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 3 1924 022 222 842 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
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 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
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 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924022222842 
 
a A E T H: 
 
 A NOVEL. 
 
 BY 
 
 JULIAN HAWTHORNE, 
 
 AUTHOE OB* 
 "BEESSANT," " SAXON STUDIES," ETC. 
 
 NEW YOEK: 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, 
 1893. 
 
Es'EEEED according to act of Congress, in the year 1875, by 
 
 JULIAN HAWTHORNE, 
 
 In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 
 
TO 
 
 FKANCIS BENNOCH, Esq., 
 
 THE HEAETY KESPEOT, GKATITUDE, AND AFFECTION, 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
00]!fTElifTS, 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 TJEMHTTEST. 
 
 I. A Bird-Prologue page 6 
 
 II. The Legend of the Threshold 6 
 
 III. The Generations 9 
 
 BOOK 11. 
 THE FATHER OF THE MAN. 
 
 IV. The Man 1* 
 
 V. An October Violet 16 
 
 VI. The Child 1^ 
 
 VII. TheBirch-Eod 28 
 
 VIII. The Faerie Queene 25 
 
 IX. Calf-Love 28 
 
 X. Madge 8D 
 
 XL UpaTree 84 
 
 Xn. Fighting 89 
 
 Xm. Lovtog 42 
 
 BOOK III. 
 
 G E O P IN G. 
 
 XrV. Antagonisms 46 
 
 XV. A Narrow Escape 49 
 
 XVI. Getting to Work 63 
 
 XVII. Another Attic Mystery 57 
 
 XVIII. An Explanation 59 
 
 XIX. GoUghtley 62 
 
 XX. News 65 
 
 XXI. Dispute 70 
 
 XXII. Argument 78 
 
 XXIII. Gain and Loss 77 
 
 BOOK IV. 
 COLLISION. 
 
 XXIV. TwoandaPair 82 
 
 XXV. A Question of Privilege 88 
 
 XXVI. Characteristics 90 
 
 XXVIL The Preside 93 
 
 XXVIIL Golightley's Double 96 
 
 XXIX. A Kiss at Parting. 100 
 
 XXX. The Studio : 101 
 
 XXXL The Picture > 106 
 
 XXXIL A Customer 108 
 
 XXXIIL ACritio HI 
 
 BOOK V. 
 
 GEAPPLING. 
 
 XXXIV. Current Opinion 115 
 
 XXXV. Faithful Enemies 118 
 
 XXXVI. Boots and Eye-Glasses 123 
 
 XXXVII. Unftithftil Friends 124 
 
 XXXVIIL Uncle and Nephew 129 
 
 XXXIX. Lover and Mistress 182 
 
 XL. An Unfinished Sentence 185 
 
 BOOK VI. 
 
 LOVE-MAKING AND FLIRTATION. 
 
 Chap. XLI. Captive pase 189 
 
 SLlI. Dancing and Fiddling 144 
 
 XLIIL A Couple of Innocents 147 
 
 XLIV. The Other Two 161 
 
 XLV. The Veil and the Letter 156 
 
 XLVL Cold Comfort 158 
 
 XLVII. A Forgathering of Forefathers 189 
 
 XLVIII. A Powwow 161 
 
 XLIX. Putting the Case 166 
 
 BOOK VII. 
 DISCORD AND HARMONY. 
 
 L. Cuthbert 1T2 
 
 LI. Four Tempera lost 177 
 
 LII. Opinion and Prejudice Iti2 
 
 LIU. AVolunteer Ib4 
 
 LIV. A Sophist 187 
 
 LV. A Quacli 19H 
 
 LVI. Awakening 196 
 
 LVII. A Fresh Factor 200 
 
 LVIIl. Pickles and Cigarettes 208 
 
 BOOK VIU. 
 LEAVEN. 
 
 LIX. The Physician 207 
 
 LX. Nikomis's Lodger. 210 
 
 LXI. Changes , 214 
 
 LXII. Madge's VicissitudeB 220 
 
 LXIII. Poison 228 
 
 LXIV. Countermining 225 
 
 LXV. Housework 229 
 
 LXVI. A New Nephew. 2S1 
 
 LXVn. Craft 234 
 
 BOOK IX. 
 FERMENTATION. 
 
 LXVin. Lady Eleanor 288 
 
 LXIX. Between Darkness and Light 241 
 
 LXX. Dates and Initials 244 
 
 LXXI. Christmas Prospects 247 
 
 LXXIL Confession 250 
 
 LXXIII. Next Morning 254 
 
 LXXIV. Two Old Cronies 258 
 
 LXXV. Mutual Courtesies 261 
 
 BOOK X. 
 GARTH. 
 
 LXXVL Getting under Way 264 
 
 LXXVII. Questions and Answers 267 
 
 LXXVIIL Song and Frolic 270 
 
 LXXIX. Grim Earnest 273 
 
 LXXX. Brothers 276 
 
 LXXXL The Victim 280 
 
 LXXXII. Special Pleading 282 
 
 LXXXin. The Way of the World 285 
 
 LXXXIV. Urmhurst steps down 288 
 
G A E T H 
 
 BOOK I. 
 UBMHUR8T. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 A BIED-PKOLOQUB. 
 
 Evert clear morning, for more than two 
 hundred years past, the rising sun had 
 thrown across the hroad hip-roof of TJrm- 
 hurst the shadow of its eastern chimney. 
 The earliest beams, though fresh and pure 
 from their ocean-bath, yet scrupled not to 
 embrace the weather-worn old shaft, or to 
 kiss warmly its smoke-blackened mouth. 
 
 The chimney, for its part, seldom suffered 
 these kind greetings to pass without due rec- 
 ognition. In the winter months its reply 
 was a jolly puff of blue smoke, odorous of 
 the pungent spirit of the great pine-log 
 which had been kindled on the hearth be- 
 low. But its summer response was livelier 
 and, perhaps, more poetical. First would 
 be heard a mysterious, soft rumbling and 
 twittering, as though the venerable structure 
 were cleaning its sooty throat to say good- 
 morning; and anon, like cheerful thoughts 
 born of an aged heart, forth would flutter, 
 from their abode in the cavernous interior, 
 a rejoicing flock of chimney-swallows. 
 
 There were dozens and scores of them. 
 Hardly in all New England, and certainly 
 not in New Hampshire, could be found such 
 another chimney for swifts as this eastern 
 one of Urmhurst — so tall was it, so roomy, 
 I so full of convenient holes and crevices. 
 
 Here had they builded through generations 
 innumerable ; each head of a family, at his 
 decease, jealously transmitting the chosen 
 ancestral cranny to the eldest son. But 
 even the largest chimneys have a limit to 
 their capacity for accommodating lodgers; 
 and, during the last century or so, there must 
 have occurred in the swift colony many sad 
 but unavoidable family partings. Every year 
 a certain contingent must go forth to seek 
 their homes elsewhere. They would cluster 
 together upon the brink of their old dwell- 
 ing ; and perhaps the less experienced among 
 them would ask why they need go farther 
 than just across the roof, where the western 
 chimney, to all appearances the very twin 
 of the eastern, upreared itself in silent in- 
 vitation. 
 
 " Ah, my dear child," some wise old cock 
 would reply, whetting his beak against a 
 brick, and then tipping his head sagely to 
 one side, " that site is not so eligible as it 
 looks to be. Not a bird of us all has ever 
 settled there. The air thereabouts is very 
 feverish and unwholesome. In short, as I 
 said before, it's not so eligible as — " 
 
 " But what makes the air unwholesome, 
 grandpa ? " the youngster would break in. 
 
 "Well, you see, it's called the kitchen- 
 chimney ; and wherever, in your future ca- 
 reer, you come across a chimney that is called 
 a kitchen-chimney, don't go near it. They 
 are never wholesome ; and what makes it a 
 
6 
 
 GAETH. 
 
 greater pity is that half the time they're the 
 largest chimneys in the house." 
 
 " In my opinion, then, it's an outrage ; 
 and, if I live, I'U see it righted. What ! are 
 not chimneys made for chimney-swallows ? 
 Does not our very name demonstrate it? 
 And, if so, why should not one he as good as 
 another? " 
 
 " But men build them, you know," begins 
 the old cock, whetting his bill apologetically ; 
 " and perhaps they may sometimes want to 
 use them for some purposes of their own. 
 Ton see there are two sides to every ques- 
 tion ; appearances are deceptive, and, at all 
 events, we ought to allow men to plead their 
 own cause before condemning them." 
 
 "I disagree with you. You are old and 
 timid. For me, I hold no parley with in- 
 justice — I crush it. Men build chimneys, 
 perhaps ; but that is nothing to their credit, 
 they are obliged to do it in order- to accom- 
 modate us. Under what pretext, then, can 
 they usurp the use of them ? I say no in- 
 justice ever was more flagrant. It should be a 
 standing heritage of indignation to the swift 
 colony until it is righted ; and, for my part, I 
 am ready to begin the good work at once ! " 
 
 "Tut, tut! " says the old one, "you are 
 young and hot-headed; but what can you 
 do ? Do you suppose you are the first bird 
 that ever was indignant ? No, nor will you 
 be the last ; but the chimney will remain in- 
 eligible, nevertheless. At all events, don't 
 begin your reforms with Urmhurst ; for one 
 does not meet every day, as you will by-and- 
 by find out, with a human family so uniformly 
 considerate as these TJrmsons of ours. For 
 example, in my younger days," continued 
 the patriarch, beginning the story for the sev- 
 en-hundredth time at least — " in my younger 
 days, Garth Urmson and I became quite in- 
 timate. The friendship originated, you must 
 know, in his setting a fracture of this leg — " 
 
 " Yes, yes, yes ! " is the unanimous twit- 
 ter of the conclave; "don't tell us that old 
 yarn again; we know all about it, and how 
 kind Garth always has been to us. Why- 
 flhouldn't he be ? Yes, yes, yes ! " 
 
 " Quite so ! " rejoins the patriarch, pre- 
 tending not to mind the interruption, though 
 in reality quite put off the track of his ideas 
 by it — " quite so. Garth has always been 
 
 kind to us since that time ; it is out of the 
 regard he feels for me. When I am gone 
 you may find a difference ; I hope not, but 
 you may ! Yes, and the old gentleman, Mr. 
 Cuthbert Urmson, he is very obliging also. 
 Often and often has he put crumbs on his 
 study window-sill out of regard for me, you 
 understand ; and has smiled and nodded very 
 pleasantly when I came to carry them off. 
 A charming old gentleman ; I feel a sympa- 
 thy for him. I should not wonder if that 
 book he is writing were a history of chim- 
 ney-swallows ; supplemented, perhaps, with 
 allusions to his own family records, and to 
 the vicissitudes of Urmhurst itself. Now, is 
 it reasonable to suppose," adds the patri- 
 arch, suddenly getting his cue again, and 
 raising his chirp (for his audience was be- 
 traying symptoms of inattention) — "is it 
 reasonable, I say, to accuse persons, other- 
 wise so friendly, of wantonly — wantonly, 
 mark you ! — ^infringing upon our rights in a 
 matter so vital as this? No, a thousand 
 times no! Depend upon it, some hidden 
 causes are at work here. This old house is 
 full of mysterious and sinister traditions; 
 and who knows whether there may not be 
 some occult connection between the dinners 
 of our good friends below there, and this 
 unwholesome atmosphere of the kitchen- 
 chimney ? " 
 
 " Then," twitters the irreconcilable, 
 skimming away, "here goes for knocking 
 soot into their broth-kettle ! " 
 
 CHAPTER II. , 
 
 THE LEGEND OF THE THEESHOLD. 
 
 LEAvrsTG the annals of the swifts to good 
 Mr. Cuthbert Urmson (if such be really the 
 subject of his labors), let us observe with 
 how comfortable a familiarity the sunshine 
 disposes itself upon the gray-green lichens 
 of Urmhurst's shingled roof, and weaves 
 golden fibres into the ponderous oaken logs 
 wherewith the ancient house is built. An- 
 cient — yet it seems to wax more massive 
 and stalwart year by year. Here is no sag- 
 ging of the ridge-pole, nor leaning of tho 
 uprights, nor settling of the granite founda- 
 
THE LEGEND OF THE THEESHOLD. 
 
 tions. This oaken framework is stanch as a 
 mammoth's skeleton ; and these log-huilt 
 walls as enduring as stone courses. Perhaps 
 the sun, during the two centuries that he 
 has shone on TJrmhurst, has imparted to it, 
 along with his heat, something likewise of 
 his immortality. These great, nnpainted 
 boles, that sleep so snugly one on another, 
 have acquired a ruddy lustre suggestive of 
 living flesh and blood; but to the frailties 
 and infirmities of humanity they seem to 
 own no kinship. 
 
 Urmhurst faces the south ; and thus its 
 venerable front, rich in projections and un- 
 evennesses, takes the sun's rays obliquely, 
 and generates a carnival of shadows of all 
 shapes, sizes, and gradations. The curt hip- 
 roof is here modified by the addition of a 
 steeply-shelving curb, veiling the bareness 
 of the upper stpry, as though the house had 
 pulled its hat-brim low down over its fore- 
 head. Through this curb project the hooded 
 gables of three dormer-windows, the central 
 one cut down so as to form a glass door, 
 whereby access is had to a balcony sur- 
 mounting the porch. The eastern, known as 
 Eve's window, is framed in a climbing vine 
 of small pink roses. Below, the impending 
 eaves "cast a contemplative shade over the 
 deep-set casements of the ground-floor ; the 
 dormers project pointed shadows aslant ; 
 but the profoundest obscurity always col- 
 lects beneath the porch. This is partly due 
 to the fact that the pillars and canopy, in- 
 stead of being carpenter's work, are fash- 
 ioned of living trees — a couple of gnarled 
 and stunted oaks, planted generations ago 
 on either side the wide doorway. At the 
 height of about twelve feet from the ground 
 their upward growth has been arrested, and 
 the strength of their knotted limbs spread 
 out horizontally above the threshold stone. 
 Thus interlocked, they appear to grapple 
 each other like a pair of misshapen wrestlers. 
 They support the balcony appertaining to 
 the second floor, and their dark and sedate 
 foliage lets fall, on whomsoever passes be- 
 neath, a transparent veil of gloom. 
 
 This gloom has been deepened by tra- 
 dition. The death -grip of the two trees 
 would seem to typify a sinister deed said to 
 have been done on the spot, which was after- 
 
 ward covered by the stUl-existing granite 
 threshold, but which, at the primitive epoch 
 referred to, was the consecrated grave of a 
 mighty Indian warrior and sachem. After 
 his death, his tribe had migrated to a tract 
 several hundred miles to the southward ; 
 but his descendants (in obedience to some 
 pious superstition) were in the habit of 
 making occasional pilgrimages to his tomb. 
 What mystic rites they observe there we 
 have no means of knowing, but it is be- 
 lieved that every year, for more than three 
 generations, the two wisest and bravest 
 chiefs of the tribe were chosen to make the 
 long journey through the trackless forest ; 
 and, so great was the awe wherewith the 
 deceased sachem was invested, not only in 
 the eyes of his own people, but also in those 
 of other tribes, that the pilgrims never once 
 met with any hinderance on their sacred ex- 
 pedition, nor ever found the solemn privacy 
 of the tomb disturbed. 
 
 But at length there came a year when 
 the appointed twain arrived to find a strange 
 company there before them. The grave- 
 mound was situated near the centre of an 
 opening — a natural glade in the mid-heart 
 of the primeval forest. Around.it was now 
 assembled a troop of twenty or more white- 
 faced personages with steel caps on their 
 heads, and wearing bright accoutrements, 
 which glistened in the sunshine. A number 
 of wagons were drawn up near at hand 
 and fresh-faced women were seated on and 
 among the medley of household goods where- 
 with they were laden. Upon the conse- 
 crated mound itself a short, strongly-built 
 man, dark-browed, and bearing in the centre 
 of his chin a deep soar or cleft, had taken 
 his stand and was haranguing the assem- 
 blage. Close to him sat on horseback a 
 stately young woman, holding an infant in 
 her arms. She listened to the man's ha- 
 rangue, her dark eyes fixed sadly but loving- 
 ly on his face ; and when he ceased speaking 
 she turned to the steel-clad company and 
 uplifted before them her babe, uttering at 
 the same time words of earnest encourage- 
 ment, to which they of the steel head-pieces 
 responded with three loud shouts and a wav- 
 ing of their weapons. 
 
 Up to this moment the two Indians, hid- 
 
8 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 den within the leafy verge of the forest, had 
 looked on in mingled awe and amazement. 
 These were the first white men they had 
 seen, and they perhaps supposed them to be 
 a kind of spirits, come from heaven to do 
 honor to the illustrious dead. History, how- 
 ever, bids us recognize them as that sturdy 
 band of pioneers whom Captain Neil Hrm- 
 son, the Puritan soldier of Marston Moor 
 and Naseby, led, about the middle of the 
 seventeenth century, into the unknown wil- 
 derness west from Portsmouth. Captain 
 Urmson was a man of undoubted pith and 
 ability ; and, had it not been for the singu- 
 lar restlessness of disposition which drove 
 liim forth from the restraints of the Ports- 
 mouth colony, be would have made a deep 
 mark in the first pages of our New England 
 history. Though harsh of aspect and un- 
 equal in his moods, he seems to have been 
 possessed of a peculiar power over the wills 
 and judgments of those with whom he came 
 in personal contact. Wealthy, and endowed 
 with a physical strength and energy excep- 
 tional even in those iron times, he might 
 have risen to the highest place in almost any 
 community. But an uneasy devil possessed 
 him ; and, «,fter causing him to abandon the 
 prospect of a brilliant career in England un- 
 der the Protectorate (which he had helped 
 much to establish), it haunted him even in 
 his self-imposed exile over-seas. Scarce four 
 months after his disembarkation at Ports- 
 mouth, he already showed symptoms of dis- 
 content. Much was done to appease hira, 
 for the little colony could ill afford to be at 
 odds with so rich and able a member as 
 Captain Urmson. But it was all to no pur- 
 pose. Imperiously rejecting advice and rea- 
 son, he packed his wagons, collected his peo- 
 ple, and departed northwestward. Nothing 
 more was heard of hira, and he was soon 
 given up for lost. But boldness and sa- 
 gacity were his safeguard through the wild 
 difilculties and perils of the forest. He man- 
 aged either to awe or to conciliate such In- 
 dians as crossed his path ; and when, some 
 months after leaving the colony, he and his 
 followers halted at last on the site of the 
 sachem's grave, not a man of them all was 
 missing, or had suffered in health or limb. 
 At this point, however, blood was spilt. 
 
 Captain Urmson, in haranguing his retain-v 
 ers, had bade them look upon this forest- 
 glade as the nucleus of their futui-e home ; 
 and his wife Eleanor had cheered them by 
 showing the undaunted front of little Ralph, 
 a pioneer less than a year old — for he was 
 born at sea. Thereupon the captain, snatch- 
 ing a pickaxe from the hand of one of the 
 men standing near hira — John Selwyn by 
 name — and with the words, " Here, in this 
 virgin s6il, where are no dead bones or 
 blood-stains of the past, will I set the thresh- 
 old of our new life!" — with this singularly 
 infelicitous exclamation, he raised the heavy 
 pick above his head, and then drove it deep 
 into the green turf of the unsuspected grave. 
 
 Before he could uplift • it for another 
 stroke, a wild yell broke startling on the 
 ears of all. All recognized the Indian war- 
 whoop, and, fancying themselves attacked 
 by a whole tribe at once, they fell for a mo- 
 ment into something like confusion. Mean- 
 while, two dusky figures, with long black 
 hair and brandished tomahawks, had bound- 
 ed forward from the concealment of the 
 trees. One of them sprang at Captain 
 Urmson, and wrenched the pickaxe from 
 his hand. The suddenness and audacity of 
 the savage apparition increased the dismay 
 of the white men, not one of whom stirred 
 in defense. But on Neil Urmson's swarthy 
 face there was at once a smile and a dark 
 frown. Eleanor, who had seen that ex- 
 pression once before at a momentous epoch 
 in their lives, turned pale and tried to re- 
 strain him as he was drawing the heavy pis- 
 tol from his belt. 
 
 "Do not, husband 1" she said. "Re- 
 member our wedding-day ; defile not like- 
 wise this first hour of our new life with 
 blood ! " 
 
 Tradition afBnns that Urmson did hesi- 
 tate for a moment, with his hand on the 
 butt of the pistol. And then was heard th« 
 stentorian voice of the Reverend Analc 
 Graeme, who had accompanied Urmson 
 from England, and was rumored to have 
 been the ofiiciating clergyman at his mar- 
 riage, "Verily, methinks it were well to 
 parley with the heathen before slaying 
 them I" 
 
 " Well said 1 " cried John Selwyn, a slen- 
 
THE GENERATION'S. 
 
 derly- built man, with bold eyes and careless 
 bearing. " Give the devil his due, captain. 
 For aught we know, these red-skinned sin- 
 ners may have better right here than we ! " 
 
 But, even as he spoke, the second Indian, 
 who was younger and presumably less steady 
 than his companion, drew his bow and let 
 fly an arrow. It glanced harmlessly from 
 the Captain's polished helmet, and pierced 
 Eleanor's shoulder, and the face of little 
 Ealph was smeared with her blood. As 
 quick as thought Neil leveled his pistol and 
 fired right into the heart of the first Indian, 
 who was close in front of him. The tall 
 savage leaped from the ground, and falling 
 prone, his brawny arms hugged the grave 
 of his dishonored ancestor, and his teeth bit 
 the turf. Eleanor, though sorely wounded, 
 clasped her child to her bosom and strove 
 to support herself upon her frightened 
 horse. Scarce a minute had elapsed since 
 the first alarm of the war-whoop. 
 
 By the time the smoke of Captain Neil's 
 pistol had cleared away, his retainers had 
 formed to resist as best they might the ex- 
 pected onslaught. But they waited in vain. 
 Only the dark trunks of the mighty oaks 
 and hemlocks surrounded them, and there 
 was no sound save the twittering of soared 
 birds, and the rustle of the leaves in the 
 summer wind. No avengers came ; or, if 
 any, not then, nor for many a year there- 
 after. The second Indian had fled, silently 
 as a dream, toward the distant wigwams of 
 his tribe, there to keep alive, as tradition 
 would have us believe, an hereditary mem- 
 ory of the sacrilege and a purpose of re- 
 quital. A neighboring stream, which rushes 
 headlong over a jagged bed of rooks and 
 empties into a lake some miles away, is stiU 
 pointed out as having been traversed by the 
 cfugitive in his desperate canoe. 
 
 Having assured themselves of their safe- 
 ty, the colonists had leism*e to take thought 
 concerning the dead and wounded. As to 
 the former, it was resolved, in accordance 
 with Captain Urmson's suggestion, to bury 
 the heathen on the spot where he had fallen, 
 and to make his gravestone the threshold of 
 the projected edifice. " For it is fitting," 
 said the grim Puritan, " and an emblem of 
 what shall surely come to pass throughout 
 
 this land, that in entering our new, home we 
 plant our foot first upon the bones of the 
 red-man." 
 
 In digging the grave, however, the relics 
 of the ancient sachem were revealed, and 
 the mysterious attack of the two Indians 
 thereby explained. The grave-diggers here- 
 upon shook their heads, and were reluctant 
 to proceed ; and John Selwyn threw down 
 his spade, and flatly refused to have any- 
 thing more to do with the business ; declar- 
 ing, with sundry strange oaths peculiar 'to 
 him, that no good would come of stealing 
 dead men's ground, and that, rather than 
 live there, he would part from the colony 
 and seek his foi-tune alone. Captain Urm- 
 son, then, having resolutely confronted his 
 enemies while they were alive, was not in- 
 clined to be squeamish about them dead. 
 Taking Selwyn's spade, and thrusting the 
 other men aside, he finished the grave him- 
 self, and pitched into it the body of the 
 slain, and covered up the corpse with the 
 earth-stained skeleton of the original occu- 
 pant. He stamped the earth level with his 
 booted feet, and looking with glowing eyes 
 into the faces of the silent group who had 
 stood watching his ill-omened toil — "It is 
 my deed," he said, " and thus do I trample 
 down this blood, and all superstitious ter- 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE Q-BNEEATI0N8. 
 
 StroH is the gloomy legend that underlies 
 the threshold of our story. Selwyn was as 
 good as his word, and departed with what 
 few possessions he had ; being the first of 
 Captain Urmson's followers who had ever 
 had the hardihood to desert him. Never- 
 theless, Urmhurst was built, and a huge slab 
 of rough-hewed granite, heavy enough to 
 have kept down the most athletic ghost, 
 pressed its weight above the nameless re- 
 mains. It so happened, however, that the 
 frost of the ensuing winter, or some other 
 less obvious' agent, cracked the ponderous 
 stone across its entire breadth; and this 
 cleft, from a variety of causes, became after- 
 
10 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 ward so much widened that, at the epoch 
 of which I am to write, there were two dis- 
 tinct thresholds instead of one, with a gap 
 of two or three inches between them. This 
 accident was interpreted by the sagacious as 
 a sign that the blood which Neil Urmson 
 had so arrogantly trodden into the earth 
 would one day rise against him ; and for 
 many years whatever misfortune befell the 
 family, whether or not really ascribable to 
 the Indians, was by such sapient persons un- 
 erringly referred to a birthplace beneath the 
 cloven threshold. 
 
 TJrmhurst was built ; but, at least during 
 its builder's lifetime, it could hardly have been 
 a cheerful dwelling-place. Eleanor never 
 recovered from the effects of her wound. 
 She lingered through several months; but, 
 when the house was at last completed, 
 she had to be carried to her chamber and 
 laid upon the bed which she left only for 
 the graveyard. Hints have come down to 
 us that her death was hastened by mental 
 disquietude ; and her reference, when trying 
 to dissuade her husband from bloodshed, to 
 something which had happened on their 
 wedding-day, has been quoted in support of 
 this notion. Furthermore, attempts have 
 been made to trace a connection between 
 / the purport of these words of hers and the 
 sudden self-banishment of Captain Urmson 
 from England. His family had been a promi- 
 nent and powerful one; the English TJrm- 
 hurst was a valuable estate; and the Crom- 
 wellian party, of which the captain was an 
 adherent, was just establishing its supremacy 
 when he exiled himself. Had he remained 
 he must presumably have filled a high office 
 under the new government. Why had he 
 fled? Not, surely, from religious motives, 
 since he had never been a religious bigot ; 
 and though after his emigration he was oc- 
 casionally subject to violent fits of fanaticism, 
 yet these had no root in his nature, and gen- 
 erally left him with a tendency toward reac- 
 tion. The explanation therefore must be 
 sought elsewhere ; and, putting what was 
 known and what was surmised together, the 
 conclusion was reached that Captain Urm- 
 son had done some deed rendering himself 
 alike odious to his own and the opposite 
 party ; and that his marriage with Eleanor 
 
 had somehow been either the incitement to 
 this deed or the occasion of it. 
 
 To button-hole the captain and ask him 
 the simple question whose answer would put 
 an end to conjecture, might seem a simple 
 matter ; but there were serious obstacles to 
 this course. The first master of Urmhurst 
 would certainly have knocked down whom- 
 soever had presumed to catechise him, and 
 possibly would not have been contented to 
 stop even there. He had never been dis- 
 tinguished for affability, and after his wife's 
 death he became uncompromisingly savage. 
 He shut himself up in his fort (for Urmhurst 
 was really little more than that in his life- 
 time), and devoted himself to the education 
 of his son Ralph, who is said to have strong- 
 ly resembled his father, even to the cleft in 
 the chin. The captain had no near neigh- 
 bors, Urmhurst standing then, as always, 
 alone. The other members of the colony 
 built their huts on the hanks of the rapid 
 stream to the westward, thus forming the 
 germ of the prosperous little village of Urms- 
 worth, which exists there to-day. This se- 
 cession may have been owing to those super- 
 stitious terrors which Urmson himself had 
 professed to despise ; hut it is as readily ex- 
 plained by the circumstance that, although 
 the situation of Urmhurst itself is unap- 
 proachably fine, there happens to be no other 
 site in the vicinity even tolerably eligible. 
 
 The house, as we behold it now, rises 
 from the summit of a smooth, grassy knoll, 
 barely half an acre in area. This knoll is 
 itself the culminating point of a long and 
 gradual acclivity, ascending by almost im- 
 perceptible degrees from the broad southern 
 valley. The real loftiness of the site can 
 be realized only by considering how wide a 
 sweep of prospect it commands over a scene 
 of beauty at once noble and peaceful. The 
 wooded slopes trend majestically southward 
 till they merge in the broad gleam of a lake 
 some three miles away. Beyond appear at 
 intervals the white reaches of a placid stream, 
 winding onward through miles of level cran- 
 berry-pastures, which themselves resemble 
 a gigantic green river, slumbering between 
 wooded shores. The farther extremity of 
 this valley is sentineled by a mountain — or 
 rather a group of high hills— having the ap- 
 
THE GENEEATIONS. 
 
 11 
 
 pearance, from the poiat of view of TJrm- 
 hurst, of a crouching lion, whose shaggy 
 head rests ponderously on his fore-paws. 
 
 The Indian name of this mountain is "Wa- 
 beno — the Juggler; perhaps in allusion to 
 the protean changes which the seasons and 
 the variations of the weather cause him to 
 undergo. In spring he acquires a dark-blu- 
 ish tinge, especially in the early morning, 
 when the moist haziness of the atmosphere 
 is supplemented by the fleecy mists which 
 ascend from the meadows and clamber up 
 his headlong sides. In summer his coat is 
 shadowed purple, with greenish lights ; and 
 monster thunder-clouds sweep and burst over 
 his crest, letting through broad, slanting bars 
 of gauzy light. In autumn his mane grows 
 tawny, and the clear air magnifies him, so 
 that he appears nearer by several miles than 
 at other seasons. In times of drought he 
 occasionally takes fire, and lies swathed for 
 days or weeks in mysterious clouds of shift- 
 ing smoke, which by night are illumined 
 with a dull russet glow, like that reflected 
 upward from the profound pit of a volcano. 
 "Winter makes him gray and ghost-like ; and 
 when in long December nights the white 
 moon hangs above him in the frosty sky, he 
 seems in truth no more substantial than an 
 horizon cloud. In snow-storms he vanishes 
 quite away; but when the northern winds 
 have cleared the valley, there he looms as 
 before — a lion in the path ! After all this 
 phantom show of life and activity, behold ! 
 he crouches impassive and motionless, his 
 shaggy head upon his paws. There he lies, 
 and seems to watch the old house, that 
 watches back from its lonely station twenty 
 miles away. 
 
 It has been fancifully affirmed that Wa- 
 beno is in fact neither a mountain nor a lion, 
 but an incarnation of the spirit of that incor- 
 rigible old sachem whose dust lies under- 
 neath Urmhurst's ■ threshold-stone. And it 
 is farther stated that when Urmhurst shall 
 step down from between the two tower- 
 like chimneys to which it has been moored 
 during so many generations, Wabeno will 
 spring up and emit a roar which shall make 
 New Hampshire tremble. If we grant the 
 first act of this drama, we might admit the 
 second ; but the ancient mansion budges 
 
 not ! It has rested so long on its granite 
 foundations that it has almost become a part 
 of the continent itself. Like some imme- 
 morial oak-tree, it has thrown out roots far 
 and near and on every side, so that its up- 
 heaval would tear open the ground for a 
 quarter of a mile in circuit. It is the eye 
 and key of the landscape, harmonizing so 
 justly with its surroundings that any alter- 
 ation would seem tantamount to the viola- 
 tion of a natural law. 
 
 This semblance of spontaneous growth is 
 enhanced by the devious footpaths which 
 load this way a"nd that from the doors, and 
 journey in time-worn furrows down the 
 slopes. "We cannot call them artifloial, for 
 they were honestly worn by the footsteps 
 of generations, and therefore fill precisely 
 their natural places. Yonder, where it goes 
 up the acclivity, the track is narrow but 
 deeply worn ; whereas, above, it broadens 
 and throws off a lighter sideway parallel to 
 itself. See again how deftly it avoids that 
 jut of rook ; and here, how sagaciously it 
 slips beneath the shadow of the great elm. 
 In a similar manner do the other accessories 
 of the dwelling conspire to fix it more in- 
 timately in its place. The antique well- 
 sweep, poised like a giant's fishing-pole, in 
 the crotch of a tree ; the barn, which looks 
 older than the house, though in reality its 
 junior by near a century ; the great orchard 
 in the rear toward the north, containing 
 trees off which old Neil himself might have 
 gathered apples — all these things are mar- 
 riage-tokens. 
 
 And finally there is the graveyard, indis- 
 solublest bond of all, since it is a moral as 
 well as a natural one. It lies about a hun- 
 dred paces eastward, and takes the earliest 
 sunshine. It is well populated, this little 
 inclosure, for although the Urmson race has 
 ever been a turbulent and adventurous one 
 — many of them followers of the sea, or 
 fighters against whomsoever there was to 
 fight, Indian, Frenchman, or Englishman, 
 as the case might be — it has, nevertheless, 
 happened that most of them wandered home 
 to die. The burial-ground was consecrated 
 by that same Reverend Anak of whom we 
 have already had a glimpse — he who mar- 
 ried Eleanor to Neil, and came with them 
 
12 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 to the New World. This worthy man of 
 God lived to pronounce another than the 
 marriage service over the pair: they are 
 buried in one grave. The imaginative mor- 
 alizer will observe that, although Eleanor's 
 epitaph is still legible, in that of her hus- 
 band, who died nearly forty years later, only 
 the single word "died" has survived ob- 
 literation. 
 
 Near at hand stands the tombstone of 
 Ealph, who, if report be true, inherited all 
 the bad and gloomy traits of his father, with 
 few of his virtues. But he was gifted with 
 the same peculiar personal influence over 
 the minds and wills of others that Neil had 
 possessed. It was remarked, liowever, that 
 as often as the Ormsons had their way in a 
 matter (and they seldom failed to have it), 
 it turned to their disadvantage. Their luck, 
 in other vcords, was their misfortune. Now, 
 if there be a certain crisis in the life of every 
 man, when a depraved or impious passion 
 engages in final contest with better knowl- 
 edge and pui-er instincts, could the latter's 
 defeat be more fitly punished than by doom- 
 ing the sinner to act successfully out, forever 
 afterward, his unrestrained and unrepentant 
 self? So may it have fared with these dark- 
 browed, hot-hearted Ui-msons, who often 
 seemed to carry all before them at the very 
 moment when they were being hurried to 
 their own destruction. 
 
 We search in vain among the tombstones 
 for the record of any daughter of the Urm- 
 son name. For it is a remarkable fact that, 
 since the epoch of their emigration, no 
 woman-child has been born to them — as 
 though the family nature were too harsh 
 and gloomy to produce a feminine flower. 
 Not a daughter in seven generations ? Yes, 
 one there has been, and within the present 
 century ; but there is more of sorrow than 
 of joy in the mention of her name. Eve 
 TJrmson was the daughter of Garth's grand- 
 father — old Brian, of Revolutionary renown. 
 She is described as having been a peculiar 
 but fascinating child, and the old warrior is 
 said to have taken boundless pride and de- 
 light in her. When she was ten years old. 
 Eve disappeared, and was never afterward 
 heard of. It was conjectured that a party 
 of Indians, who were known to have been 
 
 in the neighborhood about the time of the 
 child's disappearance, had kidnapped her^ 
 and such of the old wives and village ora- 
 cles as had kept alive a memory of the 
 legends, maintained that the kidnappers 
 were no other than the lineal descendants 
 of the sachem and his murdered defend- 
 er, who thus wreaked their revenge. Be 
 that as it may, Urmhurst's greatest blessing 
 was thus changed into its saddest misfor- 
 tune, 
 
 A lack of the feminine element is notice- 
 able about the house; its features and as- 
 pects, though for the most part picturesque, 
 I are too massive and masculine. Eve's cham- 
 j her is the only exception ; it has been pre- 
 I served nearly as she left it, and the rose-vine, 
 which her childish hands planted, clambers 
 unrestrained over her window. But there 
 is need of a living and loving woman in these 
 great, old-fashioned, wainscoted rooms. 
 Garth's mother died while he was in col- 
 lege; and latterly he and his father — who 
 is a son of Brian Urmson by a first marriage, 
 and half-brother to the lost Eve — have lived 
 here pretty much by themselves, each im- 
 mersed in his own chosen pursuit, and put- 
 ting the maintenance of the farm in the light 
 of a recreation. The only other member 
 of the family known to be alive is an own 
 brother of Eve's named Golightley — the 
 name of his mother's family, old settlers of 
 Virginia. Golightley was remembered in 
 Urmsworth village as a talented and affable 
 youth, whose delicate constitution unfitted 
 him for the pursuit of any hard-working 
 profession, and who went to Europe in quest 
 of health and of that aesthetic culture which 
 his soul craved. Apparently he must have 
 found what he sought, for he had already 
 been absent more than twenty years without 
 betraying any inclination to return. 
 
 But it is time to bring this preliminary 
 chat to a close. Urmhurst still stands in the 
 woods, though now the primitive forest-glade 
 has expanded into a clearing of thirty acres, 
 chiefiy comprising the profile of the southern 
 slope. Part of this land is used as a vege- 
 table-garden ; there are corn and potato 
 fields, and ample pasturage for cows and 
 horses. As for the interior of the mansion, 
 it is chiefly remarkable for an antique spa- 
 
THE MAN. 
 
 13 
 
 ciousness of hall and staircase, a suggestive 
 mystery of garret and cellar, and a noble 
 extravagance of hearth and chimney-corner. 
 
 But it is rather with the TTrmsons than with 
 their dwelling that we are presently con- 
 cerned. 
 
 BOOK II. 
 THE FATHER OF THE MAN. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE MAN. 
 
 A BEO AD-BUILT young fellow, about twen- 
 ty-six years of age, but looking older, stands 
 on the cloven threshold of Urmhurst, with 
 his feet apart and his face bent downward, 
 as though in reverie. His eyes, however, are 
 rather outlooking than introspeotiye; and, 
 considering how fair a prospect lies before 
 him, it would be strange if they were other- 
 wise. The sun shines level through the Oc- 
 tober oak-leaves on the eastern side of the 
 porch, and oasts a russet glow on the young 
 fellow's swarthy cheek. 
 
 Like most IJrmsons, Garth is shorter than 
 the average of men ; but, to make up for it, 
 he is chested like a bison, and vigorous and 
 compact all over. His dress this morning 
 differs little from that ordinarily worn by 
 the New Hampshire farmer. His dark, 
 shaggy hair pokes itself through the torn 
 crown of a battered straw hat, which he has 
 clapped on tlie capacious back of his head. 
 In his left hand is a toft of maple-leaves, 
 the splendid scarlet of which causes his red- 
 flannel shirt to appear dingy by contrast. 
 A rough sack-coat (the pockets bulging with 
 crimson and yellow apples), and corduroy 
 trousers tucked into cowhide boots, com- 
 plete his costume. He carries, strapped to 
 his back, a sort of shallow knapsack ; and 
 in his right hand a bundle of something 
 neatly tied up in a linen case, like a jointed 
 fishing-rod. From outward appearances, 
 therefore, he might be going angling. 
 
 The famous green door of Urmhurst forms 
 
 an agreeable background to this sturdy 
 figure. It is a massive structure of six-inch 
 oaken timbers, clamped and bolted with 
 iron, and scarred by many an ineffectual 
 dint of tomahawk and bullet in Indian fights 
 of yore. On the upper part of the frame- 
 work may still be deciphered the date and 
 initials, "N. U., 1648," deeply cut in old- 
 fashioned characters. This redoubtable 
 door, besides enjoying its present green old 
 age, passed a verdant youth and prime like- 
 wise. It got its latest coat of emerald so 
 long ago as the "War of 1812 ; but the forty 
 years or so which have elapsed since then 
 have so mellowed and enriched the original 
 tint that, at a few paces' distance, we might 
 fancy the hard surface overgrown with a 
 thick coating of soft moss, like that which 
 cushions tombstones in the damp church- 
 yards of Old England. 
 
 Though the sun is but half an hour out 
 of the Atlantic, Garth has already made the 
 rounds of the farm. His bedroom being on 
 the ground-floor, he had only to lift the 
 sash and swing himself out ankle-deep ia 
 the thick grass which grows just beneath 
 the eaves. He went first to the barn, 
 pushed up the long wooden latch, and en- 
 tered. The interior was dark, but sweet 
 and comfortable with the breath of cows 
 and hay. The farm animals, one and all, 
 greeted him with hearty brute courtesy, 
 which he returned with a tender human in- 
 dulgence, being on the kindest terms with 
 them all. It is wholesome for a man whose 
 demeanor toward the world is reserved to 
 unmask himself to these jolly, unceremoni- 
 ous, soft-hearted creatures, whose regard. 
 
14 
 
 GAETH. 
 
 because it cannot help being sincere, is the 
 most cordial flattery. Garth might well 
 prize his horses and oxen, his cows and his 
 hens; for their use was not to be measured 
 by eggs, milk, or draft. Men are caskets 
 compact of a score of metals, in which the 
 cunning workmanship disguises the ma- 
 terial ; animals are the virgin ore, frank 
 and simple, and to be loved or loathed only 
 for their intrinsic qualities. But men would 
 be mere outlines without them — fine bits of 
 draughtmanship, devoid of color or sub- 
 stance. The material value of beasts and 
 birds can at most be but symbolic of their 
 actual use — or such was Garth's opinion. 
 It was pleasant to behold what a fund of 
 innocent playfulness was developed between 
 the two parties : the young man had his 
 private joke with each four-footed or feath- 
 ered compatriot, and many was the humor- 
 ous smile or sympathetic guffaw that they 
 enjoyed together. 
 
 The morning compliments being over. 
 Garth opened an eastern shutter, and let a 
 stream of morning fall aslant the manger. 
 The picturesque effect seemed to strike him, 
 and he stood observing it for several mo- 
 ments. Presently, he bethought himself of 
 the crimson horse-blanket which lay folded 
 up under the seat of the old sleigh ; he 
 fetched it out and hung it over the lower 
 rounds of the ladder which leaned against 
 the hay-bin, half in and half out of shadow. 
 Further consideration led him to stir up a 
 little more dust to spin in the sharp-drawn 
 light-beam. He was now the possessor of 
 such a Rembrandt as might have been 
 dreamed of, but was never painted — gloomy, 
 rich, luminous. A human countenance would, 
 perhaps, have been an addition; but, after 
 all, what could be finer than the dark head 
 of that buU, with his white horns illuminat- 
 ed from the window, and the hairy edges of 
 his ears softened by the light ? The human 
 being might'be left to the imagination, and 
 improve thereby ; but the bull could be 
 omitted on no pretense whatever. The pict- 
 ure being arranged to his satisfaction. Garth 
 studied it with a pithy, efficient musing, 
 which never seemed to wander vaguely from 
 the point, but to be determined by a con- 
 stant and conscious purpose. This purpose, 
 
 whatever it might be, could have had very 
 little to do with practical farming ; and, were 
 it not that young Mr. Urmson owns a vis- 
 age singularly deficient in aimlessness, he 
 would undoubtedly have been open to the 
 suspicion of wasting his time. 
 
 When he had done studying the Rem- 
 brandt, Garth lingered not purposelessly 
 about ; though he seemed to be never out 
 of leisure, yet did his times and seasons fit- 
 snugly into one another, without either gaps 
 or crowdings. He passed from the barn 
 westward to the vegetable-garden. The In- 
 dian-corn had been harvested, but the stalks, 
 bound together in eccentric pyramids, stood 
 in dry, rustling rows along the dusty field. 
 Adjoining this was the potato-district, many 
 of its hills already despoiled of their ill-com- 
 plexioned treasures, and the greenery of the 
 rest withered and drooping. Next came 
 the pumpkin and squash plantation, and here 
 again the farmer made thoughtful pause. 
 The yellow squashes, with their long, twisted 
 necks seemed to be alive and striving, in a 
 ridiculous panic of would-be modesty, to 
 hide their glaring nakedness beneath their 
 shriveled leaves. Meanwhile the mighty 
 pumpkins reposed serene and complete, with 
 a broad, golden smile of full content, each 
 one swelling his yellow sides at the sun, and 
 looking at least as big and solid as that lumi- 
 nary. Garth put himself to some trouble to 
 select the goldenest and snakiest of the 
 squashes — as though the curves and color of 
 the great vegetable were of more importance 
 to him than its succulence — and, carrying it 
 back to the house, conveyed it heedfuUy 
 through the pantry -window. Then he be- 
 thought himself of the orchard, and proceed- 
 ed thither forthwith, whistling as he went. 
 
 In its prime, a few generations ago, this 
 had been accounted the finest orchard in 
 New Hampshire — ^no small renown in that 
 American garden of the Hesperides. Most 
 delectable fruit, in eight or nine varieties, 
 could still be eaten there ; and of late years 
 an attempt had Been made, by dint of prun- 
 ing, grafting, and setting out, to bring back 
 again the ancient repute. The present sea- 
 son's crop was a fine one ; and Garth, stroll- 
 ing about beneath the trees, his hands thrust 
 in his sacque-pockets and his hat on the 
 
THE MAN. 
 
 15 
 
 back of his head, rejoiced in the tall scarlet 
 and yellow heaps which were gathered to- 
 gether beneath the low branches. Fascinat- 
 ing, likewise, were the grotesque contortions 
 of the trees themselves. Apple-bearing, one 
 would suppose, must be the painfulest of all 
 vegetable processes. Some of the old limbs 
 were the incarnation of twisted agony ; and 
 there were few trees but had eaten their an- 
 cient hearts out in voiceless torment, and 
 now harbored blue-jays -and woodpeckers 
 in their hollow bosoms. Nevertheless, the 
 sweetest fruit often grew on the ungainliest 
 boughs ; and, in spring. Garth had not failed 
 to admire how well beauty and fragrance 
 and freshness assimilated with old age, de- 
 formity, and decay. 
 
 Having stuffed his pockets with lusty 
 crimson baldwins and firm-fleshed russets, 
 he turned homeward. An elderly crow, 
 which had been contemplating the sunrise 
 from the top of a lofty hemlock, accosted 
 him with a single taunting, " Caw ! " as much 
 as to say, " I would much rather be what I 
 am than what you are ! " Garth picked up 
 a worm-eaten pippin, and flung it at the 
 contemptuous fowl with so true an aim that, 
 had not the latter been wary, there might 
 have been a catastrophe. But it was not 
 unacquainted with the red-shirted man and 
 his ways, and, entering at once into the spirit 
 of the thing, it pretended to be seriously 
 alarmed, and pitched flapping from its perch 
 with a volley of hoarse objurgations. The 
 cry was straightway taken up by the whole 
 indigenous community of crows, and in an- 
 other moment thirty or forty of these sable 
 humorists were wheeling their black bodies 
 aloft and clamoring their harshest ostensi- 
 bly in vast consternation, but really for their 
 own and Garth's amusement. 
 
 A little on the hither verge of the pine- 
 forest grew a large sugar-maple, its autumnal 
 foliage showing against that gloomy back- 
 ground like a bonfire. Halting here in his 
 pursuit of the crows, our transcendental , 
 farmer gathered himself a great bunch of ; 
 flaming leaves. With them he returned to i 
 the House ; and, finding that neither his fa- 
 ther nor old Nikomis, the cook, was yet stir- 
 ring, he clambered in by the window as 
 quietly as he had come out. Ten minutes 
 
 afterward he reissued through the front- 
 door, and paused a moment within the porch, 
 where we first caught sight of him. Anon 
 \ he stepped briskly forth from shadow to sun- 
 shine, casting aside his preoccupation, and 
 appearing so alert that it would have been 
 diflicult to believe his proper mood a con- 
 templative one. Action seemed the truer 
 sphere for him, so soon as he became ac- 
 tive. 
 
 He followed the grass-bordered path that 
 clung to the eastward declivity, enjoying 
 the morning clouds, while his shadow undu- 
 lated long and slim behind him. Arriving 
 presently at the little graveyard, squared 
 within its compact stone fence, he went in 
 and paused beside the latest grave, now sev- 
 eral years old. Here lay buried the mor- 
 tality of Martha TJrmson, Garth's mother, 
 and daughter of old Parson Graeme, who 
 was still above-ground after near a century 
 of earthly existence. The little flower-bed 
 which crowned the grave had ceased to 
 bloom, and Garth plucked away the withered 
 leaves and stalks, and emblazoned the brown 
 strip of earth with his splendid maple-leaves. 
 No breeze was astir as yet, and they lay mo- 
 tionless there, though seemingly aglow with 
 life. But to the young man's mind the life 
 of autumn was of a kind to harmonize well 
 with tombstones. There was more heart- 
 break in her deep-toned sunshine than in 
 the gloom of conventional mourning, and 
 her gayest painting could but make the seer 
 thoughtful and often sad. For her pomps 
 presaged decay ; and the strand of pathos was 
 suhtilely inwoven with hers as with all mor- 
 tal beauty. 
 
 But, however alive to these perceptions. 
 Garth would have been guilty of an affecta- 
 tion alien to his temperament, could behave 
 faced the rich phantasmagoria of the valley 
 otherwise than delightedly. Surely, thought 
 he, it looked its best to-day. The thin- 
 spread mists were dissolving like a happy 
 dream, and mellow ranges of red and yellow 
 awakened to vividness near at hand, and 
 lapsed in violet cadences far away. Au- 
 tumn was the holiday — the Sunday of the 
 year. She reclined at ease, ripe, voluptuous, 
 sweet-breathed with new-mown hay, robed 
 in crimson and crowned with gold. She 
 
16 
 
 GAETH. 
 
 was more tender than the working seasons — 
 with a pensive tenderness infinitely winning. 
 Cheerful in her emhrace could no one he; 
 hut she wooed her love farhelow the trifling 
 surface-ripple of emotion, and taught him 
 the neglected wisdom of repose. 
 
 Garth had so loving an eye for color, and 
 had so often hrooded over the autumnal as- 
 pects of his native woods, that it would he 
 wronging him to suppress all allusion to such 
 matters. And he was a man endowed with 
 deep susceptibilities, which yet were seldom 
 able to find utterance in speech. If he in- 
 dulged in soliloquies, therefore, they were 
 of a kind not immediately quotable on a 
 printed page. But this solitary walk of his 
 (which should he taken as a type of many 
 similar walks, and indeed of one complete 
 phase of his life at this epoch) possessed a 
 sort of significance which it would not do 
 entirely to neglect. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 AN OOTOBEE VIOLET. 
 
 Aftee leaving the graveyard, the path 
 continued its unobtrusive journey down the 
 slope, Garth striding downward with it, 
 eating a cool apple as he went, and rejoicing 
 in the dew which abundantly glossed his 
 cowhide hoots. In a few minutes he had 
 entered the forest which infringed upon the 
 southern extremity of the long pasture. The 
 trees grew thickly, hut shadow there was 
 none. A golden glow lingered in the densest 
 coverts, for the 'density was itself an illu- 
 mination. The black trunks and branches 
 appeared overstrong for their ethereal sun- 
 shiny burdens. The greenness which had 
 not yet forsaken the grass in sheltered situ- 
 ations — the greenness which summer cheap- 
 ens — now seemed rare and strange, the super- 
 fluity of pomp giving a new worth to sim- 
 plicity. 
 
 It is well, after all, that the autumn 
 glories of New England should be so transi- 
 tory. These sunset tints of foliage exalt the 
 beholder's spirit to a pitch which could not 
 long be sustained. Green is the color that 
 
 lies nearest to human sympathies, and no 
 diviner one could he suffered permanently 
 to usurp its place in Nature. Indeed, it is 
 remarkable that Yankees accept the magic 
 transformations of their October so philoso- 
 phically as they do — that they are not startled 
 or even incredulous, as they doubtless would 
 be were the matter one of hearsay. But 
 throughout this appai'ently reckless splendor 
 there runs ever a saving element of econ- 
 omy ; the reds and yellows are all variations 
 of one theme, and differ among themselves 
 not more than do the greens of summer. 
 There is no gaudiness ; and thus no one re- 
 members to he astonished at the display un- 
 til it is over. 
 
 The footpath, beyond the pasture limits, 
 merged into a forest lane : in the centre a 
 narrow channel, worn by horses' feet, flanked 
 on both sides by deep wheel-ruts, while thin 
 ridges of green turf intervened. From its 
 work-a-day, business-like aspect, this lane 
 might have been supposed, by the unwary, 
 to he the introduction to some country road, 
 and, becoming more and more public-spirited 
 and practical as it proceeded, finally to at- 
 tain the dignity and social position of a turn- 
 pike or highway. As a matter of fact, how- 
 ever, it had no more end than beginning, 
 and could properly be said to exist only as 
 to its centre. New England woods are full 
 of such deceptive lanes, beginning without 
 apparent reason, and fading put of sight just 
 when the lost traveler is expecting to arrive 
 at something. They are, in truth, created 
 and used by the wood-cutters, whose carts 
 and sledges have worn these ruts ; and since 
 the ends of wood-cutters differ from those of 
 other men, though their means are the same, 
 we must not wonder at their leading us to 
 a pine - stump when we had made up our 
 mouths for a village. 
 
 As for Garth, he numbered wood-cutting 
 among his own accomplishments, and was 
 rather pleased than disconcerted when the 
 path ran up a tree and the forest grew track- 
 less before him. Had he lived in colonial 
 times he would have plunged into the prime- 
 val wilderness with all the boldness and fer- 
 vor of the original Captain Neil ; not, like 
 him, from a morbid distaste for society, but 
 with masculine zest for the charms of virgin 
 
AN OOTOBEE VIOLET. 
 
 IT 
 
 Nature — savage and hard to tame. His spir- 
 its dilated as he left civilized boundaries be- 
 hind hitn, until at length even his dilapidated 
 hat grew irksome, and he pulled it off, and 
 threw back the broad collar of his shirt. 
 The woods were almost utterly silent ; cold 
 nights had chilled the loquacity of insects, 
 and the birds seemed to have sung all their 
 songs for that year, and to be meditating 
 what next. Now and then a chattering 
 squirrel darted from apparent non-existence 
 into intensest life, and after a noisy minute 
 departed into notlimgness once more. Far 
 oft' somewhere sounded the drumming of a 
 partridge, or close at hand one suddenly 
 whizzed from its covert. But the Midas's 
 touch which had transmuted the trees to 
 gold seemed to have stricken existence al- 
 most dumb. 
 
 Presently, however, Garth began to 
 whistle, mellowly as an Aj?cadian flute- 
 player. The sound melted sweetly into the 
 forest distances, like a bird-note ; hni he 
 pursued it along the glowing vistas with a 
 grave jocundity of step and countenance. 
 The land tended by long gradients down- 
 ward, and occasionally his foot sank in 
 »wampy ground ; the vegetation became more 
 untrammeled, and carmine sumach-leaves 
 burned here and there in the jungle. Anon 
 approached the silver gurgle of a brook, 
 new-born from some hidden source, bab- 
 bling its transparent secrets beside the path- 
 way, and continuing to gossip even when its 
 wayward course had taken it temporarily 
 out of hearing. Great painted toadstools, 
 generated overnight from the fruitful union 
 of vegetable decay and dampness, clustered 
 in fantastic groups beneath the yellow 
 shade ; and not a few dandelions and asters 
 foolhardily tempted the frost. All these 
 things Garth felt by a kind of sympathy 
 rather than saw in detail ; he was not of the 
 quick-eyed breed of men ; his glance was 
 leisurely, bat comprehensive and penetrat- 
 ing. 
 
 This faculty of observation, at once en- 
 joying and effortless, marked him as one 
 who was not only accustomed to meet Na- 
 ture in private and alone, but content to let 
 her monopolize him during the interview. 
 Yet I would not have you infer that a young 
 2 
 
 man of his aspect, who must have known 
 the vicissitudes of at least five-and-twenty 
 years, had missed all acquaintance with that 
 finer solitude which is attainable only 
 through rare human companionship. There 
 was nothing of the ascetic in Garth's face 
 or figure that he should be deemed insen- 
 sible to the love of woman. And though 
 there might be neither nymphs nor hama- 
 dryads in the New Hampshire woods, and 
 though the young farmer's dress and habits 
 might seem to raise a barrier between him 
 and fashionable society, yet something there, 
 was in his look and bearing that indicated a 
 wider culture than that of the farm and 
 forest. 
 
 Indeed, the more narrowly you observed 
 him, the greater would have been your 
 doubt whether the agricultural element was 
 really vital in him at all. His hands were 
 certainly not those of a farmer ; their form 
 was at once powerful and elegant, and the 
 texture of the skin was fine and soft. And 
 where did he acquire that firm carriage of 
 the shoulders and that easy precision of 
 tread ? Not surely from the plough and the 
 scythe. And though his features seemed 
 at the first glance rugged and almost harsh, 
 they were in fact moulded with singular 
 force and meaning, every part responded 
 sensitively to his thought. In spite, there- 
 fore, of his rough garb, early hours, and fa- 
 miliarity with barn-yard stock, it would 
 have been rash to write him down a country 
 bumpkin. There was an indescribable flavor 
 of distinction about him, such as is only 
 given by travel, thought, and conversation 
 with the world. Admitting this, his quiet 
 assumption (or resumption) of rusticity ar- 
 gued a freshness and independence of nature 
 unusual in traveled youth nowadays. 
 
 But what was his present destination? 
 for a man, especially a young gentleman of 
 culture, does not plunge into pathless forests 
 before breakfast for nothing. Would it he 
 allowable, in the absence of any trustworthy 
 information on the subject, to indulge in a 
 little fanciful conjecture? Let us suppose, 
 then, that, while Garth was traveling in Eu- 
 rope, he met a noble and lovely lady, who, 
 like himself, was a stranger there. In the 
 rich heart of the Old World they met, and 
 
18 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 neither knew the other, nor was it granted 
 them ever to speak together, or to exchange 
 a pressure of the hand ; but once, in a 
 strange room full of antique jewels and pre- 
 cious works of art, their glances had met in 
 a crystal mirror, and had read in one an- 
 other a mutual revelation. For one deep 
 moment they gazed, and knew they loved ; 
 then time and space rolled between and 
 parted them. But for years thereafter, as 
 they moved along their separate paths, visions 
 would rise before them of that unforgotten 
 moment, until at length, by much dreaming 
 over it, the event itself began to take on the 
 semblance of a dream; and Gartli, returning 
 home, pledged himself to another woman; 
 and the lady promised, against her better 
 instincts, to become the wife of another 
 man. Shall our romance end here, or shall 
 that picturesque providence, which watches 
 over lovers only, bring them once more to- 
 gether, ere the last irrevocable steps that fix 
 their destinies be taken? Yes, let them 
 meet, since all is imagination ! And, by way 
 of accounting for Garth's early presence in 
 these woodland solitudes, be this the morn- 
 ing of the meeting, and the place, the 
 shores of the little lake whither his steps 
 now tend. Of course the encounter must 
 be accidental on both sides — a genuine prov- 
 idential interference. "We need not indulge 
 our fancy further. If, being met, they do 
 not succeed in freeing themselves from their 
 entanglements, and living together happily 
 ever afterward, they are not the romantic 
 lovers we take them to be. 
 
 Truly, for so extravagant a flight of im- 
 agination as this, the splendid witchery of 
 the autumnal trees is hardly valid excuse. 
 And yet there was about Garth that which 
 might lay a strong grasp on a woman's 
 heart, though little were said on either side. 
 Perhaps he inherited something of that 
 peculiar power which tradition ascribed to 
 his forefathers, and on the other hand there 
 was a glow In his eyes which indicated ar- 
 dent receptivity and keen appreciation, qual- 
 ities which render shallow people what is 
 called " susceptible." "We might imagine 
 Garth beguiled by a beautiful face into pos- 
 tulating a beautiful soul to it ; but sooner or 
 later he would know whether he were mis- 
 
 taken, and then the issue might be tragical. 
 Intensity of belief has always a germ of 
 pathos in it; and, if its trust be betrayed, 
 the flower of tragedy is at once full blown. 
 
 But, to prolong these hap-hazard specula- 
 tions regarding a man who has thus far 
 given us no practical evidence of a specially 
 wayward or portentous disposition, would 
 really be doing him injustice. It is probably 
 his very undemonstrativeness that gives such 
 loose rein to our conjecture. The world is 
 apt to put a tongue of its own into the heads 
 of those who do not speak for themselves. 
 To an indifferent eye Garth would appear 
 simply as a young countryman who had 
 risen betimes in order to enjoy a quiet angle 
 for perch and pickerel in the pond. It was 
 a likely enough sheet of water for such 
 sport, and, as its gleam reached him through 
 the belt of dark pines that bordered its 
 northern shore, Garth stopped whistling and 
 hastened his step a bit, as though anxious to 
 be at work. 
 
 On the hither verge of the pine-belt was 
 planted a lichen-covered rook, girdled with 
 a crimson growth of huckleberry-bushes. 
 Beneath the bushes, amid a cluster of round 
 green leaves, lurked a meditative litfle 
 flower — retired enough, one would think, 
 to elude all ordinary eyesight. Neverthe- 
 less, Garth saw it as he was passing by, and, 
 stopping, threw himself at full length on the 
 ground to examine it at his leisure. It was 
 a violet — a rarity in that month, and the 
 sweeter for its strangeness. Garth lifted 
 up its dewy downcast little visage with the 
 tip of his forefinger, and looked — not botan- 
 ically but lovingly — into its tiny golden eye. 
 Perhaps from conscientious scruples, he did 
 not pluck the flower, but was content to gain 
 only the better part of it. By-and-by he 
 gently withdrew his finger, rose to his feet, 
 and walked on. No violet could have de- 
 sired a more considerate admirer. 
 
 But, before he had gone far, this chival- 
 rio lover turned abruptly back and deliber- 
 ately plucked the poor violet after all, to- 
 gether with one of its green leaves. Was 
 the act merely wanton? or was there some- 
 thing so much more worshipful in his eyes 
 than an October violet as to justify him in 
 making a sacrificial offering of the flower? 
 
THE CHILD. 
 
 19 
 
 It is a pregnant question, but we must be 
 content to let time give it answer. Garth 
 carefully disposed the offering, if such it was 
 to be, in his hat band, and then, continuing 
 on through the pines, he shortly brought his 
 three-mile walk to an end on the sandy 
 beach of a little cove which commanded an 
 outlook over the greater part of the lake. 
 
 About a quarter of a mile southward, in 
 the mouth of the bay, rose a small island 
 densely tufted with red and yellow foliage. 
 Far beyond, between the island and the 
 western promontory of the shore, towered 
 the misty shape of Wabeno, glowing in the 
 sunlight like a dim heap of jewels. The 
 water of the lake was perfectly still and pel- 
 lucid, and reflected each painted leaf of the 
 myriad trees that pressed to the margin, as 
 if to behold their own magnificence in the 
 clear mirror. And the reflection was better 
 even than the reality — it had a charm like 
 that belonging to an idealized remembrance. 
 The sky, pale and cool at this hour, set off 
 the sumptuous coloring of the earth. The 
 sun was not yet too high to throw tall 
 shadows of the eastern trees across the quiet 
 mystery of the liquid surface. The charm 
 of the scene was so complete as to warrant 
 the belief that it must have been less beau- 
 tiful a moment ago and would begin to de- 
 teriorate a moment hence. There needed 
 only a poet or a painter, cunning of hand 
 and loving of heart, to collect these points 
 of loveliness and recast them in the sym- 
 metrical mould of some noble and profound 
 idea. 
 
 Judging by appearances, Garth has come 
 here with the intention of remaining some 
 hours, and, perhaps, during this interval of 
 enforced leisure, we cannot do better than 
 angle in the waters of the past for what- 
 ever stray facts concerning him and his may 
 chance within our reach. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE CHILD. 
 
 Captain Beiajt Uemsoit, the old war- 
 rior of the Kevolution, had nearly com- 
 pleted his seventieth year when Garth be- 
 
 gan the world. His little daughter Eve had 
 then been lost some ten or twelve years, 
 during which time the captain had led a 
 sombre and lonely life ; lonely — despite the 
 fact that Golightley, the son of his second 
 marriage, was living with him. The grim 
 soldier had never understood this young 
 man's aesthetic aspirations, nor sympathized 
 with them ; and he, moreover, had what he 
 chose to consider reasons for positively dis- 
 liking the young man himself. As for his 
 favorite, Cuthbert, the only child of his first 
 love, he had gone abroad the year of Eve's 
 disappearance, and he staid away an un- 
 conscionably long while. 
 
