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 G. P.. PUTNAM'S SONS, NEW YORK
 
 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER 
 
 BY 
 
 ANNETTE LUCILLE NOBLE 
 
 Author of "Uncle Jack's Executors" 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 
 
 27 AND 29 WEST 23d STREET 
 
 1882
 
 COPYRIGHT BY 
 
 G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 
 
 1881 
 
 Press ef 
 G. P. Putnam's Son* 
 
 fftw York
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 WHITE OLEANDER BLOSSOMS . V : 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 ONE YEAR ....... . .19 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 PERSUADING A SPINSTER . . ..,_.. .38 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 MRS. CUDLIP'S MANSION ...... 47 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 A SUNDAY AT MRS. CUDLIP'S . . . . 64 
 
 CF.APTER VI. 
 A SMALL ENTHUSIAST ....... 85 
 
 2061974
 
 iv CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 PACK 
 
 MOONLIGHT ON THE SEA 91 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 THREE EPISODES IN THE LIFE OF A SMALL NOBLEMAN . 113 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 NOT ACCORDING TO ORDER 126 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 THE SPINSTER SPEAKS BUT VAGUELY. . . .133 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 A GENRE PICTURE 144 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 THE REV. BELA SPEAKS 151 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 A LITTLE " ASIDE." 163 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 MOONLIGHT ON LAND .... .''-' 167 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 THE TEA-PARTY 178
 
 CONTENTS. V 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 A SMALL BIGOT ........ 190 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 THE SPINSTER SPEAKS AGAIN AND AGNES . . . 203 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 QUESTIONS NOT TO BE ANSWERED AT ONCE . . 224 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 SUNLIGHT DARKENED 239 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 THE INQUEST 252 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 AT THE BAR . . . 271 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 IN THE AFTERNOON ^ 288 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 AFTER THE STORM A CALM 304
 
 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 White Oleander Blossoms. 
 
 T T 7ALDENTON was like a clover leaf, divided 
 * * into three parts; only, unlike the leaf, its 
 parts were not equally well finished. High Walden- 
 ton kept its carriage, had a conservatory, indulged 
 in European tours. Middle Waldenton took its 
 walks abroad without display, picked its flowers 
 from rambling garden beds, stayed at home and 
 read books of travel. Lower Waldenton was at the 
 bottom of the hill, literally and socially. The peo- 
 ple on the heights walked about in shoes made there 
 below, sent missionaries among the inhabitants, sen- 
 tenced them to the state-prison when they cut one 
 another's throats. A few people of the middle town 
 had respectful intercourse with those above, spoke 
 of them in a tone the least bit reverential, and in
 
 2 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 turn, were characterized as "worthy" persons; but, 
 in the main, the natural terraces of the hill, to which 
 the town clung, marked its artificial divisions. 
 
 The Reverend Bela Hathaway was a Calvinistic 
 divine, the odor of whose sanctity seldom betrayed 
 his existence to the upper town; but he cared not at 
 all for that. He had his church, vine-covered with 
 the growth of half a century, surrounded by its hoary 
 graveyard; and such of his congregation as were not 
 snugly tucked away under the turf, revered and loved 
 their prim little pastor. There were many parson- 
 ages in middle-town, but there was none more home- 
 like than the small one cuddled under the shelter of 
 this broad-winged old church, where the sunbeams, 
 by day, darting in at its narrow windows, revealed 
 the birds' nests under and over them, and made it, 
 through and through, warm and sunny. When the 
 moonlight came, one could stand at these windows 
 and see long tree shadows flit in and out between 
 the tall, white tombstones. Within the house, ev- 
 erything suggested simplicity and uprightness, from 
 the parson's actual and theological backbone to that 
 of his antique study-chair. But after one became 
 more at home in the place, small ornaments revealed 
 themselves violets on the marble high above the 
 old "fire dogs," an engraving of Giulio Romano's 
 radiant-faced Madonna that too, over a shelf of
 
 WHITE OLEANDER BLOSSOMS. 3 
 
 sermons by writers, in their day, full of wrath against 
 the abominations of Popery. The Reverend Bela's 
 daughter had hung the picture there, because she 
 found it lovely; and he had not troubled himself to 
 see what was its subject, for the queen could do no 
 wrong, and queen of this humble domain was Agnes 
 Hathaway. She was a slight, olive-cheeked girl, 
 exceedingly quiet in manner; in -mind well, fancy 
 that for twenty years there had been round about 
 her much theology, most suggestively awful, but a 
 pure, kind man next to her; and that she had the 
 habit of making the most of any sweetness, even if 
 she found it, like violets in the turf by the graves 
 a way of opening unexpected windows to the sun,, 
 for many hours, although she knew all the grewsome 
 shadow-tricks after nightfall. 
 
 Sitting one day, as was her custom, in her father's 
 study, her sewing lying idly in her lap, she watched 
 him as he wrote. He was a thin gray man, in a de- 
 cent coat and white cravat, a man not to be seen in 
 a crowd, unless accused of picking a pocket. Let 
 that happen and he would go free in a moment; for 
 he might not be conspicuous, but he could not be 
 wicked and appear so sincerely solemn. He stopped 
 writing on this occasion and read aloud a sentence 
 just finished : " Sincerity is the most compendious 
 wisdom and an excellent means for the speedy de-
 
 <f EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 spatch of any business. It creates confidence, saves 
 many inquiries, and brings matters to an issue in 
 few words;" then he paused thoughtfully and seemed 
 to be listening to the birds in the vines a while, but 
 of a sudden turning to Agnes he said: "Mr. Rush- 
 more is a very reserved man in some respects; at 
 the same time he is quite expansive. Does he tell 
 you much about himself?" 
 
 " Yes, we often talk of nothing else. I do not 
 find him reserved." 
 
 "I think myself he is something of an egotist." 
 Seeing her about to protest he amended it to, " An 
 egoist, rather; which is not to be wondered at, con- 
 sidering his parts. He is a man of the world." 
 
 The last phrase was not quite apt in Agnes's opin- 
 ion. She said slowly: " If you mean one who has 
 seen the world, that is true; but he seems to me 
 very unworldly." 
 
 "Spiritually minded ?" 
 
 "Perhaps not in a religious sense; but guileless 
 and childlike." 
 
 " That is singular. Men who adapt themselves to 
 any latitude, as he says he does, may gain consider- 
 able experience, but, of a surety, they must lose the 
 childlike element out of them." 
 
 There was nothing aggressive in the clergyman's 
 tone, so Agnes, who made Mr. Rushmore's charac-
 
 WHITE OLEANDER BLOSSOMS. 5 
 
 ter much of a study, did not think it best to urge her 
 own conclusions. 
 
 " He comes here a great deal," he continued. 
 "Why does he?" 
 
 " He says he likes to come, although I have little 
 of interest to say to him. I propose often to call 
 you, but he says no." 
 
 " Are his visits tiresome ?" 
 
 "O, not at all ! He is like a new book a whole 
 library of them, or the journeys I would like to take. 
 In our rambling talks, I see odd places and novel 
 acting, different thinking people. I get ideas that 
 start me on long thoughts that widen as they go." 
 
 " Indeed ! I never found his conversation so sug- 
 gestive; but at my age, the imagination is a tame 
 bird, not ever ready for high flights. Perhaps, 
 daughter, you get more out of that he says than he 
 ever puts in." 
 
 She pricked her finger with her needle, as she 
 asked quietly: " How might that be true ? " 
 
 " Oh, when he tells of a flower he picked, a sunset 
 he saw, perhaps you imagine one much finer and 
 more gorgeous. It is not his at all, but yours." 
 
 "But he gave it to me first, so I am grateful," she 
 answered, glad that her father meant that which 
 could be symbolized by pretty sights. 
 
 He broke out again after a long silence. " The
 
 6 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 obstinacy and conceit of Peleg Irving is incredible. 
 His skull is as crammed with notions as a thistle- 
 top is with seeds, and all of them are as wandering 
 and pernicious." 
 
 " But John says he only plays with them," said 
 Agnes, soothingly. 
 
 " If he comes to-night I'll have one matter out 
 with him," exclaimed the little man belligerently; 
 but she well knew the weapons of his warfare were 
 not carnal. 
 
 Agnes sat musing for a time, pleasant fancies 
 brightening her eyes while strains of music came 
 softly through the stillness from the Church. 
 
 "That is Rushmore at the organ, I suppose," said 
 her father. " Well I have no particular objections, as 
 I told him, to his playing low, soft music; but I will 
 not have any fandango performances." 
 
 " He has a nice sense of fitness, father." 
 
 " I hope he has." 
 
 She went out into the small parlor soon, stopping 
 at the mirror to smooth her black hair, looking at 
 herself as if after much introspection she had forgot- 
 ten what manner of person she was on the outside 
 this Agnes about whom all life was now opening 
 out luminously, for no reason yet to her apparent. 
 The music ceasing she seated herself in a nook by 
 the window to watch Rushmore come leisurely out
 
 WHITE OLEANDER BLOSSOMS. 7 
 
 -cm the Gothic doorway, across the grass. She 
 .vas pleased and ready to show her pleasure; for 
 vvere they not most excellent friends ? Was she 
 not learning from him a little about music, more of 
 German, something of art and the sorts of literature 
 least obtrusive in the parson's library ? For his part, 
 he was reading Agnes's life off the page of each day, 
 doing it with the half-amused, half-reverent interest 
 of an appreciative heretic conning the rose-exhaling 
 legends of a sweet Saint Elizabeth, or the aspira- 
 tions of a pure Scholastica. His world was full of 
 good women, but heretofore, the best of them had 
 seemed a trifle stupid, and the prettiest he had 
 found most interesting when bent on mischief. 
 
 He came out of the church in a moment and 
 stopped to pluck a little bouquet. It was good, he 
 thought, to be able to give it to Agnes, even with 
 a pretty compliment and know she would take it 
 simply as a flower, not as a flirtation. Entering 
 the parsonage through a latticed green porch, not 
 unlike a big bird-cage, he put the roses in her hand 
 and himself in an easy-chair, drawn out for him. 
 " Did you hear my music and like it ?" he asked. 
 
 "Very much, but you must never get into any 
 gay mood over there and tell of it through the 
 organ; father would not be pleased." 
 
 "So he said to me, one day when I chose an air
 
 8 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 from the wildest of operas and played it like a psalm 
 of David's when I came down, he was in the porch 
 and told me it was a ' soul-full tune'; but I won't 
 cheat him again. It was too womanish a trick." 
 
 As he leaned back in the tall chair, letting his 
 fine, brown eyes rest contentedly on Agnes she 
 asked: " Why is such a trick more like a woman's 
 than a man's ? " 
 
 " Because a woman tickles herself with the power 
 to have her own way, and at the same time please a 
 man whom she makes to think that he has had his. 
 Is not that so ? " 
 
 " You seem to imply that all women are full of 
 guile. I don't believe it." 
 
 " Good heavens nor I ! They are only infinitely 
 rich in resources. If a man, for instance, has a 
 secret to cover, he must lie like an Ananias or 
 plant himself in front of it with a bludgeon to 
 brain the first questioner. Old Mother Nature, who 
 taught the bird to flutter where her nest is not, has 
 taught every woman some art as dainty for the time 
 when she would call off an intruder." 
 
 "Tact is another thing. I have fancied often 
 that you did not think any woman always told the 
 truth." 
 
 "Except yourself, of course," he answered lightly, 
 laughing. " I have never known one always truth-
 
 WHITE OLEANDER BLOSSOMS. $ 
 
 ful. It is impossible. In self-defence, they must be 
 innocently deceitful." 
 
 " There is no such thing as innocent deceit. 
 White that goes toward black is gray cloudy, less 
 than white." 
 
 "O call it being elusive then. You are a little 
 Puritan and think you believe that. You never 
 had a secret, but you will have plenty of them some 
 day, then, when they are approached, you will, like 
 children at play, cry ' cold ' ! " 
 
 She shook her head, smiling, but positive. 
 
 " This moment, with unexpected questions, I 
 could make you tell more or less than the truth." 
 
 "You could confuse me or make me silent, no 
 doubt; but if I told a lie, I would know it, be 
 ashamed of it, and not glide into it in any pretty 
 fashion to be forgiven, because fibbing is a femi- 
 nine trait." 
 
 He smiled down at her, amused, admiring, his 
 eyes full of light; by and by he said: "Does not 
 my constant coming here weary you, and do not so 
 much reading and purposeless talk take too much 
 of your time ? " 
 
 " I have a great deal of time to myself," she re- 
 plied. "In fact, as some one has said, I have 'all 
 the time there is,' and I enjoy seeing friends." 
 
 " If I were in your place I should be bored," he
 
 10 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 remarked, "but as it is, I am to be envied for hav- 
 ing such a patient friend. I don't know why good 
 women are always tolerant of me, but they are. It 
 is undeserved luck." 
 
 Agnes thought it natural that he should be not 
 only tolerated, but that he should be universally be- 
 loved. However, she did not say that, but only 
 smiling to herself, sewed away, industriously. Rush- 
 more was not particularly conceited. He felt him- 
 self honored by Agnes's regard, and inasmuch as he 
 thought he could appreciate her, he believed he 
 was worthier of that regard than were most men. 
 He wished her to know him at his best, but not to 
 idealize him. He was even willing she should see 
 his weaknesses, if they would beget an interest in 
 him. Like the Dane he seemed to say by his com- 
 placency toward her true unworldliness: "In thy 
 orisons be all my sins remembered." 
 
 He intended sometime to marry; he said it would 
 be when he found some one without whom he could 
 not live. Existence alone had been to him, and 
 still was, quite possible. He had carried himself 
 safely through a round of flirtations of varied inten- 
 sity, through and out. This Platonic friendship was 
 a first experience. He had a piquant sense of nov- 
 elty in finding himself en rapport with much that 
 was foreign to his own turn of mind and previous
 
 WHITE OLEANDER BLOSSOMS. n 
 
 associations. If it sometimes occurred to him that 
 he might be tending toward what was not now an- 
 ticipated, he let the thought go unchallenged. 
 What then ? 
 
 " You say, Miss Hathaway, that you have always 
 lived in Waldenton, yet I never saw you until last 
 summer the day I was looking for a record needed 
 in a lawsuit, the date of a marriage twenty years 
 ago. I found it on your father's book and found 
 you at the same time. How I have haunted the 
 place since ! Your father seems to be getting great- 
 ly excited," said he looking toward the study. " Does 
 he ever fling the inkstand at the wall paper ?" 
 
 " No, it is only some argument with old Mr. Irv- 
 ing, he came in about the time you came." 
 
 " O, he is a mild and respectable devil to play 
 Luther with ! What gets them so wrought up ? " 
 
 " Nothing that ever comes to anything but noise. 
 John says his father delights to come here as a 
 younger man would go to a gymnasium and turn 
 summersaults. When his business hours are over, 
 he comes home by the old book-stalls, and stops to 
 read, maybe he buys some treatise on ancient ne- 
 cromancy, or a defence of spiritualism, and picks out 
 all the plums. If he would only eat them like Jack 
 Homer, no harm would come; but no, he brings the 
 most indigestible over here to choke poor father."
 
 12 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 " Peleg is a fine old gentleman, for all that." 
 
 " Yes, only father never can get used to jokers. 
 He can't positively say they are wicked, but he does 
 not know what to do with them, he would not have 
 made the world with any of them in it." 
 I " He is like his daughter in wanting people to be 
 earnest, but old Peleg Irving is steady as a pendu- 
 lum where business is concerned. He has been 
 thirty years in my father's bank." 
 
 "We know his worth; the family has lived near 
 us half that time," was Agnes's answer. 
 
 "John Irving and I studied out of the same primer, 
 but reserve on his part separated us later. I made 
 advances, but he was very unresponsive. You must 
 approve of him, he has qualities you would require in 
 a man after your own mind. He does not tell lies ? " 
 
 " Do other men ? Do you ? " 
 
 " I have never told you one. I promise not to do 
 it. But I am not absolutely incapable of some- 
 thing less than truth as you seem to understand it." 
 
 Agnes asked herself if he could be more sincere 
 than she, after all. Perhaps he looked into his own 
 character in the same large, dispassionate way he 
 looked out on the world perhaps a self-knowledge 
 was thereby obtained which made him as liberal and 
 far-sighted as she might be narrowly punctilious 
 and unaware of her own tendencies.
 
 WHITE OLEANDER BLOSSOMS. 13 
 
 Watching her small grave mouth and thoughtful 
 eyes, he added: " You are a true child by natural 
 descent of more than one divine. I cannot enter on 
 a little gossip with you about your neighbor, but lo ! 
 we are in the moralities. I flounder in the very bog- 
 giest part, and I fear only get out well smirched in 
 your eyes. You, who sail serenely above me in the 
 thin air, look as uncontaminated as Lefebvre Verite 
 in the Luxembourg; for even a Frenchman can 
 make truth visible, if it be charming." 
 
 She heard her father's voice, and wondered if he 
 would find a place in his world for a compliment- 
 maker any easier than one for a joker. The study 
 door being open and matters there extremely lively, 
 both Rushmore and Agnes became listeners and 
 spectators. Mr. Irving was a wisp of a man, agile 
 as a grasshopper and as unceremonious. He had 
 been uttering some grievous heresy. The minister 
 was advancing upon him with uplifted forefinger, ex- 
 horting him to search the Scripture, if he would know 
 of the doctrine as he himself knew what doctrine 
 was not evident to the listeners. Bowing deferen- 
 tially, Peleg opened the outer door before he replied: 
 " Exactly so, my dear sir. I have but a thought in 
 return. Says Emanuel Swedenborg this " 
 
 The Reverend Bela drew up for a spring. 
 
 Peleg went on with rapid, guileful gentleness
 
 14 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 "Says Swedenborg: 'I have been permitted to con- 
 verse with several after death, who believed they 
 should shine as the stars in the firmament, because 
 they had perused the Scripture often and collected 
 many things from it whereby they had confirmed the 
 tenets of their particular faith and had acquired the 
 reputation of being learned men. On their exami- 
 nation it was discovered they did not know a single 
 general truth, but only truth falsified. This was a 
 consequence of reading the Word only with a v,iew 
 to themselves. Such persons were cast down, but 
 remained full of the conceit that they deserved to 
 be in heaven.' Ha ! ha ! Good night, sir ! " and 
 before the exasperated dominie could gasp, the 
 wicked human grasshopper was half way across 
 the churchyard, shaking with laughter. 
 
 Mr. Hathaway felt himself outraged, but could 
 only groan. Every few days Mr. Irving sidled into 
 that study, as if intent on serious conference; all 
 would go well for a while, then a man of sin would 
 seem to get into his waistcoat and give out what to 
 the Reverend Bela were appalling propositions, while 
 a total lack of method in his reasoning was the most 
 hopeless thing about him. 
 
 To-night Rushmore stifling a laugh at Peleg's exit 
 said: "Your father mistakes Harlequin for Me- 
 phistopheles," then seeing that the minister was not
 
 WHITE OLEANDER BLOSSOMS. 15 
 
 likely to stay longer in the study, he rose and took 
 his leave, saying, " I must go now." 
 
 He was a dark, well-made man, with nervous 
 energy enough at times, but indolent in manner. 
 Standing in the door, which she had left open to ad- 
 mit the sunset light," Agnes saw him stop to admire 
 an oleander-tree full of deep-hued blossoms, and fol- 
 lowed him outside. 
 
 " I never saw this here before; have you kept it 
 in the house, Miss Agnes ? " 
 
 "No; it is too large for that. It was brought to 
 the church and stood last year in the dark porch; 
 there it bore a few blossoms, but they were almost 
 white. I brought it this year to the light, and this 
 is the result." 
 
 " Little nuns last year in a cloister; when they 
 came out the sun kissed them and they blushed 
 pink which way are they most charming ? " 
 
 " They were lovely and white in that dim nook in 
 the church." 
 
 " I can well believe it ! I am pleased that I drew 
 you out here to tell me the parable." 
 
 She looked at him inquiringly. He laughed with 
 almost caressing warmth in his eyes; they were un- 
 fortunate eyes to use in a friendship like this. 
 
 " Yes, the best teachers have always told beauti- 
 ful truths in parables, and am I not a disciple of
 
 16 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 yours ? Good-by. I will take a blossom as you 
 give me 'none." 
 
 That night Agnes, in her small chamber under 
 the eaves, gave herself to the self-analysis that 
 comes to be a habit of mind to one so made, above 
 all, so nurtured as she had been. Were all women 
 unconsciously deceitful or secretive ? Was she hid- 
 ing anything ? It would have startled the man who 
 went away jesting about the changed white flower 
 if he could have known the self-knowledge let in on 
 the young girl as she searched her soul that night. 
 He would have seen himself idealized to what he 
 might sometimes have dimly fancied a non-corporeal 
 Rushmore quite of the heaven, heavenly would be 
 if he ever in imagination so projected himself on and 
 up into futurity. Nevertheless Agnes fashioned this 
 ideal character out of the actual man who looked at 
 her with eyes that gave her pleasant, if undefined 
 fancies, the man who sat in her easy-chairs and told 
 his adventures in a way to work the " witchcraft " 
 of Othello. Often he talked of other men, and she 
 found him humanly tender, broad, and patient. If 
 the patience was, mayhap, half indifference, the char- 
 ity a conviction that the live and let live policy was 
 the easiest, how could she be wise enough to know or 
 cool enough to believe it ? Love came to her as a 
 great uplift out of self as appreciation of another
 
 WHITE OLEANDER BLOSSOMS. 17 
 
 soul conceived to be nobler and stronger. She real- 
 ized now that for months her thoughts had been set 
 to the keynote of this music. But she called her 
 love friendship. She reflected that it must mean 
 much less to Rushmore than it meant to her. Well, 
 what then ? A certain quaint old book, penned ages 
 before a Calvin persecuted a Servetius for heresy, 
 was the treasure of our little New England Quietest. 
 Her father might have been as much offended by 
 her perversion of a bit of it to-night, as by her all- 
 time love of it. Standing at her window, in the, star- 
 light, that did not reveal the glow on her cheeks as 
 it failed to bring out the oleander pink blossoms just 
 below she said to herself: " Even if he could not 
 feel in this way, 7 can do it ' I will give all for all, 
 seek nothing, ask back nothing, abide purely and 
 with a firm confidence. I will be free in heart, and 
 Darkness shall not tread me down.'" 
 
 The woman had her secret; but it was a very 
 white one; and it would have been easy to predict 
 how the coming days would be met by her. A vul- 
 gar giver bestows a gift and then expects a return, 
 or plots to suggest it in the recipient's mind. It is 
 even so with gifts not to be weighed or measured; 
 but Agnes Hathaway loved from herself out, not in- 
 versely. If she had by so much as a thought-upon 
 smile, or the putting of a flower in her hair, known
 
 1 8 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 herself to be reaching out to draw Rushmore nearer, 
 she would have been ashamed. Nevertheless, he 
 did perceive in her the presence of something he had 
 not before recognized. She was even more in earnest. 
 She wished to know him better. He saw the "Why " 
 in her eyes, as one sees it in some children's of few 
 words. When he told her that he was doing, think- 
 ing, feeling thus and so, because it seemed good to 
 him, she took it seriously, as a matter of intellectual 
 philosophy to be pondered over. Now to know one's 
 self to be interesting to another is to be flattered by 
 one's own consciousness, and naturally Rushmore 
 was as pleased as he was amused.
 
 I 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 One Year. 
 
 T was the evening of a midsummer day, and 
 Agnes, returning from an errand, was thread- 
 ing the streets that led to her home. The middle- 
 town was like a belt around a hill; its streets ran 
 up and down or wound hither and yon in long 
 sweeps. They were paved with cobblestones shaded 
 by elms, often shut in between walls covered with 
 vines; for the picturesque houses were back from 
 the road, and set at every angle. The best thing 
 was, that Agnes, when standing in her own door, 
 could look over her neighbors' chimneys, off to the 
 high hills from whence came much poetry, into her 
 prosaic life, by ways known to herself. To-night, 
 before the moon was up, the hills were phantoms, 
 and only the outlines of near objects were well de- 
 fined; but the warm dimness was flower perfumed, 
 and Agnes was not afraid of meeting any but peace- 
 ful pilgrims like herself. As she passed a certain
 
 20 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 gate, a gentleman standing there, looked sharply at 
 her slim figure, then hastened to overtake her, say- 
 ing: "Miss Agnes, I suppose my father is at your 
 house." 
 
 "It is very likely," she replied, "for last night 
 when their discussion was at its liveliest, father was 
 called to see a sick person." 
 
 "What was it all about ? I never know; only if 
 my father comes home radiant, I infer ' it was a 
 famous victory.' " 
 
 Agnes, laughing, exclaimed: "Don't you imagine 
 he conquers in any legitimate way. He lays traps, 
 he causes panics, his elephants are all shams; but 
 when my father sees them advancing he prepares 
 for something tremendous." 
 
 " I will go home with you and bring off that frol- 
 icsome parent, or he will wear your father's patience 
 out. Let me carry your basket." 
 
 She gave him a little empty one that she carried 
 and he said: "I often hear the organ now when I 
 pass the church." 
 
 "Yes. Mr. Rushmore likes to go there and 
 amuse himself. He laughs at me because I think 
 he plays well." 
 
 "If he enjoys anything he can always make it 
 pleasant for others." 
 
 " You know him ?"
 
 ONE YEAR. 21 
 
 y 
 
 " No." 
 
 " I remember he said you were very reserved 
 and would not let him be well get better ac- 
 quainted with you; but he praised you." 
 
 "Of course if he said I was reserved, that im- 
 plies wisdom at command, if one would only talk it 
 out. Well, I do not understand him, so it is an 
 even matter." 
 
 " He is very accessible." 
 
 " As much so as a house with a door wide open 
 into the reception room." 
 
 " And all the rest shut up, do you mean ?" 
 
 " Perhaps." 
 
 " That is right. People in general have no need 
 to go farther in. You receive them on the door- 
 step, so why are you critical of him ? " 
 
 He evaded the question by returning, " If I meet 
 you, as you say, it is my warmest welcome, and 
 though the latch string is always out, you never 
 have pulled it yet." 
 
 " I will venture in some day," she answered light- 
 ly, " and go on an exploring expedition among 
 your household treasures. But what were you go- 
 ing to say about Mr. Rushmore ? " 
 
 "Nothing of him. Because he is genial a man is 
 not to be known in a day, nor is one always worth 
 knowing because he is ' reserved,' but don't apply a
 
 22 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 platitude to Mr. Rushmore if he has applied one to 
 me. He smiles like the sun on everybody, but he 
 is not a villain for that. The thing I remember of 
 him as a boy, was his refinement. He appreciated 
 much that escaped other boys." 
 
 Agnes smiled in the dark to think how much bet- 
 ter she could understand this, than John Irving had 
 done. The latter wondered what her interest in 
 Rushmore meant, although it was no new thing for 
 her to ask his opinion of people. She studied the 
 mental traits of her acquaintances as some women 
 study gores and flounces. 
 
 When they approached the parsonage gate, the 
 moon was up over the mountain, silvering the tops 
 of all the pine-trees down to the valley. In the 
 new light Agnes saw some one sitting alone in the 
 porch, and divined that it was Rushmore. 
 
 Irving began to toss her frail basket about in the 
 air, until she, laughingly rescued it. 
 
 " I want to ask you a question ? " 
 
 " What my basket had in it, no doubt berries for 
 old Mrs. Beatty." 
 
 " No. I don't believe you know me much better 
 than Julian Rushmore does. Do you want to ? " 
 
 " Yes, I like to know people why they think as 
 they do; often I leave the door open into the study 
 and listen, when your father is really in earnest. If
 
 ONE YEAR. 23 
 
 you teach me new things, I shall be grateful. I am 
 ignorant. I feel more than I know." 
 
 " God pity the woman who does not find that true 
 but I was not applying for a teacher's position." 
 
 She opened the gate and was first also at the 
 porch, then she recognized Mr. Rushmore, greeted 
 him, and presented Mr. Irving. 
 
 Rushmore rising, grasped his hand saying : " In 
 that almost prehistoric time, when I called you 
 Johnnie, and borrowed your ball if I lost mine 
 how we would have laughed at the idea of being in- 
 troduced to one another as old bachelors ! " 
 
 Irving made a gracious answer. 
 
 " Yes, Miss Agnes, he was my good, self-sacrific- 
 ing friend, save once, then he thrashed me out- 
 rageously." 
 
 "You deserved it," said John, surprised into a 
 laugh. He lingered a moment or two, then excus- 
 ing himself, stepped one side, and entered the study 
 through a low window. The embarrassing thought 
 had occurred to him, that with these two, he might 
 be the "third" who would make a "crowd." Five 
 minutes before, that idea would have been the 
 lightest of vapory fancies, now it enveloped him 
 like an atmosphere, when he left Rushmore, so evi- 
 dently at home in the place. 
 
 Agnes would have gone into the parlor where
 
 24 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 there was lamplight, but Rushmore protested, say- 
 ing, " Please be satisfied with the good old lamp 
 that never needs fuss of oil or wick-trimming. 
 Yours will only attract the beetles that are such a 
 terror to you. You try to be heroic; but you wince 
 when one appears." 
 
 She returned to sit in the porch, answering : 
 " That is only because I like living creatures not to 
 be too erratic for me to imagine what they will do 
 next." 
 
 "Women who are able to forecast events, are 
 miserable, hand-wringing Cassandras. Could I en- 
 dure one, who would darkly prophesy how or when 
 I should make a fool of myself? Let Time alone for 
 that, he will see the occasion is forthcoming." 
 " I might know and not tell." 
 " No, you would do your plain duty." 
 They were silent awhile, hearing the crickets, 
 watching the twinkling of fireflies, or the moving 
 boat-lights far" off below on the river under the hill. 
 From the parlor behind them opened a door into the 
 study. They could hear the old gentlemen's debate, 
 and Rushmore, glancing around, could see Irving 
 bending over a book he had taken from the table. 
 His strong, clean-shaven face was in the shadow. 
 Something in his large, quiet figure, suggested 
 strength and self-control, perhaps, by its contrast
 
 ONE YEAR. 25 
 
 with the smaller excited talkers, gesticulating as 
 they walked the room. 
 
 Rushmore turned about again, and said to Agnes: 
 "What am I going to do next ? It is known to me, 
 and is quite a new move. Guess ? " 
 
 " I cannot. I often read of women, so quick in 
 their intuitions, they can tell what is stirring the 
 air on its way to them. I never know things in that 
 way." 
 
 " I thought you were a good mind-reader." 
 
 " No, I read faces well enough to see whether the 
 best or the worst, the coarse or the fine, has worked 
 fastest in them; but I cannot ever tell how people 
 will do or be, unless they think or. feel as I do. I 
 look in and guess at them." 
 
 " What ! a New England girl who does not have 
 inspirations ! Can't you see the Rushmore I will 
 be, for instance, if I ever happen to be differently 
 ' insphered ' as the fine phrase goes ? " 
 
 She wondered if he were laughing at her, but she 
 answered sincerely: " It always comes to me that 
 the thing that is highest, and so of course right, is 
 the thing you would have power to do." 
 
 " Because it seems to you that would be true of 
 yourself? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " It is probable I should do the polite, the politic,
 
 26 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER, 
 
 the customary thing, and let the ' highest ' fly over 
 my head, like a kite without any string to hold it," 
 said Rushmore, lazily; nevertheless, he thought it 
 was fine to have her believe that of him. All her 
 theories were beautiful and she had assimilated them. 
 He could trace most of them to the copious cate- 
 chism that had been administered to her in her in- 
 fancy. He might have indulged himself in much 
 more logical discussions with the father of this 
 sweet-voiced talker; but the Reverend Bela's voice 
 never varied with little thrills of controlled earnest- 
 ness, grew fine and soft, clear again and ringing. 
 His eyes were never mistily radiant, as if in their 
 light the listener was being somehow transfigured. 
 Rushmore did see all this in Agnes, and would have 
 learned and recited to her the New England Primer 
 if she had insisted that it would conduce to his spir- 
 itual culture. 
 
 "Then, if you cannot know by any melancholy 
 sympathy, what I have come to tell you to-night, I 
 must say it all myself." 
 
 "If it is melancholy, don't let us protract it." 
 
 " Perhaps it will not be melancholy to you. Let 
 us go in," he exclaimed; "the stiffness is all out of 
 the angel's wings." 
 
 A fold of her muslin dress had blown across his 
 hand; but he suggested going within in a nervous
 
 ONE YEAR. 27 
 
 way, as if he were not at ease. When they were 
 seated again in the circle of true lamp's rays, he hesi- 
 tated before he said gravely: " I find that I must go 
 away from Waldenton for six months, perhaps for a 
 year. There are business matters connected with 
 my father's bank which no one but a lawyer can 
 manage, and naturally enough he wants me to go 
 abroad instead of some one else." 
 
 "Abroad?" echoed Agnes. 
 
 "To London first, and in fact I shall be there 
 most of the time, unless I put in a few weeks for 
 pleasure somewhere else." 
 
 " I suppose it seems a little thing to you," she 
 said, clasping her small hands together because they 
 trembled, and hoping that her voice was steady. 
 
 " That is the rub; for staying at home means bet- 
 ter things nowadays. I am settling into a steady- 
 going, peaceable citizen." 
 
 " But you need not be a prodigal just because of 
 the ' far country,' especially as your father sends 
 you," said Agnes, her heart getting so heavy, she 
 thought she might be wickedly perverting Scripture. 
 
 "Certainly not; but the prodigal took every- 
 thing he valued with him; friends did not count for 
 much to him until later; but I happen to appre- 
 ciate mine." 
 
 " You will make new ones there."
 
 28 EUNICE LATHKOP, SPINSTER. 
 
 " Oh, I shall not actually die of nostalgia, if I do 
 not see the Massachusetts hills; but I don't like 
 London. I find it most like a damp old mausoleum 
 full of somebody's else dead ancestors." 
 
 It comforted Agnes that he did not anticipate the 
 future more eagerly. Meanwhile Rushmore furtive- 
 ly watched her sensitive face. He said to himself 
 that if he saw therein poignant regret or bewilder- 
 ment at what might seem like a desertion on his 
 part he would be careful he would save her from 
 herself. Perhaps if he could not refrain from it, he 
 would well, how could he tell what he might do, 
 until he saw her eyes and her cheeks ? If he thought 
 her a transparency, he was in error. She sat cool as 
 a lily. He was a little surprised, just a little piqued, 
 that no maidenly emotion even tempted him to be 
 less than wise. Well, if it were all friendship as 
 he meant it to be, he could safely and justifiably go 
 farther. 
 
 " Miss Agnes, I have always told you that I am 
 selfish. I am going to prove it to you now; but I 
 will be honest first. I write the stupidest letters 
 ever put on paper. I never wrote to a friend who 
 did not, little by little, as he thought I could bear 
 it, tell me there was never anything in them. If he 
 did it hoping I could put something in afterwards, 
 how he must have been grieved ! But if you will
 
 ONE YEAR. 29 
 
 only talk to me on paper onc/e in a while, I will do 
 my best, even if I have to buy a work on the art of 
 elegant correspondence and read it. Could a human 
 being do more ? Tell me anything the bloodless 
 fray going on in the study, or how you get along 
 with Goethe, will you ? " 
 
 " Yes. I like to write letters. When I was a 
 child I had imaginary friends whose letters came 
 fluttering into my window. I enjoyed them as 
 much as if I had not put them out there for the 
 purpose." 
 
 "That was a fine thought. I am generous enough 
 to let you send an answer with your letters to me," 
 laughed Rushmore. " It might double my pleas- 
 ure and yours. If not well, let me see, I will go 
 to the races and describe them in detail. Such 
 letters you may read to your father in pauses 
 of his sermon composition. His knowledge of the 
 devil is out of proportion to his knowledge of the 
 world." 
 
 John Irving in the library tossed aside the Con- 
 cise Ecclesiastical History that he was trying to 
 read backward, glanced out at Agnes, then at the 
 Rev. Bela, much wondering if the latter would wel- 
 come as a son-in-law this handsome Rushmore. At 
 present he was quoting St. Athanasius and Isidorus 
 quite regardless of his daughter; but John was real-
 
 30 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 izing that he himself had been a " slow fool." He 
 appeared so grave, the parson began to address him 
 instead of his versatile father. 
 
 "The Septuagint often translates," said Bela, 
 " the words of the original which signify it is rea- 
 sonable or fit and it is unreasonable or unfit by words 
 which answer to these: 'tis thine, 'tis mine and 'tis 
 not mine, 'tis not thine." 
 
 John appropriated the quotation with a sort of 
 wild eagerness very flattering. How could the min- 
 ister know he was longing to shout into the parlor: 
 "'Tis not thine! 'Tis mine!" or any other words 
 sacred with all a man's heart put into them that 
 Rushmore might draw back from Agnes's life and 
 love. 
 
 " She cannot be to him what she is to me," he 
 thought; "and so indeed it is not 'reasonable or 
 fit.'" 
 
 There had been time enough and he had lost it. 
 He had bestowed upon Agnes something of the ad- 
 oration of a be-addled mediaeval minnesinger only 
 doing that in silence, not with love awakening songs. 
 Now when a nineteenth century man came with a 
 commonsense passion, he had only to tell her he 
 loved her and she was probably won. 
 
 John rose suddenly, saying: "I am going home, 
 father, but I won't hurry you."
 
 ONE YEAR. 31 
 
 
 
 "I must go this moment," cried Peleg, flying about 
 for his hat, putting on the ministerial one, saying it 
 "compressed his brain," seizing John in a fussy way, 
 and assisted by him out of the low window, departing 
 at last. 
 
 The minister then betook himself to the parlor 
 and soon learned that Mr. Rushmore was going to 
 leave town. Seated erect in his own stiff-backed 
 chair he talked crisply of the advantages of travel 
 in general, and referred to particular localities with 
 the slight awe of one who has not himself found out 
 that European flies often walk bottom upwards just as 
 ours do. When Rushmore rose to go, the Rev. Bela 
 wished him success in such a " human " manner, as Car- 
 lyle calls it, that the young gentleman fancied the 
 minister might be glad for some reason that he was 
 going from Waldenton. He was glad. He approved 
 of Rushmore as a gentleman, able to speak of hav- 
 ing had a grandfather, if need be, but his easy bon- 
 homie was often too much like levity, and Agnes was 
 a simple soul, who might be easily charmed with 
 fancies of a world outside the parsonage, a world of 
 which the less she knew the better. He had thought 
 of this danger a day or two before, and took much 
 credit to himself for being astute enough to appreci- 
 ate it. Now that Rushmore's going away was re- 
 solved upon he almost felt as if he had arranged the
 
 32 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 affair and that its predestination reflected honor 
 upon his paternal long-headedness. 
 
 Agnes going to her room that night could herself 
 think of nothing but Rushmore's new plans. She had 
 been satisfied when he was present with her or not far 
 away, had not asked for more than his presence, had 
 never held herself expectant of new demonstrations 
 of his friendship. But if he went away what would 
 be left but her faith in him her beautiful ideal of 
 him ? She stood by the window toward the church, 
 the shadow of whose tower fell dark on her chamber 
 floor. How lonely it would be when he did not come 
 to play the organ ! All at once, through the sway- 
 ing vines, came low music. Her eyes filled with 
 happy tears. 
 
 " Daughter," called the Rev. Bela, at the foot of 
 the stairs, " does not the young man know that this 
 is no hour to be practising ! Will he be long, do 
 you think ? ' 
 
 " I cannot tell, father." 
 
 " Carrying a light into the organ loft is very 
 thoughtless. I believe I will go and put a stop to 
 it all." 
 
 A moment after, he crept through the shadows of 
 the graveyard, himself like a black spectre, and was 
 lost in the deep porch. The star of light in an oriel 
 window vanished and the music ceased. Agnes let
 
 ONE YEAR. 33 
 
 down her white curtain, knowing that there were 
 other and rosier radiances, more melodious echoes, 
 not to be suppressed with a word. 
 
 One morning soon after the unfinished serenade 
 Rushmore came to say good-by to the parson and 
 to his daughter. The former in his study-coat of 
 green, its tail plainly used as a pen-wiper, came to 
 the porch. Agnes, white and dainty, said a little 
 primly, " I hope you will have a pleasant voyage, 
 Mr. Rushmore" and stopped; her sensitive lip be- 
 gan to tremble while she smiled. When the minis- 
 ter remarked, "We shall remember you in our pray- 
 ers," perhaps he meant for once only, but Rushmore 
 did not even hear him. He saw instead a light flash 
 from Agnes's eyes as beautiful as if shattered in 
 breaking through a tear. He pressed her hand ten- 
 derly and was gone, stopping only to pluck an ole- 
 ander blossom. 
 
 She leaned against the porch a little while, watch- 
 ing white butterflies cluster on a nodding purple 
 thistle-top. Her father in an equally preoccupied 
 way addressed the distant hills: "A companionable 
 summer friend. Now here, now off. Perhaps it is 
 well for him to go; our life lies one way, his quite 
 another," then drawing his quill from behind his 
 ear, he returned to an exposition of ancient Cer- 
 inthianism.
 
 34 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 Now if the Rev. Bela can put a theological era 
 into a page or two, a story-teller can condense the 
 events of a year into a shorter narration. New Eng- 
 land girls like Agnes never obliterate themselves 
 from unrequited love, provided their lungs are heal- 
 thy; hers were of the soundest. 
 
 Often when John Irving went past the parsonage 
 he saw her filling her hands with the flowers grow- 
 f *ng wherever the patches of sunlight could extinguish 
 the church shadows. Once he listened to her sing- 
 ing while she beautified the severe parlor with the 
 gay blossoms singing the old-fashioned hymns that 
 came to her lips as naturally as opera airs to gayer 
 maidens: 
 
 "Be thou, ray heart, still near my God, 
 And Thou, my God, be near my heart." 
 
 "Good !" murmured Irving, uncovering his head. 
 "If I only knew that your heart was not concerning 
 itself with any lower love," and he took comfort in 
 the hope that he had been jealous without reason. 
 
 The minister also came to the conclusion that he 
 had been unduly alarmed. One day (he was in a 
 course of sermons on early heresies, and busy just 
 then with the Nicolaites) Agnes came in with an 
 open letter, saying, " Mr. Rushmore has written to 
 me, father."
 
 f 
 ONE YEAR. 35 
 
 " Indeed ! Was that necessary or desirable ? " 
 
 " I am glad to hear from him." 
 
 She put it over the heresies and he perused it sol- 
 emnly chiefly Rushmore's notes on shipboard, his 
 arrival, a brief trip to Paris, something of French 
 politics, a day in the Salon, too many horrible pic- 
 tures there, six murders of Marat. Would she please 
 get a ministerial opinion of the size of the Bibli- 
 cal serpents that bit the children of Israel. He had 
 not supposed them anacondas. Dore evidently does, 
 etc., etc. The parson uncovered the Nicolaites with 
 a scornful sniff. 
 
 " Letters fly over the world now like chaff before 
 the wind and are as worthless. I have some of my 
 father's yet, big sealed sheets, heavy with thought 
 #s well as paper. However, child, I am pleased to 
 see this. Now will you go over to the church and 
 see if I left last Sunday's notes in the pulpit drawer ? 
 I want them." 
 
 Agnes assented instantly, glad to be alone. She 
 had been cooling her cheek on the leather of his tall 
 chair-back, now she went speedily. 
 
 The notes were there, but she was not in equal 
 haste to return with them. The dim, soft-tinted 
 place was pleasant to dream in. She crossed her 
 arms in the depths of the pulpit cushion and looked 
 toward the organ-loft. If he were not there he was
 
 36 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 just as truly sending waves of thought to her, and 
 that too when there was nothing to remind him of 
 her, away in foreign lands. The letter meant that, 
 whatever her father read in it or found lacking. She 
 drew it out again and bowed her head over it, won- 
 dering what he was doing that day how the objects 
 about him looked; being in such a good place her- 
 self, she prayed a little for him. Could she have 
 had the new sense which psychologists promise (with 
 perhaps the assurance of Luther in telling his dog 
 of a golden tail that awaited him in the resurrection), 
 she might that moment have discovered Rushmore 
 smoking outside a bright cafe watching the elegant 
 ladies on their way for a drive in the Bois de Bou- 
 logne. He was lazily smiling at a friend and the 
 mention of the Jardin Mabille. Why not ? One 
 may be fastidious in Massachusetts and happy-go- 
 lucky in Paris. He thought frequently of Agnes, 
 puzzled himself how to write to her. At the end of 
 the year he was no nearer to her geographically or 
 any other way. 
 
 John Irving meanwhile had time but no encour- 
 agement to press his suit. He was too shy and re- 
 served to make courtship an easy matter, even if 
 Agnes could have been courted; but when he went 
 to the parsonage he saw her and the Rev. Bela. 
 He went to church with exemplary regularity, had
 
 ONE YEAR. 37 
 
 always a word or a smile from her. Often he walked 
 across the yard with her, but that brief passage 
 through the tombs was all too short for sentiment. 
 His heart was not altogether faint, but his efforts 
 came to be so, and an instinct to be trusted told 
 him that no fair lady was ever so inaccessible who 
 would have a lover ardent or would have him for 
 a lover at all.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Persuading a Spinster. 
 
 OLD Jesse Leigh had been dead six months, 
 when John Irving, acting as one of his exe- 
 cutors fell on trouble, or at least perplexity, the 
 cause of which will be explained presently. The 
 old gentleman had been, in his day, a very wealthy, 
 influential man. He had given to Waldenton a pub- 
 lic library. The architect, chosen to carry out his 
 ideas, was John Irving, whom he came to value 
 highly as a man of good principles and sound com- 
 mon sense. It was not strange that later he en- 
 trusted largely to him the management of his estate 
 and had, at his death, left many other matters to his 
 personal oversight. 
 
 The Leigh homestead was on the heights, archi- 
 tecturally it resembled a big white china match-box; 
 but Nature, with vines and trees kindly struggled to 
 hide its glaring paint and drape its angles. Within, 
 it had great, cool rooms whose furniture a very lit-
 
 PERSUADING A SPINSTER. 39 
 
 tie use kept from moth and rust. No one occupied 
 the house after the owner's death, save the one-eyed 
 housekeeper a gigantic creature, capable of defend- 
 ing a castle. 
 
 Irving was a middle-town man and there were 
 jealous people who accused him of having been up- 
 lifted by old Mr. Leigh's "patronage" but that last 
 was not a word John would have recognized. In 
 life the old man had liked him, needed him, come at 
 last to lean heavily upon him. 
 
 One evening old Peleg Irving, who was enjoying 
 his paper by the supper table, heard John sigh. 
 Beaming over his eyeglasses, he asked: "Anything 
 going wrong ? " 
 
 " I am bothered to find a woman." 
 
 " In Massachusetts, John ! " 
 
 " Yes, just the right sort of one." 
 
 " To love, honor and cherish, my son." 
 
 " No not your son at all, father. I want her for 
 somebody else. This daughter of Mr. Leigh's ought 
 by good rights to be home to-day. He provided for 
 her return before he died, but there was a delay on 
 the part of the people she was to travel with. At 
 the last he wanted me to send some one from Wal- 
 denton for her a lady, old and sensible enough to 
 be a proper companion. Where shall I find her ? " 
 
 "The town must be full of just such persons."
 
 40 ' EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 "Not by any means. I want one finer than a 
 lady's maid; but one without troublesome family 
 ties, so that if Miss Leigh liked her, she could per- 
 suade her to remain with her when she came back. 
 That old Cyclopean Mag up at the house, is no fit 
 housekeeper." 
 
 Father Peleg tapped his nose with his forefinger 
 meditatively. He was worth a dozen like John in 
 an affair of this sort. His interest in all humanity 
 kept him as well informed as the census taker. After 
 a blink or two, he exclaimed: " Eunice Lathrop." 
 
 " Capital ! I'll go for her this minute." 
 
 " Do arid next time you want a woman, John, 
 even a nearer one yet and a dearer, don't sit sighing 
 like a furnace, but tell your old sire. It will go hard 
 with me but I can give you a good turn." 
 
