THE LIBRARY- 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 

 
 V 
 
 THE 
 
 CRIMSON STAR; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 
 
 A. ROMANCE FOUNDED ON FACTS. 
 
 BY 
 
 MRS. SARAH A. WRIGHT, 
 
 (OF VIRGINIA,) 
 
 Author of the "Golden Ladder; or, the Stolen Jewel," " Gem of the Lake, 
 
 " The Secret Duel," "Slandtr and its Victims," 
 
 "Who Shall be President^ Etc. 
 
 NEW YORK : 
 
 MASONIC AND MISCELLANEOUS PUBLISHING CO., 
 
 D. SICKELS & CO., MANAGERS, 
 
 No. 2 BI.EECKKR STREET. 
 
 1875.
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, In the year 1875, by 
 
 MRS. SARAH A. WRIGHT, 
 In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 
 
 UNRI, LITTLE ft Co., 
 
 TEES, KLKCTROTVPKRS AND STE 
 
 108 TO 114 WOOBTK Srmr, N. Y.
 
 Ps 
 
 TO 
 
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 @>i- 
 
 5 OF THE LAUREL HOUSE, CAUTERSKILL FALLS, 
 
 QE 
 OQ 
 
 AND 
 
 > OF THE GRANT HOUSE, CATSKILL, 
 
 THIS WORK IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED, AS A 
 6 ACKNOWLEDGMENT OF MANY KINDNESSES 
 
 ^ RECEIVED AT THEIR HANDS, 
 
 rt 
 
 
 
 BY THE AUTHORESS. 
 
 452671
 
 PEEFAOE. 
 
 MY aim and intention in penning this work is not 
 mercenary, as some might imagine. I have always an 
 aim to accomplish. As money has become paramount 
 in this age, I feel there is a duty incumbent upon me, 
 as a writer, to try and instill into the minds of the rising 
 generation, true principle instead of gain. This one 
 point should be our aim when we contemplate married 
 life. Aside from matrimony, we should live as brothers 
 and sisters, trying to aid each other ; not grasping for 
 wealth and destroying our fellow-mortals, as is too 
 often the case. We should seek to do each other 
 good, and try to elevate our fellow-beings to a high 
 spiritual plane, as our Father in heaven has placed us 
 here for some good purpose. 
 
 The ideas of this story were conceived, as I have 
 already stated, while spending a few weeks at the hotel 
 I have previously described. While gazing out upon 
 the broad Hudson, the picture recalled to mind many 
 incidents of the beautiful Eappahannock, which I 
 Lave spoken of in my story. 
 
 I have tried not to exaggerate the character of my 
 heroine, although she is a Virginian. We know there
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 are good and bad people, the world over ; yet there 
 are many, who have traveled through the Southern 
 States, who will no do nbt acknowledge all I have stated in 
 regard to the hospitality of the people. Her father 
 was faithful unto death, and when he heard that his 
 daughter was dead, he could have exclaimed like one 
 of old: 0, my child, my child, "would to God I had 
 died for thee!' The character of the mother of our 
 heroine is an isolated case in the old Dominion. It is 
 rarely ever a Virginia mother would instill into the 
 minds of her children mercenary motives; but rather 
 virtue, veracity, and economy. To marry where there 
 is wealth and love is all right ; but if money is to be 
 the stepping-stone to happiness, then I tremble for 
 such as embark in the floating ship, that will only sail 
 over a stormy sea, which will eventually cause her tim- 
 bers to be shattered upon the rocks of disappointment, 
 woe, and misery. In this work I have touched on 
 many subjects which existed in the days of slavery 
 not that I take any pleasure in rehearsing the old 
 story; but, as my heroine is a Southern woman, I have 
 introduced her maid, Lucinda, and Joe, her coach- 
 man, who have proved such warm friends to their old 
 master and mistress during their troubles, and never 
 forgot to weep and pray for their unfortunate daugh- 
 ter, during the years of her absence from Edge Hill. 
 
 Persons who have read "Uncle Tom's Cabin" will 
 find a great contrast between the Palmore family and 
 the master of Uncle Tom, or Legree. We hope that 
 Mrs. Stowe will not omit writing one more book, in
 
 PREFACE. ' 7 
 
 which she can paint, in as vivid colors as "Uncle 
 Tom's Cabin," the late trial which has agitated the 
 minds of the people for so many months. I feel quite 
 sure the book will be read by the general public with 
 great interest. 
 
 In writing, I always try to punish vice and reward 
 virtue, as I believe God will do when we tread the 
 shores of immortality. If we live a pure life in this 
 world, and carry out the words of St. James, " Do unto 
 others as you would they should do unto you," then 
 our lives will glide smoothly on, like the rippling 
 stream of a summer's day; and when we reach the 
 beautiful shore that John saw from the isle of 
 Patmos, and join the great throng that no man could 
 number, we shall have crowns upon our heads, harps 
 in our hands, and our tongues will sing God's praises 
 in the eternal world forever and forever.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 FAQB 
 
 PROLOGUE 11 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 THE WRECKED SCHOONER 17 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 THE COURTSHIP 33 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 THE PROPOSAL AND ACCEPTANCE 46 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 THE WEDDING... 68 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 THE BRIDAL TOUR. . . .75
 
 X CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 THE HOME ON THE HUDSON. . . 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 THE Two PORTRAITS 103 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 THE VISION FULFILLED 120 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 THE BIRTH OP IDA 148 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 MEDORA'S ESCAPE FROM THE CONVENT 164 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 MARRIED TO HER FIRST LOVER 175 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 THE BRIDE'S ILLNESS 193 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 MEDORA AND HER FATHER REUNITED 208
 
 PROLOGUE. 
 
 IHE writer, while spending a short time at the 
 Grant House, Catskill, became familiar with 
 the facts embodied in this romance. Its re- 
 cital, which interested her so much, she hopes 
 will also interest others. The village of Catskill is situ- 
 ated on Catskill Creek, at the foot of the mountains. 
 History informs us that it derived its name from the 
 fact that these mountains were infested with cata- 
 mounts in the olden times ; therefore the Indian name 
 is very appropriate. This beautiful town contains 
 seven or eight thousand inhabitants, who are intellec- 
 tual, Christian people. The buildings are mostly of 
 modern style, with but few of the Gothic order. The 
 churches, with their loud-tolling bells and tall steeples, 
 would remind one of city life. There is a great deal 
 of business done in this town, considering the popu- 
 lation. Stepping on terra firma from the beautiful 
 steamers, the New Champion or Walter Brent, Capts. 
 Black and Donohue's line, our eyes are enraptured 
 with the lovely scenery which presents itself to our
 
 12 PROLOGUE. 
 
 vision. In front of us are the cerulean Catskills, rising 
 in majestic grandeur. In ascending the hill on the 
 right we see the spacious Prospect House, with its fine 
 cupola and porticoes, surrounded by shady trees of va- 
 rious kinds, situated on the hill overlooking the grand 
 Hudson. The scenery around this building is very fine. 
 There are but few summer resorts which surpass the 
 Prospect House. Farther on is Gunn's hotel, a large, 
 commodious house, which is always well patronized. 
 
 As we pass along the streets, which are shaded by 
 trees whose pendent branches overshadow the traveler 
 as he walks along on his journey, then comes the 
 Irving House, a large and elegant building, kept in first- 
 class style, and may be termed a luxurious hotel, with 
 every accommodation that heart can wish. "We also 
 pass the old Doolittle building, the house where it is 
 said Eip Van Winkle found the people voting, when he 
 came from the mountains, and where everything looked 
 so strangely to him. It would require more than the 
 pen of an Irving or Dickens to accurately portray the 
 picturesque scenery surrounding this village. 
 
 A little way beyond, towards the end of the street, is 
 Smith's Hotel, a commodious and well-kept house with 
 pleasant rooms. After leaving the main street, turning 
 to the left and riding about a mile, we gradually as- 
 cend the hill, when we behold the famous "Grant 
 House," a building to all appearances of pure white 
 marble, which is like a "beacon-blaze upon a mighty 
 rock." It is situated on the brow of a tremendous hill, 
 and to it has just been added a new building,
 
 PROLOGUE. 13 
 
 making several hundred rooms. It would remind one 
 of Solomon's Temple on Mount Moriah, which the 
 Bible says was constructed" without hammer or nails." 
 We feel quite sure that the great architect, Mr. Amos 
 Story, must have given his inventive powers full scope 
 when lie planned such an elegant edifice with all its 
 modern improvements. There is no summer resort on 
 the Hudson that can surpass this splendid building. 
 It is magnificently furnished, and every comfort of a 
 home may be here realized. It can only be appreci- 
 ated by those who are fortunate enough to secure 
 rooms for the summer months. How pleasant to as- 
 cend the cupola of such a house, and gaze with rapture 
 upon the beautiful Hudson and the environs of the vil- 
 lage, and how delightful are the promenades that the 
 guests enjoy through those spacious porticoes ; then the 
 grounds are so beautifully laid out, in the most scien- 
 tific order, being interspersed with trees and flowers of 
 all kinds. The little summer-houses on the brow of 
 the hill are so romantic, nicely shaded, and there we 
 can sit and meditate on the grandeur of the scenery. 
 Looking off to the right, we view the grand old Cats- 
 kills above us, towering towards the skies. Then, glanc- 
 ing at the left, we gaze down on the depths beneath, 
 in the valley, where gently glides the gurgling brook 
 over mossy stones and smooth pebbles, and the shady 
 trees wave their tender branches over the green grass, 
 where blooms the mistletoe, and violet, and honey- 
 suckle, and the singing birds are heard caroling their 
 morning praises to the Great Father, who has created
 
 14 PEOLOGUE. 
 
 the mountains and the valleys, and every living thing. 
 " A thing of beauty is a joy forever." 
 
 Here, amidst this enchanting scenery which sur- 
 rounds Catskill, we pen these verses while gazing wist- 
 fully at the cerulean mountains from the Grant House. 
 
 THE WILD FLOWEKS OF THE MOUNTAIN. 
 
 The wild flowers bloom as pretty as ever, 
 
 On the dark, dreary mountain at home. 
 Their petals are starry, their colors are bright ; 
 
 None can outvie them, where'er we roam. 
 " I bloom on the mountain," says the little violet, 
 
 " But the sunlight bursts on me there ; 
 My petals are blue, and my fragrance is sweet, 
 
 As if I grew in a garden so fair." 
 
 " I bloom on the mountain," says the fair-tinted rose, 
 
 " Why should I not be admired? 
 My beauty's the same, my fragrance as great, 
 
 If I am on the mountain retired." 
 " I bloom on the mountain," says the white lily ; 
 
 " Why should I not be in a nook, 
 When Solomon of old was not equal to my glory, 
 If I am the plain lily of the brook ? " 
 
 " I bloom on the mountain," says the little cowslip, 
 
 " Are uot my sweet blossoms pretty too ? 
 I grow in the sunlight, all the day long, 
 
 And am wet with the nightly dew." 
 "I bloom on the mountain," says the wild honeysuckle, 
 
 As it entwines the myrtle the most ; 
 " We love each other in the lowly forest, 
 
 And that is why the flowers should boast."
 
 PROLOGUE. 15 
 
 Pretty flowers of the mountain, your germs combine. 
 
 To illumine the nooks that are near ; 
 Your starry petals the garden cannot outshine, 
 
 For God has planted you here. 
 Then flowers of the mountain, bloom sweetly there 
 
 Amid the dark forest and gloom, 
 For One has tranplanted you everywhere, 
 
 To fill the world with your rich perfume. 
 
 Bloom on, bloom on, ye beautiful treasures, 
 
 And may your bright germs each other entwine, 
 
 Even the flowers are truer to their mission 
 Than men, whom we think divine. 
 
 While looking at the little humming-birds, among 
 the flowers, these verses were penned : 
 
 THE LITTLE HUMMING-BIKD. 
 
 OH, beautiful bird, thou hast come 
 
 Thus early in the morn 
 To sip the nectar of the flowers, 
 
 Before the early dawn. 
 
 Thou pretty bird, with fluttering wings, 
 
 We welcome thy tiny form ; 
 It is from some bower far away. 
 
 The humming-bird hath come. 
 
 Thou bird of thy tribe, thou art here, 
 
 In a land of pretty flowers, 
 And we hope the innocent 
 
 May not be touch'd among the bowera.
 
 16 PROLOGUE. 
 
 Thou bird, whose beauty we admire, 
 Children may meet thee at the rose ; 
 
 But thy keen sight may aid thy flight, 
 And thou must leave thy little foes. 
 
 Thou bird, far away thou must fly, 
 And leave the rose so sweet ; 
 
 Then, while flitting toward the sky, 
 Thy little mate mayst thou meet. 
 
 Thou, quiet bird, must come again, 
 And in the garden soon, 
 
 To sip the honey from the flower, 
 And leave ere the dawn of noon. 
 
 Thou bird of the grove, thou art free 
 Amid the woodland bower, 
 
 To chitter-chatter all the day, 
 And sip the wildwood flower.
 
 THE CRIMSON STAR; 
 
 OK, 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE WRECKED SCHOONER. 
 
 But while, like Passion, storms and moans the gulf, 
 And pearls the beach with flakes of silver foam, 
 Upon the other side, like Patience, swell 
 The surfless billows of the bay. Miss MOOBK. * 
 
 was a stormy evening in November, some 
 years ago. Dark and angry clouds flitted across 
 the horizon ; and the wind came in such tem- 
 pestuous gusts as threatened to hurl the Manor 
 House at Edge Hill from its foundation. 
 " Oh, papa, what a storm ! " exclaimed the silvery voice 
 of Medora Palmore, as she stood beside a window 
 watching the portentous clouds. 
 
 "Yes, my daughter," replied the old gentleman, as 
 he was in the act of sinking into an easy-chair before 
 a cheerful Avood fire burning brightly on the old- 
 fashioned brass and irons which shone like gold. "I 
 fear," continued Mr. Palmore, " I greatly fear, from
 
 18 THE CRIMSON STAR; OR, 
 
 the appearance of the horizon, that the poor sailors 
 will have a stormy night." Medora stood gazing upon 
 the Chesapeake Bay, whose mountainous billows 
 appeared almost to touch the clouds. The elements 
 seemed engaged in awful strife. The young girl gazed 
 out with eyes full of interest and enthusiasm. Again 
 she spoke, in a voice whose thrilling intonation at once 
 charmed the ear. 
 
 "A storm indeed, papa!" she observed. "I per- 
 ceive a large schooner endeavoring to make harbor, 
 but the wind keeps her off. Oh ! she is coming 
 into Fleet's Bay. What a beautiful vessel! her 
 white sails are fluttering in the wind. It appears 
 that she will have some difficulty in getting safely 
 in." 
 
 " Oh, no, I reckon not," said her father, rising from 
 his seat, laying aside his pipe, and approaching the 
 window. " Let me see, daughter, how the schooner 
 makes her tacks; then I will tell you whether or not 
 she can anchor in this harbor." 
 
 When the old gentleman had reached the window 
 and taken a view, he smiled, saying : 
 
 " That craft is a New Yorker a real Yankee and 
 she will anchor in the harbor." 
 
 The old man and his fair daughter continued to 
 watch the vessel as she trimmed her sails to the 
 breeze. The wind blew a hurricane from out a dark 
 and lowering sky. The white-crested billows of the 
 Chesapeake rose up into mimic mountains, and dashed 
 their furious waters far up on the rocky shores of
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 19 
 
 Northumberland. But, after a brief struggle with 
 wind and tide, the schooner succeeded in casting 
 anchor in Fleet's Bay. 
 
 " Bring me my spy-glass, daughter, and let me see 
 her name," said Mr. Palmore. " I think that same 
 vessel entered our harbor some weeks ago. Oh, yes, I 
 see ! it is the Old Dominion. Her crew are a set of 
 brave men, not easily scared by winds and waves. 
 They do not seem to fear 'Davy's Locker,' although so 
 many of the poor souls find it in storms like this. 
 That vessel has been in this harbor several times," 
 continued the planter, adjusting the glass again. 
 "She is a fine wood vessel, and many a cord of excel- 
 lent wood have I sold her. Her captain is a worthy 
 man, and I am glad to see them safely in ; they are all 
 right now all taut, as sailors say to weather out the 
 storm. Some of our neighbors do not like to see 
 those Yankee schooners, now that we expect war ; but 
 I don't care, any way ; they have their ideas, and we 
 have ours, on the slavery question. They are safe for 
 the night at least." 
 
 The old man laid aside the glass, returned to his 
 fireside seat, refilled his pipe, and smoked away, the 
 very embodiment of good-nature and content. Me- 
 dora also left the window. She seated herself at a 
 table, and took up her pretty needle-work. 
 
 "The storm still rages," said she. "I hope it will 
 never be my fate to experience a gale at sea." 
 
 " There are storms by land as well as by sea, my 
 daughter, and it sometimes happens that the former
 
 20 THE CRIMSON STAB ; OR, 
 
 are as disastrous to human beings as the latter. 
 There is quite as much reason to fear the one as the 
 other." 
 
 "Papa," resumed Medora after a pause, "I have a 
 presentiment that something connected with water 
 and a vessel is to cause me great pain and trouble. 
 Do not laugh ; but, since I beheld the sails of that 
 schooner to-night, a sadness, such as I never before 
 felt, has come over me, and I cannot shake it 
 off." 
 
 " Pho, nonsense ! " returned the old man. You are 
 just like your mother and all other women for that 
 matter ever talking about sadness, and dark fore- 
 bodings, and impressions, and all other foolish 
 notions. 'Tis enough to disgust a man with women. 
 As to storms and shipwrecks, we must try to avoid 
 them if possible ; but what cannot be cured (as the 
 old adage goes) must be endured." 
 
 " Well, pa," said Medora, endeavoring to smile as 
 usual, as she was about to lay aside her work, "'tis a 
 fact that, at the moment I beheld that vessel, a 
 queer sensation almost overpowered me, and still con- 
 tinues to agitate my mind." She added, in a lower 
 voice, " Perhaps you are to do some great things and 
 become notorious in war: some folks say we are to 
 fight the North." 
 
 " Go to bed, go to bed, and to sleep, my child ; and 
 when the bright morning streams, you will have for- 
 gotten all about your strange feelings, rifles and 
 bullets."
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 21 
 
 " I heartily hope so," replied Medora, smiling, with 
 another effort to overcome her foolish presentiment, 
 as she mentally styled her depression of spirits. She 
 was in the act of leaving the room and retiring for the 
 night, when they were startled by a rap at the front 
 door. They looked at each other with surprise. The 
 storm and the lateness of the hour made a visit unac- 
 countable in that part of the country. The old man 
 advanced to the door, partially opened it, and authori- 
 tatively inquired : 
 
 " Who comes at this hour ? " 
 
 " A stranger," replied a low voice. 
 
 " A stranger ? He has chosen a late hour in which 
 to make a visit." 
 
 " True, sir ; but necessity compels me to intrude 
 thus and now upon your kindness." 
 
 " Come in, friend," said Mr. Palmore; "the wind 
 blows too keen and cold to stand on the steps for a 
 parley. We hope you are a friend ; since this political 
 trouble we do not know our friends always." 
 
 " Certainly a friend," he said. 
 
 The stranger entered, bowing politely. The old 
 gentleman requested him to be seated, at the same 
 time intimating that he was now at liberty to ex- 
 plain the cause of his appearance. As the late 
 intruder seated himself, he cast a glance at the 
 daughter, who, with a lighted lamp in her hand, 
 stood near her father. Medora trembled beneath 
 his scrutinizing gaze a chill contracted her very
 
 22 THE CRIMSON STAR; OR, 
 
 " How strangely I feel," she murmured to herself. 
 "Surely, this man cannot wish to injure us." She 
 was riveted to the spot. Some power seeemed to 
 enchain her limbs. She experienced an irresistible 
 desire to hear what the stranger had to say. Mr. Pal- 
 more also sat in a state of curious inquiry. 
 
 " A very stormy evening, sir," said the stranger, as 
 he removed his cloak, and looked his host in the face. 
 
 "Yes," replied the planter, "we have had quite a 
 storm ; but the wind seems to abate. It blew very 
 heavily about sunset." 
 
 " So heavily," said the guest, " that at one time I 
 feared we would all make acquaintance with the 
 bottom of the Chesapeake. "Pis in consequence of 
 this storm that I have ventured to call on you at this 
 untimely hour of the night." 
 
 " What is it that you desire ? " asked Mr. Palmore. 
 " If I can do you any service I am at your command." 
 
 " Thank you, thank you, sir," exclaimed the gentle- 
 man, half rising from his seat, and then sinking back 
 again. " We have been unfortunate during the blow, 
 have lost our top-sail, and part of the bowsprit has 
 been blown away, and we are out of water on board 
 the schooner." 
 
 " Ah ! I see/' said the planter. " You are the cap- 
 tain of the vessel that came in harbor about sun- 
 set." 
 
 " No," was the reply ; " I am not the captain but the 
 owner of the vessel you have observed ; and have come 
 to ask the privilege of getting a little water on board."
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 23 
 
 " Certainly of course ; you are perfectly welcome to 
 all the water you desire. Anything else we can do for 
 you will cheerfully be done." 
 
 "I am exceedingly obliged to you," replied the 
 stranger, rising as if about to take leave. 
 
 "Will you not remain during the night?" said the 
 planter, with genuine hospitality. "The wind con- 
 tinues to blow so as to make it hazardous to attempt 
 to go on board, I should think. We are happy to 
 offer you all the comfort and convenience which our 
 humble roof affords, if you can remain." 
 
 " There is nothing to prevent me treating myself to 
 that pleasure, save the fear of incommoding yourself 
 and family," he replied, slightly hesitating, and mak- 
 ing a half bow to Medora. "It was with great diffi- 
 culty that I reached the shore to-night; and, now I 
 think of it again, the crew are very hungry, and can- 
 not get breakfast without water." 
 
 " I will send some of my colored men aboard with 
 a keg, and then you will be at liberty to remain all 
 night, if it so pleases you," suggested the old gentle- 
 man. 
 
 " I thank you exceedingly," reiterated the stranger, 
 who, from some unexplained cause, seemed to vacillate 
 between a desire to remain, and a duty to leave. " I 
 think it were better for me to return on board." At 
 last, he said : " Two of the hands and the captain await 
 me at the landing." 
 
 " By what name do you call your vessel ? " said Mr. 
 Palmore.
 
 24 THE CRIMSON STAR; OB, 
 
 "The 'Old Dominion,'" replied the gentleman. 
 
 " Ah, I have sold her many hundred dollars' worth 
 of wood. She has traded hereabouts for years, and a 
 fine man is her captain." 
 
 " Yes," acquiesced the owner ; " but he came near 
 losing the boat this evening, I assure you. Many 
 times have I been abroad, but never before saw de- 
 struction quite so near. On my life, as we came in, in 
 trying to turn the schooner, the wind struck her, and 
 laid her on her side. After the sails were blown away 
 we lost an anchor; then we thought sure we could not 
 reach the harbor. , It was with difficulty that we suc- 
 ceeded in getting in." 
 
 " Yes, we watched you in the attempt, and perceived 
 that you were in trouble." 
 
 The gentleman rose to depart. As Medora turned to 
 leave the room,, he fixed his dark, deep-set eyes upon 
 the beautiful girl, while his aquiline nose appeared 
 almost to touch the thin lips that parted in an at- 
 tempt to smile ; his gray hair, still wet with the salt 
 spray, hung heavily about his long neck. Medora's 
 heart beat nervously ; and, hastily bidding good-night, 
 she ran up-stairs. Mr. Palmore preceded the stranger 
 to the door, where they parted, amid offers of assist- 
 ance and accommodation from the planter, and profuse 
 thanks on the part of the other, who, taking a last 
 courteous leave of his host, soon found himself again 
 aboard the schooner. The planter retired ; but calm 
 rest was not his that night. Strange thoughts obtrud- 
 ed themselves upon his mind, but he gave them little
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 25 
 
 weight In the morning, before he saw his daughter, 
 he spoke to his wife of having passed a restless night, 
 and, without intending the connection, said that he 
 presumed the stranger and owner of the " Old Do- 
 minion " would again visit them before he left the 
 harbor. 
 
 " Well," replied the old lady, " it would be a pleas- 
 urable duty to us to assist the poor mariners by every 
 means in our power." 
 
 " Yes, wife," replied the husband, " that is true, 
 and characteristic of a Virginian; we take a pride in 
 our hospitality. The owner of the schooner is a New 
 Yorker, I think. Perhaps he will find us a civilized 
 people. If we are Southerners, we know how to treat 
 strangers, particularly those in distress." 
 
 "Now, old man," said his wife, "you are thinking 
 about the war." 
 
 The discussion ended. Mrs. Palmore proceeded to 
 hasten the morning repast, and soon the air reverber- 
 ated to the cheering sound of the breakfast bell. As 
 they were about to seat themselves, Medora made her 
 appearance. 
 
 "Oh, mamma!" she exclaimed, in the pretty, play- 
 fully-pettish manner that so well became her, " I do 
 wish you had not been in such haste this morning for 
 breakfast; for I never felt so sleepy as I did when the 
 bell awoke me." 
 
 "You had a long night in which to sleep, Medora; 
 and your duties are not so arduous, my dear, but that
 
 26 THE CRIMSON STAK ; OR, 
 
 you might be in readiness for breakfast," replied her 
 mother with a fond smile. 
 
 " Oh, the night was sufficiently long; it is not with 
 that I find fault," rejoined the young beauty. "I did 
 not close my eyes for sleep until the cock crew for 
 day." 
 
 " Why, my daughter, what caused such unwonted 
 wakef ulness ? " inquired her father. 
 
 " I do not know," replied Miss Palmore, as the smile 
 faded from her lips; "I I believe I was haunted by 
 that strange man who was here last night. The white 
 sails of that schooner flitted before my mind's eye until 
 day-dawn." "The stranger must have touched your 
 fancy, Medora ! " cried her father, laugh ing, as though it 
 were a pleasant pastime to tease his pet. " Quite to the 
 contrary ! " said the pouting girl. " As I cast my eyes 
 upon that man, I had the most peculiar sensations I 
 ever experienced in my life. I trembled like an aspen 
 leaf as I looked upon him ; yet I do not suppose that 
 he would have hurt a hair of my head, for he appear- 
 ed-quite enough like an old gentleman." 
 
 "No, my child ; he is the owner of the vessel we so 
 sedulously watched last evening. You must have sur- 
 mised that he was aboard, Medora, you displayed so 
 much anxiety," said the old man, who loved his joke, 
 even though it were a little coarse. "I remember now, 
 you then spoke of strange feelings queer premonitory 
 symptoms. Love, they say, is a peculiar sensation. 
 He looked at you as if he thought you rather suited 
 him. I say, Medora, perhaps he will turn out to be a
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 27 
 
 widower or a bachelor in search of a Virginia wife. 
 We shall certainly see him ashore again. I noticed a 
 matrimonial glimmer in his queer eyes, when he 
 squinted in your direction, but perhaps he would not 
 marry a slaveholder's daughter; so we are safe 
 enough.' 
 
 "Papa, you are incorrigible!" uttered the pret- 
 ty lips which looked so tempting. "I am sure your 
 ancient friend with the queer eyes would never be so 
 unwise as to think of me as a wife ; and, even if he did, 
 I should never become such with my own consent." 
 
 " Wait until you are asked," suggested her mother. 
 "I presume that the gentleman is already provided with 
 a better half; so you need not be so premature in your 
 refusal." 
 
 Soon the subject of conversation changed, no one ex- 
 pecting ever to see the man again. After breakfast 
 was concluded, Medora went into the garden ; thence 
 she sauntered into the grape-arbor. The trellis seemed 
 almost overburdened with the luxuriant vine and de- 
 licious fruit. The ground whereon it was situated vv%s 
 slightly elevated, and, from her position she command- 
 ed a fine view of the symmetrical schooner as she lay at 
 anchor. Two or three sailors appeared among the rig- 
 ging ; and, as the fair girl stood poising a magnificent 
 cluster of the purple berries in her hand, it suddenly 
 occured to her, how grateful to the palate of those 
 hard-working men would be a supply of the abundant 
 fruit; and, while gathering the delicious grapes, in 
 imagination she wandered away to sunny France, and
 
 THE CRIMSON STAR ; OR, 
 
 Eugene Appomore filled her mind, which was suffi- 
 cient for ns to pen these lines : 
 
 LASTING PLEASURES. 
 
 Oh! tell me not of lasting pleasures 
 
 In this cold world below ; 
 'Tis only Heaven can grant those treasures, 
 
 In a world where mortals go. 
 
 There is a land where spirits blend 
 
 In von bright realm above 
 Where flowers bloom forever fresh, 
 
 And souls unite in love. 
 
 There, love is not a fickle fancy, 
 
 Vision-like to pass away ; 
 But there it lingers on forever, 
 
 Through eternal, blissful day. 
 
 " I will go and suggest it to my father," she said, half 
 aloud, and was about leaving the arbor when the sound 
 of oars struck her ear. Turning her gaze again toward 
 th*e water, she beheld a boat which had almost reached 
 the shore. In a moment it ran upon the sands, and 
 the visitor of the previous evening leaped out, and 
 with hurried step took his way toward the house. See- 
 ing the garden gate, he entered by that way, not perceiv- 
 ing Medora until he was close upon the arbor. Soon as 
 his eye caught her fascinated gaze, he hastened toward 
 her, and, with peculiar courtesy, and the smile that had 
 made her shrink from his scrutinizing gaze, made 
 tender inquiries after her health. Recovering her-
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 29 
 
 self, Medora replied with native grace, returning the 
 compliment. 
 
 " We are about leaving the harbor this morning, 
 Miss Palmore, taking advantage of the storm's abate- 
 ment," said the strange man ; " but my captain has just 
 informed me that we are out of flour, etc., etc. ; so 
 I have come to beg a second favor at the hands of your 
 excellent father. Do you think that he will furnish 
 me with the needed provisions?" Miss Palmore was 
 inwardly amused at this unsentimental conversation; 
 but she replied, with a grace quite unconscious of its 
 attraction 
 
 " If you will accompany me to the house, you can 
 speak with my father, sir ; " and, as they proceeded side 
 by side, they fell into easy converse regarding the 
 beauties of the locality and scenery. 
 
 " And what do you call this farm ? " asked the gentle- 
 man. " I believe it is customary with the Southerners 
 to name their residences." 
 
 "You are right," replied Medora, "and the appel- 
 lation of this plantation is nothing more romantic than 
 Edge Hill." 
 
 "Certainly appropriate, if not romantic," returned 
 the gentleman, " and consistency, you know, is a jewel. 
 It is situated on such a hill, so near the river, it may 
 well be culled by that appellation. Although we 
 entered the harbor during a storm, I particularly no- 
 ticed this mansion the location is charming, and the 
 architecture just according to my somewhat fastidious 
 taste. And," he added in a lower tone, and with
 
 30 THE CRIMSON STAR; OR, 
 
 a furtive glance at his beautiful companion, "I fear, 
 for me, the building contains a greater attraction with- 
 in." Medora was confused at his boldness, but, as she 
 had always heard the Yankees were good at guessing, 
 she thought perhaps he was guessing too much. 
 
 Fortunately for the lady, just at this juncture they 
 reached the door, where they found Mr. Palmore, who, 
 with hearty hospitality, invited the stranger in and 
 thus relieved his daughter from the embarrassment of 
 entertaining one in whose favor, she was not in the 
 least prepossessed. Medora passed on through the par- 
 lor into the dining-room and escaped the eyes of the 
 guest, who made his business known to the planter, 
 and was furnished with the necessary supplies. As the 
 strange gentleman was about to take leave for the 
 second time, he handed a little blank book to Mr. Pal- 
 more, saying: 
 
 " Excuse my inquisitiveness, my dear sir, and the 
 liberty I am about to take. Your kindness has ladened 
 me with obligations. May I beg you to add to those 
 already received, by transcribing in this book your au- 
 tograph, with those of your family, and that of the 
 county in which you reside ? " 
 
 The wondering old gentleman complied ; then the 
 stranger, in return, furnished his own address: 
 
 EALPH BRUSTER, 
 
 Attorney at Law, 
 
 NEW YORK CITY. 
 
 He furthermore added the information that he was
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 31 
 
 on his way to Fredericksburg, on important business, 
 when his vessel had been forced by the storm to enter 
 the harbor for protection ; and was pleased, moreover, 
 to say that he regretted not his loss of time, nor one 
 unexpected moment he had passed in Virginia; for the 
 kindness of Mr. Palmore and family had inspired him 
 with something more than gratitude and respect. 
 The old gentleman smiled as he listened, and re- 
 marked : 
 
 "We are, sir, a civilized people, but desire to be 
 treated with due respect and consideration. Should 
 you ever again be caught in a gale, come to my house, 
 and I will take the best possible care of you." 
 
 Again that strange smile gleamed upon the lawyer's 
 lace as he courteously replied : 
 
 "I do not think, sir, that I shall await a storm for 
 my advent, but may drift along shore some of these 
 days in a calm. Good-bye, for the present, and make 
 my highest regards to your charming family." 
 
 So, with friendly clasping of hands, they parted. 
 Mr. 13rusr,er hastened to regain the deck of his ves- 
 sel. She hoisted her sails and gallantly made her way 
 out of Fleet's harbor. Soon she grew but a speck in 
 the distance, and ere long vanished from the gaze 
 " like a dream." 
 
 And beautiful eyes watched, Medora's eyes, the fast- 
 disappearing vessel. The gaze of the Virginia belle 
 followed her as she left the harbor, and she idly won- 
 dered if the " Old Dominion " would ever again 
 <( come sailing into " the bay. But she felt no regrets.
 
 32 THE CRIMSON STAB, OR, 
 
 Too pure and unsophisticated for dislike, or to analyze 
 character, the stranger had inspired her with none but 
 unpleasant sensations. As she saw the lessening sail 
 grow 
 
 " Small by degrees, and beautifully less," 
 
 a load seemed lifted from off her heart, and uncon- 
 sciously she drew a sigh of relief. The strange guest 
 had naught about him to attract the heart of the 
 young beauty, and Medora smiled, as she wittily said 
 to herself " He is a man, take him all in all, I hope we 
 ne'er shall look upon his like again. He is a real 
 Yankee, I know, even had he not stated that Massa- 
 chusetts was his birthplace ; he is in favor of the war, 
 although he tried to conceal his sentiments while 
 conversing with pa. Well, let him be what he may," 
 whispered Medora, "perhaps we shall never see him 
 again ; so we will think no more of our midnight 
 guest."
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 33 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE COUKTSHIP. 
 
 the time Miss Palmore is presented to the 
 reader, she had numbered about eighteen 
 summers. Marriage at the South is general- 
 ly contracted at a very youthful age; but 
 Medora was still, in maiden meditation, fancy free, 
 and considered that there was abundance of time to 
 preserve herself from the horrors of celibacy. Nu- 
 merous were the swains who bowed at her shrine, 
 from the adjoining counties; and it was said that, the 
 fame of her charms having spread even to Baltimore, 
 that city had also contributed its portion of admira- 
 tion. Nay, the last-mentioned quality had been from 
 childhood Miss Palmore's daily food. 
 
 " Her face it was the fairest 
 That e'er the sun shone on; " 
 
 And the bewitching beauty pursued the even tenor 
 of her way, lovely and beloved. Placidly beat her 
 maiden heart beneath a 'broidered vest, and she 
 evinced no desire to slip her fair neck into that noose 
 which, to untie, is harder than the Gordian knot. 
 Happy in her father's house, she was grateful for her 
 lot, and experienced no ambition to exchange 
 " Her maiden gladness 
 For a name, and for a ring."
 
 34 THE CRIMSON STAR; OR, 
 
 Medora had but one brother, who was at college at 
 St. Mary's, Williamsburg, Virginia. The children of 
 Mr. Palmore were idolized by their father. Strange 
 to confess, the maternal affection was not so ardent. 
 Are there not mothers and female relations, whose 
 ambition renders them destroyers of their own chil- 
 dren and kindred? We sometimes meet females who 
 are more mercenary than men, and who would sacrifice 
 much more to obtain wealth. "Women have great 
 power over their children and kindred; therefore, 
 there is often much misery inflicted upon the human 
 family by the descendants of our mother Eve. Ere 
 we close our tale the reader will have seen the evils 
 occasioned by the pernicious influence of ambition. 
 But, as yet, our little family remains in a state of 
 quiet happiness. 
 
 By a strange perversity, which Medora did not 
 attempt to analyze, her thoughts were often occupied 
 in recalling the image of the owner of the " Old 
 Dominion." His piercing glance, which expressed yet 
 seemed to withhold so much; his inexplicable smile; 
 his unprepossessing physical appearance, and yet 
 courtier-like manner, made up a whole that provoked 
 her curiosity, and, in the absence of other objects of 
 interest, occupied far more of her private meditations 
 than she was at all aware of. 
 
 Strange are the occurrences which the daily sun 
 looks down upon; and strange, "passing strange," 
 the chance that sent the New York lawyer to invade 
 the vestal life of Medora Palmore.
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 35 
 
 Fate, fate! how cruel sometimes is thy mission. 
 "Why, in au ill-starred hour, has the hurricane driven 
 that bark into sheltering Fleet's Bay? Ah! the raging 
 of winds and the dashing of waves must abate in 
 time, although noble crafts may have been sub- 
 merged, and valued lives lost. Yet a calni succeeded 
 the storm. 
 
 Thus may be the life of our heroine. Like many 
 of her tender sex, she was born to experience many 
 changes in life. It would seem that she possessed 
 something of the power of prescience. What else 
 could fill her heart with unjust forebodings as her 
 eyes beheld the flying schooner ? And wherefore, even 
 when the bark and its- strange owner had disappeared, 
 was she still tormented by a vague uneasiness ? Deter- 
 mined to overcome what she styled her foolish 
 fancies, Medora devoted herself more than ever to her 
 family, and to self-improvement. Fond of horticul- 
 ture, she passed much time out in the invigorating 
 air, and showed, in her increased bloom, the truth of 
 Dr. Holmes' beautifully-expressed thought, that 
 "roses come to the cheeks of those who stoop to 
 gather them." 
 
 Medora was essentially a domestic girl, and, if her 
 disposition be amiable, a domestic woman is certainly 
 "a price above rubies." How happy is it in her power 
 to render her family. No man desires a china doll by 
 way of wife. The highest attainments of accomplish- 
 ments and domestic qualities are compatible with each 
 other. Such a woman our readers will in time admit
 
 THE CRIMSON STAR; OR, 
 
 our heroine to be. Music, painting, the languages, 
 were all at her command such of the modern 
 tongues, at least, as are deemed essential to the com- 
 pleteness of a lady's education the five principal 
 tongues of Europe. And even in the feminine arts of 
 embroidery and needle-work were the pretty lingers 
 of Medora quite au fait. Nature had been lavish in 
 her gifts, and fortune not the less favored the beauti- 
 ful girl. Her idolizing father spared no money in the 
 education of his children ; and Medora received the 
 most of hers at a female institute of Baltimore one 
 of the finest seminaries of learning that the State con- 
 tains. The nimble fingers of Medora could invoke 
 sweet strains of music from the strings of her Spanish 
 guitar; also, the Steinway piano sent forth its dulcet 
 music through the mansion at Edge Hill. And they 
 were also equally able at the concoction of biscuit, 
 pastry, cakes, etc., etc. Puddings as well as land- 
 scapes, shirts as well as bonnets "grew and multiplied" 
 beneath her touch; and, to her mind, poetry and 
 house-keeping were not situated in the antipodes. 
 Yet excellent Mrs. Ellis (if she "still lives") con- 
 tinues to eulogize English wives and mothers! We 
 contend that their equals d\vell numerously on the 
 Western hemisphere. Bad, indeed, must the heart of 
 that woman be who increases not in goodness when 
 she becomes a wife that is, provided she marries a 
 man instead of a brute. You start, elegant and kind- 
 hearted young gentlemen ! You opine, perhaps, that 
 none of creation's lords ought to be classed with the
 
 THE MIDXIGHT VISION. 37 
 
 brutes. But if, with the assistance of patience, you 
 peruse this veracious history to its finale, you will then 
 be able to decide whether the writer is too harsh upon 
 the opposite sex. If then you conclude that there is 
 not sufficient reason to denominate some men brutes, 
 why then the writer will admit herself to be in error. 
 
