " Ah, there, sir, you are quite mistaken ; for Captain Fen- 
 wick had written to all the officers of his corps our intention 
 of going to Montreal, and he told me that he had described 
 me so particularly to his friend Captain Fitzgerald, that he 
 was sure he would know me at a single glance of his eye." 
 
 " Then we are indebted to Captain Fenwick for the honor 
 of Fitzgerald's civilities? I fancied our acquaintance with 
 him had been accidental." The penetrating look with which 
 Mr. Redwood finished his sentence, gave it an interrogative
 
 20 REDWOOD. 
 
 meaning, and his daughter feeling herself bound to reply, said, 
 rather sullenly, " Our introduction was purely accidental ; you 
 saw it. sir, and I thought at the time, seemed quite grateful 
 that the timely aid of the Captain's arm saved me from being 
 run over." 
 
 " I was and am grateful, my child, for the aid which the 
 gallant Captain's arm afforded you ; though it may be that, 
 stoic as I am, I measured my gratitude rather by the small 
 amount of danger than the childish alarm. The frightened 
 animal, as well as I remember, turned into another street, in- 
 stead of passing by the way we were going ; but this does not 
 signify. I merely expressed an innocent surprise, that there 
 should have been grounds for your acquaintance with Captain 
 Fitzgerald which you never intimated to me." 
 
 " Lord, papa, it is so awkward to talk to you about such 
 matters ; I am sure I had no other objection to telling you 
 that Fitzgerald knew all about us before he saw us." 
 
 :< All about you. Miss Redwood ; for I am quite a cipher in 
 the eyes of such men as "the Captain, having no other value 
 than what results from being your adjunct. Fitzgerald was 
 then apprised that you were a belle, and will be an heiress." 
 
 " Probably. And if I do possess the advantage of those 
 distinctions, I am sure I ought to be much indebted to Captain 
 Fenwick for making them known, that I may enjoy them abroad 
 as well as at home." Mr. Redwood thought the distinctions 
 which procured for his daughter a host of such admirers as Fitz- 
 gerald of very doubtful- advantage, and would perhaps have said 
 so, but the vessel at this moment touched the wharf, and the bus- 
 tle of^ disembarking put an end to the conversation. The tra- 
 vellers having arranged themselves in the carriage, Mr. Red- 
 wood ordered the coachman to drive to the village tavern." where 
 he said it was his intention to pass the night. A short drive
 
 REDWOOD. 21 
 
 carried them to the door of the village inn. The landlord was 
 sitting on a bench before the door, alternately reading a news- 
 paper, and haranguing half a dozen loiterers on the great politi- 
 cal topics that then agitated the country : his own patriotic 
 politics were sufficiently indicated by the bearings of his sign- 
 board ; on one side of which was rudely sketched the surren- 
 der of Burgoyne, and on the other, an American eagle with his 
 talons triumphantly planted on a British lion. It cannot be 
 pretended that the skill of the artist had been adequate to re- 
 vealing his design to the observation of the passing traveller ; 
 or rather the design of " Major Jonathan Doolittle," whose 
 name stood in bold relief on one side, under the shadow of the 
 spread wing of the eagle ; and on the other under the deline- 
 ation of the victory, which, according to the major's own 
 opinion, he had been a distinguished instrument in achieving. 
 But any deficiency in the skill of the artist was abundantly 
 supplied by the valuable comment of the major,'whose memory 
 or imagination filled up the imperfect outline with every par- 
 ticular of the glorious victory. The carriage drew up to the 
 door of the valiant publican, and in answer to Mr. Redwood's 
 inquiry for the landlord, the major replied without doffing his 
 hat or changing his altitude, "I am he, sir, in the room of a 
 better." Mr. Redwood then inquired, if he could obtain ac- 
 commodation for the night. The major replied, exchanging with 
 his compatriots a knowing wink, " that he rather guessed not : 
 he did not lay out. to entertain people from the old countries; 
 his women folks thought they took too much waiting on." 
 Caroline whispered an entreaty to her father to order the 
 coachman to drive on ; but Mr. Redwood, without heeding her, 
 said, ' : You mistake us, friend, we are your own country people, 
 just returning from a visit to the British provinces, and as we 
 have our own servants, and shall not need much waiting on, you
 
 22 REDWOOD. 
 
 will not perhaps object to receiving us." The major's reluc- 
 tance somewhat abated by this information, and would probably 
 have been quite overcome, but for his desire of keeping up his 
 consequence in the eyes of the bystanders, by showing off his 
 inherent dislike of an unquestionable gentleman. He said, 
 " they were calculating to have a training the next day, and the 
 women' folks had just put the house to rights, and he rather 
 guessed they would not choose to have it disturbed, but it was 
 according as they could agree ; he liked to accommodate ; 
 and if," he added, for the first time rising and advancing 
 towards Mr. Redwood, " if the gentleman could make it an 
 object to them to take so much trouble, he would go in and 
 inquire." 
 
 This last interested stipulation of the major filled up the 
 measure of Mr. Redwood's disgust ; and turning abruptly from 
 him to a good-natured looking man, who, at that moment riding 
 past them on horseback, had checked the career of his horse 
 to gaze at the travellers, he inquired the distance to the next 
 village. " That," replied the man, " is according to which road 
 you take." 
 
 " Is there any choice between the roads ?" 
 
 " It's rather my belief there is ; any how, there is many 
 opinions held about them. Squire Upton said, it was shortest 
 v by his house, if you cut off the bend by Deacon Garson's ; 
 5nd General Martin maintained, it was shortest round the 
 long quarter, so they got out the surveyor and chained it." 
 " And which road," "interrupted Mr. Redwood, " proved the 
 shortest ?" 
 
 " Oh there was no proof about it ; the road is a bone of 
 contention yet. The surveyor was called off to hold a Justice's 
 court before he had finished the squire's road, and " 
 
 " Which do you believe the shortest ?" exclaimed Mr. Red-
 
 REDWOOD. 23 
 
 wood, impatiently cutting short the history of the important 
 controversy. 
 
 " Oli I," replied the man, laughing, "and every body else 
 but tl:o squire, calculates it to be the shortest way round the 
 long quarter, and the prospects are altogether preferable that 
 way ; and that is something of an object, as you seem to be stran- 
 gers in these parts." 
 
 " Oh Lord," exclaimed Caroline, " it will soon be too dark for 
 any prospect but that of breaking all our necks !" 
 
 " Do you think," pursued Mr. Redwood, " that we shall be 
 able to arrive before dark?" 
 
 " That's according as your horses are." 
 
 " The horses are good and fleet." 
 
 " Well then, sir, it will depend something on the driver ; 
 but if you will take my advice, you will stop by the way. It is 
 not far from night ; there is a pretty pokerish cloud rising ; it 
 is a stretchy road to Eton, and it will be something risky for 
 you to try to get there by daylight. But, sir, if you find 
 yourself crowded for time, and will stop at my house, we will 
 do our best to make you comfortable for the night. If you 
 will put up with things being in a plain farmer-like way, you 
 shall be kindly welcome." 
 
 Mr. Redwood thanked the good man heartily for the prof- 
 fer of his hospitality, but declined it, saying, he doubted not 
 they should be able to reach the next village before the storm. 
 He then directed his coachman to drive on rapidly; and ex- 
 changing a farewell nod with his informant, who rode on briskly 
 before him, he sunk back into his seat, and relapsed into silence 
 and abstraction. 
 
 Meanwhile, Caroline sat listening in trepidation to the 
 hoarse, though yet distant threatenings of the thunder, and 
 watching with a restless eye the fearful clouds that rolled darkly,
 
 24 REDWOOD- 
 
 volume over volume, in their ascent to mid heaven. " For gra- 
 cious sake put your head out of the coach, Lilly," said she to 
 her servant, "and look if there is any sign of the village." 
 Lilly could just discern the spire of a church that stood on a 
 distant hill. " On a hill of course," replied Caroline ; " one 
 would think these Yankees had contrived their churches for 
 telegraphs. I am delighted, at any rate, that there is a land- 
 mark in sight. For Heaven's sake, papa," she added, impetu- 
 ously turning to her father, " do rouse yourself, and look at 
 those clouds." 
 
 " I have been looking, my child, for the last half hour, 
 watching the fading away of the bright tints from the edges of 
 that beautiful mass of clouds, and thinking them a fit emblem 
 of human life. Thus it is now ever has been now vapor, 
 beautiful, changeful ; then comes storm and desolation. Hark ! 
 Caroline, how the wind sighs through the branches of the trees . 
 as if nature thus expressed her dread of the violence that is 
 about to be done to her beautiful face !" 
 
 " Oh, what does master mean," inquired Lilly ; " does he 
 think our faces will be struck with the lightning-?" 
 
 " Heaven only knows what your master means. Do, papa, 
 tell Ralph to drive faster ; it is getting fearfully dark." 
 
 Mr. Redwood soon felt that his daughter's terrors were not 
 groundless. The clouds had gathered a portentous blackness, 
 strong gales of wind were rushing over the lake, the rain al- 
 ready poured in torrents, and there were only such intervals 
 between the lightning as served to contrast the vivid flashes 
 with the thick darkness ; the thunder burst in loud explosions 
 over their heads, and its fearful peals were prolonged and rever- 
 berated by the surrounding hills. The horses became restive, 
 and the coachman called to his master for permission to stop 
 at the next habitation. This was readily granted, and the
 
 REDWOOD. 25 
 
 coachman reined his horses into a road that led off the highway, 
 over a little knoll, to a farm-house which stood on a small emi- 
 nence at the right, Kocks, a few feet in height, served as an 
 embankment to the road on the left. The coachman cracked 
 his whip, and the horses were pressing on at their utmost speed, 
 when a thunder-bolt struck an enormous dead tree a little in 
 advance of them, fired its driest branches, descended the trunk 
 of the tree, and tearing to splinters the parts it touched, laid 
 the roots bare, and passed off across the road. The horses k 
 terrified by the excessive vividness of the lightning, or the 
 flaming tree, or perhaps both, sprang to the left, and before 
 the coachman, scarcely less terrified than they, had made an 
 effort to control their movements, they had dashed over the 
 rocks, and carried the coach with them. The horses sprang 
 through a clump of young walnuts that grew at the base of the 
 rocks. Most happily the carriage was too wide for the passage 
 and the axles of the wheels were caught by the trees : the sud- 
 den check given to the velocity of the motion of the carriage 
 broke the traces, and tte released horses bounded away, leav- 
 ing it and its inmate in perfect safety. 
 
 The moment Mr. Redwood perceived the horses would in- 
 evitably descepd the rocks, he instinctively opened the c.arriage- 
 door and sprung out ; he fell against the trunk of a tree, and 
 when he attempted to rise to move to his daughter's relief, he 
 felt himself disabled, and sunk back insensible. Fortunately, 
 the coachman, quite unharmed, flew to the aid of the mistress 
 and maid, who were both shrieking in the carriage. " Oh, stop 
 the horses, stop the horses !" cried Caroline. 
 
 "The horses, Miss Caroline, are gone." Gone, but oh, 
 Raphy, won't they come back again?" 
 
 Upon Ralph's repeated assurances that there was not the 
 slightest danger of or from such a circumstance, Caroline
 
 26 REDWOOD. 
 
 alighted, and found, to her surprise, life and limb unscathed. 
 When she had quite satisfactorily ascertained this fact, she 
 turned to look for her father, but when she saw him stretch t-d 
 on the grass, the image of death, she shrunk back appalled. 
 At this moment she heard some persons approaching to their 
 assistance ; they were from the neighboring farm-houses, and 
 had been alarmed by her shrieks, which they had heard even 
 amid the " wild war of earth and heaven." " Make the best 
 of your way to the house," said one of the men kindly, " we 
 will bring the gentleman in our arms." Caroline followed the 
 direction, and was met at the door by several females, who 
 clustered about her with expressions of pity, and offers of 
 assistance. She moved past them all, and throwing herself 
 into a chair, vented her feelings in loud hysterical sobbings ; 
 while Lilly set up a most doleful cry of " Oh, what will become 
 of us, master is killed, and the horses are gone !" The mis- 
 tress of the house with a voice of authority commanded -her to 
 be still ; and at this moment the men entered, bearing in Mr. 
 Redwood, pale as death, but sensible and calm. " Thank God 
 you are not hurt, my child," he said, on feeing Caroline, " and 
 I am better." The door of a spare room being now thrown 
 open, the bed uncovered, the pillows shaken up, the mistress of 
 the house pointed to the men to deposit their btrthen there. 
 Caroline and her servant followed Mr. Redwood ; but so much 
 were they both terrified by his paleness, and the distortion of 
 his face from the extreme pain he endured, that they were 
 incapable of offering him any assistance. Not so the good 
 matron and her young handmaidens. It seemed to be their 
 vocation to act ; and so efficient were they in their prompt 
 ministrations of camphor and cordials, that he was soon in a 
 state fully to understand his condition and wants. He said to 
 his daughter that it would be necessary for him to remain
 
 REDWOOD. 27 
 
 where he was for the present, to summon a physician immedi- 
 ately, to ascertain the injury he had sustained, and to set his 
 arm if the bones were, as he apprehended, displaced ; against 
 this the daughter warmly remonstrated. 
 
 His host, having overheard a part of the debate, which was 
 conducted in an under tone, said he would call Debby. "Debby," 
 he said, " was as skilful as the run of doctors ; she was a nat'ral 
 bone-setter ; at any rate, if the gentleman was not willing to 
 trust himself in her hands, she could tell if there were any 
 broken bones." Debby was summoned, and soon made her appear- 
 ance, muttering something about the boys, boy-fashion, having 
 left out the old mare, and she guessed she felt as much pain with 
 her broken leg, as your quality. She, however, seemed a little 
 softened at the sight of Mr. Kedwood, who was evidently suf- 
 fering acute pain, and what probably interested Debby more, 
 bearing it manfully. " Not," she continued, " that I would put 
 a beast's life against a man's ; but she is a good creature, and 
 a sarviceable, and it is a shame for the boys to neglect her be- 
 cause she grows a little old and unsightly." The boys, as she 
 denominated two full-grown young men, who stood at the foot 
 of the bed, exchanged smiles, as if they were too much inured 
 to this privileged railer, to heed her reproaches. Mr. Redwood 
 shrunk from her touch as she approached him ; but without 
 noticing his alarm, she thrust her arm into an enormous pocket, 
 which hung on one side of her gaunt person, and extricating 
 from its miscellaneous contents a large pair of scissors, (which 
 one would have thought stood as little chance of being found 
 as a needle in a hay-mow,) she cut open the sleeve of the coat 
 with more care and adroitness than could have been expected 
 from such an operator, and then unceremoniously tearing down 
 the shirt sleeve, she proceeded to the examination of the arm, 
 which she pronounced a bad business. The shoulder she said
 
 28 REDWOOD 
 
 was out of joint, and a breakage into the bargain : "and do you, 
 James," said she, turning to one of the young men, "mount Rover, 
 and go for Doctor Bristol, and tell him to come as fast as horse- 
 flesh can bring him, for it an't all creation can set this arm 
 after to-night. And James, child," she added, '-be careful when 
 you take Rover out of the stable, not to hit the old mare ; for 
 beasts have feelings too.'*' 
 
 There had been such promptness in Miss Debby's proceed- 
 ings, and the family was obviously so much in the habit of 
 obeying her orders, that Mr. Redwood had not as yet been able 
 to interpose a question ; but as James turned to execute Deb- 
 by's order, he said, " Stop, young man ; before you go I should 
 like to know who this Dr. Bristol is, and to ascertain his ability 
 to perform a delicate operation ; and I must know from you, 
 my friend," he continued, turning to the master of the house, 
 (whom he had just recognized to be the same person who had 
 so kindly invited him to accept a shelter beneath his roof.) 
 " whether you can accommodate my daughter and myself, while 
 we may be detained by this unlucky accident." 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Lenox (the farmer and his wife.) were eager- 
 ly beginning to proffer their hospitality, with the courtesy of 
 genuine kindness, when Debby interrupted them, with saying, 
 " Go along, James, this is no time to stand upon compliments, 
 go like the wind ; a miss is as good as a mile." 
 
 James obeyed ; and Mr. Lenox said, < : I believe you may 
 trust Dr. Bristol, sir ; he doctors all the country round, and in 
 all curable cases, under Providence, he cures. He studied in 
 Philadelphia under Rush, and has but few equals in these 
 parts." 
 
 " No, no," said Debby, " nor in any other parts : he is a 
 real likely man, and they an't much thicker any where than 
 swallows in January."
 
 REDWOOD. 29 
 
 "But," interposed Mr. Lenox, "as the gentleman is a 
 stranger among us, it is natural, and very right that he should 
 be mistrustful." 
 
 " Oh, quite right," replied Debby, " and rational ; and I 
 like him all the better for it ; none but your parfect fools be- 
 lieve iu any thing and every body. But it is," she continued, 
 with the gout of an amateur in the matter, " it is a real plea- 
 sure to see Dr. Bristol set bones ; it is beautiful. There was Tom 
 Russell, fool and madcap that he was, and bating his being a 
 human creature, better dead than alive, that fell off from the 
 steeple of our meeting-house ; there was scarce a whole bone 
 left in his body ; and when the doctor first overhauled him, he 
 looked dumb-foundered, for he is tender-hearted for all being 
 a doctor ; I spirited him up, and he went to work, and a quicker, 
 neater piece of work never has been done since the days of 
 miracles: the bones went snap, crack, like the guns of our 
 militia boys ; not quite so loud may-be, but full as reglar." 
 
 " God grant," exclaimed Mr. Redwood, (who had been 
 writhing under Debby's story,) " that your doctor may not have 
 lost his gifts, nor his skill." " No," replied Debby, " a wise 
 man an't apt to lose either." Mr. Redwood felt a natural ap- 
 prehension, lest he should not be able to obtain the aid of this 
 physician, whose skill seemed to have inspired such confi- 
 dence, and he inquired of Mr. Lenox if he thought it probable 
 the messenger would find him at home. " Almost certain," 
 replied Mr. Lenox, " he was here yesterday to pay his last 
 visit to a young man who has been a long time sick, poor fel- 
 low : he died last evening." 
 
 " A consolatory proof of your doctor's skill," murmured 
 Mr. Redwood. 
 
 Half a dozen mouths were opened at once, to explain the 
 doctor's failure. Deborah's shrill tones prevailed over every
 
 SO REDWOOD 
 
 other voice ; " Our days are all numbered, man," she said, " and 
 to all there comes a sickness that neither doctors nor doctors' 
 trade can cure : and besides, as to in'ard diseases, there's none 
 but your pretensioners that profess to understand and cure 
 them at all times and places." 
 
 " And poor Edward," interposed Mr. Lenox, ' : died. I be- 
 lieve, of that which you may well call an inward disease, for 
 which there is no help in this world, a broken heart." 
 
 " As much that as any thing," said Debby ; " at least that 
 might be called the 'casion of it all ; and it is far easier," she 
 continued, looking at Mr. Redwood, " mending broken bones 
 than broken hearts." 
 
 " And far easier breaking bones than hearts," replied Mr. 
 Redwood. 
 
 " That," said the indefatigable Deborah, " depends some- 
 thing upon what the heart is made of. Some hearts are tough 
 as a bull's hide ; you might as well break a rock with sun- 
 beams as break them with such troubles as snapped the cord of 
 poor Eddy, a weakly narvous feeling creature." Mr. Redwood 
 was suffering too severely to indulge any curiosity in relation 
 to Eddy. All parties became silent, and remained so until the 
 arrival of the physician, save the occasional interruption of a 
 groan from the stranger, or an expression of sympathy from some 
 one of the group that surrounded his bed. We may profitably 
 fill this interval with a description of the various persons that 
 the occasion had assembled. And first, as most conspicuous, 
 the stranger, mutilated as he was, appeared a finely formed and 
 graceful man, with a certain air of high-breeding, which even 
 an unpractised eye may detect in the most unfavorable 
 circumstances. He was rather above the ordinary height, and 
 extremely thin. His high forehead, from which the hair had 
 receded, the hair itself,
 
 REDWOOD. 31 
 
 " Jet black save where some touch of gray 
 Had ta'en the youthful hue away," 
 
 and the deep furrow in his cheeks, indicated that sorrow, in 
 some of its Protean shapes, had accelerated the work of time ; 
 that the fruit which youth had promised, had been blasted 
 not ripened. His face was a history; but there were few that 
 possessed the key by which the settled gloom of his pallid brow, 
 and the melancholy of his fine hazle eye might have been in- 
 terpreted. The figure of Deborah, supporting the elegant tra- 
 veller, looked like the rough-hewn stone beside the exquisitely 
 polished statue on which the sculptor has expended all his art. 
 
 Miss Debby's person, mind, and history, were altogether 
 singular. Her height was rather above the grenadier standard, as 
 she exceeded by one inch six feet ; her stature and her weather- 
 beaten skin would have led one to suspect that her feminine 
 dress was a vain attempt at disguise, had not her voice, which 
 possessed the shrillness which is the peculiar attribute of a 
 woman's, testified to Miss Debby's right to make pretensions 
 which at the first glance seemed monstrous ; her quick gray 
 eye, shaded by huge, bushy eyebrows, indicated sagacity and 
 thought ; time, or accident, had made such ravages on her 
 teeth, that but a very few remained, and they stood like hardy 
 veterans who have by dint of superior strength survived their 
 contemporaries. 
 
 As Debby would not voluntarily encumber herself with 
 any toilette duties that could in decency be dispensed with, 
 she had never put any covering on her hair, which time had 
 now considerably grizzled ; but she wore it confined in one long 
 braid, and so closely bound with a black ribbon, that it did not 
 require, in her judgment, more than a weekly adjustment. The 
 only relic of worldly or womanly vanity which Debby displayed, 
 was a string of gold beads, which, according to a tradition that
 
 32 REDWOOD. 
 
 had been carefully transmitted to the younger members of the 
 family, had been given to their Aunt Debby some thirty years 
 before by a veteran soldier, who, at the close of our revolution- 
 ary war, was captivated by the martial air of this then young 
 Amazon. 
 
 But Debby was so imbued with the independeq^Bpirit of 
 the times, that she would not then consent to the surrender of 
 any of her rights : and there was no tradition in the family 
 that her maidenly pride had suffered a second solicitation. 
 The careful preservation of the beads, and a certain kindli- 
 ness and protecting air towards all mankind, indicated ever 
 after a grateful recollection of her lover. On the whole, there 
 was in Deborah's face, rough and ungainly as it was, an expres- 
 sion of benevolence that humanized its hard features, and affect- 
 ed one like the sunbeams on a frosty November day. She 
 was an elder sister of Mr. Lenox ; had always resided with 
 his family ; and was treated with deference by all its amiable 
 members. 
 
 Mr. Lenox, as master of the family, was entitled to pre- 
 cedence in our description ; but in this instance, as in many 
 others, a prominent character has controlled the arrangement 
 of accidental circumstances. He belonged to the mass of New- 
 England farmers, was industrious and frugal, sober and tem- 
 perate, and enjoyed the reward of those staple virtues, good 
 health and a competency. He was rather distinguished for the 
 passive than the active virtues, patient and contented ; he 
 either enjoyed with tranquillity, or resigned without repining. 
 His wife (we believe not a singular case in matrimonial histo- 
 ry,) was his superior : intelligent, well-informed, enterprising, 
 and efficient, she was accounted by all her neighbors an ambi- 
 tious woman. The lofty may smile with contempt, that the 
 equivocal virtue, which is appropriated to the Ctesars and the
 
 REDWOOD. 33 
 
 Napoleons, should be so much as mentioned in the low vales of 
 humble life. But the reasonable will not dispute that Mrs. 
 Lenox made ambition virtue, when they learn that all her aspi- 
 rations after distinction were limited to the appropriate duties 
 of her station. Her husband and sons wore the finest cloth 
 
 that was ^knufactured in the county of . Mrs. Lenox's 
 
 table wa^rovered with the handsomest and the whitest diaper. 
 Her butter and cheese commanded the highest price in the 
 market. Besides her homebred virtues, she possessed the al- 
 most universal passion of her country for intellectual pleasures. 
 She read with avidity herself, and eagerly seized every oppor- 
 tunity for the improvement of her children. She had married 
 very young, and was still in the prime of life. The elder mem- 
 bers of her family were already educated and established in the 
 world ; and she had the prospect of enjoying what Franklin 
 reckons among the benefits of our early marriages, " an after- 
 noon and evening of cheerful leisure." Her eldest son, with 
 very little aid from his parents, had, by his own virtuous exer- 
 tions, obtained a collegiate and theological education, and was 
 established a popular clergyman in one of the southern cities. 
 Her second son had emigrated to Ohio, and had already trans- 
 mitted to his parents a drawing and description of a prosper- 
 ous little town, where, five years before, his axe had first an- 
 nounced man's right to dominion over the forest. Two sons 
 remained at home to labor on the paternal farm ; and four 
 girls, from ten to eighteen, diligent, good-humored, and intelli- 
 gent, completedJihe circle of the domestic felicities of this happy 
 family. Both Mr. and Mrs. Lenox had the wise and dutiful 
 habit, which, in almost any condition, might generate coflpit- 
 ment. of looking at their own possessions, to awaken their gra- 
 titude, rather than by comparing the superior advantages of 
 
 others with their meaner possessions, to dash their own cup 
 
 o*
 
 34 REDWOOD. 
 
 with the venom of discontent and envy, a few drops of which 
 will poison the sweetest draught ever prepared by a paternal 
 Providence. 
 
 On the kindness of this family Mr. Redwood and his 
 daughter were cast for the present ; and proud and powerful 
 in the possession of rank and fortune. Miss lie wood was 
 obliged to learn the humiliating truth, that no hunn^Jreature 
 can command independence. Mr. Redwood had been all his 
 life a traveller, and was a man of the world. He comprehend- 
 ed at once the embarrassments of his situation, and gracefully 
 accommodated himself to the inconveniences of it, and in such 
 a way, as to conciliate the favor of the good-hearted people 
 about him. How far his daughter imitated his wise example 
 the following pages will show. 
 

 
 REDWOOD. 35 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 " A country doctor;" said Touchwood sneeringly ; " you will never be 
 able to make any thing of him." THE CYNIC. 
 
 BEFORE the return of James Lenox with the physician, Mr. 
 Redwood had made an arrangement with Mr. Lenox, who 
 consented to consider the strangers as boarders while Mr. 
 Redwood's accident should detain him at the place we shall 
 call Eton. Some little bustle in the entry announced the arri- 
 val of the physician, and he entered the apartment followed by 
 Caroline, who with more alarm than she had testified before, 
 advanced hastily to her father, and said, in a tone which though, 
 a little depressed was still loud enough to be overheard by all 
 the by-standers " My dear father, you surely will not suffer 
 yourself to be murdered by a country doctor : pray, pray, re- 
 member poor Rose." 
 
 "Your gr|dmother's lapdog? dp not be a simpleton, 
 Caroline ?" 
 
 "I do not see," replied Caroline, still in a tone of eager 
 expostulation, " how Rose, being a dog, alters the case. I am 
 sure grandmaina thought as much of her as of any friend she 
 had in the world. May not," she added, turning to the phy- 
 sician, " may not my father wait till a surgeon can be obtained 
 from Boston or New- York?" 
 
 " Undoubtedly he may," replied the the doctor, smiling.
 
 36 REDWOOD. 
 
 "And without danger?" inquired Mr. Redwood, who seem 
 ed to have become infected with his daughter's apprehensions. 
 
 " Possibly without danger," replied the physician, " though 
 I should apprehend not without great additional suffer ing." 
 
 " Better to suffer than to die," urged Caroline. 
 
 " I trust your father is not reduced to that alternative," 
 replied the physician. " Such accidents are inconvement, but 
 seldom fatal Shall I, sir." he added, turning to Mr. Red- 
 wood, " proceed to the examination of your arm ?" 
 
 The modest demeanor and manly promptness of the doctor 
 inspired his patient with confidence ; and ashamed of having 
 for a moment yielded to the weakness of his daughter, he said, 
 " Proceed, sir, certainly. Forgive my daughter's scruples 
 she is alarmed, and inexperienced." 
 
 " She is a dum fool," muttered Debby (using a favorite 
 expression borrowed from the Dutch rustics) ; and laying her 
 arm on Caroline's, with a force to compel obedience, she push- 
 ed her out of the room, and then with an absolute command, 
 dispersing all but those whose assistance was required, she 
 prepare to obey the orders of Doctor Bristol, to whom she evi- 
 dently deferred as to a master operator. The physician in his 
 turn treated her as a confidential agent ; and so quietly, skil- 
 fully, and expeditiously did he perform the operation, that he 
 fully substantiated, in the judgment of his grateful patient, all 
 the praise that had been lavished on him. Mr. Redwood bore 
 the operation with stoical firmness, but after it was over his 
 strength seemed much exhausted. 
 
 His physician ordered that he should be kept perfectly 
 'inlet, and tliat no one should have access to the room !-nt 
 those whose services were necessary. He inquired of Mr. Red- 
 wood if he preferred that his daughter should stay with him. 
 Mr. Redwood, sighing deeply, replied that his daughter was too
 
 REDWOOD. 37 
 
 much unaccustomed to scenes of this kind to be of any use to 
 him ; and the physician proceeded to make arrangements with 
 Mrs. Lenox and Deborah. The result of their deliberations was, 
 that Deborah should keep this night's vigil at the bed of the 
 sick man. 
 
 These important arrangements being made, Doctor Bristol 
 undertook to inform Miss Redwood of her father's amended 
 condition. She received the intelligence with less animation 
 than might have been reasonably anticipated from the appre- 
 hensions she had expressed. " She was glad." she said, " it was 
 all over, for she was tired to death, and wished to go to her 
 room." 
 
 " Yes," said her officious domestic, " you are tired, Miss 
 Carry, you look very sick ; as pale as a ghost." 
 
 " Oh Lilly," exclaimed Caroline, " that is impossible, for I 
 never lose my color, you know ;" and she ran briskly to a look- 
 ing-glass, which, shrouded in gauze, and bedecked with festoons . 
 of ground pine, adorned Mrs. Lenox's neat parlor. The mir- 
 ror was imperfect, and it sent back as distorted a resemblance 
 of the disappointed beauty, as if spleen and envy had reflected 
 the image. " Oh Lord ! Lord !" she exclaimed, " it would be 
 the death of me to see myself again in that odious glass.'' 
 
 " I hope not," said Doctor Bristol. " We have specifics 
 against such dangers in this retirement, where there are few to 
 admire, and none to flatter." 
 
 " Are all your specifics caustics, Doctor ?" 
 
 " Oh no !" replied the Doctor, smiling very pleasantly, (for 
 it cannot be denied that his instinctive indignation at Miss 
 Kedwood's insensibility was softened by her matchless beauty ;) 
 " no, we prescribe caustics for inveterate diseases only : for the 
 young and susceptible we have gentler remedies." 
 
 " And your cure for vanity is
 
 38 REDWOOD. 
 
 " Abstinence or, a low diet often subdues the violence of 
 the symptoms the disease is of the chronic order, seldom 
 cured. But do not imagine that I have the presumption to 
 prescribe for you, Miss Redwood, ignorant as I am even of the 
 existence of the malady." 
 
 "Your prescription, sir, would, at any rate, be quite super- 
 fluous," replied Caroline, arranging while she spoke with evi- 
 dent satisfaction, her dark glossy curls before the mirror of 
 her dressing-case, which Lilly (with the true instinct of a lady's 
 maid,) had placed before her mistress ; " vanity will die of star- 
 vation in this solitude." 
 
 " Oh my dear young lady, you are ignorant of the disease," 
 rejoined the doctor ; " there is no element in which it cannot 
 live, and thrive, and find food convenient for it. I am not 
 much skilled in the history of classic gentry ; but if I remem- 
 ber right, it was not the flatteries of a court or a multitude, 
 . hat cost poor Narcissus his life, but a rustic, truth-telling, 
 woodland stream : depend on it, Miss Redwood, the danger is 
 within ; and ' inward diseases,' as my friend Debby calls them, 
 are apt to baffle the most skilful." 
 
 " That being so, sir," retorted Miss Redwood, " it may be 
 well to reserve your skill for obvious diseases and real dan- 
 gers." She then proceeded to inquire, with considerable inte- 
 rest, into the particulars of her father's injury; and concluded 
 by asking how long they should be detained at Eton. 
 
 " It is impossible to say," replied the doctor ; " five or six 
 weeks ; perhaps longer. Your father's recovery must depend 
 somewhat on his previous health and stock of spirits." 
 
 " Oh, then it is a desperate case, for he has been on the 
 verge of the consumption for these two years ; and as to his 
 spirits, heaven only knows when he had any. He has been as 
 dull as death ever since I remember him."
 
 REDWOOD. 39 
 
 u Very unfavorable," replied the doctor, shaking his head ; 
 " but a parent's melancholy must be obstinate indeed to resist 
 the cheering efforts of a child ; and I trust, Miss Redwood, 
 your resolution and patience will be equal to the present de- 
 mand on them." 
 
 " It is a demand I cannot answer, sir. I might as well call 
 spirits from the vasty deep, as summon mine at pleasure. 
 Grrandmama always said cheerfulness was a virtue for common , 
 people quite necessary for them. I am never melancholy, 
 however. Melancholy only suits the old and unfortunate ; and 
 if I must remain here, I will try not to hang myself." 
 
 " A virtuous resolution, truly." 
 
 " Doctor," exclaimed Caroline, after a few moments' pause, 
 " is there nothing going on here ; nothing to keep one alive ?" 
 
 "Yes," replied the doctor, drily, "from this very house 
 there is to be a funeral to-morrow." 
 
 " Quite a diverting circumstance," rejoined Caroline. " Pray, 
 sir, who is it that is to be buried ? No one of any consequence, 
 of course." 
 
 " Goodness is the only consequence that we acknowledge, 
 in our rustic life," replied the doctor, gravely; "our young 
 friend's escutcheon has no blot upon it." 
 
 Caroline seemed mortified, and did not pursue her inqui- 
 ries, and the physician took his leave after having repeated his 
 orders that the invalid should be kept as quiet as possible till 
 his return in the morning. 
 
 Miss Redwood was shown into a small but very neat apart- 
 ment, in which were two beds : one of them had just been ar- 
 ranged for her accommodation. " This bed is for me, is it ? M 
 she inquired, turning to a little girl who was her conductor, 
 and at the same moment negligently throwing down her hat on 
 a neatly quilted spread, as white as snow.
 
 40 REDWOOD. 
 
 " Yes, miss, that is yours," replied the child. 
 
 " And the other is my servant's ?" 
 
 " Oh no, miss, that is Ellen's !" 
 
 " Well, you little thing, what is your name ?" 
 
 " Lucy," replied the child, dropping a courtesy. 
 
 " Well, Lucy, ask your mother to order a bed made for my 
 servant here." 
 
 " I can ask her," replied the child ; " but," she added in a 
 lower tone as she was leaving the room, " I guess she won't feel 
 it consistent to put that black girl into Ellen's room." 
 
 Lucy, however, notwithstanding her prediction, returned in 
 a few moments to say that Miss Redwood's request was grant- 
 ed ; " and you may thank Ellen for it," she added, " for mother 
 would not hear to it till Ellen begged her." 
 
 " Well, well, child, you may go now it is all very well. I 
 shall take care to compensate your mother, and this Ellen too, 
 for any favors they may grant me. Lilly," she added, turning 
 to her servant, " undress me, and make over that bed, it is not 
 likely these people know how to make a bed. Pin down the 
 undersheet all around as grandmama has hers ; I feel fidgety 
 to-night, and a wrinkle would disturb me heigho ! how long 
 is it since we left Montreal, Lilly ?" 
 
 " Two days, Miss Gary." 
 
 " Two days ! what an age it seems : two days since I parted 
 from the divine Fitzgerald, and it will be twice that number of 
 weeks before I see another civilized being. That old jade that 
 told my fortune, coming down the lake, was not so much out 
 when she said I should meet with losses and crosses ; but who 
 could have dreamed of such a cross as this ? And then to 
 think that the Craytons will get to Boston before us ; and 
 Maria will contrive to show off her French dresses first. Oh, 
 it is too provoking ! For heaven's sake, Lilly, stow away my
 
 REDWOOD. 41 
 
 large trunk out of my sight ; it will make me wretched to see 
 those beautiful dresses of Le Moine's all lying idle, getting 
 yellow, and old-fashioned." Thus Miss Redwood continued to 
 run on, half to her servant, and half to herself, till she lost in 
 sleep the consciousness of her disappointments. 

 
 4? REDWOOD. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 '' Fleecy locks and black complexion 
 
 Cannot forfeit nature's claim ; 
 Skins may differ, but affection 
 
 Dwells in white and black the same." 
 
 Cowper. 
 
 HENRY REDWOOD was a native of Virginia, that State of the 
 Union where the patrician rank has escaped in the greatest 
 degree, the levelling principle of republicanism. His father 
 was a rich planter : adhering pertinaciously to the custom of 
 his predecessors, he determined that his eldest son should in- 
 herit his large landed property. To Henry he gave a good 
 education, and designed that he should resort to the usual ex- 
 pedient of unportioned gentility, compensating by his marriage 
 for the defects of his inheritance. He was early destined to 
 be the husband of Maria Manning, the only daughter of Mr. 
 Redwood's sister, a rich widow who resided in Charleston, 
 South Carolina. 
 
 Henry Redwood had originally a highly gifted mind, and 
 strong affections ; under happy influences he might have become 
 the benefactor of his country, its ornament and blessing ; or 
 he might in domestic life have illustrated the virtues that are 
 appropriate to its quiet paths. His father trained his eldest 
 son in his own habits, which were those of an English country
 
 REDWOOD. 43 
 
 squire. Henry was left to follow the bent of his own inclina- 
 tions, and possessing a less robust constitution than his brother, 
 and a contemplative turn of mind, he preferred sedentary to 
 active pursuits. He early manifested a decided taste for 
 literature; he had an acute perception of the beautiful in 
 poetry, in nature and in action ; he loved the virtues that illus- 
 trate the pages of the moralist, and he sympathized with the 
 examples of heroism which the poet and the historian have res- 
 cued from the ashes of past ages. 
 
 But unhappily he saw few resemblances in life to these fair 
 portraits. His father's character was of the coarsest texture ; 
 his life when not devoted to the gaming table, the excitements 
 of the race-ground, or the stimulating pleasures of the chase, 
 was wasted in the most perfect indolence at home : his mother 
 had been a beauty, and possessed many of the gentle qualities 
 of her sex; but, unresisting and timid in her nature, she had 
 fallen into such habits of unqualified submission to her hus- 
 band, that she had no longer courage to assert the rights of 
 virtue, or power to impress them on her children. Young Red- 
 wood had one friend, the son of a neighboring planter, whom 
 he called his good genius, and his elevated character and rare 
 purity entitled him to this distinction. The influence of his 
 virtues and affection might, perhaps, have preserved Henry 
 from the errors of his after life, but their opportunities of in- 
 tercourse were rare and brief, in consequence of political ani- 
 mosity between their parents, and before Henry had received 
 impressions deep enough to mature into principle the strong,.' 
 inspirations of feeling, he was sent to college ; there, by one 
 of those unlucky chances that sometimes give a color to the 
 destiny of life, he was led. first to an acquaintance, and subse- 
 quently to an intimacy, with an unprincipled man, by the name 
 of Alsop. This man possessed plausible talents and insinua-
 
 44 REDWOOD. 
 
 ting manners ; but his mind had been contaminated by the in- 
 fidelity fashionable at that period, and his vanity was stimu- 
 lated by the hope of adding to his little band of converts Sk 
 young man of Kedwood's acknowledged genius. 
 
 The insidious eloquence of Gibbon, the audacious wit of 
 Voltaire, the subtle arguments of Hume, and all that reck- 
 less and busy infidelity has imagined and invented, were ar- 
 rayed by this skilful champion against the accidental faith of 
 Henry Redwood : for that faith may surely be called acciden- 
 tal which knows no reason for its existence, but is the result of 
 being born in a Christian community, and of an occasional at- 
 tendance at church. The triumph was an easy one. Red- 
 wood's vision, like that of other unbelievers, was dazzled by 
 the ignis fatuus that his own vanity had kindled; and like 
 them, he flattered himself that he was making great discover- 
 ies, because he had turned from the road which was travelled 
 by the vulgar throng. 
 
 With the free and even licentious speculations of the closet, 
 young Redwood was not surpassed by any of his new intimates ; 
 but he had a refinement of taste, which, though it would not 
 have opposed an effectual barrier to strong temptation, deter- 
 red him from associating himself with them in their gross and 
 profligate pleasures. 
 
 He was sometimes disgusted, but never shocked by their 
 profligacy. He maintained, that whatever a man called good, 
 was good to him ; and that, released from the thraldom of fear- 
 ing a visionary future, he was at liberty to disengage himself 
 from the galling fetters which virtue and religion impose, and 
 to expatiate without apprehension or compunction in a region 
 of perfect liberty. A little reflection, and a very short expe- 
 rience, taught him that these principles would dissolve society; 
 and then, like some other philosophers, he adopted expediency
 
 REDWOOD. 45 
 
 for his rule of right. He found it to be impossible so sudden- 
 ly to emancipate men from the slavery of prejudice ; " some 
 hundred years must pass away before the downfall of the pre- 
 vailing systems of superstition." The enlightened must sub- 
 mit, while the ignorant are the majority ; and a man's conduct 
 must be graduated by the standard of the community in which 
 he lives. 
 
 Opinion was the rule, and ignorance the presiding deity, 
 in this new creed. Still, Henry Redwood's reason was not 
 quite obscured, nor his heart quite depraved. He often turned 
 from the heartless pages of infidelity to the inspiration of vir- 
 tue, and found, that while the first controlled his judgment, the 
 latter could alone sway his affections. A virtuous action would 
 send an involuntary glow to his cheek, and make him wish he 
 had never doubted the reality of the principle that produced it. 
 
 Redwood was ambitious; and after having won the firs': 
 literary honors of his college, he returned to his family elated 
 with success, and proud of his superiority. He again met the 
 friend of his youth, Edmund Westall, who, during their sepa- 
 ration, had become a married man ; and in whose family Red- 
 wood found irresistible attractions. Westall was a few years 
 older than Redwood ; and there was an authority in his exam- 
 ple that could not well be evaded, and a persuasion in his good- 
 ness that touched Redwood's heart. He felt it like an exor- 
 cism that conjured out of him every evil spirit. 
 
 But the state of his own mind will be best shown by a let- 
 ter which he wrote at this time to his infidel friend. 
 
 " Some months have elapsed, dear Alsop, since we parted, 
 and parted with a truly juvenile promise to keep up an unre- 
 mitting epistolary intercourse. And this I believe is the first 
 essay made by either of us ; a fair illustration of the common 
 proportion which performance bears to such promises. You, no
 
 46 REDWOOD. 
 
 doubt, have been roving from pleasure to pleasure, with an un- 
 tiring impulse, and your appetite, like the horseleech, has still 
 cried, ' give, give.' If one of your vagrant thoughts has stray- 
 ed after me, you have doubtless fancied me immured in my 
 study, pursuing my free inquiries, abandoning the falling sys- 
 tems of vulgar invention, and soaring far over the misty atmos- 
 phere of imposture and credulity. Or, perhaps, you imagine 
 that I have adopted your sapient advice, have returned to my 
 home a dutiful child, gracefully worn the chains of filial obedi- 
 ence, made my best bow to papa, and with a ' just as you please, 
 sir,' fallen, secundum artem, desperately in love with my beau- 
 tiful, and beautifully rich cousin ; have rather taken than ask- 
 ed her willing hand, and thus opened for myself the path of 
 ambition, or the golden gates that lead to the regions of plea- 
 sure, and which none but fortune's key can open. But, alas ! 
 the most reasonable hopes are disappointed by our fantastic 
 destiny. We are the sport of chance ; and as you confess no 
 other deity, you are bound not to deride any of the whimsical 
 dilemmas into which its votaries are led. Alsop, you have 
 often commended the boldness of my mind, while you laughed 
 at a certain involuntary homage I paid to the beautiful pictures 
 of goodness, which some dreaming enthusiasts have presented 
 to us, or to the moral beauty which, among all the varieties of 
 accidental combination, is sometimes exhibited in real life. 
 
 " Have I prepared you to hear the confession, that I am at 
 this present moment the blind and willing dupe of goodness, 
 (I mean, what the moralists call goodness.) embodied in a form, 
 that might soften a stoic, convert an infidel, make of you an 
 enthusiast, or perform any other miracle ? 
 
 " You have heard me make honorable mention of my friend 
 Westall. He is by some years my elder, three or four at least. 
 I think I never related the circumstances of our introduction
 
 REDWOOD. 47 
 
 to each other ; I am quite certain I did not, for you would have 
 laughed at them ; they may now serve to elucidate to you my 
 friend's character, and to account for our early and reciprocal 
 interest. 
 
 " My father had among his servants a native African ; one 
 of those men whom nature has endowed with a giant frame, 
 and correspondent qualities of mind. At the time my father 
 purchased him, he was separated from his wife and two chil- 
 dren, girls ; the only boy my father purchased with him, whe- 
 ther because he thought the presence of the child would help 
 to keep the father in heart, or from a transient feeling of com- 
 passion for the poor wretch, I know not. The wife had suffer- 
 ed deplorably from the voyage, and was knocked down with her 
 two girls to a Georgian, for a trifle. You do not know my 
 father : suffice it to say, that selfishness and habit have made 
 him quite insensible to the sufferings of these poor devils, whom 
 he classes with other brutes born for our service. But there 
 was something extraordinary in the strong affections and un- 
 conquerable temper of this man. His wife and little ones were 
 torn from his strong grasp, and when resistance was hopeless, 
 and he turned from them, the large muscles of his neck swelled 
 almost to bursting, and he set up a desperate howl, that made 
 every heart quake or melt. Some one of the throng around 
 him put his boy into his arms ; the sight of him changed the 
 current of his feelings ; he soon became silent, and, a few mo- 
 ments after, his tears fell thick and heavy on the child. My 
 father brought him home. He performed his appointed tasks 
 well, but he was retired and sulky ; and the smallest services 
 that were imposed on his child seemed to exasperate his 
 spirit. It was not many months after he came into our pos- 
 session, that our overseer, a cruel, worthless dog, beat the child,. 
 who had unwarily offended him, unmercifully. The father in-
 
 48 REDWOOD. 
 
 terposed and rescued the child, at the expense of some cutting 
 lashes on his own back, which he seemed to regard no more 
 than the idle wind. The very night after, the child disappear- 
 ed, and it was believed the unhappy father had put an end to 
 the boy's life. The fact was never ascertained, though no one 
 doubted it ; for, as you will readily believe, my father was not 
 very zealous to establish a truth which would have deprived 
 him of one of his most valuable slaves. These circumstances 
 transpired before I was old enough to remember them ; but 
 when I first heard the report of them among our domestic an- 
 nals, I felt an involuntary respect for this man, who, with a 
 spirit more noble than Cato's, cut the cord that bound his son 
 to captivity, and manfully continued to endure the galling of 
 his own chains. Was not this a glorious illustration of the 
 truth of our old favorite Seneca's remark, that ' sometimes to 
 live is magnanimity ?' 
 
 " Time passed on, but Africk (for that was the name my 
 father had given him.) remained unchanged. I think I see 
 him now, going to his daily task, always apart from the herd, 
 and quite alone ; his firm and slow step, the curling of his lip, 
 which would have better become a monarch than a slave, and 
 his fixed, downcast eye. 
 
 " His mind, which, like adamant, had resisted the influence 
 of time, was at last subdued by fanaticism ; which, you know, 
 like some chemical powers, will dissolve substances that no me- 
 chanical force can impress. My father (a little alarmed himself, 
 as I suspect, by an eloquent harangue.) permitted a zealous 
 Methodist or Moravian. I am not certain which, but a member 
 of one of these tribes of amiable madmen, to address his people. 
 A great sensation was produced, and among the rest, Africk 
 eagerly seized every opportunity of communication with the 
 preacher. He had never before sought human communion or
 
 REDWOOD. 49 
 
 sympathy. He soon became a convert ; his fierce manner was 
 changed to gentleness ; he no longer avoided his fellows ; and 
 though still reserved and silent, it seemed to me that his reli- 
 gion brought him back to the human family, and by uniting 
 him to the common Father of all, restored the broken links 
 of fraternity. 
 
 " Whether his faith had an enfeebling influence on his body 
 as well as his mind, I know not ; but his health fell into decay. 
 The overseer complained that he kept long vigils after his daily 
 labor ; that he spent the nights, which were made to prepare him 
 for his labor, in prayers that exhausted his spirits and his strength. 
 My father inquired of Buckley if he had used the whip ; the wretch 
 replied, that he never entered a complaint till that remedy had 
 failed. It did no more good, he said, to whip him, than to beat 
 the air ; he bore it without complaint, and without shrinking. 
 My father then recommended an abatement of Africk's daily 
 food. 
 
 " That, Buckley said, he had tried till the rascal was so 
 weak he could scarcely stand. I was present at this confer- 
 ence, and my nature rebelled against the intolerable oppres- 
 sion the poor wretch was suffering. I interposed, and entreated 
 my father to adopt kind treatment. 
 
 " He swore at my boyish impertinence, as he called it ; but 
 it was not, however, without effect, for he recommended to 
 Buckley milder usage. But the fellow's habits of cruelty were 
 too firmly fixed for any essential change. It was not long 
 after, that Africk interposed to rescue a female slave from the 
 horrible lash of this tyrant : his fury, averted from the woman, 
 fell with redoubled violence on Africk, till, no longer stimulat- 
 ed by resistance, he turned away from his silent victim, and 
 left him to crawl (for he could not walk) to his little cabin. 
 
 The following morning he was missing ; the plantation was 
 3
 
 50 REDWOOD. 
 
 searched in vain, and I was dispatched by my father in quest 
 of him, as he deemed it probable that some of the negroes of 
 our neighbors might have harbored and concealed him ; these 
 sort of courtesies being not unfrequent among our slaves. 
 
 u I went, but with the determination never to reveal, if I 
 discovered his concealment, and to afford him every aid in my 
 power, for my youthful imagination had been powerfully excit- 
 ed by his heroism and his sufferings, and neither philosophy 
 nor experience had yet steeled my heart against the spectacle 
 of human misery. Would to God they never had ! 
 
 " I began my expedition on foot, being just then inspired 
 with a passion to emulate the feats of some European pedes- 
 trians, of whom I had heard. I cannot remember a period of 
 my life when some such whim did not rule the hour. I had 
 entered on Mr. Westall's grounds, and in order to cross by a 
 straight line to the cabins of the negroes, I left the circuitous 
 road, and turned into some low ground, covered with pines. It 
 soon became marshy, and almost impassable, but I had pro- 
 ceeded too far for retreat or extrication, and I continued to 
 push forward through the snarled bushes and interwoven 
 branches of the trees ; the daylight and my strength were al- 
 most exhausted, and my patience entirely, when I perceived 
 the ground harden to my tread, and pressing eagerly forward, I 
 issued from the wood into an open space, a few roods in circum- 
 ference, around which the trees grew so thick, that they formed 
 an almost impenetrable wall, a natural defence for this se- 
 questered retreat. To my amazement I saw before me, 
 and just on the skirt of the wood, a rudely constructed hut ; 
 two of its sides were formed by slabs resting on the 
 ground at one end, meeting at the top. and supported by 
 poles inserted into two notched posts : the third side was filled . 
 by brush cut from the adjoining wood, and piled loosely to-
 
 REDWOOD. 51 
 
 gather ; the fourth, towards which I advanced, was quite open 
 to the weather. 
 
 " Alsop, I had proceeded thus far in my narrative, when I 
 threw down my pen ; my fancy had restored me to this scene 
 of my youth ; I had insensibly reverted to the influences that 
 then governed my mind, and I felt that I was exposing the of- 
 fices of the temple to the derision of the unbeliever. I protest 
 against your laugh, and your more intolerable ridicule ; I know 
 all these things are the illusions of youth and ignorance, but 
 I sometimes think them better, certainly far happier, than the 
 realities I have since adopted. Still vacillating, you say, be- 
 tween philosophy and superstition ! amiable superstition ! I 
 have described this spot with some particularity. It is, with 
 all its accompaniments, indelibly stamped on my memory. As 
 I said, I advanced towards the habitation, and unperceived by 
 its occupants, I had leisure to observe and to listen to them. 
 Africk was lying extended on some straw with which the ground 
 (for there was no floor) had been strewn for this slight accommo- 
 dation ; his head was supported by an old negro woman ; with 
 one hand he grasped the hand of my friend, with the other he 
 held firmly a saphie, which was suspended around his neck ; 
 his short and spasmodic breathing indicated the last feeble 
 struggle with death. 
 
 " Edmund Westall knelt behind him, and might have been 
 mistaken for a bright vision from another and a higher sphere, 
 so beautiful was the combination of faith, hope, and charity, as 
 the enthusiast paints them, in his fair and innocent face. The 
 last rays of the setting sun entering an aperture in the wall, 
 fell athwart his brow, burnished his light brown hair, and rest- 
 ed there, a bright halo, a symbol of his celestial ministry. My 
 ear caught the broken sentence of the dying ma.n. 
 
 " ' No no,' he said, ' Mr. Edmund, I had no peace. I would
 
 52 REDWOOD. 
 
 have given my life for one moment of freedom. I looked for 
 revenge. I thought of my wife and my little ones ; and I 
 could have poured out the blood of white men, till it were a 
 sea like the big waters over which they brought us. But the 
 voice of God pierced to my heart, and I was an altered man. 
 And when I prayed that blessed prayer, that I might be for- 
 given even as I forgave others, the fire in my heart was quench- 
 ed, and the terrible storm that had raged here (and he pressed 
 Edmund's hand on his naked breast) was laid ; and there was 
 peace, Mr. Edmund ; God's peace. I was still a slave, aijd I 
 was wretched, but the sting was taken away. Do not pray for 
 me, nor for mine. I have been on my knees for my helpless 
 ones, night after night, and all day long, and my prayer ia 
 heard. But pray for your father's land, and your father's chil- 
 dren. Pray to be saved from the' curse that is coming. Oh ! 
 (he exclaimed,) and his voice became stronger, and its deep 
 tones seemed to bear to our ears the sure words of prophecy ; 
 oh, I hear the cry of revenge ; I hear the wailings of your 
 wives and your little ones ; and I see your fair lands drenched 
 with their blood. Pray to God to save you in that day, for it will 
 surely come.' His voice was spent ; his eyes closed, as I be- 
 lieved for ever, and I sprang towards the bed. I then perceiv- 
 ed that it was a momentary exhaustion ; he still grasped Ed- 
 mund's hand, and I perceived that his heart was still beating. 
 The old woman signed to me to withdraw from before him ; and 
 I silently took my station beside her. After a few moments, 
 he again languidly opened his eyes and said, in a scarcely audi- 
 ble voice, ' I thought I was in my own land ; and I heard the 
 rustling of our leaves, and the voices of my kindred, and I was 
 feeding my little ones with their kouskous as when the destroy- 
 ers came. My spirit will pass easier if I hear the voice of 
 your prayer, blessed young man. Pray for my master ; for
 
 REDWOOD. 53 
 
 Buckley. He paused ; and Edmund, in a low tender voice be- 
 gan his supplication. The old woman muttered, ' Sorry Mas- 
 sa prays for Buckley ; 'fraid God will hear him, they say He so 
 good.' At the close of each petition, Africk murmured Amen ; 
 and at Edmund's fervent intercession for his oppressors, he 
 opened his eyes, clasped his hands, and in the intensity of his 
 feeling, half rose from the straw. The effort exhausted him ; 
 he sunk back on the breast of the old woman, and expired. 
 She released herself from him, and then stretching her arms to- 
 wards heaven, as if in acknowledgment to Him who had broken 
 the bonds of Africk's captivity, she clapped her hands and 
 shouted, ' he is free ! he is free !' Edmund and I laid our faces 
 together on the straw beside the poor negro, and wept as youth 
 is wont to do. 
 
 " Forgive me, Alsop, I have told you a very long, and it 
 may be a very dull story, though I think not ; for nothing is 
 dull to you that is connected with the philosophy of the human 
 mind. You will ridicule me for ever having deemed of impor- 
 tance the particulars of a vulgar being, extinct after a few 
 years of life, and that for the most part, passed in abject 
 slavery ; but like a true philosopher, you will with me eagerly 
 explore the past, for the causes that have influenced my char- 
 acter and governed my destiny. And yet, ' poor playthings of 
 unpitying fate.' why should we be so -anxious to penetrate the 
 mysteries of a being which may cease for ever to-morrow ? The 
 Epicureans were more consistent than we are ; and we may 
 learn from the author of a faith that we deride, the truest wis- 
 dom for us : ' let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die.' 
 
 This scene has haunted my imagination ; the memory of 
 it has sometimes seemed to me like a voice from Heaven ; for 
 a long while it kept alive a dying spark of faith. I cherished 
 it as a testimony, that God had not left the creatures he had
 
 54 REDWOOD. 
 
 formed to wander without him in the world : I fancied there 
 was a supernatural ministry to the spirit of this much-injured 
 man. that had converted his just and unrelenting hatred to for- 
 giveness his pride to submissiveness and there seemed to me 
 intimations of the love and mercy of the Divine Being in the 
 gentle and tender countenance of my friend. 
 
 " Yes, Alsop, I confess it the memory of this scene has 
 sometimes been an impassable barrier to your infidel and most 
 ingenious arguments. 
 
 " You know one of the boldest, as well as most charming 
 of female skeptics, said, ' in the silence of the closet, or the 
 dryness of discussion, I can agree with the atheist or the ma- 
 terialist, as to the insolubility of certain questions ; but when 
 in the country, or contemplating nature, my soul, full of emo- 
 tion, soars aloft to the vivifying principle that animates them, 
 to the almighty intellect that prevades them, and to the good- 
 ness that makes the scene so delightful to my senses !'* 
 
 " Thus it is with me : nature, and the beautiful traits of 
 nature we sometimes see in man, appeal irresistibly to the feel- 
 ings, and force their way to my convictions. 
 
 " My purpose was. frankly to tell you my present embarrass- 
 ments ; but I have been led into too serious a train of feeling 
 to proceed any farther, and certainly to let you into the arcana 
 of my present perplexities. 
 
 " I explained to Edmund my intentions in regard to Africk. 
 We found that we had participated in a strong feeling of com- 
 passion towards him. and this sympathy at once created a bond 
 of union between us. This hiding-place had been contrived 
 by Westall's people for a refuge for the runaways from the 
 neighboring plantations ; not at all for their own benefit, 
 
 * Madame Roland.
 
 REDWOOD 55 
 
 for the conduct of the Westalls to their slaves was noted 
 for its bouuv jlent and paternal character. The retreat was 
 kept secret from Mr. Westall (the father) ; for the negroes 
 rig ally concluded that he would have been compelled in honor 
 to surrender, as the property of his neighbors, the refugees 
 who took shelter there. The son had been conducted to the 
 place by the old woman, who was his nurse, who knew she 
 might safely confide the secret to his custody, and who could 
 not believe that any case was so desperate that he could not 
 bring some alleviation to it. We agreed that Africk's body 
 should be conveyed during the night to the cabin of one of the 
 negroes, and should in the morning be restored to my father. 
 
 " Before we parted from the remains of the released slave, 
 we examined the saphie, which to his last breath, he had so 
 pertinaciously grasped. You must know these saphies are 
 boxes made of horn, shell, or some other durable material ; 
 they contain some charm, usually a sentence from the Koran, 
 which serves as an amulet to keep off evil spirits. Africk had 
 changed the object of his superstition, and the infidel charm 
 had been expelled to give place to the following sentence, writ- 
 ten at his request by Westall : ' Forgive me my trespasses, 
 even as I forgive those who trespass against me.' 
 
 " At Edmund's instigation, I made this the occasion of ben- 
 efit to the other negroes. I applied to my father in their be- 
 half, and found my way to his understanding by the sure and 
 well-trodden path of selfishness. I convinced him that Buck- 
 ley's cruelty had shortened Africk's life, and that the tyrant's 
 harsh treatment of the slaves prevented half the profit that 
 might otherwise be derived from their labor. My father, exas- 
 perated by his recent loss, readily yielded to my arguments. 
 Buckley was dismissed, and an efficient and tolerably humane 
 overseer employed in his place. I possessed then, Alsop, some
 
 56 REDWOOD. 
 
 enthusiasm in the cause of benevolence, and could have envied", 
 and possibly might have emulated the fame of a Howard. But 
 notwithstanding this strange confession, you need not now de- 
 spair of your disciple and friend. H. REDWOOD." 
 
 This epistle very naturally excited some alarm in Alsop for 
 the security of his dominion over the mind of his young disci- 
 ple. He wrote to him repeatedly, and received but few, and 
 those brief replies, till about the expiration of a year, when an- 
 answer to an earnest solicitation to Redwood to accompany 
 him to Europe, whither he was going in a public service, and 
 to his setting forth in the most tempting manner, the advanta- 
 ges that he offered, he received the following letter : 
 
 " DEAR ALSOP, 
 
 " I am grateful for your interest, and convinced by your ar- 
 guments that I ought no longer to doze away my brief existence 
 in this retirement. I have obtained my father's consent to the 
 arrangement you propose; and what is still more indispensable, 
 an ample supply, in consideration of a promise I have given to 
 him, that I will solicit the hand of my cousin immediately after 
 my return. 
 
 " Alsop, I find it necessary to recollect all the arguments 
 in favor of virtue and vice being only conventional terms, arti- 
 ficial contrivances for man's convenience ; for conscience, con- 
 science, that blushing, shamefaced spirit that mutinies in a 
 man's bosom, tells me that if it is not so I am the veriest wretch, 
 alive. I am married to a young creature, without fortune, 
 without connections ; innocent, and beautiful, and religious ; an 
 odd union, is it not ? I have not intimated my free opinions 
 to her, for why should I disturb her superstition ? It is quite 
 becoming to a woman, harmonizes well with the weakness of
 
 REDWOOD. 57 
 
 her sex. and is perhaps necessary to it. No one but the priest 
 (and he is tvustworthy) knows our secret. My pride, my am- 
 bition, rebel against the humble condition of life to which this 
 rash indulgence of boyish passion condemns me. If my father 
 knew it, he would spurn me ; for my marriage disappoints his 
 favorite project, and my poor girl would provoke his most 
 inveterate prejudices; and my mother, my timid mother, would 
 never forgive me for presuming to offend my father : there is 
 no tolerable alternative ; the fact must be concealed for the 
 present. Who knows but one of the tides, which, ' taken at 
 the flood lead on to fortune,' may await me ? any thing is bet- 
 ter than to lose this bright opportunity of pleasure and advan- 
 tage. Poor Westall is dead, and died with unbroken confi- 
 dence in me. Is goodness always thus credulous ? He has 
 committed his only son, a boy of four years, to my guardian- 
 ship. I will not betray his trust, so help me God. 
 
 Yours, &c. H. K." 
 
 Redwood had determined 'to keep his intended departure a 
 secret, to save himself from the remonstrances and entreaties 
 which he naturally expected from his abused wife. He had 
 no intention permanently to desert her ; she was residing in 
 the family of a Mr. Emlyn, as teacher to his children, and 
 might remain there for one, or even two years, if necessary; 
 and in the meantime, an unforeseen accession of fortune, politi- 
 cal advancement, or any of the thousand, chances that happen 
 to fortune's favorites, might relieve her husband from his pre- 
 sent embarrassments, and enable him to invest her with her 
 rights, without too great a personal sacrifice. By such and 
 similar considerations he endeavored to soothe his conscience 
 into acquiescence but neither those, nor the sophistries of his 
 
 friend, availed him to silence the voice of nature within him, 
 3*
 
 58 REDWOOD. 
 
 that incessantly reproached him with the wrong he was about 
 to inflict on a yonng. and innocent, and helpless being. 
 
 On the night before his departure, he summoned resolu- 
 tion to visit her, intending to impart to her his designs, and 
 to soothe her with such promises and arguments as he could 
 marshal to his aid. He found her alone in the little parlor 
 which had been kindly assigned to her. She started at his 
 entrance, and was hurrying a sheet of paper on which she was 
 writing, into the desk at which she sat. " Treason, treason," 
 said he, detaining the paper, and at the same time kissing her 
 pale. cheek. " Then it is treason against my own heart," she 
 replied ; for that is but too faithful to you." Redwood was 
 conscience-stricken, and to shelter his embarrassment, he 
 affected to read the letter he had seized : it was blotted with 
 his wife's tears. " No, do not read it," said she, laying her 
 hand on it, " it is only a little scolding ; you know I have so 
 few of the privileges of a wife, that I cannot but use those that 
 are not denied me." Redwood's eyes were still fixed on the 
 letter, of which, however, he had not read a single word. She 
 continued, " I am so lonely, that I get low-spirited, and some- 
 times I think you do not love me." 
 
 " Not love you, Mary ?" exclaimed Redwood, in whose 
 breast there was not at this moment any feeling so strong as 
 his tenderness for the lovely being before him. 
 
 " Yes, Henry," she replied, with more courage than she 
 had ever before shown, " and have I not much reason to think 
 so? I am sure I could not make any one suffer as you make me ; 
 I could not live and let such a curse rest upon your blessings." 
 " A curse. Mary, what do you mean ?" replied her husband. 
 
 " Oh, is it not a curse," said she, " to feel the misery of 
 guilt and the punishment of folly ; to be suspected of crime ; 
 to feel the blood freezing in my veins, from the fear of detec-
 
 REDWOOD. 59 
 
 tion ; to see, or fancy that I see, the smiles of derision and 
 contempt on the faces of the very slaves of the plantation, as I 
 pass by them ; and to blush and feel humbled, when, at 
 the mention of your name, my eye meets the stolen glances 
 of the children ? Oh, Henry, I am a woman, and I cannot 
 bear such suspicions ; I am a wife, and I ought not to bear 
 them." 
 
 Kedwood was aifected by his wife's appeal ; but there was 
 in it an assertion of rights that mortified his pride, and sur- 
 prised him ; surprised him, because Mary had always showed 
 herself a timid being, with unquestioning dependence on his 
 will, and submissive conformity to his wishes. He defended 
 himself as well as he was able : he pleaded his dependence on. 
 his father his dread to excite his tyrannical passions; he 
 reminded her that she had consented to their clandestine mar- 
 riage and intercourse. 
 
 " But," she replied, " I was young and inexperienced, and 
 quite alone ; and I thought, Henry, you could not ask me to 
 do any thing it was not right to do ; and you promised, before 
 God, to love and cherish me, and I was quite sure I never 
 should suffer any evil that you could shield me from." 
 
 " And you shall not, Mary," he replied ; " only have a little 
 patience." 
 
 " Ah, Henry, patience is the resource of the miserable ; and 
 I," she added, turning on him a look full of the confiding spirit 
 of affection, " I ought not to be miserable." 
 
 " But what can I do ?" said he impatiently. 
 
 " Withhold no longer the name to which you have given 
 me a right; save me from cruel suspicions and remarks, and I 
 will endure silently and patiently any other evil; I will live 
 .-cpiirate from you, if your father requires it, or you wish it; 
 I will never see you again ; any thing will be better than to
 
 60 KEDWOOD. 
 
 endure the torment of shame, for from this torment the con 
 sciousness of innocence has not preserved me." 
 
 Redwood felt the justice of his wife's plea, and he might 
 have yielded to the best impulses of his nature, but he thought 
 he had gone too far with Alsop to recede ; he mentally resolved 
 to shorten his absence as much as possible, and to return to- 
 make his wife happy. Having appeased his conscience by this 
 compromise, he appealed to her compassion ; he represented, 
 with tenfold aggravation, the embarrassments in which he was 
 involved, and he soothed her with professions of tenderness. 
 Gentle and affectionate, she soon relapsed into trustful acqui- 
 escence ; and, with a self-devotion not singular in a woman, she 
 resolved and promised to abide his pleasure. Before they 
 parted, there was an allusion made to a flirtation Redwood had 
 had with his cousin, Maria Manning, and to some tender let- 
 ters she had written to him since his marriage, to win him 
 back from what she supposed to be his indifference. These- 
 letters had frequently been the subject of raillery between the 
 lovers. Mary had never seen them; and Redwood, in no- 
 humor now to deny any thing which he could grant without 
 too great a sacrifice, promised he would send her the letters 
 the next morning. He then parted from her, but not without 
 betraying real anguish, which his tender-hearted wife blamed 
 herself for having inflicted on him. 
 
 The next morning a packet was brought to her. It con- 
 tained a brief farewell from her husband, the most plausible 
 apology he could frame for his departure, and a sum of money 
 larger than he could well afford to spare from the allowance he 
 had received from his father, but by which, as he said, he meant 
 to enable her to withdraw (if she should prefer to- do so during 
 his absence) from the situation she then held. In the hurry 
 of his departure, Redwood had sent, instead of the promised
 
 REDWOOD. 61 
 
 packet, his correspondence with Alsop. What a revelation it 
 contained for this deserted wife ! She had reposed in him the 
 unqualified and unsuspecting confidence of youth ; she had 
 believed him to be just what he seemed the natural conclu- 
 sion of inexperience. How terrible are the reverses of opinion, 
 when those most tenderly loved are the subjects of them ! It 
 seemed to Mary Redwood, that she had fallen into an abyss of 
 hopeless misery. She read over and over again these fatal 
 letters, till her head turned, and her heart sunk with the 
 strange confusion of horrible ideas which they communicated. 
 The language of the world, of philosophy (falsely so called), of 
 infidelity, was an unknown tongue to her; a strange jargon, 
 which introduced into her mind but one definite idea, and that 
 a deep conviction that her husband was corrupt, more corrupt 
 in principle than in conduct ; and his conduct the natural and 
 necessary result of his principles. Ignorant as she was of the 
 world, and all its intolerance and artificial distinctions, she had 
 never dreamed that her lowly fortune and rank opposed a bar- 
 rier to her acknowledgment. 
 
 The love of women is sometimes ranked with incurable dis- 
 eases. Mary Redwood's, at least, was not so; perhaps her 
 husband seemed to her to lose his identity from the moment 
 that she discovered his real sentiments ; however that may be, 
 the discovery cut the cord that bound her to him ; and the 
 repose and happiness of trustful affection, and feminine depend- 
 ence, and the confidence of youthful expectation, gave place to 
 deep despondency, and to all the apathy of complete alienation. 
 It was impossible for her to conceal a change so suddenly 
 wrought in her feelings, and the good people with whom she 
 w;i.s living believed young- Redwood's departure for Europe to 
 be the cause of it. 
 
 They had for a long time been apprised of his secret visits.
 
 62 REDWOOD. 
 
 and suspicious of his designs : but the purity and gentleness 
 of Mary's manners rebuked suspicion, and they hesitated to 
 communicate their observations to her : besides, they were en- 
 gaged with their own concerns, and the transient love affair 
 (as they deemed it) of an obscure young girl, seemed to them 
 of no great moment. They felt some regret, when, after the 
 lapse of a few days, she announced her wish to relinquish the 
 care of their children, assigning as a reason the evident decline 
 of her health, and she did not leave them without generous 
 tokens of their gratitude for her fidelity. At the time of her 
 departure, her friend, Mrs. Westall, was absent on a visit to a 
 distant plantation ; this she esteemed fortunate, for she wished 
 to escape any observation that would have been stimulated by 
 affection. 
 
 She resolved never to reveal the secret of her marriage ; 
 and thanking G-od that her parents were removed from this 
 world, and that none remained to be deeply affected with her 
 misfortunes, she determined to seek out some retreat where 
 she might be sheltered from notice. As the carriage drove 
 away that conveyed her from the door of Mr. Emlyn, 
 Mrs. Emlyn turned from the window where she had stood 
 gazing after her, and said to her husband, " is it not strange 
 that Mary should not have felt more at parting with the 
 children? she did not seem to notice their caresses, and 
 poor things, they cried as if their little hearts would 
 break; she is kind-hearted too." "And did not you 'mind, 
 ^mother," asked one of the little girls, " that when I offered 
 that pretty shell box Mr. Redwood gave me for a keepsake, 
 she shivered as if she had the ague, and dropped it on the 
 floor?" 
 
 " Ah," said Mr. Emlyn, looking significantly at his wife. 
 " it is easy enough to see where the shoe pinches. I tell you,
 
 REDWOOD. 63 
 
 my dear, that fellow has nearly broken the girl's heart. It is 
 just so with all your tribe ; 'all for love, or the world well lost.' 
 But she will come to her senses. ' Sur les ailes du temps la 
 tristesse s'envole.' "
 
 64 REDWOOD. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 X 
 
 " Si un homme honnete avoit fait un mal irreparable a un 6tre inno- 
 et-nt, comment, sans le secours de 1'expiation religeuse, s'en consolerait-il 
 jamais." MAD. DE STAEL. 
 
 REDWOOD joined his friend, and they embarked together 
 for Europe, furnished with every facility for an introduction to 
 good society which Americans could then procure. They visit- 
 ed Paris, and gained admission to its highest literary circles : 
 to society the most dangerous, and the most captivating, men 
 and women, who, from having been born thralls to the despotic 
 dogmas and pompous ritual of the Romish church, had identi- 
 fied the corruptions of Christianity with its truth, and reject- 
 ing the galling yoke, had loosened all necessary and salutary 
 restraints. There was in them much to be admired by a vir- 
 tuous person, much to excite the sympathy of the representa- 
 tive of a young republic, for they had an unaffected zeal for 
 the happiness of their species, and a genuine hatred of every 
 mode of tyranny. They had, too, an amenity and exquisite 
 refinement of manners, which they had owed to the vital spirit 
 that Christianity had infused into civilized life, and which re- 
 mained after the spirit had departed ; as the body, from which 
 the soul has fled, retains, while life is still recent, its fair pro- 
 portions, and beautiful expression ; or. as the plant which the 
 passing gale has uprooted, is still decorated with the flowers
 
 REDWOOD. 65 
 
 that owed their birth to the parent earth. In these circles, 
 Redwood's devotion to intellectual power (the ruling passion of 
 his youth) revived, and he resigned himself to the charms of 
 society, to those pleasures which one who was their victim, has, 
 with a few vivid touches, described " la parole n'y est pas seu- 
 leinent comme ailleurs un moyen de se communiquev ses idees, 
 ses sentiments, et ses affaires mais c'est un instrument dont on 
 airne a jouer et qui ranime les esprits, comme la musique chez 
 quelque peuples, et les liqueurs fortes chez quelquer autres."* 
 And in these circles. Redwood felt that Paris " etait le lieu du 
 monde ou 1'on pouvoit le mieux se passer de bonheur."f 
 
 While he remained in the French capital, there was no sus- 
 pension of excitement, not an hour for reflection, scarcely a 
 solitary moment for the impertinent whispering of conscience. 
 His wife, the young and innocent creature who had surrendered 
 to him the whole treasure of her affections, abandoned, solitary, 
 sick, and heart-broken, was scarcely remembered, or if remem- 
 bered, was associated with the dark cloud with which she had 
 shaded his future fortunes. But after he had left Paris, in the 
 further prosecution of his travels, there were times when she 
 was remembered ; the powers of conscience, spell-bound by the 
 noise and glare of society, were awakened by the voice of the 
 Divinity issuing from the eloquent places of nature. The pure 
 streams, the placid lakes, the green hills, and the " fixed moun- 
 tains looking -tranquillity," seemed to reproach him with his 
 desertion of nature's fairer work ; for all the works of nature 
 
 * Conversation is not there, as elsewhere, simply a medium for the com- 
 munication of ideas and sentiments, and the transaction of business ; but 
 it is an instrument on which they delight to play, and which excites their 
 spirits, like music among some nations, and strong liquors among others. 
 
 t Paris was that place in the whole world where one might best dis- 
 pense with happiness.
 
 66 REDWOOD. 
 
 are linked together by an invisible, an " electric chain." Red- 
 wood hurried from place to place ; he tried the power of novelty, 
 of activity ; he gazed on those objects that have been the mar- 
 vel, and the delight of the world ; and when the first excite- 
 ment was over, he felt that he could not resist the great moral 
 law which has indissolubly joined virtue and happiness. 
 
 On his arrival at Rome he found letters awaiting him there. 
 To avoid the hazard of discovery, he had determined that all 
 intercourse between himself and his wife should be suspended 
 during his absence, and had purposely omitted to furnish her 
 with his address his anxiety to receive some intelligence from 
 her had, however, become so strong, that he would now have 
 willingly incurred any risk for that gratification. On turning 
 over his letters, he noticed one in a handwriting which he recog- 
 nized to be that of the clergyman who had married him to 
 Mary Erwine ; he hastily tore it open. There was within it a 
 letter from his wife, and a few lines from the clergyman stated 
 that he had received that letter inclosed in another, and post- 
 marked Philadelphia : he was requested to forward it by the 
 first conveyance, and to inform him to whom it was addressed, 
 that the writer had died two days after closing the letter. 
 
 Alsop entered Redwood's apartment a moment after he had 
 read the letter, and while he was yet nearly stunned by the 
 sudden blow : Alsop looked at the unsealed letter which had 
 fallen on the floor, and then took the open one from the unre- 
 sisting hand of his friend, who, while he hid his convulsed face 
 in his hands, exclaimed, " Oh, I have killed her, Alsop I have 
 killed her !" 
 
 " No, no," replied Alsop, comprehending at a glance the 
 import of the intelligence, ' : nature sentenced her ; you may 
 have hastened the execution but that's all. What do you 
 mean by this drivelling, Redwood ? ' II faut finir !' The sen-
 
 REDWOOD. 67 
 
 tence is passed on all mankind, but it is not often one's luck to 
 have the sentence executed at the fortunate moment for one's 
 self and one's friends too !" 
 
 There was an audacity in this levity, which quickened to 
 keen resentment the awakened feelings of Redwood. He spurn- 
 ed Alsop from him, and resigned himself to the tide of misery 
 that overwhelmed his fortitude. As soon as he could command 
 sufficient courage, he opened his wife's letter it was cold and 
 brief, without a request or reproach ; and simply informed him 
 that after his departure she had sought a retirement where she 
 might prepare herself for that better world, towards which her 
 heavenly Father in his tender mercy was evidently leading her : 
 she had found one ; and had received under the humble roof 
 where she should soon close her eyes for ever, every kindness 
 that humanity could render. Should any regrets induce Red- 
 wood to make any inquiries about her, she informed him they 
 would be vain and useless vain, for she had taken every precau- 
 tion to keep the place of her retreat secret and useless, for 
 she should then be where no human being could confer happi- 
 ness, or inflict misery on her. Some portions of the letter 
 betrayed strong emotions, but apparently it did not result from 
 the relations which had subsisted between herself and him to 
 whom she wrote. It was an elevated state of feeling with 
 which no personal considerations seemed to mingle, in which 
 she regarded what had passed, not as offences against herself, 
 but as portending misery to Redwood. The letter concluded 
 thus " you will not," she said, " need the assurance of my 
 forgiveness ; believe me I have no sterner feeling than pity for 
 you. I have sought, and till my heart is stilled in death, I 
 shall seek for you his mercy who came to heal the sick, to seek 
 the lost, and to restore the wanderer. Farewell, Redwood, 
 God grant the prayer of your dying wife."
 
 68 REDWOOD. 
 
 ' And is this all,' thought Redwood, ' that remains to me of 
 the tenderness of youthful love ; of that innocent, generous 
 affection, that questioned not, suspected not 1 oh, I have most 
 foully betrayed her tr^ust ! we are severed for ever yes, for 
 ever for surely, if there is a heaven, she has entered it : and 
 I I have no place no hope there. I could have borne re- 
 proaches, invectives, any thing I could have borne better than 
 this calm tone which pronounces the sentence of death eter- 
 nal death to our union.' 
 
 There is, perhaps, no keener suffering to a generous mind, 
 than the consciousness of having inflicted a wrong which can- 
 not be repaired. Redwood's first hasty resolution was to make 
 the poor amends in his power, to return to his country, pro- 
 claim his marriage with Mary Erwine, and endure the infamy 
 his desertion deserved. No sacrifice appeared to him too great 
 to appease the clamors of his conscience, no self-mortification 
 too severe, if he might thereby pay a tribute to her memory, 
 whose life he had embittered, and cut off in its early prime. 
 
 But after the first access of grief and contrition gave place 
 to calm and natural considerations, he saw. that however just 
 might be this conduct, still it must be quite useless to the 
 injured being whom he could no longer serve nor harm. She 
 was an orphan, without any near connections to inquire after, 
 or to be afllicted by her destiny : why then should he publish 
 his Own infamy, which could never be mitigated in the eye of 
 the world by the knowledge of the virtuous intention and 
 severe remorse, which, as Redwood hoped, in some measure 
 softened its deepest coloring ? These were certainly natural 
 considerations ; and though every one must wish that Redwood 
 had followed the simple dictate of right, no one who knows how 
 very cogent arguments appear on that side to which the incli- 
 nations lean, will be surprised that his virtuous resolutions
 
 REDWOOD. 69 
 
 should have died away, and his good emotions have subsided ; 
 but they did not subside without permanent effects. The wave 
 retreated, but its ravages remained ; and Henry Redwood car- 
 ried through life a fast-rooted misery, a sense of injustice reck- 
 lessly committed ; a feeling of degradation that led him to turn 
 from all that is fair and good, as a sick eye shuts out the light 
 of heaven. 
 
 Redwood avoided the poisonous society of Alsop. He left 
 Rome after wandering for a little time about its magnificent 
 ruins ; the melancholy tone of his mind suiting well with their 
 gloomy grandeur. From Italy he repaired to England, and 
 after rambling over our parent land, and admiring without en- 
 joying its beauties, he returned to his native country. 
 
 Quite indifferent to his own domestic fate, he yielded a 
 ready compliance to the importunate wishes of his father and 
 mother, and solicited and easily obtained the hand of his cou- 
 sin, Maria Manning, a spoiled child and nattered beauty. Her 
 girlish preference of her handsome cousin had been stimulated 
 by the difficulty of achieving the conquest of his affections ; 
 and if her vanity had been piqued by his long apparent indif- 
 ference and protracted absence, it was quite soothed by the 
 professedly unqualified admiration of one who had gazed on 
 foreign beauties, and had been received with favor in the cir- 
 cles of rank and fashion in countries more polished than our 
 own. The ceremony of Redwood's marriage was celebrated 
 with all due pomp and circumstance. A troop of gratified 
 friends attended him to the altar, whither he led his beautiful 
 bride, the idol of fashion and the favorite of fortune : one per- 
 son alone in all the assembly rightly interpreted his faltering 
 voice, restless movements, and changing color, and the fixed 
 gaze that proved his thoughts intent on the visions of his 
 imagination. It was the same church to which at twilight and
 
 70 REDWOOD. 
 
 in secrecy he had led the trustful girl, whose artless tender- 
 ness, simple and spiritual beauty, and unsuspecting confidence, 
 haunted him at this moment. The same clergyman officiated 
 who had then recorded his plighted faith. Neither the dogmas 
 of a selfish philosophy, nor the training of the world, had indu- 
 rated Redwood's heart. At the moment the service concluded, 
 he staggered from the side of his bride, and caught hold of the 
 railing around the altar. The clergyman whispered, " you 
 betray yourself, Mr. Redwood." His father, oustling up to 
 him, called him, in the same breath, " a lucky dog and an odd 
 fish ;" and his young friends, crowding around him, mingled 
 with their congratulations well-timed raillery of his timidity. 
 Recovering his self-possession, he parried their attacks skil- 
 ftuly, and apologized to his wife with the adroit courtesy of a 
 well-bred man ; and she, with the happy facility of habitual 
 vanity, not knowing what his emotion meant, believed it meant 
 something flattering to herself. 
 
 Redwood now entered on the career of politics. His wife 
 was the bright cynosure of the fashionable world ; and both 
 were the envy of those who form their childish judgments by 
 externals, forgetting that the most brilliant hues are reflected 
 by empty vapors. Mrs. Redwood survived her marriage but 
 a few years, and left at her death one child, Caroline, whom 
 she consigned to her mother. The child was accordingly trans- 
 ferred to the care of Mrs. Manning, and conveyed to Charles- 
 ton, South Carolina, the residence of that lady, who evinced her 
 grief for the death of her daughter, by lavishing on the child a 
 twofold measure of the indulgencies and flatteries that had 
 spoiled the mother. 
 
 Mrs. Manning's notions of education were not peculiar. In 
 her view, the few accomplishments quite indispensable to a 
 young lady, were dancing, music, and French. To attain them,
 
 REDWOOD. 71 
 
 she used all the arts of persuasion and bribery : she procured 
 a French governess, who was a monument of patience ; she 
 employed a succession of teachers, that much enduring order, 
 who bore with all long-suffering the young lady's indolence, 
 caprices, and tyranny. At the age of seven, the grandmother's 
 vanity no longer brooking delay, the child was produced at 
 balls and routes, where her singular beauty attracted every 
 eye, and her dexterous, graceful management of her little per- 
 son, already disciplined to the rules of Vestris, failed forth 
 loud applauses. The child and grandmother were alike bewil- 
 dered with the incense that was offered to the infant belle, and 
 future heiress ; and alike unconscious of the sidelong looks of 
 contempt and whispered sneers which their pride and folly 
 provoked. At fourteen, Miss Redwood, according to the 
 universal phrase to express the debut of a young lady, was 
 " brought out," that is, entered the lists as a candidate for the 
 admiration of fashion, and the pretensions of lovers. At eigh- 
 teen, the period which has been selected to introduce her to 
 our readers, she was the idol of the fashionable world, and as 
 completely mistress of all its arts and mysteries, as a veteran 
 belle of five and twenty. 
 
 Mr. Redwood had received the noblest gifts of his Creator : 
 a mind that naturally aspired to heaven, and sensibilities that 
 inclined him to all that was pure, and good, and lovely. The 
 worldly advantages he possessed would have been the means 
 of happiness to a vulgar, or even ah ordinary character ; but 
 they had no control over a spirit that could not endure to be 
 limited to the objects of selfish gratification, to bound its de- 
 sires and pursuits within the earthly prison-house. After a 
 few years, he wearied of the toil and strife of political life, 
 resigned its honors, and embarked for Europe, from whence, 
 after having worn out two or three years in a vain effort to
 
 72 REDWOOD. 
 
 escape from that misery which has neither parallel nor cure, 
 the misery of remorse, and the demons of restlessness and 
 ennui, he returned to his own country to seek happiness, where 
 none but the good find it, at Jiome. He was surprised with 
 the ripened beauty of his daughter, but most severely morti- 
 fied to find her just what he ought to have expected from the 
 influences to which he had abandoned her. He never felt so 
 strong an affection for the child as would seem to have been 
 natural. His indifference to her mother, the circumstances 
 that preceded his marriage, and perhaps the child's resem- 
 blance to the parent, accounted in part for this want of affec- 
 tion ; and the carelessness that was the result of it was to be 
 expected from one governed more by circumstances than prin- 
 ciple. 
 
 Mr. Redwood hoped it was not too late to repair his fault. 
 He perceived that his daughter possessed spirit and talents not 
 quite extinguished by her mode of education and life ; and for 
 the purpose of breaking off all unfavorable associations, and 
 removing her from the influence of her doting grandmother, 
 he resolved on a tour through the northern states. 
 
 Mr. Redwood hoped, too, that this jaunt might lead to the 
 accomplishment of a project which he had long secretly cher- 
 ished ; a union between his daughter and Charles Westall. the 
 son of his earliest friend. He had transferred to the son the 
 strong affection he bore to his father ; and though he had not 
 seen him since his childhood, he had from report, and from an 
 occasional correspondence, conceived the highest opinion of his 
 character. Time and philosophy had failed to subdue Mr. 
 Redwood's ardent temperament : he still pressed on with eager- 
 ness to the accomplishment of his wishes, flattering himself all 
 the while that he had ceased to be the dupe of the promises 
 which the future makes to the inexperienced and the hopeful.
 
 REDWOOD. 73 
 
 Mr. Redwood and his daughter had made the fashionable 
 tour, that is to say, had visited the lakes, Niagara, and the 
 Canadas, and had turned their course towards Boston, when 
 the unfortunate accident which has been mentioned put a stop 
 to their progress, and deposited them for awhile at the house 
 of a respectable New-England farmer.
 
 74 REDWOOD. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 " She came she is gone we have met 
 And meet, perhaps, never again." COWPER. 
 