 Miss Eunice Lathrop was a little genteel spinster, 
 living on a little genteel income. She was a friend 
 of Mrs. Irving, and declared by Peleg to be as pretty 
 and spicy as a Cinnamon Pink. When this night, 
 John was ushered into her parlor he bethought him- 
 self ruefully that she might refuse to leave a home 
 that was perhaps a bower of delight to her. A mul- 
 tiplicity of foam-white tidies bubbled up over the 
 surface of her sofas and chairs. The rainbow para- 
 sols of grotesque celestials hung from her gas fix- 
 tures, arabesques of autumn leaves meandered artis-
 
 PERSUADING A SPINSTER. 41 
 
 tically around the hieroglyphics of presumably pious 
 texts, and all surroundings were suggestive of a fancy 
 bazaar. What if every fern, every illumination, every 
 wretch of a tidy put in the eloquent plea of " stay at 
 home with us, Miss Eunice ! " 
 
 Viciously crushing a blue sofa cushion, John 
 awaited her. She came soon, patting her curly 
 hair, exclaiming, " Good evening. Now has any- 
 thing happened at home ? " 
 
 " Nothing at all. I came to make a proposal to 
 you, Miss Eunice ! " 
 
 She laughed outright, but blushed as did John 
 then. 
 
 " Why now, Mr. Irving ! That is much worse than 
 the chops and tomato sauce for which poor Pick- 
 wick had to suffer, but I won't prosecute you go 
 right on with -the proposal ! " 
 
 He saw her seated and proceeded to tell her that 
 Mr. Leigh's daughter was in Switzerland. She was 
 going to Paris to spend a few weeks with friends, 
 who would, when her visit was over, see that she 
 was provided with company as far as London. 
 Would Miss Lathrop consent to cross the ocean, 
 to meet her in London, and later return with her to 
 America? He said nothing of a longer companion- 
 ship, that the two ladies would decide upon accord- 
 ing to their liking.
 
 42 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 " Goodness gracious ! " said Miss Eunice, with sol- 
 emn emphasis, when he had ended, and as John 
 feared, her glance was toward the tidies and mutely 
 questioning. 
 
 He hastened to explain: "It is merely a few 
 weeks' trip (though you can make it longer), a voy- 
 age that people find delightful, and a peep at the 
 world of which we Waldenton folks know very lit- 
 tle, I suppose. You are entirely free, are leaving 
 nothing behind, and go at no expense to yourself." 
 
 " Why don't you go yourself, Mr. Irving ? " 
 
 " As a companion for a young lady ? She will be 
 lonely and will want a good sensible woman for a 
 friend." 
 
 " Well, I would about as soon think of starting 
 for the moon; but you can tell me everything and 
 I'll go to work and cogitate. Travelling is all very 
 fine, but Miss Leigh might be very airy and full of 
 foreign kinks. I don't take any lady's maid's posi- 
 tion, rest assured of that." 
 
 " Certainly not. I never thought of it for a mo- 
 ment, I" 
 
 " And I don't admit for a moment that I would 
 go anyway, but of course I can think it over." 
 
 That was as far as any allurements could bring 
 her. John racked his brain to leave behind him 
 temptations strong enough to counteract the pro-
 
 PERSUADING A SPINSTER. 43 
 
 tests of the Lares and Penates; but when he went 
 away he hardly dared hope that his errand had been 
 successful. He resolved to go home and beg his 
 mother to aid him in persuading Miss Lathrop. 
 
 Mrs. Irving was a shy, quiet woman, in society 
 suspected of dulness. She was tall and colorless; 
 her picture painted on a golden panel and somewhat 
 idealized by the painter would have had the sombre 
 loveliness, the attenuated refinement of an early 
 fifteenth-century Madonna. As it was, the neigh- 
 bors merely said she could be trusted, and it was 
 only in John's heart she had the golden background 
 and was the mother worthy of all honor. 
 
 Several days passed and no word coming from 
 Miss Lathrop, John begged his mother to go and 
 see if any adverse influence was at work; but she 
 advised him to wait patiently. She understood how 
 Miss Eunice must take time to think, to lie awake 
 nights, to resolve she never would think again of 
 the wild project no, never! True enough, the fifth 
 day Miss Eunice appeared. She looked quite pale 
 as she walked sedately into the parlor and ex- 
 claimed, in answer to Mrs. Irving's gentle greeting: 
 " Oh, why didn't you keep that son of yours away 
 from me ? Since Tuesday evening I have endured 
 everything. I have stirred Europe into my tea. I 
 have read London all over my Bible. I have been
 
 44 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 sick and died on ship-board. I have been wrecked 
 with ten men on a raft or something, and we starved 
 until we ate our leather boots. I have heard of such 
 things really. Once I was not wrecked, but reached 
 London to be lost and have my pocket picked. 
 , Miss Leigh proved to be a hateful creature and I 
 wept with homesickness ! I can't go anyway ! " 
 
 "John will be very sorry," said Mrs. Irving; but rea- 
 soning that Miss Eunice would not wring her hands 
 and sigh so vigorously over a matter quite decided. 
 
 " Such an undertaking for a quiet body too, as 
 just the getting ready would be ! " 
 
 "Oh, I think not!" 
 
 " Yes, it would be I know. One tells me to take 
 next to nothing and another fits me out as if I were 
 a caravan crossing the desert of Sahara. Mrs. Chi- 
 chester says that when she went over last year she 
 sat whole days on deck in a steamer chair with 
 three rubber water bags one hot at each foot and 
 one at the small of her back, or maybe the pit of 
 her stomach I forget which. On her head she wore 
 a woollen hood for warmth, a big straw hat for shade, 
 a green veil and blue goggles yet in spite of all 
 that she was deathly sick. Think of such an 
 experience ! " 
 
 " It might not be yours," said Mrs. Irving cheer- 
 fully.
 
 PERSUADING A SPINSTER. 45 
 
 Miss Lathrop gazed about the neat, cool room, 
 adding pensively, " But she talked as if the ship went 
 plunging on end all the way across, its mizzenmast 
 mostly horizontal, and everybody's stomach at an 
 angle of forty-five degrees; but perhaps it isn't in- 
 variably so." 
 
 " Certainly not. Travelled people do exaggerate. 
 Don't you do so, Eunice, when you come back." 
 
 "You see if I do that is if I go. Would you go, 
 in my place ? " 
 
 "I would. It will be something to remember as 
 long as you live. Women like us know little of 
 what is outside our town limits." 
 
 " Yes, that is a temptation, I confess. I need to 
 have my ideas enlarged. What will Waldenton 
 folks say ? If I thought it would ever occur to them 
 I did not go simply for my own satisfaction, I would 
 never stir one inch. It is all very well to to ac- 
 commodate the Leigh estate that John talked about, 
 but I don't ask it to send me. I can stay at home in 
 ease." 
 
 " Every one knows that, Miss Lathrop." 
 
 " It is nothing very great for me either ! The 
 Rutherfords, on mother's side, you remember, trav- 
 elled far and wide. London was nothing to them," 
 she loftily affirmed. 
 
 " Well, suppose you wait until John comes in, and
 
 46 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 after tea you can talk the matter over more expli- 
 citly," suggested Mrs. Irving guilefully. 
 
 "Oh, I suppose I can; but my heart beats like a 
 trip - hammer ! You would not believe anything 
 could excite me so, and he takes it as coolly as if 
 it were a trifle to be settled in half an hour." 
 
 Nevertheless she stayed, talked to young Irving, 
 and before she went home she had agreed to make 
 ready at once to go for Miss Leigh. Her consent 
 given, John's mind was at rest. He knew Miss La- 
 throp to be shrewd as well as innocent, and he felt 
 assured she would do her duty conscientiously, at 
 the same time trying her best to be a safe and 
 agreeable companion to her young charge.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Mrs. Cudlip's Mansion. 
 
 LIKE one particularly lively ant among a thou- 
 sand more running every way was Miss Eu- 
 nice Lathrop on the London pavement one mug- 
 gy June afternoon. When she cried energetically, 
 " Stop, sir ! stop, sir ! " to the impersonal great yel- 
 low omnibus bound for the Tottenham Court Road, 
 something in the spread-eagle course of her hand 
 through the air or perhaps her ignorance that the 
 omnibus always halted just where she was now en- 
 treating it so to do, as a personal favor one thing 
 or the other made the man who helped her to 
 scramble into a seat aware that she was an alien, 
 probably an American. Nobody supposed that the 
 young lady who followed, making haste slowly, was 
 her companion. When the two were neatly packed 
 into place and Miss Lathrop had learned that she 
 paid her fare according to the amount of road covered, 
 she was for a while wholly occupied with the sights
 
 48 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 and sounds of the London streets. A robust Briton 
 opposite her remarked that a church which they 
 passed was St. Martin's in the Fields, and she longed 
 to express her surprise at its pastoral name "right 
 here in Bedlam, as you might say." But, after learn-, 
 ing that the mounted soldiers half way out of 
 smoke houses were the " Hoss Guards," she turned 
 back to study the young lady whom she had met 
 only an hour before. She found her very pretty in a 
 not common style; her complexion was like a trans- 
 lucent shell in tint, her hair a silky straw-color, 
 small Greek head, but a firm chin and dark-blue gray 
 eyes, with nothing baby-fied about features or ex- 
 pression. She in her turn had been watching Miss 
 Eunice, with some mischievous dimples coming and 
 going. 
 
 "I am not one bit sure this is the right way," 
 whispered the elder lady; "though I thought I was 
 when we started; but you see there are no end of 
 names they told me to remember at the hotel Eu- 
 ston and Hempstead Road Portland Station, Re- 
 gent's Park, above all, Fitzroy Square ! I really feel 
 nervous." 
 
 She proved it by protesting against getting out 
 when the man at the door told her she had "got 
 there." 
 
 " Got where, sir ? "
 
 MRS. CUD LIP 1 S MANSION. 49 
 
 " Why, here, marm near there where you want 
 to go ! " 
 
 Miss Leigh stepped down without any ado and 
 asked a policeman the way to Fitzroy Square. 
 
 "Three minutes' walk!" exclaimed Miss Lathrop 
 echoing his answer. " Why don't they measure land 
 properly, and not tell distance by time?" 
 
 "We could have taken a hansom from the hotel," 
 suggested Miss Leigh. 
 
 "Yes, only when I can't expostulate with a driver 
 and tell him how to go I feel run away with like 
 John Gilpin; besides, a stage seems more social." 
 
 " And we Americans are always social, or sup- 
 posed to be," laughed Miss Annie. 
 
 "Why, you are an American ! It seems as if you 
 could not be; but I am glad, for really I do not be- 
 lieve I shall like these 'tuppence ha'penny' talking 
 English," chattered Miss Lathrop, as she tripped 
 along, satisfied with herself, conscious that she was 
 seeing the world to an extent her friends at home 
 would think almost alarming. 
 
 " Here is the Portland Road Station! We have 
 come too far," said Miss Leigh. 
 
 " Yes ? Then we will go back ! Why, here is a 
 tomb-stone cutter's on this corner !" exclaimed Miss 
 Lathrop, promptly inserting her nose in the iron 
 railing to spell out items about Abigail Kibbe, con-
 
 50 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 sort of one Potts a delay unexpected to Annie, 
 who had not reflected upon people who like to read 
 strangers' epitaphs or addresses, or anything not 
 concerning themselves. Of such was Miss Lathrop, 
 but she soon removed her nose and turned it in 
 the direction indicated. They went down a short 
 street to a pretty park surrounded with good houses 
 that had been better. 
 
 "I hope that this Mrs. Cudlip's house will be 
 comfortable. I engaged board here before I sailed. 
 Here, Miss Leigh, it must be this yellow stone one ! " 
 
 They rang the bell, watched for a moment the 
 watery blue sky over the trees in the old square 
 and then the door opened. A fat madame with 
 rosy cheeks, melting black eyes, a faint moustache 
 and a patch of similar soft down one side her chin, 
 stood graciously bowing her head, whereon perched 
 a lace and lavender cap knocked awry over one ear. 
 
 " Farrar ! " she called. "Show the ladies their 
 rooms ! " 
 
 A spruce maid popped out of the near dining- 
 room and led them up imposingly dusty stairs to 
 apartments "just back of the drawing-room," as 
 Mrs. Cudlip following, serenely explained. While 
 that lady lingered, begging them to make known 
 their slightest wish, she seemed to diffuse an at- 
 mosphere through which the place appeared pala-
 
 MRS. CUD LIP'S MANSION. 51 
 
 tial, rather than otherwise. When she departed, 
 however, Miss Lathrop ventured to remark that 
 Mrs. Cudlip herself appeared to her to be " mussy." 
 
 Miss Annie laughingly hinted at the visibly undue 
 curtailment in matters of detail like towels, "water 
 jars " and candles. 
 
 " Folks may say what they have a mind to about 
 the old world," grumbled Miss Lathrop, " I never 
 should like it ! It has been kept too long. I prefer 
 to live in a new clean place. Well now, dear Miss 
 Leigh, do take off your bonnet and let me have a 
 long look at you. You don't resemble your father 
 in the least." 
 
 "Poor father," answered Annie, her eyes filling 
 with tears. "I wanted to get home to be a comfort 
 to him. It did not seem right that I should know 
 my own father so little, but he wrote me always 
 very kind letters." 
 
 "Yes, he was very proud of you. Mr. Irving 
 says he talked all the time of your being a fine 
 scholar and all that. What a quantity of pretty hair 
 you have ! It makes me think of the silk that 
 grows on ears of corn," said Miss Eunice, anxious 
 to cheer her companion, and in accordance with 
 this desire she rattled on: "Do you suppose this 
 Cudlip creature will have anything palatable to eat ? 
 They need not say pies are an unwholesome Yankee
 
 52 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 invention; they have the toughest crusted ones 
 here, and call them tartlets, never sweet enough, 
 either." 
 
 The tall, fair girl began to regard the busy tongued 
 spinster with naive curiosity. 
 
 " Tell me all about yourself," said Miss Eunice, 
 with increased vivacity. 
 
 " Don't you know it all now ? " 
 
 " Oh, of course, I know that when you were twelve 
 years old your mother died on a tour in Switzerland 
 and your father left you to study in some little 
 French school, that is all. Do you remember Amer- 
 ica well ? " 
 
 " Not very, I was only nine when we came away." 
 
 Miss Lathrop nodded, arranged her collar before 
 the mirror, upbraided the nation for its uncouth 
 fashion of putting dressing tables in front of win- 
 dows and then exclaimed, " I wonder how Walden- 
 ton will seem to you." 
 
 "Pleasant, no doubt. I remember a long garden 
 full of rose bushes. It seems as if they must always 
 have been in bloom." 
 
 Miss Lathrop determined just then to take a nap. 
 Annie watched a Punch and Judy show under the 
 window, her thoughts now in the past, now grasping 
 at the future. Her father's death had been a great 
 disappointment to her, but not a close fastening
 
 MRS. CUDLIP'S MANSION. 53 
 
 grief. She had come over the shock of it in the 
 weeks past, and was beguiled into fresh enjoyment of 
 everything interesting about her. To be young and 
 to be in Paris she had found delightful; she was sim- 
 ply what she seemed: a bright unsophisticated girl. 
 
 Miss Lathrop dozed off under the tremendous 
 purple woollen canopy over the bed, her last wak- 
 ing thought a pleased reflection that Annie had 
 fallen into the hands of a cautious, sensible woman 
 of her own vast experience; for this was a naughty 
 world. An hour later there was a tap at the door, 
 and Farrar asked if they would dine with the family. 
 The ladies whispered together for a moment, and 
 followed her down-stairs. 
 
 As they entered the dining-room, Mrs. Cudlip 
 beaming upon them, seated Miss Leigh at her right 
 hand and Miss Lathrop at her left. She introduced 
 to them her niece, Mrs. Melton, and a long-haired 
 gentleman, Mr. Harrow, but did not introduce an- 
 other red-haired person known as Whitby. Mrs. 
 Melton was a willowy young woman with large 
 eyes, she was rather peculiarly pretty or prettily 
 peculiar, it puzzled one to tell which. She talked 
 not at all, leaving that privilege to her aunt and 
 Mr. Harrow, whom that lady referred to as a 
 scientist, probably falsely so called, as he signally 
 failed to sustain the charge. Many other plates
 
 54 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 were on the table and as Mrs. Cudlip, with a dainty 
 elegance in the play of her knife, began to carve 
 the roast that followed the mild soup, she alluded 
 to other "guests," one military, one belonging to 
 the "Legation," another a Professor, all of them 
 evidently more or less distinguished, but each out 
 of town or detained elsewhere. She was an ad- 
 mirable hostess. Now she chattered with Miss 
 Leigh about the scarlet poppies and the blue corn 
 flowers that make the meadows between Amiens 
 and Boulogne, "just one blaze of bewildering glory," 
 now she was all animation as she propounded to 
 the Scientist a little theory of hers regarding the 
 east wind: Undeniably it makes people cross, why? 
 It dries up the pores of the skin, exhausts the 
 natural oil and hence discomfort. Mind and body 
 mutually act and react; the result is ill-humor per- 
 haps suicide, murder and kindred crimes were di- 
 rectly caused by just such atmospheric influences. 
 The Scientist shook his flowing hair at the end of 
 the table where he sat dining on parched brown bread 
 crumbs and demurred from the proposition. He 
 was dyspeptic as well as scientific. He maintained 
 that the east wind blows over regions where malaria 
 and other noxious things exist; in its capacity of 
 carrier it brings them along and distributes im- 
 partially.
 
 MRS. CUD LIP'S MANSION. 55 
 
 "Certainly, my dear friend, that does not mili- 
 tate against my proposition, it only does not go as 
 far, while I confess, it antedates it," fluently re- 
 turned Mrs. Cudlip. 
 
 Miss Lathrop was glad they had fallen among 
 intelligent people who seemed as gifted conversa- 
 tionally as if they had been Boston persons, never- 
 theless she would have liked a bit more of the roast, 
 having been helped very delicately. It seemed 
 almost gross, however, to interrupt Mrs. Cudlip, 
 whose eyes were sparkling and who had laid aside 
 her carving knife. While they awaited Farrar and 
 the next course, the new-comers took note of the 
 china which was unique, every dish odd, chipped or 
 knock-kneed. The " curly greens " were passed in tu- 
 reens so cemented they recalled to Annie the "im- 
 perfectly restored " statues in the Louvre, but Miss 
 Lathrop found the table, as a whole, almost imposing. 
 There was an air about Mrs. Cudlip herself of unex- 
 pressed yes, repressed importance, a quiet reliance 
 on one's faith in her, in the very way she suggested 
 the taking of more salad, when one could see the 
 salad was quite gone. After the roast, came a 
 rhubarb tartlet dulcified with brown sugar and lack- 
 ing a bottom crust. The east wind sprang up and 
 blew again until Mrs. Cudlip suddenly made a digres- 
 sion by saying something that the New England
 
 56 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 lady found more shocking, if equally scientific. She 
 said that far from advocating in any wholesale way 
 the oriental custom of greasing the person far from 
 that as she was, she must and would say the 
 Western nations had gone to the other extreme of 
 cleanliness and used too much soap and water. 
 Could not the Scientist grant her that to bathe 
 unduly was paradoxically to be dried up externally, 
 and to injure one's self cutaneously was to become 
 internally vicious hence again the argument held 
 good for suicides, murders, etc. In the very face of 
 the revived east wind, as it were, Miss Lathrop 
 showed she did not believe in that theory. The 
 Scientist only smiled a far-off smile, as if he could but 
 would not, be more scientific than the hostess, and 
 Mrs. Cudlip looked benignantly on everybody except 
 the red-haired young man who was daring to make 
 a joke about wickedness then being only skin deep. 
 
 Mrs. Melton thought this a good time to speak. 
 In a mellow, pleasing voice she said she would like 
 to go to America. 
 
 " Then I have not a doubt but some day you will 
 leave me desolate," cried her aunt, waving her fat 
 pretty hand, "for a thought seed once fallen into 
 your mind invariably germinates." 
 
 " I shall go if I find it possible. I am only waiting 
 for an opportunity "
 
 MRS. CUDLIP^S MANSION. 57 
 
 Miss Lathrop was just about to say it was easy to 
 find company, if that was her meaning, but bethought 
 herself, in time, that what Mrs. Melton meant was 
 no concern of hers; then Miss Leigh and Mrs. Mel- 
 ton began a little talk together. After the bread 
 and cheese Mrs. Cudlip led the way to the drawing- 
 room where a tiny fire burned on the hearth. Farrar, 
 wearing a cap modelled after her mistress's brought 
 in weak tea and coffee, which Mrs. Cudlip poured, 
 while she continued her gracious attempts at enter- 
 tainment. Mrs. Melton, after a brief dialogue with 
 the Scientist outside the door, came in and sat down 
 again by Miss Leigh. She wore a loose crimson, 
 robe which, if negligently arranged, was certainly 
 graceful. It showed all her movements and the 
 warm color tinted her rather colorless skin. 
 
 " So you are on your way now to the States ? Miss 
 Leigh, I envy you ! It will be delightful to begin a 
 new life in a new place. One sometimes has to do 
 that from compulsion; but you, I fancy, are the mis- 
 tress of your circumstances, not pushed by them." 
 
 " Yes, it will all be new to me, and yet it will be 
 home," answered Annie. 
 
 " You have sisters there perhaps, and no doubt 
 many relations," said Mrs. Melton, not in the least 
 interrogatively, but Miss Leigh returned: "Not one, 
 only a house and a housekeeper, although Miss
 
 58 EUNICE LATHROT, SPINSTER. 
 
 Lathrop, this friend who has crossed the ocean to 
 meet me, she will probably remain with me." 
 
 " That will be very nice, I am sure," was Mrs. 
 Melton's comment, then she was silent, Annie mean- 
 while deciding that her eyes were the noticeable fea- 
 tures of her face. They were of a deep beautiful 
 amber color, and she had a habit of contracting the 
 pupils, drooping their lids and seeming to look side- 
 ways in a charming, languid fashion. 
 
 " You will stay long enough in London to see 
 something of the city. It is a great old curiosity 
 shop." 
 
 " I think we can do so. I have not had time yet 
 to talk over plans with my friend." 
 
 " When you have spoken to her," said Mrs. Mel- 
 ton, with a winning kindness of tone, " let me know 
 the days or weeks you allow yourself here and I 
 shall be able to help you. If one does not know just 
 where things are, and the shortest routes to them, 
 and what places are close together, one wastes an 
 immense amount of time and strength. I can easily 
 make little plans for your daily excursions, if you will 
 permit me." 
 
 " You are exceedingly kind, and I know we will 
 be very glad of such help," said Annie, warmly. 
 
 Mrs. Cudlip and Miss Lathrop were very sociable 
 on the other side of the fireplace. The asking of
 
 MRS. CUD LIP'S MANSION. 59 
 
 questions may and may not be a Yankee proclivity. 
 Miss Eunice asked a few, but later, when she re- 
 called all the information she had received, she was 
 sure no queries of hers had called it forth in fact, 
 hers had filed ofif in quite other directions and re- 
 turned without anything to show for their trouble. 
 As for Mrs. Cudlip, she seldom punctuated her con- 
 versation with interrogation marks. She blandly 
 assumed all doubtful points and was of course put 
 right. She remarked that if such a matter were not 
 so and learned that it was thus. Inuthis perfectly 
 well-bred manner, she stored up treasures of knowl- 
 edge. Occasionally one was betrayed into deliver- 
 ing up to her keeping that which it would have been 
 consummate impudence in her to ask for; but she 
 had it all the same. 
 
 The clock struck ten, Miss Lathrop stifled a yawn 
 and Mrs. Cudlip begged the ladies at once to retire 
 if they were tired. She arose and sped them on their 
 way, by giving to each a candle end in a massive 
 brass candlestick. After a moment or two in their 
 own rooms, Miss Eunice, who was sitting on the 
 edge of the bed tapping the faded carpet with her 
 slipper ejaculated nervously: " I don't know, but 
 I have done a proper foolish thing." 
 
 " Have you ? " asked Annie, sympathetically. 
 "Well every one does do one sooner or later."
 
 60 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 " What do you think of the house, Miss Leigh ? " 
 
 "Oh, it is heavy and old, not very neat as dif- 
 ferent from a French Pension as " 
 
 " As London probably is from Paris. Well what 
 about Mrs. Cudlip herself?" 
 
 " I don't know, Miss Lathrop, only I am sure that 
 the rosy haired young man, whom she did not intro- 
 duce to us, wanted another slice of roast-beef, but 
 he did not get it." 
 
 " Neither did I ! I am hungry this very moment; 
 but she says she was a Welsh clergyman's daughter, 
 brought up in the utmost refinement. She is poor 
 now; I respected her for saying so when she keeps 
 up this air of richness (though you can't see it any- 
 where). By the way, she said the red-haired young 
 man was only a ' custard-monger,' perhaps she looks 
 down on him." 
 
 Annie looked on her perplexed, but she continued: 
 "Well, to get to the gist of the matter, this Mrs. 
 Melton, her niece, is a widow (she does not wear 
 black, does she ?) and she has been a governess to 
 some Lady Somebody's children. Now the chil- 
 dren are going to Germany to school, and she is de- 
 prived of her means of support. You heard what 
 she said of America, at the table; she is very anx- 
 ious to try her fortune there. Her aunt says she 
 can speak French, embroider beautifully, teach chil-
 
 MRS. CUD LIP'S MANSION. 6 1 
 
 dren. She would even go, for a while, as a half 
 maid, half companion to a real lady. It struck me 
 the aunt was thinking of you; but I did not give that 
 a thought. We know nothing of Mrs. Cudlip or of her 
 niece. It would be absurd to think of attaching to 
 us a person, known to us only a few hours; but what 
 I did do was to listen, while her aunt explained that 
 the niece had means enough to take her to America, 
 to support her a short time while she looked for em- 
 ployment, and if she found none, to pay her way 
 back." 
 
 " Then I do not see why she has not gone before 
 this," said Annie, uncoiling her long hair. 
 
 " She did not like to start without advice or com- 
 pany. Well now Mrs. Cudlip came right out boldly 
 and asked if I supposed she could get work in 
 Waldenton." 
 
 "What did you tell her?" 
 
 " The plain truth that she might and she might 
 not. She asked all sorts of questions about Wai- 
 den no, she did not ask, but she seemed so inter- 
 ested, I told her just what kind of a place it was." 
 
 Miss Lathrop tapped her foot vigorously and pro- 
 ceeded more nervously, 
 
 "Mrs. Cudlip proposed that is, she said if Mrs. 
 Melton approved of the idea, and we on farther ac- 
 quaintance, were favorably impressed by her niece
 
 62 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 why perhaps she might go back with me. She 
 was particular to explain she meant merely to have 
 her go at the same time, we taking only a sort of 
 natural interest in her and throwing any work into 
 her hands that we could find for her after she ar- 
 rived. Have I been hasty in consenting to that, do 
 you think ? " 
 
 " I don't know anything about her chances in 
 Waldenton for support. You must judge of that. 
 Mrs. Melton herself is bright, I think, and interest- 
 ing. We would certainly be kind to her still I think 
 as you do, that she had better go only with us, not 
 as one of us. I should not like or respect her, if 
 she wished to attach herself to us on such short 
 acquaintance." 
 
 " Precisely so. I will make that plain to the aunt; 
 but to cross in the same steamer, to get work in the 
 same town with us can't be in any way unpleasant 
 for us, can it ? " 
 
 " Of course not. I don't want to be unsympa- 
 thetic," returned Annie quickly. 
 
 " I agree with you exactly; we must be very wise, 
 not committing ourselves to anything that we might 
 regret later. Now I will go to bed, my head spins 
 like a top. What choice language Mrs. Cudlip uses 
 and what abominable black bread she gives us. I 
 can't like it in her, though, not giving that poor 'cus-
 
 MRS. CUDLIP'S MANSION. 63 
 
 tard-monger ' enough to eat, if she is a Welsh cler- 
 gyman's daughter. But I should judge from her re- 
 marks she must have a very fine class of boarders 
 when they are all here." 
 
 Annie laughed out so merrily that Miss Lathrop 
 received a new idea. It startled and impressed her 
 so much that she gave her young companion credit 
 for great sagacity. 
 
 " Well ! well ! what revelations of human nature a 
 body gets just by travelling. Why I fully expected 
 to see a member of Parliament come walking in to 
 dinner some night." 
 
 " Never mind, if he does not come to us, we will 
 go to him. Mrs. Melton can show us the way, she 
 says." 
 
 Miss Lathrop was too sleepy to reply.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 A Sunday at Mrs. Cudlip' s. 
 
 MRS. CUDLIP arose betimes on the following 
 morning, which was Sunday, and sure of 
 seeing no inmate of the house not on duty, she 
 reconnoitred the place in negligent attire. Farrar 
 was laying the plates for breakfast and providing 
 lavish supplies of water-cresses. Sordid souls might 
 breakfast at Mrs. Cudlip's table, for a season, and 
 depart saying that the rolls were black, the bacon 
 too fat and the eggs antique; but they could not say 
 she ever stinted them on watery greens. Sometime 
 they surely would wonder if Mrs. Cudlip did not 
 raise these on her own humid premises, over the 
 mouldy doors, under the eaves or among the chim- 
 ney pots, else why were they so abundant ? This 
 morning, the lesser drab-haired menial under Farrar, 
 was leaving pots of hot water at everybody's door, 
 and in general the affairs of the house were well 
 underway. When Mrs. Cudlip had penetrated the
 
 A SUNDAY AT MRS. CUDLIP'S. 65 
 
 depths of the earth below the hall, she returne \, 
 bringing in her garments the odor of hot fat, and 
 in her hands a chop, which she consumed in soli- 
 tude. She rarely ate at the "table d'hote." Her 
 abstinence might have a mildly subduing influence 
 on robust appetites, while it left her free to indulge 
 in elegant discourse. After her repast the amiable 
 lady mounted again to the top floor, where in an 
 unpretending way, Mrs. Melton abode. She rapped, 
 then entered the closet-like chamber, in which the 
 younger lady was dressing, and remarked: "I did not 
 have a chance to talk to you last night. How do 
 you like these Americans ? " 
 
 " I never like such women, anyway. The young 
 one is beautiful, but she does not think much of 
 it; she will learn she has a pretty face soon enough. 
 The other is an innocent, isn't she ? " 
 
 " Far from it ! She is a single-minded creature, 
 but she is nobody's fool." 
 
 " I have no doubt she could be one, if anybody 
 wanted a fool of about her height and complexion," 
 returned Mrs. Melton calmly. 
 
 "You did not talk to her, and I did. She is 
 agreeable and she is shrewd." 
 
 " Very," returned the young widow, winding a 
 coil of hair about her head. " Very shrewd ! You 
 shook her gently as you would .a sieve, and the
 
 66 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 shower of information stopped when the shaking 
 did, not before." 
 
 " I only drew her out on a few simple matters, 
 but you listened then and know all we said ? " 
 
 "No, I did not hear half the conversation; I 
 was entertaining Miss Leigh." 
 
 " Do you want to go to America, or is it only 
 talk?" 
 
 " Now, I begin to mean what I say." 
 
 "Very well, I thought so; and this is my con- 
 versation with Miss Lathrop," exclaimed Mrs. Cud- 
 lip animatedly. 
 
 The younger woman listened, without emotion 
 of any sort, while Mrs. Cudlip reported the dia- 
 logue, ending with somewhat of a rhetorical flour- 
 ish, although in general, her style of conversa- 
 tion when with the widow was quite shorn of 
 ornament. 
 
 " Now you can be turning this over in your mind 
 from the first of their being here. The fact is, dear, 
 you have the rarest talents, if only you had a fair 
 field for their exercise. With more money, or a fa- 
 vorable start, you might do much on the Continent, 
 as matters are with you, that is impossible. Here 
 you are cramped. Your own peculiar well what 
 the Scientist might call your psychological efflor- 
 escence is "
 
 A SUNDAY AT MRS. CUDLIP'S. 67 
 
 " Aunt Sarah, I have no idea of living on you 
 very long; don't be distressed into talking nonsense. 
 Besides I consider that I have paid my way so 
 far; that American would never have given the price 
 he has for his room after he found your table did 
 not suit him, if I had not told him of the Swiss j 
 restaurant here by the Portland Road Station and 
 had not at the same time, been ready, to tell him 
 all about the city, the trains, routes, cabs and every- 
 thing else." 
 
 " I have just said you were very clever." 
 
 "Well I know what you mean, of course: that if 
 I am so, I had better be up and doing. If I don't 
 learn to detest these women, or if I do and can 
 make myself valuable to them, or what amounts to 
 the same, if either one would be valuable to me, I 
 will go to the United States. Is Miss Leigh from 
 New York ? " 
 
 " No, from Waldenton. It is not far from Boston 
 and New Orleans I believe." 
 
 This time the widow showed interest and surprise 
 by asking: "Why do people from that town keep 
 coming here ? " 
 
 " For the simplest reason in the world. The first 
 who ever came, five years ago, said New England 
 people coming to London would go to a cheap 
 quiet boarding house if they knew of one. I wrote
 
 63 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 an advertisement to a Boston paper; and I renew 
 it every year early in the season." 
 
 " Did he come back last night ? " was Mrs. Mel- 
 ton's next question, which her aunt did not seem 
 to find irrelevant. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " I wonder if he ever heard of these other Amer- 
 icans ! What is he, do you think ? Not a trades- 
 man I am sure." 
 
 " A lawyer, he said one day; he has money." 
 
 " And very good taste. The day he went to 
 York, he reflected that I was good looking. I stood 
 in the door' to see that the man did not lie about 
 the distance and the cab to the station. I smiled 
 on him and he discovered I was not Farrar." 
 
 " How do you know he knew the difference, and 
 what of it anyway ? " 
 
 " If I look pretty, I wish it known." 
 
 "Is that all?" 
 
 " For the present, yes, and probably for the future; 
 though I have seen rich Americans with wives who 
 were frights. Yes, I will go if there seems an 
 opportunity." 
 
 The drab-haired maid called outside the door 
 for Mrs. Cudlip. She arose from a wooden tripod, 
 which with a venerable chest of drawers and an 
 iron bedstead modestly furnished Mrs. Melton's bou-
 
 A SUNDAY AT MRS. CUDLIP'S. 69 
 
 doir. She (the widow) was indeed cramped, lit- 
 erally if not " psychologically " and if she sighed 
 for a whole republic in which to expand, there 
 was nothing in this desire derogatory to her integ- 
 rity. 
 
 In due time the first bell rang, and Miss Lathrop 
 awaking found Miss Leigh dressed and at the 
 window. 
 
 "Good morning," the latter exclaimed. "The 
 sky is actually a lovely pink and a faint blue, as if 
 the sun could rise clear over London. Perhaps peo- 
 ple slander the climate." 
 
 "No, they don't," protested Miss Lathrop. "I 
 had several days' experience of it before you came." 
 
 " What are we going to do to-day ?" 
 
 " I shall go to church," said the Massachusetts 
 spinster firmly; but she looked covertly at her 
 young friend, fearful that she might have some 
 wicked thought of Kew Gardens or a similar Sab- 
 bath-breaking excursion. She was relieved when 
 Miss Leigh answered sweetly, "Certainly." 
 
 At the breakfast table it was decided that they 
 would stay at home until after lunch, and then, ac- 
 companied by Mrs. Melton, they would go to West- 
 minster Abbey for the afternoon service. 
 
 The morning passed quickly, and about two o'clock 
 the party set out; on arriving at the Abbey they
 
 70 . EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 found they were none too early. Miss Leigh and Mrs. 
 Melton made their way up near the white-robed, 
 sweet- voiced choir boys; but Miss Lathrop scarcely 
 got over the threshold. Not having been there be- 
 fore, she was greatly impressed by the remarkable 
 appearance of the place, and feared if it were going 
 to be very interesting it would be wrong to be there 
 on a Sunday. She seated herself on a cold stone 
 ledge under Pitt's Monument and tried conscien- 
 tiously to hear the service, but she could not. That 
 ended, she would have subdued her curiosity and re- 
 turned to Fitzroy Square, but not so would Miss 
 Leigh. The young lady made known her intention 
 of walking quietly about such parts of the building 
 as were open, and Mrs. Melton followed, kind and 
 deferential, telling what she knew would interest, 
 listening to remarks like this from Miss Eunice: "Is 
 it the climate or the dirt that makes this statuary so 
 grimy, and why don't the queen order it scrubbed or 
 dusted, once in a while ? What a queer, unnatural 
 fashion it is anyway to put the graveyard inside of 
 the meeting house, as you might say." 
 
 Mrs. Melton would have preferred to talk with 
 Miss Leigh; but the latter was silent, while Miss 
 Lathrop was exceedingly talkative. 
 
 "There is a very mixed up set here under one 
 roof, isn't there ? Methodists like Charles Wesley,
 
 A SUNDAY AT MRS. CUDL/P'S. 71 
 
 and play actors like Garrick. Just see this inscrip- 
 tion over a little chap ' seaven years and nine 
 months old,' and it calls him, 'Sir Edward Knight, 
 Gentleman of The Black Rod and First Gentleman 
 Usher and Daily Waiter in Ordinary to the King.' 
 Do come here, Miss Annie ! " 
 
 The young lady had disappeared. " She will re- 
 turn to us or we will find her," said Mrs. Melton, 
 half guessing the truth that she had purposely got- 
 ten where she would be freer to enjoy the grand 
 old place, for Miss Lathrop talked most over what 
 attracted the young girl least. She followed her 
 own devices a long time, evading her companions 
 until she suddenly feared they would think her un- 
 social, and at that went to find them. They played 
 unwittingly hide and seek with her, so that she be- 
 gan to be almost frightened and showed her anx- 
 iety in her movements. At last turning a new way 
 in her haste she found herself in the old cloister. 
 
 "After all," she thought, "they will never go 
 away and leave me," and at that, she stopped, 
 leaning, against the dark stone wall to examine 
 her surroundings at leisure and curiously. 
 
 A gentleman, who had passed Annie repeatedly 
 in the Abbey, stood out there, not too far away, to 
 watch her, as she stopped just where the pale sunlight 
 smote full in her delicate clear-cut face and regilded
 
 72 EUNICE LATffROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 her yellow hair into actual splendor. She was fan- 
 cying how the place looked when old monks walked 
 about over the sarne stones in devout meditations. 
 He was asserting to himself that there never could 
 have been a more radiant face, in these old walls, 
 since they were reared; and he cared not how many 
 sweet maiden queens might have been crowned 
 there. He was as enchanted, as if this face had 
 blossomed out of Paradise simply that he might 
 look at it. What was even better, he reflected that 
 when she moved again, he might speak. Before 
 she saw him she turned to go, troubled again as 
 was evident. He stepped forward, begged her par- 
 don, and in the same breath, quelled her fears by 
 saying, that if she were looking for Mrs. Melton and 
 another lady, they were only a moment before, in 
 the Poet's Corner. He had just added, " I am in 
 Mrs. Cudlip's house and " when Miss Lathrop, vis- 
 ibly excited, appeared with Mrs. Melton. The lat- 
 ter, smiling serenely, greeted the gentleman, who, 
 lingered a second for the introduction he did not 
 get, then courteously withdrew. 
 
 " Is that an American ? " asked Miss Eunice, giv- 
 ing Annie a little clutch of rapture at her recovery. 
 
 "Yes, a Mr. Rushmore, he is now at Mrs. Cud- 
 lip's. I did not introduce him. Is it a habit in your 
 country to do that, when one does not know if it is
 
 A SUNDAY AT MRS. CUDLIP'S. 73 
 
 agreeable to the persons ? I never like to presume 
 in such matters. 
 
 "I suppose you are right. Ladies travelling alone 
 cannot be too reserved with strangers," said Miss 
 Eunice promptly. 
 
 Miss Leigh expressed her approval of their dis- 
 cretion, still as she strolled on again, the remem- 
 brance of Rushmore's great brown eyes that had 
 sparkled so suddenly and winningly upon her, to- 
 gether with his voice and manner, caused her to 
 think favorably of her fellow -citizens of the near 
 future. 
 
 Rushmore, piqued at Mrs. Melton, roamed away, 
 disconsolate, and sitting down on a ledge opposite 
 Old Time, who had a vigorous grip upon a marble 
 shroud out of which was rolling a skeleton, and off 
 the old skull a coronet, he spelled out a name and 
 wondered if that young girl could be his neighbor 
 under Mrs. Cudlip's roof. Mrs. Melton had no need 
 to be so punctilious: he would circumvent her. She 
 was down there now in the nave, standing fora mo- 
 ment by herself. He walked rapidly toward her, 
 and asked for the location of the Jerusalem Cham- 
 ber, and without change of countenance heard her 
 tell him what he knew as well as she knew, before he 
 added, " Your friends are Americans, I think." 
 
 "Yes."
 
 74 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 " London is full of New Yorkers. I am going to 
 run away from them next week." 
 
 "These ladies are not from New York." 
 
 "Indeed?" 
 
 The word being an interrogation, not an excla- 
 mation, she added, 
 
 " No, they are from Waldenton, at least the elder 
 lady is. So you leave us soon ? " 
 
 " Yes, for Ireland. I am from that very town 
 that you mention, Mrs. Melton. It is more than 
 likely they are my neighbors. It is not a very ex- 
 tensive place. Tell me their names, pray ! We 
 Americans, when we go to Natal or Kamtchatka 
 alway look up one another's family record and ex- 
 change greetings," said Rushmore, unblushingly. 
 He, who never before could denounce, with suffi- 
 cient emphasis, the practice to which he now al- 
 luded so insinuatingly. 
 
 " One is a Miss Lathrop. The other, the younger 
 and the more important of the two, I imagine, is a 
 Miss Leigh," said Mrs. Melton, with a meaning 
 smile. 
 
 " Her father do you know his name?" 
 
 " Of course not, how could I ? She has been at 
 school in Switzerland that reminds me that she 
 said her father died last year." 
 
 There was a tone to the lady's voice making Rush-
 
 A SUNDAY AT MRS. CUDLIP'S. 75 
 
 more aware that she understood him and that he 
 suggested the inquisitive Yankee; but if the part 
 pleased him, he proposed to fill it; he only remarked 
 blandly, " I know all about Miss Leigh's father 
 now and might be able to tell her more of him than 
 she remembers herself. I have visited him many a 
 time with my own father, and she has been out of 
 the country for years. I think I can tell who this 
 Miss Lathrop is soon, if you will take the liberty of 
 introducing me to my countrywomen." 
 
 He pretended not to see Mrs. Melton's hesitation 
 and added coolly: "I may begin a pleasant ac- 
 quaintance on this side the ocean which otherwise 
 would surely be made later." 
 
 Mrs. Melton regarded him with a curious ex- 
 pression, as she moved away to do his bidding. 
 Five minutes later Miss Leigh and Mr. Rushmore 
 were in easy converse. Miss Lathrop fell a little 
 behind them to assure Mrs. Melton that it was all 
 right entirely right. 
 
 " The Rushmores have been old aristocrats in 
 Waldenton for a hundred years." 
 
 The widow glanced at a family monument near 
 by (three hundred years old) and smiled, as she 
 sweetly answered, "Is it possible ?" 
 
 " His father is the president of a bank there, I 
 have often heard this Julian Rushmore mentioned.
 
 76 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 There never was a Rushmore, who was not a per- 
 fect gentleman, to my knowledge." 
 
 "It is all very proper then of course," said Mrs. 
 Melton. "And I like to become acquainted with 
 your American ways. You are so good-hearted and 
 1 unceremonious. It is really delicious, but just a 
 little unexpected sometimes. Your way, for in- 
 stance, with Miss Leigh would seem to me novel 
 and peculiar." 
 
 " How ? " asked puzzled Miss Eunice. 
 
 " Oh, English chaperons are very vigilant and sus- 
 picious, and English girls are very timid." 
 
 " I would not have anything to do with a girl 
 that I had to watch or take care of like a baby. 
 Miss Leigh is self-reliant, and at the same time very 
 gentle. Yesterday when I met her at the hotel I 
 thought she was very stately, but when I told her 
 about her father's death I had to comfort her as I 
 would a grieved little child." 
 
 "She is all alone in the world, is she not, poor 
 girl?" 
 
 " Yes, but she is rich," added Miss Eunice. 
 
 " I did not mean ' poor ' pecuniarily. I was think- 
 ing of love, not of money," returned Mrs. Melton 
 gently. 
 
 Miss Lathrop, who admired her companion's mel- 
 low voice and pretty sentiments fell soon into a
 
 A SUNDAY AT MRS. CUDLZP'S. 77 
 
 brown study; coming out to exclaim: "The truth is, 
 I do not know so very much about the world ! What 
 do nice girls want watching for anyway ? I don't 
 like it. Why do they, Mrs. Melton ?" 
 
 " Because sometimes they walk right into a trap- 
 door leading to Perdition." 
 
 Miss Eunice started horror-stricken as she asked, 
 " And fall through ? " 
 
 " Not always." 
 
 " No, indeed," burst forth the good spinster piously; 
 " they are just as safe so as if they were in heaven; 
 their Innocence is the angel who holds them fast." 
 
 "It may be; but I have another idea of your 
 American girls. It does not conflict with that one 
 though ? " 
 
 " What is yours ? " 
 
 "That they are quick enough to know the first 
 touch of the Devil's fingers on that trap-door latch 
 and quicker yet in springing back to safety. My 
 notion is more complimentary to their cleverness and 
 does away with the miracle." 
 
 " I hope you believe in miracles," said Miss Eunice 
 somewhat alarmed. If she had been weak enough 
 to crack the Sabbath-day commandment by en- 
 joying the Abbey, she would not endanger her 
 orthodoxy. 
 
 Mrs. Melton calmed her and they continued to
 
 78 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 follow the young people, who dropped into a con- 
 versation about Waldenton which Rushmore kept 
 in such a shape that he could make the most 
 progress possible toward a better acquaintance. 
 He gave Miss Leigh a clearer idea of the social 
 life of the place than she had received from 
 Miss Lathrop's too copious and rather bewildering 
 communications. 
 
 '' I hope I shall soon make friends," she ex- 
 claimed, in a frank way that reminded him, at the 
 instant, of Agnes, although Miss Leigh was quicker, 
 sunnier, less reserved. 
 
 He answered on the impulse of the resemb- 
 lance suggested: "I am sure you will do so, 
 and that speedily. There are some rare women 
 and young girls in Waldenton. I think of one 
 now whom, if you happen to meet, you will wish 
 for a friend." 
 
 " His betrothed no doubt," she thought, re- 
 plying cordially, "Let us hope I may find her 
 then." 
 
 " I think you will. Sometime I will tell you of 
 her and of others." 
 
 Standing in the great door at that moment Rush- 
 more said: "If you look out now, and then turn 
 again and glance back into the building, you will 
 be charmed. That sunshine, so spirit-like and
 
 A SUNDAY AT MRS. CUDLIP'S. 79 
 
 ready to vanish, as it floats out of this tender 
 English sky seems more exquisite to me than any 
 fuller splendor ! Only look over your shoulder and 
 see the upper part of the Abbey full of soft gray 
 mist ! " 
 
 " Maybe all the spirits of old lords and ladies, 
 poets and warriors and statesmen hover about up 
 there over their tombs," she returned. 
 
 " Yes, do see the fog ! " broke in Miss Eunice. 
 " It is enough to make a person neuralgic from birth 
 to have the climate made visible and forever in sight; 
 but Mrs. Melton says we will be late for dinner, if 
 we don't go now, Miss Leigh." 
 
 That ended the dialogue. Rushmore bowed, and 
 hastened away to call their carriage. 
 
 Sunday evenings were usually spent by Rushmore 
 in writing letters to Agnes Hathaway. On this 
 night he wrote a long epistle. He had been 
 homesick for a week or more and confessed it. His 
 letters were never in the least sentimental; but he 
 said he should be very happy to see her again. He 
 told her that, in imagination he often took her with 
 him. They had wandered about Oxford in this way 
 not long before. She searched out the old treasures 
 of the Bodleian Library with him, strolled along Ad- 
 dison's Walk, climbed the college stairways and 
 grew enthusiastic over the lawns, with grass like no
 
 8o EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 other grass on earth. He was moved to go on and 
 refer to the expression in her eyes, etc., etc., when 
 he pulled himself up, figuratively speaking, with the 
 reflection that he was not writing a love letter. He 
 paused to ask himself why he was not. It would be 
 rather a pleasing thing to do. He was thus musing 
 and gazing at the neighboring chimney pots, out- 
 lined against the evening sky, when there came a 
 rap on his door. It was the drab-haired one who 
 entered, courtesying elaborately, mindful of past six- 
 pences. 
 
 " Beg your pardon, but Mrs. Cudlip says would 
 you come to the drawing-room ? " 
 
 "Now?" 
 
 "She spoke as if she meant directly, sir." 
 
 " Very well, I will go down at once." 
 
 He went and was a little chagrined to find Mad- 
 ame alone. He had hoped the American ladies 
 would be there. 
 
 "You must feel free, Mr, Rushmore, to drop in 
 any time for tea at this hour, even if you do dine 
 elsewhere for convenience' sake. Now let me give 
 you a cup, you will find it refreshing." 
 