 However, he came back at last, safe and 
 sound, and then the captain's gloom began 
 to lighten. The sky was further cleared by 
 Golightley's departure, which took place a 
 month or two later ; but the crowning grati- 
 fication was Outhbert's marriage with Par- 
 son Graeme's daughter. And when, in due 
 time, sweet young Mrs. Urmson began to 
 grow indolent and languid, and her husband 
 consulted her lightest wish with anxious 
 solicitude ; and when, finally, a strange fe- 
 male made her appearance in the house, 
 with noiseless step and despotic authority ; 
 then did Captain Brian become as cheerful 
 and good-humored an old gentleman as any 
 in the county. He would sit for hours be- 
 neath the porch in his high-backed arm- 
 chair, his stern visage softened with flitting 
 smiles, and his wrinkled eyes half closed in 
 pleasant reverie. Anon he would arouse 
 himself and beckon Cuthbert and the strange 
 female mysteriously aside, and question them 
 in hoarse whispers; 
 
 " How soon may we expect — eh, ma'am ? 
 I'll bet ten to one it'll be a girl, Cuthbert ! 
 — Ay, by God, a little girl — like Eve, boy — 
 like my little Eve, eh ? " This with a half- 
 appealing intonation, accompanied by a gruff, 
 nervous little laugh that sometimes brought 
 tears to Cuthbert's kind gray eyes. 
 
 Doubtless these last weeks were the hap- 
 piest of Captain Brian's life, which had been 
 a violent and irregular one, and not alto- 
 gether above suspicions of something worse 
 than irregularity. Happily, too, he died be- 
 fore knowing that his anticipations of a 
 granddaughter were not destined to fulfill- 
 
20 
 
 GAETH. 
 
 ment. For one night, after a long talk with 
 Outhbert, in the, course of which the old 
 man had opened his heart on many subjects 
 more than he had ever done before, and had 
 spoken at some length regarding his two 
 marriages, and about the lost Eve ; after 
 this, and after bidding his son an affection- 
 ate good-night, he shut his door, and was 
 found the next day on the floor, by the bed- 
 side, in a kneeling position, dead. So far as 
 was known, it had never been his custom to 
 pray, but it is to be hoped that deatli came 
 up with him in a first effort heavenward, 
 being mercifully desirous not to let so rare 
 an opportunity, pass unimproved. 
 
 In the same hour that the dead body was 
 discovered. Garth first saw the light. The 
 nurse looked at him, prepared, as usual, to 
 pronounce him the image either of his father 
 or of his mother, as it might happen ; but 
 the formula stumbled on her lips, and, after 
 a pause, she declared in a tone weighty with 
 conviction : 
 
 " Ef the child ain't the living image of 
 his dead grandpa 1 " 
 
 This verdict was subsequently confirmed 
 by that of other persons esteemed wise in 
 such matters, but most of all by Garth him- 
 self; who, as he advanced from infant jelly- 
 dom to the solid flesh of babyhood, showed 
 ever more and more unmistakably the min- 
 iature form and features of the deceased 
 warrior. 
 
 Parson Graeme, the gigantic minister and 
 patriarch of the parish, was a frequent caller 
 at TJrmhurst, where he sat in council with 
 the young father and mother, giving them 
 the benefit of his vast experience and enor- 
 mous wisdom on all subjects, but generally 
 with special reference to the character and. 
 education of little Garth. Young fathers 
 and mothers do not as a rule take this kind 
 of interference in very good part ; but, if any 
 counselor could claim justification for coun- 
 seling. Parson Graeme was surely he. Not 
 only was he the descendant of the Puritan 
 divine who accompanied Neil TJrmson from 
 England, but he had officiated at both of 
 Captain Brian's weddings, as well as at his 
 funeral. Not only this, but he was Mrs. 
 Urmson's father, and, by dint of marrying 
 her to Outhbert, had constituted himself the 
 
 latter's father-in-law ; and if anything more 
 were wanted, he had performed the rite 
 of baptism upon that most important of 
 personages, Garth himself! With such an 
 array of credentials as this, a man of far less 
 personal charm than the venerable parson 
 possessed might have obtained a hearing. 
 But the best of it was, that the Reverend 
 Mr. Graeme was at least as entertaining as 
 he was wise ; and, come when or wherefore 
 he might, he was sure to be, not only toler- 
 ated but welcomed. 
 
 " Genuine old TJrmson^no mistake about 
 that ! " the old gentleman would bellow forth 
 in his big bass voice, after a chuckling in- 
 spection of the small, red-faced bundle re- 
 posing in Mrs. Urmson's lap. " Not a bit 
 like you, son-in-law ! I recollect, when yon 
 were born, folks said the Urmson type was 
 dying out — that Captain Brian had been the 
 last of them. But not a bit of it! Your 
 younger brother, Golightley, some folks 
 thought, was going to be one of 'em ; well, 
 he had the cleft in the chin, to be sure, but 
 not the eye, not the head, and not a bone of 
 the figure ! Ay, the captain should have 
 seen this little chap before he died ; just a 
 few hours more would have done it — ^think 
 of that now ! But the Lord knows best, of 
 course ; and maybe the old man would have 
 been mad because the lad wasn't a girl ! 
 Ay, the Lord knows best — no mistake about 
 that!" 
 
 " Do yon think Garth so very much like 
 his grandfather ? " inquired gentle Mrs. Urm- 
 son. 
 
 " There was jealousy in that question," 
 said Outhbert, smiling. " She wants him to 
 resemble me, with my sharp nose and bald 
 forehead and consumptive tendency — don't 
 you. Cotton?" (Her name was Martha; 
 but her husband, in recognition of her skiU 
 and diligence with darning and knitting 
 needles, and also out of compliment to the 
 memory of the distinguished colonial divine, 
 had dubbed her Cotton Martha, and diminu- 
 tively Cotton.) 
 
 " I would like him to have your eyes, at 
 any rate," returned she. 
 
 Outhbert had the pleaaantest, kindest 
 gray eyes in the world, and his other feat- 
 ures kept them well in countenance ; for 
 
THE CHILD. 
 
 21 
 
 his slightly aqniline nose was heantifnlly 
 shaped, the point being particularly deli- 
 cate; and his mouth (although there was 
 sometimes a touch of satire in its fine curves) 
 was in sympathy with his eyes. 
 
 " Like him ? he's the image of him ! " 
 rumbled in the ponderous tones of the gi- 
 gantic pastor, ignoring this minor prattle of 
 the young people, and taking up the origi- 
 nal question ; " and of his great-great-grand- 
 father, and of his great-great-grandfather's 
 father before him — and that's Captain Neil 
 himself. Why, Mattie, girl, I recollect my 
 father (he died only thirty years ago, at over 
 a hundred) — well, I recollect his telling 
 Brian, in my hearing (we were both lads at 
 the time), often and often he told us that 
 Brian's grandfather, Ealph, was as like 
 Brian as two hymn-books. My father knew 
 Ealph Urmson well in his younger days, a 
 hundred and twenty years back ; and it used 
 to be said at that time, ' Ralph's his father's 
 own son ! ' Well, Ealph was a sad dog ; he 
 was more feared than Captain Neil had been, 
 and liked less. He had but one friend, 
 'twas said, and him he killed in some mad 
 quarrel or other. And, for that matter, the 
 saying is, that every true Urmson will kill 
 the man he loves best.'' 
 
 "Father!" exclaimed Martha, horror- 
 stricken. 
 
 " Hand me down the old pistol from 
 above the fireplace, my dear," said Outh- 
 bert, in a tone of quiet determination. "I 
 will shoot both your father and Garth, for 
 fear of making a mistake between them." 
 
 " Haw 1 haw ! haw I " laughed the sten- 
 torian pastor. " No, no, son-in-law, you're 
 not the sort of Urmson the saying applies 
 to ; but as for your boy there, I wouldn't 
 like to answer for him! — You must look 
 sharp after him, Mattie, girl — ha, ha, ha! 
 Well, but there's something in it after all. 
 There was Neil, you know, to begin with ; 
 then Ealph; and after Ealph — let's see — 
 well, the next out-and-out Urmson after 
 Ealph was Captain Brian, and it would be 
 hard to say who his best friend was. But 
 there, forgive me, boy ! No one loved your 
 father better than I did, and I'm sure he 
 didn't kill me!" 
 
 Cuthbert's face had become graver, and 
 
 he presently said : " I have heard the say» 
 ing before ; and. Cotton, it was with that 
 same old pistol up there that these several 
 tragedies were accomplished. Captain Neil 
 brought it over from England, and my 
 father carried it through the Eevolution. 
 I wonder whether it's loaded now ? " 
 
 Sweet Cotton Martha shuddered and 
 clasped Master Garth impulsively to her 
 bosoni, thereby awakening him from the 
 nap which he had been enjoying for the 
 past half-hour. In his philosophy, to be 
 awake was to be hungry ; and he began to 
 seek, with imperious cries, the bounteous 
 source of food and happiness. That at- 
 tained, he relapsed into the enjoyment of 
 his sensations ; and the talk went on. 
 
 " Don't you fret your little heart. Mat- 
 tie," said the Eeverend Mr. Graeme, noting 
 the disturbed expression which still dwelt 
 on his daughter's naturally serene face. " It 
 was but a jest, my lass. If the babe looked 
 twice the Urmson he is, the Lord has given 
 him a soul of his own ; and a good mother, 
 though I say it I " 
 
 " Cotton, don't suffer your just anxiety 
 to be cajoled by any such sophistry," Cuth- 
 bert interposed. " When I was a little boy 
 your father taught me my lessons, and I had 
 a good opportunity to find him out. Al- 
 though not a bad man, socially and humanly 
 speaking, his philosophy is defective. In 
 those early days I often argued with him, 
 and exposed his fallacies ; but as fast as I 
 converted him at one end he would relapse 
 at the other. I suppose there's no hope of 
 producing an impression on a man seven feet 
 high, and weighing twenty stone! " 
 
 "Haw! haw! haw! and what has that 
 to do with it, I'd like to know ? " demanded 
 the venerable stentor. 
 
 " Tou hear, Cotton, that your father 
 doesn't know what that has to do with it. 
 He has never read Dr. Combe's ' Phrenol- 
 ogy,' but pronounces it humbug at a vent- 
 ure. He fancies that body and soul have 
 no necessary and intimate connection, but 
 have come together in an entirely accidental 
 and illogical manner; in short, that any 
 soul may pop into any body it happens to 
 fall in with, in the same way that the body 
 may afterward go to a tailor's shop and 
 
22 
 
 GAETH. 
 
 jump into a ready-made suit of clothes, 
 which, ten to one, would have fitted some- 
 body else better. 
 
 " Pooh ! a great way you have of putting 
 an argument! " growled the parson. 
 
 " He thinks," continued Outhbert, with 
 a mischievous lifting of one eyebrow, "that 
 spirit and matter, having through some ill 
 luck run foul of each other, are making an 
 awkward job of their enforced companion- 
 ship. That is the reason why he sees no 
 connection between his twenty stone and 
 his rejection of rational arguments ; and that 
 is why he tells you that the fact of Garth's 
 looking like his ancestors Heed not imply his 
 being like them." 
 
 Martha, who had been watching her 
 baby's face with all a mother's rapt enthu- 
 siasm, until she had forgotten the existence 
 of anything else, here stooped down and 
 kissed it, and whispered : " O-o mother's 
 pet ! " The two men smiled apart to them- 
 selves, and Outhbert continued : 
 
 " For my part I rejoice that the Urmson 
 aoil has lain fallow in my generation, if it 
 therefore produces a full-flavored crop in 
 this. I not only think that Garth resembles 
 Brian and Neil, but I hope and believe that 
 Iiis leading traits of character resemble theirs ; 
 that he has the same imperious will, the same 
 pugnacity and vehement temper." Outhbert 
 had spoken these words with more than his 
 usual earnestness, and after a pause he add- 
 ed, "I hope he has in him every evil trait of 
 the TJrmsons in its strongest form." 
 
 Both his hearers were startled. Martha, 
 filways reticent and undemonstrative, only 
 fixed her eyes upon him with a gentle con- 
 sternation ; but the parson wheeled round 
 in his chair and bellowed out : " What d'ye 
 mean, Outhbert ? Are you crazy ? " 
 
 " Why, no," replied he. " A family is a 
 man of larger growth and more complex 
 character, but of individuality as distinct as 
 yours or mine. It is young ; it grows up, 
 prospers, and dies ; its years are genera- 
 tions ; each one inevitably moulding the 
 next. At last comes a year when all its 
 evil is arrayed against all its good. Then 
 must the great battle be lost and won." 
 
 " You've been a heretic ever since you 
 could speak,'' grumbled the old gentleman ; 
 
 " but it's a new heresy to wish evil to one's 
 children." 
 
 " Well, let me have my heresy out. When 
 a man has the making of a thorough devil 
 in him, he has the possibility of an angel in 
 him too — for angels are bare survivors from 
 the deadly struggle of man with his inher- 
 ent devilishness. In that struggle, both sides 
 use the same weapons ; and the stronger the 
 weapons the greater the final victory or de- 
 feat." 
 
 " What weapons do you mean, dear ? " 
 asked gentle Martha. 
 
 " I mean the powers and passions of tho 
 mind and heart, which may be used either 
 for good or for evil. Now, in our own fam- 
 ily history, the Urmsons have generally been 
 worsted by their old Adam ; yet no one of 
 tlyem was ever utterly wicked, and hence 1 
 infer that the decisive battle has not yet 
 come off, and that tliere is still a chance to 
 vindicate the angel. He in whom the strug- 
 gle culminates must be thoroughly Urmson — 
 a conapendium of the race — no diluted alien 
 like myself. The more stubborn the devil 
 in him the better worth the victory, should 
 that fall to the angel. Am I an unnatural 
 father, my little Cotton, if I pray that Garth 
 may turn out our champion ? The loftiest 
 good can exist only on the overthrow of the 
 deepest evih" 
 
 Martha smiled forgivingly upon her hus- 
 band, while two tears rolled down her 
 comely cheeks, and fell upon the plump vis- 
 age of the unconscious babe. But the large 
 pastor scratched his head (whereon white 
 hair grew as thickly as the brown had done 
 in the heyday of youth), knitted his brows, 
 and growled : 
 
 "You're a queer chap, son -in -law I 
 Humph! takes a devil to 'make an angel, is 
 that it? Maybe it does ; but, though you're 
 as poor a show for a devil as any man I 
 know, if all Urmsons had been like you, it 
 might have been better for them ! " 
 
 With this ambiguous utterance the Kev- 
 erend Mr. Graeme uplifted his towering 
 figure from the bench in the porch, where 
 the discussion bad taken place, and having 
 resoundingly kissed the mother and child, 
 and grasped the father's hand, he swung off 
 through the late August afternoon, carrying 
 
THK BIEOH-EOD. 
 
 23 
 
 well his seventy years. The little family 
 stood "watching him tiU he was hidden with- 
 in the westward forest, and then, with a 
 lingering glance at hazy Wabeno, they en- 
 tered the house in great tranquillity of spirit. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE BIBOH-HOD. 
 
 Despite the presages of a momentous 
 destiny, the infant Garth acted as though 
 eating and sleeping were the chief ends of 
 man, and he grew strong and wholesome ac- 
 cordingly. One of his earlier exploits was 
 to cry for the American flag which Captain 
 Brian had brought home from the wars, and 
 which was festooned over the nursery fire- 
 place. For a long time his wishes were not 
 understood ; but as day after day he per- 
 sisted in his inarticulate demands, with many 
 explosions of resentful wrath, his mother, 
 being at her wits' end, finally pulled down 
 the historic bunting more in despair than in 
 hope ; and having shaken the dust of tldrty 
 years out of its folds, she surrendered it to 
 the despot. He graciously received it, and 
 wanted no better plaything, clutching at the 
 bright colors with his httle fists, and emitting 
 guttural exclamations of approval. The flag 
 was afterward draped over the hood of his 
 crib, and appeared to soothe both his dreams 
 and his temper. 
 
 Mrs. Urmson maintained that his pleasure 
 in it was based upon a refined love of beauty. 
 But the parson, whose interest in the young 
 compendium of his race looked forward to 
 dififerent issues, explained it otherwise. 
 
 "Love of beauty? Ho! ho! ho! Do 
 you take Garth for a young lady, to be 
 tickled by a scarlet ribbon ? Tut ! he's no 
 such molly-coddle. Garth has his grand- 
 father's spirit — the spirit of Seventy-six, 
 that smote the oppressor hip and thigh, and 
 made us the greatest nation on earth. Patri- 
 otism ! — that's it. He loves the Stars and 
 Stripes because they're his country's flag." 
 
 "In my opinion," remarked Cuthbert, 
 " you both of you misapprehend the matter, 
 and do injustice to the profundity of Garth's 
 
 meaning. He recognizes in the Stars and 
 Stripes an allegory of the philosophy of 
 existence. He would intimate to us his be- 
 lief that the higher ends of life are never to 
 be attained, unless by enduring the stripes 
 of adversity.'' 
 
 " That is to say, you'll flog him to make 
 him a good boy?" rejoined grandfather 
 Graeme. 
 
 " Oh! " deprecated Martha. 
 
 " Why, if he asked my help in that di- 
 rection, I shouldn't feel justified in with- 
 holding it," said Cuthbert, arching his eye- 
 brow. " Being his father, I am bound to 
 serve him until he is able to serve himself." 
 
 " And of course he'll always be begging 
 you not to spare the rod," threw in the 
 ironic parson ; " it's a way boys have ! " 
 
 " Seriously, I shall take pains to explain 
 the matter to him. Once let him know that 
 naughtiness is the parent of punishment, 
 and the great end is gained. Despotism 
 would be of no use with a boy of his make ; 
 he must bring himself to bear against him- 
 self ; he must be delivered over to the jailer- 
 ship of his own conscience. I shall en- 
 courage him to apply to me only in ex- 
 treme oases ; but, whenever he does tell me 
 that he wants a whipping, I shall lay aside 
 all personal considerations, and drub him 
 soundly ! " 
 
 " He'll be no such fool, depend upon it !" 
 said Mr. Graeme, nodding his white head at 
 Martha and chuckling. 
 
 " I hope otherwise," returned Cuthbert. 
 " Look at his head. Cerebellum large, and 
 great bumps behind the ears ; but well- 
 arched crown, and square, solid forehead. 
 He will have reverence for law, as well as 
 for his own free-will." 
 
 But the parson always threw ridicule 
 upon any allusion to phrenology ; and even 
 Mrs. Urmson was secretly pleased to hear 
 that her beloved son was to be his own dis- 
 ciplinarian. She argued from her own ten- 
 derness, which denied the use of sufifering, 
 and ever aimed to enlarge the boundaries of 
 mercy. And, so far as she was concerned. 
 Garth was spoiled as long as she lived. 
 
 Nevertheless, Cathbert's plan was not 
 unsuccessful. Garth was violent, passion- 
 ate, and headstrong, long before he was rea- 
 
2i 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 sonable ; but his nature was essentially rev- 
 erential, and, when he found that his liberty 
 was respected, he began to take an interest 
 in the progress of his moral emancipation, 
 and to listen to such quiet hints regarding 
 the best ways of fighting the old Adam as 
 Outhbert from time to time let fall. It was 
 a triumph for the father when Garth made 
 his first spontaneous request to be put in 
 the corner ; and by degrees the small war- 
 rior found out that there were no pangs like 
 those of conscience, which were sure to be- 
 come worse the longer the antidote was 
 withheld. As he grew older the penitential 
 corner gave way to other prescriptions, pro- 
 portioned to his deeper needs. At last came 
 the turn of the rod. This grim instrument 
 of regeneration had been confided to Garth's 
 care by his father, when the former was five 
 years old, the gift being accompanied by a 
 grave explanation of its use and properties ; 
 and the little man was further enjoined not 
 to allow any mistaken tenderness for the 
 parental feelings to hinder a demand for its 
 application, whenever necessary. 
 
 " It will hurt us both, Garth," concluded 
 Mr. TJrmson, " but we must not forget that 
 the wrong would hurt us more." 
 
 Garth listened in solemn silence, and was 
 evidently much impressed ; but the day of 
 execution did not arrive until nearly two 
 years afterward. Some grievous sin — his- 
 tory does not specify what it was — had 
 been committed, and straightway a dreadful 
 struggle began between Garth and his con- 
 science. Conscience declared that the de- 
 linquent ought to be whipped; the delin- 
 quent rebelled, and the contest prolonged 
 its awful length from the morning of one 
 day to the afternoon of the next ; Outhbert, 
 Martha, and the parson, all looking on in 
 silent suspense. At last Old Adam got the 
 worst of it. Obedient to an appalling sum- 
 mons, Outhbert repaired to the nursery, 
 leaving Martha in tears and the parson 
 puzzled and silent; nor was his own com- 
 posure by any means unruffled. He found 
 Garth standing in the centre of the floor, 
 excited, flushed, ashamed, but resolute, 
 holding forth the rod. It was a trying mo- 
 ment, and the father's heart almost faltered. 
 Nevertheless, the thing must be done ; and. 
 
 inwardly resolving to do it as gently as he 
 dared, he was making the few simple prep- 
 arations for the ceremony, when the'victim 
 said, breathing quick through liis clinched 
 teeth : 
 
 " Hard ' papa — do it hard ! " 
 Abashed at what seemed a rebuke of his 
 faint-heartedness, the unhappy executioner 
 obeyed. The pain was much sharper than 
 Garth anticipated, but though he gnashed 
 his teeth and curled his little toes and fin- 
 gers in anguish, he made no attempt to 
 escape, or to curtail the proceedings. When 
 all was over, the father, with an irrepresr 
 sibly guilty feeling, helped the little man to 
 adjust his toilet, amid a silence broken 
 only by the spasmodic sighs of yet tumultu- 
 ous emotion. But, as they were leaving the 
 scene of the tragedy, Outhbert felt his sleeve 
 pulled, and looked sorrowfully down at the 
 crimson little phiz upturned to him. 
 
 " Papa," said the smaller sufierer, in 
 such broken accents as his mental and 
 physical disorder permitted, " i'm^ — sorry 
 you — had to do it ! " 
 " So am I, Garth—" 
 "Yes, papa; and — it isn't fair — yon 
 should have to do it ; I didn't — know how 
 to do it — before ; but now I — know, I'll — 
 do it for you next time, papa ! " And with 
 this the heroic tension gave way in a flood 
 of tears. 
 
 Outhbert had not expected this, and at 
 first failed to grasp the full significance of 
 the matter. But in a moment he compre- 
 hended the chivalrous truth, and stooping 
 down he kissed the boy's hot cheek with a 
 feeling akin to reverence, though, at the 
 same time, his irrepressible sense of the 
 humorous came near making him laugh. 
 
 " Ton are a fine old boy 1 " said he. 
 " Let's see what grandpapa will say to 
 that ! and mamma may spoil you now if she 
 can ! " 
 
 It is pleasant to be able to record that 
 Garth's ingenuity and constancy were never 
 called upon to compass a self-inflicted flog- 
 ging. The birch-rod hung for many years 
 in the closet where he kept his playthings, 
 as a sort of memento mori ; but no sufficient 
 occasion for using it ever again arose. 
 Outhbert, indeed, was wont to lay it, in a 
 
THE FAEKIE QUEENE. 
 
 25 
 
 figurative sense, across the parson's shoulders, 
 whenever the latter criticised his theory of 
 education. The parson could only scratch 
 his head and grumhle out that Garth's letting 
 himself be imposed upon was no argument 
 in favor of phrenology ; to which Outhhert's 
 answer was an arch lifting of the eyebrow, 
 and a general air of irritating complacency. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE FAEEIE QUEENE. 
 
 However, there were still many wry 
 strands in the composition of the youngest 
 Urmson. In spite of a sensitive conscience, 
 and a fine sense of honor, the bugbear of 
 study darkened his sunshine, and the habit 
 of taciturnity grew upon him. The open 
 sky attracted him like a magnet ; he knew 
 the woods far better than his lessons. In 
 summer, he loved to lie on his back upon the 
 grass, with the torrid sun pouring its light 
 and heat straight down upon him. He had 
 a gift of laziness, a talent for preoccupation, 
 and a genius for wonder. In short, he 
 caused his grandfather continual anxiety. 
 
 " Teach him the deaf-and-dumb alpha- 
 bet," growled the old gentleman. "He's 
 quicker with his fingers than with his 
 tongue, any day." 
 
 " Garth has sense, father, I'm sure," said 
 Martha, quietly darning. 
 
 " Why can't he talk, then? A little non- 
 sense would do him no harm, to set his sense 
 going." 
 
 " Perhaps he's silent from policy," was 
 Outhhert's suave suggestion, " as negroes say 
 that monkeys won't talk lest they be forced 
 to work. He values the few ideas he has 
 too highly to betray their whereabouts by 
 speech. Only those who imbibe the world 
 readily find much to say." 
 
 Martha glanced covertly at her husband's 
 mischievous mouth, and continued her darn- 
 ing, with a smile. The simple pastor an- 
 swered : 
 
 " Wrong principle, son-in-law ! Good 
 talking never spoiled an idea. I'm eighty 
 last birthday, and I guess I've done as much 
 
 talking as most folks, and I'm none the 
 worse for it that I know of. Hold your 
 tongue for fear of losing your ideas? haw! 
 haw ! haw ! Might as well stop planting 
 grape-vines for fear of spoiling the grapes." 
 
 " I only give Garth's probable argument. 
 But, to tell the truth, I'm afraid Garth's 
 silence is notliing but pretense." 
 
 " Ha ! well, now you're beyond me," 
 said the parson, shaking his head. 
 
 " Why, for instance, there are people 
 who talk from morning till night, and yet 
 actually say less than Garth does. That sort 
 of silence is really silence, but merely to ab- 
 stain from uttering words is silence only in 
 appearance. Garth, in my hearing, has often 
 held his tongue in such a way that I thought 
 he was talking to good purpose." 
 
 " Send him to school ! " exclaimed the 
 parson, as briskly as if he had never given 
 the advice before. 
 
 "I dare not assume the responsibility; 
 he would corrupt the scholars. You don't 
 half know him. Why, last Sunday afternoon 
 he disappeared, wearing the new clothes thai 
 Cotton had just made him. About sunset I 
 found him on his back in a swamp, with his 
 head underneath a rhodora-bush. He said the 
 fiowers looked prettier from that point of 
 view; and he wouldn't pluck any, for fear 
 they'd be homesick. You can't send a boy 
 like that to school." 
 
 " Humph ! very odd," muttered the par- 
 son, gravely. 
 
 " That is a trifle. But the other morning 
 I woke up about four o'clock with one of 
 my toothaches, and went into his room for 
 the medicine-chest. There he was in hio 
 night-gown, his head out of the open win- 
 dow, and so absorbed as not to notice me till 
 I went up and asked him what had happened. 
 He pointed to the eastern horizon. It was near 
 sunrise, and the sky was covered with yellow, 
 red, and purple clouds. He had got out of 
 bed on a cold May morning just to see that." 
 
 " Well, now, think of that ! doesn't sound 
 much like an Urmson — eh ? " 
 
 • " You know that kaleidoscope of his," 
 continued Cuthbert, delighted with the ef- 
 fect he was producing ; " he never was with- 
 out it until quite lately. I supposed he had 
 broken it ; but yesterday I missed one of the 
 
26 
 
 GARTH, 
 
 glass prisms from the old candlestick, and 
 this morning I found G-arth sitting in the 
 sun, throwing the seven colors on a hlank 
 leaf of the ' Faerie Queene.' He was de- 
 lighted with the thing, and thought it was a 
 discovery of his- own." 
 
 " The 'Faerie Qaeene '—what's that ? " 
 
 " A book of antiquated poetry, which I 
 believe the boy knows by heart. But what 
 could our schoolmaster make out of a fellow 
 like that ? " 
 
 The good pastor sighed, and rubbed his 
 bewildered brow. " Well, trust in the Lord, 
 son-in-law ; maybe he'll outgrow it. I'm 
 glad to see you don't lose heart about him, 
 although seeing his faults as clearly as a 
 stranger might. He's a stout, broad-shoul- 
 dered lad, anyway, and as sweet a disposi- 
 tion as any I know of." 
 
 Upon this Martha arose and kissed her 
 father; and Garth coming in at the mo- 
 ment, with his dark tangled hair and his 
 scarlet boating-shirt, even the unsympathetic 
 Outbbert looked at him with a certain tol- 
 erance, notwithstanding the prism and the 
 "Faerie Queene." 
 
 Tlie " Faerie Queene " had first revealed 
 herself to Garth about a year before, and he 
 was now completely under the spell of her 
 enchantment. The sway and music of the 
 verse and rhyme charmed bim, he knew not 
 why ; he lived in every champion,' from the 
 Eedcross Knight to Sir Oalidore, engaging 
 with tragic sympathy in each adventure, 
 putting his whole heart into each sword- 
 stroke and lance-thrust, and trembling over 
 the fate of every wronged and lovely lady. 
 The fable was to him more real than the 
 actual circumstances amid which he lived; 
 and he saw giants and enchanted castles in 
 his rooks and trees, and followed the steps 
 of nymphs and satyrs through the woods. 
 He never left the house, but with the ex- 
 pectation of encountering such perils and 
 achieving such knightly deeds as would take 
 a week to recount and a regiment of Arthurs 
 and Arthegalls to rival. No event of his 
 daily life so trifling, but a touch of imagina- 
 tion lifted it into the region of romance and 
 chivalry. Every true boy is a Don Quixote 
 at heart, and acts out the character accord- 
 ing to his capacity and opportunity. 
 
 Garth happened to be well furnished in 
 both respects. He could imagine anything ; 
 his time was more his own than any one ex- 
 cept his parents thought good for him ; and 
 in the vast garret which extended all over 
 the top of the house there was enough old 
 armor to equip half a dozen knightly Garths. 
 Here were the steel caps, breastplates, and 
 battle-axes, which had glanced so brightly in 
 the sunshine of two hundred years ago, 
 when Captain Neil Urmson and his band 
 first stood on the site of Urmhurst. They 
 were rusty now, but enough of the original 
 brightness remained to show how resplen- 
 dent they must formerly have been. . The 
 dusty sunbeams which slanted through the 
 cobwebs of the garret-windows tried with 
 ill-success to reflect themselves from the 
 corroded surface of the steel. Garth had at 
 first mistaken tliis red rust, for blood, and 
 lost himself in awful imaginings, till grim 
 spectres in mortal combat peopled every 
 corner of the dark garret. 
 
 But in process of time he took courage, 
 and set to work furbishing up the ancient 
 harness, with a view to entering the pro- 
 fession of knight-errantry forthwith. For a 
 time the forest and the sky knew him no 
 more, and it was several days before even 
 his father found him out. Outhbert, too, in 
 his boyish days, had spent many an hour in 
 the old garret, being attracted thither not 
 by the armor, but by a great mountain of 
 quaint and dusty literature, the heedless 
 accumulation of unknown Urmson genera- 
 tions: from which the studious youth had 
 extracted more information concerning the 
 past history of his race than was possessed 
 by any other person then alive. But Gai'th, 
 who was at once more matter-of-fact and 
 more imaginative than his father, deemed a 
 helmet and buckler to be worth all the musty 
 parchments in the world. He scrubbed 
 away, therefore, and the faded arms shone 
 once more, reviving under the influence of 
 a chivalric spirit. Garth, in the purifled 
 armor of his forefathers, his young fer- 
 vent face glowing boyishly heroic beneath 
 the steel head-piece, the battle-axe heavy 
 in his guiltless grasp, must have been a 
 fair sight, which it had been churlish of the 
 old garret to keep to itself. Among many 
 
THE FAtEIE QUEENE. 
 
 27 
 
 secrets it had known none pleasanter than 
 this. 
 
 Had the secret-been left to G-arth to re- 
 veal, it might have remained hidden to this 
 day ; for within the boundaries of his ideal 
 realm he was shy of human presence and 
 criticism, mankind being less amenable to 
 the transforming wand of his imagination 
 than anything besides. But his father, who 
 divined the boy's condition, climbed the 
 garret-stairs in the character of Sir Guyon 
 and plunged with such zest into enchanted 
 lore that taciturn Garth was soon in arrears. 
 ISTone the less was he gladdened by the reve- 
 lation of a kindred spirit — one who not enly 
 honored his knights and ladies and shared 
 his high hostility against magicians and 
 giants, but who was learned in the laws of 
 'chivalry and the etiquette of knighthood- 
 matters whereof Garth knew little. That 
 was a happy afternoon that the two passed 
 together in the garret ; Garth told himself 
 that he had never known his father till now. 
 A whole new vein of companionship was 
 opened up between them. The universe was 
 deeper and wider than of yore, with glimpses 
 of harmonious meanings underneath. And 
 when Cuthbert, trusting to the innate sym- 
 bolism of the boy's mind, ventured to raise 
 a little the veil of the faerie allegory. Garth's 
 eyes glowed, and he lifted his head. The 
 best that he had dreamed was true — and 
 more than the best. "What a noble, valiant 
 world was this that men lived in ! 
 
 Thus encouraged. Garth had little hesita- 
 tion in following his father down-stairs and 
 making knightly obeisance at his mother's 
 footstool. But gentle Cotton Martha, with 
 her feminine timidity, was half dismayed at 
 so warlike an apparition, and could scarcely 
 divest herself of a misgiving that it fore- 
 boded some peril to the beloved boy him- 
 self. In time, however, maternal pride and 
 admiration got the better of alarm ; and soon 
 she could notice that, though his helmet fitted 
 well, his breastplate was too big for him ; 
 and could devise and make such alterations 
 as at last turned him out a well-appointed 
 hero. 
 
 " But there's one thing you have for- 
 gotten. Sir Garth," observed his father. 
 " You have no lady-love I " 
 
 " Mamma is my lady-love,'' answered the 
 champion, with a sort of indignation that 
 there should even be a question on the sub- 
 ject,' and throwing his arm around her waist. 
 
 "I would do battle with you for her, 
 were I younger," said Cuthbert after a pause. 
 " As it is, I suppose I must resign her with 
 what grace I may. Cotton, my dear, accept 
 your new knight ! Bind your favor upon 
 his crest, and bid him be right faithful, 
 brave, and true in deed and word, in his 
 campaign against the powers of darkness. 
 Garth, you have chosen your lady well ; but 
 take warning by the Redoross Knight, and 
 let no false Duessa lead you astray ! " 
 
 Garth looked proudly in his mother's 
 eyes, while she fastened on his steel cap the 
 blue kerchief from her throat. That cere- 
 mony over, he kissed — not her hand, as the 
 etiquette of oliivalry demanded, but her lips 
 heartily. And then he sallied forth, for the 
 first time since donning his accoutrements, 
 into the open air and sunshine. 
 
 " The old boy makes quite a fine appear- 
 ance, doesn't he ? " remarked Cuthbert, smil- 
 ing. " His arms, like St. George's, bear the 
 cruel marks of many a bloody field, though 
 arms till this time did he never wield. God 
 bless him ! " 
 
 " Is it wise, liusband," questioned the 
 mother, smiling but sighing too, " to train 
 liim to love such things ? His forefathers 
 were violent men, and he has so much of 
 their adventurous and warlike spirit — does 
 it need fostering? " 
 
 " It's the old story of the birch-rod again. 
 G-arth has those warlike traits, and the best 
 thing to do is to enlist them on the right 
 side. He understands the allegory of self- 
 conquest — that Garth the unregenerate must 
 be his sole enemy. I bade him lay on and 
 spare not — to kill himself fifty times a day 
 if necessary ; and if this old Puritan armor, 
 which has stood the brunt of Prince Eupert's 
 Cavaliers, helps him feel the reality of the 
 battle, it will be well worth the furbishing 
 he has given it ; not to speak of other good 
 results." 
 
 Martha retired in-doors, but Cuthbert 
 staid in the porch, watching the shadow 
 of a great white cloud travel southward 
 down the vaUey ; now crossing the pasture, 
 
28 
 
 GAETH. 
 
 now the wood beyond ; presently darken- 
 ing the bright surface of the lake; anon 
 sweeping slowly along the meadowed river- 
 basin, and finally mottling the distant flank 
 of slumbering Wabeno. All at once a flash 
 of reflected sunlight fell on his eyes, and 
 caused him to look round. 
 
 "Here goes your champion. Lady Mar- 
 tha,'' he called to his wife. " He has 
 mounted old Dobbin, and is riding oflF to 
 slay the dragon with a lance made out of the 
 handle of the hay-rake. You ought to mount 
 the castle-turret, dishevel your hair, and 
 pray that the dragon does not eat him up ! " 
 
 Sir Garth, riding slowly (for old Dobbin 
 had abated much of his original fire), passed 
 gleaming beneath the shadow of the trees 
 and was lost to view ; and his father re- 
 sumed his meditations. Nearly an hour 
 went by ; then the sound of hoofs attracted 
 his eyes once more westward. 
 
 "Ootton, come quickly! " he exclaimed. 
 " Tour champion returns victorious ; he has 
 rescued a fair lady from thraldom, and she 
 rides behind him with her arms about his 
 waist. The giant, the owner of the castle, 
 now vanquished and a prisoner, is forced to 
 accompany them on foot, and assist the lady 
 in keeping her seat. Do come out and look ! 
 My poor Ootton, yon have a rival already ! 
 no Duessa though, let us hope." 
 
 " Oh, it's father ; and who is that little 
 girl? it must be Madge Danver. Some more 
 medicine for her poor mother, I suppose." 
 
 " Haw, haw, haw I " bellowed the patri- 
 arch, as the group came up ; " so you're 
 really alive ? Madge and I lost our way after 
 leaving the village, and strayed into the cen- 
 tury before last; and I was looking out for 
 my grandfather — ho, bo, ho ! "We met Cap- 
 tain Neil Urmson, here, instead, and he was 
 kind enough to let the third-cousin of his 
 great-great-great-grandson ride behind him. 
 If there wasn't a couple of centuries or so 
 difference in ages, I should be anxious about 
 the old chap's heart — eh, son-in-law? Oh, 
 ho, ho, ho! — eh, Mattie, girl? — ^ha, ha, haw, 
 haw, ho ! There, jump down, my little 
 dear — that's right! Yes, Mrs. Danver has 
 her hip again, Mattie — wants your bryonia. 
 — Well, Captain Urmson, "he added to Garth, 
 " when you come back from the stables. 
 
 your remote posterity will be glad of a chat 
 with you ! " And with a final roar the jolly 
 parson led the way into the house. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 CALF-LOVB. 
 
 SiNOB the world grew old she has taken 
 to making fun of some things which former- 
 ly she reverenced ; and, among other things, 
 of children. The deeds, thoughts, and emo- 
 tions, of that part of the community, so far 
 as they affect us at all, amuse us ; we find 
 them transient," and therefore laugh at them. 
 Yet the logic of the case seems defective ; if 
 it be true that the aroma of heaven abides 
 with us but a few years, and that afterward ' 
 we come to smell of the earth, would it not 
 be wiser to grieve than to grin ? 
 
 To a humane mind, one would suppose, 
 nothing could he more touching than the 
 spectacle of that fresh, wondering, purely 
 passionate homage of a boy for a girl — that 
 self-devotion of the new man, who obscure- 
 ly feels that human nature is twofold, for 
 the opposite side of the tender mystery, the 
 lovelier, diviner Eve — which the world has 
 agreed to call calf-love ! It is a sentiment 
 refined beyond the scope of our common ex- 
 pression ; something too delicate to be de- 
 liberately recalled and described. In finer 
 moments — ^in a happy strain of music or a 
 sudden insight into nature — we may catch 
 an echo or a glimpse of it ; but the moment 
 after, it has vanished, ere we can say with 
 the memory of a memory, " Lo, there ! " 
 
 There is a mute pathos about it. Your 
 boy is your only true sighing lover ; he must 
 sigh whether his suit prosper or not. '- The 
 reason is, that boys know nothing of the 
 soul ; soul and body are in them so soundly 
 united that they confound spiritual longings 
 with physical ones. At the same time, the 
 very refinement of those spiritual longings 
 inculcates the impossibility of their earthly 
 gratification; the gross body lies in tbe way, 
 yet the boy's philosophy declares the body 
 to be all. His love feeds perforce on dreams 
 and viaions; even the beloved one herself 
 
CALF-LOVE. 
 
 29 
 
 must not come too near. An actual embrace 
 would degrade the imaginary one ; it would 
 be too mucb, because proving that there 
 could never be enough. Later on in life we 
 may temper such failures with gossip of im- 
 mortality ; but boys live only in the present, 
 and regard death as the final annihilation 
 of existence. 
 
 That Garth should be a victim to this 
 melancholy passion was only what was to 
 be expected from a boy of his character ; and 
 the grave intensity of his nature promised 
 to render the attack a more than ordinarily 
 prolonged one. Moreover, Madge Danver 
 was a very fascinating little creature ; quite 
 able, on her own merits, to impose constancy 
 upon a colder lover than Garth was likely to 
 prove. Yet the growth of the sentiment in 
 him proceeded slowly, and for a time with- 
 out his even being conscious of its existence. 
 From that afternoon when the dark-eyed 
 little maiden clung to his steel-clad waist, 
 the great horse bearing her and him onward 
 to a common destination, while the rever- 
 end giant strode beside them, lending to 
 their union the support of the church ; from 
 that hour to the one in which Garth finally 
 realized that he loved her, was a peiiod of 
 more than three years. And, even then, the 
 realization was brought about by an accident. 
 
 He had been acquainted with Madge, 
 childishly speaking, as long as he could re- 
 member ; and his earliest feeling with re- 
 gard to her had been a slight boyish aver- 
 sion. Her confident, self-possessed vivacity 
 had jarred against his constitutional reserve, 
 and, in a general way, he preferred her room 
 to her company. But, after their woodland 
 adventure, his attitude toward her suffered 
 a change. The change troubled him, and 
 his first impulse (aa it often happens) was 
 to misinterpret it. He persuaded himself 
 that instead of passively objecting to her, as 
 heretofore, he now actively disliked her — 
 nor was this persuasion entirely without ar- 
 guments to justify it. The beginnings of a 
 powerful emotion — one destined vitally to 
 infiuenoe the nature — are apt to be painful ; 
 and pain, in a child's estimation, is synony- 
 mous with evil. When Garth, therefore, found 
 that the thought of Madge disturbed him, 
 and that her presence threw him into a state 
 
 of tremor and distress, and that the sound 
 of her voice or the touch of her hand made 
 him positively uncomfortable, it is not sur- 
 prising that he should have looked upon her 
 as an enemy. He could no longer be him- 
 self because of her; she interfered with his 
 freedom, she had cast a spell over him ; she 
 was a witch — a malicious enchantress ! She 
 deserved to have her head cut off; but, alas ! 
 the executioner's arm was powerless against 
 her, and the more she merited punishment 
 the less heart had he to infiict it. 
 
 But, by-and-by. Garth began to ask him- 
 self whether, after all, Madge was really re- 
 sponsible for his disquietude. Was he not 
 tormenting himself, and then laying the 
 blame on her ? Had he any reason to sup- 
 pose that she was even aware of his sufi'er- 
 ings? Was it her fault that wlien he fied 
 from her he seemed to take her with him in 
 his flight, insomuch that the remotest soli- 
 tude was peopled with her ? Could she help 
 it that he met her eye in every flower, and 
 heard her tones in every bird-note, or that 
 all he thought and did had reference to her? 
 It was unjust to assume as much without 
 proof, and what proof had he? Was any 
 proof obtainable ? Well, it might be worth 
 while to try. What if, instead of shunning 
 her altogether, he were to watch her secret- 
 ly, so that, if she were really a witch, he 
 might some day surprise her in the very act 
 of brewing her spell ? The more Garth con- 
 sidered this plan the better it pleased him, 
 and it was not long before he put it in prac- 
 tice. He climbed trees beneath which Madge 
 was to pass, and peeped fearfully down at 
 her from between the branches ; he slipped 
 behind rocks, and, with a beating heart, lis- 
 tened to her approaching and departing 
 steps ; or, from some distant coign of van- 
 tage, he would feverishly observe her play- 
 ing about in her cottage-garden. But all 
 this espionage failed to provide him with 
 evidence in support of his injurious sus- 
 picions. Madge was not a witch ; what, 
 then, was she ? If she was not something 
 very bad, might she not possibly be some- 
 thing very good ? It had by this time be- 
 come a question of extremes one way or the 
 other. If she were very good, how was it 
 that he disliked her? Did he dislike her? 
 
30 
 
 GAETH. 
 
 "When once that question had been asked, 
 of course it could be answered in only one 
 way. Madge was an angel, and Garth adored 
 her ; not she, but his own blindness had been 
 at fault. By the light of his present revela- 
 tion, he reviewed his past experiences, and 
 fancied that he understood them thoroughly. 
 Nevertheless, it is open to doubt whether he 
 saw his mistress, at this juncture, so clearly 
 as eitlier before or afterward. He endowed 
 her with graces filched from "the fairies. 
 There had thus far been no actual intimacy 
 between the two, such as might mould into 
 definite shape the lover's fantastic hyper- 
 boles. Garth loved, but he loved an ideal ; 
 not, as yet, a creature of flesh and blood, 
 and it is not improbable that, had he been 
 left to himself, he might have gone on lov- 
 ing the ideal Madge until the real one had 
 been quite outgrown. ' He was very shy, 
 and, in the absence of any outside agency 
 forcing him to identify the shadow with the 
 substance, he might easily have suffered 
 them to diverge beyond the point of recon- 
 cilement. It was a critical moment in the 
 affair. Madge was prevented from influ- 
 encing the issue simply by her ignorance of 
 there being any issue to Influence. Garth 
 was the last boy in the neighborhood whom 
 she would have expected to be in love with 
 her; and he was the only boy of her ac- 
 quaintance in whose presence she had ever 
 felt embarrassment. She did not under- 
 stand him, and was a little afraid of him ; 
 she saw that he was not ill-looking, but she 
 was sure that he was disagreeable. It was 
 evident, therefore, that the denoAment woald 
 depend upon some accidental turn of events 
 for which neither Garth nor Madge would 
 be consciously responsible. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 MADGB. 
 
 Gaeth's great-grandfather had been a 
 farmer, and, during the second quarter of 
 the last century, he had dealings with a cer- 
 tain M. d'Anver, an Acadian, who was like- 
 wise a farmer, and wealthy in land and 
 herds. Afterward, when the expatriation 
 
 of the Acadians took place, the D'Anver 
 family directed their steps to New Hamp- 
 shire, and finally arrived in a pretty desti- 
 tute condition at the little village of Urms- 
 worth. The villagers, with Mr. Urmson at 
 their head, received the exiles hospitably, 
 and presented them with a small grant of 
 land on the outskirts of the town. In 
 the course of the ensuing five-and-twenty 
 years, the family managed to acquire a tol- 
 erable competence, and, as they took kindly 
 to their new surroundings, no one had cause 
 to regret their advent. 
 
 At the outbreak of the Eevolution, Pierre 
 Danver, son of the first settler, eagerly took 
 sides against the English ; and he and Brian 
 Urmson (then a youth of nineteen) marched 
 with Ethan Allen to Ticonderoga. A few 
 months later, Pierre was permanently dis- 
 abled by a gunshot-wound. His young com- 
 panion-in-arms brought him home, and, be- 
 fore leaving again, was betrothed to Pierre's 
 sister Marie. "With her kiss upon his lips he 
 returned to the war, and, after a series of 
 wild adventures on land, he took service on 
 board a privateersman, of which he subse- 
 quently became commander. "When peace 
 was declared, he reappeared at Urmhurst 
 with the title of captain, and with a goodly 
 sum of prize-money in his purse. His father 
 having died meanwhile, Captain Brian took 
 possession of the estate, which he consid- 
 erably enriched by judicious investments. 
 Marie Danver had remained true to him 
 throughout the seven weary years of their 
 betrotiiment, and he now married her in 
 spite of certain obscure rumors as to some 
 entanglement of his with a lady in Virginia. 
 He lived happily with his wife for twelve 
 years, when she died, having borne him one 
 child — the Outhbert of this story. 
 
 Captain Brian remained a widower seven 
 years, and, for all that his neighbors ex- 
 pected, he would have remained one to the 
 end of his days ; but, one winter's morning, 
 a mysterious stranger suddenly made her 
 appearance in TJrmsworth. No one knew 
 who she was or whence she came. Though 
 somewhat past the prime of life, she was 
 still handsome, and had the air of a lady ac- 
 customed to luxury and refinement. She 
 engaged lodgings in the village, and then 
 
MADGE. 
 
 31 
 
 sent a messenger to TJrmliurst with a note 
 for Captain Brian Urmson. The note was 
 delivered, and, half an hour afterward, the 
 captain presented himself at her parlor-door. 
 His call was prolonged until late in the af- 
 ternoon, and, on leaving, he repaired di- 
 rectly to the parsonage, and had a private 
 interview with the Reverend Mr. Graeme. 
 Two days afterward it was known that Mrs. 
 Golightley and Captain Urmson were to be 
 married, and, before the end of another 
 week, the wedding had actually taken place. 
 
 The village was fain to deal with its as- 
 tonishment and curiosity as best it might, 
 for the captain never vouchsafed any expla- 
 nation of this singular proceeding. He was 
 passionately devoted to his new wife, and 
 she to him ; but their union was not des- 
 tined to last long. She survived her mar- 
 riage only three years, during which time 
 she gave birth to two children — -Eve and 
 Golightley — dying in childbed when the 
 latter was about three months old. Her 
 husband, as we know, took her death very 
 much to heart ; but he had his little Eve to 
 comfort him ; and, though poor Golightley 
 was never in much favor, Guthbert, who 
 was by this time approaching his twentieth 
 year, was admitted by his father to a friend- 
 ly, rather than a merely filial, footing. One 
 reason of this distinction probably was that 
 Cuthbert never showed any fear of the sav- 
 age and morose old warrior, but answered 
 him always with a respectful firmness that 
 commanded equally his affection and respect. 
 Among the villagers, however, Golightley 
 was more popular than his half-brother, the 
 latter being considered self-opinionated and 
 satirical. Outhbert graduated at Bowdoin, 
 and then, in the same year that Eve was 
 lost, set out on his travels, and did not come 
 back till he was over thirty. 
 
 Meantime, the Danvers had been suffer- 
 ing reverses. Captain Urmson, after his first 
 wife's death, had not been at much pains to 
 keep up an intimacy with her family ; and 
 his second -marriage widened the gap be- 
 tween him and them. Pierre's son was a 
 man of some mechanical genius, and of an 
 inventive turn of intellect. He sank a great 
 deal of money in experimenting with his in- 
 ventions, and gradually contracted the habit 
 
 of solacing his disappointments with drink. 
 To add to his misfortunes, he was of an 
 uncomfortably sensitive temperament, and 
 chose to take umbrage at the captain's neg- 
 lect ; and, when adversity came, his pride 
 would not allow ibim to apply to Urmhurst 
 for assistance. Shortly before the captain's 
 decease, however, he married a young wom- 
 an who was something of an invalid and a 
 good deal of a shrew, but who brought him a 
 dowry of several thousand dollars. The only 
 offspring of this marriage was little dark-eyed 
 Madge, who came into the world a few years 
 after Garth. By this time, thanks to the 
 kindly overtures of Outhbert and his gentle 
 wife, the old relations between the two fami- 
 lies had been reestablished on a friendlier 
 footing than ever, and, the Danvers being 
 again in a needy condition, the Urmsons 
 were able to exercise their benevolent inge- 
 nuity in devising expedients for relieving 
 them without offending their susceptibili- 
 ties. 
 
 As for Madge, she was both mentally and 
 physically prooocious; she always led her 
 class at school, and, though not a large child, 
 was active and skillful in dancing, skating, 
 and such-like exercises. She was the first 
 of her race to be baptized into the Protes- 
 tant Ohurch ; Parson Graeme ofiiciated at 
 the ceremony, and ever afterward took the 
 little convert into his especial favor and 
 protection. But Madge was almost univer- 
 sally popular among grown-up people. She 
 possessed a charming vivacity and confidence 
 of manner, tempered by a subtile tact which 
 enabled her to steer clear of the vulgar con- 
 ceit and self - assertion of most so-called 
 clever children. Her face was rather French 
 in type ; long and dark, with large oval eyes 
 and vivid scarlet lips; and in her earlier 
 years she had a tendency to the use of 
 French idioms in her speech. For the rest, 
 she was good-humored, cheerful, neat, and 
 possessed a flavor and accent of her own. 
 Her very dress, without being conspicuous, 
 could only have been worn by herself, and 
 she attracted a half-amused, half-pleased 
 attention wherever she went. Such atten- 
 tion never disconcerted her; she was not 
 born for seclusion, and the eye of the world 
 had no terrors for her. There was a touch 
 
32 
 
 GAETH. 
 
 of worldly wisdom in her compositioii,wMcli, 
 as often as it came to the surface, had an 
 indescribably piquant effect. Her voice was 
 endowed with a certain soothing or caress- 
 ing intonation, employed only upon occa- 
 sion, but which might liave flattered an icicle 
 or coaxed a iiint. 
 
 But she was not quite so popular with 
 the boys and girls as with the grown folks. 
 In fabt, most girls of her own age disliked 
 her. Madge never was guilty of any of those 
 intimate, effusive, mysterious, whispering, 
 anti-masculine, girl friendships, which are 
 less rare a sight than might be expected, in 
 view of the wealth of sentiment pervading 
 them. She could afford to do without them 
 because of her undeniable ability to beguile 
 the heart of any boy in TJrmsworth. A boy 
 might distrust her when he was not in her 
 company ; he might say bitter things of her 
 behind her back ; he might even warn other 
 boys that she was a flirt; nevertheless, to 
 spend half an hour at her side was to forget 
 all his doubts and to abjure all his hard 
 speeches. She was so naive, so frank, so con- 
 fiding, and so entertaining, that it was not 
 in ordinary boyhood to resist her. If she 
 were a coquette, coquetry was as natural to 
 her as plain faces or slow wits are to other 
 young ladies, and perhaps she was no more 
 to blame for her failiag than they for theirs. 
 Concerning this side of Madge's life, 
 Garth knew nothing. He regarded her as a 
 thing apart ; and without a bit of self-con- 
 ceit it had never occurred to him that any 
 third person could come between them two. 
 The sacredness which invested her in his 
 eyes must impress itself upon others as well ; 
 but he alone could ever be privileged to do 
 her homage. Unworthy of her though he 
 might be. Providence had made her no other 
 mate ; the mystic thread of destiny had 
 united her star to his earth, and not to an- 
 other's. The trifling circumstance that he 
 had never exchanged a single unconvention- 
 al or sentimental word with the mistress of 
 his soul could have, of course, no influence 
 on his convictions. Like all visionaries, he 
 liked his dreams better than facts ; for facts 
 are apt to make fun of visionaries. Madge 
 was a palpable little fact, and no doubt she 
 would have made fun of Garth, if she could 
 
 have peeped into his mind at this epoch. 
 But, fortunately for the loves and friendships 
 of mankind, such insights are seldom pos- 
 sible. The friend cannot read his friend's 
 heart, even when the latter desires to open 
 it to his perusal ; nor can the lover reveal 
 himself to his mistress, however great their 
 mutual good - will. We are mysteries to 
 ourselves and to one another; the last secret 
 of our natures is still withheld from ns, 
 lest we abuse it. 
 
 It had for many years been the practice 
 of the Urmsworth school-children to picnic 
 every Michaelmas in a certain woodland 
 tract some three miles up the mill-stream. 
 It was a romantic spot — a natural landscape 
 garden, beautifully diversified. The journey 
 thither was made in farm-wagons, hay-carts, 
 on foot or on horseback, with laughter, sing- 
 ing, and jollity; the day was spent as hap- 
 pily as are most f6te-days, and the home re- 
 turn as much resembled the allegoric pict- 
 ures of the " Triumph of Autumn " as real 
 life can be expected to resemble unreal. 
 
 Old Parson Graeme had been the origi- 
 nator of these junketings, and was wont to 
 be the most uproarious of the junketers; 
 his stentorian " Haw, haw, haw ! " being al- 
 ways the nucleus of the fun ; and the picnic 
 without the parson would have been like 
 autumn stripped of its autumnal leaves. No 
 such deprivation had yet occurred, and the 
 reverend patriarch, though now in his eighty- 
 fifth year, was almost as hearty and full as 
 jolly as at any time during the last quarter of 
 a century. Much as he enjoyed the diver- 
 sion, however, one thing was yet wanting 
 to complete his satisfaction, and that was 
 Garth's presence at the picnic along with 
 the rest. To be brought face to face with 
 boys and girls of his own age was, in the 
 good gentleman's opinion, the only cure for 
 his grandson's shyness, indolence, taciturni- 
 ty, and other failings. But Garth had thus 
 far steadily declined to join himself with th? 
 revelers, and, Cuthbert refusing to interfere, 
 the parson had year after year been fain to 
 digest his disappointment. But year after 
 year he renewed the attack, not so much, at 
 last, in expectation of success, as from a 
 conscientious resolve to do his duty in the 
 matter. Accordingly, when the present Mich- 
 
MADGE. 
 
 SS 
 
 aelmas-ticle came round, he found an op- 
 portunity to collar Grartli in the barn-yard, 
 where he was feeding the hens, and ad- 
 dressed him as follows : 
 
 " Grandson, now listen to me. You're 
 fifteen years old now, or pretty near it. 
 Well, that's a pretty good age for a boy. 
 But I'm nearly six times as old as you, and 
 1 ought to know what's best for you." 
 
 Here the parson made a sort of oratori- 
 cal pause, clearing his throat and raising his 
 finger to begin his exordium in earnest. 
 But Garth looked up from his hens and 
 asked : 
 
 "Do you want me to go to the picnic 
 this year, grandpapa ? " 
 
 "Ay, lad, that I do. What — will you 
 go?" 
 
 " Yes," replied Garth, looking down at 
 his hens again, "I am going." 
 
 The parson could scarcely believe his 
 ears, so wholly unexpected was this spon- 
 taneous compliance. After a pause of 
 astonishment, he laid his mighty hand on 
 the boy's shoulder and bellowed out : 
 
 " Recollect — you've promised it. ITo 
 backing out ! Well, you're a good lad, and 
 in future years you'll look back on next 
 Saturday as the date of your first real start 
 in life. You've only been playing till now. 
 You're a good lad, and I hope to see you 
 graduate at Bowdoin College, as I saw your 
 father before yon. But mind you, now — 
 no backing out, eh? You'll keep your 
 word ? " 
 
 " I shall always keep my word, grand- 
 papa," said Garth, gravely ; and walked dig- 
 nifledly away, his hens following him. 
 
 The parson, however, was much gratified 
 at the lad's conversion, \rffioh he ascribed 
 to his own eloquence and perseverance. 
 But the truth of the matter was this: he 
 had consented to go to the picnic because 
 Madge had previously asked him to do so. 
 They had met in the forest-path that very 
 morning ; Garth had been too much agi- 
 tated to attempt escape, and even she was 
 so much taken aback as to say the first thing 
 which came into her head : 
 
 "Are you coming to the picnic next 
 Saturday, Mr. Garth?" 
 
 " I didn't — If you tell me to ! " 
 3 
 
 Mr. Garth's heart was beating hard ; but 
 no knight that he could remember had ever 
 refused a boon to his lady-love. 
 
 " Oh, yes, you must come ! " exclaimed 
 she, with a sparkling smile. 
 
 She thought this strong-looking young 
 Urmson boy, with his flushed cheeks, wild 
 hair, and glowing eyes, was altogether as 
 nice as anybody she knew. 
 
 " But how strange he is ! " she murmured 
 to herself, as Garth bowed his head and 
 hurried away to ponder his incredible ad- 
 venture in deepest solitude. " Sam Kineo 
 would not so have run away from me — I am 
 sure of it. Garth looks like him a little; 
 only Sam's hair is straighter, and his fore- 
 head less high. And Sam is more poUte. 
 But I like Garth ; I will be kind to him at 
 the picnic ; and then Sam will be fierce, but 
 Garth can be fierce too, I think." 
 
 This Sam Kineo was a half-breed Indian 
 — a black-haired, swarthy, active fellow, 
 with a quick, shining eye. He was ac- 
 counted the best runner, skater, and hunter, 
 in the neighborhood. He was about a year 
 older than Garth, and tall of his age. He 
 had first appeared at Urmsworth ten years 
 before, when an Indian woman, who had 
 carried him through the wintry wilderness 
 on her back, sank down at the parson's 
 door, exhausted with the weary anguish of 
 a broken knee. She told a romantic story 
 about the seduction of a daughter by a faith- 
 less white man, of a consequent tragedy, 
 and of her own flight northward with the 
 child. She was kindly cared for by the 
 hospitable minister, and the child was taken 
 in charge and taught the catechism, and 
 afterward put to school. He was bright 
 enough, but averse from steady work ; or, 
 as the schoolmaster put it, he was " deficient 
 in application rather than in native intelli- 
 gence." 
 
 The Indian woman, wlio was known as 
 Nikomis, took up her abode in a wigwam 
 on the borders of the forest, where she 
 practised medicine and popular necromancy, 
 and was esteemed one of the lions of the 
 place. Sam, who lived with her, was at the 
 age of thirteen apprenticed to a gunsmith. 
 He accommodated himself to the social life 
 of the village with a facility that belonged 
 
34 
 
 GAETH. 
 
 to certain aspects of his character, and soon 
 became popular at dances, sleighing-parties, 
 and such-like amusements. He was a -hand- 
 some fellow, and his half tamed cleverness, 
 physical powers, and mysterious origin, 
 combined to lend him a good deal of pres- 
 tige in some people's eyes — Madge's among 
 others. She was not indifferent to physical 
 attractions, and liked romantic irregularity. 
 Garth and Sam were acquainted, after a 
 rough fashion of their own. They knew 
 each other's names, had certain similarities 
 of taste and knowledge, communicated with 
 each other mainly by signs, and often went 
 on hunting expeditions together. Sam sur- 
 passed Garth in the instinct and sagacity 
 due to his Indian strain; yet Garth, with 
 the liigher part of his nature omitted, might 
 have rivaled Sam more nearly than was the 
 case as things stood. The intimacy of the 
 two boys never got beyond a superficial 
 companionship ; any attempts to push it far- 
 ther would only have brought about a mutual 
 repulsion. Sam, however, had sharper 
 eyes than Garth, and was accustomed 
 to study the latter much more keenly than 
 Garth studied him. Whether he gained 
 anything from his scrutiny is open to ques- 
 tion ; at all events, he probably fancied that 
 he understood his companion more thor- 
 oughly than in reality he did. But, taking 
 into consideration the character of these 
 two boys, their respective attitudes toward 
 Madge, and her disposition toward each of 
 them, it is easy to see that a meeting be- 
 tween the three might have interesting re- 
 sults. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 TIP A TEEE. 
 
 On picnic morning Garth was up early, 
 though he had slept ill duriag the night. 
 Fantastic visions of the morrow had flitted 
 through his brain, and tossed him in flushed 
 discomfort from one side of his bed to the 
 other. He had pursued a phantom Garth 
 through all manner of grotesque adventures, 
 and was distressed to observe that the spec- 
 tre always contrived to fail, by an inch or a 
 moment, of creditably acquitting hinjself. 
 
 Wishing that Garth incarnate might do 
 better, the boy let himself quietly out of 
 his bedroom-window at sunrise, and struck 
 off through the awakening woods toward 
 the picnic-grounds. He knew that some 
 hours must elapse before the party would 
 arrive, but he meant to employ this spare 
 time in thoroughly reconnoitring the scene 
 of the coming festival, and trying to accus- 
 tom himself to the idea of facing so many 
 people ; for, although he might know every 
 individual in the company. Garth dreaded 
 confronting them in mass. Assuming as ho 
 did, that every one would make a point of 
 observing his slightest manifestation, and 
 taking it for granted that he must appear to 
 other eyes at least as transparent as he did 
 to his own, it was not strange that his cour- 
 age sometimes misgave him. On the other 
 hand, there was Madge — or Miss Danver, as 
 he must begin to call her, since their ac- 
 quaintance was about to emerge from fairy- 
 land into the every-day world — whom to 
 meet he knew not whether he most rejoiced 
 or feared. To meet her, to be near her, per- 
 haps to converse with her — oh, to think of 
 it ! After all, was not the real world a yet 
 more marvelous place than fairy-land ? 
 
 As he walked on, however, brushed by 
 the leaves which had scarcely begun to be 
 autumnal, and cheered by the lusty enthu- 
 siasm of the morning sunshine, his fears 
 dwindled, and he felt brave enough to look 
 his joys in the face. They were all Madge 1 
 The vistas of the wood, the glimpses of 
 heaven overhead, the tonic breath of the 
 pines, the stirring of the breeze, were beauti- 
 ful because of her. He so delighted in these 
 reflections and reminders of his mistress 
 that the way did not seem long nor the time 
 wearisome ere she should appear in her 
 proper person. An older or more expe- 
 rienced lover would have found everything 
 irksome save the actual beloved presence, 
 but Garth knew as yet neither the sweet- 
 ness nor the disappointment of living hands 
 and lips. He looked back, nevertheless, 
 with long-drawn breaths and reddenings of 
 the cheek, at his several encounters with 
 Madge thus far, and especially to that mem- 
 orable evening when she had sat behind him 
 on horseback, her small arm round his waist, 
 
UP A TEEE. 
 