 As the day closed, on which Mr. Kedwood's journey had been 
 so suddenly suspended, the full-orbed moon rose above the 
 summit of the highest hills that border the eastern shore of 
 Champlain. Not a vestige of the storm remained, not a cloud 
 -stained the clear vault of heaven, and the scene looked the 
 more beautiful as contrasted with its recent turbulence. The 
 vapor was condensed on the low grounds, and instead of impe- 
 ding the rays of the " bright queen of heaven," looked as if she 
 had sheltered some favorite spots with a silvery mantle ; and 
 the broad lake, glad to be relieved from the stern shadows that 
 shrouded it, smiled and dimpled in the rich flood of light that 
 fell on its bosom, and reflected in its clear mirror the pasture- 
 hills, covered with social herds, that descended to its margin ; 
 and the water-loving willow, the chestnut with its horizontal 
 branches and pendent blossoms, and the little trig-birch that 
 shadowed its brim. The location of the farm-houses planted 
 here and there on the surrounding hills was marked by the tall 
 Lombardy poplar, which through our country towns is every 
 where the sign of a habitation. The moonbeams played on the 
 white dwelling of Mr. Lenox, which had an air of prosperity
 
 REDWOOD. 75 
 
 and refinement above any of its neighbors, from the ample, 
 well-fenced fblds around it, a colony of barns behind it, and a 
 neat little court-yard containing peach and cherry trees, and 
 rose-bvtshes, and vines skilfully guided around the windows, 
 and all inclosed by a curiously-wrought fence, on which the 
 village architect had exhausted all the cunning of his art, 
 Mr. Lenox's family had retired to their several apartments, 
 excepting those who were appointed to keep their vigils with 
 the sick stranger. He had complained of the closeness of the 
 air, and Deborah had opened doors that communicated by a 
 narrow passage with another apartment. She had then sta- 
 tioned herself near the door, where, after a few moments, her 
 loud breathing announced that she was in a profound sleep. 
 Mr. Redwood observed a female sitting in the passage and 
 obscured by its shadows, who seemed to be stationed there to 
 act as a prompter to Deborah, for whenever he was restless, 
 she awoke the sleeper. In the opposite room he perceived the 
 .body of the young man he had heard spoken of; the head was 
 placed directly under a window, through which the full-moon 
 shone so brightly that every object was almost as distinctly seen, 
 as by the light of day. At another time, or in health, Mr. 
 Redwood would have been quite unmoved by such a spectacle, 
 for death has no heart-stirring associations to him who deems 
 that the " spirit shall vanish into soft air, and we shall be here- 
 after as though we had never been," but there are few minds 
 that are independent of the condition of the animal ; and Mr. 
 Redwood, weakened by his sufferings, and his imagination 
 stimulated by a large dose of laudanum that had excited in- 
 stead of composing him, felt himself yielding to the power of 
 busy and bitter fancies. The light, graceful figure of the 
 young female, as she gently moved to awaken the amazon, 
 seemed to touch some secret spring of his imagination, and once,
 
 76 REDWOOU. 
 
 as he fell into a dreamy state, the wife of his youth was near 
 him, but cold and silent as the dead form he had just closed 
 his eyes upon ; and when he started and awoke and saw the 
 young female standing like a statue in the doorway, he identi- 
 fied her with his vision, and exclaimed, " for God's sake, speak 
 to me." Deborah was awakened by the sound, and her coarse 
 voice inquiring what he wanted, restored him at once to reali- 
 ties. She gave him at his request a composing draught, and 
 again resumed her station, and saying she believed she had 
 been almost asleep, she resumed instantly her harsh nasal 
 sounds ; the only sounds that broke the stillness of the night, 
 save the falling of the swollen drops of water as they rolled 
 from leaf to leaf on the branches of the trees about the 
 window 
 
 By degrees Mr. Redwood became composed, and was just 
 yielding himself to nature's best medicine, when his attention 
 was aroused by the sound of light footsteps approaching the 
 house. He heard the latch of an outer door gently raised, 
 (for here fastenings were considered a superfluity.) and a young- 
 girl glided into the opposite room. Mr. Redwood saw that she 
 passed, observed, but not molested, by his attendant. His- 
 attention was now thoroughly excited. She lingered for a 
 moment, apparently from irresolution or timidity, and then 
 throwing aside a shawl in which she had muffled herself, 
 she knelt beside the body of the young man, and removing 
 the covering from his face, she gazed intently upon it : the 
 light fell on her own, still beautiful, though distorted and 
 almost convulsed with the tumult of her feelings. After re- 
 maining for a few moments motionless, she laid her burning 
 forehead on the cold breast of the young man, and sobbed pas- 
 sionately. The young lady, who had been a passive spectator 
 of the poor girl's involuntary grief, now advanced to shut the
 
 REDWOOD 77 
 
 door, apparently with the purpose of sheltering her from the 
 observation of the stranger, but he, perceiving her intention, 
 and unable to repress his curiosity, called to entreat her to 
 permit it to remain open. The loud sobs of the girl awakened 
 the grandmother of the deceased, who, reluctant to separate 
 herself for a moment from the body of her grandson, had in- 
 sisted on performing herself the customary duty of watching 
 with the dead ; but overcome with her grief and infirmities, 
 she had fallen asleep. She recognized immediately in the 
 afflicted girl, the object of her child's youthful and constant 
 affections ; whose girlish coquetries and caprices had been the 
 first cause of that " inward disease," which Deborah had pro- 
 nounced the occasion of his death. She advanced to her with 
 trembling steps, and laying her hand on the girl's head, and 
 stroking back her beautiful hair, " poor, silly child," she said, 
 in a pitiful tone, " you have come too late : once his heart 
 would have leaped at a word from you, but he does not hear 
 you now. He loved you, Annie, and for that I cannot help 
 loving you ;" and she stooped and kissed the girl, who was 
 awed into silence by her unexpected appearance, and her calm 
 tone. " A grief have you been to him, Annie ; but the Lord 
 changed his mourning into joy ; for when friend and lover for- 
 sook him, then he turned to the sure friend. Oh," she con- 
 tinued, " he was my last earthly hope, the staff of my age ; he 
 was good, always good, but " and the tears poured down her 
 pale, wrinkled face, " but it was his adversities that made him 
 wise unto salvation. Sorrow upon sorrow, cloud upon cloud, 
 and he from the first such a feeling creature." Mrs. Allen's 
 lamentation was interrupted by the hysterical sobbings of the 
 penitent girl. " My poor child," she said, in a compassionate 
 tone, " do not break your heart ; sore mourning is it indeed for 
 a wrong done to the dead, but it was not you, Annie, that
 
 78 REDWOOD. 
 
 killed him ; no, that was just the beginning of it ; then came 
 his parents' losses, his father's death, and his mother's ; but 
 all these were dust on the balance, time to eternity, compared 
 with the backsliding of Emily ; his root withered when this 
 branch was lopped off. Oh, my dear boy, how often have I 
 heard you say you would die for her if thereby you could bring 
 her back from her idolatry." Here the aged mourner was 
 again interrupted, and all were startled by the rumbling of an 
 approaching wagon ; the young lady, quick as thought, flew to 
 the window. " They are here,' r she' exclaimed, and then turn- 
 ing to the old woman, " I entreat you, dear, dear Mrs. Allen," 
 she said, " to leave the room ; indeed you are not able to see 
 them to-night." 
 
 " Oh, Ellen, I care not for myself, say not a word ; this may 
 be the Lord's set time to call home the wanderer ; I will not 
 shrink from the trial ; if it was my last breath, I would spend 
 it in setting her sin before her." 
 
 " But not now, Mrs. Allen, surely not now ; this is not the 
 time to harrow up the poor girl's feelings ; consider for one 
 moment she has yet to learn Edward's death ; she is exhausted 
 with her journey ; spare her, spare yourself to-night." 
 
 " Ellen, you know not what you ask," replied the old wo- 
 man, who seemed to gather strength and energy to obey what 
 she regarded as a call of duty. " Are we not," she asked, " to 
 pluck out the right eye, to pluck off the right arm, if thereby 
 we may save the soul ? Ellen, I will speak to her ; and if she 
 is not dead to natural affection, that pale, still face will send my 
 words home to her heart." 
 
 In vain Ellen argued and entreated. Mrs. Allen seemed 
 persuaded, or as she expressed herself, she felt that now, if 
 ever, was the set time for the deliverance of the child from cap- 
 tivity.
 
 REDWOOD. 79 
 
 Debby roused at the near approach of the wagon, and again 
 said, " she did not know but she had been dozing ;" and listen- 
 ing to the bustle in the opposite apartment, " what does all this 
 mean ?" said she ; " I thought Ellen was fit to be trusted ; is 
 there no discretion in a young head ?" 
 
 Mr. Redwood assured her, that the young lady had not 
 failed in her duty in the least ; that the door had been contin- 
 ued open at his request. " Oh, well, well, it is all very well : it 
 is a good rule never to cross the sick in their notions." While 
 making this sage observation, she advanced to the window. 
 " For the land's sake," she exclaimed, " what has tempted Su- 
 san Allen to come with Emily ! It will go nigh to break the 
 old woman's heart to see her. Ah, there will be no good come 
 of it, for there is that old grim master-devil, brother Reuben." 
 
 " In the name of heaven," exclaimed Mr. Redwood, " who 
 is Emily ? and who is Susan ? am I dreaming, or what does it 
 all mean ?" 
 
 " No, man, you are not dreaming, but I guess in your right 
 mind. Emily Allen is a young girl, twin-sister to Eddy there 
 in the other room ; she has been befooled by the shaking Qua- 
 kers, at least by her Aunt Susan, that has been one these thirty 
 years ; and Susan is a half crazy woman and half a saint ; and 
 there is the old woman that is mother to Susan and grandmother 
 to Emily, that is taking on about them as if they were sold to 
 the evil one. But, sir, we are disobeying Doctor Bristol's 
 orders, and that an't honoring the physician with the honor that 
 is due to him ;" and thus concluding, she proceeded to close 
 the door that led through the passage. Mr. Redwood had been 
 beguiled of the tedious, sleepless hours, by the curious spec- 
 tacle of natural feeling, undisguised by any of the artificial 
 modes of society, and he was now determined to see the new 
 characters that were entering on the scene. He entreated Deb-
 
 80 REDWOOD. 
 
 orah to permit the door to remain open, and she, after examin- 
 ing his pulse, and looking at his eye to detect any incipient 
 wildness, decided that it would not be indiscreet to gratify 
 him. 
 
 To convey to our readers a clear idea of this scene, we 
 shall describe it as it really occurred, and not as it appeared to 
 Mr. Redwood, who by the dim light, and at the distance he was 
 laid from the parties, was compelled to be satisfied with a \ ery 
 imperfect observation. 
 
 Ellen opened the outer door for the two females, who en- 
 tered dressed in the Shaker uniform, only remarkable for its 
 severe simplicity and elaborate neatness. Both wore striped 
 blue and white cotton gowns, with square muslin handkerchiefs 
 pinned formally over the bosom, their hair combed back, and 
 covered with muslin caps with straight borders, and white as 
 the driven snow ; and over the cap a white silk bonnet of the fash- 
 ion common to the Friends. Susan, the elder, was between 
 forty and fifty years of age : she was tall and erect : and though 
 rather slender in proportion to her height, well formed. There 
 was an expression of command in all her movements that seem- 
 ed natural to her, and sat gracefully upon her. Her face had 
 the same character of habitual independence and native dignity : 
 the hues of youth had faded, but a connoisseur would have 
 pronounced her at a single glance to have been handsome. Her 
 features were large, and all finely formed ; her eye, there, where 
 " the spirit has its throne of light," beamed with intelligence 
 and tenderness. It was softened by a rich dark eyelash, and 
 of that equivocal hue, between gray and hazel, which seems 
 best adapted to show every change of feeling; but vain is this 
 description of color and shape. It was the expression of strong 
 and rebuked passions, of tender and repressed affections, of 
 disciplined serenity, and a soft melancholy, that seemed like
 
 KEDWOOD. 81 
 
 the shadow of past sufferings, which altogether constituted the 
 power and interest of her remarkable face. 
 
 The younger female was short and slightly formed. Her 
 features were small ; her blue eyes, light hair, and fair com- 
 plexion, would have rendered her face insipid, but that it was 
 rescued by an expression of purity and innocence, and a cer- 
 tain appealing tender look, that suited well her quiet and ami- 
 able character. 
 
 As they entered, Ellen threw her arms around the younger 
 sister, exclaiming in a tone of the tenderest concern, " dear 
 Emily, why did you not come sooner?" Emily trembled like 
 an aspen leaf, and her heart beat as if it would have leapt from 
 her bosom, but she made no reply. The elder sister grasped 
 Ellen's hand, " Is it even so ?" she said : she rightly interpret- 
 ed Ellen's silence and sadness : " I foresaw," she continued, 
 " that our coming would be worse than in vain :" then turning 
 to her young companion, she said, " put thy hand on thy mouth 
 and be still, my child. The Mighty One hath done it ; strive 
 not against Him, for he giveth not account of any of his mat- 
 ters." 
 
 A loud groan was heard in the apartment of the dead. 
 Susan Allen started, and exclaimed, " Is my mother here ? then, 
 mother Anne be with me !" She paused for a moment, and 
 added in a calm tone, " fear not, Emily, my child, in your weak- 
 ness strength shall be made perfect ; we shall not be left with- 
 out the testimony." Her words -were quick, and her voice 
 raised, as if she felt that she was contending against rebellious 
 nature. She entered the room with a slow and firm step. Em- 
 ily followed her, but it seemed not without faltering, for Ellen 
 had passed her arm around her, and appeared to sustain half 
 her weight. Her face was as pale as marble, and as still. 
 
 " Pray speak to them, Mrs. Allen," whispered Ellen. ' Yes, 
 4*
 
 82 REDWOOD. 
 
 speak to them," said Debby, in a voice of authority ; " what sig- 
 nifies it ! they are your own children, and there is no denying it/' 
 
 " They were my ohildren, but they have gone out from me, 
 and are not of me," replied the old woman, in a voice scarcely 
 audible. " I am alone ; they are uprooted ; I am as an old 
 oak, whose leaf has withered ; judgment has come out against 
 me." 
 
 " She is going clean distracted," whispered Debby to Ellen, 
 " you can do any thing with her ; make her hear to reason while 
 she has any left, and get her to go out of the room with you." 
 
 " No, no," said the old woman, who had overheard Deb- 
 by's whisper, " have no fear for me ; my spirits are a little 
 fluttered, and my soul is in travail for these wanderers, to get 
 them back to my rest, and under my wing ; but the Lord's own 
 peace is in my heart, and none can trouble that. Oh," she 
 continued, bursting into tears, as she turned her eyes from 
 Emily to fix them on Susan, " was it not enough that you were 
 led captive by Satan, enough for you to put on his livery, but 
 you must tempt this child to follow you in your idolatries ?" 
 Strong sensibility is perhaps never extinguished ; but Susan's 
 was so subdued, that, obedient to the motion of her will, it had 
 soon returned to flow in its customary channels. She replied 
 to her mother's appeal in her usual deliberate manner. " The 
 child is not my captive, mother, she has obeyed the gospel," 
 and, added she, looking at Emily with affectionate complacency, 
 " she has already travelled very far Cut of an evil nature, and 
 the believers are looking to see her stand in the foremost light, 
 so clear is the testimony of her life against all sin." Susan 
 had an habitual influence over Emily ; she felt that she com- 
 manded the springs that governed the mind of her timid dis- 
 ciple. Emily felt it too, and was glad to be saved from the 
 efforts of self-dependence. She approached Susan, who had
 
 REDWOOD. 83 
 
 seated herself by the bedside, when her grandmother took her 
 by the hand, and drawing her towards her, she said, in a voice 
 scarcely audible, for sorrow, infirmity, and despair almost de- 
 prived her of utterance. " Oh, Emily, my child, my only child, 
 has she bewitched you ?" She drew the unresisting girl to- 
 wards the body of her brother, " there, look on him, Emily, 
 though dead, he yet speaketh to you, and if nature is not quite 
 dead in you, you will hear him ; he calls to you to break to pie- 
 ces your idols, and to come out from the abominations of the 
 land whither ye have been carried away captive." Emily sigh- 
 ed heavily and wept, but said nothing. Susan moved to the 
 other side of her, and seeming to lose the spirit of controversy 
 in some gentle remembrance, she said, " Edward was a good 
 youth, and lived up to the light he had. There is one point 
 where all roads meet ; one thing certain, mother," she added, 
 tin intelligent smile brightening her fine face, " we shall all be 
 judged according to the light we have : some have a small, and 
 some a great privilege." 
 
 " She has hit the nail on the head for once," whispered 
 Debby to Ellen : " and now, Ellen, before they get into ano- 
 ther snarl, do separate thern.' : - 
 
 Ellen's heart was full ; she felt for all the parties a very 
 tender, and an almost equal interest ; and though she would 
 have rejoiced in Emily's renunciation of her errors, she did not 
 probably regard the sincere adoption of them with the terror 
 and despair which the grandmother felt. 
 
 " My dear friends," she said, gently taking the hands of 
 the mother and daughter, and joining them, " there is that 
 in the face of your good Edward that bears an admonition 
 to all our hearts, and teaches us all to remember how often 
 \vt' ;u\: commanded to love one another, and to be at peace 
 one with another. It was the beloved apostle who said,
 
 84 REDWOOD. 
 
 'He that doeth good is of God:' may not then those who 
 try to do his will, leave the rest to his mercy ?" There was the 
 eagerness and the authority of truth and goodness in Ellen's 
 voice, and manner, and words ; the spirit of love and of recon- 
 ciliation; and the troubled waters would have been laid at 
 rest, for the raised eye of the old lady showed that true devo- 
 tion was working at her heart ; and Susan looked on her 
 acquiescingly and approvingly ; and Emily's face shone with 
 an expression of gratitude that her lips could not utter : but 
 at this moment the outer door again opened, and Reuben Har- 
 rington, that one of " the brethren" whom Debby had charac- 
 terized as the " master-devil," entered. 
 
 He seemed to have arrived at that age, which the poet has 
 characterized as the period of self-indulgence ; and, certainly, 
 he bore no marks of having disobeyed the instincts of nature 
 by any mortifications of the flesh. He was of a middling sta- 
 ture, inclining to corpulency ; with a sanguine complexion, a 
 low forehead deeply shaded with bushy black hair, that abso- 
 lutely refused to conform to the sleekness of his order ; a keen- 
 gray eye, which had a peculiarly cunning expression from a 
 trick he had early acquired, and of which he could never rid 
 himself, of tipping a knowing wink ; a short thick nose turning 
 upward ; a wide mouth, with the corners sanctimoniously 
 drawn down, and a prominent, fat chin, following the direction 
 of his nose. In short, he presented a combination and a form 
 to awaken the suspicions of the most credulous, and to confirm 
 the strongest prejudices against a fraternity that would ad- 
 vance such a brother to its highest honors or, to use their 
 own phrase, to the ' lead.' Reuben advanced to the bedside 
 quite unceremoniously, and seemed to survey the dead and the 
 living with as much indifference as if he did not belong to 
 their species. No one spoke to him, nor did he speak, till his
 
 REDWOOD. 85 
 
 attention was arrested by poor Annie, who had shrunk away 
 from the side of the bed, and sat on a low chair at its foot 
 enveloped in her shawl, and sobbing aloud, apparently uncon- 
 scious that any one saw or heard her. " Who is that young 
 woman," inquired Harrington of Debby, " that is making such 
 an unseemly ado ; is she kin to the youth ?" 
 
 " No !" uttered in her harshest voice, was all the reply 
 Debby vouchsafed. 
 
 " Some tie of a carnal nature, ha ?" pursued Harrington. 
 " No such thing," said Debby, " Eddy was her sweetheart." 
 
 " Yea, yea, that is just what I meant, woman. Well," he 
 continued, with a long-drawn guttural grean, " the children of 
 this world must bake as they have brewed ; they are in the 
 transgression, and they must drink the bitter draught their 
 own folly has mixed." After this consolatory harangue, he 
 turned from the bedside and began, not humming, but shout- 
 ing with the utmost power of his voice, a Shaker tune, at all 
 times sufficiently dissonant, and that now, in this apartment of 
 death and sorrow, sounded like the howl of an infernal : to this 
 music he shuffled and whirled in the manner which his sect 
 call dancing and ' labor worship.' 
 
 " Stop your dum powwow !" cried Debby, seizing him by 
 the arm with a force that might have made a stouter heart 
 than Keuben's rejoice in the protection of the convenient prin- 
 ciple of non-resistance. 
 
 " Nay, ye world's woman, let me alone," said he. extricating 
 himself from her grasp, and composing his neckcloth, which 
 Deborah's rough handling had somewhat ruffled ; " know me 
 for a pure, and peaceable man, that cannot bide the touch of 
 woman, and will not war with earthly powers." 
 
 " True," replied Debby, " your war is with heavenly pow- 
 ers ; but while the Lord is pleased to spare the strength of my
 
 86 REDWOOD. 
 
 right arm, I'll keep you peaceable. Peaceable, indeed ! one 
 would have thought all bedlam had been let loose on us 
 peaceable ! your yells almost scared the old lady's soul out of 
 her body.'' 
 
 Poor Mrs. Allen, to whom Reuben's singing had sounded 
 like a shout of victory from the infernal host, now really seem- 
 ed in danger of such a catastrophe. She could scarcely raise 
 her heavy eyelids, and the low moaning tounds that escaped 
 her betrayed the infirmity of age, and the grief that words can- 
 not express. Ellen renewed her entreaties that she would 
 retire to her own room. No longer capable of resistance, she 
 silently acquiesced, aad Ellen conducted her to her bed, and 
 watched over her, till she perceived that her wearied nature 
 had sunk to repose. She then left her, and was softly closing 
 the door, when she met Debby in the passage. " Now, child," 
 said Deborah, " it is time that for once you should think a 
 little of yourself ; go to bed and take a good sleep ; there is no 
 occasion for your going back to that room ; it is quiet enough 
 there now ; poor little Annie stole away when nobody saw her, 
 and I got the old man out, and gave him some victuals, and he 
 is making a hearty meal peaceable enough, now." 
 
 " Where are Susan and Emily ?" inquired Ellen, " they 
 must need rest more than I do." 
 
 " Yes, poor souls, they need it enough, but they will not 
 take it ; they are only waiting for Reuben to go away again." 
 
 " Away before the funeral !" 
 
 " Yes, and I think Susan has the right of it : she says 'the 
 dead need them not, and they are no comfort to the living.' 
 To tell you the truth," she added, in a lower tone, " I suspect 
 .she is afraid to trust Emily here any longer. You know she 
 and our James always had a notion for each other, and I guess 
 Snsau has found it out too ; for though she is not much used to
 
 REDWOOD. 87 
 
 the world, she is a cute woman by natur', and sees as far into 
 a millstone as a'most any body. I marked her looking at 
 Emily when James came into the room, for you must know 
 he came in just after yon went out, and Emily's face that 
 was as white as curds before, turned red to the very roots 
 of her hair ; and when James offered her his hand, she 
 did not take it to be sure, for that is quite contrary to all 
 Shaker rules and regulations ; but she did not look the least 
 affronted." 
 
 " I cannot think," said Ellen, shaking her head doubtfully, 
 " that Emily has any attachment to James. If she had, why 
 did she join the Shakers?" "Why! ah, that's more than I 
 can tell. It passes the skill of a rational creature to give the 
 whys and the wherefores of the motions of you young girls. I 
 would as soon undertake to give a reason for the shiftings of 
 the wind. But I am as sure that Emily Allen would rather 
 stay with James, than to go back to the Shakers, as that I know 
 a southerly breeze from a northwester." " But, Miss Deborah," 
 asked Ellen, apparently still incredulous, "was there any 
 thing said to warrant your conclusion ?" 
 
 " Yes, a good deal was said, but very low, and I scarcely 
 heard any thing. But I did, however, hear James say, ' Oh, 
 Emily, how can you bear to think of all poor Edward felt for 
 you, and of your old grandmother, for it will certainly kill her, 
 and go back again to those people V mind you, he did not say 
 a word about himself, but he looked enough, and I am sure 
 Emily understood him, for girls are quick enough at taking 
 such ideas, and I saw the tears gush from her eyes, and she said, 
 ' It is a great cross, James, but I must take it up.' Susan saw 
 as much as I did, for she seemed as uneasy as a bird when a 
 boy is robbing her nest. And she got up and told Emily, in 
 her calm way, to go with her to the kitchen fire. And Emily
 
 88 REDWOOD 
 
 followed her, and she will follow her home, though with a 
 heavy heart in her bosom." 
 
 " But," said Ellen, " Emily shall not go against her incli- 
 nation." 
 
 " Ah, there is the rub," replied Debby; " Susan has that in 
 her, that she can make people of a mind to do what they would 
 hate to do for any body else. I don't know what it is ; she is 
 not a stern woman, but it is a kind of nat'ral authority, as if 
 she was a born-queen." 
 
 " She is very good, certainly," said Ellen, as if trying to 
 discover the secret of Susan's power. 
 
 " There it is," replied Debby, " there is no getting such a 
 grapple upon young folks' hearts, without goodness. But come, 
 Ellen, there is no use in our standing here paraphrasing the mat- 
 ter, do you go to bed, and I'll wait till this old vulture has done 
 eating, and see them off, and then go back to the traveller's 
 room ; the laudanum has put .him to sleep at last, and that is 
 the best thing for him." 
 
 Ellen assured Deborah that she would comply with her 
 wishes, after having made one effort to detain Emily. Debo- 
 rah commended her zeal, but was quite hopeless of success. 
 Ellen said, that if she could not persuade her to remain with 
 them now, she might suggest some considerations that might 
 weigh with her afterwards. Debby thought "that looked 
 rational; but there was no calculating with certainty upon 
 such a feeble piece ; if Emily's head had been as strong as her 
 heart, she would never have been led away by such fooleries." 
 
 Sanguine hope is the privilege of the young; and Ellen 
 began her expostulations with her ardor unimpaired by Debby's 
 suggestions. She appealed to Emily's reason, and to her feel- 
 ings, for a long time, without producing any sensible effect 
 Both Susan and Emily sat in a fixed posture, with their eyes
 
 REDWOOD. 89 
 
 riveted on the floor. At last, the poor girl, unable any longer 
 to smother the voice of nature, sobbed out, ' ; what shall I do ? 
 what ought I to do?" 
 
 " ' Resist the devil, and he will flee from you,' " exclaimed 
 Susan, in a voice of authority. " You are under a strong 
 temptation, child, but there is a way of escape. Come, Reu- 
 ben," she added, turning to Harrington, "we cannot tarry here 
 in safety any longer." 
 
 " I am ready to depart," he replied, " for my decaying na- 
 ture is greatly refreshed by this carnal food. I feared before 
 I took it, that, as the angel said to the prophet Elijah, my jour- 
 ney had been too great for me." 
 
 " That is a small matter, think not of thyself," said Susan ; 
 and then added in a lower tone, " Reuben, the child's soul is at 
 stake :" and she followed him to the door, apparently to hasten 
 his preparations. Ellen availed herself of this moment to ask 
 Emily, at the same time placing her hand on the latch of the 
 door that led into the apartment of the deceased, if she would 
 not once more look upon her brother." 
 
 " Oh, yes," said she, and for the first time instinctively 
 obeying the impulse of her feelings, she darted through the 
 door : Ellen closed it after her without following ; believing 
 that at this moment it was best to leave her to the unassisted 
 workings of her natural affections. But Susan, as soon as she 
 returned from laying her injunctions on Reuben, dreading what 
 Ellen most wished, went to the door, and said, as calmly as she 
 was able, for her fears were increased by seeing James Lenox 
 standing beside Emily, and eagerly addressing her, " Come, 
 my child, we wait for you ; be not like a silly dove without 
 heart ; take up your cross again, a full cross though it be, and 
 turn your back upon the world. Emily, after a short struggle 
 obeyed, but with evident reluctance. It was manifest that the
 
 90 REDWOOD. 
 
 cords which bound her were relaxed though not broken. Young 
 Lenox followed her to the door, and unobserved even by Su- 
 san's watchful eye, he thrust a paper into her hand, which, 
 without examining or offering to return it, she slipped into her 
 bosom. A person of ordinary sagacity might have predicted, 
 that from this moment the charm of the elder sister's power 
 was weakened, and that though accident and habit, and the 
 natural submission of weakness, intellectual or physical, to 
 power, might detain the youthful disciple in thraldom, it would 
 no longer be the service of a willing heart. Emily took an 
 affectionate leave of Ellen ; and Susan, after having simply 
 said, " Farewell," turned and added, " you meant well, Ellen 
 I know you meant well ; but you have the voice of a charm- 
 er, and how should I be justified if I suffered this young child 
 to be seduced from her obedience to the gospel ?" 
 
 " Promise me, at least," said Ellen, " that you will not con- 
 strain Emily to remain among you ; promise me that you will 
 suffer her to see and hear from her friends." 
 
 " Ellen," replied Susan, in a tone of solemnity bordering 
 on displeasure, " we have neither dungeons, bolts, nor chains. 
 We care not for the poor service of the perishing body ; but 
 we would bring all into the obedience of the spirit ; and," she 
 concluded, looking at Emily with tearful eyes, " we would keep 
 them there, if watching and praying can keep them : we have 
 no other means." 
 
 " You promise then, what I ask ?" 
 
 " I tell you, Ellen," she replied, " I need not promise. 
 Emily is as free as I am as you are." 
 
 " God grant that she may be," said Ellen, in a suppressed 
 voice ; and perceiving that she could gain nothing farther from 
 the impracticable enthusiast, she relinquished her hand, which 
 in her eagerness she had taken, and once more bidding fare-
 
 REDWOOD. 91 
 
 well, they parted. The wagon drove away, and Ellen went to 
 her own apartment, of which she would have been glad now to 
 have been the sole tenant. She had been too much disturbed 
 by the suffering of those she loved, to be able to compose her- 
 self to sleep ; and she sat down by an eastern window, to pon- 
 der on the various feelings of the heterogeneous group of 
 mourners that Edward's death had brought together. 
 
 ' Oh,' thought she, as she gazed at the far stars in their 
 " quiet and orderly courses," and then at the clear, still lake, in 
 whose depths their beautiful images seemed to sleep : l why is 
 it, that all nature above us, and around is harmony, while we 
 are left to such conflicts ? The material world is performing 
 the will of its Creator : the glorious sun is ever on its way. 
 shining on the just and the unjust ; the obedient planets roll 
 on, in their appointed paths ; the clouds distil their nourish- 
 ing waters, and the winds are His messengers, as they pass, 
 stirring the leaves and waving the ripening harvest.' Ellen's 
 reflections might have led her to a solution of the mystery, 
 satisfactory to herself at least, but their chain was broken by 
 an exclamation from Miss Redwood, who, waking suddenly, ex- 
 claimed, " Good heavens, Miss what's your name, are you up 
 already? Do be good enough to go to bed again I can never 
 sleep when any one is hazing about my room ; and close the 
 blind if you please, the light disturbs me." 
 
 Ellen smiled, but not thinking it important to explain the 
 cause of her being up at an hour that Miss Redwood deemed 
 so unseasonable, she let fall a. neatly woven rush curtain, which 
 but imperfectly excluded the impertinent intrusion of the ap- 
 proaching day ; and, laying herself on her bed, she was soon 
 in a sleep that Miss Redwood might have envied.
 
 92 REDWOOD. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 " Thus Aristippus mourned his noble race, 
 Annihilated by a double blow, 
 Nor son could hope, nor daughter more ('embrace, 
 And all Cyrene saddened at his woe." COWPER. 
 
 DOCTOR BRISTOL called on his patient the succeeding day; 
 he found him feverish, and petulant in spite of his habitual 
 politeness ; he complained that the opiate had not been power- 
 ful enough. He anticipated a long delay ; he was used to dis- 
 appointment, and for himself Could bear it ; but he dreaded to 
 encounter his daughter's impatience. Doctor Bristol understood 
 too well the arts of his vocation, he was too sagacious a practi- 
 tioner, not to have observed that a skilful application to the mind 
 is often a surer remedy than any favorite or fashionable drug. 
 B e accounted satisfactorily to Mr. Redwood for the increase of 
 fever ; he detected and brought to light many favorable symp- 
 toms ; he spoke of a ball which was to be given in the village, 
 and intimated that some of the most respectable inhabitants 
 would wait on Miss Redwood, and deem themselves honored 
 by her presence. He produced some late newspapers which he 
 had procured at the post-office ; the last foreign reviews ; and 
 succeeded in producing as sudden a change of symptoms as an 
 empiric would have promised. 
 
 Mr. Redwood described the extraordinary scene he had
 
 REDWOOD. 93 
 
 witnessed during the night ; asked many questions, and with 
 particular interest in relation to the young lady whose face 
 and demeanor had impressed him as belonging to an elevated 
 sphere. Doctor Bristol assured him, that his sagacity was not 
 at fault, for Miss Bruce (the young lady in question) was not 
 a member of the Lenox family, but a stranger at Eton, and a 
 friend of the Aliens. Mr. Redwood said that the various 
 modes of religious superstition always interested him ; he was 
 amused with seeing how willing man was to be the dupe of his 
 own inventions ; and intimating, that in the eye of experience 
 and enlightened observation, all the forms of religious faith 
 were equally absurd ; shackles which men imposed, or wore, 
 from tyranny or imbecility, he concluded by insinuating a com- 
 pliment upon the free-thinking which was so common among 
 the enlightened of the doctor's profession. Doctor Bristol, 
 without assuming the attitude of combat, or seeming entirely 
 to comprehend the drift of Mr. Redwood's remarks, observed, 
 that the^e were, in his fraternity, some distinguished exceptions 
 to the charge which had been laid against them. Every one 
 acknowledged the authority of Boerhaave's name, " and our own 
 Rush," he said, (speaking with honorable pride of his master,) 
 " is among the most humane and enlightened of philosophers, 
 and the most humble of Christians." Mr. Redwood perceived 
 that he had not proceeded with his usual tact ; that he had 
 presumed too far upon what he considered the necessary result 
 of Doctor Bristol's general intelligence. He avoided any farther 
 remarks which might have a tendency to disclose his own sen- 
 timents, and confined himself to comments on the persons he 
 had observed the preceding night. He said he hardly knew 
 whether the opinions of those people seemed to him most ridi- 
 culous or shocking. " Truly, he knew not which most to pity ; 
 the poor old woman, who fancied a silly girl must lose all
 
 94 REDWOOD. 
 
 chance of salvation, because, forsooth, she had forsaken the 
 world, and in good faith, joined a gloomy and self-denying 
 order ; or her child, the shaking Quaker who had immolated 
 every right and natural affection to an imaginary duty ; who 
 had forsaken all that made life a blessing, to follow an ignorant 
 fanatic, or an impudent impostor." The doctor acknowledged 
 that such mistakes were lamentable ; the result of limited 
 knowledge, or accidental prejudices. Still, he thought, that 
 while we lamented the errors to which we were liable, we might 
 rejoice that the light we enjoyed, was light from heaven, 
 though its clearness must depend somewhat on the purity of 
 the atmosphere into which it was introduced ; the mists of ig- 
 norance might dim. but did not extinguish its pure ray. If an 
 immortal hope led these people to some unnecessary sacrifices, 
 it stimulated them to those that were necessary ; for he believ- 
 ed there was no variety of the Christian faith, however distorted 
 from the perfection of the original model, which did not insist 
 on a pure morality. 
 
 The doctor invited Mr. Redwood to observe the 'state of 
 things about him ; the wise and excellent institutions which 
 had sprung from the religion of the pilgrims ; the intelligence 
 and morality that pervaded the mass of the people, which might 
 be said to emanate from the principle of equality, derived from 
 the Christian code. He spoke of the religious zeal and the 
 active benevolence which pervades our society, which, not neg- 
 lecting the means of moral regeneration at home, sends its mis- 
 sionaries to the fearful climate of the east ; to the barbarians 
 of the south, and to the savages of our own dangerous wilder- 
 ness. These noble efforts were not, as in older countries, sup- 
 ported by the pious zeal of a few of the bountiful, or the gifts 
 of the penitent rich, who by a kind of spiritual commutation, 
 expected to purchase, by their brilliant charities, the remission
 
 REDWOOD. 95 
 
 of their sins ; but, for the most part, they were the fruit of the 
 virtuous self-denials and exertions of the laborious classes of 
 the community. 
 
 Mr. Redwood listened with more patience than could have 
 been expected from one who had philosophic prejudices ; more 
 inveterate, perhaps, than those which spring from the conceit 
 of ignorance, because they are fortified by the pride of know- 
 ledge, and assume the form of independent opinions, which is 
 so flattering to our self-love. There was something, too, in 
 Doctor Bristol's manner that recommended every sentiment he 
 uttered ; it was so calm, so dispassionate, there was so much 
 of the serenity of truth in it. There were no extravagant 
 statements ; he did not insist that another should believe, be- 
 cause he felt the truth of such and such propositions ; he did 
 not enter into a formal argument, but intimated the grounds 
 on which his own opinions had been formed, and permitted 
 Mr. Redwood to draw his own conclusions, hoping they would 
 be such, as seemed to him natural and inevitable. 
 
 Mr. Redwood made minute inquiries in relation to the 
 Lenox family. He expressed his surprise and regret that they 
 had not thought proper to interfere and detain by force, if 
 necessary, the foolish little girl, who he predicted would soon 
 be sick of her folly. He was pleased to hear that the doctor, 
 as well as himself, regarded Deborah as an amusing original ; 
 and he again intimated some curiosity in relation to Miss 
 Bruce, which the doctor either could not or did not chose to 
 gratify. He did not allow the doctor to leave him till he had 
 requested him to make his visits as long and as frequent as 
 possible, nor till he had expressed, in the most flattering terms, 
 his entire confidence in the doctor's professional ability. 
 
 Miss Redwood entered her father's room as Doctor Bristol 
 left it, to make her dutiful inquiries, which were, perhaps,
 
 96 REDWOOD. 
 
 nearly as much a matter of form as the professional visit of 
 the physician. After she had gone through the customary 
 routine of, "how he had slept? how he felt himself," &c., she 
 said, " if you have no objections, papa, I will take a drive this 
 afternoon to the village while this funeral is going on here. 
 Ralph tells me the injury done to the carriage yesterday was 
 very slight, and that he can have it in order by one o'clock, 
 the hour appointed for the funeral." 
 
 " If that is the case, my dear," replied Mr. Redwood, " you 
 will gratify me if you will forego your ride, and offer the car- 
 riage for the use of the poor old woman and her young friend: 
 they have not probably as convenient a mode of riding, and I 
 am told it is customary in New England for the female rela- 
 tives to follow the body to the grave." 
 
 " How barbarous !" exclaimed Miss Redwood ; " but thank 
 fortune, there is no occasion for offering the carriage, for Lilly 
 tells me, the old woman is too sick to go out, and is just to sit 
 up and hear the prayer, and all that ; and so, papa, if you 
 have no objections I will take the carriage, and get out of 
 the way : funerals are so disagreeable ; they always make me 
 nervous ; I don't see the use of them." 
 
 The poet's doctrine, that " sweet are the uses of adversity," 
 was nearly as foreign from the father's as the daughter's expe- 
 rience : but he perceived that the good-will of the Lenox family 
 would be of very material use to them ; and thinking that it 
 might be conciliated by the deference to their feelings which 
 would be evinced by Miss Redwood's presence at the funeral 
 solemnity, he requested her to gratify him by deferring her 
 own inclinations. The request had too much authority in it 
 to be denied ; and though Miss Redwood thought it great folly 
 to take the trouble to win favor which might be purchased, she 
 did not in the end regret that she had complied with her
 
 REDWOOD. 97 
 
 father's request, so much was she amused with the number and 
 aspect of the crowd which the occasion assembled. 
 
 The observances of a funeral in a country town in New 
 England are quite primitive ; but their simplicity is more 
 touching than the most pompous ceremonial, for it speaks the 
 language of nature to natural and universal feeling ; and even 
 to those who are not of that soft mould that is easily impressed 
 by human sympathies, and who have only witnessed this last 
 scene in the drama of life in a city, the spectacle of a country 
 funeral must always be curious. In town, a funeral procession 
 scarcely attracts the eye ef the boy, who is carelessly trundling 
 his hoop, or flying his kite, and the busy and the gay bustle 
 past, as if they cared for none of these things, and had neither 
 part nor lot in them. But in the country, where life is not so 
 abounding ; where each knows his neighbor, the events of his 
 life, and the hope he may have had in death ; the full import 
 and significance of this event is felt. Some will attend a fune- 
 ral, because they remember a kind word or deed of the depart- 
 ed, or, it may be, a kind look that inspired a personal interest ; 
 some, from respect for the living ; some, because it is good to go 
 to the house of mourning : the old would not shrink from the 
 admonition they hear there, and the old take the young because 
 they ought not to shrink from it: some like to watch the tears 
 of the mourners, and some to note there are no tears. The 
 motives that draw any crowd together are almost as various as 
 the persons that compose it. On this occasion there was an 
 universal sentiment of compassion for the solitary aged mourn- 
 er, and of respect for the memory of the departed. Miss Red- 
 wood took her station at one extremity of the apartment in 
 which the assembly met. She was arrayed with studied ele- 
 gance ; Lilly stood on one side of her chair, and a footman in 
 
 livery on the other : the body of the deceased was on the opposite 
 5
 
 98 REDWOOD. 
 
 side of the room : next to it sat Mrs. Allen, and beside her, and 
 supporting her, Ellen, who, in a simple white dress, her face 
 beaming with tender sympathy, looked like the embodied spirit 
 of religion. Perhaps beauty is never more touching than when, 
 exclusively occupied with the sufferings of others, it is lit up 
 with that divine expression of tender compassion, which, to a 
 religious imagination, is the peculiar attribute of an angel's 
 face. Next Ellen sat Mr. and Mrs. Lenox and theii numerous 
 family, all clad in mourning ; their sad looks suiting well with 
 their badges of grief. The two youngest children were placed 
 on a bench at their parents' feet, and whenever they could 
 withdraw their eyes from the various objects that attracted 
 them, they would peep into their parents' faces, and catching 
 the expressive language of sorrow, fall to crying, till some new 
 object diverted their attention. Miss Deborah, having no part 
 of her own to perform, acted as mistress of ceremonies. She 
 spoke, perhaps, oftener and louder than was necessary, but on 
 the whole, she conducted her affairs with less official bustle than 
 is common on such occasions. After having made a clear space 
 for the clergyman in the centre of the room, and assigned to 
 others their places, allotting the arrangement of the procession 
 to a gigantic militia major, who usually filled that office, she 
 seated herself at the foot of the coffin, permitted a large gray 
 cat, that came purring through the crowd, to take its usual 
 station in her lap, composed her muscles to a rigid attention, 
 and motioned to the clergyman to begin his duty. He made 
 an affecting exhortation, founded on the fifteenth chapter of the 
 Epistle to the Corinthians. A funeral hymn was sung, and he 
 then proceeded to close the services with a prayer, not however 
 until Deborah had whispered to him, " the old lady is just 
 spent, be short, sir : pray but a breath or two." The aged 
 mourner had listened without once raising her eyes, without a
 
 REDWOOD. 99 
 
 
 
 sigh or a movement. It seemed as if time or grief had dried 
 the fountain of her tears, for not one was seen on her furrowed 
 cheek. The services over, the Major ordered the crowd to fall 
 back to the right and left, while the coffin was carried out. His 
 order was obeyed, (though with somewhat less of military pre- 
 cision than it was given,) and the coffin was placed in the 
 court-yard under the wide-spreading branches of an elm tree. 
 He then returned to the door, and in the tone of military com- 
 mand, desired the mourners to advance and look at the corpse, 
 and added a notice to the assembly to come forward immedi- 
 ately after the mourners had retired, it being necessary that 
 all should take their last looks now, as the lid of the coffin was 
 to be screwed down before the procession moved : a burst of 
 grief from the group of mourners evinced that these commands, 
 given out as the mere forms of preparation, were to them the 
 dreadful signal of a final separation. Mrs. Allen rose from 
 her chair, but even with Ellen's aid was unable to move for- 
 ward till Doctor Bristol, advancing from the crowd, gave her 
 the support of his stronger arm. She then approached the 
 coffin, and bent for the last time over the body of her child ; 
 her tears, which had been checked till this moment, now flowed 
 freely; and as she raised her head, she perceived they had 
 fallen on Edward's face ; she said nothing, but carefully wiped 
 them away. " She is right," whispered Doctor Bristol to Ellen. 
 " Edward has nothing more to do with tears : they are all 
 wiped away." " Oh, my son," exclaimed Mrs. Allen, in a low 
 broken voice, " would to God Emily laid beside you ; then 
 would I thankfully lay down my weary body with you." 
 " But," she added, after a moment's pause, in which her piety 
 struggled with her nature, " God's will be done." 
 
 " Glad am I to hear those words," said Debby, who stood 
 near enough to catch the feeble sounds : " the poor old lady's
 
 100 REDWOOD. 
 
 cup has been brimful of trouble so long, that it would not be 
 strange if she did think herself something crowded on." 
 
 " Crowded on what can the woman mean ?" asked a young 
 man of his companion ; but before the inquirer could obtain a 
 reply, he was jostled out of his place by others pressing eagerly 
 forward to gaze for the last time on the face of the deceased. 
 All, as they turned away, looked on Mrs. Allen, and some, per- 
 haps, wondered that the leafless, scathed trunk should have 
 been passed by, and the young sapling cut down in its prime 
 and beauty. Mrs. Allen was led back to the house, attended 
 by Ellen and Doctor Bristol ; they passed through the apart- 
 ment where Miss Redwood still maintained her station, and 
 where she continued to gaze on all that passed before her, with 
 the indifference with which she would have regarded the shift- 
 ing scenes of a wearisome play : the Major approached her, and 
 with awkward, but well-meant civility, told her she would have 
 a good chance now to look at the corpse, and, being she was a 
 stranger, he would see her through the crowd himself. 
 
 " Oh, thank you," she replied, disdainfully, " I have no 
 fancy for looking at dead people, and certainly I shall not look 
 at one dead, that I never saw living." The Major, thus rebuffed, 
 turned away, and meeting Debby, he said in a low tone, " I 
 rather think that young stranger girl has got to find out yet 
 that she is mortal. Why bless my soul ! a body would think 
 her road did not lay graveward ; but young, and handsome, 
 and topping as she is, she must come to it at last. " She is a 
 pretty creature though, to look at," he added, paying her the 
 tribute of another full stare, " she is almost as handsome as 
 the wax-work Rhode Island beauty." 
 
 " Pooh, pooh," replied Debby, " handsome is that handsome 
 does," and she glanced her eyes towards Ellen Bruce ; " that 
 is my rule, it is an old one, but it will never wear out."
 
 REDWOOD. 101 
 
 A call was now given to form the procession. Mrs. Allen 
 was conducted by her kind attendants, to her own apartment. 
 The rooms were cleared, the procession moved away, and the 
 house was restored to its usual quiet and order. 

 
 102 REDWOOD. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 " What folly I commit I dedicate to you." 
 
 Two GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 THE week that followed the funeral would have been passed by 
 Miss Redwood in perfect listlessness, had not Ellen Bruce 
 excited her curiosity, and her curiosity been stimulated by the 
 difficulty of its gratification. The following petulant produc- 
 tion of her pen, a letter achieved to her grandmother after 
 repeated and painful efforts, will afford a fair view of her feel- 
 ings. It certainly is not a favorable specimen of her talents, 
 for she had originally a strongly marked character ; and aban- 
 doned from her infancy to the guidance of a doting and silly 
 grandmother, and early initiated into fashionable and frivolous 
 society, with uncommon intellectual capacities, and strong pas- 
 sions, she was permitted to devote herself to every thing that 
 was trifling, and in short, condemned to a perpetual childhood. 
 But no farther remarks shall be intruded on the just infer- 
 ences which the good sense of our readers will enable them 
 to deduce from the document itself. We give it, italics and 
 all, for Miss Redwood, like most young ladies, abounded in 
 emphasis. 
 
 " My dear grandmama, I can fancy your vexation when 
 you receive this letter ; for you, and you alone, can form an 
 adequate notion of my disappointments and present misery.
 
 REDWOOD. 103 
 
 As to papa, you know he never feels, nor thinks as you and I 
 do papa is so odd. 
 
 " No doubt, in your imagination, I am figuring in the draw- 
 ing-rooms of Boston, displaying those beautiful dresses you 
 imported for this ill-starred journey ; leading captive my thou- 
 sands and my tens of thousands ; living in an atmosphere of 
 lovers' sighs, and on the eve of breaking a hundred hearts by 
 my departure for the Springs, where we expected that a second 
 harvest of conquest and glory awaited me. ' Now look on that 
 picture, and on this.' Here I am at a vulgar farmer's, on the 
 outskirts of a town called Eton ; and so changed am I, or 
 rather every thing about me is so changed, that I can scarcely 
 believe that not much more than one little month has elapsed 
 since I was walking in Broadway with Captain Fenwick (by 
 the way, Broadway is a sublime place for a real show-off.) and 
 he said to me, as admirer after admirer poured into my train, 
 " you see, Miss Redwood, that you are the centre of the sys- 
 tem, the sun ; and we, your satellites, humbly revolve around 
 you." What would he think, what could he say, if he were to 
 see me now ; not a creature dazzled by my brightness, though 
 there is not a rival star in the heavens 1 But a truce to lamen- 
 tations, I will proceed to facts ; and then, dear grandmama, 
 you will perceive how much I deserve and need your pity. I 
 must begin my relation at St. John's, where the only pleasant 
 incident occurred which this letter will contain. You will 
 remember that I wrote you from Montreal the particulars of 
 my first interview with Captain Fitzgerald, et cetera^ et cetera, 
 etcetera: how many delightful gallantries and flattering speech- 
 es are included in these et ceteras ! Speaking of Fitzgerald car- 
 ries me back to Montreal ; and I must say, en passant, I was 
 shockingly disappointed in the size and appearance of the city, 
 which I expected to find as large as New- York : and still more
 
 104 REDWOOD. 
 
 with the military band, for you know, grandmama, you always 
 told me that since the revolution we had never had any mili- 
 tary music fit to be heard. But, to return to our journey. The 
 first person I beheld on arriving at St. John's was Fitzgerald ; 
 he had come there, as he whispered to me. to see me once 
 more. Papa was very cold almost rude to him ; but I took 
 care that my pleasure should be sufficiently apparent to com- 
 pensate him for papa's incivility. It is so strange of papa, 
 when he knows that Fitzgerald is the son of an earl, and bro- 
 ther to a lord ; and if he is a little gay, as papa says he is, 
 dissipation is universal among military men, and no fault of 
 theirs of course. I don't see what good it does papa not to be 
 religious, if he will make such a fuss about trifles. My dear 
 grandmama, you would admire Fitzgerald ; and you may have 
 an opportunity ; for he assured me, that if he could get up a 
 cough that would furnish a pretext to ask leave of absence, he 
 would pass the next winter at Charleston. He hinted at the 
 possibility of meeting me at the Springs. I am ready to die 
 with vexation when I think of what I may lose by our deten- 
 tion in this wretched place. It is but little more than a week, 
 though it seems to me an age, since we met with the shocking 
 accident which has caused our delay. Immediately on getting 
 into our own carriage, (the sight of which was the first thing 
 that revived me after parting with Fitzgerald.) we were over- 
 taken by a tremendous thunder-storm, which, of course, almost 
 deprived me of my senses ; the lightning struck a number of 
 trees, and the prodigious blaze that ensued, so terrified the 
 horses, that they leaped over an immense precipice. Fortu- 
 nately, the carriage was not turned over, owing, I believe, 
 though I never understood clearly how it was, to its being 
 caught among the branches of the trees. I was wild with fright, 
 and poor Lilly as white as my handkerchief. As soon as we
 
 REDWOOD. 105 
 
 were extricated from our perilous situation, we took refuge in 
 the nearest farm-house, glad, at the moment, of any shelter 
 from the storm. We should have proceeded the same evening 
 to the village, but papa had his arm horribly broken in jump- 
 ing from the carriage, and here we were obliged to remain ; 
 and here we have a prospect of passing the remainder of papa's 
 life ; for strange to tell, he has put himself into the hands of a 
 country doctor ; and what is worse, though he never believed 
 in any thing before, he has taken a freak to place implicit con- 
 fidence in this man, whose interest it is, you know, to detain 
 him here as long as possible. This, papa does not seem to sus- 
 pect, clairvoyant as he prides himself on being, and aided too, 
 by the light of my hints, which, you may be sure, I have not 
 spared. What is most extraordinary and provoking of all, is, 
 that papa, who was never contented before in his life, appears 
 as satisfied as if he had entered elysium ; and never before 
 patient, has suddenly become as patient as Job. 
 
 " There is one solution of the mystery which I hardly dare 
 to commit to paper, lest some bird of the air should carry it to 
 papa. 
 
 " You must know, grandmama, there is a young woman 
 here, lady I suppose I must call her, for to confess the truth, 
 she has every appearance of being one, that has inspired papa 
 with the most surprising admiration, from the first moment 
 that he saw her. I dare not say he is in love with her : I will 
 not think it. I should go mad if I believed it ; but he has 
 the most unaccountable interest in her. Yesterday I said to 
 him, with as much apparent carelessness as I could assume, 
 ' Lilly tells me that this Miss Bruce is shortly to be married.' 
 
 " ' Ah,' said he, starting from one of his fits of absence, ' to 
 whom ? where did Lilly pick up this intelligence ?' ' From 
 some of the family ; the happy man is a sou of our host, a
 
 106 REDWOOD. 
 
 young parson.' ' Impossible !' exclaimed papa. ' Impossible, 
 sir,' I echoed, ' why so ?' the dear old gentleman was a little 
 flustered for a moment, and then said, ' Miss Bruce is so supe- 
 rior in some respects to this Lenox family, so intelligent and 
 cultivated.' ' But, papa, you are always crying up these Le- 
 noxes for such knowing people.' ' They deserve our respect, 
 Miss Redwood : they are excessively well-informed, and ami- 
 able : but, Caroline, you must see the disparity between them 
 and Miss Bruce ; it is quite apparent : the gracefulness of her 
 demeanor, the uncommon delicacy of her manners, and the 
 very tones of her voice, mark her as a person of the highest 
 order.' It is a gone case, thought I ; but, hiding my thoughts 
 in the depths of my heart, I replied, ' she has undoubtedly an 
 air of higher breeding than these Lenox girls ; but why should 
 she be on intimate terms with the family, if she has such supe- 
 rior pretensions ?' ' I know not,' he replied, pettishly ; ' there 
 is some tie to the Aliens, I believe ; but of course it is a sub- 
 ject which we cannot with any propriety investigate.' He then 
 told me he was fatigued, and would like to be left alone ; and 
 as I came out of the room, he requested me to send Lilly to 
 him. His reluctance to investigation was suddenly vanquished, 
 for, as I afterwards learned from Lilly, he questioned, and 
 cross-questioned her as to the source and amount of her intel- 
 ligence. Heaven grant it may be true ! 
 
 " I cannot imagine how papa can feel any interest in this 
 Lenox family ; they are common, working, vulgar farmers. 
 There is one oddity among them, whom they call an ' old 
 girl ;' a hideous monster a giantess : I suspect a descendant 
 of the New England witches ; and I verily believe, if the truth 
 was known, she has spell-bound papa. The wretch is really 
 quite fond of him : for him she wrings the necks of her fattest 
 fowls, and I hear her at this moment bawling to one of the
 
 REDWOOD. 107 
 
 boys, to kill the black-eared roaster for him no doubt. 
 Notwithstanding her devotion to papa, she does not pay me the 
 least respect, but lavishes all her favor on Ellen Bruce. I over- 
 heard her this morning saying to Mrs. Lenox, that Ellen was 
 as much of a lady as that Caroliny gal, with all her flaunting 
 flounces and folderols. Ellen, she said, had been brought up 
 to business ; but as to that useless piece, she could neither act 
 nor transact. She says, too, that, rather than have a fellow- 
 creter tag round after her, as Lilly does after me, she would 
 turn wild Indian. 
 
 " Only think, dear grandmama, of my being obliged to 
 hear such rude things said, without retort or resentment, for 
 papa is very angry if I betray in the slightest degree my con- 
 tempt and detestation of these people and their ways : even if I 
 ridicule them, he quotes to me a wise old saw of Csesar's, or 
 somebody's, that, ' He that condemns rusticity is himself a rus- 
 tic.' In heaven's name, of what use is rank or fortune, if it 
 does not make you independent of such animals ! 
 
 " In every respect this place is disagreeable to me. It fa- 
 tigues me to death to see the family labor : labor, as you often 
 say, grandmama, was made for slaves, and slaves for labor ; but 
 here, they toil on as if it were a pleasure. They have an im- 
 mense farm, as they call their plantation, and but two servants, 
 (one a negro.) or as they call them, Jidps ; and well are they 
 thus named, for they do no more work than the rest of .the fam- 
 ily ; and what provokes me more than all, is, that these servants 
 read and write, and are taught arithmetic, and the Lord knows 
 what all ; and Lilly and Ralph have this dreadful example be- 
 fore them. But the most ridiculous thing, is, the fuss these 
 people make about learning, as they call all sorts of knowledge ; 
 one would think it was the philosopher's stone, by the pains 
 they take to get it. After the girls ' have done up their work,
 
 108 REDWOOD. 
 
 and put every thing to rights,' (this is their jargon,) they walk 
 twice in a. week, a mile and a half to the village to hear a man 
 lecture on botany. I am sure you would expire with laughter, 
 to see their boors of brothers come from their work in the 
 fields, laden with flowers for their sisters to analyze, or preserve 
 in their herbariums. There is a village library, and as much 
 eagerness for the dull histories and travels it contains, as you 
 and I ever felt to get a new novel into our possession. As to 
 novels, there is no such thing as obtaining one, unless it be 
 some of Miss Edgeworth's, which scarcely deserve the sweet 
 name of romances. If I could but sleep as we used to in the 
 country, and the country, as far as I can see, was made for no- 
 thing else, I could contrive to get rid of more of my time ; 
 but the air on the lake shore is so bracing, that for my life I 
 cannot sleep more than nine or ten hours. These people are 
 excessively civil to papa ; but they seem to think they have 
 a right to place themselves on an equality with me. and the 
 more haughty my manners, the less attention they pay to me. 
 Papa reads me long lectures about availing myself of this op- 
 portunity of studying human nature, and observing the differ- 
 ent conditions of human life. He says these people are much 
 wiser than I am Lord ! as if I cared to be wise ! Papa is 
 odd. I should as soon think of taking Robinson Crusoe's 
 desert island for a study as this place. My dramatis persona 
 are people comme-il-faut, and my scene the drawing-room, ball- 
 room, &c. Dear graudtnama, I should certainly die of ennui, 
 if it were not that this Ellen Bruce excites my curiosity to 
 such a degree : who can she be ? I suspect that she is a natu- 
 ral child of somebody's, for whenever I have asked any ques- 
 tions about her connections, she is evidently troubled, and the 
 people of the house affect to be quite ignorant of her parent- 
 age, and in reply to my inquiries, simply say, that she came
 
 REDWOOD. ] 09 
 
 from a distant part of the country : she is here with an old 
 woman by the name of Allen, to whom she is devoted : she is 
 an intimate friend of Mrs. Lenox, and not a relation of either ; 
 and to confess the truth, she is, as papa says, of a style quite 
 superior to them. She is an orphan, and without fortune ; so 
 much the Lenoxes have condescended to tell me ; without for- 
 tune, and yet her dress is of the finest materials ; not exactly 
 fashionable, as I said to papa : he replied, ' but a model for 
 fashion, Caroline.' Papa has stitch a way of putting one down. 
 
 " One circumstance has excited my curiosity particularly : 
 she rises every morning at the dawn of day, and sallies out, 
 and does not return till the old woman is ready to rise, which 
 is our breakfast hour, (papa's and mine ;) and then papa, from 
 great consideration for the trouble of the Lenoxes, begs Miss 
 Bruce will do us the favor to sit at our table. On these occa- 
 sions she departs from her customary pensive style, her com- 
 plexion, usually of the pale order, is quite brilliant, and her 
 manner and conversation animated. Papa, very innocently, 
 imputes all this to the benefit of morning exercise, and I as 
 innocently, on one occasion, proposed to be her companion, an 
 honor she politely declined without assigning any reason, 
 though she has repeatedly offered to show me the pleasant 
 walks in the neighborhood. 
 
 " She expresses the greatest impatience to have Mrs. Allen 
 well enough to return to her own residence ; but this, I think, 
 is mere affectation : and in this guessing, calculating, conclud- 
 ing country, I have come to the conclusion, that if heaven does 
 not speed the old woman's recovery, or the Lenox match, or 
 some other insuperable obstacle, she and papa will get up a 
 sentimental affair of it. A sentimental affair ! papa fifty, and 
 Miss Bruce nineteen or twenty: stranger things have happened 
 you remember my two old fools of lovers, who were well nigh
 
 110 REDWOOD. 
 
 fifty ; they, it is true, were neither ill nor dull, like papa ; but 
 then Miss Bruce has neither fortune nor beauty ; at least, I 
 am sure you would not call her beautiful who can she be, 
 grandmama 1 Papa says she has received a first-rate educa- 
 tion ; but that is according to his queer, old-fashioned notions. 
 She plays upon no instrument, and is not fond of dancing ; of 
 course you know she cannot dance well. As to French, she 
 does not speak it at all, though papa says she is quite familiar 
 with French and Italian authors, and she and papa talk over 
 Racine and Ariosto, and the Lord knows what all, at our inte- 
 resting dejeuners, which I am resolved to break up as soon as I 
 have ascertained the object of the long morning walks that 
 precede them. Write to me, dear grandmama, and direct to 
 this place, and do not fail to let me know whether papa has the 
 control of my fortune, so that if I should marry contrary to his 
 wishes, he could deprive me of it: and pray ask Le Moine, 
 whether the blue trimming was intended for the white or the 
 brown dress ; Lilly has forgotten, and I am quite at a loss 
 about it. By the way, if poor Sarah should die, as you expect, 
 before I return, don't mention it in your letters, for I want a 
 good excuse for not putting on black which would be horrible ; 
 as Maria Crayton says there is not a mantuamaker in New 
 England that can make a dress fit for a Christian to wear, and 
 besides, you know one can have no variety in black. I cannot 
 imagine where Miss Bruce has her dresses made ; they are 
 plain enough, but they sit exquisitely. Farewell, dear grand- 
 mama, I shall give you the earliest notice of any discoveries I 
 may make. 
 
 " Postscript. Thank heaven ! papa has just given me leave 
 to write to Mrs. Westall to come to Eaton with Charles, so that 
 I have a prospect of seeing two civilized beings, who will proba- 
 bly think me quite equal to this prodigy. Ellen Bruce : and I
 
 REDWOOD. Ill 
 
 do not despair of finding a tolerable cavalier pro tern, in Charles 
 Westall ; though I think he will scarcely drive Fitzgerald out 
 of my head or heart." 
 
 As curiosity is in its nature infectious, our readers may 
 possibly have caught Miss Redwood's desire to know something 
 more of Ellen Bruce's history than has yet been disclosed to 
 them, and to gratify this inclination they may be willing to 
 attend to a sketch of some other persons, with whose history 
 hers is inextricably interwoven. 
 
 When " Mother Anne," the founder of the Shaker commu- 
 nity, came from England to this country, the Allen family, 
 who then resided in the western part of Massachusetts, were, 
 with the exception of the elder Mrs. Allen, for a time under 
 her dominion. After a few weeks of wild fanaticism they 
 returned to their ordinary life, lamenting or deriding their delu- 
 sion. Susan Allen, the youngest child, alone remained con- 
 stant to her new faith, which she had been the last to adopt, 
 and which was endeared to her by the costliest sacrifice a wo- 
 man can make. Her brother, Justyn Allen, soon after removed 
 to a town, which we take the liberty to call Lansdown, in the 
 neighborhood of Boston. A few years after, his wife returned 
 from a visit to her native place, bringing with her an infant girl, 
 the child, as she said, of a young friend of hers, who had died 
 within the first year of her marriage, and had bequeathed the 
 child to her. As no one in Lansdown knew Mrs. Allen's early 
 connections, the busy, questioning spirit of village curiosity was 
 not excited to inquiry or suspicion. Mrs. Allen was a woman 
 who walked straight forward in the direct line of duty sim- 
 ple in her manners, and ingenuous in her conduct ; there was 
 nothing about her to invite curiosity. From the time the child, 
 Ellen Bruce, could comprehend any thing. Mrs. Allen had been
 
 112 REDWOOD. 
 
 in the habit of talking to her of her mother. But in spite of 
 her efforts it was always in a sad tone ; and once the child in- 
 terrupted her to ask, " was not my mother good ?" " Yes, my 
 love, perfectly good." " Well, then, is she not glad to be in 
 such a place as heaven is ?" " Yes, I believe so." " You need 
 not look so sorry, then, when you are talking about her." 
 
 Mrs. Allen felt the propriety of the child's rebuke ; but be- 
 sides that it is always grievous to see a bud so early torn from 
 its parent stock, there were bitter recollections associated with the 
 memory of Ellen's mother, and especially with her death, that 
 clouded Mrs. Allen's brow whenever she spoke of her. She 
 did, however, in compliance with the last injunction of the un- 
 fortunate mother, faithfully endeavor to inspire the child with 
 a love for her to make hope take the place of memory ; and 
 by constantly cherishing the expectation of a reunion to her 
 mother, she preserved in its strength the filial bond. It is only 
 when our human affections are consecrated by a belief in their 
 perpetuity, that they can have their perfect influence on the 
 character. Ellen experienced the holy ministration of which 
 they are capable from her earliest years. Before she reasoned, 
 she felt a relation to heaven ; her affections were set on things 
 above. This shielded her innocence, a*hd gave a tenderness 
 and elevation to her character, as if the terrestrial had already 
 put on the celestial. The natural gayety of childhood, though 
 sometimes intermitted, was not impaired. Her eyes, it is true, 
 were tearful while she sat on her little bench at Mrs. Allen's 
 feet, and listened to stories of her mother ; but the next mo- 
 ment she was playing with her kitten, or bounding away in 
 pursuit of a butterfly so natural is it for the opening flower 
 to shrink from a chilling influence, and turn to the sunbeams. 
 
 Ellen had been told by Mrs. Allen that she had no father ; 
 and whenever the child's interest was excited about hiui, (which
 
 REDWOOD, 113 
 
 was not often, as Mrs. Allen studiously avoided all mention of 
 him,) the answers to her inquiries were discreetly framed to 
 lull her curiosity, without communicating the least information. 
 The impression she received, was, that he had died at nearly 
 the same time with her mother. 
 
 Her childhood glided on to her fifth year, bright as a cloud- 
 less morning, when an event occurred, that produced a great 
 sensation in Lansdown, and materially affected the character 
 and destiny of our heroine. 
 
 There was an estate adjoining Allen's, which from time im- 
 memorial (a period that in our young country may mean half 
 a century) had belonged to the Harrisons, a family residing in 
 Boston. It had the usual fate of the property of absentees 
 the house was out of repair, the fences in a ruinous condition, 
 and the land from year to year depreciating from thriftless 
 husbandry. 
 
 Allen had gone on in the usual way, buying more cattle to 
 graze his land, and more land to feed his cattle, till smitten 
 with a desire to enlarge his territory, (the ruling passion of our 
 farmers, each one of whom is said to covet all the land adjoin- 
 ing his own,) he cast his longing eyes on the Harrison farm, 
 and easily persuaded himself there were good reasons in the 
 nature of things why it should be united to his own. Both 
 farms lay at the distance of half a mile from the village. Al- 
 len's was on an eminence, and divided from the Harrison estate 
 by a small stream, whose annual overflowing enriched the low- 
 lands of his neighbor, without reaching to the elevation of his ; 
 with every rain the cream of his soil trickled down to his neigh- 
 bor's, and the droughts that seared his fields left his neighbor's 
 smiling in their verdant prosperity. Still the hand of the dil- 
 igent, busy on Allen's farm, amply compensated for this natu- 
 ral disparity : and when he realized the profits of his labor,
 
 114 REDWOOD. 
 
 his hankering after the facilities of the adjoining property 
 increased to such a degree, that he sent to the proprietor a pro- 
 position for the purchase of it, by one of his townsmen, a 
 member of the State Legislature. Mr. Robert Harrison, the 
 representative of his family, received the proposition with in- 
 dignation, and failed not to express his surprise that any one 
 should presume to think he would part with a, family estate. 
 The honorable member, who was one of the numerous Cincin- 
 natuses of our country, called from the plough to patriotic 
 duties, felt his new-made honors touched by this reflection on 
 one of his constituents, and he replied, as to ' family estate, 
 that was an old joke ; that one family was as good as another 
 now adays, and that for his part, he must say, it was his 
 humble opinion, that no family could be any honor to an estate, 
 and no estate to a family, when it was left in such a condition 
 as the Harrison farm at Lansdown.' The member's humble 
 opinion stung the family pride of Mr. Robert Harrison ; and 
 from that moment he meditated a removal to the neglected 
 farm, which, in the pride of hi:, heart, he loved to call the fam- 
 ily estate. Many circumstances strengthened his resolution. 
 At the breaking out of the revolutionary war, Robert Harri- 
 son had just attained his majority, and entered into the pos- 
 session of a large fortune, with the expectation of succeeding to 
 the honors of the provincial government, which his father had 
 always enjoyed. Robert Harrison was allied to some noble 
 families in the mother country, an important circumstance in 
 the estimation of the untitled gentry of the colony. Possess- 
 ing fortune, the favors of the government, and the distinctions 
 of rank, and priding himself on the unstained loyalty of his 
 ancestors, young Harrison naturally sided with the Tory party. 
 He had every thing to lose, and nothing to gain for himself 
 from a change of government ; and as to the rights of the peo-
 
 REDWOOD. 115 
 
 pie, which were the subject of contest, he held them in too 
 great contempt to acknowledge they had any rights. Harri- 
 son, however blind he might be to the principle of natural jus- 
 tice, was soon obliged to feel that " might makes right," and 
 he, with many other stanch friends of the government, in 
 danger of being swept away by the tide of republicanism, 
 sought a shelter in the mother country. There he soon after 
 married a young lady, a Bostonian by birth, who had been sent 
 home, according to the fashion of the most wealthy gentry in 
 the colony, for her education. Similarity of opinion and of 
 fortunes had united Robert Harrison to her father's family, 
 and governed more by the accidents of their condition, than 
 by any congeniality of character, she married him. Mrs. Har- 
 rison, from the age of thirteen to nineteen, immured in a board- 
 ing-school, came forth from it as ignorant of the motley mass 
 called the world, as if she had been bred in a convent. Hap- 
 pily, her education had been conducted by a superior woman, 
 who, proud of her pupil's extraordinary powers, had added to 
 the common routine of boarding-school accomplishments judi- 
 cious intellectual cultivation : so that even at this period, when 
 a well-informed woman is neither a monster nor a prodigy, Mrs. 
 Harrison would have been distinguished for her mental attain* 
 ments. The exact habits of her school had given a precise- 
 ness to her manners, that veiled the warmth of her feelings, 
 but never was there a more generous and tender spirit than 
 she possessed. 
 
 Robert Harrison was a handsome man, well bred in con- 
 ventional manners, which passed for much more than they 
 were worth in our provincial days ; he was the object of her 
 parents' partiality, and the first suitor for her favor : and, view- 
 ing him through the prismatic medium of romantic expectation 
 and youthful fancy, it was not strange that she loved, or be-
 
 116 REDWOOD. 
 
 lieved she loved him. Perhaps she was not herself conscious 
 of the capacity of her affections, till the energies of maternal 
 love were awakened by the birth of a child. This child, a girl, 
 lived but five years ; and when she died, her mother resigned 
 her, as she would have done her own soul if it had been de- 
 manded, with unquestioning faith in the wisdom of the dispen- 
 sation. But she never recovered her former spirits, though her 
 mind, too active to remain the passive prey of grief, still press- 
 ed forward in the pursuit of some new attainment. She seem- 
 ed to love knowledge for its own sake ; her husband took no 
 part nor interest in her pursuits, and as to the gratification of 
 vanity in display, for that she had neither opportunity nor in- 
 clination. 
 
 The family remained in England till the peace in 1783, 
 when they returned to this country, with their English affections 
 and prejudices strengthened by habit, and endeared by the pri- 
 vations they had suffered on account of their loyalty. Mr. Harri- 
 son claimed his patrimonial estate, and found, to his bitter dis- 
 appointment, that those persons who had been designated by 
 name in the act of confiscation were excepted in the repeal of 
 that act, and it was not his least mortification in finding him- 
 self one of this unfortunate number, that his property had gone 
 to the support of a cause which he detested. The estate at 
 Lansdown, his household furniture and plate, and some per* 
 sonal property, he saved from the wreck of his fortune. This 
 was a small portion of his rich inheritance ; but skilfully 
 managed by the domestic talents of Mrs. Harrison, it was suf- 
 ficient for the limited expenses of a small establishment. His 
 diminished fortune did not at all degrade his rank in his native 
 town v for if some portions of our country must sustain the re- 
 proach of paying undue deference to the vulgar aristocracy of 
 wealth, that part of it has always been exempt from this com-
 
 REDWOOD. 117 
 
 mon fault of a commercial country. Neither did his English 
 feelings render him less acceptable in the society of Boston ; 
 the first to prove a rebel child, she never lost in her resistance 
 of authority, her love for the parent land. 
 
 But Mr. Harrison had not magnanimity of mind to enjoy 
 the advantages that remained to him. He was perpetually 
 harassed by seeing those who had been distinguished in their 
 country's service, or diligent in the avenues of business which 
 had been recently opened, arriving at wealth and honors which 
 he looked upon as the exclusive right the birthright of the 
 higher orders. The higher orders had sunk to the uniform 
 level of republicanism, to what Mr. Harrison was fond of call- 
 ing, a church-yard equality ; "there even, he was hardly willing 
 the high and the low, the rich and the poor, should meet toge- 
 ther. Not all the courtesies and kindness of a cultivated and 
 virtuous society could compensate Mr. Harrison for the mor- 
 tification of seeing the mansion-house of his family in the pos- 
 session of one of the mushroom gentry an appellation he 
 freely bestowed on every name not noted under the provincial 
 government, and entitled to no more credit or honor in his 
 eyes, than a parchment deed without the crown stamp. 
 
 The years rolled heavily on ; Mrs. Harrison's parents had 
 been gathered to their fathers, and independent in her pursuits, 
 and active in her habits, her life passed without discontent or 
 ennui. When her husband proposed their removal to Lans- 
 down, she acquiesced willingly, in the hope that he would be- 
 come interested in the little concerns of his farm, and forget 
 the trifling vexations that in Boston disturbed his peace. 
 Confirmed in his wishes by his wife, who exercised a discreet, 
 and therefore an insensible influence over him, Mr. Harrison 
 vested his property in an annuity in the British funds, and 
 removed to Lansdown. This new arrangement of his pecuni-
 
 118 
 
 REDWOOD. 
 
 ary affairs afforded him a larger income than he had enjoyed 
 for a long time, and enabled him to restore the place at Lans- 
 down to its primitive order and dignity. The house was newly 
 painted, the fences rebuilt, and the garden restocked with fruit- 
 trees and plants. 
 
 Mrs. Harrison gently remonstrated against the removal of 
 the antique and ponderous furniture, and even hazarded the 
 profane suggestion that it would be wise to dispose of it at 
 auction, and to procure that which would be more adapted to 
 their present fortune, and in better keeping with the simplicity 
 of country life, and which would neither expose them to the 
 sneers nor envy of their -neighbors. 
 
 " Neighbors !" replied the irritated husband, " I wish you 
 to understand once for all, Mrs. Harrison, that I mean to have 
 no neighbors. The people of Lansdown remember the habits 
 of the family too well to presume to associate with us. As to 
 the furniture, I have made up my mind about that, and you 
 know my mind, once made up, is not given to change ; there- 
 fore, Mrs. Harrison, you will be so good as to order every arti- 
 cle of our furniture, large and small, packed up with the great- 
 est possible care." Mrs. Harrison reserved all her opposition 
 to her husband for matters that she deemed important ; the 
 furniture was packed, and arranged at Lansdown with her best 
 skill : and there Mr Harrison surveyed, with infinite compla- 
 cfcncy, the Turkey carpets, damask curtains and sofas, the cum- 
 brous mahogany chairs, and family plate studiously arranged 
 in an old-fashioned buffet with glass doors, and the loyal gar- 
 nishing of the walls decorated with approved likenesses of their 
 majesties and their hopeful offspring, and with proof prints of 
 the royal parks and palaces. Mrs. Harrison, though she could 
 but smile at this parade of the relics of their departed wealth 
 and grandeur, took a benevolent pleasure in ministering to the
 
 REDWOOD. 1 19 
 
 gratification of her husband ; and when she left him in the 
 parlor still gazing on the memorials of patrimonial splendor, 
 and retired to arrange in a small apartment adjoining her bed- 
 room (in which were her books and drawing materials) some 
 choice or favorite plants : ' we must both,' she thought, ' have 
 our playthings. If you had lived, my sweet Mary,' she said, 
 turning her eye on a beautiful picture of her child, that hung at 
 the foot of her bed, 'we might have had occupation that would 
 have saved us from thus prolonging our childhood.' Her atten- 
 tion was attracted by the sound of a light footstep, and a beauti- 
 ful little girl entered her apartment with a basket of fine early 
 peaches, which she timidly offered to Mrs. Harrison, with Mrs. 
 Allen's respects. Mrs. Harrison's mind was at this moment 
 filled with the image of her child, and she saw, or fancied she 
 saw, a striking resemblance between the portrait and the little 
 stranger. She looked from one to the other ; the eyes were of 
 the same deep blue, there was the same peculiar, and as she 
 thought, heavenly grace of the mouth ; the hair, too, a light 
 and bright brown, fell in the same natural curls over her neck 
 and shoulders. " Oh, my own, dear Mary," she exclaimed, as 
 she placed the child on her lap, and gazed on her, " I can 
 almost fancy you are again in my arms ; and yet," she added, 
 as the tears gushed from her eyes, " she has not quite that look 
 my Mary had." Ellen Bruce, (for it was she,) after looking in 
 silent amazement for a few moments at Mrs. Harrison, said, 
 " I wish I was your Mary, and then you would not be so 
 sorry." 
 
 " Sweet child," exclaimed Mrs. Harrison, wiping away her 
 tears, and smiling on her, " and who are you who. is your 
 mother ?" 
 
 " Oh, I don't live with my mother, she lives in heaven, Mrs. 
 Allen says."
 
 120 REDWOOD. 
 
 " Who then do you live with, my love ?" 
 
 " I live with our little Emily's mother." 
 
 " And who is she ?" 
 
 " Why, Mrs. Allen ; did not you know that she had little 
 twin babies ?" 
 
 " No, my dear child ; but if you will show me the way to 
 Mrs. Allen's, I will go with you and see her ;" so saying, she 
 threw on her hat and shawl, and was descending the stairs 
 with the little girl, when she met her husband in quest of her. 
 " My dear," said he, snapping his fingers, and speaking in an 
 unusually animated tone, "here is an English paper and 
 glorious news. The English have gained a complete victory : 
 thank God ! that cowardly rascal Bonaparte is beaten at last." 
 
 " I am glad of it," replied Mrs. Harrison, turning from 
 him to pursue her first intention. 
 
 " Glad of it ! Pshaw, is that all what is the matter 
 where are you going ? here are all the particulars ; the number 
 engaged, the names of the officers, a list of the killed, wounded 
 and prisoners: everything most 'satisfactory; none of your 
 lying French bulletins, but English fair John Bull style; 
 every word true true as the gospel." 
 
 " I am very glad of it," repeated Mrs. Harrison, " I will 
 read it the moment I return from leading this little girl home ; 
 she has brought us some delicious peaches from one of our 
 neighbors." 
 
 " Send one of the servants with her ; I am impatient to 
 hear you read these accounts ; there are many private letters 
 from the officers that were in the action, and besides," he add- 
 ed, lowering his voice, " the people about us are quite too 
 much inclined to familiarity already. I do not wish you io 
 encourage them. Here Betsey," he vociferated to the servant 
 girl, " lead this child home."
 
 REDWOOD f 121 
 
 Mrs. Harrison led Ellen to the door, and kissing and beg- 
 ging her to come again to see her, she transferred her to the 
 care of the servant, and returned to soothe her husband with 
 all the interest she could command in the details of the 
 victory. 
 
 Ellen Bruce had received such various and confused im- 
 pressions during her short visit to the mansion-house that she 
 was unable to give a clear report of it to Mrs. Allen, and, as 
 the child brought no word of acknowledgment for the peaches, 
 Mrs. Allen naturally concluded that her first neighborly over- 
 tures were unkindly taken ; her husband completed her mor- 
 tification by asking her, " how she could make such a mistake 
 as to suppose that the duke (a title already bestowed on Mr. 
 Harrison by his republican neighbors) could eat fruit that did 
 not grow on the ' family estate ?' " 
 
 Mrs. Allen, with all her good sense, was not quite free 
 from the jealous pride that pervades her class in New Eng- 
 land : she resolved not to waste her courtesies upon those 
 who disdained them ; and when Ellen, calling to mind Mrs. 
 Harrison's invitation to her, begged leave to carry her some 
 more peaches, Mrs. Allen said, " no ! if the peaches were 
 worth sending, they were worth thanking for." Ellen rather 
 felt than understood the reply, and she answered, "but I am 
 sure the lady spoke very kind to me." 
 
 " Ah, yes, my dear, that is an easy matter, every body 
 speaks kind to you ; it is not necessary to force you upon any 
 one's notice ; when Mrs. Harrison sends for you, it will be 
 time enough for you to go to her." Ellen had no purpose of 
 disobedience, but surprised at the unwonted strictness of Mrs. 
 Allen, she determined to lay aside all the peaches that were 
 given to her for the lady, whose kind manner to her had made 
 a deep impression.
 
 122 REDWOOD. 
 
 In the meantime, Mrs. Harrison possessed herself of all 
 that was known in the village of Ellen Bruce's brief history ; 
 and the whole amount of it was that she was the orphan child 
 of a friend of Mrs. Allen's, and had been adopted in her infancy 
 by that excellent woman, and treated with maternal kindness. 
 1 Oh, had Providence destined her to my protection, what a 
 solace, what a delight she would have been to me,' thought 
 Mrs. Harrison : ' and even now, could I persuade my husband 
 to indulge me in going to the Aliens, I might obtain this little 
 creature to lighten some of my heavy hours.' She determined 
 to watch for some propitious moment before she ventured to 
 explain her wishes : a happy accident might throw the child 
 again in her way, and such an accident she thought had occur- 
 red, when, a few days after the first interview, as she was walk- 
 ing with her husband past Mrs. Allen's, she saw the child come 
 bounding towards her with her apron full of peaches. 
 
 " Oh, how glad I am," said she, on coming up to Mrs. Har- 
 rison, her eyes sparkling, and her cheeks glowing ; " here, take 
 them all, they are mine, and I saved them all for you." " For 
 me," replied Mrs. Harrison, kissing her, " and for this gen- 
 tleman ?" 
 
 " For the duke ! oh no," replied little Ellen, with fatal 
 simplicity ; " Mr. Allen says the duke will not eat our 
 peaches." 
 
 " What," exclaimed Mr. Harrison, " does the little impu- 
 dent baggage mean by calling me the duke ?" 
 
 " Every body calls him that name," said Ellen, lowering 
 her voice, and drawing closer to Mrs. Harrison 
 
 " Never mind, my love," whispered Mrs. Harrison, while 
 she kissed her, " run home, and do come very soon to see me." 
 Then turning to her husband, she said, " I declare our neigh- 
 bors are half right ; you have quite a look of nobility, my dear
 
 REDWOOD. 123 
 
 husband ; you might pass in more knowing eyes than theirs 
 for a peer of the realm : to say nothing of a certain dignity 
 that belongs to the born gentleman, your gold-headed cane, 
 your powdered head, and antique buckles give you an air that 
 must be quite provoking to our republican neighbors." " Ah, 
 indeed, I believe it, Mrs. Harrison : but our neighbors, as you 
 call them, mean no compliment ; this is a mere mockery on 
 their lips." " Oh yes," replied Mrs. Harrison, " I suppose so : 
 that is to say, it is a jocular title they have given you, to eon- 
 sole themselves for your superiority." 
 
 " Very likely, very likely," replied the husband, and then 
 added, " I think, Mrs. Harrison, my dear, that you must be 
 convinced by this time that the less you have to do with these 
 people the better." Mrs. Harrison made no reply ; she usu- 
 ally conformed to the spirit of the promise contained in the 
 Dutch marriage service, maintaining silence in the presence of 
 her husband ; it was the least difficult expression of acquies- 
 cence, and long habit had given her a facility in this extraordi- 
 nary virtue. 
 
 The weeks passed on, autumn succeeded to summer, and 
 Mrs. Harrison seemed farther than ever from procuring an 
 intercourse with little Ellen. During the warm weather she 
 had occasionally seen her bounding over the field with the elas- 
 tic step of joyous childhood, but now her careful guardian kept 
 her cautiously within doors. 
 
 It was a cold night, the last of November ; Mrs. Harrison's 
 household was all in bed except herself, and she, insensible to 
 the blasts that howled about her dwelling, was poring over an 
 interesting book, when she was reminded of the lateness of 
 the hour by the candle sinking into the socket. At this mo- 
 ment a bright light flashed through the window and shone 
 on the opposite wall ; she hastened to the window to ascertain
 
 124 REDWOOD. 
 
 the cause, and screamed, " Oh heavens ! Allen's house is on 
 fire." Her shriek aroused her husband, who exclaimed, " Lord 
 bless me, is it possible ! call the servants, my dear, and send 
 them to help the poor folks.'* 
 
 Mrs. Harrison, without awaiting this direction, had has- 
 tened to awaken the servants : and then rushed out of the 
 house herself, and proceeded with all possible speed to the 
 Aliens, full of the horrible apprehension that the family 
 would be consumed by the flames. The bright light clearly 
 defined every object ; the naked branches of the trees, every 
 twig, every withered leaf she saw plainly, but heard no human 
 voice, nor, saw a moving form. Avoiding the public road, 
 which was circuitous, she proceeded in a straight line across 
 the fields, surmounted the fences almost unconsciously, and 
 passed through the shallow stream that divided the farms. 
 She was within a few yards of the house, the fowls roused from 
 their roost were crowing, and the pigeons startled from their 
 nestling-place were fluttering over the flames : still none of the 
 family appeared. She screamed with all the power of her 
 voice, while she hastened onward, despairing of the lives of the 
 unfortunate family. The back part of the house, which she 
 had approached, was enveloped in flames ; she passed around 
 to the front, and at that moment the door opened, and Allen 
 and his wife with her twin infants in her arms, rushed, as it 
 appeared, from the midst of the fire. Mrs. JIarrison caught 
 her arm as she was passing her ; " where," she exclaimed, " is 
 your child ?" 
 
 " My child !" she replied, amazed with terror. " Oh God ? 
 Ellen she is there ; and hugging her children closer to her 
 breast, she pointed to the flames. Mrs. Harrison looked 
 around for assistance, there was no one near : Allen, stupe- 
 fied with fright, had gone with a single pail to a well at some
 
 REDWOOD. 125 
 
 distance from the house ; other members of the family, who 
 had escaped by different windows, were so bewildered with ter- 
 ror as to be incapable of rendering the slightest aid. Mrs. 
 Harrison's resolution was instantly taken ; " tell me where she 
 sleeps," she cried, " it may be possible to reach her through a 
 window." 
 
 " Oh ! there is no window, she is in the dark room next 
 mine ; and this this is mine," she added, pointing to a front 
 apartment which the flames had not yet reached. Mrs. Har- 
 rison darted forward and entered the house ; the flames were 
 above her, before her, around her. The passage was so dark- 
 enened with smoke that she could not perceive the door she 
 sought, but inspired with preternatural courage, menaced with 
 death on every side, already scorching with the heat, and nearly 
 suffocated with the smoke, she pressed forward till she reached 
 a passage-way that crossed the entrance at right angles. The 
 flames now burst through the wall at the extremity opposite 
 the door she had entered, and the air rushing in, rolled away 
 a volume of smoke, and discovered Ellen standing at her door, 
 with her hand still on the latch ; a dog was crouching at her 
 feet, yelping, pulling her night dress with his teeth, and urging 
 her forward with the most expressive supplications : still, the 
 little creature shrunk from the terrors before her, unconscious 
 of the fatal risk of delay. Mrs. Harrison snatched her in her 
 arms, rushed through the door, and in an instant was at Mrs. 
 Allen's side. Both instinctively sunk on their knees no 
 sound escaped from them, but the rapture of gratitude was in 
 their hearts, and its incense rose to Him who had rescued them 
 from impending death. 
 
 The fire had been communicated from a back building, 
 which was joined to the front (recently erected by Allen) by a 
 narrow covered passage. Fortunately the wind, though blow-
 
 126 REDWOOD. 
 
 ing violently, was in a direction to retard the progress of the 
 flames : to extinguish them was impossible, for the house was 
 of wood, and the only fire-engine in the town was at too great 
 a distance to render any assistance. But had the family been 
 self-collected after they were awakened by Mrs. Harrison's 
 screams, they might have saved all the house contained of 
 value. No one, however, seemed capable of a well-directed 
 effort, till Roger, Mrs. Harrison's English servant, arriving on 
 the field of action, called to Allen to follow him, and forcing 
 his way through the window of Mrs. Allen's apartment, he 
 succeeded in clearing it of the furniture, and placing it at a safe 
 distance from the destructive element. The family, and the 
 few persons who had come to their aid, gathered around the 
 relics ; little Ellen stood with one hand in Mrs. Harrison's, 
 one arm lovingly encircled the neck of the faithful animal that 
 first broke her slumbers ; the whole group remained impotent 
 and silent spectators, till the house sunk a ruin under the still 
 crackling flames. 
 
 Mrs. Harrison first broke silence ; " I am sure, my good 
 friends," said she, " you are thinking more of what is left than 
 what is taken." 
 
 " Indeed you have guessed right, ma'am," replied Allen, 
 venting his agitated spirits in loud sobs. " The Lord that has 
 spared my wife and little ones and Ellen, is welcome to all the 
 rest. If I could but have saved my Bible that my mother gave 
 me, and my wife's silver tankard, I would just care no more 
 than if it was a bonfire." The mention of the excepted arti- 
 cles seemed to recall to Mrs. Allen's mind something of im- 
 portance. She exclaimed, " poor Ellen." and looked anxiously 
 around her, till her eye falling on a trunk, she hastily opened 
 it and took from it a small box ; then turning to her husband. 
 " God be praised," she said, " every thing of value is saved."
 
 REDWOOD. 127 
 
 The first strong emotions of gratitude having been directed to 
 the Supreme Preserver, they now began, with one voice, to pour 
 out their thanks to Mrs. Harrison, whose generous agency they 
 felt deeply. She begged them to defer all such expressions, 
 and urging the necessity of a shelter for their little ones, she 
 insisted on their going home with her. The good farmer and 
 his wife forgot their scruples in their gratitude and necessities ; 
 and in a short time they were comfortably housed at the Har- 
 rison mansion. After Mrs. Harrison had made every provi- 
 sion for the refreshment and repose of her guests, and after she 
 had stowed away little Ellen in j^room adjoining her own, and 
 extended her hospitalities even to the dog, her faithful coadju- 
 tor in the preservation of the child, she retired to her own 
 'room, nerved by gratitude and joy, to the task of reconciling 
 her husband to the liberties she had taken with the family 
 mansion. So strikingly did she delineate the dangers and 
 escape of the family, the risk she herself had run, the rescue 
 of the child, and finally, the exertions of Koger, his truly 
 English coolness and intrepidity, that Mr. Harrison himself 
 anticipated the conclusion of the story, by exclaiming, " Lord 
 bless me, my dear ! I hope you brought the unfortunate people 
 home with you ?" " Certainly, my dear," she replied. " You 
 did right perfectly right. There is no other establishment 
 in Lansdown equal to giving them all a shelter. But Martha, 
 my dear," he continued, " you ran a great risk quite an un- 
 warrantable risk, considering the relative importance of your 
 life to that of the child's." 
 
 " Oh ! thank you for thinking my life so important. I 
 only acted like a dutiful wife, and emulated your example. 
 You have forgotten at what hazard you saved Charles Lind- 
 say's life." 
 
 " Forgotten ! no, my dear ; but then you know a man has
 
 128 REDWOOD. 
 
 always more self-possession than a woman, more mind for emer- 
 gencies, and besides, Charles was the sole heir of an honorable 
 family some compensation for the risk. However, all is well 
 that ends well. . You have shown a spirit worthy of a noble 
 name, Martha, my dear ; and I shall take particular pleasure 
 in writing an account of the whole affair to Sir Harry by the 
 next ship that sails for London." 
 
 Mrs. Harrison, having thus succeeded beyond her utmost 
 hopes in making a favorable impression on the mind of her 
 husband, retired to rest ; her bosom filled with those sweet 
 emotions that are the peculiar property and rich reward of the 
 virtuous. If Mrs. Harrison felt any anxiety the succeeding 
 day about the intercourse of the host and his guests, it was 
 removed when she saw that the sense of protection and con- 
 descending kindness on the one part, and of gratitude on the 
 other, produced a happy state of feeling between the respec- 
 tive parties.
 