 He knew to the contrary, but he let the bland 
 matron prepare him a weak decoction. 
 
 "I have always heard that you lawyers charge 
 enormous fees for legal advice," she remarked,
 
 A SUNDAY AT MRS. CUDLIP'S. 8 1 
 
 her lips in such a fascinating smile, their mous- 
 tache might have faded out of mind, if one felt 
 sympathetic. 
 
 "The fees," said Rushmore, "depend upon the 
 lawyer and the amount of law laid down." 
 
 " Well then, may we not, you and I here so cosily 
 together, just suppose the advice is not professional 
 but only friendly ? " 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 " I am so perplexed ! I have talked a matter 
 over with Mr. Harrow, our dyspeptic scientist, you 
 know. He has been in America, but he could not 
 enlighten me. Is it easy, Mr. Rushmore, for a lady 
 to support herself in the States ? " 
 
 " Not by merely being a lady, far from it." 
 
 " Take for instance, one, young and strong, able 
 to sew, to teach, to be an amanuensis or a compan- 
 ion to an invalid, in fact, a capable attractive per- 
 son, would she be likely to earn her bread and but- 
 ter without great worry ? " 
 
 Mrs. Cudlip was practical to a degree that sur- 
 prised him after her dinner-table talks; for he had 
 heard one and only one of these. 
 
 He put down his cup saying: " I think a woman 
 who could teach, nurse, copy, mantua-make cook 
 did you say ? might earn her morsel in England, 
 Australia or America. I would not decide about
 
 82 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 the worry until I knew her capabilities in that line, 
 as well as in the others. But let me add, I only 
 think this, I don't know anything about it. I never 
 sewed, or taught children. If I have made myself 
 companionable no one was ever kind enough to pay 
 me for it." 
 
 The lady was piqued. Rushmore seeing it, hast- 
 ened to add: " Perhaps there is more work for 
 women in our country than in England, but it is 
 hard enough for one to take care of herself any- 
 where. Very likely these American ladies, with 
 you now, can tell you more than I am able to say 
 with certainty." 
 
 He wondered if Mrs. Cudlip had a wild notion of 
 emigrating. If she said one word about capability 
 to keep a boarding-house, he resolved to save his 
 country, let his patriotism cost him what it might; 
 but her next remark enlightened him. 
 
 " I have a dear young friend who longs for a change 
 of scene. She has a bright sensitive spirit and could 
 attach herself ardently to congenial friends would 
 be deeply grateful for any kindness or sympathy. 
 Are your country people trustful and openhearted 
 to strangers ? " 
 
 "There are as many varieties of American men 
 and women as there are of English, and perhaps 
 fifty thousand more, if you should sort them over
 
 A SUNDAY AT MRS. CUDLIP' S. 83 
 
 for labelling. We are not morose or inhospitable, 
 but with steamers bringing us five or six hundred 
 foreigners every half hour, we can't be perpetually 
 in the attitude of welcome. Still, if we don't take 
 them individually to our hearts, many of them 
 flourish and wax fat, some of the baser sort do 
 more." 
 
 Rushmore felt cheated. He came down to meet 
 Miss Leigh, not to drink weak tea, and chatter with 
 Mrs. Cudlip. He did not believe she was talking 
 with any purpose until he perceived she looked 
 rather disappointed, then he added more sympa- 
 thetically: "If the friend you speak of has any 
 friends in America, or any money to live on for a 
 while, no doubt she can get employment." 
 
 Mrs. Cudlip nervously tapped the teapot with her 
 silver spoon. She had meant to be confidential, to 
 enlist Mr. Rushmore in Mrs. Melton's behalf; but he 
 was less manageable than she had believed him to be. 
 Perhaps it was as well to let the matter drop; so 
 drop it she did, and gracefully glided into a long 
 anecdote a propos of what, he never knew, but it 
 brought in her father, the Welsh clergyman. Rush- 
 more chatted a while longer, watched the play of 
 her fat hands in the air, and then, as the Scientist 
 entered the room, made his escape, reflecting, on 
 the way to his apartment, that although Mrs. Cud-
 
 84 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 lip might think him unfeeling, it was not for him to 
 be seeking out ardent, sensitive ladies longing to 
 sail the seas over. 
 
 Mrs. Cudlip went down-stairs and removed half 
 the cold meat from the nine o'clock supper-table 
 before the bell was rung. Her baffled feelings must 
 express themselves in some way.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 A Small Enthusiast. 
 
 T IKE one more grain of sand, washed by a wave 
 *-' on some almost limitless shore, came a wee, 
 unwelcome mortal, into life one day into life in 
 London. Another heart to beat with the four mil- 
 lion others already there in action to beat gladly or 
 wearily, as God willed, as men helped or hindered. 
 The mother was young, fair and strong, but she 
 frowned on her child, fretted over what she should 
 do with it, since to love it was not in her heart. It 
 was all the same to the baby, while it was chiefly a 
 bundle of flannel; and by the time its bright eyes 
 began to look about, they rested on a strange, 
 gaunt woman in a flapping white cap; and the quick 
 little heart throbbed against the black robe of a Sis- 
 ter Ursula. She was not young nor pretty, but by 
 some freak of nature, she had the human tenderness 
 that the other woman lacked, so again it was all the 
 same to the atom. In due process of time, he de-
 
 86 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 veloped into a nine year old boy, and was known 
 in general as " Number Six, Upper Corridor," when 
 spoken of by the powers that ruled at " The Catho- 
 lic Male Half-Orphan Asylum"; but more particu- 
 larly, if it were a question of exactness, as Guy Mel- 
 ton. He was a refined, clear eyed child, slim and 
 shapely. In answer to questions he often informed 
 the young male orphans about him, that his mother 
 had always been a widow, and he had never had any 
 father. He did not, in regard to this matter, speak 
 by authority at all perhaps it was by inspiration. 
 Some one paid for his maintenance and he was not 
 in the least unhappy. What if he looked, in his 
 grotesque little uniform, like the ninety other boys, 
 who slept in the same kind of a cot, ate like frugal 
 meals and learned the same doctrines he knew 
 himself. What more could a philosopher do ? There 
 was, in this Asylum of St. Guthlac, a certain pock- 
 marked priest, who wore a black petticoat, and often 
 assured Guy that, at his age, he also would be a 
 priest, probably pock-marked, surely petticoated, 
 and him Guy hated. It was, instead, his heart's de- 
 sire to be of the blessed, heroic saints described so 
 vividly by Sister Ursula. To dwell in the desert, 
 .to share a cave with his own companionable wild 
 beast some snow-white lion, as pious as he was 
 colossal this was Guy's outlook and cherished
 
 A SMALL ENTHUSIAST. 87 
 
 dream. There was not much chance for out-of-door 
 sports at the asylum, which was in a forlorn part of 
 London, shut in by warehouses. There were no 
 copies of Robinson Crusoe, or The Arabian Nights 
 to read, but Sister Ursula's legends answered well in 
 their absence, and there was old St. Guthlac's Cathe- 
 dral, musty, dark and fascinating, close by the asy- 
 lum and connected with it under cover. When the 
 good sister stole away, to say her prayers there, Guy 
 used to find her out and follow. He did not go for 
 any devout reason, but to hobnob with a grand Lord 
 and Lady to whom since he first found them, his af- 
 fections had clung. The moment Sister Ursula knelt, 
 his light feet sped down the aisle to a spot wfrere 
 was a flat, raised slab, on which mediaeval monks 
 took tithes; scrambling up on it, Guy would push 
 back his light curls and say, " Good day, my Lord ! 
 Good day, my Lady ! Good day, old Doggie." 
 
 The noble pair never returned his greeting, be- 
 cause the sweetest child's voice had ceased for them 
 centuries before, but he was not repulsed by the 
 silence. It was all a part of them, of course. Their 
 hideous effigies were stretched on high, magnificent 
 tombs. He liked his grim lordship and fehe hound 
 that couched at his feet. The lady's pink marble 
 hands with cut rings, her huge ruffs, long stomacher, 
 even her, perhaps patrician, but undeniably hooked
 
 88 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 nose Guy honestly admired all. He had no cor- 
 rect idea of their titles or estate in life. Heaven 
 knows what he did fancy; perhaps that the carous- 
 ing old lord was one of his holy heroes, and fought 
 dragons, not fellow Christians, when he wore the 
 rusty armor hanging over his tomb and gloried in 
 the banner whose rags fluttered over the boy, cross- 
 legged on the tithing table. 
 
 One day the sister missed Guy and came there to 
 find him. He suddenly asked "Where are they 
 now the knowing part of them ? " 
 
 As his small thumb was levelled at the prostrate 
 pair, she understood and answered resignedly: " In 
 purgatory perhaps, for the rich fall into many 
 temptations." 
 
 " And did the dog go with them ? " 
 
 " No, brutes do not sin." 
 
 " Then perhaps he waits outside the door for 
 them. Poor thing, that must be lonesome ! Will 
 they all come into these stone bodies when they 
 get out ? I wish the dog would do it now and let 
 me love him." 
 
 " You don't understand it, child." 
 
 He stretched himself and kissed the sister. She 
 never was demonstrative, it was contrary to the 
 habits of her order; but Guy felt embraces which 
 she never gave him. He always seemed to have
 
 A SMALL ENTHUSIAST. 89 
 
 received them when her hard hands touched him, 
 when her eyes looked out on him from her awful 
 head-gear. 
 
 This time she said soberly, " What if you have 
 to go out into the big and bad world ? " 
 
 " Of course I want to go when I am old." 
 
 " If you go when you are little, you will forget 
 what I have told you and you will become a heretic 
 instead of a saint." 
 
 " And go to purgatory ? " 
 
 " Yes, or to hell." 
 
 He winced; the retreat first spoken of, suggested 
 the possibility of his meeting there the pink marble 
 gentry, so dear to him; but when the sister whis- 
 pered the other awful word he cried out with en- 
 ergy: " I won't go anywhere ! I will stay with 
 you ! " 
 
 " I wish you might, but little boys often are sent 
 away from here to other friends." 
 
 " I wfll not go ! If Father Dominick makes me, 
 I will kick him like this." 
 
 The sister laid a hand oft the small leg in the 
 air. 
 
 "We all of us have to obey, Guy, and the best 
 obey quickest." 
 
 " Will they let me go to the desert ?" 
 
 " Very likely, sooner or later."
 
 90 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 With his soft cheek against her coarse dress, he 
 gravely studied my Lord's great gauntlet; but he 
 was not thinking, as often before, of the broken fore- 
 finger, for he faltered out: "I don't want to go and 
 leave you, even then. I am too little to be a martyr. 
 I don't believe there would be any lion to go with 
 me." 
 
 " Maybe not, but you would be good and do as 
 you were told " 
 
 " No ! I will kick ! I will kick" 
 
 A bell struck in a distant tower. Sister Ursula 
 hastened away, calling the small male Catholic or- 
 phan to follow her. He did, but while she, in pass- 
 ing the altar, bowed with a reverent sign, his head 
 was erect, his heart full of new rebellion against 
 fate: as if among London millions, one little heart's 
 beating would count for anything or as if fate 
 cared for the kick.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Mocmlight on the Sea. 
 
 r I ^HE sky was clear, the breeze strong, the water 
 *- in the Cove of Cork greener than the green 
 shores. Out in the harbor lay the steamer Vic- 
 toria, around about it far and wide, were little Irish 
 craft with butternut brown sails, close to it was the 
 small steamer that had brought out from Queens- 
 town additional voyagers. 
 
 Miss Leigh was leaning over the railing watching 
 these last. Miss Eunice Lathrop, seduced by the 
 blarney of a bog-wood seller, who had boarded 
 the larger vessel, was letting go English silver for 
 tiny black pots and funereal chains. 
 
 "Don't get any more of them; they are hideous," 
 said Annie. "Come here and look at the funny 
 emigrants with shawls over their heads ! " 
 
 " They will have French hats next month," re- 
 turned Miss Eunice, leaving the bog-wood. " Yes, 
 do see the sauce-pans and the feather-beds and I 
 do declare, there is Mr. Rushmore ! "
 
 92 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 Annie was not looking that way; her curiosity 
 had suddenly softened, at sight of a young girl 
 clinging to her old father's neck, while he trembling 
 tried to bid her good-by. 
 
 "Poor old man! Isn't it hard ?" she exclaimed, 
 her own blue eyes full of tears. 
 
 Miss Lathrop intent on her discovery continued: 
 "It will be very pleasant to have his company 
 across now. Annie, don't you see him Mr. Rush- 
 more ? " 
 
 " Oh, I am so glad," was the frank reply. " Yes 
 I see him sandwiched between a pillow-case of 
 clothes and an Irishwoman's cooking apparatus. 
 What a surprise he will have ! " 
 
 Perhaps the meeting might not have been so 
 much a " surprise," as aplanned-for occurrence upon 
 the part of Mr. Rushmore; but he showed a due 
 amount of enthusiasm at sight of them when he 
 escaped from the tin oven and appeared above 
 board, in elegant society. 
 
 Half an hour later, the steamer was under way 
 again and everybody was at ease, sea fashion. Miss 
 Leigh looked e^rtremely pretty, with a soft, white 
 scarf about her hair, though it could not keep bright 
 little rings from flying out over her forehead. Miss 
 Eunice, too alert to recline in any long drawn-out 
 steamer chair, was perched on a ledge chatting
 
 MOONLIGHT ON THE SEA. 93 
 
 about anything or everything that Rushmore hap- 
 pened to mention. In the few days spent in London 
 this gentleman had become well acquainted with 
 the ladies. Miss Lathrop, little by little, recalled 
 the almost entire genealogy of the Rushmore family 
 and Annie, who liked him exceedingly, would have 
 received him as a friend even if she had not been fa- 
 vored with all this history. 
 
 "What have you done since I saw you last, Miss 
 Leigh ?" he asked. "Did you go to Warwick and 
 Kenilworth Castles, as you were planning when I 
 left you at Dame Cudlip's ? " 
 
 "We did." 
 
 " Tell me all about it." 
 
 " Not a word ! I have heard you say a report of 
 that sort was 'intolerable.'" 
 
 "What a memory you have ! But I know you re- 
 fuse because you did not enjoy it, no doubt it rained." 
 
 " No, indeed," she put in eagerly. " The day at 
 Kenilworth was exquisite bright sunshine on the 
 ivy, the flowers were in blossom, away up on towers 
 where the wind must have carried their seeds, and 
 the birds were flitting around in the old banquet 
 hall, which is all open to the sky, we " 
 
 She caught the laughter in his eye and quickly 
 went on, " we came on board." 
 
 "What at Warwick?"
 
 94 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 " And since then I have had to watch over my 
 little chaperon" 
 
 " Is Miss Lathrop inclined to be wild ?" 
 
 " Oh no only timid, and there is a gentleman, 
 we think he is an undertaker, although that was not 
 mentioned when he was introduced by the captain 
 to us, who persists in asking her to walk to come 
 and watch the glory of the sea or to go below and 
 see the ponderous machinery; he looks very meek, 
 but he frightens her." 
 
 " No wonder; there is no politeness on earth so im- 
 pertinently suggestive as an undertaker's he seems 
 to want to carry it so far; but away with ghastly 
 jokes. Do tell us more about that banquet hall 
 deserted, Miss Leigh ! " 
 
 Annie studied the coast and said that the few 
 cabins and square towers in the alternate verdure 
 and barrenness made it look like a tilted chess 
 board." 
 
 " Well, if you positively refuse to tell your adven- 
 tures, tell me more about the passengers; a steamer 
 is like a big menagerie where it is both amusing and 
 instructive to study the creatures great and small. 
 It is only the scientific who devote their attention 
 to the aquarium outside. 
 
 " We have not been on deck much until this after- 
 noon," said Miss Lathrop. " The sun on the water is
 
 MOONLIGHT ON THE SEA. 95 
 
 painful to Mrs. Melton's eyes and it seemed a little 
 unfriendly to leave her alone below at the very first." 
 
 " Mrs. Melton ! " echoed Rushmore. " Do you mean 
 Mrs. Cudlip's daughter or niece ?" 
 
 " Yes," returned Miss Eunice promptly. " Didn't 
 you know she was going to Waldenton with us ? 
 She is a nice little thing and we are very sorry for 
 her. Miss Leigh has invited her to stay at her 
 house until she gets employment. She can do al- 
 most anything." 
 
 "Indeed! Well you are very kind. I wish her suc- 
 cess," returned Rushmore thoughtfully; then at the 
 ringing of the loud dinner bell he exclaimed: " That 
 is a welcome sound. I have fasted since ten o'clock." 
 
 Mrs. Melton did not appear at the table, and after 
 dinner Miss Lathrop went to see if she were getting 
 seasick. As soon as she disappeared, Rushmore said 
 to Annie: " Our friend the undertaker not being here 
 to suggest a walk, may I persecute you in his stead." 
 
 " Oh, he always neglected me," she answered smil- 
 ingly following the evening procession from the 
 table to the deck. 
 
 They were in time for the after-glow of an orange 
 and red sunset. The colors were now on the sea, 
 and over them in serene splendor was the full moon. 
 Fat men were puffing back and forth, dragging wind- 
 blown ladies, young men and maidens were gaily
 
 $6 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 speeding from bow to stern or trying to do so with 
 many a dodge and lurch. The skittle players were 
 shouting, everybody was jubilant. Rushmore and 
 Annie walked, until their breath was almost ex- 
 hausted, and then panting and laughing dropped 
 into a sheltered corner and let their companions of 
 a moment before furnish them with transient amuse- 
 ment. Annie, her cheeks glowing and golden hair 
 flying, tried to hold her mantle" around her and get 
 the better of the breeze, while she talked. 
 
 " I am always tempted to ask you about Walden- 
 ton, when we are together," she said. " I have not 
 patience to wait and find out things for myself." 
 
 " I can tell you everything, Miss Leigh ! Listen 
 now and confess to me later that my foresight was 
 almost super-human. You will get home on Thurs- 
 day. You will go over the house Friday, while 
 Miss Lathrop counts napkins and discovers no end 
 of work to be done. Saturday you will see the 
 vases are empty and go to pick roses for them; 
 standing at the end of your garden, you will look 
 down into middle-town, where my office is. Re- 
 member me in that moment ! Of course, your 
 friends will be of the upper-town, so on Sunday, in 
 modest attire, you will go to the church with the 
 highest steeple. Nobody will seem to see you, but 
 every lady, who is to know you later will have borne
 
 MOONLIGHT ON THE SEA. 97 
 
 into her, past the prayer book, a vision of your crim- 
 son fichu and orange jabot, your purple and gold 
 redingote will know that you bought them all in 
 Paris and will decorously talk you over in the family 
 circle after church. The week after that, Upper 
 Waldenton will call upon you estimable old ladies, 
 fine matrons, delightful widows and a great many 
 charming girls." 
 
 "Will the young lady you told me of once be 
 among these ? " 
 
 Rushmore hesitated a second before he replied: 
 " No, I think not by the time you have come to a 
 clear understanding of the social importance of the 
 lady with prominent lavender eyes, and can know 
 who came over in the Mayflower, you may return 
 your calls. Then there will be three hundred and 
 sixty-five tea and lawn parties yes, conversations 
 and musicals go to them all. If you can interpo- 
 late a day somewhere, you must give a five o'clock 
 tea. Don't let anybody call it a kettledrum; they 
 have had those there, and this rose this tea-rose I 
 might say, will be sweeter by another name." 
 
 Annie's blue eyes sparkled with mischief; she said 
 demurely: " You know everything about Waldenton 
 etiquette, don't you ? " 
 
 " I flatter myself that I do." 
 
 " Miss Lathrop had given me to understand that,
 
 ; ; EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 as I was wearing mourning, I would not be expected 
 to vary it with those rainbow colors, and must not 
 go to parties or give them myself." 
 
 Rushmore had to laugh off his chagrin, saying, 
 " That is what a man gets for meddling with mil- 
 linery!" 
 
 " Of course I Now tell me how I am to know this 
 friend of yours, if she will not come to me. Why 
 won't she ? Does she not live in Waldenton ? " 
 
 "Not in the upper-town, and she goes very little 
 into society; her father is an elderly man, a minister, 
 and rather poor I imagine. When I am ready to 
 have you know her, I will tell her of you and will let 
 you meet. Is not that autocratic ? " 
 
 " Very. Is she a beauty ? " 
 
 " She is slighter than you are and not so sunny in 
 face or mood; but she is very lovely in a still way." 
 
 " Is she intellectual ? " 
 
 " Not tediously so. She is not a nineteenth cen- 
 tury girl. I was in the cathedral at Brussels one 
 day, at the foot of Verbruggen's old pulpit, when a 
 Sister of Charity came in with a hundred little 
 wooden shoed children, clattering behind her. She 
 had a smile, so like Agnes Hathaway's I was tempted 
 to take her hand and say: " Why, I left you teach- 
 ing Sunday school in Massachusetts, and here you 
 are more saintly than ever."
 
 MOONLIGHT ON THE SEA. 99 
 
 " Is she so good as that ? Can't she dance and 
 sing and enjoy herself ? I should shock her. I like 
 brilliant sunshine, I never could endure a shaded, 
 colorless life." 
 
 "I think she is entirely happy; though her life 
 must be dull," said Rushmore, pushing his soft cap 
 back from his handsome forehead. 
 
 " She ought to go to those parties you speak of, 
 and wear crimson and yellow dresses. I shall make 
 her. She needs just such things." 
 
 " No, she don't. She will live along in that little 
 parsonage and get more unearthly every year, and 
 some day half a century or a quarter from now she 
 will be" 
 
 " Like what ? " 
 
 " Well, not old and withered, but like a flower 
 shut away in a Bible to be found long after half per- 
 fumed, a spirit whose body held it and grew ethereal." 
 
 " You are talking nonsense. I am very matter of 
 fact. I think it is dreadful to let bright, live things 
 get crushed, even in holy places. Let us say she 
 will get gayer and happier every year of her life. 
 Will she marry ? " 
 
 "Perhaps." 
 
 The deck had become much less crowded. The 
 color on the water had vanished and all light now 
 came from the moon. Annie glanced about and,
 
 100 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 Rushmore fearing she might go below, proposed 
 another walk. As they promenaded back and forth, 
 slowly this time, he said, " I cannot tell you, Miss 
 Leigh how pleased I am in the thought that ours 
 need not be a brief acquaintance. In Waldenton I 
 may see you frequently, I hope." 
 
 " Naturally, we will meet often, if it is the 
 very social place you describe," she said in a low 
 tone. 
 
 "Oh, here you are," exclaimed Miss Eunice, pop- 
 ping as from a box, out of the upper cabin. " I for- 
 got all about you until Mrs. Melton asked where 
 you were. There is an opera troupe on board, and 
 the prima donna is eating Welsh rarebit with the 
 leader of the orchestra. She is the stout, yellow- 
 wigged woman, we saw come on board with two 
 maids and a puppy. She won't sing for us, she never 
 sings on the sea; but it is very interesting down in 
 the cabin. You can learn who everybody is with- 
 out the least effort. The second son of the Earl of 
 Something is down there, going to Canada, and I 
 took him for the steward, and said, I wished I had 
 some lemonade. He didn't understand, but only 
 stared, said, ' I beg pah-don,' and walked right on 
 over me. Isn't it too cool up here ? " 
 
 " Perhaps I had better go in," the young lady re- 
 plied, and after a brief good night Rushmore \vas
 
 MOONLIGHT ON THE SEA. IOI 
 
 left alone. He lighted a cigar and continued his 
 promenade, stopping at the stern to see the crumb- 
 ling white foam ride up the waves and topple over 
 into the dark trough of waters. Of a sudden his 
 thoughts took a curious turn. He had been talking 
 quite aimlessly about Agnes; he all at this moment 
 realized how much he reverenced her. He was sorry 
 he had told a stranger of her; her searching eyes 
 almost seemed to be reproaching him for something. 
 Every time he thought Miss Leigh so exceedingly 
 pretty and charming, as he certainly had to-nfght, 
 he felt a twinge of what ? He let the question go 
 unanswered and fell into a reverie. He could im- 
 agine a way by wliich more color might come into 
 Agnes's life. Perhaps he could put it there. True 
 that was his fancy, not a positive knowledge. It 
 laid no obligation upon him, he only pondered if it 
 would please him to try his skill. He almost came 
 to think that it might, that if he were on land to- 
 night he could write Agnes a letter which might 
 bring back another as rare and delicate as her last 
 one crumpled in his pocket only fuller and sweeter 
 as an unfolded blossom that ceases to be a hid prom- 
 ise when it opens to the sun. He could not write 
 of course, but soon he would be back in the plain 
 little parlor, with Agnes gravely asking of his 
 travels. It was just possible that he would waste
 
 102 EUNICE LATHKOP, SPINSTER. 
 
 no more time reading her the love poems of foreign 
 poets, dead this many a year; but he might tell her 
 something equally romantic and much more origi- 
 nal. It was astonishing how bright and happy this 
 fancy made him feel in its first freshness. He act- 
 ually blushed in the twilight as if the mermaids were 
 telling one another his fine thoughts. He almost 
 believed himself a man in love. It did occur to him, 
 but not as a fact worthy of philosophical analysis, 
 that his tender emotions toward Agnes usually be- 
 stirred themselves when he was under the influence 
 of Miss Leigh's society. He had never been the 
 same lazy, unimpassioned individual as before, since 
 he had met her that day in Westminster Abbey. 
 He reflected that if he had known her first he might 
 have loved her with more intensity than his affec- 
 tion for Agnes would probably possess in case that 
 affection became something more than the present 
 friendship. 
 
 At this point in his meditation the winds and the 
 waves asserted themselves or the mermaids may 
 have thought him too sentimental, at any rate a 
 blinding dash of spray hit him full in the face and he 
 made his way at once to the brilliant cabin where 
 earls' sons and prima donnas were said to be just 
 then on exhibition. 
 
 The third day out, there came a strong head wind.
 
 MOONLIGHT ON THE SEA. 103 
 
 The Victoria swung on tremendous waves. Rush- 
 more missed the ladies from the table when the 
 cups danced gaily about. Miss Lathrop appeared 
 once or twice and declared that no one of her party 
 was seasick, only they were all a little tired. She 
 herself was too listless to study human nature as 
 usual or even to be teased by him. It was evident 
 that he must await calmer weather for a renewal 
 of social life. However, that same evening, as he 
 was looking over the books in the library, under 
 the cabin sideboard, he saw Mrs. Melton, for the 
 first time. She was sitting near an electric light, 
 her head leaning on her hand, the crimson sleeve 
 slipping away from her round white arm. She 
 looked up and smiled in sudden pleasure. He took 
 the chair next to hers and said cordially: " I am 
 very glad to see you as far out as the cabin, but you 
 must venture on deck soon." 
 
 " I have been up there several times about twi- 
 light." 
 
 " The strong light on the water affects your eyes 
 disagreeably, Miss Lathrop tells me." 
 
 " It might I tell her it would," she returned, 
 with a half mischievous glance and then a timid one 
 as if he must think hers a queer remark. He might 
 have thought so, if he had been paying attention,, 
 but he happened to be thinking, with a transient
 
 104 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 admiration, how pretty the mellow light made her 
 look in the high colored robe with her hair in a care- 
 less coil. 
 
 "I am old enough to look at things sensibly," 
 she went on somewhat to his surprise. "These 
 new friends are very kind, but of course I am not 
 with them on a social equality." 
 
 Catching a motion of Rushmore's she said* quickly: 
 " I know you Americans are very generous in over- 
 looking merely arbitrary barriers. I hope Miss 
 Leigh will like me, and in a way regard me as a 
 friend, but I must not, by becoming too familiar 
 with her now, make it harder for her hereafter to 
 be simply one of my patrons." 
 
 Mr. Rushmore at a loss or the right thing to say, 
 murmured something to the effect that she " had 
 Miss Lathrop too, a sensible warm-hearted little wo- 
 man." She assented and was silent. In a moment 
 a big tear dropped on the open page of the book 
 before her, and another glistened on her long down- 
 cast eyelashes. She brushed it away with a cun- 
 ning pettishness and exclaimed: " I do feel just like 
 a foolish, scared child, your country is going to be 
 so strange to me. I see that I was very reckless to 
 start out on such a venture ! " 
 
 " O," said Rushmore, with a cheering laugh, and 
 the kindliest possible tone, "that is all pure nerv-
 
 MOONLIGHT ON THE SEA. 105 
 
 ousness; it will vanish the moment you step foot on 
 land. I assure you it will ! " 
 
 " Perhaps it will, at least I ought to thank you for 
 the encouragement you gave Aunt Cudlip in regard 
 to my going to Waldenton. It decided the matter, 
 and it was exceedingly kind." 
 
 In her pathetic effort to speak hopefully again, she 
 did not look at Rushmore's startled countenance. 
 When had he done this thing ? In time, he recalled 
 the dialogue over the weak tea, and how Mrs. Cud- 
 lip had discoursed of a friend unnamed and had asked 
 about woman's work in America. He was inclined 
 to tell Mrs. Melton that she had no especial reason 
 to thank him, then he feared such a speech would 
 depress her more and she was evidently very home- 
 sick, so he was silent. 
 
 " I hate sewing," she confessed, artlessly, "I hope 
 I won't have to do that. I can write very fast and 
 plainly. I wonder if lawyers have much copying, 
 and if they hire it done for them, and would / be 
 likely to get chances to do such work do you 
 think ? " 
 
 A few weeks before, Rushmore had thought Mrs. 
 Cudlip's poor, respectable female friend a fool to 
 gather up her little tag-ends of talent and carry 
 thern to a far market, trusting fortune to tell her 
 how to use them when she got there. He thought
 
 106 EUNICE LATHKOP, SPINSTER. 
 
 the same now; but the fool being present and pretty, 
 he was betrayed into saying that he himself was a 
 lawyer and he would bear Mrs. Melton's case in 
 mind. She thanked him with a glance and a word, 
 but not with any vulgar eagerness, as if he had 
 bound himself by a promise to serve her. She had 
 the delicacy of a lady, and the simplicity of one who 
 being poor is not ashamed to be sincere; or so Rush- 
 more reflected. He also concluded that wordy, old 
 Lord Kames knew what he was telling of in the 
 "Elements of Criticism," he studied long before; 
 for did he not declare that a beautiful woman in 
 tears, was a touching object to behold. Mrs. Mel- 
 ton was quite pretty, she had shed one tear. It 
 certainly was right that he should be proportion- 
 ately affected. 
 
 Next day on coming out on deck, after a late 
 breakfast, Rushmore discovered Miss Leigh and Miss 
 Lathrop under an awning with books and gay worsted 
 work. 
 
 " I am very glad you are rested," he said, laughing 
 as he approached them. "Yesterday was a fatigu- 
 ing day. I came up here and stretched out in some- 
 body's neglected chair. A ship and a shark passed 
 by on the other side, but I was too 'tired ' to be cu- 
 rious. I had brought up a book that proved to be 
 worse for me than the head wind."
 
 MOONLIGHT ON THE SEA. 107 
 
 "What do you mean ?" asked Miss Lathrop. 
 
 " It held a cruel polysyllable, and in my weak con- 
 dition I suddenly encountered the word, Nephelococ- 
 cugaia. Charles Kingsley put it there. It knocked 
 me flat; and yet men call him a kind man." 
 
 " That reminds me that Miss Lathrop says we are 
 going to read to-day, or to let you read to us." 
 
 " Yes, I have indulged in so many personalities 
 lately, I am actually ashamed," explained the spin- 
 ster. " I don't mean to talk about people any more. 
 There, Annie, there is the Canadian woman that 
 said 'American girls chattered like magpies,' and 
 that ' the United Sates were crazy to have Canada an- 
 nexed ' ; but for her ' part she hoped they never 
 would.' The idea ! I was so indignant I wanted to 
 shake her." 
 
 " Oh, you have backslidden already, Miss La- 
 throp ! Remember Mrs. Cudlip's noble example ! 
 Talk to us of atmospheric currents, of psychical 
 forces, of anything vast you happen to think of. 
 Prepare Miss Leigh for the lofty converse of those 
 five o'clock teas, she will give next year." 
 
 " I don't seem to think of anything except the 
 passengers, they are so queer," confessed the poor 
 lady meekly. " I really think the motion of the 
 boat affects my mind." 
 
 She fell into profound meditation after that, and
 
 I08 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 Rushmore talked to Miss Leigh instead of being lit- 
 erary. He had a whimsical notion Miss Eunice was 
 right about the waves and the mind. His own 
 thoughts seemed somewhat after their fashion, roll- 
 ing wilfully, playing many antics, setting toward 
 I what shore he hardly could make out. To-day he 
 discoursed on certain English laws in regard to land, 
 and wondered that blue eyes could be so expressive 
 as were Miss Leigh's. He finally drew her on to 
 talk about herself, and reflected upon her apparent 
 characteristics. The progress a bright scholar, in- 
 tent on such a study, can make, in a short time, is 
 something surprising. The research did not grow 
 less interesting when the faintest self-consciousness 
 became apparent in her fleeting blushes, when she 
 laughed in a way to show charming dimples, and at 
 last grew saucy in self-defence. 
 
 Miss Lathrop slept, her sun hat tilted over her 
 eyes, a volume of Scott on her bosom. 
 
 " I wish you could make her do what I want to 
 have her do, Mr. Rushmore," said Annie, with a 
 glance at the sleeper. 
 
 " I will, if I perish in the attempt." 
 
 " I want her to come and live with me. She is 
 kind and sensible and very entertaining; she can do 
 in my home just what she did in her own." 
 
 " Of course."
 
 MOONLIGHT ON THE SEA. 109 
 
 " I thought she had consented to live with me, 
 but she talked of it to Mrs. Melton, and since that 
 talk she has been averse to the plan. Mrs. Melton, 
 owing to her English life, I presume, has exag- 
 gerated ideas of what her responsibilities would 
 be. Now Miss Lathrop insists that there are 
 social exigencies and peculiar quirks of Upper 
 Waldenton life that she would not be equal to 
 at all. She says I ought to take Mrs. Mel- 
 ton herself, for she has seen vastly more of the 
 world." 
 
 "Nonsense ! perhaps the real objection is that she 
 may be looked upon as filling some menial position. 
 A princess of the blood is not prouder than a Mas- 
 sachusetts spinster of good family." 
 
 " No, I have made it plain to her that I want a 
 friend, a companion; she says Mrs. Melton has a pol- 
 ish that she lacks; perhaps that is true, and she may 
 find her permanent place in the house, but I must 
 have Miss Lathrop." 
 
 " I will do my best. I supposed this was an ar- 
 rangement of long standing. What impelled her to 
 come for you ? " 
 
 " Some one had to come, and a Mr. Irving selected 
 her for the purpose." 
 
 "John Irving? Oh, certainly it must have been 
 he."
 
 1 10 EUNICE LATHROI\ SPINSTER. 
 
 " What is he like ? She admires him greatly." 
 
 " He is a man, head and shoulders above the 
 crowd, which is a fine thing if one makes noise 
 enough. He does not do it, he lacks vanity; he is 
 too much in earnest. If he does not have the right 
 listener he keeps still." 
 
 " Do you like him for that ? " 
 
 " I ! Oh yes, but being morally taller than other 
 people, and yet not taking up any more room lit- 
 erally, they merely step on his toes and wonder 
 what he wants of such a wide outlook. I am con- 
 tent my self to be on a level with my neighbor's 
 eyes." 
 
 The lids fell over a certain beautiful pair not far 
 away. Miss Lathrop awoke and was erect at once, 
 signalling the deck steward she ordered up ham- 
 sandwiches and black tea. She awoke, but not to 
 realize that eternal vigilance is often the price of a 
 maiden's liberty. While she slumbered, the winds 
 and the waves, the sunbeams and the light from hu- 
 man eyes might be playing tricks with her precious 
 charge. When she mused, nightly, she thought of 
 fire, shipwreck, of the "deep" that "boiled like 
 a pot," of " Leviathan " himself; but she never 
 once reflected that there was a risk of which insur- 
 ance companies took no note. No, she ate her 
 lunch serenely and whispered to Annie, " I have
 
 MOONLIGHT ON THE SEA. Ill 
 
 more appetite up here than below. That William 
 Henry, our waiter, is so fat and so slow. He grins 
 so helplessly when they all call to him at once and 
 he does not go to anybody that it is quite pathetic; 
 and I have seen him fly off and wipe his face on 
 the napkins, behind the door." 
 
 " I am going below a while," said Annie, not pay- 
 ing much attention, but thinking it a good time to 
 leave Rushmore to work in her behalf. Compre- 
 hending her design he exerted himself to carry out 
 her wishes; later he fancied that his eloquence had 
 not been without effect. 
 
 In the six days that remained of the voyage, 
 Rushmore once or twice recalled that tender reverie, 
 that pensive season spent with the mermaids and he 
 concluded that his emotions had been a little over- 
 wrought. If Agnes was the best woman in the 
 world, Annie Leigh was the most charming. He 
 soberly questioned if Agnes were not too good for 
 him. She probably did not love him yet; if he 
 awakened her interests in him and then fell short 
 (as doubtless he should fall) of her standard of ex- 
 cellence she would suffer. It might be a heroic sac- 
 rifice to the highest love, which regards most the 
 good of the one beloved, to renounce Agnes and try 
 to win Annie who, equally lovable, was rather more 
 human. That was high ground to dwell upon, he
 
 112 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 slid off on a lower plane. Perhaps he was not in 
 love with Agnes at all, perhaps he had conceitedly 
 taken a great deal for granted in fancying she could 
 be easily wooed and won. In short the gentleman 
 resolved at last to wait to deal justly by each fair 
 lady and wisely by himself.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Three Episodes in the Life of a Small Nobleman. 
 
 nnHERE was a great sameness about life at old 
 * St. Guthlac's Asylum. Small events made 
 deep impressions upon Guy. One day the " end 
 boy " in the procession that followed the priests up 
 the steps to the Cathedral altar that boy fell ill, 
 and Guy was put into his scarlet petticoat and as- 
 sisted in the celebration of solemn high Mass. The 
 priest, who in full canonicals, elevated the Host 
 could not have felt his dignity as did the little nod- 
 ding image at the tail of the procession. He looked 
 every whit as angelic as either one of Domenichino's 
 cherubs who swing so airily out upon nothing at the 
 Communion of St. Jerome. He asked Sister Ursula, 
 that night, if his sins were not all forgiven, in conse- 
 quence of the imposing display he had made of him- 
 self in the cause of religion. She said if he were 
 truly sorry for putting all the salt in his neighbor's 
 porridge and never again run away behind the Ca- 
 thedral to gamble for ha'pennies with newly arrived
 
 114 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 and wicked orphans perhaps his sins were absolved. 
 The Second episode, one day later, was not specta- 
 cular and by no means pious. 
 
 Sister Ursula had been sent to sweep the Lady 
 Chapel, never used now, but often looked into by 
 curious visitors. Guy followed, though he liked noth- 
 ing there but an old daub of a painting, on wood, of 
 St. Guthlac tormented by demons. It was in three 
 panels. On the second St. Bartholomew comes to his 
 aid. In the third Old Guthlac lays about him with 
 a cat-o'-nine tails and makes a rushing time among 
 the imps. Guy was wondering if his own favorite 
 (because weakly and knock-kneed) demon, could 
 possibly have escaped with a whole skin when he 
 heard Father Dominick's voice outside the door. 
 He appeared in a moment, followed by a military 
 man, and a boy a head taller than Guy himself. The 
 man was big and black and hoarse, a sort of a bull 
 frog in uniform. It was the boy, however, who was 
 at once the object of Guy's aversion. He was fat, 
 bullet headed, with sly light eyes a young gentle- 
 man evidently, for he wore a silk felt hat, a black 
 roundabout, long pantaloons and kid gloves. Our 
 recluse felt an intense desire to throw mud at him 
 when he grinned very aggressively. 
 
 "There he is," exclaimed Father Dominick point- 
 ing out Guy and calling, " Come here, boy ! "
 
 THREE EPISODES. 115 
 
 Sister Ursula stopped sweeping to listen, but the 
 priest having summoned Guy left him to the stran- 
 gers and drew the Sister away from them, talking 
 to her in an undertone. 
 
 " What is your name young man ? " asked the 
 military person with the original of the grin the son 
 had inherited. 
 
 " Number Six, sir," said Guy begrudging him 
 anything so personal as his short name. 
 
 The priest smiled, but at the question, not the 
 answer. 
 
 "Six what ? " 
 
 " Sixth Catholic Male Orphan." 
 
 " Nonsense ! What do the boys call you ? " 
 
 " Guy." 
 
 " And you have been no end happy in this nice 
 quiet home, I suppose." 
 
 The porridge-fed boy catching a leer of the pud- 
 ding-fed one, promptly said: "Yes, sir." and knew 
 that he would say the same had he suffered daily 
 previous tortures. 
 
 "Well, my son that is little boy, who put you 
 here ? " 
 
 " God." 
 
 " Indeed ! Then I hope He will keep you here," 
 stammered the military gentleman, "but in the past, 
 somebody quite different, has paid your board. This
 
 Il6 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER, 
 
 is not a free institution, by any means. If you 
 were not kept here where do you think you would 
 be ? " 
 
 " In the deserts of Egypt." 
 
 "Thunder! Well if you go to Africa, I know 
 who is going to India, and it is the party that 
 has paid quarterly for your bread and butter. He 
 can't do it any longer. He wishes you to say 
 that to any whom it may concern. Where is your 
 mother ? " 
 
 Guy's eyes seemed turned inward, looking for her 
 in his heart perhaps, not finding her there, he coolly 
 nodded his curly head in the direction of the South 
 transept of St. Guthlac's and replied: "She is in 
 there." 
 
 The Colonel looked up startled at the priest. 
 
 " No, the little simpleton doesn't know what he 
 means," said Father Dominick. 
 
 " I mean Lady Kew," said Guy stubbornly. 
 
 " And I told you only yesterday she had been 
 dead two hundred years and more." 
 
 " I know it." 
 
 The military mirth subsiding, the military voice 
 put in: " If the old lady ever wakes up and asks 
 what is going to be done with you, tell her that is 
 for her to say hereafter. She has kept in the back- 
 ground long enough. There, run away ! "
 
 THREE EPISODES. 117 
 
 Flinging Guy a sixpence, the Colonel turned again 
 to the priest, saying: " Proceed as I have directed. 
 'Tis not merely the money but the thing will get 
 more awkward as time goes on. When I have 
 sailed, take the first step." 
 
 The priest nodded. Sister Ursula trembled as she 
 went on with her sweeping. The green-eyed boy 
 had made faces during this interview. He was now 
 very wrathy at sight of a sixpence going to a No- 
 body numbered Six, instead of a young Somebody 
 like himself. He waited for his father to go and 
 examine a bit of Saxon wall built into the chapel, 
 then he opened warfare. Guy, gone back to the 
 mediaeval demons, suddenly heard the latter-day 
 imp whisper: "You nah-sty male orphan, give me up 
 that sixpence." 
 
 Guy forgot to raise the battle-cry: "By the power 
 of St. Guthlac ! " but he flew at his tormentor and 
 whacked his silky broadcloth till he yelped for mercy 
 till father, priest, and sister came to the rescue. 
 The Colonel was moved to laugh immoderately and 
 Guy fled away at a sign from Sister Ursula. 
 
 A long time after, she found him as usual cross- 
 legged on the tithing-table. He expected a chid- 
 ing, perhaps to be sent supperless to bed. She only 
 turned up his hair and looked long and earnestly in 
 his face.
 
 Il8 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 " Have I got a black and blue spot ? " asked the 
 boy. 
 
 " You don't look like as I should think you 
 would. Your mother must have " 
 
 "Was not Lady Kew my mother ? I like her. I 
 think she might have been, only before Father 
 Dominick came here." 
 
 " Well child, in a choice of stone women, you 
 might as well take what suits you best. The father 
 will tease you after this and call you little Lord 
 Kew ! " 
 
 " Let him, it is a fine name," said Guy, and it was 
 well he thought so, for by that name he was called 
 so long as he staid at St. Guthlac's. 
 
 The sister lifted him lovingly down to the floor, 
 as if he were a baby, then he followed her to the 
 dining-hall, where she set out the bowls and plates, 
 off which he had all his life eaten his daily bread, 
 each time thanking a Father in heaven for it. Who 
 was this that came claiming to-day that he had 
 provided the bread ? Lord Kew never gave him a 
 second thought. 
 
 His third experience was more prolonged and 
 important in all respects. One night, stretched on 
 his little pallet, he was awakened out of sound 
 slumber by gentle shaking and soft kisses. A 
 bright street-lamp made the long iron-bedded cor-
 
 THREE EPISODES. 119 
 
 ridor not quite dark. A tall black figure bent over 
 him, and by the coarse sleeve brushing his warm 
 cheek, he knew it to be Sister Ursula. 
 
 "What are you choking me for ?" he asked curi- 
 ously. If she were doing it, she no doubt had ex- 
 cellent reasons. 
 
 " I am only giving you something to wear, Guy, 
 as long as you live." 
 
 He followed, with his fingers, the flat string just 
 put about his neck, and the tiny bag it held over 
 his heart. 
 
 " Is it your holy bone, Sister Ursula ? " 
 
 " Yes, dear." 
 
 " Whose bone ? " 
 
 "Some blessed one's. I have never known whose. 
 Now, where are your beads ? " 
 
 " There " He jingled them, as they hung at 
 the head of his bed. 
 
 "Well, now, promise me you will never give up 
 your religion never will be made into a heretic. 
 You are a baptized child of the Church." 
 
 " Are these my religion the bones and things?" 
 
 " These and all I have ever taught you." 
 
 "Oh, I won't ever forget the stories" said Guy, 
 stroking her rugged face. He knew he could not. 
 His brain was crammed with a fascinating lore. He 
 held groups of the other children agape with won-
 
 120 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 der, while he embellished her sufficiently strange 
 first narration. Her miraculous dragons multiplied 
 tenfold in his fancy. Her saints what were they 
 not to Guy ? 
 
 All at once she moaned: "You are going really 
 going, to-morrow, Guy ! Oh, I never believed it 
 would come, after all ! " She put her head on his 
 breast and sobbed. A warm, human love must be 
 torn out of her heart. In her hurt she must strug- 
 gle to offer up her sorrow to placate the Highest for 
 the sin of that love. Poor Sister Ursula ! She 
 expected he would cling to her and protest, when 
 she said: "Father Dominick will take you in the 
 morning ! " 
 
 " Where ? " 
 
 "I don't know." 
 
 He turned to look down all the little humps in the 
 beds sole proofs of the other male "orphans" in the 
 neighborhood, and said: "I am glad." 
 
 " To leave me? " 
 
 " No, I love you." 
 
 " I have cared for you since you were a little 
 babe." 
 
 " Only an inch long like a little worm ! " 
 
 "Well, a trifle longer, but short enough. Now, 
 how can you be glad ? " 
 
 "I cannot tell."
 
 THREE EPISODES. 121 
 
 " It is your ignorance. May the saints keep you 
 from a knowledge to make you miserable ! Now go 
 to sleep. I may not see you again " She waited a 
 moment, then faltered, " God bless you ! " 
 
 " He will," returned Lord Kew cheerfully, "but the 
 holy bone scratches me. I'd rather wear it down my 
 back in the daytime. Good-night, Sister Ursula ! " 
 
 The tears rained on her robe, they fell into his 
 tangled hair and made new beads on his little ro- 
 sary, then she saw a light approaching in the dis- 
 tance, and turning, fled into the opposite darkness, 
 out of sight, out of our story. 
 
 Next morning Guy went thoughtlessly as ever to 
 the crypt-like, cobwebby old chapel under St. Guth- 
 lac's nave, where the orphans sang or whined les- 
 sons nasally in unison; but soon Father Dominick ap- 
 peared on the scene and sent the child to get ready 
 to go with him in half an hour. Guy washed his 
 face at the fountain in the old cloister, looked in vain 
 for Sister Ursula, tied up together his few possessions 
 and then remembered a boy who, going away, had 
 made a great ado over his leave-taking; so he him- 
 self went interviewing various male orphans. To 
 his favorite, a hollow-eyed chap, whose vigor and 
 color had all struck in to his imagination, he whis- 
 pered his hopes of living in the cave and being fed 
 by the long talked of birds and beasts. The hoi-
 
 122 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 low-eyed told him a secret. Did Guy recall a cer- 
 tain walk taken by the orphans, en masse, past Tra- 
 ! falgar Square ? He did. Well, when he himself 
 should go out, there would be a notable miracle. 
 Guy might seek a lion in Egypt; but his own would 
 be one of the magnificent four in the Square, and 
 life and breath would come into it. At his beck it 
 would sometime follow him out on his career. Here 
 was ambition and forethought, indeed ! Guy gasped 
 before he cried out: "Why can't I have another 
 and leave two, then," he generously added, thinking 
 of the public. His solemn friend nodded in myste- 
 rious sympathy and assent. 
 