 " A creature nobly plann'd 
 
 To warn, 'to comfort, to command ; 
 A being not too bright and good 
 For human nature's daily food." 
 
 In short, she is no "angel in petticoats;" nor an 
 ephemeral fairy, but, de facto, a woman, with passions 
 of a human being, and the emotions of Eve's delicate 
 daughter. She possessed reason, judgment, cultivated 
 intellect, and a heart. 
 
 God does not permit absolute perfection to inhabit 
 this nether sphere. Therefore, our heroine is only 
 human nature, and will continue to be nothing more 
 nor less all through our story. We do not mean to 
 paint an ethereal woman this side of the grave; we 
 wish only to portray the true character of a Virginia 
 belle in our happy days. 
 
 Surely, a pretty girl with a warm, loving heart, who 
 dearly prizes her parents and kindred, is by no means 
 so rare an object. 
 
 Some months had elapsed since the " Old Dominion " 
 had been driven into Fleet's Bay, when a letter was 
 handed to Mr. Palmore, at the office. It was addressed 
 to his daughter, and bore the New York City postal 
 
 452671
 
 38 THE CRIMSON STAB; OR, 
 
 mark. The mind of the old gentleman was consider- 
 ably "exercised " (as they say in New England) as to 
 who the correspondent of Medora might be ; and his 
 astonishment was not greater than that of the fair re- 
 cipient when she beheld the name of Ralph Bruster 
 appended to the document. For the benefit of any of 
 the male sex who may be in the lawyer's predicament, 
 we transcribe the remarkable epistle ; first begging 
 permission to indulge in an appropriate quotation 
 from our especial favorite, Dr. Holland. 
 
 " He would write her a letter resort of timid lovers 
 from time immemorial. Oh ! blessed pen, that will 
 not stammer! Oh! brave ink, that will not faint and 
 fade in the critical moment of destiny ! Oh ! happy 
 paper, that cannot blush ! Oh ! faithful cup, that bears 
 one's heart's blood to the lips one loves, and spills no 
 precious drops." 
 
 So much for Dr. Holland's lover. Now we will return 
 to ours, and his letter. 
 
 " Lady ! but twice beheld, yet never afterward to be 
 forgotten can you forgive the liberty I take in ad- 
 dressing you, when not even the conventional neces- 
 sity of an introduction has passed between us ? The 
 madness of love is upon me ! My sole excuse (and what 
 man who has enjoyed that bliss would deem it an in- 
 sufficient one ?) is, that I have seen Miss Palmore. 
 That vision of loveliness has filled iny heart with an 
 emotion never before experienced; it has quickened 
 every pulse of my being. That heart which I had 
 deemed hard has become soft as a child's, completely
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 39 
 
 subdued by this new and overwhelming passion. When, 
 on that memorable stormy night (a happy night for 
 me) when I beheld you standing with the lighted lamp 
 in your hand, were you waiting for the bridegroom, 
 watchful virgin? standing there, beside your respected 
 father, an image of youthful beauty and filial affection ! 
 AVas it only my rash fancy, or did you understand, 
 and tremble with maiden bashfulness beneath my 
 perhaps too ardent gaze ? 
 
 " Beautiful Medora ! you perceive that I have learned 
 your name. Lovely Medora! and again we met in 
 your garden. 
 
 " ' Proserpine gathering flowers, 
 Herself a fairer flower.' 
 
 " There you completed your conquest there you en- 
 tirely subjugated my heart. 
 
 " Shall beauty such as thine be forever buried in the 
 country? What! consign to obscurity a face and form 
 worthy to grace an emperor's court ! Never, beloved 
 Medora. Permit it to be my envied lot to bear you into 
 a circle which you are fitted to dazzle and charm. Let 
 me make you queen of all you survey. 
 
 "My heart goes in advance of this letter; my soul 
 faints as it asks itself what is to be the welcome of 
 this epistle! Will you condescend to listen to an 
 old man's love ? and consent to become the joy, the 
 pride, the darling of his heart ? He will do all in the 
 power of man to compensate you even for the kind- 
 ness of receiving and reading this. Cast it not into
 
 40 THE CKIMSON STAR; OK, 
 
 the flames, although my heart is now on fire. To lore 
 me as I love you is more than I can expect; but give 
 me your respect, your esteem oh ! give me yourself. 
 You should be in New York, and no doubt all the fair 
 belles of this great city would sink into comparative 
 nothingness, were you to appear. 
 
 " Pardon, pardon the illusion but I have wealth 
 untold. Be my wife, and it is yours. Never a wish 
 shall be denied ; take all I possess; I ask only your- 
 self. 
 
 "The generous hospitality received from your es- 
 teemed father can never be forgotten. I beg you will 
 present to him my grateful thanks and highest respect. 
 I await but one word of encouragement from you to 
 put him into possession of all necessary credentials as 
 to my character, position, circumstances, etc., etc. I 
 would hare come to you myself, even before this, 
 but that it has been impossible for me to leave my 
 business at present. 
 
 " My heart beats wildly as with the passion of youth. 
 That heart, dear Miss, is on fire; neither peace nor 
 rest can it again know until I hold against it your 
 willing hand. Medora I Medora ! I feel that you are 
 to be mine." 
 
 " Not a word about the war," said Medora, as she 
 folded the letter and laid it aside. 
 
 This strange epistle, with its seeming simplicity, 
 yet really artful subtlety, Miss Palmore was far from 
 appreciating at its real value. Her first impulse was 
 to laugh at the absurd rhapsody of an old man. When
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 41 
 
 she re-read it, she could not but feel, yet she was 
 scarcely able to define, its utter want of delicacy. 
 
 "I am certain," she murmured, "that, had he the 
 wealth of Peru at his command, I could never love 
 him ; and I pray God that, without love, I may never 
 marry living man. Let me not be duped into a 
 wealthy match. Is not the world already filled with 
 misery arising from such unholy unions ? Yet, if this 
 man really loves me and why indeed should he seek, 
 save for love ? far be it from me to treat with indigna- 
 tion a true affection. Well may they say, 
 
 ' Scorn no man's love ; though of a mean degree, 
 Love is a present for a mighty being.'" 
 
 "I do not comprehend, nor, I fear, appreciate what 
 he calls his overwhelming passion ; but I can return 
 his letter, with a few gentle words of refusal. But " 
 after a long, thoughtful pause " I am certain that I 
 neither like him nor his letter." 
 
 . Medora sat busily embroidering, into life-like colors, 
 an Egyptian lily, when her father entered the library. 
 Medora dreaded the raillery of her fastidious parent. 
 
 "Well, my morning-star" (this being one of his 
 favorite pet names), "and who may be your Yankee 
 correspondent?" 
 
 "Guess, as they say in Yankeedom," she merrily 
 replied, while the color sensibly deepened on her 
 cheek. 
 
 " Well, here goes ! I guess (looking profoundly wise) 
 that 'tis a queer-eyed old gentleman,who popped in upon
 
 42 THE CRIMSON STAR; OR, 
 
 us at dead of night, like a genteel ghost, some months 
 ago." 
 
 "Papa, there is surely Puritan blood in your veins. 
 Your 'guess 'is charmingly correct. How did you 
 make it out ? " 
 
 "You must be careful whom you allow to be your 
 Mercury, if you wish your 'tender secret' preserved. 
 I had the honor of receiving that voluminous epistle 
 at the office, and I have not yet become so antique but 
 that I recognize a New York post-mark when it is put 
 right under my nose." 
 
 Medora, blushing and laughing, rose to put the letter 
 into his hands. 
 
 "Keep it, Medora, keep it ; I shall not read it. No 
 man, be he as ugly as his satanic majest}', and as old as 
 Methuselah, relishes having his love-letters perused by 
 another than the one whose eyes they were intended 
 for. " Then, more seriously : " I have confidence in 
 you, my daughter; do you intend to reply? " 
 
 "Only by a few words of refusal, papa; any man 
 merits that respect and I shall return his letter." 
 
 " As your heart dictates, thus act, my child. I have 
 never meddled, either to make or mar a match, and I 
 never mean to. But you see the difficulty arising now 
 between the North and South : war is evidently on the 
 carpet, since John Brown made his bloody retreat in 
 the State, and our people have been intending to en- 
 dure this trouble no longer. Therefore, be considerate, 
 and remember, if you should even commence a little 
 flirtation with your midnight admirer, you might get
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 43 
 
 into trouble ; so I warn you in time to flee from the 
 wrath to come. You must decide." 
 
 As the old gentleman ceased speaking, Mrs. Palmore 
 entered the room. Medora stood with the open letter 
 in her hand. What instinct was it that made her 
 almost fear her mother's scrutiny ? 
 
 "What have you there, Medora?" inquired the old 
 lady, with spectacles astride her nose. The daughter 
 silently offered the letter for her perusal. No scruples 
 beset the conscience of Mrs. Palmore, who made herself 
 mistress of the billet doux in an incredibly short space 
 of time. 
 
 "Oh !" murmured she, as she drew near the close of 
 the epistle ; " he is rich it appears, and wealth un- 
 told?" 
 
 "So I suppose," said Medora; "but I do not wish 
 him, had he the world at his command. I think it a 
 great piece of indelicacy to write to me without even 
 the salvo of an introduction." 
 
 "Ah, my dear," replied the crafty mother, " a man in 
 love is not to be judged by ordinary rules. You 
 remember the old saying, ' better be an old man's dar- 
 ling than a young man's slave.' They say there will be 
 war, but I do not believe it." 
 
 " Yes, mamma, and I also recollect another elegant 
 and appropriate distich, or stanza, as brother Vincent 
 used to say : 
 
 ' Luve, luve, luve ! 
 
 Luve's like a dizziness ; 
 It wanna let a puir body 
 Gang about his business.' "
 
 44 THE CRIMSON STAB; OR, 
 
 And, laughing lightly, Medora escaped from the 
 room, and, hastening to her own, quickly wrote this, 
 her first love-letter, enclosed it in an envelope, and 
 dispatched it to the office. 
 
 "That will end all discussion," she mentally ejacu- 
 lated. 
 
 On a beautiful sunset eve in June, the Palmore 
 family occupied the piazza. Jasper Palmore was now 
 at home, and, at this moment, engaged in an exciting 
 game of chess with his sister. All at once a "solitary 
 horseman" was seen advancing toward the house. 
 He alighted, and slowly came forward; as, he ap- 
 proached, he developed into Mr. Ralph Bruster, who, 
 without bashfulness, offered his hand, and addressed 
 Mr. Palmore by name. 
 
 " I believe I see our friend Mr. Bruster," said the 
 old gentleman, taking the proffered hand. 
 
 "Right, my dear sir, and this time not accidentally 
 blown here by a storm, but willfully come to claim your 
 gratefully-remembered hospitality. Having business in 
 the direction of Fredericksburg, I could not resist a 
 desire to call and inquire after the welfare of yourself 
 and family." 
 
 Mr. Bruster was invited in, and, upon entering the 
 porch, received the due introduction to the family, and 
 was thus for the first time presented to Medora, who, 
 under the circumstances, was compelled to receive the 
 uninvited guest with politeness. 
 
 Quickly the evening fled, and Medora was obliged 
 to acknowledge to herself that the strange man pos-
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 45 
 
 sessed a fund of conversation, and was able to make 
 himself exceedingly agreeable. He alluded to the war, 
 but hoped it might all blow over, and supposed it 
 would. He recalled all the few incidents of his 
 storm-driven visit; he dwelt on, and magnified, the 
 kindness of Mr. Palmore; quickly and correctly he 
 read the covetous heart of the worldly hostess, and 
 contrived to incidentally mention a thousand telling 
 items. When bed-time arrived, he arose to take leave, 
 and go in search of a hotel. Hoary dissembler ! He 
 had come with the intention of passing more than 
 one night beneath that roof. Of course, he was 
 pressed to remain, and very graciously consented. 
 How different were the visions that visited the pillows 
 of the various inmates of Edge Hill Manor-house that 
 night ! Mrs. Palmore and her strange guest what saw 
 they in the future? And, ah! what dreamed not the 
 beautiful Medora !
 
 46 THE CRIMSON STAB; OR, 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE PROPOSAL AND ACCEPTANCE. 
 
 'HE next morning, while seated in the par- 
 lor, after breakfast, Mr.Bruster was not at all 
 diffident in making his business known to 
 the daughter, who felt herself compelled to 
 listen to his overtures of love and adoration to the 
 girl who sat amused, while listening to his admiration. 
 He had come a long distance to make it known, and 
 she treated him with formal respect. But the sweet 
 gentleness of her manner only tended to augment 
 the passion of the lawyer. He appeared to Medora 
 more in the light of some aged relative, than as a suit- 
 or. From respect to his gray hairs, she listened kind- 
 ly to his love-tale, but gave him never a word or look 
 of encouragement. 
 
 But Mr. Bruster was an old fox, not so easily scared 
 from his game. Like an expert laywer, he pleaded his 
 case well, and left her to dream upon the eloquence of 
 his address ; 
 
 " For a winning tongue had he." 
 
 He was going up the river to Frederick sburg upon 
 " business," he said, and would return in about a fort- 
 night. In the most respectful manner, he begged
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 47 
 
 our heroine to reflect upon what he had said ; to grant 
 him the indulgence of qniet meditation ; and, above 
 all, not to forget that he loved her more than he could 
 express, and, unpossessed of her, would be forever un- 
 happy. As he left her, he pressed her hand to his 
 lips, and, when it was released, she beheld a tear upon 
 her slender fingers. 
 
 Medora mechanically watched from the drawing- 
 room window her ancient adorer ride slowly out of 
 view. She musingly murmured, 
 
 " Even in our ashes grow the wonted fires." 
 
 After such an exhibition of affection, it was im- 
 possible for her to feel quite so indifferent to the fate 
 of a New York lawyer. " Love engenders love," says 
 the old adage ; and, even though a woman cannot love, 
 yet she has a heart full of sympathy. Men, aware of 
 this gentle feeling that exists in the female breast, 
 have made use of it to decoy many a beautiful woman 
 on to destruction. The serpent's powers of persuasion 
 have descended to many of the sons of Adam. 
 
 After the departure of their visitor, the mother of 
 Medora was greatly " exercised," to discover the sub- 
 ject of their long conversation in the parlor. Having 
 conceived magnificent ideas of the wealth and social 
 importance of Mr. Bruster, Mrs. Palmore, so far from 
 being averse to this match of disparity, had deter- 
 mined to do all in her power to further the suit. 
 Medora was by no means inclined to satisfy the curi- 
 osity of her maternal adviser.
 
 48 THE CRIMSON .STAR ; OR, 
 
 " I should aa soon think of wedding my grand- 
 father," she gayly cried, as she ran out of the room to 
 prepare for her daily ride. 
 
 "And, ma! he is an abolitionist; and, my dear 
 mother, if there were no other objection, he and I would 
 hardly agree, as our educations have been so differ- 
 ent." 
 
 "JX"o, no; I guess not," said her mother. 
 
 Faithfully, at the expiration of the stated time, 
 appeared the lover per se at the door of his youthful 
 mistress. Partial satisfaction sat impressed upon his 
 marked features. " Faint heart ne'er won fair lady ! " 
 And what had Mr. Ralph Bruster, the keen legal ad- 
 viser, to do with discouragement ! He remained only 
 a few days, but he was far from idle during this time. 
 Never was princess wooed with more knightly 
 ardor. Subtle and eloquent, his language might com- 
 pete with that of hunchback Eichard, when he sought 
 to beguile the widowed heart of Queen Anne ! 
 
 The lady, at least, could no longer doubt his sincer- 
 ity his eloquence she had always been obliged to 
 own. Again he described his feelings upon their first 
 meeting, and, for the hundredth time, expatiated upon 
 her exquisite charms. The beauties of nature, the 
 surroundings of her home, seemed to acquire new 
 elegancies from the language in which they were now 
 described. In choicest words he painted the bay, the 
 river, the groves, the grottoes, and the " leafy verdure " 
 of Edge Hill. He went from beauty to beauty, 
 until his fair listener almost persuaded herself to the
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 49 
 
 belief that the orator himself partook of the beauty 
 he so eulogized. 
 
 But not with one of the surroundings of Edge Hill 
 had "his winning tongue" to do. In imagination he 
 bore Medora to his own home on the Hudson ; dilated 
 upon the unsurpassed beauties of the noble river ; 
 described in glowing accents the Tappan Sea, and 
 declared that his fairy-like yacht should from hence- 
 forth be called the "'Southern Star ! " Then, he had 
 traveled "far and wide/' and Medora's charmed ear 
 drank in descriptions of other lands she had longingly 
 desired to visit. 
 
 Love she certainly did not could not feel for her 
 wealthy suitor; but her respect bowed down before 
 one of so much learning and experience, and who bore 
 her into such different scenes of life, and so new a 
 world of thought. He was enthusiastic in his descrip- 
 tion of the romantic village of Catskill, and also spoke 
 of the beautiful scenery of the Mountains; but dwelt 
 more particularly on the rural scenery and exquisite 
 grandeur of the Cauterskill Falls at the Laurel 
 House. 
 
 Our hero at length tookleave of Edge Hill, buthe bore 
 away with him two satisfactory promises, to wit: Mr. 
 Pal more pledged himself to return hisvisitin New York; 
 and Miss Pal more had consented to reply to his next 
 letter. His last whispered words in Medora's ear con- 
 veyed again to her intelligence that, should she ever 
 consent to become his wife, he would make her the 
 happiest woman on earth.
 
 50 THE CBIMSOST STAR; OR, 
 
 "Oh, man ! is treachery your boast? 
 
 And faith to disavow ? 
 Te're falsest when ye promise most, 
 And when ye lowliest bow." 
 
 Patience! let us see the end of this eager wooing. 
 Mrs. Palmore, true descendant of Eve, had accidentally 
 overheard the last conversation which took place be- 
 tween Medora and her lover; and the old lady found 
 much to incense her, at the lack of judgment in the 
 manner of her daughter. 
 
 " Medora, why are you so cool to Mr. Bruster ? He 
 is a most agreeable person, and one in whom, I am 
 sure, your father has confidence, or he would not have 
 promised to return his visit." 
 
 " He must visit soon then, or he will be in the war," 
 said Medora. " Mamma, Mr. Bruster did not presume 
 to find fault with my manner ; on the contrary, he 
 pronounced it most graceful, and full of charming 
 naivete." 
 
 " Don't be silly and Frenchified, child ! " Then, after 
 a long pause " Medora, is your heart of stone ?" 
 
 " Mamma, ask the gentleman ; his is sufficiently 
 antique to have become ossified." 
 
 "Pshaw! Mr. Bruster is very rich." 
 
 " Alas, for him ! his wealth cannot purchase for him 
 a single juvenile grace." 
 
 "You cannot do better than marry him. Wealth 
 and position are by no means despicable conditions of 
 matrimony." 
 
 " Marry him, ma ! and go North at such a critical
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 51 
 
 time, when we know there is going to be a rebel- 
 lion?" 
 
 " I do not believe it," said her mother. 
 
 " I could never, never, love Mr. Bruster." 
 
 " And yet he is more learned and agreeable than any 
 young man that you have ever known." 
 
 "Assuredly; and I must confess that I feel much 
 more kindly towards him than I did at first." 
 
 The old lady hastened from the room, her step seem- 
 ingly quickened with joy to hear her daughter con- 
 cede even so much in favor of the New York lawyer. 
 
 The summer was fast fleeting, and autumn was ap- 
 proaching with visible strides, when Mr. Pal mo re, hav- 
 ing a little business in that direction, was persuaded by 
 his wife to no longer delay his visit to the North. Ac- 
 cording to her command, he was by no means to neg- 
 lect visiting Mr. Bruster. Mrs. Pal more wished to 
 hear accounts of this much-eulogized property from 
 an eye-witness, whom she could implicitly trust. The 
 planter, like a good husband, obeyed the instructions 
 of his better half. 
 
 Mr. Bruster was more than delighted to welcome his 
 Virginia friend, and the father of the young lady who 
 had captivated his heart, as he made no scruple of in- 
 forming that personage. Masculine antiquity seems 
 easily enslaved by feminine youth and beauty. An old 
 man may really love a young girl, but he must be a 
 very foolish old dotard to believe that a young girl can 
 really love him with a passion deeper than that she 
 feels for her father. Ardor, on the part of the youth-
 
 52 THE CRIMSON STAR; OR, 
 
 ful maiden, for old age, is out of question, and yet we 
 see such disparity united every day of our lives ! Ah, 
 but love is far enough away ! Money, position, some 
 such selfish reason is the motive power. Can we won- 
 der that there are so many shipwrecks of matrimonial 
 happiness ? 
 
 When Mr. Palmore took leave of his hospitable host, 
 of course invitations for future visiting were exchanged. 
 Mr. Bruster announced that he hoped to have the 
 pleasure of seeing him again in a few weeks; having a 
 law-suit pending in Fredericksburg, he would avail 
 himself of the opportunity, and once more look upon 
 his charming family. 
 
 The planter was a man of some penetration, and by 
 no means so infatuated with Bruster and. his gold as 
 was the partner of his bosom. After he had visited 
 the lawyer, he could not but perceive that his host, 
 from his manner of living, must be in excellent world- 
 ly circumstances. But, in regard to the man himself, 
 uncomfortable and unaccountable doubts beset the 
 mind of the old gentleman. In conjugal obedience, 
 he had taught himself to look upon this person, whose 
 acquaintance had been formed in so peculiar a manner, 
 as his probable future son-in-law; but the anticipation 
 by no means gave him the satisfaction that, in years 
 gone by, when joking little Medora on his knee about 
 that important personage, he had hoped to expe- 
 rience. 
 
 Ah, well for present comfort is it that the future is 
 veiled, always veiled. Mad would we be from our
 
 <": 
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 53 
 
 births, could we but once lift the cloud behind which 
 sits destiny. 
 
 The night of his arrival home, after the old couple 
 had retired, Mrs. Prflmore endeavored to relieve her 
 mind by questioning her lord. She did not think of 
 the political trouble that was just about to break out 
 in fury upon them. 
 
 'Wife!" was the reply she received, "I had rather 
 not say anything in regard to Mr. Bruster, as I passed 
 only a few hours beneath his roof, and know very 
 little more about him than I did on the first evening 
 he happened to come here in a storm ; and, were I to 
 give my opinion of the man, I should say that he 
 appears like one that has been in a storm all his life, 
 a.nd not only wrecked himself, but others, connected 
 with him in some way, are even now on some sterile 
 rock, from home and friends away. And besides, I 
 know there will be war between the North and South, 
 and I do not wish Medora to leave us." 
 
 "Dear me!" exclaimed the old woman; "hus- 
 band, what a queer man you are to form such no- 
 tions about things in general, and a man who 
 appears such a perfect gentleman, and who is so 
 wealthy." 
 
 "Oh, yes!" answered Mr. Palmore, winking his left 
 eye at some imaginary auditor; "so it was with Rich- 
 ard the Third, and Henry the Eighth, and that Alex- 
 ander who married Cleopatra, and caused her to be 
 put to death after a honeymoon of nineteen days' dura- 
 tion then reigned alone for fifteen years. 'Tis said
 
 54 THE CRIMSOX STAR ; OR, 
 
 that murder and parricide were the fashion in those 
 times, brought in by princes and princesses. Thank 
 God ! those days, and those men and women, have 
 passed away. But, strange to say, wife, I fear that 
 some of the dregs have been left to torture some one 
 in our new country." 
 
 " Don't talk again about my queer notions, Mr. 
 Palmore ; they are only surpassed by your own." 
 
 " Well," said the husband, coolly, " we cannot ac- 
 count for strange * impressions.' Our ideas flow sponta- 
 neously, and 'tis not in our power to throw'them aside. 
 But, seriously, Mrs. Palmore, what I have uttered 
 in regard to the stranger who was bloAvn here in a 
 hurricane, like an evil spirit, are ideas that have been 
 suggested to me by some power. I know not what. Time 
 will prove. I only hope, that I may be mistaken in 
 regard to Bruster. One thing, at any rate, is certain : 
 I will never consent that he shall marry my daughter 
 no, never ! Although he's a rich man, and may pos- 
 sibly be a good man, yet Medora is happy in my house, 
 and here she shall stay so long as it pleases her so to 
 do. When she chooses to change her situation and 
 name, she has admirers whose parentage we know, 
 and meu whom Medora has been acquainted with from 
 childhood." 
 
 "Oh, dear! old man," interrupted his wife, "how 
 childishly you talk. Can Medora do better than to 
 become the wife of a wealthy New York lawyer ? Go 
 to sleep." 
 
 The old lady was quite out of humor with her liege
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 55 
 
 lord, who, however, soon gave notice, by certain pecul- 
 iar nasal sounds, that, like a good husband, he obeyed 
 her last command. 
 
 Again the weeks computed themselves into months, 
 but they brought Medora no billet-doux from her 
 hoary lover. Although surprised at his remissness, she 
 could not but feel relieved by the conclusion that he 
 had given up the pursuit. The eagle does not relin- 
 quish chase, nor is the vulture easily diverted from 
 prey. Perched upon some lofty peak, he watches 
 the innocent lamb at its gay gambols in the sunny 
 fields. At length, with '-'one fell swoop," he rapidly 
 descends and seizes his helpless victim. Lost! lost! 
 lost! The rocks, the mountains, the very hills seem 
 to echo and re-echo the eternal cry. We fancied she 
 liked a Frenchman, as we always said, by coquet- 
 ting; yet whether she would see him again she did not 
 know only knew that he was at a school in Paris. 
 But what has such simile to do with the well-bred, 
 refined, Aveal thy Ralph Bruster? Read, and ye shall 
 learn. Could elegance such as his become vile ? or 
 a manner so gentle become wicked, especially to a 
 wife ? Oh, no; that seemed an impossibility. 
 
 Nature has caused the tiny seed which is deposited 
 in the earth to spring up and put forth a blade of 
 grass. She has caused the wide-spreading oak to 
 spring into existence from a little acorn. She has 
 caused the cooling brook to glide through a burning 
 desert, and the umbrageous grove to overshadow the 
 traveler on his journey. Nature has also ordained
 
 56 THE CRIMSON STAB J OB, 
 
 that man and women should be; and, in the con- 
 struction of human beings, it would seem that some 
 are composed of good material, while others again are 
 concocted of a combustible matter which appears to 
 have originated in the^lower regions. God's Avorks are 
 perfect. The mountains, the rivers, the tiniest of the 
 flowers complete from His hand. Man owes his degra- 
 dation to his own sinful nature. But we will leave 
 the argument to metaphysicians; and, ere we close 
 this chapter, let us take a peep at Edge Hill and its 
 inhabitants. 
 
 'Twas an evening in early spring. At an open win- 
 dow sat Medora, wearying her eyes in the endeavor to 
 make out the fate of the suffering heroine of a late 
 novel wearying her sweet eyes by the fading twilight, 
 when, suddenly, a white-eyed negress bounced into the 
 room. 
 
 " Miss Dora, dar is a strange gemmen at de gate. 
 He bin ax me was de massa at home. I telled him 
 'No, sir,' kase I knowed dat massa and missus done 
 gone ober to Col. Edmundses dis blessed arternoon. 
 Den he kinder larfed, and ax was Miss Medora in de 
 house. I tole him 'Yes, sir.' ' Where is she ?' says 
 he. ' In de house,' says I, ' as I done tole you already/ " 
 
 " Well, where is he, Lucinda ? " inquired her mis- 
 tress; " you surely have not left him out of the house 
 all this time." 
 
 " De Lord ! Miss Dora ; whether he am, he sartin able 
 to help hisself. Afore dis chile had time for to say 
 what ole massa done teach me long time ago 'horse-
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 57 
 
 pertality, no formality/ dat's it he jumps off de 
 horse, spry as a June-bug, and entered in. No 'casion 
 to be in such hurritude," added the daughter of 
 Ham, as her indulgent mistress hastily rose from 
 her seat, " kase he is an ole one, an' 'mazin' ordinary 
 at dat," 
 
 Medora laid aside her book. 
 
 "Into wh at room, did you conduct the gentleman, 
 Lucinda?" 
 
 "No 'casion to kernduck him he 'vited hisself, and 
 derposited hisself in a chere in de drawing-room. ' Ce- 
 ley says she's seen him here afore, and she thinks 
 dat he look like he is dat Yankee lawyer what makes 
 b'l'eve he likes de niggers so well dat all he wants is a 
 chance to sell 'em." 
 
 " Silence ! Lucinda ; you allow your tongue too 
 much license, my girl." 
 
 Medora, with a light foot, entered the drawing-room, 
 and who should she find awaiting her there, sure as 
 life, but Mr. Ralph Bruster ! The New York lawyer 
 rose to meet her.
 
 68 THE CEIMSON STAB; OB, 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE WEDDING. 
 
 r RACEFTJLLY impressive was the salutation 
 of the gentleman; apparently, the joy of his 
 heart was too great for words. The lady's 
 '' Mr. Bruster ! " had in its sound more of sur- 
 prise than of pleasure. 
 
 " I hope my little Virginia girl has not forgotten 
 me," he said, respectfully kissing the fair hand that 
 was extended to him in welcome. 
 
 " A face once seen is never forgotten by me, Mr. 
 Bruster," replied the lady, with a smile. She could 
 no more help being sweet than the rose could with- 
 draw its fragrance. 
 
 " That adds another to your list of perfections ; a 
 retentive memory leads to the happy inference that 
 you possess a constant heart." And the lawyer thought 
 what an admirable witness she would make in a case 
 where recognition of countenance was required. 
 
 Then followed a long conversatioii, in which his re- 
 missness in writing was ingeniously converted into 
 a virtue rather than a fault : his feelings were such 
 that he could not trust them to the care of Uncle 
 Sam's postal arrangement ; he had hoped to have been 
 with her long before the present date, and, now that
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 59 
 
 he was happy enough to find himself once more in her 
 presence, all he had suffered seemed but as a troubled 
 dream. 'Tis useless to relate what followed. Woman 
 can recall to mind what has been said to her on like 
 occasions, and man can remember or imagine what he 
 has said, or would say, to her whom he was determined 
 to win. 
 
 So, we will omit as much of the courtship of our 
 hero as possible. The crocodile teal's he shed, and the 
 tender kisses he imprinted upon her hand, are sufficient 
 to prove what he thought the proper way by which to 
 gain a lady's favor. Calling her " dear child," his lit- 
 tle " Virginia girl," showed great address. 
 
 In due course of time, Mr. Palmore and his lady re- 
 turned from their visit. Surprised were they to be- 
 hold their unexpected guest, but surprise was smoth- 
 ered by politeness. All the mercenary plans of Mrs. 
 Palmore returned upon her, as she again beheld the 
 wealthy suitor of her daughter. She remembered all 
 she had heard him allege in regard to his vast posses- 
 sions, and her sordid heart fairly jumped for joy when 
 she recalled to mind that the truth of this had been 
 affirmed by means of the visit of her husband to New 
 York. 
 
 Wealth! money! gold! What power has it over 
 the human heart! It drives reason from its throne. 
 It destroys, comparatively speaking, the love of parents 
 for their offspring. It has caused more souls to be en- 
 gulfed in misery than aught else upon earth. The 
 love of gold has caused more misery in this world than
 
 60 THE CKIMSON STAR; OE, 
 
 any one thing ; yet we see the human family bowing to 
 the insatiable idol. 
 
 But Mrs. Palmore was only excited by the desire 
 that her daughter should become rich and powerful. 
 To marry a New York lawyer ; to ride in her carriage, 
 attended by obsequious lackeys ; to possess plate, dia- 
 monds, pleasure yachts, and all that belongs to a 
 wealthy and fashionable life, w r ere delightful anticipa- 
 tions to the ambitious mother; but, at the same time, 
 she believed this much-courted son-in-law to be a fine 
 man, and one who would treat her daughter most 
 kindly. For Medora, like most Southern girls, had 
 been brought up as tenderly nurtured as a hot-house 
 plant. Such women, when the storm comes, find them- 
 selves illy prepared to meet it. Hence so many of our 
 Southern women so early lose their charms, and pine 
 away and die when the chilling blasts of adversity fall 
 upon them. When a flower is reared in the shade, 
 with just the proper quantity of dew and sunshine, 
 how fairly it blooms; but expose the tender plant 
 to the scorching sun and biting winds, and, alas! how 
 quickly it is destroyed. It is the sensitive plant which 
 shrinks from the rough finger; when it is pointed at, 
 it droops, withers, and falls to the earth ; it has not 
 power to resist the magnetic finger which crushes it. 
 
 Mrs. Palmore was little versed in the botany of hu- 
 man nature. The present was before her, clear, and 
 attractive; little thought she of the distant future. 
 The lawyer pressed his suit, knowing the war was fast 
 approaching.
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 61 
 
 After a delay of several days, Mr. Bruster suddenly 
 proposed immediate marriage. Medora, at first, posi- 
 tively refused; but the evident desire of her mother to 
 see the union solemnized astonished her, and some- 
 what staggered her resolution. 
 
 " Surely," she reasoned within herself, " I shall be 
 doing right to act according to what my parents think 
 best ; but oh ! ma, dear ma, you know that Eugene 
 Appomore and I have kept up a regular correspond- 
 ence since lie has been in Europe, and I know that 
 Eugene loves me, and will return when he finishes 
 his education. Yes, I know he will; I think of 
 him. and cannot help it, although he may never come 
 back." 
 
 Her poetical ideas always were excited when she 
 thought of Eugene, and she whispered these stanzas : 
 
 " I THINK OF THEE. 
 
 " I think of thee, I think of thee, 
 When the stars are shining bright, 
 
 And when the rude wind howls around 
 My lonely home at night. 
 
 " I think of thee, I think of thee, 
 When thou sweetly smiled on me ; 
 
 I hear thy voice, which is so dear ; 
 Sweet are my thoughts of thee. 
 
 " I think of thro, I think of thee, 
 
 Now far away thou be, 
 At midnight hour, when dew-drops fall 
 
 tin- leaflet tree !
 
 62 THE CRIMSON STAR;' OB, 
 
 " I think of thee, I think of thee, 
 
 As the glistening ivy twine ; 
 Each little rose-bud, with its germ, 
 
 Seems but to me the vine. 
 
 " I think of thee, I think of thee ; 
 
 Alas I I do repine ; 
 My constant heart, it doth lament 
 
 That thou canst ne'er be mine." 
 
 "I respect Mr. Bruster. I have never told him 
 I loved him ; he does not even expect it, and has told 
 me over and over again that he will be satisfied with 
 my respect. I have never deceived him. I told him 
 I was partially engaged." 
 
 " Oh ! impossible indeed for youthful beauty to love, 
 as a wife should love a husband, age whose hairs are 
 white with the frost of sixty winters, and whose face 
 bears many furrows of inexorable time." 
 
 When he was aboiit to take leave he gained her con- 
 sent, through and by means of many fair, strong 
 promises of tenderness unfailing, and kindness ever- 
 lasting. 
 
 " If my parents are willing, if they desire it, I will 
 become your wife if not, I will never disobey them," 
 said she. 
 
 " Not if your heart prompted you to marry one 
 to whom they were opposed ?" 
 
 " Never ! " she cried. She did not think either would 
 consent. 
 
 " If ever so desperately in love, you would not 
 elope ? " asked the wily lawyer.
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 63 
 
 "Not with mortal man!" she cried indignantly. 
 "I will ever endeavor to do my duty towards my 
 parents to obey them is my duty. When I marry 
 I shall try to love and to obey my husband; that will 
 be an easy matter, so long as he is kind. I do not 
 know what I should do, if he proves the contrary. I 
 have never been tried. Should I ever disgrace myself 
 and family, it will be as much my misfortune as my 
 fault. Necessity and nnkindness have often driven 
 people to do desperate deeds ; but I apprehend no 
 cause for my committing such acts." 
 
 " I hope not," said Mr. Bruster. " If you become 
 mine, you shall have no excuse for not being happy." 
 
 Then the lover left the lady he loved, and, entering 
 the room where sat the father and mother, with great 
 dignity of manner proffered his suit. He might not 
 have been quite so persistent, had he not known that the 
 rebellion was just bursting forth, like a sleeping vol- 
 cano, and in a short time all communication with the 
 South would be ended. 
 
 Mr. Palmore sighed heavily as he listened to the 
 proposal. After Mr. Bruster had ceased speaking, 
 there was a silence of some moments; then the father 
 of Medora spoke. 
 
 " Sir," he said, " I am not willing to permit my 
 daughter to go so far from home, and from her parents. 
 If you will remove South, and she is willing to become 
 your wife, I have nothing further to say against it. 
 You are absent from your home very frequently, and 
 for long periods. Medora is young and inexperienced,
 
 64 THE CRIMSON STAR; OR, 
 
 and my child would be very lonely in her Northern 
 home. God forbid she should become unhappy, par- 
 ticularly just at this critical time. My son will be 
 away, and if she should go, then we will be all alone." 
 
 " Your Southern life is very different from our 
 Northern one, I know," replied the lover ; "and I do 
 not deny that, for a while, your daughter might feel 
 like a stranger in a strange land; but she would soon 
 become accustomed to Northern rules and mode of life." 
 
 " We are now on the verge of war," said the planter, 
 " and my daughter is better off here with her parents. 
 I love neither snow nor icebergs. However, if my 
 child is willing- to try the frigid region, she can do 
 so. I will not prohibit the union." 
 
 The consent of Mrs. Palmore it was not difficult to 
 obtain. Among other attractions that the match held 
 out, she said, she was sure that the change of climate 
 would be of immense benefit to the health of Medora 
 who never experienced many days of serious ill- 
 ness in her life. Mr. Bruster promised to bring his 
 wife to visit her parents whenever she should express 
 a wish to do so; and that she should write three times 
 per diem if she desired. " As to the war," said the 
 lawyer, " Medora can write, and even visit her parents, 
 if she wishes; she can also run the blockade. All 
 things will be well," prophesied he. 
 
 " Pooh, pooh," said the planter. " All is well, that 
 ends well," replied the dissatisfied father, as he passed 
 ont of the room, with his handkerchief to his eyes. 
 " Poor girl, poor girl ! " he muttered, between what
 
 THE MIDXIGHT VISION. 65 
 
 sounded very like sobs. " I fear that you are one among 
 the many of your sex who are born to travel a rugged 
 path; but I cannot, will not, meddle to dissolve the 
 union." 
 
 As for the elated Mr. Bruster, he hastened back into 
 the room where he had left Medora, to convey " the 
 glad tidings of much joy." As he announced there- 
 suit of his mission, Medora looked astounded. She 
 certainly expected that her father would object. But, 
 as she had given her consent to abide by theirs, she 
 could not now retract. She seemingly was controlled 
 by something, she knew not what; although she did 
 not really love the old man, yet he fascinated her 
 with his intelligence and tenderness, caused her to con- 
 sent to become his wife. Women are often led astray 
 by kindness ; so it was with our heroine. 
 
 So Mr. Bruster left, to return again in six weeks to 
 claim his bride. He expected to make his fourth ap- 
 pearance in the ship "Old Dominion;" and he 
 jokingly observed, that he hoped his bridal advent 
 would be preserved from storms. In the finest of 
 spirits the lawyer left Northumberland. To him the 
 sun shone with redoubled brightness ; all nature 
 seemed revivified; for he had gained his point. His 
 promised bride was to him enhanced in value, because 
 she came somewhat unwillingly to his arms. His 
 hopes and heart beat high. 
 
 How was it with the bride elect? A dead apathy 
 seemed to have fallen upon her heart; yet she imag- 
 ined she loved the lawyer, she mistook for satisfac-
 
 66 THE CEIMSON STAR; OR, 
 
 tion in having obeyed the darling wish of her 
 mother's heart. If father and mother invoked it so to 
 be, Medora concluded that it must be right. She 
 knew it was all a joke about running the blockade, 
 but she really imagined she could visit her friends if 
 there should be war; and, if not now, in a few 
 years she knew the strife must eventually end, and 
 then all would be right between the two sections of 
 country. 
 