 35 
 
 and her face so near, that, when lie turned 
 to answer his grandfather, stalking beside 
 them, he could feel her warm breath on his 
 cheek. Ah ! sighed Garth, would they ever 
 ride thus again ? At all events, he was re- 
 solved oa making unheard-of advances to- 
 day. He would go up to her as soon as she 
 arrived, and take her by the hand in bidding 
 her good-morning. He would sit near her 
 at dinner-time, and persuade her to share 
 the contents of his luncheon-basket. He 
 would pluck off the burs from the chestnuts 
 for her ; and in the games and trials of 
 strength and skill which were to occupy the 
 forenoon, he would win every prize for her 
 sake ; even Sam Kineo should not prevail 
 against him. 
 
 After proceeding a mile or two on his 
 way, he came to a spot where the path 
 branched off in two directions. Here, amid 
 a cluster of moist and mossy stones, a spring 
 bubbled up and flowed across the track and 
 onward through the roots of the trees into 
 the forest. The spring was overshadowed 
 by a young rock-maple, whose foliage had 
 forced the season, most of it being already 
 yellow, and branches here and there clus- 
 tered with clear red leaves which seemed 
 adrip with living blood. The boy threw 
 himself down to drink of the cold water, 
 staring the while at the mysterious bubbling 
 commotion at the sandy bottom of the 
 spring, as seen through the reflection of his 
 own brown face. Some time, he thought, 
 in pursuance of the custom of pious knights 
 of old, when they had had their fill of blood- 
 shed, it would be well to erect on this spot 
 a sort of temple or shrine consecrated to 
 lovely Madge Danver, and aflrording her and 
 him a place of meeting, or of refuge, if need 
 were. Love and peace should reign here ; 
 all deeds and thoughts should be as pure and 
 kindly as this beneficent spring. Urmhurst 
 had been built upon a grave, and its foun- 
 dation had been laid in strife and blood ; but 
 Garth would raise his edifice on innocent 
 ground, and so keep his life blameless. The 
 plan so took his fancy that, by way of se- 
 curing the site against foreign appropriation, 
 he-puUed out his knife and cut his own and 
 Madge's initials deep in the bark of the rook- 
 maple, and drew a line round them. Pleased 
 
 with the conceit, which was as original with 
 him as with the forefather of all lovers, 
 Garth put his knife in Lis pocket, and re- 
 sumed his way to the picnic-ground. 
 
 As he neared it, and finally looked upon 
 the place where this assemblage of living 
 and palpable human beings was actually to 
 appear within an hour or two, the boy's ap- 
 prehensions in a measure returned, and he 
 was glad he had allowed himself space to 
 compose his mind and fortify his resolution 
 for the ordeal. He rambled hither and thither 
 about the rocky and wildly picturesque glen, 
 peopling it with imaginary picnickers, and 
 endeavoring to make himself at home with 
 them ; while a shadowy Madge seemed ever 
 at his side. At length he came to an enor- 
 mous chestnut-tree, standing near the upper 
 verge of the tract, and stretching its mighty 
 limbs over a diameter of one hundred feet. 
 The gi'onnd beneath was strewed with clus- 
 ters of the burred nuts, and thousands more 
 hung between the thick leaves overhead. 
 After trying his teeth for a while upon the 
 former, Garth began to turn his eyes up- 
 ward, and consider the practicability of a 
 climb. 
 
 Swarming was out of the question ; the 
 chestnut was eighteen feet in girth ; but there 
 were twigs sprouting here and there from 
 the lower trunk, and a few promising knots 
 and clefts which might be of use. Once ten 
 feet from the ground and the lowest of the 
 main limbs could be reached, and thence was 
 a broad, winding staircase to the tiptop. It 
 was a very tall tree, and no doubt com- 
 manded a large view : perhaps he could see 
 the picnic-party on their way hither from 
 the village. This last thought bound him 
 to the attempt, and forgetting that enough 
 time had already passed to allow of their be- 
 ing very near, he forthwith set about it. It 
 was a slow and arduous job, and after work- 
 ing hard for ten minutes, and ascending 
 about eight feet, it became necessary either 
 to trnst his weight to a certain dead twig, or 
 to come down again Garth paused to delib- 
 erate. In the midst of his pause a strange 
 sound fell upon his ear — a throlbbing, redu- 
 plicating, long-drawn note, dying away in a 
 cadence, which would have sounded melan- 
 choly to one ignorant (as Garth was not) that 
 
36 
 
 GAETH. 
 
 it was the stentorian laughter of Parson 
 Graeme echoing afar through the woods. 
 
 The party must be close at hand, and the 
 climber, following hia first and most natural 
 •impulse, committed himself to the twig, 
 which" cracked, indeed, but did not break, 
 and helped him to a main limb of the tree. 
 He rapidly clambered upward, and before 
 the vanguard of the revelers had come in 
 sight, he was safe among the topmost 
 branches, whence he could overlook the 
 whole ground, excepting only the space im- 
 mediately beneath him, but was himself in- 
 visible from all points. 
 
 By the time he had recovered his breath 
 and wiped the perspiration from his face, 
 the picnickers were defiling with joUity into 
 the glen, the gigantic parson ia front, with 
 Madge's hand in his, Sam Kineo not far ofi', 
 upward of a score of grown people and chil- 
 dren following on behind, and, last of all, 
 an old hay-cart drawn by a venerable white 
 steed, that had retired from active life and 
 reserved himself for festive occasions like 
 the present. The cart was beladen with 
 provision-baskets, in charge of three or four 
 elderly ladies, whose years entitled them to 
 a ride, though it is doubtful whether the 
 jolting they got was not a sharper trial of 
 endurance than a three-mile walk would 
 have been. 
 
 Garth had climbed his tree involuntarily, 
 so to speak; but it now occurred to him 
 that the opportunity of overlooking his com- 
 pany and familiarizing himself with their 
 individual and aggregate aspect, before de* 
 scending and mixing with them on an equal 
 footing, was worth improving. He kept his 
 perch accordingly, and held his peace, and 
 enjoyed the aroma of affairs like a superior 
 being, without having his appreciation dulled 
 by a personal share in them. 
 
 The cart was drawn up beneath Garth's 
 very chestnut, and the venerable steed was 
 relieved of his harness and turned out to 
 amuse himself, while the elderly ladies were 
 severally lifted down by the gallant parson, 
 who was provided with a flattering witticism 
 for each one of them. The next thing was 
 to take out the provision-baskets and select 
 a site for the table. 
 
 " Why not have it here beneath the 
 
 tree ? " demanded the ponderous tones of 
 the reverend Titan. 
 
 But somebo'hy objected that the chestnut 
 burs would render sitting down impossible ; 
 and therefore, after some discussion and 
 much mirth, the place was fixed a few rods 
 off, under the southern side of a lichened 
 rock : entirely with Garth's approval, since 
 he could now see all that went on, without 
 overhearing conversation perhaps not in- 
 tended for his ears. Whatever his grand- 
 father said he must, indeed, make up his 
 mind to be privy to; the old gentleman 
 would have been audible at the top of a mi- 
 mosa. But then his grandfather never talked 
 secrets. 
 
 "Now, boys and girls," bellowed he, 
 having left the elderly ladies to unpack the 
 baskets and make dilatory preparations for 
 the feast — " now, then, we must have our 
 games. What shall we begin with? Speak 
 up, somebody. Boys, you ought to give the 
 ladies the first choice. Or what do you say 
 to a boy and a girl being chosen to decide it, 
 between themselves, for all of us? Very 
 well ; who shall they be ? What do you say 
 to — let me see — ^to Madge Danver and Garth 
 TJrmson?" 
 
 Garth started, and dropped a chestnut. 
 Was he discovered? and did he hear his 
 name coupled with hers ? Oh, he must come 
 down I 
 
 But hark again ! "Why, where is Garth? 
 — not here? no one seen him? That's odd 
 — that's odd. He told me he'd be here. 
 Well ! — however, it's early still ; he'll come 
 yet, depend upon it. — What did you say, my 
 dear ? " to Madge. Garth did not catch her 
 rejoinder, but it seemed to tickle the minis- 
 ter, whose mood changed from solicitude to 
 mirth. " Ho ! ho I ho ! Oh, very well, if 
 that's the case, we needn't feel anxious about 
 him ; he'll come sooner or later. 1 thought 
 it was all on my account — ha! ha! ha I — 
 Well, boys and girls, we can't wait for him, 
 so whom shall we choose in his place ? Let 
 me see — what do you say to Sam Kineo ? " 
 
 It was a foible of the good minister to 
 be most autocratic under the guise of defer- 
 ring to the opinion of others ; so now, while 
 appearing to choose Madge and Sam by ap- 
 peal to the popular wiU, he in reality (though 
 
UP A TREE. 
 
 37 
 
 unawares) pleased no one except limself 
 and his nominees. The girls were affronted 
 that the "Frenchified little thing" should 
 be put over them, while the boys were as 
 little flattered to play second fiddle to an 
 Indian half-breed. However, there was no 
 disputing the minister's vote, and Sam and 
 Madge were chosen, if not unanimously, at 
 least without a dissentient voice. They 
 walked apart mysteriously, and consulted. 
 There was not much to consult about ; but 
 stiU Garth's eyes followed the pair with sin- 
 gular anxiety, and he was continually won- 
 dering how Sam felt, and imagining how he 
 himself would feel in Sam's place, and be- 
 rating himself for having been out of the 
 way at the critical moment. Not but Sam 
 carried it off well enough : indeed, Garth 
 could not help acknowledging that the half- 
 breed's behavior was more easy and gallant 
 than his own would have dared to be in the 
 circumstances. And Madge — Miss Danver 
 — seemed charmingly affable. For a moment 
 Garth questioned whether she would have 
 been so affable to him ! 
 
 Nevertheless, he was not jealous : he 
 had too much refinement and too little ex- 
 perience for that. Madge was gracious as 
 a queen might be ; and Sam's self-possession 
 was that of a courtier who knows his place. 
 With Garth it would be different ; he must 
 meet the queen only as her destined lover ; 
 and on those high terms it was no marvel if 
 the dapper forms of society should hitch and 
 stammer a little at first. He was not jeal- 
 ous, for the idea that Madge would receive 
 the advances of any one but himself, or that 
 any one except himself would venture to 
 make advances to her, never entered his 
 head. But he could not with equanimity 
 behold so much sweetness thrown away on 
 Sam Kineo — sweetness from which only 
 this unlucky chestnut debarred him. "What 
 had possessed him to expend so much pains 
 in climbing out of the reach of his own hap- 
 piness ? Why had he not been content to 
 remain on the same footing with the rest 
 of the world, and take his equal chances ? 
 Solitude and seclusion are good in their 
 way, but a body among the clouds while the 
 Boul languishes on earth Garth found a 
 most unprofitable predicament. 
 
 Meanwhile the committee had decided 
 upon their programme, and the games be- 
 gan. Garth, sitting disconsolate like a de- 
 serted idol in his niche, was astonished to 
 see what a good time boys and girls had to- 
 gether. He had always taken it for granted 
 that enjoyment was in a direct ratio to iso- 
 lation ; but here numbers seemed to be the 
 very zest of the fun. How they laughed, 
 shouted, ran about, and laughed again 1 
 What a delightful game blindman's-buff 
 was, and hunt-the-slipper, and kitchen-fur- 
 niture, and pass-the-ring ! Garth joined in 
 every laugh, and nearly fell out of his tree 
 in the heedless sympathy with which he fol- 
 lowed the movements of the players. How 
 lovely Madge looked 1 how handy and clever 
 was Sam Kineo ! A sigh surprised Garth 
 in the midst of his enjoyment. What right 
 had he to laugh ? he was not playing. He 
 was like a forlorn ghost vainly attempting 
 to partake of earthly pleasures. He was re- 
 solved, if once he got his foot on solid earth 
 again, to give up tree-climbing. Meanwhile 
 it was plain that he must stay where he was 
 so long as the picnic lasted. To come down 
 now would be indeed a come-down, and 
 Garth's dignity and sense of the ludicrous 
 alike forbade it. 
 
 By-and-by the girls were tired, and there 
 was a pause. The minister, who had con- 
 tributed more noise to the games than any 
 of the players, now revived the topic of 
 Garth's absence, observing that he the more 
 regretted it since, in the trials of strength 
 and skill which were to come off between 
 the boys, he was certain that his grandson 
 would have borne a distinguished part. But 
 at this Sam Kineo ventured to turn up his 
 nose, intimating that it might be just as well 
 for Garth's reputation to keep out of the 
 way. Sam, in fact, was generally admitted 
 to be a formidable athlete ; he was a year 
 older than the minister's grandson, and, had 
 the two been matched against each other, 
 the odds must have been in the Indian's 
 favor. Garth, nevertheless, cramped and im- 
 patient in his tree, would gladly have de- 
 scended to try his strength, had Sam's 
 prowess been double what it was. In 
 Madge's presence, too, he could scarcely 
 have failed of success — so he fancied ; and 
 
38 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 now he was to lose this signal opportunity 
 of proving himself worthy of hei* favor. Oh 
 for a bout at wrestling with Sam Kineo ! 
 
 Perhaps, to own the truth, something 
 more than ordinary rivalry was at the bot- 
 tom of that wish. Sam seemed to be eating 
 Garth's cake and his own too. How easy it 
 would be quietly to drop down in the midst ! 
 and yet how much harder it was to climb 
 down against moral obstacles than up against 
 material ones, and what a different kind of 
 agility was requisite ! 
 
 After a sufficient rest, the minister, aban- 
 doning aU hopes of his young relative's ap- 
 pearance, gave orders for the athletic sports 
 to begin. Madge was probably the only 
 person who (for her own private reasons) 
 shared the old gentleman's disappointment 
 at Master Urmson's defection. She had laid 
 plans which promised to bring about an ex- 
 citing little episode or two ; but Garth and 
 Sam were both involved in the scheme, and 
 its consequent failure made Madge rather 
 captious. She was piqued at the former's 
 implicit slight, but this did not prevent her 
 taking his part against the latter, who prob- 
 ably found her less disposed to encourage 
 his attentions than had Garth been on the 
 ground. 
 
 Thus, when Sam jumped higher, ran 
 faster, leaped farther, and wrestled better 
 than any of his opponents, Madge only 
 shrugged her little shoulders, and would 
 have him to understand that matters would 
 have faUen out otherwise if Garth Urmson 
 had been there. Poor Sam could only scowl 
 and secretly wish to tear his rival limb from 
 limb ; but then Madge would look so irre- 
 sistible' that wrath was perforce merged in 
 adulation. 
 
 As for Garth, he would have been glad 
 to be free of his leafy prison at the risk of 
 being tomahawked and scalped as soon as 
 he reached the earth. Mental irritation 
 apart, his physical discomfort was most dol- 
 orous ; he had tried every practicable posi- 
 tion again and again, and not one was toler- 
 able. The forenoon dragged past ; there 
 was a contra-dance, in which Madg^e and 
 Sam were partners; then dinner was an- 
 nounced by the elderly ladies, and intermina- 
 bly eaten, under favor of a stentorian grace 
 
 from Parson Graeme; and it was Sam, not 
 Garth, who kept Madge supplied with deli- 
 cacies. After dinner the minister leaned 
 back against the rock and went fast asleep ; 
 and the elderly ladies, when they had fin- 
 ished replacing the knives and forks and 
 table-ware in the baskets, crawled under the 
 hay-cart, and followed his example. 
 
 The younger part of the company, being 
 thus left to their own devices, paired off and 
 strolled away, each couple toward a differ- 
 ent point of the compass, and at length only 
 Sam and Madge remained. Between these 
 two there seemed to be some misunderstand- 
 ing, a state of things which Garth accepted 
 more philosophically than his rival. The 
 latter, after several ineffectual attempts to 
 persuade Madge to accompany him, loitered 
 moodily off by himself, and was presently 
 lost to sight behind a clump of sombre hem- 
 locks. 
 
 Madge sat still for a while, looking up 
 into the chestnut-tree, apparently lost in 
 thought ; once or twice Garth could almost 
 believe that their glances met. But before 
 he could decide upon the propriety of then 
 and there discovering himself to the mis- 
 tress of his heart, she abruptly arose, tied 
 on her broad-brimmed straw hat beneath 
 her soft little chin, and walked demurely 
 away, with her short steps and erect little 
 figure. The direction she took,, though not 
 exactly opposite to Sam's, was at a consid- 
 erable angle from it. Garth, having satisfied 
 himself that whoever was not asleep was 
 out of the way, descended his tree as fast as 
 his stiffened legs would let him, and dropped 
 to the ground with almost a shout of re- 
 lief. 
 
 At last he was once more his own mas- 
 ter, the owner of his own limbs, motions, 
 and volitions; he had learned more than 
 one wise lesson up yonder among the chest- 
 nut-burs ; he had pricked his fingers, but it 
 was his fault if he had not profited by a few 
 solid kernels. The first use he made Of his 
 wisdom was to determine on pursuing 
 Madge; but, looking about him, he found 
 the aspect of the country so much altered 
 from his new point of view as to put him in 
 some doubt which way she had gone. He 
 paused a moment to listen. It was a silent 
 
FIGHTING. 
 
 39 
 
 afternoon, the loudest noise being the snor- 
 ing of his grandfather, which was reechoed 
 in a fainter key from beneath the hay-cart. 
 Far off somewhere a boy was whistling a 
 tune that sounded like " Yankee Doodle." 
 A cat-bird piped from an alder-thicket near 
 at hand. From another direction came a 
 distant murmur of laughter. But there was 
 nothing that told of Madge ; so, having re- 
 considered his bearings as accurately as pos- 
 sible, the sturdy young lover set forth, and 
 was quickly swallowed up in the inscrutable 
 mazes of the forest. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 FIGHTING. 
 
 About six hours later, weary in body 
 and dejected in mind, ragged, hungry, -and- 
 thirsty, Garth emerged at the cool bubbling 
 spring amid the stones, at the meeting, of 
 the ways ; and once more he threw himself 
 at length beneath the crimson maple and 
 drank a refreshing draught. He had not 
 found Madge, neither had he seen a human 
 being since leaving the picnic-ground; he 
 had wandered on preoccupied, he knew not 
 where ; ever surrounded by a twilight of 
 trees ; sometimes fancying he heard a voice 
 or caught a glimpse of a broad-brimmed 
 straw hat, which would change to a festoon 
 of moss or a bird-note as he approached. He 
 made a vast detour of loneliness, and it was 
 not till he came upon the fountain, and saw 
 in the moss the imprint he had made in the 
 morning, that he realized in what part of 
 the world he was. He drank, and then 
 seated himself upon a stone to meditate over 
 his first picnic. 
 
 Hark ! was not that the minister's laugh ? 
 some faint echo of it seeming to come from 
 the direction of the village. The picnickers, 
 then, must newly have passed by ; a few 
 minutes earlier, and Garth would have fallen 
 in with them. He rose to his feet, resolved 
 to pursue them, and put to the proof his 
 late-learned doctrine of the value of society ; 
 at all events, to clear his character with his 
 grandfather and Madge — Miss Danver; to 
 show them that he had kept his promise in 
 
 being at the festival, albeit veiled in the in- 
 visibility of a chestnut-tree. But before he 
 had advanced two steps toward putting 
 these good resolutions in execution he heard 
 a foot-tramp from behind, and, turning, be- 
 held Sam Kineo hastening toward him as if 
 from the picnic-ground. Sam looked elate 
 and excited, but on seeing Garth he stopped 
 in surprise. 
 
 '■ Hallo, hallo ! " said he, in his rapid 
 way, eying the other all over, and finally 
 fixing a sharp look on his' face. "Where 
 ha' you been. Garth? Been lost? Ha, ha! " 
 
 " Didn't you meet her either ? " demand- 
 ed Garth. 
 
 "Meet who? What d'you know about 
 it ? ' Meet her either ? ' what are you talk- 
 in' about. Garth? You weren't at th' pic- 
 nic ; you know nothin'." 
 
 " I was in the chestnut-tree," said Garth, 
 reddening a little. " I saw Ma — Miss Dan- 
 ver — " 
 
 Here Sam interrupted him with a laugh, 
 the undisguised oflfensiveness of which made 
 Garth redden still more. ' Ha, ha! Up in a 
 tree like a chipmunk! " Ha, ha! 'Fraid to 
 come down, fear you'd be beaten runnin', 
 wrestlin', jumpin'. Ha ! very sensible. We 
 didn't want you ! Madge 'nd I rather be 
 alone together. Ha, ha ! " 
 
 "Sam! " exclaimed the reverential Garth, 
 too much shocked at the other's light men- 
 tion of the adored name to remember that 
 he ought to be angry. 
 
 "Well, well!" rejoined the half-breed, 
 coming forward a step, with a hectoring air. 
 He threw the black straight hair from his 
 face, and met the other's eyes with a keen, 
 shining glance. He was certainly a hand- 
 some lad, as well as an active and well- 
 grown one ; but there was the hardness and 
 superficiality of the Indian in his expression, 
 and just now a savage suggestiveness in the 
 gleam of his white teeth. 
 
 " D'you think she likes you, eh ? " he 
 continued, rapidly ; " think she likes you, 
 Garth Urmson ? I tell you what, she likes 
 nobody but me. She loves me, Madge does. 
 She's my girl. You better not interfere." 
 
 " Stop ! " said Garth, in a low tone. 
 " You have no i-ight — " 
 
 There was a tremor in his voice, which 
 
40 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 caught Sam's ear, and cansed him to make a 
 grave mistake. He had been inclined to 
 pick a quarrel from the first, and Garth's 
 behavior thus far had rather fostered the 
 inclination. But the quaver in these last 
 words appeared to Sam to be due to fear, 
 and determined him to proceed to extremi- 
 ties at once. He believed himself able to 
 give Garth a thrashing, and there was more 
 than one reason why it was desirable he 
 should do so. He threw off all disguise. 
 
 " You hold your tongue — you Garth 1 
 Jell me I have no right ? Ha I ha 1 I kiss 
 her often as I please ; she gives me half 
 a dozen kisses, puts her arms round my 
 neck, lets me carry her over th' brook ! 
 Guess I have a right. . . . Hallo ! hallo ! " 
 
 Garth had waked up at last, though this 
 unexpected torrent of blasphemy (such he 
 considered it) had made him powerless for 
 a few moments. The words stung and ran- 
 kled, and seemed to blacken the day. There 
 could be no adequate punishment for them. 
 Since they were spoken, all innocence and 
 freshness were parched and blighted out of 
 life. Had he believed them true, he would 
 have wished to live no longer. 
 
 But he held them falsest of the false, and 
 he felt that it rested with him to inflict what- 
 ever punishment was possible. That Madge 
 was innocent, that her lips and heart were 
 pure, was to him as certain as that she ex- 
 isted. Sam had lied as no one ever lied be- 
 fore. To be so wicked must bring a pun- 
 ishment of its own, but it was none the less 
 Garth's duty to vindicate Madge's honor to 
 the uttermost. He took Sam by the throat 
 in the midst of his blasphemies, and pushed 
 him backward to a level bit of turf beside 
 the maple - tree. Here the half - breed 
 wrenched himself loose, and the boys faced 
 each other in silence for nearly a minute. 
 Something there was in the moulding and 
 play of their features at this juncture which 
 almost amounted to a resemblance, each to 
 each. The lines of passion are much alike 
 in all faces. 
 
 " You don't deserve to live," said Garth, 
 at length, drawing a deep breath, and with 
 an air of profound solemnity. 
 
 In fact, there was a sternness and an ab- 
 sence of flourish in Garth's demeanor which 
 
 a little dashed Sam's spirits. It made him 
 feel the need of bending his every physical 
 and mental faculty to the work before him. 
 He was puzzled, perhaps, at the sudden 
 change in Garth's attitude from shrinking 
 to aggressive ; he lacked the refined insight 
 which might sympathetically have fathomed 
 the cause of it. He could easily understand 
 jealousy on his rival's part; but of such 
 wrath kindled at mere wantonness of speech 
 he had no comprehension. It was to his 
 disadvantage that he had not, since the lof- 
 tier passion is ever the more potent and en- 
 during. 
 
 " Now, then, what do you want? " blus- 
 tered he, raising his voice. 
 
 " Fight ! " whispered Garth, glowing, 
 and doubling his fists ; and the very atmos- 
 phere seemed to grow murky and heavy with 
 the word. 
 
 " What for ? " demanded Sam, hesitating. 
 
 Garth, whose every bone yearned for 
 battle, could hardly command his voice to 
 speak. " Was it a lie ? " he asked, tremu- 
 lously. 
 
 ■ "D'ye mean about the kissing? You 
 ask her — " 
 
 " Fight ! or I'll kill you," hissed Garth ; 
 and the fight began on the instant. 
 
 It was a breathless, fierce, desperate fight 
 enough, though the fighters were boys fresh 
 in their teens. Not a scientific fight on 
 either side : there were no rounds, no rules, 
 no courtesies. There was no noise either, 
 except the sound of the blows, and the 
 quick gasping for breath, and the soft tram- 
 pling on the turf. There is a concentration 
 and an economy about affairs of this kind 
 which are lacking in most other business 
 transactions ; waste, diSuseness, is suicidal. 
 
 A blackbird happened to perch on the 
 top of the maple at the moment the fight 
 began, and was its sole witness. At first 
 the shorter boy got the worst of it ; he was 
 knocked down three times within as many 
 minutes. Whoever has been knocked down 
 once can tell what this means. But Garth 
 was not beaten. He started up as if the 
 touch of earth refreshed him. Such stamina 
 a little disheartened his adversary, to whom, 
 indeed, the other's deliberate fury was 
 quite unaccountable, and gradually became 
 
FIGHTING. 
 
 41 
 
 appaUiog. Sam fought with his strength, 
 hut Garth put the annihilation of all evil 
 into every hlow. He got more and more 
 terribly in a rage each moment, but it was 
 rage that calmed and cooled the faculties, 
 not blinded them. No enemy is so unpleas- 
 ant to meet as one of this kind ; only killing 
 can beat him, and, if not killed, he is very 
 apt to kill. Garth's face was iixed in a sin- 
 gular expression — a compound of a smile 
 and a frown. He was bleeding from a blow 
 on the chin. Two hundred years before, an 
 ancestor of his, on his wedding-day, had 
 looked precisely thus. 
 
 When Sam stopped knocking his oppo- 
 nent down, the blackbird noted a change in 
 the aspect of the fray. The larger boy was 
 now defending himself. He was tiring, and 
 was lacking in the unquenchable passion 
 which should take the place of strength. 
 He was fighting for his life, yet showed less 
 vigor than the attacking party, who, it must 
 •be inferred, was doing battle for something 
 to which life was a secondary consideration. 
 It was an ugly sight now ; even a bird, one 
 would think, might have felt the ugliness of 
 it. Both the faces were bleeding and dis- 
 figured, the leaves of the maple looked dab- 
 bled with blood, the setting sun was swathed 
 in a bloody mist, and the black plumage of 
 the bird was dashed here and there with 
 red. All of a sudden the larger boy fell 
 heavily, and loosely backward, and lay inert. 
 It was the other's first knock-down blow ; 
 with the force of it he, too, fell on his ene- 
 my's body. 
 
 The blackbird flew away. Garth, with 
 an effort, staggered to his feet, and set his 
 foot on Sam's breast, gasping out, after the 
 custom of the knights in the " Faerie 
 Queene," "Do you yield ? " 
 
 Sam neither answered nor made sign of 
 surrender, but lay exactly as he had fallen. 
 In truth, the boy was stunned by the blow 
 and the fall. But Garth, who was well read 
 in details of mortal engagements, straight- 
 way took him for dead. He snatched back 
 his foot, and stared at the motionless body, 
 with a strange feeling curdling round his 
 heart. He had fought fair— ay, with the 
 odds against him; he could plead justice, 
 truth, honor, and all, on his side ; barely had 
 
 he won the victory ; he could reproach him- 
 self in nothing ; and yet there lay Sam, who 
 so lately had lived and breathed, dead by 
 Garth's hand, and the deadness of him 
 seemed somehow to have filled the world 
 and the sky, and even to have communicated 
 itself to the springs of his slayer's life, and 
 made the better part of him dead too. 
 
 Garth raised his eyes, and they fell upon 
 the trunk of the maple-tree Just beyond, on 
 which were cut his own and Madge Dan- 
 ver's initials. This was the spot which, 
 twelve hours before, he had consecrated to 
 the genius of love, and to peace and inno- 
 cence, and such pretty things — had conse- 
 crated it at sunrise in order to poUute it at 
 sunset, or rather to consecrate it anew to 
 bloodshed, strife, and hate. Had he done 
 wrong or right in this matter? He could 
 reproach himself in nothing ; and Sam, there, 
 could not accuse him — alas ! no — could only 
 lie still and accuse by not accusing. All was 
 a puzzle and a mystery except that awful un- 
 moving thing that was, and yet was not, Sam. 
 
 Kneeling down beside the spring. Garth 
 washed the blood from his own face and 
 hands, hastily bethinking himself the while 
 what was to be done. The deadly earnest- 
 ness and reality of the situation purged his 
 mind of the fantastic vapors and visions 
 which had beset him heretofore. He was 
 in fairy-land no longer ; Sam and he were 
 not knights, but two boys, one of whom had 
 killed the other. Madge — yes, even she was 
 disenchanted — was no longer Gloriana, or 
 Una, or Belphcebe, hut a little girl, in de- 
 fense of whose innocent reputation Garth 
 had compromised his own innocence and his 
 life. For the boy knew that murder was 
 punished by hanging, and, not being ac- 
 quainted with the various gradations of 
 manslaughter and justifiable homicide, he 
 made no doubt that hanging was his due. 
 Mindful of his early discipline, therefore — of 
 that self-invited discipline of the rod — he 
 considered it incumbent upon himself not 
 only to be hanged, but to lose no time in 
 putting his head into the noose. 
 
 Had it occurred to him to spend a few 
 minutes in applying to Sam the ordinary 
 methods for restoring suspended animation, 
 he would have been spared half an hour or 
 
42 
 
 GARTH, 
 
 so of very tragic anguish. But Garth had a 
 natural bent to tragedy — a tendency to re- 
 gard the saddest aspect of a thing as the 
 most likely to be true. That Sam appeared 
 dead, accordingly, was reason enough for 
 believing that he was so: it would perhaps 
 have seemed disrespectful to the awful maj- 
 esty of fate to believe otherwise. He did 
 not look at the body any more, though he 
 was conscious of it as it lay there, with one 
 knee bent, and one arm thrown over its head. 
 He resolutely concentrated his thoughts on 
 the two or three questions which demanded 
 an immediate answer. Must he set off for 
 Haverhill at once, and deliver himself up to 
 justice without bidding farewell to his rela- 
 tives, or would it be allowable first to go 
 home ? and might he not see Madge before 
 he went, and have the consolation of telling 
 her that he was to die in her cause ? 
 
 He answered the last question first, and 
 said no to it. He was blood-stained ; he car- 
 ried a dsath-scent about him ; and though 
 the stain had been incurred for Madge's 
 sake, it was not fitting that he should invade 
 her pure presence with it. If she wished to 
 see him, she would visit him in prison, and 
 he could receive her there. As to his father 
 and mother, he was in doubt. He felt that 
 he belonged to them, and might approach 
 them, stained as he was, without offense ; 
 but when he thought of his mother's agony 
 at hearing that he was to be hanged, he 
 hesitated and held back. Yet, on the other 
 hand, it was scarcely practicable for him to 
 get to Haverhill and tell his story there 
 entirely unsupported. In the midst of his 
 doubts he suddenly remembered his grand- 
 father. He was the man for the emergency 
 — wise, influential, energetic, and not too 
 tender-nerved. He could give the advice 
 and assistance needed, and to him Garth 
 would go. 
 
 It was already twilight in the solemn 
 woods as the boy rose to act upon this de- 
 cision. He walked hurriedly away without 
 a sidewise or backward glance. The burden 
 of his deed was heavy upon him, and he 
 could not rest until the penalty was paid. 
 He had done what seemed to him right ; but 
 was any right right enough to warrant his 
 taking a life t Garth feared not. He was 
 
 ready to be hanged ; and yet he would rather 
 have been hanged innocent than in requital 
 of this questionable crime. His soul was 
 very heavy ; and when he had left the pol- 
 luted ground behind him he was presently 
 seized with a nervous horror, and began to 
 run ; and then the misery of his plight over- 
 came him, and he sobbed dolefully, still run- 
 ning and stumbling along the darkening 
 
 pathway. 
 
 « — 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 LOVING. 
 
 When he had gone about a mile, an 
 abrupt turning brought him close upon a 
 small figure seated on an old stump. It 
 rose as he approached, and he saw that it 
 was Madge. The encounter did not surprise 
 him — he was too unhappy for surprise ; yet 
 it was strange that she should be there so 
 late alone. She seemed to have been ex* 
 pecting some one — ^not Garth certainly. 
 She must have mistaken him at first for an- 
 other person, for on recognizing him she 
 gave a start and an exclamation : 
 
 " Ah ! it is not — It is Garth Urmson." 
 
 Garth, unready of tongue, stood silent, 
 an unlovely object. Hatless, bloody, dis- 
 traught, he looked anything but a squire of 
 dames. But Madge, apparently embarrassed 
 on her own account, did not immediately 
 remark his disorder. 
 
 " The others have gone on," she ob- 
 served, in an airy tone, smoothing out the 
 strings of her hat and tying them again. 
 " I — missed something, and had come back 
 to look for it. Then it grew dark. 
 Mr. Garth," she continued, archly uplifting 
 her small finger, " you were unkind not to 
 come as you promised me. I was very un- 
 happy. You forgot all about me ! " 
 
 "Oh!" groaned Garth. Then, finding 
 himself unequal to any protestations, " You 
 must not talk so. I have just killed him. 
 Will you say good-by to me ? " 
 
 The little woman stared, laughed, checked 
 herself, scrutinized the boy's face keenly, 
 and finally began to whimper : 
 
 " Wh-what do yon mean? Oh, don't 
 look so — you fr-frighten me so I " 
 
LOVINa. 
 
 43 
 
 " I'm going to be hanged," said Garth, 
 apologetically. " I didn't know you were 
 here. We fought on equal ground — be- 
 cause he told lies about you." 
 
 " How — he told lies about me ? " she ex- 
 claimed, forgetting everything in curiosity. 
 " You did fight him? but who — who was 
 it ? Tell me. Garth ! " 
 
 " Sam." 
 
 " Sam ! " repeated she softly, clasping 
 her hands. "O Garth 1 Good Heavens! 
 really have you killed him ? He told lies, 
 but you didn't believe him, dear Garth ? " 
 She came close, and put her hand on his 
 sleeve with a lovely, beseeching tearfulness. 
 " It was wicked of him to tell — to say such 
 things. What did he say about poor Uttle 
 Madge ? I am glad he is dead ! " 
 
 Garth was thrilling beneath her touch 
 and the caress of her voice ; and she had 
 called him " dear ! " But in the midst of 
 his happiness her harshness toward Sam, 
 whose ears would never be blessed by her 
 sweet tones again, jarred upon him. He 
 could not echo her words. He had not a 
 heart which could at once melt toward his 
 living mistress and harden against a dead 
 enemy. Moreover, the anticipation of his 
 own near dissolution disposed him to charity. 
 
 "Be sorry," said he; "he is dead, you 
 know. When he said that he — that you — " 
 
 "Don't believe it. It was a wi- wicked 
 falsehood ! " 
 
 " He would not confess. I did not know 
 I should kill him. He seemed to die of him- 
 self," exclaimed Garth, greatly agitated. 
 
 By this time Madge was clinging to him, 
 and sobbing with her face against his shoul- 
 der. She did not half comprehend him ; she 
 feared him to the marrow of her pretty 
 little bones ; and therefore she admired him, 
 as women do admire the enigmatic, the 
 terrible, and the victorious. " Oh, don't 
 leave me! You don't hate me, do you? 
 You will take me home, won't you? Oh, 
 you are so hurt, dear ! I will nurse you." 
 
 " But I must be hanged," faltered Garth. 
 
 " No, no, you shall not. What ! for kill- 
 ing an Indian ? And nobody saw you do it, 
 and — you need not say you did it." 
 
 " I must be," repeated Garth, half in- 
 clined to think that hanging, so sweetly 
 
 mourned, was preferable to ordinary life. 
 " And since I did kill him, I cant say I did 
 not." 
 
 "You must! I will not have you die! 
 I want y-you to live ! You are the bravest 
 and the strongest, and — Garth — you may — " 
 She held up to his her tremulous, red, de- 
 licious mouth ; and he — simple, unhackneyed 
 soul — did ! 
 
 Yes, it was at last no dream, but a con- 
 crete fact ; and he would have resented the 
 suggestion that the fact was not as good as or 
 better than the dream. Nevertheless it is 
 not too much to say that Madge was less 
 overcome by the situation — ^possibly less a 
 stranger to such situations — than Garth. 
 The feminine nature seems to be better ap- 
 pointed for such predicaments than the male, 
 and accepts them more easily and philo- 
 sophically. Meanwhile, with those soft arms 
 round his neck, it was hard to prefer the 
 hangman's knot, and perhaps the boy's reso- 
 lution may have wavered a little. At all 
 events, before he had found time distinctly 
 to vindicate both his love and his honor, the 
 struggle was annulled by the apparition of 
 the murdered Sam himself. 
 
 Madge was the first to hear the approach- 
 ing footfall, and, with admirable presence of 
 mind, she drew Garth behind the thick 
 screen of an arbor-vitae. Sam approached 
 slowly, staggering now and then as he 
 walked. When his late adversary recognized 
 him, he felt a tumult of joy and thankful- 
 ness rising up within him like a fountain. 
 Forgetting himself and Madge, almost, in 
 his glad emotion, he thought only of leaping 
 forth and hugging his bruised and beaten 
 enemy. But Madge kept her wits about 
 her, and resolutely held Garth back. For 
 reasons best known to herself, she was de- 
 termined to at least postpone a meeting. 
 Sam, therefore, hobbled past, unconscious of 
 spectators. His face was sullen, livid, and 
 disfigured. 
 
 " I'm sure he's ugly enough ! " whispered 
 Madge, half to herself. "So — he is not 
 dead." 
 
 " So, not dead ! " repeated Garth, with 
 a diiferent intonation. " Why didn't we 
 speak to him ? We forgive him, and we are 
 so happy ! " 
 
M 
 
 GAETH. 
 
 "Do you forgive him? " said the little 
 creature, fixing her black eyes on her com- 
 panion's face. " He is just as wicked as be- 
 fore you beat him. Perhaps, now he's alive, 
 he will tell those falsehoods again. But 
 you'll never believe him, will you? " 
 
 "How could I believe what is not true? 
 But he will never say it again," added 
 Garth, with a wholesome confidence in the 
 moral efBcacy of knock-down blows. 
 
 Madge, however, had turned pensive, and 
 made no reply; bat when the guilty Sam 
 was some time gone by, she put her small 
 warm hand in the boy's, and they walked 
 along together through the gloom. Garth 
 thinking he had never been so happy in all 
 his life; and as for Madge, she too was 
 single-minded : she liked the dark, shy boy 
 better than anybody else. She believed in 
 power that could be felt and seen, such as 
 Garth had shown to-day. She had a femi- 
 nine love of display, and of being allied with 
 strength and conspicuous merit like Garth's. 
 He frightened her, but she liked that sort of 
 frightening. She scarcely appreciated, it 
 would seem, the finer and really essential 
 part of his nature. She was like Sam in 
 supposing that he had fought out of com- 
 mon jealousy. She missed the far higher 
 compliment he had paid her. She feared 
 him as a force swayed by a rude impulse, 
 not tempered and concentrated by delicacy, 
 conscience, and reverence. She believed, 
 and liked to believe, that on due provoca- 
 tion he would knock her senseless as well as 
 Sam. Of course she would beware of offer- 
 ing the provocation; but there was to her 
 mind a sense of security in the very danger. 
 
 If Madge was incomplete in her appre- 
 hension of Garth, she nevertheless got at 
 him very shrewdly on some points ; where- 
 as he so entirely missed her that, so her out- 
 ward seinhlamce and tone of voice remained 
 unaltered, she might have run the whole hu- 
 man gamut of temperament, character, and 
 disposition, without a suspicion on his part 
 of what was happening. The only Madge 
 he knew was the graceful piece of flesh-and- 
 hlood sculpture that went by her name, the 
 actual informing essence of which he quietly 
 ignored, and substituted therefor a concep- 
 tion of his own. His attitude lacked the 
 
 stability of Madge's. She built in the first 
 instance on the tangible, and was thus both 
 safe from falls and provided with a solid 
 starting-point for possible flights. 
 
 Garth reached home that night by moon- 
 light, tired, sore, and in an exalted mood of 
 happiness. He went to his room and took 
 from its drawer a blue kerchief, with which 
 in hand he proceeded to the porch, where 
 his father and mother were sitting. He was 
 too full of his purpose to give orderly an- 
 swer to the questions wherewith they greet- 
 ed him. He pressed the kerchief into his 
 mother's hands. 
 
 " I must not keep it any longer," said he. 
 
 "What is it, my dear? " inquired placid 
 Mrs. IJrmson, relinquishing her knitting 
 and examining the kerchief in the moonlight. 
 " Why, I declare, it looks like an old one of 
 mine! " 
 
 " I love you as much as ever, mamma," 
 continued Garth, too much preoccupied to 
 notice this inadequate remark ; " but some- 
 thing has happened, and it would be dishon- 
 orable in me to keep it any longer." 
 
 "Dishonorable, my child? Surely not. 
 Keep it if you want it ; it is too much soiled 
 and creased for me to use again." 
 
 "Papa," said Garth, in a mortified tone, 
 " mamma does not understand me." 
 
 " There is apt to be a misunderstanding 
 about matters of this sort, my boy. For my 
 part, I should consider it a fortunate circum- 
 stance if the lady-love I proposed deserting 
 had forgotten our troth-plighting. You will 
 find it does not always turn out so." 
 
 "I do not desert her. She is always 
 mamma." 
 
 " But she is not quite equal to your new 
 mistress.'' 
 
 Garth paused and hesitated. At length 
 he said, " If mamma were not your wife, she 
 could not be my mother." 
 
 " Cotton, my dear, you must be content 
 with me alone for the future," said her hus- 
 band, gravely. "Garth has hit upon the 
 fatal argument, and is weaned henceforth. 
 We are old people, of secondary importance 
 at best, from this day forward. — Garth, when 
 you are married and settled, you will not 
 refuse us a place by your kitchen-fire? " 
 
 "How can you plague the dear child 
 
LOVING. 
 
 45 
 
 80?" said Cotton, reproachfully, drawing 
 Garth to her and kissing him ; and she 
 added to him : " I remember about the ker- 
 chief now. But has my boy really fallen in 
 love? How did it happen? " 
 
 " His grandfather would make him go to 
 the picnic," suggested Cuthbert, arching his 
 eyebrow. 
 
 " It was after the picnic," said the in- 
 genuous Garth ; and being questioned, the 
 whole day's history was drawn from him, 
 with the single exception of what Sam had 
 said about Miss Margaret Danver, which, in 
 obedience to that young lady's request, was 
 hinted at only in general terms. Cuthbert 
 laughed a good deal, being one of those per- 
 sons who can laugh at a pathetic tale more 
 sympathetically than another could weep at 
 it, so that Garth's sensibilities were not hurt. 
 His mother was in such a tremor about the 
 fight that she could hardly give due atten- 
 tion to the love-story, nor rest until she had 
 poured wine and oil into his every scratch. 
 " And poor Sam Kineo I " murmured she ; 
 " you should have brought him home with 
 you, ray dear. I'm afraid his grandmother 
 won't take proper care of him." 
 
 " You forget that Sam had not yielded," 
 interposed Cuthbert. " The etiquette of 
 chivalry must be observed. — So Miss Dan- 
 ver is to be your mother's successor ? " 
 
 "She is a beautiful child," said Mrs. 
 TJrmson, smiling with a wistful tenderness 
 at her son; "not like her grand-aunt; but 
 she seems good, and I dare say she is much 
 sweeter than I know. We must see more 
 of her. I shall love whomever Garth loves. 
 Your mother is not a rival — remember that, 
 dear. I wish you to be happier than I can 
 make you.'' 
 
 Years afterward, when his mother was 
 dead. Garth used to muse over this saying 
 of hers, and over the whole episode of the 
 silken kerchief; but for that night his head 
 was full of the new elixir, whose potent 
 flavor overpowered the older and subtiler 
 aroma. Even his father's parting words 
 seemed less significant at the time than af- 
 terward : 
 
 "Wo will call to-morrow on your late 
 adversary. Sir Samuel Kineo, and try to 
 conclude an honorable peace between the 
 
 families. I understand he wishes to try his 
 fortune at Newburyport or Boston ; and per- 
 haps we may be able to smooth his way 
 thither. As for Madame Nikomis, I think 
 of asking her to come and sit in our kitchen 
 for the future ; she knows both how to fry 
 an omelet and boil a potato ; and then mam- 
 ma wiU have more time for her darning. 
 By-the-way, Garth — " 
 
 Garth knew his father's tones, and turned 
 quickly. 
 
 "Your ancestor, Neil Urmson, before he 
 left England, standing with his bride before 
 the marriage altar, killed the man who had 
 been his dearest friend. A generation after- 
 ward, Ralph, his son, slew in a petty duel 
 the man who had saved his life. Seventy- 
 five years after that, your grandfather, Cap- 
 tain Brian Urmson, shot dead the brother 
 of the woman to whom he was betrothed, 
 and whom he afterward married. Then 
 more than fifty years passed, and Garth 
 Urmson accidentally failed to kill an ac- 
 quaintance of his who had never been taught 
 to fight against himself." 
 
 Here Cuthbert made a solemn pause, dur- 
 ing which he and his son steadfastly re- 
 garded one another, the latter reddening and 
 awe-stricken. 
 
 " I make no doubt," the former then 
 continued, " that the next time he engages, 
 he will kill his opponent in earnest. But, 
 when that happens, I trust he will forget 
 that he once bore his mother's favor and 
 pretended to be her knight, because such 
 feats of arms are not of a kind to do her 
 memory honor. In fact, unless he can make 
 up his mind to rest contented with his ex- 
 ploits of to-day, and forego all such indul- 
 gences for the future, I think he does well 
 to disown her now." 
 
 Garth made no reply, except by the 
 changes in his eyes, and a sort of inward 
 movement of the lips, aa if something were 
 speaking within him. At length his mother 
 bade him come and kiss her, which he did 
 in so humble and penitent a manner that 
 his father smiled. But when the boy had 
 gone to bed, and Martha had gently up- 
 braided the paternal severity which, she 
 averred, had almost broken their son's heart, 
 Cuthbert passed his slender hand through 
 
46 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 his soft grayish hair with something like a 
 sigh. 
 
 "Perhaps, after all, nothing less than 
 heart-hreak will save him. The old fellow 
 meant something by that kiss he gave you, 
 however. — Cotton, tell me something! " 
 
 She looked up. 
 
 " About Miss Margaret Danver. Do you 
 suppose her indignation at Mr. Kineo's in- 
 discreet statements proceeded from precisely 
 the same ground as Garth's?" 
 
 "We don't know what Sam said," re- 
 
 plied Mrs. Urmson, after some considera- 
 tion. 
 
 "True. I forgot that! Well, Garth is 
 a more attractive young gentleman than I 
 had supposed. I should have pitched on 
 Mr. Kineo as likely to be the favored man 
 in this case — judging from my knowledge 
 of the lady." 
 
 "How could she help loving Garth best ?" 
 returned tender Cotton Martha, with a moth- 
 er's serene arrogance; and Outhbert only 
 arched his eyebrow. 
 
 BOOK III. 
 G R P IN G. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 ANTAGONISMS. 
 
 When Sam had recovered from his 
 bruises sufficiently to allow of his putting 
 a decent face on the world, he went to New- 
 buryport, where Mr. TJrmson had obtained 
 him an eligible situation. Garth had ex- 
 pected that his adversary would have honor- 
 ably acknowledged the wrong to Madge of 
 which he had been guilty, and would have 
 bidden him a friendly farewell. But Sam, 
 if he had any confessions to make, chose not 
 to make them ; so the breach between the 
 two remained unhealed. 
 
 During the next year or two, Garth grew 
 in more ways than one. It was his anoma- 
 lous period; the child character was dis- 
 solving, and the elements were reforming 
 into youthhood. He was unlike both his 
 earlier and his later self; his manner was 
 restless, his moods unequal, and he had oc- 
 casional fits of something like talkativeness. 
 Having cast off his faerie accoutrements, he 
 was trying to accustom himself to the home- 
 spun of every-day humanity, and to deter- 
 mine his use and place in the real world. 
 
 The tendency to universal investigation 
 
 is a perilous one ; but Garth had a forebod- 
 ing that he would one day be wiser than 
 now, and hence he often suspended bis judg- 
 ment and bided his time, lest his future 
 should ridicule his present. Yet he laid val- 
 iantly about him on aU sides to find his 
 own, and it was often amusing to observe 
 in what incongruous directions his groping 
 energies were put forth. 
 
 Besides a new diligence in book-learning 
 (though he had the air of studying his les- 
 sons less for their intrinsic sake than in the 
 hope of their opening up some hidden pro- 
 cess or suggestion), he was zealous in chop- 
 ping wood, digging potatoes, skating, rid- 
 ing, and canoeing ; and he developed a fresh 
 critical interest in flowers and forests, hUls, 
 streams, and clouds, until it seemed likely 
 he might turn out a naturalist. Again, 
 one of his main occupations during several 
 months was housekeeping; and Urmhurst 
 had seldom seen brighter days than under 
 his administration. 
 
 Having learned from his mother the what 
 and how of his duties, he thereafter did them 
 with such conscientious vigor that they 
 seemed to have never been done before. 
 The steel knives looked like silver ; pots, 
 pans, and crockery, glistened and sparkled, 
 
ANTAGONISMS. 
 
 47 
 
 and were never broken. The black oaken 
 floors and wainscot, the brass candle-braok- 
 ets, the huge andirons, the legs of the ta- 
 bles, and the runnels of the chairs, all shone 
 beneath his potent rub. In the kitchen. 
 Garth wore a white-paper cap and an apron, 
 and rolled np his sleeves to the elbow. The 
 dough which he kneaded rose up like Sam- 
 son in the night, lifting the kneading-board 
 on its white shoulders. The meat was roast- 
 ed with all the warmth of his heart. Though 
 his cookery was rather whimsical at first, it 
 rapidly improved, until its worst fault was 
 its lack of economy. While there still ap- 
 peared to be a great deal to learn in the way 
 of household lore. Garth pursued it unremit- 
 tingly ; but, once he had got the upper hand 
 of it, its attractions began to pall upon him. 
 Fortunately, hia engagement as chief cook 
 and housemaid had never been looked upon 
 as other than a temporary affair— a means 
 of filling the gap between the defection of 
 one servant and the installation of another ; 
 so that, by the time he had exhausted the 
 novelty of the experience, a successor was 
 at hand to relieve him. 
 
 His intellectual diversions lasted him bet- 
 ter ; books enticed him by failing to satisfy 
 him ; but, after all, it was only in wooing 
 Nature that he found both gratification and 
 incitement. His lofty ambitions charmed 
 his mother and amused his father ; bound- 
 less were the worth and wisdom whereto he 
 proposed to attain. About this time he got 
 hold of the Bible, and read it through with 
 reverential avidity. His mother, indeed, 
 had instructed him in the psalms and gos- 
 pels from as far back as lie could remember ; 
 but he had listened rather to her tones than 
 to what she said, and had been more im- 
 pressed by the acknowledged solemnity of 
 the hour than by the sacred teachings them- 
 selves. Now, for the first time, he ap- 
 proached the book independently, and drew 
 his own conclusions from what he read. 
 
 Probably they were unorthodox ; and an 
 experience of his, about this time, at the vil- 
 lage meeting house, would seem to have con- 
 firmed him in his nonconformity. The boy 
 had never yet been to church, his father al- 
 ways declining to force his will in the mat- 
 ter, and Garth being daunted at the idea of 
 
 facing a congregation. However, his grand- 
 father at length gained his ear, and bellowed 
 into it to such good effect that Garth was 
 presently as eager as he had before been re- 
 luctant to sit in a pew, and on the following 
 Sunday morning he accordingly took his 
 place in one, and awaited what might hap- 
 pen in hushed expectation. 
 
 His notions of worship having always 
 been associated with privacy, he was at first 
 somewhat abashed by the openness of every 
 thing. How could he be expected to, unfold 
 his heart to the Lord with fifty or sixty peo- 
 ple looking on ? Just as he had made up 
 his mind that the place he was then in must 
 be a sort of antechamber, whence he would 
 presently be admitted to some hallowed in- 
 ner tabernacle, the white-headed pastor up- 
 rose tower-like in the pulpit, and, to Garth's 
 amazement, began to rumble forth a 
 prayer! Glancing hastily around, he saw 
 that the congregation had hidden its face in 
 -its hands— a gesture which he attributed to 
 their shame at the poor minister's irreverent 
 conduct. No one interfered to stop him, 
 however, and the prayer went on, Garth 
 blushing anew at each fresh invocation. 
 This ordeal over, a short pause ensued, and 
 the neophyte observed a general coughing, 
 rustling, and brandishing of handkerchiefs — 
 efforts oft the part of the scandalized hear- 
 ers to recover their equanimity. But now 
 the hoary offender rose again, to all appear- 
 ance still unabashed, and proceeded to read a 
 hymn, the sing-song piety of which was in 
 as bad taste as the prayer, though on other 
 accounts less offensive. It will scarcely be 
 credited, but the assemblage, instead of sig- 
 nifying their disapproval by a unanimous 
 sigh, or even by an eloquent silence, rose 
 with one accord to their feet, and sang aloud 
 to the accompaniment of music the very 
 words that Parson Graeme had just read. 
 After this rude shock. Garth began to real- 
 ize into how ill a place he had fallen. He 
 was solitary in the midst of a callous and un- 
 sympathetic crowd, and had the pain of being 
 at odds with them, without the power of 
 believing himself in the wrong. 
 
 It was a long session for him ; even the 
 physical discomfort of the narrow seat be- 
 came almost intolerable. The sermon was 
 
4:8 
 
 GAETH. 
 
 a revelation, thougli not in the sense that its 
 author intended. It was one of the parson's 
 hest, and probahly the spectacle of Garth's 
 emotion, which was manifest enough in its 
 effects if not in its causes, spurred the 
 wretched man to unwonted exertions. 
 With the lusty good-fellowship of long 
 familiarity, the worthy preacher rang the 
 changes upon the Divine name, and criti- 
 cally interpreted the Divine acts and pur- 
 poses. Garth was visited to his depths with 
 the h^ glow of shame, sorrow, and indig- 
 nation. He dared not own even to himself 
 his opinion of his grandfather ; and knew 
 not what to think of a congregation which 
 could not only unresistingly endure this in- 
 decent profanation, hut in several instances 
 (or else Garth's eyes and ears deceived him) 
 could go to sleep in the midst of it ! For a 
 moment, the hoy mistrusted and abhorred 
 his kind ; and as for his grandfather, he in- 
 tended to have an interview with him after 
 service was over, and urge him to abandon 
 the ministerial calling at once and forever. 
 
 Fortunately, however, the meeting was 
 prevented. Madge Danver joined her young 
 lover at the door of the meeting-house, and 
 he, anxious to gain Iier sympathetic hearing 
 for his wrongs, walked away with her to the 
 rocky margin of the stream, and there spent 
 a somewhat unsatisfactory hour in her com- 
 pany. 
 
 It was about the middle of March ; the 
 snows had been melted by a week of warm 
 rain ; the trees were already beginning to 
 put forth small greenish-brown buds ; the 
 earth was moist and spongy, and the river 
 was swoUen beyond precedent, and rushed 
 in tuAiultuous rapids over its headlong bed. 
 The point at which the young people had 
 stationed themselves was considerably above 
 the lake-level, and the descent thither was 
 in several places very abrupt. The stream, 
 in fact, was a succession of low waterfalls 
 alternating with irregular inclines ; it turned 
 two or three mill-wheels above the town, 
 but for the last four miles of its course it 
 ran unimpeded. During the dry months 
 this portion of it was useful only from an 
 aesthetic point of view, being highly pict- 
 uresque; in the season of spring freshets 
 the wood-cutters sometimes floated logs down 
 
 to the lake ; but the rapids were at all 
 times considered iriipassable by the skillf ul- 
 est canoe. 
 
 On the banks half a mile below the vil- 
 lage was a small shed, rudely constructed of 
 four uprights and a thatching of twigs and 
 bark. Here Garth, during the last few 
 weeks, had been building a birch canoe, and 
 had succeeded remarkably well in combining 
 strength with lightness in its construction. 
 It npw lay on the stocks, complete save for 
 a few ornamental additions. The youth and 
 maiden, whose steps had insensibly brought 
 them hither, had seated themselves by mu- 
 tual consent upon the prostrate trunk of a 
 hemlock near the shed. 
 
 " How shall you get the canoe to the 
 lake. Garth ? " the maiden inquired. 
 
 " Carry it on my head — it's light 
 enough." 
 
 " If I were a man," she rejoined, glancing 
 at him from the corner of her dark, provok- 
 ing eye, " I would make it carry me ! " 
 
 " It's well you are not a man : for man 
 or woman either couldn't take a canoe down 
 those rapids in a freshet like this." 
 
 " An Indian could do it, though ! That 
 Indian, long ago — when your first ancestor 
 came over here — ^he did it. Do you believe 
 that story, Mr. Garth?" 
 
 " If he believed he could do it, I believe 
 he may have done it," answered the youth 
 after a pause. " But I thought that was a 
 private family tradition of ours, Madge. 
 How came you to know of it ? " 
 
 " Oh," said she, turning her head aide- 
 ways and smiling, "the descendant of that 
 Indian told me. But, no doubt, as you say, 
 there was never a white man who could 
 have done such a thing. Indians are more 
 reckless and daring." 
 
 To this assertion Garth made no rejoin- 
 der, and a silence fell between the two. At 
 length Madge jumped up impatiently, and 
 declared that she was going home. Garth 
 also rose mechanically, and prepared to ac- 
 company her. 
 
 " IJo— no ! " she exclaimed, shaking her 
 head way wardly ; " no, I won't have you ! " 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " Because — because you have been very 
 disagreeable this afternoon, and you don't 
 
A NAKKOW ESCAPE. 
 
 49 
 
 love me. And you wouldn't care if you 
 never saw me again." She looked full at 
 him as she said these words ; as if watching 
 their effect. Garth met her eyes with such 
 an impetuous glance, that they wavered. 
 
 " Would you care, then ? " she asked, 
 moving a chip of hirch-bark about with the 
 point of one little shoe. 
 
 " I care too much ! " exclaimed Garth, 
 with vehemence. " I sometimes think I 
 would rather he what you like than what 
 — than what I ought to be ! " 
 
 " "What ought you to be ? " demanded 
 she, pouting. 
 
 " I ought to be what God likes ! " said 
 Garth, reddening up to his hair. 
 
 Madge averted her face, and shrugged 
 her pretty shoulders. " Oh, well, if God 
 doesn't like yon to love me, of course that 
 ends it. I think you might have told me be- 
 fore ! " 
 
 "Do yon misunderstand me on pur- 
 pose ? " exclaimed Garth, putting his hands 
 behind him and clinching them together. 
 " I meant, that you often seem to like me 
 most when I am least what I care to be. 
 And I don't know what to do." 
 
 "I think you'd better say good-by to 
 me," returned Madge, stealing another look 
 at him. "You will be happier nut to see 
 me again." 
 
 Garth struggled with his temper for a 
 moment and forced it down, but his voice 
 shook a little as he said: "Don't speak so, 
 Madge. Do you wish to quarrel? it has 
 seemed so, lately, and to-day you have done 
 nothing but make fun of me for what I said 
 about going to church. Forgive me for an- 
 swering you so roughly I " 
 
 " Oh, I don't mind that, you foolish 
 boy ! " she replied, half relentingly. " I 
 like you to be rough and savage — in the 
 right sort of way ! But it's so tiresome to 
 have you always thinking about what your 
 highest vocation is, and all that sort of 
 thing. If you'd only just be strong and — 
 and terrible, like some great bero! " 
 
 Garth kept his eyes fixed gloomily upon 
 her, and shook his head, but answered noth- 
 ing. 
 
 "Well, I'm going," she said, after a 
 pause, beginning to move away. At the 
 
 distance of about a dozen paces, she turned 
 and looked at him once more ; he still stood 
 in the same position, with his hands behind 
 him. 
 
 " Good-by, Garth ! " she called, in a tone 
 of mingled reproach and affectionate regret. 
 " Good-by, my Garth ! " and she kissed her 
 hand to him. 
 
 " Shall I come with you ? " he said, ad- 
 vancing ; but she motioned him back with 
 the same hand she had just kissed to him. 
 Nevertheless, he came close up to her, and 
 saw that her eyes had tears in tbem. 
 
 " O Madge, forgive me ! " he repeated, 
 very remorsefully. " What shall I do? " 
 
 " No, no, it is all my fault," she said, 
 brushing her tears lightly away and smiling. 
 " I don't know myself what I want, and it's 
 no matter. You mustn't mind all the non- 
 sense I talk. Good-by ! " She hesitated, 
 glancing at him sidelong. " Tell me. Garth, 
 what would you say, really, if you were 
 never to see me again — if I were to run 
 away or something, and never come back?" 
 
 "I should say it was my fault, I sup- 
 pose," replied he, smiling also, though by 
 no means with an air of being amused. 
 
 The answer did not seem to please 
 Madge ; she tossed her head, and muttered 
 something to herself, and again walked away. 
 Just before passing out of sight, however, 
 she threw a parting glance over her shoul- 
 der. Garth had gone back to the hemlock- 
 log, and was sitting upon it with his head 
 resting on his hands. 
 
 " He won't care ! " the girl said, half 
 aloud ; and she caught her breath with a 
 sob as she hastened along beneath the trees. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 A NAKEOW ESCAPE. 
 
 Gaeth staid by the little shed for a 
 long time, in a state of moody dissatisfac- 
 tion with himself and the world. It was 
 now about eighteen months since the mem- 
 orable night of his battle with Sam Kineo, 
 and during this time he and Madge had had 
 several misunderstandings, more or less sim- 
 ilar to the one which had just taken place. 
 
60 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 Madge had grown more rapidly than 
 Garth, and, though she was still early in her 
 teens, she might almost have been called a 
 young woman. Her beauty had now a dis- 
 tinct and definite character, and outdid even 
 its childish promise. That so much feminine 
 charm should be cooped up in an out-of-the- 
 way village like Urmsworth, was an injus- 
 tice to mankind, to which Madge herself, 
 perhaps, was not altogether insensible. She 
 had ambitions beyond her present lot, which 
 occasionally made her restive and capricious, 
 and almost ready to prefer an exciting and 
 adventurous adversity to a commonplace 
 and uneventful prosperity. 
 
 She and Garth had never been formally 
 betrothed. Not that parental obduracy dis- 
 tinctly stood in the way; but Mr. Urmson 
 had put it to them with winning gravity, 
 whether, before settling their destiny be- 
 yond recall, it were not well to wait until 
 a somewhat wider experience should render 
 their choice a finer mutual compliment. 
 Garth was captured by this logic, which 
 suggested opportunities for self-sacrifice, for 
 which (perhaps believing them to be of rare 
 occurrence in this happy world) he had a 
 lusty appetite. Madge Hkewise acquiesced, 
 though whether on the same grounds as her 
 lover did not appear. At all events, the 
 sequel seemed to prove her better qualified 
 than he to endure the freedom of the pro- 
 bation. 
 
 Indeed, Garth was not entirely responsi- 
 ble for the uneasiness which possessed him ; 
 Madge, in one way or another, fomented his 
 disquietude. She wished him to be a hero, 
 and heroism was his aim too ; but their con- 
 ceptions of the heroic not happening to 
 agree, her influence rather agitated than 
 directed him. It was not his seasons of 
 mental exaltation that most impressed her ; 
 but when he was physically aroused — when, 
 perchance, she had tempted him to an out- 
 break of glowing wrath — then would she 
 rejoicingly tremble and deem him a man 
 of men. On the other hand, Garth's early 
 training, as well as his innate morality, bade 
 him keep down the very phase of his nature 
 which Madge aimed to stimulate. She was, 
 in a sense, the embodiment of those tenden- 
 cies against which his higher traits were 
 
 embattled. Perhaps neither of them saw 
 their mutual position in this light ; but its 
 efieot upon Garth must be to endanger the 
 hardly-raised barriers of self-control. 
 
 Such spiritual turmoils in a person whose 
 physical constitution was singularly healthy 
 and robust often led him to put his nerves 
 and muscles to a strain, by way of recover- 
 ing his moral equanimity. It was a natural 
 instinct, the slighting of which might have 
 occasioned trouble of a more serious kiud 
 than would follow upon its indulgence. The 
 feats of strength and daring which he 
 achieved at such times would have made 
 him the talk of the neighborhood, only that 
 he never spoke of them, and, indeed, set no 
 value upon them, save as they cleared his 
 invfard sky. Even Madge seldom found 
 them out, though, had he realized how much 
 they elevated him in her estimation, he 
 might have waxed more communicative. 
 