 " Come, hasten," cried Father Dominick taking 
 his way through the Cathedral into the street, and 
 Guy following, was thereby reminded of other old 
 friends. A flying kiss on Lady Kew's pink nose a 
 presumptuous slap on his lordship's cold stomach, 
 a hug for the hound waiting at the gate of purgatory, 
 a bow before the altar as he ran, little feet skip- 
 ping over memorial paving-stones, then the great 
 { oak doors of St. Guthlac shut behind him forever 
 i Soon the London noises were deadening his chatter, 
 and Father Dominick could not be enticed into 
 passing Trafalgar Square by any hints or persuasion. 
 "Where am I going ? " at last it came to him to 
 ask.
 
 THREE EPISODES. 123 
 
 " To St. Bridget's soon, no doubt." 
 
 " I won't go there." 
 
 He dodged in time to escape a rap on the ear, and 
 let a ride on the underground railway divert his mind 
 until they arrived in Fitzroy Square. 
 
 Mrs. Cudlip was at home. She entered the din- 
 ing-room, where the priest had seated himself, and 
 barely greeted him, in her surprise. He looked at 
 her, then significantly at the child, and coolly waited 
 until she exclaimed: "Is this the boy Mrs. Mel- 
 ton's I mean ? " 
 
 " Yes, madam." 
 
 " But what possible use is there in bringing him 
 to me ? I explained " 
 
 " Beg pardon, madam, we can't take the next step. 
 Mrs. Melton, or you, acting for her, must do that. 
 St. Guthlac's Asylum is not free, you know that. 
 You have been informed that the friend who has 
 paid hitherto will do so no more. He has left the 
 country. We cannot keep the boy another day. 
 Now we have a branch asylum St. Bridget's; if the 
 mother gives up all claim to the child during his 
 minority, he will be received there and educated, a 
 Catholic, of course. ' But we cannot send him to St. 
 Bridget's unauthorized, perhaps to have her remove 
 him in a year or two." 
 
 Mrs. Cudlip appeared relieved, then puzzled. She
 
 124 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 drew back the curtain and looked at Guy. He was 
 very pretty. She had never thought of the asylum 
 child as having big bright eyes and a roguish mouth. 
 
 "Mrs. Melton's business affairs are a great annoy- 
 ance to me," she said, dropping the curtain. " She 
 is in America. If she were here, she would say put 
 him in St. Bridget's, I have no doubt." 
 
 " Have you not power to say it for her ? " 
 
 Mrs. Cudlip only gazed at the wire cover of the 
 big cheese-plate on her lunch-table. She had seen 
 St. Bridget's once; she remembered it was dark and 
 dirty. 
 
 Guy laid his hand on hers, looked at a biscuit, 
 and said, "I am hungry." 
 
 She gave him a lunch, offered the priest some 
 hospitality, and said at last, " I must consider the 
 matter; leave the boy now, and when I decide on 
 St. Bridget's, as I probably shall, I will ask your help 
 in entering him. You have my thanks for trouble 
 already taken." 
 
 The priest bowed, gave her a few more explana- 
 tions, and departed. 
 
 Guy never went to St. Bridget's. The Scientist 
 was in arrears for his board. Mrs. Cudlip coolly 
 gave him Guy for a bedfellow. He endured it be- 
 cause he was often absent attending spiritualistic se- 
 ances, and daytimes, if he were home, Guy black-
 
 THREE EPISODES. 125 
 
 ed his boots and told him of ecclesiastical appari- 
 tions that went far ahead of any he himself had 
 ever witnessed. The drab-haired girl made him an 
 assistant in filling water jugs and answering the bell. 
 He washed dishes and curly greens for the cook. 
 Mrs. Cudlip let him eat these greens eat them 
 largely, freely. She considered curly greens a fill- 
 ing and a healthy article of food. Lord Kew was 
 content. He could endure considerable solitude, he 
 had no aversion to salad.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Not according to Order. 
 
 IV /TISS LEIGH had been home several weeks. 
 L*-*- Light and air poured into the great rooms. 
 The claw-legged tables held flowers. Miss Eunice's 
 tidies made gay the solemn chairs, bright awnings 
 shaded the windows, cosey seats were all about the 
 piazzas and the close-shaven lawn. Annie sang 
 around the house like the merriest child unless so- 
 ciety touched her door-bell with its kid glove, then 
 she assumed all the dignity required by Waldenton, 
 and even impressed it as being charming enough to 
 have been bred as well as born there. One morning 
 she appeared to Miss Lathrop dressed for a walk, 
 and after lingering a while, asked unexpectedly, 
 " Do you know any ministers' families in middle- 
 town ? " 
 
 "Yes; several of them." 
 
 Annie played with the hat-bow under her pretty 
 chin, laughing as she said, " I want to serve Mr.
 
 NOT ACCORDING TO ORDER. 127 
 
 Rushmore a little trick. He is always telling me of 
 a friend of his an Agnes I have forgotten the oth- 
 er name, if I have ever heard it; she is pretty and a 
 minister's daughter." 
 
 " In middle-town ? " 
 
 "Yes; and I have associated her with the gloomi- 
 est thing imaginable a graveyard." 
 
 " I know now," cried Miss Lathrop, waving her 
 crochet needle. " Hathaway ! Agnes Hathaway; 
 they do live right by the First Church, with no end 
 of tombstones near enough to their house to make 
 your flesh creep." 
 
 " Tell me where it is at once. I want to get a 
 friend to talk about to Mr. Rushmore some day." 
 
 " When we were riding last night I showed you 
 where the Irvings live." 
 
 " Yes, I remember." 
 
 " It is scarcely a stone's throw, east from there." 
 
 The young girl started in high glee. Miss Lathrop 
 was greatly puzzled to know how she would do what 
 she proposed. Annie did not herself know, but she 
 wound about the hill down past the "door-yards" 
 full of pinks and violets. The streets grew nar- 
 rower, the sidewalks were of brick not stone, and 
 soon she saw the square towers of the church, yes, 
 and there were the mossy graves and the little par- 
 sonage at one side.
 
 128 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 "It is not gloomy in the sunshine. The church 
 door is open. I believe I will look in," she said to 
 herself. She walked into the porch, peered down 
 the central aisle. She would certainly have been 
 surprised to find the minister's daughter awaiting 
 her on the threshold; but failing of it, she concluded 
 that she must go home and ask Miss Lathrop to ask 
 Mrs. Irving to introduce her to this Agnes, in the 
 conventional way. She gazed at the bare walls, 
 murmured: "No painting, no carving, and what 
 ugly pillars ! What if I were the minister's daughter 
 and sat behind one here every Sunday ? " 
 
 The better to imagine the reality, she slipped 
 into a straight-backed pew and laid hold of a dog- 
 eared hymn book. Now it chanced that just when 
 Miss Leigh entered the church, the Reverend Bela, 
 gazing through his study window, saw her. 
 
 "Agnes," he called, "there is a young woman 
 in search of me. Will you go over to the church to 
 see what she wants, and if it is not necessary, do not 
 disturb me." 
 
 Agnes put down her sewing and went at once. 
 She saw no one, on first coming out of the sunlight 
 into the dimness, and so went quickly down the 
 aisle suddenly stopping, for she discovered above 
 a dark pew back a head of pale golden hair bent over 
 a battered book. It would be hard to say which was
 
 NOT ACCORDING TO ORDER. 129 
 
 the more surprised; the girl whose dreamy blue eyes 
 when uplifted, darkened and then grew brilliant, or 
 Agnes gravely regarding her. 
 
 " I came into the church a moment to to look 
 about ! I am a stranger in Waldenton. I sat down 
 and forgot myself." 
 
 "Don't let me disturb you; my father thought 
 some one might be trying to find him. This is as 
 old a church as any in the town, and it interests a 
 great many persons," said Agnes, turning to go 
 away. 
 
 "You are Miss Hathaway, perhaps," said Annie, 
 smiling radiantly and coming out to intercept, in 
 the least degree, Agnes's way of escape. 
 
 "I am," returned Agnes, wonderingly. 
 
 " I " a big clump of pansies dropped out of her 
 belt; as they stooped together to pick them up, she 
 added, " I am Annie Leigh." 
 
 " Indeed ! I was stupid not to have guessed it. 
 Mr. Irving has often spoken of you." 
 
 " Yes, he was a friend of my father." 
 
 She divided the pansies and gracefully insisted 
 upon putting half of them in Agnes's white morning 
 dress " I have given you all the golden ones," she 
 said; "they go best with your dark hair and the 
 long, white dress folds you don't look at all as I 
 thought you would. I have heard about you."
 
 130 EUNICE LATHROP SPINSTER. 
 
 "Heard of me?" 
 
 "Yes; have you not a friend, Mr. Rushmore?" 
 
 Agnes's face was quite white. Annie nervously 
 disposing of her own purple pansies, went on: " He 
 happened to meet me in England and later to cross 
 the ocean with us. I asked him much about people 
 here, of the young ladies especially, and he said 
 he had a friend I might know I Well, I should 
 be very happy if any one had such a lovely idea 
 of me as he has of you." 
 
 Agnes's olive cheeks glowed and Annie's were 
 rose pink now, but neither looked directly at the 
 other, until Miss Leigh said: "The truth is I came 
 here to-day hoping, by some chance, to see you ! 
 It was perverse in me; but I could not wait for him 
 to make us known to each other. I wish I might 
 be your friend. Everybody is new to me here; I must 
 find each out for myself; but Mr. Rushmore says 
 wonderful things of you ! " 
 
 " I am not wonderful. I am a plain girl without 
 any accomplishments. Sometimes, I feel not at all 
 young even. I am sure you are everything that I 
 am not." 
 
 " Oh, that is cruel," cried Annie impetuously, " for 
 I do try to be good and lovable too." 
 
 Agnes smiling said, " I meant to praise you." 
 
 " Could you like me ? "
 
 NOT ACCORDING TO ORDER. 131 
 
 " Immediately." 
 
 " Then you shall ! " 
 
 Annie's hands flew up to take Agnes's face in a 
 soft grasp, while she kissed it like an impulsive 
 child; exclaiming, " Now you will come and visit me 
 in the old castle on the hill and I can get into the 
 cunning little parsonage, I have been peeping at. 
 We will bide our time to surprise his lordship, Mr. 
 Rushmore. How formal he might have made our 
 meeting ! I like to have a choice about everything, 
 don't you ? " 
 
 " I seldom have opportunities to choose things 
 come to me. I do not try to alter them, they are 
 almost always good as to-day you came. I did 
 not have to try to find you." 
 
 " How I hope I won't prove the exception to your 
 rule of " good " things," said Annie, softly. 
 
 They were silent a second. Annie picked up the 
 hymn book, and put in torn leaves with elaborate 
 care, as she remarked: " You have known Mr. Rush- 
 more a long time." 
 
 " Two years." 
 
 " And I have known him hardly as many months 
 He is very companionable. Now let me go with you 
 a while, if I am not interrupting you in any way." 
 
 She twined her little jewelled fingers in Agnes's, 
 and was led, at once, through the churchyard into
 
 132 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 the house, where she made a prolonged visit and 
 went away, leaving Agnes charmed with her. 
 
 To be sure, the latter did turn over the question in 
 her mind, repeatedly, why Mr. Rushmore had not 
 spoken of Miss Leigh. On his return from Europe, 
 he had come promptly to visit her, and had seemed 
 the same blithe, genial friend, who went away. He 
 had, of late, to Mr. Hathaway's relief, seemed occu- 
 pied with his professional duties; there was no more 
 reading of Richter or Lessing, no more invasions of 
 the organ-loft at unseemly hours. Agnes herself 
 was glad of it; she liked earnestness. But she had 
 seen him often enough to have been told of Annie. 
 He must have intended to give her a pleasing sur- 
 prise. She pondered on the fact that he had talked 
 of her to this other young girl, and how Annie had 
 said: " I should be very happy if any one had such a 
 lovely idea of me, as he has of you." 
 
 She was happy. She seemed all day, to be away 
 on the hills that she could see glowing in sunshine; 
 the lightest shadow that flittered across them, only 
 falling out from some wandering cloud, itself radiant.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 The Spinster Speaks but Vaguely. 
 
 OLD Peleg Irving loved his fellowmen. He loved 
 to hear what taxes they paid, what doctrines 
 they held, and if their sons or daughters were inclined 
 to consumption or to matrimony. His wife had no 
 social enthusiasms of this sort (at least no purpose- 
 less ones), and John inherited from her, the habit of 
 minding his own business. The old gentleman was 
 suffering one day, from ennui. He had tormented 
 the minister with all his old devices, and had no new 
 ones to put in operation; nothing could have pleased 
 him better, than the gift the gods just then bestowed: 
 a visit from Miss Eunice Lathrop. 
 
 " Mother, mother," he cried. " The prodigal has 
 arrived, all dressed in purple and fine linen ! " 
 
 His wife came in time to see him gallantly salute 
 the spinster, with a sounding kiss. 
 
 " Why, Father Irving ! you are your old self every 
 time."
 
 134 EUNICE LATHKOP, SPINSTER. 
 
 " Certainly, Miss Pink ! Now off with your wrap- 
 ping papers, and let U9 have a long itinerary. You 
 have been going to and fro in the earth, walking up 
 and down in it, like Satan and " 
 
 " Why, Mr. Irving ! " 
 
 " Oh, with motives quite dissimilar of course. 
 What have you seen or done ? that is the point." 
 
 He drew out an easy-chair, while Mrs: Irving said: 
 " Yes, we are delighted to see you, Eunice; you must 
 stay to tea." 
 
 "Well, if you really want to have me stay," said 
 Miss Lathrop, yielding up her bonnet and shawl. 
 
 Much friendly chatter ensued; she, sweetly con- 
 scious that she had seen a bit of the world, tried to 
 pass it off as a trifle, it seemed more modest, when 
 she connected herself with said world, to assume 
 that it was not such a tremendous thing as people 
 who staid at home were led to believe still she 
 made the most of her own experiences. Old Peleg 
 was no ignoramus; but a man may read all the do- 
 ings of Parliament, and yet like to hear a lively 
 tongued woman tell about the pink silk stockings 
 of the Lord Mayor's lackey, and how her first rash 
 thought on beholding them was that he might be 
 the Prince of Wales. 
 
 Husband and wife sat intent, while Miss Eunice, 
 rocking, fanning, little curls bobbing, sailed the seas
 
 THE SPINSTER SPEAKS BUT VAGUELY. 135 
 
 over around and back, through the ' ' horrid " custom- 
 house with four yards of black velvet sewed on to 
 her petticoat for a temporary flounce. Then she 
 paused for breath, and Peleg had time to get curious 
 about affairs nearer home. 
 
 "John says you are going to stay the year out 
 with Miss Leigh." 
 
 " Yes, she urges me so strongly. The old house 
 is cheerful, and she is a dear, good girl." 
 
 " There is a Mrs. Melton up there. John couldn't 
 tell us just what position she occupied." 
 
 " I did not ask him," said Mrs. Irving, calmly. 
 
 " Well I did." 
 
 " I don't know. Miss Leigh does not know. I 
 doubt if Mrs. Melton herself knows," commented 
 Miss Lathrop, slowly. " The fact is (between our- 
 selves) I think we are in a delicate position; nobody 
 wants to make the first move." 
 
 "How is that?" asked Peleg, drawing his chair 
 nearer, and wondering that his wife could take that 
 time to go for her knitting* 
 
 "All the way across the ocean, Mrs. Melton was 
 so retiring and plaintive that it really distressed one; 
 but at last Miss Leigh made her feel more like one 
 of the party and drew her into our talks on deck. 
 The son of old Ashley Rushmore, the banker, was 
 on board your bank president's son, Mr. Irving,
 
 136 EUNICE LATHKOP, SPINSTER. 
 
 I forgot that you must know all about him. He is a 
 a great friend of Miss Leigh. When he heard that 
 Mrs. Melton was poor, and coming over here with 
 Miss Leigh, and wanted to get some sort of employ- 
 ment, he was kind to her and she brightened up 
 amazingly. She is not exactly handsome; but you 
 look at her when she talks or moves ! She has a 
 way of smiling up sideways with her eyes half shut, 
 that is rather fascinating." 
 
 Peleg instantly tried it on his venerable phiz and 
 failing, by a fearful grimace, cheerfully proposed: 
 "You do it, Eunice! I don't seem to get it nat- 
 ural." 
 
 "I don't believe it is natural; but it works well 
 with her; however, we got home, she has taste; she 
 has helped to make the old house very pretty. Her 
 own dress is simple but always so so sort of artis- 
 tic it almost seems improper, if you know what I 
 mean." 
 
 "She appears to be a knowing one," said Peleg. 
 " Is she English ? " 
 
 " Yes, but not in her dress. Oh my conscience ! 
 how those people do rig themselves, over there ! 
 white feathers in the rain, and silver neck-chains, as 
 heavy as if they had melted up the family spoons. 
 Well as I was going on to say, people are constantly 
 calling at the house, and seeing another lady, young
 
 THE SPINSTER SPEAKS BUT VAGUELY. 137 
 
 and attractive, they suppose her to be a friend of 
 Miss Leigh, or a relative, and are very polite to 
 her, even ask her to call and all that. However, I 
 will admit that she shows some tact; she answers: 
 ' I shall not be here long,' and of course in her pres- 
 ence, Miss Leigh cannot explain why she is not go- 
 ing into society." 
 
 " Why does she not slip away when callers come ? " 
 
 " She does not though she is never bold or for- 
 ward. Mr. Rushmore .(the young man of course), 
 calls very often, then she makes herself exceedingly 
 agreeable. She can sing soft, sweet ballads, and 
 talk about some astonishing sort of lunatics in Lon- 
 don that she admires ^Esthetes, she calls them, I 
 believe." 
 
 "What are their doctrines?" cried Peleg, prompt- 
 ly, with thoughts of the Rev. Bela and new tor- 
 tures. 
 
 " I never gathered that they had any religion, if 
 that's what you're after. As to Mrs. Melton, Annie 
 says sometimes, it seems a pity that she could not 
 live a life of ease, there is nothing she would like 
 better." 
 
 " But, if she has self-respect, she does not wish to 
 live it at Miss Leigh's expense, does she ? " asked 
 Mrs. Irving. 
 
 "No o o. Often when Mr. Rushmore is there,
 
 138 EUNICE LATHKOP, SPINSTER. 
 
 she talks in a pretty outspoken way, of her poverty 
 and her intention of getting employment, if she 
 does hate work." 
 
 " Then I see no difficulty or delicacy. She merely 
 expects you to help her get it, as you ought to help 
 her, having promised her you would do it." 
 
 " Of course, Mrs. Irving, but that is not the 
 point." 
 
 " What is then ? Do you want her to go, or does 
 Miss Leigh ? " 
 
 Miss Eunice was put about for an answer, then 
 she exclaimed, " I don't think I can make it plain. 
 I had better hold my peace." 
 
 "Do you like her?" asked old Peleg with a twinkle 
 in his eye. 
 
 "I think it is a sin, Mr. Irving, for a Christian 
 woman to to say she don't like a person, without 
 bringing some charges against that person," said 
 Eunice, in virtuous abstraction. 
 
 " Are you a sinner, Eunice ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 "I thought so! Pretty big house, old Leigh built, 
 but then, few mansions are roomy enough for a 
 pretty girl, a fascinating widow and a regular out 
 and out old maid. Yes, I'd sacrifice the wid " 
 
 " You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Peleg Ir- 
 ving!" cried Miss Eunice, "sitting there shaking up
 
 THE SPINSTER SPEAKS BUT VAGUELY. 139 
 
 and down ! How could I be jealous of her, we never 
 come in collision." 
 
 " Don't mind him, Eunice, he don't mean any- 
 thing." 
 
 " No, Mrs. Irving, /only mean I do not feel drawn 
 toward her any more in a human warm way than I 
 did to the headless Athene, in the British Museum 
 that everybody admires, though it is not a head this 
 woman lacks. You've heard of the Elgin Marbles?" 
 she added apologetically. If one has travelled, 
 one must make these allusions, while not wishing to 
 seem pedantic. 
 
 Peleg nodded and hinted that the anatomical de- 
 ficiency, in the widow's case, might be a heart. 
 
 " I half believe it. I am afraid of her. She never 
 shows curiosity; but I know she sees every pin in a 
 cushion. She draws me into aimless talks (they 
 seem so) and I tell her what I had better keep to 
 myself. Now I have an idea that I'd like you to 
 mention to John. He is nowadays consulting Miss 
 Leigh on many business matters, and I heard him 
 speak of a house he rents for her in apartments. 
 How would it do for me to suggest that Annie 
 should let her have rooms there, rent free, until she 
 might be quite able to pay. Miss Leigh has given 
 her no end of this new fangled art embroidery to 
 do for her, at the very highest prices, and she says
 
 140 EUNICE LA THRO P, SPINSTER. 
 
 she can get many orders for it any time that Mrs. 
 Melton is ready to take them. People have a craze 
 for it up town." 
 
 " I will tell John what you wish me to repeat. 
 He will say he has nothing to do with it," said Mrs. 
 1 Irving gravely. She was troubled about Miss Eu- 
 nice's moral attitude toward the widow. 
 
 Peleg did think she was jealous, but being a wo- 
 man he was sure she could not help it. He renewed 
 his questions on another line. " So Rushmore runs 
 there, does he ? Smitten at all, is he ? " 
 
 He, thinking now of the young heiress, was sur- 
 prised by the answer. " Well, if he is not, it is not 
 her fault, and that is all I will say about that widow, 
 and you can call me a gossip if you must ! " 
 
 Peleg puckered his lips for an inaudible whistle, 
 and Mrs. Irving, sure he had heard quite enough for 
 one time, asked Miss Lathrop if she went to hear 
 Spurgeon preach and what she thought of him. 
 
 At nine o'clock, after a pleasant little visit, Miss 
 Eunice arose to tie on her bonnet, in Mrs. Irving's 
 bedroom, and have a word in private with her, be- 
 fore she went home. 
 
 " You think," she exclaimed, with a plump hand 
 on Mrs. Irving's shoulder, "that I am hard on Mrs. 
 Melton. I am afraid of her, for Annie's sake. She 
 is tricky.. I could not say it out before your hus-
 
 THE ^SPINSTER SPEAKS BUT VAGUELY. 141 
 
 band; but she is very sly. She brought three times 
 as much money from England as she said she 
 brought. I happened to find it out." 
 
 " That is nothing. It is not noble-minded to be 
 suspicious; she thought perhaps, if she told just 
 what amount she had, you would not do so much 
 for her." 
 
 "Very well, but I saw her open Miss Annie's-desk 
 and read a letter. I was behind the door watching 
 her, I freely confess that. Was that a pretty thing 
 for her to do ? " 
 
 " No, it was mean; but why did you not tell Miss 
 Leigh, instead of coming to me ?" 
 
 "Because I know I don't like Mrs. Melton, but 
 Annie does not dislike her yet. When I am sure 
 Mrs. Melton has a home of her own, I might tell 
 now it seems like being willing to injure her. I 
 want John to help me get her away in a reasonable 
 and friendly manner. 
 
 " I understand that you are never malicious Eu- 
 nice, but be very wise and have charity. Neither 
 you nor I could read another's letter; but a very 
 inquisitive person might and not be altogether 
 wicked. Perhaps Miss Leigh sent her to the desk 
 to read it, for some reason or other." 
 
 " Very well, we will let the matter rest," said Miss 
 Lathrop dryly. "Don't speak to John at all, please."
 
 142 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 " Oh, yes, I shall do so," returned the lady calmly. 
 "Do come again, Eunice, as you would come to 
 your own mother's house." 
 
 "I am sure I thank you," was the stiff response. 
 
 Old Peleg went home with the maiden lady, but 
 he added no new items to his stock of news in 
 trade. On the brow of the hill, by the Leigh gate, 
 she broke out: 
 
 " Your wife the same as cuffed my ears to-night, 
 and I suppose I deserve it. I know it is vulgar to 
 talk ' personalities.' I said to myself, only last Sun- 
 day, that I would come here to tea and talk high 
 art, and European travel, and all I knew about the 
 architecture of St. Paul's (the very last thing I 
 learned). I get off guard, Satan gives me a push, 
 and there I am talking about folks, folks /" 
 
 "Of course; it all comes of your being one of 
 them," said Peleg, soothingly, " don't lay it to the 
 devil ! Why when people talk astronomy, half the 
 time, it is only the man in the moon they are after. 
 We can't get free of one another. Take the parson 
 and me in some of our talks, for instance. We go 
 soaring off on the wings of sanctified imagination 
 until you wouldn't suppose we'd even be intelligible 
 to common mortals again, much less affected by 
 their sentiments, but we are. Law me, yes ! He 
 gets hopping mad if I chance to tell him Deacon
 
 THE SPINSTER SPEAKS BUT VAGUELY. 143 
 
 Phelps thinks he repeats himself in his sermons 
 mad I mean in a ministerial way. Oh, I'm sure, 
 while we are human, humanity will be pretty in- 
 teresting to every one of us and we will all talk 
 more gossip than pure philosophy." 
 
 " But they don't do so in Boston." 
 
 "Well, Eunice, sometimes I think about living 
 there, as I do about heaven. If I have to wear my 
 Sunday swallow-tail every day, I will have a Sun- 
 day frame of mind to do it in. Now being outside 
 of both places I run around in metaphorical shirt- 
 sleeves sometimes and talk whatever comes into 
 my head." 
 
 " And yet you seem a kind of a philosopher 
 too. Well, good-night ! Tell Mrs. Irving I for- 
 give her; she is too good to quarrel with, but she II 
 see, mark my words for that ! Good-by. I'm real 
 glad you're better of the rheumatism this year."
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 A Genre Picture. 
 
 TV /TR. RUSHMORE was quietly amused in these 
 *** days, by the study of feminine tactics. He 
 perceived that Miss Eunice did not like Mrs. Melton; 
 she seemed to be continually sinning, relenting, re- 
 penting, backsliding, wishing the widow well in the 
 future, detesting her in the present. Mrs. Melton, 
 for her part, was as unmoved by this disturbance of 
 the spinster's moral equipoise as is the slant-eyed 
 lady on a Japanese fan, by the neighbor toppling 
 on to her head, or the perspective all awry. She 
 clad herself in peculiar robes and, if always in sight, 
 was pleasant to look upon. She appealed to Rush- 
 more in little ingenuous ways, asked his advice, 
 flattered him by prettily expressed gratitude, and 
 by a not expressed, but somehow implied, child- 
 like admiration. However, it was not to study Miss 
 Lathrop, or to be admired by Mrs. Melton, that 
 Rushmore came. so often to the old Leigh house.
 
 A GENRE PICTURE. 145 
 
 He knew his own mind at last. Every hour he 
 spent with Annie convinced him that she was the 
 one for whom he had been waiting, the one he had 
 once fancied he might be going to find in Agnes. 
 So ardent was his present passion that he easily 
 persuaded himself Agnes could feef nothing for him 
 but friendship; for in his previous state of mind, 
 surely he had expressed in word or deed nothing 
 like the love which now enkindled him. He thought 
 very little of her anyway, because he had simply 
 never understood her. He had picked her up, as 
 he might a little antique missal, admired the dainty 
 cover, believed the illuminations mystically beauti- 
 ful and the context half inspired; but could not tell 
 afterwards the language in which the whole was 
 written. 
 
 At all suitable seasons Rushmore was now in 
 Annie Leigh's society, and if he read her smiles, her 
 eyes and her shy, sweet moods aright, he was rap- 
 idly winning favor. About five o'clock, one mid- 
 summer afternoon, he stepped into the cool parlor 
 and awaited her there. A maid came to tell him 
 Miss Leigh had gone to ride, but she would probably 
 return soon. He took a book, but did not read; he 
 sat thinking that it was as pleasant an ugly room 
 as could be found. The wall paper gleamed with 
 great golden lilies. The carpet, woven in one
 
 146 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 piece, was a huge landscape, where one walked 
 over castles, lakes, mountains and sunsets. There 
 was bright modern furniture, and some that was odd 
 and ancient, a harpsichord and two grotesque 
 screens. He was looking at the multitude of queer 
 vases, all filled with the garden flowers, when a soft 
 voice in the door said, " Can you give me a moment, 
 while you wait, Mr. Rushmore ? " 
 
 "With pleasure, Mrs. Melton." 
 
 He followed her to a seat near the open window. 
 She looked her best in one of her singular, but 
 striking costumes. One would first think of her as 
 belonging to another time or place, then be con- 
 scious that she was surely of the sensuous present, 
 and had an elusive charm of face, voice and motion. 
 
 " Miss Leigh is so good no sister could be kinder 
 but I am turning over in my mind what to do- 
 next." 
 
 Rushmore was silent. Why did she tell him so 
 many of these things ? 
 
 " Miss Lathrop is a worthy soul, but she imagines 
 I trespass a little on her territory in being here, 
 so she does not like me. I think I will go into 
 apartments. Will you let me know if you hear of 
 any suitable for me to engage ? I meant to consult 
 Miss Leigh, and I spoke to Miss Lathrop about it. 
 Her reply made me a little angry. She said that
 
 A GENRE PICTURE. 147 
 
 Miss Leigh did have houses to rent and no doubt 
 she would give me the rent free if I asked her for 
 rooms, as if I had meant that. I am not a beggar. 
 I am proud and naughty. Now I prefer to rent my 
 rooms of an entire stranger," she laughed wilfully, 
 showing all her even white teeth. 
 
 Rushmore, secretly annoyed, assured her he would 
 make some inquiries; but advised her to search the 
 advertisements in the daily papers. She gazed ab- 
 sently through the window, sighed, then abruptly 
 exclaimed: " I am so perplexed ! So down-hearted ! " 
 
 She drew a letter forth, as if to read it, then thrust 
 it back into her pocket. 
 
 " There is a matter I must attend to at once, and 
 I don't know which way to turn. You all know I 
 am a widow without a relative, except Mrs. Cudlip; 
 there is something else I never talked of, it grieved 
 me so ! I had to leave my own dear little child in 
 England, Mr. Rushmore ! Friends there, well able 
 to care of him, kindly did so, while I tossed about 
 the world, and earned my daily bread. I came to 
 America knowing he would be in the best of care 
 until I could send for him. Poor little Guy, he is 
 not ten years old yet. She looked mournfully at 
 Rushmore, who remarked sympathetically: "It must 
 indeed have been very hard for you to part with him, 
 Mrs. Melton."
 
 148 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 She struggled with a sob. 
 
 " Last week I had a letter from Mrs. Cudlip. She 
 says that very soon after I sailed, the child was sent 
 to her, because the friends who had him, suddenly 
 made great household changes, and could not keep 
 him any longer. Mrs. Cudlip is entirely unused to 
 children. I can see she thinks that he will be a 
 great trouble and an expense to her you know Mrs. 
 Cudlip is a little penurious." 
 
 Rushmore smiled, but discreetly. 
 
 " Now would 'it be feasible, or would it be foolhardy 
 for me to try and get him over here ? If I can sup- 
 port myself, can I hot also take care of a little one ?" 
 she urged feelingly. 
 
 In view of the fact that she never had attempted 
 this feat, the question was open for more considera- 
 tion than Rushmore gave it, but he reasoned on 
 general principles, and replied: "I have no doubt 
 of it." 
 
 " I am so glad you think as I hoped you might. 
 Now, as soon as I have started out for myself, I 
 must go to work and find out about the cost of get- 
 ting him here, and the best way. Children are some- 
 times sent on voyages alone, aren't they?" she asked, 
 with quick maternal solicitude. 
 
 " Oh, frequently ! You talk it all over with the 
 ladies, they will be very enthusiastic, I have no
 
 A GENRE PICTUKE. 149 
 
 doubt, and they are a thousand times brighter than 
 men ever are in such matters. I will make any in- 
 quiries, of course." 
 
 " No, I won't talk to them of it, Mr. Rushmore ! 
 I will not. I don't want anything but advice, so I 
 come to you. To go to Miss Leigh, as we are sit- 
 uated, is virtually to say: " Help me ! Help me 
 more ! Keep on helping me ! I won't. I can see 
 now Miss Lathrop smiling sarcastically, as if she said 
 to herself that I was on their hands, and they must 
 endure it like Christians." 
 
 " You do both ladies great injustice. Miss Leigh 
 is very generous " 
 
 " So I will not impose upon her." 
 
 " Miss Lathrop has whims you also have a few, 
 like this foolish pride but she is kind and a new 
 claim " 
 
 " I don't want to make claims," pouted the wid- 
 ow. " I want to be grateful, but not dependent for 
 a day longer than I can help. Poor little Guy ! " she 
 broke out, with sudden pathos, and tearfully. 
 
 Rushmore pulled a long thread out of Miss Eu- 
 nice's best tidy, and wished devoutly that all these 
 fine creatures could live together and be lovely. 
 Miss Leigh certainly was lovely Mrs. Melton was 
 lovable, so after all Miss Eunice must be the can- 
 tankerous one. To his surprise, the widow's next
 
 150 EUNICE LATH HOP, SPINSTER. 
 
 remark was a sprightly one about the harpsichord; 
 she told him how Miss Leigh had brought a tune 
 out of it the day before. 
 
 " I have no doubt you could do the same, Mrs. 
 Melton," he returned. " Won't you try ? " 
 
 She murmured something about amusing him un- 
 til Miss Leigh came; then rising, she ran her fingers 
 over the few still, musical keys, humming a ballad: 
 
 " In the mild beaming blossoming month of May, 
 The maidens of Tubingen dance and play; 
 They danced one eve as the day grew pale, 
 Round the old lime in the Neckar vale." 
 
 There was more about a " stranger " and the 
 "fairest maid"; but Rushmore was looking, not 
 listening. When she stopped he said: "You make 
 a genre picture, two hundred years old." 
 
 She laughed, turned and looked out at the gate, 
 then said: "Miss Annie is coming. I will tell her 
 you are here, the maid may not know you waited." 
 
 But first she came with a little impulsive gesture 
 and grasped his hand in her small nervous one: "I 
 thank you so much for sympathy. I get so lonely 
 in this big America of yours; but don't tell Miss 
 Leigh I am not happy; it would hurt her." 
 
 Rushmore scarcely heeded her. The coming lady 
 put all thoughts of the present one to flight.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 The Rev. Bela speaks. 
 
 MRS. IRVING gave her son a brief report of 
 Miss Eunice's visit and her message to him. 
 She received the answer she expected: "All I have 
 to do with Miss Leigh is to help her carry out her 
 father's will. I owe Miss Eunice a good turn for 
 going to London; but I can't meddle in women's 
 squabbles." 
 
 His business took him often to the house, how- 
 ever, and he observed that Rushmore was a frequent 
 caller, coming and going as quietly, as informally as 
 he had previously done at the parsonage. Irving 
 was at a loss to understand matters when he met 
 Agnes once or twice and found her looking well and 
 contented. One afternoon he had called to get Miss 
 Leigh's signature to a paper and was sitting with her 
 before her father's old " secretary," examining other 
 papers. The business matter ended, they talked of 
 other things. While so engaged they heard the iron 
 gate clang sharply after some one, then distin-
 
 152 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 guished a man's step. John looking over her head 
 saw Rushmore. Miss Leigh renewed the conver- 
 sation animatedly, as one brightened by a pleas- 
 ant thought. John prepared to end the interview 
 by saying: 
 
 " My mother wishes me to tell you, Miss Leigh, 
 that, not being very well, she seldom goes out, but 
 she will call upon you soon." 
 
 "Thank her for me, please; tell her I know she 
 is not strong, and I, being so much younger than 
 she, will give myself the pleasure of going to see 
 her. Miss Lathrop will take me informally. That 
 part of Waldenton where you live is very pretty. I 
 have found a friend hidden away down there in the 
 vines and shadows." 
 
 " Do I know her or him ? " 
 
 "Yes; Miss Hathaway." 
 
 "She is a very lovely girl; an old friend of Mr. 
 Rushmore's. He has told you much about her, I 
 presume." 
 
 " Yes but he never told her anything about me" 
 returned Annie simply and this fact, which had 
 puzzled two women, was also significant to Irving. 
 In Rushmore's love for Agnes he had never fully be- 
 lieved, even when he feared he might win her. He 
 was convinced that she loved Rushmore, and that 
 he had trifled with her by being lover-like and yet
 
 THE REV. BEL A SPEAKS. 153 
 
 less than in earnest. He believed that he had kept 
 her from the knowledge of Annie to keep her as well 
 from suspecting him of fickleness. What could he, 
 John Irving, loving Agnes, do for her ? The thought 
 that came to him was like him. He would use him- 
 self without hope of gain to himself with perhaps 
 a possible loss of a better chance in the future. He 
 would go now and utter into her ear words that, 
 costing him much, would grieve her; but some day 
 when she was wrapt in gloom his message might 
 flutter back like a songless bird, helpless, but warm 
 and living. If the time came when alone with her 
 heart she realized that she had put down at Rush- 
 more's feet a treasure and he had walked carelessly 
 over it and away forever, she would be secretly hu- 
 miliated. He would like her to be able then to 
 reflect: "There is another man who would have 
 thought this gift of mine priceless, and so I know 
 my love cannot be worthless." This was in John 
 Irving's mind all that day after he left Annie. His 
 resolution taken, he was as restless as if his suit 
 were not hopeless, while sympathy gave him new 
 boldness. 
 
 On Saturday evenings, Mrs. Irving usually sent a 
 basket of flowers to the parsonage, and Agnes filled 
 them into two great vases to stand, on Sunday, 
 either side the dark pulpit. John promptly seized
 
 154 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 the basket, one night, and offered to take the flow- 
 ers himself. He met Agnes in the door, and re- 
 marked composedly. " You need my help with 
 these to-night; you don't study effects. Last Sun- 
 day, the whole mass of red was put as a back- 
 ground for all the red hair in the Price family pew. 
 What sort of a contrast is that ! " 
 
 "Come and help then, by all means," she returned 
 serenely. " You may begin by carrying the water- 
 pot while I bring strings and scissors, with the 
 flowers." 
 
 They went into the church just at sunset. 
 
 " I am leaving the light all behind me," said John, 
 rather dolefully as they entered the dim porch. 
 
 " Nobody is urging you into the shadows stay 
 out of them, if you like," laughed Agnes. 
 
 "No, I won't; you need me or will." She ex- 
 pressed great doubt on his assertion, and continued 
 to make fun of his stiff arrangement of flowers and 
 general masculine awkwardness. 
 
 " I remember well, the first gay flowers I ever put 
 here," she exclaimed. "Father thought it a sort of 
 profanation of the place; but he gave up to me at 
 last." 
 
 " Then you were a shy girl, in a wide straw hat 
 that I never could peep under." 
 
 " You did not come to church for that."
 
 THE REV. BEL A SPEAKS. 155 
 
 " Perhaps I did, I have done it since." 
 
 She laughed, taking this as not personal; there 
 were many bonnets besides hers in the church, 
 Sundays. 
 
 " Now, is not that vase beautiful ? " she asked, at 
 last. " It is the one bit of color and loveliness 
 here." 
 
 John who saw something else there, lovelier than 
 the flowers, merely said: "Don't hurry away. I 
 want to speak to you of something." 
 
 She gathered up stray ferns and blossoms, before 
 she seated herself quietly on the pulpit stairs. He 
 put himself a little lower, where he could see her 
 face and keep her there quietly, until she had heard 
 enough. 
 
 "Well, what is it?" 
 
 " I love you." 
 
 She half sprung up, and put out her hand, as if to 
 ward off something. 
 
 " Don't go don't ! " he urged, touching it to 
 impel her gently back. "I knew you would be 
 startled, but you must let me speak it will be 
 better." 
 
 " Oh I would not let myself think I was afraid " 
 she stammered, her eyes and voice full of tears. 
 
 "You thought you could keep me always silent, 
 and I would not know myself, but that is not the
 
 156 EUNICE LATH KG P, SPINSTER. 
 
 \yisest way," he interposed, hurriedly, then earnestly, 
 John told her what always makes a noble woman 
 incapable of vanity and only glad or sorry: the truth 
 that one loves her well enough to live for or to die 
 for her. He confessed the long waiting, the fears, 
 the love that amounted to adoration, and Agnes, 
 hearing of those last few years could scarcely be- 
 lieve this could be her self-contained friend, silent 
 John Irving. He was not in reality asking for her 
 love; he was making known his own, the difference 
 made him eloquent. She must be made to see that 
 all a man could give was hers, not to be taken back. 
 His faith, everything unselfish in his love or life, 
 should be a free gift to her, even though she did 
 not take the giver. 
 
 If he seemed extravagant, she knew he was sin- 
 cere, yet when her first few pitiful words came, she 
 vaguely wondered that he accepted them as final, 
 and urged no reconsideration or asked for no proba- 
 tion. He only reached up and took her small hand 
 firmly in his bigger one, while her tears dropped on 
 it, saying: "Agnes, listen a moment longer. Up 
 there over your head is the Bible, where your father 
 reads the holiest words that you think you ever 
 hear. Now, as if my hand were there on it, I hold 
 yours here, and I tell you that all I have said is the 
 truth which a man can only say to the woman to
 
 THE REV. BEL A SPEAKS. 157 
 
 whom next to the Highest he gives the holiest love 
 he can ever know while he is in the body. Don't 
 be sorry, love is not a bargain so much for so 
 much. I offer just a gift now. If you ever lose faith 
 in humanity, remember that. If you ever wish 
 you were out there in the graveyard, remember I 
 believe more in Heaven for knowing you and your 
 life. I am not going to run away from you after 
 this, as if I were afraid of you, and if you ever can 
 need me, I am here." 
 
 He leaned over, touched his lips to her hair. She 
 sat distressed, not offering to rise. He having ex- 
 pected nothing had no sudden disappointment to 
 conquer. She divined all at once there must be a 
 reason for his calmness and said pleadingly, 
 
 "You don't blame me. You did not think I loved 
 you. It would be fearful to deceive in that way, no 
 matter how innocently it were done ! " 
 
 "I never can blame you; you cannot help being 
 Agnes, and because you are Agnes, I cannot help 
 loving you, that is all. Come out of this dark place 
 and let me see you ! Come, give your big brother 
 your hand going out of church if you won't take 
 that hand another way and walk in with him." 
 
 He laughed, not gayly; bravely searched for the 
 basket, the cord and scissors, then they went out 
 together. He smiled very tenderly when at the
 
 158 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 parsonage door and said, "Don't ever wholly forget, 
 but never remember to be troubled over what I have 
 told you. Goodnight!" 
 
 Agnes stood in the starlight and wondered, griev- 
 ing, yet in a certain way uplifted. She was not, 
 then, mistaken in her maiden fancies of how men 
 loved, it was of a truth in this grandly simple, un- 
 selfish fashion. She had not been romantic, and 
 impractical in her secret theories. 
 
 "Daughter, come in here," called her father from 
 the study. She obeyed at once, and found him pa- 
 cing the study. He stopped before her, saying, " Mr. 
 Rushmore called; I told him you were not at home." 
 
 " I have been in the church with the flowers for 
 to-morrow." 
 
 " Did you see him ? " 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 He stood close by her a while, as he said, " You 
 look like your mother, my child. She was the best 
 woman and the most discreet. I hope you may be 
 like her, but" 
 
 " I am not ? " 
 
 He began to walk. " You are reserved by nature, 
 she was that. She took counsel with her conscience, 
 and seldom told what she meant to do, or gave rea- 
 sons for her conduct; but she was one of a large 
 family, and heard all subjects often discussed. You
 
 THE REV. JSELA SPEAKS. 159 
 
 are by yourself, young and very ignorant of the 
 world." 
 
 " I have you, father." 
 
 " What are you doing in these days, my daughter ? " 
 
 "What I have always done," she answered, weigh- 
 ing her words and adding, " I get to thinking in some 
 new ways, perhaps." 
 
 " When you were a little girl, you used to come 
 and sit on my Greek dictionary, and ' think your 
 thoughts aloud ' for me, as you called it. Would 
 you be afraid to do so now ? " 
 
 A shade clouded his face as color crept into hers. 
 
 " I would not like, father, to have to hear the 
 sound of my words telling my thoughts to you; but 
 if my mother, who is now even better than you, can 
 read them, I am glad." 
 
 " Still you are afraid of me ? " 
 
 " Yes, because you could not see more than I 
 could make you; but I am not at all afraid of God: 
 when I sat there on 'the dictionary, I was." 
 
 " Don't be irreverent, my child ! Perhaps you 
 foolishly imagine how things would seem to Him 
 because they appear so to you, not reflecting that 
 the human heart is deceitful above all things, and 
 desperately wicked. Are you fearful that I should 
 not judge of things, and of persons as you do ? " 
 
 After a moment, Agnes said, " Yes."
 
 160 EUNICE LATHKOP, SPINSTER. 
 
 " Your mother was never deceived in people un- 
 less she loved them. She loved them for what she 
 wanted them to be often, not for what they were. 
 I believe," he added with a quaint smile, " she 
 thought I was equal to Jonathan Edwards when 
 she married me." 
 
 " Didn't she think so always ? " 
 
 "Well, I hope she did; but she did not live long, 
 poor girl ! " 
 
 He began to pace the room again, conscious he 
 was not getting on with Agnes. The perspiration 
 glistened in the furrows of his face. Men whose 
 work it is to read and write of souls are sometimes 
 the most shy of feeling about in the inmost recesses 
 of an individual one. 
 
 "Agnes?" 
 
 "Well, father!" 
 
 " Has this Julian Rushmore ever talked to you of 
 has he ever said he loved you ? " 
 
 The voice was very low, but he heard her reply, 
 " No, sir, he never has." 
 
 " Has he not given you some reason to think that 
 he does love you ? " 
 
 " I do not know." 
 
 " Do you think that he does ? " 
 
 There was not a sound but that made by the 
 crickets outside in the grass.
 
 THE REV. BE LA SPEAKS. l6l 
 
 The spirit-mother might see, the human father 
 perhaps would be pitiful; but Agnes could not speak 
 to answer that. 
 
 " I have made a grave mistake," said the minister, 
 with sudden energy. " I see it ! That man is of the 
 sort that lead silly women captive, when they have 
 crept into houses. An impressible young person can 
 easily be caught by vain babblings of art, and pro- 
 fane literature. You admire his talent and wit; per- 
 haps you imagine he has a form of godliness, but I 
 make no doubt he denies the power thereof, and I 
 adjure you, my child, in the very words of Scripture 
 ' From such turn away ' ! " 
 
 Mr. Hathaway was breathless. Agnes very pale, 
 but seemingly calm, exclaimed: "Why, father, you 
 really don't know Mr. Rushmore at all ! " 
 
 " Be still, Agnes. I know all about him. St. Paul 
 knew him years ago, and declared he was carnally 
 minded, thoroughly so. I know he is devoted to 
 pursuits and pleasures entirely foreign to your man- 
 ner of life." 
 
 " How can you know that, father ! He seems to 
 me in sympathy with every thing good and noble." 
 
 " That shows you are infatuated," broke out her fa- 
 ther, wrathfully. "Oh, if I had ruled well my house, 
 I would have had a child in subjection to me ! " 
 
 " Have I ever disobeyed you, father ? " Her voice
 
 1 62 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 was so clear, so free from passion, he turned to her 
 more quietly. 
 
 " I fear for you, Agnes ! I fear for you ! " 
 
 " You need not if I I never could love (if you 
 mean that) any such man as you have pictured to 
 yourself a weak or coarse or frivolous man. I should 
 find him out and pity him, that would be all." 
 
 " Nonsense ! Every woman says that. She gets 
 wisdom when it has cost her everything, and can't 
 be used." 
 
 " What do you wish me to do ? " 
 
 " To be sober minded, and not give way to vain 
 imaginations," he replied sternly. " See to it in 
 time, Agnes ! See to it ! " 
 
 She bowed, staid a while, then bidding him good 
 night, went out of the study. She was agitated, but 
 not dismayed. She had not deceived her father 
 nor lost one atom of her faith in Rushmore. The 
 minister was rigid but just. He never refused to 
 recognize good that made itself manifest, or moral 
 worth in. any one. Notwithstanding the sounding 
 words of his condemnation were echoing in her ears, 
 she almost smiled out into the darkness that cur- 
 tained the tomb-stones, as she whispered to herself, 
 a Kempis's saying of love that "as a lively flame 
 and a burning torch it forces its way upwards and 
 securely passes through all."
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 A Little "Aside" 
 
 "D USHMORE was busy at his office desk one 
 
 re 
 
 *- v afternoon, when there came a tap on his door. 
 He called " come in," without at once looking up 
 not doing so until a light footstep approached, and 
 Mrs. Melton in a flutter of apologies for interrupting 
 him, said she had ventured to call for certain papers 
 she was to copy. 
 