 REDWOOD. 129 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 " Oh, 'tis the curse of love and still approved, 
 When women cannot love, when they're beloved.'* 
 
 Two GENTLEMEN OF VJRONA. 
 
 IN the week following the destruction of his own house, Mr. 
 Allen succeeded in obtaining another for the accommodation 
 of his family till the following summer. The rigors of the 
 stern season then approaching, rendering it necessary to defer 
 the rebuilding of his own, Mrs. Harrison proposed to Mrs. 
 Allen to leave Ellen Bruce at the mansion-house till she should 
 again be re-established in her own 'home. There were such 
 obvious advantages in this arrangement for the child, Mrs. 
 Harrison pressed her request so earnestly, and Mrs. Allen felt 
 that it would be so ungrateful to refuse, that she yielded her 
 own inclination, and left Ellen with her devoted friend. The 
 presence of this sweet child operated on Mrs. Harrison's affec- 
 tions as the first breaking out of the sun after a long series of 
 cloudy weather upon the physical constitution. She had been 
 resigned in afflictions, patient under all those often recurring 
 vexations and petty disappointments that are by general con- 
 sent pronounced more trying to human virtue than great 
 calamities ; she had endured for twenty years the exacting 
 consequential peevish selfishness of a husband, in all respects 
 6*
 
 1 30 REDWOOD. 
 
 dissimilar to herself, in most inferior ; and she had become 
 neither nervous, petulant, nor selfish. Indeed so successful 
 were her dutiful efforts, that all her acquaintance deemed her 
 quite blind to her husband's faults ; and that she was not, 
 never appeared except when, to attain some good purpose, her 
 cautious and adroit approaches to his mind betrayed that she 
 knew where his prejudices were stationed, and where his pas- 
 sions ruled. If the hasty affections of her youth had been 
 alienated by her husband's faults, their place had been sup- 
 plied by the resolution of virtue, and by the tolerance of a 
 tender nature that felt more pity than aversion for human 
 frailty ; and finally, perhaps she loved him ; for neither her 
 words nor actions ever expressed that she did not : if the 
 maidenly reserve that " never tells a love," is the poet's elo- 
 quent theme, the matronly virtue that conceals the want of it, 
 is certainly far more deserving of the moralist's praise. 
 
 Little Ellen opened the fountain of Mrs. Harrison's affec- 
 tions : and such was the renovating influence produced on her, 
 that her husband, who never dreamed whence it proceeded, 
 remarked how prodigiously the country winter improved her 
 health and spirits ; and congratulated himself upon his wise 
 decision to remove from the chilling airs of the coast to the 
 family estate, always noted for its salubrious situation. 
 
 Every moment of leisure Mrs. Harrison devoted to her 
 little favorite. She taught her every thing she was capable of 
 receiving at the age of five years, in the way of formal instruc- 
 tion. She was the ingenious mistress, and the partaker of her 
 innocent revels. She insinuated moral, and it may be added, 
 religious principles into her mind, in the winning form of sto- 
 ries She warred agafhst the natural selfishness of childhood 
 in all its specious forms, and she completely subdued an im- 
 petuosity of temper, that had been suffered, if not nurtured
 
 REDWOOD. 131 
 
 by Mrs. Allen's indulgence : in short, she seemed constantly 
 to realize that she had the training of an immortal creature ; 
 and to feel that so sweet a form as Ellen's should " envelope 
 and contain 1 ' nought but " celestial spirits." 
 
 Allen began with the return of summer the rebuilding of 
 his house ; and assisted by the voluntary contributions of his 
 townsmen, he soon completed it. The prompt benevolence of 
 our country people on such occasions has been justly celebrated 
 by a foreigner, an observer (perhaps a partial one) of our 
 manners. 
 
 " Ici tous sont egaux : Pabondance est commune, 
 On ignore les nonas de crime et d'infortime 
 Si le feu, si 1'orage a fait un indigent 
 La beinfaisance accourt ; c'est 1'effet d'un moment." 
 
 The time at length arrived for Mrs. Allen to reclaim Ellen. 
 Mrs. Harrison urged delay after delay, and was so earnestly 
 seconded by her husband, (who had been beguiled of his un- 
 comfortable stateliness by the playful little creature,) that Mrs. 
 Allen finally consented to surrender her own inclinations, and 
 to make a permanent arrangement with Mrs. Harrison, which 
 should allow Ellen to pass half her time at the mansion-house. 
 In this arrangement there was a system of checks and balances, 
 that produced that singular and felicitous union of diversity of 
 qualities which- constituted the rare perfection of Ellen's cha- 
 racter. Mrs. Harrison communicated her taste and skill in 
 drawing, her knowledge of French and Italian, and all those 
 arts of female handicraft that were the fashion of her day. 
 Her pupil was taught curiously to explore the records of his- 
 tory, and to delight in the creations of poetry. When she 
 might hnve been in danger of an exclusive taste for the ele- 
 gant occupations of those who have the privilege of independ-
 
 132 REDWOOD. 
 
 ence and of leisure, she returned to Mrs. Allen to take her 
 lessons in practical life, to share and lighten the domestic cares 
 of her good friend, and to acquire those household arts that it 
 might be the duty of her station to perform, and which it is 
 the duty of every station to understand. Ellen might have 
 caught the pensiveness of Mrs Harrison's manner, with its 
 grace and polish : she might have forgotten the active duties 
 of life in listening with her to the melody of nature the mu- 
 sic of the passing stream, the rustling of the leaves, or the 
 song of the birds, or in watching the changeful forms of the 
 summer clouds, as their shadows dropped on the mountain's 
 side, or danced in frolic humors over the grassy fields and thick 
 standing corn. But for all this, the danger of secluded life to 
 those who possess sensibility and taste, there was an antidote 
 in the occupations of Mrs. Allen's household the spell of 
 imagination was dispelled by the actual services of life. 
 
 Had Ellen been less grateful or affectionate in her nature, 
 she might have loved one of her guardians to the exclusion of 
 the other ; but she felt their gratuitous kindness with the sen- 
 sibility of a truly generous mind ; she saw in them the parents 
 that Providence had provided for her orphanage, and without 
 any of the pride or restlessness of dependence, her devotion 
 to them both evinced her eager desire that they should realize 
 the highest rewards of benevolence. 
 
 Had her friends been less excellent than they were, some 
 mischief might have resulted to our heroine from the diversity 
 of their religious opinions. Both were Christians in faith and 
 experience, but Mrs. Harrison was educated in the Episcopal 
 church, and was exact in all its observances : and Mrs. Allen, 
 a lineal descendant of the pilgrims, was as rigid in her faith as 
 was compatible with the mildness of her character. The ' na- 
 tural enmity' that bigots might have found, or made, between
 
 REDWOOD. 133 
 
 their respective faiths, was destroyed by the spirit of Christi- 
 anity, as it must be, where that spirit bears rule, and the only 
 strife between these noble-minded women seemed to be, which 
 should most sedulously cultivate the religious principles in 
 their young friend. Mr. Harrison, certainly not remarkable 
 for his Christian graces, was scrupulous in maintaining all the 
 appointments of the established church. He never counte- 
 nanced by his august presence the worship of the village meet- 
 ing. It was one of his favorite observations, and he uttered 
 it with the pomp of an oracle, that puritanism was the mother 
 of rebellion. He was gratified with Ellen's respectful attend- 
 ance on his reading of the church service ; and he noticed 
 more than once how remarkably well her voice sounded, in the 
 responses. He blamed his wife for not making an effort to 
 prevent Ellen's going to the village meeting with the Aliens 
 during her residence with them, which he said she might easily 
 do, as the girl certainly had sense enough to discern the differ- 
 ence between worship and talking. Allen, too, dissatisfied 
 with what he deemed his wife's lukewarmness, reproved her 
 for riot interposing her authority to prevent Ellen from ' wast- 
 ing the Sabbath in hearing a form of words read over by a 
 man that had no more religion than the Pope, and who all the 
 while flattered himself that none but an Episcopal Tory could 
 go to heaven.' Happily for the peace of our heroine, neither 
 of the ladies deemed it her duty to interfere with the wishes 
 of the other ; and she grew up, nurtured in the spirit of our 
 blessed religion, without bigotry to any of the forms with which 
 accident, pride, or prejudice has invested it. 
 
 Time rolled on, and every year found Ellen improved in 
 loveliness : the gay and reckless spirit of childhood gave place 
 to the vivacity and sensitiveness of fifteen Mrs. Allen deem- 
 ed it inexpedient to delay longer to communicate to her such
 
 1 34 REDWOOD. 
 
 particulars of her mother's history as she was at liberty to im- 
 part. It was impossible any longer to evade her natural and 
 just curiosity on the subject, and as she could not for ever be 
 kept in ignorance. Mrs. Allen thought it necessary that she 
 should begin to fortify her mind for the evils that might await 
 her. Ellen received the communication with a gentle submis- 
 sion to the trials of her lot that astonished both her friends, 
 for Mrs. Harrison had long been in Mrs. Allen's confidence 
 she saw that dark clouds enveloped her ; still for hope is the 
 element of youth except in some moments of fearful appre- 
 hension, she believed that the clouded morning of her life 
 would be followed by a clear noontide. 
 
 The progress of time had wrought some changes in the 
 Allen family. Edward, the only son, had been sent to Ver- 
 mont, to reside in the family of Mr. Lenox his uncle, and 
 George Lenox his cousin, a student in Harvard University, 
 passed his vacations at Lansdown. The mother of Justyn 
 Allen had become a widow, and had been induced by her chil- 
 dren to fix her residence with them ; and Mr Allen had been 
 persuaded by one of his neighbors to relinquish the toils of 
 his farm for the easy acquisitions of trade, and to embark all 
 the capital his credit could command in a mercantile en 
 terprise. 
 
 Mr. Harrison's infirmities had grown with his years. He 
 passed his time in deprecating the encroaching spirit of jaco- 
 binism, and in predicting the certain dissolution of the federal 
 government. His prejudices operated like a distemper, and 
 gave to every object a distorted form and threatening aspect. 
 He saw nothing in our thriving institutions in the diffusion 
 of intelligence, virtue, and prosperity through the mass of 
 societJWbut menaces of degradation and elements of disorder, 
 ted of our chief magistrate, that during his late
 
 REDWOOD. 135 
 
 visit to our northern metropolis, he exclaimed, on beholding the 
 concourse of well-dressed, well-behaved people, assembled to 
 greet him, " Where are your common people ?" This exclama- 
 tion, so flattering to a just republican pride, would have con- 
 veyed to the loyal ears of Robert Harrison a sense of hopeless 
 degradation ; for in his view, every elevation of the common- 
 ally depressed the level of the gentleman. Fortunately for 
 him, the respect inspired by the good sense and benevolence of 
 his wife shielded him from the insults which his folly provoked ; 
 and his connection with Ellen Bruce was a link between him 
 and his neighbors, which protected him from their open scorn. 
 Ellen, as her mind matured, became every day more dear 
 and necessary to Mrs. Harrison, with whom, from fifteen to 
 eighteen, her time was passed almost exclusively. Even Mr. 
 Harrison condescended to say that he could not live without 
 her, and his wife, availing herself of this favorable expression, 
 ventured to suggest to him to make some provision for her fa- 
 vorite in case of the misfortune of his death. " He had no- 
 thing," he said, " to dispose of, but the family estate, and that 
 he thought could with no propriety be diverted from flowing 
 in its natural channel to the heir at law," a distant relation 
 residing in England. Mrs. Harrison suggested, that, as this 
 gentleman had a noble revenue from his own estates, such an 
 accession as their little property would be but as a drop to the 
 ocean ; and she urged that it would be in the spirit of the 
 known generosity of his family to confer his bounty on an or- 
 phan : she intimated that Ellen was quite dependent on him, 
 for, except a few hundred dollars inherited from her parents, 
 she had nothing, and could have no rational reliance on the 
 Aliens ; for it had been for some time whispered in Lansdown 
 that Allen, in his mercantile enterprise, had met with the fate 
 of all those who, since the time of Esop's fish, have aspired to
 
 136 REDWOOD. 
 
 some other element than that for which Providence had des- 
 tined them. All these arguments she stated so cogently that 
 her husband was persuaded to comply with her wishes, and he 
 promised, that during a visit to Boston, whither he was going 
 the next week to celebrate the king's birthday, he would have 
 his will duly drawn and executed, and devise the " family estate " 
 to Ellen Bruce. This good resolution shared the fate of so 
 many others left at the mercy of the casualties of life. Mr. 
 Harrison went to Boston, and on the birthday, dined at the 
 British Consul's with a select band of loyalists. The illustri- 
 ous occasion and the good cheer of his host tempted him to the 
 excessive demonstrations of enthusiasm common on such occa- 
 sions, and the consequence was that he died the succeeding 
 night of an apoplexy. 
 
 A few months subsequent to Mr. Harrison's death, Justyn 
 Allen also paid the debt of nature, and in consequence of 
 the unfortunate issue of his mercantile enterprise, left his 
 wife, his old mother, and his children, without any provision. 
 The loss of her husband and the ruin of their affairs aggra- 
 vated a mortal disease under which Mrs. Allen had been for 
 some time suffering ; and as if the family was destined to illus- 
 trate the common remark, that troubles never come singly, 
 Emily became so sickly that a physician pronounced change of 
 air necessary to her. At this time Susan Allen (whom our 
 readers may remember as the sister of Justyn Allen, who re- 
 mained finally attached to the Shaker society) arrived at Lans- 
 down on her way to visit a society of her own people at Har- 
 vard. Mrs. Allen, anxious to remove Emily from the distress- 
 ing scenes that she was conscious awaited her at home, thank- 
 fully accepted a proposition which her aunt made, to take her 
 upon this excursion, for the benefit of the ride and change 
 of place. Unforeseen circumstances detained her for a long
 
 REDWOOD. 137 
 
 time within the sphere of her aunt's influence ; and her mind 
 weakened, and her spirits dejected, she adopted, as has been 
 seen, the strange faith of her enthusiastic relative. In the 
 mean time, Ellen, devoted to the care of Mrs. Allen, allowed 
 herself no relaxation but passing a few hours occasionally with 
 Mrs. Harrison. 
 
 It was during one of these visits that Mrs. Harrison in- 
 quired if Allen's affairs were so fatally involved as to render 
 it necessary to surrender the house to his creditors. Ellen be- 
 lieved not. " George Lenox," she said, " had advanced two 
 hundred dollars to redeem a portion of the property." 
 
 " George Lenox !" exclaimed Mrs. Harrison, " how, dear 
 Ellen, has he the ability to do so generous an act? 
 
 " He draws on talent and industry," replied Ellen, " and I 
 do not believe his drafts will ever be dishonored." 
 
 " I know, my love," rejoined Mrs. Harrison, " that youth 
 forms vast expectations from those resources, but I likewise 
 know that they are not always answered by ready money." 
 
 Ellen explained to Mrs. Harrison that young Lenox, 
 after defraying his expenses at the university, had that 
 amount of money remaining the fruit of his industry and 
 economy. 
 
 " Such a gift," said Mrs. Harrison, " his all, was indeed 
 most generous, and deserves the bright reward that is glowing 
 on your cheek at this moment ; but still, I do not quite com- 
 prehend how your young wits have contrived to satisfy the de- 
 mand on the portion of the property redeemed with two hun- 
 dred dollars." The glow that had suffused Ellen's cheek deep- 
 ened as she replied, " Dearest Mrs. Harrison, forgive me if I 
 have not dealt frankly with you ; I wished to avoid exciting 
 your tender, but, believe me, unnecessary solicitude about me. 
 I have made the best use of my little inheritance in appropri-
 
 138 REDWOOD. 
 
 ating it to the relief of my friends : the sum, as you know, was 
 originally four hundred dollars. It has been more than doubled 
 by Mr Allen, more prudent in the management of my affairs 
 than his own ; and yesterday I had the happiness of giving it 
 into George Lenox's hands, and of seeing the joy of Mrs. Al- 
 len, when it was announced to her by her principal creditor 
 that a valuable portion of her property had been redeemed by 
 an unknown friend ; and had you seen the expression that lit 
 up her sick face, when she exclaimed, ' Thank God, my old 
 mother will not have to go forth from her son's house to seek 
 a shelter in her old age, and my children, my dear children, 
 may come home, to live again under their father's roof.' Oh, 
 Mrs. Harrison, you might have envied me the pleasure of that 
 moment, had it cost me ten thousand times the paltry sum I 
 sacrificed for it." 
 
 " Then she is ignorant of her benefactor ?" 
 
 " Yes but do not give me that name benefactor ! dear 
 Mrs. Harrison, it can only be because I owe to you an equal 
 debt, that you forget my obligations to Mrs. Allen: did not 
 she save my helpless infancy from neglect, and without a 
 mother's instincts or rights, has she not nurtured me with a 
 mother's tenderness?" 
 
 " You are right you are right, my noble-minded Ellen," 
 replied Mrs. Harrison, as Ellen paused in her appeal: "my 
 fear of the possible evils you may encounter (should I be re- 
 moved from you) from want and dependence, afflicts me with 
 undue anxiety. I hope I should have courage enough not to 
 shrink from any evils that menaced myself, but when I think 
 of your being exposed to a cold, selfish world, I feel a mother's 
 timidity ; you, with your strange, mysterious history, Ellen, 
 your inexperience, your generous, confiding temper, with all 
 that refinement that I have foolishly, perhaps sinfully, delight-
 
 REDWOOD. 139 
 
 ed to watch stealing over your character, with all the graces 
 that fit you for " 
 
 " Oh, stop, dear Mrs. Harrison, this is strange language 
 for you to hold, and me to hear ; my highest ambition is to do 
 well my duty in whatever station Providence assigns me. This 
 is an ambition, as you have taught me, that cannot be disap- 
 pointed ; here the race is to the swift, and the battle to the 
 strong. I will not," she added, playfully, " any longer expose 
 my humility to temptation ;" and she put on her hat, and 
 stooped to her friend for a farewell kiss, when Mrs. Harrison 
 said, ' not yet, Ellen, you must not go till you have explained 
 to me this benevolent sympathy of yours and young Lenox's ; 
 this generous union of your fortunes is doubtless received by 
 him as a good omen ?" 
 
 " The event of our friend's happiness has already interpret- 
 ed the omen, and explained all its significance," replied Ellen, 
 rising and walking away from Mrs. Harrison. 
 
 " Now, come back to me, Ellen," said she, " and seat your- 
 self here on my footstool, and if your tongue will not speak the 
 truth, I must read it in your truth-telling eyes and cheeks." 
 
 Ellen turned towards her friend for the first time in her 
 life reluctantly ; and reseating herself, she said with an embar- 
 rassed air, " I scarcely can conjecture what you expect from 
 me." 
 
 " I will not tax your sagacity to conjecture, but come direct- 
 ly to the point do you love George Lenox ?" 
 
 " Most certainly I do ; I should be the most ungrateful " 
 
 " Pshaw, my dear Ellen, it is not the love that springs from 
 any such dutiful source as gratitude which is in question at 
 this moment ; but that mysterious sentiment, inexplicable, un- 
 controllable, which does not require, and seldom (I fear) admits 
 a reason for its existence."
 
 140 REDWOOD. 
 
 " I should be sorry, indeed, to confess or to feel such a sen- 
 timent for any one." 
 
 " Evading, again ! Ah. dear Ellen, the nature of the ani- 
 mal is known by its doublings. You are so deep in the sci- 
 ence as to demand the use of technics tell me, then, are 
 you in love with George Lenox ?" 
 
 ' Indeed I am not you know I am not, Mrs. Harrison." 
 
 " I fancied J knew that you were not, but nothing less than 
 a gift of second sight is infallible on such occasions : we must 
 go a little farther, Ellen, even at the risk of deepening the 
 crimson on your cheeks you surely are not unconscious that 
 Lenox is in love with you ?" 
 
 " He has never told me so," replied Ellen. 
 
 " That may be young Edwin ' never talked of love' but 
 without much experience, you know there are expressions that 
 speak this passion more emphatically than language : and, ex- 
 empt as you are from vanity, I think you cannot have misun- 
 derstood this amiable young man's devotion to you his eager- 
 ness for your society, his anxiety to gratify all your wishes, his 
 eye fixed on you as if he were spell-bound " 
 
 " 0, say no more," exclaimed Ellen, hiding her face on her 
 friend's lap, " I have understood George, but I hoped " 
 
 " To be able to make an appropriate return. Have I made 
 out your meaning ?" 
 
 " Far from it I hoped that our approaching separation 
 that new pursuits, new objects, would efface the accidental pre- 
 ference which has arisen from our early and confidential inter- 
 course." 
 
 " In short, you trusted to those accidents over which you 
 have no control to heal the wound that your kindness, your 
 unreserved manner to this poor young man has been for years 
 deepening."
 
 REDWOOD. 141 
 
 ' Oh, dear Mrs. Harrison, of what do you suspect ine of 
 the baseness of coquetry ?" 
 
 "No, Ellen, no, you are incapable of trifling with the 
 happiness of any one ; your error has arisen from inexpe- 
 rience. I should have cautioned you, but I am not fit to be 
 your guide and counsellor in affairs of this nature ; for though 
 I have lived more than half a century, my secluded, childless 
 life has offered few opportunities of observation, and fewer 
 still where my sagacity has been stimulated by inteiest. I 
 forgive your surprise and your indignation, my love, at what 
 you imagined my suspicion of coquetry, for I know nothing 
 more selfish, heartless, base, and degrading, than for a woman 
 to encourage, nay permit the growth of an affection which she 
 has no intention of returning." 
 
 "I should detest such a miserable triumph of vanity ,"^ ex- 
 claimed Ellen ; " I should hate myself were I capable of it, 
 and George, kind, generous as he is, the sufferer. What 
 ought I to do can I do any thing now V' she asked with the 
 impatience of a generous mind to repair the evil it has in- 
 flicted." 
 
 "No, my love," replied Mrs. Harrison, "it is only by 
 leaving undone, that mischief can be avoided in affairs of this 
 kind. George goes to-morrow ; avoid seeing him again, if you 
 can without apparent design, for farewell words and looks 
 furnish food for the sweet and bitter fancies of a brain-sick 
 lover during any interval of absence. 
 
 " The severe suffering," she continued, as she marked the 
 deep melancholy that had succeeded Ellen's usually animated 
 expression, " you feel at this moment from having been the 
 involuntary cause of disappointment to your friend, will teach 
 you in future jealously to guard the happiness that may be ex- 
 posed to the influence of your attraction. You are in no
 
 142 REDWOOD. 
 
 danger of the silly vanity of fancying that civility means love, 
 and of giving importance to every trifling gallantry ; but 
 modest humble in your self-estimate, you are in danger of 
 wounding deeply the bosom that is bared to your involuntary 
 shafts. 1 ' 
 
 " There is no need of caution for the future," replied 
 Ellen, " no one else will ever care for me so much as George 
 does." x 
 
 " That may be, dear Ellen, but as you are scarce eighteen, 
 it is possible that you have not finished y9ur experience in 
 love affairs ; if you preserve that woe-begone visage, indeed, 
 any other safeguard against the effect of your charms will be 
 quite superfluous ; come, my love, cheer up, and let me hear 
 your sweet voice at my dinner table, as sweet to me as min- 
 strelsy to an old chieftain." 
 
 Ellen made a vain effort to recover her spirits, and then 
 hurried away that she might indulge her ingenuous sorrow 
 without giving pain to her friend. She was careful to follow 
 Mrs. Harrison's prudent counsel, and when George Lenox 
 came to pass his last evening with her, he received a friendly 
 farewell message, with the information that her duty to Mrs. 
 Allen precluded her seeing him again. Before the morning 
 dawned George was in a stage-coach on his way to the south. 
 He passed the boundary of Lansdown with almost as heavy a 
 heart as our first parent bore through the gates of Paradise : 
 feeling, like all true lovers, " that the world is divided into 
 two parts ; that where she is, and that where she is not." 
 
 It would be difficult to say whether Mrs. Harrison was 
 most gratified or disappointed by the result of her investiga- 
 tion into the state of Ellen's affections. While she lived, her 
 annuity was ample for the support of Ellen and herself ; but 
 nothing could be more precarious than such a dependence, and
 
 REDWOOD. 143 
 
 Ellen might be left to encounter alone the wants of life. 
 Young Lenox had promising talents, and those "getting 
 along " faculties, that are a warrant for success : his devoted 
 attachment was merit in the eyes of Mrs. Harrison ; still he 
 wanted those refined habits, that delicacy of taste, the result 
 of cultivation, and those graces of manner, to all which Mrs. 
 Harrison, from her early habits and associations, gave (it may 
 be) an undue importance. There is such a taste for learning 
 (we use the word in its provincial sense) pervading all ranks 
 in New EnglanjJ if indeed ranks can be predicated of a 
 society where none dare to define the dividing lines, and few 
 can perceive them that we often see those advanced to the 
 most conspicuous stations in society, whose boyish years have 
 been spent in ploughing the narrow fields of the patrimonial 
 farm. There are some disagreeable results from this state of 
 things, on the whole so honorable ; and Mrs. Harrison felt that 
 in implanting in Ellen the tastes that belong to the highest 
 grades of society, and in cultivating the habits of the " born 
 gentlewoman," she had conferred a superiority of doubtful 
 value : and she was almost led to regret the fastidiousness 
 which had been her own work, when she felt herself compelled 
 to trace to it Ellen's rejection of the affection of one who was 
 her equal in all important respects, and whose excellent char- 
 acter and flattering prospects would have rendered a connec- 
 tion with him highly advantageous. We said Mrs. Harrison 
 almost regretted the state of Ellen's heart, we fear she did not 
 quite, for in common with the best individuals, she sometimes 
 sacrificed general and immutable principles to the indulgence 
 of her favorite peculiarities. 
 
 Mrs. Allen's life closed at the end of a few painful weeks, 
 and Ellen, after having performed every service for her with 
 the strictest fidelity, wept over her with filial sorrow. Old
 
 144 REDWOOD. 
 
 Mrs. Allen soon after joined her grandson at Eton, and Ellen, 
 thus unfettered by duty, returned to Mrs. Harrison's, where 
 her life passed happily in pursuits congenial to her taste, till 
 she was summoned to Vermont by intelligence of the threat- 
 ening illness of Edward Allen.
 
 REDWOOD. 145 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 " See what a ready tongue suspicion hath." 
 
 HENRY IV. 
 
 OUR readers no doubt will think it is quite time that we should 
 return from our long digression to the family at Eton. There 
 nothing occurred worthy their notice, till one evening Mrs. 
 Lenox, entering Miss Bruce's apartment, said, " Ellen, are 
 you here, and quite alone ?" " Quite alone," replied Ellen ; 
 " Miss Redwood has not left her father's room since they took 
 their tea." 
 
 " I am glad of it glad the girl has the grace to stay with 
 him even for half an hour, though her society seems to be of 
 little use or consolation ; and particularly glad, dear Ellen, to 
 find you alone. I must interrupt your starlight meditations, 
 or rather give you an interesting subject for them : but we 
 shall want a light, for I have brought you a letter to read." 
 
 A letter !" 
 
 " Yes, my dear, a letter, and to me the most delightful I 
 ever received." She was about to proceed to divulge its con- 
 tents, when both she and Ellen were startled by a sound about 
 Miss Redwood's bed. Mrs. Lenox advanced to the bed and 
 laid her hand on it. " There is no one here," she said, " I 
 fancied I heard a sound." " I fancied so too," said Ellen.
 
 146 REDWOOD. 
 
 " Happily we were both mistaken, my dear, for I should bo 
 very sorry to tell my story to any ears but yours. Ellen, L 
 am the proudest and happiest of mothers ; I have just received 
 a letter from George, which proves that he is worthy of his 
 prosperity." 
 
 ' I am very glad of it." 
 
 ' ' And do you not yet, Ellen, suspect the reason you have 
 to be glad do you not know that George loves you ?" 
 
 " Oh, I hope not !" exclaimed Ellen involuntarily. 
 
 " Hope not, my dear Ellen ! I am sure there is not another 
 in the world so worthy of his love not another who would be 
 such an ornament to the station in which George will place his 
 wife not another that I should be so happy to call my child." 
 She paused for a moment for a reply, but Ellen said nothing. 
 
 " Do not," Mrs. Lenox continued. " repress your feelings. 
 George, like a dutiful son, reposes confidence in me, and why 
 should not you ? George himself can hardly love you better 
 than I do." 
 
 " Thank you thank you, Mrs. Lenox " 
 
 " No, my dear, you must not thank me, you are worthy 
 your good fortune, and your own merit has secured it. I have 
 used no influence, though I would have done any thing to have 
 brought about the connection ; but this is George's unbiassed 
 decision, he confesses to me he has loved you ever since he was 
 a boy. Is not such a good and constant heart worth having, 
 Ellen, not to mention being the wife of a celebrated young 
 clergyman ?" 
 
 Here the happy mother again paused, and again wondered 
 she received no reply. 
 
 " Not a word, Ellen ? well, you shall have your own way ; 
 it is in vain to expect common sense, or a common way of 
 showing it, from girls in love : so I will just bring you a can-
 
 REDWOOD. 147 
 
 die, and leave you to read the letter by yourself : only remem- 
 ber that the southern mail goes out to-morrow, and that lovers 
 like to 1-avo their declarations come back to them as quick as 
 echoes." 
 
 Thus saying, Mrs. Lenox rose to leave the room, when 
 Ellen caught her by the arm, and exclaimed, " stop one mo- 
 ment, Mrs. Lenox, and hear me." 
 
 " Hear you, dear Ellen ; George himself could scarcely be 
 more delighted to hear you." Ellen's tongue seemed to be 
 again paralyzing, but making a strong effort, she said, " you 
 know, Mrs. Lenox, what reasons I have for wishing to defer 
 for the present all thoughts of marriage ; you know that I 
 ought not to involve any one in my unhappy destiny ; you 
 know George does not that possible disgrace awaits me." 
 
 " But, my dearest Ellen, what is all this to the purpose 1 
 Have you so poor an opinion of my son's attachment to you, 
 as to fancy that the worst issue of your uncertainties which 
 you can apprehend would be a straw in his way ? No ! he 
 loves you for yourself alone truly devotedly loves you." 
 
 Ellen was quite overcome with the generous, affectionate 
 zeal of the mother, and bursting into tears, she clasped Mrs. 
 Lenox's hand in hers, and said, " I do not deserve this, my 
 dear, kind friend ; I have not been frank with you. I do 
 not," she added, faltering, " I do not love Georg^." 
 
 " Not love him !" exclaimed Mrs. Lenox, drawing back 
 from Ellen, " not love him, Ellen ! it can't be, child it is im- 
 possible." Poor Ellen at this moment wished it were impossi- 
 ble ; she sunk back in her chair, and dark as the room was, 
 instinctively covered her face with her handkerchief, while her 
 friend, in great agitation, walked up and down the room, talk- 
 ing half to herself and half to Ellen. " Not love him ! I can 
 not believe it ; you have always known him. You know there
 
 148 REDWOOD 
 
 is not a blemish on bis character. A pious minister a man 
 of education and talents very good talents quite uncommon 
 talents and a better tempered boy never lived ; and as to his 
 appearance, there may be handsomer men than George, but 
 there never was a pleasanter look a good faithful son he has 
 been, and brother, and that is a sure sign he will be a good 
 husband : and he loves you, Ellen ;" she concluded, pausing, 
 and placing her hand on Ellen's shoulder, " and you can't be 
 in your right mind if you do not love him." 
 
 Ellen felt that it would be in vain to attempt to convince 
 the fond mother that that could be a right mind which did not, 
 as she would think, justly appreciate George's merits : and she 
 was too delicate, too gentle to attempt to vindicate herself. 
 She was grateful for the mother's and the son's generous pre- 
 ference of an isolated being ; and approaching alone the crisis 
 of her fate, she was reluctant to refuse the kind protecting 
 arm that was stretched out to succor and protect her. 
 
 She faltered for a moment in the resolution she had in- 
 stinctively taken : she could not bear to afflict, perhaps to alien- 
 ate her partial friends she might be able to command her 
 affections. But, alas ! the spirit would not come when she did 
 call it ; for when Mrs. Lenox, suspecting some infirmity of 
 purpose from Ellen's continued silence, said, in a softened tone, 
 " It was but-a g|rlish, silly feeling after all was it, dear Ellen ? 
 yon will not be such a child as to throw away the prize you 
 have drawn." She replied with a dignified decision that 
 lasted Mrs. Lenox's reviving hopes : " I have nothing to give 
 
 that prize, and it cannot be mine. George must seek some 
 one who can return his affections, and thus deserve them I 
 cannot." 
 
 Well, this is most extraordinary," replied Mrs. Lenox ; 
 " why what do you wish for '? what do you expect, Ellen ? :> 
 
 I
 
 REDWOOD. l49 
 
 " Nothing, nothing in the world, Mrs. Lenox, but your and 
 your son's forgiveness for what must seem to you ingratitude, 
 insensibility ; for myself/' she added, " my path is a soli- 
 tary one ; but there is light on it from heaven ; and if I can 
 preserve the kindness of my friends, I shall have courage and 
 patience for the rest." There was so much purity and truth 
 and feeling in Ellen's words, that Mrs. Lenox could not retain 
 the resentment that, in spite of her better feelings, had arisen 
 in her bosom. " Our forgiveness !" she replied, kindly, " Oh, 
 Ellen, you need not ask our forgiveness. George, poor fellow, 
 thinks you can do no wrong, and I always did think so : and 
 even now I do not feel so much for my son as to see you so 
 blind to your own happiness." 
 
 How long this conference, so unsatisfactory to the mother 
 and embarrassing to Ellen, might have continued, it is impos- 
 sible to say, had it not been interrupted by the entrance of 
 Miss Redwood. 
 
 " Ah !" she exclaimed, " a tete a tete, confidential, no 
 doubt ; I am sorry to interrupt it," she continued, looking at 
 both the ladies, and observing the signs of emotion that were 
 too evident to escape notice ; " it seems to have been interest- 
 ing. Come, Lilly, you lazy wretch," she added, turning to the 
 servant, who was lying stretched out on the floor at the foot of 
 the bed, " get up and undress me ; I have Ifcen dying with 
 sleep this half hour, while papa was prosing away at me." 
 
 Lilly's appearance on the floor at the entrance of the light 
 explained to the ladies the noise they had heard ; they e 
 changed looks of mutual intelligence, but both concluding 
 
 ^^^^H 
 
 had been asleep, they gave themselves no farther concern :ihou 
 her. Mrs. Lenox bade the young ladies good night, and re- 
 paired to her husband with a heavy heart to acquaint, him with, 
 the result of George's suit. He, good, easy man, after express-
 
 150 REDWOOD. 
 
 ing some surprise, concluded with the truisms, that girls were 
 apt to be notional ; that to be sure Ellen was a likely young 
 woman, but there were plenty of fish in the sea, and good ones 
 too, that would spring at a poorer bait than George could throw 
 out ; #nd besides, he added, by way of consolation, there ua- 
 something of a mist about Ellen, and though he should not 
 have made that an objection, seeing that she was a good girl, 
 and George had an idea about her, yet, as matters had turned 
 out as they had, he believed it was all for the best. Mrs. 
 Lenox thought her husband had very inadequate notions of 
 Ellen Bruce's merits, but she was wise enough to refrain from 
 disturbing his philosophy on this trying occasion. 
 
 Soon after Mrs. Lenox left the young ladies' apartment, 
 Miss Bruce took her hat and shawl and stole softly down stairs. 
 Miss Redwood listened to her footsteps till she heard the house 
 door close after her. " In the name of Heaven, Lilly," she 
 demanded of her servant, " what can she have gone out for at 
 this time in the evening ?' 
 
 " I am not the witch that can tell that, Miss Caroline ; but 
 one thing I can tell ; I heard her say to Doctor Bristol, as I 
 passed them standing together in the entry just before he 
 went away to-day, ' I shall not fail to be there.' " 
 
 Nothing could be more indefinite than Lilly's information ; 
 however, it wfc more satisfactory than none, and after ponder- 
 ing on it for a moment, her mistress said, " your ears are 
 worth having, girl tell me, did you hear what Miss Bruce and 
 rs. Lenox were talking about in the dark here ?" " That did 
 iss Caroline ; trust me for using my ears. I waked when 
 Mrs. Lenox came into the room, and was just starting up. when, 
 thinks I to myself, they'll be saying something about Miss 
 Gary, and I'll just lie snug and hear it it will be nuts 
 for her."
 
 REDWOOD. 151 
 
 "Did they talk about me? what said they? tell me 
 quick." 
 
 " Why, Miss Gary, they said just nothing at all about you ; 
 no more than if you wasn't nobody." 
 
 " What in the name of wonder then did they talk about 
 what could they have to say ?" asked Miss Kedwood, wonder- 
 ing internally that there should be any field of vision in which 
 she was not the most conspicuous object. 
 
 " Oh, Miss Gary," replied Lilly, " their talk was all about 
 themselves ; that is to say, about Miss Bruce and George 
 Lenox, that I told you was going to marry her ; but it appears 
 she is all off the notion of it now, though his mother Pegged 
 her as hard as a body might beg for your striped gown that 
 you don't wear any more, Miss Gary." 
 
 " You selfish wretch ! My striped gown it is hideous ! 
 You may have it, Lilly, only tell me what Mrs. Lenox said, 
 and what Miss Bruce, and all about it." Lilly proceeded to 
 the details, and by her skilful use of the powers of memory 
 and invention, she made out a much longer conversation than 
 we have reported to our readers ; from which conversation 
 Caroline deduced the natural inference, that Miss Bruce would 
 not sacrifice the opportunity of an advantageous connection 
 without a good and sufficient reason. What could be that rea- 
 son ? The attempt to solve this mystery led her into a la- 
 byrinth of conjectures, from which there was no clue for extri- 
 cation but the apparent and mutual interest that subsisted be- 
 tween her father and Miss Bruce. It was possible that Ellen in- 
 dulged hopes of a more splendid alliance than that with George 
 Lenox. Caroline really had too much sense to allow much force 
 to this extraordinary conclusion ; still she continued alternately 
 to dwell on that, and on the reason of Miss Bruce's absence, 
 till Lilly spoke of the expected arrival of the Westalls. This
 
 152 REDWOOD. 
 
 opened a new channel for her thoughts the debtit of a possi- 
 ble admirer could rival any other interest, and before she sunk 
 to sleep, Ellen's affairs subsided to the insignificance which 
 they really bore in relation to her own. 
 
 Caroline found other influences as unfriendly to sleep as the 
 'bracing air of the lake.' She awoke with the first beam of 
 day, and instinctively raised her head from the pillow to ascer- 
 tain whether Ellen Bruce's bed was unoccupied ; it was, but 
 her ear caught the sound of a footstep in the entry, and imme- 
 diately after Ellen entered with as little noise as possible. 
 " You need not be so quiet, Miss Bruce," said Caroline, " I am 
 wide awake." 
 
 " I am happy if I do not disturb you," replied Ellen, " still 
 I must be quiet on account of the family." 'Ah,' thought 
 Caroline, 'the family then know nothing of this manoeuvre.' 
 " You look excessively pale and wearied, Miss Bruce." 
 
 " I am wearied," replied Ellen, without gratifying or even 
 noticing Miss Redwood's curiosity : " but," she added, as she 
 threw herself on the bed, " I shall have time before breakfast 
 to refresh myself." 
 
 Caroline, with the transmuting power of jealousy, had con- 
 verted Ellen's simplest actions into aliments for her suspicions, 
 and now that a circumstance had occurred which did not rea- 
 dily admit of an explanation, she exulted in the expectation 
 of a triumph over her father, who had treated her curiosity in 
 relation to Ellen as quite childish and groundless. ' ; Your 
 favorite, papa," she said, seizing a favorable opportunity when 
 she was sitting alone with her father after dinner, ' ; has a sin- 
 gular taste for walking and at such odd hours." 
 
 " It may appear singular to you, Caroline, with your south- 
 ern habits ; but I imagine you will not ; find it uncommon at 
 the north."
 
 REDWOOD. 153 
 
 " 0, north or south, papa, I fancy it is not common for lady 
 pedestrians to pass the whole night in promenades." 
 
 " The whole night what do you mean, my child ?" Caro- 
 line explained. Her father listened to her detail with undis- 
 guised interest, and after a few moments' pause, he said, " it 
 would have been natural and quite proper, as you are Miss 
 Bruce's room-mate, that you should have asked of her the rea- 
 son of her absence last night did you so ?" 
 
 " Oh, thank you, papa, no ; I have not yet taken lessons 
 enough of these question-asking Yankees, to inquire into that 
 which this lady of mysteries evidently chooses to keep secret, 
 even from her dear friends the Lenoxes." 
 
 " Well, my dear, since you will not or cannot gratify your 
 curiosity, I advise you to suspend it, and to do yourself and 
 Miss Bruce the justice to remember the remark of a sagacious 
 observer, that the ' simplest characters sometimes baffle all the 
 art of decipherers.' You look displeased, Caroline let us talk 
 on some subject on which we shall agree better I think we 
 may look for the Westalls to-day." 
 
 " Thank heaven ! any change will be agreeable." 
 
 " Agreeable as a change, no doubt but the society of the 
 Westalls will, I hope, have some more enduring charm than 
 novelty ; the mother, I am certain, will be quite to your taste 
 and to the son, if report speaks truly, no young lady can be 
 indifferent." 
 
 " How, papa ; is he handsome, clever, rich, accomplished ?" 
 
 " Handsome if I had seen Charles Westall within the last 
 half-hour, I should hardly presume to decide on so delicate a 
 point : he was but four years old when I parted from him. ot~ 
 course I only recollect him as a. child. I have been told how- 
 ever by some Virginians \vln> !i;ivo visited the north, that !H i.s 
 the image of his father : if so, he has an appearance that ladies
 
 154 REDWOOD. 
 
 usually honor with their favor manly, intelligent, and expres 
 sire of every benevolent affection." 
 
 " No tone of your soft-amiable gentle-zephyr youths, I hope, 
 papa ? they are my aversion." 
 
 " Not precisely ; but if his face resembles his father's, it 
 rather indicates a natural taste for domestic life than for the 
 ' shrill fife and spirit-stirring drum ' for the peace than the 
 war establishment ; but I shall leave you to decide on his beau- 
 ty, Caroline," continued Mr. Redwood, as he noticed a slight 
 blush on his daughter's cheek at what she considered an allusion 
 to her military preference. " ' Is he clever ?' is, I think, the 
 second question in the order of your interrogatories ; to this 
 point I have the most satisfactory testimonials ; he has received 
 the first honors of the first university in our country has 
 finished the study of the law with one of the most eminent 
 men at the north, and has received the proposal of a most ad- 
 vantageous partnership with his instructor, which he has just 
 accepted." 
 
 " Then if he is going into the drudgery of business, he is 
 not rich of course, papa ?" 
 
 " No, Caroline, he is not rich," Mr. Redwood was on the 
 point of adding, li and of what consequence is that to us ?" 
 but he remembered in time, that it was his policy to conceal 
 from his wayward daughter his own views ; and he said, after 
 a momentary pause, " his father's rash generosity impoverished 
 his estate. The father was an enthusiast, Caroline ; he thought 
 as we all do of the curse of slavery." 
 
 " The curse of slavery ! lord. papa, don't you cant ? There 
 is no living without slaves." 
 
 " I fear, my child, that we shall find there is no living with 
 them ; but besides the universal feeling in relation to the evil 
 of slavery, if you xvill permit me, Miss Redwood, to call it an
 
 REDWOOD. 155 
 
 evil. Westall's father had some peculiar notions. During his 
 life he gave to many of his slaves their freedom." 
 
 " Oh, shameful !" exclaimed Caroline, " when every body 
 allows, that all our danger is from the freed slaves." 
 
 " Westall endeavored as far as possible to obviate that dan- 
 ger. He reserved the noble gift for those who were qualified 
 for it by some useful art, or power of independent industry. 
 At his death he bequeathed their liberty to all who remained 
 on the plantation. This it appears he deemed not generous 
 but just ; as he stated in his will, that in resigning his property 
 in them he merely restored to them a natural right which they 
 had received from their Creator, and which he had only with- 
 held in the hope of fitting them to enjoy it. but which he would 
 not leave in the power of any one to detain from them." 
 
 " How very odd, papa ! and so by the indulgence of these 
 whims he beggared poor Charles ?" 
 
 " It cannot be denied that young Westall's inheritance was 
 impaired by his father's singular, or it may be fanatical, no- 
 tions of justice ; for the value of a southern plantation is gra- 
 duated by the number of its slaves, and without them it is 
 much in the condition of a cart without a horse. There was 
 no hypocrisy in my friend's professed dislike of slavery ; it 
 was deep-rooted and unconquerable, and to it he sacrificed 
 every pecuniary advantage. According to the absolute pro- 
 vision of his will his plantation was sold, and his widow and 
 son removed to the north. Charles's fortune, though reduced, 
 has been adequate to the expenses of a first-rate education ; he 
 has inherited the disinterestedness of his father's spirit, for I 
 find that since coming of age he has vested nearly all that re- 
 mained of his property in an annuity for his mother ; he has 
 a few thousand dollars left to start with, and as the ' winds 
 and waves arc always favorable to the ablest navigators,' I do
 
 156 REDWOOD. 
 
 not doubt that his talents and industry will insure him suc- 
 cess. As to his ' accomplishments,' Caroline, you and I affix 
 probably different meanings to the term, and therefore I will 
 leave you to satisfy your interrogatory on that head after you 
 shall have seen him." 
 
 " Different meanings, papa ! every body knows what ac- 
 complished means does he speak French ? does he ride 
 well ? does he dance well ? Is he comme il faut, graceful, 
 elegant, and high-bred, and all that ? what grandmama calls 
 genteel ?" 
 
 " Oh perfectly genteel, my dear," replied the father with a 
 bitter smile, " he was born and bred a gentleman, and has the 
 mind and spirit of a gentleman ; he is, I am told, approved by- 
 wise fathers, courted by discreet mothers, and what you will 
 probably consider much more unequivocal testimony the 
 favorite of fair "daughters. But, Caroline," continued Mr. 
 Redwood, checking himself from the fear that his daughter 
 would perceive his solicitude to secure her favorable opinion of 
 Westall, " your long confinement to the house has robbed you 
 of your bloom. The rumor of your beauty has doubtless 
 reached the ears of my young friend, and I should be sorry 
 that your first appearance should not answer his expectations 
 ah, there goes Miss Bruce on one of her walking expeditions. 
 Miss Bruce," he added, speaking to Ellen through the window, 
 " you are an absolute devotee to nature will you permit my 
 daughter to<be the companion of your walk, and show her some 
 of the shrines at which you worship ?" 
 
 " I am only an admirer, not an idolater," replied Ellen, 
 .smiling ; " and I am certain, that if Miss Redwood will do me 
 the favor to go with me, she will answer for me that my homage 
 is reasonable." Miss Redwood readily acquiesced in the ar- 
 rangement the wish to restore her bloom was a controlling
 
 REDWOOD. 157 
 
 motive ; and the animating expectation of the arrival of the 
 Westalls had for the moment made her forget her dislike to 
 Ellen : Lilly was summoned with her hat and gloves, and the 
 young ladies proceeded arm in arm towards the lake. 
 
 " What a delightful compensation we have," said Ellen, 
 " for the suffering from our long sultry summer days in the 
 reviving influence of the approaching evening ; its sweet cool 
 breath refreshes all nature, and restores elasticity and vigor to 
 mind and body." 
 
 " You have, no doubt, an advantage in your cool evenings," 
 replied Caroline, " the only one, as far as I see, of the north 
 over the south." 
 
 Ellen suppressed her opinion perhaps partial that her 
 companion did not see very far. " I am not such a bigot," 
 said she, " as to believe that your country does not possess, in 
 many respects, the advantage over ours ; but I confess I have 
 prejudices so strong in favor of our lofty hills, deep valleys, 
 and broad lakes, that I do not believe I should ever admire 
 the tame level of Carolina ; but it is hardly necessary for me 
 to be boastful while this scene is itself so eloquently pleading 
 its claims to your admiration : look, Miss Redwood," she con- 
 tinued, " where the lake reflects the bright tints of the evening 
 sky, and there where the long shadows of the trees seem to 
 sleep on its bosom is there, can there be in the wide world a 
 lovelier spot than this ?" 
 
 " It may be," replied Caroline, " it is, no doubt, exceed- 
 ingly pretty ; but to own the truth to you, Miss Bruce, I can 
 never forget that this lake shore was the scene of our disaster. 
 After that horrible storm and fright it is natural it should 
 have no beauty in my eyes ; besides, you know, one that is not 
 used to the country gets so tired of it, that it is quite impossi- 
 ble to admire it ; but see," she added, changing her languid
 
 158 REDWOOD. 
 
 tone to one nearly as animated as Ellen's had been, and point 
 ing to a branch of the beautiful wild clematis in full bloom : 
 " See, Miss Bruce, those wild flowers that are growing there 
 close to the water's edge ; I should so like to get them to dress 
 my hair against the Westalls arrive : they would form a beau- 
 tiful contrast. I had a bunch of snow-drops last winter that 
 all the world said were particularly becoming to me ; these 
 flowers are as white and beautiful, and being natural, they 
 would have quite a rural pretty effect." 
 
 " A beautiful effect no doubt, Miss Redwood, but alas ! 
 they are ' not to be come at by the willing hand ;' if we had 
 the imagination of some poets, who are fond of infusing their 
 own sensations into flowers, we might fancy these were enjoy- 
 ing their security, and laughing at the vanity of your wishes." 
 
 " But," said Caroline, " it surely is not impossible to get 
 at them ;" and espying a fisherman's canoe which was fastened 
 to a tree against which they were standing, she proposed to 
 Ellen, who, she said, she was sure knew how to guide it, to 
 procure the flowers for her. 
 
 " Indeed, Miss Redwood," replied Ellen, " I am no water- 
 nymph, and these canoes require as much skill to guide them 
 as the egg-shells in which witches traverse the waters." 
 
 " But, the water is not deep," insisted Caroline, " and if 
 the worst happens you will but get your clothes wet, and you 
 have nothing on that can be injured water can't hurt a com- 
 mon white dress, you know." 
 
 The inexorable Ellen resisted this argument, though Miss 
 Redwood enforced it by a rapid glance of comparison from 
 Ellen's simple muslin frock to her own richly-trimmed silk 
 dress. 
 
 There was an inlet of water where the ladies stood, around 
 which the margin curved to the point where the flowers grew
 
 REDWOOD. 159 
 
 at the base of a rock, and so near the water's edge (for the 
 earth had been worn away by the surge) that it could hardly 
 be said from which element they sprung, earth or water. A 
 small birch-tree had grown out of a cleft in the rock, and was 
 completely overgrown by a grape-vine, whose strong, sinewy 
 stems were clasped by the delicate clematis. The massive foli- 
 age of the grape-vine dropped over the perpendicular side of 
 the rock, and was reflected in the still water below. After 
 Caroline's last argument had failed, she jumped into the ca- 
 noe herself, and unhooking it from the tree to which it was 
 attached, she exultingly exclaimed, " nothing venture, nothing 
 have ;" and gayly pushed off towards the object of her 
 wishes. 
 
 The water was shallow, and apparently there was not the 
 least danger. Caroline, however, had given too powerful an 
 impetus to the frail bark she was guiding, and it struck against 
 the rock with so much force as to recoil with a fluttering mo- 
 tion. Caroline was frightened, and increased by her agitation 
 the irregular motion of the canoe ; Ellen perceived the dan- 
 gerous operation of her terrors, but before she could make her 
 comprehend that all that was necessary was that she should 
 sit down quietly, Caroline had grasped the pendant vine, which 
 was strong and tenacious, and the canoe had passed from un- 
 der her. It drifted a few yards, and then remained stationary 
 at the base of the rock. The rock was perpendicular, and too 
 high for Miss Redwood to reach its summit. Ellen perceived 
 the dilemma in which Caroline's fears had involved her, and 
 adopted the only mode of extricating her from her awkward 
 situation. She ran around the curve of the shore, ascended 
 the rock where the ascent was gradual, and letting herself 
 down as gently as possible into the canoe, she rowed immedi- 
 ately to the relief of the distressed damsel, whose arms already
 
 160 E ED WOOD. 
 
 trembled with the weight which they sustained. " Oh, I am 
 dead with fright !" she exclaimed, as soon as a certainty of re- 
 covered safety restored to her the use of her tongue : " for 
 heaven's sake tell me, Ellen, how you got to me ; I thought 
 you dropped from the skies." Ellen explained that she had 
 reached her by natural and easy means. " Well," said Caro- 
 line, " it was very good very kind of you and I never, never 
 shall forget it ; but pray get me back to the shore for all the 
 flowers in Paradise I would not endure such another fright." 
 
 " But we will not," said Ellen, " return to the shore with- 
 out a trophy for your daring to venture to the only place where 
 even fear could create peril. These flowers/' she added, pluck- 
 ing them, " were the cause of all the mischief, and they shall 
 die for it." 
 
 She then rowed back to the shore, and was tastefully ar- 
 ranging the flowers in Caroline's hair, saying, at the same time, 
 that " if she had made herself a water-nymph, they would still 
 have been a fit coronal for her," when the attention of both 
 the ladies was attracted by the rapid approach of a gentleman, 
 whom they perceived to be a stranger. A frock-coat and 
 madras cravat announced a traveller ; and a brief glance of 
 Caroline's practised eye satisfied her who it must be that so 
 gracefully wore this costume and as he came up to them she 
 exclaimed, " Mr. Westall !" It was Charles "Westall, con- 
 ducted by little Lucy Lenox. He courteously thanked Miss 
 Redwood for saving him from the awkward necessity of intro- 
 ducing himself. He had, as he said, just arrived at Mr. Lenox's 
 with his mother, and had been sent by her with his little guide 
 in quest of Miss Redwood ; that while descending the hill 
 he had been a witness of Miss Redwood's danger, and had 
 hastened on in the hope of being so fortunate as to assist at 
 her rescue ; but fate had been unkind to him, for the pleasure
 
 REDWOOD. 161 
 
 of playing the hero on this occasion was not only wrested from 
 him, but he was forced to witness and admire the celerity with 
 which the rescue had been effected without his aid. Miss Red- 
 wood turned to introduce Ellen, but she had walked forward 
 with Lucy, who, with childish eagerness, was telling her how 
 frightened she was when she saw her slide from the rock, and 
 that for a million Miss Redwoods she would not have had Ellen 
 run the risk of being drowned. 
 
 Never was there a happier moment for the power of Miss 
 Redwood's beauty. The joy of recovered safety, and the plea- 
 sure of surprise had deepened her color ; her gratitude to 
 Ellen had given a touch of unwonted softness to her expres- 
 sion, and the simple decoration of the white flowers mingling 
 with her jet glossy curls, was far more beautiful than their usu- 
 ally elaborate arrangement. 
 
 When the ceremony of introduction to Mrs. Westall was 
 over, and Caroline with extraordinary animation had expressed 
 her pleasure at the interview, Mrs. Westall, impatient to ascer- 
 tain the first impression on her son, whispered, " Charles, is 
 she as beautiful as you expected ?" 
 
 " As beautiful, mother ! you do too much honor to my ima- 
 gination ; she is more beautiful than any vision of my dull 
 brain." 
 
 For a few days after the arrival of the Westalls the " sands 
 of time " were " diamond sparks " to the visitors at Eaton. 
 Charles Westall and Caroline Redwood seemed verging to- 
 wards that point of happy agreement so much desired by both 
 their parents desired by Mr. Redwood, because his experi- 
 ence had taught him that virtue is the only basis of confidence 
 or happiness, and with an inconsistency not uncommon or sur- 
 prising, he preferred that virtue should be fortified by religious 
 principle. He had preserved an affectionate recollection of
 
 162 REDWOOD. 
 
 Westall's father, and he fancied that he was paying him a trib- 
 ute in giving to his son the noble fortune of his own child, and 
 when his conscience whispered that the fortune was a poor 
 compensation for the incumbrance that went with it, he found 
 some consolation in attributing Caroline's faults to the bad 
 influence of her grandmother, and in the hope that, young as 
 she was, her character might be remoulded. All that he had 
 heard of Westall from the reports of others, or had gathered 
 from occasional correspondence with him, had inspired regard 
 for him ; that regard was now becoming affection. Charles 
 Westall's resemblance to his father recalled to him the early 
 and happiest period of his life, that period when his heart was 
 light, and his mind unclouded by the dark shadows that a vain 
 and false philosophy had since cast upon it. 
 
 Mr. Redwood's apprehensions that Captain Fitzgerald had 
 taken such possession of his daughter's imagination as to en- 
 danger the success of a rival, vanished when he perceived that 
 she devoted herself with characteristic childishness to the 
 present object. Of the happy result of her efforts to captivate 
 Charles Westall he had no doubt ; and common experience 
 would perhaps justify his conclusion that no young man could 
 resist the apparent preference of a spirited young beauty with 
 fortune enough to outweigh a thousand faults. A superficial 
 observation satisfied him that he was secure of Mrs. Westall's 
 influence for his daughter ; he perceived that the progress of 
 time had not diminished the worldliness of disposition which 
 his sagacity had detected even when it was sheltered by the 
 charms of youth. 
 
 Mrs. Westall was one of those ladies who are universal 
 favorites : her face was pleasing, her person graceful, and her 
 manners courteous ; with these medium charms, she attracted 
 attention without provoking envy : she had no strong-holds in
 
 REDWOOD. 163 
 
 her mind for prejudice or austere principle, She was one of 
 that large class who take their form and pressure from the so- 
 ciety in which they happen to be cast ; a thorough conformist. 
 In *ur eastern country, she was, if not strict, quite exact in 
 her religious observances. She would have preferred the leni- 
 ent bosom of episcopacy, because of its agreeable medium be- 
 tween the latitudinarians and the puritans, and perhaps too on 
 account of its superior gentility. But as her location in a 
 country town precluded the privilege of choice, she offered an 
 edifying example, by quietly waiting on the services of a con- 
 gregational meeting every Sunday, and occasionally attending 
 a ' 'ecture ' or a ' conference ' during the week. She contrib- 
 uted to the utmost limit of her ability to the good and religious 
 objects that engage the zeal and affections of our community. 
 This virtuous conduct was more the effect of imitation than of 
 independent opinion ; for Mrs. Westall, with the resources of 
 fortune and in fashionable life, had remonstrated with some 
 energy (she was not capable of much) against the strictness 
 and enthusiasm of her husband. If again restored to the 
 world, she would without an effort have conformed to its usages, 
 and endured the excesses of high-life dissipation. In one of 
 our cities she might have held Sunday evening levees, or in 
 Paris have strolled out the day of " holy rest " in the public 
 gardens, or forgotten it at the opera, or a fashionable card 
 party. 
 
 How such a woman could interest Edmund Westall, those 
 only ought to inquire who have never observed how much early 
 attachments are controlled by local and (as it seems) purely ac- 
 cidental circumstances. Westall, during his college life, re- 
 sided in the family of his wife's parents. He was captivated 
 by the sweetness of her temper and the grace of her manners , 
 he trusted for the rest with the facility of youthful love, that
 
 164 REDWOOD. 
 
 hopes, believes, and expects all things. He did not live long 
 enough to awake from the lover's dream, though he occasion- 
 ally saw a trait of worldliness, which he imputed to the humble 
 circumstances in which his wife had been bred, thinking that 
 they (as they too often do) had led her to an undue estimation 
 of the advantages of wealth, rank, and fashion. Westall was 
 deemed an enthusiast, and perhaps he was so, for his interest 
 iii the happiness of others often led him to a singular forget- 
 fulness of himself, and his means were sometimes inadequate 
 to effect his benevolent and philanthropic plans. Like other 
 enthusiasts, he was apt to forget that the materials he had to 
 work with were sordid and earthly, and, like them, he was com- 
 pelled to endure the ridicule of those base spirits that were 
 making idols of their silver and their gold, while he was on the 
 mount in the service of the living God. Charles Westall was 
 four years old when he lost this parent : the recollections he 
 preserved of him were like the " glimpse a saint has of heaven 
 in his dreams." He remembered being led by him to the 
 cabins of his infirm or sick slaves, and some particulars of his 
 humane attentions to them. He recollected the melting ten- 
 derness of his eye and the tone of his voice when he had com- 
 mended him for a kind action. But his most vivid impression 
 was of the last moment of his father's life, when he had laid 
 his hand upon his child's head, and in the act of resigning him, 
 had fervently prayed that he might be kept " unspotted from 
 the world." Charles could not then comprehend the full im- 
 port of the words ; but afterwards, amidst the temptations of 
 life, he felt their efficacy. At an early period his mother had 
 given into his possession his father's private papers. Through 
 them he came to an intimate knowledge of his father's charac- 
 ter of his many virtuous efforts and sacrifices of his hopes 
 and fears in relation to himself of his deepest and holiest
 
 REDWOOD. 165 
 
 feelings : thus the son was admitted into the sanctuary of the 
 father's heart, and held, as it were, a spiritual communion with 
 him. From these precious documents Charles Westall real- 
 ized all that has been hoped from the ministry of a guardian 
 spirit ; they became a kind of external conscience to him : 
 saving him from many an error into which the buoyant careless 
 spirit of youth might otherwise have betrayed him. Few liv- 
 ing parents exert such an influence over the character of a 
 child.
 
 1 66 BED WOOD. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 " They're here that ken and here that dinna ken, 
 The wimpled meaning o' your unco tale, 
 Whilk soon will make a noise o'er muir and dale. ' 
 
 RAMSAY'S GENTLE SHEPHERD. 
 
 THOSE only who have observed the magical effect produced 
 upon a young lady by the presence of a candidate for her fa- 
 vor, whom she deems it worth her efforts to obtain or retain, 
 can have an adequate notion of the change wrought on Caro- 
 line Redwood since the arrival of the Westalls. Instead of 
 the listless, sullen girl, who yawned away her days in discon- 
 tent or apathy, she became spirited, active, and good-humored. 
 Even her interest in the concerns of Ellen Bruce, and her 
 suspicions of that artless girl's designs, were suspended in the 
 ardor of her present pursuit, and she seemed to think of 
 nothing and to care for nothing but how she should secure the 
 triumph of her vanity. Every one noticed the change, (ex- 
 cepting Ellen, who had of late almost wholly withdrawn from 
 the family circle.) indeed it was so manifest that Miss Deborah, 
 who had taken a decided dislike to Caroline, and who was 
 rather remarkable for the inveteracy of her opinions, was 
 heard to say, that " since the girl's sweetheart had come, she 
 was as bright as a September day after the fog was lifted ; but
 
 REDWOOD. 167 
 
 for her part she liked to see people have in'ard sunshine like 
 Ellen." This declaration was made by Miss Debby in an im- 
 prudently loud tone of voice, as she stood at a window gazing 
 on Mr. Redwood's carriage that had been ordered for an after- 
 noon's drive. Mr. Redwood, Caroline, and Mrs. Westall were 
 already in the carriage, and Charles Westall had returned to 
 the parlor in quest of some article Mr. Redwood had forgot- 
 ten ; while he was looking for it Deborah's comment fell on 
 his ear, and probably gave a new direction to his thoughts, for 
 during the ride Caroline rallied him on his extraordinary pen- 
 siveness ; and finally perceiving that his gravity resisted all 
 her efforts to dissipate it, she proposed that if he had not lost 
 the use of his limbs as well as of his tongue, he should alight 
 from the carriage with her and walk to a cottage to which they 
 perceived a direct path through a field, while the carriage ap- 
 proached by the high road which ran along the lake shore and 
 was circuitous. Westall assented rather with politeness than 
 eagerness ; but when he was alone with Caroline, when she 
 roused all her powers to charm him, he yielded to the influence 
 of her beauty and her vivacity. Never had she appeared so 
 engaging never so beautiful the afternoon was delicious 
 their path ran along the skirts of an enchanting wood its 
 soft shadows fell over them, the birds poured forth their mel- 
 ody ; and in short, all nature conspired to stimulate the lover's 
 imagination and to quicken his sensibility. Charles forgot the 
 sage resolutions he had made to withhold his declaration till 
 he had satisfied certain doubts that had sometimes obtruded 
 on him, that all in Caroline was not as fair and lovely as 
 it seemed ; he forgot Miss Deborah's hint forgot every thing 
 but the power and the presence of his beautiful companion, 
 and only hesitated for language to express what his eyes had 
 already told her. At this moment both his and Miss Red-
 
 168 REDWOOD. 
 
 wood's attention was withdrawn from themselves to a little 
 girl who appeared at the door of the cottage, from which they 
 were now not many yards distant. On perceiving them she 
 bounded over the door-step, then stopped, put up her hand to 
 shade her eyes from the sun, and gazed fixedly on them for a 
 moment, then again sprang forward, again stopped, covered 
 her eyes with both her hands, threw herself at full length on 
 the grass, laid her ear to the ground and seemed for a moment 
 to listen intently ; she then rose, put her apron to her eyes, 
 and appeared to be weeping, while she retraced her way lan- 
 guidly to the cottage. Caroline and Westall, moved by the 
 .same impulse, quickened their pace, and in a few moments 
 reached the cottage door, to which a woman had been attracted 
 by the sobs of the child, and was expostulating with her in an 
 earnest tone. " God help us, Peggy, you'll just ruin all if you 
 go on in this way ;" she paused on perceiving that the child 
 had attracted the attention of the strangers ; and in reply to 
 Westall's asking what ailed the little girl, she said, " it's just 
 her simplicity, sir ; but if you and the lady will condescend to 
 walk into my poor place here, I will tell you all about it, or 
 Peggy shall tell it herself, for when she gets upon it her tongue 
 runs faster than mine : but bless us, here comes a grand coach 
 look up, Peggy, you never saw a real coach in your life. 
 Peggy now let fall the apron with which she had covered 
 her face a face if not beautiful, full of feeling and intelli- 
 gence. She seemed instantly to forget her affliction, whatever 
 it was, in the pleasure of gazing on the spectacle of a real 
 coach. " Ah, Aunt Betty," she exclaimed, " it is the grand 
 sick gentleman that is staying at Mr. Lenox's." The carriage 
 drew up to the door, and Mrs. Westall and Mr. Redwood, at- 
 tracted by the uncommonly neat appearance of the cottage, 
 alighted and followed Caroline and Charles, who had already
 
 REDWOOD. 169 
 
 entered it. The good woman, middle-aged, and of a cheerful 
 countenance, was delighted with the honor conferred on her, 
 bustled around to furnish seats for her guests shook up the 
 cushion of a rocking-chair for Mr. Redwood, "and made a 
 thousand apologies for the confusion and dirt of her house, 
 which had the usual if not the intended effect of calling forth 
 abundance of compliments on its perfect order and neatness. 
 " And now, Peggy," she said, as soon as they were all quietly 
 seated, " take the pitcher and bring some cold water from the 
 spring, that's what the poor have, thank God, as good as the 
 rich, and it is all we have to offer." The little girl obeyed, 
 and as soon as she was out of hearing, the woman turned to 
 Westall. " It was your wish, sir, to know what ailed the child ; 
 the poor thing has just got the use of her eye-sight, and she 
 has been expecting some one that she loves better than all the 
 world ; and when she saw this young lady with you, she thought 
 it was her friend though to be sure she is shorter than this 
 lady ; but then Peggy, poor thing, does not see quite right yet, 
 and then when she is puzzled, she just lies down to the ground 
 as you saw her, for that was her way to listen, and she 
 knows Miss Ellen's step, for as light as it is, wnen my poor 
 ear can't hear a sound." 
 
 " How did she become blind, my good woman, and how did 
 she recover her sight ?" asked Westall. 
 
 "It is a long story, sir: when she was one year old, 
 she laid in the measles, and her mother dying at the same 
 time, and I sick of a fever, and the child, God forgive me, 
 was neglected, and there came a blind over her eyes, and 
 shut them up in darkness." " Not all darkness," said the little 
 heroine of the story, who re-entered with the water, "you 
 know, Aunt Betty, I could see a glimmer of sunshine." 
 
 " Yes, and that it was that gave the doctor hopes of her." " No, 
 8
 
 170 REDWOOD. 
 
 no," interrupted the child, " it was Miss Ellen that gave tbe 
 doctor hopes." 
 
 " Lord bless her," continued the woman, smiling, " Peggy 
 thinks there's nothing good done in the world, but Miss Ellen 
 does it, and, to be sure, she has been an angel to Peggy." 
 
 " And how," asked Mr. Redwood, whose interest in Peggy's 
 history seemed much augmented since the mention of Miss El- 
 len " how came Miss Bruce to know your child ?" 
 
 " God brought them together, sir ; it was his own work ; 
 but the child is not mine, her poor mother lies in the grave- 
 yard there in the village, far from all her own people, for we 
 are from Old England, sir. My sister, poor Fanny, was a wild 
 thing, the youngest of ten of us, and I the oldest. My mother 
 died, and left her a baby in my arms ; and she was like my 
 own, and we all, and father more than all, petted her, and when 
 she was sixteen, she had just her own way, and married a 
 young soldier lad of our village, and my father turned her 
 from his door, and would not hear to forgiving her : but I, 
 Lord help me ! I had no right not to forgive her ; and so I 
 came over to Canada with her when- her husband's regiment 
 was ordere^there. I had a little money of my own, and we 
 paM our own way, but when that was gone our distresses and 
 hardships threw her in the consumption. Her husband got 
 into bad company, deserted, and came off to the States ; we 
 followed she with the baby Peggy that is in her arms. 
 We persuaded her husband to take this bit of a place, but he 
 soon left us, and, as I told you before, Fanny died, and left me 
 alone in the world, as you may say, with Peggy and she 
 blind ; but, sir, I have always been of a contented disposition, 
 and I meant to be resigned to whatever it pleased the Lord to 
 send upon me ; but I must own, when I found Peggy was blind, 
 and the doctors told jfte nothing could be done for her, I had
 
 REDWOOD. 171 
 
 my match. It was the bitterest sorrow I ever felt when life 
 was spared, but I thought to myself, what can't be cured must be 
 endured ; so I went to work. The Lord has blessed us, and 
 Peggy and I have lived these six years as comfortable and as con- 
 tented, may be, as those that are richer, and seem to be happier." 
 " No doubt, no doubt, my good woman," said Mr. Redwood, 
 struck with admiration of the simple creature's practical phi- 
 losophy ; " but you have told us so much of your story that 
 you mus give us the rest." 
 
 " Yes, yes," said little Peggy, " do, Aunt Betty, tell them 
 about Miss Ellen, they'll like to hear that best of all : now 
 don't go away," said she, turning to Caroline, who had risen 
 from her chair, and was walking towards the door. 
 
 " I am not going away, child," she answered, pettishly, " I 
 prefer standing at the door." 
 
 " It is five weeks to-morrow," continued the narrator, 
 " since I first saw Miss Ellen ; it was the very morning after 
 young Mr. Allen's funeral. I saw her that morning and the 
 next, sitting on that rock, by the elm-tree yonder, ladies ; she 
 had a pencil in her hand, and a big book on her lap, and a 
 paper on it; and the second morning Peggy heard her hum- 
 ming some songs to herself, and she crept close to her : the 
 silly thing would any time leave her breakfast for an end of 
 a song. I saw the young lady noticed Peggy, and then I 
 made bold to walk up to her ; and will you believe me, ladies ! 
 she had been picturing on her paper this little hut and the half 
 withered tree, and that old bench with my wash-tub turned up 
 on it, and my old cow as she stands eating her morning mess, 
 and Peggy stroking her ! and I could not but ask her why she 
 did not choose to draw out some of the nice houses in the 
 village with two chimneys, and a square roof to them, and a 
 pretty fence to the door-yard, and the straight, tall poplars ;
 
 1 72 REDWOOD. 
 
 but she smiled, and said, 'this suited her fancy better ;' and then 
 she began talking to me of Peggy, and when she found she 
 was quite blind, she just laid down her pencil and her book 
 and all, and took the child in her lap, and said, ' something 
 must be done for her ;' and when she said so, the tears stood 
 in her blue eyes ; and God knows, I never saw tears so becom- 
 ing ; and from that time, ladies, she came every morning and 
 sat here three or four hours, teaching Peggy to sew, and learn- 
 ing her hymns and songs." 
 
 " Caroline, Caroline, do you hear that ?" asked Mr. Red- 
 wood, impetuously. 
 
 " Lord, papa, I am not deaf certainly I hear." 
 
 " Go on, good woman," said Mr. Redwood. 
 
 " The child's quickness, sir," continued the aunt, " seemed 
 a miracle to me, for, God forgive me, I had never thought of 
 her learning any thing. Peggy, get those bags you made, that 
 Miss Ellen said you might sell." 
 
 The child instantly produced the bags, which were made of 
 bits of calico very neatly sewn together. Caroline interrupted 
 the story while she bargained with the little girl for the bags, 
 for which she paid her munificently. 
 
 The aunt seemed more sensible of the extent of Miss Red- 
 wood's generosity than the child, for she was voluble in her 
 thanks ; and then proceeded to say that Miss Ellen, not satis- 
 fied with doing so much, brought Doctor Bristol to look at 
 Peggy's eyes. " Doctor Bristol," she said, " had come to live 
 in Eton since she had given up Peggy's eyes as quite gone, 
 and therefore she had never shown the child to him. But 
 Doctor Bristol had learned some new-fashioned ways that 
 other doctors in the country knew nothing about, and as soon 
 as he looked at the child, he said one of the eyes might be 
 restored. Then poor Peggy was so frightened with the thought
 
 REDWOOD. ] 73 
 
 of an operation, and I could do nothing with her, for I had 
 always let her have her own way ; for who, ladies, could have 
 the heart to cross a blind child? But Miss Ellen, God bless 
 her, could always make her mind without crossing her, for she 
 loves Miss Ellen better than any thing on earth, or in heaven 
 either, I fear me ; and she would liken her to strawberries and 
 roses, and every thing that was most pleasant to the senses the 
 poor thing had left : and she would say that her voice was 
 sweeter than the music of birds, or the sound of the waters 
 breaking on the shore, when a gentle breeze came over the 
 lake of a still evening, for that was the sound she loved lest 
 of all, and would listen to it sometimes for an hour together 
 without speaking or moving." 
 
 It seemed that Miss Redwood's patience could no longer 
 brook the minute and excursive style of the narrator, as she 
 proposed to Mrs. Westall in a whisper, that they should cut the 
 woman's never-ending story short, and pursue their ride. Mrs. 
 Westall acquiesced, with a 'just as you please, my dear;' but 
 Mr. Redwood, guessing the purport of his daughter's whisper, 
 interposed with a request in a low voice, that she would not 
 prolong their delay by interrupting the good woman's story, as 
 the pain in his arm warned him that it was time for him to 
 return ; then turning to the aunt, he asked her " how she 
 brought the girl finally to consent to the operation ?" 
 
 " Oh, it was Miss Ellen that made her consent, and she 
 would only do it by promising that she would stay by her and 
 hold her head. God knows, I could not have done it, well as I 
 love her, to have saved her eyes ; for I was all in a shiver when 
 I saw the doctor fix her by that window, and Miss Ellen stood 
 behind her, and Peggy leaned her head back on to Miss Ellen's 
 breast, and one of Miss Ellen's hands was on the child's fore- 
 head, and the other under her chin, and she looked, God bless
 
 174 REDWOOD. 
 
 ^ 
 
 her, as white as marble and as beautiful as an angel. I had 
 but a glance at them, for when the doctor took out his long 
 needle I covered my eyes, till I heard them say it was all over, 
 and Peggy had not made a movement or a groan. Miss Ellen 
 bade me not to speak yet, and the bandage was put over the 
 child's eyes, and she was laid there on the bed, and Miss Ellen 
 motioned me to go out with her, and as I stepped from the 
 door, she sunk like a dying person into my arms ; but still it 
 seemed she could only think of Peggy, for she put up her hand 
 for a sign to me to be quiet, and then the breath seemed quite 
 gone out of her. I laid her on the turf and fetched some cold 
 water, and she soon came to herself, and bade me say nothing 
 of it to the doctor, and she came in again and told the doctor 
 she should come back in the evening and sit the night with 
 Peggy, for she would trust no one else for the first night, for 
 the doctor said all depended on keeping her quiet ; and the 
 last word she said, was to beg he would not tell any of the 
 family at Mr. Lenox's that she was coming here, for they, she 
 said, fancied she was not well, and would not permit it. :) At 
 this simple explanation of the absence which Caroline had 
 placed in a suspicious light, her father turned on her a look 
 full of meaning ; she blushed deeply, but neither spoke, and 
 the aunt proceeded. " All went on well to the third day, and 
 then Miss Ellen came with leave to take off the bandge, and 
 she asked Peggy what she wished most in the world to see. 
 " Oh, you, you, Miss Ellen," she said ; and then the dear young 
 lady stood before her, and took off the bandage ; and then, 
 bless you, ladies, her piercing scream of joy when the light 
 touched her eye oh ! I heard my father curse poor Fanny 
 I saw her die in a strange land ; but never any thing 
 went so deep into my heart as that scream. I fell on 
 my knees, and heard nothing and saw nothing, till I felt
 
 REDWOOD. 175 
 
 Peggy's arms round my neck, and heard her say, ' Oh, aunt, 
 I see her I see you.'" 
 
 Many more eloquent tales have produced less sensation 
 than the simple story of this good aunt. Mrs. Westall wiped 
 the tears from her eyes ; Caroline put her handkerchief to 
 hers; Mr. Redwood's speaking face showed that other and 
 deeper feelings than compassion and sympathy had been 
 awakened ; and Charles, who had drawn the little girl close 
 to him, asked a hundred questions in relation to Miss Bruce, 
 and expressed by his caresses his pleasure in her simple ex- 
 pressions of gratitude and love 
 
 The party now took a very kind leave of Peggy and her 
 aunt, and returned home all in rather a contemplative frame 
 of mind. Mr. Redwood once turned abruptly to his daughter, 
 and asked her if she remembered the quotation he had made to 
 her, that the " simplest characters sometimes baffle all the art 
 of decipherers ?" 
 
 " She remembered it," she said, " but for her part, she could 
 not see the interest of your very simple characters ; they might 
 be very good, and useful, and all that." After they reached 
 home, the ceremony of tea came in aid of Caroline's efforts, 
 and changed the train of association, and seconded by Mrs. 
 Westall, she succeeded in exciting a more lively tone of spirits 
 in the party; but fate seemed determined not to suspend its 
 persecutions, for after tea, when she seemed quite to have for- 
 gotten the incidents of the ride, and her gayety had arrived to 
 its usual pitch, it was suddenly checked by Miss Deborah, who 
 came into the parlor and informed Mr. Redwood " that Billy 
 Raymond, the lame boy that supported his old mother by fish- 
 ing, had called to see if the stranger gentleman would have the 
 generosity to pay him the damages for his fishing-tackle, that 
 Miss Redwood had lost at the time of her frolic in his canoe ?"
 
 176 REDWOOD. 
 
 This was the first time Mr. Redwood had heard any hint of 
 the canoe adventure, and he inquired into the particulars. 
 Caroline carelessly detailed them, and Mr. Redwood, ascer^ 
 taining from Deborah the amount of the boy : s loss, gave her a 
 sum for the applicant which she deemed a most liberal com- 
 pensation, for shaking the silver in her hand, while her eye 
 glistened with an honest joy at the good fortune of her pro- 
 tege" 
 
 " Thank'e, thank'e, squire," said she, " this is profit, and 
 no loss to Bill the lad is a worthy lad, and thank the Lord, 
 his bread has not been cast on the waters without coming to 
 him again. It is well, young folks," she continued, turning 
 her eyes on Miss Redwood and Westall " it is well when the 
 heart and the purse of a gentleman fall in company here," 
 and she opened her hand and surveyed the glittering coins, 
 " here is what will make a young heart leap with joy and an, 
 old one too, and that is not so easy a matter and after all, 
 squire, it is but a drop from your full bucket. Oh, you rich 
 ones might be godlike on the earth if ye would." 
 
 " And how, Miss Debby ?" inquired Mr. Redwood, pleased 
 with her earnestness ; " if you will furnish me an easy rule I 
 may possibly adopt it." 
 
 " Make the cause of the poor thine own : the rule is not 
 overly easy, squire, as may be you have found. It is a hard tug 
 to keep up with them scripter rules, they are all ahead of us." 
 
 " Miss Deborah's sagacity or experience," observed Westall 
 to Mr. Redwood, " has led her to one of the most satisfactory 
 proofs of the divine origin of our religion." Mr. Redwood 
 averted his eyes, and adjusted the sling of his arm, while Caro- 
 line, putting up her fan to shelter herself from her father's ob- 
 servation, whispered, ; ' Mr. Westall ! do you not know that 
 papa is an infidel ?"
 
 REDWOOD. 177 
 
 " Your father ?" 
 
 " Oh yes it is indeed quite shocking " how far the sud- 
 den gravity of Westall's face would have prompted her to pro- 
 ceed in her lamentations, is uncertain, for her attention was 
 called by her father, who, willing to divert the conversation 
 from the channel into which it had fallen, asked her why she 
 had never mentioned the affair of the canoe to him ? 
 
 " Oh, I quite forgot it, sir," she replied, " in my pleasure 
 at seeing Mrs. Westall " and her son. her eyes added, as she 
 sent a sparkling glance to Charles. Her reply did not appear 
 entirely to satisfy Westall, even with the flattering appendage 
 to it which her kind look had supplied ; after musing a mo- 
 ment he said, " I hope Miss Redwood has not forgotten her 
 friend's presence of mind on that occasion ?" 
 
 " Miss Bruce's ? certainly not though it deprived me of 
 the romance of being rescued by you; Mr. Westall, which you 
 know would have been a charming opening to our acquaintance 
 quite an incident for a novel." 
 
 " I don't know about incidents," said Debby. who was ar- 
 rested as she was leaving the room by the allusion to Ellen, 
 " but I think if any body had saved me from the accident of 
 being drowned or ducked, I should not have left it to other 
 folks to tell of it." 
 
 There was one unsuspected and most unwilling auditor of 
 this conversation Ellen Bruce. She had been indulging her- 
 self with the refreshment of a short walk, and was just re-en- 
 tering the door, and lingering to gaze on the dewy landscape 
 glittering in the moonbeams, when her ear caught Charles 
 Westall's inquiry in relation to herself she was awkwardly 
 situated, for she could not advance without being observed, nor 
 remain without being an involuntary listener to a conversation 
 that seemed now to have turned upon herself. While she was
 
 178 EEDWOOD. 
 
 hesitating, Mr. Kedwood inquired of Debby " why Miss Bruce 
 latterly confined herself so much to Mrs. Allen's room ?" 
 
 " Why," said Deborah, " the fact is, that the old lady is 
 broke to pieces \vith her troubles, and the moment Ellen is out 
 of her sight she moans for her like a child fretting for its 
 mother : we all try to spell her, but none of us can do any 
 thing right but Ellen : it is past all belief what she does for 
 the old lady it is enough to wear out the strength of Sam- 
 son. I talk to Mrs. Allen, but she is quite past hearing to 
 reason, though there was never a nicer reasonabler woman 
 than she has been in her day." 
 
 " It is quite surprising," observed Caroline, languidly, to Mrs. 
 Westall, " what labors these New England women perform." 
 
 " Surprising, indeed," echoed Mrs. Westall, " but it's all in 
 habit, my dear, 
 
 " New England women habit !" exclaimed Deborah. " I'll 
 tell you what it is not being born here or there, it is not 
 habit ; it is not strength of limb, but here," and she struck 
 her hand against her heart " here is what gives Ellen Bruce 
 strength and patience." 
 
 There was energy if not eloquence in Deborah's manner, 
 and Charles Westall, who had listened to the conversation 
 from the beginning, with an interest that had manifestly net- 
 tled Caroline, inquired " what relation Mrs. Allen bore to Miss 
 Bruce ?" " None," replied Deborah, and then seeming sud- 
 denly to recollect that the fisherman was awaiting her, she left 
 the room. 
 
 " This is an uncommon devotion on the part of Miss 
 Bruce," said Westall ; " but after what we have heard this 
 afternoon it cannot surprise us there is something singularly 
 lovely in her whole expression and manner, in perfect unison 
 with her disinterested conduct."
 
 REDWOOD 179 
 
 " She is indeed quite a genteel young woman," observed 
 Mrs. Westall. " Pray. Miss Redwood, how is she connected 
 with the Lenoxes ?" 
 
 " Not at all, as far as I can ascertain," replied Caroline. 
 " She seems to be quite as mysterious a personage as the man 
 in the iron mask. I have tried in vain to find out whether she 
 has, or ever had, father or mother, brethren or sisters and I 
 have finally come to the conclusion that she is, as you know, 
 papa, old Colonel Linston used to call such people, of the Mel- 
 chisedeck family." 
 
 There was a harshness, a levity bordering on impiety in 
 Miss Redwood's reply ; it sent a sudden light in upon Charles 
 Westall's mind. He had been amusing himself with drawing 
 and undrawing the strings of Caroline's reticule he threw it 
 aside, not with that love-like manner that resembles so much 
 the profound reverence with which the priest handles the con- 
 secrated vessels, but very carelessly and left the room. In 
 the passage he met Ellen, who, on his approach, had darted 
 forward in the hope of avoiding him. It was impossible and 
 it was apparent that she had overheard the conversation her 
 face was flushed and her manner troubled her eye met West- 
 all's : a single glance intimated the suffering of the one and 
 the indignant feeling of the other their fine spirits had been 
 kindled by the same spark it was one of those moments when 
 the soul sends its bright illuminations to the face, and does not 
 need the intervention of language. Ellen's first impulse had 
 been to pass to her own apartment, but Westall's look had 
 changed the current of her feelings such is the power of sym- 
 pathy. " Stay one moment, Mr. Westall," said she, hastily 
 entering Mr. Redwood's apartment, while Westall paused at 
 the door. 
 
 Her appearance was electrifying Caroline rose from her
 
 180 REDWOOD. 
 
 seat, Mr. Redwood exclaimed, " good heavens !" and Mrs-. 
 Westall sighed out, " what a pity !" 
 
 " Miss Redwood," said Ellen, " I have not come to excuse 
 my listening, that was involuntary, but as far as I am able, to 
 shield the memory of my mother from your reckless insinua- 
 tions." The word " mother," seemed to choke her ; a sudden 
 faintness came over her, and she clung for support to the side 
 of the easy chair on which Mr. Redwood was sitting : after a 
 moment's struggle with her feelings, the blood that had re- 
 treated to her heart flowed again to her cheeks, and she 
 went on : 
 
 " Miss Redwood, it is true I am solitary in this world, but 
 I have not sought to wrap myself in mystery ; I hoped the 
 obscurity of my condition would shelter me from observation 
 and curiosity it has not there may be mystery in my brief 
 story, but there is no disgrace. My mother died while I was 
 still an infant. I only know that my father survived her 
 and that he was her husband." Here Ellen's voice quite 
 failed her, but after a moment's pause she proceeded with 
 tolerable composure. " This was her last solemn declara- 
 tion. The proofs of her marriage and other private docu- 
 ments are in my hands, in a locked casket. It was my mother's 
 dying injunction that it should not be opened till a period .ar- 
 rived, which she named. I have guarded it," she added, clasp- 
 ing her hands and raising her fine eyes, " as the Israelites 
 guarded the ark of the living God. The time is now not far 
 
 distant when I am at liberty to examine its contents ^-to ex- 
 
 . 
 plore my own history." 
 
 " But, my God !" interrupted Mr. Redwood, " Miss Bruce 
 Ellen my poor child have you quietly complied with so 
 strange, so arbitrary a request ?" 
 
 " I never heard any thing so unaccountable, so ridiculous,"
 
 REDWOOD. t8I 
 
 exclaimed Caroline. " Nor I." said Mrs. Westall ; " it is in- 
 deed inexplicable." 
 
 Westall said nothing : his eyes were riveted with intense 
 eagerness on Ellen, who replied, " Can it be inexplicable to 
 you, Mrs. Westall, who have a devoted son ; to you, Miss Red- 
 wood, who can render a daily service to your parent, that I 
 should hold sacred and dear the only act of filial duty that 
 remains to me ?" 
 
 u You are too scrupulous, Miss Bruce," said Mr. Redwood. 
 " It cannot be your duty to comply with so irrational a restric- 
 tion : you may have a parent living, to whom your filial piety 
 might be of some avail while you are rendering this fanciful 
 homage to her who is insensible and unknowing as the clods 
 of the valley." 
 
 " I do not believe it, sir !" replied Ellen with impetuosity. 
 " My mother seems always near to me ; I hear her voice, 
 I feel her influence in every event of my life why she im- 
 posed this restriction on me I know not, but that it had a suf- 
 ficient cause I may trust to the tenderness of a dying mother's 
 heart." 
 
 Charles Westall had listened with breathless interest ; he 
 now advanced involuntarily, and seizing Ellen's hand, " You 
 do right and nobly !" he exclaimed, " your enthusiasm cannot 
 be taken from you persevere and," he added, in a softened 
 and tremulous voice, " God shield you from the shafts of the 
 careless, the cruel, or the envious " 
 
 Ellen certainly felt a glow of gratitude and delight that 
 there was one who perfectly understood her : such sympathies 
 are well compared to the perfect accords of fine instruments. 
 She had hardly uttered a fervent " thank you, Mr. Westall," 
 before i sudden feeling of the awkwardness (if her conspicu- 
 ous situation came over her ; her natural timidity had been
 
 182 REDWOOD. 
 
 controlled by stronger feelings, but now yielding to it, she 
 trembled, became pale, and abruptly left the room to seek 
 the shelter of her own apartment. 
 
 " Westall's last words to Ellen were still ringing in Caro- 
 line's ears. " I trust, sir," said she, addressing herself to him, 
 " that you did not mean to do me the honor to class me among 
 the ' careless, cruel, or envious ?' " 
 
 " Oh no, my sweet Caroline," exclaimed Mrs. Westall, 
 " how can you ask such a question : he did not indeed you 
 did not, my son of course you could not?" 
 
 Westall did not second his mother's earnest defence ; he 
 merely said coldly, "that he hoped Miss Redwood was not 
 conscious of deserving to be so classed." 
 
 " Bless me ! no ;" replied Caroline, " I had not thought 
 of hurting the girl's feelings ; who could have dreamed that 
 she was listening at the door ? But you know the old pro- 
 verb, Mrs. Westall, ' listeners never hear any good of them 
 selves. 1 " 
 
 " That is too often true, my love," replied Mrs. Westall. 
 
 " My dear mother !" exclaimed Charles Westall, in a tone 
 that savored of reproach, but had still more of grief than re- 
 sentment in it; and then unable to endure any longer his 
 mother's sycophancy, and perhaps unwilling to expose his own 
 emotion, he left the room. 
 