 Madge was hungry for sensation ; she 
 wanted continual evidence that her lover 
 was better than any other girl's, and, unless 
 she got this, was prone to become intrac- 
 table and coquettish. To-day .she had been 
 especially trying, and, had Garth been of a 
 jealous disposition, he might have found 
 warrant in some of her broken hints for 
 grave anxiety. His unsuspicious temper 
 saved him from this ; but he began to fore- 
 see one of his hair-brained escapades, and 
 was ready to improve the first opportunity 
 that presented itself. 
 
 After a long fit of musing, the boy arose 
 and sauntered along the moist wood-paths 
 to Urmhurst, where he ate a cold dinner 
 with philosophic indifierence. His father 
 purposely abstained from questioning him 
 about his church adventure of the morning ; 
 but at last Garth said, leaning back in his 
 chair and clutching the thick hair on either 
 side of his head : 
 
 " Church is not good for me.'' 
 
 " What was the sermon about, my dear? " 
 asked Mrs. Urmson from the window-seat. 
 
 Garth's only reply was a solemn shake 
 of the head. Then, addressing his father : 
 
 " You never go to church." 
 
 " I heard all your grandfather's sermons 
 when I was a boy, and can preach them now 
 to myself." 
 
A NAKEOW ESCAPE. 
 
 SI 
 
 Garth fell into a brown study ; but finally 
 emerged to inquire : 
 
 • "Is there no way of going to church 
 alone?" 
 
 " Why ? " returned Mr. Urmson. 
 
 " Going to the meeting-house does not 
 make me feel at church. But last winter I 
 skated alone on the lake at night, and I came 
 to a thin place where the water was deep. 
 The ice broke behind me as I passed over it. 
 Then — all at once — I felt as I thought I was 
 to feel this morning. I understood all sorts 
 of beautiful and holy things, and everything 
 seemed to mean — it was like that nineteenth 
 Psalm you taught me, mamma ! " 
 
 Here Garth stopped abruptly ; the silence 
 that ensued appeared to reveal to him his 
 unwonted garrulity, and, coloring uncom- 
 fortably, he got up and left the room. 
 
 " To think of the dear child having been 
 alone on the thin ice at night 1 What if he 
 had fallen in and been drowned 1 " exclaimed 
 Martha, with a shudder. 
 
 Outhbert laughed in his ambiguous, un- 
 expected fashion. 
 
 "It's the thought of poor grandpapa 
 that troubles me. His ill-success with Garth 
 will make him prematurely aged." 
 
 " Garth is very strange at times. Some- 
 times I almost think I hardly understand 
 him myself 1 And, think! my husband," 
 continued Martha, laying her knitting on 
 her lap, "he won't be a child much longer. 
 It makes me feel old to remember it ! " 
 
 The eyes of husband and wife met, and 
 each realized, for the first time, perhaps, 
 that the other's hair was getting gray. She 
 was fifty, he fifty-five. They had wedded 
 at middle-age, but with young hearts, and 
 their love remaining youthful they had taken 
 small heed of time. Outhbert, who, as a 
 boy, had been delicate, and had returned 
 from his prolonged foreign tour only partly 
 restored, showed more signs of age in his 
 slightly bent and attenuated figure than in 
 his face ; which had an inward kindliness 
 and serenity of expression that half neutral- 
 ized the testimony of wrinkles and of 
 grizzled locks. Martha was more boun- 
 teously made than her husband ; she was a 
 sane, quiet, wholesome sou], with dark, 
 level eyebrows, and a tender, motherly, 
 
 comely countenance. She had mellowed 
 rather than aged with time; yet the im- 
 maculate whiteness of her cap presented 
 yearly less and less contrast to the smooth 
 hair below it, and there was a growing dim- 
 ness in her eyesight that told of spectacles 
 not far off. Outhbert's gray eyes still re- 
 tained nearly the brilliancy of youth ; and, 
 perhaps, in spite of appearances, his hold on 
 life was stronger than Martha's. 
 
 " Yes ; it's time we stopped playing at 
 being old people," said he, with the musing 
 half-smile that was wont to curl up one cor- 
 ner of his mouth. " Let us in future lay 
 aside disguise, and be the children that we 
 are. How else can we have the face to put 
 down in Garth his insolent assumption of 
 being over sixteen years old ? " 
 
 Outhbert, in some of his moods, had al- 
 ways been an agreeable mystery to his wife ; 
 and she now resumed her knitting with no 
 other answer than a smile. 
 
 " Ootton," began he again, looking fixedly 
 at the page of his book, "Miss Danver will 
 soon be of marriageable age." 
 
 " But Garth will not, for several years," 
 returned Mrs. Urmson, somewhat eagerly. 
 
 " Why, then — poor Margaret ! " 
 
 " But you know the children are not en- 
 gaged, my dear." Here Mrs. Urmson shifted 
 her needles. " Madge is very pretty, and al- 
 ways seems sweet, though somehow I can't 
 feel as if I were thoroughly acquainted with 
 her yet." Mrs. Urmson knitted a row in 
 silence, and then added : " Not that I think 
 she'd be likely to change her mind, of 
 course ! " 
 
 " Why, then — poor Sam Kineo ! " said 
 Outhbert, laughing. 
 
 Mrs. Urmson dropped her knitting. " Has 
 he come back ? " she cried. 
 
 " Not that I know of. Oh, what a sphinx 
 you are, Ootton ! You never sayhalf you 
 mean. Do you think, then, that Garth had 
 better go through college before making a 
 Mrs. Garth ? " 
 
 " Oh — college ? But, my deai', have we 
 thought of coUege before ? " 
 
 " Why, to be sure ; I don't remember our 
 having spoken of it till now. But, as I was 
 saying, there is no telling what you may be 
 thinking about until you choose to open your 
 
53 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 lips! We'll mention the matter to Garth 
 to-morrow." 
 
 " Garth in college — dear me ! But per- 
 haps, after all, it may he hest," murmured 
 Martha, over her rhythmic needles. Outh- 
 herth smiled apart to his book, and for the 
 present the subject dropped. 
 
 Meanwhile the youth in question went 
 early to bed. But at midnight he arose, and 
 let himself quietly out of his bedroom-win- 
 dow. The round moon, looking freshly is- 
 sued from some celestial mint, rode above 
 the thin black arms of the naked trees, and 
 the gloomy masses of the pines. There was 
 no wind ; nothing seemed to move save 
 Garth and his shadow. These two traveled 
 along in company, occasionally losing each 
 other in dark places, but always together in 
 the moonlight. Proceeding swiftly, they 
 were soon on the bank of the stream, at the 
 shed where the canoe lay. Having slipped 
 off his shoes and his shirt, Garth carried the 
 canoe to the water's edge, and set it in the 
 water below a projection of the bank, where 
 an eddy set back against the stream. Then 
 he stepped lightly into the round aperture 
 amidships, grasped the paddle, and in another 
 moment was away ! The wind of his going 
 blew his hair backward. The canoe seemed 
 to be snatched onward by invisible hands. 
 
 A few yards ahead the uprooted stump 
 of a great tree was sweeping along, rolling 
 over and over, whirling round and round, 
 and tossing its black, knotted roots toward 
 the quiet moon like a drowning hobgoblin. 
 Garth, in its wake, sat like an ivory statue, 
 bending a little forward, the paddle dividing 
 the water behind like a fish's tail. To him- 
 self he appeared stationary, while the world 
 was in mad race and whirl around him : 
 only the moon and he stood still. Of a sud- 
 den a glistening crest of rock seemed to rush 
 toward him through the foam, to dash him 
 in pieces ; now it swerved dizzily from his 
 path, and shot by him with a hiss. But the 
 great stump had thrown out a twisted arm, 
 which caught the rock for a moment — long 
 enough for the canoe to get abreast of it ; 
 and then the two flew downward side by 
 side. After a perilous minute the stump 
 crashed into the branches of a fallen tree 
 which lay half across the stream, and, before 
 
 it could disengage itself, the canoe was in 
 advance. Thenceforward Garth heard tlie 
 unseen monster splashing and rushing close 
 astern. 
 
 Though keeping his eyes unswervingly 
 to the front, he was observant of everything. 
 He felt transcend ently awake ; every faculty 
 was fuU of life and quietly in tune. The 
 rush and tumult brought him repose, and ho 
 was stronger for the power that seemed to 
 threaten him. He was not at the mercy of 
 the waters, but they bore him as slaves their 
 master. The river ran as he pleased. His 
 apparent peril was but proof of his power. 
 The boy felt no hurry of excitement, no 
 confused throbbing of brain or tremor of 
 muscle. He marked the white clots of foam 
 that slowly fell behind him; the spinning 
 eddies crossed without diverting his course. 
 He was conscious of the reeling banks, their 
 blackness cloven here and there by gleams 
 of moonlight. The night air through which 
 he dived downward smote cool on his naked 
 breast, even as the water against the birchen 
 bows of his canoe. His shadow rested pal- 
 pitating on thte boiling current to the right. 
 He was at one with Nature, and therefore 
 safe ; a human being, and therefore above 
 security. He was inwardly tickled with 
 spiritual laughter ; he sat at ease, while the 
 earth buzzed for him like a top ! Down — 
 plunging downward through the ghostly 
 forest, leaping unknown falls, slipping- swal- 
 low-like athwart whizzing rapids ! During 
 the glancing ten minutes of his three-mile 
 journey, Garth drank so deep a draught of 
 the vigorous splendor of existence as sweet- 
 ened and elated him for many a day there- 
 after. 
 
 Near the mouth of the stream, where it 
 hurled itself into the lake, rose a rocky 
 eminence crowned with hemlocks. It com- 
 manded a view of the latter half-mile or so 
 of the rapids, and was nearly on a line with 
 the last and deepest of the falls. At the 
 moment when Garth, rounding the bend 
 above, entered this stretch, two persons were 
 standing on the eminence beneath the shadow 
 of the trees. 
 
 " Look ! look 1 " exclaimed one, catching 
 her companion by the arm and pointing up 
 the stream. " He has done it ! " 
 
GETTING TO WORK. 
 
 53 
 
 Onward swept the slender canoe, now 
 eclipsed in shadow, now leaping into moon- 
 light which gleamed white on the arms and 
 shoulders of its rider. As he came near, 
 his face was distinctly visible. It wore an 
 expression of composure which its youthful- 
 ness made impressive. 
 
 " I knew it was he ; he is beautiful ! " 
 murmured the female voice again, excitedly. 
 
 " He'll be drowned — you see ! " returned 
 the other in a surly tone. " He'll never get 
 over this fall alive ! " 
 
 " He will ! He can do what no one else 
 does. And if he does do it — " 
 
 " "What then, eh ? " 
 
 " Then you may go to Europe alone. 
 There will be no one like him in the whole 
 world." 
 
 " You go with me if he gets drowned ? " 
 
 " Yes ! " 
 
 As she spoke, the canoe was within thirty 
 yards of the verge of the fall. Her com- 
 papion sprang suddenly forward, his breath 
 drawn for a shout. But before he could 
 ntter it, the girl had wound one arm round 
 his throat, and was pressing the other hand 
 over his mouth. The cry was not entirely 
 smothered, however ; it reached the boat- 
 man's ears just as he balanced on the critical 
 edge, half in water and half in air. It turned 
 his glance aside a hair's - breadth, and the 
 paddle swerved likewise. The canoe leaped 
 the fall a trifle aslant, plunged, and emerged 
 half full of water. 
 
 Recovering his balance. Garth hurtled 
 onward in a half-sinking condition, and real- 
 izing for the first time through what deadly 
 peril he had passed. He was jostled oS the 
 peak of exaltation, and was at commonplace 
 once more. He knew nothing of the event 
 that had broken the speU ; but looking back 
 upon his wild voyage, he knew that in a 
 thousand trials he would never again accom- 
 plish so desperate a feat. Meanwhile, he 
 had reached the lake, and, paddling hastily 
 shoreward, foundered in shallow water. 
 Leaping out, he drew the canoe to the sandy 
 beach, emptied it of water, and then, resum- 
 ing his seat, paddled quietly round the point 
 out of sight. 
 
 The girl drew a long breath, and leaned 
 her shoulder against the stem of one of the 
 
 pines. But, after a short interval, she again 
 stood erect and looked at her companion. 
 
 " You must go, you see," she said. " Get 
 into yf ur boat and row away. You might 
 have known how it would be ; I like him 
 best; I always did. I shall stay with him. 
 I shall never find a man equal to him, and I 
 don't mean to try." 
 
 There was an ugly gleam in the eyes of 
 the taU, dark-visaged youth that boded the 
 girl no good. 
 
 "Do you know I could kill you where 
 you stand ? " said he. He stepped close up 
 to her. She laughed in his face. 
 
 " You will never kill me ; you are too 
 much in love with me. You had better go, 
 sir, or I shall hate you." 
 . The other bit bis nails and seemed to 
 hesitate a moment or two. " If I didn't know 
 you better'n you know yourself," he said at 
 last, "I would kill you, love or not! But I 
 know I'll get you some time. "We'll see — 
 we'll see ! I'll get you at last, 'nd then you'll 
 say you were a fool to-night. Oh, well, 
 good-by now ! But I know you better'n you 
 know yourself." 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 GETTING TO WOEK. 
 
 Gaeth showed the next morning a bear- 
 ing SO much more cheerful than that of the 
 previous afternoon that his mother congrat- 
 ulated him on the improvement, and asked 
 him what pleasant dreams had visited him 
 during the night. But the young fellow, 
 besides his aversion to rehearsing his own 
 exploits, knew that to tell his mother what 
 he had done would be to give her a fright 
 which the sight of the narrator himself, de- 
 vouring a huge plate of buckwheat-cakes, 
 would only partially allay. Accordingly, he 
 was resolved to say nothing about his late 
 voyage, and it might never have become 
 history but for Madge. This young person 
 came up to Urmhurst during the afternoon 
 in company with Parson Graeme, whose 
 favorite parishioner she was ; and when 
 Garth and she were alone together she 
 chanced, by an apparently accidental allu- 
 
54 
 
 GAETH. 
 
 sion, to lead up to the subject of the canoe ; 
 and thereupon was presently elicited the 
 whole marvelous tale. 
 
 "You didn't see anything — not meet 
 any one — ^not see any one, I mean ? " asked 
 she, after listening restlessly and with many 
 sidelong glances till the end. 
 
 Garth shook his head ; but, after a min- 
 ute's reflection he said : " After I'd stowed 
 the canoe away, and was just starting home, 
 I thought I saw a boat far out upon the 
 lake. But the moon dazzled so on the water 
 that I may have been mistaken." 
 
 "Yes, or maybe the boat sunk!" ex- 
 claimed Madge, a sudden light coming forth 
 in her face, and giving it a more vivid beau- 
 ty. Then she laughed and said : " You 
 strange boy ! why didn't you tell me yester- 
 day that you meant to do it ? " 
 
 " I didn't think of it till after you went 
 home." 
 
 " If I'd known you were going to do 
 it, I'd have staid with you, and not have 
 plagued you so. "Well, now I mean to tell 
 everybody." 
 
 " Pshaw ! don't," said Garth, turning 
 red. 
 
 " Now, listen to me," she said, taking 
 hold of a button of his coat, and looking 
 gravely up in his face. " "What's the use of 
 doing fine things if nobody's to hear about 
 them ? If you were the greatest man in the 
 world, and never told of it, how could I be 
 proud of you ? Why, it's better to be over- 
 estimated than under-estimated, you silly 
 Garth I You don't know what you may lose 
 by always holding your tongue." 
 
 " Nothing worth having ! " answered 
 Garth, intractably. 
 
 "That's very rude and unkind ! So I'm 
 nothing worth having, am I ? " 
 
 " My dear, I love you,'' returned he, with 
 a more manly earnestness than she had ever 
 known in him before. " Yoii speak without 
 thinking. Yesterday you half made me think 
 you had stopped caring for me." 
 
 " My Garth, you know I always loved 
 yon," she whispered in his ear, feeling very 
 truthful and melting. She liked him to 
 overbear her. " You don't know how much 
 I have — would do for your sake, Garth." 
 
 " You could not do more than love me,'' 
 
 [ answered he, and the observation was a just 
 one. They kissed each other very tenderly, 
 and then went into the room where the 
 grown-up people were sitting. 
 
 " Here he is ! " th^indered the mighty 
 parson. — " Come here, grandson. We've got 
 a proposition to make to you. Now, what 
 have you got to say to it ? For of course, 
 according to your good father's usual style, 
 it's to be left to your own option to take it 
 or leave it." 
 
 Garth was standing with his back against 
 the door, hand-in-hand with Madge, and 
 facing the company. As his grandfather 
 spoke, the color mounted slowly to his face, 
 and his eyes sought those of his mother first, 
 and then his father's. 
 
 " What is it ? " demanded he. 
 
 " Nothing very terrible, old gentleman," 
 said his father, with a smile. " We were 
 only wondering whether your worship 
 would condescend to go to college next 
 autumn.'' 
 
 " College ? " repeated Garth, in an in- 
 ward tone. He felt Madge's hand tighten 
 on his own, and, looking round at her, caught 
 a sparkle from her dark eyes. Evidently she 
 was pleased with the idea : and, after Garth's 
 less rapid mind had contemplated the pros- 
 pect for a minute or two, he also began to 
 kindle at it. He threw back his shoulders 
 and respired a mightier atmosphere. Col- 
 lege meant learning — scholarship — experi- 
 ence; the means of becoming wiser and bet- 
 ter than he was. He had yearned already to 
 get beyond his immediate horizon, and had 
 even envied Sam Kineo his opportunities of 
 becoming acquainted with the world. 
 
 " Do you wish to leave us, my child ? " 
 asked his mother, with a slight tremor of 
 sadness in her voice, in spite of her effort 
 to make it cheerful. 
 
 "I ought to go to college, mamma — I 
 want to go ! " answered he, eagerly. In the 
 first glow of feeling he could not anticipate 
 homesickness ; much less enter into the mis- 
 givings of a mother's heart. 
 
 " Oh, yes, I think it will be splendid," 
 Madge exclaimed. " Think of his being a 
 collegian ! And aU great people have been 
 to college, haven't they, Mr. Graeme ? At 
 least, I'm sure you and Mr. Urmson went ! " 
 
GETTING TO WORK. 
 
 55 
 
 " Come, there's a compliment for you 
 and me, son-in-law, eh ? haw, haw, haw 1 
 — Well, well. Miss Maggie, if you're in favor 
 of it, I guess that would be enough to settle 
 Garth, even if he were less ready than he 
 appears to be; ha! ha I hal So that's all 
 fixed, and I'm glad of it. — Shake hands. 
 Garth, my lad ; may the Lord bless and 
 keep you ! " 
 
 " Amen ! " whispered Mrs. Urmson, with 
 tears in her eyes, and a smile of love on her 
 lips. Garth kissed her cheek, but he was too 
 much of a man now to hug her, as he longed 
 to do, before company. His father said : 
 
 " For my part, I shall be very glad to 
 get rid of him. Four years of peace and 
 quiet are not to be despised at my time of 
 life. — I suppose your worship won't think 
 of coming home in the vacations ? " 
 
 " O Mr. Urmson ! he must come back 
 in the holidays," exclaimed Madge, so naive- 
 ly that no one could help thinking her charm- 
 ing. " And not having seen each other for 
 such long whiles will make the meetings 
 pleasanter," she said, with a foresight re- 
 markable in so inexperienced a young lady. 
 It made Garth feel a little uncomfortable, 
 and he looked her honestly in the face ; but 
 all he could see there was a wondrous har- 
 mony of curves and colors. He sighed — a 
 boy's sigh — for which he would have been 
 puzzled to give a reason. 
 
 " But you're forgetting one thing. Miss 
 Maggie," boomed forth the parson again, 
 with elephantine playfulness ; " the best 
 thing of all — love letters! — Ah! Garth, you 
 rascal, you'd thought of it, I'll be bound ! 
 eh ? the best thing of all— eh ? ha ! ha ! " 
 
 Garth, thus rallied, turned an ingenuous 
 red, while his beautiful little mistress's oval 
 eyes sparkled in arch acknowledgment of 
 the patriarch's refined humor. She had the 
 self-possession which is like ballast to a fair 
 vessel, and for lack of which many a fair 
 vessel dare not spread her sails. 
 
 " But there's one thing he'll learn to ap- 
 preciate while he's away," observed Outh- 
 bert," with a gleam of mischief in his clear 
 face, " and that's such a sermon as he heard 
 yesterday. He'll hardly hear such a one 
 from the Brunswick parson in all his four 
 years." 
 
 " True enough, son-in-law," responded 
 the guileless Titan, sobering down again ; 
 " though it's no doubt a good man they've 
 got there, too. But you see it takes a man 
 who has been in his pulpit for six-and-sixty 
 consecutive years, and never missed a Sun- 
 day — it needs a man like that to preach a 
 sermon. Bless the lad, I saw himl He 
 didn't know what his old grandfather could 
 do for him— eh, Garth? There, there— 
 never be ashamed of it ! I liked to see you 
 warm up to it, and the tears in your eyes ; 
 it showed a right heart, and a right head, 
 too ! But then even I can't promise you a 
 sermon like that every week — no ! no ! " 
 
 " Garth, have you shown Miss Madge 
 that new tulip of yours ? " Outhbert asked ; 
 and, when the two young people had gone 
 out, he resumed : " It's just as well you can- 
 not, parson. Garth was rather too power- 
 fully affected by your yesterday's discourse. 
 He's more impressible than you might sup- 
 pose from the build of his chest and shoul- 
 ders. So I sha'n't let you loose upon him 
 often. By-the-by," he added, before the 
 other had time to bring himself to bear, 
 " what were you saying when you first came 
 in about there having been a fire last night ? 
 Not the meeting-house, I hope ? " 
 
 " Ha ! Oh, no. It was my old witch's 
 place. Old Ma'am Nikomis's wigwam." 
 
 " It happens opportunely. I engaged 
 her long ago to come and rule our roast 
 here, so soon as she became weary of pro- 
 fessional witchcraft. Garth will have to 
 give up housekeeping for study now, so the 
 old lady wiU just fill his place. But I for- 
 got to ask the particulars. Has she fallen 
 out with the black-man, or are they plotting 
 new deviltries ? or what is the secret of the 
 conflagration? She was not scorched her- 
 self, I trust?" 
 
 " The poor old woman," exclaimed Mar- 
 tha, pityingly. " I suppose she must have 
 set herself afire with that curious tobacco- 
 pipe of hers that she is always smoking. I 
 hope she saved some of her belongings." 
 
 "Why, here she comes?" remarked 
 Outhbert, who was seated in the embrasure 
 of the southwestern window; "and, appar- 
 ently, the bulk of her goods and chattels are 
 in that bag on her back. She has saved her 
 
56 
 
 GAETH. 
 
 collection of scalps among other things, and 
 has got them festooned around her person. 
 Well, since adversity has at last brought her 
 to her friends, I'll step out and welcome her 
 home." 
 
 Accordingly, they all three sallied forth, 
 and stood on the cloven threshold, awaiting 
 the old squaw's approach. She was a grim- 
 looking Indian, somewhat stunted of stat- 
 ure, with broad, high cheekbones, and narrow 
 black eyes. Ugly and stolid though her outside 
 aspect was, a keen observer might have detect- 
 ed signs of sagacity and purpose beneath it. 
 
 When she had come within a few paces 
 of the porch she halted — a wild and savage 
 figure enough, with her grizzled black hair 
 hanging round her shoulders, her beaded 
 and blanketed costume, her dangling scalps, 
 and her bag of household goods slung across 
 her back. She fastened her eyes first on 
 the parson, and then on Mrs. Urmson ; and, 
 finally, without making any gesture of greet- 
 ing, but with the air of some grotesque sov- 
 ereign announcing herself to her vassals, 
 she spoke in a harsh, guttural tone to Outh- 
 bert. 
 
 " Kikomis a-come ! " Said she. 
 
 "You are welcome,'' replied Outhbert ; 
 " we were expecting you. Oome in ! " 
 
 " Oome in, ma'am 1 " vociferated the gi- 
 gantic parson, swinging his arm. " You're 
 lucky to get into such good quarters, I can 
 tell you ! " 
 
 Nikomis paid no heed to this observa- 
 tion, unless it were to assume a yet more 
 haughty bearing than at first. But, after a 
 pause, she pointed to the cleft in the thresh- 
 old, and shook her head. 
 
 " Nikomis not come this side," grunted 
 she, " other side — other door 1 " 
 
 " She's heard the legend, probably," said 
 Outhbert to the minister, in a low voice," 
 "and is superstitious about walking over 
 gravestones. — Let me conduct you to the 
 kitchen - door, madam," he added, aloud. 
 " So long as you are content not to leave 
 Urmhurst, you have your choice of en- 
 trances." 
 
 Nikomis nodded assent, and followed 
 him round the house. On the kitchen-door- 
 step were seated Madge and Garth in close 
 oonfabulation. Garth rose in surprise, but 
 
 Madge started up manifestly disconcerted — 
 as became a young woman caught in a ten- 
 der predicament. The Indian stopped short, 
 and eyed her in silence. 
 
 " I — thought I might meet you," said the 
 girl, rapidly recovering herself. " You must 
 let me come and see you some time. I could 
 not help it I " 
 
 " Nikomis is your successor. Garth," 
 said his father, at the same moment. " You 
 , are deposed ; surrender your keys, and 
 march ! " 
 
 " " We must be friends though, Nikomis," 
 said the youth, holding out his hand with a 
 smile; for, since his fight with Sam, the old 
 squaw had seemed to cherish some resent- 
 ment toward him, and he wished to improve 
 this opportunity for reconciliation. The In- 
 dian, however, either did not understand the 
 Ohristian practice of hand-shaking, or else 
 was averse from friendly overtures ; at all 
 events, she passed in through the kitchen- 
 door without appearing to notice Garth at 
 all ; and, during many months thereafter, 
 she hardly vouchsafed a word to him. 
 
 " She is clean, and perfectly upright, I 
 think," kind Mrs. Urmson would say of her 
 strange domestic. " I only wish she wouldn't 
 smoke that pipe while she is cooking dinner. 
 But she cooks some things very well — espe- 
 cially vegetables and soups." 
 
 " Witches have always been renowned 
 for their broth, you know," Outhbert would 
 answer. " But what captivates me is her 
 authoritative bearing. She is absolute, and 
 yet makes no fuss about it. I feel like a 
 tenant, the recipient of her bounty. I am 
 continually grateful at not getting notice to 
 quit. I believe, Ootton, I should have been 
 a happier man if you had always bullied 
 me!" 
 
 "I shall have time now to knit Garth 
 enough socks and mittens to last him all 
 through college," would be Mrs. Urmson's 
 conclusion. 
 
 Outhbert was, in the old-fashioned sense, 
 a humorist, and took pleasure in doing kind 
 things which brought him neither fame nor 
 profit. Nikomis was treated with considera- 
 tion, and paid good wages, which she was 
 never known to spend. By day she brooded 
 , much in the chimney-corner, sending pufEs 
 
ANOTHER ATTIO MYSTERY. 
 
 57 
 
 of tobacco-smoke np the wide flue along 
 with the savor of roast-meat. At night she 
 mounted to the garret, a compartment of 
 which she had fitted up in wigwam fashion ; 
 but what she did there it would be rash to 
 affirm. During several years following her 
 domestication at Urmhurst, only one person 
 was suspected of having visited her in her 
 den, and that one was Madge Danver. But 
 Madge was discreet, and, if she was made 
 privy to aught strange or unlawful, had the 
 wisdom to say nothing about it. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 ANOTHEB ATTIO MTSTBET. 
 
 GrAETH prepared for the college examina- 
 tion under the tuition of his father ; he al- 
 ways got his lessons, but at the cost of much 
 unnecessary labor. He could not learn 
 things by rote, nor profit by the use of rules 
 and formulas which he had not worked out 
 for himself. He was better at classics than 
 at mathematics, but could not be accounted 
 great in either. He would sigh, and stretch 
 his arms over his books, and twist his hair 
 into a matted tangle, and anon would set-to 
 afresh with stern, immitigable brow. Then 
 a sudden burst of sunshine, or a bird-song, 
 or a humming-bird at the lilies in his win- 
 dow, would sorely try his resolution. 
 
 Yet it was the methodism of books, rather 
 than their intrinsic contents, that annoyed 
 him. His mind did not lack capacity, but 
 flowed not easily in the mould of other men's. 
 His free habits, and a way his father had of 
 making him answer his own questions, had 
 given him independence, but, at the same 
 time, hindered facility. Ladders only em- 
 barrassed him ; he would prefer to climb 
 the tree of knowledge as he had climbed the 
 chestnut at the picnic. 
 
 Though he had plenty to do. Garth con- 
 trived to reserve the evening and the earliest 
 morning to himself. Th e former hours he 
 spent in society — that is to say, in the com- 
 pany of Madge, of his parents, and of the 
 parson. His relations with his father had 
 entered upon a new phase of late. The 
 spontaneous confidences of childhood had 
 
 ceased, and the youth, sensible of inward 
 changes, whose nature and purport he did 
 not wholly comprehend, had spun himself 
 an instinctive cocoon of reserve, which the 
 elder religiously respected. But, after a 
 while. Garth began to discover that he re- 
 mained essentially the same fellow, notwith- 
 standing his development, and yearned for 
 a wiser intimacy. Perhaps he doubted, at 
 first, whether his father could any longer 
 serve him as counselor and guide ; persons 
 at Garth's time of life being apt to think 
 that their problems would puzzle anybody. 
 Nevertheless, when Outhbert still made 
 shift to at least discuss such abstruse mat- 
 ters intelligently, the son would secretly 
 marvel at the possible extent of human 
 knowledge and experience ! 
 
 Madge often accompanied the old minis- 
 ter to Urmhurst, and was charming there. 
 Her mother was an invalid, her father over- 
 fond of Bourbon whiskey, and neither could 
 be good company for a maiden so full of 
 life, freshness, and innocence, as was their 
 daughter. She had already graduated with 
 distinction at the village school, and, most 
 of the housework being done by a char- 
 woman, her time was largely at her own 
 disposal. Physically speaking, she would 
 have been an ornament to any community, 
 and, to all appearance, she was as good as 
 she was beautiful ; though, no doubt, there 
 may have been certain narrow-minded per- 
 sons in the village who entertained an un- 
 reasonable prejudice against her. But tlie 
 parson was always her champion. 
 
 " Look how cheerful and steady she is! " 
 he would bellow out. " Any other girl in 
 her shoes would mope or get into mischief. 
 Ay, there are gossips about; and, if they 
 were in their pews as regularly as my 
 Maggie, I guess I'd read them a lesson ! " 
 
 "She is, indeed, of a happy tempera- 
 ment," Outhbert would reply. "And she 
 has too much self-respect to dismiss that 
 charwoman as an unnecessary expense, and 
 injure her hands, temper, and sensibilities, 
 by doing the work herself." 
 
 " "Well, son-in-law," said the parson, pro- 
 foundly, "there are folks in this world who 
 just seem made to make other folks happy by 
 looking happy and pretty themselves. That's 
 
58 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 their work, and they're not called on to do 
 any other." 
 
 " Oh ! if only I had been born pretty and 
 happy," sighed Cuthbert, " how I would 
 have beatified mankind ! " 
 
 In spite of his irony, however, he was, 
 perhaps, almost as much captivated by 
 Madge as the venerable minister himself. 
 This ironical habit of his was mainly intel- 
 lectual, often, no doubt, mechanical. His 
 heart must not seldom have protested 
 against the saturnine judgments of his 
 brain. 
 
 Moreover, as regarded the Danvers, they 
 were not too poor to afford the charwoman; 
 and this was a fact which Outhbert, who 
 had latterly been intrusted with the care of 
 their " estate," must have known. One of 
 Mr. Danver's old, half-forgotten patents 
 seemed all at once to have acquired new 
 life, and now brought in a yearly sum of 
 money that made the family income more 
 than sufficient for their bare necessities. 
 That they should lay up anything was not 
 to be expected ; nor was it reasonable that 
 Madge, Garth's wife that was to be, should 
 be asked to perform manual labor so long 
 as it was possible for her to avoid it. Mr. 
 Urmson's aspersions were uncalled for. He 
 might be very learned and clever, and lie 
 was popularly believed to be very wealthy ; 
 and, if wealthy, then certainly he was eco- 
 nomical, almost to "the verge of stinginess. 
 But America was a free country, and neither 
 Mr. Urmson nor anybody else had any call 
 to put on airs. Such, at least, was the 
 opinion of the Hrmswortbies, those of them 
 who were wont to settle the affairs of the 
 world at the corner grocery, between the 
 hours of seven and nine every evening. 
 And thus it may be seen that the master of 
 Urmhurst, like other men of mark before 
 and since, was not honored as a prophet in 
 his own country. 
 
 Let us return to Garth, whose morning 
 hours have yet to be accounted for. When 
 the sun rose clear, he generally took his 
 pleasure out-of-doors ; but in inclement 
 weather the garret was his customary re- 
 treat. He had a den there, in the northeast 
 corner, which was kept even more strictly 
 private than Nikomis's in the northwest; 
 
 not Madge herself could guess the secret of 
 it. Garth would enter this den stealthily, 
 locking the door behind him, and for two 
 or three hours there would be neither sign 
 nor sound of him. At length he would 
 emerge, flushed with what might have been 
 either shame or exaltation, and come down 
 to breakfast. 
 
 Yet Garth was not naturally prone to 
 concealment, and we can only suppose that 
 he was indulging some fond weakness or 
 other, which, though unworthy of him, had 
 insinuated its roots so deeply into his affec- 
 tions as hardly to be denied. Such indul- 
 gences conceal themselves by instinct, and 
 a more subtle person than Garth would have 
 veiled even the fact that there was anything 
 to veil. But he was frank in the midst of 
 his reticence. Perhaps he relied on years 
 to help him outgrow his folly, whatever it 
 was. As the last weeks of his home-life 
 slipped by, however, these solitary houro 
 seemed to become more than ever precious 
 to Mm. He would watch the sun set and 
 rise with an eager look, as though there 
 were to be no such things in college. His 
 early love of the beautiful forms and colors 
 of the world took on a kind of forlorn ardor, 
 and he laid much to heart a sage remark of 
 his grandfather's, that "boys never learned 
 anything by doing what they liked ! " 
 
 " I like to look at your face," he said to 
 Madge, " and yet I learn something from 
 it." 
 
 " What can my face teach you, I'd like 
 to know ? " returned she, not displeased. 
 
 " Oh ! " said he, vaguely, and drove his 
 heel into the log that smouldered on the 
 hearth. It was a habit of his to answer 
 inconvenient questions with that monosyl- 
 lable. 
 
 " There is not much more time left for it 
 to teach you anything," she resumed, nn- 
 wUling to let so pretty a topic drop. 
 
 Garth sighed, and clutched his hair mus- 
 ingly- 
 
 " I wish I could have my picture painted 
 for you," she remarked, presently. 
 
 " No, no ! " he exclaimed, with energy, 
 adding in a lower tone : " God made you ; 
 what man has a right to imitate your 
 beauty ? " 
 
AN EXPLANATION. 
 
 59 
 
 " Well, you are in a mood for compli- 
 ments to-day, sir 1 " cried Madge, fairly 
 flushing with pleasure. 
 
 " It is no compliment to say God made 
 you, Madge,'' returned he, gravely. " But 
 painting is irreverent." 
 
 " Irreverent ? You strange boy I Why, 
 Eoman Catholics have pictures of God, and 
 the Virgin, and Christ, and angels and saints 
 — ^my father has told me of them. And I 
 would like to have my portrait painted a 
 hundred times. Wouldn't you paint me if 
 you knew how ? " 
 
 Garth kicked the log into a blaze. " I'm 
 afraid I would 1 " he said, between his teeth. 
 " Oh, it would be lovely ! " cried she, 
 resting her folded hands on her lap and gaz- 
 ing wide-eyed into the flame. " Your paint- 
 ing it, I mean! " 
 
 He moved his shoulders impulsively, and 
 presently said, " It might not be wrong for 
 Catholics ; but I'm a Puritan ! " 
 
 "Then you might become a Catholic, I 
 think — Just long enough to paint me ! " she 
 answered with a laugh. "Now, tell me. 
 Garth, have you never done what was a 
 little wrong, because it was also very agree- 
 able?" 
 
 " Yes ! " 
 
 " Dear me, you needn't look so ashamed. 
 For my part I think things are all the more 
 delightful for being a little — " 
 
 She finished the sentence with an arch 
 suggestive movement of the head and hand. 
 
 " You have felt it too ! " ejaculated Garth, 
 with a sort of dismay. 
 
 " Yes, my dear Garth, and so did Adam 
 and Eve ; and I'm sure I don't care to be 
 better than they. But you are so funny ! " 
 
 Hereupon Garth lapsed into a brown 
 study that put an end to the conversation. 
 But, from that hour, he abstained from his 
 attic diversions; locking np his den, and 
 putting the key in his pocket. His forbear- 
 ance tried him severely, though he still ad- 
 mitted no one to his confidence. He studied 
 more rigorously than ever, but with less 
 cheerfulness. His manner became moody 
 and apathetic ; and, in short, if he had an- 
 ticipated finding virtue its own reward, he 
 was tempted to think that virtue was satis- 
 fied with very little. 
 
 CHAPTER XVm. 
 
 AN EXPLANATION. 
 
 It was not often that Urmsworth sent a 
 student to the university, and, for two or 
 three weeks prior to Garth's departure, he 
 was a prominent personage in the village, 
 and Madge Danver loved him all the better 
 for being so. A few days before the last, 
 Mr. Urmson and the parson, assisted by half 
 a dozen old examination papers, put the 
 young candidate to a very searching test of 
 his proficiency. He acquitted himself so 
 well that his grandfather gave him a sort 
 of preparatory blessing — a foretaste of the 
 grand final one which he was to take with 
 him to Bowdoin. That evening, after Garth 
 had gone to his chamber and was pacing up 
 and down the floor with his hands behind 
 him, his father knocked and came in. 
 
 " Well, beloved Hottentot ! " was his 
 greeting, " are you sleepy ? " 
 
 "Not a bit I" 
 
 " Nor I ; but I thought that a little talk 
 with an expectant freshman would probably 
 make me so. Well — are you as glad to leave 
 us as your mother and Miss Madge are to be 
 rid of you? " 
 
 Garth's only response was a somewhat 
 sorry smile. 
 
 " And what do you mean to do in col- 
 lege ? Shall you stand in the first ten ? or- 
 shall you do what you will find many of the 
 pleasantest fellows doing — see life? that is, 
 scrape an acquaintance with the devil ? " 
 
 Garth thumped his foot against the trunk 
 upon which he was sitting, and answered 
 dejectedly that he didn't think he should do 
 much, either good or bad. 
 
 " You know, old gentleman," continued 
 his father', "that I have never interfered 
 with your inalienable Yankee independence 
 much, and I sha'n't begin now. But there 
 is one point in which I shall have to impose 
 a restraint upon you, and that is, your ex- 
 penditure. I shall give you all the money 
 there is to give, but you will often wish you 
 had more than I can send you." 
 
 " We are poor, then ? " 
 
 "I believe our neighbors think other- 
 wise, and it's true that your grandfather, 
 
60 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 Captain Brian, left a good deal of money. 
 But all of it cannot be said to belong to us, 
 exactly." 
 
 "Whose is it 2" 
 
 Mr. Urmson picked op a window-stick, 
 and with his penknife, which he always kept 
 very sharp, he began to whittle, in smooth, 
 slow strokes, as if the stick represented the 
 topic which he was about to discuss. 
 
 "You know, Captain Urmson, your 
 grandfather, married twice. I was the only 
 child of his first marriage. His second wed- 
 ding came twenty years after his first ; Eve 
 and Golightley were born in the two fol- 
 lowing years, and Mrs. Urmson, never re- 
 covering from her second confinement, died 
 within the year after GoUghtley's birth . The 
 captain idolized Eve, as you have often 
 heard; but he and Golightley could never 
 hit it oflf together. Golightley was always 
 as filial as pie ; but he was rather a sickly 
 youth, and not very robust in character. 
 As he grew older he became rather a senti- 
 mentalist, and was apt to wax eloquent about 
 esthetic culture, and the True, and the Beau- 
 tiful, and the Good; the captain called it 
 all damned nonsense." 
 
 "What did you call it, father?" de- 
 manded Garth. 
 
 " I only heard of it afterward: I was in 
 Europe then — went the same year Eve was 
 lost, and only came back ten years after- 
 ward. I think your grandfather was harsh 
 and unjust ; but he had never been used to 
 hide his opinions or pick his words. Well, 
 when I was in London, shortly before my 
 return home, I happened to win the very 
 good will of a banker there, a ridiculously 
 wealthy fellow; he offered to take me into 
 his office, and put me in the way of making 
 a fortune. I preferred to see old Urmhurst 
 again ; but I told him about my half-brother, 
 and was allowed to accept the position in 
 his behalf. When I got home and told him 
 of it, he was delighted ; as he expressed it, 
 he had 'thirsted for Europe all his life.' 
 So then your grandfather — Are you in- 
 terested?" 
 
 Garth clumped an affirmative heel against 
 his trunk, and Mr. Urmson, curling off a 
 dexterous shaving, continued : 
 
 " The captain made no objections ; but 
 
 he remarked that, since he would probably 
 never see us both together again, he would 
 read us his wiU. I expected to get the house 
 and land, and supposed Golightley would have 
 the ready money and securities. The value 
 of the estate — the whole property — amounted 
 to about one hundred thousand dollars. Of 
 this the captain had bequeathed to Golight- 
 ley ten thousand dollars, and the remaining 
 nine - tenths, including Urmhurst, he had 
 given wholly to me." 
 
 " Hullo ! You didn't like that, did you ? " 
 said Garth, sympathetically. 
 
 "How do you know I didn't, sir? At 
 all events, the captain would hear of no al- 
 teration then. He read a codicil to the will, 
 however, providing for the chance of Eve's 
 ever being found, or any descendants of hers 
 in the first generation. In that case Urm- 
 hurst and fifty thousand dollars were to be 
 given up to them. 
 
 "When the reading was over, Golight- 
 ley declared himself perfectly satisfied, and 
 said he cared not for money, but for beauty ; 
 and that as for Urmhurst, had it fallen to 
 his share, he would have wished 'to be rid 
 of it ; for he could not bear to be tied down 
 even in thought to one particular spot of 
 earth. And no doubt," observed Mr. Urm- 
 son, arching his eyebrows, " your uncle was 
 in earnest. I give you his words, so that 
 you may draw your own conclusions. But 
 he did not reflect how much beauty costs 
 nowadays. If the world had only been ar- 
 ranged as he wished it, I dare say he would 
 never have soiled his fingers with such dross 
 as dollars and cents. 
 
 "He went to England," continued Mr. 
 Urmson, whittling away at his window-stick, 
 " with his two thousand pounds, and I mar- 
 ried your mother. He wrote to me twice 
 within the first six months; he had been 
 well received by the banker ; declared him- 
 self positively depressed by the prospect of 
 vast wealth that loomed inevitably before 
 him; envied me the philosophic calm that 
 could endure riches, and looked forward 
 with longing to the time when he might dis- 
 burden himself of his own in my favor." 
 
 " Generous, wasn't he ! " muttered Garth, 
 with a glow of appreciation. 
 
 " I think he has always loved the beauty 
 
AN EXPLANATION". 
 
 61 
 
 of disinterested behavior ; but inexperienced 
 young fellows such as he was then are apt 
 to tate offense at the practical obstacles in 
 the way of. virtue. His second letter men- 
 tioned ill health, and talked of a vacation in 
 Greece or Italy. Four months later came a 
 third letter addressed to the captain. I never 
 naw its contents, but they produced a violent 
 effect upon your grandfather. 
 
 " He locked himself into his room and 
 would admit no one for nearly twenty-four 
 hours. We could hear him tramping up and 
 down the floor and talking to himself. Once 
 in a while he gave way to fits of rage — 
 stamped on the floor till the house shook, 
 and roared out oaths which, I presume, used 
 to do duty aboard his privateer during the 
 Kevolution. At last he came out haggard 
 and grim, with a sealed letter addressed to 
 your uncle in his hand." 
 
 " Why did I never hear all this before ? " 
 demanded Garth, with a long sigh of inter- 
 est, as his father paused to pare oif a par- 
 ticularly thin shaving. 
 
 " Well, yon are going to be a man on 
 your own account now, and so are bound 
 to hear of whatever concerns the family. 
 But you will have to rely on your own in- 
 genuity to explain some of the things that I 
 shall tell you — at least I can't help you. 
 But about this letter — I afterward had rea- 
 son to believe that it contained a large draft 
 in Golightley's favor. It was about two 
 months after this that your grandfather died. 
 The night before his death— he seemed as 
 well as usual or better — ^he called me to his 
 room, the same we are in now, and began 
 talking about his second marriage. His 
 wife, as you know, was a Golightley, and it 
 appeared that he had met her in Virginia so 
 long ago as 1781. He had landed at James- 
 town after an unsuccessful cruise, at the 
 time when Arnold and Cornwallis were rav- 
 aging the country. He organized a band of 
 guerrillas, his lieutenant being a brother of 
 Maud Golightley's, named Rupert, and their 
 headquarters were at the Golightley man- 
 sion. 
 
 " Tour grandfather had landed under an 
 assumed name — John Dane — and he kept it 
 carefully all through. He and Eupert be- 
 came great friends. Maud, he soon learned, 
 
 was betrothed to a cousin, who was also a 
 Golightley. Nevertheless, she fell in love 
 with John Dane, who, I imagine, was a 
 splendid-looking fellow in those days — he 
 was then about twenty-three. I don't know 
 precisely the succession of events after this 
 affair (which of course was a profound se- 
 cret between the lovers), but at any rate 
 there was suddenly a violent quarrel be- 
 tween your grandfather and Rupert — who 
 had, perhaps, fancied some insult to his sis- 
 ter from something he may have seen — and 
 the Southerner insisted upon a duel. So 
 out they went — it was after dusk — to a plan- 
 tation of trees near the house. Your grand- 
 father told me that he shut his eyes when 
 he fired, but that didn't prevent his shoot- 
 ing Rupert dead with that old pistol hang- 
 ing over the fireplace." 
 
 Here Mr. Urmson pointed to the ungain- 
 ly weapon with his window-stick, and Garth 
 stared with awe at the antique relic which 
 had rested in its place ever since he could 
 remember. It had killed a man ! 
 
 " When he had got to this point in his 
 story," Mr. Urmson resumed, " your grand- 
 father paused so long that I thought he was 
 not going to tell any more. But at length 
 he went on to say that the report of the pis- 
 tol not only carried death to his friend, but 
 seemed to have called into life a hundred 
 enemies. In truth, the men had actually 
 fought their duel in the midst of an ambus- 
 cade of the English, planned to sack the 
 house. The concealed troops had witnessed 
 the duel, and now rushed forward to take 
 prisoner the survivor. But he so desperate- 
 ly laid about him with his clubbed pistol, 
 that the redcoats had to shoot at him; a 
 musket-ball grazed his temple and knocked 
 him senseless, and, after he had fallen, he 
 received a bayonet-wound in the leg. They 
 left him for dead, and when, some hours 
 later, he and Rupert were found lying side 
 by side, they were supposed to have fallen 
 like brothers-in-arms, fighting against a com- 
 mon enemy. Tour grandfather with diSi- 
 culty revived, and was told that the house 
 had been sacked, and that Maud Golightley 
 had been shot, whether accidentally by the 
 enemy or by her own hand to escape vio- 
 lence was not known. He dragged himself, 
 
62 
 
 GAETH. 
 
 in agony of mind and body, to the house, 
 and searched it from top to bottom. There 
 were some relics of Maud in her chamber, 
 but of her not a vestige. They had left him 
 not even her body. He told me that in the 
 midst of his agony he yelled for joy to think 
 she would never know he had slain her 
 brother. . . . How now, beloved . Hotten- 
 tot ! " 
 
 Mr. TJrmson had a marvelous voice, ab- 
 solutely controlled by a highly-sensitive and 
 delicate mental organization; humor, pa- 
 thos, or appeal, came in a manner transfig- 
 ured from his lips. But to-night, gradually 
 kindled by his story to a mood he seldom 
 suffered himself to attain, the ilexible melo- 
 dy of his low-spoken words had filled the 
 scope of else ineffable emotion. It had been 
 too much for Garth's youthful imagination, 
 apart from his being a descendant of the 
 chief actor in the event. His heart was 
 melted within him, picturing forth afresh 
 the anguish which had passed long ago. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 GOLIGHTLBT. 
 
 " I STTPPOSE you think," remarked his fa- 
 ther, after a pause, recurring to his ordinary 
 tone, " that all this is a subterfuge of mine 
 for letting you know why you won't have 
 enough pocket-money in college. It is a 
 roundabout explanation, I admit; but still 
 it consists, as I will show you." He re- 
 sumed his knife, which had dropped idle dur- 
 ing the last few minutes, and, applying it 
 to the other end of his stick, continued : 
 " Tour grandfather made his way to James- 
 town, and reembarked there, leaving behind 
 him (as he afterward discovered) not only a 
 living and uninjured Maud, but a circum- 
 stantial account, which reached her ears, of 
 his own death. She married her cousin a 
 year or two afterward, and they had a 
 daughter, who, if she be living, must be 
 about my own age. I suppose she yielded 
 to this marriage in the indifference of de- 
 spair; besides, her husband was wealthy, 
 and could afford her any kind of diversion. 
 This, at all events, was your grandfather's 
 
 subsequent understanding of the matter, 
 though he did not so account for his own 
 marriage with my mother, which took place 
 about the same time. Mrs. Golightley's 
 husband did not live long, and the widow 
 and her daughter remained together until 
 the daughter was married, at the age of sev- 
 enteen. It must have been about this time 
 that Mrs. Golightley happened to hear that 
 your grandfather was still living, and con- 
 ceived the rather incautious purpose — though 
 it seems to have been in keeping with her 
 general character — to disappear from her 
 own place and friends and hunt him up." 
 
 "Did she go without their knowing?" 
 demanded the absorbed hearer. 
 
 " So it appears. She had already settled 
 the bulk of the fortune left by her husband 
 on her married daughter, and she came 
 North alone and secretly— so secretly, in- 
 deed, that her friends believed she had been 
 the victim of foul play. Luckily for her, 
 she found your grandfather a widower, and 
 disposed to marry her, even after nearly 
 twenty years. I must confess, however, 
 that the story has always seemed to me in- 
 complete, and I think there must have been 
 circumstances which have never come out. 
 With all allowance for my step-mother's ro- 
 mantic flightiness, I cannot understand her 
 abandoning the home of a lifetime merely ou 
 the chance that a man whom she had known 
 but for two or three months in her girlhood, 
 and had not heard of since, would he in a 
 condition or a mind to become her husband. 
 However, so it turned out." 
 
 " Did she know, then, that his name was 
 Brian Urmson, not John Dane ? " 
 
 " Yes, he had confided that secret to her. 
 And, by-the-way, that episode brings to 
 light a curious historical coincidence. Our 
 old English ancestor, Neil Urmson, whose 
 steel head-piece you used to wear, was in 
 his boyhood on terms of friendship with a 
 certain Reginald G;olightley, son of the 60- 
 lightleys of Hertfordshire. When the civil 
 war broke out, they took opposite sides, still, 
 however, remaining personal friends. But 
 they quarreled about a woman, and after 
 that they used the great war as a means to 
 glut their private hatred. At last they met 
 in the battle of Naseby, and our ancestor 
 
GOLIGHTLET. 
 
 63 
 
 vanquished his enemy, and made him pris- 
 oner. He forced him to accompany him to 
 the English Urmhurst, and there witness his 
 marriage to this woman — who was no other 
 than the Eleanor who afterward came with 
 her hushand to New England. Well, in the 
 midst of the marriage-service, Keginald, 
 breaking loose in his fury from the men who 
 held him, snatched a battle-axe from one of 
 tliem, and aimed a blow at Neil's head. NeU 
 had just time to interpose his pistol, which 
 broke the force of the stroke and saved his 
 life ; nevertheless, the blade reached his 
 chin, and almost cleft it asunder. Then 
 NeU, with the blood streaming over his 
 breast, leveled his pistol, and fired through 
 Eeginald's heart. Was not that an uncer- 
 emonious manner of treating his grooms- 
 man ? The scar of Eeginald's blow Neil 
 carried to his grave ; not only that, but his 
 son was born with it, and it has appeared 
 occasionally in the family ever since. Yes, 
 that is the history of the cleft in your chin." 
 
 Impelled by a sudden interest, such as he 
 had never before felt, in his own counte- 
 nance, Garth walked across the room and 
 examined his reflection in the mirror with a 
 kind of respectful curiosity, while his father, 
 a haK-smile curling one corner of his mouth, 
 went on with his whittling. 
 
 "But are these Virginia Golightleys of 
 the same family as Reginald ? " inquired the 
 youth, on returning to his trunk. 
 
 "They are descendants of Reginald's 
 younger brother, who emigrated to James- 
 town in 1648 or thereabouts; and the pistol, 
 of course, is the same old pistol all through. 
 Now, when your grandfather landed in 
 Jamestown a hundred and thirty years af- 
 terward, and met Rupert Golightley and his 
 beautiful sister, he probably thought he could 
 not do better than keep his incognito; he 
 had enough of a lover's cunning to see that 
 it would be more than likely to prejudice 
 Maud against him. However, when he 
 was sure of her love, he avowed himself to 
 her ; but poor Rupert died in ignorance that 
 the man who slew him was his hereditary 
 enemy. 
 
 "Now we get back more to our own 
 times. There can be no doubt that your 
 grandfather was extravagantly fond of his 
 
 second wife, and one cause of his harshness 
 to Golightley was that the boy had been the 
 death of his mother, as the captain put it. 
 Understanding all this as I did — and the cap- 
 tain made no concealment of it — 1 was 
 puzzled by his final words to me, in this 
 room, on that night before his death. He 
 began abruptly to speak of Gohghtley, and 
 of the letter he had lately received from him, 
 and which, he said, he had destroyed. I 
 asked him whether he would tell me its con- 
 tents ; lie answered between his teeth, ' No ! 
 not if I'm damned for it ! ' which was only 
 his way of saying ' No ! ' ' But I didn't man- 
 age right about the wiU,' he said ; ' if Maud 
 had been alive, she'd have had it different, 
 no doubt. After all, he's her son, if he did 
 kill her. I'm no friend of his, Outhbert — 
 you know it ; but I should have made the 
 will different. You can't bury the devil; 
 he'll crop up somewhere ! We must give 
 him more money if he wants it — do you hear 
 me? — we must give him more money. I 
 didn't do right ; 1 didn't — damn me ! ' 
 
 " I said, ' I shall be glad to have the will 
 altered ; but, from what Golightley wrote 
 to me, I thought he needed nothing less than 
 money.' 
 
 " ' I won't alter the will ! ' he shouted 
 out, stamping on the floor ; ' I say I won't 
 alter it. He may die before I do — who 
 knows? sickly young dog! Ah, if Eve 
 would come back, that would settle him ! 
 Need money? You'll see he needs it! and 
 we must give it him — do yon hear me? — 
 and if I die first, you must send him what 
 he asks for, send it without a word. No, I 
 won't alter the will ; I won't — damn me ! ' 
 
 " ' But in that case,' said I, ' I won't let 
 Golightley or any -one else bully me into 
 giving up what is mine. You shall give me 
 some reason, sir.' 
 
 " At that the old soldier bui-st into tears. 
 I was very much moved, Garth. I had not 
 supposed he felt so much. I had seen him 
 weep only twice before^once when Maud 
 died, and again when Eve was lost. His 
 sobs shook him terribly, my dear old father ! 
 He said : ' Don't cross me, boy — don't cross 
 an old wretch like me. I love you, Outhbert 
 — I loved Maud ; I ask you to give her son 
 whatever he may ask of you. He may die 
 
6i 
 
 GAETH. 
 
 soon — damn him, I hope he will — but don't 
 cross me, boy I Don't ask me for reasons ; I 
 have none, sir; I have none. Ask your 
 father for reasons ? Promise me, Outhbert 
 — ^promise me, boy, that if he needs money, 
 you'll send it without a word ! ' 
 
 " Said I, ' I promise it shall be as you say.' 
 I saw that for some reason he was too much 
 excited for any argument or question that 
 night, and I gave him the promise, expecting 
 to discuss the matter afresh next morning, 
 and come to a better understanding of it. 
 But your grandfather was dead the next 
 morning, and who can tell what was his 
 secret ? " 
 
 "But does my uncle take advantage of 
 such a promise — is he dishonorable?" de- 
 manded Garth' with an indignant flush. 
 
 "I fear," answered Mr. Urmson, quietly, 
 "that wrong has been done whereby both 
 he and we are sufferers. He cannot, I am 
 sure, be a happy man. He has not the self- 
 knowledge to correct his shortcomings, 
 which are nevertheless a constant pain to 
 him. He is always wanting to make his 
 friends impossibly happy, yet destiny seems 
 resolved to keep him their beneficiary." 
 
 Garth began to twist his hair reflectively. 
 " He must be unhappy ! And is he too iU to 
 work for his own living? " 
 
 "He seems to have the malady of ill- 
 success. He conceives vast schemes, and 
 works at them enthusiastically for a while: 
 they need money, but they haven't made 
 any yet. The truth is. Garth — you are old 
 enough to hear it now, and it is known to 
 no one else — that your uncle has spent the 
 greater part of our income for over fifteen 
 years. Sometimes I have been hard put to 
 it to make the etids meet. It is easy to con- 
 sider this a hardship, and no doubt I might 
 have derived a certain kind of satisfaction 
 from doing so. But really, though it has 
 probably benefited both sides, it has been 
 much better for us than for your uncle. We 
 have been vastly more easy than he. Your 
 mother has had her heart's fill of knitting 
 and darning, which wealth would have lost 
 her. For my part, I have become quite a 
 valued contributor to the English and Ameri- 
 can reviews, not to mention the diligence 
 with which I have prosecuted my history. 
 
 As for yon, you have learned how to sweep 
 and cook and clean your own boots, and to 
 plough, and to cut and pile timber, none 
 of which things your uncle has had oppor- 
 tunity to learn, though affording it to you. 
 So, under guise of being helped by us, he 
 has been secretly doing us the greatest 
 good." 
 
 "Ah, but he doesn't know it," said 
 Garth, with a commiserating sigh. " If he ' 
 did, he would be happier. Father, what do 
 you think wiis in that letter he wrote to 
 Captain Urmson ? " 
 
 "I don't know. Garth, and I don't want 
 to. As things are, I can love both your 
 uncle and your grandfather. It is never 
 wise to look too hard at our fellow-mortals. 
 Few are entirely beautiful." 
 
 Garth immediately thought of Madge as 
 a notable excepticm ; but on deeper consid- 
 eration he fancied his father might have in- 
 tended something less -obvious, and in this 
 doubt he kept silence. 
 
 "So now," observed Mr. Urmson, whit- 
 tling the perorating chip off his stick, " you 
 know what has become of your pocket- 
 money. Are you sleepy yet? " 
 
 "Father, are there any Golightleys living 
 now ? " 
 
 " Unless Maud Golightley's first daughter 
 be alive, none that I know of. I believe she 
 had another brother besides Kupert, but he 
 must have died long ago. If he left descend- 
 ants, I never heard of them." 
 
 " I hope he did ; for our ancestors were 
 always in the wrong, and if the Golightleys 
 are dead, how can it ever be righted ! " 
 
 "It might in that case be considered, at 
 all events, settled," returned Mr. Urmson, 
 with a smile, " But, even supposing a scion 
 of that house alive, I don't see how he could 
 pay off his debt of vengeance except by kill- 
 ing you and me with the old pistol, and 
 eloping with Mrs. Urmson afterward". To 
 be sure, if the descendant happened to be a 
 daughter instead of a son, you might com- 
 pound matters by — But no, on second 
 thoughts. Well, good- night, beloved Hot- 
 tentot, and good-by. I sha'n't bid you good- 
 by again before you go; I shall leave you 
 entirely to Miss Margaret. Think often of 
 your mother while you are away. She will 
 
NEWS. 
 
 65 
 
 never forget yon — and even I may remember 
 you once in a while. Good-by." 
 
 They shook hands, constrained by a 
 whimsical reserve charaoterislio of Yankees 
 and Englishmen. But the next moment 
 Garth, with a glowing impulse peculiar to 
 the hot-hearted Urrasons, who could never 
 be tamed to the temper of their surround- 
 ings, took his father in his stout young arms 
 and hugged him hard. Many noble and 
 pure pledges were given and taken in that 
 silent embrace; and after it was over the 
 two felt that they should sleep sound and 
 peacefully. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 After two or three days of superficial 
 hurry and bustle, oddly contrasting with an 
 inward heavinesss and stagnation. Garth 
 found himself established in Bowdoin Col- 
 lege. At first sight the place impressed him 
 as desolate, over-populated, and artificial; 
 he fancied he never should become recon- 
 ciled to it. He was continually shocked, 
 moreover, at meeting faces wholly strange 
 to him. Heretofore he had considered him- 
 self a stranger to many of the dwellers in 
 Urmsworth ; now first did he discover the 
 difference between not recognizing people 
 and not knowing them. He freshly realized 
 the extent of his human dependence; and 
 he could almost believe that he missed his 
 own family less than he did those indifierent 
 villagers. 
 
 At the moment of parting, good-by had 
 been easily said; but afterward he perceived 
 that his mood had been shallow, and he wished 
 he had taken the occasion more to heart. That 
 familiar circle at Urmhurst— how plainly it 
 lived in his reverie ! There sat his father, 
 reading in the ancestral arm-chair, whose 
 ponderous bnild contrasted quaintly with 
 the slender proportions of the tranquil, keen, 
 clear-visaged man. Here moved his mother, 
 demurely cheerful, in her white cap, soft- 
 handed, light-footed, low -voiced, with a 
 sweet solidity of figure and aspect. Now 
 enters the frequent parson, huge, rejoicing, 
 with snowy summit and accents of thunder, 
 5 
 
 but bending a little of late beneath his 
 eighty-seven stalwart years. Anon behold 
 Madge, with her picturesque and piquant 
 "toilets," as she styles them, her vigorous, 
 symmetrical little figure, her slender, oval 
 face, with its vivid hues, long, sparkling eyes, 
 and mobile mouth ; her self-possessed yet 
 winning manners. Garth wished for her 
 more than for the others, though whether it 
 were because he needed her more, or because 
 of an obscure misgiving as to whether he 
 felt the loss of her enough, was a question 
 which might give him pause. 
 
 By-and-by the harshness of the desola- 
 tion wore away. It was consoling to find 
 thirty or forty young fellows, his immediate 
 associates, in no oheerfuler predicament than 
 himself. Moreover, there was work to do, 
 though not so much or so difiicult as he had 
 expected. The novelty of the situation, the 
 fixed hours, the punctual beUs, the rigid 
 tutors, and the stimulus of the crowded 
 class-room, long served to keep the son of 
 the woods self-forgetfully surprised. At first 
 he had stood apart by himself, in the per- 
 suasion that he was one unit and the rest of 
 the university another, mutually repellent. 
 Afterward he came into possession of two 
 or three unprecedentedly sympathetic friend- 
 ships, and from these advanced with nawe 
 
 precipitance until he had met the whole 
 j class, man by man. They all liked him. 
 j Garth hardly understood this, or, rather, he 
 j took it for a matter of course that classmates 
 must like each other. It was not that he 
 was exceptionally attractive, but all the fel- 
 lows were good and charming. 
 
 In fact, however. Garth was not long in 
 becoming both distinguished and influential. 
 As often happens, it was the oppression and 
 insufferable arrogance of the sophomores 
 that brought his more engaging qualities to 
 the surface. At first his modest allowance 
 of the superior claims of age and experience, 
 and his cordial deference to legitimate au- 
 thority, tended to put his temper in a false 
 light. "When half a dozen young gentlemen 
 of the upper class visited his room. Garth 
 closed his books and received his guests with 
 respectful courtesy. He -was flagrantly fresh 
 — greener than he there was not ; neverthe- 
 less, something in the set of his features, and 
 
66 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 a kind of straightforward reserve in his 
 manner, had virtue to keep the half-dozen 
 within hounds for a while. They sounded 
 him with fathoms of solemn fabrication, 
 most of it time-honored stock ; he listened 
 with such grave acceptance and brief replies 
 that they somewhat misdoubted the sincerity 
 of his guilelessness. At length one of their 
 number, who had an unfortunate talent for 
 sallies of the Rabelais order, let loose a salvo, 
 of which Garth understood enough sharply 
 to disgust him. 
 
 He got up, with a glance at the offender 
 of such plentiful dislike that the latter's 
 countenance changed a little, and for a few 
 moments there was a dramatic silence. 
 
 " I am sorry," then quoth Garth, " but 
 yon must go out." 
 