 " I was going to send the boy with all the rest of 
 them to-night, when I left the office," he explained; 
 adding, "You need never take the trouble to come 
 for or to bring them, we have plenty of messengers." 
 
 " Thanks, but if it is quite proper to come myself, 
 sometimes, I like the exercise. When I have an er- 
 rand I run out for a walk, if not, I stay too closely 
 over my embroidery." 
 
 Rushmore brought out the papers, and gave her 
 instructions as to what he wished done with them. 
 She was enthusiastic over the dry details of the work.
 
 1 64 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 Sometimes she gave hints* of very exuberant spirits 
 kept in by a charming sense of decorum. When the 
 explanations were ended, he asked: "Were the sug- 
 gestions I gave you of use in sending for the little 
 boy ? " 
 
 She hesitated, embarrassed. " I have no doubt 
 he would come that way in perfect safety but I 
 have not sent for him yet." 
 
 " No ? Miss Leigh had a better plan perhaps." 
 
 She rolled her mantle fringe around her little fin- 
 ger, murmuring: " I have told you so much I might 
 as well tell " 
 
 "No," he protested quickly. "Beyond a wish 
 to be of use in the matter I have not the least 
 curiosity." 
 
 For some time, Rushmore had found the young 
 widow almost indiscreet in her innocent confidences 
 occasionally he had dimly fancied the indiscretion 
 was, after a sort, premeditated^ but then it was easy 
 for him to be lazily good-natured toward an inter- 
 esting woman. 
 
 "Oh, I don't mean anything mysterious. It is 
 only the pride " (she looked up archly) " and the 
 poverty " (she looked down, dimples vanishing, mouth 
 quite mournful). 
 
 "O keep up your courage, Mrs. Melton! The 
 pride is an heirloom, you can hand it down to your
 
 A LITTLE "ASIDE." 165 
 
 child's children, the other possession you will dispose 
 of in due time." 
 
 " Perhaps I was going to ask Miss Leigh to ad- 
 vance me a sum on work she has engaged me to do, 
 and forward that to London for little Guy's expenses, 
 but now I can't ask her to do that, and what I have 
 must go to the preparation of a home, if I ever ex- 
 pect to get one ready here for him." 
 
 " Have you not consulted Miss Leigh at all yet?" 
 
 " I went into her room one night to do so, but I 
 could not, for it seemed so like begging. O I can't 
 make anybody understand how sensitive I am ! " 
 and she leaned her head on his desk, silently sob- 
 bing. Her parasol tumbled one way, a lean porte- 
 monnaie rolled under Rushmore's chair. His mind 
 was divided between two desires; one to suggest the 
 duty of self-control, the other and more humane one, 
 to comfort her. 
 
 " There is not the least reason, Mrs. Melton, why, 
 with your present prospects of remunerative work, 
 you should not borrow at once all the money you 
 actually need." 
 
 He picked up her porte-monnaie, turned to his 
 desk, wrote something on a paper, and while she, 
 wiping her eyes, looked at him wonderingly, he 
 turned back to her saying, "Sign this note; and 
 when it comes due, if you are not riding on the
 
 166 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 top wave of prosperity, have it renewed until you 
 are." 
 
 She read it, and when she looked up Rushmore 
 was putting a roll of bills into the lean and empty 
 purse. He had lent her one hundred dollars. To 
 her sudden exclamations he said, " It is business, of 
 course; but I would like you to tell Miss Leigh now 
 the whole matter." 
 
 She modulated her tones at once to calmness, and 
 thanked him for the accommodation. Yes, now she 
 could tell the ladies, and gladly avail herself of 
 their help in all her future movements. To be a 
 brisiness woman, and not an object of charity, was 
 what made her ecstatically happy, or so she de- 
 clared in a pretty rapture and excitement; after 
 which she asked a few more questions in regard to 
 the legal papers and made ready to go home. Rush- 
 more did not introduce any new topic of conversa- 
 tion, bade her good-afternoon in a sudden fit of ab- 
 sent-mindedness, and after she had gone wondered 
 , if he had done a wise thing, or rather if he had not 
 done a kind thing in an unwise way.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Moonlight on Land. 
 
 MISS ANNIE LEIGH appeared at the table one 
 morning and exclaimed, "I have thought of 
 something nice; now don't, dear Miss Eunice, say 
 that it is not proper." 
 
 " Your ideas always are proper." 
 
 " Thanks. Now of course we could not give a 
 party; but could not we have a few family friends 
 to tea with us ? " 
 
 " Who are your family friends, my dear girl ? You 
 are your family, as the man said of his ancestors." 
 
 " We could have Miss Hathaway, and of course 
 her father, he seems pleasant in a solemn way. We 
 each know Mr. John Irving; you know his moth- 
 er, and I want to know his father, particularly as 
 you find him so amusing. That makes five ladies. 
 Then we might invite Mr. Rushmore and his father, 
 to make the balance even." 
 
 " I am sure it would be perfectly proper," ac-
 
 l68 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 quiesced Miss Eunice promptly. Now she would 
 get into that kitchen and circumvent that house- 
 keeper by making such cake and biscuit as the old 
 creature never by luck or skill had been able to 
 produce. 
 
 " We might invite them for to-morrow afternoon. 
 I will go to Miss Hathaway's, and you ask the Irv- 
 ings some time to-day." 
 
 "Yes," replied Eunice; "and we can -tell Mr. 
 Rushmore when he calls, if he does call in time. I 
 will make him know it is a visit of the old-fashioned 
 sort, or his father will not come." 
 
 She could scarcely finish her breakfast, the idea 
 of the mild festivity so excited her. 
 
 About eleven o'clock Mrs. Melton said to Miss 
 Lathrop, " Are you very busy this morning ? " 
 
 "Not just now; soon I am going down to the 
 Irvings'." 
 
 " I wonder if you would go a little out of your 
 way to please me." 
 
 " Certainly I would," said Miss Eunice, who was 
 getting to dislike her so heartily she was glad to 
 atone for it, by any amount of kindly service, there- 
 by appeasing her New England conscience. 
 
 " I have heard of apartments in a house on Buck- 
 ingham Street. I want to see them, but I do not 
 know the way there; besides, if you are with me,
 
 MOONLIGHT ON LAND. 169 
 
 you can tell me if rent, conveniences, and all things 
 are as they should be." 
 
 "I will go now but, dearie me! how did you 
 start off on the enterprise so quietly. Does Miss 
 Leigh know ? " 
 
 "I'll run and put my bonnet on this moment," 
 said the widow, vanishing. 
 
 When they were going down into the middle- 
 town together Mrs. Melton, with a little gush of 
 almost girlish admiration, exclaimed, "Mr. Rush- 
 more is such a gentleman ! All the Americans seem 
 to be polite, but he is so delicate and thoughtful. 
 He searched the papers and made all sorts of in- 
 quiries for rooms; then he told me of these, yester- 
 day. Probably because I chanced to say I must 
 look myself one day." 
 
 " He need not have taken all that trouble and 
 you, very likely, could have saved your rent," re- 
 turned Miss Eunice bluntly. " Miss Leigh has houses 
 to let in apartments. She would not speak to you 
 of them, she told me, lest you fancy she was hint- 
 ing to you that your stay with her had better end; 
 but when you were ready she meant to offer them. 
 I am very certain of this." 
 
 " The sweet girl ! But whenever I can keep from 
 taxing her kindness I will do so. She has found me 
 work and orders enough to justify me in venturing
 
 1 70 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 to start out for myself. Then, as I said, Mr. Rush- 
 more thinks of everything. He will give me copy- 
 ing when he has it." 
 
 "Yes, he seems to make all Miss Leigh's interests 
 his own," said the wise virgin, "but in this case I 
 think he will wish he had not been in such haste to 
 serve her, or you, rather, for her sake." 
 
 " I myself should not be in haste to leave Miss 
 Leigh," returned the wiser widow, letting tJiat "dig " 
 go unnoticed "but I put her in straits continually. 
 She can't explain to her exclusive callers and future 
 friends, that I am not socially her equal. You must 
 know what it is to feel that yourself" 
 
 For full five minutes, Miss Eunice was torn by 
 distracting thoughts. Did Mrs. Melton merely 
 mean that Miss Eunice knew by sympathy with 
 Miss Leigh, how, etc.? Could she dare to mean 
 that, not being on an equality with Miss Leigh, she 
 could sympathize with Mrs. Melton ? 
 
 " Don't walk so fast," said the happy little widow. 
 " You look quite hot this is Buckingham Street. I 
 see the name on the lamp." 
 
 It was a quiet, narrow street, made dark by many 
 trees. The houses were old, but very respectable 
 in appearance, standing far back, for the most part, 
 in yards where the tall dank grass was unshaven. 
 
 Miss Lathrop deciding not to be belligerent mere-
 
 MOONLIGHT ON LAND. 171 
 
 ly on an uncertainty, remarked: "They look gloomy 
 on the outside; but I presume the rooms may be 
 fine large ones, and very likely the rent will be lower 
 than in a newer part of the town." 
 
 They found the particular house they sought for, 
 and a loud rapping with the huge brass knocker sum- 
 moned a thin; long-nosed woman, who cautiously 
 opened the door, just far enough to insert her wedge 
 of a face in the aperture, while she learned their de- 
 sires and mused suspiciously awhile. After this in- 
 decision she led them through a hall and upstairs. 
 The rooms were unobjectionable in every respect, 
 and the price extremely reasonable. Mrs. Melton 
 was perfectly satisfied. She agreed to move into the 
 rooms the following week, and she even hired at 
 once of the woman some articles of furniture already 
 in them. Miss Lathrop was surprised at her rapid 
 performances and prompt conclusions, and her re- 
 spect for her business capacity was much increased. 
 
 The woman, whose deep-set eyes had, in a sort of 
 visual hunger, taken in every detail of the visitor's 
 dress, manner and features, then slowly followed 
 them down-stairs, bade them in a sepulchral tone, 
 good day, inserted her nose again in the door crack 
 and watche-d them out of sight. 
 
 " What a dismal creature," said Miss Eunice when 
 they shut the rusty iron gate. " I could never be
 
 172 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 comfortable under her roof. She seemed to me to 
 be trying to find out all my past history by reading 
 it off my clothing in some mysterious way." 
 
 " I rather like that kind of a woman, myself, it 
 will be sport to baffle her curiosity." 
 
 " Humph," muttered Miss Eunice, glancing as- 
 kance at her companion, who had taken to knock- 
 ing off dandelion tops with her parasol. 
 
 " This Miss Hathaway whom Miss Leigh spoke 
 of inviting to tea, is Mr. Rushmore's betrothed, is 
 she not, Miss Lathrop ? " 
 
 " Good gracious no ! What put that into your 
 head ? " 
 
 " Let me think. Oh something he said on the 
 steamer, I believe, but not to me. He was chat- 
 ting with Miss Leigh." 
 
 "Oh no, he is a friend, I think; but anybody can 
 see " Miss Lathrop prudently bit off the sentence 
 she had begun rather hastily. 
 
 " Yes, anybody can see that he is very susceptible 
 that is, I mean I now what am I saying ! " 
 
 " Say it out, do ! " urged the spinster. 
 
 " Then don't you ever repeat it, for the world, it 
 sounds so silly; but he is actually so polite even to 
 me sometimes, I fear a little for the speech of people, 
 or should, if there were any to speak of me. It all 
 amounts of course to nothing."
 
 MOONLIGHT ON LAND. 173 
 
 " I should say it did." 
 
 " Still, one in my position must be very discreet 
 and even prudish." 
 
 "Yes, you certainly cannot be too much so; I 
 do remember now that when he comes to see Miss 
 Leigh and you present yourself to entertain him 
 before she comes in, he is always very affable, but 
 that is his way, the way of all American gentlemen 
 to women." 
 
 " Oh is it ? " cried the widow eagerly, " then it is 
 not any matter and I am so relieved; there isn't any 
 use in being unsympathetic always, but I was a lit- 
 tle startled at his taking up my affairs so so- 
 licitously." 
 
 She strolled on her way beheading more dande- 
 lions, Miss Lathrop pacing along just behind, re- 
 flected on the duty of patience with fools. She was 
 herself almost fooled into thinking that Mrs. Melton 
 was one of this class. 
 
 Mr. Rushmore did not call at the house during 
 the day. Miss Eunice was remarking to Miss An- 
 nie as they sat together on the piazza, that they 
 must send the invitation early in the morning, when 
 a carriage stopped at the gate, and soon Rushmore 
 himself appeared. He had come to see if Miss Leigh 
 would not like to visit the Flying Waterfall in Wal- 
 denton Glen this beautiful moonlight evening. An-
 
 174 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 nie was delighted at the idea, she ran away and 
 came back all in soft white wrapping, as if she had 
 robbed the moon of the long clouds about it, or so 
 Rushmore was sentimental enough to declare. 
 
 Miss Eunice heartily approved of anything ro- 
 mantic on nights like this and sat smiling to her- 
 self long after the two young people had departed. 
 She was also happy because she had been good, and 
 a peacemaker, inasmuch as she had refrained from 
 any comments on Mrs. Melton's peculiarities, and 
 had spent the afternoon interesting Annie in all 
 Mrs. Melton's housekeeping arrangements. They 
 had planned to save her almost all expense of fur- 
 nishing her rooms. The Leigh house was crowded 
 with nice old furniture, and much could be given 
 away to advantage. So in peaceful, philanthropic 
 meditation the lady sat alone in the moonlight, un- 
 til she was aroused by the returning wheels of Rush- 
 more's carriage, and the sound of his voice at the 
 gate. With a sudden impulse, she arose quickly, 
 stepped inside the long window and awaited Annie 
 in the parlor, not once thinking she might become 
 an eavesdropper. She heard Annie give the invita- 
 tion for the little tea-party, which she seemed to 
 have forgotten before that moment, then there was 
 a murmured bit of conversation and somebody was 
 kissed !
 
 MOONLIGHT ON LAND. 175 
 
 " Goodness gracious me ! " was the characteristic 
 ejaculation smothered by the sofa cushion, then 
 controlling her emotions Miss Lathrop removed 
 herself to another sofa much, farther from the open 
 windows, and hypocritically planned to rise drow- 
 sily therefrom when Annie should come in, which 
 thing she did, asking at the same time, if it "rained.* 1 
 She might safely have said that it snowed, for all 
 heed the young lady could give to speeches of that 
 sort. 
 
 " The falls are very beautiful, are they not ? Did 
 you have a pleasant drive ? " 
 
 "Oh, the glen was exquisite; it seemed like a place 
 in a new world." 
 
 " Yet you have lived in Switzerland." 
 
 " Yes; but this was different in some way." 
 
 She walked about the room, started to light the 
 gas, threw the match away, came and nestled close 
 to Miss Lathrop, asking half apologetically, " Were 
 you ever engaged ? " 
 
 "Yes, three times," returned Miss Eunice briskly; 
 "all came to nothing though. The first time I got 
 turned against the man in some way, and the next 
 one got tired of me; he had the grace not to tell 
 me so, but I knew it all the same, and sent him fly- 
 ing. The third time, the relations could not let us 
 alone (his relations, I mean), and I was not going
 
 176 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 to be one of them even for him. Since then," she 
 added, as a gratuitous item, " I would not have any 
 one who would have me, and any one I might have 
 liked would not look at me; but I never lost a night's 
 sleep on that account, no not one ! Now what 
 makes you ask, dear ? " 
 
 " Because I am engaged to Mr. Rushmore. It 
 it happened to-night." 
 
 " Of course, in the moonlight. When I write on 
 astronomy, I am going to tell how that moon acts 
 on more tides than watery ones. Well, I thought 
 this would come sooner or later; are you very happy ? " 
 
 "Yes; as happy as I have always said I must be 
 sometime to be satisfied. I never was willing to be 
 just contented as some people are," exclaimed An- 
 nie vehemently. 
 
 " Life is a discipline," put in the spinster oracularly. 
 " If you had been brought up in Massachusetts you'd 
 have heard that too often to expect your happiness 
 measured off to suit you. But bless me, young folks 
 do feel that way, if 'tis presumptuous." 
 
 "Yes," went on Annie, "I thought it might 
 come, but not so soon perhaps. He is going to tell 
 his father of it all when he gives him the invitation 
 here to-morrow. I have no mother to tell, so I must 
 tell you." 
 
 Miss Lathrop patted the head on her arm and
 
 MOONLIGHT ON LAND. 177 
 
 said, " The old gentleman will be very happy to 
 have a daughter, I know he will be. He is a fine 
 old man, quiet, but liked and respected by every- 
 body. Mrs. Rushmore died years ago, she was a 
 Van Benthusen." 
 
 " Yes," said Annie softly, a little fearful of a gen- 
 ealogical turn being given to the affair. " I am 
 going to ask all about the family for years back some 
 day. Now good night." 
 
 She ran away through the long hall to her own 
 room, where she could recall far more than she cared 
 to tell Miss Eunice about the full moon and and
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 The Tea-party. 
 
 ABOUT six o'clock the next afternoon Miss 
 Leigh's guests met in the cool, flower-per- 
 fumed parlor. She was inexperienced as a hostess; 
 but her tact and goodnature taught her how to en- 
 tertain her friends in the happiest and most sensible 
 way. She had laid aside black for the time and was 
 fresh and charming in pure white. The Irvings came 
 first. Miss Lathrop devoted herself to them, when 
 Annie was called out of the parlor for a few mo- 
 ments. She soon returned leading the Rushmores 
 her cheeks in the mean time had grown very rosy. 
 Last of all came the minister and his daughter. Mr. 
 Hathaway had on the ministerial coat and the air 
 that went with it. He retained the first in all its 
 blackness, but quite lost the sombre second when 
 he found himself greeted with great cordiality. Ag- 
 nes was really beautiful in her pale gray dress with 
 a pink rose in the lace at her throat and another in
 
 THE TEA-PARTY. 179 
 
 her hair. The Rev. Bela's fatherly pride was sensi- 
 bly touched by the affection Miss Leigh seemed to 
 have conceived for her, and his pleasure was evident 
 when she begged him to make Agnes feel it a duty 
 to visit her often. 
 
 " Agnes is a keeper at home, but she gives me to 
 understand she enjoys your acquaintance extreme- 
 ly," he replied with a courtly bow; then becoming 
 aware that he was in the middle of the room, he 
 looked about for a chair, and old Peleg called him 
 to their little group. Mr. Rushmore had found his 
 way to Agnes. 
 
 "Has the grass grown over my old path to the 
 parsonage, or have you missed me so little you have 
 not looked to see ?" 
 
 " I noticed that you did not come as often as you 
 used to come. But I know you must have good 
 reasons for your absence." 
 
 " Yes, you are always philosophical. I fancied that 
 a few less of our aimless confabs would not signify. 
 And so Miss Leigh was mischievous enough to seek 
 you out alone, and triumph over me ? I was keep- 
 ing her as a surprise for you. I have never surprised 
 you; our friendship has been a very monotonous 
 affair." 
 
 Agnes glanced across at Annie, and with eyes full 
 of a rare pleasure replied,
 
 l8o EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 "She was a surprise and a lovely one." 
 
 " I have another for you if she does not tell 
 you of that too she may do so," and he laughed 
 gleefully. 
 
 Agnes looked up quickly, thinking that Rushmore 
 was more animated than formerly. Through a near 
 door Mrs. Melton entered just then noiselessly, and 
 Rushmore made a place for her near Miss Hatha- 
 way, whom she studied as they talked. When her 
 eyes had taken in every fold of Agnes's dress ev- 
 erything from the ringless little hands to the pink 
 tint the rose cast on her dark cheeks, she was at a 
 loss to understand why Rushmore had not met his 
 fate long before Miss Leigh arrived in Waldenton. 
 Agnes was not at all attracted by the widow, and 
 was glad to have old Peleg Irving come and inter- 
 rupt their conversation. Of course he asked Mrs. 
 Melton if she liked the town and if she had become 
 acquainted with many of the people. She replied to 
 the first question that no place "could be more 
 picturesquely situated," adding, " Miss Leigh has 
 kindly introduced me to a great many persons be- 
 cause they may be a help to me when I venture out 
 alone, as I propose to do soon." 
 
 " Indeed going to start a school ? " 
 
 " No; to sew and do various other things that 
 women do nowadays to earn a support. Mr. Rush-
 
 THE TEA-PARTY. iSl 
 
 more has found me some rooms; he has been very 
 kind to me, just like a brother, as I told Miss La- 
 throp this morning." 
 
 " He is a very friendly fellow, Rushmore is and 
 a great friend of Miss Lathrop and Miss Leigh," re- 
 turned Peleg. 
 
 " Yes, and then the fact is, we knew one an- 
 other some time before we knew Miss Leigh; he 
 boarded at my aunt's in London," she explained 
 artlessly. 
 
 Peleg solemnly gave himself up after that to rind- 
 ing out, as he afterwards declared to his spouse, 
 "What the creature was after;" he had not ascer- 
 tained when they were all invited to the tea-room. 
 Miss Lathrop had spared no labor in making every 
 thing there inviting after a lavish old-fashioned style. 
 The long table glittered with crystal and silver, the 
 dainty viands were interspersed with brilliant flow- 
 ers, and conversation grew lively as the guests lost 
 their first formality. After tea everybody sought the 
 open air for the twilight was very lovely. Some 
 sauntered on the lawn, some to the flower garden, 
 two or three sat in the piazza.. 
 
 Annie caught Agnes by the hand and drew her to 
 the garden, saying, "I must have you long enough 
 to see if you are real flesh and blood, then I will go 
 entertain the ' grave and reverend seigniors ' again.
 
 1 82 EUNICE LATHKOP, SPINSTER. 
 
 How like a dream of a girl you look in that filmy 
 gray dress ! " 
 
 "Well," returned Agnes, admiringly, "there is 
 nothing misty at all about you, you look like a sud- 
 den burst of sunshine ! " 
 
 " I feel like one ! I Agnes " 
 
 " O here you are," exclaimed Rushmore com- 
 ing toward them. " Annie, my father is looking for 
 you, he is almost as happy as I am," he added, 
 blushing. "She has told you, Agnes I saw her run 
 away to do it," he whispered laughingly. 
 
 Agnes was surprised beyond measure at Rush- 
 more's manner, at his addressing Miss Leigh as 
 " Annie," and herself as " Agnes." He was even 
 now holding out his hand, with a shy, pleased, 
 almost pleading look, that was more inexplicable. 
 It was as if he begged her to rejoice with him, and 
 yet was half doubtful if she would do so. A tremor 
 took her, a faint sensation of being unequal to some- 
 thing never felt before; but in the instant of waiting 
 after that she called in to a self, that seemed ex- 
 caping her, to stop, to be stronger. 
 
 Gayly shaking his forefinger at them, old Mr. 
 Rushmore came skipping across a verbena bed into 
 the winding path again, crying: " I've found you out 
 at last; you think this is a romantic time for running 
 off among the posies well, maybe it is, but you
 
 THE TEA-PARTY. 183 
 
 must give the old man a little of yourselves. Let 
 us go over to this pretty little arbor. It is new, is it 
 not ? " 
 
 Annie drew Agnes closer to her as they entered 
 the shadowy place. 
 
 The old gentleman was in the gayest of moods 
 and chatted as politely as any young gallant; but 
 after a few moments of rambling conversation he 
 put his withered hand on Annie's soft hair, saying, 
 in a voice a little gruff with feeling: "I am glad ! 
 very glad of it, my child; nothing could have pleased 
 me better ! When my boy was twenty-one years 
 old, I told him to hurry and show me his wife, and 
 the ungrateful wretch has made me wait thirteen 
 years. Do you wonder I am so delighted now, my 
 dear girl ? " 
 
 He leaned briskly forward, and while Annie was 
 saying low and inaudible words, he kissed her as his 
 " daughter." 
 
 Agnes's hand had slipped out of Annie's, she had 
 to take no part in the little scene. To the actors, 
 she was a shadow of the soft twilight. She, to her- 
 self,' seemed not there not anywhere there was 
 only space and emptiness now behind her a worse 
 unreality as she thought of that past. Rushmore's 
 voice broke in, arousing her. He was saying to 
 her, " You must have guessed it when Annie first
 
 184 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 went to you. It delights me that you like her 
 so much, and you will get infinitely more satisfac- 
 tion out of her friendship than ever you had from 
 mine." 
 
 Annie found her voice and began to talk. It 
 sounded to Agnes afar off in the air, as did the 
 voice of the old gentleman, when he gallantly of- 
 fered to adopt another lovely daughter like herself 
 without any hesitation. She wondered if she could 
 put intelligible words together. They heard her 
 say simply that they must be very happy; and as 
 they were, the pleasant speeches, and merry laughter 
 went on for awhile longer. Then the younger Rush- 
 more said: "We must go back! It is selfish to 
 make up a little private heaven for ourselves, and 
 leave the rest of Annie's guests to the care of Miss 
 Lathrop, although she is an excellent hostess in 
 Annie's absence." 
 
 " I will take her right back," said his father, walk- 
 ing away with her on his arm and leaving the son 
 to come with Agnes. 
 
 " I have wanted to talk of her to you often, Agnes, 
 and now I can be at liberty to speak, don't you 'find 
 her unlike other girls ? " 
 
 " She is very lovely." 
 
 "I was sure you would think so. It was not 
 merely her face that conquered me, it was her spir-
 
 THE TEA- PA RTY. 185 
 
 ited sweetness of character not just amiability, 
 that is tame you must understand, for we always 
 have understood one another." 
 
 A lover discoursing on a lady's perfections only 
 expects echoes; for what can another tell him over 
 and above that he already knows; so Agnes had 
 only to listen. 
 
 When they were all together again in the piazza, 
 ices were brought to them. 
 
 The Rev. Bela, who had been talking with Miss 
 Lathrop, took his in a very preoccupied way and 
 solemnly, as if it were an ordinance of some kind; 
 but the others were exceedingly lively. Agnes 
 slipped quietly behind the wooden pillar against 
 which he leaned and whispered. " Father, if you 
 have anything to take you home early, you need 
 not stay on my account. I would like to go I am 
 tired." 
 
 "Yes, daughter!" 
 
 After the ice, Rushmore proposed music he wanted 
 his father to hear Annie sing. They returned to the 
 parlor, now brilliantly lighted, and if she had given 
 them no other pleasure beyond that afforded by a 
 beautiful picture they would have been satisfied. 
 The light made luminous her golden hair and her 
 floating white drapery. When she sang, it was joy- 
 ous music from the sweetest of voices; old Mr. Rush-
 
 1 86 EUNICE LATHROP, SPIKSTEK. 
 
 more was enchanted, and Peleg Irving shared his 
 enthusiasm. 
 
 " I may be prejudiced," whispered Miss Eunice to 
 Mr. Hathaway and his daughter, "but I think Mr. 
 Rushmore might have gone quite around the world 
 and not found her equal for his wife." 
 
 The minister uttered not a word, but Agnes felt 
 the hand resting lightly on her shoulder twitch 
 nervously. 
 
 " I agree with you," she said, glancing at her 
 father, it was apprehension not surprise in his face; 
 he must have heard the news before, as she had. 
 
 Immediately after the song, Mr. Hathaway made 
 known that he had a sermon to finish and must go 
 home. Annie begged Agnes to stay longer, John 
 Irving, coming near, was about to say he would take 
 her safely to the parsonage a little later, when he 
 caught a look on her face that silenced him. Evi- 
 dently she did not wish to stay and he let the Rev. 
 Bela calmly avow his desire that she should go with 
 him. 
 
 " He is a grim parent at his best," whispered 
 Rushmore to Annie, who looked rather abashed and 
 had ceased her entreaties at once. 
 
 The polite farewells were ended and the Hatha- 
 ways went down the avenue which stretched out 
 like a broad path of silver, in the moonlight. Just
 
 THE TEA-PA RTY. 187 
 
 at the great gate before they turned to go down 
 under the dark tree shadows the prim little man 
 stopped and gazed at the sky. The party, within 
 doors might have heard what he said then and would 
 have considered it entirely ministerial : " Agnes ? " 
 
 "Yes, father?" 
 
 "Remember: 'He telleth the number of the stars. 
 He calleth them all by their names ' and the other 
 words that go with these." 
 
 The child of the Puritan understood: "He heal- 
 eth the broken in heart, and bindeth up their 
 wounds;" but she was silent. That was all these 
 two reticent souls ever needed between them. She 
 knew he was at heart tenderer than he was stern 
 or narrow. He knew she could be strong, why 
 should they talk and hurt her ? 
 
 When they reached home, he fussed about in an 
 almost womanish fashion, locked up the doors, did 
 Agnes's duties so far as he could, talked quite bright- 
 ly of things suggested by nothing in particular, and 
 when she left him with a brief, good night, he looked 
 after her sorrowfully. 
 
 Up in her room, alone at last, Agnes sat down, 
 shivering in the shadow of the great church tow- 
 er, to think what had befallen her, what she had 
 lost or what had failed her. When she ceased be- 
 ing numb and bewildered, must she be ashamed ?
 
 1 88 EUNICE LATH HOP, SPINSTEK. 
 
 So she was the young girl, who over a year ago, 
 stood here one night and said, " I will give all, seek 
 nothing, ask back nothing, abide purely and with a 
 free confidence, and Darkness shall not tread me 
 down." Her giving had been a wasting; nobody 
 was the better or the richer for it, only she seemed 
 infinitely poorer. It must be that she had asked 
 something back after all, and had deceived herself. 
 She had tried to love as an angel might, in a fine, su- 
 perhuman fashion, and she was only a girl. But no 
 one knew it, only her father guessed a little, so she 
 need not be ashamed. Rushmore believed what he 
 had made known would cause her pleasure or did 
 he only pretend to believe so ? If she had loved 
 him, was it not because he had been drawing her to 
 it aimlessly, but surely ? In the bitter struggle to 
 find herself, that belief held the "Darkness" that 
 cruelly "trod" her "down." When all noise within 
 and without the house had ceased, when midnight 
 had passed, she was thinking still having a vision 
 of Annie as she sat singing in the light, her face ra- 
 diant, her voice joyful. She rose up quickly, crept 
 down the stairs, and out under the solemn trees. 
 Quite across the graveyard on a stone, was cut her 
 name: Agnes Hathaway. Face down, close clinging 
 to the mound, the child Agnes, used to sob out un- 
 speakable griefs, as near to the mother as she could
 
 THE TEA-PARTY. 189 
 
 get. So this night, the child grown older, must 
 come again not shedding tears, not even praying 
 yet, only being " human " a while, getting still 
 enough within to ask how she might hereafter 
 "abide firmly;" for to be conquered was not in 
 Agnes Hathaway.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 A Small Bigot. 
 
 EARLY one misty morning, what appeared to be 
 a phantom cab and a horse, whose outline 
 was merely sketched on the atmosphere, stood be- 
 fore the mildewed facade of Mrs. Cudlip's boarding 
 house. Spectral forms flitted in and out of a black 
 hole in the gray fog probably a door; one small 
 ghost was particularly lively. Voices talked of a box 
 " to go inside; " why pay sixpence for so light a one 
 to go "on top"? Mrs. Cudlip's voice was plainly 
 heard, as her large dark form met and embraced the 
 lively small one. She said, "I've put you up a tart- 
 let and a veal-and-ham pie; and directly you leave 
 the booking-office put your purse up safely. You're 
 a good little fellow, Guy," then the shrill note of the 
 drab one came in, herself invisible by reason of her 
 color, which matched the fog. " Yes, indeed, good 
 luck to ye ! It'll be long before I find a rale lord to 
 love like ye." There was a kiss or two, another fare-
 
 A SMALL BIGOT. 191 
 
 well sounded from the Scientist in the hole of a 
 door, and then the two short shadowy legs made 
 a final circuit, the cab was swallowed up in the va- 
 por, an unseen old shoe rushed through the air and 
 splashed into a puddle Guy was on his way to 
 America ! His brave little heart swelled with hope. 
 He had appropriated much curious information from 
 the Scientist and the servants, the butcher's boy and 
 the postman, from everybody he had collided with 
 in Fitzroy Square. The roaring Atlantic had been 
 so pictured to his imagination that he no longer 
 sighed for desert sands. The drab one had not 
 been able to tell him what variety of wild beasts 
 predominated on that farther shore, toward which 
 he sailed; but she declared herself willing, any time, 
 to vouch for " one devil, over there, quite lively 
 enough for a mouthful of a saint like himself." Guy 
 saw nothing very suggestive in her statement, or 
 any hint of the devil's sex. 
 
 Mrs. Cudlip had tried in every way to secure him 
 a comfortable passage. He was cared for in Liver- 
 pool by friends, and placed in good quarters on the 
 steamer. The days that came were full of enjoy- 
 ment. He saw everything about the boat, inter- 
 preted much of it to suit himself, listened to every- 
 body's yarns, and made many friends. He kept his 
 pious comicalities for one or two old sailors, who re-
 
 192 EUNICE LATffROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 ceived them in pretty good faith; and in return, 
 dealt our a few equally marvellous tales relating 
 to sea life. Sometimes, not often, he was home- 
 sick for Sister Ursula, and hoped that his mother 
 would be like her; all the mothers he had ever 
 known by sight were the ones in altar pictures 
 sad, but looking down, out of very loving eyes at 
 the Child. 
 
 The steamer made a quick passage and came into 
 New York Bay one beautiful Sunday morning. The 
 purser, who had taken charge of Guy during the 
 voyage, put him on a train going to Waldenton, 
 gave the conductor instructions- about him, and tel- 
 egraphed to Mrs. Melton that her son would be in 
 town that afternoon. 
 
 The telegram did not reach the lady in conse- 
 quence of a slight mistake in the address, therefore 
 when Guy arrived he was sent to the Leigh mansion. 
 The ladies were at church, and the dull housekeeper, 
 getting only a confused idea of the state of affairs, 
 ordered the poor little stranger passed on to Mr. 
 John Irving. 
 
 Mr. Peleg Irving was rejoicing in the delights of 
 his flower garden, eating harvest apples, and read- 
 ing "Travels in Palestine," when an omnibus halted 
 at his gate, a little hair-covered chest was dropped, 
 and a small traveller alighting, was told by the
 
 A SMALL BIGOT. 193 
 
 driver to " run along in." He opened the gate, saw 
 old Peleg, and came directly to him, standing while 
 Peleg stared from his sweet face to his small shoes, 
 back to his big brown eyes that seemed to be ask- 
 ing something like the same question put to him 
 then: "What have you come here for, little man ?" 
 
 " I don't know, sir." 
 
 'Who are you?" 
 
 " A Catholic male orphan, a half orphan," he 
 added, thinking it well to be explicit. 
 
 " And where did you come from ?" 
 
 " From over the ocean, from where Aunt Cudlip 
 lives now in Fitzroy Square, London before that 
 it was old St. Guthlac's." 
 
 It surpassed anything put down in the book on 
 Palestine, but Peleg must have his joke even on Sun- 
 day. He looked him well over and gravely asked, 
 " Which half of you is not an orphan ? " 
 
 " My soul. It has a Father in heaven." 
 
 "That is a fact, my child but then you have a 
 mother, and that is good." 
 
 " Yes, sir. I am going to her; she is Mrs. Elsie 
 Melton." 
 
 "Whew!" was Peleg's prolonged exclamation. 
 " Well, she lives somewhere very near here, I be- 
 lieve; but I don't know exactly where. We'll find 
 out sooner or later; you can stay here among the
 
 194 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 flowers and make some new friends. I'd like to get 
 acquainted with a live Britisher of your size. Have 
 you had your dinner ? " 
 
 Guy had been bountifully fed by the conductor, 
 but he pulled off his cap and cheerfully sat down on 
 the grass to assist in devouring the apples with which 
 the old man was comforting himself. If there was 
 anything in his past life that did not come to light 
 during that interview it was through no fault of kind- 
 ly, curious Peleg. He assuredly did possess him- 
 self of some facts as to the "friends in whose family" 
 little Guy had lived all these years facts that Mrs. 
 Melton had not proposed to make public. It was 
 all so interesting he regretted the sudden end put 
 to it by his good wife's appearance on the scene. 
 She was able to tell just where Mrs. Melton lived, 
 and she urged Peleg to hasten with the boy to his 
 poor mother, saying, " Imagine her suspense ! " 
 
 " I can't," said Peleg dryly; " but I'll take him to 
 her right away, all the same." 
 
 " Please do. I want her now very much. Is she 
 will I be very fond of her ? " 
 
 " She is a very pretty woman," returned Peleg. 
 " We'll leave your trunk here and have it sent later; 
 it would look queer going on Sunday. This is a quiet 
 place, not like London." 
 
 " O isn't it a wonderful, beautiful place. I didn't
 
 A SMALL BIGOT. 195 
 
 see such flowers and grass and trees in London," 
 cried Guy, trotting around the hill after his guide. 
 "There is a church, and the tombs are out of doors ! 
 Are there any lords and ladies and dogs buried over 
 there ? There, I hear music !. I think maybe it is 
 High Mass now." 
 
 "Good gracious," exclaimed Peleg, shaking with 
 suppressed laughter. "No, it is not High Mass, but 
 it is an hour of service. The priest lives in this house 
 here, and a nice little nun. Some day you must go 
 and tell them all about St. What-do-you-call-him's ? 
 and talk over your catechism. Perhaps he does want 
 an altar-boy." 
 
 Peleg had refused to go to Church that afternoon, 
 and here was Satan making havoc with him; but he 
 smiled on the little chap so benignantly that Guy 
 exclaimed, "I like you! I want to come to your 
 house very often." 
 
 They made rather slow progress, the boy must 
 needs stop to pick white clover and pink ones, but- 
 tercups and every curious weed on his route, as well 
 as listen to the birds and the bees. A big green 
 grasshopper alighted on Peleg's white vest, and Guy 
 seeing it cried out, " St. Francis of Assisi used to 
 have one ! " 
 
 "One what?" 
 
 " One grasshopper. It used to come and sit on a
 
 196 EUNICE LATHKOP, SPINSTER. 
 
 fig-tree near his cell window. He would say, ' Sing, 
 my sister, and praise the Lord ! ' and it would sing 
 right off and keep on for eight days, stopping when 
 he said, ' Cease, my sister, and go,' but always com- 
 ing if he said, ' Sing praises."' 
 
 Peleg drew a long breath. Oh, this was a rare 
 boy ! His theology was a wilder one than Peleg's 
 own but he felt it his duty to protest against this 
 particularly obedient grasshopper; so he said, 
 
 " See here now, our Protestant hoppers haven't any 
 voices worth mentioning. I've heard they kick their 
 music out with their hind legs." 
 
 " Do they ? Well those Catholic ones, like St. 
 Francis's don't. They sing praises," reiterated Guy 
 firmly. 
 
 " Indeed ! Well/ if ours can be pious and go 
 prancing about at the rate they do there is a 
 first-rate argument for dancing such as I've al- 
 ways been seeking; but then our priest couldn't be 
 made to believe it," soliloquized Peleg, adding with 
 amiable interest, a minute after, " Were all those 
 that St. Francis was intimate with, Sisters ? weren't 
 there any grasshopper brothers that sang on the 'fig- 
 tree, and ran eight days without winding up ? " 
 
 Guy suspected him and went to chasing a white 
 butterfly. 
 
 " Do you see that tall dark house standing back
 
 A SMALL BIGOT. 197 
 
 behind the evergreens ? Your mother lives there. 
 I will wait at the gate until you see if she is 
 home." , 
 
 The boy faltered, the buttercups fell out of his 
 fingers. 
 
 " What are you holding back for ? " 
 
 " I am afraid ! " 
 
 " Why she is your mother.'"' 
 
 " But I don't know her ! If she should not be 
 glad to see me you come in with me ! " 
 
 " See here, you silly chap you, she'll love you 
 easy enough, anybody could. You just rush ahead 
 and hug her well. She wouldn't want me looking 
 at her when she cries for joy," urged Peleg, impos- 
 ing on his own credulity. 
 
 They reached the gate. Guy ran up under the 
 evergreens and rapped with his knuckles, not being 
 tall enough to touch the brass knocker. The woman 
 who opened the door, nodded in response to his ques- 
 tion, so Peleg turned away when Guy was pointed 
 upstairs and shut in. The child crept slowly up in 
 what seemed darkness after the outer light, and stood 
 trembling outside another door. He had a faint re- 
 alization, young as he was, that beyond this was 
 yet one more barrier before he reached a mother's 
 heart. Would she let him in there ? He a little 
 stranger !
 
 198 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 " Oh, I don't know," he thought, " I wish it would 
 be Sister Ursula I am to see ;" then he knocked 
 timidly. 
 
 He heard a movement at once, a step, then the 
 door opened into a pleasant room, and a lady just 
 awakened from sleep stared at him. He waited for 
 some question not asked, before he said softly: "I 
 have come ! I am Guy ! " 
 
 " Guy.! " she echoed in surprise. " Here so soon ! 
 Well, do let me see you ! " She drew him over the 
 threshold, and stooping, gave him the most search- 
 ing look he had ever received. It took note of the 
 shade of his eyes, the shape of his nose, the texture 
 of his skin of everything but that part of him which 
 was, as he told old Peleg not the half orphan, and 
 so Guy's instinct almost divined that the long look 
 was somehow superficial. But she satisfied herself 
 that, so far as his personal appearance was concerned 
 she need never be ashamed of him then she kissed 
 hiiri very deliberately. She had nothing against him 
 except that he existed at all, and she occasionally 
 admitted to herself that he was not to blame for 
 that fact. 
 
 "Are you glad to see me?" he inquired, looking 
 her well over, in his turn. 
 
 " Of course. When did you get here, and who 
 brought you to me ? "
 
 A SMALL BIGOT. 199 
 
 He told her what he could tell, sat down, crossed 
 his legs as his habit was, and prepared to get ac- 
 quainted; but when he had told her the latest news 
 in Mrs. Cudlip's establishment and a little about his 
 voyage, her interest in him had abated. She lan- 
 guidly remarked that he might amuse himself in any 
 way he liked, and added that he would soon feel at 
 home. He examined with quiet curiosity her simple 
 room arrangements, finding much that seemed novel 
 and interesting. He liked extremely the view from 
 her western windows, and it was standing there that 
 he saw for the first time a magnificent sunset. He 
 received the impression that it must be something 
 peculiar to Sunday afternoons in America, and was 
 awestruck as at a miracle. An hour or two later 
 he bowed his head like a bullrush and was about to 
 roll off his chair to the carpet, when his mother came 
 to the rescue and sent him to a softer bed. When 
 apparently asleep, he suddenly roused up to ask: 
 " What shall I call you ? Are you Sister anybody 
 or shall I say my mother ? " 
 
 "Certainly you must call me that," she replied 
 hastily] 
 
 " And you may call me Lord Kew." 
 
 " Go to sleep ! You talk in a very silly way for a 
 child of your age ! " 
 
 " Good night," he returned meekly, and dozed off
 
 200 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 with his prayers half said, but the rosary was 
 clutched tightly in his small hand as proof of his 
 good intentions in that direction. 
 
 He slept very late the next day and awakened to 
 find his little "box" unpacked in the middle of the 
 room. Peleg had sent it the evening before and 
 Mrs. Melton had opened it. She had directed 
 Mrs. Cudlip to put in something left behind her. 
 Mrs. Cudlip, for reasons not apparent, had not done 
 this and her negligence made Mrs. Melton very much 
 vexed and not in a mood to respond to Guy's cheer- 
 ful greeting. Even before he was dressed she ex- 
 claimed: "Don't chatter all the time, I can't think. 
 I can tell you that you must learn to be still, if you 
 live with me ! " 
 
 He was subdued for a time, then he asked: " May 
 1 go and see the old man in the flower garden, and 
 the priest and the nun." 
 
 " There are no priests here for you to know, and 
 remember that I do not wish you to tell about the 
 Orphan Asylum or where you lived before you were 
 at Mrs. Cudlip' s not a word." 
 
 " I have told every bit of it to the old man." 
 
 " You have done that already ! And did you tell 
 him you never had seen me ? " broke from the 
 woman. 
 
 The glare in her yellow eyes made the wonder
 
 A SMALL BIGOT. 2OI 
 
 ing child shrink, but he answered: " Yes he asked 
 me if I knew you." 
 
 She raised her delicate hand and struck a 'blow 
 that made him reel. Never in his homeless days 
 had he been so hurt but chiefly in his heart, first 
 that, then he was enraged. His dark eyes reflected 
 back the fury of her own expression. 
 
 " Now hear ! You are my child you are to live 
 with me if you tell tales, I will whip you, or I will 
 find out what you fear most and do that to you. I 
 hate a tattling brat. Another thing. / am not a 
 Roman Catholic, you must stop all this talk of Sis- 
 ters and Fathers and foolery, I " She stopped 
 short, and gliding in her always graceful way to the 
 tumbled bed, picked off the pillow, Guy's beads, and 
 flung them straight through the window, saying, as 
 her temper cooled a little: "That old brass crucifix 
 on them will make your fingers sore, I won't have it 
 around ! Now go eat your breakfast ! " 
 
 He gasped a second rushed by her like a whirl- 
 wind, down the stairs, out into the dark grass under 
 the rusty evergreens, found the beads caught on a 
 twig, flung himself close to the earth, and cried in 
 wild grief and anger, rolled and beat his crazy little 
 pate as if to get out of it the "foolery" that was 
 about all there was in it. Oh! he thought if he were 
 only back washing the everlasting salads with the
 
 202 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 scullion, who was kind to him back with icy an- 
 cient Lady Kew, who never lifted her hard hand to 
 him or away, away in the again-longed-for desert, 
 with his desecrated little crucifix, best of all if some 
 dear, converted, wild beast had him and not his 
 mother! Alas, Lord Kew!
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 The Spinster speaks again and Agnes. 
 
 > Mrs - Irving, I must and shall talk to 
 you ! A woman like me must talk, and it 
 had best be to some close-mouthed person like your- 
 self. I have held my tongue to Miss Leigh when it 
 would have seemed easier to swallow it." 
 
 "Well, Eunice, what is it now?" 
 
 " Oh, what that widow means surpasses my un- 
 derstanding, for she is deceitful enough not to seem 
 so one bit, but quite the contrary. I have always 
 advised Annie not to make a confidante of her; that 
 is the most I have ever said against her." 
 
 " Does she know of Miss Leigh's engagement to 
 Mr. Rushmore ? " 
 
 " She must suspect, but she has never spoken as 
 if she knew. As long ago as the night of the tea- 
 party, we sat in the parlor after the guests were 
 gone and I was wondering what made her the 
 widow, I mean look so elated, when she astonished
 
 204 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 us by saying she had a child in London, and that 
 she had sent for it. That is, she bnoke out: 'Oh, 
 just think of the goodness of that man! Mr. Rush- 
 more has done it. He insisted on furnishing the 
 money and finding out how he could be sent ! ' I 
 must have looked particularly surprised at that, for 
 she rattled on: ' I never should have allowed it, but 
 before I ever saw you, dear friends, he was at home 
 in our house in London, and knew all our family 
 trials. He told me to explain this money matter to 
 you, for of course it would look odd under some cir- 
 cumstances.' Annie was puzzled, but she is as large- 
 minded as she is ignorant of the ways of the world; 
 she remarked on it afterwards as a proof of Mr. Rush- 
 more's great kindness and generosity. I believe he 
 lent it to her; though if a man could be fascinated 
 by her and be sincerely in love with Annie Leigh 
 at the same time, I should say Rushmore was the 
 man. What do you think of that ? " 
 
 " I think you could not know it, and should not 
 say it above all, put such an idea into Miss Leigh's 
 head." 
 
 "If she did not think it herself before Mrs. Mel- 
 ton left, of course she does not now." 
 
 " Oh, then it is all a thing of the past." 
 
 " No, ma'am, it is not by any means ! " said Miss 
 Eunice with intensity of emphasis. " What do you
 
 THE SPINSTER SPEAKS AGAIN AND AGNES. 205 
 
 suppose I heard at our sewing society only yester- 
 day afternoon ? I heard that it was commonly re- 
 ported that Mr. Rushmore was engaged to Mrs. 
 Melton in England, that it was through his influ- 
 ence she was first induced to come to America, that 
 on the voyage he had broken his engagement to her 
 and attached himself to Miss Leigh; that he did it 
 so artfully that Mrs. Melton kept silence; now he 
 was half afraid of her, half in love with her still, and 
 so befriended her." 
 