 " Shame on you, Caroline !" said her father. 
 
 " Now really," interposed Mrs. Westall, " I do not see that 
 Caroline is at all in fault : how could she divine that Miss 
 Bruce was within hearing ? indeed, my dear sir, it was mere 
 pleasantry on her part. It is a pity Miss Bruce, who appears 
 so amiable, should tell such an incredible story ; no one can 
 believe it, you know, unless it be Charles. It is just like him 
 to be taken with such romance ; it was my dear husband's
 
 REDWOOD. 183 
 
 greatest fault, Ms only weakness, I may say ; but I own, Car- 
 oline, I am shocked at Charles's inadvertence ; I am sure it 
 was unintentional." 
 
 " It is quite indifferent t<5 me, whether it was or not," re- 
 plied Caroline, pouting, and evidently far enough from the 
 stoical feeling she professed. Mrs. "Westall perceived that this 
 was not a propitious moment, and whispering to Caroline that 
 Charles should do penance by going home at an hour so much 
 earlier than usual, she took her leave, and returned to the 
 village with her son. This was the first time that their return 
 had not been animated by a conversation about Miss Redwood. 
 This evening her name was not mentioned neither spoke of 
 the scene at the cottage, nor of Ellen's extraordinary disclo- 
 sure. They mutually understood that their feelings did not 
 harmonize, and both maintained silence. When they parted 
 for the night, Charles kissed his mother, as was his custom, 
 tenderly ; and as he closed the door, she heard him sigh deeply. 
 She regretted that she had pained him, but she thought it a 
 pity that he had snob, peculiar feelings.
 
 184 REDWOOD. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 . 
 
 "I'll be so bold to break the seal for once." 
 
 Two GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 As soon as the "Westalls were gone, Caroline rose to leave &er 
 father's room. " Stop for one moment, my child," said he. 
 "I hope that the experience of this day and evening has 
 taught you, if not to be more generous in your judgments, to 
 be more careful in the expression of them. I think you can- 
 not fail to learn this lesson from the story of the blind child, 
 which has furnished the solution to those mysterious morning 
 walks, and that more mysterious night's absence which per- 
 plexed you so much, while you had nothing else to employ 
 your thoughts upon." 
 
 " Yes, sir, that riddle is read , but Miss Bruce has been so 
 good as to give out another, which even you may be puzzled to 
 solve." 
 
 " I shall not make the effort, Caroline. I entreat you to 
 atone by your attentions to Miss Bruce for your unjust sus- 
 picions, and for your rudeness this evening ; common justice 
 requires that you should do so ; and besides, I can assure you, 
 it will not be an easy matter to efface the impression that 
 your unfortunate remarks in relation to her have made on 
 Westall's mind."
 
 REDWOOD 185 
 
 " I care not, sir, whether they are effaced or not," replied 
 Caroline, sullenly. 
 
 " Pursue your own way then, Miss Redwood, I shall not 
 attempt to guide you." 
 
 " Thank you, sir," replied the daughter in a cool sarcastic 
 tone which she could sometimes assume ; and then wishing her 
 father a good night, she retired to her own apartment in a 
 state of mind resembling that of a petted child deprived of 
 its playthings. 
 
 She was surprised to find that Ellen, who had of late been 
 constantly with Mrs. Allen, was already in her room. Ellen, 
 believing that Caroline was still occupied with her guests, had 
 taken her precious casket from one of her drawers, had placed 
 it on the window-ledge, and was sitting in a deep reverie with 
 her cheek leaning on it, when Carolines entrance startled and 
 somewhat disconcerted her. 
 
 We ought not perhaps to draw aside the veil and disclose 
 her secret meditations. It is better to appeal to the experi- 
 ence of other young ladies to determine whether it is not 
 probable that the thoughts of Westall, and of the animated 
 interest he had expressed for her, had not some part in her 
 reverie, and whether the pleasure he had awakened did not 
 more than counterbalance the pain Caroline had inflicted. 
 There was a newly -fallen tear on the box, which would not per- 
 haps justify such a conclusion, but then her face was so bright 
 and peaceful, that a malignant spirit might have shrunk in 
 despair from the attempt to cast a shadow over it. She rose 
 at Caroline's entrance, to replace the box in the drawer. 
 " Ah," said Caroline, " that is your precious casket is it, 
 Miss Bruce? pray allow me to look at it." She took it from 
 Ellen's hand, and carelessly shaking it, said, " it is quite light, 
 there is something rattles though should it be a miniature ?
 
 186 REDWOOD. 
 
 Lord ! I would open it, perhaps the painting will be spoiled 
 I should like of all things to know whether it is a hoax now 
 do not look so like a tragedy-queen all I mean is that it may 
 have been a way your mother adopted to save your feelings 
 after all, perhaps it is nothing, it is not larger than one of my 
 jewel cases." 
 
 " It contains all my jewels, Miss Redwood ; permit me to 
 take it," replied Ellen, with some emotion ; for she could no 
 longer endure to see that handled and discussed with so much 
 levity, which she had never touched but with a sentiment re- 
 sembling religious awe. 
 
 "While Ellen replaced the box in the drawer, Caroline 
 watched her, saying at the same time, (for she was displeased 
 at Ellen's manner of resuming it.) " I cannot have the slightest 
 curiosity about the contents of your box, of course, Miss Bruce 
 but if they were as important to me as they are to you, I 
 should not hesitate : it is quite silly to suppose there would be 
 any harm in just taking a peep." 
 
 " My mind is entirely at rest on the subject," replied Ellen. 
 " There are feelings, Miss Redwood, that can control curiosity 
 even the most natural and reasonable curiosity. I am sorry 
 that my poor concerns have been obtruded on your notice, but 
 since they have been, the greatest favor you can do me now is 
 to forget them ;" then bidding Caroline good night, she return- 
 ed to Mrs. Allen. 
 
 ' Forget them,' Caroline could not the demon of curiosity 
 had taken possession of her mind. She had suffered injurious 
 thoughts of Ellen till she had come to consider her as an ene- 
 my of whom it was right to take any advantage. Her self- 
 importance had been mortified by the deference paid to Ellen 
 by the Lenoxes her self-love offended by her father's exces- 
 sive admiration. Caroline had the passions of a strong cha-
 
 REDWOOD. 187 
 
 racter, and the habits of a -weak one. In her idleness her 
 thoughts had brooded over Ellen's conduct, till she had mag- 
 nified the most trivial circumstances into a ground of alarm or 
 anxiety, but since the arrival of Charles Westall she had almost 
 forgotten her, and quite forgotten her silly fancy of the danger 
 of what she called a " sentimental affair" between Ellen and 
 her father. The events of the day and evening had thrown a 
 strong light on her rival, and cast her quite into the shade : 
 this was enough to relume the fires of envy in Caroline's bosom, 
 if they were not already kindled by the interest Westall had 
 manifested in Ellen. 
 
 A most convenient opportunity now offered to gratify her 
 curiosity, perhaps to confirm her malicious conjectures. It was 
 possible that the key to one of her trinket cases might open 
 Ellen's box ; there could be no harm in trying just to see if 
 one would suit. She drew out the drawer in which she had 
 seen Ellen replace her casket, and then paused for a moment 
 but, " c'est le premier pas qui coute ;" the first wrong step 
 taken, or resolved on, the next is easy and almost certain. 
 She carried the box to the light, found a key that exactly 
 fitted, and then the gratification could not be resisted. 
 
 She opened the box a miniature laid on the top of it. 
 Caroline started at the first glance as if she had seen a spectre 
 she took it out and examined it a name legibly written on the 
 reverse of the picture confirmed her first impressions. She 
 replaced it in the box she would have given worlds that she 
 had never seen it but the bold, bad deed was done; and, 
 "past who can recall, or done undo?" After pacing the room 
 for a few moments in agitation of mind bordering on distrac- 
 tion, she returned to the examination of the box : there was in 
 it a letter directed " To my child," it was unsealed, unless a 
 tress of beautiful hair which was bound around it might be
 
 188 REDWOOD. 
 
 called a seal. There was also a certificate of the marriage of 
 Ellen's mother to the original of the picture. Caroline's first 
 impulse was to destroy the records : she went to the window, 
 threw up the sash, and prepared to give Ellen's treasure to the 
 disposition of the winds ; but, as she unbound the lock of hair 
 that she might reduce the letter to fragments, it curled around 
 her hand, and awakened a feeling of awe and superstition. 
 She paused, she was familiar with folly, but not with crime ; 
 she had not virtue enough to restore Ellen ; s right, nor hardi- 
 hood enough to annihilate the proof of it : a feeble purpose of 
 future restitution dawned in her mind the articles might be 
 safely retained in her own keeping future circumstances 
 should decide their destiny her grandmother oug/it to see 
 them. This last consideration fixed her wavering mind, and 
 she proceeded to make her arrangements with the caution that 
 conscious guilt already inspired. She let fall the window-cur- 
 tains, secured herself from interruption by placing her scissors 
 over the latch of the door, and then refolded the letter, and 
 carefully removed the miniature from its setting, tore the name 
 from the back of it, and placed it with the hair, the letter, and 
 the certificate, in a box of her own. which she securely deposit- 
 ed at the bottom of one of her trunks. In order to avoid a 
 suspicion that might arise in Ellen's mind should she miss the 
 sound of the miniature, Caroline prudently restored the setting 
 to the box, and then locked and replaced it in the drawer. 
 
 For a moment she felt a glow of triumph that the result of 
 her investigation had made her the mistress of Ellen's destiny ; 
 but this was quickly succeeded by a deep^feeling of mortifica- 
 tion, a consciousness of injustice and degradation, and a fearful 
 apprehension of the future ; even at this moment, who would 
 not rather have been the innocent Ellen, spoiled of the object 
 of years, of patient waiting and intense expectation, than the
 
 REDWOOD 189 
 
 selfish, ruthless Caroline ! who would not rather have been 
 the injured than the injurer ! 
 
 Caroline endeavored to compose herself before she sum- 
 moned her servant, for she already shrunk from the eye of an 
 obsequious menial so surely do fear and shame follow guilt. 
 When Lilly came in obedience to her call, and entering, ex- 
 claimed, " The Lord pity us ! Miss Gary, you are as pale as a 
 ghost, and all in a tremble, do let me speak to Mistress Le- 
 nox." Caroline replied. " No, no, Lilly, I am only shivering 
 with the horrid air from the lake : mind your own affairs and 
 undress me, and do not leave my bedside till you see .1 am 
 quite fast asleep. These terrible cold, damp evenings at the 
 north, make one so wakeful and restless !" 
 
 The succeeding morning Charles Westall came as usual 
 with his mother to Mr. Lenox's. On their way Mrs. Westall, 
 assiduous to gratify her favorite, had lingered to gather some 
 wild honeysuckles for her, saying at the same time to her son, 
 that those beautiful and fragrant flowers were emblematical of 
 Caroline. Charles made no reply, but he thought that Chough 
 the beauty of the flowers might be emblematical of Caroline, 
 their fragrance was a truer emblem of that virtue which sends 
 sweet incense to heaven, and is to beauty what the perfume i? 
 to the flower. As he proceeded forward, at a sudden turn of 
 the road he caught a glimpse of Miss Redwood, just issuing 
 from Mr. Lenox's court-yard. He felt an invincible disincli- 
 nation to meet her alone, and seeing that he was not perceived 
 by her, he placed his hand on the garden-fence and sprang over 
 it, and turning around some shrubbery, he was no longer within 
 the range of Miss Redwood's observation. The spell of her 
 beauty was broken ; the^Pber of the enchantress over him for 
 ever lost by the revelation which she had made of her charac- 
 ter in the conversation of the preceding day. " Thank heaven,"
 
 190 REDWOOD. 
 
 exclaimed Westall, audibly, " I have awoke before it is too 
 late." 
 
 " And what is that you thank heaven for, young man ?" in- 
 quired Debby, who was sitting under the shade of an apple-tree, 
 shelling some beans. 
 
 " Why, Miss Deborah," replied Westall, smiling at his own 
 abstraction, " is there not always enough of good received or 
 danger escaped to be thankful for ?" 
 
 "A plenty, young man a plenty, especially with you 
 young folks, who have not the clearest light to walk by, and 
 are too full of conceit to see by the candle of older people's 
 experience. Pride and conceit are your ruin : I don : t mean 
 yours in particular, Mr. Westall," Deborah continued, casting 
 a side and approving glance at his fine modest and benignant 
 countenance, " but the rising generation in general it is pride 
 and conceit that keep up such a will-worship, as the great Bun- 
 yan would call it. There is that Car'liny.girl, all natur could 
 not convince her that all God's creaturs wern't made for her 
 sarvice and convenience. The girl is no fool neither,' nat'rally 
 she is rather bright ; the fault is in her bringing up ; that I 
 own is a master-puzzle to me, how such a reasonable smart man. 
 
 Squire Redwood a very pretty behaved man too, especially 
 when you consider that he has lived in a slave country how 
 he could have good materials worked up into such poor manu- 
 factur. It is quite a pleasure," continued Deborah, stimulated 
 to proceed as others might have been by so patient a listener, 
 " it is quite a pleasure to meet such a man as the Squire, who 
 has travelled in the old countries and taken note of what he 
 has seen ; for he a'nt like those travellers I have heard a man 
 liken to Jonah in the whale's belly, who go a great way and 
 see nothing. But, after all," she continued, gi^g *ke tin pan 
 into which she was shelling her beans an energetrfl-shake " after
 
 REDWOOD. 191 
 
 all, I don't know what good such stores of knowledge do peo- 
 ple, if they don't make them of some sarvice in their conduct 
 and happiness. To my mind. Mr. Westall, it is as if "men 
 were to gather all the nourishing rains into great cisterns, and 
 there keep them, instead of letting them fall upon the earth to 
 bring forth good entertainment for man and horse, as the tavern 
 signs say. Now there is my sister Lenox : she has not what 
 are called shining talents ; but, Mr. Westall, she has used all 
 she has, in the true scriptur way. Just cast your eye about 
 this garden ; I don't mean to praise myself, though I take all 
 the care of it. 'bating the help I get from the boys, but poor 
 tools at such work look round at the long saace, the short 
 saace, and the green saace ;* they are all of my planting, and 
 as you may observe, there is not a spot in the garden as big as 
 your hat crown that has not some good and useful thing tucked 
 into it, except it may be the pinies and pinks and roses and 
 them are good for sore eyes and other kinds of ailments, be- 
 sides being pretty notions for the children ; well, this garden 
 is a parfect pictur of Miss Lenox's management of her family. 
 Eleven children has she brought up. that is, the most of them 
 are brought up, and the rest in a thriving way and an honor 
 and a credit will they be to her, and a blessing to the worlft, 
 when she has played her part out above ground ; and that time 
 must come to her, as to all," continued Debby, passing the 
 back of her hand across her eyes, " and it is a time she need 
 not shrink from, for such a life is what you may call a con- 
 
 * Sauce, pronounced saace or sarse, is in the most secluded parts of 
 New-England the vulgar name for culinary vegetables: e. g. long saace 
 for beets, carrots, &c. ; short saace for potatoes and turnips. How 
 rapidly railroads and steamwMwre effacing the local peculiarities of our 
 country ! The terms quite ^^^ for our friend Debby in '14 are in '49 
 disused and nearly forgotten '
 
 192 REDWOOD. 
 
 tinual making ready for it. In my view, though it has never 
 fallen to my lot to he married and have children but that is 
 neither here nor there in my view there can't be so praise- 
 ful a monument to the memory of a parent as a real good 
 child. I never mind this rhodomontade upon tomb-stones any 
 more than so much novel writing ; some of it may be true 
 the poor creatures that's mouldering away below, has lived and 
 died, so much we know is sartin ; but for the most part it's 
 like one of the stories of that Gulliver revived, that's so di- 
 varting to the boys. Yes, a real virtuous child is a crown of 
 glory to the parent ; and as I said before, all the tomb-stones 
 in the world, even them peramids and obelisks, and things cast 
 in a kind of brass, and made in a kind of marble mason-work 
 that Squire Redwood tells about in the old countries, they a'nt 
 to be mentioned with it." 
 
 " It surprises me." said Westall, who was evidently greatly 
 interested by the honest and affectionate zeal with which Debo- 
 rah lauded her sister " it surprises me, Miss Deborah, that 
 with such very correct views of the happiness and duties of 
 parents, you should have chosen a single life." 
 
 Deborah's senile showed she was not insensible to the com- 
 pliment implied in the word cliosen / for like other maidens, 
 she preferred it should be understood that she did not walk in 
 the solitary path of celibacy by compulsion. " Oh, it was a 
 whim of my own," she replied, " and there is ao danger of such 
 whims being catching sooner or later every body slides off 
 into the beaten -road of matrimony." 
 
 " But it is a pity, Missl^borah, that you should have been 
 governed by such a whim." . i 
 
 " Why I don't know, Mr. Westall I don't know. In the 
 first place, there is no danger in the example, for there's few 
 that will follow it of their own good-will. J. don't wish to
 
 REDWOOD. 193 
 
 speak my own epitaph, 'logium, or whatever you call it, but to 
 my mind, a lone woman that no one notices, no one praises, 
 that is not coaxed into goodness, that envies no one, minds her 
 own affairs, is contented and happy such a woman is a sight 
 to behold !" 
 
 " And to admire certainly. I agree with you entirely, 
 Miss Debby," replied Westall. 
 
 Deborah turned her eye oipon Westall, pleased with his 
 cordial concurrence in her own opinion ; but his had been at- 
 tracted by a group that seemed to have just taken their sta- 
 tions at the entrance door, which we have before had occasion 
 to notice, on the north side of Mr. Lenox's house. " Oh, I see 
 how it is, young man," she said, good-naturedly, " old women 
 have no chance at ears or eyes when young ones come in sight, 
 especially those so comely as she is." 
 
 " I do not see Miss Redwood," replied Westall, his eyes 
 still riveted to the spot. 
 
 " Bless your dear heart, no, but you see one that is worth 
 as many of her as can stand 'twixt here and Car'liny." 
 
 " But it was beauty you spoke of, Miss Debby ; and j|jth 
 all your partiality, I presume you do not pTetend that Miss 
 Bruce has as much beauty as Miss Redwood ?" 
 
 " Do not but indeed I do though, and I could prove it 
 too, to the satisfaction of any reasonable person." 
 
 " Ah," replied Westall, ' that is a matter of taste, that has 
 not much to do with proof or reason ; but let me see, Miss 
 Debby, how you make out your case. I will be the champion 
 of Miss Redwood's beauty, and ^fire no knight ever had surer 
 ground to stand upon. What do you say to that incomparable 
 hair, black and glossy as a t raven's plumage, turning into rich 
 curls whenever it escapes from the classic braids that con- 
 fine it?" 
 
 9
 
 194 REDWOOD. 
 
 " Oh, you talk too high grammar for me, Mr. "Westall. Well, 
 I never before heard there was any beauty in black hair ; why 7 
 mine was as black as hers before it turned gray, and I never 
 heard a word said about the beauty of it. Now, tell me, Mr. 
 Westall, on your conscience, if you can think that black hair 
 plaited, and twisted, and fussified, to be compared with Ellen's 
 beautiful brown hair ? why man, I don't believe you ever saw 
 it when she was combing it." 
 
 " No, I certainly never had that privilege." 
 
 " Well," proceeded Debby in her earnestness, not heeding 
 the smile that hovered on Westall's lip, " I can tell you it 
 reaches almost to the tops of her shoes ; and then, when she 
 doubles it into them rich folds, and fastens it with her comb, 
 and parts it from the front in a kind of a wave did you ever 
 see any thing that had a cleaner, prettier look ? and so bright 
 and polished as if the sun was shining into it." 
 
 " I yield the point of the hair, Miss Debby, but what do 
 you say to Miss Redwood's high marble brow ?" 
 
 " Proud, proud, sir, and as cold as marble. Now Ellen's 
 
 is just what a woman's should be, modest and meek. I am not 
 
 A- 
 gifted at description ; but if you ever saw that pictur of the 
 
 Virgin Mary that our George sent home to his mother, (and 
 between you and I, I always thought it was because it was 
 such a likeness ofcEllen that he sent it,) you will know what 
 I mean: look nt tho'fbrc temple, the mouth, the eyes 
 
 yes, riiist especially the eyes^fckL you will say, ' this is an 
 immortal creatur' you need not smile, "Wr. Westall: what I 
 mean is, that that face has ^en lit up by a mark from heaven, 
 as the hymn-book says, ' a vital spark of heayeply flame,' and a 
 spark that will never die. Now I should* Ifl^e to know if you 
 get any such idee from Miss Redwood's flesh and blood ?" 
 " I confess myself vanquished, Miss Debby : I give up the
 
 REDWOOD. 195 
 
 face, but you will certainly have the candor to allow that Miss 
 Redwood has the finest figure ; so tall and graceful she moves 
 like Juno." 
 
 " That I won't deny. She is just like one of them heathen 
 idols : every motion sitting or rising, walking or standing 
 seems to say, look at me ! worship me ! but Ellen, she is be- 
 hind a cloud just now ; but if you had seen her as I have seen 
 her, every step as light and, springy as a fawn's ; and now, if 
 you take notice, her motions are all as free as a child's, she 
 never seems to think any one is looking at her. I never read 
 any to speak of, in poetry, and novel books, and such things, 
 so I can't compare Miss Redwood to any of the gentry you 
 find there, but she always brings to my mind the daughters of 
 Zion spoken of by the Prophet Isaiah in his third chapter, 16th 
 verse, and on ; while Ellen is like those Christian women the 
 apostle commends, whose adorning is not outwardly, but that 
 of a meek and quiet spirit : there is just the difference between 
 the two girls that there is between the pomp and show and 
 to-do of the old Jewish worship, and of that of our times, which 
 is (that is, ought to be) in spirit and in truth." 
 
 " Oh, you are blind, Miss Debby," TeigjS. Westall, laugh- 
 ing, " there is no use in contesting the point with you, but I 
 will go and see if I can discover any of these surprising 
 charms ;" so saying, he walked towards the house, while De- 
 borah, following him with her eyes, could not help wondering 
 that a young man, who seamed to her not to want sense or dis- 
 cernment, should not, after all, know darkness from light. 
 
 There had, been showers during the night, which had 
 changed the air from extreme sultriness to a delicious purity 
 and coolness. ,Efen%d Mrs. Allen's frame seemed newly 
 braced by the sweet freshening breezes that came over the lake. 
 Ellen had persuaded her to have her easy chair drawn to the
 
 1 96 REDWOOD. 
 
 door, in the hope that she would be cheered by the bright scene 
 before her. After adjusting her pillows, placing a footstool at 
 her feet, and putting her snuff-box and handkerchief into her 
 lap, " Oh," said she, " Mrs. Allen, is it not a glorious morning ? 
 Look at the mountains beyond the lake, how bright and dis- 
 tinct they look." 
 
 " My eyes are dim, child I cannot see them." 
 " Now," said Ellen, placing the old lady's spectacles over 
 her eyes, " now you can see : oh, only look where the mist still 
 rests between the mountains, and looks like a flood of melted 
 silver ; and there where it is rising up the side of the moun- 
 tain so bright, one might fancy it enrobed spirits of the air 
 and above, what a silvery curtain it hangs over that highest 
 point and there it has risen, and is melting away on the pure 
 blue of the sky : the lake too is alive with the spirit of the 
 morning, and the merry waves as they come dancing on before 
 the breeze, seem to laugh as they break on the shore." Ellen 
 was an enthusiast in her susceptibility to the influence of na- 
 tural beauty ; the bright scene before her had kindled a rap- 
 turous sensation which might excuse one moment of forgetful- 
 ness that her ol^priend's senses were dull and cold ; that the 
 chords were broken, over which the glad voice of nature might 
 breathe, discoursing sweet music. "Here, Ellen," said she. 
 languidly, " put away these spectacles^-r^he days have coino 
 that I have no pleasure in them : there is a heavy weight on 
 my heart', child, and it will not bound at such sights." 
 
 " But, dear Mrs. Allen, throw aside the weight for a little 
 while," said Ellen, while she playfully held the spectacles over 
 the old lady's eyes, "you must enjoy this morning all nature 
 rejoices the birds fill the sweet air v?Ki their music ; and see 
 those insects, what myriads of them, are whirling in a giddy 
 circle."
 
 REDWOOD. 197 
 
 " And look, aunt Allen," said little Lucy Lenox, who had 
 just joined them, " look at the hay-makers, how busy and happy 
 they are !" 
 
 " But, Eddy is not among them," replied the old lady, giv- 
 ing way to a childish burst of tears ; " where shall I look for 
 my children, Ellen ?" 
 
 " Oh, Mrs. Allen, all this beauty is but a shadow of that 
 brighter sphere to which Edward is gone." 
 
 " But, my little Emily, that lost one !" 
 
 " The lost one may be yet found, dear Mrs. Allen ; it is not 
 right for you to despair." 
 
 " Your ministry is a kind one, my young friend," said Mr. 
 Redwood, advancing from his room where he had been listen- 
 ing to Ellen ; " but vain, I am afraid. The sick cannot swal- 
 low the food of the healthy, Mrs. Allen ; I have travelled so 
 far on this wearisome journey of life, that I have exhausted 
 the resources of youth." 
 
 Mrs. Allen either did not hear or heed Mr. Redwood. 
 " Lucy," she said, " get your Testament and reajLme a few 
 chapters ; that is all the comfort left to me^L 
 
 " There are then," said Ellen, looking Sinidly at Mr. Red- 
 wood, " some resources that cannot be exhausted/^ 
 
 " Happy are those who think so," replied Mr. Redwood, 
 with an equivocal smile, which indicated that his respect for 
 Ellen alone prevented him from saying, ' that such a nostrum 
 might do for an old woman, but had no efficacy for more en- 
 lightened subjects.' 
 
 Lucy brought her Testament, and seating herself on Mrs. 
 Allen's footstool, began her reading. 
 
 " Lucy," said Ellen to Mr. Redwood, " is quite a rustic, 
 like the rest of us, unlearned in the forms of courtesy." 
 
 " I should be sorry, Miss Bruce, that you should deem me
 
 198 REDWOOD. 
 
 such a bigot to the usages of the world, as to require that an 
 essential kindness should be deferred to the forms of polite- 
 ness. No, so far from it. that if Miss Lucy will permit me, 
 I will be one of her auditors." So saying, he seated himself, 
 and Ellen, having brought her portfolio from an adjoining 
 room, placed herself on a bench under the elm-tree which grew 
 i few yards from the door-step. She was just finishing a 
 sketch of the view from Mr. Lenox's house, which she had 
 promised to George Lenox. Lucy proceeded with her reading, 
 and Mr. Redwood listened with apparent interest, which might 
 be accounted for by the novelty of the book to him ; for, ' en 
 philosophe,' he had judged and condemned without examining 
 the only record that pretends to any credible authority to teach 
 us our duties and our destiny. 
 
 The lecture would have been long, and might have been 
 profitable, but it was interrupted by the approach of Mrs. 
 Westall and Miss Redwood; they had been joined by Mr. 
 Lenox, and Charles Westall, who was just issuing from the 
 garden ga|tt|S the ladies entered the yard. " I did not know 
 that this w,as an^ecomplishment of yours, Miss Bruce," said 
 Westall, dMto^j^pto her. and casting his eye over her draw- 
 ing, whicWras too faithful "a copy of the scene before them to 
 be mistaken. 
 
 " My knowledge of the art does not merit so dignified a 
 name, Mr. Westal} ; slight as it is, however, it is a great grati- 
 fication when it gi^|me the opportunity of gratifying an ab- 
 sent friend." 
 
 " And do you limit your benevolence to the' absent, or will 
 your permit me to examine the contents of your portfolio ?" 
 
 " Certainly," said Ellen, " although it will hardly reward 
 you for the trouble." Ellen was unostentatious, and at the 
 same time free from that false modesty which has its source in
 
 fiEDWOOD. 199 
 
 pride. She \ruiild have shrunk from any thing approaching to 
 an exhibit: j;: of any of her talents, but she did not, either from 
 vanity or false humility, imagine that there was in the efforts 
 of Ler skill in drawing any thing either to do her honor or 
 discredit. 
 
 Westall seemed in a most provokingly admiring humor. 
 Not a graceful line, a happy light, or fortunate shadow escaped 
 his observation. He called his mother and Miss Kedwood, to 
 point out to them a thousand beauties. Caroline's color, bril- 
 liant from exercise, was certainly heightened as she approached 
 Ellen. She looked over the drawings languidly, and said, 
 " they were pretty sketches for any one who fancied land- 
 scapes." Her mind was evidently intent on something beside 
 the drawings, for her eye wandered from her father to Ellen 
 for a few moments, when she seated herself with an expression 
 of sullenness and abstraction that recalled the transactions of 
 the preceding evening to all that had witnessed them : an 
 awkwardness came over the whole party. Ellen busied her- 
 self with arranging and replacing her drawings ; the operation 
 did not seem to be accelerated by Westall's efforts to aid her. 
 
 Mr. Redwood gazed on the two girls t^i feelings suffi- 
 ciently mortifying to his paternal pride ; he had^Hfeed the 
 noblest feelings of his nature, but not extinguished them ; his 
 -aspirations went beyond the mean gratification of his vanity, 
 which might have been derived from the rare beauty of his 
 daughter. The classic elegance of her figure, the brilliancy of 
 her complexion, (the more striking for its singularity in our 
 southern country,) the symmetry of her features, and that per- 
 fect control of her graceful movements which pride and fash- 
 ionable success had given to her, invested her with a right to 
 the infallible decision of the beau-monde, which had already 
 pronounced her an unrivalled beauty. ' Ah,' thought her
 
 200 REDWOOD. 
 
 father, as he explored her face in vain for some expression that 
 might consecrate so fair a temple, and sighed at the pride, dis- 
 content, and scorn which he met there, ' ah, my child, you look 
 like a fit idol for a pagan worship ; men would deify you, but 
 you are all earthly. This Ellen Bruce,' thought he, as he 
 turned his eye towards her, ' has such a look of spirituality, so 
 bright, and so tranquil too, that if there is a heaven she is 
 surely destined to it.' Ellen had in truth a face of the beati- 
 tudes. ' My child,' thought Mr. Redwood, as he pursued his- 
 melancholy reflections, ' has no right to such an expression. 
 Ellen's is " full of notable morality which it doth delightfully 
 teach," and might almost inspire.' 
 
 Mr. Redwood was roused from his reverie by Lenox, who- 
 observing that his guest looked unusually grave, said, " Why 
 how now, Squire Redwood, can't all these women folks keep 
 you in heart or maybe you are heart-whole, but it is the arm 
 pains you?" 
 
 " No," replied Mr. Redwood, " the arm is doing well 
 enough, and will I hope soon be at the service of any of the 
 ladies ; but it is not their province, sir, to keep the heart 
 whole." 
 
 ' T don't know as to that," replied Lenox : " it is true, wife 
 gave mine something of a jerk when I was young ; but I am 
 one of the contented sort, sir, and contentment, as likely you 
 may have observed, is an article that is not to be bought." 
 
 " I believe not, friend Lenox, for if all men were of my 
 mind, they would be all buyers and no sellers." 
 
 " Well, that is honest, Squire, I like that. If it was to be 
 bought, I'm thinking you could make the purchase, if any 
 body, for I judge you to be something of a nabob. What may 
 be your yearly income, Squire ?" 
 
 Mr. Redwood was not prepared for so direct an invest!-
 
 REDWOOD. 201 
 
 gation of his pecuniary affairs : lie replied, " Indeed, sir, I do 
 not know." 
 
 " Don't know !" exclaimed Lenox, quite unsuspicious of the 
 impropriety of his inquiry " that's surprising I took the 
 Squire for one of those smart people that understands all 
 about their own affairs. It must take," he continued, survey- 
 ing Caroline, " a pretty considerable handsome sum to furnish 
 your daughter with all the fine clothes I see her wear. I dare 
 say that her gewgaws (no offence, Miss Caroline, I only mean 
 the flourishes) and your coach, and such kind of knickknacks, 
 cost you as much as it does a plain man like me tc support 
 my whole family, and bring them up in what may be called an 
 honorable manner." 
 
 " It is very possible," replied Mr. Redwood. 
 
 " Well," pursued the indefatigable man, " this is a free 
 country, and every man has a right to do what he will with 
 his own ; if you are a mind to dress Miss Caroline in dia- 
 monds and gold beads, it is none of my affair. You never 
 had any other child I believe, sir ?" 
 
 " No, sir." ^ 
 
 " That is a pity such a fortune as you mffe to give makes 
 a girl a sort of prey to all the sharp-set hunters after money ; 
 but may be you calculate to divide some of your property 
 with your other relations ?" 
 
 " I have made no calculations on the subject, sir." 
 
 " I wonder you have never married again, Mr. Redwood ; 
 I conclude you was never married but once ?" 
 
 " You have a right to your own conclusions, sir," replied 
 Mr. Redwood so steqjly, that Ellen involuntarily looked to- 
 wards him. His eye met hers, and he was mortified that he 
 should have betrayed his vexation, and he became still more 
 disconcerted when Ellen said playfully, " Oh, Mr. Lenox, do 
 9*
 
 202 REDWOOD. 
 
 not expect Mr. Redwood to tell all the secrets of his life be- 
 fore the ' women folks.' " 
 
 " Secrets of my life !" echoed Mr. Redwood, but in a 
 smothered voice, while Caroline, who had been listening in- 
 tently to the close of the conversation, sprang on her feet, and 
 grasping Ellen's arm, exclaimed, looking on her as if she 
 would have pierced her soul with the inquiry, " Ellen Bruce ! 
 what do you mean '?" 
 
 The movement had been involuntary. Caroline, unused to 
 control her slightest emotions, could not resist the mastery of 
 a strong passion. Ellen turned on her a look of such surprise 
 and innocence, that she sunk back alarmed at her own precipi- 
 tancy : every eye was now fixed on her, as if to demand an ex- 
 planation, while Mr. Redwood, whose mottled cheek and con- 
 tracted brow betrayed strong emotion, was the first to recover 
 his self-possession ; and when Caroline, hiding her face with 
 her handkerchief, said, " excuse me, Miss Bruce, I am not well 
 this morning," her father said, sternly, "your extraordinai-y 
 conduct needs that apology, Caroline oblige me with a few 
 minutes in my roflm." 
 
 The request MR too much the tone of a command to be 
 disregarded, and Caroline (glad too to escape observation) fol- 
 lowed her father. Mr. Redwood before entering his^room 
 turned to Mr. Lenox, and with the air of courtesy that always 
 distinguished him, said, " My good friend Lenox, you must 
 forgive my rudeness. We southern people are a little shy, 
 and do not understand this game of question and answer as 
 well as you frank northerners." 
 
 " Oh, no offence, sir, none in the wjrld." said the good- 
 natured Lenox, " it is a free country, sir, that we live in, and 
 every man has a right to his own notions be they ever so no- 
 tional that is my doctrine."
 
 REDWOOD, 203 
 
 "And a very liberal one, sir," replied Mr. Redwood, 
 slightly bowing, and smiling as he closed the door after him. 
 
 " Well, well," said Lenox, " women are strange cattle. Why, 
 what ailed the girl, Ellen : is she hystericky 1 or may be," he 
 added, lowering his voice, and chuckling with the pride of a 
 discoverer " may be she is afraid you'll get away her sweet- 
 heart, Ellen, ha ? have I guessed it ?" It was now poor Ellen's 
 turn to blush : she recollected suddenly that Mrs. Allen had 
 been sitting in the air too long, and begged Mr. Lenox to assist 
 her to her room ; whither she followed, leaving Mrs. Westall 
 and her son to their own musings. 
 
 Charles Westall returned to the examination of the draw- 
 ings, which Ellen in the haste of her attention to Mrs. Allen 
 had forgotten. 
 
 Little Lucy stood by his side : " There," said he, to the 
 <ehild, " do you know that Miss Bruce has put you into the pic- 
 ture, just as you sat reading to your aunt?" 
 
 " Oh, has she ! George will be glad to see me there." 
 
 " George ! who is George ?" inquired Charles Westall. 
 
 " My brother ? don't you know George ?" 
 
 " No, I do not. Is the picture for him, I&cy ? 
 
 " Oh, yes, Mr. Westall ; and pray why should not it be for 
 him ?"^asked the simple child, giving a very natural interpre- 
 tation to the shade that flitted over Westall's face. " I am 
 sure," she continued, " George has sent a great many beautiful 
 books to Ellen, and George loves her." 
 
 " Does he ?" exclaimed Westall. 
 
 " Yes, indeed he does ; don't you, Mr. Westall ? I thought 
 every body loved Ellen." 
 
 Lenox at this moment rejoined them. "Like father, like 
 <child," exclaimed he, with a hearty laugh ; " come along, Lucy, 
 you and I ask plaguy unlucky questions this morning. Young
 
 204 REDWOOD. 
 
 man," he added, turning to Charles, " I take a fancy to yoa 
 and if you do get any whims into your head, all the harm I 
 wish you is, that you may have better luck than poor 
 George." 
 
 We will not pretend to say whether it was the information 
 insinuated in the kind-hearted Lenox's wish, or the expression 
 of his favor, but one or the other, or both, certainly kindled a 
 bright expression of pleasure in Westall's face: his mother 
 noticed it, and after Mr. Lenox had walked away, she said to 
 her son, " I am surprised, Charles, that you do not repress 
 that man's familiarity ; he is really becoming intolerable. * 
 
 " Oh, not at all so to me, my dear mother." 
 
 " But, Charles, did you ever hear any thing so impertinent 
 as his questions to Mr. Redwood ?" 
 
 " They scarcely deserve to be so stigmatized. Mr. Lenox 
 lives in a simple state of society, where each man knows every 
 particular of his neighbor's affairs, and he never suspected that 
 his guest would not be as free to tell as he to ask. It is- 
 very easy to see all the imperfections of unpolished surfaces ; 
 but, perhaps, dear mother, as your eye seems somewhat dazzled 
 by Miss Redwoo4J charms, you did not notice her strange 
 freak this morning ?" 
 
 " I noticed it, Charles, but I did not think it strange. 
 Caroline has been out of spirits all the morning quite deject- 
 ed. You wounded her feelings last night, my son, too severely; 
 it was that which made her so sensitive this morning. She 
 was vexed, as she ought to have been, with the idle questions 
 of this man Lenox ; and perhaps she thought (for I thought 
 BO myself) that there was something too familiar in Miss 
 Bruce's manner and observation." 
 
 " I confess, mother, that a young lady who gives such ener- 
 getic demonstrations of her vexation at an offence so trifling,
 
 REDWOOD. 205 
 
 is rather formidable ; and I think, with you, that it would be 
 prudent to avoid her resentment." 
 
 " But, Charles, I am in earnest you are trifling with your 
 own interest ; and I am sorry to say, my son, that you seem 
 to have forgotten the deep obligations we are under to Mr. 
 Redwood his friendship for your father for you. Caroline's 
 only offence seems to be a predilection (perhaps too obvious) 
 for you, and the kindest, most generous affection for me." Mrs. 
 Westall paused she thought Charles's silence indicated con- 
 viction, and she ventured to proceed a step farther : " As to this 
 Miss Bruce, her story is quite an incredible one. Do not look 
 at me thus, my son. I do not mean that it is an intentional 
 imposture of hers I dare say she is that is, she may be, quite 
 innocent about it ; but as Caroline says, and Caroline has un- 
 common penetration in that she resembles her father Caro- 
 line says that it must be an invention of Ellen's mother to 
 screen the disgrace of her birth ; of course you know a woman 
 of the sort that her mother must have been would not scruple 
 a contrivance of that kind, which might induce some credulous 
 fellow, as Caroline says, to marry her daughter. No conside- 
 rate man, certainly, would think of marryiig a woman whose 
 history is so involved in mystery as Caroline says, no man in 
 his senses should forget the old proverb, ' like mother, like 
 daughter.' " 
 
 " For heaven's sake, my dear mother," exclaimed Westall, 
 unable any longer to maintain his dutiful patience, " speak 
 from your own heart, and do not retail to me any more of 
 Miss Redwood's sayings ; forgive me I cannot endure to see 
 her play on your kind dispositions. I appeal, my dear mother, 
 to your own heart. Is there not something touching sacred 
 in Ellen Brace's faith in her mother's truth in her scrupu- 
 lous and patient fidelity ? I declare to you, if Miss Redwood
 
 206 REDWOOD. 
 
 is right in her worst conjectures, I think the parent's fault is 
 redeemed by the daughter's virtue." 
 
 Mrs. Westall knew that her son was unmanageable in any 
 matter in which his feelings were earnestly engaged, though 
 habitually yielding in trifles ; she saw the impossibility of stem- 
 ming the present current that had set against her. Although 
 dazzled by the brilliant prospects that she had imagined were 
 opening to her son, she was not quite insensible to the virtuous 
 feelings that governed him, and when she concluded the con- 
 versation by saying, " Charles, you are a singular being," there 
 was a mixture of satisfaction and disappointment in the con- 
 fession. 
 
 The purely accidental inquiries of honest Lenox had oper- 
 ated like the apple of discord on the group assembled at the 
 good man's door. It is too well known to require remark, that 
 this busy spirit of investigation pervades the mass of society 
 in New England 'leaveneth the whole lump.' It appears 
 among the illiterate, in what the polite call ' idle and imperti- 
 nent questions,' and among the educated, in a very free and 
 sometimes inconvenient spirit of inquiry into what the prudent 
 or austere would deem unquestionable. Whether this passion 
 is blamable or praiseworthy, we leave to those whom it may 
 concern to determine ; but certain we are that it is incurable : 
 since it has been our chance to see an old lady, perfectly blind 
 and deaf, who, by taking the hand of a friend, and understand- 
 ing from a strong or feeble pressure an affirmative or negative, 
 contrived so ingeniously and indefatigably to vary and multiply 
 her questions, as to ascertain all the details of all the affairs 
 of all her acquaintance. 
 
 There had been so many agreeable circumstances in Mr. 
 Redwood's situation, that he had for the most part endured 
 this inevitable evil with good-nature ; but sometimes his wine-
 
 REDWOOD. 207 
 
 ing would show that he was galled, and once or twice he 
 thought that the case of the poor Dutchman, who is said to 
 have been questioned to death by a relentless Yankee, would 
 not have been a singular instance of the fatal efiects of this 
 curious mode of persecution. 
 

 
 208 REDWOOD. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 " But I have seen since past the Tweed, 
 What much has changed my skeptic creed." 
 
 MARMION. 
 
 MR. REDWOOD, as has been said, retreated to his room ; and 
 Caroline, with the appearance at least of passive obedience, 
 followed him. A few moments reflection restored to her her self- 
 confidence. She now for the first time in her life felt the opera- 
 tion of powerful motives, and the strength of her own passions. 
 She was destitute of natural sensitiveness, and emboldened by 
 the hardy resolution that had never experienced trial nor de- 
 feat. Determined to repair the faults of her sudden gust of 
 passion by a wariness that should baffle her father's penetra- 
 tion, she folded her arms and seated herself very composedly, 
 as if awaiting her father's pleasure while he walked the room 
 in extreme, and as his varying color indicated, uncontrollable 
 agitation. He complained of his arm it was excessively pain- 
 ful. " Then, sir," said his daughter, with the most perfect non- 
 chalance, " the attendance of the physician would be more 
 appropriate than mine." 
 
 " No," replied Mr. Redwood, in a thrilling tone ; " no 
 there is no physician that can heal my wounds. Oh Caroline !" 
 he continued, suddenly taking her hand, " you are my child, 
 my only child" he was choked by his emotion, and unable to
 
 REDWOOD. 209 
 
 proceed ; he again turned from her, while she, with a coolness 
 which bordered on insult, replied, " Yes, sir, so I flattered my- 
 self ; but you announce it as if it were a discovery." 
 
 Mr. Redwood sunk into a chair, his face betrayed the 
 strong mental conflict he was suffering. The emotion his 
 daughter had manifested at the question and remarks, to which, 
 as he thought, his conscience could alone give significance, had 
 led him to suppose that she had in some way possessed herself 
 of his early history, and he had suddenly resolved to obtain 
 from her all she knew, and to disclose to her all of which she 
 was ignorant. Her manner had checked congealed the cur- 
 rent of his feelings ; his habitual reserve, which in this moment 
 of excitement, a kind tone, a single expression of gentleness, 
 of affectionate sympathy, would have dissipated for ever, re- 
 sumed its power over him. He sat silent and abstracted until 
 Caroline said, " As you seem to have no farther occasion for 
 me, sir, I will go to my own apartment." 
 
 " No, stay, Caroline you must first explain to me your 
 singular conduct to Miss Bruce." 
 
 Miss Redwood said there was nothing to explain she 
 meant nothing she thought it very extraordinary that she 
 must give a reason for every movement her manner might 
 have been a little hurried she was not very well, she was 
 fatigued with her walk teased to death with old Lenox's im- 
 pertinence, and disgusted with Miss Bruce. 
 
 " But why disgusted, Caroline 1 It seems to me nothing 
 could be more proper than the gentle check Miss Bruce gave 
 to Lenox ; nothing more innocent and unmeaning than what 
 she said." 
 
 " You certainly, sir, are the most competent judge of her 
 meaning if you were not offended, it was quite unnecessary 
 that I should be provoked."
 
 210 REDWOOD. 
 
 " Caroline ! what would you say what would you insin- 
 uate ?" 
 
 " Nothing in the world, sir," she answered, and added with 
 a bitter smile, " nothing but what you may choose to under- 
 stand. I am not accustomed," she continued, undisturbedly 
 enduring her father's piercing gaze ' I am not accustomed to 
 have so much importance attached to my expressions. Miss 
 Bruce may walk in mystery, and talk enigmas with impunity, 
 while I am made accountable for every deviation from a 
 straight line." 
 
 Mr. Redwood's suspicions were again averted by his daugh- 
 ter's skill and daring in parrying his question. After a few 
 moment's consideration, he wondered they had been excited, 
 and believed that she had accidentally touched the secret 
 spring which he alone commanded. He said something of the 
 excitability of his feelings in his present weak state, and did 
 not permit Caroline to leave him without exhorting her to be 
 more careful and conciliating in her manners for the little time 
 they should remain at Eton. He again departed from the 
 strict reserve he had imposed upon himself, and hinted how 
 much he should be pained by Caroline's losing the esteem of 
 Westall, and even how much he should be gratified by her se- 
 curing and returning the young man's affections. She replied, 
 1 that to secure Mr. Westall's affections she had no reason to 
 believe would be a difficult enterprise as to her own, she was 
 in no haste to dispose of them.' 
 
 Her father commended her reserve, said he had no wish to 
 control her choice of a husband, and perhaps no right to ex- 
 pect her confidence. 
 
 " Our intercourse, sir," she said, rising to leave the room, 
 a has not been particularly confidential." 
 
 " Strange girl !" exclaimed her father, as she closed the
 
 EEDWOOD. 211 
 
 door after her ; " what has so suddenly invested you with the 
 power to torture me ?" 
 
 Mr. Redwood began now to talk of recommencing his jour- 
 ney, which Dr. Bristol assured him he might do after a few days 
 without any hazard. As the time approached for his depart- 
 ure, he felt a growing reluctance to leave the rustic friends from 
 whom he had received such genuine kindness, and whose shaple 
 and tranquil pleasures had in some degree restored a health- 
 ful tone to his mind. From day to day he delayed fixing the 
 time of their departure, for which both Mrs. Westall and Caro- 
 line had become excessively impatient. The blessing, what- 
 ever it may be, of ' those that wait,' seemed to have descended 
 upon Charles Westall. He was, as he insisted it became him 
 to be, since he was in attendance on his superior, a monument 
 of patience. It is possible that his virtue was in part owing 
 to his being indulged almost constantly with Miss Bruce's so- 
 ciety. Mrs. Allen, as Deborah had suggested, had become 
 quite childish ; and of late she had taken a whim to sit con- 
 stantly in the parlor, where the company was in the habit of 
 assembling. She took no part in the conversation, which she 
 probably did not understand, but (as we have sometimes re- 
 marked of persons at her stage of existence) the variety of 
 tones and objects appeared to afford her a kind of excitement 
 and relief. 
 
 Caroline was evidently annoyed by this new arrangement, 
 but she had tact enough to conceal how hard it was for her to 
 submit to it, and to deport herself with such decent decorum 
 and medium civility, as in general to avert observation, and 
 most effectually to conceal her secret sentiments. 
 
 Mrs. "Westall, who was really amiable when not perverted 
 by a bad influence, was sometimes won by the sweetness of 
 Ellen's manners to forget the superior attractions of Miss
 
 212 REDWOOD. 
 
 Redwood ; and Ellen, happy in her own integrity, and uncon- 
 scious of design, was frank, natural, and often spirited : so 
 much so, that Westall thought that if she had not all the pen- 
 sive and serious beauty which Deborah had attributed to her, 
 she possessed a variety and animation that were more in har- 
 mony with the spring-time of life. For himself, with the 
 inconsequence of a feeling and generous nature, he abandoned 
 himself without a calculation for the future to present influ- 
 ences. If the ladies walked, and the mother flattered herself 
 that by her skilful disposition she had secured Charles's attend- 
 ance to Caroline, he was sure to revert to Ellen's side in some 
 direct way,^hat distanced manoeuvring if he read aloud, at 
 every fine passage his eye appealed to Ellen in every con- 
 versation they expressed almost simultaneously the same sen- 
 timent. 
 
 On one occasion their sympathy was elicited in a way that 
 excited some apprehension in the observers as to its dangerous 
 tendency. Caroline had arranged a Turkish turban on Mrs. 
 Westall's head, which she pronounced to be surprisingly be- 
 coming. 
 
 " See, papa," she said, " does not Mrs. Westall look twenty 
 years younger for this turban ?" 
 
 " The turban does you infinite credit certainly, Caroline," 
 replied her father, " but I cannot pay it a compliment which 
 would imply that any disposition of her dress could make Mrs. 
 Westall look twenty years younger." 
 
 " Ah, my dear Caroline," interposed Mrs. Westall, ' you 
 know not how far you tax your father's sincerity ; he knew me 
 twenty years ago and he perceives that (as Miss Debby insists, 
 you know) ' every year has made its mark.' Time makes sad 
 havoc in twenty years," she continued, addressing herself to 
 Mr. Redwood ; " I think it is little more than that since my
 
 REDWOOD. 213 
 
 beautiful friend, Mary Erwine, was staying with me, and you 
 were almost constantly at our house bless me, Caroline, you 
 have run that pin half way into my head." 
 
 Caroline ' begged pardon said she had put the last pin in 
 the turban, and would go and meet Mr. Westall, who she saw 
 coming up from the lake, and bespeak his suffrage for her 
 taste.' 
 
 The mention of Mary Erwine appeared to have revived the 
 pas>t in Mrs. Westall's memory. " Pray, Mr. Kedwood," she 
 asked, " did you ever see Mary after she went to live with the 
 Emlyns ?" 
 
 " Yes repeatedly." 
 
 There was something startling in the tone of Mr. Red- 
 wood's voice, for Ellen, who was sitting beside Mrs. Allen at 
 one extremity of the room, let fall a book which she was 
 intently perusing, and looked involuntarily at him : and Mrs. 
 Westall said, with a smile, " you remind me of one of my dear 
 Edmund's sentimental fancies he thought you were in love 
 with Mary." Mr. Redwood made no reply, and she continued 
 " I knew you would not think of her of course ; poor Mary 
 she was a sweet creature such simplicity and tenderness 
 and such perfect beauty. She left Virginia, I think, soon after 
 you embarked for Europe : indeed it was not long after that 
 she died. I never could endure to think of her melancholy 
 fate so beautiful and so young not seventeen when she 
 died." 
 
 " Miss Bruce," interrupted Mr. Redwood, " may I trouble 
 you for a glass of water ?" Ellen brought one from an ad- 
 joining room. 
 
 " Upon my word," said Mrs. Westall, " it never struck me 
 before, but I really fancy Miss Bruce resembles Mary did it 
 ever occur to you ?"
 
 214 REDWOOD. 
 
 " Yes, madam I perceived it I was struck with it the 
 first time I saw Miss Bruce." 
 
 Mr. Redwood spoke quick and with a tremulous voice he 
 knew that he had betrayed emotion, and anxious to put a stop 
 to the conversation, he turned suddenly to Ellen, and asked 
 her what book she was reading. 
 
 " The Absentee." 
 
 " The Absentee a tale of Miss Edgeworth's, I believe 
 will you do me the favor to read aloud ?" 
 
 " Certainly but I am near the conclusion of the book." 
 
 " That is of no consequence ; the story is in my view always 
 a subordinate part and the sense and spirit of Miss Edge- 
 worth's dialogue open her books where you will is sure to 
 instruct and entertain you." 
 
 " Well, sir, then I will begin where I am just at the ad- 
 justment of an account with a Mr. Solo, ' no vulgar trades- 
 man.' " 
 
 Ellen read aloud, but she had not read far when Caroline 
 entered with Charles Westall ; and she laid aside her book 
 while the turban was discussed. Westall pronounced it to be 
 beautiful, declared it could not have been in better taste if his 
 mother had had the Graces for her coiffeurs." 
 
 " But, Miss Bruce," he said, addressing Ellen, " I entreat 
 that we may not interrupt your reading." 
 
 " No, Miss Ellen," said Mr. Redwood, " they must not 
 I as an invalid have a right to be humored I beg you will 
 proceed." 
 
 Ellen resumed the book, and read with feeling and expres- 
 sion the ever memorable scene of Colambre's declaration to 
 Grace Nugent, till she came to the passage where Colauibre 
 says, there is an " invincible obstacle " to their union. Her 
 voice faltered, but she would have had enough self-command
 
 REDWOOD. 215 
 
 to proceed, had not Mr. Redwood inquired, " what obstacle 
 could be invincible where a creature, so frank, so charming, 
 was in question ?" 
 
 " A sufficient obstacle, papa," interposed Caroline ; " Lord 
 Colambre believed that Miss Nugent's mother was not ' sans 
 reproche.' " 
 
 " That may be a sufficient obstruction in a work of fiction," 
 replied Mr. Eedwood, " but in real life, with a man of sense 
 and feeling, a man deeply in love too, I fancy it would not be 
 a very serious objection. What say you, Charles, you are a 
 young man of the class I have named ?" 
 
 Mr. Redwood looked to Westall for a reply ; he perceived 
 his question had disconcerted him he looked at Ellen, her 
 face was crimson the application that had been made of the 
 fictitious incident instantly flashed across his mind. " I per- 
 ceive," he added, with his usual adroitness, " that I have pro- 
 posed a nice question in ethics. I am no casuist, and was not 
 aware that it admitted a doubt." 
 
 " Nor does it," said Westall, recovering himself completely. 
 " I know not how it may be in conventional ethics, but it seems 
 to me to be the decision of natural justice, that the fault of 
 one person cannot be transferred to another that it cannot 
 be right to make an innocent child suffer for the guilt of its 
 parent." 
 
 Ellen took a long breath, and oppressed with the conscious- 
 ness of feelings which she feared to expose, she experienced 
 the greatest relief from an opportunity that was afforded her 
 to escape from the apartment without attracting observation to 
 herself, by Deborah's appearance at the door with a letter in 
 her hand, and a summons to Mrs. Lenox. 
 
 Mrs. Westall and Caroline fell into a conversation which, 
 though conducted in a whisper, appeared to be very interesting
 
 216 REDWOOD. 
 
 to themselves. Westall took up the book Ellen had laid down, 
 his eyes seemed spell-bound to the page she had been reading, 
 for Mr Redwood (whose vigilance was now thoroughly 
 awakened), observed that he did not turn the leaf; and Mr. 
 Redwood had himself an ample fund for meditation in the 
 possibility that had now for the first time occurred to him that 
 Ellen, the undesigning artless Ellen, might frustrate his long- 
 cherished project. 
 
 In the evening, after Mrs. Westall and her son had re- 
 turned to the village, and Miss Redwood had retired to her 
 apartment, Mr. Redwood was still sitting in the parlor, read- 
 ing some newspapers which had been received by the day's 
 mail ; when Ellen entered, and after apologizing for interrupt- 
 ing him, said, " that she had just determined on leaving Eton 
 in the morning, and she was not willing to go without express- 
 ing her gratitude to Mr. Redwood for the kind attentions he 
 had bestowed on her." 
 
 Mr. Redwood, after expressing his surprise and regret, in- 
 quired the cause of this sudden arrangement, and Ellen stated 
 to him that Mrs. Allen had just received a letter from Emily, 
 in which, without expressly allowing that she was unhappy, she 
 betrayed discontent. It professed to be written merely to in- 
 form her grandmother that ' she was well, and that she hoped 
 she was enjoying the same blessing ; she said ' it was a big 
 cross she had taken up ; that all that called themselves Sha- 
 kers, were not Shakers indeed ; that wherever there were true 
 disciples, there was also a Judas ; that she had many thoughts 
 of her grandmother, and sometimes it was so much in her 
 heart to go home to her, that she believed she had a call to 
 leave " the people ;" but that her elder sister, who was gifted 
 to interpret, told her such thoughts were temptation.' The 
 conclusion of the letter, Ellen said, was evidently drenched
 
 REDWOOD. 217 
 
 with the poor girl's tears. She had written one sentence re- 
 peatedly, and as often crossed it out ; they had been able, after 
 many vain attempts, to decipher it ; it ran thus : " I send my 
 kind remembrance, as in duty bound, to James Lenox for all 
 his goodness to my natural brother, and to me in times past : 
 tell James also, that if he knew what trouble some people 
 have, he would not blame them, but rather pity them from his 
 heart." 
 
 ' ; This, sir," continued Ellen, " is to you an unmeaning 
 jargon, but we, from our knowledge of poor Emily, infer from 
 it that she is tired of her unnatural seclusion ; that her early 
 attachment to James has revived in spite of her dutiful efforts 
 to extinguish it ; and we have fears that she is suffering perse- 
 cution in some way which she dare not communicate. The 
 letter must have been written and conveyed away secretly, as 
 it was post-marked ' Albany ;' and the elders would never 
 have permitted such a document to issue from their retreat." 
 
 " And why," asked Mr. Redwood, " should this letter oc- 
 casion your departure ?" 
 
 " It has been determined in a family conference," replied 
 Ellen, " that an effort shall be made to rescue Emily. James, 
 who in truth has long loved her, is most earnest in her cause. 
 He frankly avows his attachment, but is afraid of appearing 
 in the enterprise, lest Emily should be persuaded by her spir- 
 itual guides that he is an emissary from the arch enemy. De- 
 borah, who looks upon herself as a natural protector of the 
 weak and oppressed, has volunteered a crusade to the Shakers, 
 provided I will accompany her. She has an extraordinary 
 confidence in my influence with Emily and with Susan too, 
 the ' elder sister.' " 
 
 Mr. Redwood inquired ' if it were possible that she would 
 
 undertake such an enterprise with no protector but Deborah ?' 
 10
 
 2f8 REDWOOD, 
 
 Ellen assured him ' that nothing was more common or safe, 
 than for females to travel from one extremity of New England 
 to the other without any other safeguard than the good morals- 
 and 'civility of the inhabitants ; that where there was no dan- 
 ger there was no need of protection, and that for her own part, 
 she should esteem her good friend Deborah's right arm as suf- 
 ficient a defence for these modern times, as a gallant knight 
 or baron bold would have been in the days of danger and of 
 chivalry.' 
 
 Mr. Redwood ventured to hint, that although Miss Dcbby 
 might be a sturdy protector, she certainly was a ludicrous cha- 
 perone for a young lady. 
 
 Ellen frankly confessed that she felt a little squeamishneas 
 on that account : " but, sir," said she, " I never could forgive 
 myself, if I permitted a foolish scruple of that kind to prevent 
 me from rendering an essential service to the Aliens. I owe 
 them a vast debt, and I have small means to pay it." 
 
 Mr. Redwood commended her motive, and half an hour 
 after was, perhaps, glad that it controlled her, but at this mo- 
 ment his reluctance to part with her overcame his apprehen- 
 sion that she might possibly interfere with the accomplishment 
 of his favorite project he earnestly urged delay ; but Ellen 
 said there were domestic reasons for their going at once which 
 she could not oppose. 
 
 " Then, my de&r Miss Bruce, if I must part with you, allow 
 me to say, that I feel an interest almost paternal in the issue 
 of your hopes not the generous hopes you are indulging for 
 this little Shaker girl, but those which relate to the develop- 
 ment of your own history. Oh, Ellen !" he continued with 
 emotion, and fixing his melancholy eye steadfastly upon her, 
 " you little dream of the supernatural power your face possesses 
 over my feelings my memory : there are thoughts that quite
 
 REDWOOD. 219 
 
 unman me ;" he clasped his hands and was silent, while Ellen 
 awaited in amazement and trembling expectation what he 
 should next say: but after a moment's pause, he resumed his 
 composure, and proceeded in his ordinary tone. " Your society, 
 Ellen, has been a cordial to my weary spirit. I have worn out 
 the world ; but here, in this still place amid these quiet scenes 
 where the sweet spirit of contentment dwells, here," he add- 
 ed, taking Ellen's hand, " where I have seen that it is possible 
 to forego the display of talent and the gratification of taste, to 
 practise the obscure virtues which are the peculiar boast of 
 your religion the virtues silent and secret, that neither ask 
 nor expect earthly notice or reward here I have felt a new 
 influence I have seemed to breathe a purer, a heavenly air 
 and I have sometimes hoped" 
 
 " What, sir, what ?" exclaimed Ellen, eagerly. 
 
 " That you would make a convert of me, my sweet friend." 
 
 " Would to heaven !" said Ellen. 
 
 " Nay," replied Mr. Redwood, mournfully shaking his head, 
 " I believe it is too late. It is a beautiful illusion ; but I have 
 outlived all illusions, Ellen : the man cannot return to the 
 leading-strings of infancy he cannot unlearn his philosophy 
 he cannot forget his experience." 
 
 " But he can examine if his philosophy be the true one 
 Oh Mr. Redwood" Ellen blushed and faltered, her heart was 
 overflowing but the natural timidity of a woman in the pre- 
 sence of a man, her elder and superior, restrained her : she 
 was frightened at her own daring and while she hesitated, 
 Mr. Redwood said, " Spare yourself any farther trouble 
 about me, Ellen I am too rigid to bend to a new yoke. 
 It would be as impossible for me to adopt your faith as for 
 you to assume the manacles of your friend Susan Allen. 
 But I am not cruel enough to wish to weaken your hopes
 
 220 REDWOOD. 
 
 we will waive this subject do you go without seeing the 
 Westalls?" 
 
 " Yes, sir, we go early." 
 
 " I am sorry for it ; they will regret it they both esteem 
 you, Miss Bruce. We must all support your departure as 
 well as we can when you are gone, much as I like the Len- 
 oxes, I shall no longer find it impossible to tear myself away. 
 The Westalls will, I hope, accompany us to New York and 
 Philadelphia perhaps to Virginia. Westall shall never leave 
 us if we can detain him. Ellen, you are worthy of all confi- 
 dence, and I will venture to tell you, what indeed you may 
 have already discerned, that I am extremely desirous to ally 
 my daughter with Charles Westall. You look grave you do 
 not think Caroline worthy so happy a destiny?" 
 
 Mr. Redwood perceived that Ellen was embarrassed, and 
 he proceeded : " I will not tax your sincerity, Miss Bruce ; my 
 daughter has faults, great faults still she has splendid attrac- 
 tions : her beauty might gratify the pride of any man her 
 fortune is immense and if she has faults, why, I know no one 
 so likely to cure them as Charles Westall. I have not. I con- 
 fess, as yet observed any indications of a particular interest in 
 her ; but she has insinuated in a conversation that we have 
 had together, that she has it in her pow,er to receive or reject 
 him." 
 
 Ellen walked to the window and threw up the sash. " You 
 look pale, Miss Bruce, are you not well?" continued Mr. 
 Redwood. 
 
 " Perfectly well," she replied, " but the evening is oppres- 
 sively warm." 
 
 " I was not aware of that." said Mr. Redwood, shivering as 
 the chill air blew on him from the window. 
 
 " I believe it is not very warm," replied Ellen, closing the
 
 REDWOOD. 221 
 
 window. " I am fatigued with the preparations for our jour- 
 ney." she added, reseating herself with her face averted from 
 Mr. Redwood. 
 
 " I will detain you but one moment longer, Miss Bruce ; 
 should you from your own observations conclude that Westall 
 was interested in my daughter ?" 
 
 " I cannot say, sir I know nothing of the manners of the 
 world." 
 
 " It is not necessary you should : women have an instinct 
 on this subject that surpasses the sagacity of experience tell 
 me then frankly the result of your observations." 
 
 Ellen, after making a vain effort to reply with composure, 
 stammered out, that " Miss Redwood certainly must know, 
 and Miss Redwood had said " Here she hesitated again, 
 and Mr. Redwood compassionating her embarrassment, said, 
 " You are right, Ellen you are too prudent to flatter my 
 wishes." 
 
 Ellen, anxious to avail herself of this moment, rose, and 
 giving Mr. Redwood her hand, bade him farewell he reiter- 
 ated his expression OT interest and kindness, and they parted. 
 ' Poor girl !' thought Mr. Redwood, as she closed the door ; ' it 
 is as I suspected : the most virtuous seem always the most 
 persecuted by destiny. Why should another thorn be planted 
 in her innocent bosom ?' Mr. Redwood felt a consciousness 
 that he might avert the destiny he deprecated he had virtue 
 for good emotions, but not for the difficult sacrifice of a favorite 
 object. Believing as he had. that the best owe most of their 
 virtue to the applause of society, or to the flattery of their lit- 
 tle world ; the unostentatious goodness of Ellen (dignified as 
 he deemed her by talents and cultivation) had made a deep 
 and ineffaceable impression on him. He sat for a long time 
 meditating on her character and singular history ; he thought
 
 222 REDWOOD. 
 
 that if there were ever two beings formed to make a joyous 
 path over this wilderness world, they were Ellen and Westall. 
 He reproached himself with wishing to interpose his plans to 
 frustrate such possible happiness. ~~~fie thought he never came 
 in contact with the good and lovely without inflicting suffering 
 on them. 
 
 It had been Mr. Eedwood's destiny through life to feel 
 right and to act wrong to see and to feel, deeply feel, the 
 beauty of virtue, but to resign himself to the Convenience or 
 expediency of wrong. His impulses were good but what 
 is impulse without principle? what is it to resist the eter- 
 nal solicitations of selfishness, the sweeping tempests of 
 passion ? 
 
 Mr. Redwood had an unconquerable wish to bestow some 
 benefit on Ellen. He had none in his power but of a pecu- 
 niary nature, a^jid that it was difficult to offer without offending 
 her delicacy. He determined, however, to do it, and he in- 
 closed bank notes to the amount of five hundred dollars in the 
 following note : 
 
 " My dear Miss Bruce must not punish my temerity in 
 offering her the inclosed, by refusing to accept it. Being a 
 parent, I understand the wants of a young lady allow me 
 then to act as the representative of your father. By permit- 
 ting me now and in future to supply those vulgar wants, from 
 which none of us are exempt, you will make me a convert to 
 the common opinion, that a rich man is enviable." 
 
 After sealing the packet, he gave it to Deborah, with a 
 request that she would not deliver it until after she and her 
 companion had left Eton. 
 
 Ellen retired to her room to occupy herself with the pre- 
 parations for her journey. Her wardrobe was simple, but neat, 
 and not inelegant. It had been amply furnished, not only
 
 REDWOOD. 223 
 
 with necessaries, but with the little luxuries of a lady's equi- 
 page by Mrs. Harrison, from the -abundant stores of her youth- 
 ful arA prosperous days. The costume in which a lady of for- 
 tune l.ud figured twenty years gone by, would have been quite 
 too antique, but, happily, Ellen's taste and ingenuity enabled 
 her gracefully to adapt it to her own person and the fashion 
 of the day. The journey she was about to undertake was a 
 long one, and, in obedience to the wise caution of Mrs. Lenox, 
 she prepared for any delay that might occur ; a prudence en- 
 forced by Deborah, who said that, as she had not journeyed for 
 twenty years, she should not hurry home. After packing her 
 trunk, she made a safe corner in it for her casket, little dream- 
 ing that its treasure was gone. She had never been separated 
 from it since it was first transferred to her possession. She lock- 
 ed her trunk, arranged her dressing-case, ami took up her Bible 
 to place in it a beautiful little Bible with gold ^asps, the gift 
 too of Mrs. Harrison. Her recent conversation with Mr. Red- 
 wood made her feel its value, particularly at this moment. 
 Her eye glistened while she kissed it with an emotion of grati- 
 tude at the thought or the solace it had been, and would be to 
 her. Such emotions prove that religious sufferers have a com- 
 pensation for their trials. A wish suddenly arose in Ellen's 
 mind that she could impart the truths and consolations of that 
 book to Mr. Redwood. The thought seemed like inspiration. 
 If she was enthusiastic, who can blame an enthusiasm so be- 
 nevolent ? She wrapped the book with this short note in an 
 envelope : " My dear Mr. Redwood, accept and value this 
 treasure for the sake of your friend Ellen Bruce may I not 
 say for your own sake G-od bless you." 
 
 She left the packet with Mrs. Lenox to be delivered after 
 her departure. As she was returning to her own room she 
 heard "Westall's voice in the parlor : he had come back with
 
 224 REDWOOD. 
 
 
 
 some message from his mother for Miss Redwood. Ellen 
 obeyed the first impulse of her feeling, and moved towards the 
 parlor door : she felt her heart beating violently, and surprised 
 and alarmed at her own agitation, she retreated reluctantly to- 
 her apartment. ' Perhaps,' she thought, ' Mr. Redwood will 
 tell him that I am going away, and he will ask to see nie. 
 But soon after she heard him shut the parlor door heard him 
 go out of the house and at the last sound of his retiring foot- 
 steps she burst into tears. Shocked at the discovery of her 
 own feelings, she hastily undressed, and threw herself on the- 
 bed in the hope that sleep would dispel the images that crowded 
 her mind but sleep she could not. In the multitude of her 
 thoughts ; her anxiety for Emily, her concern at leaving M rs. 
 Allen, her regret at parting with Mr. Redwood, there was still 
 one that predominated over every other. Was it possible that 
 Westall, pure, excellent, elevated as he was, could love Caro- 
 line Redwood? or worse not loving, could he marry her? 
 It must be so if it were not, all womanly feeling would have 
 forbidden the communication Caroline had made to her father. 
 Ellen tried to persuade herself that she^rad no other interest 
 in it than that benevolent one which it was natural and right 
 to feel in Westall's happiness : but alas ! the melancholy re- 
 sult of her ' maiden meditation,' was that she was not ' fancy 
 free ;' and, involuntarily, she covered her face with her hand* 
 as if she would have hidden from her own consciousness the 
 tears and blushes which the discovery cost her. 
 
 At this moment she was startled by a loud shriek from 
 Caroline. She sprang to her bedside, and Caroline grasping 
 her arm, stared wildly at her. as if the phantom that had scared 
 her sleep had not yet vanished. 
 
 " You were dreaming, Miss Redwood." 
 
 " Dreaming ! was I dreaming ?" said Caroline, still con-
 
 REDWOOD. 225 
 
 
 
 tinuing her fixed gaze on Ellen, " bring the light nearer, Ellen. 
 Yes, thank God ! I was dreaming." 
 
 " What dream, Miss Redwood, could thus terrify 
 you ?" 
 
 " Oh, Ellen, I thought I saw you and Westall standing to- 
 gether on the summit of that rock on the lake-shore ; and 
 there was a soft silvery cloud floating just over you it parted, 
 and I saw a beautiful spiritual creature bending from it her 
 garments of light floated on the bright cloud she had a chap- 
 let of white flowers in her hand like those you plucked for 
 me : while I was gazing to see if she would place it on your 
 head the earth trembled where I stood, a frightful chasm 
 yawned before me, and my father was hurling me into it, when 
 I awoke." 
 
 " It was a strange dream," said Ellen, with a melancholy 
 smile. 
 
 " How strange, Miss Bruce ? can you read dreams ? have 
 you faith in them ?" 
 
 " Not the least ; and it is well for me that I have not, for 
 
 , 
 
 in this case, as dreams are interpreted by contraries, you would 
 be on the rock and I in the chasm." 
 
 " That is true," replied Caroline ; " but it was, as you Bay, 
 a strange dream ; even now I see his eye bent on you." 
 
 " Whose eye ?" inquired Ellen, who began to think Caro- 
 line had really lost her senses. 
 
 " Westall's," she replied, her brow again contracting. 
 
 " Your dream then is already working by rule, for his eye 
 will never be bent on me again." 
 
 " Never ! What do you mean, Miss Bruce?" 
 
 Ellen explained to Caroline that she was to leave Eton in 
 the morning, and should not return for some weeks. 
 
 " Thank God !" exclaimed Caroline, springing from the bed, 
 10*
 
 226 REDWOOD. 
 
 entirely unable to control the relief she felt from Ellen's infor 
 mation. 
 
 Ellen rose also : she said nothing, but her face expressed 
 so plainly " In what have I offended ?'' that after a moment's 
 pause, Caroline proceeded to say, " It, is in vain, Ellen Bruce 
 it is useless longer to conceal my feelings towards you sleep- 
 ing or waking they are always the same ; from the first moment 
 that we met, you have in every way injured me crossed my 
 purposes baffled my hopes and all under cover of such art- 
 lessness, such simplicity. Above all things I hate hypocrisy, 
 and I will have the satisfaction of telling you before you go r 
 that I at least have seen through your disguises, and neither 
 set you down for an innocent nor a saint." 
 
 Ellen was confounded with this sudden burst of passion. 
 " I know not, Miss Redwood," she said, calmly, " what you? 
 mean by your insinuations. I know not how I have interfered 
 with you : but one thing I know, that your opinion, determined' 
 as you are to misunderstand and misrepresent me, ought not 
 cannot affect my happiness." 
 
 " Lord bless me, how heroic ! but there is one whose opin- 
 ion may possibly affect your happiness. Mrs. Westall sees 
 through you as plainly as I do, and if she can help it, I assure 
 you you will not succeed in wheedling her son out of his affec- 
 tions and senses, with all your pretty romantic devices." 
 
 " My devices ! oh, Miss Redwood, you are cruel what are 
 my devices?" 
 
 " Really, Miss Ellen Bruce, you flatter yourself they have 
 all passed current with us simple ones the trumpery story 
 about the box a fine Arabian night's entertainment, truly ; 
 your dragging that old woman day after day into the parlor to 
 practise your benevolence upon, as the /milliners display their 
 fashions on the blocks ; the pretty tale of the blind girl, admi-
 
 REDWOOD. '227 
 
 rably got up to be sure, with a hundred other inferior instances 
 of jour mode of practice upon the romantic unsuspecting 
 Westall." 
 
 Ellen could have borne unmoved Caroline's malice, but the 
 thought of the odious light in which she should be presented 
 to Westall quite overcame her fortitude. "I could not have 
 believed Mrs. Westall so ungenerous so unjust," said she, 
 bursting into tears. 
 
 ' Ah,' thought Caroline, ' I have touched the vulnerable 
 spot ;' and she would have proceeded with savage barbarity in 
 the application of her tortures, but she was interrupted. Mrs. 
 Lenox tapped at the door to say that Deborah was in readiness, 
 and to beg Ellen to dispatch her preparations. 
 
 Mrs. Lenox's voice operated as a sedative upon Caroline : 
 she sat down and fixed her eyes on Ellen, while she, with trem- 
 bling hands proceeded to array herself for her departure. 
 When every thing was in readiness, she approached Caroline, 
 and said, with a faltering voice, " Miss Redwood, I forgive you ; 
 may God forgive your unkind, unnatural treatment of one who 
 never injured you in thought, word, or deed. I would ask you 
 to spare me when I am gone, but I have no reason to hope for 
 that. To God," she continued, with a solemnity that appalled 
 Caroline, " to God, my father and my friend, I commit my cause 
 I have no earthly protector, and I need none. We part for 
 ever ; this for ever compasses the limit of our earthly career, 
 and brings us to that presence where we must next meet, where 
 all injustice will be exposed all wrong repaired." 
 
 Caroline had covered her eyes as if to shut out the vision 
 of innocence and loveliness. Ellen's words touched her wifch 
 a feeling of remorse, and awakened appalling fears : her pas- 
 sions were turbulent, but not yet hardened into the resolution 
 of one inured to the practice of evil. As Ellen turned from
 
 228 REDWOOD. 
 
 her, she started from the bed and exclaimed, " Stay, Ellen 
 Bruce, stay give me one moment's time.' : Ellen paused and 
 looked at her with mute amazement, while she walked the room 
 in an agony of indecision. Among other valuable branches of 
 education, Caroline had been taught to believe in dreams and 
 all their train of signs, omens, and premonitions ; her fancy 
 had been excited by the airy nothings of the night's vision. 
 Ellen's last words struck upon her ear like the voice of pro- 
 phecy. She imagined that her innocent victim was wrested 
 from her, and that she beheld the visible interposition of hea- 
 ven in her behalf that chasm, that dark, deep, frightful chasm, 
 yawned before her, and the thought that she could in no way 
 close it up, but by the restoration of the rifled treasure, came 
 to her like an impulse from a good spirit : obedient to it she 
 had risen from the bed, but she faltered in the execution of her 
 good purpose : she shrunk from the train of evils that her busy 
 thoughts suggested : the certain loss of Westall Ellen's ad- 
 vancement to fortune, rank, and fashion equal to her own the 
 exposure of her own baseness, that she could not brook ; and 
 ' I cannot humble myself to her, 1 was the mental conclusion of 
 her deliberations. ' When she is gone. I can. if I choose, re- 
 store the articles as secretly as I took them ; the discovery will 
 then be delayed Westall secured.' 
 
 This feeble intention to render imperfect justice quieted 
 her conscience: while she was deliberating what gloss she 
 should put on her mysterious conduct Deborah opened the door. 
 "Heyday," said she, "are you up, Miss Caroline? well, I am 
 glad of it. you will have a chance to see the sun rise once in 
 your life ; and when he comes a sailing over those bills, and 
 pours a shower of light on Champlain. youll own there is not 
 such a sight in all the Car linas : good luck* and a husband to you, 
 girl. Come Ellen, come, what signifies losing anymore lost time l n
 
 REDWOOD. 229 
 
 Ellen assured Deborah she was quite ready ; and Deborah, 
 who would not on compulsion have performed a menial service 
 for a queen, took Ellen's trunk in her arms, and commanding 
 her to follow l with the knickknacks,' she left the apartment. 
 
 Ellen looked inquiringly at Caroline : " I have nothing far- 
 ther to say, Miss Bruce." 
 
 " Then, farewell," said Ellen. Caroline bowed, and they 
 parted.
 
 230 KEDWOOD. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 " Lassie, say thou lo'est me, 
 Or if thou wilt na be my ain, 
 Say na thou'lt refuse me." BURNS. 
 
 Tne breakfast was soon dispatched, and our travellers, after 
 receiving many wise cautions from Mrs. Lenox, and earnest 
 injunctions from James, mounted into an old-fashioned chaise, 
 and commenced their journey. 
 
 We hope our romantic readers will not regret that our he- 
 roine could not be accommodated with a more poetical or dig- 
 nified vehicle. They ought rather to rejoice that she did not 
 fall upon these evil times, when, beyond a doubt, she would 
 have been compelled to perform the journey in a one-horse 
 wagon a ' kill devil ' or. to give it its original and appro- 
 priate designation a Dearborn ; so called from the illustrious 
 author of the invention ; a vehicle that commends itself so 
 strongly to the social temper of the Yankees, that it has in 
 the interior of New England nearly superseded the use of 
 every other carriage, drawn by one horse. 
 
 Our travellers had proceeded a few miles when Deborah 
 thought she might give Ellen the packet with which she had 
 been intrusted, without violating the fetter of Mr. Redwood's 
 direction. Her surprise surpassed Ellen's when she beheld
 
 REDWOOD. 231 
 
 its contents. Slie begged her to read the letter aloud. Ellen 
 read it with a trembling voice. " The Lord bless his dear 
 heart !" exclaimed Deborah. 
 
 " Oh Ellen, I wish he had you for his child, instead of that 
 
 ; never mind, I'll overlook her for the sake of her father 
 
 ~-count the money, girl, count it you can't !" she added, 
 looking at Ellen, whose eyes were overflowing, "give it to me,' 
 my sight is rather dull too," and she dashed off the tears that 
 clouded her vision. " Five hundred is it ? you are rich ; you are 
 an heiress, Ellen !" 
 
 " I am indeed," replied Ellen, " rich in kind friends ; but 
 this money, Miss Deborah, must be returned !" 
 
 " Returned !" echoed Debby ; " why you would not be such 
 a born fool, girl ? a thirsty man might as well throw away a 
 draught from an eternal fountain, ' No, no, Ellen, when the 
 rich give, let the poor receive and be thankful ; that is always 
 encouragement to them to go on. Returned indeed ! it would 
 be a slighting o' Providence to return it, Ell en^ quite out of 
 all reason and natur. Just like one of Mrs. Harrison's su- 
 perstitious, high-flown notions." 
 
 It was impossible for Ellen to communicate all the motives 
 that led her to decline a pecuniary favor from Miss Redwood's 
 father ; but she suggested reasons which she thought would 
 appeal to her companion's characteristic independence. The 
 veteran maiden opposed them all she had advanced into the 
 cold climate of worldly prudence, but Ellen was at that age 
 when sentiment controls interest. In vain Debby continued 
 her remonstrances. Ellen, heedless of them all, wrote with a 
 pencil an affecting expression of her gratitude on the envelope 
 of the packet, and reversing it. she directed it to Mr. Red- 
 wood, intending to procure at the next village a trusty persoa 
 to re-convey it to Eton.
 
 232 REDWOOD. 
 
 The travellers had just reached a small brook which inter- 
 cepted the road : there was a bridge over it, and a road by the 
 side of the bridge by which passengers descended to the brook 
 for the purpose of watering ^heir horses. Deborah thought it 
 was time to perform that kind office for her steed ; she alighted 
 to arrange the bridle, and desiring Ellen to drive through the 
 stream, said she would herself walk up the hill on the other 
 side. The passage to the brook was shaded and hidden by 
 thick clumps of willow trees. As Ellen reined her horse into 
 the narrow way she encountered Westall, who had gone out for 
 a morning ride. 
 
 " Miss Bruce, is it possible ?" he exclaimed, with a tone 
 and expression of delight that changed instantly on noticing 
 her riding-dress and other indications of travelling. " Where," 
 he continued, " are you going ? What can be the reason of 
 your sudden departure ?" 
 
 Ellen communicated, as briefly as possible, the object of 
 her journey, and the place of her destination. In the mean- 
 time the poor beast, quite at a loss to account for the restraint 
 put upon his movements, and not a whit inclined to play Tan- 
 talus in full view of the pure tempting rivulet, threw up his 
 head, pawed the dust, and showed all the signs of impatience 
 common on such occasions. Ellen, usually sufficiently ac- 
 complished in the art of driving, now, from some cause or 
 other, seemed as maladroit as most women : she pulled the 
 wrong rein, and was, or Westall thought she was, in imminent 
 danger of an overturn. He dismounted from his horse, and 
 springing into the chaise beside her, took upon himself the 
 conduct of affairs. He then, with laudable discretion, per- 
 mitted the animal to drink, and drove him to the opposite 
 bank, before the conversation was renewed. As he paused 
 there, Ellen said, with the best voice she could command, " I
 
 REDWOOD. 233 
 
 thank you for your assistance ; I must proceed now Deborah 
 waits for me." 
 
 " For heaven's sake !" he replied, " let her wait I cannot, 
 I will not part with you, till I have laid open my heart to 
 you." 
 
 " It is unnecessary, I already have heard from Mr. Red- 
 wood what you would say," replied Ellen, confused, and 
 shrinking from the communication, which her conversation 
 with Mr. Redwood the preceding evening led her to anticipate. 
 
 " From Mr. Redwood ?" exclaimed Westall, " impossible ! 
 has he then read my soul ?" 
 
 " Not he, but his daughter," answered Ellen. 
 
 " His daughter !" reiterated Westall, and was proceeding 
 to entreat Ellen to explain herself, when they were both 
 startled by a hoarse and impatient call from Deborah, who was 
 evidently drawing near to them with rapid strides. 
 
 " Ellen !" she screamed, " Ellen Bruce, you'll founder the 
 horse ; drive out of the brook, girl, if he has not drank it dry 
 already. 1 ' 
 
 The lovers were too much confounded to make any reply, 
 and Deborah, apprehending some fatal disaster to Ellen, 
 doubled her speed, and darting into the path that led to the 
 watering place, quickly arrived in full view of the objects of 
 her search and alarm. There is, to the best-natured, some- 
 thing irresistibly provoking in the apparent tranquillity of 
 those who have produced within them all the tumult of anxiety. 
 Deborah, at a single glance, ascertained the safety of Ellen, 
 and of the horse, and approaching the latter, she patted him, 
 saying, " I think you have the most sense of the three ; if you 
 had not been dumb, poor beast, you would not have let me run 
 the breath out of my body without answering me a word." 
 
 Charles Westall, though his mind was on other thoughts
 
 234 REDWOOD. 
 
 intent, could not but smile at the indirect reproach of Debby, 
 which their truly lover-like forgetfulness of her and of every 
 thing else so justly merited. " Forgive me, Miss Deborah," 
 he said, springing from the chaise ; " your horse was restive, 
 and I took your seat to aid Miss Bruce, who was quite unequal 
 to managing him." 
 
 * You are a great manager, truly," replied Deborah, half 
 smiling and half vexed ; " the beast seems as quiet now as 
 you could wish him. Is it your will and pleasure, Miss Ellen, 
 to proceed ?" 
 
 " Certainly," replied Ellen. 
 
 " Well, come, Mr. Westall," continued Deborah, whose heat 
 of body and mind had already subsided, " we won't part in 
 anger young folks must be young folks. Farewell, and a 
 long and happy life to you." 
 
 " Stay one moment, Miss Deborah, I have a favor to beg 
 I have something to say to Miss Bruce. Miss Bruce," he 
 added, turning to Ellen, " I entreat you to grant me a few 
 moments it may the last favor I shall ever ask of you Miss 
 Deborah will drive slowly up tb,e hill the path is shaded from 
 the morning sun you will not find the walk unpleasant 
 
 " You forget, young man," interposed Debby, " which way 
 the sun shines this morning ; when I came down the road, it 
 was hot enough to boil all the blood in my veins " 
 
 " Ellen," continued Westall, unheeding in his eagerness 
 Deborah's cross-cut, " do not do not deny me this favor.' 1 
 
 " Why, Ellen," said Debby, " what ails you, girl why 
 should you deny it ?" 
 
 This was too direct a question to be answered in any way 
 but by compliance. Some gleams of light had flashed athwart 
 Ellen's mind that rendered her lesfe reluctant than she had 
 been at the onset, to listen to a communication from Westall.
 
 REDWOOD. 235 
 
 She suffered him to hand her out of the chaise ; and Deborah, 
 assuming the reins, and setting off the horse ' en connoisseur," 
 said she had the advantage now, for if they forgot her, she 
 could ride instead of walking back. 
 
 The moments were too few and precious to be wasted in 
 circumlocution. Westall, after saying that he was sure there 
 was some misunderstanding Caroline Redwood was the last 
 person in the world to whom he should confide any sentiment 
 that interested him, proceeded to make a frank declaration of 
 the unqualified affection which Ellen had inspired. When he 
 paused Ellen made no reply ; and he proceeded, while he urged 
 his suit, to say, with the consistency usual on such occasions, 
 that ' he knew he had no right to expect a return that her 
 abrupt departure alone could, and that must, justify his ob- 
 truding on her his feelings and his hopes, after so brief an 
 acquaintance.' 
 
 Ellen was all simplicity and truth, and in other circum- 
 stances she would not she could not have withheld from 
 Westall the confession that would have been to him heaven to 
 hear. She had not a particle of coquetry, and she would not 
 have delayed the confession for a moment for the pleasure of 
 feeling her power. Various feelings struggled for mastery in 
 her bosom first, and perhaps ruling every other, was the de- 
 lightful consciousness of possessing Westall's affections ; then 
 came the thought of the mystery that hung over her parentage 
 it had never before inflicted such an exquisite pang as at 
 this moment ; and last, and most painful, was the remembrance 
 of Mrs. Westall's unkind siispicions, and of the malicious inter- 
 pretation Caroline Redwood had given to her actions. While 
 she hesitated in what terms to reply, Westall said, " There is 
 then, Ellen, no feeling in your heart that pleads for my rash- 
 ness?"
 
 236 REDWOOD. 
 
 " It is, indeed, rashness, after so brief an acquaintance, to 
 commit your happiness" 
 
 " Oh, Ellen," interrupted Westall, " I meant rather pre- 
 sumption than rashness." 
 
 " Whatever it is, let us both forget it," replied Ellen, in a 
 tone of affected calmness, that would have indicated repressed 
 emc/tion to a cooler observer than Westall : " It is time that 
 we should part, and we part friends nothing more." 
 
 " Have you not, then, Ellen, a spark of kindness for me, 
 which years of the most devoted affection and service might 
 kindle? Is there not the slightest foundation on which I 
 might rest a hope for the future ?" 
 
 Ellen, in a broken voice, alluded to the possibility that her 
 name was a dishonored one " a possibility," she said. " which 
 ought to set an impassable barrier to her affections." 
 
 Westall protested and entreated. " If, :> he said, " the worst 
 she could apprehend should prove true, it should be the busi- 
 ness, the happiness of his life to make her forget it." 
 
 Ellen felt that her scruples were yielding to the impetuous 
 feeling of her lover. Who can resist the pleadings of tender- 
 ness when they coincide with the secret, the strongest, though 
 the resisted inclinations of the heart ? She was silent for some 
 time, and when she did speak, her voice was faltering, and her 
 opposition such as a lover might hope to overcome. Westall's 
 hopes were reanimated, and he pressed his suit more eagerly 
 than ever. " At least," he said, " Ellen, delay this journey one 
 day ; do not now make an irrevocable decision ; return to 
 Eton ; let my mother join her entreaties to mine?" 
 
 The thought of Westall's mother reinvigo rated Ellen's 
 dying resolution. " Urge me no farther, Mr. Westall." 
 said she, " I have not been so "happy as to obtain your 
 mother's esteem ; and were every other obstacle removed,
 
 REDWOOD. 237 
 
 I never would obtrude myself on her un desired ; no, nor un- 
 solicited." 
 
 " My mother, Ellen !" But the assurance of his mother's 
 favor, which he was about instinctively to pronounce, was 
 checked by the consciousness of the real state of the case 
 " my mother, Ellen," he continued, in a subdued tone, " has 
 been dazzled by gilded dreams long indulged ; but she is kind, 
 affectionate, and will, I am certain, be easily reconciled to any 
 step on which she knows my happiness depends." 
 