 " Hoity-toity, freshman ! TCeep a civil 
 tongue for your betters, sir." 
 
 At this Garth glared round at the other 
 faces ; all seemed to support the cause of 
 indecency. Despite his guilelessness, he was 
 anything but thick-witted, and in a flash he 
 saw through the sham of these tall-talking 
 visitors, and reddened to the back of his 
 neck with resentment. He stepped passion- 
 ately to the door, hurled it open, and con- 
 fronted the six — short, square, and darksome 
 — but with a spirit in him that might have 
 overtopped Parson Graeme's seven feet. 
 
 " Get out — all of you ! " he growled, 
 flinging back his arm toward the doorway, 
 and imperiously stamping his foot. 
 
 Every youth rose to his feet. Some 
 looked grave, others laboriously laughed ; 
 only the disciple of Rabelais — a youth scarce 
 Garth's better in height, and far his inferior 
 in brawn — fired up, and haughtily swore he 
 would stand no insolence from a freshman. 
 He made up to Garth, and aimed a hearty 
 blow at him. It was partly parried, yet 
 slightly touched the cheek. Garth's pulse 
 beat murder once ; but he had not forgotten 
 the lesson of Sam Kineo. Suddenly griping 
 the warlike sophomore by both arms, he 
 faced him at short range. 
 
 " Don't fight for unclean words ; they'd 
 beat you beforehand." 
 
 Having driven this sentence into his an- 
 tagonist, he loosened him ; and the latter, 
 whether admonished by the startling force 
 
 of Garth's clutch or by the solidity of his 
 argument, did not strike again. His com- 
 panions, who had hitherto looked on, appar- 
 ently not unwilling to behold a fight, now 
 espoused the cause of the invaded party. 
 
 " Better let that freshman alone. Jack 
 Selwyn," remarked the biggest of tliem. 
 " He could have shaken your head off if he'd 
 wanted to." 
 
 " Freshy had the right of it, too," af- 
 firmed another, off-handedly. " No business 
 to hit a fellow for not liking smut I " 
 
 "Guess we'll take our young friend's 
 hint," exclaimed a third, cheerfully. — " Come 
 on, meif, we've plenty more calls to make 
 this evening. By-by, Freshy ; if you live 
 long enough, you'll be a missionary and con- 
 vert the heathen. Sorry we can't spend the 
 night with you ; try to some other time." 
 Thus they filed out, peacefully enough ; Sel- 
 wyn last, and seemingly half inclined to stay 
 and have it out with the grim freshman in 
 private. But the others pulled him, laugh- 
 ing, away, and Garth was alone again. He 
 too itched for battle, though in his first re- 
 view of the affair he was not altogether 
 clear whether or not he was justified in 
 treating his guests so cavalierly. But, after 
 lying awake all night to discuss the question, 
 he came to the conclusion that he had not 
 done amiss, and this honest conviction went 
 far to soothe the sting of the blow he had 
 received. But the restraint put on himself 
 had wrenched his sensibilities; the un- 
 quen^ed embers of wrath fevered his blood. 
 Though he might not regret his forbearance, 
 he would shun the future exercise of so un- 
 comfortable a virtue. Thought he : "I won't 
 be BO angry next time, no matter how much 
 they are in the wrong; then I can fight 
 without fear of kiUing them ! " 
 
 This was satisfactory, and Garth attended 
 morning recitation cheerful in the prospect 
 of good-temperedly thrashing a sophomore 
 ere nightfall. But he reckoned without hie 
 host. His adventure had already got wind, 
 and he was puzzled to find himself a hero, a 
 champion — the freshman who, single-footed, 
 had kicked an army of tyrants out of his 
 room. 
 
 " They went of themselves ; I only told 
 them to go," he explained to his admirers. 
 
NEWS. 
 
 67 
 
 But his reputation was made, and the fact 
 that the sophomores (whether by chance or 
 design) uniformly kept out of his way con- 
 firmed it. Moreover — for college youths 
 are especially susceptible to a vigorous ex- 
 ample on the manly side — his classmates 
 were inspired by his exploit to offer so in- 
 ti-epid a front to oppression that hazing 
 that season had but a short and uneasy life 
 of it. 
 
 Although this episode gave Garth a social 
 impetus at first, its final effect was in a con- 
 trary direction. He began with opening Ms 
 heart warm and wide to all comers ; but he 
 found out, earlier than most, what rare birds 
 friends are. His circle of intimates was 
 always contracting. He wanted his com- 
 panion to be at least as fine as the landscape; 
 and, after repeated disappointments, he be- 
 came deliberately — instead of, as heretofore, 
 involuntarily — reserved. His lovers found 
 him on one or another ground impractica- 
 ble, and gave him up. He was too quick 
 to see that men were not pure gold, too 
 loath to accept good working alloys. He 
 was getting experience at once too slowly 
 and too fast. ' 
 
 It is, however, noticeable (and it attract- 
 ed remark at the time) that the only under- 
 graduate with whom by the end of the year 
 -Garth distinctly fraternized was no other 
 than the Jack Selwyn whose first interview 
 with young Urmson had been so unpropi- 
 tious. Some months after the scene . in 
 which he had played scapegoat, Selwyn 
 renewed the acquaintance, and seemed to 
 find his account in keeping it up. Garth, at 
 first shy, later turned and met him half-way. 
 So incongruous a friendship was generally 
 ridiculed. Selwyn, who belonged to what 
 was called the fast set, was rallied for Puri- 
 tanism. Sad-browed Garth was analyzed as 
 a secret libertine. But it may be conject- 
 ured that these diverse characters attracted 
 each other's best side, and fattened upon 
 mutual unlikeness. Selwyn was a fellow of 
 fire and ability, and his eighteen years had 
 seen a strange variety of life. He was cursed 
 with a rakish devil which he could not con- 
 trol ; but he had heights and lights as well 
 as depths and blots, and the contrasts in him 
 were picturesque. He loved Garth's pas- 
 
 sionate steadiness of character. Garth loved 
 his swift light and shadow, his struggle, his 
 weakness, and his well-told adventures. At 
 all events, the friendship lasted. 
 
 Meanwhile books and recitations were 
 not neglected. But Garth a little mystified 
 his instructors. They were sometimes in 
 doubt as to whether he knew more or less 
 than was set down for him. He often 
 seemed better versed in commentaries and 
 parallel readings than in the lesson itself of 
 the day. Parts of a subject would attract 
 him, and he would follow them down to the 
 root with curious zeal, merely skimming the 
 surface of the rest. His translations from 
 the classics were sometimes quaintly felici- 
 tous, though always very free and idiomatic. 
 Algebraic generalizations were distasteful 
 to him ; he loved vivid particulars ; and 
 though the sublime developments of the 
 higher geometry attracted him, he never 
 could forgive the petty inductive steps which 
 must lead him thither. He still abhorred 
 formulas, and smacked his lips over individ- 
 uality. He occasionally took strange liber- 
 ties with the tutors and professors in class, 
 but with so grave a front, and in general so 
 aptly to the matter in hand, that they could 
 not count it impertinence. 
 
 In fact. Garth was learning his college 
 lessons least of all ; but the black and white 
 lore of the world was entering him at all 
 points, and putting him in a manner beside 
 himself. Life no longer seemed a private 
 affair between himself and his God, but there 
 were as many modes and opinions of life as 
 there were men. It was amazing how wide- 
 ly human principles could differ! People 
 begin with expecting harmony in those they 
 meet, and discord is the saddest discovery. 
 " To what end," wondered Garth, " does Om- 
 nipotence permit such a waste of force? 
 Men thwart one another and misunderstand 
 and run amuck, when a little economy and 
 accord would bridge the universe." 
 
 But the young man had not the instinct 
 of a reformer. If he preached, it was to 
 himself, and the only affairs he undertook to 
 regulate were his own. Ko doubt he be- 
 lieved that, as regarded fundamental moral 
 principles, he was right, and all who dis- 
 puted him were wrong. But Garth's prin- 
 
68 
 
 GAETH. 
 
 ciples had little to do with his intellect ; he 
 would never discuss a trath which he had 
 felt— unlike Selwyn, who was for putting a 
 why to everything. This higotry as to the 
 main axioms of conduct Is not seldom the 
 sign of a strong nature. It is called stupid- 
 ity by volatile people, whose very sediment 
 is stirred by all breezes. But deep-set men, 
 whose foundations no storm can reach, who 
 never seem to move, are the rocks whereby 
 the world climbs upward. They play games 
 with their intellect, but do their serious busi- 
 ness by dint of something else. 
 
 " "What are you going to be, after gradu- 
 ating, Urmson?" was freq^uently Selwyn's 
 inquiry. 
 
 "If I knew," the other would reply, "I 
 wouldn't wait to graduate." 
 
 "Lawyer, doctor, parson, grocer, pirate, 
 president, gold-digger ? " 
 Garth shook bis head. 
 "You'd make a good pirate, if you once 
 got started. I'd be your first-mate, and ar- 
 range the skulls and bones on the cabin- 
 walls. Was chased by a pirate once, in the 
 Pacific, and wished I was aboard her, with 
 a knife between my teeth, and the devil for 
 captain." 
 
 "It needs brains to be a devil," said 
 Garth, " so I wouldn't do." 
 
 "Oh, wickedness sharpens the wits; it 
 would clear you up wonderfully. The fel- 
 lows say, now, that you're a good-for-noth- 
 ing, lazy chap ; that you're well as far as you 
 go, but that the important cog is left out of 
 you." 
 
 " The cog's left out," repeated Garth, ab- 
 stractedly, clutching his hair. 
 
 " What do I think of you, backwoods- 
 man? Let me smoke, and I'U tell you." 
 " Go ahead." 
 
 " Try a pipe yourself. Garth. Oh, yery 
 well ; but you were born for a smoker, and 
 you'll smoke yet, when your cog is in gear. 
 That reminds me — it's not left out, only out 
 of gear." 
 
 " That opinion isn't worth a pipe." 
 " I knew before that you were stupid and 
 ill-mannered, and yon don't deserve to hear 
 it; and, if I thought you'd believe it, I 
 wouldn't tell you. But, after all, they're 
 said to be the unhappiest of men, as a rule. 
 
 and yon'll hardly be an exception. So here 
 goes!" said Selwyn, pufiing away. 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " Hear me in all seriousness. Ton are a 
 genius, my poor friend. The secret is out, 
 Garth : yon are a genius ! " 
 
 "Genius for what?" 
 
 " That is your business ; but you will do 
 something as it has never been done before. 
 Your stupidity results from unrecognized 
 genius. Genius, my man, is a sort of magi& 
 tail, which, before you get the hang of it, 
 trips you up, and weighs you down, and 
 makes you disagreeable to everybody you 
 meet. But once you learn how to wag 
 it, and not all the kangaroos, beavers, and 
 peacocks in creation can come near you. 
 You understand me, of course, figurative- 
 ly." 
 
 " I don't understand yon at all." 
 
 " You are a genius — one of the best kind, 
 the unconscious. There is an horizontal de- 
 pression athwart the centre of your forehead. 
 You believe in things, without arguing, more 
 potently than I can after being logically con- 
 vinced. You are not only an individual, but 
 a unique ; nothing comes out of yon or goes 
 into you the same as with other people. 
 Now I'm a man of talent, the reverse of a 
 unique. I see and do things in the hack- 
 neyed old ways, only better than most peo- 
 ple. I can do a lot of things better than 
 you can do anything — except that one thing 
 you have a genius for. In short, your im- 
 mediate ancestor was Adam, or Noah, or the 
 archangel Gabriel — some one of those primal 
 fellows ; whereas I am what is called a su- 
 preme product of civilization. D'ye see? " 
 
 " When did you make this discovery ? " 
 
 " When I punched your head, six months 
 
 ago. D yon. Garth Urmson, how you 
 
 did hold on to me ! When I was sixteen, in 
 Madrid, and was in the midst of a flirtation 
 (one of my first serious ones) with a fair 
 senorita — well, one night the other fellow — 
 there always is another fellow in Spain — 
 jumped out at me with his knife. He pricked 
 me in the afvn the first thing, and afterward 
 in the hip ; but I wasn't a hit afraid of him, 
 but sailed in and half killed him. Till you 
 took hold of me that night I never was afraid 
 of anything— do yon hear ? But when you 
 
NEWS. 
 
 69 
 
 set that infernal black face of yours in front 
 of me, I felt as if I were melted sealing- waxj 
 and you had stamped your own ugly features 
 on me for a seal. It was horrible. There 
 was nothing of me left in me, but I seemed 
 changed into you ; and still there was enough 
 of me left to be frightened. I didn't get over 
 it for days ; I was always running to the 
 looking-glass to see whether it was your 
 head or mine that was on my shoulders.'' 
 
 "Well, Selwyn!" 
 
 " Do you suppose if you hadn't been a 
 regular primeval devil, or angel, or what- 
 ever else you choose to call a genius, that I 
 wouldn't have broken loose and thrashed 
 yon, if you'd been ten times as strong? But 
 I saw your horns and tail, and your heav- 
 enly pinions, and I had to give in. I knew 
 you then." 
 
 " Then why don't I know me ? " de- 
 manded Garth, getting up with glowing 
 eyes, and his hair on end. 
 
 "Because there's too much for a boy of 
 your age to know. You'd run away with 
 yourself, and tear yourself to pieces. Wait 
 till you're old enough." 
 
 " Selwyn — you're in earnest ? " said 
 Garth, breathing deeply. 
 
 "Yes, by God, lam!" 
 
 " Genius ! " continued the other, walking 
 up and down the room in a kind of re- 
 strained tumult. " I have felt sometimes as 
 though I — ^no, as though the earth were my 
 body, and I saw through it, and lived through 
 it, and understood it, just as I do my human 
 body. It never lasted but a few minutes, 
 but then I was as strong as the whole world, 
 and as happy as heaven." 
 
 Selwyn smoked in silence. 
 
 " If that could last ! " said Garth, stop- 
 ping, and doubling his fists at his sides — " but 
 afterward I'm as lazy and shapeless as a bag 
 of sand. But if that was genius, I'll ques- 
 tion it next time ! All I thought was to en- 
 joy it. But genius for what? " 
 
 " You seem to think," returned Selwyn, 
 on being thus vehemently addressed, " that 
 because I've given you a glimpse of your 
 hidden treasure, I'm bound to tell you what 
 you'll spend it for. What the devil is that 
 to me ? If you could benefit me with it, 
 'twould be another matter. But if you had 
 
 the genius of Solomon and Raphael and 
 Praxiteles, all rolled into one, it would never 
 benefit any one but yourself. No man ever 
 helped another yet — not evea helped to 
 damn him ! We're made selfish, and we're 
 never so selfish as when we try to be gener- 
 ous. Good joke, isn't it ? Ha! ha! ha!" 
 
 Garth looked with curious compassion at 
 •his friend, whose cynical outbursts were not 
 unfamiliar to him, but neither smiled nor 
 answered. 
 
 " A sensible fellow I am, to care for 
 you," resumed Selwyn, amid his smoke ; 
 " tossing up my cap, and giving three cheers 
 for your genius, and you can't wait for the 
 words to be out of my mouth before you 
 want to be off enjoying yourself with it. I 
 wish I'd kept it to myself; I wish I could 
 prevent your ever finding out what it's for ; 
 I wish you were as good-for-nothing a fool 
 as I am, and then we might have some good 
 times together. No, on second thoughts, I 
 take it all back. If I could tell you what 
 your vocation was to be, you should know 
 before this pipe went out. I wish you did 
 know it. The day you do, you see the last 
 of Jack Selwyn." 
 
 " Where do you mean to go ? " 
 
 " Oh, Heaven preserve me from a man 
 wedded to his genius! I hope you don't 
 propose committing bigamy with any inno- . 
 cent young woman? Yes, whenever you 
 discover what you are made for, let me 
 know. I know the kind of friend a man of 
 genius wants, and I'm not one of that kind. 
 No!" 
 
 "If you mean to hint that I could be- 
 come so taken up in any pursuit as to slight 
 you or any one I love, either you don't know 
 what genius is, or I haven't any,'' growled 
 Garth, in indignation. " I won't talk about 
 it any more. We've said too much about it 
 already. I feel little enough like a genius 
 now." 
 
 " Well, slit ray tongue. Garth, or, better 
 still, cut my throat. Did you ever hear of 
 such a sentimental, gushing young thing as 
 I am? But, Garth, I swear by you, or, 
 rather, whatever name I take in vain, it will 
 never be yours. Good-night, old genius ! 
 Ah, you may turn out a great man, and I 
 may kowtow to you, but you'll never be 
 
70 
 
 GAETH. 
 
 great enougli to do one thing, kotow or not 
 — save me from going to the devil 1 Ha! 
 ha I ha! Good-by." 
 
 CHAPTER XSr. 
 
 This conversation did Garth no osten- 
 sible good ; he became graver and more 
 preoccupied than ever. The glimpse of hid- 
 den treasure which Selwjn had given him 
 seemed rather to bewilder than to enrich 
 him. He wandered about with a sprig of 
 witch-hazel, exploring his mind for what 
 might lie buried in it. 
 
 His searches resulted as most such 
 searches do. He discovered nothing, and 
 began to more than suspect that there was 
 nothing to discover. Meantime, his hours 
 and days were slipping into nothingness. 
 He could almost wish, like Selwyn, that he 
 had been an acknowledged fool, if so he 
 might be happier. 
 
 " I am an impostor, deceiving even my- 
 self," he would sometimes think. 
 
 Howbeit, the deception was often won- 
 drous subtile. What was this power, this 
 clearness and facility, that ever and anon 
 surged and lived within him ? Was it sin- 
 gular or common ? Did everybody see and 
 feel what he sometimes saw and felt? At 
 all events, he knew no one who could reply 
 to him in such moods ; indeed, there was no 
 one to whom he felt it possible adequately 
 to express himself. But, if his riches could 
 not be used and profited by, were they not 
 a misfortune ? A genius who could make 
 his genius of no avail was especially pitiable. 
 Nevertheless, Garth could not wholly resign 
 himself to being commonplace. 
 
 He saw the world under two alternate 
 and strongly-contrasted aspects. Now, it 
 glowed and throbbed with color and rhythm. 
 It gleamed and floated, too i-ich and poetic 
 to be solid reality. These-tints, and forms, 
 and motions, were beautifulj not in them- 
 selves, but by dint of transcendent signifi- 
 cances shining through — significances which 
 trembled on the verge of expression. Could 
 they be expressed ? If so, how blessed their 
 
 interpreter! The universe would flow and 
 be plastic in his hands ; he could shape its 
 sublime generalities into lovely and wise 
 particulars ; he could bring the ends of the 
 earth together, and cause them to enhance 
 each other's beauty. His abstracts would 
 suggest tlie truth of the whole, and bring it 
 to common recognition ; and upon each ab- 
 stract, each particular, would be stamped 
 the seal of his individual mind and nature, 
 lending to the wild page of Nature a human 
 interest which should endear it to men's 
 heai'ts. Yes, the great invisible woidd of 
 men and things was the security of an in- 
 finite treasure which it was the lot of the 
 chosen seer to take and spend for the weal 
 of humankind. 
 
 More often, however, the world wore a 
 less promising appearance. It was solid and 
 superficial : nothing short of a pickaxe or 
 chisel could discover an interior. It was 
 wonderfully painted, modeled, and arranged; 
 but with a little more skill and knowledge, 
 man might produce something nearly as 
 good. It had no meaning, except utility or 
 inconvenience. Its closest relation to man 
 was a chemical one. It was u. monument 
 of divine power; but tlie human race wa:; 
 only accidentally associated with it, and 
 might just as well have been anywhere else. 
 Creation was arbitrary, and it was an idle 
 vision, that of a comprehensive and logical 
 necessity pervading all. 
 
 '' It is better to be an amateur than in 
 earnest," Selwyn would assert. " Wlioever 
 tries to take such a stupendous joke as this 
 world is seriously, gets crucified for his 
 pains. Besides, it isn't dignified." 
 
 " At all events," growled Garth, after a 
 silence, " I shall worship the God who suf- 
 fers from every doubt and evil impulse that 
 I feel, and fights against them with me, and 
 whom I crucify every time I reject his help. 
 Not such a God as you talk about — who 
 creates arbitrarily, and enjoys formal super- 
 stitious flattery, and can sit idle while I am 
 sinning and struggling and dying down 
 here." 
 
 Selwyn stared in surprise. 
 
 " I have my deaf and blind times," the 
 other went on, still eying his companion : 
 " I'm that way to-day, and the world seems 
 
DISPUTE. 
 
 71 
 
 dead and dumb. But when I feel alive and 
 clear, so seems the world too. It follows 
 my good or bad humor. It is bound up 
 with me, somehow ; and if there is a God, 
 he is bound up with me ; at any rate, if he 
 is not bound up in me, there is no Christ, 
 ■who is the only God worth talking about." 
 
 " Well, Master Urmson, I have sometimes 
 suspected ray own orthodoxy ; but what to 
 call you — Do you know you have a way of 
 staring me straight in the face ? It's devilish 
 disagreeable, and I wish you'd stop it." 
 
 " I wasn't thinking of your face : it's a 
 handsome one, but too pale. Your hair 
 curves about prettily, and has the right 
 shade of brown, but it's-soft as a woman's. 
 However, it matches well enough with that 
 straight, delicate nose of yours, and with — " 
 
 " Your genius is not for badinage, de- 
 cidedly ; you remind me of a dancing bear 
 I used to know in Tyrol. By-the-way, have 
 you found out yet what it is for ? " 
 
 " Dancing, I suppose. Oh, my genius ! 
 Selwyn, if the universe is a joke, and God 
 an experimenter, what is genius ? " 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! ha ! I don't think you can 
 be responsible for your utterances to-day. 
 If you were not Garth, I should fancy you'd 
 had too much gin ! " 
 
 " I don't know what you are laughing 
 at,'' said Garth, rather grimly. " Genius is 
 getting at God's meaning; but if he means 
 what you say, the fewer geniuses there are 
 the better. Are you a humbug, after all? 
 What you say doesn't hold together. If 
 you are only playing at skepticism, it's poor 
 play, I think." 
 
 " Upon ray word you are getting rather 
 personal," exclaimed Selwyn, somewhat 
 hotly. 
 
 " Oh, foi-get your person for a few 
 minutes. Well, I beg your pardon. Do 
 you remember hinting some time ago that 
 when I found my vocation I might slight my 
 friends ? The danger seems more likely to 
 come from my not finding it. I grow more 
 disagreeable to myself and to you every day. 
 Most of the tutors hate the sight of me. I've 
 a mind to go before the mast. I can be a 
 sailor, at all events." 
 
 " I am an effeminate brute, sure enough, 
 to be angry with you, you dear old curmud- 
 
 geon. If you go before the mast, I'll go 
 with you : I've seen a little of that life, 
 already, you know. But that's nonsense. 
 Why don't you write Milton, or paint 
 Michael Angelo, or preach St. Paul ? That's 
 the sort of thing you are up to, if you only 
 knew it." 
 
 "Painter! " cried Garth, raising himseK 
 from his chair, and reddening. 
 
 " What are you in a rage about ? Yes, 
 now I think of it, I shouldn't wonder if 
 painting was your line. You'd be a sort of 
 Beethoven of the easel." 
 
 Garth walked several times up and down 
 the small dingy room, scowling at the car- 
 pet, and doubling and undoubling his fists. 
 At length he stopped in front of Selwyn, 
 aud spoke with unusually bitter energy. 
 
 " If you knew what a time I've had for 
 years past ! When I was a child, with no 
 thought of right and wrong, I was ashamed 
 of it ; afterward I began to see it for what 
 it was, but the temptation was so strong 
 that half the time I gave in to it. I used 
 to sneak off to that room in the garret. I 
 can't understand it ! In what seem my best 
 moments I feel the temptation strongest, 
 and I'm never so happy as while I am yield- 
 ing. Since I've been here, and have had no 
 chance, I've been wretched." 
 
 " What has this to do with being a 
 painter ? " 
 
 " I believe Satan was the first painter. 
 The Lord had given him power and insight 
 ■ — the noblest weapons — and he turned them 
 against him, to mock him and parody his 
 works. Those great painters, honored as 
 they are, were either miserably weak or 
 wicked. They used their genius to degrade 
 this God-created world to their own level. 
 Men praise them because such degradation 
 flatters their vanity. I have the best right 
 to call them contemptible. The better they 
 paint, the worse they are. I believe they 
 are less able or less daring now ; but those 
 old painters used to — Selwyn, they used to 
 paint God himself and angels. It was blas- 
 phemy ! " 
 
 "And beautiful blasphemy some of it 
 was. I saw a big blasphemy in Rome, called 
 the ' Transfiguration,' done by a famous 
 devil of the name of Raphael. He and 
 
72 
 
 GAETH. 
 
 others have painted crowds of Virgins and 
 saints, most of which are prayed to in 
 churches. Oh, the works of the devil are 
 all the rage in Europe, I assure you. And 
 the best of it is they are called divinely in- 
 spired. But see here, Garth, I shall pull as 
 long a face as your own for a few moments, 
 and ask you some serious questions. You 
 are the most perverse idiot for a genius that 
 I ever heard of. Do you mean to say that 
 you've ever painted anything?" 
 
 " I did what I could," replied the other, 
 gloomily, resuming his seat. " I had no 
 knowledge nor materials to speak of; only 
 the desire." 
 
 " Did you ever see a famous picture ? " 
 
 Garth shook his head. " Nor ever mean 
 to. It's enough to have heard of them— and 
 I've seen copies of some in hooks.'' 
 
 "What a delicate moralist you are, to he 
 sure ! What does your father say on the 
 subject?" 
 
 " I never spoke to him about it ; never 
 to any one except — " 
 
 " That was selfish of you ; for you only 
 being right, and all the rest of the world 
 wrong, you ought to make converts and 
 preach a crusad^. Tell me one thing, is it 
 as wicked to draw Potis Asi4orum on the 
 blackboard as to paiut the 'Transfigura- 
 tion ? ' " 
 
 " If I could jest about this, I should be 
 yet more contemptible than I am. I've been 
 thinking it over lately, and may as well face 
 the truth now as later : my genius, if I have 
 genius — at any rate, the strongest bent of 
 my faculties and impulses — is to be a painter. 
 I'm that or nothing ; an intellectual pauper, 
 or rich on devil's wages. Now you know 
 ■why I'm ill-humored. I don't see why I 
 was created fit only for an ill purpose. It 
 makes me doubt. I'd better go to sea, as 
 my forefathers did." 
 
 Here followed a pause of some length, 
 both young men looking a good deal out of 
 sorts»^ At last Selwyn broke out, smiting 
 his hands against the arras of his chair: 
 
 " This is the most absurd tragedy I ever 
 heard of Shall I laugh or cry? What is 
 the use of my talking? No one can confute 
 you better than yourself Tour skepticism 
 is so monstrous and irrational, it will end in 
 
 making me a credulous bigot. Garth, tell 
 me one thing, did you ever fall in love ? " 
 
 " Do you— Tea, I—" 
 
 " Oh, don't blush ; you're no worse than 
 the rest of us. But see here, did you go 
 smash at the first look, or did you hold back 
 at first, and only give in afterward ? " 
 
 " I believe that was — but — " 
 
 "Ha! and when you'd given in, didn't 
 you love her most for the very things you'd 
 found most fault with at first ? Didn't you ? " 
 
 " Perhaps. You seem to know all about 
 it— but— " 
 
 "There! Yes, I do know my alphabet, 
 and part of yours into the bargain; and 
 that's more knowledge than you can lay 
 claim to, with all your genius. Don't you 
 see how it is ? Painting is your mistress, 
 and you're madly in love with her — so much 
 so that the mere thought of her makes you 
 an irrational fool. You are bound to her, 
 soul and body, so of course you can't hear 
 argument or talk sense about her. She at- 
 tracts you so that you mistake your ms in- 
 ertia for repulsion, and babble what you 
 fancy is abuse, but what wise men know to 
 be abject love-talk. Blasphemy, forsooth! 
 Painting is your mistress, and when you are 
 come to years of discretion, if you don't 
 marry her, and eat your blackguard words 
 in dust and ashes — if you don't — Damn, 
 there goes the bell I and my rhetoric all un- 
 learned." 
 
 "You have your rhetoric by heart," 
 muttered Garth, as his friend slammed the 
 door and was gone ; and he sat scowling at - 
 the carpet and scorning to be cajoled by 
 words. Nevertheless, he presently dis- 
 covered some abatement in his ill-humor. It 
 was a satisfaction to have recognized the 
 truth about himself, and to have spoken it 
 out, once for all. Selwyn had ridiculed 
 him, which was foolish in Selwyn; but it 
 showed, at least, that the matter could be 
 honestly regarded from two sides. He would 
 gladly believe that those arch-sinners, Ra- 
 phael, Titian, and the rest, were honest too. 
 But that was not possible — hardly possible. 
 Whoever had felt the temptation rage with- 
 in him must have had insight to divine its 
 impiety. Pictures could not be painted by 
 fools, nor in fits of abstraction. 
 
ARGUMENT. 
 
 73 
 
 No, Selwyn was a better rhetorician than 
 logician. What arguments had he used ? 
 Not one! only adduced illustrations, and 
 forced ones at that. Indeed, what argu- 
 ments on his side of the question were 
 there? But why talk of argument? Argu- 
 ment about a matter such as this was out of 
 place, undignified. The truth must be felt 
 intuitively, and there an end. The only 
 puzzle was, that the truth was not as mani- 
 fest to the rest of the world as to Garth ; 
 whereas, as Selwyn had said, Garth stood 
 alone. Could there be anything in the sug- 
 gestion that one's very partiality to a thing 
 might blind him to its merits? It had 
 been so in the case of Madge, to be sure ; 
 but this was a moral, not a personal, ques- 
 tion. 
 
 It here struck Garth as an odd coinci- 
 dence that Madge (to whom only beside Sel- 
 wyn he had mentioned painting) should have 
 agreed with Selwyn in approving it. What 
 if others — what if his father — were to do 
 the same? Was any individual safe in set- 
 ting his intuitive sentiment above the verdict 
 of history and of his contemporaries ? Might 
 not one be too closely concerned in such 
 verdict to feel intuitively at all, especially if 
 he were a new-made collegian with little 
 knowledge and less experience ? 
 
 But now he drew himself up and sternly 
 questioned his integrity. If incompetent to 
 decide against his desires, much less dare he 
 favor them. No majority of voices could 
 make wrong right; while, on the other 
 hand, his very unfamiliarity with current 
 opinion might enhance the worth of his 
 judgment. Moreover, Garth had a potent 
 belief in his own sanity. On a matter of 
 such large moment as this, juggling with 
 syllogisms was out of place. A spontaneous 
 conviction could be attacked only by another 
 as spontaneous. It seemed most honorable 
 not to think about the subject more than he 
 could help. If his present position was just, 
 time would confirm it ; if not, time would 
 bring the deeper insight to undermine it. 
 Though this might seem an unpromising 
 conclusion, it left Garth less heavy-hearted 
 than of late, and disposed to question wheth- 
 er all of life lay between the horns of a di- 
 lemma. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 AEQUMENT. 
 
 Meanwhile, in furtherance of his pur- 
 pose to banish the matter from his thoughts, 
 he strove doggedly to fill himself with study. 
 His freshman year was nearly done; but 
 he had already resolved to spend the sum- 
 mer vacation at the college. Perhaps, in 
 thinking of home, the garret-chamber stood 
 out too prominently, and he shunned putting 
 his resolution to the test too soon. More- 
 over, home-ties having been cut, he may 
 have wished the wound thoroughly to heal 
 before returning. He had proved himself 
 a better correspondent than might have been 
 expected, addressing most of his letters to 
 his mother, who, for her part, replied with 
 sweet motherly phrases and inquiries and 
 hopes and fears, one letter being nearly a 
 repetition of the rest, and the dearer to 
 Garth on that account. His father's injunc- 
 tion to think often of his mother might have 
 been spared. He felt nearer to her than 
 before their separation, and loved her more 
 intelligently since learning something of the 
 unloveliness of the outer world. 
 
 His correspondence with Madge was of a 
 more fitful and less satisfactory sort. In 
 the first place, he was at a loss what to 
 write to her. A mere account of his haps 
 and mishaps — though, no doubt, Madge 
 would have found it acceptable enough — 
 seemed to Garth too slight a theme, while 
 he found huge difiiculty in composing an 
 ideal love-letter ; for to soar to the ideal 
 was to lose sight of Madge, and to keep her 
 steadily in view was to miss the ideal. So, 
 albeit he spent much more time and pains 
 over his letters to her than on those to his 
 mother, he did not like them nearly so well 
 when they were done. 
 
 Madge, for her part, was punctual in her 
 answers ; but these did little to relieve Garth 
 of his embarrassment. His mother's epis- 
 tles, unstudied and simple though they were, 
 seemed almost to hold her living image in 
 every sentence ; but Madge's rather obscured 
 than brought her before him ; he could not 
 reconcile her written with her visible self. 
 He thought she did herself injustice, was ig- 
 
74 
 
 GAUTH. 
 
 norant of her worth, and translated herself 
 from a divinity into something approaching 
 the commonplace. In herself he knew her 
 to be only too captivating, but he fancied he 
 could never have fallen in love with her 
 through the post. 
 
 Meanwhile the fault was not in Madge's 
 letters, but in her lover's unreasonable 
 standard. There was no contradiction be- 
 tween what she wrote ' and herself ; but 
 Garth had never sufficiently separated in 
 his mind her appearance from her char- 
 acter. It is the misfortune of very beau- 
 tiful persons that they are open to in- 
 vidious comparisons between their outside 
 and their Inside. Nor did he sufficiently 
 consider the necessary effect of her con- 
 fined position upon her alert and ambitious 
 spirit. Village born and bred, but with a 
 disposition whose restlessness was calculated 
 for a much wider sphere, she had dreamed 
 from childhood of the pride and splendor of 
 the outer world. And now that Garth had 
 made his first step into this unknown and 
 fascinating region, she constituted him her 
 proxy, and expected him not only to take 
 an interest in all that would have interested 
 her, but to send her vivid and enthusiastic 
 accounts thereof. She imagined him con- 
 sorting with the dignitaries of the earth ; 
 engaging in an endless series of parties, re- 
 ceptions, picnics, and other dissipations: the 
 companion of brilliant, wise, and witty men, 
 and (which often prompted her to outbursts 
 of fantastic and far-fetched jealousy) of 
 lovely and aridtocratic women. Endless was 
 her cariosity on all social subjects ; and de- 
 spite continual betrayals of ignorance on 
 Garth's part, both implicit and explicit, she 
 could never bring herself to believe that he 
 was really living the secluded and monoto- 
 nous life which he pretended. Perhaps it 
 was as well for his credit that she was thus 
 incredulous ; she might have found it hard 
 to respect a man who cared nothing for 
 what she considered the cream of existence. 
 But she did not believe him ; she thought 
 he was concealing his triumphs from her ; 
 and while this supposed reticence tormented 
 and piqued her to the last degree, she nev- 
 ertheless, by a sort of feminine perversity, 
 admired him more for keeping his own coun- 
 
 sel than she would have thanked him for 
 the most circumstantial avowal of his pro- 
 ceedings. 
 
 She was very constant to him ; perhaps 
 more so than had he never worn the halo 
 of absence. It may be doubted, likewise, 
 whether her faith would have staid so well 
 if she, and not Garth, had beentlje traveler, 
 since even he, despite the stout sinew of his 
 rugged principle, had felt the strain of new 
 places and views. In fact, by the close of 
 his first year he was not sorry to have been 
 away from her. Not that he had met, or 
 expected to meet, or wished to meet, other 
 women in any respect preferable to her; 
 indeed, so far as mere loveliness and winning 
 manners were concerned, he might have 
 journeyed much farther than Bowdoin Col- 
 lege without finding any such. But he had 
 never contemplated Madge from his present 
 point of view ; and the new aspect creating 
 in him a sort of strangeness, not estrange- 
 ment, he wanted to get over this and be- 
 come familiarized with his mistress on fresh 
 ground before returning to take up the old 
 relations. 
 
 Moreover, his state of unsettlement re- 
 garding what use he was to make of himself 
 might have disinclined him to the more ac- 
 tive phases of love-making. Could he have 
 discussed his prospects with Madge, then, 
 indeed, a strong link would straightway have 
 been forged in their chain of sympathy. 
 But from this he was debarred, partly by a 
 feeling that the selfish putting forward of 
 such grave topics would never gain her in- 
 terest, and partly because on the matter 
 which lay nearest his heart she had already 
 expressed an opinion — one which he did not 
 wish to combat, and with which he feared to 
 agree. Such was the state of his affairs on 
 this side. 
 
 His communion with his father was of 
 another color. Mr. Urmson's letters were 
 not long, yet Garth thought there was a 
 great deal in them. They were not frequent, 
 but they never seemed to come a moment 
 too soon or late. They were not given to 
 asking questions, but appeared written from 
 a vantage - ground of tranquil knowledge. 
 There was, however, no assumption of su- 
 periority, but Garth found himself addressed 
 
ARGUMENT, 
 
 75 
 
 as an equal in subtile essays, couched in a 
 tone of cool and quiet humor, and treating 
 of certain aspects of life and conduct such as 
 happened to be just then engaging the young 
 man's attention. At first he took this op- 
 portuneness for a singular coincidence ; but 
 when the coincidence had recurred more or 
 less remarkably some half-dozen- times, he 
 began to suspect his father of being very 
 wise, and of having appalling insight not 
 only into the general ways of life, but par- 
 ticularly into his son's needs and nature. 
 
 Both in tone and substance these letters 
 were a wholesome complement to the drift 
 of Selwyn's conversation ; they gleamed 
 sometimes with irony, but were never cyni- 
 cal or loose. Neither had they anything of 
 Selwyn's fitful vehemence and passion, but 
 kept the attitude of even-tempered, observ- 
 ant criticism — criticism which Garth could 
 hardly have appreciated at its fuU worth 
 then, though it often armed his hand with 
 the very weapon the crisis asked ; but which 
 inclined him to believe that there might be 
 one man who understood him even better 
 than he understood himself. Nevertheless, 
 Mr. Urmson never referred to Garth's prob- 
 able occupation on leaving college; and, since 
 Garth himself shunned introducing it, there 
 seemed no likelihood of this most important 
 topic's being discussed. Mr. Urmson, in- 
 deed, was always shy of advancing his own 
 opinion where another was as apt to be the 
 true one. However, Garth did not mean to 
 settle down in the world without having had 
 it out with his father about painting. He 
 held this purpose in reserve, and, without 
 fixing the time or place of its execution, he 
 looked forward to it as the finishing incident 
 of this preparatory phase of his existence. 
 
 It was noticeable that his grandfather, 
 who occasionally sent him weighty epistles, 
 bearing all the outward and much of the in- 
 ward aspect of sermons, generally enlarged 
 upon the very subject which Mr. Urmson 
 forbore to touch. The venerable gentleman 
 was as full of sapient suggestions as Polonius, 
 and sketched out, dui-ing this first year, as 
 many as four or five different careers for his 
 grandson, not one of which was lacking either 
 in piety, propriety, or respectability, and 
 which wore unavailable mainly because of 
 
 the diflRculty of making a selection from 
 them. Each of these ponderous manuscripts 
 was embellished with a stalwart blessing, 
 and illuminated with one or two enormous 
 witticisms, which recalled to the mind's ear 
 the reverberating haw-haw-ho's of their 
 white-headed deviser. And, altogether, the 
 letters did Garth as much good as his grand- 
 father had meant they should, only in a little 
 different way. 
 
 The summer vacation, though spent away 
 from home, was neither so dull nor so fruit- 
 less as might have been expected. One of 
 the college professors who had taken an in- 
 terest in Garth, partly on account of having 
 met his father when at Bowdoin thirty and 
 odd years before, now placed his library — a 
 very comprehensive one — at tiie young man's 
 disposal. At almost any other period of his 
 life Garth would have profited little by such 
 a privilege ; but it happened to come at a 
 time when everything seemed to be stagnant, 
 and he caught at it with the zest of a fam- 
 ished outcast for a warm meal. There is no 
 telling from what mischief this library may 
 have saved him, but the good it did him 
 was never questionable. The professor, be- 
 sides being learned, was a man of the world, 
 and his books embodied no one-sided or sec- 
 tarian views. He had taken the measure of 
 Garth's literary needs, and, without prescrib- 
 ing a course, he yet so directed and minis- 
 tered to his reading as to save him from 
 wasting his time. And Garth got up early, 
 and read day after day far into the short 
 summer nights. The professor — who was a 
 bald-headed old bachelor, with eye-glasses, 
 a stiff, gray beard, and an eagle's beak — sit- 
 ting in his chair at the opposite side of the 
 breezy library, would often watch, for an 
 hour at a time, his shaggy-browed young 
 visitor's strenuous progress through a book. 
 " He's no taster ! " the learned man would 
 mutter to himself, " chews and digests them 
 all — can see him do it ! " Anon would he 
 resume his own reading, with the low, stern 
 chuckle which served him for a laugh. Again 
 looking up, at a more than usually labored 
 sigh from the absorbed youth : 
 
 " Look out, there, youngster ; you'll get 
 a stomach-ache if you swallow too much at 
 a time." 
 
76 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 Sometimes Garth would be too far rapt 1 
 away to answer or hear ; otherwise he would 
 look up at first with a vacant stare, which 
 gradually concentrated into intelligence, and 
 ended ia a smile. 
 
 " Mop your forehead, and pull off your 
 coat; we'll try a drop of claret and a bis- 
 cuit," the professor would continue, suiting 
 the action to the word ; and over their fru- 
 gal lunch the two would chat together with 
 mutual good-wiU and freedom. 
 
 " Professor Grindle, do you like being a 
 professor ? " 
 
 "Some parts of it, Mr. Urmson — some 
 parts of it. I'm free to say that I'd rather 
 see you drink my claret than hear you say 
 your lesson." 
 
 " Is reading books anything like travel- 
 ing?" 
 
 " A very uncomfortable kind of travel- 
 ing, I can assure you, as the world is now. 
 Not but the world is better written than 
 most books, too. And yet no two human 
 beings ever read it just alike. We each live 
 in a world by ourselves." 
 
 " Then whoever truly tells what he sees, 
 tells news to all the rest ? " 
 
 " Eight ! and that's why good pictures 
 are precious. Nature, digested by a great 
 painter; emerges transfigured ; his rendering 
 endows us, so far, with his own nobler in- 
 sight, and we rise so much nearer to a vision 
 of the Creator, Mr. Urmson." 
 
 "What do you call Nature? " 
 
 " Ay, that has puzzled wiser heads than 
 ours, young gentleman. 'Tis a background, 
 a means, a negative, a compromise, between 
 finite and infinite, a marriage between what 
 makes you and me what we are and what 
 makes God what he is. It's each man's 
 looking-glass, Mr. Urmson ; and, if a man's 
 a fool, it's only a fool's face he'll see in 
 it. In itself it's just nothing at aU ; and 
 thence comes it — ^though how 'twould be 
 long to explain — that the difference between 
 angel and devil is mainly one of opinion. 
 Pass the bottle, sir, and catch your breath." 
 
 " Is that in any of your books. Professor 
 Grindle?" 
 
 "Ay; but in none that you've seen. Do 
 you like the sound of it? " 
 
 " I want the books." 
 
 " Perhaps, perhaps, Mr. Urmson ; though 
 it's not every man one throws pearls to — you 
 understand me ! I'll acquaint you with one 
 fact, however : 'twas these books brought 
 your father and myself acquainted. He in- 
 troduced me to them ; and for that service 
 I owe him much, sir. Much indeed. Fill 
 your glass. WeU, weU — I'll see, I'll see. 
 I'll be writing to your father before long, 
 young gentleman, and maybe will mention 
 the matter to him, just to see what he 
 
 " Who wrote these books 1" - 
 
 " A good man, Mr. Urmson, and a wise 
 and a simple. But 'twas not his own credit 
 he looked to, and his name is less known 
 to-day than will be the case a thousand 
 years from now. That's no matter. Here's 
 to your better acquaintance with him at 
 some future day ; and, meanwhile, go ahead 
 with your Johnson." 
 
 Garth resumed the world-renowned bi- 
 ography accordingly ; but the most of that 
 afternoon slipped away in reverie, and at 
 night, in a pleasant dream, he seemed to 
 make the acquaintance of the unknown rev- 
 erend writer who had cared less for himself 
 than for his work. 
 
 The vacation passed, and sophomore 
 year began, and Garth fancied himself a 
 much deeper and broader being, metaphysi- 
 cally speaking, than he was twelve months 
 ago, and he eyed his classmates curiously to 
 see whether they had grown so fast as he. 
 At his time of life, this perception of in- 
 crease is not unpleasant ; the upward slope 
 of age seems endless, and the expanding 
 prospect exhilarates, while the ignorant 
 plain of childhood lies so short a distance 
 behind us that we can almost believe our- 
 selves wise in the midst of innocence. Be 
 that as it may. Garth had made some prog- 
 ress, and, thanks partly to Professor Grin- 
 dle, with his books and claret, not altogether 
 in a wrong direction. 
 
 He looked with eagerness for the ap- 
 pearance of Selwyn, as if some of his vaca- 
 tion studies had given him new subjects 
 to talk about, or at least furnished new 
 means to the old discussions. But Selwyn 
 came not ; and, when a week had passed. 
 Garth received a note from his friend's 
 
GAIN AND LOSS. 
 
 7Y 
 
 mother saying that he was seriously ill with 
 a fever. This fever and its consequences pre- 
 vented his return to college during the first 
 half of the year, and, before the friends met, 
 Garth had seen TJrmhurst again, and>expe- 
 rienced deeper vicissitudes than even Pro- 
 fessor Grindle's library could ofi'er. 
 
 Meanwhile, whether reacting from the 
 prolonged solitude of the vacation, or in 
 pursuance of some new ideas concerning the 
 propriety of human brotherhood, he showed 
 himself much more companionable and pub- 
 lic-spirited than heretofore. He was no 
 longer either so heedlessly impulsive or so 
 unreasonably fastidious as when stumbling 
 amid the crudities of his freshman year ; 
 and, in resuming his former influential po- 
 sition among his classmates, he took his 
 stand upon a more secure basis. Sopho- 
 more year is, in all respects, the busiest of 
 the college course. More new things are 
 begun in it, more old things ended, more 
 novel sensations felt, than either before or 
 afterward. Garth was again able to give 
 the' key-note of behavior to his class, and 
 again he struck a manly pitch. The fresh- 
 men were kept sufficiently in awe, yet were 
 generally permitted the freedom of their 
 bodies and consciences ; the societies be- 
 stirred themselves with a throb of more vig- 
 orous blood in their veins ; the class con- 
 solidated and organized, and began to ac- 
 quire a recognizable individuality ; and, 
 though it boasted no eminent scholars, yet 
 the average of scholarship was fairly high. 
 And Garth Urmson was the central figure 
 in this respectable assemblage — a position 
 which no amount of amiability and good in- 
 tentions would have got him if unaccom- 
 panied by a certain impressive sturdiness of 
 mind and body, which fails not to command 
 respect and following, be the other qualities 
 what they may. In Garth, however, was 
 superadded a charm of manner not easUy 
 defined, and only occasionally exercised, hut 
 which, when present, was almost irresistibly 
 winning. The fact that it seemed to be ex- 
 ercised unconsciously enhanced its efifect ; 
 and, under more stirring conditions, it might 
 have kindled the sort of enthusiasm which 
 it is the prerogative of the Nelsons and Na- 
 poleons of the world to inepire, and which. 
 
 if report be true, had been lavished upon 
 more than one of Garth's own ancestors. 
 
 As it was, by the close of the winter 
 term he stood highest in repute among his 
 classmates, if not in the studies. Popular- 
 ity is never a very solid affair ; but perhaps 
 a college hero holds his position by purer 
 title-deeds than are often attainable in later 
 life. His heroship may be brief, but it was 
 had in virtue of some honest and manly 
 quality, not by dint of interest or intimida- 
 tion. He is a genuine fact so long as he ex- 
 ists at all ; though it by no means follows 
 that his genuineness will avert his over- 
 throw, or prevent his supporters from get- 
 ting tired of him and idolizing some one else. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 GAIN AND LOSS. 
 
 It had been Garth's intention to spend 
 the winter holidays in college, both because 
 there were very few of them, and because the 
 advent of a treinendous snow-storm had so 
 blocked up the roads that a large part of his 
 vacation would necessarily be spent in mere 
 going and returning. But at the last moment 
 he changed his mind. Perhaps the deciding 
 influence was the tone of a letter from his 
 mother, which came to hand a day or two 
 before the term ended. It was written in a 
 mood of yearning tenderness, and its ostensi- 
 ble cheerfulness could not hide from Garth's 
 apprehension an undertone of pathetic com- 
 plaint at the prolonged absence of the son 
 who never before had been removed beyond 
 an hour's recall. In rereading it he was 
 suddenly overcome by an intolerable long- 
 ing to see her again ; the memory of her 
 dear face came vividly before him, and he 
 determined to be with her. straightway, 
 were it but for a day. It seemed to him 
 that he had never loved her, never demanded 
 her, so ardently as now. She was a woman 
 of nature so mild and unassuming that only 
 an intimate acquaintance could discover her 
 profound worth, her very guilelessness and 
 purity creating about her an atmosphere of 
 feminine reserve which was impenetrable to 
 whomsoever possessed not the gentle talis- 
 
78 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 man to disperse it. In her letter to Garth 
 she had not urged his return, but had con- 
 cluded somewhat wistfully thus : " I shall 
 send you by the first opportunity some 
 things I have made you, to remind you that 
 I love and think of you ; and I hope they 
 will add to your comfort this cold winter, 
 too. Oh, dear, how pleasant it will be when 
 the Christmas comes which will bring me the 
 gift of your face I This Christmas we are 
 not to meet ; and yet we shall be together, 
 for I shall be with you in spirit, though not 
 in body. Do not forget that. Good-by, 
 my dear son ; I love and bless you. I have 
 written a stupid letter, but my head aches 
 to-day, and it makes me stupid, for you know 
 I never have headaches. But I am an old 
 woman now ; my hair is quite white, and I 
 wear spectacles all the time. Tour father 
 says I am getting decrepit, and makes great 
 fun of me. He sends his love, and bids me 
 tell you to punch a freshman's head on his 
 account! Good-by from your own, ownest 
 mamma." 
 
 " God bless her ! " thought Garth, as he 
 folded up the letter ; " we'll have a merrier 
 Christmas than she thinks for. Spirit is not 
 enough ; we must be together in body, too. 
 To think of her blessed white hair and her 
 spectacles ! and I have been away from her 
 a whole year and a half! She was my first 
 lady-love — and she is still." 
 
 Having made his decision and his few 
 preparations, time dragged till he could de- 
 part. He called at Professor Grindle's to ac- 
 quaint him with his proposed journey. 
 
 " Is your mother ill ? " the professor de- 
 manded. 
 
 " No ; but I haven't seen her for a year 
 and a half." 
 
 " Well, go ahead. I had intended having 
 you take your Christmas turkey with me, 
 en gargon. That's no matter. Remember 
 me to your father. That was a fine thing 
 of his in the last North American — ' Public 
 Benefits of Private History.' Should put 
 the notion into practice. Good-by. Don't 
 forget to come back again : we'll do some- 
 thing with you yet. Love to your father.'' 
 
 Early the next morning Garth s,et forth, 
 and fought his way northwestward through 
 the mighty snow-drifts. He had ever loved 
 
 the snow, and, as a boy, enjoyed plunging 
 into the thickest of it. But now he became 
 impatient with it. It checked his progress 
 toward his goal ; the sport of his childhood 
 was the clog of his elder years. The stout 
 horses floundered and strained, and the 
 buried sleigh-runners quivered in the white 
 furrows. The sharp bells clashed and 
 jangled, the driver whooped and swpre ; 
 but, in spite of all, the pace was slow, and 
 the delays and interruptions many. Under 
 ordinaiy circumstances it would have been 
 a glorious sleigh-ride, every check and mis- 
 hap a source of fiin and mirthful uproar; 
 and at first Garth tried to regard them from 
 the humorous standpoint ; but after the 
 first day the joke lost it point. At night he 
 dreamed uneasily, oppressed with a night- 
 mare notion that TTrmhurst was escaping 
 from him on sleigh-runners ; that his moth- 
 er called to him from her chamber-window, 
 and waved her hand; that he struggled on- 
 ward desparately, and at last seemed gain- 
 ing ; that now he was close upon the flying 
 house — had but to burst throught this belt 
 of black timber and he would be there. 
 But when he emerged, breathless, there was 
 a silent, white, open space, encircled with a 
 serried ring of naked trees, and in the centre 
 was a snow-covered mound. The house had 
 vanished — whither ? Above Wabeno drifted 
 a gray cloud, which, for a moment, assumed 
 the familiar outlines of his lost home ; but 
 where was his mother ? 
 
 Starting betimes the next day, Garth had 
 hopes of reaching home by nightfall ; but a 
 wind arose, accompanied by fresh snow, and 
 progress was slower than yesterday. The 
 young traveler sat muffled in his seat, wink- 
 ing at the flakes which whirled into his 
 eyes, and envying the warmth of the toiling 
 horses. 
 
 Occasionally, however, a vision of be- 
 loved Urmhurst and of those he would find 
 there rose vividly in his imagination ; he 
 would brighten up and look hopefully to 
 the horizon to see whether the cloud which 
 shut down upon tlie white uplands were not 
 lifting a little. He pictured to himself the 
 vast chestnut-stump spouting fire and smoul- 
 dering incandescent on the roomy hearth, 
 its flickering blaze gladdening the dark 
 
GAIN AND LOSS. 
 
 T9 
 
 wainscot and smoky ceiling of the well- 
 remembered room. There sat Ms mother, 
 with glinting, knitting-needles, and white 
 cap on white hair, anon turning her face 
 toward the snow-drifted window, and think- 
 ing of the son whom she believes to be 
 scores of miles away at Bowdoin. How joy- 
 fully shall she be disappointed 1 
 
 His father, standing with his back to the 
 fire, perhaps revolves the contents of Garth's 
 last letter, wherein enigmatic allusion is 
 made to certain pregnant disturbances which 
 had recently occurred in the writer's men- 
 tal domain, and threaten to overturn the 
 present constitution and establish a new 
 one, but the complete annals of which are to 
 be reserved, adds the letter, until the meet- 
 ing next summer. Destiny, however, has 
 forbidden so long a delay, and Garth will 
 bring forward the matter this very night, 
 if Fortune permit. What will Grandfatlier 
 Graeme say to it, and Madge? he wonders. 
 
 Bat, alas ! day is already drawing to a 
 close, and it is too evident that Urmburst 
 will not be reached to-night. An hour after 
 dark the sleigh pulls up at the door of a 
 wayside inn, and Garth, dismounting, with 
 stiff joints, eats his supper before the kitchen 
 Are, and, going immediately to bed, sleeps 
 dreamlessly till morning. 
 
 At noon of the third day they jingle 
 along the familiar wood-path, a keen sun 
 sparkling through the snow-frosted boughs, 
 and lighting up the dazzling landscape with 
 exhilaration. It is a glorious day, fit to 
 celebrate a home-return. There is no gloom 
 or anxiety in Garth's face now, but unalloyed 
 delight and genial anticipation, while the 
 thought that he is wliolly unexpected adds 
 a fine zest to his enjoyment. Now, they 
 draw near; yonder through the trees looms 
 the dark side of the dear old house : how dear 
 it is, how unchanged, how well remem- 
 I)ered ! Now some one has stepped out on 
 the threshold. His mother? no ; the hair is 
 gray, but the face is dusky — not his mother; 
 it is the old Indian wotoan, Nikomis, stand- 
 ing with her broom, on the cloven tliresb- 
 old. At the sound of the approaching sleigh 
 she turns her head and looks beneath her 
 leveled hand. Garth shouts and waves his 
 cap joyfully. She looks, and then vanishes 
 
 within-doors. The sleigh comes fleetly up, 
 and stops, and Garth springs out and meets 
 his father at the door. 
 
 " How are you, father? " 
 
 " Garth I " Mr. Urmson opened his arms, 
 and the two embraced, even as they had 
 done at parting, eighteen months before. 
 Then they looked at each other. Mr. Urm- 
 son had a flush in his usually pale face, and 
 his eyes were bright. Garth thought he ap- 
 peared unusually well. There was a little 
 more stoop, another wrinlde, an unsteadi- 
 ness, perhaps. Oh, but he was in good health 
 and heart I 
 
 "You could not have got my letter?" 
 said Mr. Urmson, after a moment's hesita- 
 tinn, still standing on the threshold. 
 
 " Mother's you mean. Yes, and it made 
 me come. All at once I thought I must see 
 her. Oomein, dear. Where is my mamma?" 
 
 " Not here. ' You'll see her by-and-by, if 
 you are a good boy. You did not stop at your 
 grandfather's? Sit down. — You may go up- 
 stairs, Nikomis. I wrote to you night before 
 last, Garth — I wrote you to come ; so you 
 anticipated us. Here's a joint of beef" 
 
 " I'll cut it. You're tired, your hand 
 trembles. Oh, I'm glad to be at home ! 
 Nearly tliree days getting here, father ! Is 
 mother well? " 
 
 "I believe she is far better than she has 
 ever been. So my friend Grindle has been 
 having you ih charge ? Has he succeeded in 
 getting any ideas into your head? " 
 
 "O father, I came partly to talk with 
 you about it ; but let us wait till my mamma 
 comes. Will it be long ? " 
 
 " What would Miss Margaret say if she 
 knew you bad not even mentioned her 
 name yet? She tells me that she writes you 
 long letters, and you never answer her ques- 
 tions. Wait, I'll get you the mustard. Now, 
 beloved Hottentot, hadn't you better open 
 your heart to your old father ? Oan't you 
 do with me alone for half an hour ? " 
 
 Garth laughed. "You see, since I've 
 been away I've always thought of you and 
 mother as one. It seems as though you 
 could never be apart — when one of you goes 
 to heaven, the other would too. Did you 
 say she was at grandfather's, this snowy 
 day ? She must be strong, certainly ! WeU, 
 
80 
 
 GAETH. 
 
 I'll begin to tell you — there's plenty of it, 
 and yet there may not be many words about 
 it, after all. You know I bequeathed you 
 the key of my garret-room when I went 
 away ? I meant to send you word, as soon 
 as I got pluck enough to make up my mind, 
 to open the place and burn every thing in 
 it. It's full of pictures and drawings that I 
 made. I was ashamed to have done them, 
 and yet I couldn't stop it — didn't at least; 
 Now, father, I hoped you would turn up 
 your eyebrow in that way you used to." 
 
 " I see you already have the artistic per- 
 ception ; but artists are not usually ashamed 
 of what they have done until they'have done 
 something better, or at least something else. 
 What have you painted since you were in 
 coUege ? " 
 
 "That was not my trouble. My idea 
 was, since God made Nature, it must he per- 
 fect: so what business has' man to make 
 imitations of it— improvements on it, rather? 
 for if he didn't think his version the better, 
 what was the sense of his doing it 1 " 
 
 " Ah ! you were very sagacious. But you 
 think differently now ? " 
 
 Garth settled himself back in his chair, 
 and began fumbling with his hair. 
 
 " The fact is, father, I want to think dif- 
 ferently so much that I'm afraid to. You 
 know, grandfather used to say whatever a 
 man most enjoyed doing was not the right 
 thing. "When I began imitating what I saw 
 in this way, I only thought it a delightful 
 discovery. But, when the idea of delightful 
 things being wrong got in my head, I began 
 to fear there must be something very, wrong 
 in my discovery ; and, the more I reasoned 
 about it, the more it seemed so. By-and-by, 
 if any argument to the contrary suggested 
 itself, I mistrusted it and put it away. Don't 
 you see what I mean ? " 
 
 "Why, I never heard you talk before. 
 The matter has loosed your tongue, right or 
 wrong. Let us hear the rest of it." 
 
 " I am it ! " said Garth, dropping his hands 
 on his knees emphatically. "Ive tried to 
 put it out of my mind, but all I do and think 
 somehow relates to it. I was very unhappy 
 about it: I believed I was possessed of a 
 devil. At last Selwyn told me I had genius, 
 and it came out what I thought about paint- 
 
 ing, and he laughed at me, and said I was a 
 fool. It seems to me I was glad to have him 
 think so, though I didn't admit it. Later, 
 Professor Grindle happened to say that Na- 
 ture came transfigured through painters; 
 and I found things about painting in his li- 
 brary, and also engravings of pictures. Per- 
 haps I was wrong : painting is not irrever- 
 ent ? If you think it is not, and if you can 
 show me why, I — " 
 
 He stopped, kindled to a high pitch of 
 feeling. 
 
 Mr. Urmson partly smiled. "So, after 
 all," he said, half aloud, gazing in- the fire, 
 " your grandfather did have a hand in your 
 education. You are a queer instrument to 
 play upon, and he struck a perilous note, 
 though it may enrich the harmony at last. 
 Painter ! perhaps it's as well I did not think 
 of that. What would she have thought ? — 
 perhaps it is as well." 
 
 " Father, do you sigh because I'm 
 wrong ? " demanded Garth, clearing his 
 throat. 
 
 " Sighing, was I ? Well, old gentleman, 
 because there is a finer kind of gifts called 
 bereavements ; but gifts are gifts, too, in 
 spite of your scruples. Painting irreverent! 
 Why, is history — I mean real not written 
 history — irreverent ? History is the painting 
 of time : it is Nature fused in man. I should^ 
 call it worship.'' 
 
 " But history is not imitation." 
 
 "Not more than Nature and man are 
 imitations, or approximations. The Lord is 
 the sole original type. Man sees himself in 
 Nature something as the Parthenon might 
 see itself in the marble-quarry, and in God 
 as the Parthenon might behold its ideal in 
 some cloud-temple. A painter divines an 
 interior human significance in hills, trees, 
 and rivers, in floTvers or in castles ; he se- 
 lects and combines them to the tune of his 
 own best ideas — which are himself, as him- 
 self is his peculiar view of the Creator — and 
 thus recognizes, and, so far as he may, as- 
 sists the Creator's purpose. That is, he lets 
 the Lord work through him ; for the Lord 
 is at the bottom of every man, and art is the 
 divinity cropping out." 
 
 " Yes, yes ! " cried Garth, half getting 
 up, and sitting down again. 
 
GAIN AND LOSS. 
 
 81 
 
 "If you declare war against painters, 
 your hand wiU be against every honest man, 
 yourself, let us hope, among the rest. Only 
 evil is inartistic. As for paint and canvas, 
 they are the least essential elements in a 
 picture." 
 
 " Then ought they to be used at all? " 
 
 "Why, yes; they suggest a world of 
 more harmonious forms and tints than hu- 
 man beings ever see. They are often mis- 
 used to deceive the eye — as if the essential 
 perfections of Nature could be copied 1 "We 
 can improve the world, and set it in a better 
 light ; but we cannot reproduce it. A true 
 painter paints a heaven of liis own out of 
 materials earth affords him, but does not 
 ask us to mistake the suggestion for the re- 
 ahty ; so both he and we are the better for 
 his work. However, if you are a painter, 
 old gentleman, you must understand all this 
 better than I do. Tour scruples were not 
 very wise ; but, if yon are otherwise gifted 
 for the trade, I dare say you'll be the better 
 for having had them. So this was the mys- 
 tery of the attic ? " 
 
 "I feel it now,'' muttered Garth, ab- 
 sorbed, and with his head in the air. " Men 
 find their ideal selves in Nature, and paint 
 that. Yes, it is a kind of worship. Father, 
 I never was so happy in all my life. But 
 what will mother say ? — will she under- 
 stand?" 
 
 As the elder man met the younger's eyes, 
 tears rose in his own. He did not brush 
 them away, nor attempt to keep them back, 
 and Garth saw them as they rolled slow- 
 ly downhis cheeks. How old his father 
 looked! "What did these tears betoken? — 
 profounder sympathy with his rejoicing than 
 could be borne on a smile ? Almost imme- 
 diately Mr. Urmson spoke : 
 
 "Hold on to that happiness as long as 
 you live r you have a right to it. You'll 
 have griefs enough ; but, if you are a painter 
 and an honest man, the happiness of being 
 useful in a high way to human beings must 
 underlie any grief. Perhaps," he added, 
 leaning his head on his hand, and looking at 
 Garth with keen steadfastness, " the mo- 
 ment of greatest happiness can best bear a 
 heavy loss." 
 
 "Either?" 
 6 
 
 The blithe jinghng of sleigh-bells came 
 nearer, and paused at the door. Garth got 
 up excitedly. " There is mother 1 " ex- 
 claimed he. 
 
 There was a pause ; then heavy steps and 
 the low booming of a rugged voice; and 
 withal a light step and soft, pleasingly modu- 
 lated tone — all familiar to Garth. His grand- 
 father and Madge came in, but, on seeing 
 Garth, stopped near the open doorway. The 
 latter came forward a few steps, and then 
 stopped also, throwing a questioning, sus- 
 picious glance at each face in turn. Mr. 
 Urmson remained motionless in his chair. 
 