 " This is not a story any outsider could very well 
 make out of nothing. Mrs. Melton must have told 
 it herself. Have you ever thought that it might be 
 strictly true ? " 
 
 "Never!" 
 
 " Well, it might be; and in that case the least said 
 about it the better." 
 
 Miss Eunice, although still in gasping surprise, 
 resented that bit of advice. 
 
 " There never would be much of anything said any- 
 way, Martha Irving, if you had your choice. You're 
 wiser than old Solomon himself, for you can't make 
 me believe that when his seven hundred wives told 
 him what was going on in the world, they didn't get 
 considerable talk out of him." 
 
 "I know they did, Eunice; it is expressly declared 
 they ' turned away his heart ' from his old wisdom."
 
 206 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 "Well, let that go but I don't believe one word 
 of this other matter. I can't. That woman of 
 whom Mrs. Melton hires her rooms has been spread- 
 ing some of the stories. She does not mention 
 Miss Leigh's name, but I hear she has said that Mr. 
 Rushmore is constantly sending letters to Mrs. 
 Melton, and has been to see her; and she thinks 
 from what she has seen that he is going to marry 
 her. She has seen him send law papers, I have no 
 doubt." 
 
 " You ought to go directly to Mrs. Melton, and 
 tell her all this." 
 
 " She would slip out of it before I had half told 
 her, and trap me into saying something foolish." 
 
 "Then you could put Mr. Rushmore on his guard." 
 
 " I don't know how," said the elderly maiden. 
 " I should make a dreadful mess of it." 
 
 "Then middle-town folks must gossip. If Mrs. 
 Melton does not care for herself, you need not meddle 
 with her part of the affair. If Mr. Rushmore is above 
 suspicion, he will not be hurt by the silly tales; if 
 he is acting deceitfully, the sooner it is found out 
 the better." 
 
 " Very well, then, I will be as silent as a sphinx," 
 said Miss Eunice, going home, relieved, inasmuch 
 as she had said something, even if she had done 
 nothing.
 
 THE SPINSTER SPEAKS AGAINAND AGNES. 207 
 
 It was a fact that many tongues were busy about 
 this time. The advent of Miss Leigh, ycung, pret- 
 ty, and rich, had but just been thoroughly discussed, 
 when her engagement to Rushmore was announced. 
 Mr. Rushmore, senior, immediately told his friends 
 of his son's happy prospects and his own satisfaction. 
 All this was freely talked of in the upper-town be- 1 
 fore these later rumors began to creep up hill as 
 they did creep, slowly but surely. Peleg and John 
 Irving heard them, but not at home. Agnes Hath- 
 away, going more quietly than ever about her usual 
 occupations, was not long ignorant of the buzzing 
 around her ears. Then some of the communicative 
 women of the sort to run to any parsonage with the 
 wants, the troubles and the sins of the parish; some 
 of these told her the gossip, and awakened her to 
 the fact that all Waldenton was gaping, question- 
 ing, surmising, even sighing and head-shaking, as 
 over some mystery, or perhaps a wickedness. She 
 resolved to go and ask Mrs. Irving what could be 
 done to prevent the stories from reaching Miss 
 Leigh, and to put an end to them. 
 
 Mrs. Irving was very glad to see her. 
 
 " The gossip in one way chiefly concerns Mrs. 
 Melton, she is the person to declare there is no 
 truth in it. She is being grossly misinterpreted, or 
 else she is making mischief deliberately. It is wis-
 
 208 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 est and kindest to go directly to her. Will you do 
 it ? " 
 
 "I," said Agnes, much startled. 
 
 " Yes, you are Miss Leigh's friend, and Mr. Rush- 
 more's also, and you may keep them from some grave 
 misunderstanding hereafter." 
 
 A faint flush crept over the young girl's face; 
 but soon she asked, "How will Mrs. Melton re- 
 ceive me ? I think she is a great deal shrewder than 
 I am !" 
 
 " Perhaps." 
 
 " Would not an older woman know better how 
 to approach her ? If she is a good woman I may 
 grieve her more than I need, and if she is not, I 
 may only make her angry." 
 
 " Some one ought to go to her, and there is no 
 one who would do any better than you." 
 
 Agnes sat a while in silence. 
 
 " When will you go," asked Mrs. Irving. 
 
 " When do you think it best ? " 
 
 " This afternoon." 
 
 " You are sure it is wise ? " 
 
 Mrs. Irving waited a minute before she answered 
 earnestly, "Yes, Agnes, it seems to me the best and 
 kindest thing that we can do." 
 
 " Very well, I will go."
 
 THE SPINSTER SPEAKS AGAIN AND AGNES. 209 
 
 Mrs. Melton was softly dusting her cheek with a 
 pink powder puff, when there came a knock on the 
 door of her outer apartment. She waited to see that 
 the puff was shut into its box, that her attire was 
 as becoming as usual, then yawning lazily, she went 
 to meet the milkman or the grocer's boy, as she sup- 
 posed. Lo, it was Miss Hathaway! Mrs. Melton 
 welcomed her quite effusively, secretly wondering 
 what had brought her there. She seated Agnes in 
 the easiest chair, said she had heard "so much" of 
 her from Miss Leigh, and did not express her real 
 surprise that a poor minister's daughter should have 
 " hit upon " just the style of dress, tone and manners 
 suited to her face and figure. They talked very 
 easily together for a while, Agnes asking about 
 the little boy, whom she had not yet seen, and Mrs. 
 Melton declaring him to be an oddity. When Ag- 
 nes, getting a little pale as she spoke, remarked, 
 after a chance allusion of the widow's to Mr. Rush- 
 more's interest in Guy, that this gentleman's en- 
 gagement to Miss Leigh seemed to have been made 
 public very soon; although of course there was no 
 reason for keeping it a secret. 
 
 "Could anything ever be kept quiet in a town 
 like this, do you think, Miss Hathaway ? " ventured 
 the widow in her mellow, laughing tone. 
 
 "There is far too much gossip in Waldenton; and
 
 210 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 every now and then very absurd and harmful stories 
 get set afloat. I have come to tell you of some to- 
 day," said Agnes, beginning at once in the most 
 straightforward way to tell Mrs. Melton everything, 
 adding no comment, omitting no item. She was not 
 interrupted by one word until she ended; then Mrs. 
 Melton, in a half distressed, half defiant tone, abrupt- 
 ly exclaimed, 
 
 "It is all about me, to be sure, but what have I to 
 do about it ? Why have you not gone to Mr. Rush- 
 more ? or to Miss Leigh ? They know your towns- 
 people; they can contradict what they think is un- 
 true. I am a stranger here. I cannot rush about 
 your streets crying at random, ' These are lies ! 
 Everything said about me is false ! ' ' 
 
 " I came to you because I reasoned that if I were 
 in your place and you were in mine, I would wish 
 you to come to me. If any careless thing you have 
 said or done has by chance started these rumors, 
 which now almost amount to reflections upon your 
 reputation, you, and not some one else, ought to be 
 told of it. Plain dealing in such circumstances is 
 the only kindness. To go to Miss Leigh would be 
 to wound her deeply and perhaps needlessly. I 
 hope it would be needless." 
 
 " And does it not wound me ? " 
 
 " I know it must, Mrs. Melton, and I am very
 
 THE SPINSTER SPEAKS AGAIN AND AGNES. 211 
 
 sorry to hurt you; but you would rather endure the 
 trouble and mortification of it all than to have her 
 endure anything of the kind, when she has been 
 your firm friend from the day you first met her, as 
 you yourself have declared so often." 
 
 " Of course," returned the widow slowly. " But 
 do you think it can be kept from her ? " 
 
 " Who would tell her anything ? As for Mr. 
 Rushmore," said Agnes, eagerly looking her in the 
 face, " if all that concerns his friendship his pre- 
 vious relations I mean," she stammered, "if all 
 these reports are false, I am sure you would endure 
 almost anything rather than have him hear them. 
 That one word of them could be true, I have never 
 let myself believe." 
 
 "Allow me, Miss Hathaway, to ask why Mr. Rush- 
 more's friendship may not be for me as well as for 
 yourself?" 
 
 No one would have known by her tone if the 
 speaker was insulted or only meant to be insulting. 
 
 Agnes quietly answered, " I said friendship out of 
 delicacy. I can say, if you make me, reports of an 
 intimacy which, considering his engagement with 
 Miss Leigh, is not respectful toward her on his part, 
 and is, for the same reason, unkind in you. The ru- ; 
 mor that he is to marry you has outrun the truth of 
 his engagement to her in middle-town at least,"
 
 212 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 Mrs. Melton meditated a moment, then covered 
 her face with her hands, and it is to be presumed 
 that she burst into tears. Agnes relented to a de- 
 gree that she would not have thought possible the 
 instant before: "Don't think I am hard or cruel to 
 say these things to you. It does hurt me. You are 
 a stranger; and before I came here, I remembered 
 that away back in old Jewish times God commanded 
 His people to be very tender of the strangers among 
 them; but then this other thing distresses me. I 
 have not known Annie Leigh one half as long as you 
 have known her, but I can see that her whole hap- 
 piness now is in Mr. Rushmore's love. She is so 
 spirited and full of faith in him that a blow to that 
 faith would be terrible." 
 
 " Humph," sobbed the widow. " He is only com- 
 mon clay, and she'll find it out before she has wor- 
 shipped him very long. I know him better than she 
 does now." 
 
 No answer from Agnes coming to that remark, 
 the lady rubbed her eyes with the back of her pretty 
 hand, in a childlike way, and continued pettishly, 
 "I don't see yet what you want of me. I am sorry 
 enough for anybody who is not always going to 
 find this earth a heaven, but I pity myself more than 
 any one else. I've, usually found it purgatory." 
 
 "I came to you believing you had a heart and a
 
 THE SPINSTER SPEAKS AGAIN AND AGNRS. ?lj 
 
 conscience and good sense, Mrs. Melton. I wanted 
 to know how to put an end to this gossip." 
 
 " I don't know how to do that. Gossip never is 
 to be suppressed. 
 
 " This must be stopped. You know, do you not, 
 that Mr. Rushmore is to marry Miss Leigh ? " 
 
 " You tell me he is; neither one of them has ever 
 said so in my hearing." 
 
 "You believe from what you have seen, do you 
 not, that they love one another ? " 
 
 " I believe that she loves him,"' returned Mrs. 
 Melton, very coolly. "I doubt if he knows whom 
 he does love I have reason to suppose that he 
 thought in the past that he loved some one else." 
 She gave Agnes a significant glance which star- 
 tled her almost to faintness. In the brief silence 
 that ensued, neither woman at all understood the 
 other, each one's thoughts were of self, after the 
 fashion of each one's character. 
 
 " The matter is just here, Miss Hathaway," ex- 
 claimed Mrs. Melton in an impulsive way, and ris- 
 ing suddenly to walk the room. " I will tell you 
 something now in confidence. I knew Mr. Rush- 
 more in London before Miss Leigh ever saw him; 
 we were boarding in the same house at my aunt's 
 in fact naturally I saw him constantly; I don't care 
 now to tell just what that acquaintance did amount
 
 214 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 to, for I can see that you do not think that a friend- 
 ship between us is a thing likely to exist; but I can 
 assure you that Julian Rushmore is a very much 
 more susceptible man than you may suppose. He 
 is at present engaged to Miss Leigh, you say. All 
 very well, but she loved him before she had any 
 reason to think he meant to " 
 
 " That is nothing to me or to you," put in Agnes, 
 quickly. 
 
 " No I only mean he let her learn to like him while 
 he was finding out his own mind; he gave her reason 
 enough to do so, as he has given others, if we only 
 knew it; perhaps one of us does know, to our sorrow." 
 
 She certainly expected to startle Agnes with the 
 intimation that Rushmore had won her heart before 
 she left London; but she was incited to further efforts 
 by the indignant light in her eyes, and as the girl rose 
 up before her; she went on impetuously. "Yes, I 
 came to America encouraged by him. He showed 
 me very great kindness on the way, and later, when 
 he could not show any interest in my welfare, with- 
 out exciting suspicion, he helped me find this home. 
 He provided me with means to send for my child. 
 He has all along given me work and paid me for it. 
 If you or others choose to call this kindness by hard 
 names why, do so! I do not care for meddlesome 
 prattlers."
 
 THE SPINSTER SPEAKS AGAIN AND AGNES. 215 
 
 " Do you care for your pure name and for another 
 woman's happiness ? You keep me repeatedly ask- 
 ing these questions," said the young girl sternly. 
 
 " I care for myself first and any other woman 
 next, if you pretend to do more than that, I only 
 believe that you are a hypocrite." 
 
 " If what you cared for most and had in your 
 power if that should be another woman's right 
 would not you put yourself one side and let her 
 have it. Would not something in you make you 
 do it ? " 
 
 " Self-sacrifice is always easy when it is an- 
 other's self one sacrifices," sneered Mrs. Melton 
 languidly. 
 
 " What do you suppose I wish you to do ? " 
 
 " I have told you already that I do not know." 
 
 " You force me to make direct charges, or else to 
 ask questions that will seem impertinent." 
 
 " Why you seem to me so far to be doing all that 
 sort of thing quite unprovoked," she retorted, her 
 eyes gleaming with gratification to see how this 
 girl must go in straight lines and so made no head- 
 way, for to slip under coverts to go backwards, to 
 dodge, tease and baffle her was easy sport. 
 
 " Do you love Mr. Rushmore, Mrs. Melton ? " 
 
 " Oh, you preposterous creature ! " laughed the 
 widow. " What a question to put to me ! If I did
 
 2l6 EUNICE ,LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 love him, should I confess it to the best friend of 
 his fiancee f " 
 
 " It occurred to me just now, that you wanted me 
 to infer you loved him. If not, perhaps you have 
 meant that he has more than the simplest interest 
 in you." 
 
 Mrs. Melton half closed her eyelids, toyed with 
 the tassels of a sofa cushion, asked coquettishly: 
 " Well what if he is just a little, let us say, in love 
 with me ? " 
 
 Before Agnes's inner vision came Annie, in her 
 girlish loveliness, while her actual glance revealed 
 this woman's face in the honest sunshine, fade, rouged, 
 with something sinister about the lips. She made 
 no answer. 
 
 " And what, Miss Hathaway, if he does love 
 me ? " 
 
 " I do not believe that he does." 
 
 From that moment, Mrs. Melton hated her, for to 
 this conclusion, Agnes had come in studying her 
 face. The girl secretly doubted its power, and that 
 was for this woman a more unpardonable offence 
 than to doubt her goodness. 
 
 " I don't dispute you for a moment, dear Miss 
 Hathaway, but if you- are so sure of this last point, 
 why are you anxious about Miss Leigh's peace of 
 mind ? It seems to be no concern of ours. As to
 
 THE SPINSTER SPEAKS AGAIN AND AGNES. 21 J 
 
 your curiosity about Mr. Rushmore's sentiments, I 
 really can't gratify it, while of course I thank you for 
 the interest you have taken in me." 
 
 She gazed in placid malice at her guest, who was 
 disheartened, but not personally piqued. Her one 
 thought was to understand Mrs. Melton, and so far 
 Agnes's efforts to get at her ruling motive had been 
 like chasing a globule of quicksilver. Now there 
 was one now more, these separating or uniting, all 
 equally elusive. 
 
 " If you do not see why I came, I cannot make it 
 any plainer," she said, going toward the door. 
 
 Mrs. Melton bowing gracefully, led the way; but 
 Agnes, almost on the threshold, turned, unable to 
 give all up so feebly: "It seems to me you have 
 some influence over Mr. Rushmore, how or why you 
 have it, you know best. Don't you wish to use it 
 for his good ? What power can a pure woman want 
 over a man except to hold him to what she sees is 
 honorable and generous ? Even if it were or had 
 been love can you love any one down instead of up ? 
 I thought when I came here, perhaps you did not 
 know of Mr. Rushmore's engagement, and had let 
 yourself think more of him than otherwise you would 
 have done; if this were true, I could be very sorry 
 for you; I would never whisper it to anybody or 
 speak again of it to you; but I would have been a
 
 2l8 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 true friend to you. No one should ever sneer at you 
 before me, and I not defend you. As for the future, 
 I supposed you would do right because it was right, 
 and if you suffered yourself, and even believed Mr. 
 Rushmore might have come to like you, it would 
 help you only to remember Annie Leigh. I feel so 
 old, sometimes, I can almost put myself out of my- 
 self, and feel with her mother when she came to die, 
 and to think of leaving her little girl alone to grow 
 up to the love or the loss that she knew would come to 
 her. She could not know it might be in your power 
 to blacken the daylight for Annie, to make her doubt 
 all truthfulness and all love or how horribly cruel a 
 refusal to deal honorably by her in any such future 
 issue would have seemed ! No, she had to die, leav- 
 ing her to the mercy of the living. Now that Annie 
 is happy, can't we be unselfish enough to leave her 
 so ? Can we be glad to call God our Father, if we 
 mangle another one of His children's lives ? " Ag- 
 nes's eyes were full of light, her cheeks of color. 
 She must move this woman to some word of 
 promise. 
 
 " It seems to me you know the exact state of Miss 
 Leigh's heart, and that after a very brief acquaint- 
 ance." 
 
 " I have not known her half as long as you have 
 known her, it is true, nor has she ever had it in her
 
 THE SPINSTER SPEAKS AGAIN AND AGNES. 2ig 
 
 power to be as kind to me as she has been to you, 
 but she trusts me and I do know her well." 
 
 " But you don't know Mr. Rushmore." 
 
 Was it an assertion or a question, this to which 
 Agnes answered, " If he is an honorable man, I 
 do know him." 
 
 The widow shrugged her shoulders and remarked 
 indifferently: " He is like other men, not better, not 
 worse." 
 
 " I am going now," said Agnes, looking at her in 
 silence a moment, "and you will laugh, thinking I 
 have accomplished nothing. It is true, because I 
 can't know you. I never saw a woman like you be- 
 fore, and I don't understand you by anything in my- 
 self. You have only seemed to be able to make me 
 think meaner thoughts of what people could do or 
 be than I ever have had of the persons whose lives 
 could touch mine." 
 
 " I am really sorry, Miss Hathaway." 
 
 " If you were sorry, I would know it. I will be 
 your friend yet." 
 
 "You are very winning with the sentimentality 
 of a girl, honestly young for her years," returned 
 Mrs. Melton blandly, "but the fact is, I have had so 
 many disillusions and rough experiences, I can't re- 
 spond to your proffers of friendship heartily enough 
 to suit you, so I had better not pretend anything.
 
 220 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 We will try and forget this awkward little inter- 
 view. Guy ! Run down-stairs and open the hall 
 door for the lady ! " 
 
 The boy, scarcely noticed by Agnes, came from 
 a corner where, behind a heavy screen, he had his 
 playthings, and where he staid, if in the house. 
 When outside the first door he took her hand, led 
 her downstairs, and as far as the front gate. With- 
 out speaking, she stroked his soft hair and left him, 
 perhaps with a kind look, for he watched her until 
 she was out of sight. She turned a corner, and he 
 went back to his mother, finding her in a dangerous 
 mood, though he did not know it. 
 
 He had caught snatches of the afternoon's dialogue, 
 and it seemed to him a very natural thing that some- 
 body with a good face and sweet voice should come 
 and urge his mother to behave better. He himself 
 had often reflected that she could be much gentler 
 tempered, and therefore in his simplicity, he went 
 this day directly to her and inquired if she meant 
 to be as good as the lady wanted her to become. 
 She answered by gripping him firmly, a hand on 
 each shoulder, her eyes near enough to glare the 
 words again into his memory. 
 
 "You say, Sister Ursula knew there was a pur- 
 gatory, and knew people who were in it. She was 
 right, Guy. I said, '#<?,' because I hated to frighten
 
 THE SPINSTER SPEAKS AGAIN AND AGNES. 221 
 
 you; but now I tell you it is true, and the very hot- 
 test part of it is for children who tell tales of what 
 they hear and know after they are forbidden. If 
 now, you should talk about me to other people, and 
 answer their questions, the devil would roast you a 
 hundred thousand years, and in all that time I never 
 would pay one penny to get you out of the fire, be- 
 cause I have warned you well beforehand." 
 
 The terror-smitten child was just equal to one 
 effort of reason: "You won't be alive so long your- 
 self." 
 
 " So much the worse. If I died, and the masses 
 were not said, nobody else would ever pay or pray 
 for you. Will you tell now ? " 
 
 " Tell what ? " he faltered. 
 
 " Anything you little fool!" 
 
 Agnes went home very melancholy, and much 
 disgusted. She had failed. Could Mrs. Melton have 
 meant to hint that Rushmore had ever made Agnes 
 love him. Would he from vanity reveal what in 
 honor he ought not to know; or was it only of her- 
 self that Mrs. Melton thought. Had he courted 
 her, swerved off to Annie, now in a reaction was 
 turning again to her ? If that were true, how fickle 
 and pitiably weak he must always have been. Such 
 women as Agnes, can be patient with one betrayed
 
 222 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 into sudden sin; but what turns their moral buoy- 
 ancy into a sickening heaviness of spirit is, to find 
 their great man collapsing into a dawdler. To 
 realize that they have been offering incense before a 
 shrine that never held anything half as holy as their 
 own faith in its supposititious treasures. 
 
 She was sorry that Mrs. Irving saw her pass the 
 gate that evening, and called to her to come in a 
 moment. 
 
 " Well, what success did you have ? " asked the 
 lady. 
 
 " Not any. Mrs. Melton is very deep or very 
 shallow, and I myself am not bright enough to tell 
 which she is. She did not care for anything I 
 told her. She denied nothing, acknowledged noth- 
 ing, promised nothing." 
 
 " Do you think she has any purpose to carry out ?" 
 
 " Perhaps that which she herself tells in plain 
 words to people is true, and she could stand by it 
 if made to do so then she may only hint at what 
 has given rise to all this gossip, and intend that 
 trouble between Mr. Rushmore and Annie shall 
 be the outcome of it, in which case she may bring 
 him more under her influence." 
 
 "Very likely; but we cannot judge of that until 
 we know the facts." Agnes was glad that Mrs. Ir- 
 ving was not one given to "talking things over"
 
 THE SPINSTER SPEAKS AGAIN AND AGNES. 223 
 
 endlessly, for she had no heart to discuss the mat- 
 ter. As she walked down the straight path through 
 the front yard, she encountered old Pelcg- with a 
 watering-pot. 
 
 " Know the little Papist yet, Agnes the widow 
 Melton's boy ? " 
 
 " I have seen him once." 
 
 " He is a rare one; you must catch and proselyte 
 him. She has a good conscience that widow has, 
 I've no doubt of it." 
 
 " I am glad." 
 
 "Oh yes good as new; you see she never has 
 used it common. I know that from what the little 
 chap says. Get him to come and see you; he is 
 very homesick." 
 
 Agnes made a brief reply and hastened homeward 
 to think of the afternoon's interview long and ear- 
 nestly, but her thoughts were all the time turning 
 to questions that she could not answer. Perhaps, as 
 her father said, she knew nothing of the " world," 
 if that were true, and the world was full of women 
 like Mrs. Melton, she was glad to be ignorant. 
 Worst of all, Mrs. Melton declared that she under- 
 stood Agnes's whilom hero better than Agnes her- 
 self ever had known him.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Questions Not to be Answered at Once. 
 
 r T^HE day after Agnes's interview with Mrs. 
 -* Melton, she was greatly cheered by a visit 
 from Annie and Rushmore. Annie was brimming 
 over with gayety and happiness, while her lover 
 showed his pride and affection in many quiet, but 
 unmistakable demonstrations. They were the mer- 
 riest guests who had visited the parsonage for a long 
 time, and Agnes catching something of their light- 
 heartedness, regained much of her previous confi- 
 dence in this man whom yesterday she dreaded to 
 remember had been her friend. During the even- 
 ing, Rushmore mentioned that he was to be absent 
 from town a few days, having business in Boston. 
 Agnes silently taking note, promised later, to spend 
 a day soon with Annie. 
 
 It came to be, what Mr. Hathaway considered a 
 late hour, before the joyful young couple took their 
 departure. Agnes stood in the starlight at the
 
 QUESTIONS NOT TO BE ANSWERED AT ONCE. 225 
 
 door, listening to their voices, as they went up the 
 hill; but when she returned to the light, her face 
 was as sweet and calm as Romano's girlish Mary's; 
 under whose picture she sat, while her father read 
 the evening Scriptures. 
 
 A few days after the visit mentioned, Agnes made 
 arrangements to accept Annie's invitation, and 
 started out one lovely morning toward the heights. 
 When about halfway up, she met Miss Eunice look- 
 ing as crisp and gay as the first bright-tinted Au- 
 tumn leaves over which she was so lightly tripping. 
 
 " We hastened out just after breakfast," she ex- 
 claimed, "but we separated an hour ago. We went 
 to the dressmaker's first. How I do hate that sort 
 of thing. I wish I had been made like a cherub, on 
 a tombstone, with just a head and a pair of wings. 
 It would save so many clothes, to say nothing of 
 fatigue and indigestion. Well, I left Annie at 
 Madame Velknor's, and she was to hurry home, 
 lest you should come and find her absent. I was 
 sure you would not get there before ten," and chat- 
 ting like a lively girl, Miss Lathrop led the way un- 
 til they reached the heights. Annie was already 
 home, and greeted Agnes more affectionately than 
 usual, if that were possible ; but Agnes soon de- 
 tected a preoccupation in her manner, and when 
 Miss Eunice suddenly pulled back a heavy curtain,
 
 226 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 both ladies noticed, with some alarm, how colorless 
 was Annie's face. 
 
 " Are you ill ? " cried Miss Eunice. " Why, you are 
 as white as my handkerchief!" 
 
 " I am tired. I walked a long way," she answered; 
 quickly turning the conversation; nevertheless Ag- 
 nes was very sure something more than mere fatigue 
 affected her, and Miss Eunice tried to relieve her of 
 her duty as hostess, by being herself as entertaining 
 as possible. At lunch-time Annie's efforts to appear 
 like herself became so evident that Miss Eunice said 
 as they all rose up from the table: "I know your 
 head must ache, Annie ! Now Agnes is coming 
 with me to the garden, and we want you to go and 
 rest a few minutes. I never saw you so white." 
 
 Somewhat to Miss Lathrop's surprise, she acqui- 
 esced, and the two ladies spent a pleasant hour to- 
 gether; by tacit consent, omitting any comment on 
 Annie's depression of spirits. 
 
 They had returned to the parlor when she ap- 
 peared again. She did not seem to hear Miss 
 Eunice's question about her headache, but she 
 came and stood near them, in a strangely dignified 
 way. Her blue eyes were very bright, and her 
 voice constrained as she said: " I am glad you are 
 here together to-day; for I want you to explain 
 something to me. One or both of you may be able
 
 QUESTIONS NOT TO BE ANSWERED AT ONCE. 227 
 
 to do it. I must be enlightened at once. This 
 morning when Miss Lathrop left me at the dress- 
 maker's, I waited half an hour for something 
 Madame Velknor was finishing. Her sewing wo- 
 men were in the next room and I heard them talk. 
 They were saying the strangest things of Mr. Rush- 
 more and Mrs. Melton; what does it mean ?" 
 
 Neither Agnes nor Miss Eunice could answer a 
 word in the moment she gave them. 
 
 " I first thought I would not speak of it to a hu- 
 man being, if I could find out the truth for myself; 
 but' I will not condescend to become a spy. If 
 things like these are said, you must have an idea 
 from what they come. I trust you both. I would 
 ask Mr, Rushmore himself, but just now it seems to 
 me that I should be insulting him if these are false 
 reports if they are true, I would not lower myself 
 to talk them over with him. This is what I over- 
 heard " 
 
 Her cheeks were crimson, as she rehearsed the 
 most distorted story that either of her listeners had 
 yet heard. They could promptly declare it must 
 be malicious gossip; but they soon found they had 
 not to deal with a confiding girl, ready to be soothed 
 into full faith at one effort of theirs; but with an 
 indignant woman, who Would insist upon knowing 
 from what fire, and how and when kindled, all this
 
 228 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 smoke proceeded. What had they ever heard ? 
 What did they think ? She would know all, and 
 know it at once. Agnes had over and over again 
 asked herself the very questions Annie put. She 
 had also striven earnestly to eliminate from her 
 doubts everything favorable to Rushmore; she was 
 therefore wise and on the whole reassuring in all she 
 said; but Miss Eunice was demoralized. She sympa- 
 thized too deeply with Annie, detested Mrs. Melton 
 too heartily, and had been all along too much be- 
 wildered about Rushmore, not to say many hasty 
 things which revealed her own secret suspicions. She 
 alternately regretted that the widow could not be sent 
 to the state-prison for her undefined offences, and 
 lamented in general terms man's inconstancy. 
 
 This last was altogether too much for Annie's 
 pride, and Agnes was sorry to find her getting 
 very hard, angry, and into a frame of mind that did 
 not argue well for the future. She touched Miss 
 Eunice's slipper and said: "You don't know all 
 about an American town, Annie, or how people in 
 one can gossip. There may be nothing behind this, 
 and you must not condemn any one on the strength 
 of gossip among a few lowbred women. Get over 
 your excitement before you see Mr. Rushmore; don't 
 be sarcastic or vague or unreasonable. Let him 
 have a chance to stand or fall by the plain truth."
 
 QUESTIONS NOT TO BE ANSWERED AT ONCE. 229 
 
 " Yes, Annie, trust Agnes; she is cool, and she 
 has known him a long time," put in Miss Eunice, 
 coming to her wits. 
 
 " You have always believed in him, have you not ?" 
 cried Annie, softening suddenly. " He was your 
 friend, so you must have thought him good and 
 honorable." 
 
 There was perfect safety for Agnes's conscience 
 in the past tense; so she could answer warmly: 
 "Certainly; I believed him all that and much more. 
 I was proud to have him for a friend." 
 
 Annie slipped down by her side, put her head on 
 her shoulder, and began to cry like a little girl. 
 The spinster at that was about to go off again like 
 a rocket, and scatter no end of fiery sparks; but 
 Agnes, smoothing Annie's silky hair, shook her fin- 
 ger at Miss Eunice, and during the remainder of 
 the day that lady tried to act as judiciously as was 
 possible in her excited state of mind. At the door 
 that night, when Agnes went home, Miss Lathrop 
 whispered: "I am very, very sorry for her; but if 
 there must be any sort of a fracas why it is better ( 
 now than later." 
 
 In the next two or three days were many seasons 
 of struggle for Annie. She did not speak again to 
 Miss Eunice on the matter that plainly occupied her 
 whole mind; but every hour found her prompted to
 
 230 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 some action other than that decided upon the hour 
 before. Self-respect and a sense of what was due 
 to Rushmore, forbade her asking more of any out- 
 sider than she had already asked, but she was afraid 
 for herself if she trusted herself in his presence. 
 Either she would let slip all her indignation and 
 leave unsolved questions that now tormented her; 
 perhaps giving him her full trust again if he were 
 tender and grieved, or else she might, making him 
 angry, get angry herself; thus destroying their peace 
 and bringing about no explanation of the mysteries. 
 She resolved at last to write to Rushmore before 
 their next meeting, and the composition of the let- 
 ter resulting from this decision was no easy matter; 
 but written it was, the very day in which he returned 
 to Waldenton. 
 
 Rushmore coming into town about noon was 
 greatly tempted to call upon Annie before going 
 to his office, but after a moment of wavering he 
 thought it best to defer that pleasure until evening. 
 When once more in his office, he found new docu- 
 ments and many letters awaiting him. As he seated 
 himself at his desk prepared for a few hours of steady 
 work a faint, a delicately suggestive, perfume reached 
 him. Yes, they were there ! A great bunch of An- 
 nie's favorite pansies, and underneath them the first 
 long letter he had ever received from his betrothed.
 
 QUESTIONS NO7^ TO BE ANSWERED A T ONCE. 23 l 
 
 The office-boy coolly pointed them out after the 
 discovery, saying, " A coachman fetched 'em;" but 
 Rushmore did not heed him, fre was rapidly cutting 
 the envelope. As a lawyer he was accustomed to 
 startling revelations; but no remarkable affidavits, 
 duly sworn to, had ever given him the mental 
 shaking up, of a sudden, accomplished by this 
 womanly, gentle, far-searching letter of Annie's. 
 It was in a manner stern, yet not too stern for one 
 who believed she was offering 
 
 " Innocence for innocence, 
 Who knew not the doctrine of ill-doing, 
 No, nor dreamed that any did; " 
 
 yet one who demanded he should 
 
 " Answer boldly, ' Not guilty.' " 
 
 " Bless her, she is an angel of truthfulness her- 
 self, or she would not write her meaning so nobly," 
 exclaimed Rushmore. " If she had been a silent, 
 jealous soul, what a bottomless pit we might have 
 tumbled into;" then outwardly calm, he deliberated 
 a few moments before he wrote a brief note, and 
 calling the boy, enjoined it upon him to take it to 
 Miss Leigh with all speed. 
 
 This note was not explicit; but if Rushmore had 
 followed it, he would have seen a white-cheeked 
 young girl grow rosy and radiant after its perusal.
 
 232 EUNICE LATffKOP, SPINSTER. 
 
 The rosiness may have been due to an exceedingly 
 tender preface and an excessively loving supple- 
 ment, but the radiancy was entirely owing to its 
 middle contents. 
 
 " You should have been a lawyer, Annie; 
 
 but failing of that, you will have to marry one, and 
 become his legal better half. You can put very di- 
 rect questions. Mrs. Melton and I can answer them, 
 every one of them. Waldenton gossips are ' fear- 
 fully and wonderfully made.' I might, with the illit- 
 erate preacher, omit the vowel and say ' mad.' I 
 will see Mrs. Melton in order to tell her the trouble 
 they have caused you, as well as to request her to 
 meet me at your house this evening. You must 
 cross-question us sharply. It is a most abominable 
 little comedy of errors; but I fail to see in it any of 
 the elements of a tragedy." 
 
 After sending Annie the note, Rushmore sat a 
 long time in deep thought, which evidently grew 
 more and more unpleasant. He reread word by 
 word Annie's letter before he arose and, pushing 
 back his chair impatiently, paced back and forth 
 through the length of the room. His first impres- 
 sion had been merely intense annoyance at the evi- 
 dent effect of the gossip on Annie's mind, while at 
 the same time he would not have been a lawyer, if 
 he had not perceived that this gossip must have
 
 QUESTIONS NOT TO BE ANSWERED AT ONCE. 233 
 
 started from Mrs. Melton herself. She must have 
 been chattering everywhere in a most childish way 
 about his kindness to her; for she was truly one of 
 the clinging, emotional kind of woman. Was she ? 
 The longer he reflected on that matter the more evi- 
 dent became something that seemed like duplicity 
 on the widow's part. He had supposed that Miss 
 Leigh knew the reason of all these simple matters; 
 namely, the kindnesses shown Mrs. Melton just on 
 account of his friendship with her patrons. He saw 
 now, that, on the contrary, Mrs. Melton, by her own 
 insinuations, her half admissions, her evasions, her 
 refusals to explain what might have been at once 
 made clear, had placed him in a worse light than 
 she could possibly have done by direct charges 
 against him, charges which he would have found 
 more tangible and easier to contradict. He was 
 astonished at his own blindness and folly. 
 
 " Idiot ! " he exclaimed. " Fool that I have been ! 
 The dupe of a pretty-faced impostor ! Fooled by 
 her soft, pleading ways, her piteous stories, and her 
 crocodile tears. It is incredible that I could have 
 been caught in such a flimsy net ! And I called 
 myself a man prided myself on being a shrewd 
 lawyer ! Why, I ought to have a guardian ap- 
 pointed over me as being of weak mind ! " 
 
 It did not render him less savage to reflect on the
 
 234 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 absurdity of his position. He must demonstrate in 
 the presence of the lady to whom he was engaged, 
 that he was not and never had been engaged to 
 Mrs. Melton. She must know the real amount of 
 influence exerted in order to induce the widow to 
 leave England; he must revise Mrs. Cudlip's free ver- 
 sion of that long past weak-tea dialogue, must pa- 
 tience failed him. His intention when writing to 
 Annie had been to see the widow in the early even- 
 ing, and to accompany her to the Leigh mansion, in 
 order that she should give an account of their ac- 
 quaintance since its first inception, and of all their 
 business relations. He was now in such a fever of 
 excitement, that, early in the afternoon as it was, 
 he seized his hat, locked the door of his office, 
 and walked rapidly toward Mrs. Melton's dwelling- 
 place. 
 
 Mrs. Melton had no idea of holding- any secret or 
 important conclaves in her apartments, that she en- 
 joined so emphatically upon her son the duty of si- 
 lence. It was merely that she had a strong and ex- 
 cusable desire to be herself, to act and talk freely in 
 her own castle; moreover, she wished to be her own 
 interpreter, or to be entirely unintelligible. 
 
 Guy soon fell into place, that is, he slept in the 
 bed she provided, and he ate the food she gave him.
 
 QUESTIONS NOT TO BE ANSWERED A T ONCR. 235 
 
 On the rare occasions, when he staid all day at home, 
 he was so quiet that she forgot his presence. He 
 never, after the first week, talked to her freely. At 
 the time the widow went to housekeeping, Miss Leigh 
 had given her an old, but still gorgeous, Chinese 
 screen, in three folding parts; with this, she shut off 
 a corner of her largest room, and there gave Guy 
 his few playthings. That which pleased him best, 
 was a box of colors, pencils and paper. He had a 
 fantastic sort of talent for sketching after the fashion 
 of Blake, and for one realistic pig, he made scores 
 of cherubim, seraphim and quite unclassified crea- 
 tures of his own brain. Sometimes, he stopped work, 
 and, peering through the aperture, where a fine silk 
 mandarin had been gnawed out by a rat, he would 
 watch his mother, in long mute meditation. She 
 was more mysterious to him than even the Griffin, 
 on whose nature and habits no one had ever given 
 him any satisfaction. However, the hours Guy spent 
 at home bore no proper proportio'n to those spent in 
 old Peleg Irving's garden, and later at the parson- 
 age. He revelled in flowers, and could be trusted 
 not to meddle prematurely with fruit. So he came 
 and went as he liked. 
 
 One Sunday, about fifthly of the Reverend Bela's 
 sermon, the church door swung softly in, and the 
 sleepily solemn congregation was amazed to see a
 
 236 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 small figure, in knee-breeches, proceed gravely up the 
 central aisle, and bow, apparently to the preacher, 
 cross himself devoutly, then, after kneeling a second, 
 demurely sidle into a seat by John Irving. At in- 
 tervals, during the discourse, he indulged in these 
 j genuflections so unusual in Presbyterian circles, and 
 thereby Peleg Irving was greatly edified. The old 
 man waited after church, and taking Guy by the 
 hand, led him to Agnes for encouragement. She 
 let him go home with her to dinner, in the hope of 
 making him happier, if he were, as Peleg said, very 
 lonely. In the afternoon, the minister put him in 
 the study window-seat, and with ominous headshak- 
 ing and many sighs, explored the dark recesses of 
 his mind. At last he went for the Shorter Cate- 
 chism, and earnestly besought Agnes to teach it to 
 him, with full and free explanations thereof. From 
 that day his education was resumed. Agnes taught 
 him a little at a time, and wreathed her theology with 
 many a poetic allegory or parable, while she held 
 her school in the porch, with an outlook to the 
 sunny hills, and often had cakes and candy. Guy 
 made rapid progress in loving her. It was only 
 when the Rev. Bela tried to mark that progress by 
 the pages of the Primer gone over, that dismay took 
 hold upon the boy, and he vainly tried to pit Sister 
 Ursula against the Westminster divines.
 
 QUESTIONS NOT TO BE ANSWERED AT ONCE. 237 
 
 Mrs. Melton did not concern herself about his 
 friends or his pursuits. She was troubled on her 
 own account lest she had been a little too precipi- 
 tate. Her whispers, her half confidences had been 
 caught up sooner than she had supposed they would 
 be; she was not going to have time enough to get 
 her wild little scheme into working order, perhaps. 
 She proposed to make that which was true seem 
 to cover (small as it was) ground whereon Annie 
 and Rushmore might meet and clash, while she her- 
 self, if challenged, could forsake all untenable points 
 by declaring that she was not responsible for false- 
 hoods told about her. 
 
 It was a noteworthy fact that while Agnes and 
 Annie had recognized every noble and strong trait 
 that did exist in Rushmore's character, this woman, 
 whose moral nature was keyed so much lower than 
 theirs, she knew the whole man better than either 
 Agnes or Annie could know him. Not a weakness 
 in him had escaped her; she detected his spiritual 
 laziness. She believed, if a woman seemed deter- 
 mined to love him, when she knew it would avail 
 her nothing that he would say to himself, it was 
 none of his concern. She might admire, and pet, 
 and flatter him, and if she did it in a pretty and not 
 immodest way, he would rather enjoy it, certainly 
 would not put a stop to it peremptorily. With
 
 238 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 this conviction Mrs. Melton had proceeded hitherto. 
 What had she gained ? A point to stand on, while 
 she used her lever, that first. Later ? Well she had 
 moved, not a world, but a man's vanity; and stirring 
 that, she believed motion might in time be commu- 
 nicated to many another passion. She argued, that 
 if he were ever at odds with Annie, no one could 
 console him or sooner reconcile him to his self-com- 
 placency than she herself could. After that ? Well, 
 a big prey may be taken by a small spider, if the 
 captive has all along been as indolent as the spinner 
 has been active. After mischief, Mrs. Melton meant 
 matrimony. If she could have accomplished this 
 last without gossip, and a betrayal of friendship, she 
 would have preferred to have done so; but this was 
 impossible. She knew that Annie was younger, far 
 more beautiful and rich; perhaps she herself would 
 merely make a fool of herself; but in case of failure, 
 she had only to put the ocean between herself and 
 Waldenton. She had often succeeded in enterprises 
 quite as venturesome as this. If she needed any in- 
 citement beyond her love of ease, her ambition, and 
 inherent trickery, it was abundantly furnished in the 
 fact, that as it was in her to love, she loved Julian 
 Rushmore.
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Sunlight Darkened. 
 
 r ~T 1 HE day on which Julian Rushmore returned 
 * to Waldenton, was one of rarest autumnal 
 beauty. Little Guy Melton determined to make it 
 a holiday in some peculiarly pleasant way, and in 
 pursuance of this idea, he resolved to take Mrs. Sally 
 McGerkin into his confidence. About ten in the 
 morning therefore, he put in order his Httle den be- 
 hind the screen, adjusting this last so that it- would 
 conceal the bedroom door, thus making the parlor 
 seem more genteel and secluded, as his mother had 
 carefully explained. Then he flitted through that 
 bedroom, sprang lightly out of the window to Mrs. 
 McGerkin's woodshed, spun down a sort of lattice 
 and landed in her lettuce bed. The season for let- 
 tuce was long past, and Mrs. McGerkin rather fa- 
 vored this mode of exit, although to-day, as she sat 
 in the kitchen door paring apples, she cried out :
 
 \ 
 
 240 EUNICE LATHKOP, SPINSTER. 
 
 "That's unnatural for anything but a monkey; you'll 
 participate yourself down, once too often sometime, 
 and crack your cerebellum ! Howsomever, it does 
 keep you from clattering them little heels needlessly 
 over my poor stair-carpet, and leavin' all my doors 
 open for flies to rave and dirt to fly. Where are you 
 going ? " 
 
 " If you were me, would you stay at home and 
 make a ladder up the side of that shed, or would you 
 go somewhere ? " 
 
 " I'd go somewheres," she promptly replied. 
 
 " Would you go to Uncle Peleg's ? " 
 
 " Uncle Peleg's ! Just hear him now ! Well with 
 such a many new relation, what'd you say to a bran- 
 new step-father ? I'm told there's one in the 
 market." 
 
 " I never go to market." 
 
 "Law now!" laughed Sally, tossing an apple into 
 her tin pan. " You leave that to your mar. Yes, I 
 should say you better run right off and stay till sun- 
 down, then you won't track the oilcloth I'm going to 
 mop after dinner." 
 
 " What makes you work in the afternoon ? " 
 
 " Because I'm excentric, the neighbors say. Is 
 that Irving house handsome inside ? I've heard tell 
 she was a queer stick and mighty unsociable." 
 
 "Who?"
 
 SUNLIGHT DARKENED. 2\l 
 
 " Mrs. Peleg but don't you run and tell her I said 
 so. What is your mother doing ? I scasely had one 
 peep at her yesterday." 
 
 Guy had his own reasons for never gratifying 
 McGerkin's curiosity; but it had the noble peculi- 
 arity of virtue itself, and flourished without any re- 
 ward. He merely remarked in a resentful way: 
 " Mrs. Irving is beautiful, so is her house, and so is 
 Uncle Peleg." 
 
 " Did I ever hear the beat of old Peleg Irving's 
 beauty ! Now do try this time and remember what 
 you have for dinner; when I know just what vittles 
 folks eat every day, I seem to understand 'urn 
 better." 
 
 Much impressed by this philosophical proposition, 
 Guy would have lingered to discuss it, but Sally's 
 kettle boiled over, and she left him to go his way, 
 which he did, wondering if he had better make a 
 brief call at the parsonage. He decided not to do 
 so, a little later, when he saw Agnes go out of the 
 gate, as if for a walk. He did not greatly enjoy the 
 minister's society. Indeed he feared he was in a bad 
 way, perhaps he was one of Sister Ursula's here- 
 tics. He contradicted what Uncle Peleg heard glad- 
 ly, and Agnes received in silence. Guy, remembering 
 how Saint Bruno was scared into accepting truth by 
 a voice from the dead, hung on the gate this morn-
 
 242 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 ing, and pondered a deep plot for the Reverend 
 Bela's conversion. He might hide in the yard some 
 night and exhort him from the tombs; but in broad 
 daylight this did not seem a sufficiently blood-curd- 
 ling proceeding, and Guy reluctantly gave it up, 
 jumped down off the gate and went on to the Irving 
 cottage. He was received with great kindness, and 
 invited to stay all day, but for the first time, since 
 he had made Peleg's acquaintance, he proved to be 
 something of a trouble. He was exceedingly rest- 
 less, now in the house, now in the garden, he asked 
 questions, tired of all his old diversions, and greatly 
 perplexed quiet Mrs. Irving. About dinner-time she 
 discovered that he was "feverish and had no appe- 
 tite." Peleg, who added to his taste for theology a 
 penchant for administering medicine, Peleg dosed 
 him with a very high " attenuation " of something or 
 other which he solemnly avowed was "indicated" 
 (his hobby being just then homeopathy), and after 
 that he advised Guy to go and take a nap in the 
 garden hammock. 
 
 Not long after dinner, Agnes Hathaway came into 
 the cottage, and Mrs. Irving fell to talking of the 
 child. 
 
 "I fear," she said, "that he is threatened with a 
 more severe illness than Peleg apprehends. Guy 
 says his mother does not think our climate agrees
 
 SUNLIGHT DARKENED. 243 
 
 with him. I know from what he tells me that she 
 lets him do all sorts of imprudent things." 
 
 Agnes was about to speak when the door-bell 
 rang, and a moment after Miss Lathrop entered the 
 " sitting room," brisk and smiling. 
 
 "I ran down," she explained, "just to see the ex- 
 quisite foliage on the maple-trees. The main avenue 
 from our street down to the middle-town, is as gor- 
 geous as if it were hung with brilliant banners." 
 
 "Take off your hat and stay with us, Eunice. 
 Agnes can spend the afternoon I am very sure," 
 suggested Mrs. Irving. 
 
 "Oh no, thank you. I only dropped in for a chat. 
 Don't let me interrupt you now," returned the 
 lady. 
 
 "Excuse me one moment, and then I will be ready 
 to visit with you. I have left some cake in the 
 oven," said Mrs. Irving. 
 
 Agnes, sitting by the window, listened to the 
 sprightly visitor, who, discovering in her pocket a 
 crochet-needle thrust into a ball of cotton, began 
 forthwith to improve her time and produce a new 
 tidy. 
 
 "Is that Guy Melton out there singing in the gar- 
 den ? How much time he spends here ! Oh, by the 
 way, Agnes, Mr. Rushmore has returned from Bos- 
 ton, and just before I came out, Annie had a note
 
 244 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 from him; he satisfied her that he could clear up 
 everything in a twinkle, and she is happy as a bird. 
 He didn't say ' in a twinkle,' but he was not the 
 least bit exercised in his mind, that was evident." 
 