 " It would not," replied Ellen, " be very consolatory to me 
 if she should become reconciled to an inevitable evil. I have 
 already listened too long," she added, and casting her eye to- 
 wards Deborah, who had halted under the broad shadow of an 
 elm-tree on the summit of the hill, she hurried forward. 
 
 " Can you," said Westall, " when you see how you afflict 
 me, thus hasten from me without a regret ?" 
 
 Ellen could not trust her voice to answer ; but when she 
 had reached the chaise, she turned and gave him her hand : her 
 eloquent face (not governed by the law she had imposed on her 
 tongue) expressed any thing but insensibility. " God reward 
 you," she said, "for your generous purpose we must now part:" 
 
 " To meet again," replied Westall, while he fervently kissed 
 the hand she had extended to him, " as surely as there is truth 
 in heaven." 
 
 Ellen sunk back into her seat and hid her face with her 
 handkerchief; while honest Debby, heartily sympathizing in the 
 evident affliction of the lovers, said in a whining voice, that 
 contrasted ludicrously enough with her customary harsh tone 
 " Good-by to you, Mr. Westall, good-by to you, sir ; it is 
 hard parting, but keep a good heart ; we shall all three meet 
 again in the Lord's own time" After having uttered this 
 consolatory expression of her trust in Providence, she gave the
 
 238 REDWOOD. 
 
 whip to her steed, and set off with a speed that promised to 
 make up for lost time. After driving a few yards she stopped 
 again, and calling to Westall, who was standing as if riveted 
 to the spot on which they had left him, she threw out Mr. Iled- 
 wood's packet, saying,/ These with all care and speed to Squire 
 Redwood" then kindly nodding, she drove on. 
 
 Deborah exercised on this occasion that discretion, result- 
 ing from good sense and good feeling, which, in all its modifi- 
 cations, still preserves the convenient designation of tact : she 
 left Ellen to the operation of her feelings without molesting 
 her with a remark or inquiry. Ellen resigned herself for a 
 while to emotions the more violent for having been repressed. 
 The same fountain had to her sent forth sweet and bitter wa- 
 ters. If the uncertainty of her fate, and the anguish of part- 
 ing with Westall, were evils nearly intolerable, there was a 
 heart-cheering consciousness of the treasure she had acquired 
 in his affections there was the sweetest consolation in the 
 thought that there was one who felt with her and for her ; and 
 the recollection of Westall's last words was like the bright 
 gleam along the western horizon, that smiling in triumph at 
 the dark overhanging clouds, speaks a sure promise of a fair 
 coming day. 
 
 As for Westall, after the few first moments of absolute 
 despair, he began to think the case not quite desperate and 
 though Ellen had not spoken a word of encouragement, neither 
 had she said or intimated that there existed in her feelings 
 any obstacle to his wishes there were certain tones and ex- 
 pressions of the face, which are the universal language of ten- 
 derness, that he had noticed, and which he now laid up in his 
 memory and cherished there, as the faithful fix their eyes on 
 the twilight of prophecy. , 
 
 In the course of the morning Charles Westall joined the
 
 REDWOOD. 239 
 
 circle at Mr. Lenox's, whither his mother had already gone. 
 He perceived that the tone of the ladies' spirits was raised (as 
 was indeed too plain) by Ellen's departure. 
 
 Westall delivered to Mr. Redwood the packet with which 
 he had been intrusted. Mr. Redwood received it with evident 
 surprise, and said, " You have then seen Miss Bruce this morn- 
 ing?" All eyes were now fixed on Westall, who, coloring 
 deeply, replied, " that he had met her accidentally during his 
 morning ride." 
 
 " Miss Bruce is quite a character," said Caroline : " every 
 thing connected with her is involved in an interesting veil of 
 mystery par exemple your son, Mrs. Westall, cannot speak 
 of meeting her even accidentally, without the most portentous 
 blushes ; and there is my dear father the very soul of frank- 
 ness thrusting into his pocket a bundle of private communi- 
 cations received from this same fair one. Upon my word, it is 
 a pity she had not flourished at a court ; she would have made 
 a pretty intriguante, instead of resembling the man your favor- 
 ite Moliere describes, papa, when he says, 
 
 " De la moindre vdtille il fait une merveille, 
 Et jusques au bon jour, il dit tout a Poreille."* 
 
 Mr. Redwood darted an angry look on his daughter, and 
 changing his purpose, he tore off the envelope**and threw the 
 bank notes on the table, saying at the same time, " Behold the 
 solution of the mystery that provokes your wit, Caroline. I 
 offered Ellen Bruce a little of that which gives us all our 
 boasted superiority to her, and she declined receiving it " 
 
 * " He swells ewsh trifle to a wonder's height, 
 
 And takes his friend aside to say ' good night.' " 
 
 '
 
 240 REDWOOD. 
 
 " With the advice and consent of counsel, no doubt," an- 
 swered Caroline, glancing her eye at Charles "Westall. 
 
 " Wrath is cruel, and anger is outrageous, but who is able 
 to stand before envy ?" rose to Westall's lips ; he had the 
 grace, however, to suppress it, and to say in a calm tone, " Miss 
 Bruce is her own best counsellor." 
 
 " Doubtless," replied Caroline, " Miss Bruce is wondrous 
 wise ; but she is not the first divinity who has admitted mor- 
 tals to her deliberations. What say you, Mrs. Westall ? Does 
 not your son look guilty of aiding and abetting this most dig- 
 nified refusal of my father's extraordinary patronage ?" 
 
 " If I look guilty of aught," said Westall, " but the invol- 
 untary fault of listening to an implication against Miss Bruce, 
 my face does me great injustice." 
 
 " Really, Caroline, my love," said Mrs. Westall, in the hope 
 of averting observation from her son, and perceiving the neces- 
 sity of turning Miss Redwood from her pursuit, " your raillery 
 is quite too much for Charles this morning : I must interpose 
 my maternal shield. What say you to a truce and a ride ?" 
 
 " A truce, certainly ; for I am too generous to fight with 
 one hors du combat, and a ride with all my heart." answered 
 Caroline, " provided Mr. Westall is not fatigued by his acci- 
 dental morning escort excursion, I mean." 
 
 Mr. "NVesJ^ll. with more gravity than gallantry, and in spite 
 of his mod^s <Urtreating looks, said " that he must decline 
 the pleasure offered him. to fulfil an engagement in the village" 
 and on this pretext he left the party to pursue their design, 
 while he gave the rein to his own meditations.
 
 REDWOOD. 241 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 " Who made the heart, 'tis he alone 
 
 Decidedly can try us ; 
 He knows each chord its various tone, 
 
 Each spring its various bias." 
 
 * 
 
 BTTHNS. 
 
 WE must now leave the party at Eton, which we hope 4hat our 
 readers will think has lost its chief interest since the departure 
 of our heroine, and we shall exempt them from attending her 
 in her wearisome progress, since it was diversified by no dan- 
 ger, real or imaginary, to recall their attention to the sorrows 
 of the simple, amiable little fanatic. Emily Allen. 
 
 She returned to her monastic seclusion with her aunt, or 
 as she called her (according to the fashion Of " the Believers," 
 who acknowledge none but primitive titles and^dations.) her 
 ' elder sister,' more from a habit of passive, ofWuence, than 
 from any distaste to the world. Our readers may recollect, 
 that at parting with James Lenox she had received from him a 
 slip of paper, and succeeded in hiding it in her bosom. He had 
 written on it a strong expression of his lovejfand an entreaty 
 that she would abandon her false religion. From the moment 
 she placed it in her bosom, her heart fluttered and struggled 
 as an imprisoned bird when her mate approaches her cago. 
 11
 
 242 REDWOOD. 
 
 She regarded it as a temptation, but had no strength, hardly a 
 wish, to resist it. All her solitary moments (they were rare 
 and brief) were devoted to reading this note over and over 
 again. She felt herself immured in a dungeon, and from this, 
 the only gleam of lig'ht, she could not for a moment turn her 
 thoughts. 
 
 The uniform habits and monotonous occupations of this 
 singular community, have a' strong tendency to check every 
 irregular feeling, and to intercept every vagrant desire. But 
 in vain did Emily try their sedative influence. She was one 
 of the highest, and even there, where few distinctions obtain, 
 most privileged order, called, par excellence, ' the church.' 
 Susan's gifts had advanced her to the lead, and Emily's graces 
 were looked upon by the fraternity as the herald blossoms of 
 like precious fruit. But since her return from her fatal visit 
 to the '^world's people," she had become sib. object of intense 
 anxiety to Susan, and of solicitude or distrust to the rest of 
 the society. Susan had no suspicion of the real cause of her 
 discontent ; she imputed it to the workings of' her natural 
 affections, the dying sparks of which,, not quite extinguished by 
 grace, had been rekindled by her late visit to her kindred.. 
 
 : Little did this stern enthusiast imagine, as she watched 
 over her young disciple with maternal tenderness, how much 
 there was ofi^fctural and original feeling in her own affection 
 for her howmuch stronger than the tie to the community was 
 the tie of blood. She saw the bright color, the beautiful sig- 
 nal of youth and health, fading day by day from her cheeks, 
 till her face became almost as white as the snowy cap border 
 that fringed it. She saw her take her accustomed place at the 
 formal meal, but she noticed that her food was often untasted, 
 and never relished.- She observed her slow step and abstracted 
 look, as she passed over the broad flag-stones to the offices to
 
 REDWOOD. 243 
 
 .perform her dully tasks, and that though she went through 
 them with fidelity, her trembling hands and frequent sighs 
 evinced that her heart and strength were gone. She uniformly 
 appeared with the sisters that thronged to the evening worship, 
 and went forth with them to ' labor itf the dance,' but her 
 movements were heavy and mechanical ; and it was too plain, 
 even to the lenient judgment of Susan, that the spirit was 
 not there. 
 
 The kind-hearted old women, who thought she was falling 
 into a weakly way, consulted with Susan as to the nature of 
 her complaints. Susan humored their conjectures, and allowed 
 them to believe they had detected some latent malady. They 
 prepared their simples, and Susan permitted Emily to swallow 
 them, because she knew them to be innocent, and that they 
 possessed that best recommendation of any drug, viz. that ' if 
 it does no good it can do no harm.' 
 
 Some were of opinion that she had an incipient consump- 
 tion, some that it was only a ' drying of the lungs,' some pro- 
 nounced it an { inward rheumatism,' while others sagaciously 
 intimated that it might be a ' palsy of the heart.' In short, the 
 wise sisters discovered many diseases that have not yet a place 
 in the nomenclature of the learned faculty ; and poor Emily, 
 without a word of remonstrance or complaint, listened to their 
 skilful suggestions, and tried all their remedies, till their mate- 
 ria medica was exhausted, without effect^ She took bitters fast- 
 ing and feasting she swallowed syrup* nine days,' and ' three 
 days,' and ' every other day' she took conserves, and ' health 
 waters,' and ' life waters,' and every other water that ' with a 
 blessing always cures' but still she had the same deadly pale- 
 nessthe same sunken eye the same trembling at the heart 
 and all the symptoms of a mysterious disease, which the most 
 sagacious deemed nothing short of a ' healing gift' could cure.
 
 244 REDWOOD. 
 
 The elder brethren, ever strict in their watch over the young 
 converts, now became alarmed in their turn. They held fre- 
 quent and long consultations, at which Reuben Harrington 
 had a gift to preside. Whether these veterans derived their 
 light from the experience of similar conflicts cannot be ascer- 
 tained ; but certain is it that they soon came to the decision 
 that Emily's disease was a moral one; and to Reuben was 
 assigned the task of stilling her natural yearnings after the 
 world, and of bringing back her wandering aifections to the 
 fold to the wolf was committed the guardianship of the 
 lamb. * 
 
 Reuben was aware that nothing could be effected without 
 the consent and concurrent of Susan ; and to obtain that to- 
 the mode of operation which he had proposed to himself, he 
 knew was no easy matter, now that her natural sagacity was 
 stimulated by strong affection and deep anxiety. 
 
 After the brethren had closed their deliberations, Reuben 
 proposed calling the elder sister to the conference, to advise 
 with her as to the best means of pursuing their righteous end. 
 Susan came at his bidding; but she was cautious and reserved 
 in her communications, till one of the brethren roused her, by 
 saying, (after a prolonged groan.) " It is evident the girl is 
 given over to the sifting of Satan," Susan raised her eye^ 
 and fixed them on the speaker ' : and." he continued, "accord- 
 ing to my light, she should stand before the congregation of 
 the people on the coming Lord's day, and, in the presence of 
 the chosen vessels, receive an open rebuke for sin." 
 
 "What sin, Obadiah?" inquired Susan, with a trembling 
 voice. 
 
 " Sin of the heart doth not all sin proceed from the heart. 
 woman ?" i 
 
 " Verily it doth, Obadiah but who hath seen the sin pro-
 
 REDWOOD. 245 
 
 ceeding from We heart of this afflicted child ? and who hath 
 given you authority to discern the thoughts and intents of the 
 heart ? wouk^you treat the young lambs like the fat calves 
 of the stall ?" 
 
 " Nay, sister, this is unprofitable," interposed Reuben. " It 
 is too true that the fine gold has become dim, and we seek for 
 a gift to restore its brightness. Let us each labor for it in the 
 evening worship, and he or she to whom it may be given shall 
 forthwith undertake the cure of this precious soul." 
 
 Susan did not venture to withhold her assent to this pro- 
 position, regarded as it evidently was by the brethren as a 
 direct inspiration, but her spirit still hovered over the child of 
 her affection as a bird fluttereth over her nest. " My light has 
 been." she said, " to leave Emily to the work of time and grace 
 but it may be that seeking, brethren, ye may find a quicker 
 cure it is a duty to remember that in months past the testi- 
 mony of the child's life against all sin has been very clear. 
 The enemy has taken advantage of her late visit to her kin- 
 dred, and has carried her back to the path of natural affection, 
 out of which she had travelled far ; and seeing nature reviving, 
 and grace sleeping, he hath taken that moment to bind her 
 again with carnal bonds." 
 
 " You have ever been gifted, sister," replied Reuben, " with 
 that hidden wisdom that quickly discerneth. It may be you 
 see the true evil ; but even now I can comfort you with a pro- 
 phecy that the young woman will awake as from a sleep, and 
 break these carnal bonds like thread her conflict is sore, but 
 great will be her victory for I predict of her as Christian 
 Love, the holy martyr of Cromwell's time, predicted of our 
 mother Anne, that this our young sister shall yet shine out, 
 ' a bright star, whose light and power shall make the heavens 
 to quake and knock under.' "
 
 246 REDWOOD. 
 
 "Amen!" exclaimed Susan, devoutly clasjpng her hands; 
 and " Amen !" responded all?the veteran councillors in one 
 voice, animated by that vaunted " spontaneous spirit of union 
 which flows through the whole body" when governed by a 
 master-spirit. 
 
 Susan, on issuing from the brethren's apartment, passed 
 through a narrow passage to the common entry from whence all 
 the passages diverge, and in the centre of which is placed a 
 large clock, the work of one of the ingenious brethren, Emily 
 stood at the foot of the staircase, her face so much averted from 
 Susan, that she did not notice her approach, her footsteps she 
 could not hear, for it is the law of the society, which we strongly 
 recommend to the world's-folk, that every one shall tread softly, 
 and shall shut the doors with the least possible sound to these 
 laws such due observance is paid, that a stranger, ignorant of 
 their habits, would imagine their houses were untenanted. Em- 
 ily had paused at the staircase from extreme weakness ; the loud 
 ticking of the clock had arrested her attention ; this sound, 
 always the same, seems like the natural voice of this monoto- 
 nous solitude. " Oh," said Emily, unconsciously uttering 
 audibly her thoughts, " to what purpose is time measured here ? 
 there is no pleasure to come there is none past that I dare 
 to remember." 
 
 " Do you ask to what purpose ?" said Susan, in a voice of 
 unwonted austerity that startled Emily, " and are you then so 
 far relapsed into nature ! Oh, have you already forgotten 
 when every stroke of that clock was as a holy monitor to you, 
 arousing you to redeem the time ? have you forgotten, Emily, 
 when you wrestled with vain thoughts, and sinful thoughts, and 
 overcame them ? have you forgotten, or do you tremble to re- 
 member, when the stroke of every^ hour carried with it the 
 record of your innocence?"
 
 REDWOOD. , j>47 
 
 " Oh, spare me, spare me !" interrupted the poor girl, grasp- 
 ing the elder sister's arm, and clinging to it, " I am sick very 
 sick." 
 
 " Susan's heart melted within her at this appeal, and hear- 
 ing the Brethren approaching, she instinctively drew, or rather 
 carried Emily away from their observation, to her own apart- 
 ment, the door of which she closed, and turned a button that 
 secured her from intrusion. She seated herself, and would 
 have placed Emily beside her, but she, as if desperate now the 
 veil had fallen, sunk into" Susan's lap, and folding her arms 
 arotind her, sobbed on her bosom. 
 
 This was the language of nature ; and the elder sister was 
 surprised into what she deemed an amazing sin. She wept too, 
 freely and audibly, but 
 
 " When she had wrestled down 
 Feelings her nature strove to own," 
 
 and could command her voice, she said, " I thought all these 
 natural affections were rooted out and they were, Emily, but 
 since you came among us the enemy hath sown tares among 
 the wheat. Poor child ! I see where your temptation lies the 
 world the world calls you ; but be not discouraged, if you 
 overcome the temptation you will be stronger than one that 
 hath never been tempted. This is not the first time that the 
 serpent has entered our garden. Many a time after I joined 
 myself to the people, my soul thirsted after the world, t as the 
 hart panteth for the water-courses. 
 
 ' Emily, I have never told you my trials, for I thought the 
 world was as a strange country to you ; now you shall know 
 them all, and the Lord grant they may prove a beacon to 
 you !" 
 
 Susan paused for a few moments, to nerve her mind to the
 
 248 REDWOOD. 
 
 recollection and detail of long past sorrows ; and then began 
 in a calm subdued tone, while Emily continued with her face 
 hidden on her bosom, sobbing at intervals like a child that can- 
 not forget its griefs. 
 
 " Emily, I wag the youngest of your grandmother's seven 
 children. My natural father was a good man, living up to the 
 light he had, till our mother Anne, having had a safe path made 
 for her through the waters, came a swift witness to this new 
 world, which being, as it were, born out of due time, was ac- 
 counted worthy of her ministry, having been, under Providence, 
 discovered andcivilized to become the inheritance of the TOiev- 
 ers. My father, as you have often heard, was one of the first 
 fruits of the work : he and my natural brothers and sisters 
 were among the first that joined the people, and set out for the 
 Lord. I was left alone with your grandmother, and she in 
 possession of all her husband's property a handsome farm on 
 the other side of the mountain. Emily, I had wicked thoughts 
 then. I believed my family were led away by .a deceiver, and 
 an antichrist. I listened eagerly to the stories of those that 
 reviled our mother's name. Some said that she and her elders 
 were the offscourings- of the English jails ; others, seeing that 
 her work far transcended natural power, accused her of witch- 
 craft ; some insisted that she was a man in woman's apparel ; 
 and although she predicted the independence of this favored 
 land, and could not act against her own testimony, there were 
 some who charged her with treasonable practices, and threw 
 her into jail. I was willing to believe all that the voice of the 
 slanderer uttered ; and when my father came to take me to her, 
 in obedience to him I went, but blinded by my prepossessions. 
 It was then that mother and AVilliam Lee and our ancients 
 were gathering the believers at Xiskeyuna, and (here your 
 grandfather carried inc.
 
 REDWOOD. 249 
 
 " We arrived at the close of a November day ; the sun 
 had just set in clouds the sky was dark and foreboding. I 
 had been chilled and wearied with our long ride and fasting ; 
 but when we turned from the high road into a woody path, and 
 my father pointing to a smoke that curled upward from a deep 
 wood, said, ' there dwells the bright star,' I forgot all the 
 weakness and the wants of the flesh. The adversary put 
 forth all his strength to secure his dominion in my weak and 
 troubled mind ; a trembling seized me it seemed to me that 
 I was hurried on to a precipice, and I had no power to resist 
 the cruel force that pressed me onward. I tried to pray, but 
 my spirit died away within me. The low murmurs of the little 
 stream along which we rode the wind that sighed through 
 the naked branches of the trees the rustling of the fallen 
 leaves over which we passed, all seemed to speak a voice of 
 warning to my fearful spirit. 
 
 " I was always a feeling and a thoughtful girl, Emily, and 
 it had long been borne in upon my mind that great things 
 awaited me : still I hated the way that was opened, and joy- 
 fully would I have turned my back upon the light that was 
 ready to dawn on me. 
 
 " As we approached the house the believers were closing 
 the afternoon worship ; I caught the sound of the evening 
 hymn : it was so ordered, that I did not then, nor till long 
 after, witness the going forth in the dance. My faith was not 
 yet strong enough for it, and for a long time, the Lord forgive 
 me ! it was a cross to me. 
 
 " When we were about to enter the door, my father per- 
 ceived that my limbs were sinking under me, and he led, or 
 rather dragged me into the room. Oh Emily, I shall never 
 forget that moment. 
 
 " The apartment, though in a log house, was a large one, 
 11*
 
 250 REDWOOD. 
 
 the brethren having in their early gathering removed all the 
 partitions to give space for the labor worship. There was a 
 bright fire on the hearth from some pine knots, but no other 
 light in the room. The brethren, with their broad-brimmed 
 hats slouched, and casting a deep shadow over their faces, were 
 sitting on one) side of the room as is their custom the sisters 
 on the other ; their arms were folded, and their eyes all cast 
 down ; and exhausted by the evening labor they were pale aa 
 spectres. Our mother stood in the centre of the apartment 
 alone her arms also folded across her breast. I looked fear- 
 fully around I saw my natural brothers and sisters, as the 
 flame burned brightly and shone upon their faces, but none of 
 them regarded me. It seemed to me that I had come into an 
 assembly of the dead that I was in the midst of moving 
 corpses living bodies without souls to my foolish sense it 
 was awful, Emily. I turned to beg my father to lead me away, 
 but he had quitted my side, and taken his place among the 
 brethren. My head grew giddy, and I thought myself sink- 
 ing to the earth. 
 
 " At this moment, mother Anne advanced to me ; ' And is 
 this,' she said, ' the one stray lamb that I have so longed to 
 get into the fold ?' My bonnet had fallen back she laid her 
 hand upon my head her hand and arm were bare, and white 
 and smooth as if they had been rounded out of the purest 
 marble. My hair was dressed after the fashion of the world. 
 ' You must forsake these vanities, Susan,' said she she did 
 not speak sharply, though she could sometimes sharply re- 
 buke sin : she made a short pause, and then fixing her 
 clear piercing blue eye steadfastly on me, as if she pene- 
 trated to the depths of my soul, she added, in a low solemn 
 tone, ' Susan, I bear a message to you the Master saith, 
 "forsake all and follow me, an'd ye shall have in this
 
 REDWOOD. 251 
 
 world a hundred fold, and in the world to come,, life ever- 
 lasting.' " 
 
 " Emily, there was a celestial melody in mother's voice in 
 the gift of speaking, and a weight in all her words, and though 
 I gave no outward sign, they sunk deeply into my heart. She 
 said no more to me at that time she was never forward to 
 speak. In her looks there was a boldness and an innocence 
 that seemed, as it were, like the truth and the gentleness of 
 the gospel she preached, written for a testimony in every line 
 of her face. 
 
 " Ah ! she had," continued the enthusiast, her eyes kin- 
 dling and her face brightening, while her imagination magnified 
 the graces of the leader who had captivated her youthful affec- 
 tions. " Ah, the second appearing was manifest in all the 
 sweet qualities of woman, and yet, Emily, for a season I turned 
 my back on her. I returned to my natural mother to the 
 world, to yes it is fitting you should know all my temptations 
 to one to whom I was deeply bound in my affections." 
 
 Susan paused and Emily's sobbing, which had continued 
 at intervals till this moment, ceased. She raised her face, now 
 gleaming with faint streaks of red, from Susan's bosom, and 
 fixed her eye on the speaker, who after some effort continued : 
 
 " William Har wood was my friend, a pleasant lad; we had 
 heen mates from our infancy, and had loved one another (lov- 
 ing no one else), with that faith which is the boast of the 
 world's people : little did I think, till the gospel was opened 
 to me, that that love was the fruit of a depraved nature that, 
 if I would not perish eternally, it must be plucked off and 
 cast from me. William pleaded for it, and my own heart 
 pleaded more stoutly Oh Emily ! you know not how the na- 
 tural man can talk -and oh, my innocent child, be thankful ; 
 you know not how the unregenerate heart goes forth in what
 
 252 REDWOOD. 
 
 the world calls lore how the breath of the body and the life 
 of the soul seem bound up in the life and breath of another ; 
 how cheap the sacrifice of earth yea heaven, to the idol 
 seems" 
 
 " Oh stop, stop," exclaimed Emily, falling on her knees, 
 and clasping her hands in agony, " do not say any more to me. 
 I cannot bear it." 
 
 " Nay, my child," replied Susan, recovering her calm tone, 
 and the self-command which had for a moment given way be- 
 fore the rush of natural feeling. " Nay, be quiet and listen, 
 for grace obtained the victory. The conflict lasted for many 
 months. I saw that I could in no way be justified but by obey- 
 ing the gospel and setting out with the believers. Your grand- 
 mother hated the faith then as she does now. I could answer 
 all she said, but when William told me, with despairing looks, 
 that he should be a ruined man if I forsook him, my heart 
 sunk within me. My flesh consumed on my bones as if there 
 had been a curse upon me, and often, often between the setting 
 and the rising of the sun my eyelids have not met, and in the 
 morning I could wring from my handkerchief the tears that 
 had poured from my eyes like rain in the night. But finally 
 grace triumphed over nature : the strong man was bound, and 
 I joined myself to the people. It is now thirty years since I 
 believed, and," added she, raising her hands and eyes, and 
 speaking with more energy than she had yet spoken, " I say 
 the truth before God, and lie not : I have not repented for a 
 moment I have been heartily thankful that I have borne my 
 testimony I have purchased a peace that cannot be taken 
 away, and cheaply purchased it." 
 
 " Then I am lost," exclaimed Emily. 
 
 " Nay, do not mistake me. child I mean that having put 
 my hand to the plough, I never turned back ; but T had many
 
 REDWOOD. 253 
 
 heavy dragging hours, much hungering after forsaken joys. 
 It could not be otherwise, but again I say I never repented. 
 You know already that when tribulation came, many fell away. 
 Our mother was carried to prison. My father, your father, all 
 my natural kindred left her I alone remained to abide our 
 day of wasteness and desolation." 
 
 " And did you ever again see William Harwood ?" inquired 
 Emily. 
 
 " Yea, yea, child, that was my ehiefest sorrow ; he never 
 gave me up he would not believe that I would persevere in a ce- 
 libious life and after our family removed hither he came every 
 month, and sometimes every week to see me. He once came 
 into our worshipping assembly, but the moment that I went 
 forth in the dance, he fainted and fell to the floor. After that 
 I saw him but seldom." 
 
 Susan paused, and Emily asked " if he never married ?" 
 
 " Nay," replied Susan. 
 
 " And is he dead ?" inquired Emily. 
 
 " Wait a moment, child, and ye shall hear it all yea all," 
 She pressed her hands on her forehead " My head is giddy, 
 and these recollections have set my heart to beating. Strange ! 
 strange !" She remained silent for a few moments, and then, 
 resuming her usual deliberate manner, she said, " William was 
 an only, and an indulged child. His parents had never crossed 
 him in any thing ; Snd though he had a kind and tender dis- 
 position, he could not brook a disappointment. He fell into a 
 weakly way, and then he took to ruinous habits. His poor old 
 parents died, I fear, of a wounded spirit ; for they laid his 
 misfortune sadly to heart. After their death his worldly affairs 
 went fast to destruction, and he became a miserable vagrant. 
 He would come here and sit for hours on the door-step ; at 
 these times I kept to my room, for I could do nothing for him ;
 
 254 REDWOOD. 
 
 and if he chanced to see ^me in his fits of intoxication, he 
 would either upbraid me bitterly, or cry like a child both 
 were trying to me. 
 
 " It is ten years ago the tenth day of last January it had 
 stormed for three days, and the roads were blocked with the 
 drifted snows-pit had been a cruel cold night and in the 
 morning, a Sabbath morning too, when we had risen and kin- 
 dled a fire, one of the brethren opened the" outer door, and 
 there was lying a poor wretch across the door-stone frozen to 
 death we all gathered round him and oh, Emily, child, it 
 was" * 
 
 William ?" 
 
 " Yea yea it was William himself 
 
 " Oh misery, misery !" exclaimed Emily, with a burst of 
 sympathy which she could not repress. 
 
 " Yea, it was misery. I forgot myself forgot all that 
 stood about me. I saw not his tattered dirty garments, nor 
 his bloated face, but I saw him as in the days of our youth 
 and our love, and I fell on his neck and wept I could not 
 help it but thanks be rendered," she added, raising her eyes, 
 " it was the last struggle of nature and it has been forgiven." 
 
 " And have you suffered thus ?" asked Emily, after a mo- 
 ment's pause. 
 
 " Do not so speak, child," replied Susan, " rather be grate- . 
 ful that I have been accounted worthy thus to suffer." 
 
 Susan's raised feelings did not permit her to add any 
 thing farther. She became silent and abstracted ; and Emily, 
 exhausted with her emotions, laid her head in her elder sister's 
 lap, and like a child wept herself to sleep. 
 
 Susan's narrative had not precisely the effect on the mind 
 of her disciple that she had designejl and anticipated. Emi- 
 ly's excited imagination was deeply impressed by Harwood's
 
 REDWOOD. 255 
 
 death, and the instinctive conclusion of her feelings was, per- 
 naps, as just as if it had been a logical deduction from a pro- 
 cess of reasoning. She felt that the faith which exacted such 
 sacrifices, and produced such effects, was stern in its requisi- 
 tions, and cruel in its consequences. Her fidelity to this 
 strange religion hung, as it were, by a hair, its vibration at the 
 mercy of every passing influence : unlike Susan, whose strong 
 feelings being set one way by some powerful impetus, were as 
 little liable, as a tide of he ocean, to fluctuate from human 
 interposition.
 
 256 REDWOOD. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 " Le bonheur se compose d'une suite d'actions et de sensations continu 
 ellement re'pe'uSes et renouvele"es ; simplicity et monotonie voila en general 
 ce qui le forrne et le constitue." MADAME DE GEKLIS. 
 
 THE Shaker society at Hancock, in Massachusetts, is one of 
 the eldest establishments of this sect, which has extended its 
 limits far beyond the anticipations of the ' unbelieving world,' 
 and now boasts that its outposts have advanced to the frontiers 
 of civilization to Kentucky Ohio and Indiana ; and re- 
 joices in the verification of the prophecy, " a little one shall 
 become a thousand, and a small one a strong nation." 
 
 The society is distributed into several families of a conve- 
 nient size.* for domestic arrangements, and the whole body is 
 guided and governed by ' elder brothers ' and ' elder sisters,' 
 whose ' gifts ' of superior wisdom, knowledge, or cunning, ob- 
 tain for them these titles, and secure to them their rights and 
 immunities. There are gradations of rank, or, as they choose 
 to designate their distinctions, of ' privilege ' among them ; 
 but none are exempt from the equitable law of their religious 
 community, which requires each individual to ' labor with hia 
 hands according to his strength.' 
 
 * No family, we believe, is permitted to exceed a hundred members. 
 Hear and admire, ye house wivee. ,
 
 REDWOOD. 257 
 
 A village is divided into lots of various dimensions. Each 
 inclosure contains a family, whose members are clothed from 
 one storehouse, fed at the same board, and perform their do- 
 mestic worship together. In the centre of the inclosure is a 
 large building, which contains their eating-room and kitchen, 
 their sleeping apartments, and two large rooms, connected by 
 folding-doors, where they receive their visitors, and assemble 
 for their evening religious service. All their mechanical and 
 manual labors, distinct from the housewifery (a profane term 
 in this application), are performed in offices at a convenient 
 distance from the main dwelling, and within the inclosure. In 
 these offices may be heard, from the rising to the setting of the 
 sun, the cheerful sounds of voluntary industry sounds as sig- 
 nificant to the moral sense, as the smith's stroke upon his anvil 
 to the musical ear. One edifice is erected over a cold peren- 
 nial stream, and devoted to the various operations of the dairy 
 from another proceed the sounds of the heavy loom and the 
 flying shuttle, and the buzz of the swift wheels. In one apart- 
 ment is a group of sisters, selected chiefly from the old and 
 feeble, but among whom were also some of the young and 
 tasteful, weaving the delicate basket another is devoted to 
 the dress-makers (a class that obtains even among Shaking 
 Quakers), who are employed in fashioning, after a uniform 
 model, the striped cotton for summer wear, or the sad-colored 
 winter russet ; here is the patient teacher, and there the in- 
 genious manufacturer ; and wherever labor is performed, there 
 are many valuable contrivances by which toil is lightened and 
 success insured. 
 
 The villages of Lebanon* and Hancock have been visited 
 by foreigners and strangers from all parts of our union ; if they 
 
 * The village at Lebanon is distinguished as the United Societies' cen- 
 tre of Union.
 
 258 REDWOOD. 
 
 are displeased or disgusted by some of the absurdities of the 
 Shaker faith, and by their singular worship, none have with- 
 held their admiration from the results of their industry, inge- 
 nuity, order, frugality, and temperance. The perfection of 
 these virtues among them may, perhaps, be traced with pro- 
 priety to the founder of their sect, who united practical wisdom 
 with the wildest fanaticism, and who proved that she under- 
 stood the intricate machine of the human mind, when she de- 
 clared that temporal prosperity was the indication and would 
 be the reward of spiritual fidelity. 
 
 The prosperity of the society's agriculture is a beautiful 
 illustration of the philosophical remark, that " to temperance 
 every day is bright, and every hour propitious to diligence." 
 Their skilful cultivation preserves them from many of the dis- 
 asters that fall like a curse upon the slovenly husbandry of the 
 farmers in their vicinity. Their gardens always flourish in spite 
 of late frosts and early frosts blasts and mildew ravage their 
 neighbors' fields without invading their territory the mischie- 
 vous daisy, that spreads its starry mantle over the rich mea- 
 dows of the ' world's people,' does not presume to lift its yellow 
 head in their green fields and even the Canada thistle, that 
 bristled little warrior, armed at all points, that comes in from 
 the north, extirpating in its march, like- the hordes of barbarous 
 invaders, all the fair fruits of civilization, is not permitted to 
 intrude upon their grounds. 
 
 It is sufficiently manifest that this felicity is the natural 
 consequence and appropriate reward of their skill, vigilance, 
 and unwearied toil ; but they believe it to be a spiritual bless- 
 ing an assurance of peculiar favor, like that which exempted 
 the Israelites from the seven Egyptian plagues an accom- 
 plishment of the promise that every one that " hath forsaken 
 houses, or brethren, or sisters, or father, or mother, or wife, or
 
 REDWOOD. 259 
 
 children, or lands, for my name's sake, shall receive a hundred 
 fold" 
 
 The sisters, too, have their peculiar and appropriate bless- 
 ings and exemptions. They are saved from those scourges of 
 our land of liberty and equality, ' poor help,' and 'no help.' 
 There are no scolding mistresses, nor eye-servants among them. 
 
 It might be curious to ascertain by what magical process 
 these felicitous sisters have expelled from their thrifty house- 
 wifery that busy, mischievous principle of all evil in the domestic 
 economy of the ' world's people,' known in all its Protean shapes 
 by the name of ' bad luck ;' the modern successor of Kobin 
 Goodfellow, with all the spite, but without the genius of that 
 frolick-loving little spirit, he who 
 
 " Frights the maidens of the villagery, 
 Skims milk, and sometimes labors in the quern, 
 And bootless makes the breathless housewife churn, 
 And sometimes makes the drink to bear no barm." 
 
 How much broken china, spoiled batches of bread, ruined 
 tempers, and other common domestic disasters might be avoided 
 by the discovery of this secret ; what tribes of mice, ants, flies, and 
 other household demons, might be driven from their strong- 
 holds ! Perhaps those provoking solvers of mysteries, who are 
 so fond of finding out the ' reason of the thing,' that they are 
 daily circumscribing within most barren and inconvenient 
 limits the dominion of the imagination, will pretend to have 
 found the clue to this mystery in the exact order and elaborate 
 neatness of the sisterhood. 
 
 The sisters themselves, certainly, hint at a sublime cause 
 of their success, when in reply to a stranger's involuntary ad- 
 miration of their stainless walls, polished floors, snow-white 
 linen, and all the detail of their precise arrangement and orna-
 
 260 REDWOOD. 
 
 mental neatness, they say, with the utmost gravity, ' God is the 
 God of order, not of confusion.' The most signal triumph of the 
 society is in the discipline of the children. Of these there are 
 many among them : a few are received together with their 
 ' believing ' parents ; in some instances orphans, and even 
 orphan families are adopted ; and many are brought to the 
 society^by parents, who, either from the despair of poverty, or 
 the carelessness of vice, choose to commit their offspring to the 
 guardianship of the Shakers. Now that the first fervors of 
 enthusiasm are abated, and conversions have become rare, the 
 adoption of children is a substantial aid to the continuance and 
 preservation of the society. These little born rebels, natural 
 enemies to the social compact, lose in their hands their pre- 
 scriptive right to uproar and misrule, and soon become as 
 silent, as formal, and as orderly as their elders. 
 
 We hope we shall not be suspected of speaking the lan- 
 guage of panegyric rather than justice, if we add that the hos- 
 pitalities of these people are never refused to the weary way- 
 worn traveller, nor their alms to the needy ; and that their 
 faith (however absurd and indefensible its peculiarities) is tem- 
 pered by some generous and enlightened principles, which those 
 who had rather learn than scoff would do well to adopt. In 
 short, those who know them well, and judge them equitably, 
 will not withhold from them the praise of moral conduct which 
 they claim, in professing themselves, as a community, a ' harm- 
 less, just, and upright people.' 
 
 It is time that we should return from our long digression 
 to give some account of the spiritual and physical labors of 
 Reuben Harrington. At nine o'clock in the evening that fol- 
 lowed the day of the brethren's sage council, the bell, accord- 
 ing to the uniform custom, sounded for the evening worship. 
 The brethren and sisters poured in equal streams into the two
 
 REDWOOD. 261 
 
 large apartments, which were now thrown into one by the open- 
 ing of the wide folding doors. A few candles were hung around 
 the walls, casting a dim and quivering light upon the strange 
 throng. The men took their stations in one apartment, the 
 women in the other, and arranged themselves opposite to each 
 other in straight lines, extending across the room. The eldest 
 were placed in the front ranks by this arrangement the young 
 people were saved from the temptation to wandering looks, and 
 their consequence, wandering thoughts not uncommon in the 
 most orthodox congregations. 
 
 After a few moments, the deep and reverential silence of 
 the assembly was broken by a shout, in which every voice was 
 simultaneously lifted to its highest pitch. The shout was fol- 
 lowed by a hymn, but sung so loud, with such discordant and 
 irregular sounds, (for music it could not be called,) that it was 
 impossible to distinguish any words, excepting ' our mother ' 
 and ' Mother Anne,' which seemed to form a kind of chorus. 
 The singing was accompanied by an equal and steady motion, 
 an alternating from one foot to the other, which resembles, to 
 a profane eye, the pas bas of the world's dancers. This deaf- 
 ening yell and uniform motion continued till their breath was 
 spent, when all the assembly, as if governed by one instinct, 
 relapsed into silence. 
 
 They remained as motionless as so many statues till the pro-' 
 found stillness was broken by Harrington " Brethren and sis- 
 ters," he said, " we labor this evening for a special gift, and to 
 encourage our hearts, and enliven our faith, it is meet that we 
 should bear upon our minds all those holy men and women of 
 old, who, according to their light have worshipped in the dance. 
 Sisters, bethink yourselves of Miriam of Miriam, the sister 
 of Aaron, a prophetess the first in the female line who, when 
 she sang the glorious triumph of the Lord over the Egyptian
 
 262 REDWOOD. 
 
 host, ' took a timbrel in her hand, and all the women went out 
 after her with timbrels and with danced Remember the 
 daughters of Shiloh, who went ' yearly to the feast of the Lord 
 to dance in dances and King David, who leaped and dc 
 before the Lord, so that Michal, profane Michal, despised him 
 in her heart, even as the world's people in these latter times 
 despise us, and deride our labor-worship. 
 
 " Ye believers need not be told that the Psalmist justifies 
 his deeds by his words, and exhorts the faithful again and 
 again ' to praise the Lord with the timbrel and the dance ' 
 ' to praise His name in the dance} Solomon tells us ' there is 
 a time to dance] and manifestly he could not mean there was 
 a time for those vain festive rites, wherewith the carnal chil- 
 dren of this world worship their god. Hath not the holy pro- 
 phet Jeremiah predicted our day in those memorable words 
 ' then shall the Virgin rejoice in the dance, both young men 
 and old together?' When was this prediction verified in the 
 ball-rooms of the world's people ? There the young man goes 
 not forth with the aged brother, but selects the fair and youth- 
 ful maiden for his partner in the dance ; and nothing can be 
 more unlike our spiritual labors, than the movements of their 
 bodies, and the exercises of their minds ! Again the same 
 prophet saith, ' Virgin of Israel, thou shalt again be adorned 
 with thy tabrets, and go forth in the dances.' 1 " 
 
 Here Reuben paused, either to take breath, or because be 
 had exhausted his authorities ; and the assembly, without any 
 visible external direction, but apparently in obedience to a 
 common impulse, broke up their ranks, arranged in pairs, the 
 elder taking precedence of the younger, and the sisters of the 
 brethren, they made in a dancing procession the circuit of the 
 two apartments. A small knot of brethren and sisters remained 
 in the centre of each room, shouting strange music for the dan-
 
 REDWOOD. 263 
 
 cers, and, slowly turning, so as to keep their faces towards the 
 processiop, which moved on with a uniform shuffling step, as if 
 it was composed of so many automatons, their arms rising and 
 falling mechanically; and their monotonous movements, solemn? 
 melancholy, or stupid aspects, contrasting ludicrously with the 
 festive throngs which are usually seen stepping on " light fan- 
 tastic toe " through the mazy dance. 
 
 There was but one in all this assembly that seemed to be 
 governed by natural feeling ; this was Emily, who in obedience 
 to the stern requisition of her aunt had come, or rather been 
 dragged into the room ; but unable to perform her part of the 
 insatie worship, unable in truth to support her own weight, 
 she had sunk on her knees in a recess of the window near 
 which she was standing ; her cap had fallen from her 
 head, and laid beside her her fair hair, thus permitted to 
 escape from its bondage, had fallen over her neck and shoul- 
 ders ; she had covered her face with her hands, and disordered, 
 pale, and trembling, there she remained, till the assembly form- 
 ing into the procession, exposed her to every eye, looking like 
 a culprit awaiting her sentence. 
 
 Susan had missed her from her side, and had hoped that 
 she had stolen away to her own apartment, and that her disap- 
 pearance would remain unobserved. Vain were the elder sister's 
 efforts to command peace in hex 1 own troubled mind, when she 
 beheld the humiliating and sorrowful spectacle. The burning 
 color that flushed her usually sallow cheek, and her unsteady 
 movements, betrayed her affliction. She wpuld have given the 
 world to have sheltered her fallen favorite from the disgrace 
 of such an exposure, but to move from the ranks was impossi- 
 ble. The elders and the disciplined passed Emily in their 
 rounds without any other notice than a languid and brief glance; 
 but the younger, and especially the children, unable to control
 
 264 REDWOOD. 
 
 
 
 their curiosity, gazed on her till their heads were at right 
 angles with their bodies. Suddenly the procession stopped ; 
 and Harrington, advancing from the ranks, "labored alone with 
 great power," and whirling around like a top, to which his form 
 bore no faint resemblance, he continued his violent exercise for 
 an hour ; then approaching Emily, and laying his hand upon her 
 head " To me, brethren and sisters," he said, " is assigned the 
 task and given the gift to snatch this prey from Satan. The 
 work is to be wrought out in private conference, when words 
 of rebuke, of wisdom, and of conviction will flow from my lips. 
 as the water flowed from the rock at the touch of Moses. 
 Fear not, young maiden tremble not be not thus disheart- 
 ened the devil shall release you from his toils, and you shall 
 yet shine out a bright star among the faithful." 
 
 The assembly acquiesced silently in the result of Reuben's 
 extraordinary worship. They dispersed to their several apart- 
 ments ; and Susan, without one word of inquiry or reprimand, 
 led Emily to her own room, and spent the silent watches of the 
 night in weeping and praying for her. 
 
 On the following day Harrington began, and continued for 
 many successive days, his private conferences with Emily. 
 For some time he confined himself to harangues on the pecu- 
 liar doctrines of his sect. Emily listened dutifully, but the 
 more she listened, the more her growing aversion to them 
 strengthened. He insisted that the net in which Satan Lad 
 caught her, could not be broken, unless she would be governed 
 by his wisdom guided by his inward light. Emily sighed 
 and wept, but never attempted a reply. 
 
 After a while he changed his tone ; he occasionally softened 
 his rebukes with praise, sometimes mingled flattery with his 
 admonitions, and darkly intimated a purpose that he dared not 
 yet fully disclose. Still Emily listened patiently : she had
 
 REDWOOD. 265 
 
 been always remarkable for singleness of heart, a soft temper, 
 and tender affections, but never for a quick or keen perception. 
 Her mind, too, had been recently weakened by the hard con- 
 flict between her natural affections and her mistaken sense of 
 duty : it was not wonderful, therefore, that she did not distrust 
 Harrington's integrity, nor suspect the meaning that glim- 
 mered through his mystical language. 
 
 He continued gradually preparing her mind for the propo- 
 sition he had in reserve for her, nothing doubting of its final 
 acceptance ; for Reuben, in common with all thorough hypo- 
 crites, was quite incredulous as to the existence of goodness, 
 and believed that the seemingly upright only wanted the op- 
 portunity and the motive to turn aside from the straight and 
 narrow way. At last, impatient at his own slow and serpentine 
 advances to Emily's understanding, and afraid that in spite of 
 her habitual passiveness, her patience would be exhausted be- 
 fore he had approached the attainment of his purpose, and 
 hoping too, against hope, that her uniform silence foreboded 
 his final success he took a bold, straight-forward step. At 
 his accustomed hour he entered the room" where Emily was 
 sitting with the elder sister. He detained Susan for. a moment 
 to inquire ' ; if she yet perceived any smoking of the flax any 
 symptom of revival in the child ?" She shook her head mourn- 
 fully, and slowly withdrew, leaving him alone with Emily with 
 evident reluctance. 
 
 He then drew his chair close to the poor girl, and taking 
 her hand (a freedom he had never before ventured upon), and 
 not rebuked by the innocent look of surprise and inquiry which 
 she turned on him, he proceeded to say, in the softest voice he 
 could assume, " You are a worthy maiden, Emily a chosen 
 vessel a vessel selected for a great ministry if you have been 
 cast into the furnace, it is that you may come out as gold seven 
 12
 
 266 REDWOOD. 
 
 times tried the honored instrument must be made bright and 
 keen in the fires of tribulation. Awake, maiden ! awake ! and 
 survey the path that I am appointed to open to your view 
 the path we must travel together ; for we are not permitted 
 longer to remain here, mere watchmen on the walls of Zion, 
 but are commanded to march boldly forward to the enemy's 
 camp. 
 
 " Listen, while I disclose to you the revelation that has 
 been vouchsafed to me. I have obtained a great advance upon 
 the forward wheel it has been made plain to me that we are 
 together to accomplish a great work to turn and overturn till 
 we bring to pass the conversion of the world." 
 
 A faint light dawned on Emily's mind, and fearfulness min- 
 gled with the amazement with which she had hitherto gazed on 
 Harrington. He perceived that she was startled, but he went 
 on undaunted. " The Israelites were commanded to spoil the 
 Egyptians, and we are permitted^nay, ordered, to take of the 
 lucre (which belongeth equally to our brethren and to us) in 
 order to help us forward in our blessed mission, and to reward 
 our labors. A goodly sum in the bank at Albany awaiteth us. 
 All these matters it is duty for a season to hide from our 
 brethren and sisters they cannot yet receive them. Our de- 
 parture must be secret at night yea, this night." 
 
 Astonished, alarmed, and still uncertain, Etoily did not 
 utter a word : her eyes were fixed on Reuben, and looked as 
 though they would have started from their sockets. 
 
 " Nay, precious maiden," he continued, misinterpreting her 
 silence, " do not tremble thus ye need not be alarmed. "We 
 have a farther dispensation : as we go among the world's peo- 
 ple, we are permitted to be united in wedlock by one of the 
 world's priests." Till this moment Reuben's meaning had but 
 partially appeared to Emily through the fog of cant phrases.
 
 REDWOOD. 267 
 
 in which he had artfully involved it ; but his last words, and 
 the fond look that accompanied them, were like the touch of 
 Ithuriel her persecutor stood revealed in his true light. She 
 snatched her hand from him, and groaning aloud, she sprang 
 towards the door the door opened, and Susan entered. 
 
 " Oh for mercy's sake, save me take me away !" cried the 
 poor girl, clinging to her aunt in desperation. 
 
 " What means this ?" inquired Susan, looking at Harring- 
 ton ; " have you dared to insult the innocent girl ? Be calm, 
 Emily, my child, be calm." 
 
 " Smooth your brow, sister," replied Harrington, with per- 
 fect coolness, " and I will tell you all that has passed be- 
 tween us." 
 
 " Say on," she answered, without in the least relaxing her 
 features, " and bear it in mind that I shall know from this 
 afflicted girl, who never opened her mouth to speak a lie, 
 whether ye speak truly." 
 
 " My word," replied Reuben, " will go farther, much far- 
 ther with the people than that poor far-gone sinner's." 
 
 " That may be, Reuben, -but not with me ; therefore speak 
 quickly and truly." 
 
 There is a moral power in virtuous resolution that the most 
 vicious find it difficult to resist. Reuben perceived that he 
 could neither conceal nor deny, and that his best, indeed his only 
 policy was to state the truth, and to varnish it over with the 
 best gloss his ready wit could invent. He said that all hia 
 attempts to reclaim Emily had hitherto been fruitless ; that as 
 elder sister knew, he had labored in season, and out of season, 
 and all in vain all without producing a sign of life in the 
 child. 
 
 " That morning," he said, " it had been sent in upon his 
 mind to try her with a temptation, in order to ascertain how
 
 268 REDWOOD. 
 
 far she was under the dominion of Satan ; or at least to drive 
 away the dumb devil that possessed her in that he had suc- 
 ceeded." He then went on to detail what he had said to Emily 
 verbatim, omitting nothing but his design on the funds of the 
 society ; a circumstance that he rightly judged his last mon- 
 strous proposition had effaced from Emily's mind. " And now, 
 sister," he said, in conclusion, " I think your conscience will 
 tell'' you that you have judged me with unrighteous judgment ; 
 that nature has so far gotten the upper hand of grace with 
 you, that you are blinded, sorely blinded ; and henceforth 
 you will feel it to be duty to leave the girl to my appointed 
 ministry." 
 
 " Never, never," replied Susan, firmly : " she has been un- 
 kindly dealt with already nature and grace both speak for 
 the child, Reuben both tell me that she needs ' more gentle 
 usage.' " 
 
 " But, woman, I have the gift." 
 
 " I have a gift also, Reuben : and sooner shall you have my 
 heart's blood, than I will trust this girl with you again ; ye 
 need not lift your voice in the congregation ; ye need not whis- 
 per among the brethren. Remember, I am your elder ; I 
 fear you not, Reuben ; I suspect you." 
 
 The determined look with which Susan accompanied her 
 words, quelled Harrington's spirit : he dared not attempt a 
 reply, and smothering an imprecation, he departed to digest as 
 he best could his rage and mortification. 
 
 Susan did not think it expedient to make any farther di- 
 rect* disclosure to Emily of her suspicions of Harrington, but 
 she cautiously questioned and cross-questioned her. Emily, 
 confounded by Reuben's subtlety, and feeble and exhausted, 
 could not remember that he had said to her any more or other, 
 than he had repeated to the elder sister.
 
 REDWOOD. 269 
 
 Notwithstanding the agreement of the simple girl's testi- 
 
 
 
 mony with Reuben's story, Susan was too sagacious to be de- 
 ceived by the interpretation the crafty brother had put upon 
 the language he had held to her, and having for a long time 
 felt a growing dislike and distrust of him, she was not con- 
 vinced that she had been mistaken in her conclusions ; and 
 she remained quite satisfied that she had done right in refus- 
 ing him any further communication with Emily. 
 
 Emily's melancholy became every day deeper and more 
 fixed, and Susan began to fear the total annihilation of her 
 mind. She imposed no restraint on her, but permitted her to 
 walk when she chose ; to remain secluded from observation in 
 her own room, and sometimes to lie all day on the bed in a 
 state of listlessness and vacuity in which she appeared scarcely 
 conscious of her existence.
 
 270 REDWOOD. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 " Curse on his perjured arts ! dissembling, smooth ! 
 Are honor, virtue, conscience, all exil'd ? 
 Is there no pity, no relenting ruth ?" BURNS. 
 
 EMILY was one day sitting by her window, when she saw a 
 party of travellers from Lebanon Springs stop at their gate. 
 It suddenly occurred to her that she might, through the 
 agency of some one of the party, get a letter conveyed to her 
 friends. The thought that this might be the first step towards 
 leaving the society, flitted across her mind, but without form- 
 ing any distinct purpose, she hastily penned the letter which 
 was the occasion of Ellen's abrupt departure from Eton. 
 She then stationed herself at a door that opened into one of 
 the passages through which the visitors were to pass ; and ar- 
 resting the attention of a romantic young lady who was in the 
 rear of the throng, she slipped the letter into her hand, unob- 
 served by any one, and entreating her to convey it safely to a 
 post-office, she disappeared, leaving her confidant quite elated 
 with the trust which had been confided to her by the pale inter- 
 esting little Shaker, and which she discharged as has been , 
 seen, with laudable fidelity. 
 
 Activity is as necessary to the health of the mind, as ex- 
 ercise to that of the body. Emily derived more benefit from
 
 REDWOOD. 271 
 
 the effort she had made in writing and dispatching her letter 
 than she had felt from the combined skill, moral and medical, 
 of the whole fraternity. For a few days her heart was cheered, 
 and her countenance brightened. She had no settled purpose 
 of leaving the society : she still believed it her duty to remain 
 with them, and the tender sympathy and forbearance of her 
 aunt had strengthened the almost filial love she bore her- 
 the only sentiment that alleviated the misery of her condition. 
 Still her belief of Harrington's hypocrisy, countenanced and 
 confirmed as it was by Susan, had shaken her faith in the 
 monstrous pretensions of the believers : she fancied she saw 
 deceit lurking under many a broad brim, and she felt a secret 
 revulsion from the dancing worship which she had never joined 
 in, or even witnessed since the memorable night of Harring- 
 ton's inspiration. 
 
 A few days after the dispatch of the letter, and just at 
 twilight the sweet hour consecrated by all young ladies in 
 their teens to sentiment and romantic meditations Emily, 
 availing herself of the liberty she had recently enjoyed, 
 strolled out without any other purpose than to be alone, and 
 think her own thoughts. She had not walked far when she 
 perceived Reuben approaching her He did not appear to 
 have observed her, and to escape his notice she turned into a 
 little inclosure she had just then reached, which a few broken 
 stones marked as a place of interment. She paused a moment 
 at the graves, and almost envied their silent tenants. 
 
 The Shakers preserve all their austere formality in the 
 disposition of their dead ; each grave is designated by a 
 rough hewn stone inscribed with the initials only of the name 
 borne by the person who reposes beneath it. Emily's thoughts 
 naturally reverted to the village churchyard where her father 
 and her mother slept. That seemed a social place when com-
 
 272 REDWOOD. 
 
 pared with the Shaker burial-ground. Her imagination pic- 
 tured the storied monuments the sacred spot where her 
 parents laid the beautiful willow that drooped over it, and 
 the neatly carved white stone that stood under its shadow, set- 
 ting forth in its long inscription their virtues and their suffer- 
 ings. " Ob, that I was there," was the involuntary breathing 
 of her spirit. 
 
 After lingering for a few moments lost in melancholy con- 
 templations, she turned away and pursued her walk through 
 a secluded path to the garden which lay at a short distance 
 from her. As she entered it she passed an old man arranging 
 a bed of violets, which with many other beautiful flowers ob- 
 tain sufferance among these ascetics on account of some real or 
 fancied medical virtue. 
 
 " I am glad to see ye, child," said the good-natured old man, 
 " I think ye are picking up a little, and I am heartily glad to 
 see it : I would not have you a drooping lily all your days. It 
 is a short pilgrimage through this world, and a thorny path it 
 may be. but seeing it leads to the garden of Paradise, it is not 
 worth while for a reasonable person to worry with the troubles 
 by the way ; they can't last long that is a comfort," continued 
 the speaker, striking his spade into the earth, and resting upon 
 it. " I have seen mothers wailing for their first-born as if their 
 very souls died with them, and in a few days, or a few years at 
 worst, that passed away like a vapor, they too were cut down 
 and lying quiet beside them. I have seen children withering 
 away like a severed branch at the death of their parents, and a 
 frost has come and nipt them in their flower. I have seen people 
 wearying themselves for riches and honors, and just when they 
 had got them, leave them all for the shroud and the cold earth. 
 I tell you. my young sister, life is a short journey therefore 
 don't be discouraged if the road is not quite to your liking."
 
 REDWOOD. 273 
 
 Emily made no reply to this kind exhortation, but she 
 plucked some of the violets, and asked the old man if they 
 were not sometimes called " heart' s-ease." 
 
 " Yea. I believe some folks call them heart's ease." 
 
 " And do they grow nowhere but on the believers' ground ?" 
 she asked. 
 
 " Yea, yea," replied the man, smiling significantly, as if he 
 understood the import of her inquiry ; " they grow all about 
 among the neighbors every where." 
 
 He paused and looked at Emily for a moment, and then 
 casting his eyes in every direction, and ascertaining there was 
 no one in hearing, he lowered his voice and said, " I believe 
 you to be a discreet good little body, and that you'll keep the 
 counsel I give you to yourself. You are wearied with this 
 kind of strange, still life, child your mind is running upon 
 your relations, your home may be upon some sweetheart 
 now ye need not look so frightened, it is nat'ral, it is nat'ral I 
 don't blame you for it. I always feel sorry to see a young and 
 tender plant put into soil it don't love ; it never takes root 
 fairly never thrives. Now my advice is, that you pluck up 
 courage, tell the people the plain truth, go home to your 
 friends, get a good husband, and 'guide the house.' Ye can 
 take scripture warrant with you, for it's God's own word, that 
 ' in every tuition, he that feareth him and worketh righteous- 
 ness is accepted of him.' " 
 
 Emily with very natural surprise gazed at the old man as 
 if she discredited her senses. "Are you a Shaker?" she 
 asked. 
 
 "A Shaker, girl !" he replied, laughing " yea, and a very 
 good Shaker." His muscles contracted as he added, " I have 
 been what is called an unfortunate man in the world. Every 
 
 thing went against me. I lost my wife, my children lost my 
 1'2*
 
 274 REDWOOD. 
 
 property and I thought I could not do better than to get a 
 shelter in this peaceable place ; I had a remarkable gift for 
 gardening, and the people accepted me." 
 
 " Then you are not a Shaker ?" said Emily, bewildered by 
 the contrariety of his motives with those she had always heard 
 professed by the Shakers. 
 
 " Yea, but I am that is to say, in the main a believer. 
 Our people are foolish about some things, but then I never saw 
 any religion, but there were some weeds among it ; and to speak 
 truly, I am too near the end of my summer to care much where 
 my leaves drop but it is a pity you should be growing, nay, 
 growing you are not, but withering in the shade : say nothing, 
 but store my counsel in your heart, and let it bring forth its 
 fruit in season :" thus concluding, the kind-hearted old gar- 
 dener turned away and left Emily to reflect on his singular 
 communication. 
 
 Though not a very skilful reasoner, she came to the just 
 conclusion, that such Shakers as the crafty Harrington and the 
 frank gardener, were not Shakers by divine impulse ; that the 
 ties which attached others to the society were not in all cases 
 indissoluble and that, perhaps, the society itself did not exist 
 by prescriptive divine right. 
 
 She sought a sequestered part of the garden, and seating 
 herself in the shade of some fruit-trees, and, as she thought, 
 secure from observation, she drew from her bosom the precious 
 little scroll which linked her to the world. All that was there 
 written was more legibly inscribed on her heart, but still she 
 loved to look on it. The sight of it touched her imagination 
 like a conjurer's wand, and brought before her all those images 
 she most loved to dwell upon. She resigned herself to the 
 visions of her fancy, forgot the formal habitations around her, 
 the severe brethren and the pale sisters ; and was restored to
 
 REDWOOD. 275 
 
 the Lenox family, joining in their bustling occupations, sharing 
 their pleasures, the object of the kindness of all, and the cho- 
 sen, loved partner of James. She beheld her old grandmother 
 cheerful and approving Ellen Bruce smiling on her with 
 sisterly kindness the merry faces of the children ; she heard 
 their unrebuked mirth Debby's loud laugh, she saw and she 
 heard all, till awakened from her reverie by an approaching 
 footstep, she looked up and beheld Harrington coming towards 
 her. She instinctively started on her feet, and intending to 
 restore the scroll to its hiding place, she unconsciously dropped 
 it. As she walked hastily past Harrington homeward, he 
 said, " Stop, Emily stop, my good girl I have something 
 particular to say to you " 
 
 " I cannot hear it now," she replied, redoubling her speed. 
 
 " You cannot," muttered Reuben, looking after her, " the 
 time will come when you shall hear me and hear me patiently 
 and quietly." 
 
 Provoked at being defeated in his purpose of speaking to 
 her, he remained where she left him, whetting his resentment 
 and brooding vengeance, when the note she had dropped 
 caught his eye. He took it up and read it. ' Ah now,' thought 
 he, ' I see the reason why my fair offers were received with 
 horror and disdain the little fool has a younger sweetheart 
 but she shall find the old fox an overmatch for the young 
 hound.' 
 
 Never did a vulture fasten his talons around his victim with 
 more exultation than Harrington thrust poor little Emily's 
 lost talisman into his pocket he did not see exactly how he 
 should turn it to account ; but it gave him power, and power 
 in his hands was the sure means of mischief. It would not be 
 very edifying to thread all the intricate windings of his bad 
 mind to examine the projects he conceived and dismissed,
 
 276 REDWOOD. 
 
 till, favored by an unlooked-for chance, he devised one which 
 flattered him with the hope of the certain destruction of his 
 innocent victim, and with the prospect of complete vengeance 
 on the elder sister, who he well knew was vulnerable alone 
 through this object of her natural affection. 
 
 Subtle and active, it was not long before his plans were 
 matured. Two days after he had obtained possession of the 
 note, for which Emily had anxiously and vainly sought, he came 
 on some pretext of business into an apartment where she and 
 one of the sisters were sitting. Emily felt as strong an impulse 
 to leave the room as if a venomous reptile had crept into it. but 
 afraid of attracting the notice of a third person, she remained 
 with as much tranquillity as she could command. 
 
 After a few moments a traveller chanced to pass in a wag- 
 on. Emily's companion was attracted to the window. Har- 
 rington followed her, and looking earnestly at the traveller, he 
 said, carelessly, " that young man favors James Lenox it is 
 possible it may be him" he paused, and EmiK instinctively 
 sprang towards the window. Reuben looked at her, and con- 
 science-smitten, she shrunk back into her chair. 
 
 "I am told young Lenox is in these parts," pursued Har- 
 rington, " and I judged he might ride over here to see some of 
 Jhis old friends." Again he turned his eyes on Emily, hers met 
 his her face and neck were crimson. " I wish. Judy," said 
 he, to the young woman, who was still gazing out of the win- 
 dow, "that ye would go to the sewing-r^bm and inquire if my 
 at : ^ finished ?" 
 
 Judy went, and Emily rose fc^follo 
 
 Harrington, in a low voice, and -unobserved by Judy, lay- 
 ing his hand on her arm, and closing' the door, " with all your 
 gettings, get discretion, young woman : your ready step, your 
 ; burning cheeks, would this moment have betrayed your secret
 
 REDWOOD. 277 
 
 to me, if I had not known it before. Nay, noiv you must hear 
 me be calm, do not tremble, we have no time to waste take 
 this note," said he, restoring her treasure, " and be thankful 
 that it fell into friendly hands. The hint I gave you was 
 spoken in earnest: James Lenox is in Lebanon. The silly boy 
 sent a letter to you sealed ; it fell into my hands ; it was my 
 duty to open it, and my duty as you well know I perform at 
 all risks here it is." Emily hastily caught it without observ- 
 ing the diabolical sneer on Reuben's face. " Now, mark me, 
 young woman," he continued. " I see it is a vain struggle you 
 are keeping up ye cannot abide here : and as you are of the 
 earth earthy, I cannot counsel you to abide you shall see that 
 I am your friend, and will return good for evil. Lenox urges 
 you to join him at Lebanon : he thinks if he comes here, ye 
 will not be able to resist the open opposition of the people 
 ye'll read his letter, and ye'll find this is the last day 
 of his stay in these parts ; and if ye do not join him be- 
 fore to-morroV, he concludes you are still in bonds to the be- 
 lievers. 
 
 " I have had the letter in my possession four days, and you 
 may thank yourself that you have not got it sooner ; ye have 
 fled from me as if I had been a tiger, or a rattlesnake. Now, 
 mark me, if you take my counsel you'll go to-night quietly and 
 secretly. Little as you deserve it from me, it is in my mind to 
 help you : if you will come to the supper-table with your cap 
 tied, I'll take it for a'signal that you are determined to go. ami 
 
 I will be ready one hour after sunset with a wagon and liarses, 
 
 - 
 just at the turning of the road that leads to North-house..- I 
 
 wish to go thus early that I may return before daylight, for it 
 is not needful the brethren fehould know that I take up for 
 you. They mi<rht not view your departure as I do : for after 
 all it is but acting up to your light, which is all we profess to"
 
 
 
 278 REDWOOD. 
 
 require. Now go, young woman, and the Lord direct all your 
 steps." 
 
 He gazed after her as she passed through the passage, and 
 exclaimed, exultingly rubbing his hands, " I have caught her 
 I have caught her at last. Let the fox but clear the ground, 
 and the old one may bark till doomsday." 
 
 It was some time after Emily reached her own apartment 
 before she became sufficiently composed to read the letter : her 
 head swam, and her hands shook violently ; but at last, making 
 a great effort, she did read it. It was filled with passionate 
 declarations of love, and earnest and repeated entreaties that 
 she would join the writer at Lebanon, where he said he should 
 await her four days. He alleged many very plausible reasons 
 for not coming to the village. He rested his earnest suit 
 mainly on his ardent, devoted attachment to her ; but at the 
 close of the letter he insinuated that if she did not return to 
 Eton with him, her grandmother's death must lie at her door, 
 so much had her desertion of the poor old lady shattered her 
 health and spirits 
 
 Emily perused and reperused the letter she felt her cheeks 
 burning while she read it, and she wondered that James should 
 write in a style so impassioned ' surely he ought not,' she 
 thought, and the next moment mentally accused herself of in- 
 justice. " Alas," she said, ' if my heart beats thus at the bare 
 thought of meeting him, can I blame him if he talks in the 
 fashion of the world's people? my head is in such strange 
 confusion, that it may be I do not understand him aright." 
 
 But every other consideration was swallowed up in the ne- 
 cessity of coming to an immediate decision whether to go or 
 remain. Emily's convictions, as they had been deemed, had 
 gradually subsided as her early attachments revived, and her 
 inclinations for the world strengthened ; and now no strong tie
 
 REDWOOD. 279 
 
 remained to be broken but her love for the elder sister, which 
 had produced such habitual dependence on her, that she had 
 become a mere machine, governed by a power which she could 
 neither understand nor resist. 
 
 There was now a demand on her for extraordinary energy 
 she must act independently, promptly, and secretly. Much 
 cause as she had to distrust Harrington's integrity, she did not 
 on this occasion doubt the sincerity of his kindness. In the 
 confusion and agitation of her mind, she did not look behind. 
 Her mind was engrossed by the great circumstance of her de- 
 parture, and she scarcely thought of the means by which it 
 was to be effected. Once, indeed, the thought flitted across 
 her mind, that Keuben's compassionate interference in her be- 
 half was very strange, and for the moment she felt an almost 
 invincible repugnance to trust herself with him ; but there 
 was no alternative she had no other means of meeting James. 
 She could, it was true, declare her resolution to leave the so- 
 ciety. No one was ever detained by physical force ; but to a 
 weak and irresolute mind there are moral barriers that are as 
 impassable as prison-walls, and Emily felt that she had not the 
 courage necessary to persevere against the deliberate opposi- 
 tion of the society to withstand the counsel, rebuke, or sneer 
 that she must expect from the different characters that com- 
 posed that strange community- and above all to meet the elder 
 sister's eye. But how could she bear to deceive her, to steal 
 away from her tenderest friend as from an enemy ! The 
 thought of making this treacherous return to her maternal kind- 
 ness quite overcame the poor girl, and Susan entering at this mo- 
 ment, found her wringing her hands and sobbing most piteously. 
 
 " What has happened to you Emily, child ?" she asked, in 
 her kindest voice : " this distress is something more than com- 
 mon with you."
 
 280 REDWOOD. 
 
 Emily made no other reply than by throwing her arms 
 around Susan's neck, and hiding her face on her bosom. 
 
 " Nay, child," said Susan, folding her arms around her, 
 " ye must not. It is but a tempting of Providence. Ye'll be 
 quite worn out in the struggle, and if ye cannot conquer, why 
 ye had better yield." 
 
 ' Now now, if ever,' thought Emily, ' is the moment ;' 
 and she raised her head from Susan's bosom with the full pur- 
 pose of confessing her weakness and her wishes. But when 
 she lifted her tearful eyes, and saw the calm, fixed resolution 
 marked on the elder sister's face, and met her eye, in which 
 there was the majesty of command, it awed her spirit as that 
 of man is said to awe the inferior animals. Her head fell 
 again on Susan's bosom. " Ye are a strange wayward chijd," 
 said she : " I am sorry to leave you at this moment," she add- 
 ed " nay, do not start, I shall return to-morrow." 
 
 " To-morrow !" echoed Emily. 
 
 " Yea, to-morrow ; and Judy has promised to keep you 
 company to-night. One of the elders at Lebanon draws near 
 his end, and they have sent for me, to consult upon some tem- 
 poralities to be settled before his departure. Now sit down 
 and compose yourself it troubles me to leave you thus." 
 
 Susan led Emily to a chair, and at this moment one of the 
 pisters gave her notice that thJk brethren were already in the 
 wagon and waiting for her. While she hastened her prepara- 
 tions, she exhorted Emily to be more tranquil, and above all 
 not to permit any one to see how far the adversary yet main- 
 tained his power over her. Emily sprang after her as she 
 closed the door, and grasping her gown, held her fast for a mo- 
 ment, still doubtful, irresolute, then clasping her arms" round 
 Susan's neck " Will you," she sobbed, " will you always love 
 me?"
 
 REDWOOD. 281 
 
 " Yea, dear child, and always pray for you." 
 
 Emily retreated to her room. Susan ; s last gracious words 
 comforted her, but she passed the remainder of the day in se- 
 vere struggles ; finally, at the close of it, she came to the sup- 
 per-table leaning on Judy, with her cap tied ; and one hour 
 after, having evaded her companion's observation, she stole, 
 unnoticed by any one, to the appointed place of rendezvous, 
 where she found Harrington, and took with him the road to 
 Lebanon. 
 
 Harrington, for reasons all-important to himself, abandoned 
 the road usually travelled, and turned, at the western ex- 
 tremity of the village, into one which passes in a northerly 
 direction over the mountain to the town of Lebanon. There 
 are on this sequestered road but two or three habitations for a 
 distance of several miles, and though it presents many enchant- 
 ing views of the uplands and valleys, and ought therefore to 
 attract the lovers of the picturesque, few of that (in our coun- 
 try) sm^ll and select class ever heard of it ; and business trav- 
 ellers preferring the more levelled and turnpike road, this re- 
 mains unfrequented and grass-grown. 
 
 The necessity that Harrington should reach Albany with 
 all possible expedition, and execute his business there before 
 it was practicable that he shoul<M>e overtaken, forbade his per- 
 mitting Emily to remain in ignorance of his purposes, and he 
 had scarcely passed the boundary of the village, before he be- 
 gan to unfold them to her. His language was entirely changed 
 all the mysterious phrases, and the obscure and technical 
 words, with which he was wont, as he expressed himself, to 
 ' sanctify his discourse,' to guard it with equivocal meanings 
 and veil it in unintelligible terms, were exchanged for the con- 
 cise language of the man of business. Emily soon compre- 
 hended that she was the dupe of his arts ' that the decoy
 
 282 EEDWOOD. 
 
 letter was forged by him, after the model of the note, (he, as 
 he boasted, holding the pen of a ready writer) that James 
 Lenox neither expected nor wished for her and finally, that 
 her reputation being destroyed by her elopement with Har- 
 rington, her only resource was to proceed with him, without 
 any ado, to the nearest Justice, who could perform the marriage 
 ceremony, to accept his hand, which he generously proffered, 
 and then pursue her way with him to Albany, where he insult- 
 ingly concluded he should possess himself of a sum of money 
 that would enable him to make a lady of her for the rest of 
 her life.' 
 
 Emily heard him through with dismay ; and springing 
 from his side, she would have cleared the wagon in an instant, 
 but he perceiving her design, passed his arm around her, and 
 pulled her back on to the seat, and there detained her in his 
 strong grasp. She screamed for help with reiterated cries, and 
 the only answer she received was, " Be quiet, sweetheart you 
 spend your breath in vain there is nothing in these woods to 
 hear you but ihe bats and owls no ' elder sister ' to snatch 
 you from me." 
 
 " Oh !" exclaimed Emily, turning to him with a look of 
 helplessness and appeal that might have awakened compassion 
 in a tiger. " Oh, do pity meJ' 
 
 " Pity you, indeed !" he replied ; " I have none of that 
 article on hand ; I used it all up on myself while I staid among 
 those devilish fools. Take wit in your anger, girl what can't 
 be cured must be endured. I foresaw that I should have 
 trouble with your stubborn nature, and I have provided ac- 
 cordingly. But fair play is a jewel, and the Lord knows, I 
 would like to treat you handsomely if ^pu will hear to reason 
 and let me." They had now nearly attained the summit of the 
 hill, and Harrington stopped his horses. " Now, Emily Allen,"
 
 REDWOOD. 283 
 
 said he, " I leave it to your free choice to go with me to the 
 first Justice we can find, and there quietly, and as it were 
 willingly, be made Mrs. Harrington, so that man can't 
 put asunder what God joins together or abide here, where 
 I have bespoke a cage and a keeper for you till my re- 
 turn, when you will be glad enough to take me on my own 
 terms." 
 
 Emily listened in silence to the particulars of the wretch's 
 plot against her : her whole frame trembled, and her lips 
 quivered : she made no other reply than by attempting again 
 to scream for help, but her voice was so faint and incapable of 
 articulation, that it sounded like the smothered cry of a person 
 attempting to scream in the agony of a frightful dream. 
 
 " Well," said Reuben, after pausing but a moment, " if 
 you won't hear to reason, you must e'en abide by the conse- 
 quences." He then turned his horses from the road into a 
 deeply-shaded passage through the woods, where, by the im- 
 perfect starlight, not a trace of a footstep could be discerned. 
 The way however had been used, during the winter, for the 
 transportation of wood to the neighboring villages, and was 
 sufficiently cleared from impediments, to allow the cautious 
 Reuben to pass slowly and safely through it. Emily looked 
 around her in utter despair she cast her eyes up to the heavens 
 as if to appeal for mercy there their stillness and serene 
 beauty seemed to mock and aggravate her misery : she tried 
 to frame a mental petition to the only Power that could rescue 
 her, but her mind was so shaken by terror -that she could not 
 command her thoughts for the effort. 
 
 They had proceeded about half a mile, and Harrington 
 again stopped. A bright light streamed through a vista in the 
 woods on their right. Emily looked in the direction whence 
 it proceeded, and saw through the open door of a hovel, a hu-
 
 284 REDWOOD. 
 
 / 
 
 man figure enveloped in a blanket, and extended on the ground 
 before a blazing fire. The light played fitfully on the figure, 
 now almost dying away, and then streaming upward nearly to 
 the aperture in the roof through which the smoke found its 
 way. Happily imagination could not aggravate her terrors ; 
 and now fully aware of her own helplessness, she sat as still as 
 if she had been turned to stone, while Harrington vociferated 
 " Holla ! Sooduck doctor ! the devil take the lazy loon, is he 
 asleep, or drunk ?" Reuben's repeated calls at length roused 
 a dog, whose head laid on his master's bosom, and his barking 
 awakened the sleeper. He raised his head, shook back the 
 long black locks that shaded his eyes, and looked around as if 
 uncertain whence the sound had proceeded. 
 
 "Who's wanting the doctor?" he asked, in a surly tone: 
 " fools will they never learn not to come to me at the moon's 
 full?" 
 
 He then drew his blanket around him, and was about to 
 resume his sleeping posture, when Harrington roused him 
 effectually. " Here, Sooduck," he screamed, " here I am on the 
 spot have you forgotten, old fellow ? Here is the jug well 
 filled, and here is the girl." 
 
 " Ah ! is it you, friend Reuben ? Here I am, true as steel, 
 watching for you." 
 
 " A devil of a pretty watch you keep," muttered Harring- 
 ton. " Come, come along, doctor, I have no time to lose, every 
 minute is worth a golden guinea to me." The old man moved 
 slowly and with difficulty towards the wagon "why, how 
 now. Emily, girl," continued Harrington, " it's hard parting, is 
 it ? She clings to me, doctor, like a bur." 
 
 "What have you brought here?" aslred the old man, look- 
 ing inquiringly at Emily, who. quite spent with terror, had 
 sunk insensible into Harrington's arms. " No, no, friend," he
 
 REDWOOD. 285 
 
 added, turning away, " since the breath is gone. I'll have noth- 
 ing to do with her : it is bad luck meddling with the dead, and 
 there was no death in the bargain." 
 
 " Stop, you old fool," exclaimed Harrington. 
 
 " Fool I may be, friend Reuben, but I'll not be fool to a 
 fool I tell you again, I'll not undertake with the dead." 
 
 " Excuse me, doctor," said Reuben, in a moderated, sooth- 
 ing tone, " you have mistaken your case for the first time in 
 your life : the girl is no more dead than you or I, only scared 
 to death. Sooduck, your old Indian face has frightened her 
 out of her wits she is faint, too, poor little sweetheart, with 
 grief at parting. Here, take the jug, first," he added, well 
 knowing that he offered an argument irresistible to Sooduck : 
 " there is life of man for you, doctor it will make your lazy 
 blood race through your old veins again, and warm your cold 
 heart to do a good turn to a friend." 
 
 " Ah, Reuben, Reuben," replied the old man, grasping the 
 jug and swallowing a draught from it, " you know what is need- 
 ful. The stuff," he added, after repeating the application, 
 " has put life into me already now give me my prisoner and 
 be off." 
 
 Reuben, with the little aid that Sooduck was able to afford 
 him, succeeded in lifting Emily from the wagon and conveying 
 her to the hut, where he placed her on some fresh straw that 
 appeared to have been provided for the purpose, and then left 
 her, enjoining it on the old man to watch her narrowly, and 
 treat her kindly. After having once gone to the wagon, he re- 
 turned to advise Sooduck to administer a sleeping potion, ' it 
 would save trouble,' he said, ' and make safe work.' 
 
 " Never you fear, friend Reuben," replied Sooduck ; " trust 
 me and my dog to guard this little she-pigeon." Harrington 
 thought there was in truth very little to apprehend, and he
 
 286 REDWOOD. 
 
 departed exulting in the expectation of the final success of his 
 savage scheme. 
 
 Emily soon recovered from her fainting fit, but she passed 
 the night in a state of nervous excitement little short of mad- 
 ness. Before morning, however, she sunk into a quiet sleep, in 
 consequence of a composing draught, which Sooduck half com- 
 pelled and half persuaded her to swallow repose had its usual 
 beneficent effect, and she awoke with the first beam of daylight 
 quite tranquillized. She had now for the first time sufficient 
 presence of mind to examine her prison and her jailer. The 
 hut was about ten feet square, and constructed of slender poles 
 well secured in the ground, and bent together at the upper ex- 
 tremity in the form of an arbor the sides and top were filled 
 in with flexible brush-wood closely matted together. Some 
 brands and ashes, the relics of the evening's fire, laid on and 
 about two flat stones which composed the fire-place. A chair 
 so rough, that one might have fancied it the first barbarous 
 essay towards forming that indispensable domestic article ; an 
 iron pot and two Skillets, were the only furniture of this tene- 
 ment, rude as the rudest structures of the primitive inhabitants. 
 The remnant of an Indian cake laid on a scorched board near 
 the fire-stones ; and some trout, that had been caught the pre- 
 ceding day in a mountain stream, were languidly moving in 
 a large wooden bowl nearly filled with water. Sooduck, still 
 stupefied by the copious draughts he had taken from Reuben's 
 jug, was stretched on a mat before the door his dog laid be- 
 side him. The faithful animal ever and anon would start from 
 his sleep, look inquiringly around him, lick his master's face, 
 and fall asleep again on his bosom. 
 
 Sooduck. the Indian, (for such he was) had all the peculi- 
 arities of his race. Though so old that he looked as if ' death 
 had forgotten to strike him' his gigantic form was still erect
 
 REDWOOD. 287 
 
 and muscular. In vain Emily explored his long face, as the 
 increasing light of day revealed its rigid lines and worn chan- 
 nels, for some trace of humanity, some signal of compassion ; 
 but it was a visage to pierce the heart of one who sought for 
 mercy with utter despair a visage in which brutal sensuality 
 was mingled with a fierceness that neither time nor events 
 could tame. She remembered to have heard this man de- 
 scribed, and marvellous medical skill imputed to him. She 
 recognized some of the signs of his profession hanging around 
 the interior of his hut ; strings of the rattles of rattlesnakes 
 skins of snakes snakes salted and dried in the air 
 bunches of herbs and roots the plumage of birds their 
 skeletons and eggs in short, he seemed to have levied his 
 contributions equally on the elements of earth, air, and 
 water. 
 
 There are still in the most civilized parts of our country, 
 some individuals of the aboriginal race, who, like the remnants 
 of their stone monuments and sacrifice-rocks, remain among us 
 memorials of past ages. They seek the^ most secluded and 
 wildest spots, where the face of nature, yet untouched by man, 
 expresses some sympathy for them owns an alliance with 
 them. Some of them are pretenders to medical skill, and re- 
 ceive the significant appellation of " root doctors." They no 
 longer affect to possess the charms, and use the spells of the 
 ancient pow-vjows, but their preparations are made with a 
 studied secrecy which, by its influence over the imaginations 
 of the vulgar, produces magical effects. Without taxing our 
 credulity to believe in all the marvellous cures that are as- 
 cribed to them, we see no reason why the simples they extract 
 from the bosom of our kind mother earth should not prove 
 as innocent and quite as efficacious as the drugs of foreign 
 soils.
 
 288 REDWOOD. 
 
 Every one has felt the inspiring influence of returning 
 daylight the most timid are emboldened by it. Emily inhaled 
 the cool and fragrant morning air ; she saw through the open 
 door the dewy foliage glittering in the sunbeams, and the 
 cheerful light that checkered the shaded footpath, and the 
 voice of nature seemed to whisper encouragement to her spirit. 
 She heard the notes of the lark, and the robin, and they 
 sounded in her ear like the voices of her familiar friends. 
 Exhausted as she was by long sufferings and recent terrors, 
 hope nerved her to attempt her liberty. The rattling of the 
 straw as she moved from it startled the vigilant dog ; she saw 
 him fix his eye upon her, and looking around for some means 
 of diverting his attention, she espied a piece of dried meat 
 hanging over the door ; she cautiously took it down, stooped 
 over him and patted him coaxingly, while she offered him 
 the tempting bjibe ; but he shook off her arm, and with a 
 low growl expressed his disdain of her arts. 
 
 Finding the dog impracticable, she trusted that he would 
 not be able to awaken his master from his deep sleep, and 
 stealing timidly around his feet, and having attained the 
 threshold of the door, she ascertained by one fearful glance 
 that he still slept soundly, and rashly bounded over the door- 
 step ; Wt she was suddenly arrested by the dog, who having 
 jealously watched her stolen movements, now sprang after her, 
 and caught her garments between his teeth. While she made 
 an effort to extricate herself, the yelping of the animal awoke 
 his master, who growled on her more fiercely than his dog. 
 She turned towards him,%ft'nd sunk on her knees, and with 
 tears and entreaties, besought him, ' as he hoped for that 
 mercy from Heaven which he * - ould so soon need, that he 
 would have mercy on her.' He needed her no more than if 
 she had spoken to him in a dead language ; and after gazing
 
 REDWOOD. 289 
 
 on her for a few moments silently, and with a mixture of sullen 
 anger and brute indifference, he commended and caressed his 
 dog, and then pulled the helpless despairing girl into the hut. 
 She sunk back on her straw bed, while Sooduck, apparently 
 unconscious of her sobs, and even of her presence, proceeded 
 to make preparations for his breakfast. 
 
 He first whetted his appetite by a copious draught of 
 Reuben's liquor, and then kindled a fire, on which, without any 
 fastidious preparation, he threw the still gasping trout. When 
 they were but half roasted, he offered one on a piece of Indian 
 cake to Emily, who, as might be anticipated, rejected his hos- 
 pitality, though her fast had been a long one. Quite unaf- 
 fected by the scruples of his guest, Sooduck devoured his 
 savage repast with a voracious appetite. He then left the hut, 
 secured the door as well as he was able with a stout cord, and 
 attaching his dog by his collar to a chain wMch was fastened 
 in a staple driven into one of the upright posts, he left the 
 trusty animal to guard his prisoner, while he with his pole 
 and line sauntered to a little brook near his dwelling, but 
 hidden by a thick growth of trees which it nourished on its 
 sides. , 
 
 Emily remained stretched on her rude bed. now giving way 
 to a burst of grief as the recollection of the past, or the 
 gloomy portents of the future overpowered her and now re- 
 lapsing into profound silence, rendered more grievous by the 
 sweet music of nature which struck on the poor prisoner's 
 sickening sense. The melody of the. birds, as they flew about 
 her prison house, breathed freedom and gladness; and the 
 brook, which she distinctly heard as it gurgled around the 
 roots of the trees that impeded its way, or bounded over the 
 stones that vainly obstructed its free passage, seemed to mock 
 her with the song of liberty. 
 13
 
 290 REDWOOD. 
 
 She was sometimes startled by the shrill whistle of the In- 
 dian, who, still pursuing his drowsy pleasure in the shelter of 
 the wood, sent his greeting to his dog, whose hoarse response 
 answered the purpose of the sentinel call of " all is well." 

 
 REDWOOD 291 
 
 CHAPTER XYIL 
 
 '* Proud of her parts, but gracious in her pride 
 She bore a gay good-nature in her face, 
 And in her air was dignity and grace." CRABBE. 
 
 WHILE the transactions so fatal to the peace of Emily Allen 
 were going on, Deborah and Ellen were quietly pursuing their 
 journey, though not as expeditiously as ' Ellen could have 
 wished. She had not, as has been seen, left Eton in the most 
 tranquil state of mind, and she was perhaps more impatient at 
 the little accidents that retarded their progress than she 
 would have been at another time, or under other circumstances. 
 Sometimes the old racked chaise needed repair sometimes the 
 horse, who as Deborah said, " had like herself seen better 
 days, and needed to be favored," required a day's delay and 
 sometimes they came into the neighborhood of an old acquaint- 
 ance or far-off cousin of Deborah's, and she judged it right to 
 diverge from their direct route to prove to them her friendly" 
 remembrance ; for she scrupulously maintained the New 
 England custom, (which among the degenerate moderns is 
 becoming obsolete,) of noticing a relative to the remotest de- 
 gree. Ellen often felt inclined to remonstrate against these 
 repeated delays ; but Deborah was so much accustomed to 
 exercise the petty tyranny of having her own way, that Ellen
 
 292 REDWOOD. 
 
 rightly concluded it would be much easier for her to acquiesce 
 than for Deborah to relinquish her habitual control. 
 
 Ten days had elapsed, when they stopped at a village inn 
 in the vicinity of the Shaker settlement at Hancock : a hostler 
 advanced ; Deborah, before she resigned the reins, gave to 
 him the most minute directions as to the refection of her 
 beast ; but the man, puffed up with the transient importance 
 which he derived from an unusual concourse of travellers that 
 had filled the stables and stable-yards of the inn with fine 
 horses and fine equipages, was evidently quite heedless of 
 Miss Debby's directions. She at last had recourse to the usual 
 expedient of travellers, and though she utterly disapproved 
 the use of such appliances, which she thought were little better 
 than bribery and corruption, she reluctantly drew a four-pence 
 half-penny from her pocket, and giving it to the man, with the 
 air of one who offers ample consideration for ' value received,' 
 " Here," said she, " take this and deal kindly with the beast 
 poor fellow, he has had a tough morning of it, what with the 
 heat and the hills." 
 
 The hostler took the bit of money, looked at it and turned 
 it over with mock gravity, balanced it on the end of his finger, 
 as if weighing it, and then tossed it high in air, accompanying 
 this last expression of his contempt with an insolent laugh, in 
 which he was joined by half a dozen of his associates who had 
 gathered around him. 
 
 Deborah picked up the money as it fell, and deliberately 
 replacing it in her pocket, said with perfect coolness, " A fool 
 and his money are soon parted this is a right punishment for 
 my giving in to these new-fangled ways here, fellow, give me 
 the reins, and call the master of the house to me." 
 
 This appeal to his principal reduced the menial to his 
 proper insignificance, and turned the laugh against him, and
 
 REDWOOD. 293 
 
 Deborah remained fairly mistress of the field till the landlord 
 made his appearance. The raised voices of the different par- 
 ties attracted several persons to the windows and door of the 
 inn, and Ellen felt herself rather awkwardly situated as she 
 stood awaiting the termination of Deborah's arrangements. 
 
 " Walk in, Miss walk in," said the landlord to her, " here, 
 this way, in the parlor ; the house is considerable full, but 
 you'll find room enough to spare yet I'll attend to your 
 mother walk in." 
 
 The attention was now withdrawn from Deborah to Ellen, 
 and each observer probably noticed the disparity between the 
 supposed mother and daughter. 
 
 " Impossible," whispered a young man who stood in the 
 doorway to a lady beside him ; " that she-grenadier cannot be 
 mother to this pretty, graceful girl." 
 