 " Garth, dear lad," rumbled the vener- 
 able pastor, holding out both his aged hands, 
 which trembled somewhat — indeed, the 
 whole man seemed more infirm and ploughed 
 with years than Garth had expected to find 
 him — " Garth, poor lad, bear up : that's 
 right; be like me and your father. The 
 Lord giveth and he taketh away. Bear up, 
 bear up, dear boy, like me and your good 
 father. Here's the dear child — I brought 
 her along. They said in town you'd just 
 come back, and I didn't lose a moment. Ay, 
 she'll kiss your tears away. Bear up, lad — 
 be an Urmson. That's right! that's right! " 
 
 Madge had come close to Garth's other 
 side, and taken between hers his heavy- 
 hanging hand, upturning the while a lovely 
 rosy face, buried warm in the furred hood. 
 
 " Oh, I'm so sorry ! " she murmured ; 
 "and I'm so glad you've comeback. How 
 did you come so quick? — but you are al- 
 ways cleverer than anybody. How sad you 
 must feel! — I'm sure I do. I cried so all 
 last night." 
 
 Garth shook himself free from both his 
 grandfather and Madge, and turned toward 
 his father, exclaiming in a tone apparently 
 of gruff irritation, " Has anything happened ? 
 — didn't mother come with you ? where is 
 she?" 
 
 " Oh, doesn't he know ? — Why, don't you 
 know, dear? " exclaimed Madge, with a kind 
 of eagerness. — " Let me tell him. — Oh, how 
 can I tell you! Oh, Garth, it is so terri- 
 ble ! " 
 
 Garth came over to Mr. Urmson's chair;, 
 and resting one hand upon it, bent towanj 
 him. " Father ! " said he, in a low voice. 
 
82 
 
 GAETH. 
 
 " I wanted yon to see that I conld bear 
 it, Garth — it comes hard to me: and you 
 have yonr happiness besides. Your mother 
 died the day before yesterday." 
 
 "Did she? " faltered Garth, with an im- 
 pulse partly incredulous, partly rebellious. 
 No one spoke while he stood fumbling with 
 a button of his coat, and staring at the wall. 
 In a minute he walked to the door, half 
 opened it, and turned back. " Has she gone 
 up-stairs? I mean," he added, stamping his 
 foot, impatiently, " where — where — " 
 
 "Oh, he doesn't know! Let me show 
 you, dear : it's up in the east chamber." 
 
 Garth turned upon her with such a frown 
 as frightened her into silence. "I'Umeet 
 my mother alone," said he. He walked 
 quickly down the hall, and bounded up- 
 stairs. At the door of the east cliamber 
 stood a dusky figure — old Nikomis. As 
 Garth came up she threw open the door, 
 and, when be had entered, closed it behind 
 him and listened ; but no sound came from 
 within. 
 
 BOOK IV. 
 COLLISION. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 TWO AND A P Aln. 
 
 It is not my purpose to invite the reader 
 across the threshold of the room where the 
 dead body lies. Let us rather take a new 
 departure, and, forbearing to trace directly 
 the events of the next few years, rejoin the 
 square- visaged, dark-browed young man in 
 farmer's attire, whom we left, many pages 
 since, at his morning easel on the shore of 
 the quiet lake. For Garth, as will already 
 have been divined, was an artist; a fisher, 
 not of fish, but of Nature and, of man. 
 
 Here again are the level translucenoe of 
 the silent surface, the golden islet at the 
 cove's month, the glory of the October 
 woods, the distant pomp of Wabeno, every- 
 thing as before, save that. the day is three 
 of four hours older. The stillness of the 
 early morning has melted into a voiceless- 
 ness yet more profound, as thongli Nature 
 were hushing herself to sleep beneath the 
 overriding sun. When Garth trilled forth 
 a snatch of mellow whistling, or tapped his 
 ■ easel musingly with the handle of the paint- 
 'brush, the sound went titillating across the 
 Jake, and sometimes tiptoed softly back 
 
 again. The young man preferred whis- 
 tling to any other form of soliloquy. There 
 was a satisfaction in the accurate phras- 
 ing of a scrap of a tune which resembled 
 that conveyed by a happy stroke of the 
 .brush. 
 
 At length he glanced at the sun, and told 
 himself that it must be after eleven— too 
 late for any more morning effects. How- 
 ever, the sketch was nearly finished, and the 
 meaning which he had meant to bring out 
 was sufficiently indicated. His father would 
 understand it. Madge would not ; no mat- 
 ter — it was there. By-the-w ay, where was 
 Madge? Eleven o'clock, and she was to 
 have been down there at ten to go on a nut- 
 ting-expedition. She had been looking for- 
 ward to it for some days ; what could have 
 induced her to change her mind ? 
 
 Garth rose, and, going to the water's 
 edge, picked up his hat, which lay amphibi- 
 ously on the margin. He had put it there 
 for the violet's sake, and, on examining the 
 flower, he found it almost as fresh as when 
 first plucked. " It will fade before she gets 
 it, though," thought Garth, "and Madge 
 doesn't care for faded things. Well, and 
 why should she? She's young, and healthy, 
 and beautiful, and happy, I suppose. I 
 
TWO AND A PAIR. 
 
 83 
 
 wouldn't liave her morbid and sentimental, 
 would I ? " 
 
 He turned back to his easel, and began 
 slowly to pack up his implements prepara- 
 tory to going home. In the midst of this 
 employment he was startled by a distant 
 warble of song. It came from no bird's 
 throat, nor could any man have uttered it. 
 It was clear, elastic, pure, and full of exalta- 
 tion, mingled with sadness ; for sadness 
 overtakes and sweetens the merriest sound 
 that comes from afar oS. Such as it was, 
 it went straight to Garth's heart. He loved 
 music profoundly, for he was a man of fine 
 ear and deep emotional perception; but 
 there was little music to be had in the vil- 
 lage, and he was generally reduced to im- 
 agining symphonies of his own in the roar 
 and murmur of the oaks and hemlocks out- 
 side his studio-window. 
 
 The oatburst of song died away, and a 
 few moments afterward Garth began to 
 doubt whether his fancy had not played him 
 a trick by developing the strain from some 
 slight natural origin. As he debated the mat- 
 ter with himself, he was all at once inexplica- 
 bly reminded of a face which he had seen a 
 year or two ago, the image whereof had staid 
 so persistently in his memory that at length, 
 to be rid of it, he had put it on canvas. It 
 was a face which few people would have pro- 
 nounced beautiful, but for the artist it had a 
 singular fascination. Its lines appeared at 
 the first glance discordant and irregular, but 
 presently an inner harmony and significance 
 began to declare themselves, of a kind to 
 which the ordinary gauges of female beauty 
 could not be applied. Mr. Urmson, to whom 
 Garth once showed his sketch, studied it a 
 good while in silence, and finally said, with 
 one of his kindly, penetrating smiles : " "Well, 
 old gentleman, it's an odd face, and, if I once 
 happened to like it, I can imagine my not 
 soon getting tired of it. But what does 
 Madge think of it?" 
 
 "I haven't shown it to her," Garth re- 
 plied, slightly reddening ; " but I know she 
 would think it ugly." And, whether for 
 that or for some better reason, he never 
 did show it to her, either then or there- 
 after. 
 
 It must not be inferred, however, that 
 
 he now recalled the face merely because he 
 was in the habit of brooding over it, and of 
 associating it with all kinds of pleasant im- 
 pressions, visible or audible. As a man of 
 principle, whose aficctions were engaged 
 elsewhere, he would not knowingly have al- 
 lowed himself such an indulgence. It must 
 be accepted that there was some genuine 
 affinity between the voice and the counte- 
 nance, that there was that in the one which 
 might recall the other to a man of genius, 
 say, in a particularly lucid and impression- 
 able mood. Meanwhile, the melodious out- 
 break had been so unexpected, so charming, 
 and withal so fairy-like, that Garth would 
 certainly have laid it to his imagination, had 
 it not of a sudden been repeated, this time 
 sounding nearer, and unmistakably distinct. 
 
 He turned sharply round, and saw a 
 woman's figure standing near the extrem- 
 ity of the tongue of land which formed the 
 western side of the cove. Her scarlet jacket, 
 and the peculiarly-shaped straw hat which 
 she wore, left him no doubt as to her being 
 Madge. But where did the voice come 
 from ? 
 ( " Have the morning and the autumn 
 tints got into her throat?" he asked him- 
 self. " Madge has been anything except 
 musical heretofore. Can she be a Jenny 
 Lind without my having suspected it? No! 
 It was that quarter of a mile of air and wa- 
 ter that did it. But can mere distance weave 
 such a spell as that ? I don't believe it was 
 her voice, after all ! " 
 
 As if in answer to his denial, the figure 
 in the scarlet jacket caroled forth a bar of 
 melody for the third time. She seemed to 
 be trying her voice, or enjoying the answer- 
 ing music of the echoes. Apparently she 
 had not yet seen Garth ; so he, after listen- 
 ing until the last pulsation of sound had 
 died away, called out to her, and beckoned 
 with his hand. She looked at him, and 
 then, without making any answering sa- 
 lute, turned away and passed out of view. 
 Garth fancied she moved with a more state- 
 ly step than was her wont. Madge was al- 
 ways graceful as a panther, but she could 
 hardly be called dignified. 
 
 The artist resumed his packing in a state 
 of mind midway between exhilaration and 
 
84 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 perplexity. Every true lover believes that ' 
 he believes the woman of his choice to be 
 perfection. If, then, she dawns upon him 
 in a new light, delightfully transcending his 
 past knowledge of her, he feels bound to be 
 jealous of his own former opinion of her. 
 He must be displeased that she pleases him 
 more than at the beginning : and yet how 
 can he slight the new-comer without doubly 
 forsaking her predecessor ? 
 
 Entangled in this whimsical quandary. 
 Garth all at once heard himself addressed 
 from behind by a courteous male voice, 
 which, despite its courtesy, impressed him 
 with a feeling of distrust and aversion. He 
 tui'ned about with a kind of indignation, 
 but what he saw so far modified his emotion 
 as to make him bow very politely. 
 
 A lady and gentleman were standing to- 
 gether on the turf that sloped to the beach. 
 The latter had much the advantage in years 
 over his companion, though he still might 
 have passed for forty. His appearance was 
 rather prepossessing than otherwise, and his 
 bearing was at once affable and' polished. 
 At the same time, his effect was slightly 
 contradictory. His forehead might, with a 
 trifle more arch and height about the tem- 
 ples, have been called noble. The brow 
 was level and handsome, but the eyes were 
 veiled behind a pair of bluish-tinted glasses 
 set in tortoise-shell — which glasses had a 
 polish of their own that was somewhat too 
 obtrusive. The nose which they bestrode, 
 though a trifle too long, was perhaps the 
 most unexceptionable feature in the face ; it 
 was straight and delicately moulded. The 
 whole countenance had a Jewish cast, which 
 enhanced rather than detracted from its 
 cultured aspect. The lower part of the vis- 
 age was undecipherable, owing to the fact 
 that the stranger wore a mustache, a pair 
 of whiskers, and an imperial, each of which 
 grew independently, and were separately un- 
 impeachable; but, taken together, destroyed 
 one another's effect. 
 
 The gentleman was dressed in a quiet but 
 fashionably-cut suit of tweed, and held in his 
 hand a soft, Italian-looking felt hat. In the 
 other hand he carried a short, pliable cane, 
 which the spurs on his neatly-fitting boots 
 argued a riding-whip. These boots, which 
 
 reached to the knee, gave the lower part of 
 the figure a dapper air contrasting oddly 
 with the unassuming elegance of the gentle- 
 man's upper half. How came the owner of 
 so fair a forehead to be supported upon so 
 sportive a pair of legs ? The inconsistency 
 would have been unaccountable but for that 
 triple growth of beard, which somewhat 
 prepared the mind for other vagaries. 
 
 The stranger's first address, while per- 
 fectly civil, had been couched in the tone of 
 a superior. But on encountering Garth's 
 glance he seemed, by some imperceptible 
 process, to shift his standpoint. He smiled 
 behind his glasses, tapped his boot with his 
 riding-whip, and returned the artist's bow. 
 " Pardon us, sir," he said. " We have 
 intruded unceremoniously ; but, frankly, 
 we — " 
 
 " Oan yon direct us how to get back to 
 Urmhurst ? " interposed the young lady, in 
 a low but very distinct tone. She looked at 
 Garth as she spoke, and their glances met. 
 Garth so far forgot his manners as to stare 
 for several moments without making any 
 reply. At length the young lady turned 
 away with a haughty movement of the lips 
 and eyebrows, and seemed about to re- 
 tire. 
 
 " I beg your pardon ! " exclaimed the 
 artist, immediately ; " yes, I oan take you 
 to Urmhurst, if you'll wait till I get this 
 easel packed. I was going there myself." 
 
 " Ah, thanks," said the bearded gentle- 
 man. " Elinor, my dear, you'll wait ? since 
 our friend is so kind as to offer to guide us. 
 I used to be familiar with these woods my- 
 self when a boy," he continued, to Garth ; 
 " but, ah! " putting on his hat, and shaking 
 his head with a melancholy smile, " one for- 
 gets, you know — one forgets. And yet it 
 begins to come back to me ; yes, yes! I 
 believe I bathed in this very cove thirty 
 years ago, or nearly that ; and caught pike 
 (or pickerel, as you would call them) through 
 the ice in winter. You are an artist, I per- 
 ceive — would you allow me ? Ah, ah ! by 
 George, that's a fine effect you have caught 
 there — ^wonderfully true and delicate. H'm! 
 now might I ask whether you reside here- 
 abouts, and happen to be personally ac- 
 quainted with Mr. Cuthbert Urmson 1 Ah 1 
 
TWO AND A PAIR. 
 
 85 
 
 and how is he getting on? Is he quite 
 well ? " 
 
 The young lady heve interposed again, in 
 the same low tone : " Perhaps this gentle- 
 man is an Urmson himself." 
 
 " My name is Garth Urmson," acknowl- 
 edged the artist, who had now finished ty- 
 ing up his hundle. He was thinking to him- 
 self that this indifferent and somewhat 
 supercilious young lady had a good deal of 
 penetration. " I have seen you hefore," he 
 said to her, " in the crystal mirror at the 
 Green Vaults in Dresden." 
 
 " I am Miss Golightley," returned the 
 young lady, composedly. " I suppose this is 
 your uncle — Mr. Golightley Urmson." 
 
 "My dear, dear hoy!" exclaimed the 
 booted gentleman, stepping hastily up, and 
 tacking his whip under his arm in order to 
 grasp Garth's free hand in both his own. His 
 greeting was very warm. " My dear, dear 
 nephew ! " he repeated. 
 
 The three now walked on together for a 
 short time in silence, this unexpected recog- 
 nition seeming to have taken the breath out 
 of conversation. Miss Golightley was a little 
 in advance, and Garth took the opportunity 
 to examine her narrowly. She was a trifle 
 above the medium height, but looked taller, 
 owing to her manner of carrying herself, 
 which was unusually dignified. A loose 
 scarlet jacket, fantastically embroidered 
 round the edges, was thrown cloakwise 
 over her shoulders. Her face was of a 
 kind more likely to command interest than 
 to show it. There was nobility in it, veiled, 
 howeverj by an indifferent expression akin 
 to cynicism. The eyes were gray, and the 
 left one was a little smaller than the other ; 
 but their shape, and the manner in which 
 they were set beneath the clear, delicate 
 brows, were such as the artist knew how 
 to appreciate. The high cheek-bones were 
 rounded into somewhat undue prominence, 
 and, though the nose was small, the chin 
 had too much decision. The mouth was 
 the only technically faultless feature ; it was 
 exquisitely curved and refined ; but the lips 
 were too pale, and there was a touch of 
 disdain upon them. Especially noticeable 
 to Garth was the gem-like purity of the fa- 
 cial contours ; the lines were as smooth and 
 
 sharp as the cutting of a cameo. For the 
 rest, her slight figure gave promise of full 
 womanly development, and one of her small, 
 ungloved hands was bleeding from the scratch 
 of a thorn. 
 
 "It was your voice I heard across the 
 cove ? " Garth asked, breaking the silence. 
 
 " Yes ; I was trying the echo. I didn't 
 know any one was within heai-ing." 
 
 " I liked your voice very much." 
 
 " I sing very well. I have had the best 
 masters," said this imperturbable young lady. 
 
 " Your hat and cloak made me mistake 
 you for some one else." 
 
 " I saw in the village yesterday a very 
 pretty girl with a hat like this, so I made 
 over mine to resemble it. She must have a 
 great deal of taste. Who is she ? " 
 
 "I suppose you mean Margaret Danver," 
 said Garth, his color rising a little. 
 
 " I have seen girls not unlike her in Nor- 
 mandy. But Margaret Danver is prettier." 
 
 " She's of French descent — Acadian." 
 
 " Danver ? Yes ; the good people with 
 whom you and your mother thought of tak- 
 ing lodgings," observed Uncle Gohghtley, 
 who had been walking along humming to 
 himself in a preoccupied manner. " A love- 
 ly child, that Maggie, as Mr. Graeme calls 
 her. By - the - by, my dear Garth, your 
 mother was a Danver ; yes, the same family. 
 My mother, you know, was a Golightley ; 
 and Miss Elinor here is — how is it, my dear? 
 — my mother's grand-niece. So we call our- 
 selves cousins — don't we, Elinor ? — But, 
 Garth," he went on, resting his hand affec- 
 tionately on the young man's shoulder, "tell 
 me all about Cuthbert — all about your dear 
 father. Is he well? Is he happy ? " 
 
 " He has grown old, all but his eyes and 
 voice. When did you arrive. Uncle Golight- 
 ley?" 
 
 " Oh, yesterday — yesterday afternoon. 
 We left Europe very suddenly, you see. 
 Well, and this morning Miss Elinor here in- 
 sisted upon exploring the forest primeval 
 and getting lost in it. Yes, she takes to the 
 woods like a native, she who is next thing to 
 being a native of Europe. And I — you can 
 never know, Garth," exclaimed Uncle Go- 
 lightley, in a burst of confidence, "how I 
 rejoice to find myself here once more. By 
 
86 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 George ! but to think that such a solid, flesh- 
 and-blood fact as yon are should have wholly 
 come into existence since I was last at Urm- 
 hurst ! You know I sailed for Europe the 
 year you were born, and my good father 
 died — dear old Captain Brian! You are 
 very like him, your face *nd build. And 
 so you're an artis^? really a painter? By 
 George ! I envy you. Art was a dream of 
 my youthful days, too ; but I couldn't do it ; 
 hadn't the physical stamina. O for a year 
 of your arms and chest, by George ! And 
 you're succeeding — that goes without say- 
 ing?" 
 
 "I manage to live, if that's what you 
 mean,'' returned Garth, gravely. " But that 
 costs little here." 
 
 " Ah ! Well, my dear boy, you are quite 
 right to make your art an end, not a means," 
 observed his uncle, stroking forward his hair 
 above his ears. " That's what I have always 
 longed to do — take what Fortune sent, and 
 be rich only in the joy of creating." 
 
 " And in the money of other people," 
 Garth felt tempted to add, but he forbore. 
 He had long since settled it in his mind that 
 his uncle had a moral if not a legal right to 
 at least half of the property ; and though of 
 late years his drafts had swallowed up not 
 only the income of the family estate, but the 
 greater portion of the estate itself, neither 
 Garth nor his father had hesitated about 
 paying them. Golightley had accompanied 
 each draft with the assurance that it would 
 be the last, and that the profits from this or 
 that speculation would place them all for- 
 ever beyond the reach of want. Nothing 
 could be further from his intention— so he 
 had always declared — than permanently to 
 possess himself of a dollar of the family in- 
 heritance. Doubtless he meant what he 
 said ; and if he were really aware of any 
 moral claim to the money he spent, his con- 
 duct might be regarded as quite justifiable. 
 Besides, during the last twelve months his 
 applications hadaltogether ceased, and noth- 
 ing good or bad had been heard of him. 
 Perhaps the great fortune had at last been 
 made, and Golightley returned to make the 
 long-promised restitution. 
 
 But Garth did not feel inclined to con- 
 tinue this particular vein of conversation. 
 
 so he turned to Miss Elinor, and asked 
 whether she had settled to ledge with Mrs. 
 Danver. 
 
 "Mother was going to see her to-day,' 
 replied the young lady. " She seemed to 
 me an honest and cleanly sort of person, and 
 I am very much pleased with the girl you 
 say is her daughter." 
 
 This speech, quietly as it was given, 
 nettled Garth exceedingly. Who was this 
 gray- eyed, self-complacent young aristocrat 
 who presumed to speak of his future mother- 
 in-law as " honest and clean," and of his 
 betrothed wife as of some pretty animal ? 
 No doubt she regarded him as a country 
 bumpkin, and would treat his father as an 
 entertaining old peasant! If only she had 
 been a man. Garth would have knocked her 
 down without more ceremony. And yet he 
 could understand that to a person of foreign 
 education and prejudices, who had been 
 bred to luxury and to a belief in caste, the 
 ruggedness of country life and appearances 
 might be indistinguishable from vulgarity. 
 Having paused awhile, therefore, to give 
 his resentment time to cool, he answered 
 with grim simplicity : 
 
 " Honesty and cleanliness are great vir- 
 tues ; many people are well off with oidy 
 one of them, and not many have both." 
 
 " I was speaking of Mrs. Danver in her 
 capacity as landlady ; excuse me for forget- 
 ting that she is a relative of yours," said 
 Miss Elinor, ceremoniously. 
 
 " Iv'e often warned you, my dear,'' ob- 
 served Uncle Golightley, throwing up his 
 chin and handling his imperial, " that we 
 New-Englanders have democratic notions 
 that will strike you harshly at first." ~- 
 
 " I agree with what Mr. Urmson just 
 said, though," rejoined she with some em- 
 phasis, and a faint pinkness in her clear 
 cheeks. " 1 should be satisfied to be hon- 
 est and clean myself, and that is all I shall 
 require of other people." 
 
 " Brava, brava ! " cried Uni^le Golight- 
 ley, smiling, and gently clapping his hands. 
 " We'll make a Yankee of her yet— eh. 
 Garth?" 
 
 Garth kept silence, but liked tlie super- 
 cilious young lady a little better. Suddenly 
 his uncle turned upon him and asked ; 
 
TWO AND A PAIR. 
 
 87 
 
 " But didn't you say something, my dear 
 boy, about having seen ns in Dresden ? " 
 
 " I sa.w Miss Golightley, and an old lady 
 and gentleman — Mr. and Mrs. Golightley, 
 perhaps." 
 
 Uncle Golightley placed a hand of gentle 
 admonition on Garth's arm, and then laid 
 his long forefinger on his lips. " You were 
 misled by our dear Elinor's speaking of 
 ' mother,' " said he in an undertone. " No ; 
 it was Mr. and Mrs. Tenterden. Elinor's 
 father and mother died in Charleston, of 
 yellow fever, upward of ten years ago. The 
 Tenterdens, having no children, adopted her. 
 Mrs. Tenterden, by-the-by, was a Golight- 
 ley — only .daughter of my mother's first 
 marriage. You know, my mother was a 
 widow when she came North and married 
 Captain Brian ? " 
 
 Garth believed he did know that. 
 
 " Yes. "Well, then, last year came our 
 great grief, Mr. Tenterden's death. Dear 
 John! dear, good John Tenterden ! — Ah! I 
 shouldn't have mentioned this before you," 
 he added, turning to Elinor, and drawing 
 her reluctant hand tenderly under his arm. 
 
 "Mentioning does not make it worse," 
 said she, with a peculiar compression of the 
 corners of her mouth. In a few moments 
 she quietly drew away from her cousin's 
 affectionate support, and walked by herself 
 just within the verge of the trees. GoMght- 
 ley, who seemed under a necessity of con- 
 stantly touching somebody, leaned once 
 more upon Garth's shoulder, and continued : 
 
 " Poor John ! it was so sudden — heart- 
 disease, you know. A trying time, Garth, 
 I can tell you ; of course, it all fell on my 
 shoulders, and, by George ! " shaking his 
 head with a sad smile, " I don't know what 
 they'd have done without me. But, of 
 course, I'd willingly have done ten times as 
 much ; for John — well, frankly, my dear 
 Garth, John idoUzed me up to the day of 
 his death ; and, not only that, he assisted 
 me materially at a critical moment of my 
 affairs. Poor J'ohn ! his whole immense 
 fortune went almost immediately after- 
 ward." 
 
 " And he died in consequence ? " 
 
 "In consequence? no, no, no — no!" 
 said Uncle Golightley, adjusting his glasses. 
 
 " Heart-disease — not heart-breaking ; no, 
 no!" 
 
 " So you brought his widow and Miss 
 Golightley to America ? " 
 
 " H'm ; yes. But you say yon have been 
 abroad," returned the elder man, shaking 
 off an apparent tendency to preoccupation. 
 Tell me all about it — what, how, and why ; 
 that's a good fellow ! " 
 
 " It isn't much of a story. After my 
 mother died I left college and took a draw- 
 ing-master. Then I went to Europe with a 
 chum of mine, Selwyn. Staid there till a 
 year ago. Now I have my old garret-studio. 
 I shall be glad to show it you." 
 
 " Yes," murmured his companion, ab- 
 sently ; " yes ; thanks, thanks." 
 
 By this time they had reached the li- 
 chened rock on the border of the pine-grove, 
 where Garth had found the violet some 
 hours earlier. Elinor, walking close by the 
 rock, saw the green leaves at its base, and 
 stooped to search among them. Garth 
 turned aside and joined her. 
 
 " I plucked the last one this morning," 
 said he; "here it is in my hat-band. It 
 isn't quite faded. Will you take it ? " 
 
 " Oh, thank you ! " she said, looking up 
 at him with the first smile she had vouch- 
 safed that day. She took the drooping 
 flower from the artist's fingers, smelt it, and 
 then fastened it carefully in the bosom of 
 her dress. They walked on together, saying 
 nothing. Garth was rather surprised at 
 what he had done ; for he had plucked the 
 violet in ignorance of Miss Elinor Golight- 
 ley's existence, and with the intention of pre- 
 senting it to a very different person. 
 
 Meanwhile Uncle Golightley was out 
 of sight round a bend of the path ; but soon 
 voices were heard, and Garth and Elinor, 
 coming up, found him in affable converse 
 with a very beautiful young woman in a 
 scarlet jacket and an oddly-shaped straw 
 hat. 
 
 "Your cousin — Miss Danvers," said Eli- 
 nor, quickly. • 
 
 Garth answered slowly : " I had forgotten 
 her ; or, rather, I thought she had forgotten 
 
88 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 A QirBSTIOir OF PEIVILEGE. 
 
 "Ah! Garth," cried Uncle Goliglitley, 
 glancing at his nephew with airy playful- 
 ness, "you see Miss Margaret and I have 
 found each other out without your help 
 — haven't we, Margaret? — By George! you 
 rogue," laughingly tapping Garth's shoulder 
 with his whip, "no wonder you stick to 
 your woods if this is the sort of flower that 
 grows there!" 
 
 Garth seemed at first inclined to take 
 this badinage rather sombrely; but Madge 
 wore to-day her loveliest aspect, and it was 
 impossible to see her without delight. She 
 was about Elinor's height, and her lightsome, 
 roundly-moulded figure expressed vigor as 
 well as grace. Her attire was piquant and 
 original — quite at variance with the fashion, 
 but artfully enhancing the beauties of the 
 wearer's face and form. Her quilted satin 
 petticoat was short enough to reveal a pair 
 of slim, arched feet, and its blackness con- 
 trasted brightly with the red stockings. The 
 light-colored over-skirt was gathered np and 
 pufEed out at the sides, and open down the 
 front of the body; the sleeves were tight 
 above the elbow and fell open below it. 
 There was a V-shaped glimpse of a lovely 
 neck, partly concealed by the sleeves of 
 the scarlet jacket, which were tied loosely 
 round the throat. The straw hat, courtesying 
 quaintly downward over her smooth brow, 
 completed the costume. Perhaps the influ- 
 ence of her artist lover had increased the 
 girl's natural tendency to be picturesque; 
 but few young women could have indulged 
 in her solecisms either of dress or behav- 
 ior, without making therewelves ridiculous. 
 Madge was privileged by dint of her genuine 
 originality and fascination. 
 
 She was a brunette ; and her tjeauty, great 
 though it was, was intensified by the ex- 
 traordinary vividness and mobility of her 
 expression. Her dark eyes were of a long 
 oval shape, and she seemed able to see all 
 round herself without turning her head. 
 Her face, without noticeable movement, 
 could indicate a thousand subtile shades of 
 meaning. Hei' manner one moment effer- 
 
 vesced with gay audacity; anon it would 
 become demurely undemonstrative ; and yet 
 again it would be graced by innumerable 
 winning flatteries and caresses. A slight 
 Frenchy flavor was still perceptible in all 
 she said and did, and perhaps this, and an- 
 occasional touch of naive rusticity, aided her 
 escape from ordinary standards of criticism. 
 But she had few detractors now, the villa- 
 gers had come round to Parson Graeme's 
 opinion — that her mere charm was her suf- 
 ficient excuse for being. Madge Danvers 
 grew not on every tree ! 
 
 "Mrs. Tenterden came to see mother," 
 said this lovely creature, addressing Garth 
 a little shyly in the presence of his new 
 friends, and at the same time half meeting 
 Elinor's point-blank glance with a timid 
 smile. " We've been showing her the rooms, 
 and she's been saying which she would have. 
 — And she says she'll come to us if Miss Go- 
 lightley did not object," continued Madge, 
 now turning more directly to Elinor, with a 
 prettily apologetic air. 
 
 "And leaves me altogetlier out of the 
 question," exclaimed Uncle Golightley, hu- 
 morously counterfeiting indignation. " Ah, 
 that's the way you women treat gray-haired 
 old boys like me!— Well, Garth, you're a 
 man and a nephew, you won't refuse a roof 
 to your old uncle, will you ? " 
 
 "It would be strange if you went any- 
 where else," returned the young man, cor- 
 dially. "I expect a great deal of benefit, 
 too, from your criticism and suggestions. 
 Though, I tell you fairly, I have an opinion 
 of my own on some things." 
 
 "Thanks — double thanks, my dear neph- 
 ew," cried Uncle Golightley, laughing and 
 turning his eyes from Garth to Elinor, and 
 from her to Madge. " I should have had no 
 peace of mind, you know, lodging in the 
 same house with two such incomparable 
 ladies fair. Even Urmhurst may not put 
 me far enough out of the reach of temp- 
 tation?" 
 
 Madge's mischievous dark eyes sparkled 
 at this gallantry, though she kept her face 
 otherwise demure. Elinor turned lier head 
 aside with a slightly contemptuous move- 
 ment of the upper lip, which Garth, who 
 happened to be looking at her, was glad to 
 
A QUESTION OF PRIVILEGE. 
 
 89 
 
 see ; for he thought his uncle's sally was in 
 rather poor taste. 
 
 " How soon can we come to you, Miss 
 Danver ? " Elinor asked, abruptly. 
 
 " Oh, you will come, then ? " cried Madge, 
 eagerly. "I'm so glad. Oh, to-day, if you 
 like." 
 
 " Well, I do like," replied Elinor, smiling 
 a little. 
 
 Madge pressed her hands quickly to- 
 gether, with an exclamation of pleasure. 
 Elinor's mouth softened still more, as she 
 continued : 
 
 " But I should ask you, first, whether 
 you or your mother will he disturbed by my 
 music? I play on the violin." 
 
 "The violin! " exclaimed Madge, in un- 
 aflfeoted surprise; "oh, how — delightful! 
 "Why, I thought only men played on the 
 violin! " 
 
 They all smiled at this, and Uncle Go- 
 lightley said : " Ah, my dear child, you'll 
 see the world some day, if I'm not much 
 mistaken, and then you'U find out that you 
 women are robbing us of our masculine pre- 
 rogatives, one after another." 
 
 "I was expecting you earlier," Garth 
 remarked to Madge. 
 
 "I was busy, you know," she answered, 
 stepping close to him and twisting a button 
 of his coat while she spoke. " Then Mrs. 
 Tenterden said that Miss Golightley and — 
 and Uncle Golightley," with a sidelong 
 glance at that gentleman, "hadigone to the 
 lake ; and I thought that if you all met, and 
 yon wanted to take your uncle to Urm- 
 hurst, I might show Miss Golightley the way 
 to our house. So I came." 
 
 " Thank you — that is just what I want- 
 ed," said Elinor. " Shall we go now ? " 
 
 Madge went up to the reserved young 
 lady, took her by the hand as a child might 
 have done, and said, " Come! " 
 
 Elinor had a momentary impulse to draw 
 her hand back ; but Madge's clasp was so 
 soft and winning, and her eyes so soft and 
 ingenuous, as not to be resisted. With a 
 blush, therefore, and a corresponding relent- 
 ing in her whole manner, she yielded. 
 
 Hereupon Uncle Golightley put his arm 
 through Garth's, and affected to hurry off 
 with him in despair. 
 
 " Let's get away i " he exclaimed. " I 
 own myself beaten. That Margaret of yours 
 has won over, in four minutes, the woman 
 who's been intractable to me almost as many 
 years 1 Witchcraft, by George ! the witchery 
 of a woman ! " 
 
 But Garth was again unresponsive ; the 
 episode had touched him differently. He 
 did not altogether like to see Elinor Go- 
 lightley's reserve overborne, even by his 
 own Madge. 
 
 The party were now at the fork of the 
 path, one branch of which led to Urmhurst, 
 the other to the village. Gohghtley faced 
 round toward the two young ladies, and 
 lifted his hat in picturesque salute. 
 
 " Addio, fair lassies I we part friends. 
 A riveder-le ! as the Florentines say." He 
 stepped in front of them, and flowed on in 
 his easy tones : " Ehnor, tell mamma I'll be 
 with her in the course of the afternoon to 
 oversee the moving. — Margaret, you won't 
 mind if an elderly, respectable Uncle Go- 
 lightley . . . eh ? " he bent forward and 
 kissed her cheek. 
 
 She screamed " Oh I " and clung to El- 
 inor's hand as if for protection. Golightley, 
 however, did not read displeasure in her 
 laughing eye ; although Garth (who had his 
 perversities, and was feeling rather fierce at 
 such free behavior) was partly appeased by 
 a lightning glance of comic repugnance, 
 which she somehow or other contrived to 
 dispatch in his direction at the same mo- 
 ment. Thus, in a very awkward predica- 
 ment, Madge's nimble tact and self-posses- 
 sion recommended her to each of three very 
 dissimilar persons. An ordinary woman 
 would have offended them all, and made 
 ,herself ridiculous into the bargain. 
 
 In thinking over this incident. Garth was 
 puzzled to account for his own mental atti- 
 tude. Instead of sympathetic indignation 
 at maiden sanctities invaded (as just before 
 with far slighter cause in Elinor's behalf), 
 he had felt only anger at the infringement 
 of his own rights. Yet, Madge, to his best 
 knowledge and belief, was pure and modest 
 as Elinor or any other woman could be. 
 Was it possible, then, that she might, with- 
 out detriment or dishonor, allow liberties 
 which Elinor could not modestly have tol- 
 
90 
 
 -GAETH. 
 
 erated? And, if so, did it follow that Eli- 
 nor's was the higher nature ? or was Madge's 
 the fuller and more comprehensive, able to 
 think and do things which the colder and 
 narrower temperament must abjure ? So 
 Garth would fain believe. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 OHAEAOTEEISTIOS. 
 
 Meanwhile he and his uncle were jog- 
 ging along tlie wood-path together with 
 every appearance of amity, the two young 
 women having turned oU villageward. Go- 
 lightley, after informing himself as to the 
 present condition of Urmhurst and the 
 neighborhood, began to talk about himseK 
 in a manner which Garth, despite his iri-ita- 
 tion, could not but feel was humorous and 
 entertaining. It would appear that his com- 
 panion had lived a life of no ordinary scope 
 and distinction. His creed smacked of the 
 companionship of gods : he knew them all 
 and called them by their first names, often 
 preceded by a pungent descriptive epithet. 
 He knew the politics of Europe, and his 
 counsel had given wealth to a Rothschild, or 
 saved the kingdom of a monarch. Many a 
 famous name in art and literature had he 
 helped to its renown. He touched lightly, 
 though ever with an air of authority, upon 
 assthetio topics. Culture was his divinity, 
 he her high-priest. Beneath his unruffled 
 shirt-front abode in harmony the souls of 
 ai'tist, author, sculptor, scholar, and epicure. 
 In sober earnest, Golightley TJrmson was a 
 clever and even brilliant man, of observation 
 wide and hungry, if not always accurate ; 
 shrewd and not without tact ; hard to em- 
 barrass or put down. His style of narra- 
 tion, when he was in the vein, was engag- 
 ing even when it moved the listener to smile 
 a little. He loved approbation, and when he 
 thought himself believed in he overflowed 
 with an airy kind of good-fellowship. He 
 manifestly, and not unjustly, prided himself 
 upon his astuteness and insight; yet a person 
 of less ability, who had been acquainted with 
 his foibles, might easily have mocked him 
 to his unconscious face. Self-centred men 
 
 too seldom take the precaution to look at 
 themselves from an outside point of view ; 
 and can be skeptical about anything except 
 the sincerity of their companions' homage. 
 
 By-and-by some peculiar feature of the 
 landscape forced itself on Uncle Golightley's 
 attention, and led him to speak of his earher 
 
 "I never could decide. Garth," he re- 
 marked in his languid, superior, enlightened 
 way, drawing his hand down over his face 
 with a slow, self-admiring gesture^ — "I never 
 could quite make up my mind what place in 
 the world was worthiest for me to fill. My 
 father, dear good man that he was, wanted 
 me to go into business. No doubt I had busi- 
 ness talents — splendid ones; but I shrank, 
 you know— recoiled from the idea of bind- 
 ing myself up for life in a ledger I Money 
 making, in the gross sense, was always hate- 
 ful to me. 'What I craved, as I tell you, 
 was education — culture ! Well, I had, at 
 one time, a passion for college ; but, when I 
 came to look into it, I saw it was not for 
 me. I was a natural, a born scholar ; but I 
 demanded first of all freedom, expansion 1 I 
 remember writing to the President of Har- 
 vard, and putting it to him whether that 
 place deserved the name of university where 
 each student might not study in his own 
 way and at his own leisure. But he was 
 too narrow to see the thing as I saw it, and 
 I was obliged to give it up ! I saw then 
 that I mu^seek in the grand university of 
 the world all that our pygmy institutions 
 could not furnish. "Well, I went to Europe. 
 There were some painful episodes connected 
 with my departure. My dear father was — 
 yes, Garth, why shouldn't you hear it ? — he 
 was unjust, cruelly unjust to me. Yet I 
 never gave him cause for anger. Ah, well, 
 it's over now, forgiven if not forgotten. 
 But, by George! I've suffered! " 
 
 " But you'i-e glad to be at home again ?" 
 Golightley took off his hat and passed his 
 fingers wearily through his hair. " No one 
 oan have stronger home-instincts than I 
 have," said he ; " none could look forwai'd 
 more yearningly to the rest and peace that 
 only home can bring. But a man who has lived 
 as I have lived can seldom feel what you young 
 people call gladness. There's too much bitter 
 
OHAEACTERISTIOS. 
 
 91 
 
 knowledge — too mucli — Bat what am I 
 about ! " ha exclaimed, suddenly altering his 
 dejected tone, "piling the weight of my 
 hjqjochondriacal philosophy on youi- young 
 shoulders. Glad to get home ? Yes, and I 
 mean to stay here ! " 
 
 " And the ladies too ? " 
 " Now, old fellow," laughed Golightley, 
 " not too much concern about my ladies, if 
 you please! Great God! if your native 
 ladies aren't enough for you, you ai'e hard 
 to satisfy. However, I'll tell you something 
 about them. I met John Tenterden — crude, 
 good-hearted, thick-bodied, old millionaire 
 — in Germany. Got acquainted quite by ac- 
 cident, you know. A good old fellow, but 
 no culture — oh, not a vestige of it. Garth! " 
 " Has Mrs. Tenterden got any ? " 
 " Mildred — ah, Mildred is a fine woman I 
 Naturally clever; Southern bred, and has 
 her eccentricities, her little ruggednesses of 
 speech and manner. Lovely to talk with, 
 though, she has so much information." 
 " She is not a young woman? 
 " Oh, Mildred is all of sixty, perhaps 
 sixty-five. She and Cuthbert must be about 
 of an age. But she don't look it ; dark hair 
 and eyes, erect, full bust, fine figure of a 
 woman! But you should have seen her as- 
 tonishment when I claimed her as my sister! 
 Till that moment she had supposed that her 
 mother and mine had met her death by ac- 
 cident or violence in the latter part of 1803. 
 She had come North in that year, you know, 
 to find Captain Brian, and had so contrived 
 her flight as to lead to the belief that she'd 
 been killed." 
 
 " Father told me that she had been in 
 love with my grandfather long before ; and 
 had afterward married her cousin in the be- 
 lief that he was dead. It's a strange story. 
 Such constancy seems unnatural." 
 
 "A woman witja a crotchet in her head 
 is an unaccountable being," said Golightley, 
 trimming his mustache. " Well, Mildred 
 was about seventeen, and just married, when 
 her mother disappeared. By-the-by, Mil- 
 dred's marriage will show you the sort of 
 woman she is. She wouldn't have John, 
 though he'd offered himself half a dozen 
 times, until one day he lost every penny 
 he had in the world. Then what did she 
 
 do but offer herself and her fortune to 
 him ! " 
 
 "Yery good of her." 
 
 " Oh, she's a darling ! But I was going 
 to tell you about Elinor. They'd come 
 abroad chiefly to educate her. And by 
 George ! Garth, there never was a girl better 
 educated, or with finer natural abihties, or 
 who said less about them, than Elinor Go- 
 lightley ! " 
 
 " She looks rather cynical — " 
 
 " Ah I that kind of woman, that fine, 
 sensitive organization, is so seldom at peace 
 with itself. Until she met me she'd never 
 known a human being who really understood 
 her. Then, losing her father and mother 
 just when she was becoming most passion- 
 ately attached to them, you know, and com- 
 ing among strangers, uncongenial in spite of 
 their kindness; then, again, having no de- 
 sire ungratified except the all-important de- 
 sire for some being worthy of her love and 
 able intelligently to sympathize with her — I 
 tell you, I only wonder she isn't a greater 
 cynic than she is. But under my influence 
 she was losing all that, when poor John's 
 death put her back a little temporarily." 
 
 " Music is her resource, I suppose ? " 
 
 " Why, that voice of hers, my dear 
 Garth," said Golightley in a confidential un- 
 dertone — "that voice is simply — unique! 
 Some of the first masters have told me that 
 it is, in some respects, superior to anything 
 else off the stage or on it. They were all 
 wild about her, and there was one fellow in 
 Dresden whom I thought I should have 
 trouble with. He taught her for three 
 months, and worshiped the very ground she 
 walked on. One day he burst into the par- 
 lor where John and Mildred and I were sit- 
 ting, and burst into tears. He said the 
 thought of that voice being lost to the world 
 was breaking his heart; and what was more, 
 that he adored her, and would follow her 
 round the world till she agreed to marry 
 him ! By George ! you ought to have seen 
 Mildred. Slie drew herself up like a regi- 
 ment of cavalry. ' My good gracious alive, 
 John ! is the man mad ? ' Just then in came 
 Elinor. She walked up to the writing-table 
 with an air as if she owned mankind, and a 
 devilish cold, sarcastic expression about the 
 
92 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 eyes and month. ' Oome here, Herr Skalier,' 
 says she. Down the poor devil plumps upon 
 his knees, not knowing what was coming. 
 She took out her purse. ' Our month is not 
 quite up, Herr Skalier, but I'll pay you now, 
 if you please. Count that and see if it's 
 right, and then sign your name here ; ' and 
 she dipped a pen in ink and held it to him. 
 By George ! Garth, I turned pale — I turned 
 pale! Well, that's the sort of woman she 
 is!" 
 
 " Quite unlike Mrs. Tenterden." 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! and only eigliteen at the time, 
 too. But she's a 'captain,' as Mildred would 
 say., However, most people fall in love with 
 Mildred before they do with Elinor. WeE, 
 she set her foot down that she'd have no 
 more singing-masters ; she'd been fond of 
 the violin before, and from that time she 
 took to it altogether; and to-day she's as 
 supreme with that as she used to be with 
 her voice. I tell you. Garth, she has but to 
 say the word, and she might command a for- 
 tune from any director in Europe ! " 
 
 Garth shook his head ; the idea of Elinor 
 on the public stage was repugnant to him. 
 
 " Of course, such a thing isn't to be 
 thought of," resumed Golightley ; " though 
 she'd be as safe there, with that devilish cold 
 eye of hers, as in her own boudoir. But 
 oh," caressing his cheek, " we hope she's re- 
 served for a happier, tenderer destiny than 
 that!" 
 
 Garth drew his eyebrows slowly together ; 
 then, to change tbfe subject, made some in- 
 quiry as to Mr. Tenterden's late loss of for- 
 tune. 
 
 " There was a mystery about that," re- 
 plied his uncle, with a short laugh. " Fo- 
 body seemed to know what became of the 
 money. John had asked me, some time be- 
 fore, to take charge of the estate for him. I 
 told him I couldn't accept the responsibility. 
 He said his former agent had died, and that 
 he himself knew no more about business than 
 a child (which was true enough) ; and he 
 implored me to advise him as a friend, or if 
 not that, then as Mildred's brother, since all 
 the money really belonged to her. I was the 
 more grieved to refuse, because I knew how 
 much I might have done for him. Why, 
 Garth, I remember standing in 1844 on the 
 
 floor of the House of Commons talking with 
 William Ewart Gladstone — one of the great- 
 est financial geniuses that ever lived. I'd 
 been dropping some hints about the forth- 
 coming budget, and William was so startled 
 by my insight into the thing that he turned 
 to me and said, ' Mr. Urmson, if you were 
 a member of this House we might look for- 
 ward to the financial future of the country 
 with confidence ! ' But as I was saying, just 
 before John's disaster came about, a rather 
 curious thing happened, which I was glad of 
 on his account as well as my own.- — Ah ! 
 what's that on the hill ? is that our old Urm- 
 hurst ? " 
 
 They had emerged from the woods, and 
 there stood the venerable mansion, dark, 
 solid, and square, against the sky, moored 
 between its mighty chimneys ; the many- 
 paned windows glanced blue, while the 
 dense oak-foliage of the porch wore a sul- 
 len crimson color. The projecting eaves 
 and gabled dormers cast their shadows 
 downward beneath the mid-day sun. Uncle 
 Golightley made a long pause. 
 
 " Where is your studio. Garth ? " he 
 asked. 
 
 " In the northeast corner of the garret." 
 
 " In the garret — the old garret ! Do you 
 know, I spent a good deal of my time in that 
 garret, when I was a boy. Pulling over 
 musty old papers; I don't suppose there 
 was a single document that I didn't exam- 
 ine." 
 
 "Did you expect to find some ancient 
 deed of land, or forgotten will ? " 
 
 " Ha I ha ! Well, I dare say I was ro- 
 mantic enough for that. Odd, if you and I 
 had both found our fortunes in that old gar- 
 ret — I with my documents, and you with 
 your canvases. Tell me. Garth, you have 
 good eyes, who is standing under the 
 porch?" 
 
 " That's our old cook, Nikomis." 
 
 " Nikomis ! an Indian name. Who is 
 she ? " 
 
 " No one knows much about her. She 
 has lived with us more than ten years. I 
 have taken her portrait ; she's a picturesque 
 old savage." 
 
 " How our forefathers would have stared 
 to hear that an Indian would one day be 
 
THE FIRESIDE. 
 
 93 
 
 domiciled at Urmhurst ! Does the old lady 
 know whose bones underlie that stone she's 
 standing on ? " 
 
 " She often looks grim enough to be the 
 incarnation of their revenge," said Garth, 
 smiling. " I'll christen my portrait ' Our 
 Fury ! ' " 
 
 A silvery-haired figure at this moment 
 turned the corner of the house, walking 
 slowly, with his hands behind him, and a 
 slight stoop in the shoulders. Golightley 
 caught Garth by the arm. " Can that be 
 Outhbert? " he exclaimed. " Good God! is 
 that white-headed old man Outhbert Urm- 
 son ? " 
 
 "Is he so old?" asked Garth, falter- 
 ingly. 
 
 "Good God!" repeated Golightley, 
 snatching off his tinted glasses, and thereby 
 revealing a peculiar cast in one of his eyes ; 
 " my poor brother Outhbert ! Garth . . . 
 what do you think he'll say to me ? " 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 THE FIUE8IDB. 
 
 At Urmhurst, that night, there was an 
 unusual scene. It had fallen suddenly cold 
 after sunset, and the mighty kitchen-hearth 
 had been cleared of the movable iron stove, 
 kept to facilitate cooking operations, and the 
 first great fire of the season had been kin- 
 dled upon it. The rude stump of a hemlock- 
 tree nearly six feet in girth, was brought in 
 by Garth on a wheelbarrow, and cunningly 
 built into place with a substructure and 
 abattis of smaller logs, dry branches, brush- 
 wood, and shavings, and the whole set go- 
 ing by a skillfully- applied match. With 
 much crackling and whispering the flames 
 fastened hastily to their work, climbing from 
 the smaller to the larger sticks with ever- 
 increasing power and relish, until the under- 
 side of the hemlock itself began to flush 
 red-hot from the multitudinous soft lapping 
 of the fiery tongues, which corroded while 
 seeming to caress. Anon came sharp, dry 
 detonations, and a bubbling and stewing of 
 sap from the ends of the huge stump ; the 
 
 welded smoke and flame hurtled upward, 
 and the spacious fireplace radiated such an 
 abundance of heat that only one or two of 
 the seven persons sitting round about could 
 endure to face it steadily. 
 
 But love of a noble fire is so deep and 
 universal in the human heart that it must 
 correspond to some essential Ijuman quality. 
 Tliere is no better company, for it talks to 
 each one in the language he loves best — 
 helps the wit to be brilliant, and the silent 
 man to hold his tongue with a good grace ; 
 is as fitting to a savage's cave as to an em- 
 peror's palace, and can never be in bad taste 
 or out of fashion. It roars, and frolics, and 
 devours, and tosses daringly aloft into the 
 blackness of the chimney, even as the vital 
 principle of existence flouts the lioUowness 
 of death. It humors our joy or sadness, but 
 creates neither, being mere life without heart 
 or soul ; perhaps it suits best with that pen- 
 sive mood which is often nearer to enjoy- 
 ment than enjoyment itself. 
 
 The Urmhurst fireplace, with its room- 
 like breadth and depth, must have been 
 large, even for the age in which it was 
 built. Standing within it, on a clear after- 
 noon, and looking upward through the shaft 
 of the chimney, stars could be discerned in 
 the oblong patch of sky above. There was 
 no mantel-piece, but, instead, a great hemi- 
 spherical canopy of stonework projected out- 
 ward, like a supplementary sort of roof; and 
 there was some ornamentation in the way 
 of old, smoke-darkened Dutch tiles, inlaid 
 here and there, and, within the recess, half 
 a dozen sooty iron hooks and festooned 
 chains recalled the primitive methods of 
 cookery. 
 
 The fireplace was built of brick, all but 
 the hearthstone, a roughly-hewed piece of 
 granite, its inequalities polished by the shuf- 
 fling feet of full seven generations of Urm- 
 hurst cooks. As for the kitchen itself, it was 
 large and lofty, and darksomely picturesque ; 
 wainscoted breast-high with black oak, and 
 traversed as to the ceiling by two gigantic 
 beams made out of irregularly-squared trunks 
 of oak-trees, gradually narrowing in breadth 
 from one end to the other. The half of the 
 floor adjoining the front window was raised 
 above the rest by a step some six inches in 
 
94 
 
 GAKTH. 
 
 height; and the long, massive table, whose 
 legs passed through the planking and de- 
 scended into the cellar like the masts of a 
 ship, was made with a corresponding joy 
 halt-way down its length. 
 
 Beyond the fireplace a narrow passage- 
 way led to the hack entrance of the kitchen, 
 passing the head of the cellar-stairs on the 
 right. The walls were diversified with shelves 
 of glistening crockery, and here and there a 
 closet-door. All these details, however, were 
 but indistinctly discernible in the gamboling 
 firelight, which, indeed, was less concerned 
 in giving these prominence than in causing 
 the seven shadows of those who sat so qui- 
 etly around the hearth to dance an extrav- 
 agant fandango — ^leaping from floor to ceil- 
 ing, bobbing and beckoning to one another 
 like grotesque goblins, and darting to and 
 fro with superhuman agility ; all this phan- 
 tasmagoric melee being accompanied by a 
 breathless stillness that rendered it oddly 
 impressive. 
 
 " Ah ! how it all comes back to me ! " said 
 one of the party at length ; " bless you ! I 
 used to make just such fires as that, when I 
 was a boy, on this very hearth. Delightful 
 — isn't it, Mildred? — this primitive flavor 
 about everything I I knew you'd enjoy it." 
 
 The )ady addressed had been leaning back 
 in her chair, posed in a stately, luxurious 
 attitude that seemed natural to one of lier 
 statuesque proportions. She laughed good- 
 naturedly, and answered, smoothing down 
 her black dress with one hand : 
 
 " Oh, we have fires and fireplaces like 
 this in Virginia, too : I dare say you know, 
 Mr. TJrmson ? This is splendid, though, I'm 
 sure, and I suppose the people here need 
 great fires more than we do, the winters are 
 so cold." 
 
 "But she never saw a hearthstone like 
 this in Virginia — did she, Outhbert? Come, 
 you're our historian, tell us about it ! It's a 
 component part of New Hampshire, isn't 
 it?" 
 
 " It goes down through the cellar, at all 
 events,'' said Mr. Urmson. ""When the 
 foundations of the house were digging, this 
 great bottomless rock seemed very much in 
 the way, and the faint-hearted ones, who 
 were terribly afraid of the ghost of the dead 
 
 Indian, wanted to abandon the site and go 
 elsewhere. But Captain Neil would not, 
 and by turning the plan of his house a little 
 more to the southward, he brought the top 
 of the rock into the kitchen fireplace. Then 
 he reduced it to the proper level by cutting 
 a thick slice off it, and so killed three birds 
 with one stone ; for there was a hearth 
 ready made, and as for the slice, it served 
 both as a tombstone to keep down the ghost, 
 and as a threshold for the house. But Mrs. 
 Tenterden will think she is living in a ghost- ■ 
 story if she hears any more Urmhurst legends 
 to-night," added he, looking at her with his 
 keen, grave smile. 
 
 " Oh, mercy ! " exclaimed Mrs Tenter- 
 den, more good-naturedly than ever, " I'm 
 sure I don't mind it at all." 
 
 " It was good enough to make a hearth- 
 stone of a piece of the solid earth," observed 
 a low, sober-toned young voice from Mr. 
 Urmson's right hand. 
 
 " I think so too," said he, turning tow- 
 ard her. "It's like a bond between the 
 heart of the house and the heart of Nature. 
 I like to believe that to the end of time this 
 savage old rook can never quite forget the 
 years it spent amid us, with our joys and 
 follies, and griefs and deaths. Here it will 
 stand when Urmhurst, and even this famous 
 Yankee nation of ours, has dissolved into 
 dust and vapor. But something human will 
 have melted into it, and that is better than 
 engraving inscriptions on obelisks for stran- 
 gers to be curious about five thousand years 
 hence." 
 
 "Now, Outhbert, lad, do you tell the 
 stories, and leave the preaching to me— haw, 
 haw ! — it's my business::— haw, haw, ho ! I 
 don't believe this good lady here, nor miss 
 there beside you, understands how a bit of 
 granite can remember folks, any better than I 
 do ! and I was ninety-five last birthday, ma'am, 
 so that needn't trouble you — eh ? ha, ha ! " 
 
 No one could resist the hoary geniality 
 of this gruff-spoken old colossus, who seemed 
 himself more ancient than the rocky womb 
 of the land that bore him. 
 
 Mrs. Tenterden laughed heartily, and 
 said, " Well, I suppose I am a pretty stupid 
 old woman about such things." Mr. TJrm- 
 son archttd his eyebrows. 
 
THE FIRESIDE. 
 
 95 
 
 " The parson," said he, " is even more 
 envious than stupid. I hope he may live to 
 outgrow it; and if Miss Golightley had not 
 made me forget myself by giving me a text, 
 I should not have provoked him." 
 
 "But tell me, Uncle Golightley," said 
 Madge, who sat between him and Garth, 
 " is it certainly true that the Indian is buried 
 under the threshold? Has nobody ever 
 looRed under it, to see ? " 
 
 "People who look under gravestones," 
 observed Garth, as his uncle did not imme- 
 diately reply, " are apt to find a curse buried 
 there, if nothing else." 
 
 Besides the seven persons whose shadows 
 were flickering about the fire-lighted kitchen, 
 there was an eighth present — a silent, self- 
 contained, stoical individual, wrapped in a 
 dark sliawl, and smoking a short cutty pipe. 
 It was old Nikomis,.the cook, who had sat 
 and smoked thus for the last ten years, and 
 who, it appeared, was not to be frightened 
 away by unusual company. She was so far 
 removed within the chimney corner that, 
 although the wrinkled coppery skin of her 
 broad grim face received the intensest glow 
 of the fire, no shadow was oast into the room 
 beyond. She sat with her arms folded, and 
 the pipe stuck in the corner of her mouth, 
 and from pipe and mouth alike jets of smoke 
 issued at stated intervals; but for this she 
 might have been a statue or a mummy, 
 so far as any sign of life was concerned. 
 Hithei'to she had neither taken part in the 
 conversation, nor even seemed to be aware 
 of it. But at Madge's idle question she 
 partly turned, and pushing aside with one 
 dark knotted talon the swath of grayish- 
 black hair which hung down beside her face, 
 fixed her narrow black eyes upon the fresh 
 and lovely girl. 
 
 Garth, sitting between, observed these 
 two women with an artist's eye for contrast. 
 While marveling at the breadth of a human 
 nature which could Include two such diverse 
 beings under one category, the fantastic no- 
 tion occurred to him, whether any imagina- 
 ble freak of destiny could ever cause their 
 several thoughts or desires to run for one 
 moment in the same channel. Madge, it was 
 true, had been known to entrap Nikomis 
 into something like conversation, and even 
 
 to effect an entry to the old Indian's wig- 
 wam in the garret, which was closed against 
 every one else. But this must have been 
 due rather to their intense dissimilarity, 
 mental and spiritual as well as physical, than 
 to any direct sympathy between them. The 
 notion went and came in a breath, and then 
 Garth made his rejoinder to Madge. Ni- 
 komis thereupon gave vent to a guttural 
 "Ughl " and, turning again to the fire, re- 
 sumed her impassive smoking as before. 
 
 "The old lady agrees with you. Garth," 
 remarked his father — for Nikomis's habit- 
 ual silence had for years brought her to be 
 spoken about in her own presence as if she 
 were deaf or out of the way — " I have al- 
 ways believed that the murdered warrior, 
 as well as the old original sachem, was an 
 ancestor of hers, and this confirms it." 
 
 "My good fathers! Mr. Urmson," cried 
 Mrs. Tenterden, with an accent of anxiety, 
 "what — why — ^I shouldn't think it would 
 be safe ! at least," she added, lowering her 
 voice behind her fan, " the Indians down in 
 Virginia are perfectly awful." 
 
 "Oh! Mildred," murmured Golightley, 
 letting his hand fall softly upon hers, "you 
 are simply the most delicious woman in the 
 world — isn't she, Outhbertf Oh, it'll be 
 charming to watch j'ou two." 
 
 "Nikomis stays here, Mrs. Tenterden," 
 said Outhbert, entirely unmoved, "because 
 the place belongs to her. I wish to atone 
 for the wrong my forefathers did hers. She 
 is a lady, and appreciates my motive ; and 
 even should justice require my scalp at her 
 hands, no personal feeling would be engen- 
 dered either on her part or mine." 
 
 The idea of Mr. Urmson being scalped 
 by his cook caused Mrs. Tenterden to fold 
 her statuesque arms with a shudder. 
 
 "But why do you think she is one of 
 those Indians instead of any other ? " she 
 asked. 
 
 "It saves so much trouble. If I be- 
 lieved she was some one else, how could I 
 believe I was repairing my ancestors' mis- 
 deeds ? " 
 
 The good-natured attempt which Mrs. 
 Tenterden made to catch the drift of this 
 remark put the scalping out of her mind; 
 and, before she could recur to it, Golightley 
 
96 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 had taken up the conversation at the point 
 where Garth had left it. 
 
 "By-the-by, Garth," he began aflfably, 
 "aren't you laying down the law rather 
 broadly as regards that matter of opening 
 graves? My notion was that an old tomb 
 was one of the likeliest of places for stum- 
 bling on some forgotten treasure iA." 
 
 " If there's a fortune under our doorstep, 
 it can't be meant for us," returned the young 
 man. " We should probably, stumble on 
 some proof of our never having had a claim 
 even to such fortune as we possess." 
 
 " Oh, then let us not look 1 " exclaimed 
 Madge, with a naisete that drew forth a 
 general smile. "Besides — there are the 
 ghosts. Are there any ghosts do you think. 
 Miss Elinor ? " 
 
 " It seems as if there might be to-night," 
 said Elinor, with a half-playful apprehen- 
 siveness of eyes and tone, and a slight ner- 
 vous shrugging of the shoulders. 
 
 " Ghosts ? to be sure there are 1 " af- 
 firmed Uncle Golightley. "I wonder, now, 
 whether I ever told any of you a ghostly 
 experience of my own, which happened to 
 me in this very house, when I was a mere 
 boy — thirty years ago? I don't believe I 
 ever did. Well, now, this is just the place 
 and time for a ghost story — let me see if I 
 can remember it! " 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 GOLIGHTLET'S DOUBLE 
 
 Theee was a general movement of atten- 
 tion, and Golightley began : 
 
 " Yes — I was between twelve and fifteen 
 years old then. Outhbert, you were away 
 in Europe at that time, and I vras living here 
 alone with the captain, and being about as 
 unhappy as I knew how to be, I suppose. 
 I was much in the garret, partly to be out 
 of the way, and partly because I enjoyed 
 rummaging over the old chests of papers — 
 It's curious, as I was remarking to you this 
 morning. Garth, what an attraction that 
 garret has had for our family one way or 
 another." 
 
 " I recollect I used to haunt it before you 
 
 were born," remarked Outhbert ; " but I 
 never saw the ghost." 
 
 " He appeared first to me," rejoined Go- 
 lightley, stroking his face ; " but there's no 
 reason, so far as I know, why he should not 
 appear hereafter to other people. Well, 
 one day — one day. Miss Margaret, with your 
 black eyes — I had staid in this garret until 
 near dusk, and was just going to shut up the 
 chest and depart, when my eye happened to 
 light upon a document folded in triangular 
 shape, which I couldn't remember having 
 seen before. It was a parchment, very worn 
 along the folds, and crumpled at the corners, 
 and discolored in several places, as if it were 
 either very old, or had been carried about a 
 great deal in somebody's pocket. I took it to 
 the window — for it was getting pretty dark, 
 you know — and found some half-erased writ- 
 ing on the back — I co.uld make nothing of 
 that, and said to myself, ' I'll look inside.' 
 But, on trying to open it, I found it was 
 carefully sealed along the edges with seven 
 wafers — four blue and three red ones. 
 
 " I was thinking whether or not it would 
 be wrong for me to open it, when all at once 
 I felt there was some one in the garret with 
 me ! I was scared for a minute : I was 
 standing with my face to the window, and 
 the idea of turning round was disagreeable, 
 I can tell you ! However, I had to turn at 
 last, and sure enough there was somebody 
 squatting down beside the chest of papers I 
 had just left. 
 
 " I looked at him, at first, only in sur- 
 prise. There was not much light to see him 
 by, and he had his back toward me, stiU I 
 fancied there was something familiar about 
 him. Gradually I noticed that he appeared 
 to be about my own age and size ; not only 
 that, but the clothes he wore were just like 
 those I had on. His hair — as nearly as I 
 could make out — was about as long as mine, 
 and curledin the same way. And, by Georgel 
 his way of pulling over the papers and hold- 
 ing them up to look at them, was so like my 
 own way, that I could hardly believe he was 
 not me I For all that, there was something 
 devilish about him, as if some *vil spirit was 
 amusing himself with mimicking me. After 
 I got over my surprise a little, I began to feel 
 — not frightened, exactly, but indignant I 
 
GOLIGHTLEY'S DOUBLE. 
 