 Autumn, dreary autumn came again. October, with 
 its falling leaf, returned once more. Trees were drop- 
 ping their rich foliage; sweet-scented flowers were 
 faded and gone; fields had given up their green, and 
 become sere and yellow ; the few grapes which yet 
 clung to the vines were shrunken and withered. " The 
 melancholy days" were coming fast, and Medora 
 Palmore was to become a bride ; work-women had 
 wearied their eyes over satins and laces, and the lady 
 was soon to be in readiness. 
 
 Reader! ponder well these lines. Whether you are 
 married or single, old or young, let the mind dwell 
 seriously upon the bridal hour of the heroine of 
 this story. We say that the young lady is getting 
 ready to be married, but is it love that is to cement 
 the union ? She is daily expecting the arrival of the 
 groom in his vessel, the " Old Dominion"; but does she 
 watch for his coming with love-lighted eyes? The 
 family at Edge Hill were all in confusion, as is 
 usually the case at a country wedding. Numbers of 
 guests have been invited, and Medora tried hard to be-
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. G7 
 
 lieve that she thought well enough of Mr. Bruster to 
 become his wife. Eugene had dropped the correspond- 
 ence, and she knew not why. 
 
 Bruster, knowing that he had gained his point, was 
 determined nothing should stand in his way. Therefore, 
 being a shrewd lawyer, he managed his case well, and 
 one we will speak of another time had to pay the for- 
 feit. In six weeks from the time he left Virginia, he 
 was to return and bear away the prize the beautiful 
 and accomplished Medora Palmore was to become Mrs. 
 Ralph Bruster. 
 
 Fair winds and good luck bore the " Old Dominion " 
 on her voyage, and wafted her into the harbor of Fleet's 
 Bay in the prime of time. She arrived during thenight, 
 and when Medora awoke at sunrise the next morning, 
 and, looking from her window, beheld the sight, her heart 
 trembled in her bosom in the same inexplicable manner 
 as when her eyes first looked upon the fatal schooner. 
 
 "Oh!" thought the Virginia girl, "is that the vessel 
 freighted by my future lord and master? Cease 
 struggling, foolish heart! thy beatings tell me that it 
 can be no other. Ah ! what makes me feel so strange- 
 ly ? and wherefore am I tempted to wish that I had 
 never been born ? There is now no storm. The sky 
 is beautiful and clear. The sun is just issuing from 
 his eastern home, and the blue waters of the Chesa- 
 peake never looked more peaceful and serene." 
 
 Tears filled the lovely eyes that looked upon the 
 calm landscape. Her reverie continued: 
 
 ""What, what is to follow this strange union?
 
 68 THE CRIMSON STAK ! OK, 
 
 God! that I durst withdraw my consent. N"o! 'tis im- 
 possible. My mother would die of chagrin. Matters 
 have progressed too far. I myself could not endure 
 the gibes and stare of the wondering neighborhood. 
 My word has been given. To-day is the appointed 
 time. God! Mamma, mamma, wherefore have 
 you abetted this unsanctified union ? Merciful heaven 
 forgive me if I am about to do wrong." 
 
 All this the pale lips whispered to themselves, as the 
 beautiful head leaned out of the window. " The 
 political strife now seals our fate ; we are going to 
 war, and it may be a long while before I see my home 
 again. And what a strange freak for a groom to come 
 in a vessel. I know he has explained all, in his letters, 
 by saying that he came in the ' Old Dominion,' and 
 accidentally met and fell HI love with me." 
 
 Just at this moment, a light footstep was heard as- 
 cending the stairs, and there came a gentle tap at the 
 door. Not wishing to be seen in tears, Medora did 
 not withdraw her head from the window. The intrud- 
 er proved to be a domestic, come to announce the ar* 
 rival of the bridegroom elect. Mr. Palmore, with usual 
 inattention to etiquette, and out of the hospitality of his 
 heart, had sent to summon his daughter to meet her 
 appointed lord. Medora could not help but smile 
 inwardly at the simple goodness of her father; but 
 she immediately checked the symptoms of a disrespect 
 she was far from feeling for she fully returned the 
 deep affection of her parent. Medora turned and saw 
 it was her maid.
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION'. 69 
 
 "Go away, Lucinda," she said to the loquacious and 
 
 excited femme de cliambre ; " and do not come to me 
 again until I summon you. Give my love to papa, 
 and say that, not feeling very well, I must be excused 
 for-not making my appearance for awhile." The girl 
 vanished; conveyed her message to Mr. Palmore, who 
 forthwith made elaborate excuses to the guests, among 
 whom was the clergyman who was to officiate at the 
 approaching ceremony, and whom Mr. Bruster had 
 asked permission to bring with him from New York; 
 he said they had been intimate from college days. 
 
 Breakfast, which meal the impatient lawyer had 
 declined to take on shipboard as etiquette, of course, 
 demanded was prepared for the guests in true South- 
 ern hospitality and sumptuous style. The reverend 
 gentleman, who had argued with Mr. Bruster the un- 
 conventionality of appearing at the house of his bride 
 before the matutinal meal, when he viewed the table 
 which groaned under its weight of luxuries, added a 
 silent clause of the audible blessing he invoked, that 
 this argument had not prevailed, and that Mr. Brus- 
 ter, as usual, had been victorious in argument. 
 
 After Medora had dismissed her maid from the 
 room, she locked the door, and, throwing herself upon 
 the bed, burst into a flood of tears. After the parox- 
 ysm had subsided, she knelt in prayer, and earnestly 
 besought God to direct her course through life, and 
 to give strength for her to perform the duties of a 
 wife. From the exhaustion of her feelings, she grad- 
 ually subsided into an easy slumber, in which the
 
 70 THE CRIMSON STAR; OR, 
 
 white sails of the ''Old Dominion" Avere still before 
 her. She awoke with a start, and a feeling of terror 
 came over her. "Oh! that crimson star, and that 
 bloody hand uplifted," she cried. Just at that moment 
 her mother entered the room, with a pleasant smile 
 upon her countenance, saying : " Good morning, my 
 daughter ; how do you feel ? The groom has arrived." 
 
 " Oh ! ma," said Medora, gasping for breath, pale 
 and trembling ; " such a shocking dream !" 
 
 " What was it, my dear ? " said her mother. 
 
 " Why, ma, I dreamed it was midnight, and I was 
 standing at my window, gazing out upon the wide- 
 spread canopy of the heavens, and the whole firma- 
 ment was lighted with stars. But the largest star I 
 saw was a red one oh, so red, ma, that it was crimson ; 
 and it seemingly shot towards me, and near it was a 
 bloody hand, uplifted. It looked as if it were bespat- 
 tered with blood. The hand was that, apparently, of 
 
 Mr. Bruster, and he was Oh ! ma, I cannot tell 
 
 any more it is so horrible. I shall not forget this 
 dream. I will tell it all another time." 
 
 " Who is here ? " she cried aloud, almost beside her- 
 self with the reality of her vision. 
 
 " No one but your mother," said the old lady, quite 
 terror-stricken to behold her daughter in such a state 
 of excitement on her bridal morning. 
 
 Medora arose and staggered to her chair. " It was 
 only a dream," she murmured, between her pale lips. 
 " It might be a vision for good or evil, weal or woe." 
 
 Her mother tried to console her, telling her that
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 71 
 
 dreams were not always to be thought of. Perhaps 
 she had been premeditating too much, and had not 
 slept soundly. She left her to her own meditations. 
 Medora sat for a while, like a statue on her chair, gaz- 
 ing out upon the wide waters of the blue Chesapeake, 
 and the weird-looking vessel which lay at anchor. 
 
 What, what does it mean ?" she cried ; "what is 
 about to befall me ? I am not superstitious, neither 
 know I anything concerning that strange belief they 
 call ' spiritual manifestations.' I have never even 
 believed in presentiments. But oh ! horrid, horrid 
 dream ! " she exclaimed. 
 
 She remained all day in her room. In the after- 
 noon the sound of feet came rushing to her door, and 
 she was compelled to admit the four bridesmaids, who, 
 full of sport and vivacity, soon filled the silent room 
 with tones of mirth and glee. 
 
 " Come, fair Medora," cried Miss Carter, " you have 
 moped sufficiently all the day long; 'so get theeupnow, 
 my bonny, bonny lass,' and submit to be decorated for 
 the prettiest bride in the country." 
 
 " Well, tell me what to do," returned Medora, smil- 
 ing languidly. " I will promise to be obedient." 
 
 " That is sensible, indeed ! Well, in the first place, 
 eat this nicely-prepared dinner that Lucinda is bring- 
 ing in. Are you aware, ' maiden mine,' that you have 
 fasted all day?" 
 
 " I must confess that I do not experience a very 
 realizing sense of fullness, as the Rev. Mr. Moore 
 would say," replied Medora.
 
 72 THE CRIMSON STAR; OR, 
 
 Afc this moment one of the young ladies, who had 
 picked up a book, burst into a peal of laughter. 
 
 " What in the world is the matter ? Is approaching 
 wifehood a fit subject for mirth ? " asked Ida Carter, 
 with mock gravity. 
 
 " Oh ! here is a novel called ' Cellia,' " cried the silly 
 reader, " and, upon my word, the heroine falls in love 
 after marriage, and not with her husband; and, dear, 
 dear, she is about to elope with the fellow. Was there 
 ever such a want of decorum ? I hope that will not 
 be the case with you, Medora; but, really, that future 
 liege lord and master of yours, down stairs, is a cen- 
 tury too old for you." 
 
 " Belle Meredith ! have done with your nonsense," 
 cried Ida Carter. " Medora Palmore knows too well 
 that it is not proper to think any man superior to her 
 husband, much less to elope with him. She is a coun- 
 try girl, my constituents, brought up where virtuous 
 principles are breathed in the very air. We are not 
 full of romance and intrigue from our cradles, as are 
 some of the city belles. Had Medora been brought 
 up in New York City, like her excellent but some- 
 what antiquated intended (here her beautiful eyes 
 seemed running over with mirth), and had she been 
 in the habit of running constantly to balls, theaters 
 and operas, and remaining out with gentlemen until 
 one and two o'clock in the morning; then, perhaps, 
 we might argue the case, as my friend, the lawyer 
 down stairs, would say. As it is, a country girl for 
 me, North or South, East or West. They are the
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 73 
 
 women who generally are virtuous, and, should they 
 happen to slide a little out of the holy path, they 
 never rest, soul or body, until they have regained their 
 footing." 
 
 " Well, really, Miss Ida," said Belle Meredith, " you 
 have preached us quite a sermon upon virtue. I did 
 not mean to attack that stiff and icy personage ; I was 
 speaking of falling in love after marriage although 
 he is a radical, I know. Such men have been the 
 cause of the threatening war." 
 
 "Would not that be the very opposite of virtuous ?" 
 interrupted Ida Carter. "He should be Union ; yes, 
 yes, he is one of the Union men surely, now. But 
 Belle, what on earth is the matter with you ? here you 
 have come up to the bridal chamber to aid in making 
 her to become a wife, and have nearly crazed her with 
 your foolish talk." 
 
 "Well, really," drawled the mischievous Meredith 
 beauty, "who knows ? A woman is not exactly an 
 iceberg, or, if she were, does not science extract fire 
 even from ice ? Suppose a woman be married to a man 
 as old as Methuselah suppose she is daily to be 
 brought in contact Avith another, young and bewitch- 
 ing as Adonis is it possible to prefer the thistle to 
 the rose ? Cannot one love, and yet remain pure in 
 heart?" 
 
 " True, oh ! true, most sage Penelope ! There has 
 
 been in this tempting world more than one Lucretia! 
 
 But methinks this is strange conversation for the ear 
 
 of a bride. Excuse us, Medora," cried the amiable 
 
 4
 
 74 THE CRIMSON STAB; OK, 
 
 Ida, as she threw her arms about the neck of her 
 friend and kissed away a trembling tear; "we should 
 not have been so thoughtless. Come now, ye maidens 
 all, 'tis time to equip the bride. Let us strive to 
 display the very acme of taste ;" and she sung, melodi- 
 ously, 
 
 " They tell me, gentle lady, that they deck thee for a bride ; 
 The wreath is woven for thy hair the bridegroom by thy side." 
 
 "Excuse us, Medora," said the'bridesmaid ; "we are 
 rebels, therefore we often rebel ; but perhaps in igno- 
 rance we do many wicked things so we beg to be 
 pardoned." 
 
 Then she ceased suddenly, and bit her lips, as one 
 who had committed something mal d propos. 
 
 In two hours the bride was in readiness. Why 
 should we describe her attire ? Every one has seen a 
 beaiftiful bride. Well, fairer than she, pure and beau- 
 tiful as the morning star, looked Medora. Her dusky 
 curls hung in rich luxuriance beneath her costly veil ; 
 pearls, worth a prince's ransom, gleamed upon her 
 snowy neck and arms. In short all was comme ilfaut; 
 and the girls, after exhausting their vocabulary of 
 adjectives denoting admiration, ran away to dress 
 themselves, in order to captivate the hearts that the 
 bride would in charity leave to them, as Ida laughing- 
 ly said.
 
 TIJE MIDNIGHT VISION. 75 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE BRIDAL TOUE. 
 
 OON, all too soon, thought Medora, the 
 brides-maids came flying back, like a flock 
 of white doves. The gentlemen were sum- 
 moned, and with them Mr. Bruster. Our 
 heroine trembled visibly as he approached her. Noth- 
 ing could exceed the gentle dignity with which he 
 saluted her. Pale as a lily, she looked as beautiful 
 as that spotless flower. 
 
 Well might the heart of the white-headed groom 
 tremble in his breast with the ardor of a young lover. 
 But was it conscious love that made her shrink and 
 tremble as her almost husband placed her arm within 
 his own ? Alas! 
 
 The bridal procession descended to the room where 
 the company awaited them, and, in a brief time, ir- 
 revocable words pronounced Medora Palmore the 
 wife of Ealph Bruster. The groom was dressed in 
 extreme style, tempered by a gentlemanly taste ; but 
 his gray locks were visible the furrows which the 
 burning share had not ploughed untimely. His 
 deep-set gray eyes sparkled with a certain animation 
 which was not agreeable to look upon. Yes! there he 
 stood, the reputed husband of our beautiful Virginia
 
 76 THE CKIMSON STAR J OB, 
 
 flower. Medora Palmore (we mourn the abdication of 
 her maiden name) had become Mrs. Kalph Bruster 
 at least so she heard herself repeatedly called, upon 
 this bewildering evening. Let not the reader for- 
 get it. 
 
 The father of the bride had much ado to swallow a 
 sob, as the benediction of the minister fell upon his ear; 
 but the mother had not even the grace to affect a 
 tear and smiled with hearty approbation as she em- 
 braced the young Avife. The old man shrank from 
 the darling of his heart. He possessed more intuition 
 than the ambitious mother, and, stealing away, he shut 
 himself up in the library, and wept as David wept over 
 Absalom. The entertainment was conducted entirely 
 without his assistance; yet the guests did not fail to 
 pronounce it charming, splendid, princely. There 
 seemed to be everything for which any one could wish. 
 The land flowed with milk and honey, and Edge Hill 
 seemed converted into the promised land of Scripture. 
 The guests dispersed at a late hour, and Mr. Bruster 
 received many invitations to various wedding parties 
 to be given in their honor. The citizens of the coun- 
 ty desired to recognize him as a gentleman who had 
 married in their midst, although it was whispered that 
 he was an abolitionist. But he declined all solicita- 
 tions, saying that imperative business called him 
 immediately to New York. When he took leave of 
 Mrs. Bruster's relations, he did extend a kind of 
 lame invitation to them to visit his wife, but took 
 especial care to appoint no time.
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 77 
 
 Melancholy was the parting with Medora. " Oh ! it 
 will be so long before I see you again," she cried in 
 anguish, as in her bridal chamber she took leave of 
 her brides-maids. Two of these young ladies had been 
 her school-mates in Baltimore, and sore it made her 
 heart to part with them. But it was over. The last 
 good-night had been said, and Medora is at length 
 alone ; 'tis a relief alas ! no. What makes her start, 
 turn pale, and endeavor to flee ? 'Tis an approaching 
 sound ; nearer and nearer it comes ; it reaches the 
 chamber door. God! 'tis the footsteps of the 
 bridegroom. Alas ! 
 
 Morning again returned. The bridal party were to 
 go up the river as far as Fredericksburg, and thence 
 home by railway. 
 
 Medora tried to believe there would be no further 
 political trouble. Mr. Bruster said there would not 
 be war, when he knew it was at the very door, like the 
 destroying angel who scattered the blood upon the 
 posts of the door of the Scythians. 
 
 Poor old Mr. Palmore embraced his trembling 
 child, and said : " Before we meet again, Medora, Vir- 
 ginia's soil will be drenched with the best blood of her 
 noble sons. My darling, the parting hour has 
 arrived, and your old father must give you up. But 
 remember, Medora, while I live, this is your home also. 
 Whatever, whatever occurs, your father will be true to 
 you ; lie will continue yours under all and any circum- 
 stances. James Pal more is your loving father through 
 glory and sunshine, through sorrow and shame."
 
 78 THE CRIMSON STAR; OE, 
 
 Medora wept convulsively, and hung upon his 
 bosom, until the old man was obliged to put her forci- 
 bly away. A few tears showed themselves in her 
 mother's eyes, but the wealth of the son-in-law con- 
 gealed the briny fountain. Like the famous Miss 
 Killmansegg of the golden leg, Mrs. Palmore now 
 beheld everything through a golden medium. Her 
 senses seemed steeped in liquid sunshine, jnst as we 
 see the many every day. Such avaricious females are 
 rare through the South ; yet, as there are always thorns 
 amid the most fragrant roses, so the old lady was of 
 those classes. She never told Medora once to wait for 
 her beau in France. The servants crowded around to 
 take leave of their young and idolized mistress. Their 
 grief was of the voluble order, eminently African. 
 Lucinda, in right of her late office, considered it 
 incumbent upon her to be exceedingly pathetic. 
 
 " Lord! Miss Medora," she sobbed, " is you gwine 
 to leave us now for good ? Oh ! de Lord, I wish to 
 heaben dat ar ole vessel had nebber anchored in dis 
 harbor ; den Massa Bruster had got some odder angel 
 for his wife, and you nebber leff us." 
 
 Medora shook hands kindly with her late Abigail, 
 and in her heart silently echoed the wish so uncom- 
 plimentary to the lawyer. Medora was assisted into 
 the carriage, and driven away amid the most pathetic 
 lamentations of father, and mother (who appeared to 
 begin to realize that she had lost her child forever), 
 brother, and domestics. 
 
 Jasper Palmore had but little to say in. regard to his
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 79 
 
 sister's marriage, as he had been but a short time from 
 college, and his mind was employed in the political 
 affairs of the country ; yet he dearly loved her and 
 wished to see her happy. 
 
 The groom did not appear in the least affected. 
 The carriage reached the shore, a gay boat awaited 
 them, and in a few moments the feet of Medora trod 
 the deck of the steamer "Seabird," which, puffing and 
 blowing, and a favorable wind, soon bore her out of 
 sight of her dearly-loved home. She watched until 
 the last point of well-known Edge Hill faded from 
 her view; then turned aside to weep. 
 
 Many eyes watched the fast-vanishing boat until it 
 disappeared in the distance, and, even after all traces 
 had long vanished, Lucinda declared that she could 
 see it. 
 
 The family returned to the daily routine of duties ; 
 but melancholy brooded over the deserted mansion, 
 and it would seem that a funeral, in lieu of a gay wed- 
 ding, had just taken place. 
 
 A new era had now commenced in the life of our 
 heroine. They soon arrived at the city of Fredricks- 
 burg, situated on the Rappahannock river. New 
 scenes began to interest the mind of Medora, and she 
 now experienced the delights of traveling. Their 
 reverend companion parted from them in the antiqua- 
 ted city, leaving the newly-married pair alone. They 
 passed on from place to place until they arrived in the 
 bustling city of New York. After a stay of a few days 
 at the hotel, they proceeded up the Hudson. Medora
 
 80 THE CRIMSON STAB; OR, 
 
 had now arrived at her new home. All was elegance, 
 and nothing had been forgotten or neglected. 
 
 " Why should I not be happy ? " she asked herself, the 
 evening of her arrival. "I will try to be so," was the 
 responsive thought. The mansion of Mr. Bruster was 
 a very fine one and the locality splendid, but Medora 
 wondered how people, could manage to live with so few 
 servants. Eight was the number which she had left 
 in the house of her father, and she felt that four in 
 Yankeeland accomplished more than all she had left 
 behind. She often thought of her own rnaid Lucinda. 
 
 In the household of the lawyer, servants had no time 
 for day-naps and lounging around, as our slaves did 
 before the emancipation, when slavery was thought to 
 be such a bug-bear by some of our northern philanthro- 
 pists. 
 
 Mrs. Bruster had always been lenient, and she con- 
 tinued to treat her white subjects with discriminate 
 kindness, so that she soon gained their respectful affec- 
 tion, as many Southern people do. 
 
 Now behold Mrs. Bruster in the home of her hus- 
 band, with everything around her to make her happy, 
 as far as money could accomplish that end ! But true 
 happiness between the sexes cannot be bought with a 
 price. The beauties of nature about her delighted 
 our heroine. Imagine the pleasure of one who beheld 
 for the first time the glorious Hudson. Medora had 
 left a very beautiful and romantic part of the country, 
 but the scenery which now she viewed daily filled her 
 heart with a new pleasure. She was fain to admit that
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 81 
 
 the Hudson far surpassed the dearly-remembered 
 Rappahannock. 
 
 Yet even the beauties she viewed recalled those she 
 now saw no more. To forget early associations and 
 kind friends is a hard task; to learn to live without 
 them is a daily death. The mind is a powerful agent, 
 not always subject to our will. That of our heroine 
 delighted in reminiscences, and, against her better rea- 
 son, wandered away to visions of the romantic hills of 
 her native river, to the blue rolling waves of the broad 
 Chesapeake ; and she even remembered with pleasure 
 the cooing dove and the mournful song of the whip- 
 poor-will, and "all the love-spots that her infancy 
 knew." 
 
 Nothing was forgotten, not even the silent grave- 
 yard God's acre, as it is beautifully called by the 
 Germans with its moss-covered tombstones, where 
 she had seen the yellow clay thrown up, and a darling 
 little brother let down into the cold, cold earth. She 
 had watched the clod heaped upon a grandparent in 
 the same place ; and, in her new home, her heart wan- 
 dered away to her living and her dead. The more the 
 cry of war sounded, the more unhappy she was. He 
 knew not that her thoughts dwelt continually upon 
 her home, or that she was the least unhappy. 
 Woman's nature is to conceal her grief. Few of them 
 there are who have not, alas ! too early 
 
 . . . . " Learned the art 
 To bleed in secret, yet conceal the smart." 
 
 In all the time that Medora had now been absent 
 4*
 
 82 THE CKIMSON STAK J OK, 
 
 from home, she had not been allowed to write to her 
 parents and friends. Whenever she spoke of so doing, 
 Mr. Bruster would reply that he had just written, or 
 was just about to do so, and that would supersede the 
 necessity of her doing so. In a short time the rebel- 
 lion did burst forth like a burning volcano, shaking 
 the whole earth ; for the first three or four battles were 
 perfectly terrific, and the loss was disastrous on both 
 sides. As Medora felt that she had naught of the fe- 
 licity of a bride's new-found happiness with which to 
 overcharge her letters, she did not object to possessing 
 an amanuensis for a while. Our heroine was not an 
 inquisitive woman, and troubled her husband to reply 
 to few questions. She knew nothing about his affairs. 
 This life was one, among many, whose pages, if written 
 out, would offer but little to please the reader. Ex- 
 tremely cautious and reserved was he, both as to oral 
 and epistolary communications ; and the war was now 
 raging, and the thought about her brother's determi- 
 nation to join the regiment filled her mind with sad- 
 ness, as she knew how short his life might be. 
 
 She did not pretend to be a politician ; therefore she 
 did not discuss the war-question much, although she 
 thought our Northern friends a little too over-officious 
 in other people's business. However, time went on, 
 and, little as Mrs. Bruster desired it, she could not 
 choose but think it exceedingly strange that she was 
 not introduced into society. She imagined it was be- 
 cause she was a Southerner. Her husband's wealth 
 and profession certainly entitled him, she thought, to
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 83 
 
 wealth and precedence. She had just come from a 
 State where men of his profession rank high and pos- 
 sess great influence. 
 
 " Mr. Bruster," she said, at last, " it is very singular 
 that I do not hear from home from my father. 
 What think you is the cause ? " 
 
 " Oh, I have not yet written to them," carelessly 
 spoke he. "Besides, the letters would be intercepted." 
 
 "What! not written ?" said she, as the tears started 
 to her eyes. "Not written to them, nor mailed the 
 letter written by me last week ? Why, what will my 
 parents think has become of me? " 
 
 "I do not know that it is necessary to trouble your- 
 self, as you are properly taken care of." 
 
 Medora was thunderstruck. She could scarcely 
 raise her eyes to his face, and, at length, woman-like, 
 burst into tears. 
 
 " I have my business to attend to, and no time for 
 mawkish letter-writing," said he, leaving the room in 
 a passion at the sight of her tears. 
 
 At that moment her servant-girl entered the room 
 with an astonished look. 
 
 " Ah, it makes but little difference now, what they 
 think; the war lias cut off" all communications. You 
 might have mailed my letter, before this happened; 
 because some weeks have elapsed since it was written. 
 As I requested you to mail it, I thought, sure, it had 
 been sent." 
 
 " An' sure, what is it that's ailin ye ? " 
 
 The language was homely, but the tone so kind that
 
 84 THE CRIMSON STAR; OR, 
 
 Medora wept convulsively as she replied that she was 
 only thinking of friends, and the beauties and pleas- 
 ures of her Southern home. 
 
 " Home, is it ! sure enough ! and isn't it meself that 
 'ud cry, too, if crying 'ud do a bit o' good. An it's 
 often that I be wishing meself back in Dublin. I do 
 be a stranger in the land, an' ye have been kinder nor 
 any other, an' it's all of us 'ud say the same. An' don't 
 take it as a liberty when meself says the same, an' that 
 'tis sorry we are when we sees the likes o' ye in trou- 
 ble ; an' 'tis to the Holy Virgin I pray for ye, it is." 
 
 Although our heroine was entirely unaccustomed 
 to the Irish, yet she felt no disposition to laugh or 
 make fun of them. 
 
 " I thank you for your prayer, my excellent Mary, 
 but I am no Eomanist, and 'tis to God and to the Sav- 
 iour I pray." 
 
 Here the approach of Mr. Bruster announced itself. 
 "Woman's tears sometimes quickly dry themselves, and 
 thus Medora's disappeared whether from pride or 
 principle remains to be seen. She managed to appeal- 
 quite cheerful ; and, leaving her thus, we will turn our 
 imaginations to that spot in the " Old Dominion " 
 where first we beheld our heroine, and to which she 
 had sadly uttered 
 
 "THE BRIDE'S FAREWELL. 
 
 " Why do I weep to leave the vine 
 Whose clusters o'er me bend ? 
 The myrtle yet, oh, call it mine 
 The flowers I love to tend !
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 85 
 
 " A thousand thoughts of all things dear, 
 
 Like shadows o'er me sweep ! 
 
 I leave my sunny childhood here ; 
 
 Oh 1 therefore let me weep." 
 
 Medora was like many others of her sex who have 
 beeii reared in ease and affluence. She did not dream 
 that changes must and will come. One so pure, so 
 good, that she imagined all the world were the same. 
 Deluded woman ! When will reason return ?
 
 86 THE CRIMSON STAE J OR, 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE HOME ON THE HUDSON. 
 
 'GAIN it is a stormy evening, but Medora is not 
 with them. Mr. Palmore and his wife sit 
 alone beside the fire. The former lights his 
 pipe, and, after a few whiffs, speaks " out of 
 the fullness of his heart." 
 
 " Wife, why does not Medora write ? Strange, 
 strange, is it not ? It cannot be that our daughter is so 
 much taken with style and new faces that she has 
 forgotten her old parents." 
 
 " Style, indeed," said her mother, "such things never 
 affect those who have always been used to it, certainly 
 not; well, if she did write, we could not get the let- 
 ters now. Yes, yes, had she written at first we would 
 have received them ; but now, I know, all communi- 
 cation is cut off." Interrupted Mr. Palmore " That 
 is not the case. If my daughter has not written, 
 there is serious cause for it. She has not been brought 
 up in obscurity that being so, she should not be 
 dazzled by her present surroundings. I make no 
 doubt that my wealth is greater than that of Bruster's. 
 Medora carries more to her husband than he is able to 
 give her. I know I placed several thousand dollars in 
 her hand the morning she left, a bride, and she no
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 87 
 
 doubt has given it to him long before this, as women 
 never look very far in the future. And we know not 
 what may happen to her during this rebellion. Her 
 antiquated husband, although exempt from the battle- 
 field, may wish to become notorious in his shady days, 
 and engage in war; and, poor girl, she must be very 
 lonely. Even had she gone to him a portionless bride 
 (and I thank heaven 'tis very different), Medora has 
 too much good sense to be puffed up by wealth." 
 
 " That is true," acquiesced Mrs. Palmore ; and then 
 there was a silence, which was, after a while, broken 
 by the father, who, like Lord Ullin, cried : 
 
 "My daughter! oh, my daughter!" 
 
 " I have often regretted," confessed Mrs. Palmore, 
 " that I encouraged her to marry that New Yorker ; 
 but he appeared like such a fine man that I certainly 
 thought she must be happy with him, even though she 
 was much younger it would be as well as if she had 
 married a more youthful man the young so often 
 marry and turn out badly, I thought a man so much 
 her senior would prove more constant. It appears 
 that men have lost their real devotion to women. 
 They have changed toward the gentler sex. The most 
 of them love but a short time after the bonds of 
 matrimony are tied. I often feel badly about it." 
 
 " That is so, wife," said Mr. Palmore, laying aside 
 his pipe ; " men in these days do not love with the 
 same vehemence as they did when you and I were 
 young. Instead of my love growing colder* it has 
 steadily increased towards you. Even when you en-
 
 88 THE CRIMSON STAR; OR, 
 
 couraged that poor child to marry that homely, gray- 
 headed fellow, I could love you none the less ; although, 
 to tell the truth, I was angry with you for a while to 
 sanction anything that might make her miserable in 
 the end." 
 
 " Oh ! never mind, James ; it will all come right 
 some of these days." 
 
 "I am sure I hope so," said her husband, with a 
 deep sigh. 
 
 " Why do you sigh, dear ?" said the old lady. 
 
 " Because my heart is sad, wife, and I fear that all 
 is not right." 
 
 At this moment the bell rang for supper. The 
 lonely old couple entered the next room, and seated 
 themselves to hot coffee and muffins. 
 
 "I wonder if Medora is as fond of hot muffins as 
 she used to be," said the old gentleman, as he put the 
 third delicious compound upon his plate. The re- 
 mark was not a poetical one, but it showed the depth 
 of the parent's love. Thereupon followed a disserta- 
 tion upon the different manner of living in other 
 countries, which was broken in upon by the sound of 
 rapping at the front door. Lucinda, upon answering 
 it, received a letter, which she immediately took to her 
 master, saying, with her usual freedom, as she deliv- 
 ered it : 
 
 " I hope dis is from Miss Medora, master. I think 
 it mus' be, kase it come in de night. All odcr tings 
 come so strange, like her husband mus' be from her, 
 from Medora. "
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 89 
 
 " I hope so," replied her indulgent master, pushing 
 back his chair, and arranging his spectacles. His 
 hands trembled as he tore open the envelope, and the 
 old lady sat in eagerly-expectiint silence. As Mr. Pal- 
 more glanced quickly over the epistle he remarked : 
 "Strange, strange that she does not herself write. 
 Ah, I thought it could be smuggled through the lines 
 somehoAV ; the old chap is not so hard after all. But 
 why should Bruster institute himself her correspond- 
 ing secretary ? " 
 
 " Is it not from Medora ? " anxiously inquired the 
 old lady. 
 
 No, it is not." 
 
 " Who, then ? " 
 
 " Why, after all I suppose it may be said to be from 
 her. Her husband wrote this letter. Ah! I guess 
 he is too busily engaged in the war," said the planter. 
 
 " That is very strange. Surely my child cannot be 
 ill tell me, quickly!" 
 
 " No," replied her husband ; " she is well if we may 
 believe the contents of this sheet send.s her love to 
 us, and is highly delighted with the North. There is 
 some mystery connected with this, Mrs. Palmore. My 
 child has never yet been undutiful or disrespectful 
 towards her parents, and she must be aware that our 
 hearts crave a letter from her own hands ; but we must 
 be contented at such times as these. I only wonder 
 how it reached here after all ; if she had written at 
 first, we would have receh r ed it long ago." 
 
 The old lady arose, took the letter, carefully exam-
 
 90 THE CRIMSON STAR; OR, 
 
 ined it. Not a trace was there of Medora's neat 
 chirography. Silently the disappointed mother re- 
 seated herself, and for a season rocked industriously. 
 The silence was broken by pert Lucinda : 
 
 " Master, 'scuse me, but didn't Miss Medora wrote 
 one word 'bout Cindy ? " 
 
 "No," was the short reply. 
 
 " Den Miss Medora nebber write de letter dat's a 
 fac'. "When she say she comin' home ? " 
 
 " She did not say anything about it." 
 
 " Den she nebber knowed dat letter was sent dat's 
 a fac'," quoth Lucinda, sententiously, shaking her 
 woolly cranium. 
 
 " Girl ! it may be a long, long time before you again 
 see your Miss Medora, if ever again that happiness is 
 vouchsafed us." 
 
 " Don't say dat ar, master, for de Lord sake. I is 
 most crazy to see her now." 
 
 " Suppose I send you to live with her, Lucinda." 
 
 " Oh ! " replied the girl, with a toss of her red tur- 
 ban, "me like dat well 'nough. But dat ar ole husband 
 of hern might pick me up and sell me to de traders 
 down South ; kase our Joe says dat de Nordern men is 
 de woss masters under de sun. I don't know much, 
 but I don't want to go ; and I does know dat Miss 
 Medora nebber write dat letter, kase she nebber say 
 one word 'bout Cindy." 
 
 "You cannot be sold now, Lucinda; the North are 
 fighting to free you." 
 
 "Ah! is dat so?" 
 2*
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 91 
 
 " Yes ; did you not know it ? " 
 
 This to Lucinda was more positive than that in said 
 epistle ; there were few allusions either to the father 
 or mother of Mrs. Bruster. Scarcely a word passed 
 between the old couple during the evening. An addi- 
 tional cloud seemed to have come over their hearts. 
 About bed-time Jasper entered. 
 
 " My son, we have heard from your sister." 
 
 " Eejoiced to hear it," said the young man, throw- 
 ing himself upon a sofa, and passing his fingers 
 through his redundant locks. "The young ladies, 
 Meredith and Carter, have worried me to death with 
 their queries, and philippics upon false friendship, 
 short-lived affection, etc., etc. I am relieved that our 
 bride has at length found time to write. What's the 
 news ? " 
 
 "Not much. The letter was from Mr. Bruster, 
 and very unlike Medora." 
 
 "Mighty queer, to say the least. Has the polar 
 climate up there completely frozen up the heart of 
 ma belle soe/tr. What a devoted wife, truly ! permit- 
 ting that dotard to write her letter. What can the 
 old gray-bearded man know about the 'loves 'and 
 '(loves' of a woman's letter? What does he knoAV about 
 the last new bonnet, and the latest pattern for lace 
 pocket-handkerchiefs? What an exceedingly uninter- 
 esting epistle it must be, eh? The first time I saw that 
 man, I thought that he had accidentally dropped from 
 the Xorth Pole, and was afraid to touch him lest I'd 
 freeze my digits. So you suppose that he has trans-
 
 92 THE CRIMSON STAR; OR, 
 
 lated his beautiful bride into an iceberg, thus to adapt 
 her to his case and climate, eh ? " 
 
 "He was always a radical," said his father. "He 
 only knew how to use his blarney and guess, and so 
 he has finally guessed right this time ; for he remarked, 
 the first time I saw him, that war was being opened, 
 and, if so, it would be critical for the South." 
 
 "Well," said Jasper, "all that I can give is my life; 
 but that shall go freely. I shall be in the next battle. 
 I should not be at home now but for business which 
 called me away." 
 
 "My son, my son! I feel sure something is wrong 
 with Medora. She must be either ill or unhappy that 
 she does not write. A hundred icebergs could not 
 change her warm heart and gentle, loving 
 nature." 
 
 "Ah! well," sighed the old father, "let us to bed. 
 Time, the great inspector, will eventually make all 
 things clear that's one comfort." And yet he sighed 
 again, drearily, as though his heart was almost too 
 full. 
 
 Plenty and comfort filled the mansion at Edge Hill. 
 The winter was pleasant ; neighbors, kind and socia- 
 ble; had it not been for anxiety in regard to their 
 absent one, our friends would have considered them- 
 selves among the happy few. 
 
 Let us turn our eye towards the grand Hudson. 
 The winter is cold and dreary. Mr. Bruster is but little 
 at home ; business claims all his attention now; he 
 has not a moment of time to give to the pretty girl
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 93 
 
 who had once so much power over him. In a few 
 months her beautiful eyes had grown dim to him; her 
 tall and majestic figure attracts no more; her gentle 
 and winning smile is lost upon him; her amiable 
 disposition is not appreciated. All her merits sink 
 into nothingness with one whose heart is crimsoned 
 with deeper crimes than his gentle wife could ever 
 imagine, in her wildest dreams; he is one of the 
 strongest abolitionists, and often taunts her with the 
 institution of slavery. 
 
 But Mrs. Bruster endures his sneers and his neglect 
 with all the patience imaginable. Irish Mary, and 
 Thomas the coachman, were about all the persons 
 whom she now saw. These domestics were mutually 
 lovers, and Mary had induced Thomas to believe that 
 her mistress was really an angel. They were indeed 
 devoted to Mrs. Bruster. We should always endeavor 
 to gain the good will of such persons, for even a servant 
 may be enabled to do us, at some time, either much 
 good or much evil. 
 
 The reader will see, before the close of our story, 
 that Thomas and his lassie were of some service to the 
 lady in whose employment they were. The war was 
 now raging; there had been a great battle at Bull 
 Run and several other places. Oh! what gloom now 
 pervades her mind. Nearly a year had elapsed, when, 
 one day, as Mrs. Bruster was fixing a coat for her hus- 
 band, she felt something away down in the lining, 
 rolled up. She thought it might be a valuable green- 
 back ; and, having needed money many times when he
 
 94 THE CRIMSON STAR; OR, 
 
 would not give it to her, but would tell her she was a 
 lazy, extravagant little vixen, she thought she now 
 had a prize, and did not intend to give it to him, if it 
 should prove to be money. So she finally, after taking 
 two or three stitches, caught at the roll of paper. 
 
 Woman's curiosity prevailed, and the billet was read. 
 To the overwhelming astonishment of the reader, it 
 was signed, "your wife." Everything swam before 
 the eyes of her who had thought herself, if not a 
 beloved, at least a respected wife. 
 
 This letter had been written the previous summer, 
 while Madame Bruster was in her obscure abode; 
 when the husband had told Medora his wife had been 
 dead years, and he had no child. 
 
 The poor heart-stricken woman saw at once her 
 condition that she was like all other women. -She 
 knew not why he deceived her ; and when she found 
 she was the dupe of a villain, she shrieked. 
 
 "Oh, my God! my God!" she gasped, and, with 
 the fatal letter in her fingers, fell insensible to the 
 floor. 
 
 Mary came rushing in, and caught up the lifeless 
 form, and placed it upon the bed. After a prolonged 
 syncope, she showed signs of returning life. A glass 
 of wine enabled her to sit up. Ah! how changed she 
 was ; how rigid had become the mobile features ; how 
 marble-white the fair skin. 
 
 She wrung her hands together, as from her purple 
 lips there issued these words : 
 
 "0 God! is he married?" Then, suddenly turn-
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 95 
 
 ing upon the girl, she exclaimed: " Mary, lias Mr. 
 Bruster another wife?" 
 