 " Impossible is a rash word for you, Mr. Philosopher," re- 
 plied the young lady : " look there," she added, pointing to a 
 cactus in flower, " there are strange productions odd relations 
 in nature." 
 
 Ellen's ear caught enough of these remarks as she passed 
 along, to inform her that she was the subject of them ; and her 
 embarrassment was increased when the landlord opened the 
 parlor door to usher her in, and she perceived that the room 
 was already occupied by a large party of travellers she shrunk 
 back, and begged her conductor to show her to a private apart- 
 ment. He said that was impossible, for his rooms were all 
 taken up. The young lady at the door observed Ellen's em- 
 barrassment, and advancing, with a mixture of good-nature and 
 graceful politeness, begged Ellen to enter. 
 
 " Our party," she said, " is of such an unconscionable size ! 
 We travel en masse like the patriarchs men, women, and chil- 
 dren, and much cattle and when we have gained possession
 
 204 REDWOOD. 
 
 of a territory we are quite terrible ; but the parlor of a country 
 inn you know is neutral ground, where all parties have equal 
 rights." 
 
 A smile and a bow from Ellen expressed her sense of the 
 proffered courtesy, and .she passed in and seated herself at an 
 unoccupied window. 
 
 " You are a rash woman, Miss Campbell," said the gentle- 
 man in a low voice, whom Ellen had first seen at the door, and 
 who had followed to the parlor. "I see a storm lowering on 
 Mrs. Norton's brow, and I fear she will not permit you the 
 privilege of neutrality." , 
 
 " I care not, Mr. Howard the motto of my family arms is, 
 ' dauntless in war, gentle in peace.' " 
 
 " My family's boastful motto, also," replied Mr. Howard. 
 
 " Indeed !" exclaimed Miss Campbell, " that is singular ; 
 but I hope you are not ashamed of it," she added, noticing a 
 little embarrassment in Mr. Howard's manner. 
 
 " Oh, certainly not ; though one might blush at thinking 
 how little we degenerate sons can do in these peaceful times to 
 verify the pretensions of our fighting forefathers but see, the 
 storm is ready to burst on your devoted head. Mrs. Norton 
 is beckoning to you and even that look of invincible good na- 
 ture which you have assumed will not mollify her." Mr. How- 
 ard's eyes followed Miss Campbell with an expression that 
 seemed to say, ' that look, in poetic days, might have propitia- 
 ted a hyena, or any of the cat tribe.' 
 
 " My dear Miss Campbell," began Mrs. Norton, drawing up 
 her severe features to as stern an expression, as if she was 
 taking up her testimony against the depravity of the age " My 
 dear Miss Campbell, I really wonder at you." 
 
 " Wonder ! Can you, Mrs. Norton, condescend to so vulgar 
 an emotion as wonder ?"
 
 REDWOOD. 295 
 
 " But I am serious, Miss Grace." 
 
 " So I perceive, ma'am." 
 
 "There can be no doubt, I fancy, that you understand 
 me?" 
 
 " Indeed I have not that pleasure." 
 
 Few things are more mortifying to a person of self-conse- 
 quence, than to be called on to explain the cause of a personal 
 irritation, which one imagines quite obvious. After a little 
 fidgeting on her chair, and clearing of her throat, all which 
 Miss Campbell awaited with the most provoking serenity, the 
 lady spoke with the manner of one who in her own little sphere 
 has been looked upon as quite oracular. 
 
 " Miss Campbell, it has ever been my opinion, confirmed 
 by all my experience, and I have had more than most people ;" 
 she paused again, probably from the difficulty of giving suffi- 
 cient dignity to a very small subject, and Miss Campbell slip- 
 ped in " Incontrovertibly, ma'am, few people live to be more 
 than threescore." 
 
 " I did not mean, Miss Grace, the experience of age ; every 
 one who lives to a certain time has that but the experience 
 of" 
 
 " Wisdom, ma'am observation, &c., &c., I understand 
 you.' : 
 
 " Oh, cousin Grace, you are such a tease ;" said a young 
 lady who sat at Mrs. Norton's right hand, and who perceived 
 she was quite as much provoked by being understood, as by 
 not being understood. 
 
 " Your cousin Grace," said Mrs. Norton, " may tease you 
 young ladies, Miss Sarah, but I assure you that I am not a 
 subject for teasing." 
 
 " My dear Sarah," said Miss Campbell, with affected gra- 
 vity, " how could you suspect me of taking such high aim
 
 296 
 
 you know mine are all random shafts, and if they wound, are 
 ' heaven directed' ; but, Mrs. Norton, pray do not deprive me 
 of that valuable opinion of yours the result, if I remember, 
 of unparalleled experience." 
 
 " I shall not be deterred from expressing it by your ridicule, 
 Miss Campbell, self-respect renders one quite superior to ridi- 
 cule." 
 
 " Self-respect renders one quite superior to ridicule," re- 
 peated Miss Campbell with deliberation and emphasis at the 
 same time taking out her pocket-book, seemingly with the pur- 
 pose of recording on her tablets Mrs. Norton's saying " self- 
 respect," she again repeated, as she drew out her pencil, when 
 Mrs. Norton stopped her by exclaiming " Do you mean to 
 insult me, Miss Campbell ?" 
 
 " Insult you ! my dear Mrs. Norton, Lord bless me ! no 
 really, if I have been so unfortunate as to misunderstand you 
 again, you must not lay all the blame on my poor intellects ; 
 for you talk so much in the style of our select reading lessons 
 at school, that I was almost fancying myself there again, and 
 acting accordingly." 
 
 Mrs. Armstead, the aunt of 4 Miss Campbell, thought her 
 niece was carrying matters too far she perceived that Mrs. 
 Norton p elt as awkwardly as a warrior of the olden time, who 
 should be in his heavy coat of mail, assaulted by a light-armed 
 soldier of the present day. 
 
 " My dear Grace," she said, " you have not allowed Mrs. 
 Norton time to explain herself. She noticed the companion of 
 the young woman, towards whom you have thought proper to 
 give yourself such an air of patronizing hospitality, in an alter- 
 cation with the hostler she says she is an excessively vulgar 
 woman, and she thinks, my dear, that it is a great piece of pre- 
 symption for this young woman to come into our parlor with-
 
 REDWOOD. 297 
 
 out an invitation, and rather ill-advised in you to encourage 
 her assurance." 
 
 " Thank you, my dear aunt," replied Grace Campbell, bow- 
 ing her head with affected deference, " for possessing me of 
 Mrs. Norton ; s views of my conduct : and now, my dear madam," 
 she added, turning to Mrs. Norton, " pray do not withhold 
 from me your own expression of your golden opinion." 
 
 Mrs. Norton had strong motives for keeping well with Mrs. 
 Campbell : she was conscious that the lady's fortune, fashion, 
 and talents placed her in the first class, let her make that class 
 as small as she would. She had been excessively provoked at 
 Mrs. Campbell's contempt, or, at best, indifference for her, but, 
 having no alternative, she made to herself a great merit of for- 
 giveness ; obliged to suppress her wrath against Miss Campbell, 
 she meant to indemnify herself by wreaking her vengeance on 
 the innocent stranger, and when she spoke, she spoke calmly, 
 but loud enough to be heard by Ellen. 
 
 " Miss Grace," she said, " there is much excuse for one 
 who is ignorant of the presumption of the common people : 
 you have lived for the most part in town, where you did not 
 come in contact with them." 
 
 " Yes unfortunately, Mrs. Norton, but I have now and 
 then taken a trip to the country, and indemnified myself for 
 the privation. There is nothing in life so tiresome to me as 
 the endless Inanities of the genteel gentlemen and ladies one 
 meets for ever in town we flatter one another's prejudices we 
 adopt one another's opinions and tastes and habits till every 
 thing individual and peculiar is gone we are all formed in 
 the same mould, and all receive the same impression pure 
 gold and base copper all must bear the same stamp to be 
 current coin. It is a refreshment to me to see the nati'.ral 
 character as it is developed in the strong peculiarities one 
 13*
 
 298 REDWOOD. 
 
 meets in the country. I love the common people an unpar- 
 donable sin it may be, Mrs. Norton, but I do love them I 
 love to see the undisciplined movements of natural feeling I 
 sympathize with their unaffected griefs I love to witness their 
 hearty pleasures I had rather receive the expression of their 
 cordial goo*d will, than the compliments of a successful winter's 
 campaign" 
 
 " For heaven's sake tell me, cousin Grace," said a gentle- 
 man who was standing near to her, " are you addressing this 
 tirade in favor of rusticity to Mrs. Norton or to Howard ?" 
 
 A deep blush suffused Miss Campbell's cheeks : she was 
 Ofjo/jfcious that though she had in the onset addressed herself to 
 Mrs. Norton, she had involuntarily, and in obedience to the 
 impulse of sympathy, directed her eyes to Howard. The blush 
 was followed by a beautiful smile, as she replied to her cousin 
 " Is it strange, "William, that my enthusiasm in behalf of 
 the contemned and neglected should impel my eyes instinc- 
 tively to a Howard ?" 
 
 " Beware instinct, Howard instinct is a great matter," 
 whispered young Armstead, and added aloud, " do not bow so 
 like simple Mr. Slender, as if you believed every word of that 
 rattle-brained cousin of mine. She has drank a draught of 
 sentiment this morning on these romantic hills ; but this love 
 of the country and its sweet simplicity is not her first love : 
 she will return to town, and run the course of fashion and folly 
 $with the swiftest of her rivals." 
 
 " For shame, my son : I will not suffer your insinuations 
 against Grace," said Mrs. Armstead ; " I am sure she was 
 never fond of dissipation." 
 
 " Oh no, my dear mother ; dissipation is a self-denying or- 
 dinance with Grace ; and the admiration of half the men, and 
 the envy of all the women, are her voluntary mortifications. 1 '
 
 REDWOOD, 299 
 
 " Ah, Will," replied Miss Campbell. " you are a snarler 
 a predestined old bachelor but you shall see that I will deny 
 the world and all ungodliness forswear your company, and 
 live soberly in this present life." 
 
 " I am certain Miss Campbell has the ability to verify the 
 prophecy she utters," said Howard. 
 
 " I see it is all in vain, my good friends," retorted young 
 Armstead. assuming the gravity of a sage ; " you pour in your 
 poisons faster than I can administer my antidotes ; so go on, 
 and in a few years you will drive my cousin Grace, in spite of 
 her good sense, into the rank of the infallibles : our dear 
 mother would even now persuade you, Grace, as the worthy 
 Bishop Hoadley said, ' not that you cannot err, but that you 
 do not err.' " 
 
 " My good aunt's blindness is not likely to prove fatal to 
 me while I have so clear-sighted a cousin, who, with one keen 
 glance of his eye, can pierce the fog of vanity. But here, 
 William, comes a newer if not fairer subject for your sharp- 
 shooting." 
 
 All eyes were now directed to the door, and Deborah 
 entered. 
 
 The pause occasioned by her entrance gave Mrs. Norton 
 an opportunity to speak, and obliged others to listen to her. 
 She poured forth many wise maxims upon the necessity of 
 jealously guarding the few distinctions of rank that remain 
 among us, and concluded with the condescending declaration, 
 that she always made it a point to speak to persons she met at 
 an inn, but she took good care they should understand, ' thus 
 far shalt thou come, and no farther. 1 
 
 Young Armstead ventured to express a fear that the wave 
 of the multitude would be too strong for her supreme com- 
 mand ; but for the most part the good lady talked without
 
 30C REDWOOD. 
 
 being heeded. Every eye seemed fixed on Deborah, who on 
 entering had given a good-natured nod to the Armstead party, 
 and had proceeded in her operations with as much nonchalance 
 as if she had been in her own little bedroom at home, and 
 mistress of all she surveyed. She walked up to a small look- 
 ing-glass threw aside her bonnet, and began smoothing her 
 refractory locks with a pocket-comb, while she recounted to 
 Ellen, in her homeliest phrase, and with all the exultation of a 
 victor, her success in securing the best hospitalities of the 
 manger for her good steed, and boasted that like a faithful 
 mistress she had insisted on being an eye-witness of his accom- 
 modations. 
 
 It must be confessed that Ellen felt a little disturbed at 
 the ludicrous figure her companion made in the eyes of the 
 fashionable party who were observing her. She perceived that 
 the mirth of the young people was only kept within decent 
 limits by the gravity of their elders, and that gravity was 
 maintained by a difficult effort. She averted her eyes and 
 looked out of the window, when Deborah, who had finished her 
 toilet, and was surveying some pictures that garnished the 
 walls, again exacted her attention. 
 
 " For &e land's sake, Ellen," she said, " come and look at 
 these picturs, and tell me what this means here is something 
 that puzzles me ;" and she fixed her eyes on an embroidered 
 Hector and Andromache, the fruit of at least three months' 
 
 labor of one of the young lady artists of the inn. 
 
 
 ^rThat man," she said, pointing to the Trojan hero, "is 
 
 dressed in the uniform of the Connecticut reg'lars, at least it 
 is as much like that as any thing, and I take it to be the like- 
 ness of Col. Smith. I remember he had a wife and one child, 
 and he parted from them just before the battle of Garmautown, 
 where he lost his life, and a great many other brave fellows
 
 REDWOOD. 301 
 
 that have never been stitched into a pictur, lost theirs too 
 It's always your generals and colonels that get all the profit 
 and Jnonor while they live, and the glory when they are gone, 
 while the poor fellows that suffer hunger and cold die, and are 
 never named nor thought of. But what signifies it ! for the 
 ' same event happeneth to all,' as Solomon says." 
 
 " And it is the honest life that precedes the ' event,' and 
 not the honor which follows it, that makes all the difference," 
 'said Miss Campbell, advancing to Deborah, and entering into 
 her feelings with evident pleasure. 
 
 " Very true, Miss. and very well said," replied Debby, 
 heartily. " May be, .Miss," she added, with an earnest man- 
 ner, which indicated that a very slight observation of Miss 
 Campbell had inspired a great respect for her powers, " may 
 be, Miss, you can help Ellen explain these outlandish names 
 that puzzle me. I am sure there was not in all the Connecti- 
 cut reg'lars such a name as Hector, and as to the other, I can't 
 make any thing out of it." 
 
 " They are fancy names, I imagine," said Ellen, willing to 
 avoid an explanation. 
 
 Deborah passed on to a coarse engraving of Solomon's tem- 
 ple, which she gazed on with at least as honest a rapture as a 
 connoisseur would have felt at the cartoons of Raphael. She 
 commented on its length, breadth, and depth, with critical ac- 
 curacy, observed the number of porches, pillars, windows, and 
 doors, and concluded with expressing her delight that she had 
 " at last seen a picture of old King Solomon's temple." 
 
 Deborah poured forth her comments without heeding the 
 whispers, the stares, and smiles that her oddity excited ; but El- 
 len saw and heard all ; and more pained that her honest friend 
 should be the subject of ridicule, than mortified on her own 
 account, she drew her out of the room into the little piazza in
 
 302 REDWOOD. 
 
 front of the house, and earnestly recommended their proceed- 
 ing on their journey immediately. Her arguments however 
 had no weight with Deborah ; but while she still urged tkem, 
 their attention was attracted by an alarming outcry. The 
 cause of it was at once obvious. A chaise had been overset in 
 the village street, the horse was running with the broken vehi- 
 cle at his heels at full speed, while half a score of men were 
 in breathless pursuit ; a little child stood in the road before 
 the door, his danger was apparent, and his destruction seemed 
 inevitable : the party in the house joined their cries to ihose in 
 the street, while a voice of terror and agony loud above all the 
 rest, screamed, " my child, my child !" The horse received a 
 new impetus from these frightful screams, while the little fel- 
 low stood facing the danger quite unappalled, and resolutely 
 threw his hat at the horse. 
 
 Deborah and Ellen darted forward at the same instant 
 Deborah attempted to stop the horse : she failed in that, but 
 the force of her arm turned him aside from his course, while 
 Ellen snatched the child, and turning, placed it in the arms of 
 its mother, who had just reached the door, and trembling, al- 
 most fainting, extended them to receive her child. This was 
 all the work of an instant. The whole party from the parlor 
 now surrounded Deborah and Ellen. 
 
 Mrs. Armstead, (for she was the mother,) as soon as she 
 had tranquillized her feelings sufficiently to speak, overwhelmed 
 the preservers of her child with expressions of gratitude. The 
 brothers and sisters crowded about, and embraced the little 
 boy, who seemed to wonder why he had caused such emotion ; 
 while Miss Campbell advancing to Ellen, and gracefully 
 offering her hand, said that her ' little 'scape-death cousin had 
 obtained for her the right to beg the name and acquaintance 
 of her whose kind intervention had saved his life." She pro-
 
 REDWOOD 303 
 
 ceeded to lavish praises on Ellen for her prompt courage ; but 
 Ellen modestly declined them, saying, she had been impelled 
 by instinct to the action, and was quite unconscious of any 
 danger till it was past. 
 
 The ice being thus broken, the young ladies, after discuss- 
 ing every particular of the ' hair-breadth 'scape,' proceeded to 
 an animated conversation on various subjects, which elicited 
 the characters of each, and inspired them with mutual admira- 
 tion. Perhaps they liked each other the better, because, though 
 there was a general agreement between them in tastes and sen- 
 timents, there was a striking difference in some particulars. 
 Ellen's manners, without any of the awkwardness or gaucherie 
 of bashfulness or ignorance, were timid, and, with strangers, 
 rather reserved and retiring ; while Miss Campbell had the 
 assured air of one who has held a high command in society, 
 and whose right and habit it was to take the lead in the world 
 of fashion. Ellen, with one of the sweetest voices in the 
 world, talked in rather a low tone the style of her conversa- 
 tion was unambitious and simple, and though it often took a 
 rich coloring from the bright rays of genius and feeling, 
 like those glowing hues which fall on the summer land- 
 scape, and which no contrivance of art can produce or im- 
 itate, there was nothing said to court attention or excite admi- 
 ration. 
 
 Miss Campbell talked rather loud, and with spirit and flu- 
 ency ; she had the fearless manner of one who has often felt 
 her own power, and the weakness of others : she dashed on 
 like an impetuous stream, disdaining obstruction and careless 
 of opposition. She had evidently been accustomed to occupy 
 the foreground of the picture, to be the primary object of 
 attention. She would have been at a loss to comprehend the 
 feeling that suffused Ellen's face with blushes, and imparted
 
 304 REDWOOD. 
 
 tremulousness to her voice, when she found herself the object 
 of an admiring observation. Miss Campbell had been so ac- 
 customed to the homage of society, that the excitement had 
 become as necessary to her as the applause of an audience to 
 a popular actor. In the midst of her most animated and elo- 
 quent sallies, her eye would glance rapidly around her circle of 
 auditors, to catch new inspiration from the silent tribute of 
 their enchained attention. With these faults she had such a 
 fund of good sense, such invincible good-humor and unaffected 
 benevolence, that she commanded the love, the respect even of 
 those who were most sensible of her imperfections. Her vir- 
 tues were her own, the luxuriant growth of a rich soil ; her 
 faults the result of accident, the weeds permitted by neglect, 
 or introduced by improper cultivation. Miss Campbell was 
 not a regular beauty, but her graceful person and fine expres- 
 sion gave to her the effect of beauty. 
 
 Mrs. Armstead, her aunt, resided in Philadelphia, and was 
 on a jaunt to Boston by the way of Lebanon Springs. Mrs. 
 Norton was an old acquaintance and distant relation, whom 
 she had met accidentally. Mr. Howard had been introduced 
 by young Armstead into his mother's family a few weeks be- 
 fore they left home, and recommended to their regard as an 
 old college friend from Boston. 
 
 This introduction is necessary to our readers, but even 
 these concise particulars are more than our travellers ascer- 
 tained of their new friends. The little boy who had been res- 
 cued seemed to have been struck by the manly genius of Debo- 
 rah, and attached himself to her and the whole party, with 
 the exception of Mrs. Norton, were emulous of showing civility 
 to Deborah, and admiration of Miss Bruce. Mrs. Armstead, 
 anxious to improve her brief opportunity of expressing her 
 gratitude, lavished her attentions on Ellen, placed her next
 
 REDWOOD. 305 
 
 herself at table, and melted away all reserve by the warmth of 
 her kindness. 
 
 The dinner being over, preparations were made for the 
 departure of all parties. Deborah's primitive-looking chaise 
 and respectable old horse, were led to the door in the rear 
 of Mrs. Armstead's elegant carriage, which, with the dash- 
 ing gig and tandem of her son, and the horses of their out- 
 riders, effectually ' stopped the way.' "While the servants were 
 adjusting some light baggage, dried fruits and cakes for the 
 young people, the late publications for their elders, &c., &c.. 
 Miss Campbell said to Ellen, " you must allow me to borrow a 
 New England phrase, to ask whither you are 'journeying?' we 
 cannot part from you without the hope at least of meeting 
 again." 
 
 " It is not impossible we may," replied Ellen, " for my com- 
 panion has just announced to me, that if we are successful in 
 attaining the object of our coming to this vicinity, she intends 
 visiting Lebanon springs for a few days.'-' 
 
 " Successful or not successful, Ellen," interrupted Deborah, 
 " I shall go to the pool, for I hear those waters are a master- 
 cure for the rheumatis." 
 
 " Oh, I am told quite equal to Bethesda," said Miss Camp- 
 bell ; " and as you take along with you an angel to .trouble 
 them, you may be sure of experiencing their efficacy. But, 
 seriously, Miss Bruce, I hope no consideration will deter you : 
 we are to linger in the adjacent villages for a day or two, and 
 then go to Lebanon, and I am certain that if we are so happy 
 as to meet you there, my aunt will insist on your attaching 
 yourselves to our party." 
 
 " Grace," said Mrs. Armstead, " you anticipate my wishes 
 you would, indeed, Miss Bruce, do me a great favor by 
 enrolling yourselves in my party." And the young ladies
 
 306 REDWOOD. 
 
 exclaimed, "how glad I shall be and how pleasant it 
 will be." 
 
 Ellen gracefully returned her thanks to each and all, while 
 Deborah, quite ignorant of the tactics of the polite world, com- 
 prehended nothing of the offered civility, but that it was meant 
 in kindness, and therefore deserved the hearty thanks with 
 which she replied to it. 
 
 " Come, my dear girls," said Mrs. Armstead, " we must 
 dispatch this leave-taking ; every thing, I see, is in readiness." 
 
 " Our friends," said Miss Campbell, " must start first. Be 
 good enough, William, to order the servant to lead forward 
 Miss Lenox's horse. I am sure," she added, smiling, " his age 
 and virtues entitle him to precedence." 
 
 The two parties now proceeded to make their adieus ; and 
 the young ladies each, as they took Ellen's hand, slipped on 
 her finger a ring, which they begged her to take for a keepsake. 
 
 The little boy, watchful of every thing concerning his new 
 friends, observed this he drew from his pocket a net purse, 
 through the interstices of which shone a golden guinea, and 
 swelling with manly pride, he offered it to Deborah. 
 
 Deborah patted him on the head, called him a young prince, 
 said his life was worth saving, and, as a matter of course, she 
 handed the purse to his mother. 
 
 " Oh, no, no, Miss Lenox," sajd Mrs. Armstead, " you must 
 keep it; indeed, it would quite break my little boy's heart if 
 you despised his gift." 
 
 " Despise it, ma'am," rejoined Deborah, surveying it witL 
 unfeigned delight. " I was never the owner of a golden gui- 
 nea in my life, and I thought it would be an imposition to take 
 it but I shall take good care of it," and she carefully deposit- 
 ed it in her pocket, adding, " Mr. John, your guinea will seldom 
 see daylight while I live."
 
 REDWOOD. 307 
 
 The last parting words were said the last kind looks re- 
 ciprocated, and all parties arranging themselves in their own 
 places, Deborah drove off in one direction, and Mrs. Armstead 
 and her suite in another. As the children stretched their 
 necks out of the carriage to send their last lingering look to- 
 wards the old chaise and the humble Rosiuante that drew it 
 heavily along, Mrs. Armstead remarked, " how little the young 
 and the truly wise estimate that which is essentially good and 
 lovely by external appearances." 
 
 "As I cannot in conscience, my dear aunt," said Miss 
 Campbell, " take a place in either of those classes, being not 
 very young, and certainly not belonging to the ' select few' of 
 the ' truly wise,' I must investigate the cause of my prompt 
 admiration of our new acquaintance." She shook her head 
 after a moment's deliberation, and added, " I can take no 
 praise to myself, for that charming Miss Bruce is a self-evi- 
 dent lady and her companion an exception to all rules a 
 rude, capital piece of nature a specimen for a philosopher's 
 museum." 
 
 " And I rather think, Grace," said young Armstead, (who 
 had taken his sister's place in the carriage,) " you were not 
 sorry to have an opportunity of giving to our cousin Norton 
 a practical instance of your contempt of her aristocracy and 
 of manifesting to another observer your elevation above the 
 prejudices of society." 
 
 Miss Campbell did not notice the last clause of her cousin's 
 sentence except by a slight blush : she pleaded guilty to the 
 desire of mortifying the baseless pride of Mrs. Norton. 
 " There was nothing," she said, " more essentially vulgar than 
 the consequence that betrayed, by its perpetual vigilance and 
 jealousy, a consciousness that there existed no intrinsic supe- 
 riority an exclusive bigoted spirit ought not to receive any
 
 308 REDWOOD. 
 
 toleration in our society it was opposed to the genius and 
 tendencies of every thing about us we were happily exempt 
 from the servitude of oriental castes, and the scarcely less ar- 
 bitrary classifications of more liberal countries. Superior 
 talents education manners the habits of refined life, were 
 the only distinctions that ought to obtain among us, and they 
 were quite obvious." 
 
 " Ah, coz, I see how it is. Like the Duchess of Gordon, 
 who replied to the managers of the city assembly at New- 
 York, when they apologized for not being able to offer her the 
 precedence to which her rank entitled her, ' never mind, gen- 
 tlemen, wherever I am, there is the Duchess of Gordon.' Like 
 her Grace, you are satisfied that Miss Campbell's is the first 
 place that this modern heraldry of merit will always give her 
 precedence." 
 
 " Thank you, William, for your generous personal applica- 
 tion of my principles you need not shake your head I am 
 in no danger of mistaking any thing you say to me for a com- 
 pliment." .'.* 
 
 "Believe me, Grace," replied her cousin, affectionately 
 taking her hand, " I never was in more imminent danger of 
 joining my voice to the choral song of your flatterers. I sym- 
 pathize entirely in your desire to dissipate the illusions of our 
 conceited and. thank Heaven, ' far-off ' cousin Norton in your 
 admiration of our new acquaintance and in some other ncu- 
 feelings," he added, lowering his voice to a whisper, " that 
 are getting the mastery in your heart and I pray Heaven you x 
 may always show yourself as entirely superior to the adventi- 
 tious distinctions of the world, as with your character you 
 may afford to do." 
 
 " A bona fide compliment from William Armstead ! Saul 
 among the prophets !" exclaimed Grace Campbell.
 
 REDWOOD. 309 
 
 CHAPTER XYIII. 
 
 ' E y a dans 1'aspect de la contre"e quelque chose de calme et de doux 
 qui prepare 1'ame a sortir des agitations de la vie." MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 IT was a fine afternoon in the month of August when our 
 travellers passed the romantic road which traverses the moun- 
 tain that forms the eastern boundary of the valley of Han- 
 cock. The varied pleasures they had enjoyed during the day, 
 and the excitement of drawing near to the object of their long 
 journey, animated them both with unusual spirits. Deborah's 
 tongue was voluble in praise of the rich farms that spread out 
 on the declivities of the hills, or, embosomed in the protected 
 valleys, called forth, as they deserved, the enthusiastic com- 
 mendations of our experienced rustic. Ellen listened in si- 
 lence while she gazed with the eye of an amateur upon this 
 beautiful country, which possesses all the elements of the'pic- 
 turesque. Green hills crowned with flourishing villages vil- 
 lage spires rising just where they should rise ; for the scene is 
 nature's temple, and the altar should be there lakes sparkling 
 like gems in the distant valleys Saddle Mountain lifting his 
 broad shoulders to the northern sky, and the Catskills defining 
 with their blue and misty outline the western horizon. 
 
 A sudden exclamation from Deborah fixed Ellen's atten- 
 tion to one spot in the wide-spread landscape. " As I live,"
 
 310 REDWOOD. 
 
 she said, " there is the very place at last see, Ellen, the yel- 
 low houses they told us of." 
 
 Ellen turned her eye to the long line of habitations of a 
 uniform color and appearance, which, stretching along the 
 plain and sheltered by the surrounding hills, seem sequestered 
 from the world, and present an aspect of peace and comfort, if 
 not of happiness. 
 
 " Ellen, as others have done, wondered that this strange 
 people, who in their austere judgment would condemn the de- 
 light that springs from natural beauty as the gratification of 
 the ' lust of the eye,' should have selected a spot of such pe- 
 culiar charms 
 
 " Ah," said Debby, as her eye wandered over the stubble- 
 fields and the rich crops that were yet unreaped, " these are 
 knowing people they understand their temporals they have 
 chosen their land well." 
 
 ' Then,' thought Ellen, ' it may be that the maxim, the 
 ' useful is the beautiful,' holds good in relation to our mother 
 earth, and that she lavishes her smiles upon those of her loyal 
 children who seek her favors : sure I am, no professed admi- 
 rers of the beauties of nature no connoisseur in all the 
 charms of the various combinations of mountain and valley, 
 pastupe nills and rich meadows, dashing streams and q-iiet 
 lakes, could have selected a more beautiful residence than 
 this.' 
 
 Her meditations were suddenly cut short by another^ ex- 
 clamation from Deborah, who had now turned an angle in the 
 road and entered the village street. 
 
 " Well, if this does not beat all ! Just look here. Ellen, 
 at this little bright stream," and she pointed to a small rivulet 
 that sparkled like a chain of burnished silver in the sunbeams ; 
 " see where it comes racing down the hill yonder, and here,
 
 REDWOOD. 311 
 
 where it crosses the street, it darts under ground as if to hide 
 its capers from these solemn people the thing has sense 
 in it." 
 
 Ellen smiled, and asked " if it would not be well to imitate 
 its discretion, and inquire at which house they should find the 
 elder sister Susan ?" 
 
 Deborah immediately stopped her horse, and waited for the 
 coming up of one of the brethren, who was approaching them 
 from an adjoining field. She spent the few moments of wait- 
 ing in admiring the large richly-stocked garden, without weeds 
 or waste places, the fine stone-posts to the fences, the neatly 
 sawn wood, piled with mathematical exactness, the clean swept 
 street, and all the neat arrangements of the Shaker economy, 
 so striking to an eye accustomed only to the slipshod ways of 
 our country people. 
 
 In the meanwhile Ellen was looking eagerly at the win- 
 dows of a large house near which they had halted, to discern, 
 if possible, the well-known features of Susan or Emily on any 
 of the sisters who, as they passed the windows like shadows, 
 stole an inquiring glance at the travellers. 
 
 When the man had arrived within speaking distance, De- 
 borah asked, ' if she would be so good as to direct her where 
 she could find Susan Allen.' 
 
 " Yea," he replied, " she dwells there ;" and he pointed to 
 the large house Ellen was surveying. 
 
 " Is she at home ?" asked Deborah. 
 
 " Yea. I believe so." 
 
 Either Deborah's imagination was busy, or her sagacity de- 
 tected more meaning in the man's face than was expressed in 
 his brief answers. " Is Susan sick ?" she asked, hastily. 
 
 " If ye have business with her ye can inquire for her at 
 the house," was all the reply vouchsafed.
 
 312 REDWOOD. 
 
 " Much thanks for his information," said Debby, who felt 
 too conscious of the liberty of free inquiry at all times and 
 places, to need the permission' granted in a manner so surly. 
 They stopped at the house designated, and were admitted by 
 one of the sisters, who, in reply to their inquiry for Susan 
 Allen, said, after a little hesitation, that " she was not right 
 well, and would not be able, she believed, to see strangers." 
 
 " Can we, then," asked Ellen, " see Emily Allen ?" 
 
 " Emily Allen !" exclaimed the sister, put a little off her 
 guard by surprise, and then, after a momentary pause, and 
 without making any explanations, she added, " I will acquaint 
 elder sister that there are strangers here if she knows who 
 you are she may choose to see ye be pleased to give me your 
 names." They gave them, and added an earnest request that 
 Susan would see them. 
 
 .She had scarcely given Deborah and Ellen time to inter- 
 change their mutual apprehensions, ere she returned and bade 
 them follow her. She led them up stairs and through a long 
 passage to the elder sister's apartment, only distinguished from 
 the others by being larger and more commodious. Their con- 
 ductor showed them into the room, and then left them, closing 
 the door after her. 
 
 Susan was seated with her back to the door. On hearing it 
 close she rose from her chair with apparent effort, like one en- 
 feebled by disease, and advanced towards Deborah and Ellen. 
 Her face was ghastly pale, but there was no other sign of emo- 
 tion. She gave a hand to each of her visitors, and said, faintly, 
 " ye are welcome sit down, sit down." They obeyed her. and 
 she reseated herself ; a dead silence followed even Deborah, 
 fearless as she was, was awed into the deference of a moment- 
 ary silence by the imposing solemnity of Susan's deportment. 
 It was but for a moment, for her courage flowing back, " what
 
 REDWOOD. 313 
 
 signifies it ?" said she ; an expression that, with her, always 
 signified the utter demolition of all barriers that opposed her 
 purpose : " what signifies it we may as well come to it first as 
 last ; what has happened to Emily ?" 
 
 " Emily is gone," replied Susan, in a deep, low tone, her 
 eyes downcast, and her whole person fixed in statue-like 
 stillness. 
 
 " Gone !" echoed Deborah and Ellen in the same breath ; 
 " how what is it you mean she is not dead, surely ?" 
 
 " Would to God she had died," replied Susan, clasping her 
 hands and raising her eyes, from which the tears now flowed 
 freely: " would to God she had died in the faith." Terrify- 
 ing and incomprehensible as were Susan's words, neither De- 
 borah nor Ellen ventured another question. There was some- 
 thing so strange and unnatural in her convulsive emotion, that 
 it affected them as if a being that had passed the bounds of 
 human feeling, should wake again to the pangs of mortal 
 suffering. 
 
 After some moments of ' strong crying and tears,' she said, 
 " I could have looked on and seen the breath of life leave her 
 body, and yet have said with the Shunammite woman, ' it is 
 well.' I could have laid her away from me in the cold earth, 
 and yet felt that it was well Yea yea, I would gladly have 
 given her up to Him who gave her to me but," she added, 
 shuddering, " I have lost her for time, and for eternity this 
 it is that wrings my heart with such grief -as I thought never 
 to have felt again." 
 
 Ellen was filled with frightful apprehensions for Emily's 
 fate, and yet she knew not how to frame an inquiry about her. 
 Even Deborah could not rally courage to hasten an explana- 
 tion : she walked to the window desirous to conceal the feeling 
 she could neither control nor express ; but the frequent appli- 
 14
 
 314 REDWOOD. 
 
 cation of her handkerchief to her nose made the honest crea- 
 ture's sympathy quite audible. 
 
 It was not long before Susan recovered a degree of com- 
 posure that enabled her to relieve the impatient anxiety of her 
 visitors, as far as the information she had to communicate 
 could relieve it. She began her relation with the fact of Emi- 
 ly's clandestine departure with Harrington. She had herself 
 first learned it on the succeeding morning, when she returned 
 from Lebanon, whither she had, as our readers may remember, 
 been suddenly summoned. She said she should herself have 
 believed that Emily had not been a party to Harrington's 
 treachery. She should have been sure he had forced her 
 away, but that she remembered the child's emotion when she 
 parted with her, and the mysterious language she then held, 
 which was but too clearly explained by the event. The wiles 
 of Harrington, or rather, she said, the wiles of Satan by his ser- 
 vant Harrington, had been too much for the poor girl ; she 
 had been caught in the toils, but she thanked God she had not 
 fallen an easy prey. 
 
 Ellen inquired if nothing had been heard of the fugitives 
 since their departure? 
 
 " Nothing. One of the brethren had been dispatched to 
 Albany, where, they had reason to believe, Harrington meant 
 to put into execution a plan to defraud the society of a con- 
 siderable sum of money. It was now the third day since Har- 
 rington's departure, and on the next day they expected the 
 return of their agent, and it was more than probable that he 
 would bring some intelligence of the fugitives. But, oh Ellen !" 
 she concluded, i: there is nothing to hope for there is nothing 
 more to fear the worst has happened." 
 
 Ellen would not allow the case to be desperate ; not that 
 she could see any rational ground for favorable expectations,
 
 REDWOOD. 315 
 
 but hope is the happy instinct of youth. She showed Susan 
 Emily's letter to her Eton friends, which at least intimated a 
 wish to leave the society ; she hinted at the attachment she 
 believed Emily to have cherished for James Lenox, and she 
 finished with expressing the belief that the poor girl had been 
 the innocent dupe of Harrington's artifices, and had availed 
 herself of his departure, as affording her an opportunity of 
 returning to her friends. 
 
 At another time this would have sounded like harsh conso- 
 lation to Susan ; but now, in comparison with what she feared, 
 this was innocence and happiness, and she eagerly grasped at 
 Ellen's suggestions. " God grant it may be so ! God grant 
 it !" she reiterated. " Oh had I but known, Ellen, that it was 
 in the child's heart to go back to you, I would have given her 
 up. It would have tried me, but oh ! not like this. It would 
 have been but honestly following her light, and though but a 
 dim one, still she would have been saved from this utter ruin ; 
 and now if I could believe that she had fallen innocently, I 
 might weep for her yea, I must weep for her but not these 
 bitter, hopeless tears." 
 
 Ellen entreated her to mitigate her grief, at least till she 
 had more certain knowledge of the motives of Emily's depart- 
 ure. Susan evidently felt humbled to find herself the subject 
 of the compassionate efforts of even the loveliest of the world's 
 people ; but she yielded insensibly to Ellen's beneficent influ- 
 ence, and even admitted that there was some consolation in her 
 rational suggestions. 
 
 Deborah had tact enough to perceive this was too delicate 
 a case for her handling quite out of her province, and beyond 
 her skill ; and therefore she had remained silent till she perceiv- 
 ed that the elder sister was tranquillized, and that Ellen had 
 expended all her consolatory arguments ; she then, like a pru-
 
 316 REDWOOD. 
 
 dent officer, thought it best to retreat before another occasion 
 for action should discover that their strength was exhausted, 
 and she abruptly proposed their departure. Ellen, grieved to 
 think they had no reason for delay, assented ; and Susan, who 
 at another time would have insisted on performing the rites of 
 hospitality to friends that she both valued and loved, silently 
 acquiesced, probably deeming it prudent in the present state 
 of her feelings to exclude every exciting cause. This caution 
 would seem incompatible with strong emotion ; but it must be 
 remembered that caution was habitual to the elder sister was 
 virtue in her estimation and was essential to the preservation 
 of her influence with the society, and had yielded for a short 
 time only to the mastery of those powerful affections over which 
 it had held a long and secure dominion. Such an exhibition 
 of her feelings as that into which she had been surprised by 
 the sudden appearance of Emily's friends would, she well knew, 
 in the view of her brethren and sisters, degrade her to a level 
 far below the frozen summits where they remained secure, re- 
 garding with equal contempt the earthly influences that bless 
 and fertilize, or ravage and destroy. 
 
 Before parting, she promised to dispatch a messenger to 
 Lebanon Springs (whither Deborah informed her that she and 
 Ellen were going, and should remain for a few days.) with any 
 intelligence that she might receive of the fugitives: she then 
 summoned one of the sisters, and having requested her to pro- 
 vide some refreshments for her friends, she bade them farewell 
 with her usual composure, save a little faltering of the voice, 
 and trembling of the lip. 
 
 The travellers were then conducted to a small parlor, where 
 a table was quickly spread for their entertainment. It was 
 covered with a cloth of the purest white by one of the sisters, 
 who lingered in adjusting it. smoothing down the folds, pulling
 
 REDWOOD. 317 
 
 it first on one side, and then on the other, till this artifice of 
 her innocent vanity had succeeded, and Deborah's liberal 
 praises were bestowed on the delicate manufacture which had 
 employed the skill and taste of the sisterhood. 
 
 All the varieties of the ' staff of life' were now displayed : 
 bread made of the finest of the wheat, interspersed with slices 
 produced from the native Indian corn, which, in its prepared 
 state, deserves still to retain the poetical epithet of golden ; next 
 to this plate were placed some tempting slices of the sad-color- 
 ed rye : these gifts of Ceres were so perfect in their kind, that 
 the delicate goddess herself might have banqueted on them : 
 then came delicious butter, and the purest honey the fruits in 
 season, and pies, cakes, and sweetmeats, accompanied (it may 
 be thought somewhat incongruously) by cJieese^ pickles, and 
 cider; and to crown all, the aromatic teapot, diffusing, like the 
 censer at the ancient feasts, its fragrant fumes over all the 
 board. With such incitement, what mortal with mortal senses 
 would have slighted the fare ? 
 
 If the truth must be told, the spirituelle Ellen Bruce, after 
 her long abstinence, did not regard this repast with the indif- 
 ference of a heroine of the old romantic school ; and Deborah, 
 played her part as well as one of Homer's heroes might have 
 done, had he had the good fortune to sit at a Shaking-Quaker 
 tea-table. She was yielding to the hospitable solicitations of 
 the sister in attendance, and taking her fifth cup of tea, when 
 Ellen reminded her a second time that the sun was fast declin- 
 ing, and that, without dispatch, they should be overtaken by 
 the night before they reached Lebanon. Deborah's appetite 
 submitted to the necessity of the case, and our travellers, after 
 thanking their kind entertainer, took leave of her, and left the 
 village, as many other travellers have done, with a grateful 
 sense of the hospitality of its simple inhabitants.
 
 318 REDWOOD 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 " Say from whence you owe this strange intelligence, 
 Or why you stop our way with such prophetic greetings V 
 
 MACBETH. 
 
 ELLEN'S mind had been so filled with commiseration for Susan, 
 she was so much more in the habit of attending to others' feel- 
 ings than her own, that until she had turned her back upon 
 the Shaker village, she did not feel the full weight of her own 
 disappointment in regard to Emily. The thought of old Mrs. 
 Allen's grief, and the most gloomy apprehensions in relation 
 to the poor girl's destiny, engrossed her thoughts, and pre- 
 vented her heeding Deborah's profound remarks on the " pat- 
 tern people," as she termed them. We would not insinuate 
 that Deborah herself was unmoved by Emily's sorrowful case : 
 she would have gone to the ends of the earth to have served 
 her, or any other fellow-creature in distress, but it was an in- 
 violable principle with her ' never to cry for spilt milk.' After 
 expressing some conjectures as to the uncertain fate of the 
 poor girl, bewailing alternately her folly and" her misfortunes, 
 and anticipating with compassion the effect of this last, severest 
 stroke upon the old grandmother she subsided into silence, 
 and permitted Ellen to pursue her sad meditations undisturb- 
 ed. She was at length awakened from them by the deepening 
 of the twilight, and after a slight observation of the road, she
 
 REDWOOD. 319 
 
 asked Deborah if she was quite sure she had not mistaken 
 the way?'' 
 
 Deborah was certain she had taken the road that had been 
 pointed out to her as the shortest cut to the springs, but she 
 began to think they should have been wiser to have remained 
 at the village, or to have taken the more travelled and more 
 thickly-settled road. "However," she said, "it can be, Ellen, 
 but four or five miles to the pool, and if the daylight does not 
 last, we have a moon to-night, and thanks to fortune, neither 
 you nor I are afraid of any thing," 
 
 " Oh, afraid no, I trust not," said Ellen, assuming a cou- 
 rage she did not feel, for her dejected mind had colored with 
 a melancholy hue the face of nature ; and the hoarse sounds of 
 the brawling brook on her right, and the deep, unbroken wood 
 on the left, affected her imagination with an undefined impres- 
 sion of some possible evil. They proceeded at a very slow 
 rate, the ground was ascending, and the jaded old horse lagged 
 along as if he felt the folly of turning his back upon the hos- 
 pitalities of the village. 
 
 They had pursued their way for some time in profound 
 silence. Meanwhile the last traces of daylight had faded from 
 the sky, and the stars began to shed their scanty light upon 
 the grass-grown road. Deborah's patience was at last quite 
 exhausted. " Ellen," she said, " this is the most tedious, lone- 
 some way ever I travelled ; it will never do to creep on this 
 fashion, our horse, poor fellow, is coming to a dead stand let 
 us walk, up the rest of the hill ; you always go like a bird, and 
 a walk will limber my old joints, and serve to warm me this 
 chilly night." 
 
 Ellen acquiesced and as they walked on together, Deborah 
 said, she " had been thinking of all she had heard Squire Red- 
 wood say of the dangers of the old countries, and she was
 
 320 BED WOOD. 
 
 thinking it would be a pretty risky business for two defence- 
 less women to be travelling alone at night in any land but 
 our own." 
 
 " Yes, indeed," replied Ellen ; " but here, thank heaven, 
 there can be no danger ;" and as she spoke she drew nearer to 
 Deborah, for she fancied she heard a rustling in the woods on 
 her left. Deborah heard it too, for she stopped the horse, sav- 
 ing, " Hark what can that be ?" She had hardly uttered the 
 words when a large dog sprang upon them ; both were startled, 
 and looked anxiously in the direction from which the dog had 
 come, but there was neither motion nor sound there. ^ 
 
 " Off, off, you brute !" said Deborah ; and the dog, thus 
 harshly repulsed, turned as if to appeal to Ellen, crouched at 
 her feet, ran from her. and then returned yelping raised him- 
 self quite erect, fawned again on Ellen, wagged his tail, and 
 expressed over and over again his mute and painful entreaties. 
 
 " Words can't speak no plainer," said Debby. " The poor 
 creatur would have us go with him ; but we must drive him 
 away, this is no place nor time to be hindered." 
 
 " Certainly not but," 
 
 " But what, Ellen ? speak out, girl." 
 
 u Why I cannot bear to turn away from the poor thing, it 
 seems like repelling Providence to deny such an instinct as 
 this." As she spoke she patted and caressed the dog : " there 
 may be, I think there must be, some person in distress in these 
 woods some one hunting may have been wounded, such acci- 
 dents are common." The dog seemed to understand her words 
 or her caresses he sprang again towards the wood, again re- 
 turned, repeated all his modes of entreaty, pressing his suit 
 with redoubled vigor, and Ellen replied to him by turning to 
 Deborah, and saying, with determination, "I must follow 
 him."
 
 REDWOOD. 321 
 
 " Are you clean out of your wits, child, to think of patrol- 
 ling these woods after this dog and in case there should be 
 any body here, for the -Lord's sake, what could you or I do ? 
 Come, come along, it grows late." But Ellen still hesitated, 
 and Deborah added, " we cannot be far from a house, and we 
 will alarm some men and send them here, which will be much 
 the properest way." 
 
 Ellen, from her childhood, and ever since the memorable 
 night when a dog had aided in her preservation from the fire, 
 had felt a strong attachment to the whole race, had studied 
 their instincts and history ; and while she stood looking at the 
 petitioning animal, a thousand stories of similar significant 
 actions glanced through her mind, and confirmed her reso- 
 lution. 
 
 " I must follow him, Deborah," she repeated ; " wait for me 
 here a few moments, I will not go beyond call ;" and she turned 
 quickly away to avoid Debby's remonstrance. 
 
 " Stop, Ellen stop, girl do you think I will let you go 
 alone after this jack-o'-lantern ? if you won't hear to reason, 
 why there's an end on't I must go with you." 
 
 Ellen waited while Deborah secured the horse, and they 
 then plunged into the wood after the dog, who trotted along 
 the narrow footpath, turning round often as if to assure him- 
 self they still followed him. " Well." said Deborah. I don't 
 speak from any fear I never was afraid in my life, for I never 
 saw danger ; if I had, I might have been as scared as other 
 people ; but I think for two rational women, we are in an odd 
 place, and following a strange leader." 
 
 " And that is as it should be," replied Ellen, in an en- 
 couraging tone ; " two errant damsels as we are. in quest of 
 adventures danger there is not, cannot be here, and we will 
 not go much farther." 
 14*
 
 322 REDWOOD. 
 
 " No, that we will not ; there is reason in all things and 
 as old Gilpin says, 
 
 " 'Twas for your pleasure you came here, 
 You shall go back for mine." 
 
 " Certainly," replied Ellen, smiling ; " only go a little way 
 farther, the moon is rising, there is a cleared place before us, 
 and if we see nothing there, I will consent to return." 
 
 Ellen's benevolent purpose had conquered her womanish 
 timidity : her tender and youthful spirit was susceptible to 
 romantic influences that her companion could neither feel nor 
 comprehend, and she pressed eagerly on, even in advance of 
 Deborah, till on issuing from the wood, the dog bounded before 
 her, and with one desperate howl threw himself beside a 
 lifeless body. " Good heavens !" exclaimed Ellen, involun- 
 tarily shrinking back and seizing Deborah's arm, and point- 
 ing to the figure, which by the dusky light she could only 
 discern to be that of a man. whether dead or living she 
 knew not. 
 
 Deborah, without speaking, without faltering or hesitating 
 in the least, walked rapidly forward to the body, and stooping 
 down, eagerly gazed on it for a moment, and then raising both 
 her hands in token of astonishment to Ellen, who was timidly 
 approaching, she exclaimed, " A dead Indian as sure as I am 
 a living woman, a dead Indian. ): 
 
 " Is he certainly dead ?" asked Ellen, compassionately 
 bending over him. 
 
 " Dead, child ! look at his fallen jaw, his stark stiff limbs 
 poor soul ! he is as dead as Christopher Columbus." 
 
 Ellen sat down on a prostrate trunk of a tree beside which 
 the body lay, while Deborah examined it for the purpose of 
 ascertaining the cause of the poor wreteh's death. There was
 
 REDWOOD. 323 
 
 a wound on the temple from which the blood had flowed freely, 
 and which Deborah thought might have been occasioned by his 
 fall, as there was a stone lying near his head which it had pro- 
 bably first struck. Fragments of an earthen jug were lying 
 about the body, and Deborah pointing to them, said, " He has 
 died Indian fashion, Ellen, his dog and his jug by him ; after 
 all, for aught we know, he may have died of old age, for he 
 looks as old as Methusalem." 
 
 " Poor creature !" said Ellen ; " and to die at last without 
 a being to care for him." 
 
 " Oh as to that, that is nothing," said Debby, " and if it 
 were, just look at that dog " the dog was licking his master's 
 face and breast " there's many a one, Ellen, that dies on a 
 feather-bed, and them too that have houses and lands, without 
 so true a friend and mourner as that poor brute. But come, 
 Ellen, we can do no good here sermonizing the matter ; we had 
 best make our way back, and give notice of the man's death, 
 that somebody may come and put him under ground, which is 
 fitting should be done, seeing he is a human being, though an 
 old Indian." 
 
 They rose to depart, and looking around, they both per- 
 ceived at the same moment the hut of Sooduck, (our readers 
 no doubt have anticipated that this Indian was none other,) 
 which till now had been hidden from them by the deep shad- 
 ows of the wood. " His wigwam, I declare !" exclaimed De- 
 borah : " we'll get the poor carr'on into it ; for I should be 
 loath, for his dog's sake, that any thing should happen to it till 
 we can get it suitable burial. Do you, Ellen, open the door of 
 the hut, and I will manage to drag the old carcass in." 
 
 Deborah made this division of labor to save Ellen the pain- 
 ful necessity of touching the dead body, and Ellen hastened to 
 execute her appointed task. The door was fastened with a
 
 _ 
 
 324 REDWOOD. 
 
 rope, and she found so much difficulty in extricating the knots, 
 that Deborah came up with the body before she had effected it. 
 Suddenly she stopped, and whispering to Debby, " Hark," she 
 said, " do you not hear a sound a low moaning ?" 
 
 " Pooh, child, you are vapory it is nothing but a kitten/' 
 replied Deborah : and laying down the body, she drew from her 
 pocket a knife, with which she cut the cord that had fallen from 
 Ellen's trembling hands the door flew open, and a loud shriek 
 from within startled even Deborah. She however stepped 
 boldly forward, and saw before her, in the farthest corner of 
 the hut, a terrified girl, who had sunk upon her knees, and 
 covered her face with her hands, in apparent expectation of 
 some dreadful evil. 
 
 " Merciful heaven ! save me, save me !" she cried, as De- 
 borah approached her. 
 
 " What in the world is the matter with you, child ?" said 
 Deborah, " there is no one here that will hurt a hair of your 
 head." 
 
 " We are friends look at us, come to the light," said 
 Ellen. 
 
 At the sound of Ellen's kind and gentle voice the spirit of 
 fear departed from the half-frantic girl : she rose, and looked 
 with trembling hope at her deliverers : they all advanced to 
 the door, the light fell on their faces, and an instant recogni- 
 tion followed. 
 
 " Ellen !" Emily !" Deborah !" Is it possible ?" 
 " It cannot be !" they exclaimed in one breath. 
 
 The joyful sense of hope, of protection, of safety, was al- 
 most too much for Emily. She threw her arms around Ellen's 
 neck, and nearly fainted on her bosom. Her friends drew her 
 to a little distance from the hut, and far enough to avoid her 
 observation of the Indian : there Deborah left her to the
 
 REDWOOD. 325 
 
 soothing efforts of Ellen, while she returned to finish the ar- 
 rangements for Sooduck's body. 
 
 ' An" evil creature he was, no doubt,' thought Deborah, (for 
 the discovery of Emily had thrown a strong light on Sooduck's 
 character.) an evil creature, but it is all passed to his own 
 account now, poor wretch !' 
 
 These and similar reflections of a compassionate nature 
 filled Deborah's mind while she dragged in the body, composed 
 it decently on the straw, and covered it with a blanket. The 
 
 .X" 
 
 faithful dog took his station beside it, and there Deborah left 
 him to keep guard, until she could send some' persons to per- 
 form the last offices for his master. 
 
 These arrangements occupied but a few moments, but they 
 gave Emily time to recover a sufficient degree of strength and 
 calmness to accompany her friends back to the chaise. The 
 tide of joy that comes from a sense of deliverance from great 
 danger is prompt and powerful in its operations. The timid 
 despairing girl, released from her captivity, and in the pres- 
 ence of her friends, felt as if she had been translated to 
 another world, and before they reached the chaise she relieved 
 their worst apprehensions by giving them a sufficiently clear 
 account of Reuben's treachery. 
 
 From them she first learned Sooduck's death, and could 
 afford no clue to its cause. He had left her as usual in the 
 morning, and she had heard nothing since but the terrible up- 
 roar made by the dog, when (as she now conjectured) on seeing 
 his fallen master, he had struggled, and at last successfully, to 
 release himself from his confinement. 
 
 It seemed probable that Sooduck, tempted by the superior 
 quality of the liquor furnished by Harrington, or by its abun- 
 dance, had indulged his appetite to such excess as to extinguish 
 his feeble spark of life; or, as Deborah concluded, his fall
 
 326 REDWOOD. 
 
 had occasioned his death. After quite as much consideration 
 as the miserable subject merited, the verdict of our fair jury 
 was ' accidental death.' Emily accounted for her terrors on 
 the appearance of her friends by saying, that her fear of Har- 
 rington had converted every sound into a notice of his return. 
 It seemed utterly impossible for the poor girl to express her 
 joy that she had been rescued from him, and her gratitude to 
 her deliverers. She had not once mentioned the elder sister's 
 name in her brief relation of her flight ; but Ellen, ever con- 
 siderate of others, proposed as they reached the chaise, that 
 they should return to the village and relieve Susaq at once 
 from her painful apprehensions. Emily said nothing, for she 
 hesitated between her wish to see and to relieve her kind 
 friend, and her reluctance to venture within her prison bounds. 
 
 Deborah cut the deliberation short by saying, " No, no, 
 Ellen, you have had your way once, and a good way it proved, 
 and I shall think to my dying day that the Lord led you up 
 through them woods but now I must have mine. There is no 
 knowing," she whispered to Ellen, " what might happen if we 
 went back ; ' a bird in the hand,' you know Come, jump in, 
 Ellen jump in. Emily, my little godsend, and we'll on as fast 
 as possible." 
 
 Ellen acquiesced, secretly resolving with the morning dawn 
 to dispatch a messenger with the good news to Susan ; a reso- 
 lution she exactly performed. The travellers then proceeded 
 at good speed to Lebanon Springs, and arrived there before 
 midnight without any other interruption than that occasioned 
 by Deborah's ' keeping good faith with the dog,' as she termed 
 it, by stopping at the first house on their way to give informa- 
 tion of Sooduck's death. 
 
 As Emily Allen's connection ceased from this time for ever 
 with the Shaker society, we will inform our readers now, with-
 
 REDWOOD. 327 
 
 out troubling them again to recur to the subject, with the re- 
 sult of Harrington's expedition to Albany. Harrington had 
 received from Freeborn, the ruling elder of the society at 
 Hancock, a check for five thousand dollars, which was the 
 principal part of a sum lodged to the credit of the society in 
 a bank in Albany, where they were in the habit of depositing 
 the surplus money which they received from the sale of their 
 productions of agriculture and manufactures. This money 
 had been at various times received in the market of Albany, 
 and deposited in the bank for safe keeping ; and these five 
 thousand dollars were now wanted to pay the purchase-money 
 of an adjoining farm, which the elders had determined to add 
 to their possessions. It was however designed by Harrington 
 for a very different application. Eager to secure the money, 
 he went to the bank immediately upon its being opened in the 
 morning, and presented the check for payment. 
 
 The clerk who received it observed that the check was pay- 
 able not to bearer, but to order, and that it must be endorsed 
 before it could be pard. Harrington said that he would en- 
 dorse it, which he immediately did, and presented it again for 
 payment. This delay and conversation attracted the notice of 
 the cashier, who took up and examined the draft as the clerk 
 was counting out the money to Harrington. 
 
 " Stop," said he, " the check is payable to the order of 
 Reuben Harrington and John Jacobs, and must be endorsed 
 by them both. Elder Freeborn is a very exact man about 
 worldly matters, and as he has made his check payable to the 
 order of two people, we must have the order of both of them." 
 
 Harrington could not restrain the expression of a little 
 more impatience than became his garb and assumed character : 
 he however received back the check, and said that he would 
 step to friend Jacobs, who lived in the next street, and procure
 
 328 REDWOOD. 
 
 his endorsement. He then called on Jacobs and requested 
 him to endorse the check. This Jacobs was a sober, staid citi- 
 zen, who had often had dealings with the Shaker society, and 
 had contracted some acquaintance with the elders, and particu- 
 larly elder Freeborn. 
 
 When Harrington had explained the business, Jacobs, after 
 a little reflection, said that he saw no harm which could come 
 to him from endorsing the check, which he accordingly did. 
 " Friend Freeborn," said he, " is a careful man, and likes to 
 have his business done right. I will step and get the money 
 for you myself." He went out, and returned after a few min- 
 utes with bank notes to the amount of the check. He then en- 
 tered into some general conversation with Harrington, who 
 restrained his impatience for the actual possession of the prize 
 as much as possible : at last, however, he observed that he 
 must be going, as he had business to do in the city that day 
 before he returned home. Jacobs took no notice of this hint, 
 but continued the conversation upon the subject of some 
 Shaker ploughs which he had for sale on commission. At last 
 Harrington asked him directly for the money. 
 
 " You shall have it," replied Jacobs, " as soon as you give 
 me elder Freebor.n's order for it." Harrington said that he had 
 no such order, and that none was necessary ; that the check 
 was in his favor as well as that of Jacobs', and that he was an 
 elder as well as Freeborn. 
 
 " Elder Freeborn," said Jacobs, " hag the care of the pru- 
 dentials. At any rate, I have received this money upon his 
 check, and I must have his order before I pay it away to any 
 body." 
 
 Harrington entreated and remonstrated, but the man of 
 business seemed inclined to adhere to his punctilio. Harring- 
 ton had before entertained some apprehension that his fraudu-
 
 REDWOOD. 329 
 
 lent designs were not wholly unsuspected by the shrewd and 
 cautious Freeborn, and it now occurred to him that the embar- 
 rassment in which he was placed might not be wholly acci- 
 dental. His threats and flatteries only served to confirm the 
 cool and wary Jacobs in his suspicion of Harrington's dishonest 
 intentions at last, quite discouraged, Harrington left the im- 
 practicable trader, cursing the superior cunning that had baf- 
 fled his well-concerted project. 
 
 His next concern was in regard to Emily. It appeared 
 easiest, and would certainly be safest, to abandon the wreck 
 to give up the ship ; but he had so long flattered himself with 
 the possession of this young creature, he so thirsted for revenge 
 against Susan, and his pride was so much interested in at least 
 a partial success, that after some anxious deliberation with 
 himself, he determined to return to Emily, not doubting that 
 she would accept her liberty on any terms he should vouchsafe 
 to offer. Accordingly he left Albany late in the afternoon, and 
 having travelled all night, he arrived at Sooduck's hut just at 
 the break of day on the morning after Emily's escape. It is 
 not necessary, and certainly would be difficult to paint his con- 
 sternation at the sight that there greeted him. But there was 
 no time for inquiry or delay. It was important to him that 
 he should not be recognized in that neighborhood. He was 
 not, however, destined to escape without farther mortification. 
 On re-entering the public road he was met by some men, who 
 had collected in consequence of Deborah's notice, to dispose of 
 Sooduck's body. They had heard the story of his villainy, 
 which was already in general circulation. They knew him 
 well, and moved by an intuitive love of justice, as well as by a 
 friendly feeling to the society, they stopped his horses, bound 
 him hand and foot, and drove him in triumph back to his 
 Shaker brethren.
 
 330 REDWOOD. 
 
 The messenger dispatched by Ellen arrived about the same 
 time ; and Susan, thus relieved from her anxiety, and rejoicing 
 in the innocence and safety of Emily, was able to assist at the 
 council that was called to deliberate on the proper measures to 
 be taken in regard to the culprit. The result of a short con- 
 ference was equivalent to the sentence of the Quaker against 
 his dog. ' I will not myself kill thee,' he said, ' but I'll turn 
 thee on the world and give thee a bad name.' Reuben Har- 
 rington was dispossessed of every thing he held belonging to 
 the soci-ity, but the clothes that covered him, and sent out to 
 wander upon the earth, despised and avoided, enduring all the 
 misery r.f unsuccessful and unrepented guilt.
 
 REDWOOD. \ 333 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 " The billows on the ocean, 
 The breezes idly roaming, 
 The clouds' uncertain motion, 
 They are but types of woman." 
 
 BURNS. 
 
 IT is probably well known to most of our readers, that Leba- 
 non is a favorite resort during the hot months. It lies on a 
 post-road from Boston to Albany is of easy access from New- 
 York and from the beauty of its scenery, the salubrity of its 
 air, and its proximity to Saratoga Springs, attracts, for a short 
 time at least, the throng of visitors to those celebrated waters. 
 The mineral spring that is nominally the chief attraction of 
 the place, should not be forgotten ; if not as efficacious as its 
 neighbors would fain believe, it is at least innocent no one 
 can forget it who has seen the bright waters for ever bubbling 
 up from the bosom of the earth, and admired the sycamore- 
 tree that stands beside the sparkling fountain, like its guardian 
 genius, and drops its protecting branches over it. 
 
 Our travellers were fortunate in the time of their arrival : 
 large parties had left the place the preceding day, and they 
 were able to obtain two apartments in Mr. Hull's well-known 
 house ; one was assigned to Ellen, and the other Emily shared 
 with her relative and true friend Deborah.
 
 332 REDWOOD. 
 
 Ellen, wearied as she was, did not retire to bed until she 
 had written a note to the ' elder sister,' containing all the par- 
 ticulars of Emily's distressful experiences and providential 
 rescue ; nor till she had obtained a promise from her landlord 
 that he would dispatch it with the first ray of light. The com- 
 mission was faithfully executed, as might have been expected 
 frcm his obliging character, 
 
 Even after Ellen had performed this duty, it was long ere 
 she could compose her mind to sleep, Relieved of all anxiety 
 concerning Emily, her thoughts reverted to the friends she had 
 left at Eton ; hovered about Mr. Redwood with an undefinable 
 interest, and finally concentrated on Charles Westall. All the 
 circumstances of her brief intercourse with him passed in re- 
 vision before her ; and she dwelt on each particular over and 
 over again, as a miser counts his treasures the cherished re- 
 collections of memory gave place to the (perhaps unbidden) 
 visions of hope, and all at last faded away like the bright tints 
 of the evening cloud, and she sunk into profound repose. 
 
 Deborah's weariness prevailed over the force of long habit, 
 and neither she nor her protegees awoke till a late hour in the 
 morning, when, in compliance with Ellen's persuasions, she or- 
 dered breakfast in her room : after partaking it with her usual 
 appetite, she left her less enterprising companions, and sallied 
 forth to reconnoitre the premises, and to try the effect of 
 bathing on her rheumatism. 
 
 Neither Ellen nor Emily felt any disposition in the pre- 
 sent state of their minds to remain at Lebanon. Emily's affec- 
 tions, released from the captivity of an imaginary duty, had 
 bounded forward to their natural destination ; and Ellen was 
 impatient to accelerate her return to Mrs. Harrison, to whom 
 alone she could unburthen her heart ; but they both knew that 
 Deborah had resolved to remain at the springs for some days,
 
 REDWOOD. 333 
 
 and that her resolution once formed, was quite as immutable as 
 the laws of the Medes and Persians. They felt too, that after 
 the great inconveniences the good woman had endured, and the 
 essential services she had rendered them, there would be a spe- 
 cies of ingratitude in opposing her wishes. Ellen had not a 
 nature to resist the persuasion of such a motive : the gentle 
 Emily never resisted any thing, and they both prepared to 
 appear with the best grace they could before the gay and the 
 fashionable, under the conduct of Miss Deborah. Emily's life 
 had been too retired and humble to expose her to any moi tifi- 
 cation from the appearance and manners of her chaperone, yet 
 she shrunk with natural timidity from the possibility that her 
 history might be known, and that she might therefore be ex- 
 posed to the curious gaze and free remarks of strangers. But 
 Ellen encouraged her with the assurance, that as they were all 
 strangers, there was no clue to the discovery that she was the 
 little runaway Shaker, and having made her doff her Shaker 
 dress, and put on a simple mourning frock which she had pro- 
 vided for her, she remodelled her hair formed some becoming 
 curls on her temples and imparted such a worldly tasteful- 
 ness to her appearance, that the simple girl confessed herself 
 so completely metamorphosed, that she hardly recognized her 
 own image, 
 
 As neatness and simplicity were the presiding graces at 
 Ellen's toilet, its duties were very expeditiously dispatched. 
 Happily for her, since she did not possess the gifts of fortune, 
 the loveliness of her face and figure made her superior to her 
 favors or arts, at least so thought Deborah, as well as more com- 
 petent judges, for when she re-entered after her perambulations, 
 she said (the only speech of hers on record that betrays any 
 femality,) she did not believe the United States could produce 
 Wo girls 'prettier to look at.' Ellen felt some consternation
 
 334 REDWOOD. 
 
 when she added, that ' though she was not much of a dresser, 
 she liked to rig out suitably to her voyage ; and as she had 
 observed by the ladies she had met, that Lebanon was a dressy 
 place, her young folks should not be ashamed of her.' 
 
 She then proceeded to unpack her trunk, and drew from its 
 stores a 'lutestring changeable,' manufacture of the olden 
 time. The fancy of Deborah's youth had been orange and pur- 
 ple, and as it was her pride and boast that she never altered 
 her apparel in subservience to the whims of fashion, the 
 ' changeable' that had remained through all chances and changes 
 unchanged, and always " like a robe canonical, i^e'er seen, but 
 wondered at," was once more dragged forth to the light of day, 
 and its antique and unbending dignity exposed to the levity of 
 modern gossamer belles. 
 
 Ellen watched Deborah with dismay, while she drew on the 
 closely fitted sleeve, and laced the formal waist, and adroitly 
 placed her gold beads over her 'kerchief, that their light might 
 not be hid. After her first and brief sacrifice to the graces, 
 turning to Ellen, she said, with a complacency that her young 
 friend could not but pity, " Now I think, as to dressing-up, I 
 am fit company for any body what do you say, Ellen ? 
 
 " Fit company for any body you always are, Miss Deborah," 
 replied Ellen, "without any outward adorning but I think 
 your dress admits of one improvement ;" and while she made 
 an effort to restrain the smile that in spite of her hovered on 
 her lips, she persuaded Deborah that a lace shawl, which she 
 dexterously threw over her shoulders, improved her appearance. 
 Deborah assented, and the dinner bell ringing, our heroine, 
 with the courage of a martyr, slipped her arm into one tif Deb- 
 orah's, while Emily, in happy ignorance of the ludicrous anti- 
 quity of her friend's costume, took the other. Thus they 
 entered the dining room, where the company was already assem-
 
 REDWOOD. 335 . 
 
 bled, and having taken their seats, were precisely at that point of 
 momentary silence that precedes the general onset. The rus- 
 tling of Deborah's silk attracted some observation, but it was 
 not till she moved to the head of the table, and took possession 
 of a seat that had been reserved for a gentleman who usually 
 occupied it, while Ellen and Emily slid into vacant chairs on 
 each side of her, that every eye was fixed upon the novel group. 
 Deborah's figure, in her usual apparel, was rather grotesque, 
 but not sufficiently so to provoke or excuse laughter she 
 would have looked between Ellen and Emily like the gnarled 
 oak, somewhat scathed by time and accident, but still respect- 
 able in its hardy age, whose firm protection the tender vines 
 had sought, and bloomed around it in all the freshness of youth 
 and beauty. But the yellow and purple changeable was irre- 
 sistibly ludicrous. Some lively girls who sat near the head 
 of the table began a titter : the infection was caught by their 
 neighbors, and all, even grave matrons and staid old gentlemen, 
 were compelled to turn their faces, hide them with their hand- 
 kerchiefs, or outrage all breeding, violate all decorum, and laugh 
 outright. Poor little Emily, not discerning the subject of the 
 mirth, and seeing it was directed towards the part of the table 
 she occupied, believed herself the subject of it, and half fright- 
 ened out of her senses, averted her head to conceal her blushes 
 and her tears. Deborah's sagacity was at fault for a moment, 
 but the truth suddenly flashed across her mind, and involun- 
 tarily rising and turning to Ellen, " Am I their music ?" she 
 exclaimed ; when seeing that Ellen too for the truth must be 
 told had lost all command of her risibles, and had joined the 
 laughers, her astonishment expressed, ' and thou too 1 this is 
 the unkindest cut of all ;' and she would have probably said 
 something equivalent to it, but the attention of the company 
 was diverted by a bustle at the door ; and Mr. Redwood enter-
 
 336 REDWOOD. 
 
 ed, leading in Mrs. Westall, and followed by Miss Redwood 
 attended by Charles Westall. 
 
 Deborah's tall figure, standing erect at the head of the 
 table, first caught Mr. Redwood's eye, and to the surprise of 
 the company he exclaimed, " Miss Deborah ! my old friend 
 God bless you, I am glad to see you, and Miss Bruce my 
 dear Ellen," he said, advancing with the greatest cordiality, 
 and shaking Deborah's hand heartily, and kissing Ellen's, 
 " this is delightful, to meet you again and so unexpectedly !" 
 
 Deborah forgot her irritation in her sudden pleasure, and 
 returned Mr. Redwood's greeting with all her heart. "I 
 thought, sir," she said, " that you were half way to Boston by 
 this time." 
 
 " I was half way there, Miss Deborah, but my courage 
 failed me : I found my strength and spirits unequal to en- 
 joying the society of Boston. I have not philosophy enough 
 to resist its attractions, so I turned my face homeward, and 
 have been guided hither," he concluded, looking at Ellen, " by 
 my good genius." Ellen, disconcerted by the unexpected ap- 
 pearance of the party, could not command words to reply to 
 Mr. Redwood, or to return Mrs. Westall's polite recognition. 
 
 Mr. Redwood observed her embarrassment. " We are 
 keeping our friends standing," he said ; " let us pass on, Mrs. 
 Westall, my daughter I believe is at ..the lower end of the 
 room :" then lowering his voice to Ellen, he added, " we shall 
 see you immediately after dinner." ^v 
 
 Deborah looked after Mr. Redwood as he walked away, 
 and shook her head " He is dreadfully changed. Ellen, since 
 we left him poor*man, he is not long for this world." 
 
 Ellen had noticed that his face, as the glow of surprise 
 faded from it, reverted to a sickly, ghastly paleness : but at 
 this moment a subject of stronger interest occupied her mind.
 
 REDWOOD. 337 
 
 She ventured a timid glance towards that part of the room to 
 which Miss Redwood had turned on seeing her : there appear- 
 ed to be some delay about the arrangement of the seats for 
 the new comers. In the meantime Miss Redwood was still 
 standing with her arm in Westall's, and receiving the compli- 
 ments of a gentleman in the uniform of a British officer, who 
 had just approached from the table. Ellen fancied she saw 
 for the feelings that made her heart at that moment throb al- 
 most audibly have a wonderful effect on the vision she fan- 
 cied she saw a mingled expression of impatience and joy on 
 Westall's countenance, and a moment after she heard him 
 Doming towards her with rapid steps. 
 
 The dread of observation the fear of exposing those emo- 
 tions that every delicate woman instinctively conceals, restored 
 to her at once her self-command, and when she gave Westall 
 her hand, she simply evinced the frank pleasure that became 
 the reception of any friend ; and she preserved her self-posses- 
 sion in spite of Deborah's exclaiming with her usual blunt- 
 ness, " Well now, Mr. Westall ! it does a body's heart good to 
 see the face of a friend in a strange land, and especially yours, 
 and looking so joyful too." 
 
 " I shall like my face the better all my life," replied West- 
 all, " for speaking such plain truth : it would be but a poor 
 index if it did not make the pleasure of this unexpected meet- 
 ing intelligible. Miss- Bruce, I rejoice to see," he added, in 
 an under tone, " that you have been successful in your benevo- 
 lent mission but my mother is beckoning to me farewell till 
 after dinner." 
 
 So important an event as the arrival of a celebrated beauty 
 at a watering-place, effected a complete diversion in favor of 
 Deborah's changeable and the regard shown to her by Mr. 
 Redw/Jod shielded her from the ridicule of the company. 
 15
 
 338 REDWOOD. 
 
 After complimenting by her keen relish a variety of viands 
 within her reach, Deborah turned to observe how her protegees 
 fared. " I am glad, Emily," she said, " to see you have an 
 appetite ; but Ellen, child, what ails you 1 you eat as people 
 eat in dreams, that is to say, you don't eat at all : you must be 
 more nice than wise, not to find something to suit your palate 
 on this table, where there is such a fulness, and all fresh too. 
 Take a piece of the chicken, Ellen it is a nice chicken for 
 this time o' year by the way, I must find out how this young 
 Mr. Hull feeds his chickens try a piece, Ellen" Ellen de- 
 clined it. " Well then, take a piece of the lamb, child. I can 
 assure you it is a firstling of the flock, tender and fat ; or if 
 you don't fancy lamb, let that gentleman help you off the dish 
 next him what do you call it, sir ?" 
 
 " Ragout, madam." 
 
 " Well, I never heard the name before, and I can't tell now 
 any more than when I ate it, whether it's fish or flesh, but for 
 a new-fashioned thing it's very pretty tasted the fare is ex- 
 cellent. I have ate a little of all, and I freely give it my re- 
 commend. Come, Ellen, don't split peas any longer, but take 
 a little something do." 
 
 Ellen continued, however, obstinately to refuse Deborah's 
 solicitations ; and her attention being soon engrossed by the 
 pies and puddings which she appeared to deem worthy succes- 
 sors of the meats, Ellen was relieved from her persecutions, 
 and permitted for a short interval to chew the food of sweet 
 and bitter fancies a kind of food that had quite spoiled her 
 appetite for any grosser elements. 
 
 The unforeseen meeting with the Redvrood party had sug- 
 gested to Ellen's mind hopes and fears resolutions and irreso- 
 lutions. It must be confessed that there was something in the 
 expression of Charles Westall's face, and in the tones of his
 
 REDWOOD. 339 
 
 voice, that conveyed to her heart an assurance of consolation for 
 any evils that might await her. Love insinuates its language 
 through the eyes, and in the modulations of the voice, but those 
 alone whose senses have been touched by the magic herb of 
 Oberon can comprehend it to all others it is like the ' har- 
 mony of immortal souls' they cannot hear it. Who could 
 have imagined that Ellen had deduced from her brief interview 
 with her lover the absolute certainty that she had nothing to 
 fear from the arts of Miss Kedwood ! Who could have ima- 
 gined that it strengthened her resolution to await the reversion 
 of Mrs. Westall's kindness, and the development of her own 
 history ! But so it was. Certain that his attachment to her 
 had not been shaken by Caroline's artifices, nor his mother's 
 distrust ; she was willing to leave all the rest to time and 
 chance ; or, rather for we are doing injustice to the religious 
 habits of her mind to the kind Providence that had thus far 
 watched over her. 
 
 Ellen dreaded coming in collision again with Miss Red- 
 wood : she trembled at the recollection of the unaccountable, 
 mysterious hatred which Caroline had expressed at their last 
 interview ; but after a little reflection she arrived at the tran- 
 quillizing conclusion, that the eclat that would attend Miss 
 Redwood on the scene where they were now to play their parts, 
 would render her quite hidifferent to so insignificant a personage 
 as herself; and in the shelter of her humility, she hoped to 
 pass without observation or envy. She resolved to forego the 
 pleasure of Mr. Redwood's society, to make the more difficult 
 sacrifice of Westall's, and in short, to seclude herself as much 
 as possible in her own apartment. 
 
 Ellen learned from the remarks of the persons sitting 
 around her, that Miss Redwood's fame had preceded her arri- 
 val. 'frdPoor girls !" said a good-natured looking old gentleman,
 
 340 , REDWOOD. 
 
 who was surrounded by his nieces, to whom he addressed him- 
 self, " you may hang your harps upon the willows now, or play 
 a requiem on them to your departed glory this southern lu- 
 minary will put out your light. See, my poor little Anne, your 
 military beau has fallen within the sphere of her attractions 
 already." 
 
 " I could not, in reason, uncle," retorted the young lady, 
 " expect such a light material as Fitzgerald to resist Miss Red- 
 wood's solid attractions ; give up your old-fashioned whim, 
 uncle, of leaving a modicum to your relations to the seven- 
 teenth degree banish all," she continued, glancing her eyes 
 sportively around upon her companions " sisters, cousins, all 
 all, but faithful Anne. Make me your sole heiress, uncle 
 add golden spurs to my armor, and Fitzgerald the prize, I 
 will not fear to enter the lists against Miss Redwood." 
 
 " That's a brave girl, Anne, and a good-tempered girl, too," 
 replied her uncle, patting her cheek. " I like a girl that can 
 lose an admirer, and bear a joke about it : you are ten times 
 prettier, Anne, in my eyes, than Miss Redwood. I would not 
 exchange your good-humored dimples for all her beauty. I ob- 
 served that as she entered the room something crossed my 
 young lady's humor she flashed the fires of her bright eyes 
 towards this end of the table, and ' the angry spot did glow on 
 Caesar's brow.' " 
 
 There was a fat lady sitting next the speaker, blowing away 
 sturdily with her fan, and waiting impatiently for her turn to 
 pour forth. She was one of those busy people, whose minds 
 seem to be a sort of alms-basket, into which they collect odds 
 and ends of information that belong to every body's affairs but 
 their own. After saying that she fancied any one who thought 
 Miss Redwood was not amiable would find himself greatly in 
 error, she detailed, with the air of consequence with which she
 
 REDWOOD. 341 
 
 felt herself invested by the possession of such important par- 
 ticulars, the news she had picked up about the Redwood party, 
 in which, as our readers will observe, there was the usual pro- 
 portion of truth that obtains in such rumors. 
 
 " An express," she said, had arrived the day before to se- 
 cure rooms for the party. They had been detained a long time 
 in a miserable hovel in Vermont, in consequence of a' terrible 
 wound which Mr Redwood had received when he was wrecked 
 on the lake, or overturned in his carriage, she was not sure 
 which, but she understood the account was in the newspapers 
 at the time. Poor Miss Redwood had suffered shockingly. 
 Her friends had been apprehensive that her life would be 
 sacrificed to her fatigue and confinement with her father. Her 
 life, at the time of the accident, had been saved by the young 
 gentleman who was with them ; and it was believed, indeed," 
 she added with a simper, " she might say it was certain they 
 were now engaged, for Mr. Redwood, who had withheld his 
 consent on account of the young man's want of fortune, had 
 lately become interested in Mr. Westall, and all now was going 
 on smoothly." 
 
 " What trumpery ! what nonsense !" Deborah repeatedly j*& 
 ejaculated in an under-voice, as the narrator proceeded, when 
 Ellen, frightened lest she should take up her testimony, whis- 
 pered a caution, which she had the prudence to heed. 
 
 Some one asked of the lady informer the source of her in- 
 formation. She said that a particular friend, who had left the 
 springs that morning, had shown her a letter from a lady in 
 Charleston, who had seen a letter which had been received 
 from Miss Redwood. 
 
 " Yonr information, madam, is doubtless authentic," said 
 the ora gentleman, affecting a credulity which he was far 
 enough from feeling ; ' ; but I am quite happy to observe, that
 
 342 
 
 EEDWOOD. 
 
 the apprehensions of the young lady's friends concerning her 
 health were groundless. She is a perfect Hebe." 
 
 " Oh, that may well be, sir young people recover sur- 
 prisingly ; but it is sure that Miss Kedwood remained with her 
 father night and day for weeks how could she help it ? The 
 people, you know, so far in the country are quite barbarians." 
 
 Ellen, perceiving that it would be utterly impossible for 
 Deborah to suppress her indignation much longer, proposed 
 withdrawing from the table, and Deborah assented, loth to 
 retreat without giving battle. 
 
 As they left the dining-room, the British officer, who had 
 taken his seat next Miss Redwood, (and who was the same 
 Captain Fitzgerald of whom she had made such honorable 
 mention in a letter to her grandmother,) said to her, " In the 
 name of heaven, who is that ancient oddity ? I saw your 
 father address her as he came into the room." 
 
 " She is a Vermont woman a demi-savage, that we met in 
 our travels." 
 
 " So I imagined she looks like a Yankee militia major, 
 dressed in his mother's wedding gear ; but that pretty girl 
 with her, who seems to belong to another age and country, who 
 is she ?" 
 
 " The one in black, you speak of?" 
 
 "Pardon me she is an innocent-looking little concern 
 enough, but I spoke of the other, who is ' far more attractive 
 metal.' " 
 
 " Oh, she is I don't precisely know she is a connection 
 of the old woman's at least a sort of dependent on her." 
 
 Captain Fitzgerald observed that for some reason or other 
 his inquiry had IK.TU displeasing to Miss Redwood, and a firm 
 believer in whatever impeaches the virtue of the female sex, 
 he remembered the cynical rule that forbids a man to flatter
 
 REDWOOD. 343 
 
 one woman ui the presence of another. h I should not have 
 noticed the young lady," he said, " but there has been such an 
 absolute dearth of beauty here since my arrival ! Upon my 
 soul. Miss Redwood," he added, with a prudent depression of 
 voice, " I should have forgotten what beauty was but for a cer- 
 tain bright image indelibly stamped on the tablets of my 
 memory. This young lady had one indisputable charm ; she 
 was your herald the morning star that preceded the sun 
 but what could have induced a civilized being to come to a wa- 
 tering-place under such auspices ?" 
 
 ' My evil genius,' thought Caroline, and she said, " I think 
 I heard they were going to visit the Shakers in the vicinity. 
 They have some connections there I fancy they have merely 
 stopped here, en passant, for their dinner ; but really," she 
 concluded, shrugging her shoulders, " I know nothing about 
 them : one can't, you know, fill one's head with the affairs of 
 such people." 
 
 Mr. Redwood had observed, with a feeling of impatience, 
 Captain Fitzgerald's devotion to his daughter : he had been 
 waiting for a pause in their conversation, which was conducted 
 in an under-tone, to remind her ' that she had not,' as he said, 
 ' yet paid her respects to Miss Bruce, and their good frien 
 Deborah.' 
 
 " Shall I have the honor of conducting you to the drawing- 
 room, Miss Redwood?" asked Westall, who had been long 
 watching for an opportunity to follow Ellen 
 
 " Thank you no, I must first go to my room and dispose 
 of my riding-dress ; but I will be obliged to you to make my 
 apologies to the Vermontese. as they will probably be gone be- 
 fore I fcave an opportunity of seeing them. Come, Mrs. 
 Westafl, shall we find our way to our apartment ?" 
 
 ^Excuse my mother, Miss Redwood," said Westall. ' You
 
 344 REDWOOD. 
 
 will not," he added, turning to Mrs. Westall, " risk losing the 
 pleasure of seeiag our friends ?" 
 
 " Certainly not I will first go with Miss Redwood, and 
 then return to you, Charles." 
 
 " Do not put yourself to any inconvenience on my ac- 
 count, Mrs. Westall the attendance of my servant will do* 
 just as well as yours." 
 
 Mrs. Westall felt the insulting implication of Miss Red- 
 wood's reply. She had been blinded by her self-love, and her 
 next strongest passion her ambition for her son. Miss Red- 
 wood's sudden and exclusive devotion to Fitzgerald had done 
 more towards enlightening her mind on the subject of the 
 young lady's merits, than all their previous intercourse, and 
 she left her with a feeling that prepared her to see Ellen in the 
 most favorable light.
 
 KEDWOOD. 345 
 
 CHAPTER XXL 
 
 " II y a dans 1'esprit humain deux forces trfes distinctes, 1'un inspiie le 
 besoin de croire, 1'autre celui d'examiner." MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 OUR readers will pardon us for deferring their curiosity (if 
 indeed they have any), while we give a brief expose of the dif- 
 ferent states of feeling which the several members of the Red- 
 wood party brought with them to Lebanon. After Ellen's de- 
 parture from Eton, Mr. Redwood, no longer having any strong 
 inclination to protract his stay there, made arrangements to 
 recommence his journey immediately. He took leave of the 
 Lenox family with sincere regret, and left them such demon- 
 strations of his gratitude as impressed them with the belief ^^fl 
 
 hjt his generosity was unbounded. 
 
 He travelled very slowly in obedience to the advice of his 
 physician ; but notwithstanding his caution, and the most vigi- 
 lant devotion from Charles Westall, he found his health daily 
 diminishing, and he proposed to relinquish the long-projected 
 visit to Boston. The springs in August offered a more tempt- 
 ing theatre than town. Caroline was all acquiescence and 
 sweetness, and the travellers proceeded to Lebanon. 
 
 After Ellen left Eton, and during the journey, Caroline 
 redoubled her assiduities to recover her lost influence over 
 WestalL " Scarce once herself, by turns all womankind ;" she 
 15*
 
 Stl 
 
 ^ 
 
 346 REDWOOD. 
 
 affected every grace, she pretended to every virtue that she be- 
 lieved would advance her designs. Mrs. Westall, a willing 
 dupe, believing at least half her pretensions, and hoping the 
 future might verify the rest, was a most devoted auxiliary ; 
 and Mr. Redwood began to indulge sanguine expectations that 
 he should realize his dearest hopes he augured well from 
 Caroline's serious efforts to win Westall' s affections, and in 
 spite of his experience and habitual despondency, he hoped 
 every thing from Westall's influence over her. 
 
 There is no limit to the power of a strong and virtuous 
 attachment, but that Miss Redwood was not capable of feel- 
 ing for any one, and certainly did not for Westall. When she 
 first saw him, his fine exterior and refined manners had pleased 
 her accustomed to the gallantries of admirers till they had 
 become quite indispensable, and having no other subject to try 
 the power of her charms upon, she played off her little co- 
 quetries on him, without any other design than to produce a 
 present effect. 'Afterwards the matter assumed a graver cast 
 her vanity the pride of beauty, wealth, and station, became 
 interested in the contest with Ellen and subsequently still 
 tronger motives stimulated her rivalry, and made success im- 
 rtant. 
 
 Never was there a man who had less of the coxcomb than 
 Westall, but he could not fail to see the net that was spread in 
 his sight. To an indifferent observer of the effect of Miss 
 Redwood's efforts, it would have been plain that ' the lightnings 
 played on the impassive ice,' but she did not so interpret 
 Westall's frequent abstractions and studied politeness ; for 
 vanity dulls the keenest perceptions, and is itself at least as 
 blind as love. 
 
 When the party arrived at Lebanon, Mr. Redwood's first 
 impulse at the unexpected sight of Ellen was sincere pleasure ;
 
 REDWOOD. 347 
 
 Caroline's, alarm ; Mrs. Westall's, regret ; and her son's, un- 
 qualified delight. 
 
 Ellen persisted in secluding herself almost wholly in her 
 own apartment : she resisted the solicitations of Mr. Redwood, 
 who could not voluntarily forego the pleasure of her society, 
 the only pleasure of which he now seemed susceptible ; she 
 studiously avoided meeting Westall, except in the public 
 rooms, and she had always some pretext to decline the walks 
 he proposed, and the rides he arranged to include her. 
 
 Caroline, who seemed only to notice her by a freezing bow 
 as they sometimes met in their passage to and from the dining 
 room, really watched every movement, and after balancing all 
 the motives that she believed could operate on Ellen's mind, 
 she came to the conclusion, that her rival had abandoned the 
 field. This somewhat abated her own ardor the devotion of 
 a host of admirers, who were crowding around her for recogni- 
 tion or introduction, and the highly seasoned flatteries of Cap- 
 tain Fitzge'fald, gave her a distaste to the tame civilities of 
 "Westall, and not three days had elapsed before she was vacil- 
 lating between the gratification of her pride and resentment, 
 and the pleasure of granting the suit which Fitzgerald was ^ 
 already pressing upon her. 
 