 " Oh, I am so glad. I " Agnes did not finish her 
 sentence, for Mrs. Irving came back with her work- 
 basket and drew Miss Eunice into a culinary dis- 
 cussion. 
 
 The three women sat together a long time. Ag- 
 nes never forgot the first peaceful hours of that 
 afternoon and how often she looked away to the 
 wondrously tinted forests on the hillside, and the 
 middle distance full of a luminous golden haze. 
 Miss Eunice, who had drawn nearer another window 
 for light on her tidy, as she looked out remarked, 
 " There comes John down the street ! Isn't it early 
 for him ? How fast he walks ! " 
 
 " Very early," said Mrs. Irving. " I hope nothing 
 has happened ! Maybe his father " She waited, 
 aware that her alarm might be foolish, although 
 John was plainly excited, for he quickened his pace 
 to a run, then slackened it, as if his hurry were need- 
 less, but involuntary. 
 
 His mother had the door open, and as soon as he 
 came near enough to hear her she cried, " What is 
 it, my son ? Is it your father ? " 
 
 "No, no, mother; nothing ails father," he re-
 
 SUNLIGHT DARKENED. 245 
 
 turned, with an effort to calm himself; but pushing 
 by her into the room where Agnes sat with Miss 
 Lathrop, he just glanced at them as they in turn 
 cried, "Oh, what is it?" 
 
 His face was white, his voice terribly agitated. 
 " Haven't you heard the cry of murder in the 
 streets ? " 
 
 "Oh! Whose? Where, John ? Where?" 
 
 " Julian Rushmore has shot Mrs. Melton dead!" 
 
 "No ! No ! What can you mean ? " shrieked the 
 women. 
 
 " Yes, it is too horrible to think of; but I must be- 
 lieve my own eyes ! I have just seen her lifeless 
 body on the floor of her room ! " 
 
 "Ok, but he could not have done it /" cried Agnes. 
 
 " She fell at his feet. I saw him as he stoo " 
 
 A side door from the garden was pushed in, and 
 Guy Melton, gasping and livid, tottered over the 
 threshold, but no farther, collapsing into a limp lit- 
 tle heap. 
 
 " Who could be so cruel as to tell him? Some- 
 body has," wept Miss Eunice, wringing both hands. 
 
 John lifted the child to a sofa, and Mrs. Irving, 
 mechanically rubbing the little hands and face, still 
 implored John to make them understand what was 
 simple enough, but was at the same time too awful 
 to realize.
 
 246 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 " There can be no mistake Rushmore must have 
 killed her; but God grant it was not murder ! " 
 
 Agnes, standing motionless heretofore, fell into a 
 chair at that word, and John seeing her, sprang away 
 to bring water. 
 
 " The child give it to him, and go on. I shall 
 not faint," she stammered. 
 
 Voices were heard in the porch, neighbors came 
 flocking in exclaiming in horror-stricken tones, 
 "John Irving knows ! He can tell. Was it mur- 
 der, or only an accident ?" 
 
 " Murder of course it was murder," cried some- 
 body in the rear, outside the door. "Why, didn't 
 the housekeeper see it, and rush screaming from the 
 very spot into the streets ? " 
 
 " No. I heard she was not there, but knew he 
 was." 
 
 " Why, I tell you the sheriff himself might have 
 heard Sally McGerkin yell murder. It fairly froze 
 my marrow." 
 
 Clamoring around John, they crowded into the room 
 as if it were a public place and poor John could tell 
 them at once the story and the motive of the horrid 
 deed. He spoke out loudly: " I cannot tell you any 
 more than you already know, unless it is this, that I 
 heard Rushmore say, ' You do not suppose that I sJiot 
 her!' If the housekeeper saw him do it, why he
 
 SUNLIGHT DARKENED. 247 
 
 meant that he had no intention of murder, but fired 
 by accident." 
 
 Peleg Irving arrived at that, and for once was 
 perfectly silent in a time of great commotion; he 
 listened only a moment to the people still swarm- 
 ing in, then he bent over Guy, who was regaining 
 consciousness, but who seemed exceedingly stupid. 
 He aroused himself a little at old Peleg's very tender 
 touch and voice, allowed him to carry him into the 
 bedroom, and answered a few of the old man's ques- 
 tions. Mrs. Irving, who followed them, returned to 
 the people in a short time and plainly explained to 
 them that the child must have overheard a passer-by 
 say that Mrs. Melton was dead killed suddenly; and 
 being always nervous and excitable being, in fact, 
 already ill, the shock had been too great for him. 
 " Peleg says," she added, " that everything more 
 shocking can be kept from him for the present time. 
 We will keep him with us; and unless I am greatly 
 mistaken, he is going to be a very sick child." 
 
 " Horrible, horrible thing-in every aspect," groaned 
 Mr. Hathaway, who, with clasped hands, was braced 
 against a bookcase unable to do anything but pon- 
 der on Rushmore's awful depravity. He had himself 
 many a time called the young man unregenerate 
 and worldly but a murderer ! He thought of his 
 former fears for Agnes, then of the other fair young
 
 248 EUNICE LATHKOP, SPINSTER. 
 
 girl so lately betrothed to Rushmore, and turning 
 to Miss Eunice, he whispered: "Miss Leigh poor 
 child ! " 
 
 Eunice stared at him as if he were a spectre. In 
 the last ten minutes, she had forgotten the events of 
 the past, and the duties of the future had actually 
 forgotten Annie. Now, appalled, she cried out: 
 " How could I ! " and not stopping for bonnet or 
 shawl, she hurried up the hill, her trembling limbs 
 scarcely able to carry her. 
 
 John Irving was trying to escape from the crowd 
 of neighbors, who could not be made to believe that 
 he had made the most of what he had witnessed, 
 when Agnes, putting her hand on his arm, mur- 
 mured: " I want to speak to you do come into an- 
 other room, if you can." 
 
 He made his way through the group quickly after 
 that, and followed Agnes into the library. 
 
 " Oh, John," she asked almost entreatingly. " Do 
 you believe that he could have murdered her ! I can- 
 not believe it or even conceive of his doing such a 
 thing ! " 
 
 "I have no belief! My own thoughts are only 
 wild questions." 
 
 " Have you doubted Mr. Rushmore in the past, or 
 ever thought that he might be such a bad man ? " 
 
 It was not a time to be punctilious. John only
 
 SUNLIGHT DARKENED. 249 
 
 hesitated a moment before he replied: " I was once 
 overmastered by jealousy of Rushmore he was so 
 often at the parsonage, so while I overrated his nat- 
 ural abilities perhaps, I was savagely alert to detect 
 any moral weaknesses, and I came to think him 
 fickle it may be, a little insincere. But, as I say, 
 my scrutiny was pitiless. If he had not looked at 
 you, Agnes, I might have thought him everything 
 that" 
 
 " But can you now think of him as capable of this 
 no matter under what circumstances of mur- 
 der ?" and hardly conscious of what she did, she 
 held fast John's hand. 
 
 " I will cling to a belief in his innocence as long 
 as I can; but I did not tell that wild crowd out there 
 some suspici Agnes," he asked, "do you love that 
 man ? " and he never after ceased to wonder that 
 he dared to utter the question; but if she did love 
 Rushmore, that seemed to him the crudest thing 
 of all. 
 
 She was not any longer faint, nor in this time of 
 truth-telling, afraid or ashamed, because she trusted 
 John above all others, without being aware of the 
 fact: so to his startling question, she replied, "I 
 could not think too highly of him once. I thought 
 I knew him; but I I do not love him ! " 
 
 John caught her in his arms, holding her fast just
 
 2 50 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 one second long enough to say: "You are safe 
 or it would have killed you ! Rushmore has been a. 
 fool or worse ! The outlook is black for him ! " 
 
 Agnes freed herself quickly; John was evidently 
 lover-excited. "What is the worst if there can be 
 I anything more dreadful ?" 
 
 " I mean the interpretation that must now be put 
 on matters already afloat as gossip, and I fear but 
 we must hope, pray, and wait." 
 
 " Poor Annie ! How will she endure all this ?" 
 
 " God pity her," said John, earnestly. " Go home 
 now, dear Agnes ! Don't stay to listen to the hor- 
 rible talk, no one knows anything accurately, or can 
 know, until after the inquest." 
 
 The warmth of John Irving's manner was intense, 
 and almost involuntary. Agnes, needing a friend 
 was sincerely glad she had him, and did not in this 
 strange time reason on her emotions in any way. 
 
 " Yes, I must go home. I cannot stand more ex- 
 citement needlessly Annie, could I No ! In her 
 place I could not endure words, I will not go to her 
 yet." 
 
 They could hear the footsteps of the people, and 
 their vehement voices as they began to leave the 
 house. Mrs. Irving came calling John, and Mr. 
 Hathaway was troubled to know what had become 
 of his daughter. In a short time the outer aspect
 
 SUNLIGHT DARKENED. 251 
 
 of all things was as before, about the cottage; but 
 when Agnes stepped out into the soft October sun- 
 shine, she was shivering with cold and horror. She 
 saw nothing fair or beautiful, and shuddered in a 
 quick recoil as once her foot fell on a vivid red leaf 
 dropped like a blood-splash on the stone. She 
 thought of nothing save the scene just now in that 
 old house behind the dismal evergreens of how this 
 tender sunset light must fall on the dead woman 
 there on the strange, bright eyes glazed now the 
 beautiful soft hands quite cold by this time. She 
 imagined the rough crowd trying to crowd into the 
 pretty rooms, and stare curiously at this one, perhaps 
 never seen in life that life which was itself all a 
 mystery to the most pitiful stranger. And Julian 
 Rushmore was being called a murderer by people 
 walking these streets of Waldenton, the genial fas- 
 cinating friend who at this very sunset hour used to 
 steal into the solemn old church, and evoke melo- 
 dies that lingered like sweet echoes long in her 
 memory !
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 The Inquest. 
 
 T7T7*ITHIN a half hour after the occurrence at 
 * * Mrs. McGerkin's, the usually unfrequented 
 street before her house was thronged with curious 
 men, women, and children. They were promptly 
 prevented from crowding into the house; but they 
 lingered without, gazing at the upper windows, see- 
 ing nothing but the muslin curtains of Mrs. Melton's 
 room, as they fluttered in the evening wind. The 
 coroner's inquest was held at the earliest feasible 
 moment, that a sufficient number of "good and law- 
 ful men of the county" could be summoned to ap- 
 pear, and " make inquisition how, and after what 
 manner," Mrs. Elsie Melton came to her death. The 
 housekeeper, John Irving, a surgeon, and two or 
 three other persons of the number, who hurried into 
 the house after the fatal shot, were subpoenaed as 
 witnesses. Mrs. Sally McGerkin was at all times a 
 very excitable woman; but now, as she rushed re-
 
 THE INQUEST. 253 
 
 peatedly up the back stairs and down the front ones, 
 with quivering nostrils and disordered hair, it seemed 
 doubtful if she could be caught and kept still long 
 enough to collect her .scattered wits; but Coroner 
 Tewitt was no man to be trifled with. Making one 
 dash after her, he captured and shook her vigorously, 
 then as she was undeniably calmed by that process, 
 he held her fast while he thundered, " Go up now 
 into that room and stay there ! " 
 
 The repetition of her terrible story, every time 
 told in a loud screech, had so weakened Sally, that 
 she meekly obeyed him, as if he had put an end to 
 some painful duty previously laid upon her, instead 
 of which, he was sternly calling her to new action, 
 haranguing her all the way up the stairs: 
 
 " Go along there and tell the whole truth in the 
 presence of the dead ! Take care you tell all you 
 know; but mind you don't tell a great deal more 
 than you know, women always want to do that ! 
 See to it ! Mrs. Pickles, see to it ! " 
 
 Awed at the coroner's savage tones, amazed at 
 the cognomen, he in his natural haste and excite- 
 ment, evolved out of the Gerkin half of her name, 
 Sally squeezed herself into the room, which, much 
 to the wrath of her companion, was already quite 
 full of spectators. Half of them were summarily dis- 
 missed. The oaths were administered to the jurors
 
 254 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 now assembled, and the surgeon arose from his ex- 
 amination of the body of Mrs. Melton, stretched 
 where she fell, not in the middle of the room, but 
 near the chimney and mantel-piece, not far from a 
 sofa, and directly opposite the bedroom door. Be- 
 ing a pompous old gentleman, who wished to speak 
 with due authority, he waited until the room was 
 very quiet before he said, "Gentlemen, I find after 
 thorough examination, the cause of death to be a 
 pistol shot. The ball entered the right frontal bone 
 near the median line, as I am convinced. It took an 
 oblique course downward, afterwards becoming em- 
 bedded in the medulla oblongata, breaking up its 
 lateral tracts or the intermediary fasciculi. You 
 perceive that I extracted the ball posteriorly, so to 
 speak. Death must have been instantaneous that 
 is, death in the common acceptation of the term. In 
 point of fact, gentlemen, the medulla oblongata is 
 the vase which holds the vital essence." 
 
 The coroner, certain he would not understand his 
 answers, asked the surgeon no more questions than 
 were necessary. 
 
 The pistol had been found on the carpet near the 
 body. It was a small silver-mounted weapon, with 
 nothing peculiar about its workmanship, and it was 
 evidently an old one. 
 
 Mrs. McGerkin was the first person examined, and
 
 THE INQUEST. 255 
 
 she plainly struggled to state things accurately; 
 nevertheless, she was possessed with the idea that 
 she had almost seen a murder, and had this been a 
 calmly conducted trial, instead of an inquest held 
 while everybody was strung up to a high pitch of 
 suspicion, curiosity and horror, much of Sally Mc- 
 Gerkin's spontaneity would have been repressed. 
 She insisted first on explaining that she was of 
 Scotch-Irish parentage, born on the high seas and 
 bred in Massachusetts; but the coroner quickly dis- 
 abused her of the idea that she was dictating her 
 autobiography, and then her story ran after this 
 fashion: "This is the day I mostly always take fur 
 jobs o' cleaning, and I do 'um of an afternoon, when 
 my reg'lar down-stair work is done. I scrub off 
 finger-marks on paint, and shine doorknobs. Well, 
 in so doing, I have seen Mrs. Melton several times 
 to-day, so lively and chipper that no torture, thumb- 
 screws nor disquisitions can make me say I'd believe 
 she was a meditatin' suicide." 
 
 " Nobody asked you to say so, Sarah Pickles ! 
 Get right at facts, as fast as you can," roared Cor- 
 oner Jewitt. 
 
 " If you go to browbeatin' of me an' a-running me 
 with sour names like Pickles, when I'm Sally McGer- 
 kin, as everybo " 
 
 "Go on!" he roared still louder. "Answer my 
 last question ! "
 
 256 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 " Yes, I have been in here sinct noon, and I did 
 not see no pistol. I never seen none, never did 
 heerd her say she owned none, neither. So now!" 
 
 " Will you go on, Jarkins ? " 
 
 " I was at my front door mat, which being chained, 
 I undoes and lifts up to whack it agin the side rail 
 by the doorsteps, when Mr. Rushmore opens our 
 gate." 
 
 " What time was it ? " 
 
 " Nigh onto four, and likely enuff more, fur Amos 
 Cobb had just driv' away with his milk cart from my 
 back lane, and Amos generally strikes this end o' 
 the town at presizzly four by the Braddock Street 
 Baptist clock." 
 
 "What next, Susan Jerking?" 
 
 " Wall, next Mr. Rushmore, he passes compli- 
 ments, sez, ' Madam, is Mrs. Melton to home, 
 madam,' and I saying, 'She is, sir; and go up, cer- 
 tingly,' he passes of me, proceeding for to rap with 
 his knuckles onto her parlor door, and I observe 
 not a mortal thing more for full five minutes, as you 
 might say as you might say," she repeated, with a 
 sort of jerk up, as if just here she would leave a 
 hiatus in her narrative. 
 
 " Mrs. Gorquins, will you go on and come to some- 
 thing before the crack of doom ! " 
 
 " I've often had a little partucal of curiosity about
 
 THE INQUEST. 257 
 
 her (Mrs. Melton, you know), and when it so was 
 to-day that her doorknob being uncommon dull 
 come next in course I goes to scour it up sir, 
 and mebbe lingered a bit." 
 
 "What did you see through the keyhole, Susan?" 
 
 " Nothin' sir; the key filled it; but there was a 
 vig'rous conversation a-progressin'. Mr. Rushmore 
 was a-persistin' onto something, and Mrs. Mel- 
 ton was a-persistin' onto something else, contrary- 
 wise. He insists, ' You must deny it, you've got now 
 to say it is not so, and are you willing to do it.' 
 Evidently she warrit, though her voice being nat- 
 urally low, I lost half and didn't ketch the rest; so 
 I'd rather not swear to wot I neither heerd nor 
 sawr, tho' I'm perfectly certain jes\ ^vhat 'twas. But 
 positively I heerd him roar out softly onct, "No ver- 
 mifuges will avail you, madam ! No vermifuges ! " 
 then there was something o' ruther about duplicity, 
 and I heerd Mrs. Melton say as how she was a help- 
 less, innercent-minded woman. Then there was very 
 considerable talk about an engagement, her'n to him, 
 no doubt; and Rushmore said if she wouldn't, she 
 must take the consequences, and and " 
 
 "And what then, Mrs. Joking ? " 
 
 " Then I continuin' a-polishin' on that doorknob, 
 which I hopes I have a right to be doin' in simpli- 
 city in my own house, when Mrs. Melton she opens
 
 258 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 the door suddently, which she had no call to do, 
 save bein' naturally suspicious of folk like me, so 
 that I fell in'ards, e'enemost on my nose, sir; and 
 she says very shortly, ' That'll do for to-day, and 
 you can be excuged.' " 
 
 "Now, Sarah Jerking, stop! Do you swear that 
 this woman, now dead, and this man," pointing to 
 Rushmore, " were discussing something were at 
 variance ? " 
 
 " They was that, sir." 
 
 "You say one was refusing something you call 
 vermifuge; are you aware, madam, of the nature of 
 vermifuge and of its application ? Silence! " yelled 
 the irate coroner, as somebody tittered. " This is 
 no time for levity." 
 
 " I swear to the fuges. I know it was a fuge, and 
 several of them, fur that matter." 
 
 " Were they not subterfuges ? " 
 
 " Mebbe they wor." 
 
 "After that, madam?" 
 
 " The kitchen after that, sir. I removes my old 
 slips and returns stocking footed; for if I lets apart- 
 ments to single ladies, I allows nothing derogatory 
 about 'um, and it is dooty to see there ain't. I crept 
 half way back agin, was midway on the staircase, 
 when there come an explosion loud enough to take 
 the ridge pole off the roof with one puff. I give a
 
 THE INQUEST. 259 
 
 great screech and flew up'ards. I bust into this 
 room, which has always been her best one, and, 
 heaving preserve us ! there she was dead at that 
 man's feet dead as we see her now; leastwise so 
 I've no doubt, though I just took to my heels, wild- 
 ly a-hollering bloody murder, which brought most 
 all these folks together at onct." 
 
 Mrs. McGerkin being further questioned, declared 
 that Mrs. Melton had often hinted that she was to 
 marry Mr. Rushmore; that at other times she had 
 insinuated that he was very fickle, and perhaps he 
 would give her up for some wealthy woman with a 
 position in the world. She had declared she could 
 hold him securely when the right time came. Mrs. 
 McGerkin was sure the quarrel of to-day was on this 
 very point. 
 
 John Irving, having been the second person to 
 enter Mrs. Melton's parlor after the catastrophe was 
 called on to give his testimony. 
 
 He was returning home that afternoon much ear- 
 lier than usual, and when he reached the corner of 
 the street near Mrs. McGerkin's house, he was 
 startled, not by the pistol shot, which he did not 
 heed, but by the woman, who, rushing into the 
 street, cried in the full strength of her voice : " Mur- 
 der ! Murder ! Mr. Rushmore has murdered Mrs. 
 Melton ! "
 
 26o EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 He ran into the house, up the stairs, and all the 
 doors being open, rushed directly into this room. 
 He saw, on entering, Mrs. Melton stretched on the 
 floor, and Mr. Rushmore kneeling by her side with 
 his hand supporting her head, but he seemed dazed 
 and was only staring into her face with his own al- 
 most as white blood was oozing from a small 
 wound on her forehead. Mr. Irving said he went 
 near, pushed Mr. Rushmore a little aside, and felt 
 for the stricken woman's pulse, but could detect 
 none. He must have exclaimed, "She is dead," for 
 Rushmore grasped his arm, groaning: "Dead! You 
 do not think she can be dead ! " Then the room 
 filled rapidly, and people began to shake Rushmore, 
 who rising up, stood stupefied, not once replying 
 when they cried, " How was it ? How did it hap- 
 pen? Did you kill her?" He seemed overcome 
 with horror, seeing nothing but the wounded wo- 
 man's body. 
 
 He, John Irving, took him by the shoulder, turn- 
 ing him away from that sight and said, "You must 
 think, man, now of yourself" and Rushmore an- 
 swered, " What can I do ? She is dead." 
 
 Irving advised him to be careful then to say noth- 
 ing to the crowd, and simply to surrender himself to 
 the proper authorities. It was to that admonition 
 quietly given, that Rushmore exclaimed, "Why,
 
 THE INQUEST. 261 
 
 you don't suppose /shot her!" and Irving had only 
 time to answer, that of course the circumstances 
 would excite suspicion, when the coroner arrived. 
 
 In the beginning of the necessary formalities of 
 the law, it was supposed that Mrs. McGerkin had 
 actually seen the shooting of Mrs. Melton, when 
 later it was evident, that she had not been in the 
 room, Rushmore's own version of the occurrence was 
 duly considered. He stated, but not under oath, 
 that he had called to see Mrs. Melton, in order to 
 discuss a certain matter. Was he in the habit of 
 calling here ? No, he was not. What was the mat- 
 ter discussed ? It related to some business affairs in 
 part it was connected with some things of a per- 
 sonal nature. His hesitation was so marked at this 
 point as to produce a rather unfavorable influence on 
 the judgment of his listeners. 
 
 Were they disagreeing ? They were not quarrelling 
 at all; but they were talking very earnestly, perhaps 
 vehemently. The pistol was not Rushmore's, and 
 he had never seen it before that afternoon. He ex- 
 plained, that soon after entering the room, he no- 
 ticed this weapon on a little marble-topped stand, 
 just one side of the high old-fashioned mantel-piece. 
 He went nearer it, sitting where he might have 
 touched it, but he did not do so. He did say to 
 Mrs. Melton, just these words: "That is a formid-
 
 262 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 able trinket for a lady, and a very unsafe one. If it 
 is loaded, you run a foolish risk in leaving it around 
 like this." She replied, that it was a little old pistol 
 she brought from England, that once she had been 
 considered a splendid shot, and that now she felt 
 safer in this unprotected house, to know she had 
 such a weapon. She kept it loaded, but always out 
 of the reach of careless hands. To-day, in putting 
 closets and drawers to rights, she left it for the mo- 
 ment there. He said they forgot it entirely in the 
 conversation that followed, and when that discus- 
 sion became exceedingly animated, they arose and 
 talked standing. He had observed often before that 
 she was a woman whose hands were always in mo- 
 tion when she became excited; to-day she opened 
 and shut a book on the stand as they stood she 
 very near the tall mantel-piece. Suddenly, in the 
 middle of a sentence that she was uttering rapidly, 
 he saw her lift the pistol, as if without thought she 
 was moved to put it on the upper marble ; she 
 struck it sharply against the mantel's edge, and 
 must then have cocked it, for it was fired almost 
 in his own face, and she fell without a groan. 
 
 The rest of the testimony taken amounted to lit- 
 tle or nothing. The jurors were well meaning and 
 extremely thick-headed men; they looked at Rush- 
 more and saw, as it so happened, a gentleman, per-
 
 THE INQUEST. 263 
 
 sonally a stranger to them. They pitied him, if his 
 story were true. It might be true. They regarded 
 with much more intense interest the dead woman's 
 fair face and motionless form, reflecting perhaps, 
 that fairer women had fallen victims to gentlemanly 
 villains. 
 
 Had Rushmore claimed that in this stormy inter- 
 view which was probably a lover's quarrel, Mrs. Mel- 
 ton had rashly shot herself in anger, they might have 
 believed him more readily. As it was, they were 
 almost guilty of the absurdity of thinking the acci- 
 dent he described too inopportune to be probable. 
 They therefore deliberated a long time before they 
 could agree on any explicit statement of their opin- 
 ions; but at last the verdict was delivered to Coro- 
 ner Jewitt that " Mrs. Melton came to her death by 
 a pistol shot, and that there is reasonable cause to 
 suspect that Julian Rushmore fired at her with in- 
 tent to kill." 
 
 As soon as the inquest ended, John Irving hurried 
 for a moment to Rushmore's side. " Cheer up ! " he 
 said. " It is a terrible occurrence; but you will come 
 out from it all right ! I know you feel as if a thunder- 
 bolt had struck you ! " 
 
 Rushmore staggered and caught the hand John 
 stretched out to him: " Go to my poor father ! " he 
 entreated. " Don't let the rabble kill him with their
 
 264 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 senseless stories. He has gone out of town, I believe 
 to Denton and Annie /" 
 
 " Anything I can do for either of them shall be 
 done at once," returned John, who would have added 
 more, had he been permitted so to do. 
 
 The darkness had quite shut down over Walden- 
 ton, when just at the hour that Julian Rushmore 
 usually strolled up the heights to the aristocratic 
 old Leigh mansion, the doors of the county jail 
 clanged behind him. And when for the first time in 
 hours, he was left to his own thoughts not to think 
 was his almost overpowering desire, for he was utterly 
 worn out. As he recalled his noon arrival in Wal- 
 denton, his quiet lunch and chat with his father, his 
 plan for soon seeing his gay, golden-haired Annie 
 that noon seemed separated from this night by a 
 long lapse of time. He stood at the window of the 
 plain little room assigned him, looking at the black 
 tree-tops slowly waving in the gray evening, at the 
 stars over them. They were unreal; he was insane 
 perhaps. Excitement began to act again upon his 
 weariness like an opiate, and he went back to the 
 past scenes not with close consecutive thinking; but 
 almost as a cool spectator. Such trifling impressions 
 had been stamped on his mind along with those that 
 were deepest ! The tones of Sally McGerkin's voice 
 had all throughout the inquest recalled the shrill
 
 THE JNQUEST. 265 
 
 notes of an old parrot he often heard in a lane be- 
 hind his office. He remembered that Sally stood, 
 all that time, shoeless, her stockings covered with 
 the dust of the street; then he must have gazed 
 most intently at some prominent hangings, embroi- 
 dered with yellow marigolds, for in that very moment 
 they seemed to be everywhere blossoming out of the 
 shadows that filled this room in which he was a 
 prisoner. He was glad he could shut out, for a 
 while, one horrible picture which was sure to come 
 later: the woman one moment full of life the next 
 lying dead at his feet. 
 
 Unable to stand longer, Rushmore sank into the 
 nearest chair; on raising his hand toward his head 
 he felt something cool slip through his fingers; it 
 was one of Annie's pansies that had clung to his 
 buttonhole. At the thought of her, John Irving's 
 words returned to him with a new shock. Yes, the 
 circumstances were very peculiar, and would excite 
 the worst suspicions. Annie might believe she could 
 see an unwillingness on Mrs. Melton's part to relin- 
 quish just claims. Poor girl, she might be this very 
 moment recoiling in horror at the thought of her 
 own engagement to him. He was like a person, 
 who in a hideous dream slips slips, then seems to f 
 half awake to fresher terror, not knowing whether 
 it is in dreaming or in awakening that there yawns
 
 266 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 a gulf, into which he will plunge when he ceases to 
 slip. At his calmest, Rushmore wished devoutly 
 that none knew of his relations to Annie, that she 
 might not have to endure the shame of hearing her 
 name connected with his. Oh, if he had only gone 
 to her before he had seen Mrs. Melton; then learning 
 the simple truth from him and believing it, Annie 
 might still hold her faith in him; but now Mrs. Mel- 
 ton's lips were closed forever; she had left super- 
 abundant mischief behind to work after her; while 
 in what seemed to be the " deep damnation of her 
 taking off" was the measure of the disgrace to be 
 meted out to him. 
 
 He did not hear, when the door behind him opened 
 softly; but he saw a bright light suddenly fill the 
 place, and turning he gave a cry of pleasure, then 
 as quickly restrained himself, waiting breathless. 
 His father had entered leading Annie. In a quiv- 
 ering voice the old man exclaimed, " You ought to 
 rest: but we knew you could not, and a little more 
 or less excitement does not signify." Annie shrunk 
 back a step; Rushmore's sudden and perceptible re- 
 straint startled her; she was only able, with much 
 effort, to utter the words, " I know you are as inno- 
 cent of crime as I am; but if you have ever deceived 
 me in any way, in regard to that poor woman, I 
 want to know it now." She slipped her trembling
 
 ^_. .- THE INQUEST. 267 
 
 arm from his father's, adding in a lower tone, " I 
 would not reproach you by a word, but it would end 
 everything, if you have deceived either of us." 
 
 " I think, Annie, that everything between us had 
 better end this very night ! There is a black 
 time coming for me, and as I foresee, for all those 
 near to me. If you are quite free, standing by your- 
 self, you will escape much. Am I not right in say- 
 ing this, father ? " 
 
 "Perhaps you are, Julian," returned the old man, 
 surprised and sadly. The rays of the lamp he had 
 brought in, revealing in his wan face and disordered 
 white hair, the effect of the shock he had received. 
 
 At Rushmore's words, dismay filled Annie's own 
 pale face; she answered in alarm, "Better for me! 
 Do you mean better not to know the truth f Why, 
 I must know it ! How can I act or choose, if I do 
 not know." 
 
 " Poor child ! you have nothing to do or no choice 
 to make," returned Rushmore tenderly. " It is with 
 me only a question of saving you a little of what you 
 may have to suffer. Would to God I had not been 
 in such haste to tell you how I loved you, then you 
 would have been spared all this." 
 
 " Then you did love me, and not " 
 
 " Love you, Annie ! Why, have I spent my breath 
 in vain for weeks ? I have never told you any-
 
 268 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 thing but the truth. As for that poor woman 
 gone, Heaven forbid I should needlessly blacken her 
 name; but she must have been very weak, very fool- 
 ish ! I would tell you standing over her dead, what 
 I hoped she herself would frankly tell you to-night: 
 [that she was absolutely nothing to me, nor was I 
 anything to her save the merest acquaintance, and 
 that is true of all the past since I first saw her face. 
 Nevertheless I want you " 
 
 He never ended the sentence, for Annie's arm 
 slipped around his neck, and she plainly gave him 
 to understand that it took two persons honorably 
 to break an engagement like theirs, and she had no 
 idea of being one of the two. For the next few 
 minutes old Mr. Rushmore played a divided part, 
 arguing both sides of the question at issue, by turns 
 weeping and brightening up, but all the time trem- 
 bling with emotion and weariness. As a friend, he 
 showed the young orphan girl how she might in- 
 deed escape trouble and annoyance by explaining 
 away the reports of her previous engagement, and 
 that by now breaking it she could hereafter truth- 
 fully deny its existence. As Rushmore's father, he 
 was glad that she indignantly refused to take such 
 a course, declaring that it would work harm- to Rush- 
 more and purchase no peace for her. They were 
 proud to be conquered, when she inquired of Rush-
 
 THE INQUEST. 269 
 
 more.if, she being his wife, he would ask her to de- 
 sert him; but he added firmly: 
 
 " If I believed that my innocence of this crime 
 charged could not be made clear as daylight, I 
 would make you yield to me, Annie; as it is, have 
 you thought of the publicity ? " 
 
 "If ten thousand people instead often must know 
 that I have promised to marry you, let them know 
 it; as for the rest, in my life there is nothing to be 
 ashamed of; it is " 
 
 " A little white book that I do not want every- 
 body to be reading. Yet, if you will cling to a man 
 suspected of murder " 
 
 " I shall cling to you!' 
 
 " My child," exclaimed the old man, " you show 
 your mettle. When your father said, ' I will,' peo- 
 ple let him alone." 
 
 After a little time, Rushmore, with evident re- 
 luctance to recall the affair, said, "I must explain 
 all those things you referred to in your note, Annie, 
 and I had better do it now, that father may under- 
 stand any rumors that come to him." 
 
 " Yes, yes, my son ! I find the air full of them ! 
 Why, I never so much as heard that woman's name, 
 save and except on the evening spent at Annie's." 
 
 Rushmore briefly entered into all due explana- 
 tions, calmly touching on the future bearing of cer-
 
 270 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 tain charges in relation to his trial. The old. gen- 
 tleman exclaimed at last, " No more to-night ! I 
 am faint with the strain on body and mind. How 
 must it be with you, my poor boy !" 
 
 " If I could endure all that part of the trouble that 
 comes on you and Annie, I would be far easier. I 
 hope you did not walk here ? " 
 
 " No; the carriage is waiting. Try and sleep, 
 Julian; the lawyers tell me we need not fear." 
 
 "No; and we know lawyers are infallible," said 
 Rushmore, kissing Annie and grasping tightly the 
 old man's hand^s be r-vd, "Good night."
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 At the Bar. 
 
 HHHE golden autumnal days had departed, rude 
 * winds had stripped the trees of their brave 
 attire, and the first snows had fallen on Mrs. Mel- 
 ton's grave. Throughout the times of excitement, 
 immediately succeeding her death, it was not a sub- 
 ject of regret that Guy was wholly unable to enter 
 into matters going on about him. A long protracted 
 fever reduced his bodily strength, while much of the 
 time, his mind wandered, and if he talked at all, it 
 was incoherently. Mrs. Irving could not have nursed 
 her own child more tenderly that she cared for this 
 friendless orphan; old Peleg insisted that henceforth 
 the boy was his, and he cared not for any Mrs. Cud- 
 lips, or rather he presumed that the London lady 
 could easily be perstiaded to relinquish her claims, 
 in case she should make any. About two months 
 went by before the old man had any good reason to 
 believe that the boy would live; but at last Guy be-
 
 272 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 gan to gain a little health and animation. He was 
 able to talk longer at a time when Agnes Hathaway 
 came to cheer him, whereas for weeks he had merely 
 smiled at her, or held her hand in his small weak 
 fingers. She left him one evening, after a short visit, 
 and entering the parlor, found that Miss Lathrop had 
 arrived there before her. The good lady contrived 
 to run into the cottage every day, in order to talk 
 with John, more freely than she could speak before 
 Annie on the one topic of all absorbing interest. 
 
 " I cannot tell you how thankful I am that the 
 trial begins to-morrow," she was saying, as Agnes 
 came in the door. "Anything almost is better than 
 this suspense, which is telling cruelly on Annie, al- 
 though she is a marvel of self-control. She assures 
 me she has no fear concerning the result of this trial; 
 but she has scarcely eaten or slept since that awful 
 afternoon. I am very grateful to you, John, that you 
 warned me to get the papers before she could read 
 them; for to-day I managed to keep one from her 
 that would have distressed her greatly." 
 
 " I am surprised ! " returned John, "at the bitter- 
 ness manifested toward Rushmore in middle-town, 
 where he is very little known, and the spiteful pub- 
 lic feeling in the lower-town, where he is wholly un- 
 known. His friends on the heights firmly believe in 
 his innocence; but I hear no end of sneers of hate-
 
 AT THE BAR. 273 
 
 ful talk about shielding a villain because he happens 
 to be an aristocrat. A mob of the lower-town rab- 
 ble collected under the window of his room last 
 night, yelling and throwing stones until forcibly 
 dispersed." 
 
 "Such things must be terrible for Annie," said 
 Agnes; "but they really amount to nothing; he is 
 not to stand or fall by the folly of a mob." 
 
 " Very true," sighed Peleg; " but while I know the 
 poor fellow is not guilty, I can't see who or what is 
 going to clear him, when the little evidence there is, 
 all seems to go against him. Lawyers are half spi- 
 ders, half magicians; they go to work and spin webs 
 out of their very inwards they call their cobwebs 
 iron cables, and lo, they seem as strong ! Just sup- 
 pose, for instance, that you were in the witness box, 
 Agnes, and that Mrs. McGerkin had told the oppos- 
 ing counsel that you once had an interview with 
 Mrs. Melton. Now you are Rushmore's friend and 
 want to help him; but my wife says, that if you were 
 cross-questioned sharply, and had to repeat all that 
 Mrs. Melton said on that occasion, it would bear 
 heavily against him." 
 
 The blank dismay in Agnes's face, and her little 
 cry of distress, caused John to talk very cheerfully, 
 to assure both ladies that his father was entirely too 
 despondent.
 
 274 EUNICE LATHKOP, SPINSTER. 
 
 " Yes, these last weeks have made Annie grow 
 old in trouble," continued Miss Eunice, after a pause. 
 " She seems like a woman not like the merry, inex- 
 perienced girl I found in Europe and speaking of 
 Europe reminds me of something rather startling. 
 She said yesterday that she had not begun to think 
 of a wedding-day when this horrible thing happened; 
 but now old Mr. Rushmore wishes that the marriage 
 may take place quietly, very soon after Rushmore's 
 release. He thinks (and perhaps very wisely) that 
 it would be pleasant for them to go to California for 
 the winter, and then, by the time they return, this 
 trial will be a thing of the past, and not a topic on 
 every tongue." 
 
 " In case of such an event," said John, smiling, 
 " perhaps you, Miss Eunice, would return to that 
 abode of bliss from which I tore you months ago, 
 and sent you roaming over the world." 
 
 " I dare say I should build a fire again on my own 
 hearthstone. How you excited me that night, John 
 Irving, and what a powerful will you have ! " 
 
 " No or it would have accomplished more than 
 it ever has." 
 
 Agnes, who was still pondering old Peleg's words, 
 now rose to go home. 
 
 " You will come to see Guy every day, won't you ? " 
 asked the old man.
 
 AT THE BAR. 275 
 
 " I had to promise him I would come." 
 
 " What will you talk about ? " 
 
 " Of nothing to alarm him, of course. Mrs. Irv- 
 ing says she does not think he ever understood that 
 his mother was dead much less that she was killed, 
 and the doctor says, if he heard it, he may have for- 
 gotten, for the fever was coming on when the child 
 was so restless and unlike himself all day." 
 
 " I knew you would not talk of that to him, but 
 but Agnes the whimsical little scamp is desper- 
 ately pious; no\y because he can't stand on his head, 
 or very steadily on his legs, he may be getting into 
 some ' want-to-be-an angel ' frame of mind. I 
 won't have it ! He shan't be an angel, and that's the 
 end of it." 
 
 "Why, you are a perfect old tyrant," remarked 
 Miss Eunice, blandly, as she took her leave. John 
 accompanied the two ladies as far as the parsonage, 
 where, leaving Agnes, he continued the rest of the 
 way up the hill, alone with Miss Eunice, who coolly 
 resumed the thread of her previous discourse: "I 
 think you have the strong will I spoke of, but you 
 say you don't accomplish all that you could desire, 
 what do you suppose is the reason ? " 
 
 " Circumstances, no control and so forth, Miss 
 Eunice." 
 
 " Fiddlesticks ! You never played ' snap and
 
 276 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 catch 'um ' enough, when you were young ! I have 
 made up my mind that the slow-going people who 
 plan and reason and let things mature, are the very 
 ones who generally fail." 
 
 " Indeed ! Is that your sincere conviction ? " 
 " Yes, it is," insisted the spinster, " and your own 
 father agrees with me. Only last Sunday night, 
 as we were coming home from church, he said that 
 ' patience was a grand virtue, but the chap who ate 
 a big watermelon in the nice moonlight, got what 
 the one who possessed the patience and waited, 
 never did attain or enjoy." 
 
 " He said that after Mr. Hathaway's sermon on 
 covetousness ? The venerable sinner ! The two sin- 
 ners, if you agreed with him !" 
 
 " There is Agnes," continued Miss Eunice, "she 
 is another one who does not fly off at a tangent 
 often enough. She thinks and thinks and thinks. 
 I have a wild little project in my head ! She must 
 be shaken out of that monotonous life of hers." 
 "Are you ready to tell what your plan is?" 
 "I can tell you, in confidence of course. If An- 
 nie marries after the trial, perhaps I will not go at 
 once to my old home. I want another peep at the 
 world. I am going to endeavor to make Mr. Hath- 
 away see that Agnes needs a change; then, with her 
 as a companion, I will take another trip somewhere."
 
 AT THE BAR. 277 
 
 " Poor Mr. Hathaway cannot be left alone." 
 "Oh, he must not be a selfish stick, if he is a min- 
 ister; he could board at your house and write at 
 home. Agnes must not be shut up so closely, now 
 when she is in her bloom and freshness," Miss Eu- 
 nice paused before she added, with a refinement of 
 malice that John writhed under silently, "All old 
 maids are matchmakers, when they are as good- 
 natured as I am. It is time somebody had the dear 
 girl's best interest at heart," then she tripped along 
 over the frosty stones without one single pang of 
 conscience, knowing her " project " was an inspira- 
 tion and a fib. She had no patience with John 
 Irving; if he loved Agnes, as she suspected that he 
 had all "along loved her, for what was he waiting ? 
 It is needless to add that John did not give her 
 the reasons for what she considered his lack of due 
 energy, but he pondered her words even amid the 
 stirring events of the coming days, wondering much 
 if greater boldness would ever produce a desired 
 result. 
 
 Waldenton Court House was visible from every 
 part of the climbing old town; for some ambitious 
 architect, fired with the desire to " hang" another 
 " dome in air," had been so successful, that by far the
 
 278 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 greater part of the edifice was within that dome, and 
 in consequence, the rooms below were somewhat 
 contracted. Early one cold morning in December, 
 the old court room was packed with men and wo- 
 men, from the three divisions of Waldenton. Car- 
 riages rolled down here from the heights, the mid- 
 dle-town people swarmed in at the many doors; 
 women brought their knitting and their luncheon 
 that they might not by leaving an eligible position 
 at the recess of the Court, lose their place in the 
 afternoon. There were crowds of business men, who 
 had deserted their duties, and an ignoble army of 
 roughs from under the hill. 
 
 The judge was an old man, gray and grim. Aller- 
 ton Bland, the District Attorney, was as fat and rosy 
 as an overgrown school boy. The four lawyers for 
 the defence were all sallow, spare, impenetrable fel- 
 lows, of whom one, Griblow, was the lankest and 
 the most alert. After the impanelling of the jury, 
 the Attorney stated the case so far as the knowledge 
 of the prosecution went, and proceeded to define the 
 degrees of murder at common law, and the signifi- 
 cance of malice in law as a wrongful act, done in- 
 tentionally, without just cause or excuse. 
 
 The attention of the town and county people was 
 equally divided between the calm and gentlemanly 
 prisoner, and the bobbing head of the District At-
 
 AT THE BAR. 279 
 
 torney, as he roared out, " I intend to present this 
 peculiar case to you without prejudice, without pas- 
 sion, without professional pride. I have no private 
 feeling in this matter except that justice should 
 be done, both to the people and the prisoner. 
 It is not for me to say what the defence is in 
 this case. If it be legal, if it be proven, I can 
 only say I trust that you will render a verdict in 
 accordance with it, acquitting the prisoner. If, on 
 the other hand, you are satisfied after it has been 
 interposed, that the people have made out a case of 
 murder beyond a reasonable doubt, it is a plain duty 
 that you owe to your God, to the people, and to 
 yourselves, to smite the ready hand of the assassin; 
 it is no less your duty to sustain the time-honored 
 principles of the law, which have stood the test of 
 ages. Should there be in the course of proceedings 
 here developed, any mitigating circumstances which 
 the law recognizes, I would suggest to you now that 
 the pardoning power is given to the governor of the 
 state, with a view of meeting cases where there seem 
 to be circumstances which may, outside of sound, 
 genuine, legal principles mitigate the offence. You 
 must not fail to sustain the law by a righteous ver- 
 dict. If it turns out on this trial that this defendant 
 committed this act, but that still, under the law, 
 you can say by your verdict he may go scot-free, no
 
 280 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 person shall be more satisfied than I. But if it shall 
 appear to you that he committed this offence with- 
 out palliating circumstances, that he was at the 
 time in sound mind and memory, if it shall still 
 further appear to you that he deliberately planned 
 this attack, and placed himself purposely in a posi- 
 tion with a view to kill this woman, all defenceless 
 and weak as she was, I trust that you will not by 
 your verdict, say that vengeance for any supposed 
 personal grievance shall be thus taken into the 
 hands of private persons." 
 
 Mr. Bland ceased just as all the women in the 
 room thought he was going to be very eloquent, 
 and immediately after this began the taking of testi- 
 mony from witnesses on the part of the prosecution. 
 All the evidence brought forward at the coroner's 
 inquest was repeated, amplified, and tediously sifted. 
 
 The counsel for the people endeavored to show 
 that there was a disagreement amounting to a 
 quarrel between Rushmore and Mrs. Melton imme- 
 diately before the shooting of the latter, that Rush- 
 more was heard to threaten that if she refused to 
 comply with certain requests, she must take the 
 consequences, and that she would not give some 
 promise desired. They tried to make prominent 
 the idea that previous to the disagreement between 
 the parties, not fully explained and altogether sus-
 
 AT THE BAR. 281 
 
 picious relations existed between them; that Mrs. 
 Melton had imparted to various persons the infor- 
 mation that she was to marry Rushmore, while his 
 words and manner had seemed to indicate that the tie 
 between them was simply one of business; further- 
 more while he gave her the ordinary pay of a copy- 
 ist, he made her extravagant presents, such as money 
 sufficient to pay all the expenses of her child's trip 
 from Europe. 
 
 A lively cross-examination of witnesses on these 
 points last mentioned took all weight out of their 
 testimony, and left it worthless as evidence. 
 
 The office-boy being brought forward declared 
 that a short time before the shooting affair a letter 
 was brought to Rushmore, who, while in the act of 
 reading it, uttered Mrs. Melton's name twice in a 
 very angry tone. Ten minutes later the boy was 
 sent on an errand, when he returned to the office 
 he found it locked; he was in the street half an hour 
 after, when he heard first of the affair in Mrs. McGer- 
 kin's house. 
 
 The letter was called for, produced, and a tedious 
 discussion arose in regard to its admission as evidence. 
 
 " That's awful mean, now, for them to ferret out 
 that letter," whispered Peleg Irving to Mr. Hatha- 
 way. The two old men were crowded together under 
 a gallery. " Rushmore looks cut up," he continued.
 
 282 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 " See how white he is; there was a good color in his 
 cheeks when they quashed that last matter." 
 
 "What do you think the letter is?" asked the 
 minister. 
 
 "Eunice told me Annie Leigh wrote it, asking 
 what some foolish gossip meant. If they read it, 
 the lawyers probably will try to show that he was 
 engaged to marry one woman and had to free him- 
 self from Mrs. Melton, that he could not do this, 
 and so he killed her; but Eunice says there is an 
 answer to that letter, in which Rushmore said he 
 should ask Mrs. Melton to go and spend that very 
 evening at the Leigh house. Do you take it the 
 lawyers will claim he meant to kill her before he 
 took her there ? " 
 
 " I am so confused," whispered Mrs. Irving, who 
 sat just behind Peleg, " that I don't see anything. 
 If I was trying a man for doing something, it would 
 be my way to prove he did it, before I floundered 
 around asking what he did not do the day before." 
 
 "Women never do see into law matters, Martha; 
 i these noble thinkers are leading up to something, 
 and picking wool off all the bushes as they go. If 
 here doesn't come that con sarned old pill-box 
 beg your pardon, Mr. Hathaway ! " cried Peleg, 
 pinched by his wife and exasperated by sight of the 
 surgeon, who had been for some reason recalled to
 
 AT THE BAR. 283 
 
 the witness box. "I am so sick of his 'shot-wound' 
 that was on the right side of something ' posterior- 
 ly,' or else wasn't. What's the odds, if it killed the 
 poor creature ? " 
 
 At this, stage of affairs, the Court announced that 
 all witnesses must be present the next morning at 
 ten o'clock, admonished the jurors not to converse 
 or hear conversation on the case during adjourn- 
 ment, and the tedious day was over. Peleg summed 
 up the details so far as a " muddle of maybes," while, 
 as the crowd surged out of the court room into the 
 dismal twilight of the short afternoon, frail Mrs. 
 Irving had hard work to escape the elbows of a flu- 
 ent Irishwoman, who ardently desired that ' The 
 arrishtercratic wretch, wid all his illigence, might 
 yet dangle high an' dry fer the sins of him." 
 