 The servant looked as though she would like to 
 speak, but dared not. Medora again exclaimed: 
 
 "Mary, has Mr. Bruster another wife! Tell me, 
 
 Mary ; is he married if my hus if if Mr. Bruster 
 
 has already a wife?" 
 
 " You ask me too much, mam," said Mary. " We 
 poor hired girls must shut our mouths and eyes to the 
 faults of our employers." 
 
 " Well, this letter purports to be from Mrs. Maria 
 Bruster, who calls herself his wife, and reproaches him 
 
 for living with a with one who is not so. Oh ! 
 
 oh! Mary, I shall die." 
 
 When the lawyer was at home, she heard nothing 
 but bitter epithets against the South, which had been 
 her home; and the reader must suppose that still 
 augmented her grief. 
 
 At this moment, for the first time, she was led to 
 believe. "Oh! that I had never discarded Eugene; 
 oh ! that I had waited his arrival ; but, 'tis done, and 
 I am lost." 
 
 "It is yourself," said Mary, "who is young and 
 beautiful; and a pity it is that you are not the real 
 wife ov the gintleman." 
 
 Medora seemed about to faint again, but, by a 
 violent effort she controlled herself, and besought 
 Mary to reveal all she knew, promising that she should 
 be brought into no trouble thereby. 
 
 " Well, my lady," said the girl, " I have been here
 
 96 THE CRIMSON STAR, OR, 
 
 about two years, and lived with Mrs. Bruster till a few 
 months before you come. One day, Mrs. Bruster went 
 away with her little son Robert. After she had been 
 gone some weeks, Mr. Bruster also went away. When 
 he returned, he informed us that his wife was dead, 
 and that the little boy had been left with his 
 grandmother ; an' he looked so serious, and sober-like, 
 that we thought it was all true. His wife had been 
 very severe with us ; we could not do enough work for 
 her; she gave us but little to eat. An' whin you 
 came, me lady, you were so different, that Thomas, 
 meself, and the other servants remarked it ; an' now, 
 share, we have become so much attached to ye; an' I 
 am shure, me lady, if we have any access to the Var- 
 gin, we will besach her to protect ye, who has been 
 so kind to us servants." 
 
 Medora gazed intently at the girl while she was 
 speaking. The more earnest Mary became, the stronger 
 was her brogue. A long silence ensued, during which 
 Mrs. Bruster appeared buried in thought. At length 
 she spoke : 
 
 " Go now, Mary, to your work. I feel much better. 
 Do not open your lips to any one concerning what 
 has occurred. Time will unfold many dark deeds, 
 and justice will overtake the wicked ; but the righteous 
 shall never perish, nor their seed go begging bread. 
 A vague idea flitted across her mind in regard to 
 the young man who she supposed was then in Paris ; 
 how queer it was, in her lost condition she should 
 dream of him!
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 97 
 
 When Mary bad left the room, Medora refolded and 
 replaced the fatal letter. That night Mr. Bruster 
 returned. He said to Medora that he would now be 
 less than ever at home that his business in New York 
 was so urgent as to require the whole of his attention, 
 adding : 
 
 "I have received a letter from your father. They 
 desire to have your portrait. You can sit if you 
 choose. I will send up an artist. In consequence of 
 the war it will be a long time before you can visit 
 them." 
 
 "An artist engaged! "she whispered; "what do I 
 want my portrait taken for, now that I am so thin and 
 corpse-like? I am sure my parents would not recog- 
 nize me. May I not see my father's letter ? I should 
 like to," cried Medora, with a manner a charming 
 mixture of eagerness and timidity. 
 
 "No, I do not choose to have my correspondence 
 examined by everybody." 
 
 " Am I not your wife -? and you say you have re- 
 ceived a letter from my father, and you will not permit 
 me to see my own papa's letters ? " 
 
 " No," said he, in a bitter and sarcastic tone. " You 
 what? my wife! Ha! ha! well, the war will soon 
 be over ; then you can go and stay at home altogether. 
 Yes, yes," laughed he. 
 
 "Well, then, I will write to them myself," said 
 Medora, in a sad but firm tone. 
 
 "I forbid it," said he, sternly. " I wish you to have 
 no intermeddling of relations. Should you write,
 
 98 THE CRIMSON STAB; OE, 
 
 then soon you would wish to visit, and, the first thing 
 I should know, there would be some intrigue on the 
 tapis. 
 
 "Dare you doubt my honor ?" cried Medora indig- 
 nantly. " I was brought up to value virtue as sacred as 
 life." 
 
 " No, not as yet ; but you are so unlike the rest of 
 your sex. If you saw a handsome young fellow, you 
 would soon forget your husband." 
 
 "I am incapable of deception," said our heroine, 
 while the blood crimsoned her cheeks, and a deathly 
 paleness followed. 
 
 '' Well," sneered he, " the safest way is to give you 
 no opportunity; and so, good-bye for two or three 
 days." 
 
 "Ah! politics, politics," whispered Medora. 
 
 The reader can imagine the feelings of the wife, 
 who had just discovered that she was the dupe of a 
 villain. Yet sometimes caution is necessary. The 
 wretched girl threw herself upon her bed, and, in 
 anguish that cannot be described, passed a sleepless 
 night, her trouble now being too acute for her mind 
 to dwell on anything but one. 
 
 Oh ! reader, what an awful hour is that when the 
 villainy of him with whom you have stood up before 
 the altar is forced upon the mind of a young, confid- 
 ing, virtuous woman. The horrors of the lost in the 
 dark spheres can be no worse, in our opinion. The 
 heart that trusts, and is deceived, is a broken pitcher 
 at the cistern, indeed. There are thousands of inno-
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. ,99 
 
 cent women who can and will sympathize with the 
 heroine of our story. She is alone in an immense 
 mansion, is not permitted to pen a line to her parents, 
 has no society but the Irish servants ; yet she was as 
 quiet as possible. "Vengeance is mine, saith the 
 Lord, and I will repay." 
 
 Medora Palmore had been taught to read the Bible, 
 although she had been raised in a slave State, and bora 
 of Southern parents or what the consequence might 
 have been of what was now revealed to her, we are not 
 prepared to say. She had been one of the belles of her 
 State, courted and beloved by all who knew her. 
 
 In a few days Mr. Bruster returned, accompanied 
 by a gentleman whom he introduced as the artist he 
 had formerly mentioned, and who was a tall, dark, 
 distinguished-looking man. As Mrs. Bruster gazed 
 upon the new-comer, she felt strangely. What on 
 earth could have induced her husband to bring so at- 
 tractive a man into the house? she mentally asked 
 herself; for she knew his suspicious, jealous dis- 
 position. 
 
 She was introduced to Monsieur Delancy, and told 
 to prepare herself for a sitting. She turned deathly 
 pale, the artist too acted very queerly, staggered and 
 caught hold of a chair, made some remark about the 
 tedious ride. Madame Bruster called a servant and 
 ordered wine, seeing the stranger looked fatigued. He 
 gladly accepted the invitation to drink, in which all 
 joined. 
 
 Then the artist declared that he would be, on the
 
 100 THE CRIMSON STAR ' OR, 
 
 following day, sufficiently rested, after his journey, to 
 commence at once ; but must go to New York for a 
 day or two. Medora was soon in readiness, after his 
 return, for her first sitting. In due time the picture 
 of the beautiful woman was completed. Many were 
 the hours they passed alone, although, as much as pos- 
 sible, Mr. Bruster remained in the room. 
 
 Medora knew not what she thought of the painter. 
 Her mind seemed to be in chaos. Unaccustomed 
 even to think for herself, she felt as one driven help- 
 lessly along by a strong current. 
 
 And what thought the painter of Medora ? Un- 
 controllable looks and inadvertent hints assured her of 
 his admiration. 
 
 What a dangerous position was this beautiful woman 
 now in! A handsome, intellectual, fascinating man 
 thrown continually and alone into the society of a wo- 
 man whom he admired more than any lady he had 
 ever seen. 
 
 But Medora was married. True, she had seen a 
 letter from a woman claiming the prior right of wife 
 to the very man whose name she bore. But she had 
 ceased to believe in that letter. After due consid- 
 eration, she felt herself compelled to pronounce it 
 false. She had also ceased to believe in the honor of 
 Mr. Bruster, thinking that he had deceived the poor 
 " Maria;" that it was "Maria" who was deceived, 
 and she herself the honored wife: the noble girl of 
 Virginia could not believe she was the disgraced 
 one. But who was this handsome Frenchman ? Why
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 101 
 
 was he sent to her by her own husband, as she had 
 brought her mind to believe that she was the lawful 
 wife, and Maria the counterfeit ? Yet we say that she 
 hud ceased to have any faith in the legal adviser as a 
 man of honor, but she did not now suspect him of vil- 
 lainy towards herself. She thought it impossible that 
 he would have dared to contrive and carry out such a 
 tissue of deceit in regard to her, who was highly 
 connected, and had so many influential friends at 
 home. 
 
 Wretched as she undoubtedly was, she could no 
 longer loathe herself as a dupe, and, however innocent, 
 really, in the eyes of the world, utterly ruined. A ray 
 of sunshine had entered her darkness. Her heart had 
 become more buoyant. Light again entered her lan- 
 guid eyes. She did not dare to analyze her feelings, 
 but she was conscious that all the fresh emotions of 
 her youth had come again. The blue sky seemed as of 
 the sweetest sapphire ; the green fields and the waving 
 trees were of emerald brightness; the grassy plains, 
 the leafy trees, the brilliant flowers, were as they 
 ever had been. She knew that the sunny atmosphere 
 possessed more of loveliness or power of imparting 
 delights than of old, and she knew that the change, 
 the sensation of ecstasy, was in her own heart. She 
 felt, to the core of that heart, that she was happier, 
 and she dared not ask wherefore. Alas! poor Medora. 
 So gentle, so pure within herself, that all creation was 
 beautiful; yet her mind wandered back to the home 
 of her childhood, and could but wish to be at Edge
 
 102 THE CRIMSON STAR; OR, 
 
 Hill, even though the bayonet glittered, and the roar- 
 ing of the cannon might sound in her ears. 
 
 She did not know why, but Eugene, the French stu- 
 dent, seemingly occupied her mind more than any- 
 thing else. The war was now drawing to a close; the 
 surrender of General Lee soon followed. A few months 
 longer and all was over, and no other State suffered as 
 much as the " Old Dominion."
 
 THE MIDXIGHT VISION. 103 
 
 CHAPTEK VII. 
 
 THE TWO PORTRAITS. 
 
 HEN the artist was about to take leave, Mrs. 
 Bruster invited him to call upon her occa- 
 sionally. 
 
 "I am so lonely here," she said, with a sad smile. 
 "Have you not a mother, or a sister, whom you can 
 bring to see me ? " 
 
 "I have neither mother nor sister," replied the 
 Frenchman. " When one sees ladies like madame, one 
 cannot but choose for a wife." 
 
 The courtesy of manner took away what might ap- 
 pear rather a broad compliment. " However," as Medora 
 said to herself, " one would not be French unless one 
 flattered." But the keen-eyed Gaul noticed the blush 
 that his words had brought to the cheeks of his fair 
 hostess, and was satisfied. 
 
 Monsieur 1' Artiste took his departure, and with him 
 bore away the duplicate of the portrait which he had 
 been ordered to paint. He imagined this all unknown 
 to any one but himself; but Mary, the Argus-eyed, had 
 caught a glimpse of the love-robbery, on the easel, in 
 his room. The original portrait was sent home to Me- 
 dora's parents. Her husband, being a shrewd man, 
 by strategy sent it through the lines.
 
 104 THE CRIMSON STAR ; OK, 
 
 Weeks ran again into a month or two, and beheld 
 the lawyer yet overwhelmed with business cares. 
 
 No longer was Medora his "little Virginia girl," his 
 " beautiful fairy queen." Alas ! she was now a for- 
 saken woman, who daily wept over her condition, but 
 there came no relief. At length, the Winter closed, 
 with its dreary gloom, and Spring, revivifying Spring 
 returned again. 
 
 "SPRING VOICES. 
 
 " Sweet Spring returns, and the Winter is o'er ; 
 The birds sing as sweet as in days of yore ; 
 The bunting flies from its wint'ry nook, 
 And glides by the side of the silvery brook ; 
 
 " As if to catch some wild wood noteg 
 From the forest song in the air that floats ; 
 It flutters and chirps, for its heart is gay, 
 For it knows the Winter has passed away. 
 
 " The snowy mantle we see no more 
 Spread on the forest, the vale, and shore ; 
 The voices of Spring to the glad earth call 
 Through forests dense, over cliff-tops tall ; 
 
 " And gentle violets, from grassy beds, 
 Modestly raise their innocent heads, 
 Timidly shrinking upon the plain, 
 As fearing the love their beauties gain 1 
 
 " These are the voices we oft-times hear 
 Thrilling with music the ether clear ! 
 Gurgling rivulets, clattering brooks, 
 Meeting each other in leafy nooks.
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 105 
 
 " Flowers spring from their earthy beds, 
 Kissing the dewdrop with tiny heads ; 
 Each little cup perfumes the air, 
 And blossoms are springing in gardens fair ! 
 
 " Let those now love who never loved before ; 
 Let those who always loved now love the more ; 
 The Spring, the joyful Spring appears, 
 The happiest season of revolving years." 
 
 Flowers, birds, trees, the rapid river, each again re- 
 newed their youth, and Medora alone seemed miserable 
 she is alone. 
 
 The lawyer soon wearied of his darling. He could 
 have said, as Lord Byron pronounced of one: "Thou 
 art none the less charming, but I am fond of change." 
 
 Fond of change! Just such characters we meet 
 every day. Bruster was one. The woman whose eyes 
 had held him spell-bound now became a wearisome 
 burden. Oh, man! wherefore so fickle? An angel 
 in the place of Medora Palmore would have received 
 just such treatment. A libertine has no compunction 
 of conscience. Rich and poor, high and low, he places 
 upon the same platform. With such a one, birth, tal- 
 ent, rank, have no influence; and such a one was 
 Ralph Bruster, as, perhaps, the reader has already per- 
 ceived. 
 
 The portrait, as before mentioned, had been sent 
 home to the parents of the fair original. The reader 
 may, perhaps, imagine that the picture was a source of 
 infinite comfort; so, in some respects, it was yet they 
 s:t\v u sad change. Medora always wore a smile upon
 
 106 THE CRIMSON STAB J OR, 
 
 her face ; but now there was a sadness, which the old 
 folks could not account for. 
 
 It was accompanied by a letter from our hero. The 
 parents hung with delight over the representation of 
 their beautiful child. 
 
 "Where shall it be hung?" inquired Mrs. Palmore 
 of her husband. 
 
 " In our chamber, by all means," replied the old 
 man. " There it will greet mine eyes the first thing 
 in the morning, and look upon me the last at night, 
 just as she once did ; and I shall almost imagine she 
 is here, poor child. Only she looks too grave," he re- 
 marked ; " she thinks of the war." 
 
 How the picture was admired, caressed, and praised! 
 and every voice pronounced it so natural, and the un- 
 known limner of the highest merit. 
 
 " A proficient a proficient, undeniably ! " said the 
 gratified father. 
 
 All the household seemed to gaze upon the newly- 
 arrived treasure, and even the neighbors came in to 
 look at the " counterfeit" of her who had been so es- 
 teemed and loved by them all. 
 
 After the father and mother, Lucinda esteemed her- 
 self as possessing the best right to the picture. If 
 gazing could have dulled its bright coloring, it would 
 soon have faded. Oh ! can aught be more tender 
 than the love of a parent for a child ? 
 
 Mr. Palmore wrote a letter of thanks to Bruster 
 (which was never seen by Medora), dilating upon their 
 rapture on receiving these mementoes of love ; and
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 107 
 
 then, for a long while, nothing more was exchanged 
 between them. To all of Medora's inquiries Mr. 
 Brnster turned a deaf ear. When she spoke of writ- 
 ing, he would remark that letters would not go now 
 anyway. This was his excuse. The driver was ordered 
 to say that the horses were not in condition when she 
 wished to drive. He tried every way imaginable to 
 punish her. 
 
 Her life was in darkness, indeed. Pale, thin, and 
 wan, she wandered from room to room, calling up 
 visions of Edge Hill and its environs. " Oh ! that I 
 were once more beneath my father's roof. What to me 
 is wealth, now that I am forsaken ? What have I done 
 to deserve such treatment ? Father, in heaven, pity 
 me ! " she would exclaim, wringing her delicate hands. 
 
 For hours she would sit in silent meditation. One 
 morning she wandered out for a walk, and, after pro- 
 ceeding some distance, seated herself in an arbor, 
 which looked out upon the river, there repeating these 
 verses : 
 
 "I ASK NOT FOR WEALTH. 
 
 " I ask not for wealth, for soon it is gone 
 
 Like the rainbow it passes away. 
 But give me the heart that to mine doth respond, 
 
 For such love will never decay. 
 
 " I ask not for fame, which flies like a shadow, 
 As a hubble that floats on the stream ; 
 
 Like a zephyr that blows gently in the morn, 
 And passes away as a dream.
 
 108 THE CRIMSON STAR; OR, 
 
 " I ask but one boon God grant it to me 
 
 To meet those in Heaven I love. 
 From sorrow and pain we shall ever be free, 
 
 And sing with the angels above. 
 
 There, wrapped in sad reverie, she was roused by a 
 rapid footstep. Looking up, she beheld Mr. Delancy, 
 the artist. Oh, Medora, if you only knew this 
 man. 
 
 "Am I intruding, madame?" he saidj gently; and 
 with his peculiar grace of manner, extended his hand. 
 
 "A friend never intrudes," replied the lady, as she 
 touched the proffered hand, "and I am surfeited with 
 solitude, and quite agree with one of your compatri- 
 ots, who opined that, though solitude was sweet, 'tis 
 pleasant to have some one to whisper to" then 
 blushed at Her own remark. 
 
 But, as only French courtesy can, he guided the 
 conversation, until Medora was charmed into forget- 
 fulness of her unhappy fate. Mr. Delancy offered her 
 his arm. 
 
 "How strangely I feel," whispered Medora. 
 
 They had made but little progress when they were 
 met by Mary, who came to inquire if Mrs. Bruster 
 wished to drive. 
 
 "If I can take the horses," replied our heroine, sur- 
 prised at the liberty accorded her. 
 
 "Thomas says they need exercise, madame." 
 
 " Well, then, Mr. Delancy, if you are so disposed, I 
 will show you some of our beautiful views." 
 
 " It will afford me too much pleasure, madame ; for
 
 TUB MIDNIGHT VISION. 109 
 
 we hear but little these days but war news, which is 
 very uninteresting to a Frenchman." 
 
 " And to me also," said Medora ; " and, as I am 
 Southern born and educated, my principles are antag- 
 onistic to the present political strife. You French 
 have fought us more than once," said Medora, affecting 
 a smile. 
 
 " None of my family, I assure you, madame, have 
 fought against this country." 
 
 Seeing the artist was not so inattentive toward the 
 South, she gave him an indefinite invitation to ride. 
 
 Medora always felt so strangely in the presence of 
 the artist, although he showed extreme attention when- 
 ever he saw her. 
 
 She dreamed of no harm arising from the invita- 
 tion, which he quite as innocently accepted. Having 
 been invited many times to his house by Mr. Bruster, 
 he saw no reason for declining a morning drive with 
 the lady of that gentleman. 
 
 Thus were some hours very pleasantly spent. It 
 was a long time since Medora had enjoyed a drive, 
 and never had she met with a more interesting com- 
 panion. She began to feel more like Medora Palmore, 
 and ahnost forgot that she had exchanged that name 
 for Bruster. Once she remarked, with a pang, that 
 she had reason to doubt her legal right to that name. 
 But, oh ! impossible. It could not be. What! she, 
 the innocent Medora, lost to friends, lost to society, 
 lost to reputation ? It could not be. She put the idea 
 away. Surely, it was more than she could endure.
 
 110 THE CRIMSON STAR J OR, 
 
 She was his wife, and Maria the dishonored one. But 
 she had a most enjoyable drive. "When she returned 
 to the house, unfortunately, the lawyer was at home. 
 When the carriage drove up to the door, the lawyer 
 stood very near, but he did not offer to assist her to 
 alight. His countenance denoted anger, but Medora 
 never dreamed that one so weary of her could be 
 troubled with jealousy. She Avas satisfied that Mr. 
 Bruster no longer loved her, and, without love, it is 
 said jealousy cannot exist. 
 
 However, the lawyer invited the artist in and 
 treated him with polite hospitality. Mrs. Bruster felt 
 and was looking unusually well. For weeks she had 
 scarcely beheld a human face, with the exception of 
 the servants. After a short stay, Mr. Delancy took his 
 leave, and Medora was surprised to hear the lawyer 
 invite him to come again for she saw he was angered. 
 
 "When they were alone, then the cloud dropped 
 rain a rain of words, with which we will not pol- 
 lute, these pages. Suffice it to say that Medora heard 
 herself called a name that must fill with indignation 
 every innocent heart, and open anew the wounds of 
 the guilty. 
 
 "Oh, oh!" she exclaimed, "that dream, that horrid 
 dream. That crimson star and that bloody hand up- 
 lifted ! Is this the reward that I am to receive for leaving 
 my Southern home, my father's house, and my dear 
 friends, to cling to a husband who, I thought, loved me 
 dearer than aught on earth, and who promised before 
 (rod to love and cherish me so long as we both do live ? "
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. Ill 
 
 "A Imsbandf" he repealed, smiling ironically, "A 
 husband forsooth! I have been the husband of many 
 a simple girl like yourself. If you are one of the F. 
 F. V.'s, you have been the dupe of a Yankee lawyer 
 this time ; and when I first met you, there* and on 
 that very trip, then I was bound for Fredericksburg, it 
 was to reconnoiter your harbors and gain all the infor- 
 mation in regard to your strength." 
 
 Medora's innocent brain refused to comprehend his 
 meaning. She really did not define his words; but sat 
 weeping silently, while he heaped abuse upon her. 
 When he had exhausted himself he left her alone, and 
 the day passed with her as many another had flown. 
 Nature, in all the lavish beauty of May, could not 
 awake a natural feeling in the bosom of our heroine. 
 Her soul, like that of Job, was stricken down by 
 trouble ; the vivacity of her nature was overshadowed 
 by sorrow she seemed a wreck. But she was not 
 entirely without hope. Thank God for hope ! When 
 hope is gone, then woman is lost. She hoped that she 
 would at some future time again behold Edge Hill 
 that her foot might again press the soil of Virginia, 
 and that at last she might be laid beneath the earth 
 of that State which covered the remains of the immor- 
 tal Washington, and many other great warriors. 
 Medora, feeling her entire innocence, believed that 
 God would avenge her wrongs. Could every one 
 have such faith, how much better would it be ! Cool 
 and calm, she bore -with resignation her misery. 
 
 The night after having met the artist at his house,
 
 112 THE CRIMSON STAR; OR, 
 
 Mr. Bruster astonished lier by making his appear- 
 ance. Weeks had passed since he had thus honored 
 her, and, little as she could esteem him, she could not 
 choose but be glad of some human presence. 
 
 After supper had been served, and he had fondled 
 his pet .Newfoundland, he wandered uneasily about the 
 room, seemingly in an unhappy state. Medora, deem- 
 ing it her duty, endeavored to make herself agree- 
 able, but to little purpose. 
 
 " Mr. Bruster, I should be glad to see you at home 
 more frequently. This house has appeared like a 
 dungeon since you have deprived it of your pres- 
 ence." 
 
 He glanced keenly at her, to observe if she spoke iii 
 irony. Perceiving that it was all in good faith, he 
 merely turned his back upon her, ejaculating an em- 
 phatic "humph ! " The lonely evening was at length 
 over, and this happy and congenial couple retired. 
 Medora quietly wept herself to sleep, but not before she 
 had made up her mind to escape to Edge Hill, even at 
 the point of the bayonet, at the very first opportunity 
 that offered for flight. Just before daylight she was 
 awakened by the gleam of a light in the room. What 
 was her terrified astonishment in beholding Bruster 
 standing at her head, in one hand a lighted lamp, in 
 the other a loaded pistol ! 
 
 " Now, madame, prepare to die ! you are faithless," 
 cried the inhuman fiend. 
 
 Arising upon her knees in bed, she screamed aloud, 
 and protested her innocence.
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 113 
 
 "No," said he, with the most deliberate coolness 
 and cruelty, "you are not ray wife ; my wife still lives. 
 She never deceived me, although I banished her from 
 my presence." 
 
 "0 God!" she cried, in tones of the wildest 
 anguish ; "is this my lost condition? Is this the man 
 that wooed and won Medora Palmore ? Can it be pos- 
 sible that I am betrayed and murdered ? Oh, that 
 crimson star ! " 
 
 He grasped her arm, and endeavored to drag her 
 from the bed by her beautiful hair. 
 
 " If you care not for me, oh ! at least, have mercy 
 upon your unborn child, the innocent victim of a de- 
 ceived mother. " 
 
 He heeded not her petition, and was about to fire, 
 when Mary rushed into the room and dashed the pis- 
 tol from his hand, which exploded as it fell to the floor. 
 
 " Holy Vargin ! an' will ye murther yer own wife ? 
 The saints protict and save her." 
 
 "I was jesting," said he, coolly ; "only testing her 
 courage. What does she mean," said he, " by that 
 crimson star and bloody hand ? " 
 
 Medora fell back in a deadly swoon. Mary stood by 
 to receive her last breath, for she assuredly thought 
 the poor lady about to die. Bathing her pallid tem- 
 ples, she continued to murmur pious ejaculations. 
 
 Ralph Bruster, snatching up the exploded weapon, 
 left the room. Ringing the bell violently, he ordered 
 Thomas to prepare his horse, and before Medora had 
 recovered from her swoon he was off and away.
 
 114 THE CRIMSON STAR; OR, 
 
 When that unfortunate girl again opened her eyes, 
 she beheld the faithful domestic leaning over her. 
 
 " Has he shot me ? " said Medora. 
 
 " No, me lady ; I was in time to save yer precious 
 life, praised be the saints. He would have murdered 
 ye in an instant." 
 
 " Yes, in a moment more I should have been welter- 
 ing in my own blood. Thank God, and you, Mary, 
 my life is preserved. Oh, my dear parents ! were you 
 aware of my sufferings, it would kill you." 
 
 Her utterance failed from excess of emotion, and 
 Mary begged her to compose herself. The excellent 
 girl brought some hot coffee, which Medora persuaded 
 herself to partake of, and in the course of two hours 
 was enabled to rise and make her toilet. 
 
 Eestless and wretched, she could not remain in a 
 quiescent state. Snatching up her mantle, she wan- 
 dered away to her favorite bower. The sun was just 
 peeping from behind the hills. As she sat, idly watch- 
 ing the swift current of the Hudson, and wondering 
 if there was peace to be found beneath those onward 
 waters, she heard the crushing of leaves, and the next 
 moment the figure of a man presented itself. As she 
 recognized his person she almost fainted again, for it 
 was Delancy. 
 
 " Madame," he said, hurriedly, but with his ever- 
 gentle, high-bred manner, "excuse, pardon this intru- 
 sion; but a horrid circumstance information that I 
 have received, brought me hither. A plot, a secret 
 plot is in machination. Your life is in jeopardy."
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 115 
 
 "What what is it?" exclaimed the terrified wo- 
 man. She knew there was" a battle just fought in Vir- 
 ginia, and thought, perhaps, her brother was killed ; 
 and by chance he had come to inform her of his death. 
 
 " You are to be murdered ! " answered the excited 
 Delancy, " and, unhappy me, I have been the cause. 
 You are first then I am to die. Your husband is a 
 tyrant. God help you, madame. You shall be 
 saved." 
 
 " How do you know this ? " asked Medora, almost 
 paralyzed with horror, and also wondering why this 
 stranger should take such an interest in one whom he 
 had met in a business way. 
 
 u By accident, madame ; by accident I have come 
 into possession of this knowledge." 
 
 " Tell me what you have heard," said Medora, faint- 
 ly, ready also to distrust Delancy ; for a woman, once 
 deceived, is apt to look upon all with suspicion. "Tell 
 me, tell me quickly ! " gasped the lady, pale and trem- 
 bling. 
 
 " I came hither to tell you," replied the artist. " As 
 I was wandering on the shore, I heard near me a low 
 talking. I paused to discover whom it might be. It 
 proved to be Mr. Bruster and your domestic, Tom. 
 Thev were concealed in a ravine, and conversed in 
 guarded tunes. I heard these words: 'Be in ivadi- 
 iirs.s, Thomas, with the yacht; and have all prepared 
 as I have ordered. If we can manage it, it will be a 
 consummation most devoutly to be wished; moreover, 
 variety is the spice of death as well as life. One thou-
 
 116 THE CRIMSON STAR; OR, 
 
 sand dollars are yours, Thomas, my boy, as soon as that 
 
 d d artist and his paramour are dead.' Thomas 
 
 consented to all, and then they parted." 
 
 "Oh, gracious heavens!" cried Medora, clasping 
 her hands and raising her beautiful eyes to heaven. 
 She apostrophized, " He is determined to kill me, and 
 I am innocent." 
 
 " Yes, cliere madame," exclaimed Delaucy, taking 
 her hand impulsively within his own; "you are inno- 
 cent, and you shall be saved. Do all that he requests. 
 'Keep a good look out,' as you say in VAmerique, and 
 leave the rest to me. I hastened to inform you of your 
 situation, and put you on your guard. God will pro- 
 tect the innocent and the helpless. Despond not; 
 cherish Temperance ; trust in h bon Dieu, and in me, 
 this humble servant. Fai'ewell, until we meet again ;" 
 and he pressed the hand still within his own. She re- 
 leased it, for the strange electrical feeling that ran 
 through her body was an enigma. He hastily re- 
 tired. 
 
 Medora made the best of her way back into the 
 house. Reader, pause, and regard her situation. Just 
 having escaped murder the night previous, and now 
 
 threatened again by the father of oh! horror of 
 
 horrors. 
 
 The hours dragged slowly by. to the wretched wo- 
 man, but at last night came again; and, to her aston- 
 ishment, brought Mr. Bruster home in one of his most 
 agreeable moods. He endeavored to be most amiable, 
 even attempting to caress and pet her. In the course
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 117 
 
 of conversation, he alluded frequently to Mr. Delancy, 
 asserting that he was an acquaintance of years' stand- 
 ing, and one of the finest of men which was a base 
 falsehood. 
 
 Mrs. Bruster was astonished. She thought within 
 herself: "Either one or the other, or perhaps both, of 
 these men, are about to play the villain. Alas, per- 
 haps both are in league against me whom can I 
 trust ? " 
 
 She felt that her reputation had gone, but her life 
 even become dearer. She wished to live to atone for 
 her thoughtlessness. 
 
 While they were engaged in taking tea, Mr. Bruster 
 proposed a sailing party for the next evening, which, 
 he said, if clear, would be full moonlight, and that he 
 would invite a few friends. Medora consented. She 
 hud for months been living an almost intolerable life ; 
 prohibited writing to her friends, and entirely desti- 
 tute of society, she had heard from Bruster that her 
 brother was a colonel in the Rebel army and never ex- 
 pected to see him again, thinking at the time his regi- 
 ment was engaged in battle. 
 
 But the most victorious on earth have ever been 
 those who have gone through the fire of adversity and 
 trouble. She often whispered prayers for the safety of 
 her only brother's welfare on the bloody field of battle. 
 
 The next day Thomas was engag'ed in preparing the 
 yacht, and by evening all was in elegant readiness. 
 
 " What a beautiful evening we shall have," said Brus- 
 ter to Medora.
 
 118 THE CRIMSON STAB; OR, 
 
 " Yes ; the sky is clear and serene, and just sufficient 
 wind to be agreeable." 
 
 " Thomas ! v cried the lawyer, " are all the refresh- 
 ments on board ? Don't forget the wine-cooler, and 
 send down the baskets of fruit, etc., etc." 
 
 "We are happy," said the lawyer, " since we hear no 
 whistling bullet nor rifle shot. " 
 
 " Yes," whispered Medora, with a sigh. 
 
 " Aye, aye, sir," answered Thomas, who for a small 
 portion of his life had followed the sea, and who now 
 appeared to be up to his eyes in never-ending business. 
 
 "But you are not surely going until the guests 
 arrive!" cried Medora, as Mr. Bruster offered his 
 arm to conduct her to the boat, and whose heart trem- 
 bled with apprehension as to the non-appearance of 
 the artist ; and vague alarm filled her breast. 
 
 "If they have the bad taste to forget an appoint- 
 ment, I shall not be so silly as to neglect this moon- 
 light. It must have been just such a moon that 
 looked down upon ' Lorenzo and Jessica.' " And then 
 the eccentric man commenced to recite, and to recite 
 in such a tone and manner, that the intellectual 
 Medora almost forgot her uncertain fate, and repeated 
 the part of Jessica with spirit. 
 
 LORENZO. " The moon shines bright. In such a night as this, 
 When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees, 
 And they did make no noise in such a night 
 Troilus, methinks, mounted the Trojan walls, 
 And sighed his soul toward the Grecian tents, 
 Where Cressida lay that night.
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 119 
 
 JESSICA. " In such a night 
 
 Did Tbisbe fearfully o'ertrip the dew ; 
 And saw the lion's shadow o'er himself, 
 And ran dismay'd away. 
 
 LOK. " In such a night 
 
 Stood Dido, with a willow in her hand, 
 Upon the wild sea-banks, and wav'd her love 
 To come again to Carthage. 
 
 JES. " In such a night 
 
 Medea gather'd the enchanted herbs 
 That did renew old .ZEson. 
 
 LOR. " In such a night 
 
 Did Jessica steal from the wealthy Jew ; 
 
 And, with an unthrift love, did run from Venice 
 
 As far as Belmont. 
 
 JES. " And in such a night 
 
 Did young Lorenzo swear he lov'd her well 
 Stealing her soul with many vows of faith, 
 And ne'er a true one. 
 
 LOR. " And in such a night 
 
 Did pretty Jessica, like a little shrew, 
 Slander her love, and he forgave it her. 
 
 JES. I would out-night you did nobody come 
 
 But, hark 1 1 hear the footing of a man.
 
 120 THE CRIMSON STAB J OB, 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 HER VISION FULFILLED. 
 
 HE footsteps proved to be those of the artist, 
 who apologized for his late appearance, say- 
 ing he was detained to finish a picture. 
 
 " Ah ! well," replied the lawyer, "we are all ready 
 now." 
 
 Medora's heart trembled within. She thought there 
 might be truth in what the artist had asserted. 
 
 They embarked, and, after they were seated, Medora 
 remarked that they were to have had company. 
 
 " Yes," said the old man, " but I guess they will not 
 come, as it is rather late. Hoist the sails, Thomas ; 
 we are losing the beauty of the evening." 
 
 " Yes, beautiful," thought Medora. " Perhaps this is 
 the last moonlight I shall ever see." 
 
 The orders were obeyed, and swiftly they glided down 
 the Hudson. 
 
 " How do you like these moonlight excursions ? " 
 said Bruster to Delancy. 
 
 " Very much, when we have pleasant society, and 
 something nice to drink," replied the artist, in a very 
 matter-of-fact manner. 
 
 "Yes," said the old man, looking a little sideways
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 121 
 
 at Delancy ; " we have some very fine wine on board 
 would you like to indulge ? " 
 
 " Yes," replied the artist, "after a while; not just 
 now." 
 
 The poor woman began to tremble; she thought of 
 what she had been told. 
 
 " Oh! mercy," she whispered to herself, "will he car- 
 ry this wicked plot intoeifect ? surely he is not a fiend, 
 and only a devil could commit murder. Alas ! " she 
 whispered, " it may be true." 
 
 There are none on board, beside those we have 
 already mentioned, excepting a mere lad, who had 
 been as a servant in the family but a few weeks. The 
 undaunted spirit of woman came to her relief after a 
 few moments' meditation ; and she thought over all 
 she had heard, and determined to save her own life if 
 possible. As Bruster passed his lady, he said to her. 
 
 " How beautiful is the scenery of the Hudson ? Nyack 
 is such a splendid town," he said; "I always liked an 
 elevated village." 
 
 "Yes," replied Medora; "there could be nothing 
 more sublime than some parts of this river. Those high 
 peaks of the Moose which the Overlook is situated on, 
 and the Highlands and Palisades, are more beautiful 
 thim any other spot on the river, except the village of 
 Catskill ; and some of the places upon the hills are 
 magnificent." 
 
 "Fine place to drown one," said the artist. He 
 then paused, finishing his sentence "pretty deep 
 water; and a fine moonlight night."
 
 122 THE CRIMSON STAK J OB, 
 
 Yet the lawyer never dreamed his plot was sus- 
 pected. 
 
 " Ha! ha!" laughed the old man, as though highly 
 delighted with his clandestine measures. 
 
 " Drowning would be more preferable in these times. 
 If I were to die suddenly, I would rather be drowned 
 than shot," making some sarcastic allusion to the late 
 battle which had been fought. 
 
 After they had sailed quite a distance, the artist was 
 invited into the cabin to take a glass of wine. The 
 three entered, and the glasses were filled. They no- 
 ticed that he poured his from a different bottle, but, 
 however, they closely watched his management. The 
 cake was handed, and each one ate a slice. Medora held 
 her glass, untasted, in her hand. The artist appeared 
 to drink his, but deftly managed to pour it upon the 
 floor by his side. The lawyer did not notice the trick, 
 and felt sure that the wine would soon have the de- 
 sired effect. Perceiving that Medora did not intend 
 to drink hers, he tossed off his, and laughingly said that 
 she would never become intemperate. " You Southern 
 women are a little too particular. I like to see a lady 
 social," he remarked, with levity. 
 
 " I never did like wine," said she. 
 
 " Put it down, then, and let us take a promenade 
 on deck." 
 
 Medora obeyed his request, and arose to go ; but the 
 keen eye of the artist .watched every movement of the 
 Yankee, knowing that he was very shrewd in all things. 
 But the French are very discriminating.
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 123 
 
 After ascending the deck, Bruster walked gentle- 
 manly up to Medora, pressed her arm into his, and 
 very leisurely promenaded up and down the boat, as if 
 he were seriously meditating some particular subject. 
 But few words passed between them. He made some 
 remarks upon the beauty of a moonlight excursion, 
 and our heroine, feeling very sad at the time, merely 
 sanctioned what he said. 
 
 After a few paces up and down, suddenly the 
 lawyer stopped ; and, at the same instant, a plank, 
 which was fixed at the yacht like a table-leaf when 
 hoisted, attracted her attention. She thought, if one 
 should step upon it, it was dangerous, it being so 
 slender that it must break, and a person upon it would 
 evidently fall into the river. Our heroine carefully no- 
 ticed the maneuvers of the man who was by her side ; 
 she remembered his former conduct ; her ruin flashed 
 upon her memory more vividly than ever. She thought 
 of all the cruelty with which she had been treated, and 
 of the evening when he attempted to murder her in 
 her own chamber, in the silent hour of the night. All 
 his villainy came rushing more forcibly upon her youth- 
 ful mind. She gazed intently into his dark, flashing 
 eyes, and but one thought seemed to be rooted in her 
 penetrating gaze. She trembled like an aspen leaf in 
 the quivering bive/e, as they slowly walked up and 
 down the deck. As they passed and repassed the trap- 
 like door, her blood almost ran cold in her veins. She 
 fancied she could hear the pistol, shot, or even feel the 
 cold waves of the Hudson rolling over her. She \\ as
 
 124 THB CRIMSON STAB; OR, 
 
 as pale as a lifeless corpse ; her pulse flew, her heart 
 palpitated, her brain reeled. 
 
 Yet woman's courage did not entirely leave her, 
 even at that critical nfoment. No, no ! It came 
 with all power, and she felt determined within her 
 mind that, if he attempted to carry out his noto- 
 rious plot, she would save herself if it were pos- 
 sible. 
 