 97 
 
 "I didn't move or say anything, but 
 stood watching him ; and, though it grew 
 darker, I saw him more clearly in the dark- 
 ness than in the light. He continued pull- 
 ing over the papers and peering into them, 
 until at last he brought out — what do you 
 think it was, Mildred ? " 
 
 " Golightley, don't I " exclaimed Mrs. 
 Tenterden, with one of her shudders. " I 
 declare it's awful ! " 
 
 "As soon as I saw it, I knew I had to 
 deal with nothing human; and another 
 thing — I became immediately conscious of 
 what was going on in my Boppelganger's 
 mind, or perhaps it would be more accurate 
 to say, I felt his mind as if it were my own, 
 and the thoughts he had seemed to be my 
 thoughts. Though I saw him, and knew 
 that I was something distinct from him, yet 
 I knew that I was possessed by him, in the 
 same sense that people used to be in the 
 witch-days. And though I felt, so far as I 
 had any feeling of my own left, that he was 
 hideous and repulsive to the last degree, 
 still I couldn't help sympathizing with him, 
 and looking at things from his point of view, 
 and agreeing, as it were, to everything he 
 proposed. But the worst of it was, that I 
 knew I was guilty of whatever wickedness 
 he might meditate : I must consent to his 
 crimes, and that was the same as to commit 
 them myself. He had power over me ! " 
 
 " Why didn't you down on your knees, 
 lad, and pray God to succor you?" boomed 
 the venerable parson, at this point. 
 
 " I didn't think of it, I suppose, until it 
 was too late. It was part of the ghost's in- 
 fernal cunning, you see, to imake me forget 
 everything except him and what he was do- 
 ing. Well, the thing he brought out was a 
 discolored old parchment, folded in triangu- 
 lar shape, and very much worn and crumpled 
 along the edges. He turned it over, and I 
 saw, looking through his eyes, that some- 
 thing had been written on the back, and 
 partly scratched out. Then I felt him think 
 — ' I'll open it ! ' and when he (or we) made 
 the attempt, we found it was sealed along 
 the edges with seven wafers — three red and 
 four blue." 
 
 " Why, it was something like the one 
 you found, wasn't it ? " murmured Mrs. Ten- 
 7 
 
 terden. " How strange there should be two 
 of them ! " 
 
 " A coincidence,'' remarked Outhbert, 
 " is often the strangest feature of adventures 
 of this kind. — Proceed, brother ! " 
 
 " The sight of those wafers," continued 
 Golightley, who was sitting erect, with his 
 elbows on the arma of his chair, and accent- 
 ing his narrative with the impact of one 
 long forefinger against the other — " the sight 
 of those seven wafers, so far from making 
 me hesitate about my right to break them 
 open, gave me (through the depraved heart 
 of the Doppelganger, you understand) a 
 thrill of delight, because here was some- 
 thing unlawful to be done. And yet, some- 
 how, it didn't seem wrong either, but a par- 
 ticularly pleasant kind of right. At all 
 events, when I saw him begin breaking the 
 seals open, I approved and rejoiced exceed- 
 ingly, and accepted the deed as my own. 
 We violated them one by one, and, when the 
 parchment lay open before us, we had a 
 complacent little chuckle together." 
 
 " The Lord be merciful unto you a sin- 
 ner ! " rumbled Parson Graeme, whose ven- 
 erable mind had lost the elasticity whereby 
 to distinguish the impress of a skiUfully-told 
 fiction from that of a true tale. Fortunately, 
 he was a Universalist, and had hopes even 
 for so depraved a soul as Uncle Golightley's. 
 
 " But tell me — what was in the parch- 
 ment?" demanded Madge, with a piquant 
 intrepidity that caused a corner of Outh- 
 bert's mouth to move slightly, and him to 
 turn a quiet glance on the questioner. 
 
 " What was in it, my dear child?" re- 
 turned Uncle Golightley, taking her hand 
 caressingly in his own ; " why, writing — 
 nothing but writing!" The body of the 
 writing was in an old-fashioned but easily- 
 legible hand ; but across the top of the page 
 was one sentence in a different character. 
 We read that first, and it gave us such an 
 appetite for what was to follow, as only a 
 warning to read no further could have done. 
 
 " However," said the story-teller, after 
 an interval of silent gazing at the fire, which, 
 refiected in his glasses, seemed to give his 
 eyes a red, demoniac glare — " however, I am 
 not going to tell you what was written in 
 that document — I promised my Doppelgan- 
 
98 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 ger I wouldn't, and it's a promise I haven't 
 the courage to break. Luckily, the story- 
 does not need that I should ; in fact, its pe- 
 culiar interest would be greatly impaired 
 were I to do so. It is enough to say that it ] 
 was a potent spell, and that its eflfeot was to 
 endow us (under certain penalties which I 
 can appreciate better now than I did then) 
 with a peculiar and irresistible power; a 
 power, too, that could be exercised invisi- 
 bly, and whose very existence would be un- 
 suspected by most people. Not only that, 
 but it was, in a certain sense, a perfectly 
 legitimate power; no one could have con- 
 demned me — us — for using it; no one, ex- 
 cept ourselves, could have divined the secret 
 sin that lurked within it; in fact, the sin 
 was nameless, intangible — so subtile that it 
 vanished altogether beneath a direct look, 
 or appeared only in the likeness of a virtue. 
 And to tell the truth," affirmed Uncle Gro- 
 lightley, leaning back in his chair with a 
 dry laugh — " to tell the truth, my good peo- 
 ple, I'm more than half inclined, td-night, 
 to think that there really was, so far as I 
 was concerned, more of right than wrong in 
 the matter, after all ! The devil had a finger 
 in the pie, I admit; but it's my opinion that 
 he simply played a practical joke on my 
 common-sense ; and that, if he had kept out 
 of the way and had left me to deal with that 
 seven-sealed affair alone, I should have come 
 off without singeing a hair. It was the 
 doubt — the damned, haunting, casuistical 
 doubt — ^that betrayed the cloven hoof ! That 
 Doppelgdnger of mine — he tries to persuade 
 me that he's the best friend I have ; and 
 most of the time I believe him, but some- 
 times — when I have a headache or an in- 
 fluenza, for instance — sometimes I don't I 
 
 " Well — ^but this is getting to be rather 
 a metaphysical ghost-story, isn't it. — Oome,' 
 wake up, Mildred, and hear the end of it. — 
 As for you, Outhbert, old boy, I see you re- 
 member my philosophic and analytic pre- 
 dilections of old. — ^Well, and so, my little 
 Margaret, the ghost and I read to the end of 
 our naughty parchment, and then we folded 
 it carefully up, and sat down to think what 
 we would do next. We didn't need the 
 parchment any more — that was pretty plain 
 to us — but neither would it do to destroy it, 
 
 or to let anybody else get hold of it. It 
 must be put away somewhere, where it 
 would remain both safe and secret. After 
 a few moments I felt it coming into the 
 ghost's mind where the hiding-place should 
 be ; and I agreed to it immediately, and we 
 had another quiet chuckle over our clever- 
 ness. I saw him put the papers back in the 
 box and shut the box up ; the triangular 
 parchment with the seven violated seals he 
 thrust into his bosom — I still seeming to be 
 the real doer of all he seemed to do. He 
 got up and stole away on tiptoe down the 
 I garret-stairs; it was then quite dark, but, 
 I as I said before, I could see him all the 
 I better for that, and I stole along with him. 
 I It was so dark that, when we came to the 
 first-floor and met Captain Brian on the 
 broad landing, he passed without seeming 
 to see us. Since then I have often won- 
 dered whether, had he seen us at all, he'd 
 have seen two of us or only one ? and which 
 one? 
 
 " Down we went to the kitchen — this 
 same old kitchen with the embers of a fire 
 upon the hearth. There was light enough 
 there to throw a shadow on the opposite 
 wall, but yet there didn't seem to be enough 
 to cast two ! One only could I see stealing 
 along beside me. Either the ghost itself 
 was the shadow — or else, in spite of its 
 overmastering reality to me, it had not ma- 
 terial stuff enough to intercept the dying 
 firelight. We went to the dresser— the 
 same one, I think, that stands beside the 
 wall there now— and laid hold of an old 
 pewter plate with a double bottom, used for 
 keeping buckwheats hot. We unscrewed 
 the false bottom, slipped the triangular 
 parchment inside the plate, and screwed it 
 up again. Then we took an old hatchet 
 from the corner where it hung and went 
 down the cellar-steps. 
 
 " It must have been pitch-dark, but I 
 saw ray pet cat sitting on the head of an 
 apple-barrel. She had always been fond of 
 me, after the selfish manner of cats ; but 
 now her back was up, her eyes glaring, and 
 her tail almost as big round as my arm. As 
 we came nearer, she gave the most hideous, 
 despairing, miserable yowl I ever heard, and 
 dashed past us up the stairs. It could not 
 
GOLIGHTLEY'S DOUBLE. 
 
 99 
 
 have been the sight of me that had thrown 
 her into such a fit, and I leave it to any one 
 familiar with ghost-stories lilce this to guess 
 wliat else it could have been. 
 
 " The cellar-door flew shut with a bang, 
 closing us in. I was ordinarily rather a 
 timid boy, I believe, and I remember won- 
 dering why I didn't feel frightened then, for 
 I was as bold as a lion. Probably it was 
 because I existed only in sympathy with the 
 ghost, and, of course, a dark cellar was the 
 most congenial sort of place for him. We 
 kept along and soon brought up against that 
 part of the wall which is just underneath 
 the front-door of the house. On the other 
 side of the wall, and beneath the threshold- 
 stone, lay the bones of the two legendary 
 Indians. The wall was of brick — the same 
 bricks that Neil Urmson had built up there 
 two centuries before. I saw the ghost take 
 the hatchet and begin loosening some of 
 these bricks and taking them out. I had 
 known he would do this ever since I felt the 
 purpose enter his mind up in the garret, and 
 now I approved again, and seemed to help. 
 In a short time there was a hole through the 
 wall, and a little cavity had been dug out be- 
 yond. It seemed to me that we had dug right 
 into the skeleton of the murdered Indian; 
 and when we had taken the old pewter plate 
 with its contents, and thrust it far into the 
 hole, I peeped in through the gliost's eyes, 
 and saw it lying in the mouldering cavity of 
 the ribs, just where the heart used to be! " 
 Here Mrs. Tenterden began to laugh 
 rather hysterically ; remarking brokenly 
 that it seemed such a funny thing for a 
 skeleton to have a pewter plate for a heart. 
 " Ay, see how a man is led on from one 
 thing to another ! " growled the ancient par- 
 son. " If he hadn't broken open the seals 
 and read the parchment in the first place, 
 he'd never have been tempted to make away 
 with his father's warming • dishes after- 
 ward ! " 
 
 " Well, I'm nearly at the end of my cata- 
 logue of crimes," returned Golightley, laugh- 
 ing affably, and not at all pnt out by the in- 
 terruption. "By George! I ought to feel 
 complimented — eh, Guthbert? — at the flavor 
 of reality I seem to have contrived to give 
 to this extempore little jm d'esprit. — Let 
 
 me see, where was I, my dear little Marga- 
 ret ? Oh, yes, we had got tine parchment 
 safe into the hole. Well, then we filled 
 the hole up, and replaced the bricks as they 
 were before. And then came the most dis- 
 agreeable part of the adventure to me. 
 
 " The ghost had hitherto kept his back 
 constantly turned toward me, and I had 
 never thought of his face — whether it re- 
 sembled mine or was different from it, or 
 how it was. I had only seen him from be- 
 hind, and had no more curiosity as to his 
 features than as to my own. But, when the 
 last brick had been settled in its proper po- 
 sition and there was no more work to do, the 
 ghost turned quietly about and stared at me I 
 
 " He certainly did resemble me very 
 closely, but it was a ghastly hkeness, brim- 
 ming over with infernal malice. It was a 
 face that copied mine throughout to a hair, 
 and yet, instead of being an innocent, boyish 
 face, it was a face that had lived in hell, and 
 was familiar with all its wickedness. And 
 another thing — wicked as it was from the 
 core outward, I could see nothing in it which 
 I could not imagine true of myself. We 
 wei'e essentially one, and among all the le- 
 gions of devils there was not one who could 
 have represented me as this one did. In him 
 I saw all my good turned to bad, and all my 
 bad made worse. He was a visible prophe- 
 cy of what I might at last become, and had 
 just taken the first step toward becoming. 
 You mustn't expect me to describe the face ; 
 but if any one of you, when you get to 
 heaven, grow tired of singing psalms and 
 thrumming on your harps — just look down 
 over the edge for a minute and call for me I 
 
 " Now, as I said, so long as the ghost 
 had kept his back toward me, and so con- 
 cealed the full blast of his deviltry, I had 
 been bold and jaunty enough ; but when he 
 confronted me eye to eye, and forced me to 
 realize what it was had supported me and 
 led me on, I began to sicken and tremble. 
 At the same time, though, I felt that what- 
 ever strength I had now depended on him, 
 and that, hideous as he was, I could rely on 
 no other support than his. I would have 
 given the best half of my life never to have 
 seen him at all, but, since that was past help- 
 ing, I was ready to give the other half to 
 
100 
 
 GAETH. 
 
 keep him with me forever thenceforth. But 
 the worst of that kind of friends is, they 
 are so apt to take leave of you on the wrong 
 side of the scrapes they get you into ; and I 
 knew, as soon as he turned about, that he 
 was going to desert me in that dark cellar. 
 The last moment, I remember, was an in- 
 describable whirl of all sorts of strange 
 sights and thoughts. I imagined this fellow 
 dogging my steps ever since I was born, 
 sometimes coming near enough to touch 
 me, sometimes dropping behind again, then 
 catching up once more, and, on this fatal 
 day, fairly getting the best of me. And that 
 was not all: I saw him cropping up at unex- 
 pected junctures throughout my future life, 
 always bearing the same devilish resemblance 
 to me, always, by means of the spell, help- 
 ing me to gain some advantage, fair in out- 
 ward seeming, but which in my own secret 
 heart I knew w!\s dastardly. 
 
 "So by degrees he vitiated my soul, 
 surely, yet so subtilely that even to myself 
 I would not admit my guilt. At last the 
 fifth act of the tragedy came ; the spell had 
 been used for the last time — it had succeeded, 
 as it always mast, but my time was drawing 
 near. In one of the concluding scenes I 
 made a sort of half-hearted effort to retrieve 
 myself, but it did not avail. Suddenly I 
 saw a body that I knew was mine, lying in 
 a familiar room, bleeding inwardly. Friends 
 were standing round it, and some enemies 
 were not far off; but, searching everywhere, 
 I could nowhere find the demon. For an 
 instant I felt a thrill of triumph, thinking 
 that after all I had escaped. Then the last 
 breath came, and the soul left the lifeless 
 corpse and paused for a moment beside it. 
 As it turned away to depart I saw its face, 
 and it was the face of the demon. — There, 
 my little Margaret, is not that a nice ghost- 
 story?" 
 
 CHAPTEE XXIX. 
 
 A KISS AT PAETING. 
 
 I NEVBE knew, brother," said Outhbert, 
 after no one had spoken for a time, " what 
 a dramatic genius you had. Upon my word, 
 
 I would not dare venture either into the gar- 
 ret or the cellar to-night." 
 
 "My good fathers!" ejaculated Mrs. 
 Tenterden, folding her arms with a shudder, 
 " I should think not, indeed ! " 
 
 " But that isn't all ! " exclaimed Madge ; 
 "how did you get out of the cellar? And 
 did you ever see the ghost again? " 
 
 Golightley laughed, and drew his hand 
 down over his face caressingly. "I see I 
 shall have to confess," said he, " or you'll all 
 be looking upon me as a hideous criminal, 
 taking this means to make a clean breast 
 of it, without getting compromised. — Why, 
 don't you recollect, Outhbert, that old vol- 
 ume of Italian romances, translated by a 
 certain John Reynolds about the time our 
 family left England, and brought over here, 
 I suppose, by old Captain Neil himself? 
 Well, I got the idea of my yarn from one of 
 those infernal old histories of his ; and, by 
 adding local tints here and there, I made it 
 into what you heard. Bless me ! I thought 
 some one of you would have found me out 
 before I was half through." 
 
 " If John Eeynolds could have told the 
 story as you told it," observed Garth, with 
 a long sigh, " we should have remembered 
 him even after two centuries. There's truth 
 in it, more or less, for everybody 1 " 
 
 " I don't like to think so," murmured 
 Elinor, with a slight frown and contraction 
 of the under eyelids. 
 
 "What! all a make-believe ? " grumbled 
 old Mr. Graeme, standing up and kicking a 
 shower of sparks out of the red-hot log with 
 his huge foot. "Humph! shouldn't make 
 believe about serious things like that, Go- 
 lightley, my lad. However, since it's over 
 and done, it's better to have it make-believe 
 than truth — no doubt about that, eh ? — haw, 
 haw, haw! — Nikomis, what do you think — 
 why, where is she? " 
 
 It was now observed for the first time 
 that Nikomis was no longer one of the circle. 
 On reflection, however, Garth thought he 
 romembered having seen her depart about 
 five minutes previous — shortly before the 
 close of the story, and Madge aifirmed that 
 she had gone oS in the direction of the back- 
 door. 
 
 " Tour metaphysics were too much for 
 
THE STUDIO. 
 
 101 
 
 her, brother,'' said Oathbert; "the next 
 time you tell the story, you must flavor it 
 with scalps and tomahawks, for her sake." 
 
 " I told it altogether too well ever to 
 venture on repeating it," returned Golight- 
 ley, laughing and turning away. " By 
 George ! I almost humbugged myself for the 
 time being." 
 
 " Nellie ! " said Mrs. Tenterden, who had 
 just crushed a yawn, "isn't it time our 
 wagon was here ? — I declare, Golightley," 
 she added, good-naturedly, " all this excite- 
 ment has made me dreadfully sleepy! " 
 
 Garth looked out of the window and re- 
 ported that the wagon was at the door. It 
 was thereupon arranged that Elinor and Mrs. 
 Tenterden should come the next afternoon 
 to visit the studio, while Madge, who was 
 sitting as a model to Garth in one of his pict- 
 ures, was to appear in the morning. Mean- 
 time, the minister, with ponderous gallantry, 
 stood ready to escort the three ladies home, 
 looking, in his vast cape -coat, like some 
 genial old mountain with snowy summit. 
 The ladies put on their shawls and hoods, 
 for it was colder than ever, and all the seven 
 friends came out upon the door-step, and 
 paused there a moment to see the wide val- 
 ley sleeping beneath the moon, and "Wabeno 
 watching over it like a shadow. 
 
 " Is this the threshold-stone you all were 
 talking about," inquired Mrs. Tenterden, 
 " that has the Indians under it ? " 
 
 " Yes," replied Cuthbert ; " and it is 
 here that the pewter buckwheat-plate re- 
 poses.'' 
 
 " Now, grandfather, if you'll put Mrs. 
 Tenterden into the wagon, I'll hold the 
 horse," said Garth. 
 
 " Uncle Golightley,'' said Madge, softly, 
 as they stood observing the parson's manoeu- 
 vres with his charge, " I can tell you where 
 Nikomis went." 
 
 " Can you, my dear ? " he responded, 
 laying his hand affectionately on her shoul- 
 der. " Well, where did Nikomis go ? " 
 
 "She went down -cellar," said Madge, 
 looking up in his face. 
 
 Uncle Golightley made no reply. 
 " She's a funny old creature," continued 
 ~ Madge, " but not half so stupid as she looks. 
 She used to be considered a sort of witch, I 
 
 believe, before she came here. I think I am 
 better acquainted with her than almost any 
 one, and she has told me some very curious 
 things. I think you would be interested in 
 her." 
 
 " AU in ? " called Garth, from the horse's 
 head. 
 
 " In a moment ! " cried Madge.—" Thank 
 you, Uncle Golightley 1 Good-night ! " She 
 gave his hand a little pressure, and whis- 
 pered in his ear : " I liked your story very 
 much ; but I shall make you tell me the rest 
 of it some time ! " ' 
 
 " AU right? " called Garth, again. 
 
 " Yes, yes ! " they all said. 
 
 As he came round to the side of the 
 wagon, Madge stooped down, and held out 
 her mouth for a kiss. He kissed her ; and 
 the wagon drove off before Uncle Golight- 
 ley could decide whether or not it were 
 incumbent on him to claim a salute likewise. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 THE STUDIO. 
 
 " Oh, my Garth," exclaimed Madge; "I 
 am SO tired ! " 
 
 "Best, then,'' he answered, lowering his 
 paint-brush and leaning back in his chair. 
 
 " I didn't mean in that way," rejoined she, 
 availing herself, nevertheless, of the permis- 
 sion, to stretch her arms and alter her posi- 
 tion. " I'm tired of seeing you sit there so 
 long moving a little brush up and down. 
 Tell me, do you love painting better than 
 you love me?" 
 
 Garth looked at her, with his chin upon 
 his breast, but made no reply. ' 
 
 The studio occupied the northeastern 
 corner of the attic, an area about six paces 
 square being divided off from the rest by 
 rough partitions. The naked beams and 
 boards of the angled roof, sloping steeply to 
 the floor on the north and east, gave a rude 
 vitality to the aspect of the room. The 
 brown bareness of the walls was partly 
 veiled by festoons of sombre or vivid dra- 
 pery, and partly by studies of human heads 
 or bits of lilndscape, tacked up here and 
 
102 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 there. An ottoman across one corner of 
 the room was covered with the hide of an 
 Indian tiger ; in the recess hehind, a cast of 
 the Venus of Milo was bound as to the tem- 
 ples with a blue-silk scarf, whose fringed 
 ends rested on her left shoulder. In the 
 opposite corner stood a suit of early seven- 
 teenth-century armor, reflecting in its pol- 
 ished surfaces, with an added depth of tone 
 and grotesquely distorted, the manifold 
 forms and colors of the surrounding objects. 
 Scores of canvases were stacked against the 
 walls, some with their brown backs turned 
 to the spectator, others revealing more or 
 less of their paiuted faces. An antique 
 bronze candelabrum depended from a hook 
 in the great beam traversing the angle of the 
 roof. A small iron stove was set up on the 
 hearth, and above the fire - board were 
 grouped some of the old pikes and battle- 
 axes which Captain Neil Urmson brought 
 with him from England, in 1647, together 
 with a couple of Eevolutionary muskets and 
 a pair of cutlasses, trophies of the late cap- 
 tain's warlike achievements. The studio' 
 was lighted through the roof, a section of 
 which to the north had been removed, and 
 its place supplied with coarse glass, across 
 which wired shades were made to slide back 
 and forth. In the shadow beneath this 
 window lurked a tall, mysterions mirror. 
 
 Of the pictures to be seen here, not the 
 least striking, perhaps, was the studio itself, 
 with the artist and his model posed in the 
 strong light and shadow. She, clad for the 
 occasion in an antique, long-waisted gown, 
 ruffles at her wrists and a quaint rufF stand- 
 ing out round the open neck, a heavy chain 
 falling from her shoulders to her waist, and 
 an aigrette of feathers in her pnflFed and 
 frizzed hair, was seated negligently in a high- 
 backed, oaken arm-chair, her crossed feet 
 outsla-etohed beyond the stiff hem of her 
 embroidered petticoat, and her right cheek 
 supported on her hand. Over against her 
 the. artist at his easel, again in his red boat- 
 ing-shirt, the sleeves turned up to the elbows 
 of his dark, muscular arms. Masses of deep 
 brown hair stood up all over his square- 
 built head ; while the white light from 
 above showed the depression in the centre 
 of his rugged forehead, and cast swarthy 
 
 shadows beneath the irregular level of hjs 
 shaggy brows, and brought sharply out the 
 strong curves of the under lip, and the cleft 
 in the chin. When he was seated, the mas- 
 siveness of the young man's chest and shoul- 
 ders, and the noble set of his head upon his 
 stalwart neck, gave promise of imposing 
 stature ; and it was an odd surprise, on his 
 standing up, to find that he was below mid- 
 dle height. 
 
 Madge, after a pause, during which she 
 twisted the links of her necklace between 
 the fingers of her left hand, spoke again. 
 Her tone was half plaintive, half wayward ; 
 but the girl was so thoroughly good-natured, 
 so prone to humorous mischief, and, above 
 all, so beautiful, that it was always diflicult 
 to forecast either her words or her acts. 
 The eye of analysis was dazzled by her 
 charms, while the subtile fluctuations of her 
 moods compelled it to be continually focus- 
 ing itself anew. 
 
 " Tou loved me better when you loved 
 me first," said she, "and you used to say 
 then that you hated painting — well, at least, 
 you said it was wicked, and you hate every- 
 thing wicked, you know. Now that you've 
 come to care for painting, you'll begin to 
 hate me ! " 
 
 " How am I changed, Madge? " 
 
 " Oh, don't I remember how you used to 
 blaze at me with your eyes sometimes, and 
 make me quiver all over ! You're always 
 quiet and grave and old, now ; and I'm get- 
 ting old, too ! But painting crawls so, that 
 a year seems no longer to you than a week 
 does to me." ' 
 
 " What a silly girl to be jealous of paint- 
 ing! Were you jealous of my mother? she 
 was my first "love. Sit here beside me," he 
 continued, in a more tender voice. " My 
 girl, other loves can only teach me how to 
 love you better." 
 
 Madge, having seated herself on a camp- 
 stool at her lover's side, had taken one of his 
 hands in her lap, and was stroking it lightly 
 with her finger-tips. 
 
 " You have the handsomest, strongest 
 hands that were ever seen," murmured she. 
 "You might do anything with such hands." 
 
 "I'll make you a fortune with them." 
 
 "Will you?" said she, glancing at him 
 
THE STUDIO. 
 
 103 
 
 sidelong. " Is that all you paint for — to 
 make me a fortune ? " 
 
 Garth hesitated, half smiling. 
 
 " Are you always thinking of me when 
 you paint ? " she went on, holding up her 
 finger. " No ; and I believe you often for- 
 get me even when you're doing my por- 
 trait ! " 
 
 "You're too near me to be seen or 
 thought of distinctly,'' returned he, redden- 
 ing a little ; " but you must be at the bot- 
 tom of all I think or do." 
 
 She nodded her head, and smiled to her- 
 self without looking up. " I'd like a for- 
 tune," said she, lightly ; " the biggest in the 
 world ; but I'd want some of the world with 
 it!" 
 
 Garth waited to hear more. 
 
 " I wouldn't paint pictures or write 
 books, or do any of that stay-at-home sort 
 of work, if I were a man! because, however 
 well I did them, it's they would be famous, 
 and not I my own self. Instead of sending 
 things off to make money for me, I'd go and 
 make money my own self, and have every- 
 body see me make it ; and I'd make it with 
 my own self, because I was so brave or 
 strong or beautiful or something ! If I were 
 a man, I'd be a famous soldier, and conquer 
 the whole world ; or a terrible robber ; or 
 at least a great minister or statesman, to 
 make everybody do and think what I pleased 
 — one day one thing, and another day the 
 opposite thing, if I chose it ! Yes, I would 
 Mr. Garth, if I were a man ! " 
 
 " Humph ! " ejaculated the artist, clutch- 
 ing at his back-hair, with a smile ; " better 
 be a prize-fighter or an acrobat.'' 
 
 " I'm only a woman, you know," con- 
 tinued Madge, demurely, though with a 
 peculiar glance into her lover's face. " But 
 even women can do something besides stay 
 at home and spend money, if they have it ; 
 and, if not, grow old and be poor both. I 
 can't sing and play on the violin like Miss 
 Golightley : but I could be an actress, and 
 have all the men in the world in love with 
 me. I'm not afraid of them, and I'm beau- 
 tiful enough : and I know how to make my- 
 self seem even more beautiful than I am. 
 What do you think of that, Mr. Garth ? " 
 she demanded, with a sudden soft laugh that 
 
 prevented him from knowing exactly what 
 to think. He gazed at Iier, but, though she 
 met his gaze, he could not penetrate the 
 laughter-sparkles dancing in her long, black 
 eyes. 
 
 " What put that in your head ? " he 
 asked at length. 
 
 " It isn't in my head, it's I ! " returned 
 she, laughing still. " Do you remember 
 that night when you canoed the rapids? 
 Well, if you hadn't done it, sir, I'd have dis- 
 appeared that same night, nobody knows 
 where." 
 
 " I didn't tell you about it till next day," 
 said Garth, shaking his head. 
 
 " Oh, I'm a witch ! didn't you know ? 
 Nikomis taught me. I was flying over the 
 tops of the trees, on my way to a witches' 
 meeting on Wabeno, when I saw you shoot- 
 ing the lower fall; so I alighted on the 
 pine-knoE, and left the other witch who 
 was with me to go on by himself. He was 
 angry, but I told him that a man who was 
 brave and skillful enough to run those rapids 
 was better than a witch who could fly about 
 on a broomstick. Since then, every once in 
 a while, he's sent me invitations to attend 
 witch-meetings all over the world ; and sev- 
 eral times, Mr. Garth, I almost went; for 
 you haven't done any brave, splendid things 
 for ever so long ; and you were away from 
 me in Europe for years and years. TeU m«, 
 did you think I'd rather stay here than travel 
 about with you ? Would you have been 
 astonished if you'd met me in London, or 
 Vienna, or i Paris, or some of those nice 
 places, leaning on the witch's arm? Well, I 
 think it was very good in me to resist his 
 temptation, and wait for you to come back. 
 But now you only sit and paint, as if people 
 lived forever, and Urmhurst was the best 
 place to live in. I wish I were a man ! " 
 
 Garth turned in his chair and took both 
 her hands in both his, with a gentleness 
 which was at times peculiar to him, and 
 more impressive than any ordinary vehe- 
 mence. 
 
 "My dear girl! my dear little girl," he 
 repeated in a low, inward voice, such as the 
 listener seems rather to feel than to hear. 
 In a few moments he rose abruptly, and be- 
 gan to pace up and down the studio slowly, 
 
lOi 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 his hands clasped hehind his head. " I've 
 done you wrong, Madge ; but poyerty is the 
 trouble — we live from hand to mouth. 
 Would you have married me any time in the 
 last six years ? " 
 
 " Listen, my Garth," returned she, spring- 
 ing up to walk beside him, folding her hands 
 round his arm and speaking close to his ear. 
 ' " I would have married you the day you left 
 college. You should have asked me, sir ! 
 \ Then we would have been rich and famous 
 before now." 
 
 " It takes as long for a married painter 
 to make a reputation as for an unmarried 
 one ; and meanwhile — " 
 
 "Oh, always this painting!" cried she, 
 stamping her foot. " Garth, you are asleep ; 
 ever since you've had an easel and palette 
 you have been asleep. Be all warm, and 
 awake, and fierce, and splendid ! Make me 
 afraid of you a little, please, dear ! Yes, I 
 am jealous of painting ; I want you to love 
 me — me, more than anything in the world 1 
 Do you?" 
 
 "Yes," said Garth, pausing in his walk 
 and looking at her. 
 
 She put her quick arms round his neck 
 with a little exulting cry, and they kissed 
 each other. 
 
 " If you had married me when you left col- 
 lege," resumed Madge, softly, looking down 
 at the dainty pointing of her toes as they 
 walked on, "it wouldn't have been by 
 painting that we should have made our for- 
 tune. Ah! you don't know what I can do, 
 even if I wasn't a witch. You don't know 
 me, dear, though you love me better than 
 anything in the world. But if you'd mar- 
 ried me, you naughty boy, you would have 
 found me out long ago — and found yourself 
 out too." 
 
 "Do you know what you are talking 
 about? " exclaimed Garth, half laughing, but 
 with a hint of passion in his tone. 
 
 " Look there ! " said Madge. She pointed 
 to the dark corner where the mirror stood, 
 now reflecting the faces and figures of her 
 lover and herself. " Are not those two 
 people handsome and well-matched — eh? 
 and they have brains, which is more impor- 
 tant. The man looks his brains : you might 
 think the woman only beautiful, but I 
 
 shouldn't wonder if she had as much sense 
 as the man ; at least, she can use what she 
 has more easily. I believe those twq people 
 could do anything they pleased : only, they 
 must always please to do the same thing. 
 They could do or be anything — a king and 
 queen, if they chose. I wish the man was 
 taller: however, his face makes him seem 
 taller tlian other men's bodies make them 
 look. He and his wife are just of a height 
 .... oh, she isn't his wife, is she ? " 
 
 This latter turn was so demurely given, 
 that for an instant Garth missed the point 
 of it, and for the next instant doubted 
 whether Madge saw it herself. But there 
 was a sparkle in the corner of her eye to 
 rebuke his slow wits. There could certainly 
 he no -question as to her intelligence ; and 
 some of its manifestations made Garth, in 
 spite of his years in Europe, half believe 
 himself her inferior in worldly wisdom. She 
 was self-possessed to a degree extraordinary 
 in a village maiden, unless her own theory 
 as to witchcraft were to be accepted. 
 
 He paused a while before speaking. It 
 was hard to be self-contained under the 
 influence of this young woman. She made 
 darkness seem light, and the impossible easy, 
 and, witch or not, she was bewitching. 
 
 " What do you want ? " he demanded at 
 length. " If I'm not a painter, I'm noth- 
 ing ! " 
 
 "You don't know what you are. You 
 are a man; I love men, and the best man 
 best ; and I've never seen a better man than 
 you. Most good men are fools, and most 
 bad men are cunning ; but you are not cun- 
 ning, and you're not a fool ; you are good, 
 and yet you have all the strength that bad 
 men have.'' 
 
 " Madge, if Sam Kineo had beaten me in 
 that fight of ours, would you have loved 
 him instead of me ? " 
 
 She looked sidelong at him, and gave his 
 arm a soft pressure, but the next moment 
 said, waywardly : " Why not, sir, if he'd 
 beaten you fair, and been in the right? He 
 told a falsehood about me, to be sure ; but 
 if he'd made it good against you . . . there's 
 no telling, it might have turned out true." 
 
 " Is strength all you care for, then ? " 
 
 " What is better worth a man's having, 
 
THE STUDIO. 
 
 105 
 
 I'd like to know ? women don't fall in love 
 with weak failures. You cannot use your 
 strength in painting." 
 
 The artist stopped in front of his easel, 
 and gazed frowningly at the picture. 
 Madge, her cheek resting on his shoulder, 
 emhraoed his relaxed arm and hand. Her 
 eyes were toward the picture, but she was 
 watching her lover, and feeling his pulse ; 
 being still, perhaps, a little afraid of him. 
 
 " My best does that," he said at length, 
 nodding at the canvas ; " and so the highest 
 part of me doesn't satisfy you." 
 
 " No part of you satisfies rae : I want 
 the whole 1 Men must have bodies to their 
 heads. Painters aren't manly enough for 
 you to be one. You should do things, not 
 sit down and imitate them." 
 
 " Great painters are great men ; you 
 don't know what you're saying, Madge. The 
 ' whole ' means evil as well as good : my art 
 has helped to keep my evil down." 
 
 " Why do you call it evil ? strength and 
 power are not evil, my Garth. I believe a 
 great deal is lost from the fear we have of 
 being called bad, by weak people and fools. 
 Let them call us what they like, so we get 
 the better of them." 
 
 " Hush, my darling ! You never talked 
 like this before. I shall begin to believe all 
 you said about witches and robbers." 
 
 Madge relinquished his arm, and walking 
 listlessly to the model's chair sat down in it. 
 " Well, paint me, sir," said she ; " you love 
 my picture better than me. But it can 
 never be to you what I would be, and you 
 can never be to it what you might have 
 been to me." 
 
 " Heaven and earth ! " burst forth Garth 
 in a sudden blaze, " what would you have 
 me do?" 
 
 The woman's eyes filled with tears, and 
 she hid her face in her hands. " I only 
 want you to love me 1 " quavered she. 
 
 " Love you ! Would it be loving you to 
 give up painting ? Oh, I've had my tempta- 
 tions I without knowing it, you have some- 
 times been my tempter. Asleep? but I'm 
 doing my best : dou't wake me in that way I 
 But it's hard and dull for you . . . but, 
 Madge — " 
 
 Although Madge had hidden her face. 
 
 and filled her eyes with tears that Were at 
 least half honest, she had not closed her 
 eyelids ; for Garth, while thus passionately 
 delivering himself, was worth looking at — 
 with hot face and flashing eyes, and hands 
 now clinched, now thrown open, as was his 
 way in vehement moments. But with the 
 utterance of her name his fierceness melted, 
 and his voice was charged with the mascu- 
 line tenderness which, however self-pos- 
 sessed, she could never hear without a quick- 
 ened heart-beat. He came near, and drew 
 her hands from her face, dropping to his 
 knee beside her chair. 
 
 " Madge, I'll confess : I thought yon 
 tired of me. We were too long apart, and 
 misunderstood each other. I've not done 
 all I might with painting — not tried to 
 make money from it, as if I'd been sure of 
 you. I got bound up in my pictures, and 
 stingy of them. But now, I'll sell every- 
 thing ; I'll paint to sell, and to be famous. 
 It's a grand profession, more than I can do 
 justice to; I musn't give it up. But no 
 more dullness and slowness, my girl. Come, 
 we'll finish this picture, and then wait no 
 longer. Marry me, dear : be my wife. You 
 shall see the world, and be happy your own 
 way — every one at your feet. Oome, I trust 
 you — trust me ! " 
 
 She leaned back luxurious, with half- 
 closed eyes and parted lips. This was some- 
 thing like a wooing 1 Truly, when Garth 
 was in this vein almost might a statue have 
 throbbed responsive ; and Madge, despite 
 her clear head and firm fibre, was exquisite- 
 ly sensible to the luxury of love : possibly, 
 indeed, her appreciation outdid any man's 
 power of ministering to it single-handed. 
 Be that as it may, she was soothed and 
 pleasured now, and had the wisdom not to 
 let her present failure to enforce her will 
 regarding her lover's profession distress her. 
 SuflBoe it that, after long apathy, she had 
 kindled anew in him some of that passionate 
 fire which she had almost feared was quite 
 extinct. Yes, he could still be splendidly 
 impetuous, atiU bring agreeable fiutterings 
 to her heart, and stimulate blood to her 
 cheeks and tears to her eyes. Ho was lov- 
 able still ; a hero not likely to be given up, 
 painter or no. And though, in his strong 
 
106 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 moods; he swayed her judgment and mag- 
 netized her will, she was nevertheless self- 
 conscious of a subtiler, more persistent 
 power, likely in the end to get the odds in 
 her favor. 
 
 " How can I help trusting you, when 
 you're so kind to me ? " murmured she with 
 a happy sigh. " I must wait till you're cross 
 again hefore knowing what to do." Pres- 
 sently she looked and leaned toward him, and 
 said with curious earnestness: "Garth, tell 
 me, you are really more than other men? 
 I've thought a great deal, but I've seen very 
 little. You never met any one, in Europe 
 or anywhere, that you were afraid of? but 
 no, no ! " she added quickly, putting her 
 hand over his mouth, " don't answer me — 
 never answer me when I ask such silly ques- 
 tions : I don't want to hear, and you don't 
 know what I mean either. Let us be happy, 
 and think of nothing. There ! now go and 
 paint me : I won't be tired again." 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 THE PICTUEE. 
 
 The sitting was accordingly resumed, 
 Garth working at first mechanically, but 
 gradually increasing in fervor, till be began 
 to emit the occasional long sighs which de- 
 noted profound absorption. " I wish your 
 lodgers weren't coming to-day," he mut- 
 tered, at length, " I might finish this head." 
 
 " If I'd been Miss Golightley, I'd never 
 have left Europe," aflSrmed the model. " I'd 
 have gone on the stage with my violin, and 
 made a bigger fortune than Mrs. Tenterden 
 lost." 
 
 " You're not cold-blooded and ilase, but 
 beautiful and energetic," rephed Garth, with 
 rather less than his customary impartiality. 
 " How do they get on at your house ? " 
 
 " They don't know how to be poor at 
 all," said Madge, laughing ; " but they are 
 very pleasant. I hope they'll find who stole 
 their money. Mrs. Tenterden said a detec- 
 tive was after it — not a regular detective, 
 but some one who had been acquainted with 
 them before ; a Mr. Selwyn — the same name 
 as your friend." 
 
 " Ha ! " muttered Garth, to himself ; 
 " what if it should be Jack 1 it would be 
 like him to turn detective for a while — and 
 be a good one, too." 
 
 " Your uncle Golightley knows nothing 
 about the detective," Madge remarked, after 
 a short silence. " He doesn't believe in de- 
 tectives, Mrs. Tenterden said, and told her 
 it would be no use employing one. But 
 this Selwyn offered himself in a friendly 
 sort of way, and Mrs. Tenterden consented 
 without telling your uncle, because, she 
 says, he's been so kind and helpful that he 
 would feel hurt if anything were done 
 against his advice." 
 
 " I should think Mrs. Tenterden was in 
 the right," said Garth. " Turn more to the 
 left, and look at the battle-axe over the fire- 
 place." 
 
 " Your uncle is very rich now, isn't 
 he?" 
 
 " I know nothing about it ; he didn't 
 appear to be two years ago." 
 
 " If he is, do you think he'll give you 
 back any of the money your father has been 
 sending him ? " 
 
 " He might make the offer," said the 
 artist, with a smile. "But, you know, 
 there's a mystery about that which nobody 
 understands, except, pei-haps. Uncle Go- 
 lightley himself." 
 
 " He is rather mysterious," she respond- 
 ed, meditatively. " What a strange story he 
 told us last night ! " 
 
 •'Father says he was a morbidly imagi- 
 native boy." 
 
 " Such vivid imagination seems like re- 
 ality to me. What do you suppose was in 
 that paper that he hid in the cellar ? " 
 
 "You're turning to the right again," 
 said the artist, shaking his head. 
 
 " Do you think it could have had any 
 connection with the mystery about the 
 money ? " persisted the model, who seemed 
 mischievously determined to prove her lov- 
 er's patience to the utmost. " Let me tell 
 you, sir," she continued, as he pursued his 
 work in silence, " that you have no head for 
 afiairs. You would let yourself be robbed 
 as easily as poor Mrs. Tenterden. And if 
 ever something happens that you pretend 
 you wish should happen, Mr. Garth, it must 
 
THE PICTUEE. 
 
 107 
 
 be oa condition that every bit of the busi- 
 ness be left to me ! do you hear ? " 
 
 " God bless your clever little heart! you 
 shall do your worst with me and with ev- 
 erything belonging to me," exclaimed he, 
 laying down his palette and brushes, and 
 clasping his hands behind his head, with 
 a smile. " Only you must promise to let 
 me paint you at least once a year withoijt 
 asking me a single question about the con- 
 nection between bank-accounts and ghost- 
 stories. There they come ! " 
 
 In fact, there was a multitudinous tramp 
 upon the attic-stairs, and the indistinct mur- 
 mur of voices ; then three authoritative raps 
 on the door. 
 
 " Oome in," said Garth, throwing on his 
 coat and passing his hands through his hair. 
 In stepped, accordingly, first Mrs. Tenterden 
 in black, somewhat out of breath, but smil- 
 ing and greeting the artist with perfect 
 good-nature ; then Miss Golightley, in gray 
 touched up with scarte't, coldly civil and un- 
 demonstrative ; close behind her, Uncle Go- 
 lightley, striding magniiioent in a purple-Vel- 
 vet smoking-jacket, with his head in the air; 
 and, finally, Mr. Urmson, senior, in a long 
 dark-brown dressing-gown, bound round the 
 waist with a cord, giving him the appear- 
 ance of an ascetic and reverend monk. 
 
 " So different from the studios abroad, 
 Nellie," remarked Mrs. Tenterden, in an 
 undertone. "I should think it would be 
 better on the etage below." 
 
 " Ah — ah ! Garth," exclaimed Uncle Go- 
 lightley, coming forward and expanding 
 himself, "so this is your workshop — ah! 
 and this is the model. — Good-morning, Mis- 
 tress Margaret ; weU, you're enough to make 
 a house-painter turn Kaphael." He laid his 
 white hands tenderly on the young girl's 
 shoiilders, and was about to bestow upon 
 her an avuncular salute ; but she, with per- 
 haps an excess of maidenly reserve, evaded 
 it at the critical moment by stooping sud- 
 denly to pick up one of Garth's paint-brushes. 
 " Well, well," laughed Uncle Golightley, re- 
 covering himself, " you're bent on breaking 
 my heart, I see that. — But let's have a look 
 at this work of yours. Garth. Outhbert 
 tells me that you are painting the familj^ 
 history, as he is writing it H'm ! ... yes 
 
 .... by George ! . . . . h'm ! " with these 
 words, and holding his hands arched over 
 his eye-glasses, the child of {esthetic culture ■ 
 settled himself in front of the canvas ; the 
 rest of the company (with the exception of 
 Garth, who stood behind the easel, with his 
 eyes on Miss Golightley), grouping them- 
 selves on either side of him. 
 
 The picture represented five figures re- 
 lieved against a depth of sombre background. 
 The central personage was a man of grim 
 aspect, whose dark frown strangely con- 
 trasted with the grin which twisted his lips 
 from his clinched teeth. From a deep gash 
 in his chin the dripping blood spattered on 
 his steel gorget, and trickled over his pol- 
 ished breastplate. The chief light in the 
 picture was created by the smoky flash of a 
 pistol, leveled by him against a cavalier in 
 the foreground, whose form showed black 
 against the glare. The latter had just re- 
 ceived the bullet ; a battle-axe was slipping 
 from his grasp, and he was on the point of 
 falling heavily on his face. A soldier in 
 a bufi' jerkin had started forward, and 
 grasped him by the arm and shoulder. 
 
 Of the two remaining figures, one was a 
 young woman, nobly formed, who clung to 
 him of the pistol, while her eyes fastened on 
 the cavalier in a stare of terror and anguish. 
 Her left hand, lying across her bridegroom's 
 breast, was red with the blood from his 
 wound, which had likewise sullied the purity 
 of her golden wedding-ring. This ring, judg- 
 ing from the presence of the minister, whose 
 colossal outline loomed in the background, 
 had but the moment before been fitted to its 
 place. Into the midst of the bridal-party, 
 murder had thrust its ghastly visage, illumin- 
 ing every face of the group with an infernal 
 gleam, and writhing their features into some 
 likeness to itself. Here was depicted the fatal 
 consummation of a sinful history — a consum- 
 mation which might well be the starting- 
 point of a yet gloomier history of retribu- 
 tion and remorse. 
 
 " Oh, what a dreadful picture for any- 
 body to paint ! " exclaimed kind - hearted 
 Mrs. Tenterden, with a gesture of aversion. 
 
 " I hope it may not rekindle ancestral 
 heart-burnings," said Mr. Urmson, who was 
 standing at her side. " It's a scene from our 
 
108 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 family history, you know, in 1646. He in 
 the black coat is Sir Reginald Golightley, 
 and the black-browed gentleman who has 
 just pistoled him is his ex-bosom friend, 
 Captain Neil Urmson." 
 
 " What a shocking thing 1 Why did he 
 do it? " 
 
 '' Ah, I know the story — I know " the 
 story ! " murmured Uncle Golightley in an 
 absent manner, still spying at the picture 
 beneath his arched hands. — " But go on, 
 Outhbert — you're the historian — you can 
 give it more effect than I could, I dare say. — 
 Really, Garth, this is very good indeed ! — By 
 George, you surprise me I Figures in the 
 foreground stiU unfinished ; but — h'm ! " 
 
 Outhbert went on to inform Mrs. Tenter- 
 den of the main points of the story, and ex- 
 plained to her how Sir Reginald had got be- 
 side himself with fury at being compelled to 
 witness the marriage of Lady Eleanor to his 
 rival. 
 
 "I should think he would! " cried Mrs. 
 Tenterden, indignantly. "If I ever heard 
 of such an outrageous flirt, to worry the poor 
 man so ! I declare, she was as bad as any 
 of them — worse ! " 
 
 "I hope,'' said Outhbert, quietly, "that 
 she knew nothing of the plot against your 
 ancestor until she saw it consummated. It 
 came very near having a different upshot 
 from what Captain Urmson had intended; 
 and, for my own part, I must confess that I 
 have sometimes wished Sir Reginald had 
 fairly succeeded in splitting his old friend's 
 head open ; it would have saved the Urmson 
 descendants all the trouble in the world ! " 
 
 Mrs. Tenterden had perhaps been on the 
 verge of uttering a similar wish ; but find- 
 ing herself half disarmed by this forestall- 
 ment, she was content to remark, with gentle 
 gravity, "But there wouldn't have been 
 any descendants in that case, Mr. Urmson, 
 would there ? " 
 
 " O Mildred ! " murmured Uncle Go- 
 lightley, in a sort of dreamy rapture, " you 
 are delicious — delicious ! " 
 
 "Ton are right, Mrs. Tenterden — the 
 captain had no brothers,'' said Outhbert, 
 with his usual presence of mind. "But 
 that is all the story, so far as they were con- 
 cerned." 
 
 " But not the whole story ! " added Go- 
 lightley, with a melancholy shake of the 
 head. " Ah, no — that isn't ended even 
 yet ! " 
 
 " Dear me, what dreadful creatures they 
 were in those days ! " sighed Mrs. Tenterden, 
 as she turned away. She walked to the 
 sofa, and sat down with evident satisfaction ; 
 apd, Madge taking a seat beside her, the two 
 entered into a friendly conversation. The 
 elderly lady had taken a great fancy to the 
 ingenuous village beauty, and had already 
 been moved to make her a confidante in 
 many matters whereon speech was perhaps 
 more pleasant than politic. But Madge, in 
 spite of her ingenuousness, had about her an 
 air of security and good sense which in- 
 spired trust ; and,' as a matter of fact, she 
 had kept more than one secret in her life 
 with such inviolability as might have jus- 
 tified even more confidence than she re- 
 ceived. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 A OUSTOMEE. 
 
 ELnroK GoLisHTLET, all this time, had 
 been standing without words, and almost 
 without motion from the first, gazing at the 
 picture ; and the artist had the pleasure of 
 seeing the very essence of the tragedy which 
 he had portrayed reflected in her face. It 
 was a face remarkably susceptible of tragic 
 expression, and withal possessed of a subtile 
 mobility which rendered it especially avail- 
 able for artistic purposes. By-and-by, Miss 
 Golightley moved away, and, without taking 
 any notice either of the painter or the rest 
 of the company, began to pace slowly, with 
 her arms folded, up and down the little studio. 
 
 Garth came out from behind the easel, 
 and apparently became absorbed in the pict- 
 ure himself. Something in it no longer 
 pleased him. He glanced frowningly from 
 the canvas to Miss Golightley, and from her 
 to Madge, and then back again to the picture. 
 His preoccupation was finally invaded by 
 his uncle, who laid an affectionate arm across 
 his shoulders, and asked him what he meant 
 to do with those two figures in the fore- 
 ground. 
 
A CUSTOMER. 
 
 109 
 
 " That fellow in the hnfE coat — who is he 
 to he ? Yon must have him a portrait, you 
 know, as well as the rest. It's well, my 
 dear nephew, to observe the laws of har- 
 mony even when a departure from them 
 would escape critical detection. That's a 
 great secret of power ! Now, here we have 
 Parson Graeme — an excellent likeness, too, 
 though how you persuaded that jolly old 
 phiz of Ms to put on the necessary expres- 
 sion of alarm and horror, is beyond me ', 
 Then, there's yourself — very powerful that ; 
 and, by George, not a bit flattered either ! 
 ha, ha! And there's your Miss Margaret," 
 added Uncle Golightley, lowering his voice ; 
 " but she's the jewel of the picture — puts all 
 the rest of you out of countenance. Garth, 
 that face ought to make your fortune, if you 
 painted nothing else all your life. H'm ! — 
 what was I saying ? " 
 
 " I mean to make the others portraits," 
 said Garth. " The soldier shall be Jack Sel- 
 wyn, a descendant of the Selwyn who came 
 with Captain Neil from England, and left 
 him because of their quarrel about the right 
 to disturb the old sachem's grave. Most 
 likely he was really present at this scene." 
 
 " There was a young fellow of that name 
 whom we met abroad. I couldn't quite 
 make him out. Reckless, devil-may-care 
 chap — seemed to have brains, too ; but devil- 
 ish independent and inquisitive. However, 
 what are you going to make of the cava- 
 lier?" 
 
 " I don't know ; but, since his back is 
 toward us, it doesn't much matter." 
 
 " Besides," said Cuthbert, " he evidently 
 cannot live long, whoever he is." 
 
 " Look here," said Uncle Golightley, 
 drawing himself up and caressing his cheeks, 
 " what do you say to putting in a likeness 
 of me? By just turning the head a little 
 more to the right, you'd show the profile ; 
 and, for all you know, I have every bit as 
 good a profile as Reginald had." 
 
 The artist looked hard at him for a few 
 moments. 
 
 " Out off your whiskers," said he, " and 
 you'd have a good cavalier's face ; " and, af- 
 ter a pause, he added, " you'll do very well." 
 
 "You are very modest," remarked Cuth- 
 bert, " to desire to stand in the shoes of a 
 
 jilted lover — with a bullet through him into 
 the bargain." 
 
 " Ah, you mustn't judge too much by ap- 
 pearances," returned Golightley, with a lan- 
 guid smile. "Now, if you observe that 
 young woman's face closely, don't you see 
 that she appears to care quite as much for 
 poor Reginald as she does for that black- 
 haired savage with a bloody chin? By God, 
 Garth ! that gold ring and the bullet are in 
 the way, to be sure, but, give her a fair show, 
 and I believe she'd choose the other man, 
 after all." 
 
 "If these portraits are going to rake up 
 all the dead and buried jealousies of the 
 family, I advise Garth to take all his faces 
 from his imagination," said Outhbeii, arch- 
 ing his eyebrow ; and with this caution he 
 walked away, and, joining Miss Elinor, began 
 to discuss with her the pictures and sketches 
 which were dispersed about the studio. 
 
 " Uncle Golightley," said Garth, "I think 
 that face of Eleanor's spoils the picture." 
 
 His uncle, who had again become ab- 
 sorbed in admiring contemplation of this 
 very face, absolutely started. " My dear 
 nephew, you evidently have painted better 
 than you know." 
 
 " Madge was not the right model for it," 
 continued Garth. " Her face is too beauti- 
 ful, and has no tragedy in it. You were 
 talking about the law of harmony — don't 
 you see that face can never harmonize with 
 the tone of the picture ? " 
 
 "Now, Garth," said his uncle, putting 
 his arm through that of the young artist as 
 they stood together, and beginning in a tone 
 of good-natured amusement, " just listen to 
 me for a moment. I'm an older man than 
 you, and I know by heart all the good pict- 
 ures that ever were painted. I tell you 
 frankly, between you and me, that what you 
 have done there is, in some respects, as good 
 as any man ever did. It has power, it has 
 truth, it has originality — that's a great point 
 — it has something in it that nobody else 
 could have put there — something inimitable 
 and indescribable — you nnderstand what I 
 mean. And I tell you frankly, that that face 
 of Madge's, or Eleanpr's if you will, is worth 
 all the rest of the work (good as it is) put 
 together. Now, don't touch it," he went 
 
110 
 
 GAETH. 
 
 on, emphasizing his appeal with his long 
 forefinger ; " my dear boy, don't touch it. 
 As for harmony, beanty is harmony ; it is, 
 as Ralph Waldo Emerson says, its own ex- 
 cuse for being. 1 feel the greatest interest 
 in your success, you know ; you have genius 
 — undoubted genius; but I see you have 
 some of the infirmities of genius too; you 
 don't recognize your own happiest touch. 
 Yield to my judgment — yield to my experi- 
 ence. By-and-by, all in good time, you'll 
 acknowledge that I'm right. Take my word 
 for it." 
 
 " I could take your word for it," replied 
 Garth, after pulling at his hair awhile, " on 
 any other point better than on this. I can be 
 advised in technicalities and still be an artist 
 in my own right ; but the soul of the picture 
 must be my own. Michael Angelo might 
 conceive it better, but I'm Garth Urmson." 
 
 Uncle Golightley patted his nephew on 
 the shoulder. " Did you ever hear of a 
 young fellow n^med Haflz, who wanted to 
 pull down this tiresome old sky? you re- 
 mind me of him. But you must build up 
 where you pull down : now, what are you 
 going to substitute for this face? " 
 
 Garth made no reply to this question, 
 though words seemed to lie behind his lips ; 
 and his uncle, who really appeaj-ed to have 
 the matter at heart, was encouraged. 
 
 " You've bothered over this until you're 
 a bit crazy — that's all. Go quietly on and 
 finish up the odds and ends, and cover Lady 
 Eleanor up till all's done. I'll risk ray repu- 
 tation as a connoisseur on your finding her 
 as satisfactory as I do, in the end. I shall 
 have something more to say to you, then. 
 By-the-way, as to art versus profit. Is there 
 anything of a market for good pictures in 
 this great and free country S " 
 
 " I shall do my best with this thing, at 
 all events ; I want money." 
 
 " By George, I want you to have it 1 
 That picture, with its present Lady Eleanor, 
 is worth its weight in gold, and I am much 
 mistaken if you don't make a small fortune 
 by it. Have you thought of any particular 
 price ? " 
 
 " No," said Garth, rather shortly ; for he 
 thought his uncle unnecessarily curious. 
 
 " Because," continued the lattur, produc- 
 
 ing a cambric handkerchief from his purple- 
 velvet pocket, and hastily wiping his eye- 
 glasses with it, "if five thousand dollars 
 will buy it, it's going to be mine. Of course, 
 a richer man than I might offer more, and 
 stiU get it at a bargain ; and you mustn't 
 oblige me merely because blood is thicker 
 than water, and all that. In fact, I tell you 
 frankly, I think the picture — as it stands — 
 is worth infinitely more. But five thousand 
 is as high as I can go just now ; and, be- 
 tween you and me, four-fifths of that is for 
 the very part you don't appreciate — ^ybu bar- 
 barian ! Well, think it over, my dear boy, 
 and take your time. As long as you give 
 me the run of the studio, yon know, I can 
 afford to bo patient — ha ! ha ! " 
 
 Garth, for some time after hearing this 
 speech, was afflicted with a species of mental 
 dizziness, which prevented him from taking 
 conscious note of what was going on around 
 him. He walked or sat, answered questions, 
 or volunteered remarks, apparently as usual ; 
 yet all was automatic and slipped from his 
 interior recognition like water off a duck's 
 back. He was awake only in an Aladdin's 
 vision of wealth, and of what he would do 
 with it. Five thousand dollars was ten times 
 as much as he had expected for his picture ; 
 and wonderful were the changes which the 
 consideration of this sum introduced into his 
 plans and prospects. The world now lay 
 submissive, inviting him to go whither he 
 chose, and do whatsoever he pleased in it. 
 Without more ado he could marry Madge 
 and carry her abroad — not with a penurious 
 and uneasy eye for economy, but generously 
 and with flourish of trumpets. 
 
 In reviewing his past life he marveled at 
 the torpid indifference — for such it now ap- 
 peared — which had suffered to pass away 
 so many barren and irrevocable years. He 
 began to arrive at an understanding of what 
 Madge must have endured throughout his 
 dreary season of delay, and could not enough 
 admire her long-suffering affection and pa- 
 tient cheerfulness. She might have married 
 when and where she pleased during the past 
 few years ; yet had she not only remained 
 true to her first love, but never, until this 
 very morning, had dropped so, much as a 
 hint that he was doing less 'than his utmost 
 
A OEITIO. 
 
 Ill 
 
 duty by her. This argued her no less lov- 
 able than she was lovely and loving. Such 
 women were rare, indeed ; and Garth ac- 
 cused himself of having valued her at less 
 than her true worth, and heartily thanked 
 his stars that she had been spared to him 
 till what time his eyes began to recognize 
 his fair fortune. 
 
 But, though self-convicted of having 
 been, as Madge had expressed it, asleep, 
 Garth was still a prey to doubts as to what 
 was the soporific ! He could not think it 
 painting, which had been the means of rais- 
 ing him out of sleep to the present happy 
 waking. Nor was it the lack of public rec- 
 ognition which had bedrowsed him, since 
 he had never fairly sought it, still looking 
 upon himself as in the artistic chrysalid, un- 
 ripe to canvass the world's suffrages. How, 
 then? was he the victim of hypochondria? 
 or had he but passed through a disagreeable 
 though necessary phase of development ? 
 
 " At all events," was the young painter's 
 conclusion, " I'm in no danger of a second 
 hibernation ! " 
 
 " I didn't know before," said Miss Go- 
 lightley, with an irrestrainable gush of 
 laughter, "that you Northern people ever 
 did really hibernate ! " 
 
 In becoming for the first time actively 
 aware of her presence. Garth was likewise 
 aroused to an obscure consciousness of hav- 
 ing been for an indefinite while in conversa- 
 tion with her. Looking about him in some 
 bewilderment, he found himself alone with 
 the young lady in the studio, apparently 
 engaged in piloting her through a large 
 portfolio of drawings and studies, which lay 
 open on the sofa before them. Hereupon 
 her laugh, which had the rare charm of un- 
 trammeled spontaneity, proved wonderfully 
 contagious, and the artist respondedwith a 
 heartiness of mirth that surprised himself. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 A OEITIO. 
 
 ^ " I HAD no idea you ever laughed," said 
 Miss Golightley, becoming sober, while the 
 pink flush rapidly died away from her clear 
 face. "Why do you?" 
 
 " Because you helped me catch sight of 
 my own absurdity ; I suppose nothing else 
 is ridiculous enough. Thank you. So you 
 can laugh too ? " 
 
 " Yes, but never at my absurdities ; only 
 at my solemnities, sometimes.'' 
 
 " How long have we been at this port- 
 folio. Miss Golightley ? " 
 
 " Ever since your father handed me over 
 to you, and took the rest of the people down 
 to the orchard. If I had known you were 
 hibernating — " 
 
 " Have I done anything outlandish ? " 
 
 " Nothing but seem indifEerent to your 
 own sketches, and, when I asked you whether 
 you were never afraid of the use of models 
 lowering your ideal, you made that singular 
 remark — or, after aU, perhaps it was pro- 
 found ? " 
 
 " Talking of models," said Garth, with a 
 more serious air, " I was thinking, a little 
 while ago, what a good face for tragedy 
 yours was. But I believe your laugh is still 
 better. It's perfectly funny, and yet there's 
 a kind of pathos in it. The dimples that 
 come on your cheek-bones are good, too, and 
 unusual — I'm only being artistic." 
 
 " Oh, I've been talked to by artists be- 
 fore," returned the lady, with a little dis- 
 dainful quiver of the mouth. 
 
 " Ton think," said Garth, after a pause, 
 " that my picture there would be better with- 
 out the portraits ? " 
 
 Miss Golightley colored slightly, but had 
 the courage of her opinions. 
 
 " Only one of the faces is really a por- 
 trait. The murderer has your features, but 
 the expression comes from his own charac- 
 ter — I think you must have imagined that, 
 not copied it. But your imagination seems 
 to have done nothing with the woman's face. 
 It's very lovely, of course, Mr. Urmson, and 
 very well painted ; but it has no more to do 
 with such a tragedy as that than your cousin 
 herself has." 
 
 Garth sat frowning at the wall before 
 him, and said nothing. Miss Golightley, 
 supposing that she had seriously offended 
 him, determined to define her position, as 
 clearly as she could, and then leave him to 
 his ill-humor. 
 
 " I waa thinking, when I asked you about 
 
112 
 
 GAETH. 
 
 models, how some of the greatest painters 
 seem to have made their models their ideals. 
 They would fall in love with some beautiful 
 woman, and paint her in their pictures ; and 
 get so blinded by their natural affections as 
 to persuade themselves that she was above 
 any ideal that their imaginations could con- 
 ceive." 
 
 " "Why might she not have been? " 
 
 " I don't think that is the point," re- 
 turned Miss Golightley, coldly. " A great 
 artist has a divine gift, and he dishonors it 
 if he only copies or adapts Nature, instead of 
 recreating it. He ought not to allow any 
 human being to be the limit of his inspira- 
 tion, even if she were more beautiful than 
 anything he could create." 
 
 " "What imports, then, is not what he 
 paints, but what he tries to ? " 
 
 " It seems to -me he should keep his art 
 sacred from everything else — not even run a 
 risk with it. As soon as he finds himself 
 hesitating whether to make his model an end 
 instead of a means, he should never paint her 
 again. Models must have no souls or char- 
 acters of their own, but give themselves up 
 to be made over in harmony with the spirit 
 of the picture. Otherwise the artist will by- 
 and-by begin to make the spirit of his pict- 
 ure in harmony with them; and then, 
 though his picture may be lovely — lovelier 
 than if he had aimed higher — the divin- 
 ity will be out of it. Are you smiling be- 
 cause what I say is commonplace, Mr. TJrm- 
 son?" 
 
 " No— at the poor pegs of models. But 
 I don't feel like smiling. Say more.'' 
 
 Miss Golightley having, perhaps, been 
 piqued into saying so much as she had done 
 already by Garth's supposed antagonism, 
 was embarrassed at his unlooked-for acqui- 
 escence. 
 
 " I only meant," said she, doubling and 
 undoubling the corner of one of the draw- 
 ings, and gradually becoming pink from fore- 
 head to chin, " that persons who have genius 
 should be particularly careful — the dearest, 
 most intimate companions of their life may 
 become the worst enemies of their art, if 
 allowed to influence it in any merely per- 
 sonal way. Their love and their art might 
 serve to counterpoise each other, I should 
 
 think — each be the recreation from the other 
 — ^but never interfere." 
 