 Deborah was the only member of either of the two parties 
 who was quite satisfied and tranquil ; but she was determined, 
 as she said, not to come so far and spend so much time and 
 money without having her ' pennyworth of pleasure.' The 
 affair of the changeable had caused her but a momentary vex- 
 ation ; the only indications that she remembered it were, that 
 she had carefully refolded and restored it to her trunk without 
 one word of comment, and that she never again appeared in 
 that ambitious array. If ever a shadow obscured Deborah's 
 good-nature-, it was as fleeting as an April cloud. The notice
 
 ^^ in th< 
 
 Btood 
 
 348 REDWOOD. 
 
 of Mr. Redwood and Westall, which they seemed proud of 
 bestowing, was a warrant for her respectability. And though 
 the town-bred young ladies thought her quite terrible, and their 
 beaus pronounced her a monster, the lovers of the picturesque 
 admired her figure as she strided through the rooms, staring 
 about her with fearless curiosity, with her holiday work (her 
 knitting) in her hands. She was sometimes seen surrounded 
 by a group of boys, relating to them a revolutionary story with 
 all the animation of personal experience ; and her little audi- 
 tors (for boys are natural belligerents) would warm with the 
 spirit of their fathers, and long to ' fight their battles o'er 
 again.' She even attracted the notice of the French Ambas- 
 sador, who made many inquiries of her in relation to the mode 
 of agriculture and domestic economy of our common farmers, 
 and seemed so satisfied of the accuracy and intelligence of 
 her replies, that he condescended to record them in his note- 
 book 
 
 But Deborah's stable mind was quite unmoved by attention 
 or neglect. She inquired every body's name, and learned 
 something of every body's history. She sometimes mingled 
 in the -crowd, and took part in the conversation, and sometimes 
 aloof making her own observations. In short, she went 
 up and down wherever she listed with lawless independence ; 
 and her sagacity, simplicity, and good-nature always obtained 
 her sufferance, and sometimes procured her attention and re- 
 spect. 
 
 This was the posture of affairs when our female friends on 
 entering the parlor one morning in their way to the breakfast- 
 room, were encountered by the Armstead party. Miss Camp- 
 bell sprang towards Ellen, exclaiming, while her fine face wit- 
 nessed her sincerity, " My dear Miss Bruce. I am delighted to 
 find you are not gone from Lebanon. I should have died with
 
 REDWOOD. 349 
 
 uncertainty and impatience the last . five minutes, but that I 
 most opportunely met my friend Charles Westall, at whom I 
 have been putting questions about you, which he answered as 
 patiently as if he had been bred in the Socratic school and, 
 to do him justice, he asked as many as he answered. But how 
 eomes it," she added, hardly allowing Ellen time to return the 
 kind greetings of the other members of her party, " how comes 
 it that you have not mentioned our meeting, and the fortunate 
 incident that broke the ice of ceremony, and made us friends 
 at once? I have thought of nothing else since, at least it has 
 given an agreeable hue to all my other thoughts : you hesitate 
 you were too modest to proclaim your own heroism. Oh, 
 my dear Miss Bruce, the days are past when one might do> 
 good by stealth, and blush to find it fame' this is the age of 
 display of publication. However, thanks to my generous in- 
 terposition, you have lost nothing on this occasion by your 
 modesty. I have told the whole story to Mr. Westall every 
 particular of it with a suitable number of epithets and excla- 
 mations, and have had the pleasure of hearing him put all his 
 ohs ! and ahs ! in the right places, and with the right empha- 
 sis, and conclude with a ' just like Miss Bruce.' 
 
 " But here," she continued, seeming at least not to notice 
 the deep blush that suffused Ellen's cheeks, " here comes the 
 eighth wonder of the world the beautiful Miss Redwood 
 and we common mortals must fall back to gaae on her." 
 
 Caroline entered leaning on Mrs. Westall's arm, her father 
 was beside her. Captain Fitzgerald joined them as they came 
 into the room, and they passed near the window at which 
 Westall and the ladies were standing. Fitzgerald recognized 
 Miss Campbell in a dubious inquiring manner, which expressed, 
 ' do we meet as friends ?' and her cold bow, replied unequivo- 
 cally, ' as strangers.'
 
 350 REDWOOD. 
 
 Caroline turned towards "Westall " your mother and 
 papa," she said, "have settled it that we take our drive 
 to the Shakers' after breakfast. You are no laggard, and 
 we shall depend on your being ready and do be so good 
 as to get a direction from Miss Bruce to her aunt, the elect 
 lady." 
 
 " Your aunt the elect lady !" exclaimed Miss Campbell. 
 
 " No, replied Ellen," quite unmoved by a stroke that was 
 meant to mortify her, " I have no aunt among the Shakers, 
 neither, if I understand their order, is there any ' elect lady.'" 
 
 " Oh, I was mistaken then," said Caroline, " it is this Miss 
 Allen's aunt, that I allude to perhaps," she added, still ad- 
 dressing Westall, " you may persuade her to go with us as 
 pioneer : she must be quite familiar with the curiosities of the 
 place, and possibly she may favor us with an introduction to 
 eome of the gifted brethren." 
 
 Poor Emily blushed and trembled as every eye turned on 
 her, and edging herself behind Ellen, she whispered in all sim- 
 plicity, " Do tell her I can't go." 
 
 u My dear Emily, Miss Redwood knows you cannot go." 
 
 " Afraid of being reclaimed," said Caroline, enjoying the 
 confusion into which she had thrown the simple girl. " Never 
 mind, child, we shall do very well without you I will trust to 
 luck for a chance to quiz some of the old broad-brims." 
 
 " Caroline," said Mr. Redwood, " we shall lose our places 
 at tje breakfast table by this delay. Do you go with us, 
 Westall?" 
 
 " The ladies must excuse me ; I have an engagement after 
 breakfast." 
 
 Miss Redwood bit her lips with vexation, and then turn- 
 ing to Captain Fitzgerald, " Have you, too, an engagement ?'' 
 she said.
 
 REDWOOD. 351 
 
 "No engagement could supersede your commands, Miss 
 Redwood," replied the gallant captain. 
 
 "Then you will occupy the vacant seat in our carriage?" 
 
 Fitzgerald bowed his delighted assent. Mr. Redwood ask- 
 ed Westall, in a whisper, if his engagement would interfere 
 with his giving him half an hour after he should return from 
 his ride ? Westall replied, " certainly not ;" and they made an 
 appointment to meet in the course of the morning. 
 
 Westall, true to the moment of his appointment, tapped at 
 Mr. Redwood's door, and was admitted. He found him ex- 
 tremely pale, and somewhat agitated. " You are not, sir, I 
 fear, as well as usual, this morning," he said, " your ride has 
 fatigued you ? ; ' 
 
 " I am as well as usual," he replied, in a melancholy tone, 
 " but my health is every day becoming worse : disease would 
 do its work soon enough, but there are other causes that accel- 
 erate my decline : he paused for a moment. " Westall, I am 
 about to repose a confidence in you that I never knew any 
 other man, your father excepted, worthy of: I have a weight 
 on my mind from which you only can relieve me ;" he paused 
 again, and seemed embarrassed. " It is a delicate subject I 
 hoped I expected that you would have first spoken to me 
 upon it, but you may have your own scruples I know not I 
 am lost in conjectures at any rate my frankness demands an 
 equal frankness in return. 
 
 " Charles," he continued with a firmer voice, " it has long 
 been my favorite, almost my only project, to give my child to 
 you to obtain for myself a virtuous son to secure to her a 
 safe and happy destiny. Your father's generosity impaired 
 your inheritance ; Caroline's will supply its defects my daugh- 
 ter loves you I do not commit her delicac}^ in saying so the 
 sentiment does equal credit to her head and heart how long
 
 352 REDWOOD. 
 
 it will endure delay on your part I cannot say : she is a flat- 
 tered and somewhat spoiled beauty and this Fitzgerald is 
 laying siege to her." 
 
 At this moment Westall almost wished he had a heart to 
 give to the daughter of Mr. Redwood ; but he did not hesitate 
 as to the course he should pursue : after saying he was certain 
 Mr. Redwood had misunderstood his daughter's sentiments in 
 relation to him, he made a manly avowal of his attachment to 
 Ellen, and related, with such reserves as a lover would be apt 
 to make, the events and conversation of the morning of her 
 departure from Eton. 
 
 Mr. Redwood was quite unprepared for this communica- 
 tion, for though his acquaintance with Ellen Bruce, and his 
 vigilant observation of Westall, had shaken the dominion of 
 his long cherished dogma of the selfishness of his race, and 
 though he had of late much inclined to believe there were prin- 
 ciples that might modify and control this selfishness ; yet it 
 seemed to him utterly incredible that a young man without 
 fortune, without patronage, and with talents to generate ambi- 
 tion, should forego the brilliant advantages of an alliance with 
 his daughter, for the sake of pure, all-controlling love, such as 
 he had deemed only existed in romances and poetry, and was 
 almost too obsolete to obtain a place there. 
 
 He received Westall's disclosure with an intense interest. 
 Admiration for his young friend, and bitter disappointment at 
 the utter defeat of his own projects, struggled for the mastery: 
 he remained silent till ^^ r estall said, " You may deem my hopes 
 presumptuous, sir, but you cannot, I am certain, think them 
 dishonorable to me." 
 
 ' : Dishonorable ! no, my dear Charles my only wonder is 
 at you have fallen in love with a poor little girl, who has 
 othing but the best heart in the world to give you dishonor-
 
 REDWOOD. 353 
 
 able ! would to God my youth had been rectified by the prin- 
 ciple that governs yours." 
 
 Memory and conscience were busy, and sent their witness 
 into Redwood's pallid cheek. " Westall, I am a miserable man 
 life has no attractions no consolations for me death no 
 repose. I had a deep thirst for happiness my spirit soared 
 above the vulgar pleasures of the world, but I have fettered 
 wasted degraded it ; and now I suffer the fierce pangs of re- 
 morse for the past of despair for the future. Westall, there 
 is a misery for which language has no expression, in approach- 
 ing the grave with the consciousness of having lost the noble 
 ends for which life was given. 
 
 " Had I been borne along, as thousands are, like a leaf upon 
 the waters, and left no trace behind, I should have comparative 
 peace ; but" he folded his hands upon his breast " I have 
 dispossessed this temple of the divinity for which it was formed, 
 I have destroyed the innocent contaminated the pure and 
 my child my only child the immortal creature whose destiny 
 was intrusted to me, I have permitted to be nursed in folly, 
 and devoted to the world without a moral principle or influ- 
 ence !" 
 
 The wild melancholy of Redwood's countenance, and the 
 import of his language, alarmed Westall : " Let me beseech 
 you, sir," said he, " to be more composed your strength is 
 unequal to the agitation of your spirits you know not what 
 you are saying." 
 
 " Not know what I am saying," he replied, with a bitter 
 smile : " oh Westall, I am wearied with the dreary solitude of 
 my own mind the spirit of your father, young man, is in your 
 face his gentleness in your heart : I must have your sympa- 
 thy, your aid if indeed relief is possible. I have sought 
 relief here," he continued, drawing a Bible from beneath his
 
 354 REDWOOD. 
 
 pillow ; " this was the gift of your sweet Ellen. At midnight 
 and in secrecy I have explored its pages and I believe its 
 record is true at least I am inclined to believe it ; but when 
 the evidence of its divine original forces its way to my convic- 
 tions, the arguments and the ridicule of infidelity recur to my 
 mind, and the habits of skepticism hold it in; suspense. And 
 if it be true, its decisions are against me its promises are all 
 to the pious, the upright, and the benevolent." 
 
 " And is there no promise to the penitent ?" asked West- 
 all. " Believe me, this book contains the provisions of a 
 father for his children ; and there is no condition of the hu- 
 man mind, no modification of human destiny, which they can- 
 not reach." 
 
 " Do not, Charles, make me the dupe of my necessities ; do 
 not send the light of hope into my mind, to render the 
 darkness that shall succeed more horrible. Of what avail can 
 be that penitence into which we are scourged by the fear of the 
 future ? Charles, I have already gone too far with you for half- 
 way confidence, and I have no longer any motive for reserve. 
 As I draw near the limit o,f life, the opinion of my fellow-men, 
 which ha? ruled me with despotic control, is reduced to its real 
 insignificance. I ask your patience, while I relate to you some 
 events of my life, of which there is now no record, but that 
 which is written as with the point of a diamond on my con- 
 science." 
 
 " You are wearied already with the exertions of this morn- 
 ing," said Westall, with instinctive delicacy, " had you not better 
 suspend our conversation for the present ?" 
 
 " No, my dear friend, nothing will refresh me so much as 
 unburthening my heart to you. I have now nerved myself to 
 the effort, and I feel equal to it I may never again." 
 
 He then proceeded to relate the circumstances of his life
 
 REDWOOD. 355 
 
 with which our readers are already acquainted. His narrative 
 was often interrupted by emotions too strong to be repressed ; 
 and as he concluded, he said to West-all, who had listened in 
 breathless silence, " You now perceive, Charles, what reason I 
 have for remorse." 
 
 " But why," asked Westall, stimulated by a governing feel- 
 ing of compassion to suggest something that might alleviate 
 Mr. Redwood's misery, " why this deep remorse ? Your life 
 has been stained but by one criminal action, and that commit- 
 ted in the thoughtless period of youth." 
 
 " Ah, Charles ! do not soften matters to me now that one 
 action has cast its dark shadows over every period of my life : 
 say you one criminal action ? what call you my total neglect of 
 my daughter? what that cold indifference to the happiness of 
 the human family which has permitted me to lock those talents in 
 my own breast, which might have been employed for their bene- 
 fit ? what kind term will you bestow on my cold skepticism ? 
 what on my useless, daring speculations ? No, no, my friend," 
 he added, impetuously, " you must not cannot flatter me now 
 it is too late I have learned truly to estimate the barren- 
 ness, the misery of that life which has no higher obj ?cts of 
 pursuit than those that perish in the using. I must endure 
 the effects of that folly which passes by the pure fountains of 
 happiness in the path of life, and of that selfishness which 
 makes a dreary desert of the world. 
 
 " I was made for something better than a man of the world. 
 This consciousness, which has never forsaken me, has sharpened 
 the sting of conscience, and has made me probably suffer more 
 and enjoy less, than most men would have done in my circum- 
 stauccs. Do not reply to me now. Charles. You are in no 
 state of mind to give me the counsel and aid I so much need. 
 I perceive the compassionate interest that I have awakened,
 
 \ 
 
 356 REDWOOD. 
 
 and am grateful for it. Once I should have scorned it, but 
 now it is balm to my hurt mind. 
 
 " With my present feelings, "Westall, you will not be sur- 
 prised at my anxiety to make all the amends in my power to 
 my daughter for my neglect of her. I am not blind to her 
 faults they are, alas, too glaring not to be seen ; but I hoped 
 every thing from her youth and the influence of your character: 
 and I thought, and still think, that she has a deeper interest in 
 you than I believed her capable of feeling in any one. But 
 that is all past it was my last dream you have chosen well 
 I cannot boast my principles but Ellen suits my tastes ; and 
 feeling her loveliness as I have felt it, I cannot now but wonder 
 that I ever should have indulged the extravagant expectation 
 that you would fix your affections elsewhere. Charles, your 
 sweet friend resembles the only person I ever truly loved; 
 resembles her in her face and figure, and still more in the gen- 
 tleness and purity of her character. Oh, had I possessed such 
 
 a child ! poor Caroline ! The world would wonder, Westall, 
 
 if it knew that the beautiful idol to whom it renders homage 
 is the object of her father's pity of his remorse but I forget 
 your interest in my perpetual recurrence to my own anxieties. 
 
 " You must persuade Ellen to give up her scruples in re- 
 gard to her mother's restrictions ; there can be but one rational 
 opinion about them. She was doubtless some sentimental de- 
 luded young creature, whose tenderness for her offspring in- 
 duced her to devise this innocent little artifice to keep her in 
 ignorance of her parentage." 
 
 Westall had too entire a sympathy with Ellen to regard 
 the matter in this light, but he declared with sincerity, that 
 though on her account he trusted that her long cherished hopes 
 might not be disappointed, as far as related to his own feelings, 
 the result would be a matter of perfect indifference.
 
 REDWOOD. 357 
 
 " No parentage," he said, " could confer honor on Miss 
 Bruce none could touch the essential dignity of her char- 
 acter." 
 
 Mr. Redwood smiled at his enthusiasm ; but he respected 
 it. He entreated Westall to give him as much of his time as 
 possible ; ' he knew,' he said, ' that it would be a sacrifice to 
 him, but he believed that sacrifices were neither difficult nor 
 painful to those who were habitually disinterested.' 
 
 Mr. Redwood expressed the greatest anxiety in regard to 
 Fitzgerald's attentions to his daughter. He said he had 
 learned that this gentleman was a younger branch of a noble 
 family, turned into the army to seek his fortune in military 
 life, for which he had no other qualifications than a fine figure 
 and handsome face and that moreover he was distinguished 
 among the officers of his regiment for his dissipated habits. 
 
 These were certainly sufficient grounds of alarm ; and 
 they increased now to a frightful degree the harassed and 
 troubled state of mind which seemed to be hastening Mr. Red- 
 wood to the grave. 
 
 At one moment he resolved to leave the springs immedi- 
 ately, and the next was convinced that he was unequal to the 
 effort. Westall remained with him until summoned away by 
 the dinner bell ; he then left him somewhat tranquillized, and 
 with the resolution that he would spare no efforts to minister 
 to the peace of his mind. Such was the benevolent interest 
 he felt in him, that he would have compassed sea and land to 
 inspire him with a just hope and a quiet resignation.
 
 358 REDWOOD. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 " Call you this a quiz ?" said my uncle ; " in my day it would have been 
 called a lie." PLAIN DEALEB. 
 
 Miss CAMPBELL valued herself on never feeling or doing any 
 thing by halves she had taken a decided liking to Ellen 
 with her cordial admiration there mingled a little of the pride 
 of a discoverer ; a complacent sense of the merit of having 
 first felt Miss Bruce's attractions, and asserted her claims. 
 She attached herself almost exclusively to her, and Westall 
 was delighted to observe after dinner that Ellen, instead of re- 
 tiring immediately to her own room as usual, accompanied 
 Miss Campbell and her party to the drawing-room. Miss 
 Kedwood observed that he was following them she beckoned 
 to him and said, " Be good enough to tell Miss Deborah, that 
 during my ride this morning I met her neighbor Martin. I 
 stopped him to inquire after the Lenoxes. He told me they, 
 were all well excepting old Mrs. Allen, who is very ill, and 
 afraid she shall not live to see her grandchild." 
 
 Westall went most unwillingly to deliver a message which 
 must hasten Ellen's departure. Fitzgerald had overheard the 
 communication, and looked at Caroline inquisitively. 
 
 " A ruse de guerre," she whispered. ' : It is such a bore to 
 meet that giant. Miss Debby and her suite at every turn, that 
 I have tasked my invention to get rid of them."
 
 REDWOOD. 359 
 
 " Oh, a quiz, admirable skill against ignorance the only 
 mode of warfare with savages. 'Pon my honor, Miss Red- 
 wood, I cannot imagine how you have survived your exile 
 among those barbarians. The condition of society in these 
 northern states is quite terrible insufferable to those whose 
 felicity it has been to live where the natural distinctions of rank 
 are preserved." 
 
 " I assure you, Captain Fitzgerald, I was excessively an- 
 noyed. I found it quite impossible to make those people feel 
 they were not my equals." 
 
 " Your equals ! good heavens ! had the animais ' organs, 
 senses, affections, passions !' Would to heaven, 1 ' he added, 
 lowering his voice, " Miss Redwood would consent to go where 
 the eye and the heart will confess that she has no equal." 
 
 "That would be heaven, indeed !" replied Caroline, turning 
 her eye on Fitzgerald with an expression that authorized his 
 most daring hopes. 
 
 "Yes, heaven," he replied, "not a puritanical heaven of 
 liberty and equality, but a place where beauty, rank, and 
 fashion, are far above this plebeian fog a place worthy of you, 
 Miss Redwood, where there are queens, and subjects, and wor- 
 shippers love and loyalty." 
 
 It is impossible to say how long the Captain would have 
 continued his battery, had not his fluency been suddenly 
 checked by one of those provoking interruptions to which all 
 lovers are liable. Mrs. Westall, to whom Mr. Redwood (too 
 ill to appear at dinner) had consigned his daughter, tired of 
 playing solitaire while her fair protegee was all eye and ear for 
 Fitzgerald, and deaf and dumb to every body else, took the 
 liberty to remark that all the ladies except themselves had re- 
 tired from the table, and rising at the same moment, she pro- 
 posed to Caroline an adjournment to the drawing-room.
 
 360 REDWOOD. 
 
 Miss Redwood would rather have deferred the movement, 
 for she dreaded encountering Deborah. " Come with us." she 
 whispered to Fitzgerald, who stood with deference awaiting the 
 ladies' departure : " if we are obliged to meet the old amazon, 
 heaven help us ! we shall need all our combined skill to parry 
 her downright questions." 
 
 "As your auxiliary, Miss Redwood," replied Fitzgerald, 
 proceeding towards the drawing-room with the ladies, " I fear 
 nothing : but upon my soul, without a divinity to inspire me, I 
 should never muster courage to encounter one of these ques- 
 tion-asking Yankees. I had rather march up to the cannon's 
 mouth." 
 
 " Thank heaven," said Caroline, casting her eyes around 
 the drawing-room, and ascertaining that Deborah was not 
 there, " we are safe for the present. If you will open the 
 piano for me, Captain Fitzgerald, I will play the air you were 
 asking for this morning." 
 
 Captain Fitzgerald arranged the piano Miss Redwood 
 took her seat at it, and Mrs. Westall left her and joined Ellen, 
 who was sitting on the other side of the room in an animated 
 conversation with Grace Campbell. 
 
 "Your fair friend, Mrs. "Westall," said Miss Campbell, 
 "has certainly made a conquest of Captain Fitzgerald 
 a conquest that I suspect will lead very soon to an amicable 
 treaty." 
 
 " Appearances justify your opinion, certainly," replied Mrs. 
 Westall ; " and provided Mr. Redwood ratifies the treaty. I 
 know no one that will interpose, or even feel an objection." 
 
 " I don't know," said Miss Campbell, " I have no particu- 
 lar admiration for Miss Redwood : but I declare to you, I think 
 she is too young and too beautiful to be sacrificed to a mere 
 fortune-hunter."
 
 REDWOOD. 361 
 
 " She is heartless," replied Mrs. Westall, " and therefore 
 fair game for a fortune-hunter." 
 
 Charles Westall noticed that his mother spoke with uncom- 
 mon asperity ; but her gentlest tones had never delighted him 
 so much, as an expression that indicated a state of feeling 
 which he had long hoped that her own observation and reflec- 
 tions would produce without his interference. He perceived 
 that she was completely alienated from Miss Redwood, and 
 that the reaction of her feelings was all in Ellen's favor, 
 and with a very pardonable filial enthusiasm, he mentally 
 congratulated himself on always having believed that his 
 mother's good sense and good feeling would finally rectify her 
 opinions. 
 
 Probably Ellen's thoughts had received a direction from 
 Mrs. Westall's observation ; but suddenly recalling them to 
 the point whence they had started, she asked Miss Campbell ' if 
 she thought Fitzgerald was really in love with Caroline Red- 
 wood ?' 
 
 " In love ! Oh my sweet innocent, in what blessed igno- 
 rance of the present generation you must have lived. In love 
 no, believe me there is no love extant, unless it be," and she 
 glanced her laughing eyes with most provoking significance 
 towards Westall, " unless it be on the shores of romantic lakes, 
 or in such sweet sequestered vales as you describe that in which 
 your friend Mrs. Harrison resides. Fitzgerald in love ! his 
 device is a golden arrow his motto, the old proverb ' without 
 Ceres and Bacchus, love is cold.' " 
 
 ' ; Shame on you, Grace," said young Armstead, " you are 
 a most ungracious girl. You should adopt the mode of some 
 pretty simpering fair ones of my acquaintance who imitate be- 
 reaved widows, and always speak of their late lovers as they do 
 of their deceased husbands, with a ' poor dear' prefixed to their 
 16
 
 362 REDWOOD. 
 
 names. ' Poor dear Fitzgerald' would be a becoming mention 
 of one of your most devoted worshippers." 
 
 " It was to the golden trappings of the idol that Fitzgerald 
 bowed, William : his sacrifice was like the priests of Baal, the 
 fire came not near it." 
 
 " You may carry your analogy still farther, Grace ; for to 
 your praise be it spoken, there was ' no voice, nor answer, nor 
 any that regarded.' " 
 
 "I deserve no praise for that," replied Miss Campbell, 
 while a smile betrayed that she was not displeased to have it 
 known that she disdained the flatteries of Miss Redwood's ad- 
 mirer : " I deserve no praise for seeing through that soulless 
 creature a mere parade-day officer, who dishonors the uniform 
 worn by so many heroes. You and I, "William, were brought 
 up in the old school, nursed in Anglo-American prejudices, 
 taught to believe that all virtue, valor, genius, were of British 
 birth and growth : experience has abated some of the articles 
 of my creed, and softened others. I have seen many an Ame- 
 rican shop-boy, many a gawky young farmer, who had more 
 cleverness than such a British officer as Fitzgerald : more 
 knowledge, more of every thing that is essentially respectable/' 
 - " You are so enlightened, Miss Campbell," said "Weetall. 
 " you should disabuse some of your fair countrywomen of their 
 prejudices." 
 
 " It is impossible, utterly impossible. Such an enterprise 
 would be as rational as a crusade against artificial flowers and 
 ostrich feathers. So long as these red-coated gentry shall play 
 the most elegant game at chess or whist hand a lady to the 
 dinner-table in the most graceful manner carve the dish next 
 her secundum artem, and in short, perform all the little eti- 
 quettes of society with unparalleled grace, they must remain 
 the favorite ornaments of our drawing-rooms our fair ladies
 
 REDWOOD. 363 
 
 will overlook their little irregularities in morals ; and rational 
 and virtuous men, like you, Mr. Westall, and my cousin Wil- 
 liam, (you do not merit the compliment from me, Will, but I 
 put you in to make the party stronger,) such men must yield 
 to them the precedence." 
 
 " Oh, Grace !" said Mrs. Armstead, " little did I ever ex- 
 pect to hear such a philippic against any thing British from 
 the lips of one of your grandfather's descendants." 
 
 " My dear aunt, you mistake me if you imagine that I 
 mean to limit my criticisms to our foreign military beaux 
 no, unfortunately we have a large class of native productions 
 that have equal claims to a polished exterior, and essential 
 good-for-nothingness. If my dear grandpapa could take a 
 peep into my heart at this moment, he would be quite satisfied 
 with the loyal affection I bear to the land of his birth ; and I 
 flatter myself that the old gentleman, belonging as he doubt- 
 less does now to the universal nation of the good and happy, 
 would rejoice that his descendants are all Americans, and only 
 attached to the parent land by the indissoluble ties of respect 
 and of affection. I do not believe that we ' love Caesar less,' 
 but we certainly ' love Rome more.' " 
 
 " Well, my dear Grace," replied Mrs. Armstead, " I am 
 glad to find that if you have caught the national enthusiasm, 
 the epidemic of the day, you are not a traitor to England." 
 
 " So far from it, mother," said young Armstead, " that I 
 will hazard a prophecy, that within six months from this fif- 
 teenth day of August, our cousin Grace will be the wife of an 
 Englishman." 
 
 " You are a false prophet, Will." 
 
 " Time, not you, Grace, must pronounce that decision ; and 
 I call this honorable company to witness that I rest my pro- 
 phetic fame upon this prediction."
 
 364 REDWOOD. 
 
 By a natural train of thought. Mr. Howard, whom Ellen 
 had seen devoted to Miss Campbell when they met at the vil- 
 lage-inn, occurred to her mind, and she asked Grace ' why he 
 was not still of her party ?' 
 
 " He was suddenly summoned away," she replied, " by let- 
 ters from home :" and, to avert observation from her rising 
 color, she looked out of the window. 
 
 " I stand to my prediction, Grace," whispered Armstead, 
 " in spite of your treacherous blushes." 
 
 " Mr. Westall," exclaimed Miss Campbell, " you were in- 
 quiring for Deborah, here she comes with the little Shaker." 
 
 " For mercy's sake, Miss Campbell," said Ellen, " do not 
 let Emily hear you call her so. The poor child has been 
 frightened to death since Miss Redwood's address to her this 
 morning made her an object of notice. Her story is now, I 
 am told, though fortunately she does not know it, in every 
 body's mouth." 
 
 Westall met Deborah at the door, and drew her aside to 
 communicate Miss Redwood's message. Emily entered the 
 room alone, and looking fearfully around her. 
 
 " Poor little timid, distressed thing," said Miss Campbell, 
 " she looks like a lamb that has strayed from the shepherd into 
 a company of wolves." 
 
 Ellen advanced towards the bashful girl, and drawing Emi- 
 ly's arm within her own, she led her to a seat, where she was 
 sheltered from observation. 
 
 Westall qualified the information he reluctantly communi- 
 cated to Deborah, and urged that one day's delay could not be 
 of consequence. She, however, with her usual promptitude, 
 determined to leave the springs the next morning, and imme- 
 diately announced her determination to her companions, with- 
 out deeming it necessary to avow the cause of it.
 
 REDWOOD. 365 
 
 A bright beam of pleasure shot from Emily's eyes. Ellen's 
 turned involuntarily towards Charles Westall, and one brief 
 glance contradicted all her well-maintained reserve and scru- 
 pulous silence. 
 
 Loud exclamations expressive of disappointment from all 
 the Armstead party, and, louder than all the rest Miss Camp- 
 bell's, attracted a momentary attention from Miss Redwood. 
 She paused in the midst of the successful performance of a 
 favorite march, and exchanged a significant nod with Fitz- 
 gerald ; she then struck the notes with a stronger hand, but 
 she could not drown the unwelcome sounds of ' do, Miss Bruce, 
 stay one day longer ' ' Oh, Miss Debby, one day cannot make 
 any difference just one day.' 
 
 But Miss Deborah, affirming that it had all along been her 
 intention to go within a day or two, remained inexorable, and 
 the young ladies left the drawing-room to arrange their affairs 
 for their departure 
 
 Mrs. Westall followed Ellen to the stairs, and detaining 
 * her there till her companions had passed up, she said, " If my 
 feelings or wishes have ever done you injustice, forgive me, 
 Ellen believe me, there is now but one other so dear so in- 
 teresting to me as you are." 
 
 Ellen faltered out, " I am very grateful," and turned hastily 
 away, leaving Mrs. Westall quite satisfied with the significance 
 which her glowing cheek and moistened eye gave to her scanty 
 expression. 
 
 Ellen had scarcely reached her own apartment when Miss 
 Campbell came running to her quite out of breath : " Suspend 
 your packing operations, my dear Ellen," she said, " and sit 
 down and listen to me for a moment. I cannot be ceremonious 
 with you I have the greatest favor to ask of you and you 
 cannot, must not deny me. Will you remain here for ten days
 
 366 REDWOOD. 
 
 as my guest ? I bar a negative. Now do not make up your 
 mouth for any excuses till you have heard me out. You told 
 ine this morning that your old friend, Mrs. Allen, no longer 
 needed your services, and that you were only going this round- 
 about way to Vermont, because you had no other way of get- 
 ting to Mrs. Harrison. Now, my aunt is going to Boston. 
 she has a vacant seat in her carriage Lansdown is but a few 
 miles off the direct route, and my aunt says nothing will de- 
 light her so much as to take you to Mrs. Harrison. She bids 
 me tell you that Mrs. Harrison was an acquaintance of her 
 mother's, and that you must not refuse her an introduction to 
 her." 
 
 Ellen's decision vibrated between a strong inclination to 
 remain, and a natural reluctance (which even Miss Campbell's 
 extreme cordiality could not remove) to receive such favors 
 from persons nearly strangers to her. While she deliberated, 
 and Grace Campbell urged her request, they were interrupted 
 by a servant who brought Ellen a note. 
 
 " This note, whoever it comes from," said Miss Campbell, 
 " will, I trust, induce you to decide to remain. You seem now 
 as much puzzled as poor Launcelot Gobbo was with the oppos- 
 ing counsel of the fiend and his conscience. Conscience is on 
 my side, I am sure." 
 
 " And the note, too," said Ellen, refolding it ; - and now, 
 if Miss Deborah will relinquish her right to me, I will throw 
 away all squeamishness, and gratefully accept your invitation." 
 
 The note was from Mr. Redwood, and contained an earnest 
 entreaty that Ellen would defer her departure for a few days. 
 It was written hastily, was almost illegible, and concluded thus : 
 " I once meditated an injury against you it is now my earnest 
 wish to repair the fault of that intention my life is fast ebb- 
 ing do not refuse the last favor I can ever ask of you."
 
 REDWOOD. 367 
 
 The note Ellen rightly believed was the fruit of West-all's 
 intervention, but he could not have dictated the purport of it, 
 and her delicacy was satisfied, now that she had a motive to 
 rcimin independent of her lover. The ladies proceeded to 
 Miss Deborah's apartment, and she, having heard the proposed 
 arrangement, acquiesced with her usual rationality. 
 
 She seated herself on her trunk, and resting her elbows on 
 her knees : " Not but what I am loth to part with you, Ellen," 
 she said, " for the Lord knows," and she brushed a tear from 
 the corner of her eye, " nobody ever wanted to leave you yet ; 
 but then there is reason in all things you have taken a long 
 journey, all for those that's neither kith nor kin to you, and 
 now that you are happy among your mates, it is but fair you 
 should have a playspell : besides, it would be rather tough for 
 our poor old horse to draw us all over the hills, and he should 
 be considered too to be sure I calculated to walk up the hills, 
 but then I have come to that time of life when I had rather 
 ride than walk so all is for the best." 
 
 " We can all say ' amen' to that. Miss Deborah," said Miss 
 Campbell ; " you are a perfect philosopher. I am delighted 
 Ellen looks resigned and your little Emily there most pro- 
 vokingly happy." 
 
 " Well," replied Debby, " contentment is a good thing, and 
 a rare but I guess it dwells most where people would least 
 expect to find it. There's Ellen Bruce, she has had troubles 
 that would fret some people to death, and yet I have seldom 
 seen her with a cloudy face." 
 
 " How do you account for that, Miss Debby ? I am curi- 
 ous to get at this secret of happiness ; for I have been in great 
 straits sometimes, for the want of it." 
 
 " Why, I'll tell you. Now. Ellen, I don't mean to praise 
 you" and she looked at Ellen, while an expression of affection
 
 368 REDWOOD. 
 
 spread over her rough-featured face. " The truth is, Ellen has 
 been so busy about making other people happy, that she has 
 no time to think of herself; instead of grieving about her 
 own troubles, she has tried to lessen other people's ; instead of 
 talking about her own feelings and thinking about them, you 
 would not know she had any, if you did not see she always 
 knew just how other people felt." 
 
 " Stop, stop, Deborah, my good friend," said Ellen \ " you 
 must not turn flatterer in your old age." 
 
 " Flatterer ! The Lord have mercy on you, girl ; nothing 
 was farther from my thoughts than flattering. I meant just 
 to tell this young lady for her information, that the secret of 
 happiness was to forget yourself, and care for the happiness of 
 others." 
 
 " You are right I believe you are right," said Miss Camp- 
 bell, with animation j " though I have practised very little 
 after your golden rule." 
 
 " The mor.e's the pity, young woman ; for, depend on't, it's 
 the safe rule and the sure ; I have scriptur warrant for it, be- 
 side my own observation, which, as you may judge, has not been 
 small. It's a strange thing this happiness : it puts me in mind 
 of an old Indian I have heard of, who said to a boy, who wa? 
 begging him for a bow and arrow, ' the more you say bow and 
 arrow, the more I won't make it.' There's poor Mr. Redwood, 
 as far as I can find out he has had nothing all his life to do 
 but to go up and down and to and fro upon the earth, in 
 search of happiness ; look at his face, it is as sorrowful as a 
 tombstone, and just makes you ponder upon what has been, 
 and what might have been ; and his kickshaw of a daughter 
 why I, Debby Lenox, a lone old woman that I am, would not 
 change places with her would not give up my peaceable feel- 
 ings for hers, for all the gold in the king's coffers : and for the
 
 REDWOOD. 369 
 
 most part, since I have taken a peep into what's called the 
 world, I have seen little to envy among the great and the gay, 
 the rich and handsome." 
 
 " And yet, Miss Debby," said Grace, " the world looks 
 upon these as the privileged classes." 
 
 " Ah ! the world is foolish, and stupid besides." 
 
 "Well, Miss Deborah, I have unbounded confidence in 
 your wisdom ; but, since my lot is cast in this same evil world, 
 I should be sorry to think there was no good in it." 
 
 " No good, Miss ! that was what I did not and would not 
 say. There is good in every thing and every where, if we 
 have but eyes to see it, and hearts to confess it. There is 
 some pure gold mixed with all this glitter ; some here that 
 seem to have as pure hearts and quiet minds as if they had 
 never stood in the dazzling sunshine of fortune." 
 
 " You mean to say, Deborah," said Ellen, " that content- 
 ment is a modest, prudent spirit ; and that for the most part 
 she avoids the high places of the earth, where the sun burns 
 and the tempests beat, and leads her favorites along quiet vales 
 and tr sequestered fountains." 
 
 " Just what I would have said Ellen, though it may not be 
 just as I should have said it," replied Deborah, smiling. " You 
 young folks like to dress every thing off with garlands, while 
 such a plain old body as I only thinks of the substantials. 
 But here am I preaching while Emily, as busy as a little bee, 
 has packed every thing and tied every bundle and box ; her 
 heart is already half way to Eton. I wish it was as short a 
 journey to my old limbs as it -is for your young spirits, 
 Emily. Now don't redden up, child, like the sky at sunset : 
 true love is a creditable feeling, and I hope you know it 
 to be so now that we have sifted that Shaker chaff out 
 of your mind. Come. Miss Campbell and Ellen, we will 
 16*
 
 370 REDWOOD. 
 
 go on to the piazza, and leave Emily to the company <>: ! .-r 
 own thoughts." 
 
 The young ladies followed Deborah to the piazza. Mr. 
 Redwood and his daughter, Fitzgerald and Westall. were sit- 
 ting at one extremity of it. Deborah proposed joining them ; 
 but Ellen begged they might remain where they were. " I 
 cannot," she said, "voluntarily inflict my presence on Miss 
 Redwood. I never approach her that she does not shrink 
 from me." 
 
 " As a condemned spirit shrinks from the healthful air of 
 morning," said Miss Campbell. " She is not worth heeding, 
 Ellen: it is the folly of her haughtiness, or perhaps," and 
 she looked at Ellen with an arch smile " there has been some 
 rivalry in the case ; she may have detected too soon the ' fair 
 speechless messages' that pass between certain eyes and yours. 
 Do not color, dear Ellen ; Miss Debby says truly, it is a ' cred- 
 itable feeling.' " 
 
 ' ; Spare your raillery, Grace ; this is no subject for it- 
 There is no rivalry in the case, I assure you. Whatever my 
 feelings may be, you perceive that all Miss Redwood's are now 
 exclusively devoted to Captain Fitzgerald ; and yet her dislike 
 towards me, or rather hatred, for I must give it that harsh 
 name, has no relenting. I never approach her I never 
 pass her, even in her happiest moods, that her brow does not 
 contract, and every feature becomes rigid, with an expression 
 that it "would seem impossible for so young and beautiful a face 
 to wear." 
 
 " Pshaw. Ellen !" said Deborah ; 4{ the girl is whimsical, 
 and her whims are no more worth your minding than the 
 freaks of a fretful child. Come along with us. I must see 
 Mr. Redwood once more, and sorry am I it's the last time, for 
 he suits my fancy better than many a better man."
 
 BED WOOD. 37 T 
 
 Ellen seemed still reluctant, when Charles Westall joined 
 the ladies with a request, as he said, from Mr. Redwood, 
 that they would consider his inability to come to them, 
 and favor him with their company. The ladies acquiesced, 
 and Miss Campbell took Deborah's arm, on the pretext that 
 she could not accommodate her quick step to Ellen's lagging 
 pace. 
 
 This benevolent manoeuvre gave Westall an opportunity to 
 satisfy his impatient curiosity as to Ellen's decision in regard 
 to her departure, and when they reached Mr. Redwood, the 
 speaking animation of his countenance evinced how much he 
 was delighted with the result of his inquiry. Miss Redwood 
 stood with her back to the company, apparently entirely in- 
 grossed in settling with Captain Fitzgerald the comparative 
 beauty of the liveries of half a dozen servants who stood at 
 the spring below them. 
 
 A faint gleam of pleasure lit up Mr. Redwood's pale 
 and desponding face as Ellen approached him ; he took her 
 hand. " Miss Deborah," he said, " is very good to consent 
 to leave you." Caroline turned suddenly round, and darted 
 a look of eager inquiry at Ellen. " And you, my dear Miss 
 Brice," he added, in a low voice, " very kind to grant my poor 
 request." 
 
 " Caroline, Miss Bruce remains a few days longer at Leba- 
 non ; I hope you will do every thing in your power to prove 
 that her stay is not a matter of indifference to you." Caroline 
 bowed she looked absolutely pale. " Your favorite book, my 
 dear Ellen," continued Mr. Redwood, " asserts, I believe, that 
 it is more blessed to give than to receive ; if so, I shall be 
 the cause of great happiness to you, though not in a mode most 
 lettering to my own pride." 
 
 Every word that her father uttered increased Caroline's
 
 372 REDWOOD. 
 
 agitation ; it was too apparent to escape observation, and for 
 once the same thought flashed through Fitzgerald's and Miss 
 Campbell's mind the same thought, but it produced a very 
 different effect. ' Good heavens,' said Miss Campbell, men- 
 tally, ' does the foolish girl really fancy that her poor father, 
 who is so fast going where there is neither marrying nor giving 
 in marriage, is projecting a love match with Ellen, or that she 
 will marry a half disembodied spirit !' 'Ah,' thought Fitzgerald, 
 ' the girl is keen-sighted, she foresees a match these second 
 marriages make horrible havoc with fortunes.' 
 
 Mr. Redwood charged Deborah with many kind remem- 
 brances to his Vermont friends, and she, really affected at the 
 thought of parting from him for ever, and always unobservant 
 of forms, turned hastily away without saying a word to Caro- 
 line. Suddenly recollecting herself, she returned : " Good by 
 to you, Miss Caroline," she said, " the Lord bless you, and 
 make you a blessing and a comfort to your father, which he 
 much needs ; and don't," she added in a whisper, " don't do 
 any thing to fret him, for his life hangs as it were by a 
 cambric thread ; and oh, now I think of it," and she checked 
 herself as she was again turning away, " I thank you heart- 
 ily for remembering John Martin's errand to me, it was very 
 thoughtful of you and I assure you, Miss Caroline, though 
 my memory ia something broken, I never can forget a kind- 
 ness." 
 
 Mr. Redwood was evidently gratified with the good nature 
 which led Deborah to magnify a trifling courtesy. " My dear 
 Caroline," he said, " I am glad that you have had an opportu- 
 nity of obliging Miss Deborah where did you see John 
 Martin ?" 
 
 " Oh, I have not seen him at all," replied Caroline, making 
 an effort to shelter her mortification by a careless laugh.
 
 REDWOOD. 373 
 
 " Only a quiz upon Miss Debby, papa a merry thought of 
 mine, which I know you will forgive, since it has led to an in- 
 definite postponement of Miss Bruce's departure. Captain 
 
 Fitzgerald, you promised to show me the setting sun from the 
 hill a pretty view I am told have you ever seen it, Miss 
 Campbell? Farewell, Miss Deborah." 
 
 Miss Redwood walked away with Captain Fitzgerald with 
 apparent unconcern. This was not the first time that Caroline 
 had shown in pressing emergencies a perfect self-command, 
 though on slight occasions she was a very child in exposing 
 every shade of passion. 
 
 " I hope all you good rational people," said Mr. Redwood 
 with a sigh, " will remember that my child is but eighteen : and 
 now, may I beg a few moments' private conversation with Miss 
 Bruce?" 
 
 " A few moments, certainly," replied Miss Campbell : 
 " come, Mr. Westall, I challenge you to a turn on the piazza, 
 and we will see which bears privation with most magna- 
 nimity." 
 
 " Do you believe the old gentleman is really going to make 
 love to Miss Bruce ?" asked Grace Campbell, as she turned 
 away. 
 
 ' Not on his own account, I fancy," replied Westall. 
 
 " Ah, I comprehend but depend on it, a love cause is bet- 
 ter in the hands of the principal than the most eloquent agent." 
 
 And so it proved ; for though Mr. Redwood frankly avow- 
 ed to Ellen the diappointment of his own hopes, and though 
 he urged her with all the energy of strong feeling and the most 
 affectionate interest, to waive her scruples though he begged, 
 on his own account, that before he died he might have the hap- 
 piness of seeing the two persons in whom he felt the strongest 
 interest united : it was not till Westall, availing himself of an
 
 374 REDWOOD. 
 
 opportunity that occurred in the evening to plead his own 
 cause with the irresistible zeal of true and well-requited 
 love, that Ellen gave her promise that she would write to 
 Mrs. Harrison lay the case before her, and abide by her 
 decision.
 
 REDWOOD. 375 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 " Thou I find 
 
 Hast the true tokens of a noble mind, 
 But the world wins thee." CRABBE. 
 
 Miss CAMPBELL, and Ellen rose by appointment on the follow- 
 ing morning at the dawn of day, that they might witness the 
 departure of Deborah and Emily. As they all stood on the 
 piazza, awaiting the arrangement of the baggage in the chaise, 
 Deborah drew Ellen aside : 
 
 " Look here," she said, undrawing a bag, and discovering 
 one corner of a packet, " here is the identical money you re- 
 fused to receive from Mr. Redwood ; he sent it to me last night 
 for a marriage-portion for Emily : it is true, child God bless 
 him it is. true he has given it, and I have taken it with a 
 thankful heart and a prayer (as in duty bound) that the Lord 
 would return it to him a hundred fold, in something better 
 than silver and gold. I shall keep the present a secret till 
 Emily's wedding-day, which I'm sure, is not far off; and Ellen," 
 she added, after a moment's pause, " I'm thinking that another 
 wedding-day is coming among our friends. Now, what do you 
 look down for ? If there is any body in the land might hold 
 up their heads with a good grace, it's you ; for, to my notion, 
 there is not a nobler man in the 'varsal world, view him in 
 what light you will, than this same Charles Westall."
 
 376 REDWOOD. 
 
 - But, Deborah," interrupted Ellen. " I am not engaged" 
 
 " Engaged I know that" 
 
 " Ma'am, your chaise is ready," said the servant. 
 
 " Coming in a minute. I know how it stands, Ellen, pretty 
 nearly ; for last night, when I got this packet from Mr. Red- 
 wood, my heart was so full I thought I could not sleep till I 
 had told you. I looked in your room you was not there ; I 
 came on to the piazza you and Mr. Charles Westall were 
 standing by the door yonder ; while I was hesitating whether 
 to go back without interrupting you, I heard a few words, just 
 enough to give me a little insight into the business. I thought 
 it fair to tell you ; and besides, I wanted to charge you not to 
 be notional ; for a girl of your sense, Ellen, you are apt to be a 
 little notional, which is not your fault, but comes of your living 
 with Mrs. Harrison, and reading too many verses, which are 
 apt to make girls dreamy/' 
 
 " Miss Debby," cried Emily, " every thing is ready, and the 
 sun is rising." 
 
 " Coming child, coming. One word more, Ellen " and 
 here Deborah paused, for the first time in her life at a loss how 
 to express herself. She drummed with the butt end of her 
 whip on the railing, made figures with the lash on the floor, 
 knit her brow, bit her lips, but did not speak till spurred by a 
 second call from Emily ; and then the tears gushed from the 
 good creature's eyet as she said, " Ellen, you are rich in no- 
 thing but the grace of God ; the best riches I know : but then 
 there's neither quails nor manna now-a-days, and one must look 
 a little to the needful. When my father died, (a thrifty, pru 
 dent man.) he left me fifty pounds lawful. It has been in good 
 hands, and has run up to between two and three hundred. I 
 have enough for myself besides, Ellen, laid up for a wet day, 
 so that is all to be yours. Now don't speak, but hearken to
 
 REDWOOD. 377 
 
 me besides the money, I have a nice store of table linen for 
 you, and some coverlets, and feather beds." 
 
 Oh, Deborah, Deborah !" 
 
 " Say nothing, child I can't bear it. I won't be gain- 
 sayed. Good by. Ellen, the Lord bless you, child, and all 
 that care for you," and she strided across the piazza without 
 giving Ellen time to open her lips ; shook Miss Campbell's 
 hand heartily as she passed, took her seat in the chaise, and 
 the moment Emily had taken a hurried leave of Ellen, she 
 drove off, followed by the blessings and prayers of her grateful 
 young friend. 
 
 The two ladies stood silently gazing after the old chaise 
 as it slowly descended the hill. After a few moments, Miss 
 Campbell turned suddenly round, and observing that the tears 
 were streaming from Ellen's eyes, " Who would think," she 
 said, " that Miss Deborah would call forth such a sentimental 
 tribute ; and yet I could find it in my heart to cry heartily 
 too, for sure I am, I never shall look upon her like again." 
 
 " She deserves every tribute," replied Ellen, " that can be 
 paid to genuine worth. Under her rough exterior she bears 
 a heart that angels might joy to look into full of all honest 
 thoughts and kindly affections." 
 
 " Yes, I believe you ; and now, dear Ellen, though more 
 than half an angel yourself, I am going to expose a heart to 
 you that has no such high qualifications ; so get your hat and 
 shawl, and we will stroll into some of these woods, far out of 
 the sight and hearing of the ' world's people.' " 
 
 The two ladies ascended the hill above the spring, and 
 leaving the highway, took a footpath that indents a beautiful 
 grove. They soon reached a place of perfect seclusion, and 
 seating themselves on a rock, they remained for some time 
 silent ; Ellen awaiting Miss Campbell's communication, and
 
 378 REDWOOD. 
 
 she with some embarrassment picking the leaves from a branch 
 she had plucked in her way, and , strewing them about her : at 
 last, throwing away leaves, branch and all, she said, " I hardly 
 know, Ellen, whether to be most ashamed or proud of myself, 
 on account of the confidence I am about to repose in you. It 
 seems so like the girlish prating of a Miss in her teens ; after 
 our brief acquaintance to unveil to you the state of my heart, 
 when even I myself have not yet dared to take one calm sur- 
 vey of it. But there is a charm about you. Ellen an ' open 
 sessame ' that unlocks all hearts you have touched the mas- 
 ter-spring of mine, and it must be shown to you as it is, with 
 all its light and all its darkness : believe me, you will find it 
 1 o'er good for banning, and o'er bad for blessing.' " 
 
 " Well, dear Miss Campbell, do dispense with any more 
 preparation ; I have already felt such sweet and kindly influ- 
 ence from this unknown country, that I long to explore it." 
 
 " Will you pay my frankness in kind, Ellen ? Never mind 
 do not blush ; I see you belong to the sentimental class, who 
 never tell their love, and I will be generous and tell you all ; 
 and, perhaps, you will be just and tell me all that I have not 
 already guessed. 
 
 " To begin then with the beginning. I might almost use 
 the concise style of a certain ludicrous person, and say, ' I was 
 born, and up I grew' but that there were circumstances that 
 occurred in our family, in my youth, which affected my charac- 
 ter and relations in life. My father was a lawyer, a man of 
 talents, and rising rapidly in his profession, when he was car- 
 ried off by the yellow fever, then raging in our city. I was 
 but a month old when he died. My mother took refuge among 
 the Moravians in Bethlem. The sudden death of my father 
 blasted her happiness and hopes ; and the fatigue of removal, 
 so soon after her confinement, threw her into a decline ; she
 
 REDWOOD. 379 
 
 languished two years, and then followed my father. The Mo- 
 ravian sisters had attended to all her wants with exemplary 
 devotion. My helpless infancy had interested their kind 
 hearts ; I was exclusively attached to them, and as my aunt 
 Armstead was then engrossed with a plentifully stocked nur- 
 sery, and I had no other near female relative, my friends were 
 easily persuaded to permit me to remain under the care of one 
 of the sisters of Bethlem, 
 
 " When I was ten years old, my uncle Richard Campbell, 
 who was my guardian, came to see me ; he was then, and still 
 is, a bachelor ; he is a merchant, and has amassed a large for- 
 tune, all, as I am told, in a very regular way of trade, and by 
 the faithful application of every maxim in poor Richard's alma- 
 nac. He was my father's eldest brother ; had courted in his 
 youth a very charming young girl, who preferred and married 
 his younger brother, a poor, helpless genius. This disappoint- 
 ment inclined my uncle Richard to distrust our whole sex, one 
 of them having made such an erroneous calculation as to the 
 main chance, and he is said never to have jeoparded his fortune 
 by offering to participate it with any other lady. His } r ounger 
 brother, and successful rival, abandoned his country and went 
 to England, in the hope of carrying his literary talents to a 
 better market than he could find for them at home. There he 
 had small successes and great discouragements ; and, after 
 struggling a few years, he died, and left his wife unprovided 
 with every thing but three or four children, rather an unpro- 
 ductive property you know. She preferred remaining in Eng- 
 land to returning, to be either a dependent on her friends, or 
 a reproach to them ; and with the aid of occasional remittances 
 from my good aunt Armstead, and some little remnant of her 
 father's estate, and with faculties of industry and economy in 
 her situation deserving of all praise, she contrived to subsist
 
 380 REDWOOD. 
 
 
 
 and educate her family respectably. Her eldest son is said to 
 be a genius, a painter by profession, and a man of sense ; but 
 of him more anon. 
 
 " My uncle Richard preserved towards the poor widow of 
 his brother the resentment of a mean mind ; and there is, as 
 far as I know, no reason to believe that in all her embarrass- 
 ments he ever extended to her the slightest aid. As I told 
 you, when my uncle first saw me I was ten years old, a little 
 prim miniature old maid, dressed in the formal fashion of the 
 Moravians, as staid in my deportment, and as precise in all my 
 movements, as the good ancient maiden who had formed me 
 after her own model. In short, I was my uncle's beau ideal. 
 He was just then meditating a selection of some one of his 
 young relations to inherit his property of some one who, by 
 the hardest slavery, the slavery of the mind, the complete sub- 
 jection of the will, might deserve the rich inheritance he has 
 to bestow. Most unfortunately for him and for me, his choice 
 fell upon myself: unfortunate for both, for if there ever ex- 
 isted two beings who had not one principle of affinity, they are 
 my uncle and myself. He is a conceited bigot in every thing, 
 from his religion down to his particular mode of tying on his 
 neckcloth ; he is ignorant of every thing but ho\ to get and 
 how to keep money : in short, dear Ellen, for his character is 
 not worth the drawing, the breath of intellectual and moral 
 life has never been breathed into him." 
 
 " And is this the uncle, Miss Campbell, whose fortune you 
 are to inherit ?" inquired Ellen. 
 
 t: The same, my dear and do not suspect me of ingrati- 
 tude. I have faults enough, Heaven knows, but ingratitude is 
 not one of them a good word, a kind look, were never thrown 
 away upon me ; but I owe my uncle nothing. He selected an 
 heir because he chose to control his property as long as possi-
 
 REDWOOD. 381 
 
 ble ; and he selected me because he fancied that I should prove 
 an obedient machine, a meek subject to his will." 
 
 " You must have convinced him of his mistake long before 
 this," said Ellen ; " how have you retained his favor ?" 
 
 " Oh, he is completely enlightened, my dear ; but luckily 
 for my worldly prospects, he prides himself on never changing 
 his purpose. But I have gone beyond my story. He took me 
 home with him, placed me at a public school, where I had com- 
 panions of my own age, and I soon lost the quiet deportment 
 that had been the effect of the law of imitation, and all the 
 orderly virtues that had been produced by careful pruning and 
 training. I was like a plant transferred from the cellar to 
 the genial influences of air, sunshine, and showers. My uncle 
 had scarcely announced his decision to the" world, and pro- 
 nounced his infallible opinion of my merits, before I was trans- 
 formed into a gay, laughing, romping, reckless child. Figure 
 to yourself, my dear Ellen, such a child with all the uproar and 
 misrule that follows in her train, introduced into the house of 
 a sober citizen, a priggish old bachelor, with as much pharisai- 
 cal exactness in the arrangement of his household and furni- 
 ture, as if his salvation depended on preserving the mutual 
 relation of chairs and tables. 
 
 " His servants were always in my interest, for I was gen- 
 erous to them to the extent of my ability, and they contrived 
 so to shelter and excuse my faults, that my uncle endured my 
 residence with him for two years ; then on one unlucky, or 
 rather lucky day, since I may date from it my escape from 
 thraldom, as I was returning from school with a troop of my 
 young friends, I met old Dickey, a blind fiddler, who used to 
 patrol the streets, led by his dog, who was the familiar friend 
 of every child in the city. We were near my uncle's door ; I 
 was in the humor for a frolic, and thoughtless of the conse-
 
 382 REDWOOD. 
 
 quences, I invited Dickey in, pressed my companions to follow 
 we ejected the chairs and tables from the parlor, and in five 
 minutes were dancing as merrily as ever fairies tripped it 
 over a green. In the height of our mirth, my uncle entered 
 to witness the horrible sacrilege to which his immaculate parlor 
 was devoted. Children, Dickey, dog, and all, were instantly 
 sent packing. I followed in their train, full of resentment at 
 the indignity that had been offered to me by such treatment of 
 my guests, and heroically resolved never to enter my uncle's 
 house again. I went to my aunt Armstead's and poured my 
 wrongs into her kind bosom. She, no doubt, saw that my folly 
 surpassed my uncle's severity, but she is the most indulgent 
 being in the world she had an excessive partiality for me, and 
 without reprimanding me very severely, she took the prudent 
 resolution to go to my uncle, and represent to him the absolute 
 necessity for his own comfort, as well as my prosperity, of 
 placing me under female surveillance. She proposed taking 
 charge of me herself, and in pleading my cause she paid such 
 deference to my uncle's will and whims, that she obtained her 
 point without much difficulty indeed, I believe, if the truth 
 were known, the quiet angels in heaven were not more rejoiced 
 to be rid of the rebel spirit and his misguided followers, than 
 my uncle was to be relieved from me and the little mob that 
 was for ever at my heels. 
 
 "In my aunt's family I have lived in indulgence so 
 unbounded, that it would have been ruinous to me. but for the 
 salutary influence of those domestic affections, which next to 
 the control and regulation of principle, are certainly the best 
 security for virtue. I could sketch my own character, my dear 
 Ellen, but I am afraid I should not much like to look at the 
 picture. I have had what the French call grand succes in the 
 world, and yet I am more than half wearied with it at least
 
 REDWOOD. 383 
 
 when I am beyond the siren sounds of pleasure pleasure in 
 the childish, gay world's sense, I can feel an anchorite's con- 
 tempt for it. I have been at the very head of society in Phil- 
 adelphia I may say it to you, because it is evidently no merit 
 in your eyes ; you care for none of these things. I had rivals 
 who excelled me in every particular attraction of a fine lady 
 many that were far richer than I expect to be, some that were 
 far handsomer than my glass, my vanity, or even my flatterers 
 told me that I was some that I felt to be far wittier, and 
 some that I knew to be much more accomplished but I united 
 more than any one of them all. I had not beauty enough to 
 be that most insipid of all creatures, a mere belle nor litera- 
 ture enough to fall into that unhappy class, the blue stockings, 
 the terror of our city beaux, the dread of our fashionables 
 nor sufficiently brilliant expectations to throw me into the 
 vulgar class of the fortunes ; but I had enough of each to 
 attract the votaries of every class I have been surrounded by 
 admirers, and yet I have walked among them with an unscath- 
 ed heart till within these few weeks ; and now, my dear Ellen, 
 be kind enough to look the other way, for though I have not 
 all your sentimental reserve, I have a little maidenly pride of 
 my own, which I would rather not discourage. 
 
 " You noticed the gentleman who was with me when I 
 first had the happiness to see you he is an acquaintance 
 of a few weeks standing, and yet, shall I confess all to you ? 
 he has made himself perfectly indispensable to my happi- 
 ness." 
 
 " That may be," said Ellen. 
 
 " Yes, my dear, and I suspect there are some who live and 
 act more by rule than I do, who find that such things are. I 
 despise and distrust as much as you can, the idea of love 
 at first sight, and all the folly connected with it ; but my
 
 384 REDWOOD. 
 
 late experience has made me a little superstitious in regard 
 to the old orthodox doctrine that ' matches are made in 
 heaven.' " 
 
 " But why so ? If the account your cousin has given of 
 Mr. Howard is a just one. (and your cousin seems not to be an 
 enthusiast.) there is nothing supernatural in his winning your 
 affections, and certainly there is nothing extraordinary in his 
 reciprocating them reciprocal I am sure the attachment must 
 be." 
 
 " Certainly, or you would never have heard mine aforesaid 
 confession. Howard and I understand each other, but there 
 are obstacles in my way that he does not understand. 
 
 " I have long been interested in the character and destiny 
 of my cousin Fenton Campbell, the eldest son of the aunt of 
 whom I spoke to you, who resides in England. From the 
 accounts we have received of him, he inherits his father's genius 
 with the good sense of his mother. He has already attained 
 some distinction in his profession, and has long been the sup- 
 port of his mother and sisters. My aunt Armstead and I 
 have takon especial pains that every account of his thriftiness 
 should be poured into my uncle Richard's ear : and two years 
 ago, when I had mortally offended my uncle, by doing some- 
 thing he had forbidden, or not doing something he had com- 
 manded, I forget which, I entreated my aunt to seize the 
 favorable moment to urge Fenton's equal claims to mine, and 
 his superior merits, and to induce my uncle to make a will 
 which should divide his fortune equally between us." 
 
 " That was indeed generous. Miss Campbell." 
 
 " No, my dear, not particularly generous. I was moved to 
 it more by my impatience under my obligations to my uncle, 
 than by any more disinterested motive.'' 
 
 Ellen's animated countenance evinced that she admired the
 
 REDWOOD. 385 
 
 magnanimity that spurned a self-delusion, and Miss Campbell 
 proceeded 
 
 " My uncle was persuaded : he announced his resolution to 
 me, which, as you may imagine, I received with very provoking 
 nonchalance ; and he wrote to Fenton, and promised him, that 
 provided he would come immediately to this country and fix 
 his residence here, he should inherit the half of his estate. 
 Fenton returned a very calm expression of his gratitude, but 
 said it was entirely out of his power to perform the required 
 conditions, as his mother was in a declining state of health, 
 too feeble either to endure a voyage, or to be left by her son. 
 He particularly requested that his mother might not be in- 
 formed of his uncle's generous intentions in regard to him, as 
 nothing would distress her so much as to be in any mode an 
 obstacle to the prosperity of her family. This letter of Fen- 
 ton's of course deepened my favorable impressions of him. but 
 it had quite a contrary effect upon my uncle, who thought that 
 no folly could surpass the giving the go-by to such a chance of 
 fortune. Poor slave of mammon ! he could not forgive Fen- 
 
 V 
 
 ton for not forsaking all other duties, to bow down and worship 
 the golden image he had set up. My aunt Armstead wrote to 
 him repeatedly and urgently to come over for a few months to 
 conciliate my uncle, and confirm his wavering mind but no 
 motive could persuade him to leave his mother. My uncle 
 suspended his arrangements : his displeasure against Fenton 
 prevented a decision in his favor, while the frequent accounts 
 he received of the young man's diligent application to his pro- 
 fession kept alive his wish to deposit a part of his fortune in 
 his prudent hands. 
 
 "Thus matters remained till about six months since, 
 when we received the intelligence of my aunt Campbell's 
 death. My uncle Richard renewed his proposition to Fen- 
 17
 
 386 REDWOOD. 
 
 ton ; he accepted it, and three months ago arrived in Phila- 
 delphia. 
 
 " I have not yet seen him. My aunt Armstead removed to 
 her country place in Jersey the week before his arrival. 
 Cousin William tells me that the old gentleman has taken 'sur- 
 prisingly to Fenton, attracted by the gravity of his manners, 
 which William imputes to his laborious sedentary life, and to 
 his grief for the recent loss of his mother, whom he most ten- 
 derly loved. So far all is well but now, dear Ellen, come the 
 cross-purposes. My uncle has taken it into his wise head to 
 institute a partnership concern between Fenton and myself; 
 and on the very day of Fenton's arrival in this country, he an 
 nounced by letter his supreme will to me in much the same 
 terms he would employ to convey his orders to a supercargo. 
 Three months ago this would have been well enough ; for I 
 have had a sort of indefinite purpose to keep myself fancy 
 free till I could see this cousin of mine nothing else, I be- 
 lieve, has kept me single so long." 
 
 " So long !" exclaimed Ellen, smiling. 
 
 " Yes, my dear, ' so long ;' for you must know I am on the 
 verge of three-and-twenty, an age un peu passe in the world of 
 fashion, and quite unknown in the lives of heroines, for ex- 
 cepting lady Geraldine, the most spirited of Miss Edgeworth's 
 characters, and whom (heaven bless her for it !) she has made, 
 I think, to arrive at the mature age of two and twenty, I do 
 not remember in all romance, a single heroine that had attain- 
 ed her majority." 
 
 " But you surely do not seriously .mean, my dear Miss 
 Campbell, that any such motive would influence your mar- 
 riage ?" 
 
 " My sweet little methodistic Ellen, I am very much afraid 
 it would ; depend upon it. one cannot live altogether in the
 
 REDWOOD. 387 
 
 world and not be of the world : but let me go on with my 
 story, and you will find that I am in danger of a romantic 
 folly that would be more appropriate to your innocence and 
 sweet simplicity. 
 
 " My cousin, instead of coming immediately to my aunt's, 
 remained in the city. I was a little piqued at his delay, for I 
 thought it would have been much more in keeping with his 
 character, to look after, us than to remain hanging about my 
 uncle. In the meantime, as Heaven decreed, William Arm- 
 stead brought home with him his friend Howard ; he was a 
 Bostonian ; that prejudiced me in his favor, for I like the 
 eastern people particularly : they have not, perhaps, the air of 
 fashion, the flexible graces that flourish at the south, but they 
 have great intelligence, high cultivation, and above all, a manly 
 dignity of manners, a simplicity and naturalness, an elevated 
 tone of moral feeling, a" 
 
 " Do you speak of a class or an individual ?" asked Ellen, 
 archly. 
 
 " Both, Ellen, both a noble class, and a most worthy rep- 
 resentative of that class. But to proceed. We were in the 
 country. Howard might not have fancied me elsewhere ; but 
 there all that is good and ethereal in my nature rises superior 
 to every artificial influence, ' the malt's aboon the meal' 
 moonlight rural walks, and all the appliances and means of 
 love came in aid of our mutual liking ; and, before we parted, 
 we were fast approaching the last interesting scene in the love 
 drama the exchange of mutual vows. At this critical mo- 
 ment Howard received letters that obliged him to leave us for 
 a few days ; he is to be here to-morrow, and it was partly from 
 the wish to have such a friend as you near me at this important 
 juncture, that I so earnestly entreated you to remain at Leb- 
 anon. There is a pitfall before me : I am certain that if I fill
 
 388 REDWOOD. 
 
 up the measure of my iniquities by refusing obedience to my 
 uncle in the matter of his nephew, I shall incur his everlast- 
 ing displeasure and the penalty of disinheritance." 
 
 ' That/' said Ellen, " can be of little consequence, since you 
 do not incur the penalty by any violation of duty " 
 
 " Of little consequence ! Would to heaven, Ellen, I were as 
 unsophisticated as you are ; or that I had never been ' clasped 
 with favor in fortune's tender arms.' " An unwonted seriousness 
 overspread Miss Campbell's face as she added, " I certainly am 
 not selfish. I disdain the vulgar distinction of wealth ; but who 
 can escape or evade the force of habit, accustomed as I have 
 been to the ease and indulgence of fortune, to the power it con- 
 fers, and the deference that attends it ? How shall I encounter 
 toil and submit to privations ? How shall I bear the neglect 
 of those who have courted my favor, who have felt honored by 
 my slightest attention?" 
 
 "By rising to an elevation they can never reach. Miss 
 Campbell." said Ellen, affectionately taking her hand. "If 
 you love Howard, if he deserves your love, he is worth this 
 sacrifice." 
 
 " Upon my word, young ladies, talking of love and lovers 
 before breakfast," spoke a voice behind them, which made both 
 the ladies start, and turning round they perceived William 
 Armstead approaching them with a letter in his hand. " I 
 have been looking for you, cousin Grace," he said, " this half 
 hour, and have at length traced you to this place : who would 
 have expected to find you sentimentalizing in a shady grove 
 and before breakfast too You are leading Grace quite out 
 of her element. Miss Bruce. Grace. I have a letter here for 
 yon from our worthy uncle, which, if I mistake not. will eon- 
 tain matter of fact that will dispel all your morning fancies; 
 and I have a piece of news for you too."
 
 REDWOOD. 389 
 
 " Has Howard arrived ?" exclaimed Miss Campbell. 
 
 " You need not blush, Grace, because your tongue is obedi- 
 ent to your heart. No Howard has not arrived, but Fenton 
 has." 
 
 ' Fenton," replied Miss Campbell in a disappointed tone, 
 and the color retreated from her cheeks as suddenly as it had 
 appeared. " Oh, "William, I could almost wish you the fate of 
 Ascalaphus for bringing me such news." 
 
 Miss Campbell broke the seal of her uncle's letter, and ran 
 her eye hastily over it ; and as she read half to herself and 
 half aloud, her companions caught these, broken sentences 
 ' take it very ill I get no advices from you' ' Fenton more 
 punctual, but says nothing as to the business in hand' ' two 
 for the divisor, don't like that' ' will have neither subtraction 
 nor division to my capital'^' obey orders, marry Fenton, you 
 shall have the sum total' ' disobey, and you are a cipher the 
 wrong side of the figure.' 
 
 Miss Campbell's indignation mantled into her face and 
 sparkled in her eyes, and she tore the letter to fragments and 
 scattered it to the winds c ' Mean, sordid being !" she exclaim- 
 ed ; " and he thinks I will traffic with my affections as he does 
 with his merchandise ! No, let his silver and gold perish I 
 will marry whom I please, and when I please !" 
 
 Ellen, with the impulsive sympathy of generous feeling, 
 pressed the arm into which hers was locked ; and Armstead 
 said, " Spoken worthy of yourself, my dear Grace ; but consider 
 well and warily before you take a step which cannot be retract- 
 ed. You 'are a woman of sense, and you know it is one thing 
 to wish to attain a difficult summit, and quite another to reach 
 it. You are a woman of prudence a woman of the world, and 
 you know that the visions of youthful love bear a very faint 
 resemblance to the realities of life. You know, dear Grace.
 
 390 REDWOOD. 
 
 that it would be at least as difficult for a fashionable woman 
 like you to play love in a cottage, as for a camel to go through 
 the eye of a needle consider well, cousin, consider well, before 
 you take an unchangeable resolution." 
 
 " I have considered, William have I not, Ellen ?" 
 
 Ellen smiled without replying, for she feared that her 
 friend's hasty resolution had been somewhat quickened by re- 
 sentment against her uncle : luckily the warmth of Grace 
 Campbelrs feelings at the moment prevented her noticing the 
 half-incredulous expression of Ellen's face. 
 
 " I have considered, William," she repeated, " and if your 
 friend will take my unportioned hand. Fenton shall be welcome 
 to all my uncle's paltry wealth he shall see that I despise it, 
 and the world shall know that I disdain its splendor." 
 
 " And you, my dear Miss Campbell," said Ellen with enthu- 
 siasm, " will have the secret consciousness of having acted right 
 and nobly." 
 
 '' Ah, thank you, Ellen, for your prompting. I am apt I 
 believe to forget secret feelings. I have been a gallery picture, 
 you a sweet little cabinet article : but times are changing with 
 me, and you will teach me better." 
 
 " I am thinking. Grace," said Armstead. how Howard will 
 relish these changing times, it would be a disappointment to 
 find him not as magnanimous and disinterested as yourself." 
 
 " Howard not disinterested ! your friendship grows cold, 
 William." 
 
 " Not at all we may as well look truth ip the face, cousin, 
 though it should come to us through the medium of friend or 
 lover love matches among people who have lived in a certain 
 style, you know, are getting to be quite obsolete we are begin- 
 ning to regard them as only becoming boys and girls only 
 suited to the infancy of society."
 
 REDWOOD. 391 
 
 "I know not whether you are sarcastic or serious, Wil- 
 liam." 
 
 Perfectly serious," rejoined "William, "and as serious in 
 my opinion that Fenton dampbell is to the full as disinterested 
 as Howard." 
 
 " Impossible ! we have all been mistaken in Fenton : he is 
 a cold, calculating Englishman his servility to my uncle 
 proves it. It was unworthy any man of spirit to be the bearer 
 of this letter to me." 
 
 " Come, Miss Bruce," said Armstead to Ellen, " hasten 
 your friend's pace, she will work herself into such a holy indig- 
 nation against poor Fenton before we reach home, that she will 
 not be able to receive him with common civility. Come, my dear 
 Grace, forget your displeasure look again like yourself, if it is 
 only to let Fenton see the gem sparkle which he has forfeited." 
 
 In vain Armstead continued his efforts as they approached 
 the house, to dispel his cousin's gravity : he reasoned, he ral- 
 lied, but all in vain the fear he had insinuated into her mind 
 in relation to Howard, had taken complete possession of her : 
 she blamed herself for the frankness of her communications ; 
 and for a few moments at least, she would have rejoiced to 
 have been even as destitute as Ellen of extrinsic attractions. 
 
 Consc ous that the agitation of her mind unfitted her for 
 meeting her cousin with the indifference and calm civility 
 which her pride prompted her to assume towards him, she 
 approached the door of the parlor, where Armstead told her 
 that his mother with Fenton was awaiting her, with a slow and 
 reluctant step. 
 
 " Come in with me, Ellen," she said, as her friend was 
 turning away, l - 1 always do better in company than alone ;" 
 but as she reached the threshold of the door, she hesitated, 
 and turning to Armstead, said, " Do you, William, go in and
 
 392 REDWOOD. 
 
 invent some apology for me, I will meet Fenton at breakfast 
 it will save us both useless embarrassment." 
 
 " Pshaw, Grace ! don't behave like a child," replied her 
 cousin, and at the same instant he settled the mode of proce- 
 dure by throwing open the door, and saying with affected for- 
 mality, "Miss Campbell, allow me to introduce you to my 
 cousin Fenton my sometime friend Howard." 
 
 Grace forgot for once whether she was in company or alone, 
 forgot very thing but the surprising certainty that Howard 
 and Fenton were the self-same person every trace of displea- 
 sure vanished from her face, unmixed delight shone in her 
 brightened eye and glowing cheek, and without noticing the 
 joyful expression of her aunt's face, the ludicrous twist of Wil- 
 liam Armstead's mouth, or the sympathy that moistened Ellen's 
 eye, she gave Fenton her hand, and in virtue of his being 
 friend, lover, or cousin, one or all, permitted him to devour it 
 with kisses 
 
 " Come, my dear mother, come, Miss Bruce," said William 
 Armstead, " I believe we may trust to the good faith of our 
 friends to make their compact without witnesses." And as he 
 followed the ladies out of the room, he turned, and with a very 
 wise and cautionary shake of the head, said, " beware, cousin 
 Grace, beware a ' cold, calculating Englishman !' " 
 
 " Well, William," asked Mrs. Armstead, " how have you 
 contrived to keep Fenton's secret so long ? you ought to have 
 told me you surely might have trusted me you know I am 
 no babbler." 
 
 " I know, dear mother, ' thou wilt not utter what thou dost 
 not know.' " 
 
 " Oh for shame, Will ! I cannot possibly comprehend of 
 what mighty consequence it could be in the first place to de- 
 vise this secret and then to keep it."
 
 REDWOOD. 393 
 
 " Ah, there it is ; and this question would have arisen in 
 your mind long ago, and in spite of any resolution to the con- 
 trary, some significant look or word would have betrayed our 
 ambush before we had effected our purpose." 
 
 " Still, Mr. Arrnstead," said Ellen, " I think your mother's 
 question is a rational one certainly this artifice does seem a 
 little juvenile and romantic in a man of five-and-twenty ; and 
 a man too of Mr. Campbell's gravity of manners." 
 
 " If it seems to you romantic, Miss Bruce, it must need 
 explanation ; and I am certain that the explanation will satisfy 
 you, that Fenton has been sufficiently rational, and you, my 
 dear mother, that in keeping his counsel, your son has been 
 only prudent." Armstead then proceeded to say that his 
 cousin had long had the most favorable impression of Grace's 
 character, partly the consequence of the young lady's letters 
 to his mother, which were often accompanied by generous gifts, 
 always offered in the most delicate manner ; and partly the 
 consequence of the zealous affection with which his mother had 
 mentioned Grace in her letters to her sister-in-law, and to her 
 nephew ; and finally, as he reminded his mother, of her having 
 (notwithstanding her surprising talent at keeping a secret) be- 
 trayed Grace's agency in the alteration of her uncle's will." 
 
 Here Mrs. Armstead interrupted her son to say ' that it 
 was very fortunate she did make that communication ; for in a 
 private letter which she received from Fenton at the time, he 
 had declared that, without the knowledge of that circumstance, 
 he never would have accepted his uncle Richard's proposition.' 
 
 " No doubt, dear mother, you had excellent reasons (as who 
 has not in a like case) for telling the secret, and abundant con- 
 solations for having told it ; but allow me to finish my story. 
 Fenton, with all these prejudices in Grace's favor, arrives in 
 Philadelphia; is introduced to my uncle, and favorably re- 
 17*
 
 394 REDWOOD. 
 
 ceived. He learns our absence from the city, and determines 
 to follow us immediately ; he calls the next morning to take 
 leave of my uncle, and is informed by him, with his usual gros- 
 sierte, of the contents of the letter he had written to Grace. 
 Fenton knew enough of his cousin to believe that she would 
 be as averse from giving her heart, as Falstaff was his reasons, 
 on compulsion ; and when I arrived, most opportunely, in 
 Philadelphia on the day he had received this pretty piece of 
 information from my uncle, I found him in a web of such 
 doubts and difficulties as you sentimentalists, Miss Bruce, are 
 apt to weave about yourselves." 
 
 " But we sentimentalists," rejoined Ellen, " since you insist 
 on placing me in that class, are not apt to expose our diffi- 
 culties to the profane eyes of scoffers." 
 
 " No and so my cousin would probably have lost himself 
 in a labyrinth, from which no device of human ingenuity could 
 have extricated him, had not some expressions that fell from 
 my uncle revealed to me the secret of his perplexities. I went 
 immediately to Fenton, disclosed to him my discoveries, and 
 suggested the scheme which has succeeded so happily. My 
 uncle Richard knew the young people were together, and be- 
 lieved that all was going on well in obedience to his orders 
 the complete retirement of my mother's place protected us 
 from observation, and my lofty cousin has been wooed and 
 won in a manner most flattering to her own, and to Fenton's 
 pride."
 
 REDWOOD. 395 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 " God's holy word, once trivial in his view, 
 Now by the voice of his experience true, 
 Seems, as it is, the fountain whence alone 
 Must spring that hope he pants to make his own." 
 
 COWPER. 
 
 SOME days glided away, while the gay society at Lebanon pre- 
 sented nothing to the eye of a casual observer but a brilliant 
 surface of pleasure. But we claim to be among those gifted 
 personages, who, like the Diable boiteux, are permitted to pene- 
 trate below the surface, to visit secret retirements, to dive into 
 the depths of hidden thoughts, to explore their recesses, and 
 to discover them to the curious eye. Availing ourselves of our 
 prerogative, we beg our readers to quit with us the thronged 
 piazzas, the dancing hall, the lively coteries that fill the public 
 rooms, and take a peep into the respective apartments of the 
 individuals we have presumed to introduce to their notice. 
 
 And first, as entitled to our chief interest, is Ellen who, 
 in spite of the beseeching looks of Westall, and the raillery of 
 Grace Campbell, persisted in secluding herself in her own 
 room. 
 
 " What romantic whim have you taken into your head, 
 Ellen ?" said her friend, who had followed her from the break-
 
 396 REDWOOD. 
 
 fast-table one morning. " Come, my dear, you must not shut 
 yourself up in this cell any longer I bring an absolute requi- 
 sition for you from my aunt Armstead, who has ordered the 
 carriage to carry us all to see the Shakers, and ramble about 
 the hills in the neighborhood, to spy out the beauties of the 
 land. Fenton will take his portfolio with him, and while in 
 sketching nature, he is paying bis devotions to his first love, I 
 shall be at liberty to give you a lecture upon your duties." 
 
 " I will go with you, Grace Campbell you can make even 
 lectures tolerable." 
 
 " Thank you, my dear ; but pray do not look as if you 
 were going to the stake." 
 
 This was the day on which Ellen expected a reply to her 
 letter to Mrs. Harrison, and she could not conceal, and dared 
 not explain the reluctance with which she consented to an ar- 
 rangement that must retard the time of her receiving it. She 
 tried to evade Miss Campbell's scrutiny, by saying, with a 
 forced smile, " Such a frail creature as I am may well feel 
 dread of a lecture on my duties ; but you may perhaps lessen' 
 it by telling me what those are that are to be the subject of 
 your preaching." 
 
 " Kindness to your lover frankness to your friend. Ellen. 
 There is poor Westall turned off with the ' fezzenless bran ' of 
 commonplace civility, and I, who have poured all my love-lore 
 into your ears, am obliged to make out the history of your 
 heart as well as I can by the index of the changeful cheek 
 sometimes deadly pale, and then lit up by a glow that seems 
 the shadow of your thoughts, so quickly does it brighten and 
 fade away. You see, my dear, mysterious as you are, I have 
 noted and comprehend the signs of the times." 
 
 Believe me, my dear friend." said Ellen, taking Grace's 
 hand affectionately- " I have a reason for the suspension of my
 
 REDWOOD. 397 
 
 intercourse with Westall for my reserve to you, a day or two 
 will, I trust in heaven, end this mystery j and when I am ab- 
 solved from the necessity of any further reserve, you shall 
 know all." 
 
 " God speed the happy hour, my sweet Ellen, and show me 
 that you have reason, even in your madness." 
 
 The ladies were interrupted by Mrs. Westall, who appeared 
 at the door with her work-box in her hand, ' come,' as she said, 
 ' to sit the morning with Miss Bruce.' 
 
 " Miss Bruce is engaged to ride with me, and I hope 
 you will do me the favor to change your purpose, Mrs. 
 Westall," said -Miss Campbell, "and occupy a seat in my 
 aunt's carriage, which we want very much to have agreeably 
 filled." 
 
 Mrs. Westall assented readily to the polite request, and 
 while she went for her hat and shawl, Miss Campbell said, 
 " Your good mother elect has taken you mightily into favor of 
 late, Ellen. Straws show which way the wind blows. I over- 
 heard her yesterday zealously stating your claims to gentility 
 to the Elmores of New- York a point, you know, of infinite 
 moment in the judgment of the daughters of a ci-devant bar- 
 maid." 
 
 " And was Mrs. Westall able to establish my right to the 
 favorite epithet ' genteel ?' " 
 
 " The pass-word with certain people yes. my dear, per- 
 fectly, I believe ; for, after hearing her statement, one of the 
 young ladies observed that her mamma said she ' was sure you 
 was genteel from the first moment she saw you, you wore such 
 particularly fine lace, and a real camel's hair : those.' she said, 
 ' were mamma's critcrions for knowing a lady, they were so 
 lady-like.' " 
 
 " Oh, what would mamma have said," exclaimed Elieu, if
 
 398 REDWOOD. 
 
 she had known that I was indebted to the generosity of Mrs. 
 Harrison for all my lady-like qualities ?" 
 
 " I can't say, my dear, for the inquisition of the young 
 ladies was suddenly interrupted by Mrs. Harris, a relation and 
 dependent of the Osmer family, who rests her fame on her pa- 
 trician blood, and who, therefore, had another, though perhaps 
 not quite as absurd a criterion by which she would graduate 
 your rank ; ' pray,' she said, ' Mrs. "Westall, can you tell me 
 the maiden name of Miss Bruce's mother ? I once had a very 
 distant relation who married a Bruce.' Mrs. Westall seemed 
 a little embarrassed said she did not know ; and Mrs. Harris 
 turned to Caroline Redwood, who sat next her, and said, ' you, 
 Miss Redwood, can probably inform me something of Miss 
 Bruce's parentage.' ' I, ma'am !' exclaimed Miss Redwood ; 
 ' indeed I know nothing of Miss Bruce : I believe her parents 
 are dead :' and her immovable color, Ellen, for once did move, 
 and she was so pale for a moment, that I really thought the 
 girl was going to faint. Is it not very strange she should have 
 shown so much emotion on the subject ?" 
 
 " Yes, very strange ; but nothing from Miss Redwood can 
 ever surprise me." said Ellen. 
 
 Miss Campbell looked on Ellen for a moment earnestly, 
 and then said, with a little hesitation, " The old woman's curi- 
 osity is natural enough, and I should like to gratify it. Do 
 tell me, Ellen, your mother's maiden name ?" 
 
 " I cannot tell you, Miss Campbell do not ask me," re- 
 plied Ellen, with a trembling voice. 
 
 " Forgive me, my sweet friend," exclaimed Grace Campbell, 
 recovering her usual frank manner, and throwing her arm 
 around Ellen's neck and kissing her pale cheek ; " forgive my 
 silly curiosity every shade of it has passed away. I care not 
 what mine the diamond comes from, so long as I know by every
 
 REDWOOD. 399 
 
 test that it is a diamond of the first water. Come, put on 
 your ' real camel's hair,' it is a cool morning, and my aunt is 
 waiting for us." 
 
 The ladies joined Mrs. Westall iu the passage, and they 
 proceeded together. 
 
 " Where is your son this morning, Mrs. Westall ?" asked 
 Grace Campbell ; " he hardly deserves an inquiry, recreant 
 knight that he is." 
 
 " Oh, say not so, Miss Campbell ; he is detained from us 
 by a painful duty ; he has scarcely left Mr. Redwood's bedside 
 for the last two days poor man : Charles thinks him declin- 
 ing rapidly." 
 
 " There is no doubt," replied Miss Campbell, " that he is 
 sinking very fast. I saw him yesterday sitting by his window; 
 I observed he had the ghastly paleness of death ; and though 
 he bowed to me with his usual courtesy, not a muscle of his 
 face moved." 
 
 " I hope," said Ellen " I believe he is not as ill as you 
 imagine ; he suffers from extreme depression of spirits." 
 
 " Yes," said Miss Campbell ; " but this very depression 
 aggravates his disease. He is, as far as I can learn, in the 
 very depths of nervous misery. I heard his insensible daugh- 
 ter say to Fitzgerald yesterday, that she expected her father 
 would come out a Methodist at last, for she never went into 
 his room that she did not find him with a Bible in his hands." 
 
 " A Bible !" exclaimed Ellen " God be praised !" 
 
 Miss Campbell caught the fine expression of Ellen's up- 
 raised eye "What a little enthusiast you are, Ellen. You 
 would make an admirable lay-preacher ; but in the present rage 
 for division of labor, it is not proper to preach and practise 
 too ; so you shall practise and I will preach : shall we unite 
 our talents for the consolation of Mr. Redwood ?"
 
 400 REDWOOD. 
 
 " I should rejoice in any vocation that could administer 
 consolation to him," replied Ellen. 
 
 " No doubt, my dear," said her lively friend ; " but pray 
 keep your holy zeal to yourself, for here comes Fenton, a sworn 
 disciple of Gall and Spurzheim, and we shall have him explor- 
 ing your head for the ' organ of veneration,' and your heart for 
 its correspondent qualities ; and then I am afraid I shall find 
 to my cost that he is without the ' organ of adhesiveness' that, 
 I suppose, may stand for constancy in your physico-metaphy- 
 sics, Fenton?" 
 
 " Yes, my dear Grace ; and if I do not possess it, finely de- 
 veloped too, I will sacrifice my theory to experience, like a true 
 philosopher." 
 
 Miss Campbell was about to reply, when her aunt said. 
 " You forget we are waiting for you, Grace. Fenton, hand Mrs, 
 Westall to the carriage. Give Heaven all due thanks, Mrs 
 Westall, that you have not a pair of lovers on your hands." 
 
 " I should be in a much more grateful humor if I had," 
 replied Mrs. Westall, looking kindly on Ellen. 
 
 Ellen would have comprehended Mrs. Westall's meaning 
 without the interpreting glance that beamed on her from Miss 
 Campbell's eye, and she sprang into the carriage after her 
 friend, her heart quite lightened of one burden that had press- 
 ed sorely on it. 
 
 In the mean time Westall, abstracting his mind as far as 
 possible from his owl deeply interesting concerns, was perform- 
 ing his benevolent duty at the bedside of Mr. Redwood, whose 
 decline was indeed more rapid than even his friend, who knew 
 the feverish state of his mind, could have anticipated. At 
 times, fixed in the gloom of deep despondency, his mind seemed 
 cut off from all communion with the external world : his ap- 
 pearance was that of a man suffering from the frightful images
 
 REDWOOD. 40 1 
 
 of a dream ; his fixed and glassy eye the drops of sweat that 
 stood thick on his livid brow his fixed posture his clenched 
 hands his whole attitude and expression betrayed utter des- 
 pair. At these moments all Westall's efforts to arouse him 
 seemed not to make the slightest impression on his senses 
 but, suddenly, he would turn his eager eye on his young friend, 
 and listen to him as if the sentence of life or death was on his 
 lips, while Westall set forth the arguments for the truth of our 
 religion with which his familiarity with its evidences furnished 
 him, and suggested its hopes and consolations. There were 
 intervals, too, when Redwood felt as if he had attained a living 
 fountain as if his spirit was for ever emancipated from the 
 bondage of doubt and despondency, and peace was commanded 
 on his troubled mind ; but these intervals were short : " Ah, 
 Westall," he would exclaim. " I am afraid to trust myself. I 
 know not how far my mind is enfeebled by disease. I know not 
 how far my faith and hope may have their source in the strong 
 necessity I feel for present relief. The objects of sense are 
 becoming dim to my sight the cold shadows of death are 
 settling about me : my dear Charles, in this frightful state, can 
 I calmly investigate the evidence of the truth of a religion 
 which promises pardon to the penitent for the past resurrec- 
 tion and immortal life for the future ?" 
 
 " But, my dear sir," replied Westall, " there have been 
 men, in intellectual power the first of their species, who in the 
 full vigor of their faculties, with the aids of learning and 
 leisure, have calmly pursued their honest inquiries, and have 
 received our blessed religion as the rule of life the victory 
 over death." 
 
 " True true, Westall ; but names have now no authority 
 with me. I have been too long their dupe and victim. Oh, 
 how in my folly I have admired, and praised, and almost wor-
 
 402 BEDWOOD. 
 
 shipped those daring champions and teachers of unbelief, who 
 lived fearlessly, and braved undaunted the terrors of death ! 
 Now I see nothing in what seemed to me their philosophic for- 
 titude, but an obstinate vanity, a pride of opinion, a self-deify- 
 ing, that made them render homage to their own consequence, 
 when they should have sought the God of their spirits. 
 
 " Westall, I shudder at the thought of such a death as 
 Gibbon's, Hume's, Voltaire's if their indifference to the future 
 was unaffected, what a voluntary degradation to the level of 
 the brute creation ! if pretended, what mad audacity !" 
 
 " But surely," said Westall, " there is honest skepticism in 
 the world. There are minds so constituted, or exposed to 
 such unhappy influences, that unbelief becomes a condition 
 almost irresistible." 
 