 In an instant more, as these thoughts were revolv- 
 ing in her mind, they passed again the slender plank 
 on the edge of the boat; and, with a tiger's grip, he 
 caught her by the arm, and was about to send her 
 headlong, reeling on the brink of the plank which had 
 been fixed for her destruction ; but, just as they neared 
 the trap, there came a back flaw in the wind, which 
 blew the main-sail over, and the boom came whirling 
 by Medora's head like a shot. She, with the intuition 
 of a woman, when danger is near, tears herself from 
 his grasp with a sudden jerk, bends her form, and 
 shuns the boom, which struck him, and whirled him 
 over the side of the yacht. In the twinkling of an eye 
 he went splashing and dashing into the foaming wa- 
 ters of the broad Hudson. In another moment he was 
 grappling at the rail, trying to rescue himself from a 
 watery grave ; but, by so doing, he struck his hand 
 against a sharp spike, which projected from the side 
 of the yacht, that glided swiftly over the water; his 
 strength gave way, and he raised his hand, crying 
 aloud: 
 
 "0 God! I am lost! lost! lost! Save, oh! save
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 125 
 
 me ! For God's sake, save me ! save me I Oh, my poor 
 wife my incarcerated wife! " 
 
 Medora did not understand what he meant by say- 
 ing, " My poor wife ! " She thought, of course, site was 
 the wife he referred to in his last moments. She saw 
 the death struggle. At that instant, the vision in 
 her dream came vividly to her mind a shooting star, 
 which appeared like a ball of fire, as it passed before 
 her; then was presented to her eyes, as he threw 
 up his arms, the " bloody hand " which she had seen 
 in her dream at the midnight hour. 
 
 "My poor, incarcerated wife," he cried. God! 
 forgive my sins." The last words died upon his lips : 
 " my wife ; oh ! my " 
 
 While Medora stood apparently paralyzed, as pale as 
 a host, wringing her hands in agony, and screaming 
 at the top of her voice, gazing at the awful scene before 
 her, she shouted for the artist to save him. In an instant 
 more the Frenchman was by her side, to try and rescue 
 the drowning man, followed by Tom, who was just in 
 time to see the old man sinking for the last time. 
 
 " Oil, heavens!" she uttered; "is this the Southern 
 Star ? No, it is one of crimson hues ; which, like a blaz- 
 ing comet, has destroyed him." She then repeated, in 
 her agony, these verses, scarcely knowing what she said 
 
 " MY HUSBAND'S GRAVE. 
 " Beneath the hroad expanding waters, 
 The lawyer lies in tranquil sleep ; 
 He heedeth not the surging waters, 
 As they proudly o'er him leap.
 
 126 THE CRIMSON STAR; OR, 
 
 " The sea-grass is Ms winding-sheet, 
 
 And the coral-bed his pillow ; 
 There, there lieth his body quietly, 
 Till God shall roll away the billow. 
 
 " No tombstone hath he to show his name, 
 
 No green sod near his grave ; 
 
 But the sweeping billows of the sea 
 
 O'er the lost one's body wave." 
 
 Tom, with consternation and remorse depicted in 
 his countenance, nervously inquired of Medora how 
 Mr. Bruster fell over, on seeing the trap which was 
 fixed for her destruction had not been the cause of 
 his misfortune. 
 
 "Why," said she, "the boom came rushing by us 
 like a whirlwind, and struck him, and threw him over ; 
 and I, too, liked to have perished, only that I saA% it 
 coming, and, shunning the blow, saved myself." 
 
 Then he gravely remarked : " What a sad fate ! " 
 
 The artist stood gazing on the terror-stricken scene 
 before him. " Great God ! " murmured Delancy, as he 
 meditated on the last sight of the dying man, as his 
 gray hair floated on the snow-capped billows, and sank 
 forever from the gaze of human eyes. Soon, ah ! soon 
 all hope has fled. Medora stood upon the deck watch- 
 ing the blue waters which had so recently swept over 
 the form of her deceiver, and felt as Dido did, when 
 she stood upon the wild sea-banks, on the shore of 
 Carthage, with a branch of willow in her hand, and 
 waved her lover to come again to her. 
 
 Our heroine saw her false lover as he rose, and sank
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 127 
 
 forever from her gaze beneath the surging waves, by 
 moonlight. All creation seemed silenced at the mid- 
 night tragedy ! Not a sound could be heard, save the 
 foaming waters, which tossed their white caps in the 
 silvery moonlight. The beautiful Hudson, which she 
 had so often admired, now, to her, like the bitter 
 waters of Marah ; the trickling gore, as it dropped 
 from the lawyer's hand, seemingly changed the river 
 to blood. 
 
 Pale and trembling stood the Southern girl on the 
 deck, gazing wildly on the scene before her. Almost 
 in a death-like agony, she whispered: 
 
 " He has gone "gasping for breath but he made 
 his own tomb, and sleepeth beneath the sepulcher of 
 the foaming deep." 
 
 The pale moon shone brightly, and the twinkling 
 stars seemed to send forth, from their different mag- 
 nitudes, a more profuse light upon the globe. Medora 
 thought of that crimson star which she had seen in 
 her dream, and that bloody hand which warned her 
 of her fate. The zephyrs blew gently, and all nature 
 ,vas tranquil, nay, even sublime, on that fatal night. 
 Yet it was a sad evening. The blue waters of the 
 Hudson never looked m.ore beautiful than on that 
 night that night, that long-to-be-remembered night. 
 That fatal moonlight excursion was to be remembered 
 by Mrdora Palmore as long as life last. 
 
 The waters of the Tappan Bay seemed to sound 
 mournful ; the depths of the mighty deep seemed to 
 send forth its groans in sympathy for her who stood
 
 128 THE CRIMSON STAR: OR, 
 
 watching all its emotions, at a late hour, by moon- 
 light. 
 
 All that was beautiful in nature had changed in a 
 short time, in the mind of Medora, and she was mel- 
 ancholy. She viewed by moonlight the grandeur and 
 loveliness of the scenery of the Hudson ; but, reader ! 
 imagine her feelings. Delancy stood almost motion- 
 less by her side each one truly sad. The artist was 
 then tempted tempted. Tempted to do what? to reveal 
 a secret which he had so long kept. " But not just yet," 
 he whispered ; such a strife it was for him to keep it 
 from her. 
 
 The yacht was just nearing the shore, and the 
 nearer it approached the more melancholy our heroine 
 felt. Yet she nerved herself to endure all that might 
 befall her through life. Eelief seemed to come to her 
 aching heart, for she knew too well that the man who 
 had taken her happiness had brought his own misery 
 and destruction upon himself. She could not blame 
 herself but for one thing that was marrying a man 
 so much her senior, and coming so far from her dear 
 father and mother, and all the loved ones that her 
 infancy knew. The lines of the poet were made 
 more vivid in her mind than ever. The happy days of 
 her childhood, and Edge Hill with all its beauties, 
 came rushing upon her, as she slowly paced the 
 boat up and down, wishing every moment that she 
 was on shore and in her own chamber, where she 
 might be at least a little quiet, although she never 
 imagined that peace of mind could ever be enjoyed-
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 129 
 
 There was not a bright spot on earth for her her 
 mind never was absolved from the fatal tragedy. 
 
 The glass of wine left by Medora had been poured 
 by the artist into a bottle, who saved it in order to 
 test if it really were poisoned. 
 
 "Come, Mrs. Bruster," said he. 
 
 "Do not call me by that name," said she, with an 
 involuntary shudder. "Call me Palmore, if you 
 please. " 
 
 "Mrs. Palmore, then," he said; "come, go with me, 
 and let us satisfy ourselves whether or not there was 
 poison in the wine." 
 
 They hastened from the Southern Star, and soon 
 reached an apothecary's shop, and handed the wine to 
 the druggist to analyze. 
 
 He told them that there was prussic acid in the 
 glass enough to kill a person in five minutes. 
 
 "When did you sell such a narcotic?" asked the 
 " artist. 
 
 " This morning," he answered. 
 
 " To whom did you sell the poison ? " 
 
 " To Lawyer Bruster, who is one of our neigh- 
 bors." 
 
 " You did ? " said the artist. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " He is the one who attempted to administer the 
 dose, but was knocked over the side of the boat by a 
 ilaw of wind, on a sailing excursion, and was this eve- 
 ning drowned." 
 
 "Good!" said the druggist; "he was an old 
 G*
 
 130 THE CRIMSON STAR; OR, 
 
 scoundrel. He treated his wife badly, and then stole 
 a young girl from Virginia; and I did hear that he 
 attempted to shoot her one night, very recently. He 
 deceived her in marrying. The minister he carried 
 down with him was as black-hearted a villain as was 
 Bruster. There is a sweet pair of them gone." 
 
 " Is he also dead ? " asked the artist. 
 
 " Yes ; and on his dying bed he confessed the crime, 
 owning how he had been engaged in that affair, and 
 said that the beautiful girl stood before him, with 
 an infant in her arms, reproaching him for her ruin. 
 He also imagined her parents were around him in his 
 last moments. His horse ran away, and he was thrown 
 from his carriage and broke his leg, and from the 
 inflammation he died.'' 
 
 "Ah, well," said the artist, "it is all over now; hei 
 drowned." 
 
 Little did the druggist think that the lady who 
 stood there was the betrayed and injured woman 
 abducted from her friends. 
 
 They left the store, and Medora hurried home. The 
 artist accompanied her to the door, where, upon part- 
 ing, he begged her to let him know where she would 
 be after she had left. 
 
 " Madame," said he, " the scene through which we 
 have just passed was enough to bear your spirits down 
 to the earth ; but you are innocent of any wrong in 
 any way whatever, and, when your mind becomes com- 
 posed, remember that you have a true friend in Henri 
 Delancy, and will ever have as long as life lasts. I
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 131 
 
 felt strangely attracted to you from the first moment I 
 beheld you ; but my passion was a holy flame. Your 
 purity and amiability left a deep impression upon my 
 heart ; but I have nothing to reproach myself for. I 
 acted as a gentleman, and you will find me ever the 
 same. I felt it my duty to warn you of the impend- 
 ing danger about to befall you;" and, as he bade her 
 farewell, he pressed her hand. Each one trembled. 
 They parted. The wretched woman entered the house, 
 and Mary met her. 
 
 "Where is Mr. Bruster?" she asked. 
 
 " He is drowned," said Medora ; " he was knocked 
 overboard by the boom." 
 
 "Ah!" exclaimed Mary; "he is gone, then. He 
 caused that wicked Thomas to engage in trying to 
 find a plan to drown you and the gentleman who took 
 your portrait ; I heard it awhile ago, ma'm. But 
 Tommy has lost his money, and I am glad of it ; for 
 all the bulls that the Pope could have thundered 
 would not have pardoned the foolish boy had he suc- 
 ceeded in that plan towards one so innocent and kind 
 as yourself. The devil came over Tommy. He owned 
 to me that he did it for money; he said he was 
 sorry to do such a thing. He thought he could be 
 pardoned. I try to be a good Catholic, and pray to 
 the Virgin Mary, and all the saints; but if Tommy 
 had drowned you, ma'm, he would have lain in purga- 
 tory forever, shure; and I believe that." 
 
 "Well," said Medora, "I am going to leave in a few 
 days."
 
 132 THE CRIMSON STAR; OR, 
 
 "The Lord be praised, ma'm! You don't tell me so. 
 I'm sure, now is the time to stay. Ye can be in peace 
 now, ma'm ! " 
 
 "I have no right here, Mary. Mr. Bruster had an- 
 other wife ; she will soon hear of his death." 
 
 " Well, then, ma'm," said the girl, " I am going too ; 
 for she was not kind and good as you have been. 
 Neither Tommy nor I liked her, and we were not sor- 
 ry much when we heard that she was dead." 
 
 " Ah, well," said Medora, " perhaps she had trouble ; 
 and that might have made her cross." 
 
 " Perhaps she did, ma'm ; but, shure, an' she was a 
 real Yankee lady, for she said that us servants could 
 never do enough for her." 
 
 Mary stood weeping, as Medora rolled a package of 
 clothing into a bundle, and placed a twenty-dollar 
 bill in her hand, with a few presents for Tommy. As 
 she handed them to Mary, the girl wept as though her 
 heart would break. 
 
 " An' is it you, ma'm, that be going to give Tommy 
 these presents so wicked as he has been?" 
 
 "Yes," said Medora. "The Bible teaches us to do 
 good for evil." 
 
 " Well, ma'm, no one need say to me, hereafter, that 
 the people in the South are bad folks, if ye had slaves ; 
 for God knows you are one of the best-hearted ladies 
 I ever met." 
 
 Medora bade Mary farewell, and closed the door. 
 The girl hurried from the room in tears. 
 
 She then seated herself, and penned a letter to Mrs.
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 133 
 
 Maria Bruster in case the lady should ever enter the 
 house how cruelly she had been deceived, and how 
 badly she had been treated. On the following morn- 
 ing, she took some money, and, ordering the carriage, 
 drove to the boat, which was to take her to the con- 
 vent, at Mount St. Vincent, where she would not be an- 
 noyed with the horrid war-cry and bloody troubles of the 
 conflict.- She knew it would be almost impossible 
 for her to get home then ; and, besides, her situation was 
 such that she had better wait a few months any way. 
 Therefore, she determined to bury herself within the 
 walls of a nunnery, at least until the war was over. 
 After traveling for sometime, she reached the convent. 
 Upon approaching the Superior, she trembled won- 
 dered why it was she felt so strangely. But we are all 
 subject to internal feelings, which predict many myster 
 rious things. As Medora applied for admittance, the 
 lady Superior looked strangely at her. 
 
 "Have you been married?" she inquired. 
 
 "Why should she ask me that question?" was Medo- 
 ra's mental thought. " She must not be so inquisitive ; I 
 will bear my own troubles within my breast." 
 
 " You are young," said the lady, " and look as if your 
 heart were breaking." She then caught the hand of 
 the girl, and said ; 
 
 " We are alike born to trouble. I once had a sweet 
 little boy, but he has been torn from my bosom 
 by a " She then paused. 
 
 "A villain," whispered Medora, seemingly catching 
 the sentence as it died upon the lips.
 
 134 THE CRIMSON STAB; OK, 
 
 "Do you know where your child is? "asked Medora. 
 
 "Yes," said the Superior, "but I have nothing to do 
 with him. His father took him from me, and impris- 
 oned me in an insane asylum, when I was as sane as I 
 am now." 
 
 " How cruel ! " cried the girl. "Excuse me, madame, 
 for being a little inquisitive now ; but does your hus- 
 band yet live?" 
 
 "No," said the Superior; "I heard that he was 
 drowned a short time ago, while in a sailing yacht, up 
 the Hudson." 
 
 As these words fell from her lips, Medora turned 
 pale. 
 
 "I heard his body was recovered, and he was in- 
 terred in the old homestead ; but I cannot credit the 
 story, for I think my sister would have written to me, 
 and stated the facts. 
 
 "What is 'the matter?" asked the lady; "you look 
 as though you were about to faint; you are a reed well 
 shaken by the storm." 
 
 " I am," said Medora, as the tears rolled down her 
 pale cheeks. 
 
 " Would you like to tell the name of your husband?" 
 asked Medora, feeling more interested. "Perhaps I 
 have heard of him." 
 
 " Yes," said the lady. " I do not care now, for it has 
 been some time since we parted, and I may spend my 
 days in this convent. His name was Ralph Bruster, 
 a lawyer of New York; we were from Massachusetts 
 formerly."
 
 TOE MIDNIGHT VISION. 135 
 
 As the words fell from the lady's lips, Medora 
 fainted. The Superior caught her in her arms, and 
 called sister Josephine to remove, the helpless girl into 
 a room. After a few moments, she opened her eyes, 
 and said : 
 
 " Oh ! madame ; is that so ? " 
 
 " As you have heard some of my story, I will now 
 relate it all. 
 
 " My health was a little impaired ; I had a slight 
 cough. One day, after my husband had been absent 
 some weeks, he came home from New York in a much 
 better humor than was usual for him. I married him 
 when I was quite young, but we never lived happily 
 together; therefore, his absence was not much annoy- 
 ance to me, as one might suppose. He was one of 
 those men who have no heart, but a very small soul, 
 and very fickle-minded. He loved me very much so 
 he said when we were married, and I was devoted to 
 him. He was talented and wealthy ; therefore, I thought 
 I should be happy with him. But my life was only a 
 blank; and, as I think I can confide in you, I will 
 tell you my sad story which, for the sake of my child, 
 I hope you will never divulge." 
 
 Medora told her that she would keep her secret, and 
 the Superior proceeded with the painful narration : 
 
 "My husband came home from New York, as I 
 have previously stated, and remarked to me that he 
 had to go South ; that business called him to Charles- 
 ton, S. C. ; that the war was about to break out, and 
 he had been employed by the Government to go there
 
 136 THE CRIMSON STAB J OB, 
 
 on particular business ; yet he regretted leaving his 
 his family so much; and said to me: 'Perhaps you 
 would like to accompany me, as your health is not 
 very good. It would be a pleasant trip for you; and 
 we shall be away only a short time.' ' What can we do 
 with Bobbie,' said I ' take him along ? ' * No, no ! ' said 
 iny husband ; 'I will take him to his aunt's. I am going 
 to Boston in a few days/ So I thought I would like to 
 go, knowing that he would stay but a few days; so I 
 told him I would accompany him. 
 
 " The next day, I dressed Robbie nicely, and he kissed 
 mamma good-bye. The last kiss that he has ever im- 
 printed on my lips was on that morning, when he and 
 his papa stepped into the carraige, and drove to the 
 boat, and in a short time were steaming up the Hud- 
 son ; then, by rail, to Massachusetts. 
 
 " Oh ! how often, in imagination, I have seen my dar- 
 ling child, as he looked on that morning when he went 
 away. He was so happy to think that he was going 
 on a visit to his little cousins. 
 
 " In two days my husband returned, and told me the 
 little fellow was perfectly delighted when he reached 
 the city, and met his relations ; he did not want to 
 come home when his papa came. Then my husband 
 left sufficient money to defray his expenses, and his 
 father presented him with a little purse of gold, for his 
 own spending money; and the little fellow no doubt 
 thought that he was quite a man. 
 
 " I have never seen my child since that morning. 
 When my husband came back, I was all ready, and we
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 137 
 
 started on our Southern trip. By steam and locomo- 
 tive power, we were whirled from one point to another, 
 until we reached our destination. The trip was pleas- 
 ant, had I. been traveling with one congenial with 
 myself; but my husband was one of those morose, 
 eccentric men, who had not a wish, nor a desire to 
 please any one except himself. He was not agreeable, 
 but, rather, taciturn all the way. Had he been more 
 pleasant, I should have enjoyed our travel more. 
 
 " After we had readied Charleston, we stepped into 
 the carriage to drive to the hotel. He remarked that 
 the Southern climate was salubrious; that he felt 
 quite sure my health would be benefited, if I would 
 stop a few weeks in the city ; and I felt, myself, that 
 a warmer climate might improve my cough. In a 
 short time we reached the hotel, and were shown to 
 our room, where everything was comfortable and 
 cheerful. After I got a little rested, my husband 
 came up to take me to tea. My travel had made me 
 quite hungry, and I enjoyed a fine supper. After we 
 returned from the tea-table to our room, Mr. Bruster 
 seated himself in an easy-chair, and smoked one of his 
 best havanas, and looked as though he was in a deep 
 study. I caught up a book from the center- table, and 
 commenced to read; and, while I sat reading, he arose 
 from his seat, put on his hat and coat, said he was 
 going out for a short walk, and would soon return ; 
 but he staid until a late hour. When he came back, 
 I had retired for quite a while. 
 
 " I noticed that he had been imbibing a little too
 
 138 THE CRIMSON STAB; OR, 
 
 freely ; however, he remarked to me that on the next 
 morning we were to go riding. ' The drives and prom- 
 enades/ said he, ' in this climate, are very fine in the 
 morning, when the flowers *&re in full bloom. The air 
 is impregnated with the perfume of the jessamine, 
 heliotrope, and various other floral shrubs, which 
 renders a drive refreshing ' which I readily acceded to. 
 
 "In the morning, I made my toilet quickly, and was 
 ready, very early, to accompany him. 
 
 "About nine o'clock, a very fine vehicle drove up to 
 the door ; but, instead of a barouche, it was a closed 
 coach. I then remarked : ' Husband, why did you not 
 order an open carriage ? then we could have a better 
 view of the country.' 
 
 " ' Step in, step in,' he said, clasping me tightly by 
 the arm, as we passed out." At this moment Medora 
 sighed. " He jumped in with the agility of a schoolboy, 
 and off the fleet-footed horses bore us, over hill and 
 vale; and on we rode, until I was tired. 
 
 " Then I remarked, ' How far are we going, Mr. Brus- 
 ter ? ' He glanced at me with a scowl. ' I thought you 
 wanted to see the country, for a short time longer,' said 
 he. I said no more. Then, after riding we drove up 
 to a large iron gate. The premises were surrounded 
 with a high stone wall. 
 
 " ' What place is this ? ' said I. 
 
 "'It is the penitentiary; I thought perhaps you 
 would like to see it/ 
 
 " ' Oh, yes ; I do like to see all the public buildings 
 of a strange city,' I remarked.
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 130 
 
 "The driver sprang from his seat, the steps were low- 
 ered, and Mr. Bruster helped me from the carriage ; 
 and the great iron gate was unlocked, and swung on 
 on its hinges ; and we were passing up a beautiful peb- 
 bled walk. In a moment more, we were in a tremen- 
 dous building; and, as I held Mr.. Bruster's arm 
 while passing along the corridor, I heard strange 
 voices, and grasped his arm more tightly. 
 
 " < What is the matter with you ? 
 
 " ' Nothing,' said I. ' I only heard a screaming.' 
 
 "Just at that moment, a corpulent gentleman met 
 us at the parlor door ; and, smiling pleasantly, invited 
 us to be seated. 
 
 " ' Is this the lady ? ' said he, turning to my hus- 
 band. 
 
 "I thought strange of the manner in which he ad- 
 dressed us. He then directed the most of his conver- 
 sation to me he wished to know how I liked the South- 
 ern climate ; how long since I had arrived, and how long 
 I expected to stay, etc., etc. 
 
 " I thought the climate would benefit my health, 
 for which purpose I had come. 
 
 " He thought I would enjoy my trip, et cetera. 
 
 "As I turned my eyes toward my husband, to speak 
 to him, he was gone. I thought strangely that he had 
 left me so unceremoniously, and had not excused 
 himself, but supposed he had stepped aside to make 
 some inquiry in regard to passing through the build- 
 ing. 
 
 " The corpulent gentleman still sat by me, and kept
 
 140 THE CRIMSON STAB; OB, 
 
 me in conversation. I presume we sat for over twenty 
 minutes ; and, when my husband did not return, I 
 was induced to ask the stranger where he had gone ? 
 
 " ' Gone home, madarne,' said he, 'gone home.' 
 
 " 'We came to see the penitentiary.' 
 
 " ' Penitentiary, madanie ! you are in the insane 
 asylum,' said he. 
 
 " ' What does this mean ? ' said I ; ' I am not insane. 
 My husband will be back in a few days, will he not? ' 
 
 " 'He may be back to see you in a few weeks, when 
 you get better. We will soon cure you.' 
 
 " ' Cure me, sir ! I am not sick. I have a slight cough 
 that is all.' 
 
 " ' Oh ! never, never mind. Come, go with me to your 
 room; all will soon be right.' 
 
 " ' God ! ' I cried, as I sank back in my seat, 
 and, bursting into tears, clasped my hands in prayer; 
 for then I saw I was duped. 
 
 "I had been abducted by my own husband, for some 
 vile purpose ; and, when the reality flashed upon my 
 mind, I thought I would lose my reason,' then and 
 there. I wrung my hands in agony, and begged the 
 stranger to send' me back to the hotel. 
 
 " 'No, no,' said he, ' not just now. Now we will go 
 to your room.' 
 
 " Then, clasping me tightly by the arm, he said : 
 'You cannot go home until you are cured.' 
 
 " Then he escorted me to my room, which was beau- 
 tifully furnished, and had every comfort that the heart 
 could wish for.
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 141 
 
 " The doctor was very courteous, and told me he was 
 the principal physician, and treated me so kindly, that 
 I thought that I could confide in him. I told him 
 that I thought my heart would break with grief. I 
 then stated to him how my husband had deceived me by 
 telling me he was taking me to see the penitentiary, 
 and brought me to an insane asylum ; how he had 
 deceived me in bringing me away from my darling 
 child, and brought me to this secluded spot, for a pur- 
 pose which I could not understand. And, as I spoke of 
 my darling Robbie, who had' been taken in such a 
 clandestine way, to deceive me, it was more than my poor 
 heart could bear. It was then I wrung my hands in 
 agony, and tore my hair in such a manner, that I 
 know the man thought I was insane. I knew that 
 my husband was a wicked, cruel man ; but I could not 
 realize the dark deed which he had committed. 
 
 " The kind man pitied me ; I know he did. He gazed 
 at me intently, but only said: 'You will soon be well ; 
 never mind, you shall have every attention, and in a lit- 
 tle while you will meet your husband and child again.' 
 
 "'My husband!' said I; 'I never want to meet him 
 again in this world, a man that would treat ine thus ; 
 out, in the spirit world, God will judge between him 
 and me. But my Robbie ; oh ! my Robbie. Yes, I 
 shall see my child again, and we will be happy 
 yet.' 
 
 " At first, the physician did not mind what I said, in 
 regard to my being crazy ; for all insane people 
 say they are not crazy. He remarked, after a short 
 4*
 
 142 THE CRIMSON STAR; OR, 
 
 while, that he saw my mind was not in the least 
 impaired.' 
 
 "Afterwards, he said to a friend that he felt quite 
 ashamed of himself, for letting a Yankee pnll the 
 wool so closely over his eyes ; especially at such a time, 
 when everything was in political confusion when it 
 was hard to distinguish friend from foe. And when the 
 faculty found that I was all right, they did not know 
 what construction to put on this strange freak of my 
 husband. 
 
 " They knew that there was intrigue behind the cur- 
 tain, and supposed I might have been placed there as 
 a spy, as the war was about to break out. From our 
 appearance, they knew that we were wealthy. At such 
 a time, they thought I should be sent home imme- 
 diately ; therefore, they wrote to Mr. Bruster to come 
 for me that my mind was thoroughly restored. 
 
 " Some weeks rolled on ; he did not come, neither did 
 they hear from him." And, as the Superior related her 
 sad story, the tears rolled down our heroine's pale 
 cheeks, as it brought her own trouble more vividly to 
 mind. 
 
 The lady proceeded with her narrative. She 
 remarked that persons who were so unfortunate as to 
 become insane should always be kept in their own 
 families, as many of those institutions destroy the lit- 
 tle spark of rational feeling people have who are put 
 under their care. "But the Southern asylum was 
 managed very differently from others which I have 
 read of; servants were not permitted to tyrannize over
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION'. 143 
 
 the sick and afflicted. The hospitality of the physicians 
 and the kindness of the help would have aided greatly 
 in the restoration of my mind, had it been in the least 
 impaired. My own case was similar to that of a Mrs. 
 Packard, of Illinois, who had been abdncted by her 
 cruel husband, and he was an Episcopalian minister. 
 I never knew the lady, personally; but, from what I 
 have read of her works, she evidently was one among 
 our talented women. But this good man, this very 
 pious man, tore a mother from six children, and incar- 
 cerated her, just as I was; and for years she suffered 
 from the inhuman treatment of which ignorant ser- 
 vants and inhuman physicians were the cause. 
 
 " Through her husband's vileness, he succeeded in 
 making the old gentleman (his wife's father) believe 
 that his daughter was really insane; he managed to 
 extort large sums of money from her father, which 
 enabled him to keep her there for years ; but she, 
 being a good, pious woman, prayed daily and hourly to 
 God to send her forth from that prison. He heard 
 and answered her prayers; therefore she succeeded, 
 after a long struggle, in convincing a few friends that 
 she was not insane, and had been incarcerated to 
 gratify the wicked whim of a false and designing 
 man. And through their influence she was enabled, 
 after a long struggle, to get out ; and, through her per- 
 scM-ranoi.! and influence, she has been enabled to 
 be the means of several bills passing the legislature 
 last winter, in regard to the treatment of insane peo- 
 ple. She has done much good in regenerating the
 
 144 THE CRIMSON STAB; OK, 
 
 management of many of these institutions through 
 the West. And I do not doubt but God will bless her 
 labors abundantly, as she has been the wheat sifted 
 from the chaff. Her case was a sad one. Many of 
 our sex have had to suffer from inhuman husbands 
 likewise, but 'the wicked shall be caught in his own 
 snare.' " 
 
 'Twas then that Medora thought of the watery 
 grave at the midnight hour. 
 
 "I have digressed from my subject, but this poor 
 woman was paramount in my mind. Now I will pro- 
 ceed Avith my sad fate : 
 
 " The winter of 1860 passed away, and the spring of 
 1861 came forth ; and the first shot was fired on Fort 
 Sumter. From that came all other battles which laid 
 waste the fair cities and green fields of the Southern 
 States, and saturated their soil with the blood of the 
 best men of our country, both North and South ; and 
 the people were mourning over their ruins, as 
 *Caius Marius mourned over the ruins of Carthage.'" 
 
 At this moment Medora trembled and gave a deep 
 sigh, which seemed to come from the depths of her 
 heart, knowing, at that very time, that the only 
 brother she had was in the Southern army. But the 
 lady Superior, being so interested in her narration, 
 scarcely noticed the effect her conversation had on our 
 heroine. 
 
 " The war was raging fearfully at the time I made 
 my escape. They did not like to send me away ; and, as 
 my husband did not come for me, there was no more
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 145 
 
 watch kept over me, and I knew they did not care 
 whether I ran the blockade or not; so I made up my 
 mind to escape at the very earliest opportunity. But I 
 shall never forget those good people, and their kind- 
 ness to me while incarcerated in that asylum. What I 
 disliked most was having to eat at the table with those 
 poor crazy people. 
 
 " I knew that no one would molest me ; therefore I 
 went out one afternoon for a promenade in the pleas- 
 ure grounds. I passed on till I reached the iron gate, 
 and it was opened just a little way. I would have 
 liked to say good-by to the physicians and servants, 
 and thank them for their kindness, but I dared not go 
 back, for fear they might detain me. So I hastened on 
 through the gate quickly, and on I sped as hurriedly 
 as if the pickets were after me. I walked a long dis- 
 tance before I came to a hotel. I had a little Confed- 
 erate money, made a present to me by one of the 
 physicians. I also had gold. I managed to get along 
 until I reached the camp of one of the Northern 
 officers ; from, there I was sent through the lines, on to 
 New York. 
 
 "But I knew, if I went home to my husband, he 
 might do even worse than imprison me in an asylum ; 
 and, for a while, I did not know where to go. I wrote 
 to my sister, in Boston, stating my arrival from the 
 South ; saying that my trip must be shrouded in mys- 
 tery for the present; that, at a future day, I would tell 
 JUT all ; that I had recovered my health, and in a few 
 months I should visit her; but concealed my where-
 
 146 THE CRIMSON STAR J OR, 
 
 abouts for the present, as I then intended to come to 
 this institute, and live in obscurity, for a while at 
 least. 
 
 " In answer to my letter, I received all the informa- 
 tion in regard to my child that he was well and at 
 school, and often inquired for mamma. This letter 
 made me sad; yet a weight seemed lifted from my 
 mind. 
 
 "To live with my husband again a man so totally 
 devoid of natural feeling, and inhuman, as I had 
 proved him to be all my life was sufficient to detain 
 me from going home. Being a Catholic, I there- 
 fore was determined to become a Sister of Mercy ; and 
 to live a secluded life was all that I .desired in this 
 world. 
 
 " I may live and die in this convent, now that my 
 child is being educated and cared for." 
 
 Medora, trembling and almost gasping for breath : 
 " What does this mean ?" said she. 
 
 " Do you know him ? have you heard of that man ? " 
 said the lady Superior. 
 
 " Yes, I have heard of him, and perhaps know too 
 much of him." 
 
 " Does he live ? " said the Superior. 
 
 " JS r o ; " said our heroine, " he is dead." 
 
 Although the lady had imagined that all her love 
 had flown ; yet, when she heard positively that he was 
 dead, an arrow seemingly penetrated her soul. 
 
 "Dead! dead! Do you mean to say that Ralph 
 Bruster is really dead ? " she cried. " You do not tell
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 147 
 
 me that he is gone ! Is it really true that he is no more ? 
 Oh ! the Virgin Mary, the mother of Jesus, save him ! " 
 and the poor woman fell senseless to the floor. She 
 had heard that he was drowned, but she thought, per- 
 haps, it was not true, until that moment. 
 
 " What has come over the Superior ? " said Sister 
 Josephine; "she is never sick, and is in very good 
 spirits generally." 
 
 " She is troubled," said Medora. 
 
 "Ah, yes;" replied the nun. 
 
 The Superior was carried to her room, and Medora 
 to hers, and for several days they did not meet again. 
 When, at length, they met, each one was more calm, 
 and they talked together like sisters. 
 
 Mrs. Bruster did not stop long at St. Vincent after 
 hearing the death of her husband confirmed. She left 
 the convent, and took possession of her property. She 
 soon visited her sister and her little son, and took 
 him home. She found on her bureau the letter writ- 
 ten by Medora, but there was no name signed. It 
 seemed, by some strange instinct, that the lady sus- 
 pected that Medora was the woman who had been 
 duped by the same vile wretch that had destroyed her 
 happiness for life.
 
 148 THE CRIMSON STAB ; OB, 
 
 CHAPTEE IX. 
 
 THE BIRTH OF IDA. 
 
 ! what strange things sometimes come to pass. 
 Although our heroine had kept her secret, yet 
 the lady suspected all, she said to her, and 
 offered her a home. But Medora told her of 
 her father's beautiful plantation on the Chesapeake, 
 and of the wealth she had left behind. 
 
 " Oh," said the widow of the lawyer, " I perceived at 
 once that you were a gentleman's daughter, and, so 
 soon as I caught your hand, I believed that you had 
 been deceived by some false heart ; and now I know it, 
 for that man who has met such a fate once pretended 
 to worship me, but he soon grew weary of me, and I 
 I was miserable, and made others so ; even my poor 
 servants could not please me. But after I came into 
 the convent, and turned my attention to religious du- 
 ties, I thought often of Mary and Thomas, who were 
 such good servants, but I was too hard upon them. I 
 have suffered for having been so harsh. Many pen- 
 ances have I done." 
 
 The Superior gave Medora good advice, and parted 
 from her with a promise to visit the convent as often 
 as possible. This was Mrs. Bruster, who had been in-
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 149 
 
 carcerated in a cell by her husband, and had HOAV es- 
 caped. The dead woman had come to life. 
 
 " Oh ! could we see beyond the present moment, how 
 differently would we act." Here was a girl, treated in 
 the most cruel manner. Who would have believed 
 that Medora Palmore would have killed a worm she 
 who had been so kind and good to every human being? 
 She, it is true, did not treat her French lover, Eugene 
 Appomore, just right; she should have waited his re- 
 turn, yet she did not. But, oh ! that old mercenary 
 mamma she caused all this trouble. Her father's 
 slaves at Edge Hill loved her dearly. That can easily 
 be seen by her parting with the colored girl, Lucinda, 
 on the morning of her departure from home. No 
 doubt God heard the prayer of that ignorant African. 
 Medora had requested her to pray for her; yet, in an 
 hour when sorely tried, she saved her own life at 
 the expense of another. If people would only have 
 faith in their Creator, He would deliver them from 
 many difficulties. No power can stand before the 
 arm of God. He, who sends his angels on earth to 
 save his children ; such as Shadrach, Meshach, and 
 Abednego. A furnace heated even seven times hotter 
 than usual cannot singe the hair of a true child of God. 
 Therefore, Medora was saved from the grasp of a tyrant. 
 She was saved from the deadly narcotic which lie had 
 prepared ; she was saved from the pangs of the death- 
 dealing bullet ; she was rescued from a watery grave. 
 In his last attempt to murder her he failed, and fell 
 a victim in his own snare. The reader may be won-
 
 150 THE CEIMSON STAR; OK, 
 
 dering why it was that she escaped so many dangers? 
 Let them recall to mind the teachings of Christ and 
 His apostles ; let them cast their minds back to the 
 days of St. Paul, Avhen he was in a ship, sailing under 
 Crete, over against Salmone ; and, falling into a place 
 where the seas met, they ran the ship aground, and 
 the vessel was burst asunder by the waves. But were 
 the apostles lost ? No ; each one swam to the shore. 
 Some understood swimming, while others did not; but 
 they who were less skilled in the art came ashore on 
 broken pieces of the ship, and all reached land in 
 safety. 
 
 If we trusted in God, we would get on more smoothly 
 in life. The heroine of this story was taught to have 
 faith in her Creator, from an infant ; therefore, when 
 she was a prisoner as her own home was a prison 
 she knew that she had been wronged in the most cruel 
 manner she only wept, and prayed to God to deliver 
 her from such acute misery and disgrace. 
 
 We shall see the end of this romance, if we have 
 patience to continue to read. It is with difficulty 
 that we can resist dwelling on certain circumstances 
 too long; and we hope our kind reader will excuse us 
 if we dwell longer on a character than the reader 
 should admire. We are apt to say too much on a sub- 
 ject which is uppermost in our mind for a mo- 
 ment. 
 
 But we will leave the heroine in the convent at 
 Mount St. Vincent, and try to picture to our reader 
 the Family at Edge hill.
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 151 
 
 The summer had passed away ; the flowers had 
 nearly bloomed their lust for the season ; the leaves 
 were turning yellow, and falling to the ground; the 
 birds did not sing so sweetly ; the rushing wafers of 
 the Rappahannock burst on its shores more furiously; 
 the wind howled drearily and mournfully. The beau- 
 tiful, but antiquated, plantation at Edge Hill bore a 
 dreary appearance. 
 
 Jasper was in the army, and all was dread. Scarce a 
 smile ever visited the lips of the parents of Medora. 
 Every battle that was fought, they knew not but that 
 their only son might fall. He had been promoted 
 to a colonel, and was a very excellent man. Colonel 
 Palmore was one of General Lee's favorite friends ; yet 
 a sadness rested on the countenance of each indi- 
 vidual. 
 
 Poor Lucinda, the house-girl, had no more jokes to 
 tell. She never looked toward the harbor and saw a 
 a vessel, but she was sure to say something about 
 Miss Medora, and the old man who carried her away. 
 She sometimes said she was sick ; sometimes, that she 
 was imprisoned. But she was an African, and no one 
 paid much attention to her sayings. 
 
 One evening Mr. Palmore came in, and, as was his 
 usual rule, seated himself in a corner, lighted his pipe, 
 and smoked away swiftly. As he puifed the tobacco, 
 he looked sad; and, casting his eyes up toward the 
 mantel, remarked to his wife that he wished the portrait 
 of Medora removed from the room, for he could not 
 sit down without her gazing into his face; "and,"
 
 152 THE CRIMSON STAE J OB, 
 
 said he, " she looks to me most imploringly, as though 
 she said : ' Oh ! papa, do something for me.'" 
 
 " How long has the portrait looked in that way ? " 
 asked the wife. 
 
 "For some months," said he; " but I thought it was 
 only imagination, and said nothing about it. But now 
 there seems to be a call, as if some one is whispering to 
 me, and says: 'Come, come!' and it must be my 
 daughter, for we cannot hear from her. She has never 
 written a letter herself at all ; and there is some mys- 
 tery in her conduct." 
 
 "Yes," said the old lady, "I think so too, hus- 
 band, but we must not give way to such imaginations. 
 Medora is certainly a woman of good sense, and has 
 sufficient courage to protect herself, although she 
 is amiable. But I will remove the portrait if you 
 wish." 
 
 Mrs. Palmore was feeling as badly as her husband. 
 The old lady rang the bell for Lucinda, who answered 
 it immediately. 
 
 "Lucinda," said Mrs. Palmore, "get upon a chair, 
 and assist me to take down the portrait of Miss 
 Medora." 
 
 "What for, missus?" asked the girl ; "is you gwine 
 to send it away ? " 
 
 "No, no; your master wishes it hung in the 
 parlor." 
 