 In every place that evening where the townsfolk 
 congregated, the trial was the one topic discussed. 
 Many declared that Rushmore's guilt could never 
 be proved and he must go free. Some believed the 
 weightiest testimony had not yet come in on the side 
 of the prosecution; but it was the prevailing opinion 
 that, whatever was the verdict of the jury, his inno- 
 cence could never be clearly established or the stain 
 on the fair, old Rushmore name be entirely effaced. 
 The young man might escape hanging, but in spite 
 of his culture or his wealth, years would pass before,
 
 284 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 in Waldenton, his social position would be an en- 
 viable one. 
 
 The first hours of the next day's proceedings were 
 taken up with cross-examinations, with noisy bat- 
 tles, as to what was evidence, and what was not. 
 Nothing at all startling was brought forward, and 
 when the forenoon was almost gone the prosecution 
 rested. There was a brief breathing spell and then 
 Griblow, for the defendant, slowly came into sight, 
 above the counsel table, as if he were letting out the 
 vertebrae of an overlong and doubled up spine. 
 With great coolness, he made a motion, which cre- 
 ated a sensation a motion for the Court to instruct 
 the jury "that the defendant is not called upon to 
 make any defence," and calmly added, " I respect- 
 fully submit to the Court, that there is no proof of 
 the first element of murder. I submit, that they 
 have not, to begin with, proved that Mrs. Melton 
 was killed by the prisoner. Now if the Court please, 
 let us see where this case stands, and what the Dis- 
 trict Attorney has proven. He has " 
 
 " What is the motion before the Court ? " put in 
 the pompous little person alluded to so quietly. 
 
 "I claim," returned Griblow, "that I am not 
 called on under the law, to make any defence at all, 
 and the Court must say so to the jury." 
 
 " Then is the case closed ? "
 
 AT THE BAR. 285 
 
 "No, sir; the case is not closed." 
 
 " He has no right to make any such request," 
 cried the District Attorney. "There is no such 
 practice, as requesting the Court to charge the jury 
 until the case is closed. The counsel must rest his 
 case, or go on with the evidence." 
 
 "As I understand the practice," put in the solemn 
 old judge, " he rests his case, for the purpose of his 
 motion. If the Court should not coincide with his 
 view, then he would have the right to go on with 
 his testimony." 
 
 " I never heard of such a practice in criminal 
 cases," said the District Attorney, very red in his 
 youthful countenance. 
 
 " I will state it as a universal practice," said Grib- 
 low, stretching his neck to let out another link 
 somewhere in himself. " A common practice, a 
 proper practice, if the prosecution have proved 
 nothing, if there is no evidence that would justify 
 the jury in convicting, then the Court should say so 
 to the jury. What is this case ? The prisoner here, 
 is indicted for the crime of wilful murder. To sus- 
 tain this indictment, surely the prosecution must 
 prove beyond a reasonable doubt, that the accused, 
 killed the party alleged in the indictment. But 
 when they have proved this, they have only taken 
 the first step in proving the crime of murder. The
 
 286 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 mere fact of killing, if there is anything in this case 
 from which that can be inferred, does not by any 
 means, constitute the crime of murder, and they 
 have not proved that there was any motive what- 
 ever, from which an attempt to take life, might be 
 inferred. There is not a particle of evidence in the 
 case, that the pistol was ever in Rushmore's posses- 
 sion, or in his hands. They prove, that just before 
 the time of the shooting, he was in the room, that 
 soon after the transaction, many people were there, 
 and the prisoner among them. Suppose that is 
 true, have we got the murder yet ? Have we any 
 murder at all ? Talk about hanging the accused on 
 evidence of this kind! Let me remind you, gentle- 
 men, that you cannot guess people's lives away, 
 and you cannot infer people's lives away, unless 
 upon conviction that legally justifies the inference. 
 I respectfully submit, that we are not called upon to 
 make a defence in this case." 
 
 The Court, in the person of the judge, was at- 
 tacked by a violent paroxysm of sneezing. 
 
 " What does that Griblow mean, Peleg," whis- 
 pered Mrs. Irving, who believed in her husband's 
 quicker intuitions. 
 
 "That nobody knows much but Sally McGerkin, 
 and she has been converted since the inquest, and 
 now says she don't like to tell more than she
 
 AT THE BAR. 287 
 
 * 
 
 knows, even if it is not enough; so we will all go 
 home to dinner. If I were in Rushmore's place, I 
 would almost rather be hanged, than be mixed up 
 in such a fizzle of a trial." 
 
 The Court having ceased to sneeze, remarked 
 through a reddened nose. " This is not a case that 
 the Court can take from the jury under the circum- 
 stances. The Court thinks the jury are entitled to 
 pass on this question of the guilt or innocence. The 
 prosecution are entitled to have it go to the^uryfor 
 that purpose. The motion is therefore denied." 
 
 During the hour's recess, which immediately fol- 
 lowed these proceedings, everybody was wondering 
 what Mr. Griblow's conduct presaged. 
 
 Before the Court convened again, one third of 
 the men in Waldenton was firmly convinced that 
 Griblow was only desirous of saving his own breath 
 and the juror's valuable time. Another third was 
 privately of the opinion, that the defendant's was a 
 lost cause, if the case went on to the summing up 
 by the eloquent Bland. Everybody argued that the 
 trial would no't be long drawn out. 
 
 Griblow had received a new idea, but so far from 
 pluming himself on the fact, he reflected that he had 
 been a great fool heretofore, in taking some things 
 for granted. But he made the motion before he had 
 the idea.
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 In the Afternoon. 
 
 A FTER the short noon recess the court room 
 * was again filled to overflowing, so that sev- 
 eral smaller rooms were crowded with those who 
 would hear something, if they could see nothing. In 
 one of the smallest and most private of these apart- 
 ments sat Annie, Agnes and Miss Eunice. The lat- 
 ter was decidedly hysterical; but Agnes constant- 
 ly exerted herself to cheer and encourage Annie, 
 who received her efforts without words, smiling but 
 faintly. Agnes's own composure was feigned. Cer- 
 tain awful words of her father, lately uttered, were 
 echoing in her memory: " If the man without a 
 shadow went on through life a terror to himself and 
 shunned by others, how will it be with a man doubly 
 shadowed, dogged by the impalpable, ever-haunting 
 spectre of a crime." 
 
 " I wish I had not come here," said Annie, grow-
 
 IN THE AFTERNOON. 289 
 
 ing paler; " the lawyers out there look so dull and 
 cold-blooded." 
 
 " Nonsense," said Miss Lathrop. "Just wait until 
 you hear the opening for the defence, and you will 
 be all hope and courage." 
 
 " How worn and jaded Rushmore looks," said 
 somebody the other side of the open door. Agnes, 
 leaning forward, watched him for an instant. He 
 had grown old in these weeks, and lost out of his 
 manner its languor and indifference. 
 
 " Are the Irvings anywhere there ? " asked Miss 
 Eunice. 
 
 " Peleg is in his usual place. Now they are going 
 to begin and Mr. Griblow is not present. I thought 
 he was to make the opening speech," said Agnes. 
 
 " No, he sums up matters," returned Miss Eunice. 
 " It is to be Little Perkins now, the one who draws 
 his head in and out of his coat collar, until you think 
 of a turtle and its shell." 
 
 " Is not Mr. Griblow there yet ? " asked Annie, 
 anxiously. 
 
 " No, he has been rushing around during recess 
 after Sally McGerkin, and has been at the Irving's; 
 he will do his best when the time comes," said 
 Agnes. 
 
 " Hush, dear, the speaker has begun," whispered 
 Miss Eunice.
 
 290 EUNICE LATffROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 Perkins opened for the defence. He made it loudly 
 known that he stood in the armor of truth and jus- 
 tice, advocating innocence, and overwhelming was 
 the trust confided in him. 
 
 He bellowed it forth that notwithstanding "this 
 indictment may Have been properly found on ex 
 parte evidence before the grand jury this indict- 
 ment is false, it is a lie ! The people are not the 
 prosecutors of Julian Rushmore," etc., etc. 
 
 He then went over the whole case from begin- 
 ning to end, so far as he was able to state it, after 
 which he drew his little round head in, as if taking 
 it out of the reach of Bland, and remarked in a 
 confidential stage-whisper: "The District Attorney 
 does not want any outside counsel to try such a 
 case. He has just entered on his official career, and 
 young as he is, he has ' no professional ' pride as he 
 told you yesterday ! ! Gentlemen of the jury, you 
 may be sure you will see the usual case of the law 
 officer prosecuting a defendant for crime exactly 
 as if he were private counsel. Your prejudices will 
 be stirred by artful pleading. You will be called 
 upon to stifle" your noblest instincts, to sit dull and 
 cold, as stones. You will hear mawkish sentiment. 
 Appeals will be made to you to look upon this pris- 
 oner this genial, sensitive gentleman as a hardened 
 wretch, a blood-thirsty murderer, etc., etc. It will
 
 IN THE AFTERNOON. 291 
 
 be hinted that we plead his innocence, not because 
 he is a man unjustly accused of crime; but because 
 he is a gentleman. We beg you to scorn that base 
 insinuation. If you were twelve executioners anx- 
 iously waiting for a victim, around whose neck you 
 had fixed the noose if you were twelve savages im- 
 patient for the scalp of a defenceless fellow-creature, 
 such appeals to your passions might not be without 
 avail; but, thank heaven, you are husbands and fa- 
 thers. You are men of moral worth and insight, you 
 have intellectual faculties, etc., etc., etc. The Dis- 
 trict Attorney makes this suggestion. He says: ' If 
 there is any doubt you can find your verdict of guilty 
 and the governor can pardon." 
 
 " I did not say that if there is any doubt," retorted 
 Bland, whereat Perkins from within his shell, se- 
 renely continued, " Gentlemen, that suggestion was 
 made to you to you whose province is higher than 
 governors, higher than counsel, higher than district 
 attorneys, and higher than courts, higher than pres- 
 idents. You are the men to determine what shall 
 be done with this man, Rushmore. We beg you not 
 to be controlled by any such monstrous suggestion," 
 and by this time entirely out from his shirt collar, 
 Perkins beamed lovingly upon the twelve jurors, as 
 if he were longing to press them, individually and 
 collectively to his .beating heart. This done, the
 
 292 EUNICE LA THRO P, SPINSTER. 
 
 speaker narrowed in to a close, but narrowed thrill- 
 ingly, pathetically. How "dark and dismal" all 
 through life would be these too credulous jurors' 
 after-thoughts, how like delirium their troubled 
 slumbers, if by their verdict they "crushed out this 
 brave young life, and sent this aged father over a 
 darkened threshold to a ruined home to agony, to 
 wailing, to tears," and sinking out of sight, Perkins 
 melted into a voluminous white handkerchief. 
 
 A few minutes- before the speech ended, Griblow 
 stalked into the court room like an animated yard- 
 stick; but presently collapsed into his seat at the 
 counsel table, as limp as any tape measure. Those 
 who knew Griblow well, and were near enough to 
 study his face were puzzled. He rarely looked so 
 idiotic unless he felt that his work was done. Soon 
 after he took his seat, it was apparent that some in- 
 tense excitement was being kept under, and that, 
 too, when in the opinion of those persons who 
 packed the remote parts of the room these lawyers 
 about the table were singularly slow and stupid. A 
 few tired listeners strayed off into the outer halls; 
 but before very long, some magnetic influence from 
 that inner circle subtly pervaded the entire au- 
 dience, and the impression gained that new and 
 startling evidence was forthcoming. 
 
 Men and women who fringed the room against the
 
 IN THE AFTERNOON. 293 
 
 wall, stood up on benches; then the rumor ran around 
 that Amos Cobb, the milkman, had actually seen the 
 murder, and could swear to every particular of the 
 horrible affair. Order was with difficulty restored, 
 when Amos was discovered edging his way into the 
 room under conduct of an officer. He was suddenly 
 lost to sight, and Sally McGerkin reappeared in his 
 place in the witness box. She had added a red 
 feather to her bonnet, and aware that she might be 
 about to make a sensation, her voice was shriller 
 than ever when after being duly sworn, and care- 
 fully questioned, she asserted in addition to her pre- 
 vious testimony, that one circumstance had here- 
 tofore escaped her memory. It was this: a few 
 moments before Rushmore entered her house, on 
 the afternoon of the shooting of Mrs. Melton, Amos 
 Cobb stopped with his milk cart at a gate opening 
 from her back yard, into a lane which connected 
 two of the town's broader streets. She had a brief 
 chat with him, after he had given her a quart of 
 milk. That day, she happened to have brought a 
 shallow pan instead of a pail, in which to receive j 
 the milk; and as she stood near the cart, with the; 
 pan in her hand, she now remembered that Guy] 
 Melton, the dead woman's son, passed by her 
 through the gate, jostling her elbow as he went. 
 She gave him a sharp rebuke, and paid no more at-
 
 294 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 tention to him. She did not turn around at Amos 
 Cobb's next remark, because she knew what he 
 meant when he asked laughing, " Do your lodgers 
 all run up the side of your house and down the 
 chimney, or is this chap training for the circus ? " 
 At the inquest she was not questioned by any one in 
 regard to the child, and having it in her mind that 
 he had gone away to spend the day, she forgot the 
 little occurrence, and had never seen the boy since. 
 Amos Cobb next took the stand, and being sworn, 
 related precisely the same story concerning himself, 
 only adding that he plainly saw Guy Melton climb 
 the lattice by Mrs. McGerkin's woodshed and enter 
 a second story back window df her house. He drove 
 away on his round of calls after that, and about a 
 half an hour later, he heard confused reports of fire, 
 of murder, of some dreadful accident in Buckingham 
 Street. Turning his horse around, he went rapidly 
 back, and, at a corner near that street, the old nag, 
 always accustomed to making a turn through the 
 lane, clattered off in that direction. He w r as turn- 
 ing again, much wondering what the rumors did 
 mean when he saw Guy Melton crouching down by 
 a great stone in the lane. It did not occur to Amos, 
 who was vexed at his horse, to ask the boy any 
 questions; he did notice that Guy seemed all ab- 
 sorbed in something, and by the time the milkman
 
 Iff THE AFTERNOON. 295 
 
 had got out again, where he could strike Buckingham 
 Street, the uproar there put every other thought 
 out of his head. Since then, he had thought sev- 
 eral times of the child, but had supposed that, 
 as a matter of course, anything he might know, 
 would come to light at once. 
 
 Amos Cobb was known throughout Waldenton, 
 and well characterized by Peleg Irving as a "bald- 
 headed fact." No sharp cross-questions could make 
 the honest old chap confused or contradictory, and 
 he was in turn dismissed. 
 
 "The child! The child! They are going to 
 bring into court the boy ! " was the word that went 
 like lightning around the room; a moment later, 
 and out of the buzz of whispered questions and sug- 
 gestions-came the news, that the prisoner was to be 
 confronted by an eyewitness of his horrid deed. The 
 child of the murdered woman had been terrified into 
 silence, and hidden by Rushmore's friends, but now 
 the majesty of the law was to be vindicated, and the 
 guilty man, after all, brought to a just judgment. 
 
 Old Mr. Rushmore fainted when every face was 
 turned, and every neck stretched in the direction 
 of a door through which issued a stout officer car- 
 rying carefully, a pale-faced boy, who either by 
 reason of the thronging crowd or some bodily weak- 
 ness, seemed unable to walk.
 
 296 EUNICE LATHKOP, SPINSTER. 
 
 " Do you understand the nature of an oath ? " was 
 the customary question put to him, when he was in 
 the witness box, with seven hundred people persist- 
 ingly struggling to see the little brown head, to 
 hear the thin, fine voice. 
 
 " I do. God in heaven hears me. If I tell the 
 truth, He loves me; but if I swear to a lie, I am in 
 danger of His anger, and sometime of His punish- 
 ment. I know it all," Guy answered, in his slow, 
 old-fashioned way, and then, with as few questions 
 as would serve their purpose, the lawyers let him 
 tell his own story. 
 
 "I am ten years old, my birthday was last month. 
 I lived with my mother; she was Mrs. Elsie Melton, 
 and our home was at Mrs. McGerkin's. I have been 
 in bed at Mrs. Irving's ever since she was shot, and 
 nobody has talked to me about her until to-day. 
 Sometimes I was crazy and couldn't think, .some- 
 times I could think and would not talk. Yes, sir; I 
 went to Mr. Irving's that day in the morning, and 
 I played in the garden until my head ached; after 
 dinner it ached more, and- there was nothing new to 
 play with, and Mrs. Irving said I was so restless and 
 had a fever, that I must keep out of the hot sun. I 
 got into the hammock and called it a ship on the 
 ocean. I think I went to sleep in it. When I waked 
 up I did not tell Mrs. Irving what I was going to
 
 Iff THE AFTERNOON. 297 
 
 do, because I meant to come back to supper; but I 
 did go home. Yes, sir; but not by Buckingham 
 Street, because Mrs. McGerkin did not like me to 
 run in and out of her front door. I went by the lane, 
 and she was at the gate talking to the milkman. I 
 hit her elbow, and she scolded me; she said I almost 
 made her spill all that milk. I climbed up the lat- 
 tice behind the house and went in at my mother's 
 bedroom window. 
 
 " Yes, sir; I can tell just what I did next. I 
 went to my ' own house ' that is what I called 
 it. It is a beautiful big screen in three leaves, 
 and it always stood outside the bedroom door, 
 in the drawing-room. It made a little room it- 
 self, and I played there. What made it beautiful-? 
 The Chinese pictures on it; there were tea gardens 
 and bridges and funny ladies with fans in their hands 
 and strange men dressed like ladies. My mother 
 said these were mandarins. No, sir; it was not very 
 new. A lady gave that screen to her, and once a ' 
 rat, or maybe a little dog, had torn the head of the 
 very biggest mandarin all out; and part of his shoul- 
 ders too. That hole made my window; I could sit 
 on the floor and see everything in the drawing-room. 
 
 "No, we never had visitors, only a lady called once, [ 
 and then there were people to order work embroi- 
 dery, and Mr. Rushmore's boy with papers. How did
 
 298 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 I know Mr. Rushmore ? I often saw him. Once I 
 went back with that boy to his office and got more 
 papers. My mother said if I told what I saw or 
 heard at home, I should be burned with fire for 
 thousands of years after I died; but I never saw 
 anything until that day. He came. Mr. Rush- 
 more? Yes, I mean him. I was painting a lion 
 green; all the other paints were used up. Yes, she 
 knew I was behind the screen; but I kept still, so 
 she did not send me away. I can't tell what they 
 said. They talked fast, and my head ached so I 
 had to stop painting. They did not agree about 
 something. I could tell my mother's pistol; she let 
 me see it that morning, when she said she was go- 
 ing to put it in a new place. 
 
 "No, that is not it, nor that. It was not pretty at 
 all. Yes, sir; that is like it. No, I cannot remem- 
 ber what she said when they seemed angry. I think 
 he wanted her to say that something she had said 
 was not true. She did not talk loud; she never did 
 that; but I was afraid of her after after I mean 
 I knew I should be "afraid of her when Mr. Rush- 
 more went away. Sometimes she did not love me. 
 
 "I looked through the hole where the Chinaman's 
 head had been and thought I would go back to 
 Mr. Irving's. No, sir, they were not sitting on 
 the sofa. They were standing ; he was at one
 
 IN THE AFTERNOON. 299 
 
 side of the table and my mother was the oth- 
 er side by the fireplace. I did not see the pistol 
 on the table; but I did not look at the table, I 
 looked at my mother, and I did see the pistol in her 
 hand. Yes, I had looked at Mr. Rushmore, and I 
 don't think he had anything in his hand before that. 
 She did not hold it only a single minute; she was 
 going to put it back on the high mantel, where I 
 saw it in the morning. 
 
 "Yes, sir, I know that, because she lifted her hand 
 with it so I saw it. It went off with an awful noise. 
 I think she fell. I was so frightened I don't know 
 what next. I did not think she would be dead I 
 never saw anybody dead but I was afraid to look. 
 
 "I ran and got out of the bedroom window. I 
 could not hold to the lattice, and I fell; when 
 I hit the ground I could not walk at first. In 
 the lane I stopped a while. I wanted to go back 
 and see everything but I was afraid of some- 
 thing dreadful. She said fire would burn me, if I 
 told what I saw. I thought maybe it made great 
 noises all the time like pistols; and I stopped 
 by a big old stone there, because I was seasick 
 in my head not the ache, but like waves in it. 
 I thought I would go to Mr. Irving's, and I don't re- 
 member any more only days when the doctor came. 
 I am almost well now, and I remembered all about
 
 300 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER, 
 
 that pistol when the gentleman came to-day to ask 
 me; but I would not tell, because I did not know 
 there was a trial or what it was. 
 
 "They told me people said that Mr. Rushmore 
 
 killed my mother, and he would have to suffer 
 
 j dreadfully if I did not tell anything I saw or knew, 
 
 and I said Mr. Rushmore did not kill her and he 
 
 did not do it." 
 
 The silvery voice ceased to penetrate the marvel- 
 lous stillness of the court room. In a moment, men 
 who dared not shout in the presence of the judge, 
 wildly waved their hats, hands and handkerchiefs in 
 the air, women were laughing and sobbing. Rush- 
 more had bowed his head and hidden his face in his 
 hands. His old father had risen with a radiant coun- 
 tenance, erect, as if the weight of years had rolled 
 off his shoulders. But for an officer near by, Peleg 
 Irving might have set all law and order at defiance, 
 and led off the crowd in a joyous uproar. 
 
 Suddenly over the heads of the lawyers was lifted 
 the old silk screen, faded and clumsy. There were 
 the slant-eyed ladies, the curious pagodas and plainly 
 to be seen the robes of the headless mandarin. 
 
 "Come down and show us how you looked through 
 here," said Griblow, and Guy slipped out of sight a 
 second before two great soft eyes and a bit of fore- 
 head appeared framed by the jagged silk.
 
 IN' THE AFTERNOON. 301 
 
 Eunice Lathrop would have rushed past the judge 
 and jury to embrace the child, if Annie had not clung 
 tearfully to her saying, " What if this even should 
 not clear him ! Oh Agnes, don't you think it must ? " 
 
 "I know that it will, Annie," said Ag-nes. "Do 
 keep calm, Miss Lathrop ! The child is to be cross- 
 questioned now by Bland." 
 
 Yes, the District Attorney must go behind Guy's 
 story, and take a peep into his brief past life, must 
 find he had to do with one of the Pope's own family, 
 while Guy folded his small hands and took it all as 
 coolly as if he had been cross-legged on the old 
 tithing-table gazing at stony Lady Kew in St. Guth- 
 lac's instead effacing Bland, Griblow, Perkins, twelve 
 jurymen and a judge in Waldenton Court House. 
 
 The testimony for the defence closed, not in the 
 three hours' speech that Griblow had prepared; but in 
 these words: " Gentlemen of the Jury: The eloquent 
 District Attorney in opening, remarked that this was 
 a case of murder or nothing. We accept the issue. 
 We do not live in an age of miracles, when angels 
 interpose to stay the hand that would smite with a 
 too ready sword; but out of the mouth of an inno- 
 cent child have truth and justice been this day 
 established." 
 
 Bland himself had intended to do a tremendous 
 thing, when he came to sum up for the prosecution;
 
 302 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 but Griblow had, as it were, removed the rostrum 
 on which he meant to hold forth. He had not the 
 vim to deal quixotically with a "nothing." So, sub- 
 limely indifferent to the impatient people of the 
 town and county, the judge prepared to charge 
 the jury. He was asthmatic, he sneezed again vio- 
 lently, he sneezed deliberately, he administered 
 snuff to the nostrils of the Court, and let its counte- 
 nance become perfectly composed before he stated 
 to said jury: " that sympathy was out of place in the 
 jury box." 
 
 " The old rhinoceros," groaned Peleg Irving, add- 
 ing soon, "Well, he is giving them a fine charge 
 after all." 
 
 " They are not going out! They are not going 
 out!" was the animating intelligence that passed 
 from man to man. The pointer of the big clock be- 
 tween the high west windows of the court room 
 marked off just seven minutes and a half, and then 
 the clerk asked if the jury had agreed upon a ver- 
 dict, and the foremen returned, "We find the pris- 
 oner Not Guilty" 
 
 Oh, the tumultuous rejoicing that followed the 
 close of that trial ! Rushmore could not escape to 
 his nearest and dearest friends, by reason of the rapt- 
 urous congratulations of men and women, who had 
 never known him before his arrest. The ringleaders
 
 IN THE AFTERNOON. 303 
 
 of the lower-town roughs who had persistingly yelled 
 by night under his prison window, now rushed out 
 to make proper public demonstrations in the streets. 
 The Waldenton Brass Band appeared in the Court 
 House yard, and when, in the twilight, Sally Mc- 
 Gerkin, having a severe cold, was sent home in Grib- 
 low's private carriage, the excited populace suppos- 
 ing it held Rushmore, followed it with shouts, cheers, 
 and the stirring strains, "When Johnny comes 
 marching home again !" 
 
 Their ardor cooling after a half-mile tramp through 
 the mud and snow, they fell away quietly. The mis- 
 take was never discovered, and Mrs. McGerkin was 
 made ecstatically happy, by the delicate attention 
 of her townspeople.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 After the Storm a Calm. 
 
 A/TISS EUNICE LATHROP was essentially ro- 
 -LA mantic; she had many times before the late 
 trial given free course to her fancy, and delighted 
 herself in planning for Annie a wedding, such as 
 Waldenton had rarely seen. It was to be, of course, 
 in the one perfect month; the Leigh mansion must be 
 refurnished. Flowers, music and moonlight should 
 be lavishly diffused; all the youth and beauty of the 
 town should do honor to the lovely bride. Even 
 in the darkest days she did not wholly relinquish 
 these bright visions, and when at last Rushmore's 
 trial was over, she hinted that there were certain 
 festivities as proper for December as for June. It 
 was with a real shock to her sensibilities that she 
 learned from Annie's own lips that all was to be 
 prosaic and commonplace in the extreme, "the very 
 quietest wedding possible, for we are tired of people 
 and of talk," were Annie's very words.
 
 AFTER THE STORM A CALM. 305 
 
 One day the snow fell softly, hour after hour, until 
 all the earth was spotless; at evening it ceased, and 
 there was a full moon; in this one particular were 
 Miss Eunice's fastidious tastes entirely gratified. 
 
 No wedding bells rang in the tower of the old 
 middle-town church that night; but a rosy light 
 gleamed from its long windows and warmly illu- 
 mined the interior of the sometimes gloomy place. 
 No congregation filled the seats as on Sunday; but 
 a little group clustered around the pulpit, under 
 which stood the Reverend Bela Hathaway, and be- 
 fore him Julian Rushmore and Annie Leigh. At 
 Annie's side was Agnes, and by Rushmore stood 
 John Irving. The little half circle was filled out 
 with Rushmore's father, old Peleg, his wife and Miss 
 Lathrop. The minister and Mrs. Irving considered 
 any marriage a matter of deep solemnity, and they 
 looked as they felt. Mr. Irving, with much difficulty 
 held his exuberant spirit in check, while Miss Eunice 
 wept and smiled alternately. It was a protracted 
 ceremony, for the Reverend Bela improved the oc- 
 casion to enlarge on the conduct of human life. Per- 
 haps the happy bridegroom listened with undistracted 
 thoughts; but Annie was remembering the summer 
 afternoon when she first met this man at her side, in 
 the old cloister of Westminster, and Agnes well, 
 for her, this bare New England " Meeting House,"
 
 306 EUNICE LATHKOP, SPINSTER. 
 
 had its memories as truly as if it had chanced to be 
 an Old World abbey. Out from its organ had floated 
 music that once bewitched her. Here in the high- 
 backed pew by the middle pillar she had found An- 
 nie that morning when she came with her gold and 
 purple pansies to change all life for the minister's 
 daughter. There, only a step away, was the pulpit- 
 stair where she sat while John Irving, six months 
 before, told her the story that had stirred her so 
 slightly. 
 
 The Reverend Bela was saying, " I pronounce 
 you man and wife " when Agnes, catching sight of 
 Rushmore's face, suddenly realized that she herself 
 was glad, heartily glad in this moment. It seemed 
 a century since she had heard him play that organ. 
 Truly the days of witchcraft were over forever, and 
 great had been the folly of them. 
 
 There was a little happy excitement, warm greet- 
 ings, well wishes and very soon hasty farewells, for 
 a carriage waited at the church door, and Walden- 
 ton was to see no more of Mr. and Mrs. Rushmore 
 for many months to come. 
 
 After they had departed, old Peleg exclaimed: "I 
 don't feel satisfied. You did your part of the pro- 
 gramme famously, Brother Hathaway. I thought of 
 what the guest said to the lady of her cake; it ap- 
 plied to your talk ' Good enough, what there was of
 
 AFTER THE STORM A CALM. 307 
 
 it, and plenty of it such as it was; but as for me, I 
 would like to dance or sing or play on the Jew's 
 harp to express my sympathy with youth in its 
 golden heyday of happiness ! Won't you all come 
 over and spend the rest of the evening with us ? " 
 
 The minister gravely declined the invitation. Mr. 
 Rushmore senior had gone to the station with his new 
 daughter and his son; but Agnes and Miss Lathrop 
 yielded to Peleg's entreaties. When they were cos- 
 ily seated around the Irving fireside, Mrs. Irving, 
 John and Agnes fell into a practical talk as to the 
 recarpeting of the church; but Peleg and Miss Eu- 
 nice were in a sentimental mood, and became char- 
 acteristically confidential. 
 
 " I am proper glad, Eunice, that when I was cast- 
 ing about for a wife, I did not happen to find you; I 
 tell you we would have been a revolutionary couple." 
 
 " If you count yourself a relic of that age, Mr. Irv- 
 ing, I do not; you know well enough I am only 
 forty-six years old." 
 
 "No, I did not know, but I meant revolutionary 
 in action; you are aggressive and so am I we should 
 have accomplished too much in this world. Martha, 
 now, makes me husband my resources. When I tell 
 her how I could easily contrive some neat little 
 home-made infernal machine, as likely as not she 
 sends me out to chop wood."
 
 308 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 " That is all right," returned Miss Eunice, absent- 
 mindedly. She was absorbed in the study of John's 
 face as he talked to Agnes, but, after awhile, she 
 looked earnestly into Peleg's twinkling eyes, and 
 nodded suggestively. 
 
 " Yes," remarked the old man: "That speech you 
 don't put into words does end with,an interrogation 
 mark. I can't explain to you why it is not manifest 
 destiny. I ask Martha, and she says, if it is predes- 
 tinated, the Lord doesn't need me to help it along, 
 and if it is not predestinated, it is certainly best for 
 me to mind my own business. Martha is a very 
 blue Presbyterian on some points, and this minding 
 a body's business seems to be with her a vital point. 
 I find some few other things more binding as it 
 were." 
 
 " Yes, Mrs. Irving is orthodox, if ever a woman 
 was. I don't know anything about foreordination, 
 but this (you understand me) ought to be! It is 
 every way lovely and desirable," whispered Miss 
 Eunice emphatically, quite as if she took the liberty 
 of deciding one case without any reference to Mrs. 
 Irving's doctrines. 
 
 Peleg, seeing out of the corner of his eye, that his 
 wiser half was engaged in conversation, whispered 
 eagerly in return: " Can't you give Agnes a gentle 
 jog sometime. I solemnly promised not to do it,
 
 AFTER TUB STOKM A CALM. 309 
 
 Martha made me promise, and John never confides 
 in me ; it is queer, but he never, never does. I 
 think he is afraid of Agnes, or else he fears he would 
 lose his chance if he spoke too soon. The goose ! 
 Why, Eunice, if you'll believe me, I offered myself to 
 Martha the Christmas after first seeing her on a 
 Thanksgiving day, and before the next equinoctial 
 storm, I repeated that offer seventeen times. I wor- 
 ried her into accepting me." 
 
 "I have no doubt of it; but John is not like you. 
 Why was Guy not over at the church to-night, is he 
 not well yet ? " 
 
 " No, he does not get his strength back," an- 
 swered Peleg sadly, " but he will ! He will in time. 
 Have you heard of his good fortune ? " 
 
 " No, what is it ? " 
 
 " The Rushmore's have settled ten thousand dol- 
 lars on him in case Mrs. Cudlip will leave him to us 
 until he is of age. He does not want to go back to 
 England." 
 
 " Indeed ! Well, I do not wonder at that ! " said 
 Miss Eunice, turning away to join in the general 
 conversation again. 
 
 Mrs. Irving was taking the utmost care of Guy's 
 health; Agnes tried to keep him from brooding mor- 
 bidly over the tragic death of his mother, and Peleg 
 gratified all his queer whims. Never was there a
 
 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 more contented child than he became in this quiet, 
 old-fashioned family. Every day brought new pleas- 
 ures to him. Every night he sat with Peleg by the 
 open fire, and discussed his far-off manhood. On 
 Sunday, Mrs. Irving's "Pilgrim's Progress" took the 
 place of Sister Ursula's " Lives of the Saints," but all 
 the same, he was full of the desire to fight dragons, 
 to win battles for the faith; while the good lady who 
 listened to his chatter, began to think of the chil- 
 dren who indeed win glory, but never wear rude 
 armor here in conflict. The family doctor watched 
 him a month or more, and then said: " I don't know 
 why he may not get well, but I think he will not. 
 He never had light, air, and proper food in that 
 musty old place he lived in first. He has no 
 constitution." 
 
 " He shall have one then," was Peleg's defiant re- 
 tort; but about midwinter, Peleg became so cross 
 whenever the child's health was mentioned, that 
 Mrs. Irving was sure he realized, at last, Guy's feeble 
 condition. One evening, therefore, as her husband 
 sat by the fire, she ventured to say: "John thinks 
 Guy grows weaker every day." 
 
 " He does not." 
 
 " Why, Peleg, can't you see how thin he is ? " 
 
 " Fat is nothing. Guy will have muscle by 
 spring."
 
 AFTER THE STORM A. CALM. 311 
 
 " I hope so I I wish he knew the Catechism, 
 and understood our doctrines." 
 
 " Martha, I've prepared that boy as far as talking 
 aboiit dying goes," said Peleg, taking the poker 
 awkwardly, to break a firebrand. 
 
 " I am very glad if you have. Mr. Hathaway is 
 getting distressed, he says he fears the child is in 
 moral darkness. What was your conversation, 
 Peleg ? " 
 
 " He is not going to die, Martha; but if he ever 
 should we talked about that." 
 
 " Yes, dear, what about it ? " 
 
 The old man swallowed hard before he answered, 
 "We planned one night I let him, and I promised. 
 He wants that old crucifix in his hand and the holy 
 bone Sister Ursula gave him right on his still little 
 heart, and when he is laid out, six tall white candles 
 are going to burn all day at his head, in my own Puri- 
 tan mother's silver candlesticks, and I tell you what, 
 Martha Irving ! I shall put just as many more at the 
 blessed little Papist's heels, if he asks me to put 'em 
 there," sobbed Peleg, suddenly breaking down. 
 " And you need not shake your head so solemn- 
 ly; for I told him to call himself by any name 
 he liked best, and they would let him right into 
 Heaven, even if he went up from the old Pope's back 
 door."
 
 312 E-U-NICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 " But Peleg, isn't it sad that in this enlightened 
 land" 
 
 "Don't talk, Martha! The little fellow's heart 
 is brimming over with love to his Saviour, to his 
 God, to everybody God ever made. He sees more 
 holy things in this old world than I ever see, and if 
 he believes a precious sight of pious nonsense over 
 and above all that, why, maybe some other folks " 
 
 " There ! There, Peleg," said Mrs. Irving sooth- 
 ingly. " You know I was not really troubled for the 
 dear child." 
 
 " He is not going to die," returned the old man 
 obstinately, after a time spent in recovering his 
 calmness. " He will grow up, and very likely preach 
 in Mr. Hathaway's own pulpit. If it amused him to 
 arrange his own funeral, why should I not let him 
 have that innocent pleasure. Now we will drop 
 the subject, Martha." 
 
 It was not in a woman like Miss Lathrop fully to 
 understand the mental processes of a girl like Agnes. 
 The bustling spinster came at last to believe that 
 the minister's daughter needed to see a certain mat- 
 ter in a clearer light, so with the best intentions 
 possible, Miss Eunice questioned how she might help 
 the young girl to self-knowledge. She found no
 
 AFTER THE STORM A CALM. 313 
 
 suitable occasion however, throughout the entire 
 winter; but one day in March, Agnes came to make 
 her a little visit. 
 
 Gay and sprightly as always, Miss Lathrop sat at 
 work in the sunniest nook of her sunny home. There 
 were blooming scarlet flowers in her wide window; 
 she was making a tidy like a great yellow sunflower, ' 
 while over her head a canary in a gilded cage was 
 filling the room with almost earsplitting melody. 
 Agnes, who was not in as cheerful a mood as usual, 
 grew brighter from the moment of her entrance into 
 the " bower." 
 
 " Oh, I am delighted to see you, Agnes. I have 
 been thinking about you," cried Miss Eunice, at sight 
 of her guest. 
 
 During the desultory conversation of the next 
 hour, she repeated this one remark so frequently 
 that Agnes, becoming somewhat curious, asked at 
 last: "What have been your thoughts of me, Miss 
 Eunice ? " 
 
 Dropping her embroidery, the lady glanced at the 
 calm young face opposite her and wondered if she 
 might experiment a little. She began nervously: 
 " You are a puzzle to me sometimes I think one 
 way of you, then again another way." 
 
 " I do that myself and in regard to myself," laughed 
 Agnes, innocently.
 
 3 14 EUNICE LATH HOP, SPINSTER. 
 
 "There are girls so cool and slippery in manner 
 that many people find them very unapproachable." 
 
 "I hope you do not class me among them then." 
 
 Miss Eunice picked up her sunflower, and viciously 
 attacked it with her long needle. 
 
 " Suppose a man finds out that he loves such a 
 person; she never knows it never, unless somebody 
 goes and forcibly shakes her, and says plainly: ' There 
 is a man ! Don't you see him ? He loves you.' For 
 although you might say, that man himself was the 
 one chiefly concerned in the matter, he don't want 
 to express himself with the suddenness of a thunder- 
 clap out of a clear sky." 
 
 " I have never known any girls so stupid as that," 
 said Agnes, rather constrainedly; "but often a per- 
 son seems blind when it is not wise or best to see, 
 and in such a case a 'shaker' would be impertinent." 
 
 Miss Eunice was bent on mischief, she took no 
 heed, but biting off a thread instead of cutting it, 
 she went on fiercely: 
 
 " Yes, and then again young girls naturally hu- 
 i mane, and even what you might call pious, are cruel 
 i as death they are now ! They call it wisdom not 
 ! to see what ? Why that they are tormenting a 
 ; ' fellow mortal; they ought to see" 
 
 A vivid pink came out in Agnes's soft cheeks, and 
 her large eyes sparkled, but not "piously" as she
 
 AFTER THE STORM A CALM. 315 
 
 said slowly: " I know very few young girls, and 
 nothing at all of their love affairs," whereupon Miss 
 Eunice made the following speech: "I hope from 
 the bottom of my heart, my dear Agnes, that you 
 know yourself. You are a guileless unsophisticated 
 creature; but you are all the same very attractive. 
 I am afraid you are making serious trouble by per- 
 sisting in shutting your eyes to the meaning of John 
 Irving's attentions that you are giving occasion 
 to members of your father's flock to say that you 
 are flirting thus bringing discredit on the cause," 
 faltered poor Miss Eunice in a solemn whine, sud- 
 denly aware that she had gone too far. 
 
 " What cause, Miss Lathrop ? " asked Agnes, in- 
 dignantly adding, " If you have anything to say, 
 you are right to be outspoken; but don't begin in 
 the tone of the sanctimonious gossips, who come 
 with the parish complaints to make my father mis- 
 erable. I cannot endure that." 
 
 "My grief! Agnes, don't take me up so but 
 but what do you think about John Irving anyway ?" 
 
 In the perfect silence that ensued poor Miss Eu- 
 nice realized that the minister's daughter could get 
 angry, and the speechless girl was more truly elo- 
 quent than a fluent tongued antagonist might have 
 been. 
 
 " I did not mean the least harm in what I said,
 
 316 RUNIC PI LATtfKOP, SPINSTER. 
 
 Agnes Hathaway," she meekly remarked, when the 
 stillness became unendurable. 
 
 "What did you mean ?" 
 
 "Why that I could not help seeing that John 
 Irving worships you. His father sees it, his mother 
 sees it. To be sure they never told me this in plain 
 words, but old Peleg well, I gathered from some 
 things he did say once, that they thought you held 
 John off in a kind of cold-blooded fashion." 
 
 Another long, depressing silence. It was evident 
 that Agnes did not think herself accountable in any 
 way to Miss Eunice, who by this time was feeling in 
 her pocket for her handkerchief. " I was afraid," 
 she whimpered, " that by and by everybody would 
 say the same thing, if you were not warned in 
 time." 
 
 " Has anybody ever said it yet?" cried the usual- 
 ly calm young Puritan. "Please answer this one 
 question." 
 
 " I can't say yes or no as if I were on another trial," 
 sobbed Miss Eunice. "And I never dreamed you 
 had such a spirit no, never ! " 
 
 "I don't want to distress you, Miss Lathrop," Ag- 
 nes said much less impetuously. " Perhaps by and 
 by I may be grateful to you, for you must have in- 
 tended a kindness. I can tell you at once that no 
 one shall ever have any reason to speak of me in the
 
 AFTER THE STORM A CALM. 317 
 
 way you fear, but I can't say any more on the sub- 
 ject to-day, at least, and please never mention it 
 first again to me. Now I must go home, for it is 
 already later than I intended to stay." 
 
 " Oh, don't go while you are angry at me ! " 
 
 Agnes promptly held out her hand, which trem- 
 bled a little as Miss Eunice grasped it eagerly. She 
 even smiled forgivingly, and left that lady realizing 
 that while their former friendly relations were not 
 seriously endangered, she had been guilty of a great 
 indiscretion. 
 
 " I never would have believed," soliloquized the 
 spinster, " that she could have fired into such a beau- 
 tiful rage; for she was handsome as a picture when 
 she drew herself up, and she scared me mightily. 
 John Irving may as well give up his fine hopes, but 
 I won't be the person to tell him so; and I will take 
 old Peleg to task for this day's performance. I never 
 would have done what I did this afternoon, if he had 
 not suggested it to me. Mrs. Irving would have 
 known better. Peleg is always putting queer no- 
 tions into my head." 
 
 Miss Lathrop would have been cheered in this 
 season of discomfiture, had she known how grate- 
 fully John Irving himself had secretly received sev- 
 eral random speeches of hers speeches that caused 
 him to reflect as did Sancho Panza, that, " Though
 
 318 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 there is little in a woman's advice, yet he who won't 
 take it is not over wise." 
 
 All the way home from Miss Lathrop's abode, 
 Agnes was grievously perplexed. Must there be a 
 sudden and decided falling off in the extremely 
 pleasant and unconstrained friendship existing be- 
 tween herself and the Irving family ? In so far as 
 John Irving was concerned, she reflected that it was 
 not at all needful for any one to say to her, in the 
 words of the spinster, "There is a man!" He had 
 revealed himself to her, slowly but surely, in this 
 year gone by. She recognized his fine qualities, she 
 did not consider him a hero; but she believed he could 
 be heroic if occasion required him to prove that as a 
 possibility. So old Peleg, and perhaps Mrs. Irving 
 were secretly reproaching her, thinking she did not 
 appreciate their son ? Yes, it was evidently her 
 duty to take a new stand. She paced slowly home- 
 ward, toward a gorgeous sunset not seeing it, re- 
 solving that she would devote her life henceforth to 
 her venerable father. She would exemplify in that 
 life all the Christian graces, particularly the grace 
 of self-denial. John Irving must never be able to 
 say or even to think that she encouraged his hopes 
 only to disappoint them. She was somewhat dis- 
 concerted to find the young man serenely awaiting 
 her in the parsonage parlor. He complimented her
 
 AFTER THE STORM A CALM. 319 
 
 on her fine color, and after a little chat remarked, 
 " Guy sent me (unwillingly of course), to invite you 
 to spend the evening with us. We are to have a time 
 of rejoicing, and I am to go for Miss Eunice also. 
 A letter has arrived from Mrs. Cudlip, in which she 
 assures father that he may adopt the child, and her 
 heart overflows with gratitude. It is a very effusive 
 epistle. I can well imagine the woman who wrote 
 it. She says Guy has only one other relative, some 
 military individual away in India, who takes no in- 
 terest in him. She herself loves the boy to excess; 
 but remembering her poverty, she sacrifices herself 
 to his best interests. Will you come, Agnes ? I 
 will call for you, if I may." 
 
 " Guy is getting quite well again, is he not ? " she 
 asked, improving in color herself. 
 
 " He is well, and my father says, ' I told you so' 
 a dozen times a day. You might return with me 
 now, and ask your father to come in time for supper." 
 
 " I think Guy will have to excuse me to-night." 
 
 They were standing near a west window, and 
 Agnes's face told tales. 
 
 " I wonder why you do not want to come, and so 
 show your thought, not having time to think of a 
 true excuse. I am greatly given to wondering about 
 many things in regard to you lately, Agnes. Shall 
 I tell you what puzzles me ? "
 
 320 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 She exhibited a discouraging lack of interest; but 
 she had to hear more positive statements than Miss 
 Eunice's own had been, although these last were 
 not now of any fault-finding character. There in 
 the fading spring sunset, while the minister in the 
 next room was finishing a long discourse on the per- 
 severance of the saints, John Irving began to re- 
 new his suit with a persistency of purpose that would 
 have satisfied old" Peleg himself. Unlike Miss La- 
 throp, he did not care whether Agnes knew her own 
 mind perfectly or not, if only she would let him take 
 his time and way to demonstrate his love for her. 
 The Reverend Bela ended his sermon and entered 
 the parlor before John had gone home. He was as- 
 tonished, but he was more than delighted to have 
 the young man request him to pronounce a bene- 
 diction, not merely after the ministerial fashion, but 
 in the familiar way of a fatherly blessing. He hesi- 
 tated a moment before he asked the straightforward 
 question, that John himself had actually avoided, 
 " Are you sure, my daughter, that you love this 
 man ? " and Agnes answered clearly, 
 
 " Yes, I know that I am not making any mistake, 
 father." 
 
 There was much gayety and rejoicing in the Irv- 
 ing cottage that evening. Miss Eunice had come 
 to meet Agnes with fear, but her heart melted at
 
 AFTER THE STORM A CALM. 321 
 
 the forgiving sweetness the young girl manifested 
 toward her from the first moment. Late in the 
 evening, Peleg, beckoning the spinster into the 
 chimney corner, confided to her the fact, that John 
 was engaged to Agnes, and without doubt that they 
 would be married in June. Eunice threw up her 
 hands, and very nearly tumbled over the andirons 
 in her unbounded amazement. 
 
 "Peleg Irving!" she exclaimed. " When did this 
 occur this engagement ? " 
 
 " About six o'clock I guess, when John was over 
 there at the parsonage." 
 
 " And about half-past five this very blessed after- 
 noon I gave Agnes Hathaway that little hint you 
 recommended. How prompt these slow contem- 
 plative natures are, when once they get thoroughly 
 aroused ! " 
 
 "Of course, and it only needed you and me, Eu- 
 nice, to take hold of the matter and settle it all, as 
 you might say. See the happy innocents over there 
 on the sofa ! Yes, we would have made a rare cou- 
 ple for emergencies, Eunice Lathrop, but I thank the 
 kind Providence who gave me Martha instead." 
 
 "So do I, Peleg and you say they may be 
 married in June. How lovely ! We will make 
 that old church a paradise of roses. Agnes is a 
 good girl."
 
 322 EUNICE LATHROP, SPINSTER. 
 
 " And our John is worthy of Her," returned the old 
 man. 
 
 "To think that I should be such a matchmaker!" 
 " And I such another ! " 
 
 The wedding was in June. Miss Eunice Lathrop, 
 who had read many mild English novels, pleased 
 herself in arraying the children of Mr. Hathaway's 
 congregation in white robes, and having them strew 
 flowers before the bride, from the little parsonage 
 across the shadowy churchyard into the dark porch 
 up to the very altar. Everybody remarked how 
 well Miss Eunice managed these little matters for 
 she had " been abroad."
 
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 must attract the general reader." 5. F. Eve. Bulletin. 
 
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 either of its predecessors from the author's pen, and places her high among Ameri- 
 can writers. * * * In the delineation of character she has shown both delicacy 
 tld vigor." Boston Congregationalist.