 " Yes it may be so," replied Mr. Redwood ; " it must be 
 so but for my own case, I have no such flattering unction. 
 Humbling as the confession is, Charles," he added, (taking up 
 the Bible which now was almost always in his hands.) till with- 
 in this last month, I have never read this book with serious- 
 ness never but from idle curiosity, or to find exercise for my 
 ingenuity, or food for my ridicule : and now I would give 
 worlds for one year, nay one month of the life that in my folly 
 and madness I have cursed as a weary burden imposed by ar- 
 bitrary power, that my mind might be opened to the light 
 which has dawned on it from that book my heart reformed 
 by its rules renewed by its influence." 
 
 "God grant you, my dear sir," said Westall, fervently 
 grasping Mr. Redwood's hand, ".not one but many years to 
 be blessed with its efficacy. But for the present let me en- 
 treat you to dismiss all agitating thoughts, and to make an 
 effort only for that resignation which is the first principle of 
 our religion, and which will certainly produce inviolable repose."
 
 REDWOOD. 403 
 
 The conversation of the gentlemen was interrupted by the 
 entrance of Miss Redwood, who came to make her usual morn- 
 ing visit. She lingered longer than usual, and inquired with 
 more particularity into her father's symptoms. She entreated 
 him to send to town for a physician examined the vials on 
 his table, and expressed her fears that every thing was not go- 
 ing on right. Her father observed a good deal of agitation in 
 her manner he thought it indicated unusual solicitude, and 
 he was touched by it. 
 
 " My dear Caroline," he said, " all might perhaps go right 
 if you would come and help my kind friend Charles to nurse 
 me." 
 
 " Lord, papa, I would with all my heart : I should like to 
 do any thing every thing for you ; but you know I am no 
 nurse, and sickness is so frightful." 
 
 " Frightful, indeed, Caroline ; but a child's tenderness 
 might, I think, deprive it of half its terrors." 
 
 " Well, dear papa," whispered Caroline, slipping a letter 
 into her father's hand, " grant the petition this letter contains, 
 and I will stay day and night with you for a fortnight to 
 come." 
 
 Mr. Redwood took the letter, and detained Caroline's 
 hand, though she was evidently impatient to withdraw. West- 
 all rose to leave the room. " Stay, I entreat you. Westall, and 
 you, Caroline one moment's patience, my child I anticipate 
 the contents of this letter. Charles must be the bearer of my 
 answer to it : you should have no reserves from him, Caroline, 
 for after I am gone he must be your protector till your mar- 
 riage transfers that duty to another." 
 
 " I hope, sir," replied Miss Redwood, with a look of anx- 
 
 * 
 
 iety and displeasure, " that I shall be permitted to choose my 
 own protector."
 
 404 REDWOOD. 
 
 Westall walked to the extreme part of the room to relieve 
 Caroline as far as possible from the embarrassment of his 
 presence, while her father read the letter, which contained, as 
 he expected, a declaration of Captain Fitzgerald's love for his 
 daughter, and protestations of respect for himself, witten in 
 good set terms, and according to the most approved formu- 
 laries, and concluding with the modest request, authorized by 
 Miss Redwood, that Mr. Redwood would consent to their im- 
 mediate union. 
 
 " Is it possible. Caroline," said Mr. Redwood, laying his 
 finger on the last request in the letter, " that you authorized 
 or approved this ?" ** 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " And you would desert your sick your dying father, to 
 go off with this fellow a stranger a fortune-hunter a pro- 
 fligate !" 
 
 Caroline's color deepened at every additional epithet her 
 father bestowed on her lover : she flashed an indignant glance 
 on Westall, as if she would have said ' an enemy hath done 
 this ;' and commanding her voice as well as she was able, she 
 replied, " You are very unjust, papa : your mind has been set 
 against us ; and you forget that if Captain Fitzgerald or I 
 had deserved your cruel suspicions, we should have taken a 
 very different course ; if your fears are well-founded, a short 
 time may leave me at liberty to bestow my hand and fortune 
 when and where I please ; but I neither expected nor wished 
 that liberty. Fitzgerald, whatever you may think, is a man 
 of honor ; and I am sure he is sincere, when he says in his 
 letter that next to my affection, he desires your favor." 
 
 " No doubt, no doubt my favor and its consequences ; 
 but he shall have neither Westall, tell him so," added Mr. 
 Redwood, raising his voice above his daughter's, who was giv-
 
 REDWOOD. 405 
 
 ing vent to her feelings in hysterical sobs ; u tell Fitzgerald I 
 will never consent to his marriage with my daughter ; tell him 
 that I am a dying man, but let him found no hopes thereon, 
 for I am resolved, that if my daughter ever marries him, she 
 shall forfeit her fortune." 
 
 " And who," said Caroline, recovering perfectly her self- 
 possession, " who shall receive it ? the smooth pious Ellen. 
 Bruce or the kind friend Charles Westall or perhaps some 
 missionary or tract society ?" 
 
 " Oh Caroline, Caroline !" exclaimed her father, in sorrow 
 more than in anger, ' ; God forgive you." After a moment's 
 pause, he added in a voice faltering from extreme weakness, 
 but thrilling from the earnestness which deep feeling gave to 
 its tones, " Oh my child, give me your confidence for the few 
 days of life that remain to me think no more of this man 
 he is not worthy of you he is not worthy the trust of any 
 delicate woman : give to my last hours, Caroline, the consola- 
 tion of a voluntary surrender of your feelings and judgment 
 to mine." 
 
 Caroline made no reply. 
 
 " Speak for me, Westall," continued Mr. Kedwood, raising 
 himself and leaning his head against the post of his bedstead, 
 " speak for me, I have neither voice nor strength." 
 
 " It is unnecessary, sir," said Westall, and he turned an 
 appealing look on Caroline, as he added, " Miss Redwood will 
 not, I am certain, resist what you have already said." 
 
 " And who, or what, sir," asked Caroline, her spirit rising 
 from the control of her better feelings, " has given you a right 
 to interfere in my private concerns?" 
 
 " Your father." 
 
 " My father, sir, cannot delegate his rights nor my obe- 
 dience."
 
 406 REDWOOD. 
 
 " But your father, Caroline," interposed Mr. Redwood, 
 " can make your obedience a necessity go. Westall, and make 
 my decision known to Fitzgerald." 
 
 " Permit me, sir, at least," said Caroline, " to be the bearer 
 of your message. It should, I think, be tempered by some 
 friendliness in the messenger." 
 
 " Go, then, child and if you have no regard for me, re- 
 spect yourself ; open your eyes to the real views of this man, 
 and dismiss him for ever from your thoughts." 
 
 Caroline deigned no reply, but left the room, her face in- 
 dicating the determination of an imperious spirit. 
 
 " Oh Westall, Westall !" exclaimed Redwood, " from what 
 misery I might have saved myself and my child by the timely 
 performance of my duties to her." 
 
 He seemed for a few moments lost in sorrowful reflections, 
 and then starting up, he asked Westall if there were yet no 
 letters from Mrs. Harrison. 
 
 Westall, whose ear had been quickened by his impatience, 
 said he trusted there was a letter at the office, for he had just 
 heard the horn of the post-coach as it descended the eastern 
 hills. 
 
 " Go, then, dear Charles, and get the letter the warrant 
 for your happiness ; and God grant that I may see the best 
 blessings of his providence resting on you before I die." 
 
 After a long interview with her lover, which was spent 
 chiefly in listening to passionate declarations of disinterested 
 affection, which she more than half believed. Miss Redwood 
 retired to her room in great agitation of spirits and summoned 
 her servant. When Lilly appeared, she received a communi- 
 cation which rendered it necessary that she should make new 
 arrangements of her mistress's baggage trunks and band- 
 boxes were emptied on to the bed, chairs, and floor, and from
 
 REDWOOD. 407 
 
 the chaos of fine clothes, the mistress and maid proceeded to 
 make such selections as their taste and discretion dictated. 
 
 Neither the principal nor agent seemed to possess the calm- 
 ness necessary to the execution of these sudden preparations. 
 Indeed it was difficult to say which was most flurried with her 
 own individual purposes and expectations. Lilly, on sundry 
 pretexts, went often out of the room, and always returned in a 
 humor to deserve the pettish rebuke which she received from 
 Caroline. But the rebuke was no sooner given than retracted ; 
 for Caroline, afraid of the consequences of provoking the girl, 
 conciliated her by some petty gift some olive-branch symbol, 
 which mistresses and maids both comprehend. Those only 
 who understand the momentous and intricate details of a fine 
 lady's wardrobe, will believe that the remainder of the day 
 was consumed in packing a trunk of ordinary dimensions. 
 
 Caroline then proceeded herself to arrange her dressing- 
 case : after having stowed away compactly its usual apparatus, 
 she inclosed the treasure rifled from Ellen in a sheet of paper, 
 carefully sealed it, and then placed it in the dressing-case. 
 She laid in her purse also, locked it, and gave the key to Lilly. 
 
 " Now, Lilly." she said, " I believe every thing is ready. 
 I trust in heaven we shall return to-morrow ; but if we do not, 
 we have secured every thing of value." Miss Kedwood looked 
 at her watch ; " it is time to go," she said, hurrying on her hat 
 and shawl : " do you, Lilly, drag the trunk to the farther stair- 
 case, you'll find a man there ready to receive it then return 
 and take the dressing-case in your own hands remember, girl, 
 my purse is in it, and I had rather lose every thing else that I 
 possess, than that any thing should happen to it but stop, let 
 me see, cannot I take it myself? just tuck it under my shawl 
 no one will observe it." 
 
 Lilly gave the dressing-case to her mistress : " But Lord
 
 408 
 
 REDWOOD. 
 
 bless me. Miss Caroline," she said, " it makes you such a fig- 
 ure just look in the glass." 
 
 Caroline looked, but for once her appearance seemed to be 
 a secondary object. 
 
 " I will take it myself, Lilly," she said, " it's nonsense to 
 stand here deliberating about it. I shall only carry it to the 
 door, and then give it to Captain Fitzgerald." 
 
 Caroline opened the door Lilly laid her hand on it. " Now, 
 Miss Gary," she said, beseechingly, " do give in to me for once. 
 It will look so unbecoming for the captain to be seen carrying 
 your dressing-case Lord help us, a footman's work !" 
 
 " Hush, girl, I must go" 
 
 " You may go, Miss Gary, but for goodness' sake give me 
 the dressing-case why I shall whip down the hill, across the 
 fields, and be at the carriage before you." 
 
 " Take it, then, you fool," said Caroline : and she resigned 
 the dressing-case, and turned hastily away. She stole along 
 the passage with the silent tread of a culprit : when -she came 
 to her father's door a pang of remorse, possibly an emotion of 
 filial feeling, checked her footsteps, ' he looked so terribly ill 
 this morning,' she said, mentally ' Good heaven ! should I 
 never see him again.' She lifted her hand to knock for admit- 
 tance, when she was arrested by a voice that alarm just raised 
 above a whisper " Miss Redwood ! my dear Miss Redwood ! 
 what are you doing ? For heaven's sake no more delay." The 
 thought of her father vanished from her mind she bounded 
 forward gave her arm to Fitzgerald, and they passed together 
 unobserved out of the house. 
 
 The last ray of summer's long twilight was not quite lost in 
 the shadows of the evening, and the fugitives prudently selected 
 the most unfrequented road, by which to descend to the plain 
 below, where a carriage was in waiting for them.
 
 REDWOOD. 409 
 
 The poets say, ' the course of true love never doth run 
 smooth,' and so thought Miss Redwood, when half way down 
 the hill she and her companion were encountered by Ellen and 
 Westall. Westall had, early in the day. obtained possession 
 of the looked-for letter from Lansdown, and having awaited 
 Ellen's return, till patience had had her perfect work, and 
 would work no longer, he had sallied forth in the expectation 
 of meeting the returning party, as he did at no great distance. 
 
 They had been delayed by an accident that had lamed one 
 of their horses, a circumstance that afforded a pretext to 
 Westall to propose to the young ladies to quit the carriage and 
 walk up the hill ; and he, leaving Miss Campbell with her na- 
 tural escort Fenton, proceeded with Ellen, and for a very good 
 reason had preferred, as lovers are apt to do, without any rea- 
 son at all, the most retired road. 
 
 As soon as they were removed from observation, he pro- 
 duced Mrs. Harrison's letter, and Ellen was attempting to read 
 it by the feeble light, when they were met by Miss Redwood 
 and Fitzgerald. Fitzgerald internally cursed the unlucky en- 
 counter, and Caroline drew her bonnet closer ; but any appre- 
 hensions they might feel seemed quite unnecessary, for Ellen 
 did not raise her eyes from the letter, and Westall only noticed 
 them by slightly touching his hat, being at the moment too 
 much engrossed with his own affairs to have any suspicions ex- 
 cited in relation to theirs. They therefore proceeded unmo- 
 lested to the place where the carriage was stationed, a servant 
 let down the steps, and Fitzgerald was hurrying Caroline into 
 it. when she started back, exclaiming, " Good heavens ! Lilly 
 is not here I cannot go till she comes." 
 
 The servant who had brought the trunk, on being inquired 
 of, said that the girl had left him with the declaration that she 
 would follow immediately. " Then," said Caroline, " there is 
 18
 
 410 REDWOOD. 
 
 no alternative we must wait I cannot and will not go with- 
 out her." 
 
 It certainly was not Fitzgerald's cue as yet to cross the will 
 or whims of Miss Redwood, and he submitted with the best t 
 grace he could assume. A servant was sent back to the 
 springs to hasten the faithless girl, and returned after an inter- 
 val that had seemed to the anxious and impatient lovers -inter- 
 minable, with the perplexing information that LiLy was no- 
 where to be found. 
 
 Caroline was in despair, and Captain Fitzgerald, impatient 
 at her manifesting a degree of feeling which he deemed out of 
 all proportion to the importance of the occasion, could scarcely 
 curb his displeasure while he urged the necessity of their pro- 
 ceeding immediately. 
 
 " "We are mad to delay 'thus, my dear Miss Redwood," said 
 he ; " you are, no doubt, missed before this time : that med- 
 dling fellow, Westall, will be sure to tell your father that he 
 saw us : our plans will be counteracted my happiness sacri- 
 ficed. The girl is doubtless detained by some trifling acci- 
 dent ; or if by her own fault, her insolence shall be chastised 
 to-morrow for to-morrow, my dear Miss Redwood, we shall, 
 beyond all question, return." 
 
 " Think yo .i so are you sure of it, Captain Fitzgerald ?" 
 
 " Absolutely sure it cannot be otherwise." 
 
 " Then order the coachman to drive on," said Caroline, 
 sinking back into the carriage in a state of mind ill suited to 
 the errand on which she was going. 
 
 In vain Fitzgerald essayed to soothe, to argue, to flattei 
 her into her usual spirits. Her imagination pictured a dying, 
 unforgiving father : the beseeching, pathetic tones of his voice, 
 to which in the morning she had refused to listen, rang in her 
 ears like a funeral knell : she was now tortured with the fear
 
 REDWOOD. 411 
 
 that Lilly had been treacherous, and now with the possibility 
 that the secret of the dressing-case might be accidentally re- 
 vealed ; and when she arrived at the place of their destination. 
 a village inn a few miles from Lebanon, her feelings were 
 wrought up to a pitch of excitement little short of frenzy. 
 
 Fitzgerald ascertained that the pastor of the village was 
 absent, but that fortunately there had just arrived at the inn 
 an itinerant clergyman, who, to use his own homely phrase, was 
 ' candidating about the country,' and though a very inferior 
 member of a most respectable body, he was regularly licensed, 
 and was therefore legally qualified to perform the marriage 
 ceremony. Some time elapsed before Miss Redwood became 
 so much tranquillized that Fitzgerald deemed it prudent to 
 expose her to the observation of a third person. 
 
 She at last yielded, partly to the influence of her lover, and 
 partly to the propriety the now inevitable necessity of con- 
 trolling her feelings. The clergyman was summoned he took 
 his station appointed to the parties theirs, and then drawing 
 a hymn-book from his pocket, he said, ' it would be pleasing if 
 the gentleman and lady would commence the present solemn 
 exercise by singing a hymn.' 
 
 " Singing a hymn !" exclaimed Fitzgerald : " Is that a ne- 
 cessary part of the marriage service in this country, sir ?" 
 
 " Oh no, sir, not necessary, but very suitable. I don't know 
 what the custom may be here in York state, but in Connecti- 
 cut it is quite customary to close a marriage opportunity with 
 a singing exercise. I thought, upon the present interesting 
 occasion, it would be best to begin with the singing, as the 
 young lady looks a little flurried, and might not be able to 
 unite with us after the solemnity is concluded." 
 
 " We will dispense with the hymn, sir." said Fitzgerald, 
 smothering an imprecation on the whole body of puritanical
 
 412 REDWOOD. 
 
 parsons. " Please to proceed to do your office, and with all 
 possible brevity." 
 
 The clergyman, however, had quite too much respect for 
 professional details to comply with the last injunction. He 
 began with a dissertation on the happiness of the married 
 state ; he then proceeded to an exhortation to the faithful per- 
 formance of its duties, and closed his prefatory ' exercise' with 
 a prayer, which it is to be feared failed to produce devotion in 
 the parties. 
 
 The prayer finished, he began the service that was to bind 
 Caroline indissolubly to Fitzgerald, when the whole party was 
 startled by loud and reiterated knocking at the outer door. 
 
 Fitzgerald's conscience foreboded evil : he quitted Caroline's 
 side and sprang towards the door to turn the key ; but no key, 
 no bolt, no means of fastening were to be found. He returned 
 to Caroline ; she was trembling excessively ; he took her hand, 
 and whispered, " For heaven's sake be composed what should 
 we fear from an interruption?" and then addressing the cler- 
 gyman, he said somewhat sternly, " proceed, sir, to your duty." 
 
 But the good meek man was not at all qualified for so ener- 
 getic a measure, and while he hesitated, the noise in the pas- 
 sage increased. The intruder had made good his entrance, 
 and was in altercation with the landlord. The declaration " I 
 must see them, sir. and that instantly," reached the ears of the 
 lovers, and was directly followed by the throwing open of the 
 door and the appearance of Charles Westall. 
 
 Why this impertinent intrusion, sir ?" said Fitzgerald, 
 advancing to Westall with an air of defiance. 
 
 ' This is no time, Captain Fitzgerald." replied Westall, 
 quite unmoved, " for us to bandy insults : our quarrel, if we 
 have any, must be deferred ; my business is with Miss Red- 
 wood, and admits of no delay. Miss Redwood," he added.
 
 REDWOOD. 413 
 
 turning to Caroline and taking her hand, " I beseech you to 
 return with me to your father. I have left him in a state that 
 precludes all hope of his life ; that precludes, I fear, the hope 
 that he will ever recover his consciousness." 
 
 " Then of what use, sir, can Miss Redwood's return be ?" 
 interposed Fitzgerald. 
 
 ' ; Of what use ! I appeal to you, Miss Redwood : your 
 father may be conscious of your presence ; an act of duty and 
 affection may soften the anguish of the dying hour; it may, 
 Miss Redwood, be a source of consolation for yourself, which, 
 believe me, you will need." 
 
 " I will go with you, Mr. Westall," replied Caroline, in a 
 faltering voice, and she threw on her hat and shawl which were 
 lying beside her, and offered her arm to Westall. 
 
 Fitzgerald thrust himself between Westall and Caroline, 
 and seizing her arm, turned fiercely to Westall. " Stand off, 
 sir !" said he ; " I have a right to Miss Redwood. Miss Red- 
 wood, you have plighted your faith to me ; you cannot shall 
 not leave me till the priest has done his office." 
 
 " Captain Fitzgerald," said Westall, " you need not appre- 
 hend any interference with your rights : matters have gone too 
 far between you and Miss Redwood to be retraced: all that I 
 ask all that I wish is, that you will not attempt to deter her 
 from doing an imperious duty, which omitting to do will dis- 
 grace her eternally." 
 
 Fitzgerald was softened by the admission of what he feared 
 would be a contested right; he relinquished Caroline's arm, 
 and permitted Westall, without any farther opposition, to lead 
 her to his carriage. 
 
 Westall then returned for a moment to Fitzgerald, to be- 
 seech him to take all feasible measures to prevent the publicity 
 of the evening's expedition ; if not prevented, he thought it
 
 414 REDWOOD. 
 
 might be deferred till Miss Redwood had left the springs, and 
 she thus saved from the disgrace to which a lady is always ex- 
 posed by a clandestine affair. He then left Fitzgerald to take 
 such means as his own prudence should .suggest to effect this 
 desirable purpose, and proceeded with Caroline, as expcdi- 
 tiously as possible, to the springs, where they arrived between 
 twelve and one o'clock. Caroline fortunately did not encoun- 
 ter any person on her way to her own room, whither she went 
 to await the summons which Westall promised to send her as 
 soon as he could ascertain her father's present condition. 
 
 It may be necessary to account for what appears to have 
 been very impolitic haste on the part of Caroline and her 
 lover. The threatening symptoms of Mr. Redwood's increas- 
 ing illness, certainly warranted the natural hope of Fitzgerald, 
 that Miss Redwood's parent did not possess the gift of immor- 
 tality, which impatient fortune-hunters are apt to attribute to 
 rich old fathers and the constant and even growing favor of 
 the beautiful daughter, authorized the confident expectation 
 which the gallant captain indulged, of a successful termination 
 of his campaign ; when, lo ! one of those adverse accidents, 
 which happen alike in love and war, occurred to frustrate his 
 plan of operations : this was none other than the receipt of a 
 letter from his commanding officer, containing an order to re- 
 join his regiment ; and the information that the regiment was 
 ordered to a station in the West Indies. 
 
 The captain perceived, at once, that in this exigency a 
 coup de main was the only mode of extrication from his em- 
 barrassments. He immediately informed Miss Redwood of 
 his recall ; but as he knew that the young lady had set her 
 heart on a voyage to Europe, he prudently deferred to a sub- 
 sequent opportunity the communication of the appointment of 
 his regiment to the West India station. It had become neces-
 
 REDWOOD 415 
 
 sary to mako ;i premature application to Mr. Redwood : Caro- 
 line, as has been seen, unable to resist the pleadings of her 
 lover, Cxjneented to be the medium of it. Mr. Redwood's de- 
 cided answer precluded the hope that he would change his 
 mind. It was impossible for the captain to await the linger- 
 ing termination of his sickness, and the hacknied procedure of 
 a clandestine marriage was the last and only resort. 
 
 Few fathers are inexorable, and nothing, as Fitzgerald 
 thought, was more improbable than that Mr. Redwood, with a 
 spirit subdued by a mortal sickness, would withhold his forgive- 
 ness from his only child ; and, in the very worst supposable 
 case, (for which Caroline had provided by the arrangement of 
 her baggage,) the affairs of the heiress might be committed to 
 an ageot. 
 
 Thus had the captain, after a survey of the whole ground, 
 with the prudence, of a skilful officer, provided for every con- 
 tingency but precisely that one which for the present suspemj- 
 ed his victory.
 
 416 REDWOOD. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 " Breaks not the morning's cheering light 
 Forth from the darkest hour of night?" 
 
 YOUNG LADY'S SCRAP-BOOK. 
 
 WE must now return to relate the incidents that had occurred 
 while Caroline and her lover were pursuing their clandestine 
 expedition. Ellen and Westall were left slowly retracing their 
 way to the springs, and poring over Mrs. Harrison's letter. 
 Whatever might have been the excellent old lady's epistolary 
 talents, Westall certainly thought her letter a chef d'oeuvre 
 when he read the following passage : 
 
 " I have no hesitation, my beloved Ellen, in giving you a 
 decision on the subject you have referred to me. You have 
 borne your probation with unremitting patience, and I am sure 
 your fortitude will be equal to the issue, whatever it may be. 
 I see no reason for delaying one moment to penetrate the mys- 
 tery of your birth. I have, as you well know, admired and 
 encouraged your fidelity to the letter of your mother's dying 
 injunctions ; and I do not see that you depart from its spirit 
 now. The box was not to be opened till you had arrived at 
 the age of twenty-one, except in case you should previously 
 make a matrimonial engagement. The engagement made, you 
 were at liberty to explore the box : but your own delicate scru-
 
 REDWOOD. 417 
 
 pies (which I perfectly approve) induce you to defer your en- 
 gagement till you ascertain what bearing this long dreaded, 
 long desired secret may have on your history. Though I am 
 convinced that whatever discovery you may make will not 
 affect the wishes or decision of your lover, yet you are right 
 to leave him the liberty which you reserve to yourself. 
 
 " I do not ask for riches or honors for you, my dear Ellen, 
 but my earnest desire is, that you may have sprung from vir- 
 tuous parents, whose memory you may cherish with an honest 
 pride, and to a reunion with whom you may look forward with 
 eager and well-founded hope : whatever may be the event, do 
 not delay to inform me of it ; remember that I must weep or 
 rejoice with you that the light which shines on you, will send 
 its cheering ray to my old heart ; or if there must be clouds 
 in your heaven, that they will overshadow me too for we have 
 the same horizon." 
 
 Mrs. Harrison's advice was most acceptable and most grate- 
 fully received, as advice always is when it happens to coincide 
 with the strongest inclinations of the heart. When the lovers 
 reached the house, they heard the bell ringing which announc- 
 ed the tea hour, and perceived that the company was throng- 
 ing to the tea-room. 
 
 As they ascended the steps of the piazza, Westall said. 
 " Let us improve the present opportunity, Ellen the east par- 
 lor is vacant, and for a short time at least we shall be in no 
 . danger of interruption there. I will order candles while you 
 go for your treasure." 
 
 Ellen assented left him. and reappeared in a few moments 
 with the box in her hand ; her checks were alternately deeply 
 flushed and deadly pale. Westall understood too well the 
 source whence her feelings flowed to attempt to check them. 
 Ellen tried to unlock the box, but she could not she shivered 
 18*
 
 418 REDWOOD. 
 
 * 
 
 with emotion. " Do you open it," she said, giving it to West- 
 all, " for I cannot!" 
 
 Westall as he took the box from her, perceived that her 
 hands were as cold as marble. " Had you not better defer 
 this, Ellen ?" he asked. 
 
 " No, no. I am prepared for any thing now," she replied, 
 sinking on her knees before the table on which Westall had 
 placed the box. 
 
 Westall turned the key, and disclosed to her eager eye the 
 interior, containing nothing but a small miniature-case. 
 
 The bright glow of expectation faded from Ellen's cheek. 
 " Oh my mother ! my mother !" she exclaimed, in a voice in 
 which bitter disappointment and tender expostulation mingled. 
 
 Westall took her clasped hands between his both were 
 silent for a few moments : he then said, " My dear Ellen, do 
 not distress yourself thus have not your fears vanished with 
 your hopes 1 this unforeseen result pains you, but is it not 
 better, far better, than much that you have apprehended ? and 
 severe as your disappointment is, Ellen, will you not be con- 
 soled by the devotion of my life to you ?" 
 
 Ellen only replied by laying her head on her hands and 
 weeping bitterly. 
 
 Westall proceeded to urge every consolation which the 
 stimulated tenderness of a lover could suggest, but Ellen was 
 deaf to all that he said. It seemed as if she had been that 
 moment torn from the bosom of her mother, and was left alone 
 in the world in utter darkness the hope of her life extin- 
 guished. 
 
 " Oh, it was then an artifice." she said : " Caroline Red- 
 wood spoke the cruel truth. I could have borne any thing but 
 this/' she continued, with an impetuosity that startled Westall 
 " for this I was not prepared "
 
 REDWOOD. 419 
 
 " My mother ! must I never vindicate must I never speak 
 your name ! ; ' 
 
 Again and again she took up the box, examined it without 
 and within, and dropping it, exclaimed, " Oh, my mother, is 
 this all ?" 
 
 There was something so sacred in Ellen's grief some- 
 thing so touching in her brief expressions, and in the inde- 
 scribable language of her beautiful countenance, that even her 
 lover, whose heart vibrated to every pulsation of hers, was com- 
 pelled to silence. 
 
 Mechanically he took up the miniature case, and passing 
 his eye over it, he perceived a fragment of paper adhering to 
 the edge of it, on which was written, in a delicate female hand, 
 
 " From my " the remainder of the sentence had been torn 
 
 off. It occurred to Westall at once that there might have 
 been some foul play, and he was on the point of suggesting his 
 conjecture to Ellen, when they were both startled by some one 
 tapping at the door, and then impatiently opening it. 
 
 " Pardon my intrusion," said Miss Campbell, instinctively 
 shrinking back, and then advancing, " my errand admits of no 
 ceremony Mr. Westall, you must go immediately to Mr. Red- 
 wood, his servant has been anxiously looking for you he says 
 his master is extremely ill, and sends to entreat you not to de- 
 lay a moment to come to him." 
 
 " I cannot go now," said Westall, insensible for the moment 
 to any suffering but Ellen's. 
 
 " You must go," said Miss Campbell, with an imperative 
 decision which indicated that she had more reason for her ur- 
 gency than her words expressed ; and Westall whispering an 
 entreaty to Ellen that he might be permitted to see her again 
 in the course of the evening, left the ladies to witness a scene 
 of more remediless grief than Ellen's. Miss Campbell re-
 
 420 REDWOOD. 
 
 mained for a few moments an embarrassed spectator of Ellen's 
 emotion : it surprised and affected her the more, because there 
 was in Ellen's ordinary manner such an instinctive shrinking 
 from the display, or the exposure of her feelings. Grace was 
 not, however, of a temper to remain for any length of time a 
 silent or inactive observer of a friend's sufferings, and after a 
 few moments she kindly passed her arm around Ellen, and 
 said, " What new sorrow has assailed you, my dear Ellen ?" 
 
 Ellen made no effort to reply, and after a little pause her 
 friend added, " Though you will not let me feel with you, you 
 must permit me to think for you, Ellen you are exposed to 
 intrusion here. Let me go with you to your room I will 
 stipulate to make no demands no inquiries only suffer me 
 to remain with you till you are more composed." 
 
 Ellen returned the pressure of her friend's hand in token 
 of her acquiescence, and taking up once more her box with a 
 heart-bursting sigh, she retreated to her own apartment with 
 Miss Campbell ; and there, after having recovered from the 
 first shock" of her disappointment, she rewarded the delicate 
 kindness and affectionate interest of her friend, by confiding 
 to her the few particulars of her long cherished hopes, and the 
 final utter demolition of them. 
 
 And now we must leave her, listening to such consolation 
 as the inventive mind of her friend could suggest, while we 
 follow Charles Westall to the apartment of Mr. Redwood, 
 whom he found walking to and fro in the greatest agitation, 
 supported by his servant. 
 
 At the sight of "Westall he sunk into a chair, exclaiming, 
 " It is all over, Charles she has gone she has left me to die 
 here gone without one parting word misguided, misera- 
 ble girl !" 
 
 The recollection of his meeting with Miss Redwood darted
 
 REDWOOD. 421 
 
 across Westall's mind, and he comprehended at once Mr. Red- 
 wood's emotion, and the language he held. 
 
 " Impossible, sir !" he said. " she cannot have gone with- 
 out leaving some explanation some communication for you 
 go Ralph, and find Miss Redwood's servant, and bid her come 
 here." 
 
 " Find Lilly !" replied the man, " I might as well look for 
 the wind that blew yesterday, Mr. Westall ; Lilly has gone 
 faster one way than Miss Caroline has the other." 
 
 " Lilly gone and not with her mistress ? Do you, then, 
 Ralph, go yourself to Miss Redwood's room, and look on her 
 dressing-table ; she may possibly have left a letter there for 
 her father." 
 
 " And of what avail, Charles, if she has ?" asked Mr. Red- 
 wood " what explanation can soften the terrible truth ? but 
 go, Ralph go." 
 
 The man obeyed, but not till he had whispered to Westall, 
 " Keep a steady eye on master : the fever betimes mounts to 
 his head, and then he is raving." 
 
 The man's apprehensions seemed quite superfluous, for ex- 
 cepting a few rational exclamations, such as " Poor poor girl !" 
 " Oh God, thou art most just !" " Charles, this last blow is 
 too much for me !" Mr. Redwood remained silent till the 
 servant returned, holding in his hand a large packet, which he 
 said ' might be for master, though there was no writing on the 
 top of it.' 
 
 Mr. Redwood snatched it from him and broke the seal. 
 As he unfolded the packet, a miniature rolled from it on the 
 floor, and Westall picked it up. The image of the only relict 
 in Ellen's box was still vivid in Westall's mind, and it was not 
 strange that he should have instinctively compared the dimen- 
 sions of the miniature with the case in Ellen's possession, and
 
 422 REDWOOD. 
 
 hardly conscious of the several links in the chain of his 
 thoughts, he turned the miniature to examine the back of it 
 The upper part of the paper that had been pasted over it, was 
 torn off, and on that remaining was traced in the same hand- 
 writing that was on Ellen's fragment, " Beloved husband to 
 his faithful Mary." 
 
 A faint light dawned on Westall's mind, when his atten 
 tion was withdrawn by a sudden exclamation from Mr. Red- 
 wood. 
 
 " In the name of heaven," he said, " what does this mean 
 how did Caroline get possession of these papers ?" and he held 
 up the certificate of his marriage with Mary Erwine, and the 
 letter directed " to my child." " Oh Charles," he added, " my 
 head my head ;" and he pressed both hands to his head as if 
 his thoughts were bursting it. " Oh memory memory ! 
 think for me tell me what these mean ?" 
 
 " Be composed, sir, I beseech you," said Westall, in the 
 calmest tone he could assume : then opening the letter, he 
 glanced his eye rapidly over it, refolded it and paused ; he 
 could not speak : his first impulse was to fly to Ellen and tell 
 her that Mr. Redwood was her father. The fearful wildness 
 of Mr. Redwood's eye still fixed inquiringly on him, recalled 
 him to the present necessity. The discovery must be first 
 made to him ; and Westall lost every other consideration in 
 his anxiety to make the communication in such a way as not 
 to destroy the equipoise of Mr. Redwood's mind, which seemed 
 now utterly unable to sustain any additional excitement. 
 
 He still hesitated it appeared that Mr. Redwood under- 
 stood his apprehensions, for, grasping his hand, he said, " Speak 
 quickly, Charles, while I can comprehend you." 
 
 " Be patient, sir be calm, I entreat you," replied Westall ; 
 " there is a blessing an unspeakable blessing in reserve for
 
 EEDWOOD. 423 
 
 you this letter is from Mary Erwine from your wife to her 
 child." 
 
 " To her child, Charles ! you perplex me you disturb 
 me ; she had no child." 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Redwood," replied Westall, almost choking 
 with his own emotions, " her child, and God be praised, that 
 child lives lives to love and to bless you." 
 
 " What is it you mean, Westall ? explain yourself," said 
 Mr. Redwood, covering his face with his hands. 
 
 Westall described, as concisely as possible, the condition in 
 which he had found the box left by Ellen's mother ; and he 
 read aloud some passages of the letter which placed, beyond 
 the possibility of doubt, the fact that Mr. Redwood's wife left 
 a child, and that that child was Ellen Bruce. 
 
 Westall did not deem it necessary to allude to the mode by 
 which these testimonials must have passed into Caroline's pos- 
 session. 
 
 Mr. Redwood listened in breathless silence, till Westall had 
 concluded. Not an exclamation, not a sound escaped from 
 him, save the audible beating of his heart. After a few mo- 
 ments he uncovered his face, a smile passed over it as wild and 
 transient as the flashings of lightning on the dark cloud. 
 " Send for Ellen," he said, the effort to speak slowly and calm- 
 ly too apparent in his voice : " do you stay with me, Charles 
 I must not be left alone : my head is confused," he added, press- 
 ing his hand to his head. 
 
 " Do not send for her now," said Westall, give this night to 
 happy anticipations. To-morrow you will be better prepared 
 to see her." 
 
 " To-morrow ! now or never, Charles ; send without one 
 moments delay." 
 
 Westall took out his pencil to write a note to Ellen. Mr,
 
 424 REDWOOD. 
 
 Redwood stopped him : " No, my dear Charles," he said, " go 
 yourself the poor child will need some preparation she will 
 need your support. I shall do well enough I am better 
 much better, now." 
 
 Westall went and returned with Ellen, in a- space of time 
 that seemed brief, even to Mr. Redwood. Ellen was as pale 
 as marble; but a celestial joy shone in her face she sprang 
 towards her father : he rose, stretched out his arms to receive 
 her, and folding her in them, they wept together. 
 
 After a moment he started back, and gazed wildly on Ellen. 
 "Ellen Bruce my child?" he said "is it not all a dream? 
 Speak to me, Ellen call me father forgive me in your mo- 
 ther's name." 
 
 Ellen's resolution forsook her: alarmed, trembling, and 
 weeping, she sunk on her knees ; her father shook his head, 
 and would have stooped to raise her, but, utterly exhausted 
 by the conflict of his feelings, he leaned on Westall's shoulder. 
 A single look from Westall roused all Ellen's energies ; she 
 sprang to her father's aid, and assisted "Westall to lay him on 
 the bed. 
 
 " He is insensible for the moment," whispered Westall, 
 " bnt he will soon recover his consciousness, and then, my dear 
 Ellen, his life more than life, his reason, will depend on your 
 fortitude and calmness." 
 
 Westall then gave into Ellen's hand the miniature, the cer- 
 tificate, .and the letter the last she kissed again and again 
 poured over it a shower of tears, and not daring then to trust 
 herself to look in it, she placed it in her bosom. 
 
 She then took her station beside her father, and watched 
 with inexpressible anxiety every variation of his changeful 
 countenance. He soon recovered sufficiently to speak, but his 
 words confirmed their worst fears ; for they were the ravings
 
 REDWOOD. 425 
 
 of delirium. He laughed and wept alternately he called on 
 Ellen on her mother on "Westall ; but most frequently and 
 with most impetuosity, he demanded Caroline. He seemed to 
 imagine that she was on the brink of a precipice, and to feel 
 that he vainly sought to rescue her. 
 
 So much did his madness appear to be stimulated by this 
 fancy, that after a short consultation, Westall and Ellen deter- 
 mined that an effort should be made to induce Miss Redwood 
 to return immediately, to try what effect her presence might 
 produce on her father. Ralph was sent to ascertain, if possi- 
 ble, the destination of the fugitives; and having succeeded in 
 insinuating himself into the confidence of one of Fitzgerald's 
 agents, he returned in a short time with the information, that 
 they might probably be found at a village inn, at no great dis- 
 tance from the springs 
 
 Westall's next care was to determine to whom he should 
 apply to undertake so delicate an embassy, and while he was 
 deliberating, Ellen said, " Go yourself, I beseech you. Ralph 
 and I can do -every thing here ; and you, and you alone can 
 persuade Miss Redwood to return to return," she added, with 
 a faltering voice, " before it is too late." 
 
 " Alas ! my dear Ellen," replied Westall, glancing his eye 
 at Mr. Redwood, who, after a paroxysm of raving had sunk on 
 his pillow, pale and exhausted, "it is, I fear, already too late." 
 
 " Oh. do not say so it may not be" said Ellen, and she 
 bent over her father with a look of great anxiety ; then turning 
 suddenly to Westall, " we may at least," she said, " save Caro- 
 line from the disgrace that must fall on her. if it is known that 
 she has deserted her father in this extremity." 
 
 " Generous being !" exclaimed Westall, "you shall be obey- 
 ed ; but I cannot leave you here alone." 
 
 " Ask Grace Campbell, then, to come to me but no," she
 
 426 REDWOOD. 
 
 added, looking towards the bed and observing that her father 
 was sinking to sleep, " perfect quiet will be best now go, and 
 God speed you." 
 
 Westall departed, admiring with enthusiasm the self-com- 
 mand of Ellen, and the generosity with which she could forego 
 at this crisis of her life the indulgence of her sensibilities, to 
 consider how she might preserve the honor of one who had so 
 relentlessly inflicted suffering on her. 
 
 The moment Westall left her, Ellen sent the servant into 
 an adjoining room, that she might avoid the risk of breaking 
 her father's slumbers by the slightest noise. Hour after hour 
 she sat on his bedside, gently chafing his icy hands, wiping the 
 cold dew from his forehead, and noting every breath he strug- 
 gled to inhale, and every convulsive motion of his distorted 
 features. At length his feverishness abated he ceased to be 
 restless the firm grasp of his hand relaxed a gentle warmth 
 was diffused throughout his system, and his respiration became 
 quiet as an infant's. 
 
 Ellen raised her hands and eyes in silent and devout 
 thankfulness, and withdrawing from the bed, she took from her 
 bosom her mother's letter, and opened it with a mingled feel- 
 ing of awe, of apprehension, and of tenderness. 
 
 Could it be otherwise ? it was the record of the wrongs of 
 her departed mother first to be learned in the presence of her 
 dying father. Repeatedly she fixed her eyes on the letter, but 
 they were so dimmed with her tears, that she could not dis- 
 tinguish one word from another. At last an intense interest 
 in her mother's fate subdued every other feeling, and she suc- 
 ceeded in reading the letter which will be found in the next 
 chapter.
 
 REDWOOD. 427 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 " Methinks if ye would know 
 How visitations of calamity 
 Affect the pious soul, 'tis shown ye there !' 
 
 SOUTHET. 
 
 " MY CHILE If the injunction is obeyed with which I shall 
 consign to my friend the box that is to contain this letter, long 
 before you behold it the hand that now traces these lines will 
 have mouldered to dust the eye that now, as you lie on my 
 bosom, pours its tears like rain upon your sweet face, shall 
 weep no more for ever ; and the heart that now throbs with 
 hopes and fears for you, my love, shall have ceased to beat 
 with mortal anxieties and mortal hopes. 
 
 " Sweet innocent gift of God image of immaculate pu- 
 rity thy mother would preserve thce, an unsullied treasure 
 for the riches of Christ : s kingdom a stainless flower for the 
 paradise of God : thy mother would shelter thee so that the 
 winds of heaven should not breathe unkindly on thee. But 
 this cannot be. Thou must be exposed to the dangers of hu- 
 man life, solicited by its temptations, and pierced by its sor- 
 rows and thy mother, thy natural guard and shield, must be 
 
 taken from thee. Thy mother can do nothing for thee 
 
 Said I nothing ! God forgive me. I can do I have done
 
 428 * REDWOOD. 
 
 all things I have resigned you to Him whose protection is 
 safety whose favor is life. I have believed his promises I 
 have accepted his offered mercy ; and in faith, nothing waver- 
 ing, I have committed my orphan child to Him. And now. 
 though thy path should be laid through the waters, they shall 
 not overwhelm thee, and through the fire, it shall not kindle 
 upon thee. 
 
 " My child, I am now to account to you for a resolution, 
 which, should it please God to preserve your life, must ma- 
 terially affect your future destiny. 
 
 " I beseech you to permit no unkind thoughts of your 
 mother to enter your gentle bosom. Remember that if I de- 
 prive you of your rights, degrade you from the station in 
 which you were born, and remove you from honors and riches, 
 it is that you may become ' an heir of the kingdom ;' remem- 
 ber my motive read the brief history and unhappy fate of 
 your mother, and you will not must not blame her. 
 
 " My father's name was Philip Erwine. He was a Scotch- 
 man by birth, the only son of a rich and respectable family. 
 He was educated for the church, and preparing to enter life 
 with the most happy prospects, when they were for ever cloud- 
 ed by a clandestine marriage, which the world deemed impru- 
 dent, and his father unpardonable, with a portionless, obscure 
 girl, whose maiden name, Ellen Bruce, I have given to you. 
 My grandfather discarded his son from his home and his affec- 
 tions, and only cherished the remembrance of this one act of 
 disobedience. Oh my child, the pride of this world is cruel 
 tyranny. 
 
 "My father subsisted for some months on scanty remittances 
 secretly made him by his mother ; but she died soon after. 
 My grandfather married again had more children and my 
 father, thus cut off from all hope of a reconciliation, emigrated
 
 REDWOOD. 429 
 
 to America. My parents were strangers in a strange land, 
 and obliged to meet the evils which the poor and friendless 
 must always encounter. My father, nursed in the lap of in- 
 dulgence, sunk under privation, and became utterly spiritless 
 and dejected. My noble mother, with an ' inborn royalty of 
 mind' that makes the trappings of earthly distinctions seem 
 poor indeed, endured all her trials without a murmuring word, 
 or even look. She made incredible exertions for the support 
 of her family, and maintained an outward cheerfulness, while 
 her heart was sinking with the consciousness of having been 
 the cause of my father's calamities. Her health and life were 
 the sacrifice. I have since heard my father confess that when 
 he laid her in the grave, he was first roused to a sense of my 
 wants and his duties. 
 
 " He left New- York, the scene of his sufferings, and fixed 
 his residence in a village on Long Island Sound. There he 
 obtained a comfortable living by teaching the children of some 
 gentlemen whose summer residences were in the vicinage. 
 Whenever he was compelled to be absent from me, I was left 
 in the care the vigilant, maternal care, of the kindest-hearted 
 woman in the world, who afterwards married a Mr. Allen, and 
 went to resi ie in Massachusetts. I was the constant compan- 
 ion of my fatner's solitude the consolation, he called me, of 
 his exile. All the treasure of his heart was lavished on me : 
 I was the refuge of his affections, and nurtured with a thought- 
 ful tenderness that quite disqualified me for the indifference of 
 a selfish world quite unfitted me for the rude storm that has 
 since assailed me, and before which I have fallen. 
 
 " My father was a good man : adversity had made him an 
 humble Christian : still he possessed the pride natural to the 
 human heart, and I, his only child, was the object of all that 
 pride. Yes, my love, he was proud of thy mother's beauty
 
 430 REDWOOD. 
 
 that fatal beauty that has been the source of all my griefs 
 that beauty which is now perishing by disease, and soon will 
 be quite effaced by death. Thank God. I was never proud of 
 it : in my simplicity, I was ignorant of its value and its danger. 
 
 " My father would sometimes bewail for me the loss of 
 distinctions, which were no loss to me, for I had never known 
 them ; and in the joyous independence of childhood, I could 
 frolic away his sadness, and prove to him, by the contentment 
 of my spirit, the vanity of his desires. 
 
 " I had just attained my fourteenth year when I lost my 
 father. I pass over that period of my life. My support my 
 defence was taken from me the world was all before me, and 
 I would gladly have turned back and laid me in my father's 
 grave. Thank heaven, my child, there is a misery you cannot 
 feel! 
 
 " My father did not leave me without a provision. Tender 
 as the parent bird that plucks the down from its own breast to 
 feather the nest for its young, he had practised the severest 
 economy deprived himself of every, the least indulgence, that 
 he might reserve his small earnings for my sake. 
 
 {: Mrs. Allen, to whose guardianship my father had left 
 me, sent me to a boarding-school to acquire some slight accom- 
 plishments, which she hoped, with the solid instruction I had 
 already received, would qualify me for a teacher, and thus se- 
 cure to me the means of permanent independence. I had 
 been one year at school my education was finished, or rathei 
 my small means were expended, when a Mrs. Westall came 
 with her husband from Virginia to visit her northern friends. 
 Though some years older than I, we had been playmates in 
 our childhood. She remembered with kindness our youthful 
 intimacy. My youth and loneliness interested her husband's 
 benevolent heart : he invited me to accompany his wife to the
 
 REDWOOD. 43 1 
 
 south, and promised, if I became dissatisfied with my home in 
 his family, to obtain for me among his rich neighbors an agree- 
 able situation as a teacher. 
 
 " Now, my child, your mother claims vour pity, your sym- 
 pathy, your forgiveness, while you read the record of an indis- 
 cretion that casts her into an early grave, and condemns you 
 to orphanage. 
 
 " The day after our arrival at Mr. Westall's plantation, I 
 had stolen just at sunset into the garden with my friend's little 
 boy, Charles Westall the thought of this child throws a bright 
 gleam across the track of memory, and I pause to dwell on it 
 as the traveller in a desert lingers to pluck a sweet and soli- 
 tary flower. Scarcely less a child than himself, I was the 
 favorite companion of his sports. He had chased me through 
 the walks, and having caught me, he made me kneel on a turfed 
 bank, that he might, as he said, crown me his queen. He 
 pulled the comb from my hair, and was weaving knots of honey- 
 suckles and rose-buds among my curls, when we were start- 
 led by the rustling of the branches of some high shrubs behind 
 which we had retreated. We both looked up and perceived a 
 gentleman, a stranger, gazing intently on us. 
 
 " Little Charles sportively drew the branches around me, 
 saying. ' this is my Mary, my que%n and nobody shall look 
 on her till she is crowned.' 
 
 " ' Such a nymph,' said the stranger, ' should have a guar- 
 dian angel and a sylvan veil.' 
 
 " These were the first words I ever heard from your 
 father ; this was the first time I ever saw him, and from this 
 moment he was never absent from my thoughts : wherever I 
 was. in society or in solitude, Henry Redwood's voice rung in 
 my ears ; his image was for ever before me. Look, my child, 
 at the picture which you will find with this letter : look on
 
 432 REDWOOD. 
 
 those eyes the lofty brow the mouth and then imagine 
 what this face must have been when kindled with the inspira- 
 tion of the living spirit. 
 
 " I was young and ignorant artless and unsuspicious 
 constantly exposed to the charms of his genius and accomplish- 
 ments to the fascinations of his tenderness and if I had 
 ever doubted (which I did not) that he was all that he seemed, 
 his being the friend of Mr. Westall would have quieted my 
 fears. 
 
 " Here I have paused to look over what I have written, and 
 I blush at my own inconsistency. I blame myself, and yet I 
 seek a justification in my child's eyes ; this is natural, for, alas. 
 the heart is deceitful. But I will do so no more I will tell 
 the simple truth, and trust to my child's heart to plead for her 
 mother. 
 
 "Not many months elapsed before I married Mr. Red- 
 wood clandestinely, and without much scruple or reluctance. 
 Every sentiment of duty and propriety was lost in the fervor 
 of a first attachment, and in the fearless confidence which 
 youth and love inspired. 
 
 " He urged the necessity of secrecy, and assigned many 
 reasons for it. I received them implicitly, or scarcely listened 
 to them, for I had cast the care of my honor and happiness 
 upon him, and my affection was unclouded by a single doubt 
 
 or anxiety. 
 
 Soon after our marriage Mr. Westall died suddenly the 
 kindness of Mrs. Westall detained me with her for some time : 
 I then left her to take charge of the children of a Mr. Emlyn. 
 whose plantation adjoined that of my husband's father. Our 
 opportunities of meeting, though somewhat diminished by my 
 residence with strangers, were still frequent, but they exposed 
 me to suspicions and remarks that made me miserable.
 
 REDWOOD. 433 
 
 " The last time I saw my husband I confessed my anxieties 
 to him. I even hinted my expectation of your existence ; that 
 I believe he did not understand, and I had not courage to ex- 
 plain myself. I observed that he felt unusual emotion at part- 
 ing with me, and the next morning I received the information 
 that he had gone on a tour of pleasure to Europe, to be absent 
 one or two years. With this intelligence, which almost de- 
 prived me of my senses, your father sent me, by mistake, some 
 letters that had passed between him .and one of his friends, 
 from which I discovered, that while he felt some tenderness for 
 me, he regretted that he had encumbered himself with an insu- 
 perable obstacle to his advancement in the world. 
 
 " He was the world to me and I found myself worse than 
 insignificant to him. Every fibre of my affections was clasped 
 around him, and I was thus in a moment rudely torn away : 
 poverty I had never dreaded calamity in any other shape I 
 could have borne but I merited the chastisement. I also 
 discovered from these fatal letters that your father was an un- 
 believer ; not merely that he rejected the truths of revelation, 
 but that he could even treat a future retribution and the hope 
 of immortality as childish illusions. 
 
 " Oh, how then in the bitterness of my sorrow and disap- 
 pointment did I blame myself that r had so long forgotten my 
 Christian duty, and had looked upon my husband's indifference 
 to religion (for his unbelief I never suspected) as what was to 
 be expected in a young man. My child, I deserved my fate 
 I was born of a Christian mother, watched and guided by a 
 Christian father religious principles were deeply rooted in 
 my heart ; and yet for a wliile every thought of duty was sus- 
 pended every affection was melted into one deep, absorbing 
 passion my whole existence was resolved into one sensation 
 alas, this it is to love ! 
 19
 
 434 REDWOOD. 
 
 - As soon as I became sufficiently tranquil to think of the 
 future, I took a resolution to go to Philadelphia, without anj 
 very definite purpose but to hide myself from every one who 
 had ever seen me, and to escape from a scene where every ob- 
 ject renewed my anguish, and where I was no longer capable 
 of performing the duties I had undertaken. 
 
 " Oh that terrible journey ! I was alone and unprotected, 
 and so young and so wretched, that every body noticed me, and 
 I had such mortifications and trials to endure ! But I will 
 not make your heart bleed by relating them why should I ? 
 they are past for ever. 
 
 " The journey was fatiguing to me my sorrows preyed on 
 my health, and before I reached Philadelphia, I was seized 
 with a nervous fever, which obliged me to remain at a German 
 settlement. I recovered partially from it, but it left my mind 
 in a state of alternate apathy and insensibility, which rendered 
 removal impossible. I hired a lodging in a very poor German 
 family, where I awaited my confinement. I was careless about 
 my life, and took no thought for my health, which ordinary 
 attention might perhaps have restored, but long fastings and 
 sleepless nights, when my weary spirit knew no rest, have 
 wasted my strength ; and now I would give worlds for a little 
 space of that life which my wilful neglect and my guilty des- 
 pair have destroyed. 
 
 " Your birth awakened me to a new existence breathed a 
 new spirit into me created ties to life ; and from the first mo- 
 ment I folded you to my bosom, I would have accepted exist- 
 ence on any terms ; no condition, however deserted and 
 neglected, has now any terrors for me. All other feelings an(M| 
 desires are extinguished in the pure flame of maternal love, 
 and for you, my child, alone I would live. 
 
 " But it cannot be a terrible cough racks my frame the
 
 REDWOOD. 435 
 
 fires of consumption are kindled on my cheek, and every day 
 I see and feel the steady and sure approach of death I weep 
 over you, and the kind creatures that are about me weep to 
 see me, and the long silent watches of the night I pass in pray- 
 ing for you. 
 
 " In my still solitude, when thou wast sleeping all uncon- 
 scious on my bosom, I have heard a voice saying unto me, 
 ' leave thy child with me.' I have obeyed the voice I have 
 resigned you to the protection of that good Being, who in ten- 
 der compassion has declared himself the orphan's God. 
 
 " And now it was deeply impressed on my mind that I 
 ought to do something to preserve my lamb from the danger 
 of wandering from the fold of the good Shepherd. Your father, 
 by deserting me, has forfeited his right to you. When I am 
 no longer in the way of his worldly prospects, his heart may 
 be touched with compunction for the wrong he has done me ; 
 you might awaken a parent's feelings, and he might invest you 
 with your rights. 
 
 " All this might be and what would you gain ? the un- 
 willing sufferance the scanty favor, it may be, of a proud and 
 selfish family ; for such, from the confession of your father, 
 are his connections. But for this shall I expose you to the 
 danger, the almost inevitable certainty, of alienation from the 
 Christian hope ? 
 
 " It must not be I behold something in your innocent 
 face the emblem of heaven I feel something in the soft 
 touch of your little hand that appeals to your mother's heart to 
 direct your course in the path that leads to the mansions in 
 our Father's house. 
 
 "I have at last taken an immovable resolution to keep 
 your existence a secret from your father, and to preserve from 
 you, and from every one, the knowledge of my connection with
 
 436 REDWOOD. 
 
 him till you are of an age when you will be secure from his 
 influence when your character will be formed by wise and 
 Christian care. 
 
 ' You must not, my child, think hardly of me for keeping 
 you so long in ignorance of your parentage I dare not leave 
 any thing to hazard the very young do not know how to 
 choose good from evil, and Heaven preserve you from the hard 
 school of experience in which your poor mother has been 
 taught !" 
 
 Here there occurred a blank in the letter ; and the re- 
 mainder scarcely legible was as follows 
 
 " Since writing the above, I have been too weak to use my 
 pen. In the meantime my kind, generous, best friend, Mrs. 
 Allen, has complied with a request I sent her, and come to me 
 from her distant home. Ah, how has she grieved to find me 
 so sick, and in this mean lodging ; but I have not suffered 
 from its poverty, and I chose it that I might not diminish the 
 pittance I have saved for you the remnant of the liberal 
 supply my husband sent me at his departure. 
 
 " I have found in this humble dwelling all the kindness I 
 needed, and I have enjoyed an inward peace that springs from 
 the reflection that I have for you, my child, sacrificed earth to 
 heaven. 
 
 " Mrs. Allen remonstrates with me. I see that she thinks 
 I have been so long lonely and sorrowful that my mind is not 
 quite right, but she is mistaken I am sure she is mistaken. 
 She tells me that I may involve you in many embarrassments 
 she suggests a thousand difficulties that may occur, but I 
 cannot consider them now I cannot go back to the world 
 my thoughts are all the other way. 
 
 " She does not oppose me any longer, but has most sol-
 
 REDWOOD. 437 
 
 emnly promised to fulfil my wishes, though she still calls them 
 strange and singular. She says I am young I am young in 
 years, but in the last twelve months I have grown very old. 
 Oh, to the wretched, hours are years, and weeks are ages ! 
 
 " She begs me to be governed by her discretion, but I 
 cannot. 
 
 " She knows not no one knows how to look upon the 
 troubled and vanishing dream of this life, till the light of 
 another falls upon it. No one knows how mean every thing 
 that is transient and perishable appears to me how insignifi- 
 cant the joys, nay even the sufferings that are past, as I stand 
 trembling on the verge of that bright world of innocence and 
 safety, where I hope to appear with the child God has given me. 
 
 " My last prayer will be for you, my child and for your 
 father God have mercy on him !" 
 
 Every word of this letter which may appear very long and 
 tedious to an indifferent reader, sunk deep into Ellen's heart. 
 It seemed to her as if the book of Providence was unsealed 
 and open before her, and as the bright light fell on the path by 
 which she had been led to the present period of her existence, 
 ' Oh my mother !' she exclaimed, ' hast thou not been with 
 me a guardian spirit, to lead me by the way which was dis- 
 closed to thy prophetic eye ?' 
 
 Her emotions were deep and indescribable stronger than 
 any other were gratitude to her mother, and admiration of the 
 courage and single-heartedness with which she had renounced 
 the world for her. 
 
 ' I might,' she thought, ' like Caroline, have been the slave 
 of the world the victim of folly : I might have followed my 
 poor father through the dark and dreary passages of unbelief, 
 but for that good part which my sainted mother chose for me.'
 
 438 REDWOOD. 
 
 A thousand reflections crowded on her mind : but gratitude 
 for the past her own bright hopes of the future every other 
 feeling was soon lost in an extreme solicitude for her father's 
 recovery. 
 
 She knelt by his bedside But there are feelings too 
 
 sacred to be drawn from their silent sanctuary there are ser- 
 vices too hallowed to be described. They are seen in secret, 
 and rewarded, as Ellen's were, openly. 
 
 We must now recur to Caroline, who, on re-entering her 
 own room, was startled by the spectacle of her dressing-case 
 the lid open, and packet and purse gone. She seized the 
 dressing-case, emptied out every article it contained, in the 
 vain hope that in some corner the treasure might lurk, but 
 fruitless was the search, and she dropped it and burst into 
 tears. 
 
 " Oh." she said, " had the wretch taken any thing else 
 my money my trinkets any thing but this the loss of this 
 may ruin me." 
 
 While she was thus bewailing her calamity, she heard a 
 gentle tap at the door, and on opening it Ellen appeared. 
 Caroline started back, and said haughtily, " Has Westall sent 
 you, to me, Miss Bruce ? I could have dispensed with this 
 favor." 
 
 "No, Miss Redwood," replied Ellen, advancing into the 
 room with an air of dignity and gentleness, " I have come 
 here on my own errand Caroline, your" here for the first 
 time there was a slight tremulousness in her voice, and after a 
 moment's pause, she added, " our father" 
 
 " You have it then ?" shrieked Caroline. 
 
 ' Yes." replied Ellen, " I have it Providence has restored 
 to me my right ; but you, Caroline, have nothing to fear from me 
 let the past be for ever forgotten. Our father. Mr. Westall, 

 
 REDWOOD. 439 
 
 and myself, are all that know where these precious documents 
 were found: and is not the secret safe with us? We are the 
 persons must concerned for your honor are we not? Forget 
 the past then, and regard me without fear or distrust." 
 
 Caroline was touched with Ellen's generosity, and deeply 
 mortified, for the moment at least, at the wrong she had done 
 her. 
 
 ' : I never meant." she said, as soon as she could command 
 her voice sufficiently to put the words together, though in the 
 most embarrassed and stammering manner, " I never meant, 
 Ellen, to keep those papers from you for ever. I do not be- 
 lieve I should have kept them so long, but I thought that you 
 could not suffer from the loss of that which you were ignorant 
 you possessed ; and I knew that when papa discovered you 
 were his child, he would care nothing for me. It was uncer 
 tain, you know, for a long time, which of us "Westall preferred, 
 and though I have since felt a perfect indifference for him, I 
 did then wish at least I should not have disliked his ad- 
 dresses, and I was sure if papa knew all, he would throw his 
 influence into your scale, and then Charles Westall would have 
 no reason for preferring me, as, your rights acknowledged, 
 your fortune would be equal to mine, and that I could not 
 but think very unfair, as nearly all papa's fortune came from 
 my mother, and yours, you know, was quite penniless." 
 
 Self-justification is the natural tribute, even in tlie most 
 hopeless circumstances, to the law of rectitude written on the 
 heart. Lame and impotent as was Caroline's attempt to jus- 
 tify herself, Ellen replied without appearing to notice any ot 
 its inconsistencies. 
 
 " You have not," she said, " rightly judged me, Caroline. 
 If you could have imagined the joy the gratitude I have felt 
 this evening, you would not. I am sure you would not, have de-
 
 440 REDWOOD. 
 
 ferred my happiness. My mother's name is vindicated sane- 
 tified my faith has always held it ; but it is now beyond the 
 reach of suspicion or imputation. You know not, Caroline- 
 how should you know ? the dreadful solitude of living with- 
 out a natural tie to your fellow-creatures. You know not the 
 exquisite sensations I have felt this night, even amidst afflict- 
 ing fears, beside myfatJier's bed." 
 
 Ellen's emotion checked her utterance for a moment : she 
 then added, " Caroline, it is best that we should understand one 
 another perfectly. Your mother's fortune is as entirely yours 
 as if I had never had an existence. I have not the right, and, 
 certainly, I have not the wish to interfere with your inheritance 
 in the smallest degree. All that I covet, is an equal share of 
 our father's affections ; your confidence I hope to win ; your 
 sisterly affection I will try to deserve." 
 
 After a short pause Ellen added in conclusion, There is 
 one arrangement, Caroline, which, if I insist on 'controlling, 
 you must not think I too soon assume the rights of an elder 
 sister. It is my wish that our relationship should remain a 
 secret for the present." 
 
 Caroline looked astonished. Ellen, without seeming to no- 
 tice her surprise, proceeded : " In the present state of my feel- 
 ings, I wish particularly to avoid observation and remark. 
 The avowal of my engagement with Mr. Westall, and your 
 friendship, will give me a right to share with you the care of 
 our father. Should he not recover, the secret shall never be 
 divulged it is enough that I know it for worlds I would not 
 cast a shadow over his fair name." 
 
 In assigning her motives, Ellen had avoided any reference 
 to what she knew must be Caroline's wishes on the subject. 
 Caroline felt this delicacy to her heart's core ; she was subdued 
 by the pure goodness of Ellen ; she felt the influence of the
 
 REDWOOD. 44 
 
 Tioly principle that governed her sister's mind, and penetrated 
 with a poignant contrition like that which made the Egyptian 
 king exclaim, ' Truly, I have sinned against the Lord your 
 God and against you ;' she sunk on her knees the pride and 
 haughtiness of her soul were vanquished she stretched out 
 her arms with an expression of contrition, remorse, prayer. 
 Ellen raised her and clasped her arms around her. It may 
 not be too much to say, that the beautiful sisters were a pec- 
 tacle at which Heaven might rejoice ; for they seemed to em- 
 body penitence and perfect love. 
 
 " Oh, Ellen !" exclaimed Caroline, as soon as she could 
 speak, " is it possible that you will not, after all, triumph over 
 me ? Can you forgive my slights my insults ? Can you for- 
 get the wrong I have done you ?" 
 
 " All is forgiven all shall be forgotten," replied Ellen ; 
 " think no more of it, Caroline. Let us now think of nothing 
 but how we shall best minister to our father's restoration ; for 
 this we will unite our hearts and efforts. Let us go together 
 to his room." 
 
 " Yes, I will go I will do every thing you ask of me, 
 Ellen." said Caroline ; " but first tell me. for I never can speak 
 on the subject again, first tell me where those papers were 
 found. Did Lilly give them to you ?" 
 
 Ellen could not satisfy Caroline's curiosity to know the par- 
 ticulars of her servant's unfaithfulness. She could only inform 
 her that the packet had been found in her apartment. 
 
 The truth was, that Lilly, during her northern summer, 
 had formed too intimate an acquaintance with ' the moun- 
 tain nymph, sweet liberty,' and had conceived too strong 
 a friendship for her to be willing ever again to leave her do- 
 minions. 
 
 She had ; too. in imitation of her mistress, been carrying on 
 19*
 
 442 REDWOOD. 
 
 a snug love affair of her own with the servant of a West India 
 planter, then at Lebanon. Miss Redwood's clandestine ar- 
 rangements were the signal for the execution of Lilly's plans, 
 and they afforded an insurance from the danger of immediate 
 pursuit the only security she needed. 
 
 Lebanon is a border town, and the boundary line of New- 
 York once passed, and Massachusetts entered, Lilly was as- 
 sured of the protecting hospitalities of the people of her own 
 color ; and it had even been hinted to her, that in case her re- 
 treat was discovered, the white inhabitants would be very back- 
 ward to enforce her master's rights. 
 
 Thus encouraged, Lilly availed herself of the propitious 
 moment of Caroline's departure, subtracted the purse from 
 the dressing-case, and not wishing to encumber herself with 
 any superfluity, she left the dressing-case, and in her haste left 
 it open, and made good her retreat. 
 
 What particular grounds there might have been in this 
 instance for the intimations given to Lilly, we cannot say ; but 
 it must be confessed, that our northern people are quite care- 
 less of the duty of protecting slave property, and that they 
 manifest a provoking indifference to the rights and losses of 
 slave-holders. Indeed, so notorious is their fault in this par- 
 ticular, that their southern brethren seldom run the risk of an 
 irrecoverable loss by exposing their servants to the danger of 
 an atmosphere infected with freedom ; and those among them 
 who possess the greatest abundance of these riches, which em- 
 phatically take to themselves wings and fly away, prudently 
 make their northern tours attended by white servants. 
 
 The sisters found their way through the dimly-lighted pas- 
 sages to their father's apartment. Westall met them at the 
 door ; he perceived, at a single glance, that all was right be- 
 tween them.
 
 REDWOOD. 443 
 
 " Thank Heaven," said he, " you are both here ; your father 
 has just pronounced your names." 
 
 " Is he conscious ?" whispered Ellen. 
 
 " I do not know ; but he seems quite calm and refreshed." 
 
 Caroline and Ellen approached the bed together. Mr. 
 Redwood looked at them with an expression of surprise and 
 inquiry, and a slight convulsion agitated his face. They both 
 bent over him and kissed him. He joined their hands, clasped 
 them in his, and raised his eyes peace, gratitude, and devo- 
 tion spoke in them. He said nothing ; he seemed to fear the 
 effort to speak. After a few moments he relinquished the 
 hands of his children and closed his eyes. Tears stole through 
 his eyelids, and a sweet serenity overspread his countenance. 
 
 " This is heaven's own peace," whispered Westall ; " the 
 world cannot give it the world cannot take it away."
 
 444 REDWOOD. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 And as the morning steals upon the night, 
 Melting the darkness, so his rising senses 
 Begin to chase the ignorant fumes that mantle 
 
 His clearer reason. 
 
 TEMPEST. 
 
 Heaven hath a hand in these events. 
 
 KINS JOHN. 
 
 THE night and its afflictions, which we have just faithfully re- 
 corded, passed away, and joy came with the morning. Mr. 
 Redwood's condition was already much amended. He experi- 
 enced, to its full extent, the restorative power of happiness. 
 His disease had been more moral than physical, and it yielded 
 to moral influences. 
 
 Without superstition one might have believed that Elleu 
 possessed a ' healing gift,' so beneficent was the effect of her 
 vigilant care. She was constantly at her father's bedside, 
 ministering to his mind and body, and performing all those 
 tender and soothing offices which the sick so often feel to be 
 more efficacious than the most skilfully compounded drugs. 
 
 She never left her father's room but for the purpose of 
 renovating her strength and spirits by a few turns on the piazza 
 with Westall. If her lover ever thought that her filial duty 
 abstracted her too much from the reciprocation of their mutual
 
 REDWOOD. 445 
 
 feelings, (a natural jealousy, for a man is never satisfied with- 
 out expressing what a woman is content with feeling.) he was 
 quite consoled when, during these brief interviews, he listened 
 to the detail of her feelings in relation to himself of her 
 hopes and misgivings ; in short, to that whole history of the 
 heart which is such delightful music to the lover's ear and 
 such very dull music to every other. 
 
 Ellen communicated to Mrs. Westall and Miss Campbell 
 the discovery of her parentage. Both, as might have been 
 expected, received the intelligence with inexpressible delight : 
 all human happiness must be qualified, and that of the two 
 ladies was considerably abated by Ellen's injunction to tem- 
 porary secrecy, and by her passing without the slightest notice 
 over the particulars that led to the discovery. After Ellen 
 had concluded her communication, and had received the em- 
 braces and congratulations of her friends, Grace Campbell's 
 smiles triumphed over the tears with which they had been con- 
 flicting, and she turned to Mrs. Westall and said, " Well, my 
 dear madam, I suppose you and I must put down all of mother 
 Eve within us, for no evil spirit will enter this paradise that 
 Ellen has conjured about her, to devise ways and means to 
 relieve our curiosity." 
 
 " And my dear friends," said Ellen, " 1 am sure you will 
 be content to endure that curiosity which could only be re- 
 lieved by an evil spirit." 
 
 - Oh, I don't know at any rate, I had rather not be 
 tempted," replied Miss Campbell. " But, my dear Ellen, 
 as we are not permitted to see the ring or lamp the 
 magic means, whatever they may be, by which you have 
 attained the happy finale of your fairy tale do gratify me in 
 one particular suffer me to produce a grand sensation 
 once in my life allow me to proclaim you Ellen Red-
 
 446 REDWOOD. 
 
 wood before the world and in the presence of your disdainful 
 sister?" 
 
 " I cannot." 
 
 " And why not ?" 
 
 " Because my sister is no longer disdainful, but kind and 
 affectionate ; and besides, my dear Grace, you know that I 
 have a rustic aversion to notoriety ; and more than all that, 
 our arrangements are already made. Should my father con- 
 tinue to convalesce as rapidly as he has done for the last four- 
 and-twenty hours, he will be able to leave here on Thursday 
 next, one week from this day the day appointed for the 
 departure of your party. Caroline and Fitzgerald are to be 
 married, quite privately, in my father's room, on Wednesday 
 morning, and are to proceed immediately to Canada ; and I 
 am to resign the place your aunt kindly offered me in her 
 carriage, and, with your leave, Mrs. Westall, am to occupy 
 that which Caroline vacates in our father's." 
 
 " A most delightful arrangement," exclaimed Mrs. "WestalL 
 
 " A delightful arrangement to you, ladies, doubtless," said 
 Miss Campbell ; " but I confess I do not feel particularly 
 flattered that Ellen should sever herself from our party with 
 so much nonchalance, and form her exquisite plans without 
 the slightest reference to us." 
 
 " You have not heard all our plans, my dear Grace," re- 
 plied Ellen, with slight embarrassment ; " we have been com- 
 pelled by the necessity of the case to form them hastily : my 
 father has expressed a wish that Caroline and I should be 
 married at the same time ; to this I could not consent ; my 
 duty to Mrs. Harrison my affection for her. forbids it. My 
 father is willing to make an effort to go to Lansdown. that he 
 may see my beloved friend, and express his gratitude for her 
 maternal kindness to his child."
 
 REDWOOD. 447 
 
 Ellen hesitated, and Miss Campbell said. " This is all very 
 pretty and very proper, but still there is no consolation for 
 my self-love." 
 
 " You have not heard Ellen out, Miss Campbell," inter- 
 posed Mrs. Westall ; ' ; the most agreeable part of all these 
 arrangements is yet to come ; a part which, in right of Charles 
 "WestalPs mother, I have already been consulted on. My dear 
 Ellen, I will take pity on your girlish reluctance to come to 
 the point, and just tell Miss Campbell, in direct terms, thai 
 your wedding is to be celebrated at Lausdown, on the first 
 day of September." 
 
 " Since Mrs. Westall has helped me on so far, my dear 
 Grace," said Ellen, " I will come to that point to which all this 
 preamble has tended, and in as direct terms as Mrs. Westall's, 
 beg the favor of you to persuade your aunt to accommodate 
 her progress to our snail's pace, in order that I may have you 
 for my bride's-maid." 
 
 " Thank you, thank, you Ellen. Now I can perceive that 
 your arrangements are all delightful. Persuade my aunt ! 
 bless her, I can persuade her to any thing ; and if I could not 
 I would poison the horses bribe the coachman to turn the 
 carriage off some of your northern precipices any thing for 
 the pleasure of seeing you married to Charles Westall." After 
 an instant's pause Miss Campbell added, " in romance all the 
 business of life ends with a wedding, but in real life that 
 seems to be the starting point. Now, as I am a little worldly 
 in my views, I should like to know. Ellen, whether you and 
 Westall are going to set up housekeeping in the Harrison 
 mansion, and live upon love and verses, as Miss Debby would 
 say?" 
 
 Ellen assured Miss Campbell that she had no such roman- 
 tic views, that on the contrary all due respect had been paid
 
 448 REDWOOD. 
 
 to their temporal affairs. She informed her that on account 
 of Mr. Kedwood's health, they were to pass the winter in Vir- 
 ginia that in the spring they were to return to New-England 
 that Mr. "Westall was then to form a partnership which had 
 long been projected with an eminent lawyer, and enter upon 
 the business of his profession. 
 
 ' My prudence is quite satisfied," said Miss Campbell, 
 when Ellen had concluded ; " and now, my dear friend, tell me. 
 are you never to appear as Ellen Redwood ?" 
 
 " My father insists on my bearing that name from the 
 moment we leave Lebanon." 
 
 " That is as it should be," said Miss Campbell and the 
 ladies separated. 
 
 Fitzgerald, who had felt himself at the mercy of events 
 which he could not control, passed a week of impatience and 
 anxiety : but a week ' though it may be tedious, cannot b& 
 long,' and the day arrived that was to assure his right to 
 Caroline Redwood. There were some indications that it 
 might not have been impossible to persuade the young lady to 
 retract her engagement, but it seems that her friends did not 
 deem it expedient to interfere, for they never spoke to her 
 upon the subject. 
 
 Ten o'clock was the time appointed for the marriage cere- 
 mony, and at that hour Fitzgerald led Caroline into her 
 father's apartment. 
 
 Ellen, "Westall, and his mother were there, awaiting them. 
 Mr. Redwood was sitting on his easy-chair, his health and 
 spirits obviously and surprisingly renovated. He had sum- 
 moned all his fortitude for the occasion ; but he shuddered 
 when he saw his daughter come into his presence for the last 
 time, and thought of the probable destiny to which he was 
 about to resign her. She had never looked so lovely as at this
 
 REDWOOD. 449 
 
 moment the events of the preceding week had softened her 
 heart, and touched her beautiful face with a moral expression. 
 
 Mr. Kedwood received Fitzgerald with politeness, rather 
 chilled by reserve. He drew Caroline to him, and put his arm 
 around her " My dear child," he said, " before the clergyman 
 is admitted, I have somewhat to say to you. We have already 
 exchanged forgiveness mutual it should not have been, but 
 that you made it so, for my parental faults met with their just 
 retribution in your breach of filial duty that is all past, and 
 we will forget it if we can. 
 
 " Caroline, I have made Ellen acquainted with your gener- 
 ous wish that a large portion of your fortune should be con- 
 veyed to her ; but Ellen is a nice casuist, and she has con- 
 vinced me that I have no right to make any disposition of a 
 property which descends to you from your mother." 
 
 " Oh Ellen !" whispered Caroline to her sister, " will you 
 not allow me to make some atonement to you?" 
 
 " My dear Caroline," replied Ellen, " if I needed an atone- 
 ment, your kindness and confidence are an ample one that I 
 have accepted I can accept no other." 
 
 " My small patrimonial inheritance," resumed Mr. Red- 
 wood, " has been increased by the legacy of an uncle, and 
 though my fortune is still moderate, it is quite adequate to my 
 own wants, and to Ellen's -very moderate desires. Captain 
 Fitzgerald, my dear Caroline, must pardon me, if I avail my- 
 self of my right to remain your steward during my life. The 
 income of your fortune shall be regularly transmitted to you, 
 wherever your husband's destiny may take you. God grant 
 that the restoration of peace to his country may enable him to 
 perform his promise to resign his commission, and come and 
 reside among us." 
 
 After a brief pause, Mr. Redwood continued, " I am now
 
 450 REDWOOD. 
 
 going, my dear child, to bestow on you an inestimable trea- 
 sure ;" he put into her hands the Bible he had received from 
 Ellen ; ' this your sister gave to me with prophetic benevolence 
 she knows that- her purpose has been accomplished the 
 dark shadows of unbelief have passed from my mind for ever 
 the terrors that threatened to annihilate my reason are van- 
 quished the life-giving truths, and immortal hopes of that 
 book have translated me from darkness to light. My friends/' 
 he added with increased energy, " you know not what it is to 
 endure the evils of life with the horrible belief that the grave 
 is the place of final extinction of eternal death : neither can 
 you know," and a divine joy seemed to illuminate his counte- 
 nance, " neither can you know the rest of my wearied spirit 
 the gratitude I feel to the blessed Redeemer the resurrection 
 and the life." 
 
 He was silent for a moment and then said, " Receive my 
 blessing, my child, and remember that it is my last injunction 
 that you make this book your guide." 
 
 Caroline, deeply affected, knelt before her father Ellen 
 sunk on her knees beside her, and clasping her arm around 
 her sister, she raised her tearful eyes to Mr. Redwood, 
 " Severed strangers," she said, " as we have been on earth, 
 we may yet be a family in heaven." 
 
 " God grant it, my children !" responded her father fer- 
 vently, and for a few moments he bent his head in silence 
 over his daughters ; he then raised them, gave Caroline's hand 
 to Fitzgerald, and Ellen's to Westall. 
 
 The clergyman was summoned the nuptial ceremony per- 
 formed Caroline received the farewell embraces of her friends, 
 and left them for ever.
 
 REDWOOD. 45 1 
 
 We fancied we had finished our humble labors, when by a 
 lucky chance a letter, written by Deborah Lenox, and ad- 
 dressed to Mrs. Charles Westall, , Massachusetts, fell 
 
 into our hands. As it was written nearly two years subse- 
 quent to the date of these memoirs, and contained some 
 interesting notices of the personages that figure in them, we 
 immediately transmitted it to our printer. It was sent back 
 with a respectful request from the compositors of the press 
 (those accomplished orthographers) that the spelling might be 
 rectified. In reward of their patient toil in our behalf, it has 
 been deemed a duty to gratify their fastidiousness, and Debo- 
 rah's epistle has been reluctantly re-written letters have 
 been transposed, subtracted, and added, and we believe its 
 orthography is now quite perfect. In no other way would we 
 consent to alter it, for we respect the peculiarities of our 
 honest friend, and are willing to have the sibyl with her con- 
 tortions. 
 
 " Eton, Vermont State, 20th July, in the 
 year of our Lord 18 
 
 " MY DEAR ELLEN, 
 
 " I guess you will be surprised to see my pot-hooks and 
 trammels, and puzzled enough you will be to read them ; but 
 I could not let so good an opportunity pass without letting 
 you know that the Lord has spared our lives to this date, and 
 that all your friends at Eton are well, except the minister, 
 who enjoys a poor state of health. 
 
 " The reason you do not receive a letter from sister Lenox 
 by this opportunity, is, that she does not know of it, on 
 account of her having journeyed to New-York to meet George 
 and his bride, who we hear, though she has the disadvantage 
 of being born and bred at the south, is as likely and prudent.
 
 452 REDWOOD 
 
 and notable a woman as if she had the good fortune to be 
 Vonght up in New-England, which leads a reflecting person 
 to consider that it is best to lay aside their prejudices, and to 
 believe that there are good people every where. I did not 
 expect George would have got over his disappointment so 
 soon ; but he has acted a rational part, for it stands to reason 
 that a man can find more than one woman in the world to 
 make him happy : that is to say, if he can't get cake^ he had 
 better take up with gingerbread. 
 
 " But before I go any further, I ought to finish giving you 
 the reasons why you must put up with a letter from such a 
 poor scribe as I am, instead of receiving one from any of the 
 rest of the family, who all write, Lucy and all. coarse hand 
 and fine, very nicely. The girls are busy, excepting Lucy, 
 preparing tea for our grand visitors. James's wife, kind- 
 hearted little soul that she is, has gone to fix off Peggy ; and 
 Lucy is at the sewing society, which has lately been estab- 
 lished in aid of the pious youth at the Cornwall school, and 
 foreign and domestic missions. So you see, my dear Ellen, I 
 e'en have to put my hand to the plough. 
 
 " You and I never did a better chore than getting Emily 
 back among us : it would gladden your heart to see her old 
 grandmother, who is truly a new creature, and owns, like Job, 
 that she is more blessed at the end than at the beginning. 
 Emily makes a first-rate wife, which I take to be partly owing 
 to her having learnt many prudent and prospering ways 
 among them Shakers ; and I do think if they could be pre- 
 vailed on to turn their settlement into a school to bring up 
 young folks for the married state, they would be a blessing to 
 the world, instead of a spectacle to show how much wisdom 
 and how much folly may be mixed up together. 
 
 " Little Peggy came here this morning, with a basket of
 
 REDWOOD. 453 
 
 new-fashioned early beans, a present from Deacon Martin to 
 me : the deacon and I have had a strife which should have the 
 first beans, and he has won the race ; and by the way. I do not 
 believe you have heard about the deacon's marriage, which has 
 made quite a stirring time here at Eton. You must know that 
 a few weeks after the deacon lost his wife, he felt so lonesome 
 without a companion that he came to sister Lenox to recom- 
 mend a suitable one, and she directly spoke a good word for 
 Peggy's aunt Betty, who is, as it were, alone in the world and 
 though a poor body, she comes of a creditable stock in the old 
 countries ; and what is more to the purpose, her walk and 
 conversation among us has been as good as a preached sermon 
 that is to say, a moral discourse. Well, the deacon was 
 quite taken with the notion, for Betty is a comely woman to 
 look to yet, though well nigh on to fifty, and he went directly 
 to lay the matter before some of the church-members, and 
 they made strong objections to the match, on account of 
 Betty's so often breaking the third commandment, which 
 comes, I suppose, of her being brought up in Old England, 
 where they are by no means so particular about teaching the 
 youth their catechise as with us. The deacon, however, had 
 set his face as a flint, and there were consultations about it, till 
 at last two of the brethren agreed to go and talk to Betty on 
 the subject, and make her promise that she would put a tight 
 rein on her tongue. 
 
 " Betty promised every thing they asked ; but you know 
 when a body always goes in the same track it makes a deep rut, 
 and it is next to an impossibility to turn out of it ; and so. while 
 Betty was talking with them, every other sentence was, ' God 
 help us, gentlemen,' and ' God bless your souls, I'll do my 
 best.' and so on ; and they came away more dead set against 
 the match than ever. But Martin went on in spite of them,
 
 454 REDWOOD. 
 
 and married her ; and except in the matter of the third com- 
 mandment, there is not a more exemplary deacon's wife in the 
 State than Betty makes. 
 
 " But I shall never come to the end of my letter, if I go on 
 at this rate. I find that the older I grow, the more I love to 
 talk; and some how or other I always did love, above all 
 things, to hold discourse with you, Ellen. To go back then to 
 my last starting point. I emptied out Peggy's basket, and 
 went to open the door for her, and what should I see but a fine 
 coach with a noble span of horses turning up to our gate, and 
 who of all the people in the world should be in it but Mr. Fen- 
 ton Campbell and his wife, Grace Campbell that was ? 
 
 " I did not know her at first glance, for she is dressed in 
 deep mourning for her uncle Richard Campbell, who has died 
 lately ; sorry enough, I dare say, to leave all his other ac- 
 counts to go to his last one. However, the moment she 
 smiled one of her own beautiful smiles, as bright as the sun at 
 mid-day, I knew her, and she sprung out of the carriage and 
 was on the door-step at a bound, and shaking both my hands, 
 just with that warm-hearted way of hers, she came in and sat 
 down, and directly we fell to talking of you. and our tongues 
 went as spry as that old woman's, who, as a humorsome gen- 
 tleman said, had hers fastened in the middle that it might run 
 at both ends ! 
 
 " Peggy's ear is always nailed the minute she hears your 
 name, and she kept drawing closer and closer to us, and at 
 last the poor thing began to cry; and then Mrs. Campbell 
 made some inquiries about her. and when she heard her story, 
 and learned that you wished Peggy to go and live with you as 
 soon as her aunt could spare her, and that her aunt had given 
 her consent, and that Peggy was only waiting for an oppor- 
 tunity, and was all on tiptoe for it, she just spoke a word to
 
 r 
 
 REDWOOD. 455 
 
 her husband, and then told Peggy that if she would be ready 
 in the morning, she would take her to you. I thought the 
 child would have gone clean out of her wits with joy : her 
 eyes, the blind one as well as the other, looked as if they 
 would have danced out of her head ; she clapped her hands, 
 and whirled around, and fell on her knees, and kissed Mrs. 
 Campbell's gown poor thing ! she is too feeling a creature for 
 this world ; and I am thankful she is going to you, Ellen, who 
 know all about feelings, and. can temper hers. 
 
 " I don't well see where Mrs. Campbell will stow the child 
 away, for her carriage is filled with all sorts of notions, and a 
 large kind of pocket-books which they call portfolios, and 
 which Mrs. Campbell says are filled with her husband's draw- 
 ings, for they have been to the Falls, and to Quebec, and so 
 on, and you know painting is his fancy ; and I judge it takes 
 a great deal of room to draw such large lakes and rivers on. 
 However, she has determined of her own accord to take 
 Peggy, and I always find your real noble-minded people can 
 contrive a way to do every kind action that turns up in their 
 path. 
 
 " Mrs. Campbell had not heard a word of the death of 
 Captain Fitzgerald and his wife, till I told her about it : and 
 I declare, Ellen, it was a teaching providence to me when I 
 heard it ; and I could not but think of the time when I saw 
 them at Lebanon, so young, so blooming, and so handsome, step- 
 ping over the earth with a step so light and so lofty, that it 
 seemed not to be in all their thoughts that they must ever lie 
 down under the cold clods. 
 
 Poor young creature ! I am sure, when she was flaunting 
 away here at Eton, I never thought I should have wet my old 
 eyes for her ; "but for all, I did cry like a child when sister 
 Lenox received your father's letter, telling all about her death,
 
 456 REDWOOD. 
 
 and that her last words were to beg them to send her little 
 girl to you, and ask you to make her like yourself. 
 
 " The dealings of Providence are sometimes mysterious ; 
 but he that runs may read this dispensation. However. Ellen, 
 as it would not be pleasing to you to have any thing cast up 
 against your sister, especially since she is dead and gone. I 
 will say no more upon this head ; only to observe, that if this 
 child lives to grow up under your training, the world will see 
 that a woman's being beautiful and rich need not hinder her 
 from being wise and good too : and it seemeth to me, that 
 though God respecteth not the outward show, the more beau- 
 tiful the temple is the more fitting is it for a dwelling-place for 
 his Spirit ; and I think it would be a pleasing and an edifying 
 sight to see the perfection of earth and the beauty of heaven 
 built up and fitly framed together. 
 
 " Often, when I am alone, and considering, my thoughts 
 turn upon you, Ellen, and upon all that happened before your 
 sister went off to them West Indies, which have proved l.er 
 death ; and thinking upon you brings, to mind some passages 
 of Scripture, which have been remarkably acted upon in your 
 life ; and first, in the sixteenth chapter of Proverbs and the 
 seventh verse, Solomon says, ' when a man's ways please the 
 Lord, he maketh even his enemies to be at peace with him' 
 and in the New Testament Scriptures it is written. ' be not 
 wearied with well doing' ' overcome evil with good,' and so 
 on. Now, in my view, these texts appear as a kind of history 
 of what passed between you and Caroline ; and it is a com- 
 forting thing to see such a plain agreement between the book 
 of experience and the book of God's word that is to say, to 
 see a Christian's life a Scripture proof. 
 
 " Caroline's behavior, at the upshot, was a satisfaction to 
 me in many ways, and especially as it helped to build me up
 
 REDWOOD. 457 
 
 in the doctrine I have always maintained, namely, that there 
 is no soil so hard bound and so barren but what, if you work 
 upon it long enough, you may make it bring forth some good 
 thing at last ; not that it will equal that soil which is warm 
 and rich at the start, and is from the beginning diligently 
 opened for the sun of God's grace to shine in upon it, and the 
 dews of heaven to nourish it a soil like I must write it out 
 like your heart, Ellen. 
 
 " You nesd not to have said so much in your letter about 
 your gratitude for my offer of the hundred pounds, feather 
 beds, and so forth, for I knew you did not despise it, and 
 that it was true, as you say, that you only refused it on ac- 
 count of your house being entirely filled with Mrs. Harrison's 
 furniture, and your sister's handsome presents. 
 
 " Your worldly condition, Ellen, seems to me to be con- 
 formable to Agur's prayer ' Grive me neither poverty nor 
 riches' a prayer that every one professes to approve, but, I 
 am sorry to say, I have observed but few whose conduct bears 
 out the profession. 
 
 " Before I finish my long preachment, I wish to send my 
 compliments to Mrs. Harrison, who I hear looks ten years 
 younger since she went to live with you ; and my duty to Mr. 
 Redwood, who I hope, now he is so happy, won't take Mrs. 
 Fitzgerald's death very deeply to heart, since we must all have 
 criss-cross lines in this life. 
 
 " In conclusion, my dear Ellen, I have only to say, that as 
 your light has shone brightly in adversity, I pray it may shine 
 on in prosperity, making glad many hearts long and long after 
 death has closed the eyes of 
 
 " Your old friend, 
 
 "DEBORAH LENOX."


 
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