 "O Lord! ma'm; I is sorry for dat. I doesn't go 
 in de parlor often, and I does sit in de chamber; and 
 ile picter ob Miss Dora keeps me company when you
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 153 
 
 and ole marster is away. I almost think dat she will 
 speak to me, and hold out her hand once more." 
 
 "Ah ! well," said her mistress; "go and fix it in the 
 parlor, and you may look in whenever you please, if 
 that will do you any good ; we are not so cruel as 
 some of our Northern friends imagine us to be." 
 
 " Dat's so, missus, sure." 
 
 Away ran Lucinda, holding on to the picture. With 
 the assistance of her mistress she hung it up, and, as 
 she sprang from the chair to the floor, she exclaimed : 
 
 " God save and protect Miss Dora, wherever she is 
 in dis war. But de heavens knows, missus. I believe 
 she is in a dungeon, or some sort ob close place, sar- 
 tin, missus ; cause, sometimes I think dat she started 
 to come home, and de Yankees done got her and put 
 Her in prison." 
 
 "No, no, I hope not," said Mrs. Palmore. "Go now 
 to your work, Lucinda." 
 
 The girl obeyed. After the removal of the por- 
 trait, Mr. Palmore said that he felt much better, for 
 her piercing eyes did not follow him so closely. 
 
 All went on as usual at Edge Hill ; only the season 
 looked dreary, and it was in October that Medora was 
 married and left her father's house. The season of the 
 year is very apt to make an impression upon our 
 minds. When anything occurs in life that turns out 
 well, it is apt to be remembered; and if the contrary, it 
 is also not forgotten. But, as yet, the parents of 
 our heroine are in darkness in regard to her situation. 
 The war is still raging. Jasper Palmore is on the bat- 
 7*
 
 154 THE CEIMSON STAB J OR, 
 
 tie-field. Some of our bravest men were falling, and 
 the Southern army failing to gain what they so much 
 desired, which was, to be as a nation to themselves. 
 But, as old Mr. Palmore said, "All is well that ends 
 well." 
 
 The evening after that in which Lucinda had 
 removed the portrait from the chamber, she ran up 
 stairs for something, and rushed into the room that 
 Medora always had occupied when at home. As she 
 entered the door, she shrieked and fell down the steps. 
 The old people flew to her assistance, ' and asked what 
 on earth was the matter. 
 
 " Oh ! my Lord," said Lucinda. " Missus, I saw poor 
 Miss Dora standing at the room door, with a baby in 
 her arms, and she looked almost dead. She was no 
 more like dat portrait dan nothing; still it was her, 
 kase she looked like she would speak every minute." 
 
 The poor girl wrung her hands and wept. Her mis- 
 tress said : 
 
 " I reckon you are mistaken, Lucinda. My child is 
 a long distance from here." 
 
 " Well, dat may be, but dat was her spirit, sartin ; 
 kase I nebber was so scared in my born days." 
 
 " Well, Medora would visit us, in body or spirit, if 
 she could, I feel sure. If she was dead she would 
 come, as our departed friends do visit earth." 
 
 " Dat was her spirit, den," said Lucinda. 
 
 " The Yankees surely believe in spiritual power. 
 That, perhaps, accounts for their gaining the victories 
 now; they may have consulted some of their warriors
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 155 
 
 who have fallen," said Mr. Palmore, with a sarcastic 
 smile although he was more inclined to believe the 
 story of the girl than was his wife, for he had been trou- 
 bled by some such visions, but had not mentioned it 
 to the family. Lncinda went into the kitchen, and 
 there was no more said. When Jasper came in, lie 
 missed the portrait of his sister in a moment, and 
 asked what had been done with it. He was at home 
 on a furlough. 
 
 " It is in the parlor," replied his mother. 
 
 " Why was it removed ?" asked the young man. 
 
 " Because your father wished it," was the reply. 
 
 The son gave a heavy sigh, and said : 
 
 "Mother, there is something wrong connecled with 
 the marriage of my sister, and she is in trouble." 
 
 " Why do you think so, my son ? " 
 
 " Because I have felt so strangely at times, when I 
 looked upon her face. It appears to me that she 
 would change from a smile to weeping, and look 
 very sad; very unlike my sister's natural disposi- 
 tion." 
 
 " Well," said his mother, " it is very strange that 
 you all have these impressions about the child ; and 
 even Lucinda declares that she saw her spirit. I do 
 not know what such things mean. However, if she is 
 in any trouble, I am sure that she must blame me, 
 for I was the only one of her family who encouraged 
 her to marry that old man. But he appeared to love 
 the child so much, that I thought she would do well 
 to maiTV him."
 
 156 THE CEIMSON STAE; OB, 
 
 " Oh, mother, this man has broken many hearts, 
 and, perhaps, she is one of the victims." 
 
 " Well," said Jasper, " there is something wrong 
 connected with her in some way, and I really do hate 
 to go near her schoolmates ; for I have been asked so 
 many questions, which I have been unable to answer, 
 not having heard from her all that has been written 
 having been done by her husband. I had rather be on 
 the battle-field than submit to such inquiries about my 
 sister." 
 
 " Well, perhaps we will hear from her one of these 
 days, 'when this cruel war is over.' " 
 
 " I hope so," said Jasper. " Good bye, I must go, v 
 and he left the room ; but his mother noticed that 
 tears stood in the eyes of her sou, and she began to be 
 infected with the general superstition in regard to her 
 daughter; but she tried to distract her mind from the 
 thought. 
 
 The next day was the Sabbath ; and, at the usual 
 hour, the carriage was driven to the door, for the pur- 
 pose of conveying the family to church. As they were 
 all seated, and the driver closed the door, he said : 
 
 " One more person is needed in de carriage, mas- 
 ter, to make the usual number." 
 
 " And who may that be, Joe ? " 
 
 " Miss Dora, sir ; I don't know when I thought of 
 her before dis minute. She used always to go to 
 church, rain or shine." 
 
 " So she did," replied his master. 
 
 The driver jumped upon his seat and drove off. As
 
 THK MIDNIGHT VISION. 157 
 
 they neared Heathville, the bell sounded mournfully. 
 The colored man hud reminded them of their stray 
 lamb, and the tolling of the bell appeared to sound 
 different from any which they had previously heard. 
 The minister arose, and the words of his text were 
 taken from Deuteronomy, xxxii. 43 : "Kejoice, oh ye 
 nations, with His people ; for He will avenge the 
 blood of His servancs, and will render vengeance to 
 His adversaries, and will be merciful unto His land, 
 and to His people." 
 
 The Kev. Dr. Kirk preached a powerful sermon, and 
 he appeared to particularly emphasize his words to 
 the just and injured, wherever they might be. 
 
 Mr. Palmore's family returned home, each one com- 
 forted ; even the wild and thoughtless Jasper. The 
 parents believed that God would protect and comfort 
 their offspring, wherever she might be. 
 
 " Strange," said Mr. Palmore to his wife, as after 
 dinner they were seated in the chamber, "strange that 
 Joe should have spoken of Medora, as he was closing 
 the carriage door this morning, wasn't it, wife ? " 
 
 "' Well, husband, our slaves always loved our chil- 
 dren." 
 
 " Yes," replied the old lady; "but it appears as if 
 our colored people think as much about the poor child 
 as we do, and I am glad to perceive that they have not 
 forgotten her." 
 
 " I do not see how they could," said the old gentleman. 
 "It may be, now, that the Yankee lawyer treats his wife 
 much worse than any Southern man does his slaves."
 
 158 THE CEIMSOX STAE ; OR, 
 
 ''Nor I," said Medora's mother; "for she always 
 made herself a little simpleton about Joe and Lucinda. 
 I could never keep any cake or pudding around, for 
 her begging for it between meals for them ; and I am 
 sure they fared as well as we did." 
 
 "I do not think that slavery is exactly right," said 
 the old gentleman ; "but the North has meddled en- 
 tirely too much." 
 
 " Ah ! well," said the old man, " they will all soon 
 be free." 
 
 "Well, be it so. I had much rather that my chil- 
 dren were kind to my slaves than tyrannical the 
 latter they should not be, were they disposed." 
 
 "I wonder how Medora gets along at the North," 
 said her father ; " for I guess she does not have a maid 
 to undress her now, and around the room, all the while, 
 to answer every beck and call." 
 
 "Neither Avill she have slaves in a year or two 
 more." 
 
 "Fob! wife, you talk silly; she has white servants, 
 I suppose, if she has any," said Mr. Palmore. "The 
 old man whom she married had several when I was 
 there." 
 
 "Poor child! I fear that she has seen some hard 
 times since she left our house. But really, brother 
 Kirk's sermon, to-day, gave me great encouragement." 
 
 " So it did me," said the old gentleman. " We have 
 faith, and believe that our daughter will be protected 
 under all circumstances of life. I sometimes think 
 that she will come home and live again with us."
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 159 
 
 "' Yes, she may," said the old lady. " I hope so, if 
 all should be right." 
 
 " Right or wrong," said Mr. Palmore, " she is my 
 child ; and, as I told her when she left my house, in 
 honor or dishonor she is mine, and I will protect her 
 as long as I breathe." 
 
 " Suppose that she has met with some wonderful 
 disgrace, and has dishonored herself and family ; would 
 you then recognize and receive her ?" 
 
 " Most assuredly I should. This is why there are so 
 many lost women in the world. When a daughter, 
 or sister, or relative, acts wrongly, she is denounced 
 by her friends and acquaintances; and at once 
 feels she is destroyed plunges herself into deeper 
 and deeper misery, and often becomes the lowest 
 wretch on earth ; when, had those parents and rel- 
 atives forgiven and pitied the fallen, she might have 
 repented, and lived a different life. Our Saviour 
 forgave the woman that was brought to him, and why 
 should we not do the same? The disciples wanted 
 her stoned to death, but Christ said : ' He that is with- 
 out sin, let him cast the first stone ; ' and they all went 
 out, hanging their heads down. Such is the world. 
 The very people who condemn others are much worse 
 than those persons \\ho>t- names they take pleasure in 
 tarnishing. "Would to God we could see ourselves as 
 our Maker sees us ; and then, what poor, miserable 
 souls we would prove ourselves to be. If old John 
 Brown could have seen the misery the blood which 
 he spilt he no doubt might have acted differently."
 
 160 THE CEIMSON STAR ; OK, 
 
 " True enough, husband. But, really, I do not ap- 
 prehend any such trouble about my child ; for we saw 
 her married, and the minister went home with them, 
 all right, I guess." 
 
 " Guess sure enough, as they say at the North," 
 said the planter. " There is too much guess-work 
 in the world now. If people knew more, and guessed 
 less, they would be wiser. It is natural for the Yan- 
 kees to guess." 
 
 The conversation ceased, and the old gentleman took 
 a walk along the shore; and, as he watched the rip- 
 pling waves, his mind wandered away to Medora, be- 
 cause she had so often said that wind and water, in 
 some way, would cause her trouble. 
 
 "We will say no more about the family in Virginia 
 just now, but turn our eyes toward the convent at 
 Mount St. Vincent, and see what has become of the 
 heroine of this story. 
 
 Oh ! dear ; she is sick. Sister Josephine is her at- 
 tendant. Now she thinks of her mother, and the kind 
 Lucinda, who were always beside her bed when she 
 was ill ; but she must bear the loss of friends and ser- 
 vants. Soon a beautiful little daughter is born ; her 
 eyes and hair are like her mother's. The kind nuns 
 come around, to sympathize and pray their usual 
 prayers. Medora has been for months brooding over 
 this moment, and a mere wreck of a woman was to be 
 seen. No wonder Lucinda saw her looking so badly, 
 if the girl really beheld her spirit. 
 
 A heart that is stricken with such trouble suffers
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 161 
 
 more, in our opinion, than one could in any other sit- 
 uation on earth. To be deceived in love is, in any 
 way, death itself. But Medora Palmore must endure 
 her misfortunes. 
 
 The babe was handed to her; she kissed it and wept, 
 and said : 
 
 " Poor, little unfortunate soul ! No loving father, 
 and only the shadow of a mother ! " 
 
 Then the tears poured from her eyes, as if her heart 
 would break; and a whisper was heard, as though a 
 prayer Avere offered. She pressed the infant to her 
 breast, and fell into a swoon. 
 
 Reader, no doubt she beheld in imagination the fa- 
 ther of the babe, drowning, struggling for breath. In 
 a few moments she revived; the infant was removed, 
 and she became more composed. The lady Superior 
 paid her good attention, and the feeble woman recov- 
 ered much faster than one might have supposed. The 
 kindness of the nuns and the priest had a great in- 
 fluence on the mind of Medora. She had always heard 
 so many horrid stories about the Catholics, that, like 
 many others, she thought them a wicked set of peo- 
 ple. But she proved to the contrary, during her stay 
 in the convent. She had been educated in the Baptist 
 faith, and never expected to see the inside of the 
 walls of a monastery. But she was agreeably disap- 
 pointed. She was well nursed and kindly treated; the 
 co n sequence was, she almost became one of them. 
 
 Weeks rolled slowly by. The young mother im- 
 proved rapidly. It would seem that the most acute
 
 162 THE CRIMSOX STAR; OR, 
 
 Buffeting can be endured, and even cured. It is almost 
 impossible to believe that this tender flower could have 
 borne so many storms through which she passed. Al- 
 though blighted and withered, she was not destroyed ; 
 yet that dream and its reality often came to her mind. 
 Oh ! that crimson star, and that bloody hand. 
 
 When the infant was about three months old, Mrs. 
 Maria Bruster visited the convent, and found a change 
 in things in general ; but yet her sympathies were ex- 
 cited for Medora. She brought her little son with 
 her. 
 
 Medora was delighted to see them. When Mrs. 
 Bruster beheld the babe, she wept, for it very much 
 resembled her husband. She told her little boy that 
 he now had a sister. The little fellow must have 
 wondered how his sister came to be found in the con- 
 vent of St. Vincent; but, as he was small, we sup- 
 pose he did not think much about it. Mrs. Bruster 
 then spoke of Thomas, the servant, who, she said, 
 had called upon her " to ascertain the whereabouts of 
 the lady who was on board the yacht when her hus- 
 band was drowned. The gentleman," said Tommy, 
 " who was also on board on that day, has desired me 
 to ascertain, if possible, where she now is." 
 
 " He means you, of course," said Mrs. Bruster, to 
 Medora. " Shall I reveal to him where you are ? I 
 have heard the history from a druggist near our town, 
 and, my dear girl, you have my sympathies." 
 
 " No," said Medora ; " there is no necessity for 
 Thomas to know my whereabouts, or any one else un-
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 163 
 
 less I could inform my dear parents ; but that I dislike 
 to do just now." 
 
 " No," said Mrs. Bruster, " there is no necessity for 
 making them unhappy. Therefore, wait with patience. 
 You could not have entered the convent unless you 
 had promised to remain a twelvemonth." 
 
 " That is true," said Medora, " and I will remain 
 during that time ; and, perhaps, for life." 
 
 As the babe lay in the lap of the young mother, 
 Mrs. Bruster watched it closely. " What do you intend 
 calling your babe ? " asked she. 
 
 " Well, I do not know," replied Medora. " If it has 
 no name for years, it makes no difference poor, un- 
 fortunate child." 
 
 " She is a little beauty, and she should be named. 
 Suppose you permit me to name her ; and, should I 
 lose my child, she shall become my heir, as I have no 
 near relatives, only one sister, and she is wealthy." 
 
 " Well," said Medora, " if you desire to name her, 
 you can do so, whether you give her anything or 
 not." 
 
 " I shall call her Ida Blanche, then," said Mrs. Brus- 
 ter, and kissed the babe. She took her departure 
 after having given the mother some affectionate ad- 
 vice.
 
 164 THE CKIMSON STAE J OB, 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 MEDOKA'S ESCAPE FROM THE CONVENT. 
 
 morning, Mrs. Bruster, as she stood in 
 the doorway, was approached by a stranger, 
 who bowed very politely. She returned it, 
 of course. He then said to her: "Madame, will you 
 oblige me by informing me where the lady now resides, 
 who was on board the yacht when the gentleman who 
 formerly owned this farm was drowned? I under- 
 stand from Thomas, a former servant here, that you 
 have seen the lady in question lately seen her; and, 
 by informing me of her whereabouts, you would confer 
 an inestimable favor." 
 
 " Are you a relation of the lady ? " inquired Mrs. 
 Bruster. 
 
 "No, madame; but I am her friend?' 
 
 "I had rather not give you the information that you 
 desire, sir ; but you can ascertain her whereabouts by 
 visiting Mount " 
 
 She then paused a moment. " Sir, if you please, I 
 cannot inform you." The young man thanked her for 
 even that much light upon the subject. Ho bowed and 
 left. He heard the word " mount," and had heard of a 
 certain convent, and did not know what mount. He
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 165 
 
 knew it might be Mount Holyoke, or Chimborazo, as 
 they called it. Yet he remembered that there was a 
 convent there. The thought that Medora must be 
 there seemed to strike him with a great deal of force. 
 The young man was no other than the artist. He had 
 passed many unhappy moments in thoughts of her. 
 He often wondered where she could have concealed 
 herself. Some months had flown, and brought no 
 tidings of her whom he had so dearly loved. Her por- 
 trait was all the comfort he had. He thought strangely 
 that she did not recognize him. We must not peep 
 into the future; yet we know he hoped he should find 
 her. He knew there was a convent up the Hudson, 
 and he would try some means to reach it; and, if there 
 was no such person, he would start for some other 
 mount. He would trace the world over to find her 
 the only woman he ever loved. 
 
 As he left, he wandered to the steamboat, to go up 
 the Hudson. When he arrived at his journey's end, 
 he saw the convent. 
 
 " There," said he, " she is gone from me forever. 
 That building denotes her confinement for life ; that 
 is Mount St. Vincent. That is what the lady meant 
 when she said 'Mount 'and said no more. "But 
 oh ! perhaps she is a mother long before this ; 
 but what care I for that? Oh! could I but see her 
 once more, I should be most happy," said the artist, 
 as he gazed upon the walls of the convent which he 
 supposed contained the object of his affection. 
 
 He stood and sketched the nunnery ; and a more
 
 166 THE CRIMSON STAR; OR, 
 
 beautiful scene was never beheld. Then he turned 
 away from a place which gave him pain and pleasure 
 at the same moment. Delancy made his way home; 
 but no rest to a heart that loved, when he knew she 
 did not recognize him. 
 
 He often wandered in the direction of the place 
 where he had often beheld her. The garden arbor 
 was visited by the artist. He could be seen once 
 in two or three weeks, regularly, standing gazing into 
 the garden as though he watched for some one. 
 
 Spring had come again. The grape-vine was shoot- 
 ing its green tendrils over the arbor where the belle of 
 the South often sat when she first came North. Dur- 
 ing the first summer, she believed herself the true wife 
 of Kalph Bruster; and at times he would walk Avith 
 her in the garden, sit beneath the vines, and, although 
 she did not love him with the wild enthusiastic passion 
 with which some love, she respected and liked him. 
 She knew not then that a venomous reptile lay en- 
 twined in the shape of a man. But the reader has 
 seen his career and his end. 
 
 We say that the first the artist saw of Medora Pal- 
 more in the North was at her house, and painted her 
 portrait. He then saw her in the arbor, and the sight 
 of so beautiful a woman was printed indelibly on his 
 mind her face, her tall, majestic figure, her sweet and 
 amiable smile. Her first appearance was never obliter- 
 ated from his mind ; he was young and passionate, and 
 one who loved and made no pretense. 
 
 But she is now lost to him. He wanders the fields ;
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 167 
 
 he traverses the meadows ; he ascends mountains ; he 
 travels through valleys but no sight, no sound of her 
 name. She lives as though she were dead to him. 
 Oh ! how wretched is the heart that vainly seeks its 
 treasure, its idol ; but often it is lost, lost to us forever. 
 Few are there in the world who find the invaluable 
 treasure. The one who loves another with a pure and 
 platonic affection is a diamond of the first water. And 
 is the artist the affinity of the lady who is now in the 
 convent? That remains to be seen. 
 
 Oh, Medora ! 
 
 There are many people who search for different 
 things and certain persons; but, in some cases, they 
 are never brought to light. Sir John Franklin started 
 in search of another continent, but he has never been 
 heard of since ; or, rather, nothing very favorable of 
 his adventures. And we know that these things 
 occur. Tourists are often unfortunate in their adven- 
 tures; therefore, if the artist shall be so blest as to 
 find the lady of whom he is in search, we seriously 
 hope that she may prove genuine. If she should re- 
 ciprocate the love of such an ardent youth, surely they 
 would be as happy as Adam and Eve in the garden of 
 Eden. But, as yet, we see little prospect of the French- 
 man finding the nun. We will leave him searching 
 rapidly, and see how Medora progresses. 
 
 She is looking much better ; her spirits are reviving. 
 Sisters Jacqueline and Josephine are her room-com- 
 panions. They are women of refinement and educa- 
 tion, such as could sympathize with a wounded heart.
 
 168 THE CRIMSON STAR; OR, 
 
 Such persons are treasures, and a blessing to the 
 world, in or out of the convent. The Superior was 
 also a very fine woman, but quite a different tempera- 
 ment from Madame Bruster ; she appeared to sympa- 
 thize with the Protestant sister. Medora enjoyed the 
 Catholic worship very much. Their faith is said to be 
 very strong. 
 
 Christ has said: " If ye have faith, ye could remove 
 mountains ; and if ye have faith, and say to the syca- 
 more tree, be thou plucked up and planted into the 
 sea, it would obey." 
 
 This is-why many churches are so feeble. They need 
 faith. But Medora Palmore saw the power of faith in 
 many, instances, while she was within the convent 
 walls. She was strengthened in her religion by seeing 
 the nuns exercise so much faith in Christ, the Vir- 
 gin Mary, St. Peter, St. Paul, and many other saints. 
 She was led to believe that these pious men and wom- 
 en, who had been upright on earth, and had passed 
 into spirit-life, must have more power in the future 
 state than she had before imagined. 
 
 The prayers she offered were answered ; their influ- 
 ence was felt ; the atmosphere in which they breathed 
 was thrown around her, and she became more hap- 
 py, more spiritual, more holy. When the carnal is 
 absorbed in spiritual things, then the soul becomes 
 tranquil, and more prepared for association with those 
 who have passed into another state of existence. 
 
 Medora was happy as we could expect, and even 
 more so than many would have been. She knew that
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 169 
 
 the roaring cannon was heard, and glittering swords 
 were unsheathed on the soil that gave her birth ; and 
 she also knew that her only brother was engaged in 
 the mighty conflict; and, although at a future day 
 she might reach her home, her dearest friends might 
 all be consigned to the silent dust, and Edge Hill for- 
 ever desolated. 
 
 Our heroine had rushed to the convent of St. Vin- 
 cent to secrete herself from the world, as her troubles 
 were almost unendurable. 
 
 We do not wonder that her drooping spirits began 
 to revive ; for we feel quite sure that it was not a 
 crime to rescue herself from a watery grave ; she could 
 not have much compunction of conscience. * The 
 reader has seen the clandestine movements of the hero 
 of this story. They have also seen the meek and 
 quiet manner in which Medora bore her misfortunes. 
 
 She was flattered and won by an old man, who had 
 deceived her ; and was partially engaged to another, 
 who was in France at the time. She had loved the 
 young man ; but it seems that he had become more 
 interested in his studies than in her, and she had be- 
 come a little piqued, and married the wealthy New 
 York lawyer. 
 
 We have seen the last attempt to murder her. Now, 
 who that possesses a heart could blame the innocent 
 girl, when encouraged by her mother to forget her 
 first love, and marry the legal adviser whose jealous 
 disposition drove him to destruction ? He had accused 
 the Virginia girl of infidelity, which was as false as 
 8
 
 170 THE CRIMSON STAR; OR, 
 
 his own heart. The artist loved her, it is true; but 
 where and when had they ever met ? this is the enigma 
 which must be solved. She had not encouraged his 
 passion in the least, although she was aware of its ex- 
 istence. 
 
 How many females have we in these days, who, un- 
 der the same circumstances, would have acted as Me- 
 dora Palmore ? There are but few, is the opinion of 
 the writer. We see and hear of false wives very often, 
 even when they have kind husbands. But this young 
 lady knew that she was not a wife, after she found that 
 letter; yet she tried to believe herself the true wife, 
 and Maria the deceived one ; but she soon found her- 
 self a deserted woman, just as poor Charlotte Temple. 
 
 But the artist was not a Montravil, nor a Belchor. 
 Treachery and villainy was not in his heart. He loved 
 Medora with a pure and ardent affection ; yet he con- 
 cealed his feelings as much as possible. If he had 
 made any advances, he would have surely been re- 
 pulsed, although she suspected that she was not a 
 wife, but had been duped by a villain. She felt con- 
 scientious in such things, and believed it to be her 
 duty to be constant even to the man who had betrayed 
 her. How few Medoras have we in this age ! 
 
 There are a class of brainless nonentities, who really 
 believe that all women only need an opportunity to be 
 false. "We feel truly sorry for such a class of ignorant 
 mortals. "We sympathize with such as have so little 
 knowledge of the female character. 
 
 Thank God, there is another class of observers of
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 171 
 
 human nature. There are men who know and be- 
 lieve women to be truly virtuous from principle, and 
 not because they have never been tempted. It must 
 be a very ordinary woman who, if she is thrown into 
 the world to obtain a livelihood, does not have some 
 such trouble to combat with. But the city which 
 stands after being besieged is the one of courage and 
 strength. So it is with women. When we hear females 
 boasting of their good names, we are led to wonder if 
 the pure, angelic creatures had ever passed through 
 the temptations of others of their sex, and remained 
 pure. Then we would admit that they were stainless. 
 But we often fear there are many like queen Bess, as 
 jealous of their superiors as she was of her beautiful 
 cousin, Mary Stuart. 
 
 But, perhaps, those very individuals who have often 
 been heard to boast of their purity, were some home- 
 ly maiden or widow who had never left the smoke of 
 her father's or husband's chimney. We do not won- 
 der that such ladies are virtuous, for they could not 
 well be otherwise. 
 
 We have often contended that a city must be be- 
 sieged and stand the storm ; then, if it does not sur- 
 render to the enemy, but drives them back, that city 
 is substantial. 
 
 The heroine of our story has something of which 
 to boast. 
 
 Tli us it was: she knew that the artist loved her, 
 but she evaded his compliments, and shunned every- 
 thing which might lead him to think of her only as a
 
 172 THE CRIMSON STAR; OE, 
 
 friend. She was young and beautiful, forsaken, and 
 wretched as woman could be, when the handsome 
 artist came to her house for the purpose of painting 
 her picture. She knew that he admired and loved 
 her. She also wondered who he was, and thought 
 strangely of him. But here was woman's conscience; 
 here was woman's virtue, that is so often abused by 
 the opposite sex. 
 
 The artist dropped a few affectionate words inadver- 
 tently, and Medora could have reciprocated his passion 
 with all the fervor of woman; but her education and 
 conscience taught her differently. She shrank from 
 the man whom she could have adored. 
 
 Oh, Medora ! could you have known all, and who 
 this handsome adorer was, and what it was that first 
 induced him to take his pencil, brush, and easel but 
 we dare not say more. 
 
 Eeader, was not here self-sacrifice? And we believe 
 that there are many just such conscientious women in 
 the world. Medora Palmore is not the only woman 
 who has loved, has conquered her passion, and pre- 
 served her purity. This is almost the first lesson that 
 young ladies are taught in Virginia to retain their 
 virtue, if they lose their lives. 
 
 She is still in the convent. She dreams of 
 her childhood. The beauties of the Rappahannock 
 and the day of her false marriage were never out of 
 her mind. Ida Carter, and the novel called " Celia's 
 First Love," often came before her. The laugh of Ida 
 sounded through her ear, as she said: "Well, upon
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 173 
 
 my word, the heroine of this story falls in love and is 
 going to elope with a fellow." 
 
 !She remembered the beautiful language of Belle 
 Meredith, as she chided Ida for talking over such 
 things in the chamber of a bride, and gave such an 
 elaborate description of virtue. Medora never forgot 
 these things, and . often prayed to see Edge Hill and 
 her schoolmates again, and to be restored to honor 
 and peace once more. Christ has said, " Whatever ye 
 ask in my name, ask in faith, nothing doubting, and 
 ye shall receive." 
 
 The Virginia girl had learned to exercise faith, and 
 she really believed that the Almighty would aid her in 
 reaching her friends, and that she w.ould again be 
 happily restored to all that she had been so basely torn 
 from. 
 
 Oh! why cannot we exercise faith ? It is the duty 
 of all mankind. Our heroine should be an example, 
 if she is within the walls of a convent. 
 
 Her infant grows rapidly. It is beautiful. It 
 attracts the love and admiration of the sisters, and 
 even the priest became infatuated with the little dar- 
 ling. Medora was delighted to see her sister nuns 
 take such an interest in her babe. She was devoted to 
 ther child, and every mother becomes interested in 
 those who love her children. 
 
 Mrs. Maria Bruster lost her son, and her heart was 
 almost broken. After recovering from her trouble, she 
 visited the convent, and appeared much attached to 
 the pretty and interesting Ida.
 
 174 THE CRIMSON STAB J OR. 
 
 "Now," said Mrs. Bruster, "I suppose that this lit- 
 tle creature must be my heiress. She, at some day, 
 may be in possession of all I am worth." 
 
 " Perhaps you may re-marry," said Medora. 
 
 "No; I have suffered enough, and heaven knows I 
 never wish to wed again." 
 
 Medora smiled, saying: 
 
 " Well, perhaps my infant will be fortunate, after 
 all." 
 
 "Yes," replied the lady by whom the child had 
 been named, " I hope both mother and child may yet 
 be happy." 
 
 " Perhaps so," said Medora, the tears starting to her 
 eyes. 
 
 Mrs. Bruster kissed her, and left the convent. 
 
 The twelvemonth is nearly up, and the Virginia 
 girl is thinking of taking the veil, and remaining for 
 life in the monastery. She now believes that her babe 
 has met a mother in the wife of Ralph Bruster; and 
 she knows not that the artist is rambling in every 
 direction, like poor Werter, who shot himself on 
 account of Charlotte. Our heroine thought she had 
 oetter become a nun than go into the world again and 
 perhaps fall into trouble. She dreaded to impart the 
 secret of her troubles to her parents or to any of her 
 schoolmates.
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 175 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 MAERIED TO HEE FIEST LOVER. 
 
 'ENRI Delancy had become almost wild. 
 Twelve months had nearly elapsed, and he 
 had never heard a word, only " Go up to 
 Mount " and he did go up, but no satisfac- 
 tion could he gain. 
 
 Her portrait had been wept over; many times had 
 his lips pressed the inanimate canvas. 
 
 " Oh ! " thought the ardent youth, "I would to God 
 that I could once more behold the original of this 
 painting that I could now tell her what I have suf- 
 fered on her account since the last moment we parted 
 at her door. But alas! poor girl, I fear that she is 
 lost to me forever ; and to her family. She must be 
 dead, or in the convent of St. Vincent. If the latter is 
 true, she might as well be under the marble, for all the 
 happiness that I shall ever derive from her society. 
 But oli! Medora, Medora, why did you rush into a con- 
 vent ? Why did you leave one who would have loved 
 you forever ? Yes, as long as this heart continued to 
 beat, Delancy would have loved and cherished her who 
 excited his first fancy." 
 
 The young man was wandering on the Hudson in
 
 176 THE CRIMSON STAR; OR, 
 
 the same direction whence he had overheard the plot 
 between Bruster and his servant, when a thought struck 
 his mind with great force. 
 
 The dull season of winter had passed, the showers of 
 spring had fallen on the earth, and vegetation was 
 budding forth beautifully. 
 
 He longed to fall at her feet and tell her all ; he 
 desired no longer to deceive her; his heart was burn- 
 ing to pour forth its adoration and unveil its secrets 
 to her. He felt that he had done wrong in one thing, 
 that he had not opened his heart and concealed noth- 
 ing on that fatal night of the tragedy, when he 
 parted from her at her own door. He squeezed her 
 hand, but dared not speak. He often reproached him- 
 self; yet something seemed to say to the artist, " Go 
 up the river to Mount St. Vincent, and you will find a 
 sketch worth painting." He at first did not move, but 
 continued to use his pencil in drawing some little 
 scenery which had struck his fancy. A moment after, 
 his pencil fell from his hand, and a voice appeared to 
 say, " Go where you are bidden." He turned around, 
 and was in the act of starting in some direction, when 
 the command of Jonah came into his mind. The 
 words sounded near by: "Go and say to Nineveh 
 ' Forty days and Nineveh shall be destroyed.' " 
 
 " I will go," said Delancy, " let the consequences be 
 what they may; for, if I disobey this unknown warn- 
 ing, misery may follow me all the days of my life. If I 
 obey, Nineveh may be saved, and I may eiijoy a happy 
 existence. I will obey this secret call. I do not see any
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 177 
 
 one ; but there evidently is some one near me, who sees 
 further into the future than I do, and wishes to aid 
 me." 
 
 He hurried off, and started up the river to Mount 
 St. Vincent. A pleasant sail in the steamer soon 
 bore him to the desired haven of rest. As soon as he 
 set eyes on the convent he felt relieved. He had 
 looked upon the building with horror; but now it ap- 
 peared differently to him. He approached the spot. 
 " Now," thought he, " what am I to do here? " 
 
 It was late in the afternoon a time taken by the 
 nuns for a promenade in the garden. The sisters gen- 
 erally walk with them, but their eyes are not always 
 upon every girl. This Delancy knew from reading 
 about the Catholics. As he stood and watched the 
 building, a thought came into his mind: it was to 
 ascend the convent wall, if possible, and try to obtain 
 a glimpse of a human face. But how was it to be done ? 
 He could not imagine at first. It is a tremendous 
 edifice. Surely, any one would risk his life to attempt 
 to ascend those walls. At length, it occurred to him to 
 obtain a ladder, were one obtainable. He looked in 
 every direction, but no ladder presented itself to his 
 vision. He turned around almost frantic. He felt 
 that Medora was then in the building, and, if he did 
 not see her in a few days, that all was over for life. He 
 made up his mind to succeed in seeing her at the point 
 of death. 
 
 "Although it costs my life, it is death without her. 
 I will ascend that wall in some way." Then, turning
 
 178 THE CRIMSON STAB; OR, 
 
 his head in a different direction, he beheld the wished- 
 for ladder. It reminded him of Jacob's, which reached 
 from earth to heaven. It was placed there in case of 
 fire. With one step, almost, he reached the spot, and 
 asked the oAvner for the use of this article for a little 
 while. She was a lady, and she consented. The young 
 man had only handled pencil and paper all his life, 
 except, a while, powder and ball; and she must not 
 suppose him a Samson. But ah ! what is it that love 
 cannot do ? Delilah Delilah was at heart ! and he 
 caught the ladder in his arms, dragged it to the nun- 
 nery, and placed it against the walls. He stood and 
 gazed upon the steep walls of the building for a mo- 
 ment, as if he was meditating the consequence of a 
 fall ; but in an instant more he sprang forward, with as 
 much agility as Crassus did when he dashed his horse 
 through the Parthian army. The thought of the artist 
 was the same as that of the heroic Eoman " If the 
 Parthians slay me, I will die for thee, Some." Neither 
 the rugged chain of mountains, nor the supplications 
 of Octavius, deterred the Eoman commander from 
 doing what he believed to be his duty ; and, although 
 he was slain by the barbarians, he died in honor of 
 his country. " For thee, Medora," the artist exclaimed, 
 " I will likewise die ; " and, with the rapidity of a 
 squirrel, Delancy ascended the ladder the brave Cras- 
 sus for a moment. 
 
 "There never was a victory gained," thought he, 
 " without some defeat." As he reached the top of the 
 ladder, he could see the windows of the nunnery.
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 179 
 
 The garden beneath looked beautiful. Some of the 
 flowers were just closing their petals. The air seemed 
 impregnated with fragrance. " I will sketch the scene," 
 thought he. Having pencil and paper in hand, he 
 sketched the nunnery from the top of the wall. After 
 he had finished, he thought to himself, " Is this all for 
 which I came ? Am I to be disappointed ? Is there not 
 a glimpse to be had of the sweet face which I believe 
 to be immured within these walls ? " 
 
 As he was in the act of turning around to descend 
 the ladder, for fear he might be seen, he beheld a fe- 
 male come to the window. His heart beat Avith joy. 
 "Ah!" said he to himself, "perhaps I may see the face 
 of the one I adore." 
 
 He waited with a palpitating heart. Directly, an- 
 other young lady came and leaned upon the shoulder 
 of her friend, as though she loved her. She was tall, 
 and thin, and pale; but she looked heavenly as she 
 raised her eyes to the skies, and appeared to move her 
 lips. The artist sat motionless for a few moments; 
 then, in an instant more, the beautiful face of Medora 
 appeared beside those of the young ladies, and in her 
 arms she clasped an infant. 
 
 " God ! "' said the artist, " there she is." He 
 grasped the ladder tightly, or in his agitation he would 
 have fallen. His heart beat vehemently; his blood 
 almost ran cold; a chilling sensation pervaded his 
 body, and he felt as though he would fall. " I am gone 
 now," he whispered ; but held on with all the strength 
 he possessed.
 
 180 THE CRIMSON STAR; OR, 
 
 "I have seen her once more, thank God!" 
 
 He then seemed to revive, and his courage returned. 
 He gazed wistfully into her face. She had on a light 
 wrapper, and her hair still hung in ringlets around 
 her shoulders ; and her lips parted Avith a sweet smile, 
 as she stood and let the babe play at the window. 
 
 " Oh! what shall I do?" thought Delancy, "to at- 
 tract her attention for a moment." 
 
 Taking out pencil and paper, he hurriedly wrote a few 
 lines. Perhaps the reader would like to see what they 
 were. A queer place from whence to date a love-letter, 
 certainly; but he cared not for place and circum- 
 stances; therefore he wrote from the top of the ladder. 
 
 THE HANDWRITING ON THE WALL. 
 
 "ST. VINCENT. 
 
 " I write you, my dearest and most beloved of all on 
 earth, from the top of the ladder. 
 
 " Medora, dear Medora ! I deceived you in re- 
 gard to my identity; but it was in order to see you, 
 and to be near you, that I assumed this name. Permit 
 me, dearest, to explain all, as this is the last time I 
 shall see you, unless you listen to my plea. 
 
 " I am Eugene Appomore, your long lost and absent 
 lover ; but never have I ceased to think of you a mo- 
 ment, through all these long years of strife. Now I 
 will make an attempt to give you an idea of my ab- 
 sence, and my suffering since we parted. 
 
 " I passed through my collegiate course in France, 
 and graduated with high honors. I became fascinated
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 181 
 
 with my pencil and brush ; therefore, I thought I 
 would stay awhile, and visit Italy, to see the finest 
 scenery in world. 
 
 "I had written you several letters, which I never 
 received an answer to ; then I made up my mind to 
 sail for the United States; but the war was in full 
 blast, and all communications cut off, or I should have 
 written you immediately. 
 
 " I came to New York (intending to fight for the 
 Southern States), and ran the blockade to Charleston; 
 was captured, and thrown into prison for over a year. 
 
 " Dear Medora, I suffered very acutely. I lay on the 
 bare planks of the cold floor, with one blanket over 
 me; and my food was coarse, such as I could hardly 
 swallow. But, in all this suffering, you were never 
 out of my mind, dear girl. After this, I was draft- 
 ed into the Northern army, and was compelled to 
 light against the South. It is true, I was pro- 
 moted to a colonel gained reputation; but honor 
 sinks into nothingness without you, dear one. But 
 now that this bloody war is over, and the North 
 and South are friends again, I am happy. I then 
 resumed my occupation as an artist; and, on the 
 very day I had intended to start for Virginia to 
 see you, by accident I met a stranger who was 
 inquiring for a good artist, for the purpose of 
 painting the portrait of his wife. I was introduced 
 to him at my hotel. He requested me to go to his 
 house to do the work; saying that he would meet me 
 in his carriage, on the following day. He told me he
 
 182 THE CRIMSON STAR; OR, 
 
 was then residing at a country-seat, up the Hudson. 
 You must imagine my feelings on being introduced 
 to you, my own beloved, and lost one to me. 
 
 " Medora, when I saw that you were another man's 
 wife, I thought I should die. 0, ye gods! how I suffered. 
 No tongue can describe my feelings. The little girl 
 that I had thought I should see again in Virginia was 
 now Mrs. Ealph Bruster, whose portrait I had been 
 brought here to paint. My brain reeled ; my blood 
 ran cold in my veins, the moment you were intro- 
 duced to me as the gentleman's wife. You remember, 
 I grasped my chair quickly, and seated myself; 
 I could not have stood a moment more. You gazed 
 at me strangely, and remarked that 'the ride was long 
 and tedious ; ' and called for a glass of wine, to refresh 
 me which I drank with your husband. 
 
 " I was happy to see that you did not recognize me. 
 I supposed that my long whiskers, sunburnt face, and 
 French cap was some disguise. For me, then, I as- 
 sumed the name of Henri Delancy, which came into 
 my mind at that moment. 
 
 " Oh ! Medora, lost Medora ; with what vigilance I 
 have labored to find your whereabouts, all the while, 
 is more than I can describe. After my first visit to 
 you, for fear you would after a while find me out, I 
 wore a mask, under which I was able to conceal 
 myself from your scrutiny. How strangely, dear 
 Medora, we were thrown together! But Providence 
 permitted it to be so, that I should be the means of 
 saving your precious life. But, oh, how painful it was
 
 THE MIDXIGHT VISION. 183 
 
 for me to see and know that your husband was un- 
 kind to you. For you, dearest, I would have sacrificed 
 my own life ; for, if the wicked plot which was con- 
 cocted by your husband and servant had succeeded, I 
 would have risked my life to save yours. And, if that 
 had been impossible for me to have done, we both 
 would have perished together. But fate did not will 
 that it should be so. Now that I have seen your 
 lovely face, refuse not my request. 
 
 "On the evening that I separated from you at your 
 door, I was tempted to unburden my heart and unmask 
 my face, and tell you all ; that it was I, Eugene Eu- 
 gene Appomore ; but, in your state of excitement and 
 feeble health, I dared not do it. 
 
 " Oh ! Medora Palmore as you once told me to call 
 you for God's sake, hear my plea ! For nearly a twelve- 
 month I have searched for you; and, by the aid of 
 Providence, I am to-day blest with my desire, after 
 risking my life. Now, dearest, will you not fly with 
 me ? You may be contented within these walls, but 
 it is only because you had so much trouble without, 
 and knew not how otherwise to bury it. But now I 
 see you have a darling infant in your arms it must 
 be your own. If you will go with me from this place, 
 I will forever prove a faithful husband to you, and a 
 father to your offspring. Tell me tell me quickly, in 
 few words, should you receive these lines, how I may 
 manage to release you from this building. If you re- 
 fuse, the cold sweat of death will soon fall upon me. 
 To love another woman is impossible. From the first
 
 184 THE CKIMSON STAR; OB, 
 
 glimpse I had of you, when but a child, I loved you 
 dearly ; and now that you have matured into a lovely, 
 charming angel of earth, I cannot live without you; 
 but your situation forbade my making it known. Now 
 you are free, I ask you to be mine forever. If you re- 
 fuse, I am lost lost! forever lost! If you accept, 
 earth will hold no heart so happy as mine. I send you 
 my picture ; but, in either event, I am 
 
 " Ever your devoted 
 
 APPOHOBE." 
 
 He folded the paper, ana tied it to his small pen- 
 knife, and threw it toward the window. The young 
 ladies had left, and only Medora stood in view. The 
 artist felt his hopes revive as the paper fell in the right 
 direction. He noticed that Medora looked more at- 
 tentively; then it appeared to him that she noticed 
 something particularly. All at once she sprang from 
 the Avindow, and rushed into the yard. Then, casting 
 her eyes upward, she beheld the artist on the wall. He 
 let the string fall at her feet. She trembled and turned 
 pale, but she caught the paper in her hand, and in an- 
 other instant she was gone. 
 
 In a few moments his fate Avas to be sealed. Denial 
 or acceptance must come, and he must be prepared for 
 the worst. His heart was beating wildly, and his tem- 
 ples throbbing. She came to the window and threw 
 down a paper, which was attached to the same string, 
 and fled. 
 
 Now preparing himself for the worst, we will not
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 185 
 
 detail how he obtained the paper, nor how eagerly it 
 was read. Here it is : 
 
 "ST. VINCENT. 
 "DEAR HENRI OR EUGENE: 
 
 "In heaven's name, Eugene, is it so that we shall 
 meet again? I cannot realize that this letter is from 
 your pen, my long lost and absent friend. I know not 
 why I went to the convent window this afternoon ; it 
 is something that I have not done since I have been 
 within these walls ; but, being attracted to the window, 
 I saw the floating string, and, by some supernatural 
 power, something seemingly forced me to see what it 
 was ; therefore, I rushed out into the yard and caught 
 it into my hand, as a boy would catch his kite. At the 
 moment, I turned my eyes heavenward, and there I be- 
 held a man on the wall, and oh, Eugene! Eugene! is 
 it you ? Can it be possible ? Are the good angels 
 around us trying to cement the broken links together? 
 Yes, I believe it is so. In a moment more I flew back 
 into my room, and, on tearing the paper open, I recog- 
 nized your photograph. Oh ! Eugene, I feel so strangely 
 my brain reels. I feel as if I shall scarcely survive 
 this shock. Joy has often produced death. My heart 
 throbs my pulses fly. It is a dream surely it can- 
 not be true that I shall once more behold your dear 
 face again. One week from to-day, I was to take 
 the black veil. My troubles had been so great, that I 
 had renounced the idea of visiting my best friends, 
 my dear parents, again. To become u nun, and live a
 
 186 THE CRIMSON STAR; OR, 
 
 holy life, and reach heaven at last, is all that I have 
 desired. But, oh Eugene ! that I have seen you, and 
 know that you still love me, is sufficient for me to 
 escape from the convent. 
 
 " My heart my heart now tells me where its home 
 is. Yes, I will go with you. I have been most kindly 
 treated here; made many friends with the nuns, and 
 the lady Superior has treated me like a sister; but now 
 I will not stay. Ah! well do I remember the first 
 day you came to paint my portrait. I thought then 
 how strangely you acted ; but the mystery is all solved 
 now. 
 
 " On Saturday next, about four o'clock in the after- 
 noon, the convent gate will be open, for the purpose of 
 the putting in of coal and wood. Have a carriage 
 near. I will go. 
 
 " Ever yours, 
 
 "MEDORA." 
 
 Readers, can you imagine the feelings of the young 
 man as he read the above ? 
 
 " Oh," said he, faintly, " what is there that time and 
 courage cannot accomplish?" But he checked the 
 feeling by whispering: "'Many a slip 'twixt the cup 
 and lip.' I may not get her, even now ; but I will use 
 my best exertions. I thank God, she loves me. I am 
 happy." 
 
 Down, down the ladder he came, scarcely knowing 
 where he was. He walked back, and caught up 
 the ladder with tenfold more power thau when he
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 187 
 
 had removed it; he carried it back to the owner, 
 whom he offered to pay for the use of it, but who re- 
 fused any remuneration. 
 
 Henri returned home. He sketched no more until 
 some months after. He was quite another being. A 
 smile flitted over his countenance during the week, at 
 times, but the young man could not sleep ; no more 
 slumbers for him, until he found her whom.^ his soul 
 loved. The twelfth verse of the thirteenth chapter of 
 Proverbs may well be applied to his case: "Hope 
 deferred maketh the heart sick ; but when the desire 
 cometh, it is a tree of life." 
 
 The day arrived when Henri Delancy was again to 
 near the convent walls. Never before had the familiar 
 scenery appeared more beautiful to his eyes. Love ap- 
 pears to change the hills, the valleys, the lakes, and 
 the rivers. All seem to speak the language of a pas- 
 sion which is uncontrollable ; and all who have felt the 
 pungent power in their hearts must have some sym- 
 pathy for the young man who is on his way to the con- 
 vent to endeavor to release her whom his heart adores. 
 
 As he drew near the spot he trembled. An aspen 
 leaf would not have quivered more in a gale of wind; 
 but courage he was determined to have, and of cour- 
 age he was not destitute. He had ordered a carriage 
 to be at the post she had named, and he was at the 
 appointed place on time, at four o'clock. 
 
 Medora was preparing to escape. In the morning 
 she had kissed the lady Superior and her sister nuns 
 for the last time; but they did not for a moment sus-
 
 188 THE CRIMSON STAB; OR, 
 
 pect that those kisses were the last which should be 
 imprinted on their lips by our heroine. As she gave 
 the parting kiss, tears lingered in her beautiful eyes, 
 for she knew that the day had arrived for Eugene to 
 come for her; and, being aware of his ardor and 
 determination, she felt quite sure that the last day had 
 been spent in the nunnery. As the clock struck four 
 she looked out of a window, and saw the men put- 
 ting in coal and wood ; casting her eyes further on, 
 she beheld the carriage. Her frame trembled ; her lips 
 quivered ; her heart beat wildly. The time had come ; 
 the attempt to escape from Mount St. Vincent must 
 now be made the place where she had passed many 
 happy days with the sainted sisters, and mother 
 superior, and the father confessor. 
 
 But Medora had again seen the face of the only 
 man she had ever loved on earth. She was even a 
 school-girl again; yet it was when she was very young 
 that Eugene had gone to France to finish his educa- 
 tion, and Avhile there he became interested in his 
 brush and easel; and how queer it was that he should 
 paint her portrait! Medora had learned by acute 
 experience to conceal her feelings, but now they must 
 burst forth from a heart which could no longer keep 
 the passion pent up within her bosom. She flew like 
 light from her room, with her infant in her arms. 
 Down, down the long, winding flight of stairs she 
 glided, and onward through the spacious halls she 
 tripped lightly; and, as God would have it, when she 
 reached the lower hall, the front door was open for
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 189 
 
 one of the wonders of the age. Previous to this 
 morning, the door, when open, had been guarded by 
 some one standing near ; but this afternoon no one 
 was visible. 
 
 When Medora reached the door, she offered up in her 
 heart a prayer to God, and to the mother of Jesus, for 
 her safety while beneath the sainted roof of Mount 
 St. Vincent ; and, with a tear lingering in her beautiful 
 eye, she flew like lightning from the door. As her 
 feet touched the ground, she was met by the man who 
 had induced her to leave the sacred portals of the mon- 
 astery. One long breath was drawn, and one shriek of 
 pleasure was heard, and these words fell from the lips 
 of the artist : 
 
 " My God ! my God ! is it you, dear Medora ? is it 
 possible that we have met again ? " 
 
 " Yes," she replied, " but not a moment have we to 
 spare. Oh ! Eugene, Eugene," she whispered. 
 
 He caught her infant from her arms, and, holding her 
 hand, they walked a few steps very quickly, and then 
 she was lifted into the carriage in an instant. Eugene 
 Appomore we will drop the fictitious name, and call 
 our hero by a dearer one to her Eugene seated himself 
 by her side, and ordered the driver to drive as fast as 
 possible ; and in a short time they had arrived at the 
 boat. After they were on board, then the artist had a 
 little time to express his deep feelings to her, who pos- 
 sessed a heart to reciprocate every emotion of his excited 
 soul. "Oh, dear Medora!" was all he could say, 
 trembingly, while the tears burst forth from his eyes.
 
 190 THE CRIMSON STAB J OB, 
 
 He clasped her hand ardently, and was as pale as 
 death, and quite as immovable as a statue. For some 
 time they gazed into each other's faces; and Medora, for 
 the first time in her life, awoke to feelings that she 
 knew not before that she was capable of enjoying. 
 
 Oh ! reader, if you have loved, and have been sepa- 
 rated, and have met again, you can better imagine 
 the pungent feelings of the heroine and hero of our 
 story. We say they sat motionless, and gazed into 
 each other's faces, each one in tears, each one's heart 
 throbbing like that of a young bird when in the hands 
 of a child. Each countenance denoted the emotions of 
 the hearts of the lovers. The eyes always speak the 
 language of the soul. Is there anything so sublime, 
 so tran scendently beautiful to the human heart, as the 
 object of its own affection ? We say, nothing on earth 
 can so elevate a human being as love pure and pla- 
 tonic affection. 
 
 Eugene and Medora, the injured Virginia belle, were 
 now happy. Even to look upon each other was a 
 never-ending source of bliss. Their hearts beat with 
 one pulsation, each eye lighted with the same electric 
 fire, each lip trembled with the tender passion which 
 enraptured their souls. 
 
 Oh ! how sublime and superlatively beautiful all na- 
 ture appeared to the lovers, who had so long been sep- 
 arated by the walls of Mount St. Vincent. But now 
 they are happy. In a few hours they reached New 
 York, and stopped at the St. Nicholas. They had in- 
 tended to go on immediately to the minister of a Bap-
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 191 
 
 tist church, and be married, but the fatigue and over- 
 excitement rendered Medora unable to accomplish 
 their marriage on the, same evening that witnessed 
 their escape. 
 
 When they reached the hotel, she had a burning 
 fever, and felt that death would soon seize her vitals. 
 The meeting of one she had so dearly loved, whom 
 she had supposed lost to her forever, and listening to 
 his sad story, as he explained to her why he wore a 
 mask to conceal his real identity this was more 
 than she could endure; therefore she was thrown into 
 convulsions, and some hours elapsed before she 
 recovered. The sweet little Ida Blanche was scarcely 
 thought of during all this excitement; but when the 
 young mother believed that she was about to die, she 
 spoke of her infant, and wished it to be given up to 
 Mrs. Maria Bruster, who had formerly wished to adopt 
 it. 
 
 Eugene escorted his intended bride to a chamber, 
 and wished to go immediately for a physician ; but 
 Medora requested him to wait, thinking, perhaps, that 
 it was her fright in escaping from the convent which 
 had overpowered her nerves, and the excitement of 
 meeting him under such circumstances, and hearing 
 from him that he was the artist disguised, who had 
 BO long and truly loved her; and that, if she remained 
 quiet, she would soon recover from the shock. But 
 her fragile form was not strong enough to pass through 
 such excitement, and quickly overcome it. She was 
 ill all night Eugene sat beside her, and wept bitter
 
 192 THE CKIMSON STAB; OB, 
 
 tears, which flowed from a heart that truly loved 
 such tears as Mark Antony shed when he believed 
 that Cleopatra had murdered herself. 
 
 Who could not sympathize with the young artist ? 
 His wildest wishes are now on the very verge of de- 
 struction. His life had been embittered for a long 
 while, in consequence of the woman whom he had just 
 released from those confining walls. Now she lies 
 almost speechless and powerless, and has a dear babe for 
 him to take care of. A nurse was procured for the 
 little cherub, whose playful glee was not subdued by 
 the illness of her mother. 
 
 " This is to be my fate," she said to Eugene.
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 193 
 
 CHAPTEE XII 
 
 THE BRIDE'S ILLNESS. 
 
 f'AT could more shock a man than to be on 
 the verge of matrimony and true happiness, 
 and to see the idol of his soul laid upon a 
 sick bed perhaps a dying couch ? 
 
 Oh ! how changeable is life ; and how little do we 
 find ourselves prepared to meet the sudden changes of 
 misfortune which are so apt to fall upon us. Eu- 
 gene was like a bruised reed. Mangled was the heart 
 of the artist who had worshiped the portrait of the 
 girl which he had painted previous to this moment. 
 But just as soon as he had the original in his posses- 
 sion, she is laid low upon a bed of sickness. 
 
 There are many constitutions which cannot bear 
 over-excitement, no more than could the heroine of our 
 story. Love, fright, anger, all are passions which over- 
 power the human system very materially. 
 
 On the following morning, Medora requested Eu- 
 gene to give her pen and paper, so that she could 
 write to her father that she was ill. The request was 
 granted. 
 
 Propped up in bed, she wrote a letter in very emphatic 
 language, requesting him to come come immediately
 
 194 THE CRIMSON STAR; OR, 
 
 to her ; sealed it, and sent it on to Virginia. The pur- 
 port of the letter was certainly very unfavorable ; for, 
 when she wrote, she expected to be carried home a 
 corpse. The letter was sealed with black, in order to 
 induce her father to come quickly to New York. 
 
 After Eugene had mailed the letter, he returned to 
 the bedside of the invalid; and, sitting beside her, 
 tenderly kissed her cold brow, and the hot tears fell 
 upon her burning cheeks. She opened her eyes, and 
 said to him : 
 
 " Oh ! Eugene ; dear Eugene ! do not grieve for me. 
 I am unfortunate my life has been a mystery to 
 myself. I have been a suffering woman, but I am 
 now ready to be offered up." And, placing her hand 
 on her heart, she exclaimed : " Here is peace here is 
 quietness, notwithstanding all that has passed." 
 
 " Yes, my sweet girl," replied the artist ; " you were 
 perfectly justifiable in all you did. I was a witness to 
 all that happened that night." 
 
 She smiled, and said: 
 
 " God's will be done on earth, even as it is done in 
 heaven." 
 
 She closed her eyes, and fell into a slumber. Who can 
 imagine the heart-burning pangs of the Colonel? " God 
 save her save her life ! " was the aspiration of every 
 breath he drew, and of every look he gave. The young 
 man prayed earnestly, for once in his life. If prayer was 
 offered in faith, how often would we receive the wishes 
 of our hearts ! God has never been known to turn 
 away from one soul who has asked in faith, and nothing
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 195 
 
 doubting. The pages of the New Testament teem 
 with blessings which have been poured upon the sons 
 of men, after they have prayed aright. Christ Him- 
 self prayed at the tomb of Lazarus, when He raised 
 him from the dead; when He was in the flesh, He 
 called upon a Supreme Being to aid Him. 
 
 The artist, no doubt, used all the power within him, 
 when he asked God to preserve the life of a woman 
 whom he loved with all the ardor of which man is ca- 
 pable. His prayer is answered. He had loved and 
 been compelled to resist all attractions for her, and 
 was so unfortunate as even to witness the brutal treat- 
 ment which she endured, and dared not interfere. 
 
 Medora was gradually restored to health. As soon 
 as she had sufficiently recovered, they were married 
 
 in the private parlor, by the Kev. Mr. C . They 
 
 had no elegant wedding no external show. Medora 
 was attired in a plain silk dress, and exhibited no 
 pretensions. They were truly happy children of na- 
 ture. They returned to their room, and awaited the 
 arrival of the father of our heroine. Nothing can mar 
 the peace of pure and true love, such as Medora and 
 Engene now enjoyed. Happy, happy! Language 
 cannot describe their pleasure. A purer atmosphere 
 seemed to be thrown around them. Heaven was be- 
 gun on earth. They appeared to have inhaled the air 
 from the spirit-world. They were as happy as flesh 
 and blood could be. There were no mercenary prin- 
 ciples in either heart, and they were destined to make 
 each other happy. Just as God intended his children
 
 196 THE CRIMSON STAR; OR, 
 
 to be they were. Providence, for some purpose, had sep- 
 arated them; and, even when thrown together in such 
 a strange coincidence, which caused Eugene to mask 
 himself in order that she might not recognize him ? it 
 was wonderful. Did she never suspect anything ex- 
 traordinary in the stranger ? She only knew that her 
 heart went out towards the artist, but dared not permit 
 herself to encourage such feelings. 
 
 The officer would have sacrificed his life, in the attempt 
 to rescue her from harm. Providence interfered in the 
 villainous plot, and the Yankee lawyer paid the pen- 
 alty of his own crime. 
 
 Each one believed the other to be sincere; and there 
 was no deception between Eugene and the Virginia 
 girl. We say that they were superlatively happy ; and 
 little Ida Blanche appeared delighted with her new 
 father the only one, indeed, whom she had ever 
 known. We will leave the bride and groom to enjoy 
 their happiness, and return to Mount St. Vincent. 
 
 When Sisters Jacqueline and Josephine missed their 
 friend, they were very much alarmed. Little Ida was 
 first sought for; for they supposed that the child had 
 crawled away, and hidden her mischievous self in some 
 corner, and that her mother had gone to look for her. 
 But, upon a close examination, Sister Fiorina for by 
 that name had Medora been called could nowhere be 
 found. The nuns rushed to and fro, in every depart- 
 ment where they supposed the sister might be. One ran 
 into the room where the Blessed Virgin, the Mother of 
 Jesus was represented, thinking, perhaps the nun had
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 197 
 
 visited the Holy Mother to offer some prayer ; but she 
 was not there. She was not in the room of the Su- 
 perior. They ran into that of Father Hennipen, and 
 with a breathless gasp, as if they were frightened out of 
 their wits, asked the priest if Sister Fiorina had been 
 in his room. The old man was reading, and, laying 
 his book down with quite an astonished air, replied 
 that the nun had not been near his room for several 
 days; that he had wondered why she had absented 
 herself so long. 
 
 " She is gone, then," said Sister Jacqueline, " for we 
 have searched everywhere, and she is not to be found." 
 
 Father Hennipen was thunder-struck at the unex- 
 pected news. No sister had eloped from the walls of 
 Mount St. Vincent, previous to this moment, and the 
 father confessor was worried about it. 
 
 " How could she have got out ? " said the priest. 
 " There is no way of escape from this nunnery, un- 
 less we choose to have them go. Fiorina was one of 
 the sweetest girls I ever met, and the last one I should 
 have supposed would have wished to escape these walls; 
 and her babe was an idol to us all." 
 
 " Yes," replied sister Jacqueline, " little Ida was our 
 pet, and we are almost crazy." 
 
 "She came in with her own free will," said the 
 priest, "and, had we known that she wished to leave, 
 she would have been welcome to go; although she was 
 just on the verge of taking the black veil, and becom- 
 ing a nun for life. We have lost a treasure, but we 
 must pray for her return to the Catholic faith."
 
 198 THE CRIMSON STAR ; OB, 
 
 " Yes," replied the sister, " we were going to take 
 the veil together, and we so much regret her absence." 
 
 " We may hear from her again," observed the priest. 
 " She has not eloped from the convent from any par- 
 ticular antipathy to us, I feel quite sure." 
 
 "We believe the same," replied the sisters; "but it 
 would be a satisfaction to know why she left, and how 
 she got out of the house." 
 
 " So it would," said Father Hennipen. " Perhaps 
 she will write and let us know. The servant who was 
 to watch the door on Saturday, when the wood and 
 coal was put in, must have been negligent. Perhaps 
 she may know something about the escape." 
 
 Sister Jacqueline ran off and called the servant 
 whose office it was to guard the door. The poor, 
 affrighted girl looked ghostly, when she was asked who 
 was at the door on Saturday, when the fuel was put 
 in. She felt duty-bound to tell the truth when ques- 
 tioned; for she was a firm believer in the Catholic 
 faith, and to tell a lie involves a great penance. So 
 Bridget expected what was coming, being aware that 
 one of the sisters had escaped. 
 
 " Were you at your post on Saturday, when the wood 
 came ? " asked the priest. 
 
 " I was sick, sir," said Bridget. 
 
 " Who occupied your place ? " 
 
 " No one, yer riverence. Shure, had I been able, I 
 should have been there meself." 
 
 " Why did you not send some one else ? " inquired 
 Father Hennipen.
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 199 
 
 " Because, sir, I could get no one to go. I did ask 
 Maria, but she was possessed of the devil, and would 
 not hear me. To tell the truth, sir, there was no one 
 at the door when the fuel came. I will not tell a lie 
 to be punished in purgatory one of those days." 
 
 "That is right," said the priest, "to tell the truth.'* 
 "Are you aware that one of the'iiuns has escaped ?" 
 
 " Yes, sure, yer riverence ; I heard it an hour after 
 she had flitted. It was the fine lady who had the baby. 
 I feel truly sorry, for she was a heavenly being, sure ; 
 and had she taken the black veil, heaven would have 
 had an angel sure." 
 
 "You think then, Bridget, that Sister Fiorina went 
 out when the door was open upon Saturday ?" 
 
 " Yes, yer riverence, I do." 
 
 " Well, that is all I wish to hear. You may go," said 
 the priest. 
 
 Bridget stammered out : " I guess the lady has gone 
 over to the rebels ; because, her brother was in the 
 Southern army." 
 
 " So I heard her say one day ; and she always felt sad 
 when she read the papers, and would speak about the 
 sufferings of the South. But God knows I am sorry 
 she has gone away." 
 
 The girl quickly left, feeling very thankful to get 
 away from her interlocutor. The nuns left the room 
 to meditate upon the absence of their lost sister. 
 
 Some days after the escape, a letter was handed to the 
 Mother Superior. It proved to be from Sister Fiorina, 
 now Mrs. Eugene Appomore, who had been separated
 
 200 THE CRIMSON STAR; OR, 
 
 from the man she truly loved long, long ago. She stated 
 in this epistle how strangely she had recently met him 
 in such an unceremonious manner. She also requested 
 the Superior to ask the priest to forgive her for absenting 
 herself from the convent, and stated why she eloped. 
 The explanation was very satisfactory, and, in beautiful 
 language, she said that her heart would ever be with 
 the nuns, the holy mother, and the father confessor. 
 She admitted their kindness to her, in the most em- 
 phatic language, and begged pardon and forgiveness 
 for leaving; but spoke of her attachment to a gentle- 
 man a long while ago, previous to having entered the 
 nunnery. She announced her marriage ; said that she 
 was perfectly happy, and intended in a few days to re- 
 turn to her home in Virginia. The lady Superior read 
 the letter to the priest and the nuns. They all wept, and 
 repeated many prayers for their absent sister Fiorina. 
 Her room-mates, sisters Jacqueline and Josephine, wept 
 as bitterly as though she were dead which, indeed, 
 she was to them, as though she had lain, in her tomb. 
 
 The name of the Virginia girl and her babe sounded 
 within the convent walls for some time. Father Hen- 
 nipen offered many prayers for her safety, happiness, 
 and prosperity through life. The letter of Medora 
 was a great satisfaction to the priest and all the nuns ; 
 and even poor Bridget was blessed by it, for then 
 all knew that she told the truth. Strict Catholics, 
 however ignorant, endeavor to act correctly, for they 
 very much fear purgatory. 
 
 We will say no more about the nunnery, as the
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 201 
 
 reader has seen the excitement caused by the elopement 
 of our heroine. We will go back to the homestead. 
 
 It is natural that the parents of Mrs. Bruster, as 
 they supposed her to be, should feel more and more 
 anxious to hear from their long-absent child. One 
 afternoon in September, the planter rode out to the 
 post-office, and, upon entering the store, a gentleman 
 handed him a letter. As the old man glanced at the 
 seal, he trembled, and looked like marble. Slowly 
 taking his glasses, he seated himself, and read the 
 epistle. As he read, his lips quivered. 
 
 rt Poor child," said he, while tears stole down his 
 withered cheek. 
 
 " What is the matter, Mr. Palmore? Is any member 
 of your family dead ? " asked a young man. 
 
 "No; not when the letter was written; but I fear 
 my daughter will be dead by the time I shall have 
 reached New York." 
 
 "Oh," said the young man, "that is Mrs. Bruster, I 
 believe." 
 
 "Yes," replied the father. "I have suffered enough 
 for five years to kill ten men. My son was wounded 
 during the rebellion came near death ; and now, per- 
 haps my daughter is dead." 
 
 He folded the letter, placed it in his pocket, and 
 rose to go home. " What could have induced her to 
 seal it in black?" said the old gentleman in a whis- 
 per, as he reached the carriage. " Ah, I guess she did 
 that to induce me to go on quickly. I will go imme- 
 diately." 
 
 9*
 
 202 THE CBIMSON STAR; OR, 
 
 He drove off as fast as the horse could travel, and 
 the poor old man wept all the way. Oh ! how ten- 
 derly this father loved his daughter, whom he believed 
 to be even then in the spirit-world. He hurried 
 home, and, upon entering the house, he looked so 
 strangely that his wife noticed his unusual appearance 
 and said : 
 
 " Surely, you must have heard some bad news to- 
 day, husband." 
 
 "I have." 
 
 "What is it?" . 
 
 Mr. Palmore thrust his hand into a pocket and drew 
 out the letter, which he gave to his wife. As she took 
 it into her hand, she saw the seal and became quite 
 nervous. 
 
 " Oh ! this is from New York, and from my child ; 
 yes, that it is from Medora." 
 
 The old lady usually possessed much courage, but 
 now it failed. She shook so that it was with difficulty 
 she could hold the letter in her hand until she read it. 
 However, she perused it carefully, but stifling her sobs 
 all the while ; then wept aloud, rising from her seat, 
 and, thinking of the letter, buried her face in her 
 hands, exclaiming " Oh, my daughter ! my darling 
 Medora is gone. Who knows but at this moment she 
 may be dead." 
 
 "Hush! hush!" said the husband ; "weeping can- 
 not fetch her back, if she is dead." 
 
 "Oh, heavens!" said the mother, "she must be 
 dead. Dying far away, and uncared for among stran-
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 203 
 
 gers ! " and she wrung her hands in anguish, and 
 reproached herself for influencing her, daughter to 
 marry away from home. 
 
 Medora had said nothing about her romantic life. 
 She had only said that her husband had been dead 
 quite a while, and that she had omitted writing in con- 
 sequence of the war, and other reasons ; but that her 
 illness had induced her to pen a letter in the last 
 moments of her life ; her end was near, as she sup- 
 posed. As the mother read, the anguish of her heart 
 was great. She imagined she saw her child draw her 
 her last breath; she could almost fancy that she saw 
 the black hearse, as it drew her toward some cemetery 
 far away. 
 
 Here conscience was at work. Now are the mo- 
 ments when the mother of Medora suffered for her 
 mercenary conduct. She really believed that her 
 daughter had passed into spirit-life. Oh ! what suf- 
 ferings did a selfish parent endure. All the world 
 looked, to the old woman, like a dense wilderness ; not 
 a gleam of light shone upon her heart ; all was dreary, 
 all was darkness within. 
 
 Medora had spoken of her infant, and had requested 
 of her parents to remember their orphan grand- 
 child. She also spoke of fcha f c<ri0feed girl Lucinda, 
 and begged her father to tell the^iomestic that her 
 mistress had never forgotten her, although a long 
 time had elapsed since she had left Edge Hill ; and 
 requested her father to remember her to all the colored 
 people, saying that she had never forgotten them in
 
 204 THB CRIMSON STAR J OE, 
 
 health, and, now that she was so near her end, every one 
 at Edge Hill was more vividly in her mind. She said 
 that her babe had been adopted by one Mrs. Maria 
 Bruster^ but, in case of that lady's demise, she hoped 
 her father would take care of the little orphan. 
 
 As the old lady sat reading over the letter, and 
 weeping, Lucinda came in. 
 
 " Oh, missus," said the girl, " what is de matter wid 
 you and ole marster ? " 
 
 " Lucinda," replied her mistress, "your Miss Dora 
 is dead by this time, we suppose." 
 
 " Oh ! mercy, missus, you don't tell me how dat 
 Miss Dora is dead ? " and the poor girl burst into a 
 flood of tears. A sister could not have appeared more 
 grieved than did this servant girl. 
 
 This does not look much like slaves being treated 
 like brutes, as Harriet Beecher Stowe has asserted in 
 "Uncle Tom's Cabin." However, we are not all con- 
 stituted alike, and if our Southern friends are not 
 composed of such loving natures as the Beecher family 
 seemingly are, we should be pitied more than blamed ; 
 but in too many cases she has described our people as 
 tyrants which we know to be utterly false. 
 
 Mr. Palmore had refrained from tears as much as 
 possible ; but, seeing his wife grieving so intensely, 
 and even poor Lucinda so much affected, the old man 
 could not help bursting into tears afresh. 
 
 "Get my clothing," said Mr. Palmore to his wife, "I 
 must leave for New York as quickly as possible. I 
 can travel now, thank God, The war-cry sounds no
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 205 
 
 more; but oh, oh, my poor child ! had she tried to 
 reach her own dear home, and died here, I, like Jacob, 
 could lie down and die in peace." 
 
 With the assistance of Lucinda, his wardrobe was 
 soon ready; it had been plentifully sprinkled by the 
 tears of both, as they packed it. 
 
 " Don't weep so much, girl," said her master to her, 
 in a feeling tone. " If your Miss Medora is dead, tears 
 cannot bring her back; and if she is living, money 
 cannot keep her in the North. Now the war is over, 
 I will fetch her home at the risk of my life." 
 
 Lucinda said, low to herself, as she left the room : 
 " God grant dat Miss Medora libes, and dat dear little 
 baby, and dat dey come home to us again ; den dis 
 chile would be happy. I don't care about de niggers 
 all being free ; I will stay wid Miss Dora." 
 
 So saying, she hurried into the kitchen to tell Joe to 
 put the horses to the carriage, to take her master to the 
 steamboat. As she approached the coachman, he looked 
 surprised at the girl, and said : 
 
 "What is the matter, Lucinda?" 
 
 " De Lo'd-a-massy, Joe, poor Miss Dora is dead ; and 
 ole marster is gwine to fetch her body home, all de way 
 from New York, if she ain't buried afore he gits clere. 
 And, if she is, he is gwine to take her up and lay her 
 here in de ole grave-yard." 
 
 " You don't say so," cried Joe, as much astonished 
 as the girl was ; " how eber did you hear dat ? " 
 
 " Ole marster got a letter dis afternoon," replied the 
 girl, weeping all the while.
 
 206 THE CRIMSOX STAB: OE, 
 
 "If dat is so, she mus' be dead ; but Joe don't believe 
 it. I think dat Miss Dora ain't so sick, but will come 
 home, and lib on de ole plantation yet. I guess she is 
 only gittiu' tired of dat Yankee husband she done mar- 
 ried some years ago." 
 
 "What make you tiuk dat, Joe?" asked Lucinda. 
 
 " Bekase I had a quar imagination some weeks ago, and 
 saw her come home, an' she was married to anoder man 
 dan dat ole gentleman she went away wid. He was 
 dead, and she was married to a fine young man." 
 
 "I hope so," ejaculated Lucinda, and wiped away 
 her tears. Joe's queer imagination seemed to be a 
 great consolation to the heart of the girl. 
 
 In a short time the carriage was ready, and Mr. Pal- 
 more took leave of his wife in tears, and hastened to 
 the boat. The feelings of Mrs. Palmore can better be 
 imagined than we can depict them. Days and nights 
 passed slowly away, to a mother who was waiting to 
 receive the corpse of her daughter, on the way to the 
 homestead to be interred. Oh ! what acute suffering 
 the parent of our heroine endured for many days. 
 
 Colonel Palmore came home, and found his father 
 gone ; and when he heard the reason of his absence, he 
 fainted ; he loved his sister dearly. As the poor old 
 woman bathed the temples of her son in cold water, 
 she said, in a low tone : 
 
 "Oh, mercy! my son was spared on the field of bat- 
 tle, and now is he going to die ? All my children are to 
 be taken from me. I have sinned in the sight of 
 heaven, and my affliction is great." Her conscience
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 207 
 
 smote her for all that passed. She knew too well that 
 she had encouraged Medora to marry the lawyer. 
 
 But Jasper recovered from the shock, and was soon 
 himself again.
 
 208 THE CRIMSON STAR; OB, 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 MEDORA AND HER FATHER REUNITED. 
 
 'HE spacious building at Edge Hill had long 
 keen silent. Nearly five years the war-cry was 
 heard, which augmented the trouble. And, 
 from the day when Medora had left the old 
 homestead, the house had appeared dreary. No more 
 songs were sung. Her fine-toned Steinway piano and 
 Spanish guitar had not been opened nor touched a dozen 
 times. Her parents wanted to send the instruments to 
 her, but not receiving a letter in so long a time, it was 
 no more thought of, for her husband was able to buy 
 all she needed. But now the funeral services were 
 next expected. Her little canary bird folded its wings, 
 and sang no more songs. How strange this was ! The 
 soft tread of a cat could be heard as it walked through 
 the silent house, everything was so still. The only 
 sounds in the dwelling were sobs and groans from the 
 old lady and the colored girl Lucinda. Many of the 
 slaves had left; but two or three house-servants would 
 not leave. The acute sufferings of the mother of our 
 heroine can only be imagined by persons who have 
 suffered likewise. Conscience conscience, the mid- 
 night tormentor racked the heart of Mrs. Palmore 
 until she was sick. She knew that something must
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 209 
 
 have been wrong, from the fact of her daughter not 
 having written until she was prostrate upon a sick 
 bed; that was sufficient to induce the parent to believe 
 that all was not gold that glittered. What a fine ex- 
 cuse were the national troubles for the lawyer, before 
 he fell asleep beneath the waves of the Hudson. Lit- 
 tle did the mother know the sufferings that her inno- 
 cent child had endured; little did the old lady dream 
 that she had been the first spoke in the wheel which 
 bore her daughter onward to misery untold. She had 
 encouraged her child to marry a man whom she could 
 not love. Oh! that every parent, every relative who 
 has the care of a young female, may remember the fate 
 of Medora Palmore, and also remember the agony of 
 an unfeeling mother for now the time has arrived for 
 Mrs. Palmore to be punished for her sins. The reader 
 has seen that Medora has passed through the fiery fur- 
 nace of affliction. The oven had been heated seven 
 times hotter than usual, but the angel of God descended 
 and quenched the flames; she has come forth un- 
 touched, as was the case with Shadrach, Meshach, and 
 Abed u ego. 
 
 Who can distrust their Maker ? Is there a being on 
 earth who could be so vile as to forget the great Su- 
 preme, who watches all our actions and all our 
 thoughts ? He rescued her at a midnight hour, when 
 an assassin attempted to shoot her in bed. He res- 
 cued her from a watery grave, when her life was a 
 second time attempted. He also rescued her from 
 Mount St. Vincent, and she became the wife of the
 
 210 THE CRIMSON STAB; OK, 
 
 choice of her heart. She had endured all the taunts of 
 the radical lawyer in slavery ; he often called her the 
 doll of viscurva, and tantalized her all he could, 
 when at home, in regard to slavery just as if she had 
 ruled the Constitution and the United States. But, as 
 yet, the frantic mother does not know of all these mys- 
 teries. She is weeping and moaning, anxiously expect- 
 ing the arrival of her husband ; and her heart sickens 
 when she thinks of the approach of the corpse of her 
 daughter. 
 
 Eeader, should you have a mother, just let her im- 
 agine herself in the wreck of mind in which is the 
 mother of Medora. 
 
 At this time, the mansion at Edge Hill is almost 
 draped in mourning ; and, in this wretched state, we 
 will leave the family for a short time, and return to the 
 bride and groom. 
 
 The reader has seen the happy union between fe- 
 dora and Eugene, but there is one more scene of pleas- 
 ure to be witnessed before they leave New York. Mrs. 
 Appomore sat one evening rocking and singing to her 
 babe, while Eugene gazed into her eyes, as though he 
 really believed her to be an angel, when a low rap 
 was heard at the door. The young mother ceased her 
 lullaby, while Eugene stepped softly to the door, and 
 opened it. 
 
 A tall old gentleman entered, bowing very politely, 
 and asked if Mrs. Bruster was in. As his voice fell 
 upon the ear of Medora, she sprang forward into his 
 arms, exclaiming :
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 211 
 
 " heavens ! my father, my father ! my long-ab- 
 sent father ! " Screaming with ecstasy : " My dear, 
 dear father!" 
 
 The old man burst into tears, pressing her to his 
 heart, and exclaiming: 
 
 "Thank God! thank God! My child! my child! 
 Oh! my lost Medora. You are alive, my long- lost 
 child ! " was all he could utter, while the tears trickled 
 down his withered cheeks. 
 
 Our heroine could not utter a sentence, but " Father, 
 dear father! I am so happy, so happy ! " and, burying 
 her face in his bosom, she wept as though her heart 
 would burst. Some persons weep for joy, which is 
 strange to us. Reader, here is a darling child restored 
 in health and happiness to a tender father, who loved 
 her as dearly as his own life. 
 
 " But where is your husband the lawyer ? " 
 
 " Oh ! dear papa ; he is dead ! He was accidentally 
 drowned." 
 
 " You are a widow, then ? " said her father. 
 
 " No, no ; " she replied. 
 
 Eugene stood amazed, but enjoyed the scene. After 
 Mrs. Appomore had collected her thoughts, she ex- 
 claimed : 
 
 " Oh ! my dear parent, we are once more happy, and 
 here is a husband of my own choice." She then pre- 
 sented the artist to her father ; they clasped each other's 
 hands as father and son. She put the sweet little Ida 
 into his arms, saying: "Here is another cherub for 
 you to caress."
 
 212 THE CRIMSON STAB; OR, 
 
 The old man smiled as he took the pretty babe in 
 his arms, pressed it tenderly to his heart, and kissed 
 it many times, exclaiming : 
 
 " God bless yon, my child ! This is too much pleasure, 
 Medora," was all the old man could utter. 
 
 Oh ! was ever love more tender than that which ex- 
 isted between James Palmore and his amiable daughter? 
 The happiness which they enjoyed was supreme. 
 
 If our lives were never embittered by suffering, we 
 could not enjoy pleasure when it comes. If we are 
 laid upon a bed of thorns, then we know how to appre- 
 ciate a couch of roses. And Medora Appomore had 
 passed through both scenes in life, as the reader 
 has already seen. She asked many questions about 
 her mother, brother, and all her acquaintances. Her 
 father could talk but little, and did not say much for 
 the evening. He appeared truly overpowered. He 
 gratified her wishes in conversation as far as he was 
 able ; and, after sitting up quite late, they retired. Mr. 
 Palmore had not slept so soundly for years, as on this 
 night of his arrival at the hotel. He had expected to 
 find his daughter dead, or dying ; or, perhaps, interred.- 
 How great, then, was his revulsion of feeling on the 
 following morning ? He asked a few questions about 
 her first husband, which Medora promptly answered ; 
 telling him what a sad fate the lawyer had met, and 
 that she, like many other young Avidows, had found 
 one whom she fancied, and had married again. All 
 now was right. 
 
 The next day, when the chambermaid came to ar-
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 213 
 
 range the room, Mrs. Appomore saw a new face a 
 different girl from the one who had hitherto waited 
 upon her. Upon looking more closely, who should the 
 new-comer be but Irish Mary, who had saved her life. 
 As the girl approached Medora, to ask some question, 
 she stepped back in amazement. 
 
 " Do you know me ? " said Mrs. Appomore. 
 
 " I have seen you, ma'm," said Mary. " You look 
 like a lady I once lived with, but you are much stouter 
 than she was." 
 
 "What was her name?" 
 
 "Mrs. Brnster, ma'm." 
 
 "And where did you live with her? " 
 
 "At a beautiful country-seat, on the Hudson, ma'm, 
 And she was a dear, kind lady, I assure you, ma'm." 
 
 "I am the same lady, Mary," said Mrs. Appomore. 
 
 "The Lord be praised ! An' shure, ye be the identi- 
 cal lady, I do be believing ; " and, seizing the hand of 
 the bride, Mary gave it a hearty squeeze, and the 
 tears streamed down her rosy cheeks. 
 
 " Ah ! Mary," said Medora, much affected, " you 
 once saved my life, and I have often prayed to God to 
 protect you through this vale of tears." 
 
 " Thank you, ma'm ; and its meself that has often 
 begged the howly Vargin to protict ye also." 
 
 " What has become of Thomas?" asked Medora. 
 
 " Tommy and myself are married now, ma'm," said 
 Mary, smiling through her tears. 
 
 " Indeed ! And so you are married ? " 
 
 "Yes, an' Tommy is employed in this hotel. I loved
 
 214 THE CRIMSON STAR; OR, 
 
 Thomas when we lived in your house ; but that hlack 
 trick he was engaged in, when he was going to help 
 that old man to throw you over in the river, put me 
 out with him. He had to say his beads often, and at 
 last was forgiven. So I married him, and he has proved 
 a first-rate husband." 
 
 "I am really glad of it. Well, Mary, I shall per- 
 haps never see you again after to-day ; but you will 
 ever have my best wishes and prayers. You were kind 
 to me when I stood greatly in need of it." 
 
 " Thank you, ma'm. And I see you have another 
 husband, and a beautiful baby; and a fine man does 
 your husband look to be." 
 
 " Yes ; and a good man, Mary, which is superior to 
 all else," replied Mrs. Appomore. 
 
 "Sure enough, and that is the truth, ma'm." 
 
 In her joy at meeting her former mistress, Mary 
 had almost forgotten her duties ; she now hastened 
 from the room, saying that she would return again. 
 Left alone, Medora fell into deep thought. She re- 
 membered more vividly all that had passed between 
 her and Mr. Bruster; the vision of Mary recalled 
 everything. But she cast aside those gloomy thoughts, 
 and remembered her dear husband, father, and child ; 
 and the thought of going back to her old dear home 
 in Virginia, with the choice of her heart, and meeting 
 all her old school-mates, banished her sad feelings. 
 She knew that many of her gentleman acquaintances 
 had fallen in the war, but yet she was happy. 
 
 The morning was fine, the sky clear ; all nature
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 215 
 
 appeared to inhale the pure oxygen which invigorates 
 mortals while upon earth. Colonel Appomore and his 
 wife were taking their last stroll up Broadway, pre- 
 vious to leaving New York. As they wandered along 
 the street, they met Mr. Palmore. He smiled, and 
 said, as they approached each other : 
 
 "Now, my dear daughter, you must bid farewell to 
 New York, and the Northern States, for I wish you 
 and your husband to go home with me, and there pass 
 your days, at Edge Hill, on old Virginia's soil. The 
 slaves are all free, but some are still there, and we 
 could not drive Lucinda and Joe away; so you will see 
 them again." 
 
 She laughed, and asked Eugene if he was willing to 
 
 go- 
 
 " Yes, my love ; you know I am. I am like Ruth, 
 who followed her mother-in-law into a strange land 
 'Where thou goest I will go; where thou diest I will 
 die ; thy people shall be my people, and thy God, my 
 God.'" 
 
 "Strong language," said the father; and they 
 laughed at the enthusiastic husband. 
 
 Returning to the hotel, they were all ready to leave, 
 when Mary came rushing in to bid them farewell 
 
 "This was one of Mr. Bruster's servants," said 
 Medora to her father ; " she was a faithful girl, and 
 one of my kindest friends." 
 
 " Is that so ? " said the old man, smiling. 
 
 Mr. Palmore then opened his pocket-book and pre- 
 sented a large bill to the astonished girl. He also
 
 216 THE CRIMSON STAE ; OB, 
 
 told her, if she ever got into trouble to write to him, 
 and he would relieve her; and gave her his address. 
 
 The girl was enraptured; she had never had so 
 much money in her life at one time. She courtesied, 
 and wept, and implored the Virgin Mary to bless them 
 all their lives, with all the sincerity of her heart. 
 Mrs. Appomore then made her some handsome pres- 
 ents, such as she thought would be of most use to a 
 working girl. The package was left on a bureau, with 
 Mary's name marked thereon. As they were about to 
 enter the carriage, Thomas came running up to them, 
 and, with tears in his eyes, begged the good lady to 
 forgive him for his sin, saying that he remembered 
 the past, and had atoned for all, through the mercy of 
 God and the Holy Virgin. 
 
 Medora smiled, and bade Mary and himself farewell, 
 forgiving all of Tommy's frailties, and begging them 
 to live happily together. The vehicle rolled away ; 
 they soon reached the depot, and the Virginians were 
 on their way home. There was much to mourn, when 
 they reached their home, as many of the neighbors 
 had fallen in the army; but Providence had fought 
 the rebellion, and it was now ended. 
 
 The reader must suppose that Mrs. Palmore had 
 suffered quite enough during this long period of sus- 
 pense. The delay of her husband only confirmed her 
 in the belief of the death of her daughter. Oh ! how 
 keenly she was punished for her wicked, mercenary 
 feelings. This old lady was an exception to Southern 
 character, for there are but few who love money so well.
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 217 
 
 She had been the cause of her daughter marrying a 
 man who had embittered a portion of her life with sor- 
 row. The cup had been drained to the dregs ; but 
 Medora had survived it, and now the old woman is 
 getting her draught in return. God never intends 
 His creatures to be punished innocently. He, at some 
 future day, will permit the aggressor to fall into trou- 
 ble in some way ; and, if they are not overtaken in 
 this world, the next sphere of their existence will 
 repay them for all their wickedness done while here. 
 Darkness will overshadow them ; every wicked person 
 will meet with his reward. 
 
 Mrs. Palmore wept like Eachel, and refused to be 
 comforted. As she sat musing alone in her chamber 
 one evening, Lucinda came wishing in, crying out: 
 
 " Oh ! missus, here is a letter, handed me by a man 
 at de gate ; but he is done gone now." 
 
 The old lady quickly tore it open, and read the 
 few lines which it contained, which were nothing 
 more than for her to send a carriage and wagon to the 
 steamboat ; that they had landed, and were waiting 
 for conveyance. Not a word about Medora. The old 
 lady began to weep afresh ; what must she not have 
 suffered for a few hours ! 
 
 But will the reader sympathize with her? I think 
 not, if they will cast their minds back to the hours of 
 courtship between the lawyer and the beautiful and 
 innocent girl of Virginia. Let them dwell upon the 
 acute sufferings of Medora whrle Bruster lived ; let 
 them remember the mock marriage, his different at- 
 10
 
 218 THE CRIMSON STAR; OR, 
 
 tempts to murder her, how she begged on her knees 
 for her life to be spared; and, but for Irish Mary, she 
 might have been murdered. The mother was the 
 cause of all, to a greater or lesser extent; but now she 
 suffered keenly for her advice. 
 
 They will soon be there, with their melancholy bur- 
 den ; and, poor old creature, she takes a seat in a corner 
 and weeps. Jasper, too, in deep grief awaits the com- 
 ing of the lifeless body of the loved one to the home- 
 stead. Lucinda, weeping at the window, gazes at every 
 passing object, and tells what she sees. 
 
 " Let me know, Lucinda, when the carriage arrives," 
 said Mrs. Palmore. 
 
 "Yes, missus," replied the girl, and, just at twilight, 
 Lucinda, who had strained her eyes nearly out of her 
 head, exclaimed: 
 
 "Dey is comin', missus. Oh! Lord, dey drive like 
 dey is got a corpse in de wagon, sure enough ; Miss 
 Dora is dead, for sartin, dey come so slow, missus. I 
 see old marster sit in on de front seat of de carriage, 
 and he has got his handkerchief to his eyes. Look, 
 mars' Jasper, and see how slow dey comes." 
 
 As Lucinda ceased speaking, the old lady gave one 
 shriek, and threw herself into Jasper's arms. The car- 
 riage drew near, but the mother knew it not; she had 
 fainted. As the vehicle approached the gate, Lucinda 
 sprang forward, saying : 
 
 "They are here now, missus." 
 
 The old lady opened her eyes, and tried to move, but 
 she could not.
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 219 
 
 " Wait, mother ; " said Jasper, " they will be in 
 directly." He was bathing her temples in cold water, 
 and trying to revive her. 
 
 She, in a moment more, shrieked: " Oh! my son, 
 my son, you were spared to me, but now my 
 daughter, oh! my daughter is dead; my darling 
 Medora, my dear child is gone." And she wrung 
 her hands in the most excruciating agony, expecting 
 every moment to see the coffin brought in. 
 
 The colored men had rushed from the kitchen to 
 meet the deceased their beloved young mistress. All 
 was in consternation. 
 
 In another instant, Lucinda bounded in with a babe 
 in her arms, and exclaimed : 
 
 " Lord, missus, here is Miss Dora's baby. She ain't 
 dead. Here she is." 
 
 The old lady raised her weeping eyes, and her 
 daughter rushed into her arms. But her mother 
 could not move a muscle, she lay completely exhausted 
 in such grief, almost insensible. 
 
 " mother, dear mother," exclaimed Medora ; that 
 was all she could say, while she buried her face in her 
 mother's bosom, weeping. Mrs. Palmore feebly threw 
 her arms about her child, and said, in a faint voice ; 
 
 " Thank God ! thank God ! you are alive." 
 
 We will omit a description of the universal transport. 
 The scene was now changed ; the joy was overpower- 
 ing, her father came in, and introduced the new 
 son-in-law. He was received with all joy, and the lit- 
 tle infant was almost devoured with caresses. " I am
 
 220 THE CRIMSON STAR ; OR, 
 
 so happy! I am so happy!" Medora constantly re- 
 peated. 
 
 Happiness had indeed returned to Edge Hill, and 
 none seemed more delighted than Lucinda and Joe, 
 the house servants, who had been so devoted to their 
 young mistress. 
 
 The parents were much pleased with the husband 
 their daughter had chosen, and a happier family was 
 never seen. 
 
 The old gentleman gave up the plantation to his 
 daughter and her husband, and the old couple sat down 
 in ease and quietness. Lucinda was as fond of the lit- 
 tle Ida as fond could be. She often laughed, and told 
 " Miss Dora " that she had seen her spirit standing up- 
 stairs, by her room door, with a baby in her arms. 
 
 " And I knowed den, Miss Dora, dat you would come 
 back some day." 
 
 The news spread abroad, and, in a few days, Edge 
 Hill was besieged with callers. The meeting between 
 Medora and her bridesmaids was very afiecting. In a 
 few weeks after their arrival, Mr. and Mrs. Appomore 
 gave a large wedding party to Colonel Palmore as he 
 had married the pretty little blue-eyed Meredith, who 
 chattered so about the heroine of " Celia's First Love," 
 on Medora's bridal morning. 
 
 The splendid-toned Steinway piano vibrates through 
 the mansion at Edge Hill. The gentle touch of Me- 
 dora's delicate fingers, while she played her favorite 
 airs of the olden times, extorted both pleasure and pain 
 from many throbbing hearts. Tears of joy, and smiles
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 221 
 
 of admiration, ran like an electric shock through the 
 large assembly, while the walls of Edge Hill resounded 
 to music and merry laughter once more. The French- 
 man was charmed and delighted with the bright eyes 
 and smiling faces of his wife's friends, who welcomed 
 him se enthusiastically to his Southern home. The 
 world to her, seemingly, was now a paradise. The wa- 
 ters of the Rappabaunock often recalled to her mind 
 the beautiful scenery of the Hudson. All that had 
 passed was indelibly imprinted upon her loving heart. 
 The scene of pleasure ended the guests quitted the 
 antiquated mansion, leaving the bride and groom to 
 enjoy their felicity, with all the blessings that earth 
 can afford. 
 
 Notwithstanding all this excitement and pleasure, 
 Medora never forgot her former friends ; neither did 
 she wish to punish her enemies. In a few days after 
 her arrival home, she fulfilled her promise which she 
 had made to Mrs. Maria Bruster, the lady who would 
 have adopted little Ida in case of her mother's death, 
 or had she taken the veil ; but, on receiving an an- 
 swer from a friend, the sad news came that this kind 
 woman had passed into the spirit world ! Her life 
 had been a scene of turmoil, disappointment, and sor- 
 row ; yet, at her demise, she kept her promise. She 
 had willed the most of her large estate to little Ida, 
 the offspring of her unprincipled, false-hearted, and 
 brutal husband ; for he had brought death upon him- 
 self, and woe and misery to the hearts of many others. 
 
 The place is noted on the Hudson for its romantic
 
 22-2 THE CRIMSON STAB; OR, 
 
 location. The house stands all alone, and at times is 
 uninhabited, as it is a cold, bleak place in winter. 
 
 It can be distinctly seen from the cupola of the 
 Grant House, in Catskill. The weeping willow, which 
 is an emblem of melancholy, bends its graceful twigs 
 over a little brook which glides gently through the val- 
 ley, where wild flowers bloom, and evergreens flourish, 
 which have been so often plucked by the hand of the 
 unfortunate widow of the New York lawyer ; for it 
 was in this house that she drew her last breath. 
 
 We will not be too accurate in our description of 
 the building, as the property is now owned by strangers, 
 whose ears, perhaps, may have never heard this sad 
 story related. 
 
 We now leave our heroine, and her quiet little family 
 in possession of all the comforts of a Southern home ; 
 yet they spend much of their time during the sum- 
 mer months at^the North. Little Ida is now a grown 
 young lady, and also her two French sisters, Lillian and 
 Gracie, whose beauty would surpass a Catharine of 
 Medicis, or a Cleopatra. 
 
 It is amusing to hear the young ladies, every season, 
 disputing over their summer tour. Part of the fam- 
 ily are desirous of going to Saratoga. They declare 
 that the water of the Washington Spring, at the 
 Clarendon Hotel, is the finest mineral water in the world, 
 and the most conducive to health. They say that even 
 the shade of the trees which surround the springs, 
 and the grassy mounds, transport their imagination 
 to Persia, where the palm-leaves fan the inhabitants.
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 223 
 
 Others would like to spend more of their time at the 
 palatial Grant House. 
 
 "Oh! mamma," says Ida, "I know that Lillian 
 would like to go to Saratoga, but I want to go to the 
 Catskills, where we spent a month last season so pleas- 
 antly. I do like a mountainous country. The location 
 i.s perfectly beautiful, being on the brow of the hill, 
 which is almost perpendicular; and to gaze on those 
 cerulean mountains, which are so vivid to the eye, 
 far and near, is perfectly enrapturing. The air is 
 pure, and the flowers are fragrant, that one almost im- 
 agines they are in fairy-land. I enjoyed the scenery 
 from the cupola as I gazed out upon the beautiful 
 Hudson, which almost inspired me with poetical ideas 
 and the promenades through those spacious balconies, 
 so much ! The drives are beautiful ; the surroundings 
 of no Asiatic potentate's dwelling could ever surpass 
 these grounds." 
 
 " Oh, my dear," said her mother, "you were always 
 enthusiastic in your feelings ; and, as you grow older, 
 you become more like your father. I am sorry, but 
 really, my daughter, you are vain, and I fear you may 
 become tyrannical. Such a disposition would be de- 
 structive to your happiness forever. However, I hope 
 for the better. But remember your sisters ; their tastes 
 must be consulted also, no matter if they are a little 
 younger." 
 
 " Oh ! ma," said the beautiful blue-eyed blonde, 
 Lillian, her golden ringlets falling gVacefully over her 
 shoulders ; " I don't care where I go, so long as the
 
 224 THE CRIMSON STAR; OR, 
 
 guests are congenial, and we can enjoy equestrian ram- 
 bles and terpsichorean feats." 
 
 " Well, my dear," said her mother, " I am very glad 
 you are so easily pleased. I feel quite sure that your 
 father's taste will be to go farther up in the mountains, 
 as he is a great admirer of nature." 
 
 "Well," said Ida, turning away from her mother 
 with a dignified air and the tread of a gazelle, " I sup- 
 pose we will be guided by pa." 
 
 " Then we will spend most of our time at the Laurel 
 House," replied her mother "as your papa lives in 
 a world of his own. He idolizes his wife and children ; 
 yet the pencil and brush are his inseparable compan- 
 ions, and I am sure there is no place on the globe, not 
 even the Falls of Niagara, can surpass the Cauterskill 
 Falls, at the Laurel House; and he told me only last 
 Aveek that he was going, principally, to sketch. He re- 
 marked that, during his tour in Europe, there was no 
 scenery in Italy which could surpass the grandeur of 
 these falls, where the water rushes in torrents over a 
 peak of rocks 180 feet above the level of the sea, and 
 the lower falls at a height of 80 feet. What sublimity ! 
 what grandeur ! With what enthusiastic admiration 
 one stands underneath the falls, and watches the water 
 as it pours in torrents down the precipice, dashing its 
 silvery spray over the flinty rocks, foaming like the 
 sea- waves ! Could we wish a more sublime aspect in 
 nature? One other point he named that he would like to 
 sketch, was Sunset Kock, which, no doubt, will make 
 equally as fine a picture. But the entire surroundings
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISION. 225 
 
 of this place are so exquisitely magnificent that even 
 the talent of a Michael Angelo would be inadequate 
 to the task of picturing the far-famed summer re- 
 sort." 
 
 Just as Mrs. Appomore had finished her remarks, 
 her husband entered, with a smile on his countenance, 
 asking: 
 
 "What is the meaning of this tableau?" 
 
 "Why, dear," replied his wife; " we were only dis- 
 cussing our summer tour, up North." 
 
 " Well, where did you decide to go, darling ? " 
 
 "Just where you please, husband." 
 
 " You know what I said the other day in regard to 
 our travels. We shall visit several places this sum- 
 mer, but spend the most of our time at Schutt's Lau- 
 rel House. I told you*I Avished to make sketches of 
 the prominent points of Cauterskill Falls. I do not 
 know but that my sketches may have been better, in 
 our days of sadness, than they would be now ; but, 
 being particularly fond of scenery on the Hudson, I 
 still cling with tenacity to its surroundings." 
 
 Here the conversation ended, and we leave our read- 
 ers to judge for themselves how smoothly the lives of 
 our heroine and her little family glided along over the 
 rugged paths of life. 
 
 We hope that our story may make a good impression 
 on the mind of mercenary parents and relatives ; and 
 we also trust that the Christian fortitude with which 
 Medora bore her trouble will enable others to bear up, 
 under similar circumstances for the sting of misfor-
 
 "226 THE CRIMSON STAR. 
 
 tune is truly unpleasant perceiving the power and 
 wisdom of God exhibited in this tale. We have en- 
 deavored to depict vice in its true colors, and to give 
 virtue its real merit and due reward. 
 
 Perhaps our readers would like to know whether 
 our heroine ever gave her parents a history of her 
 troubles during the many years of her absence from 
 home. We are happy to say that she did. As she had 
 never been deceptive in any respect, she could not 
 keep the important story from her best friends. And 
 we hope our readers will remember, that when children 
 are born of parents who married for true love, their 
 offsprings are more intellectual, amiable, and more 
 likely to live to old age. 
 
 During the recital, the old couple were deeply af- 
 fected, and they could but rejoice, like Jacob of old 
 when he beheld Joseph. 
 
 James Palmore exclaimed : " I can now die in peace," 
 and, using his own quotation on the morning that his 
 daughter left Virginia as a bride: "All is well that 
 ends well ! "
 
 Mrs. Sarah. A. Wright's New Books. 
 
 The Crimson Star ; or, The Midnight Vision price $1 50 
 
 The Golden Ladder ; or, the Stolen Jewel. Fine binding, 
 
 gilt edge. Fourth edition 3 00 
 
 Improper Use of the Tongue. In cloth 1 00 
 
 The Gem of the Lake. Paper cover. Sixth edition 50 
 
 The Secret Duel. Paper cover. Fifth edition 25 
 
 Who shall be President ? Paper cover 25
 
 Now that our story is ended, we will try and amuse onr readers with a 
 series of poems and sketches on different summer resorts, which will no 
 doubt interest persons who enjoy travels. 
 
 AT 
 
 THE CAUTERSKILL FALLS. 
 
 LEAVING Catskill village for the mountains on tlie Clove 
 road, the scenery is grand and imposing, winding round and 
 round the hill till we reach the summit. To the left as we 
 pass on, we cross Moore's Bridge, where the water comes leap- 
 ing and dashing its furious spray over a peak of mossy rocks 
 of tremendous height, flowing down the brook, passing on 
 through the grove. The road is richly shaded with birch, 
 maple, and fir. As we pass on, if in the evening, the silvery 
 moonbeams fall on the shrubbery like so many glistening dia- 
 monds. When we ascend the hill, we behold an opening be- 
 tween the trees ; then a beautiful mansion of modern structure 
 meets our gaze, located in a grove near the Cauterskill Falls, 
 which have become so noted in history. Standing on the 
 piazza, in front of the mountains, we view a perfect landscape 
 of loveliness. The Round Top rises before us in its azure 
 grandeur, overlooking hill and valley ; then, turning to the left, 
 we see High Peak raising its lofty head towards the skies. 
 This location cannot be surpassed in America. 
 
 We must not omit the romantic spot called Mary's Glen, as 
 it is one worthy of particular notice. It is a beautiful ravine, 
 shaded with tall trees and shrubbery, through which runs a 
 gurgling brook, where pansies and wild flowers bloom. It is 
 not necessary to dwell but a moment on the falls, as we have 
 already described them in our story. We can only say that 
 the Cauterskill Falls are grand, sublime, and no spot on earth 
 that we have ever visited can vie with these rocky caves and 
 lofty peaks. To behold the hand of God in Nature's work is 
 truly elevating to the mind. 
 
 There is a gradual descent from the portico to the falls; 
 fine ground?, shaded with evergreens ; and the fragrance of
 
 229 
 
 flowers is wafted on the morning breeze. At the descent of the 
 hill is the Spray house, which stands on a platform projecting 
 a little over the falls, where there are all kinds of refresh- 
 ments which can be enjoyed by the guests. Here we can view 
 the towering mountains, the sunken valleys, twinkling stars, 
 and gushing waters which come dashing their furious foam 
 over a precipice of rocks 180 feet above sea-level, sending their 
 snow-white spray over the stony cliffs with tremendous force, 
 and gliding on down over the second falls, which are eighty feet 
 above the surface. This is one of Nature's grand panoramas, 
 which leaves an impression on the mind never to be erased. 
 We can gaze on, on, until the soul's admiration is truly grati- 
 fied. Turning from this entrancing picture, we stroll through 
 the grove, where there are rustic seats and benches. There 
 one can sit and watch the scenery around, by sunlight or moon- 
 light, and be reminded of Robert Burns and his Highland Mary 
 while sitting under the gay green birch, and inhaling the fra- 
 grance of the hawthorn blossoms. 
 
 The Sylvan Lake is one of noted interest, as there are pleas- 
 ure row-boats for the accommodation of the guests. This is 
 truly a Paradise, but not Milton's " Lost." The croquet grounds 
 are beautifully shaded, where all can enjoy this game. The 
 billiard rooms are large, airy, and as comfortable as the main 
 building. There are fishing ponds and shooting grounds con- 
 nected with this resort, which is a luxury rarely heard of. It 
 is pleasant to enter the splendidly-furnished parlors, where 
 everyone is perfectly at home, and can enjoy, on a cool morn- 
 ing, a cheerful wood-fire in the good old-fashioned Franklin. 
 It is also truly gratifying to behold the elegance of the 
 table, on entering the dinning- room, and view the shining 
 silver and clean linen. The greatest attractions are the pleas- 
 ant faces and kind hearts of the proprietor, L. Schutt, and his 
 lovely little wife, who is always trying to render her guests 
 happy. We will close our article by writing a poem on Sunset 
 Rock, at the Laurel House, which attracts so much attention, 
 while the beautiful orb of day is resting its last rays on the 
 towering fragments.
 
 THE RISING AND SETTING SUN. 
 
 AT SUNSET HOCK. 
 
 I respectfully dedicate this Poem to MBS. LEWIS SCHUTT, of the Laurel 
 House, Cuuterskill Falls. 
 
 THOU glorious orb, supremely bright, 
 
 Thou art shining o'er the hills, 
 To show thy vast and glorious light 
 
 O'er rocks and running rills. 
 Thou art the eye from the upper world, 
 
 That overlooketh land and sea ; 
 No mortal can resist thy power, 
 
 The rose bendeth its leaf to thee. 
 
 Thy scorching touch is withering, too ; 
 
 The flower beareth not thy heat ; 
 It blooms, it fades, it droops and dies 
 
 Not so with the golden wheat. 
 Thy beams come forth with the morning light, 
 
 From a brighter world on high ; 
 Thy rays, illuminating the broad earth, 
 
 Spread clear for us the blue sky. 
 
 The eye that watches from other worlds 
 
 Is fixed in a sphere above ; 
 It reviews the earth as it revolves around, 
 
 And we confess that " God is love." 
 There is no orb in Heaven's high dome 
 
 Can compete with thy bright rays ; 
 Thy course is onward, and still the same ; 
 
 The world will ever on thee gaze.
 
 8AKATOGA SPRINGS. 
 
 WHILE on business at Saratoga a short time ago, we were tak- 
 ing a morning walk up the main street in search of the Wash- 
 ingtoh Springs. On ascending the hill we beheld a tremendous 
 building, situated on very elevated ground, surrounded by por- 
 ticoes, in a shady grove, where umbrageous trees wave their ten- 
 der branches over green mounds, which form a circle around a 
 portion of the building. From this hotel extends a long porch, 
 through which guests can pass to the Washington Springs with- 
 out touching their feet to the ground. While gazing on this 
 exquisite structure, which is so luxuriously furnished, an idea 
 came into our mind What a great convenience this must be, 
 particularly to invalids, as they can reach the springs, which are 
 but a few steps from the door, and enjoy the invigorating waters 
 this well-known spring produces ! The mineral being a tonic, 
 there are no springs in Saratoga can surpass this water. It may 
 be necessary to make a few comments on the dining-room, as it 
 is rare tha-t such a room is seen with so many chandeliers, whose 
 pendants droop like diamonds, which dazzle the eye of the be- 
 holder. Every luxury the market can afford is spread before 
 the guests, scientifically cooked. It is well known that the 
 Lelands are renowned as hotel-keepers. 
 
 SPRING-TIME. 
 
 I respectfully dedicate this Poem to CDAKLBS E. LELAND. 
 WRITTEN AT WASHINGTON SPRING, SARATOGA. 
 
 O SPRING, revivifying spirit hail, all hail ! 
 
 Rejuvenating nature with thy smile. 
 The valleys laugh and sing, green hill and vale, 
 
 The leafy trees all clap their hands the while ;
 
 232 
 
 And crickets chirp, and bullfrogs' twanging cliords 
 Delight the ear, while sea-birds on the wing 
 
 Kiss sparkling waves. Creation without words 
 Thus breathes a jubilant to balmy SPUING. 
 
 Shall we be mute, nor join the choral choir ? 
 Ah no, with " deeds, not words," we'll emulate 
 
 Another spring rekindle Nature's fire, 
 Man's wintered spirit to resuscitate. 
 
 As freely thou receivest, freely give ; 
 For " Mercy is twice blest " the Almoner 
 
 With the recipient only loves to live- 
 Like Spring, reviving human hopes with her. 
 
 For hath not FLORA'S magic wand transformed 
 
 The snowy clouds to sun-lit drops of rain ? 
 Dissolved earth's frosty mantle, aye, and warmed 
 
 Each honeyed calyx ? Joy's returned again! 
 The snowdrop, jonquil and unnumbered flowers ; 
 
 Their resurrections, e'en from crystal urns 
 Are hailed with rapture, and this world of ours 
 
 Is " Paradise Regained " when Spring returns. 
 
 Then hail, prolific Genius ! and instill 
 
 In human hearts a love that is divine, 
 Invigored by keen blasts cold cannot kill 
 
 The glowing sons of God. With bread and wine 
 Mete out the Sacrament ; let generous grace 
 
 Eaise Gratitude ; pluck out Want's frigid sting ; 
 Let tears of joy baptize the human face, 
 
 As ice, to dewdrops, is transformed by Spring.
 
 ALBANY, N. Y. 
 
 IT may seem monotonous, to some, to follow on in a series of 
 sketches of this kind ; but, as the season is approaching, we do 
 not know that it is out of place to speak of the different places 
 of pleasure resort, while there are so many seeking summer 
 homes. In our visit to Albany, we called to see a friend who 
 was stopping at this hotel. Although we knew the reputation 
 of the Lelands as hotel-keepers could not be surpassed in this 
 country, yet we must confess, the elegance of this house is truly 
 dazzling to the eyes. We feel quite sure that no place in Paris 
 or London can even compete with the magnificence of the Dela- 
 van. What might astonish one is the moderate price of board, 
 considering the luxuries which are spread before their guests. 
 
 CHARLES E. LELAND, 
 
 Proprietor.
 
 SARATOGA SPRINGS. 
 
 WE do not doubt but that there are many persons who will 
 be delighted to hear that there is one hotel whose proprietor is a 
 physician, as we are always liable to sickness. This house has 
 been refitted, handsomely furnished, and will be kept as a first- 
 class hotel during the summer months; but in fall and winter 
 as a medical institute, by N. Bedortha, M. D. , who is so well 
 known to the people of Saratoga, having had sixteen years' ex- 
 perience in that town. Many of his patients can testify to hav- 
 ing received the greatest benefit, in a short time, with but little 
 expense or trouble. Guests can avail themselves at all times of 
 medical skill and advantages to receive treatment adapted to 
 their cases. The various baths, well-cooked food, and neat table 
 are very great attractions to the house. This hotel contains 
 large rooms ; the sick can be accommodated with good nursing, 
 and those who enjoy health are surrounded by the society of 
 congenial guests. Strangers should not overlook this sketch ; it 
 may prove to their interest, if they visit Saratoga. Prices are 
 moderate, and every attention is lavished upon the guests. 
 Before making up your mind, call on Dr. Bedortha, and see 
 his elegant establishment, and you will want to stay with him 
 during the season.
 
 AT THE FOOT OF THE CATSKILLS. 
 
 WE are very happy to learn that J. E. Lasher has opened the 
 hotel above named. We truly regret his misfortune in losing 
 the Overlook Mountain House. The news ran through our 
 heart like an electric shock. Having lost all by fire once our- 
 selves, we know how to sympathize with others who have met 
 the same misfortune. We feel assured, if the guests who spent 
 their summers at the Overlook will avail themselves of the op- 
 portunity of making a tour to Woodstock, they will find Mr. 
 and Mrs. Lasher the same genial souls, knowing how to manage 
 a hotel with as much discipline as they did when they were at 
 the top of the mountains. They are equally as capable of mak- 
 ing people happy as in the days gone by. We do not doubt for a 
 moment but that Woodstock will become as famous as was the 
 Overlook, for the scenery which surrounds it is most beautiful. 
 His vehicles are regularly at West Hurley, to meet guests 
 at the cars.
 
 SARATOGA SPRINGS. 
 
 IN noting the various places of pleasure resort, we should not 
 overlook a very prominent private boarding-house on Circu- 
 lar Street, between Phila and Spring Streets, opposite Dr. 
 Strong's celebrated Institute. There are many wealthy persons 
 who are sufficiently able to pay the prices of the most extrava- 
 gant hotel, but who would prefer a more quiet home, where 
 they can enjoy spring water and lovely scenery, and where the 
 noise and bustle of fashionable life is excluded. To such per- 
 sons we can recommend the Circular Street House, as a large, 
 commodious building in modern style, elegantly furnished, and 
 having every comfort heart can wish. Only three minutes' 
 walk to the Congress and Hathorn Springs. 
 
 J. PALMER, 
 
 Proprietor.
 
 SARATOGA . 
 
 THERE will be crowds of strangers this season at Saratoga ; 
 this we do not doubt, and it is always necessary to know, when 
 we travel, where to find a first-class hotel ; and, as experience 
 is always the best teacher, we can cheerfully recommend the 
 American. Having stopped at this house a few weeks ago, we 
 know it is kept in first-class style fine airy rooms, good 
 board, and the most cordial attention. 
 
 BENNETT, 
 
 Sole Proprietor. 
 
 SARATOGA. 
 
 AMONG our sequestered rambles while we were in Saratoga, 
 looking a little way off from the Clarendon, we notice^ a hand- 
 some building, which is kept as a first-class boarding house. 
 We know there are many persons who will be glad to learn 
 that there are such houses at this pleasant summer resort, as 
 they would prefer a secluded life when they visit this water- 
 ing place for health only. This commodious building has a 
 piazza surrounding it, shaded by a row of beautiful trees, which 
 evidently is a great attraction to the house in hot weather. 
 J. L. HUESTIS, 
 
 Proprietor.
 
 Music, it is said, liatli charms to tame the savage breast. We 
 feel sure that music has a great impression on the mind of 
 every one. King David, the great poet, spoke of the harp of 
 a thousand strings. We are sure that the old king, as he was 
 BO fond of music, would have been charmed to listen to the 
 Ernst piano, which is one among the best-known instruments 
 in New York. It has an exquisite tone, and we would never 
 weary of the music which this instrument produces. It was 
 established in 1840. Sole successors to Lighte, Newton & 
 Bradbury, manufacturers of first-class pianos. 
 
 LIGHTE & ERNST, 
 
 No. 12 East 14th St.
 
 Wk,y to Ckt^kill. 
 
 THOSE who want to go to this beautiful summer retreat, 
 made poetic by its surroundings and the genius of some of our 
 best authors, will adopt our advice to take the steamers New 
 Champion or Walter Brett, Captains Black and Donahue, leav- 
 ing New York every evening, at 6 o'clock, from foot of Canal 
 Street, and enjoy the magnificent scenery of the noble Hudson, 
 surrounded by every comfort and attention an earnest desire to 
 please can suggest. No dust, no noise, but the cool, swift pace 
 that makes one truly happy ; and we usually forget the carea 
 of life while enjoying such a pleasant sail up the river. 
 BLACK & DONAHUE, 
 
 Proprietors. 
 
 of 
 
 As there are thousands who may be traveling this summer 
 who would like to know how to get to Saratoga, we would state 
 that the pleasant steamers Sunnyaide and Thomas Powell leave 
 New York daily at 6 P. M., Saturdays excepted; also Sundays 
 at 6 P. M. The fare from New York to Troy is only $1.00, 
 being 40 cents cheaper than by the way of Albany. It is a 
 very pleasant trip up the Hudson, during the warm weather, as 
 a moonlight sail is always romantic. 
 
 G. W. HORTON, JOSEPH CORNELL, 
 
 Gen'l Agent, Troy, N. Y. Gen'l Sup't, New York.
 
 Upright mno8, 
 
 HAVE OBTAINED THE Hl&HEST HONORS 
 
 Ever awarded to any Piano Manufacturer in the World. First 
 of the Grand Gold Medals of Honor, 
 
 WOKLD'S FAIE, PAEIS, 1867. LONDON, 1862, 
 
 The world's greatest pianists and composers, including the renowned Dr. 
 Franz Liszt, Anton Rubinstein, Berlioz, Kullak, Henselt, Jaell, Marmontel, 
 Gounod, the Academies of Fine Arts of Paris, Berlin and Stockholm, Professor 
 Helmholz, of Berlin, the highest authority in the science of Acoustics, as well 
 as the piano-purchasing public of Europe and America, all unite in the unani- 
 mous verdict of the Superiority of the Steinway Piano over all 
 others, and declare it to be the Standard Piano of the World. 
 
 All American Piano manufacturers, without exception, and a large number 
 of the most celebrated European makers, have been forced to copy the Stein way 
 scales, peculiarities of construction, and various improvements, and to adopt 
 the Steiiiway Overstrung System. 
 
 Of their immense number of testimonials, STEINWAY & SONS beg to submit 
 the following : 
 
 ANTON RUBINSTEIN. 
 
 NEW YOKE, May 34, 1873. 
 Messrs. STEIKWAT & SDKS, 
 
 Gentlemen, On the eve of returning to Europe, I deem it my pleasant duty 
 to express to yon my most heartfelt thanks for all the kindness and courtesy 
 you have shown me during my stay in the United States; but also, and above 
 all, for your unrivalled Pianofortes, which once more have done full justice to 
 their world-wide reputation, both for excellence and capacity of enduring the 
 severest trials. For, during all my long and difficult journeys all over America, 
 in a very inclement season, I used and have been enabled to use your pianos 
 exclusively in my 215 concerts, and also in private, with the most eminent 
 satisfaction and effect. Yours very truly, 
 
 ANTON RUBINSTEIN. 
 DR. FRANZ LISZT. 
 
 WEIMAR, September 3d, 1873. 
 Messrs. STEINWAY & SONS, 
 
 Gents. The magnificent Steinway Grand Piano now stand? in my music 
 room, and presents a harmonic totality of admirable qualities, a detailed 
 enumeration of which is the more superfluous as this instrument fully justifies 
 the world-wide reputation that for years you have everywhere enjoyed. 
 
 After so much well-deserved praise, permit me to also add my homage and 
 the expression of my undisguised admiration, with which I remain, 
 Very sincerely yours, 
 
 FRANZ LISZT. 
 
 EVERY PIANO WARRANTED FOR FIVE YEARS. 
 Prices as low as the exclusive use of the best materials and most thorough 
 workmanship will permit. Old Pianos taken in exchange. 
 ^^ Illustrated Catalogues, with Price List, mailed free on application. 
 
 STEINWAY & SONS' Warerooms, 
 
 Steinway Hall, 109 & 111 East 14th St., N. Y, 
 
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