 "A bad business, I'm afraid," Garth 
 muttered gloomily to himself. "There is 
 one thing about my picture, however," he 
 added, looking Miss Golightley in the face, 
 with a self -compassionate smile, " though I 
 hadn't the power to annihilate my cousin's 
 individuality, and give her one to carry out 
 the design of the picture, at all events, I 
 didn't buUy the design into correspondence 
 with her individuality. As you said, they 
 have nothing to do with each other. "Well, 
 you are an honest woman, and I thank you. 
 Do you consider my uncle a good critic ? " 
 
 "I should suppose he had very correct 
 ideas. "Why ? " 
 
 " "Why,!' said Garth, digging his hands 
 into his coat-pockets, " he likes Lady Elea- 
 nor, and advises me not to alter her on any 
 account. You see, I'd had my own misgiv- 
 ings about her, and you have confirmed 
 them. But . . . after a whUe I shall want 
 to ask you one more question. Meanwhile," 
 he went on, pulling an old piece of paste- 
 board out of the pile of drawings, "here is 
 the first portrait I ever painted." 
 
 Miss Golightley looked at it at first with 
 a smile, but soon with a softened and sym- 
 pathetic interest. Despite grotesque errors 
 of both drawing and coloring, the charac- 
 terization was effective and powerful. It 
 represented the head of a mild, serene wom- 
 an, whose hair was beginning to blanch 
 beneath her immaculate white cap, though 
 her wide, level eyebrows still retained their 
 youthful darkness, and the whole face, albeit 
 marked and worn by the advance of age, 
 still seemed to retain — -just below the surface 
 — the sweet and tender spirit of pure young 
 womanhood. Such a face, be its years how- 
 ever many, can never really grow old. 
 
 " Is this Mrs. TJrmson ? " asked the young 
 lady, in a voice low almost to timidity. 
 
 " Yes — my mother. I did it up here by 
 stealth, believing I was committing a sort of 
 theft. The paints are some that Nikomis 
 gave me, and I laid them on partly with my 
 fingers, and partly with an old pair of scis- 
 sors. But I don't think I could do it so well 
 again. My second portrait is on the other 
 side. Both are done from memory, without 
 
A OKITIO. 
 
 113 
 
 models ; but I think I cauglit the spirit of 
 the faces all the better." 
 
 Miss Golightley could not help smiling at 
 this remark, and it was a shy, girlish smile, 
 not cold and cynical. She turned over the 
 piece of pasteboard. 
 
 " Oh, this is your cousin — it's very funny 
 — I should think it might have been very 
 good." 
 
 -" I showed it to her, for the first time, 
 the other day ; but she doesn't appreciate it. 
 When I was doing it, and making a profound 
 secret of it, I remember how guilty I felt 
 one day, when she said she would like to 
 have some one take her portrait. I didn't 
 go near my paint-box after that for several 
 years. But since then my cousin has lost 
 her faith in painting, and I have found 
 mine." 
 
 " Do you mean that you didn't care for 
 painting when you did these things ? " 
 
 " I liked it so well that I thought it must 
 be wrong. My grandfather used to tell me 
 that whatever boys liked to do was pretty 
 sure to be bad for them. In one sense I 
 think he came very near the truth — for men 
 as well as boys. Too much doing what they 
 like makes doing what they don't like harder. 
 And they have to do what they don't like 
 once in a while." 
 
 To this profound remark Miss Golightley 
 made no rejoinder, and they turned over the 
 contents of the portfolio for a while in silence. 
 Garth was well aware that he had been un- 
 usually talkative, and that he was talking 
 merely to gain time ; though what he was 
 gaining time for he had but an indistinct 
 idea. From his recent vision of happiness 
 and ease, he had abruptly waked to find 
 himself neither easy nor happy. The alter- 
 native forced upon him was as disagreeable 
 as it was simple — it was the old question be- 
 tween honor and profit. But profit in this 
 case meant more than the ostensible five 
 thousand dollars. The providing Lady Elea- 
 nor with a new head to correspond with the 
 emotions w.hich were supposed to be ago- 
 nizing her heart, would not only involve the 
 forfeiture of his uncle's offer, but, as the im- 
 mediate consequence, all present chance of 
 getting married. And, if he missed this 
 chance, what right had he to suppose that 
 8 
 
 Fortune would procure him another ? Madge 
 would lose faith in him, and perhaps marry 
 some one else. At all events, she would be 
 doubly ofifended : first, that he should prefer 
 for his picture any other face than the lovely 
 organization of curves and colors which she 
 called her own ; and, secondly, that for so 
 impertinent a whim he should voluntarily 
 and indefinitely postpone their already tardy 
 happiness. An impertinent whim — that was 
 what she would consider it ; and really, for 
 the matter of logic, what was it more ? A 
 disinterested woman like Miss Golightley, 
 who had received a life-long artistic train- 
 ing, and possessed cool and fine discrimina- 
 tion, might perceive its profound inward 
 significance; but Madge, ingenuous, affec- 
 tionate, wayward, unsophisticated, would 
 only feel the slight to her beauty and her 
 love ; and who could blame her if she re- 
 sented it ? 
 
 Garth turned the matter over and over 
 in his mind, but could get no satisfaction out 
 of it. He wished that the bargain with his 
 uncle had been irrevocably completed before 
 this misgiving about Lady Eleanor's physi- 
 ognomy had entered his own head. He 
 wished that Miss Golightley, the sight of 
 whose face as she looked at the picture had 
 suggested to him his first doubts, had staid 
 down-stairs ; or at least had gone down with 
 the rest, and not remained to poison his 
 dream of felicity with her dose of unanswer- 
 able remonstrances. But what an ignoble 
 mood was this! in very truth, he wished 
 none of these things ; and was conscious of 
 a wholesome, hearty respect for the young 
 lady who had been kind and resolute enough 
 to teU him what he ought not to have waited 
 to be told. AJl the same, it was open to 
 him to regret that Uncle Golightley had not 
 set his heart on some other part of the can- 
 vas than that appropriated to Lady Eleanor's 
 features, so that honor and profit might have 
 fraternized at last, and rung his wedding- 
 bells for him side by side. 
 
 But might he not hope, after all, to effect 
 an honorable compromise ? What if his un- 
 cle, when he saw the alterations, were to 
 come to his senses and discover that he liked 
 the picture better than ever ? Or, what if 
 Garth were himself to discover an unsus- 
 
114 
 
 GAETH, 
 
 peoted capacity for tragic expression in 
 Madge's face, and by a few telling touches 
 so bring the same to bear as to enhance the 
 value both of the portrait and the design at 
 once ? It was true that, upon Miss Golight- 
 ley's theory, the power to do this would 
 argue him but an indifferent lover ; never- 
 theless, he was inclined to believe that, given 
 the power, he could safely afford to let the 
 theory take care of itself 
 
 Supposing the worst to come to the worst, 
 however, he reflected that, save for the dis- 
 appointment, he would be really no worse 
 off than he was before. It was always pos- 
 sible that he might stUl find another buyer 
 for his picture ; and, although not five thou- 
 sand dollars, nor anything like it, was to be 
 looked for, it was not too much to antici- 
 pate five hundred, or even a thousand, which 
 would enable him at least to get married, if 
 not at once to set forth on his wedding tour. 
 Meanwhile he would be careful to keep 
 Madge from aU knowledge of Uncle Golight- 
 ley's offer — his uncle himself would surely 
 abstain from all premature allusion to it — 
 and thus, if the affair turned out badly, she 
 would at least be spared any further mortifi- 
 cation than that of seeing some other set of 
 features take precedence, on this occasion 
 only, of her own. She need never know 
 how near she had been to affluence, and so 
 the silent surrender of the opportunity 
 would not affect her. These consolatory 
 reflections pretty nearly exhausted Garth's 
 list ; one loop-hole, perhaps, remained in the 
 background, through which it might be 
 found practicable to effect a not dishonor- 
 able escape ; but on this point he felt ratLer 
 insecure, and had avoided putting the ques- 
 tion to the issue until the very last moment. 
 
 " That is the end," said Miss Golightley, 
 laying down the last drawing. " I am very 
 much obliged to you." 
 
 " Not at aU," returned Garth, abstract- 
 edly, closing the portfolio and tying up the 
 string ; " the obligation is on my side." 
 
 "I don't know what made me say all 
 that," remarked Miss Golightley, with a 
 faint smile glimmering around her mouth 
 and eyes ; " somehow I felt better acquainted 
 with you than I am." 
 
 ''•Jjt was :the laughing, I suppose, that 
 
 surprised us out of our customary behavior. 
 I wonder when we shall laugh again ? Be- 
 fore you go, come and take another look at 
 the picture." 
 
 They arose and came round in front of 
 the easel, and both looked, resting a hand 
 on the back of the low chair. Presently the 
 artist said : 
 
 "I'm inclined to think the whole thing 
 a failure. Do you ? " 
 
 "I don't know how to blame or praise 
 it technically, Mr. Urmson ; but I never saw 
 a picture that made me feel so sad. It ought 
 to make the world better — it makes evil such 
 a fearful thing. And yet your — Lady Elea- 
 nor seems to be making fun of it! " 
 
 "You think, then," said Garth, turning 
 his eyes with a kind of vehemence on his 
 companion's pale face, " that the picture has 
 merit enough to make the alteration of that 
 part of it worth while? " 
 
 "I'm sure of it! " 
 
 "Well," rejoined he, drawing a deep 
 breath, " that is saying a good deal ! But I 
 am glad you have said it." 
 
 They turned away, and walked to the 
 door. 
 
 ""We are going to stay to dinner," ob- 
 served the lady, pleasantly, " so I suppose I 
 shall see you again." 
 
 "Yes. Come np here often. Miss Go- 
 lightley. I have other things to show 
 you." 
 
 " By-the-way," said she, with her hand 
 upon the door, "you said a little while ago 
 that you were going to ask me a question." 
 
 "So I did," said Garth, smiling, "and 
 you answered it! " 
 
 He escorted her to the foot of the gar- 
 ret-stairs, and then returned with measured 
 steps to the studio. After sitting inactive 
 for a few moments before the easel, he lazily 
 took up his palette and mixed some dark- 
 brown paint upon it, whistling softly to 
 himself the while, and tapping his foot upon 
 the floor. When the tint was ready he 
 dipped his brush into it, and prepared to 
 apply it to a certain part of the canvas. 
 
 " It may be against history. Lady Elea- 
 nor," he muttered, between a smile and a 
 frown, " but off comes your head neverthe- 
 
CURRENT OPINION. 
 
 115 
 
 A noise as of some one running up- 
 stairs caused him, however, to suspend the 
 act of execution. It was Madge ; she 
 burst into the room, all breathless and 
 sparkling. 
 
 " O, my Garth ! — dinner is ready — hut 
 O, Garth, dear, isn't it splendid ! " 
 
 He got up, letting brush and palette fall 
 to the floor. She was flushed and joyous, 
 and her dark eyes were glistening with happy 
 tears. She stood before him with her hands 
 clasped, full of light, life, and eagerness, yet 
 touched with a shade of maidenly timidity 
 that rendered her quite irresistible. 
 
 Garth tried to say something, but no 
 words came ; all at once he took her in his 
 arms. 
 
 " Uncle Golightley has told me," she 
 murmured on his shoulder. " O, Garth, 
 think of five thousand dollars ! and aU be- 
 cause my portrait was in it ! If you had 
 left out the picture, perhaps he would have 
 given more 1 My dear, darling boy, how 
 happy we shall he ! But dinner is ready — 
 shall we go down together ? " 
 
 " Yes ; take me down with you," replied 
 Garth in an oddly jocose tone. "Keep your 
 eye on me, Madge. I'm not flt to be trust- 
 ed alone with five thousand dollars in my 
 pocket." 
 
 "Oh, I'll take care of it for you, sir," 
 she rejoined ; and hand in hand the happy 
 lovers left the studio : so Lady Eleanor was 
 reprieved. 
 
 BOOK V. 
 O R A P P L I N O. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 OTTEBENT OPINION'. 
 
 The Danvers' cottage was old-fashioned 
 and rather small, but well built and comfort- 
 able, and as clean as any in Holland. Mrs. 
 Danver, though chronically ailing in one 
 way or another, was morbidly neat in her 
 ways and ideas, and since the death of her 
 husband (who, whatever his inventive gea- 
 ius, had made no claims to nicety either in 
 temperament or habits), she had ridden her 
 hobby with free rein. The rooms glistened 
 with cleanliness, and the household furni- 
 ture of all kinds was kept at a nervous ten- 
 sion of immaculateness almost oppressive to 
 behold. Mrs. Danver's infirmities, though 
 they prevented her from doing much work 
 herself, did not <l|inder her from rigorously 
 overseeing the " help " which she employed, 
 and which, thanks to the steady income 
 yielded by the mysterious " patent," and 
 regularly paid in by Mr. Onthbert Urmson 
 
 as executor, she was well able to afford. As 
 for Madge, it was undesirable, for many rea- 
 sons, that she should be bound to any drudg- 
 ery whatever. Her position as Garth's be- 
 trothed wife required a gentleness of breeding 
 and a refinement of occupation which for- 
 tunately the patent proceeds did not snflfer 
 her altogether to lack. And it would have 
 been a pity, in any case, to have dimmed her 
 beauty and dulled her spirits by subjection 
 to ignoble toil. 
 
 It must not be inferred, however, because 
 she allowed herself the enjoyment of help 
 and of a few other luxuries, that Mrs. Dan- 
 ver was a bad economist. The late Mr. 
 Danver had, indeed, been rather an extrava- 
 gant man, ever ready to borrow largely of 
 the future; but this trait of his had con- 
 firmed his spouse in the opposite tendency, 
 and now that he was gone, she set to work 
 to recoup herself in some degree for the lav- 
 ishness of the past. She was understood to 
 be well off, comparatively speaking: the 
 more that she made no display of wealth — 
 
116 
 
 GAKTH. 
 
 indeed, rather affected a genteel - poverty- 
 style of conversation. She had never been 
 able to understand, she was in the habit of 
 saying, why her income, being derived from 
 a patent, did not augment from year to year, 
 as by all law and precedent it should. Her 
 mind sometimes misgave her whether Mr. 
 Urmson was doing the best possible by it. 
 She had made bold to hint as much to him 
 once in a while, but he had only smUed, and 
 said that, when the country grew richer, it 
 was to be hoped she would too. Well, she 
 hoped so ; but, of course, her poor dead hus- 
 band having left aU the management in Mr. 
 TJrmson's hands, there was nothing to be 
 done — no, and, she dared say, nothing to com- 
 plain of either. Only it was queer, and a 
 small increase, year to year, would have been 
 very encouraging. 
 
 Mr. Urmson was a literary man, and not 
 over-robust at all lately, since poor Mrs. Urm- 
 son was buried, and of course it was but 
 natural he should accept the reports of the 
 agents just as they were given in, not mak- 
 ing any inquiries such as a pushing, active 
 business man might have made — not without 
 results, who could say! But she was not 
 one to complain, unless for poor Maggie's 
 sake, who had shown a patience in waiting 
 all these years which, with such a face and 
 figure as hers, not the best man in New 
 England was worth. And she might have 
 the best quick enough if she wanted him. 
 But no, none but Mr. Garth ; and when Mr. 
 Grarth was ready, and had sold pictures 
 enough, why, Mrs. Danver supposed that, if 
 poor Maggie was not grown old and dead by 
 that time, there might be a wedding. And 
 she did not complain, only if that was the 
 way it was going to be, why, that was all 
 about it. 
 
 Thus Mrs. Danver, with a gradually ris- 
 ing intonation. But poor Maggie, despite 
 the proffered facilities for being dispirited, 
 had got along remarkably well. Partly by 
 good luck, partly through her connection 
 with the Urmsons, but more than all by 
 dint of the force, acuteness, and tact of her 
 character, she had gained a sort of ascen- 
 dency in the village. The foolish gossip 
 that had been current about her a few years 
 previous had gradually died away ; though 
 
 no one could boast of being in her confi- 
 dence, yet she repelled no one, and no one 
 could prove any harm against her ; and mere 
 surmise, however plausible, can never, in 
 the long-run, make head against palpable 
 good report. During Garth's long absence 
 abroad her name had grown to be almost a 
 household word among the dwellers in 
 Urms worth, and a flavor of romance at- 
 tached to her, as if she were a merrier sort 
 of Evangeline. She charmed mankind ; 
 and her betrothal and demure discretion 
 healed the jealousies of her own sex. She 
 had great mental as well as physical activ- 
 ity, and was forever busy about something. 
 She acquired solid repute by teaching a 
 Sunday-school twice a week, under favor of 
 old Parson Graeme, who had never wavered 
 from his early allegiance to her ; and she 
 insensibly took the lead in all dances, pic- 
 nics, boating expeditions, sleighing and 
 skating parties, that came off in the Urms- 
 worth neighborhood. On such occasions 
 she overflowed with life, laughter, and 
 happy suggestion. The people were proud 
 of her ; and if she was something of an 
 enigma, the more of such enigmas the better 
 for the world's weal 1 
 
 Therefore Garth, when be returned home 
 at last, was rather begrudged the possession 
 of her, especially as he was found to hold 
 aloof from village merry-makings, with- 
 drawing himself, and Madge, of course, 
 with him, into the seclusion of his studio or 
 of the forest. Nor was his unpopularity 
 amended by the continued delay in the an- 
 ticipated nuptials, to which every Urms- 
 worthian had been looking forward with 
 much interest. The affair was canvassed 
 among the astute and honest villagers, and 
 great sympathy was felt for the Danvers. 
 Of course, no one was called on to interfere, 
 and people must manage their own business ; 
 but that a girl like Madge Danver should be 
 kept on tenter-hooks, merely because Garth 
 Urmson had got back from Europe with 
 some grand notions in his head, was simply 
 a sin and a shame. If he thought himself 
 too good for her, why didn't he step out 
 of the way and give some honest fellow a 
 chance? Why, there was that chap Sam 
 Kineo, whom nobody had seen for ten years, 
 
CURRENT OPINION. 
 
 117 
 
 but who was believed to be doing well some- 
 where — he would have married her, and had 
 half a dozen children by this time, if the 
 Urmsons hadn't clubbed together to get 
 him out of the neighborhood. It was a 
 high-handed business altogether. 
 
 Thus the villagers. The sudden appear- 
 ance in their midst, however, of Grolightley 
 Urmson and the two ladies turned the cur- 
 rent of discourse in a new direction. Go- 
 lightley was generally approved of from the 
 beginning. It was remembered that he had 
 been an intelligent and affable youth, and 
 that his father, the old captain, had been 
 very harsh and severe with him, and inordi- 
 nately indulgent toward his half-brother, 
 Outhbert. He had finally obtained leave to 
 go abroad, where he had evidently amassed 
 an enormous fortune, and was now come 
 home to spend it for the benefit of his old 
 townspeople, whom he had not in all these 
 years once forgotten. Golightley Urmson 
 was a philanthropist, with the means to 
 carry his philanthropy into effect. He 
 would build them a new grand hotel, he 
 would erect the long-talked-of mills and 
 mUl-dams, he would endow the poorhouse, 
 establish a library, and drain the great 
 meadows below the lake. It was to be 
 hoped that he would assume his proper 
 position as master of Urmhurst — a position 
 which was now suspected to have been his 
 from the first, though he had consented to 
 forego it in favor of his half-brother. Outh- 
 bert Urmson was very well in his way, but 
 he was getting old and infirm, was a recluse 
 and a student, out of accord with the spirit 
 of his countrymen and of the times, and, in 
 in short, by no means the person to occupy 
 the most prominent position in the county. 
 Garth, with his artistic follies, was, of course, 
 out of the question entirely ; whereas Go- 
 lightley, with his knowledge of the world, 
 affluence, and energy, might easily aspire to 
 the State Legislature, and even to Congress, 
 where he might impress upon the country 
 the merits of Urmsworth, its wants and its 
 wrongs. Or, if he preferred it, it would be 
 an easy matter to raise so prominent a per- 
 sonage to the position of most honor and 
 authority in his own State ; and as Governor 
 Urmson, of New Hampshire, his name, with 
 
 that of his birthplace, would go down with 
 ever-increasing glory to remote posterity. 
 It was a splendid dream, although inspired 
 by somewhat less than a full knowledge of 
 the past life, opinions, position, prospects, 
 and desires, of the individual principally 
 concerned, and therefore not certain to 
 be prophetic. Meanwliile, as I have said, 
 it created a new subject for gossip. 
 
 As for the two ladies, opinion concern- 
 ing them was suspended for the present, but 
 they were watched with curiosity, and when 
 they took up their abode with Mrs. Danver, 
 a great deal of casuistry was brought to 
 bear upon the problem why they had chosen 
 her house in preference to any other. Mrs. 
 Danver herself was sounded by her friends 
 upon the subject, but, inasmuch as the only 
 reason she could have given was that Par- 
 son Graeme had recommended her to the 
 ladies, she very wisely shook her head and 
 shut her mouth, thereby intimating that 
 there was a mystery in the afiair, which 
 nothing should induce her to reveal. This 
 reticence on her part had one good efi'ect, 
 for which the ladies, had they known any- 
 thing about it, would probably have been 
 thankful. It got Mrs. Danver in the habit 
 of keeping to herself such information with 
 regard to her boarders as chance from time 
 to time threw in her way : and thus it hap- 
 pened that the curiosity of Urmsworth so- 
 ciety as to a purely imaginary question 
 created a barrier against itself in matters of 
 actual import. 
 
 Mrs. Tenterden and Miss Golightley oc- 
 cupied two snug and cozy rooms on the up- 
 per floor of the little cottage, on opposite 
 sides of the passage-way, and they also had 
 undisputed monopoly of the parlor when- 
 ever they wished it. Mrs. Danver's parlor, 
 boudoir, and dining-saloon were, and had 
 always been, comprised within the four 
 walls of her kitchen, the " best room " 
 having been locked up, as a rule, and only 
 opened on high days and holidays, when 
 the ancient newness of its smell and aspect, 
 the immitigable stifiness of its chairs and 
 sofa, the gilded glitter of its mantel-orna- 
 ments, and the unsunned brilliance of its 
 carpet, were enough, without the aid of the 
 hair-picture of a tomb and a weeping-willow 
 
118 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 which hung over the fireplace, to frighten 
 away any ordinary intruder. When the la- 
 dies were first introduced to this virgin 
 grandeur, and informed that it was at their 
 disposal, Mrs. Tenterden burst into a hearty 
 laugh, to the great astonishment of Mrs. 
 Danver ; while Miss GoUghtley, with a per- 
 fectly grave face, walked across the room 
 and back once, and said that it was very 
 nice, but that they had not been accustomed 
 to that sort of thing, and would probably 
 confine themselves to their bedchambers. 
 " But you must let us dine with you in the 
 kitchen," said Mrs. Tenterden, who had 
 now recovered her composure, and was 
 wiping her eyes ; " we must dine with you 
 and Margaret in that lovely clean kitchen ; " 
 and Mrs. Danver, who had been in doubt 
 whether or not to be offended about her 
 parlor, decided not to be, and replied, with 
 one of her hungry, melancholy, stiff-moving 
 smiles, that she should be quite pleased to 
 have the ladies take their meals with her 
 and Maggie, if they pleased to do so ; and 
 thus harmony was established. Mrs. Ten- 
 terden, however, had an incorrigible habit 
 of laughing at the most inopportune mo- 
 ments, merely because something happened 
 to tickle her sense of the ludicrous ; and, as 
 Miss Golightley often told her, it was im- 
 possible, under such circumstances, to count 
 upon any one's good-wiU for ten minutes 
 together. But Mrs. Tenterden, as a sort of 
 counterpoise to this bad habit, could never 
 be persuaded that her laughing hurt the 
 feelings of anybody ; and the genuineness of 
 this, her conviction, often impressed itself 
 on those she laughed at, and made them 
 grin and bear it more good-humoredly than 
 they themselves would have believed pos- 
 sible. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 FAITHFTTL BNEMIBB. 
 
 A FEW days after the visit to the studio, 
 Mrs. Tenterden, in her morning-gown, and 
 with her little bag of tatting in her hand, 
 entered Miss Elinor's room. That young 
 lady was sitting in a large horse-hair-covered 
 
 rocking-chair by the window, her violin 
 and bow lying idle in her lap, her mouth 
 very resolute, and her eyes very open, as 
 was her way- in reverie. When the door 
 opened, she set the chair in motion with 
 her foot, and handled her violin. 
 
 " Daughter," began the elder lady (for 
 they mothered and daughtered each othen 
 though in reality owning no such relation- 
 ship), " I have some "news at last. Mar- 
 garet tells me they're going to have a picnic 
 somewhere up in the woods to-morrow, and 
 wants us to come. This lovely weather — 
 they call it Indian summer, you know. Go- 
 lightley and all of them seem to be going," 
 continued she, sitting sumptuously down, 
 and proceeding to open her tatting-bag. 
 
 Miss Elinor put on a very cold and un- 
 interested expression, and only said : 
 
 " Well, what did you tell her ? " 
 
 " Oh, I just said I'd speak to you, of 
 course— -it's nothing to me,'' replied Mrs. 
 Tentei'den, in flat defiance of what she knew 
 to be the truth. " Margaret says that be- 
 fore young Mr. Garth went to college there 
 used to be a picnic regularly every Michael- 
 mas, and that old Mr. Graeme, the minister 
 (think of that man being ninety-five years 
 old, dear ; I declare he looks as if he'd out- 
 live poor Mr. TJrmson now) — that he used to 
 manage them, you know. But lately they 
 have been falling off, and I think she said 
 this was the first one young Mr. Garth 
 would have been to for ten or twelve years. 
 He was in college, you see, and afterward in 
 Europe." 
 
 Miss Elinor took up her bow, and let it 
 wander lightly over the strings. 
 
 " Young Mr. Garth is going, then, I sup- 
 pose? " 
 
 " Why, yes, indeed, since Margaret's to 
 be there," returned Mrs. Tenterden, with a 
 genial little laugh. " He may be going to 
 paint a picture of us all. NeUie, did you 
 know that Golightley had bought that 
 picture — that shooting-scene of his? Five 
 thousand dollars. Splendid, isn't it, for the 
 young man? I declare, though— such a 
 thing as that — it would give me the night- 
 mare ! I can't think what Golightley bought 
 it for— he has such a fine taste for all that 
 sort of things you know ; but I tell him," 
 
FAITHFUL ENEMIES. 
 
 119 
 
 she went on, laughing — " I tell him I believe 
 he only wants that portrait in it of Margaret ; 
 and he says he does — confesses it. I told him 
 I didn't know what you'd say to that, or Mr. 
 Garth either. I must say, though,"added Mrs. 
 Tenterden, more soberly, " the portrait's the 
 best thing in the picture— in fact, it looks to 
 me as if it didn't belong there, somehow." 
 
 " It isn't supposed to belong there," said 
 Miss Elinor, who had already heard from 
 Madge the news of Garth's backsliding ; 
 " but young Mr. Garth is not such a fool as 
 to let art stand in the way of money ; he's 
 like all other Yankees, I suppose. Only I 
 do wish he'd leave out the art altogether ; 
 not add insult to injury 1 " 
 
 " Why, how uncharitable you are, daugh- 
 ter! " exclaimed Mrs. Tenterden, reproach- 
 fully. "I'm sure — this wild idea of yours 
 about playing and singing in public, and I 
 don't know what all ! — why shouldn't the 
 poor young man sell his pictures as well ! " 
 
 Miss Elinor executed a spasm of refined 
 contempt upon her violin. 
 
 " Certainly the poor young man may do 
 as he likes ; only if I find him disagreeable — 
 How would you like me to do my playing 
 and singing in ballet-costume ? " 
 
 " Well, I think in my heart, daughter ! " 
 cried Mrs. Tenterden, scandalized, but laugh- 
 ing in spite of herself. " Nellie, how can 
 you?" 
 
 " If it brought me five thousand dollars, 
 who could blame me ? I can tell young Mr. 
 Garth one thing, though," added she, sitting 
 erect in her chair and growing pink and 
 haughty; " when I dress as a ballet-girl I'll 
 throw away my violin and my voice, and 
 dance as a ballet-girl too. I reverence my 
 art,; but he — may do what he pleases with 
 his, of course ; " and she set herself rooking 
 again, pale as before. 
 
 Mrs. Tenterden was not enough convers- 
 ant either with the principles of art in the 
 abstract or with the merits of this particular 
 case to understand the analogy; neverthe- 
 less, and though she had been unable to ap- 
 preciate Garth's picture or to make much 
 out of himself, she was never without a 
 word for the down-trodden. 
 
 "Besides, daughter," she began, aJter 
 some meditative tatting, " you know they're 
 
 so poor. Here was Margaret telling me that 
 she and Mr. Garth couldn't be married aU 
 these years because they had no money, but 
 that, since he was to have five thousand dol- 
 lars for his picture, they would be, immedi- 
 ately, and go to Europe ; and the dear child 
 seemed to think it was boundless wealth. I 
 declare, it was quite touching." 
 
 " Oh I " murmured Elinor abstractedly, 
 gazing out of the window — " oh ! " 
 
 " I must say, though,'' resumed Mrs. Ten- 
 terden, after a pause, " I can't think where 
 all the money goes to. I'm sure Gohghtley, 
 when we first became acquainted with him, 
 was always saying how poor he was — though 
 there was plenty of money in the family — 
 because he was giving away three-fourths of 
 his share of the income every year to sup- 
 port his nephew and his brother Outhbert, 
 and keep up the honor of the house as he 
 called it. But, for all I see, Outhbert has 
 been poorer than Golightley. One would 
 suppose they would be — Mr. Urmson and 
 his son wovdd be — very well ofi now at any 
 rate, because, since Golightley has made this 
 large fortune of his own, of course he would 
 give up the whole of the other fortune to 
 them. Seems as if the money just vanished 
 away, doesn't it? " 
 
 " It's none of our business,'' returned 
 Elinor, coldly; "it's enough to know that 
 your brother has supported them for twenty- 
 five years." 
 
 " Oh, no ; I don't mean that they haven't 
 done all right about it," exclaimed charitable 
 Mrs. Tenterden, " only it seems so queer. 
 That young Mr. Garth doesn't look at all 
 dissipated, or anything of that kind ; that 
 can't be the matter. Indeed, from what 
 Margaret said, I should think he had rather 
 too little — spirit, you know. However, it's 
 none of our business, true enough." 
 
 A considerable silence followed, during 
 which Elinor drew some airy arabesques of 
 melody from her tempered instrument. The 
 elder lady, who cherished good-natured senti- 
 ments toward music, serenely listened for a 
 while, but at length interposed between 
 two bars. 
 
 " Gohghtley has certainly been very gen- 
 erous, hasn't he ? Seems to show the old 
 Golightley blood in that," she said, with 
 
120 
 
 GAETH. 
 
 complacent pride. " But what a fine face 
 Mr. Onthbert TJrmson has, Nellie I He doesn't 
 look to me at all the sort of man would con- 
 sent to be dependent on anybody, nor his 
 son either. But I suppose the fact is, the 
 poor man has no health and strength, and 
 can't go into enterprises and speculations 
 Uke Golightley. He looks as if he suffered a 
 great deal of pain, though his manner, you 
 know, is so cheerful. I wish he'd let me 
 give him some of my medicine." 
 
 " I've learned not to depend on faces," 
 observed Miss Golightley. " I never saw a 
 man's face I liked more than Mr. Urmson's, 
 and I liked even his son's pretty well after 
 — a little talk we had that day in the studio. 
 So far as appearance goes, I should certainly 
 have thought it was they who supported 
 your brother, rather than he them. But the 
 more we find out about them, the more con- 
 temptible they seem to be — at least Mr. 
 Garth Urmson. I wish we had never come 
 to this place." 
 
 "Mei'cy, child! they are very pleasant 
 people, I'm sure, and related to us besides. 
 And I must say I'm quite captivated with 
 Margaret. That young man is certainly very 
 fortunate in having such a beautiful creature 
 attached to him." 
 
 " More fortunate than he deserves," said 
 Elinor ; " I wish she would marry some one 
 else." 
 
 "Well, Nellie, what will you say next, 
 I'm sure ! " exclaimed Mrs. Tenterden, laugh- 
 ing. "Whom else should she marry, dear? " 
 
 "Mother," said Elinor, after some mo- 
 ments' pause, the transparent pink again 
 stealing into her grave face, "one reason 
 why I have learned to distrust people's looks 
 is because of your brother. When I first 
 saw him, I couldn't help believing him false 
 and mean; and even now, though I know 
 how good and noble he really is, I cannot 
 trust him when I'm face to face with him or 
 hearing him speak, but only when he's out 
 of the way. I can't reconcile what he seems 
 with what he is. and does. If he could ex- 
 change heads with his brother Outhbert, it 
 would be just right for both of them." 
 
 " Well, Nellie, what a scandalous way to 
 talk of poor Golightley ! " remonstrated Mrs. 
 Tentc-rden, with an imperfect effort to be 
 
 serious. "Why, I always thought he was 
 very good-looking, and I'm sm-e he thinks 
 so. Well, my dear, what made you let him 
 ask you to marry him if you can't bear the 
 sight of him, poor man? " 
 
 " I would have prevented it if I could. 
 I don't think he asked me because he loved 
 me,'' said Elinor in a low voice. " And I 
 told him I didn't love him." 
 
 "For mercy's sake, daughter, if he didn't 
 love you, why should he ask you ? It wasn't 
 tiU after Mr. Tenterden lost all his money 
 that he made you the offer : so it couldn't 
 have been for your fortune." 
 
 "Do you suppose I think him capable of 
 so paltry a trick as that ? " said Elinor, with 
 indignation. " You do not know half how 
 noble he is yourself. He asked me to marry 
 him because we had lost our fortune, and Mr. 
 Tenterden had helped him when he was poor, 
 and he saw that to marry me would be the 
 best way to repay his obligations. He doesn't 
 love me. How should he ? I know how 
 disagreeable I am ; and, besides, I'm young 
 enough to be his daughter. I ought to care 
 for him. I despise myself for not caring for 
 him, and that only makes it worse. I hard- 
 ly know sometimes whether I am angry with 
 myself or with him. I hoped I should get 
 used to him in time by thinking how gener- 
 ous he was ; but I believe his being so gener- 
 ous is one reason why I — can't." Her mouth 
 quivered a little. 
 
 "Ah, let me tell you, my dear," said 
 Mrs. Tenterden, shaking her head and laugh- 
 ing wisely, " men don't marry penniless girls 
 whom they don't love just to make them 
 rich: don't you believe it! not Golightley 
 nor the best of them. What makes you 
 imagine he don't care for you ? You should 
 hear the way he speaks of you to other 
 people ! Marry you to make you rich ? not 
 a bit of it ! He waited till he was rich be- 
 fore asking you to marry him. As to grati- 
 tude or obligations, I, for my part, don't 
 know of any. John let him have a tliousand 
 pounds — I think it was about a fortnight be- 
 fore our robbery— and Golightley paid it 
 back in a week ; that's all about that. It 
 may have happened to turn the scale of the 
 speculation, or whatever it was, that Go- 
 lightley made his fortune by ; but that was 
 
FAITHFUL ENEMIES. 
 
 121 
 
 just as it happened, you know. But you 
 are such a strange girl,. Nellie Golightley. I 
 declare it seems sometimes as if you hadn't a 
 bit of heart, or didn't believe anybody else 
 had any. Young ladies weren't so in my 
 time — mercy ! " 
 
 Miss Elinor drew down the corners of 
 her mouth in a cynical smile, picking at the 
 strings of her violin with her finger-tips. 
 " At least you can't say I ever pretended to 
 have a heart," she remarked at length. " I 
 don't pretend to have one, and I don't want 
 any one to think I have. If jowr brother 
 ever asks me to marry him again, I shall tell 
 him that ; and then if he wants to have me, 
 since I never can love any one, it would be 
 better (for me at least) to marry him than 
 any one else. He might have a bad time of 
 it, but it would be all the same to me, not 
 having any heart ; 1 should be as happy as 
 head could wish. Very amusing, neither of 
 us loving the other, and yet marrying on 
 general principles, as it were ! " 
 
 "Oh, well, if you choose to talk that 
 way ! " returned Mrs. Tenterden, a little pro- 
 voked at this young-lady-like perverseness. 
 " As to a heart, I believe nothing would make 
 you confess you had one, not if you were 
 dying of it that minute. Of course I, for 
 my part, don't want you married, my dear. 
 But I am an old woman, and shall probably 
 die soon ; and what's to become of you then 
 I don't see ! " 
 
 " "When you are angry with me, you al- 
 ways revenge yourself by talking about dy- 
 ing ; but, now I am going to tell you a se- 
 cret that will put you in good-humor. There 
 is one beloved object in the world — not your 
 brother — which makes me feel I have a 
 heart, which I love, which I want to marry, 
 and which will bring me a fortune, and 
 which I should be broken-hearted to be 
 parted from — even I." 
 
 " My good fathers, NeUie ! " exclaimed 
 Mrs. Tenterden, dropping her tatting in her 
 lap. " Whom do you mean, child ? teU me, 
 quick! Not surely that — that young Mr. 
 Selwyn?" 
 
 " Young Mr. Selwyn ! I mean my violin 
 — my own sweet little violin," said Elinor, 
 laying the graceful instrument against her 
 eheek, with a little laugh. " My violin and 
 
 I can be happy together, in spite of every- 
 body — can't we, dear ? " she added, address- 
 ing it with a sad, tender playfulness. 
 
 Mrs. Tenterden was fairly surprised, and 
 driven back on her good-nature. "You do 
 beat all I ever saw, Nellie Golightley,'' she 
 declared, with a sigh. "I can't make you 
 out. I don't know at this minute whether, 
 if Golightley asked you to marry him again 
 to-morrow, you'd say yes or no." 
 
 " Well, now, I'll tell you another secret," 
 said Elinor, smiling faintly, her cheek still 
 pressed against the violin. " I think he 
 might marry Margaret. I've thought so, 
 and hoped so, ever since we first met her. 
 I'm sure he admires her, and would love her 
 if he didn't think I stood in his way. They 
 would get on together delightfully. She is 
 just the girl who would enjoy society and 
 wealth, and all that, and lie would enjoy 
 showing her off. If he would give a thou- 
 sand pounds merely to have a portrait, he 
 would give his whole fortune, and every- 
 thing else, to have her. I would certainly 
 give anything, except my violin, to see them 
 married. She likes him a thousand times 
 better than I ever could, already." 
 
 " Well, I do think in my heart ! " assev- 
 erated the old lady, quite outdone. " Did 
 you know, my dear, that Margaret is en- 
 gaged to marry Mr. TJrmson, and that 
 they're head and ears in love with each 
 other, and will be married this winter ? To 
 hear you run on, any one would think — 
 weU ! " 
 
 " Such a person as Mr. Garth Ui-mson 
 has showed himself to be, will never be head 
 and ears in love with anybody but himself," 
 rejoined Miss Golightley, with contemptuous 
 emphasis; "and there might be a chance 
 of his becoming a better artist if he didn't 
 marry. And Margaret wouldn't care for 
 him, I know, if she realized what he was. 
 I should think his having kept her waiting 
 so long was proof enough he oared nothing 
 about her. And then — I might be alone 
 with my violin — and you ! " and, rising 
 quickly, the girl caught Mrs. Tenterden and 
 the violin in one embrace, and hid her face 
 on the former's soft, amide shoulder. 
 
 This method of winding up discussions, 
 and enforcing arguments, has advantages 
 
122 
 
 GAETH. 
 
 wHch can never attach to the dry pro- 
 poundings of mere logic ; and Mrs. Tenter- 
 den attempted no further expostulation. She 
 retm-ned Elinor's caress with all her heart, 
 and, then, having picked her tatting from 
 the floor, and smoothed her collar, she re- 
 sumed her placidity. 
 
 " There's no reason, of course, my dear, 
 why you should be either married or trained 
 for a concert-performer just yet. What, 
 with the money we got by selling our fur- 
 niture and things, and those investments 
 of yours in Boston, that have never been 
 touched, you inow, for ten years, there 
 must be enough to live along on, at least, as 
 well as we are doing now. By-and-by, pei*- 
 haps, we may be able to move down to Vir- 
 ginia, and be comfortable. Then there's 
 Mr. Selwyn : he may succeed in finding out 
 who robbed us, and getting some of it back. 
 It would be a good joke, wouldn't it ? " said 
 tlie good lady, shaking gently with subdued 
 chuckhng — " Golightley's astonishment. He 
 hasn't an idea that anything's being done 
 about it." 
 
 " I never could understand," observed 
 Elinoi', meditatively, "why Mr. Selwyn, 
 who seemed to be quite rich, should have 
 interested himself in that affair, or why 
 your brother objected so strongly to his 
 having anything to do with it. It almost 
 seemed as if he suspected Mr. Selwyn of 
 knowing more about the loss of the money 
 than he had any right to know." 
 
 " Good gracious, daughter, what an idea! 
 A gentleman like Mr. Selwyn ! I should as 
 soon think of suspecting Golightley himself. 
 No, the truth is, my dear — what I, for my 
 part, think — Golightley was just a little bit 
 jealous. Mr. Selwyn is rather too hand- 
 some and c]ever to be a safe acquaintance 
 of the young lady one is in love with. And, 
 what's more, I think Mr. Selwyn was jealous 
 of Golightley — so that was a pair of them : 
 and, if you must know everything, I think 
 that had something to do with Mr. Selwyn's 
 being so obliging about managing our busi- 
 ness for us, and so anxious that Golightley 
 shouldn't be told. So now, miss, you see 
 what you are responsible for ! I declare I 
 had quite a turn just now, when you began 
 with that nonsense about your violin — I was 
 
 really afraid, for a minute, that he had made 
 an impression." 
 
 A smile had drifted across Miss Elinor's 
 face while the other was speaking, but it 
 ended in a half sigh. "1 am getting very 
 callous and bold, seems to me," she said. 
 " I can listen to talk about falling in love 
 and marrying as if I were — I don't know 
 what. Heartless people must be more or 
 less indelicate, I suppose. Heigho ! Well, 
 why shouldn't he have made an impression? 
 He was handsome and clever, with fearless, 
 straightforward manners that I liked ; I 
 even liked the way I heard him swear once. 
 Dear me ! he is profane and very dissipated, 
 I suppose ; and there's Mr. Garth ITrmson, 
 with a face like Beethoven's, who never 
 drinks or swears, and is false and mercenary 
 to the core ; and there is your poor brother, 
 whose soul Heaven has made so good and 
 noble, that there was nothing left to keep 
 his body from appearing as small and con- 
 temptible as Mr. Garth's character. There's 
 no such thing as a Man in the whole great 
 world ! " 
 
 " Mercy ! there are only too many of 
 them, I'm sure," exclaimed Mrs. Tenterden. 
 
 " If you will show me one, I'll worship 
 him," said Elinor, in a low voice. She 
 turned as she said it, and gazed out of the 
 window at the horizon-line ; but in a mo- 
 ment rested her arms upon the window-sill, 
 and laid her face upon them, while Mrs. 
 Tenterden went on with her tatting in 
 sumptuous serenity. What a good, lovable, 
 sensible woman she was ! taking life as easi- 
 ly as pale, vexed Elinor took it hard. 
 
 " By-the-way, my dear," said she, re- 
 placing her work in the bag, and rising — for 
 the primitive Urmsworth dinner-hour was 
 one o'clock, and it was time to dress — 
 " about the picnic. You'll go, I suppose 1 " 
 
 " It makes no difference to me whether 
 I go or not," replied Elinor, sitting up in her 
 chair, and setting it monotonously a-rocking 
 as before. " It will be disagreeable to meet 
 those persons ; but, since we must be here 
 all winter, that can't be helped, and it will 
 be better out-doors than in." 
 
 Mrs. Tenterden laughed in her jolly, re- 
 proachful way. She always laughed where 
 other people would have compromised for a 
 
BOOTS AND EYE-GLASSES. 
 
 123 
 
 smile. " I declare, you ought to be ashamed 
 to talk that way, daughter. Well, then, if 
 you want to go, I suppose we must. I told 
 Margaret that would probably be the way, 
 though, of course, I don't care anything 
 about it myself. You'd better be getting 
 ready for dinner, dear." And so she took 
 her stately, comfortable departure. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 BOOTS AND ETB-GLAS8B8. 
 
 The next morning was even warmer 
 than is usual in the Indian-summer weather. 
 The atmosphere, especially near the horizon, 
 was dim with tender haze, and the south- 
 westerly breeze, mild from the fortunate 
 courts of the great Indian deity Cantantow- 
 wit; stirred the crimson and gold woods with 
 indolent breathings. So impressive was the 
 dreamy splendor of the valley, as seen from 
 the southern windows of Urmhurst, that 
 Golightley was more than once, in the in- 
 tervals of his toilet, beguiled from his look- 
 ing-glass to behold it, and he could scarcely 
 have paid it a higher compliment. The toUet 
 was with him a religious ceremony. He 
 was in sad earnest about it always. The 
 aspect of the man when newly risen from 
 repose — if the disturbed grapplings with 
 slumber which for many months past had 
 been his nightly portion could properly he 
 called by that name — would scarcely have 
 prepared us for the gracious transformation 
 brought about in him by these devotional 
 exercises. Could orthodox religion effect 
 such palpable improvement in its votaries, 
 we might look forward to a significant deep- 
 ening of the general piety. This toilet con- 
 science of Golightley's was a typical trait in 
 him. So far was he from being a reckless 
 person, or indifferent to appearances, that 
 he might be suspected of sometimes sacrific- 
 ing the plain reality of good to the good- 
 looking semblance thereof. And the nervous 
 disquiet which in temperaments like his is 
 apt to wait on such transactions may have 
 had something to do with his uneasy nights. 
 His hair having been duly anointed, 
 
 parted, combed, and brushed ; his triple 
 beard thoroughly groomed ; his teeth, hands, 
 and nails, duly purified, perfumed, and pol- 
 ished ; the ample folds of his neck-cloth ar- 
 tistically composed, and a suitable waistcoat 
 of figured satin selected, Golightley next 
 turned his attention to the question of boots. 
 There were at least a dozen pairs to choose 
 from, all exquisitely made and in perfect re- 
 pair, and it was a noticeable peculiarity that 
 most of them were fitted with brightly-pol- 
 ished steel spurs. The natural inference 
 would be that the owner of such gear must 
 be proud of his feet and fond of riding ; 
 nevertheless, the facts were quite otherwise. 
 If Golightley's boots were his strong point, 
 it was because he knew his weak point to be 
 his feet, and summoned every resource of 
 the cobbler's art to solve the problem how 
 to make what is flat and shapeless appear 
 high-arcbed and shapely. 
 
 The result was very creditable, and prob- 
 ably deceived everybody except the maker 
 and the wearer ; the latter unfortunate gen- 
 tleman, however, was never at ease (either 
 literally or figuratively) in even his newest 
 boots, but constantly tormented himself 
 with the fancy that the fatal secret of his 
 instep had been found out. The devil could 
 not have been more solicitous about his 
 cloven hoof than was Golightley to disguise 
 the plebeian ugliness of these wretched ex- 
 tremities. As to the spurs, they were but 
 an additional device to distract the observ- 
 er's eye, and at the same time to lend a sort 
 of martial dignity to the tread. It was a 
 pathetic circumstance that, among so large 
 an assemblage of boots and shoes, there 
 should not have besn so much as a single 
 pair of slippers. The worst of acting a 
 false part before the world is the dread 
 it begets of ever dropping the mask for a 
 moment to take breath. I will not assert 
 that Golightley Urmson absolutely slept in 
 his boots lest he should be found dead some 
 morning with the secret revealed ; but it is 
 not too much to say that he suffered as much 
 mentally from having them off as he did 
 physically from having them on ; and I sub- 
 mit whether moral corns are not, in the 
 long-run, full as unendurable as material 
 ones. 
 
124: 
 
 GAKTH. 
 
 The boots having been drawn on, lie 
 walked up and down the room in them twice 
 or thrice, scrutinizing their fit and general 
 appearance. AU this time he had been with- 
 out his eye-glasses ; he now paused in front 
 of the mirror to put them on, and the 
 change for the better which this small addi- 
 tion made in him was almost startling. It 
 was like a magic touch, smoothing away 
 premature wrinkles, brightening the sallow 
 complexion, lending vivacity and pungency 
 to the expression, and an aspect of refine- 
 ment and prosperity to the whole man. Go- 
 lightley stuck to his eye-glasses with almost 
 as much constancy as to his boots, and with 
 quite as much reason. We have already had 
 a glimpse of that unlucky squint of his ; but, 
 even had this sinister deformity been absent, 
 the glasses could hardly have been spared. 
 Not that his eyesight was infirm ; but his 
 eyes, heavy-lidded, haggard, with curious 
 little furrows surrounding them like a net- 
 work, produced an efiFect altogether at vari- 
 ance with that which their owner thought 
 desirable. There was no life in them, and 
 yet they told tales. But the glasses — al- 
 though, as a matter of fact, there could have 
 been no more real life in them than in the 
 eyes — had nevertheless a sparkling sem- 
 blance of vitality which age could not dim 
 nor emotion disconcert, and which, if super- 
 ficial, possessed the redeeming quality of be- 
 ing impenetrable. They could never droop, 
 swerve, or falter ; neither, it must be ad- 
 mitted, could they convey love, anger, nor 
 command ; but only a very confident nature, 
 perhaps, would deliberately exchange a con- 
 dition of inactive security for the risky free- 
 dom of unprotected activity. 
 
 When Golightley was quite ready, he 
 drew a long breath, straightened his shoul- 
 ders, stamped sharply with his foot, smiled, 
 bowed, and lightly kissed his finger-tips to 
 the image in the mirror, and turned to go 
 down-stairs. His glance, however, happened 
 to light upon the collection of time-stained 
 trophies which in this, as in most of the 
 other rooms, hung above the fireplace, and 
 he staid a moment to look at them. An old 
 horse - pistol, nearly two feet in length, 
 seemed chiefly to attract his curiosity, and 
 he was on the point of taking it down to 
 
 examine it more particularly, when a knock 
 was heard at the door, and Cuthbert's voice 
 summoned him to breakfast. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 UNFAITHFTTI. FEIENDS. 
 
 "By George, old chap, how delightfnl 
 all this is, eh ? " cried he, as arm-in-arm with 
 his brother he entered the kitchen, where 
 breakfast was set out. " This country hush, 
 these exquisite autumn tints, this air of 
 balm ! Ah, what earthly gold is so precious 
 to the soul as the yellow glory of that old 
 elm? Old TJrmhurst, too — the quaint old 
 rooms and furniture and ciistoms ! I begin 
 to think my exile's life has been a sad mis- 
 take, after all. Yes, you're a happier man 
 than I am, old chap, because you're a wiser 
 man and a better man — though I mean to 
 do some good, if I can, before I go to chaos. 
 — Good-morning, Nikomis. By the Great 
 Spirit, madam, these buckwheat-cakes are 
 light enough for the happy hunting-grounds ! 
 — By-the-by, Outhbert, isn't that venerable 
 deadly weapon over my fireplace the identi- 
 cal one which our forefathers used to an- 
 nihilate their best friends with ? " 
 
 " Y«s," replied Outhbert ; " and its por- 
 trait is among the others in that intended 
 purchase of yours in the studio. Five thou- 
 sand dollars, I understand? " 
 
 Golightley waved his fork deprecatingly. 
 
 " The boy has genius. Five thousand 
 dollars won't hurt him ; oil the wheels a bit, 
 and get his name up. By-the-by, where is 
 he this morning? " 
 
 " He has been irregular the last day or 
 two ; it may be his company that has upset 
 him. But as to this pictm-e — you had better 
 change your mind about buying it." 
 
 Golightley laughed, but he was a little 
 puzzled. 
 
 " Of course," said he, " there is no abso- 
 lute value to a work of art ; it's a matter of 
 fashion, scarcity, whim, and so on. Now, I 
 honestly consider the picture worth the sum 
 I named, looking at its merits of color and 
 composition alone ; but, to be frank with 
 you, I shouldn't be buying it but for that — " 
 
UNFAITHFUL FEIEND8. 
 
 125 
 
 " That portrait of our pretty friend Mar- 
 garet," Outhbert interposed, quietly. " Well, 
 it's precisely on account of that portrait that 
 I say you'd better change your mind about 
 buying the picture." 
 
 Golightley knew something of his broth- 
 er's eccentricities, but this took him by sur- 
 prise. He had expected that his bargain 
 with Garth would be considered eminently 
 creditable to both parties ; if it was also 
 recognized as a splendid compliment to 
 Madge, why, so much the better all round ! 
 He thought Madge one of the beauties of the 
 world, and was not averse from ingratiating 
 himself with her. That she was soon to be 
 married did not annoy him ; beautiful wom- 
 en had been married ever since the time 
 of Helen of Troy ; and Helen, at least, had 
 not let her marriage spoil her for the rest of 
 the world. Madge would doubtless create 
 a sensation in society so soon as she came 
 out, and Gulightley imagined a handsome 
 gentleman, just past the prime of youth, who 
 passed his long white fingers through his 
 hair and replied to a respectful coterie : 
 
 " Little Margaret ? Ah, yes ; found her 
 in the backwoods ; saw what might be made 
 of her, so set to work and did what I could. 
 By George ! the dear child got so fond of 
 me that — Well, I was obliged to marry her 
 off to my nephew there. Yes; ha I ha! 
 Oh, I got him to paint her portrait for me, 
 and for a quiet man like me that does quite 
 as well as the original, you know, and may 
 be just a leetle bit better. — You take me, 
 madam, I see. Ha ! ha ! " 
 
 If this were not the whole future to 
 which Golightley looked forward in his re- 
 lations with Madge, at any rate it came as 
 near being so as it suited his present con- 
 venience to own. Of course there might be 
 unsuspected elements involved, which would 
 claim consideration in due season. There 
 was a great deal in Madge besides her beauty ; 
 she was very shrewd and intelligent, ambi- 
 tious, and possessed of a subtile kind of auda- 
 city. Moreover, unless Golightley's diagno- 
 sis were at fault, she had, or believed her- 
 self to have, a secret and particular lien 
 upon himself. It was not easy, therefore, to 
 foretell how they might ultimately stand 
 toward each other ; " and meanwhile," ] 
 
 thought he, " let things take their course up 
 to a certain point, so that I may be freer to 
 act on the spur of the moment, and less apt 
 to compromise myself meanwhile.'' 
 
 But he had not been prepared for Cuth- 
 bert's objection, and he could only conject- 
 ure its probable upshot. He would have 
 liked to retort upon his brother with some 
 neat epigram, but he could think of none at 
 the moment, and, indeed, he seldom did him- 
 self justice in that quiet, penetrating pres- 
 ence ; his genius was rebuked, as, it is said, 
 Mark Antony's was by OiBsar's. 
 
 " Ah, Outhbert," said he, " I sometimes 
 think it's a pity you are not more ill-natured 
 and cynical tlian you are ; you'd make such 
 a devilish good satirist. Now, what are you 
 up to ? The only safe thing with you is to 
 treat your utterances like those of the old 
 oracles, and give them any signification but 
 the most ostensible one." 
 
 " Well, expound what is hidden, if you 
 suspect anything." 
 
 " Seriously, you know, my dear old boy, 
 I might be a bit hurt. You forget that I'm 
 the lad's uncle. I explained to you the other 
 night that since my late business enterprises 
 had done so well, I want the family to enjoy 
 the good of it. You're not as frank as I've 
 always been with you. When my affairs 
 were in suspense, I knew you felt the same 
 interest in keeping me up as if the need had 
 been your own, and I took what I required, 
 as a brother should, frankly and freely. I 
 don't say — I never did say — that either one 
 of us had a better right to the property than 
 the other. Blessed be the Great Spirit, 
 that's a question that need never be entered 
 on now. I simply acted, as I always wish 
 to act, like a gentleman — a — and a brother." 
 
 " Is your meaning a hidden or an osten- 
 sible one? " inquired Outhbert at this point. 
 
 " It isn't doing me quite justice, you 
 know," continued Golightley, shaking his 
 head, with a somewhat melancholy smile, 
 but not otherwise noticing this interruption. 
 " You'll never know — no one can ever know 
 — I speak frankly to you, dear boy, as I 
 could to no one else — ever know what a life 
 of self-abnegation mine has been. You don't 
 know how constantly you've been in my 
 thoughts. Damn it, you know, Outhbert, I 
 
126 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 give religion and all religious virtues a wide 
 berth — a man like myself necessarily out- 
 grows that sort of thing ; but I have a code, 
 and, frankly, I consider it none the worse 
 that it's not dependent on superstitious non- 
 sense : well, what I mean to say is, a man 
 of my principles could not but have the wel- 
 fare of you two in view in whatever he did. 
 I was obliged to draw heavily sometimes, I 
 dare say ; sometimes, perhaps, I didn't real- 
 ize, in the absorption and excitement of the 
 moment, how comparatively small the in- 
 come of the estate really was ; but I never 
 hesitated, because I knew your interests 
 were as mine, and — " 
 
 " Nikomis," said Cuthbert, with the def- 
 erence which he invariably ohserved in his 
 intercourse with that dusky personage, " be 
 kind enough to give Mr. Golightley some 
 more buckwheats." 
 
 " It amounts to just this," resumed Go- 
 lightley, taking this second interruption in 
 very good part, and giving his long forefin- 
 ger an expository up-and-down movement — 
 "just this : I've had my innings, and now I 
 want you to take yours. I suppose you 
 won't deny that there's Urmson blood in all 
 of us ? If I'm rich, I'ye a right to make you 
 and Garth rich too — and Mildred and Elinor 
 into the bargain. And it did me good to 
 hear that Garth was a painter, because that 
 gave me an avenue, you know — " 
 
 Perceiving that he was understood, Go- 
 lightley threw up his finger and continued 
 his breakfast. 
 
 " But," observed Cuthbert, after a pause, 
 " all this does not touch my objection." 
 
 "See here: it isn't possible — you know 
 too much of the world, my dear brother, if 
 not of me, to suspect me of any rivalry ? It 
 would be entirely out of the question. Of 
 course I'm not so insincere as to deny that 
 were I to enter the lists against a hoy like 
 Garth, he could have no chance ; hut it's out 
 of the question, for twenty reasons. The 
 girl is devilishly attractive, but for a man of 
 great social experience like myself, the posi- 
 tion of husband, of all things — To tell you 
 the truth, Cuthbert," continued Golightley, 
 resuming his finger, confidentially, "Madge 
 Danver — Madge Danver is nothing but a 
 country-girl to-day ; but, unless all signs fail. 
 
 and I am greatly mistaken, the opportuni- 
 ties — you understand — of fashionable life 
 and the world will develop that country- 
 girl into a — Circe 1 and a man IDie myself»r- 
 a social Ulysses, so to say — doesn't entangle 
 himself with Circes. I tell you frankly, my 
 dear Cuthbert, I consider my nephew a bold 
 man : he shows all the intrepidity of youth ; 
 but, by George, if I were, in his sho^s, I'd 
 tie Circe to the bed-post. She's clever 
 enough as it is, and if ever she comes to 
 know her own power — ^look out ! " 
 
 " What you say doesn't make me any 
 less in love with her than I was before," re- 
 turned Cuthbert, as he pensively stirred his 
 tea ; " and I cannot suppose Garth to be 
 any more open to reason on such a matter 
 than I am. However, I don't presume to 
 question the accuracy of your insight any 
 more than the reality of your self-abnega- 
 tion. But if you happen to wish to put 
 both heyond the possibility of cavil, I can 
 tell you how to do it." 
 
 Golightley stroked his mustache with the 
 tips of his fingers, and brought forward his 
 temple locks over his ears, hut would not 
 further commit himself. 
 
 "Pay your addresses to Miss Margaret 
 and take her to Europe, and hand Garth 
 over to Miss Elinor." 
 
 Golightley paid the dryness of his broth- 
 er's humor the tribute of an arch " Ha! ha! " 
 Then, still caressing gently various parts of 
 his countenance, he spoke dreamily : " Nel- 
 lie, sweet NeDie — ah, there's the woman for 
 a wife, if a wife there must be! Gentle 
 blood, high breeding, culture, accomplish- 
 ment-s. Nature full of tenderness and pas- 
 sion, if you can only arouse it; that cold- 
 ness, pride, high- mightiness, merely super- 
 ficial you know — the feminine shield to 
 screen the feelings she dare not discover. 
 Dear child, she idolizes me: too good for 
 me, of course ; but I owe a duty to her and 
 to Mildred. I owe them a duty r— I owe 
 them a duty. An exquisite reserve and re- 
 finement about Nellie." 
 
 " Her manner toward you shows it. How 
 long have you been betrothed? " 
 
 " Eh ? Well, that's a matter— that shows 
 the kind of girl Nellie is. I speak to yon, 
 my dear old chap, with perfect unreserve. 
 
UNFAITHFUL FRIENDS. 
 
 127 
 
 I proposed to her, you see; I proposed to 
 her the week after poor old John Tenter- 
 den's death. The circumstances were a bit 
 peculiar. John had just lost his fortune — 
 or rather he had just lost Mildred's: the 
 money was all hers. And vsry singularly, 
 I had just been successful in — a — a large 
 speculation, which put me in possession of 
 funds enough, as I just said, to make the 
 whole of us comfortable for the rest of our 
 lives. Well, of course, that turned the tables 
 completely for Nellie and me, and she, with 
 her refined sensitiveness, you know, felt it. 
 She'd have taken me at half a word while I 
 was poor and she was rich, but as soon as it 
 was the other way she drew back. She said 
 to herself, ' He's acting from a feeling of 
 charity ; he sees we are poor and alone, and 
 be asks me to marry him as being the only 
 way of securing us his wealth and protec- 
 tion.' So what does she do but refuse me? 
 By George! I was really — really touched. 
 Such refinement, such high breeding: risk- 
 ing the loss of me, you know, rather than 
 compromise the integrity of her indepen- 
 dence. Oh, it was very fine I And she went 
 on and talked about earning her own living 
 as a concert player, and all that; and, of 
 course, understanding just what was in her 
 mind, I humored her, and proposed coming 
 over here until business matters can be ar- 
 ranged, and allowed the whole question of 
 our marriage to hang fire. It suited me bet- 
 ter, too ; for I shall have to look about for 
 a residence, and find out what climate suits 
 her best, and, between you and me, school 
 my mind to bid farewell to bachelorhood — 
 ha! ha! " 
 
 "Insight is peace," observed Outhbert, 
 quietly. "If all men were like you, the 
 course of true love would run smooth. But 
 I fancy Miss Elinor has her share of insight 
 likewise. Did she not come pretty near the 
 truth in her conception of your motives? " 
 
 " Well, you have insight too ! " admitted 
 Golightley, with a smile. "But I do care 
 for the dear girl, and she's of a kind that 
 wears well. Do you know," he added, after 
 a moment, "I was really delighted when 
 poor John's fortune left Mm, and came, as 
 it were, into my pocket. I'll teU you why. 
 You see, he was a man totally devoid of 
 
 administrative and business ability. By 
 George, Outhbert, that child Nellie under- 
 stood ten times as much about business as 
 he did. Well, he had the greatest depend- 
 ence on my judgment, and so on, and wanted 
 me to manage everything for him, and in- 
 sisted on telling me what he had done or 
 thought of doing, and asking my advice ; 
 and I would say to him, ' John, I can't take 
 the responsibility of managing all this infer- 
 nal great property of yours : I'm a man of 
 no wealth myself,, and if you were to lose 
 anything by my advice, how could I replace 
 it?' 'Replace it! ' says he; 'if you'll as- 
 sume the position of my steward, I shall no 
 more think of calling you to account than if 
 the money was your own.' I used to joke 
 with him about that, and, one day, about a 
 month before the crash came, said I, ' Look 
 here, John, the money belongs to Mildred, 
 and she and I are brother and sister ; what 
 do you say to deeding the whole of it over 
 to me, and then all of you coming to live 
 with me as my guests ? ' ' Say ? ' cries dear 
 old John, in that hearty way of his, ' I say 
 come on! get ready the deed, and Mildred 
 and I will sign.' Well, I had a great laugh 
 at him, you may be sure ; but I thought then 
 it would have been better all round if it 
 could have been so. I never saw a man so 
 worried about financial questions ; he was so 
 devilishly conscientious about his duty, aind 
 was always afraid he wasn't doing the right 
 thing by Mildred's legacy as he called it. 
 Probably we didn't imagine, at that time, 
 how soon our mutual position would be re- 
 versed in earnest. I've forgotten whether 
 I ever told you the circumstances, dear 
 brother." 
 
 " I have forgotten it, if you have,'' re- 
 turned Outhbert, fixing his eyes on the other's 
 face. 
 
 " The coincidence was so curious. From 
 some confused statements of poor John's I 
 fancy most of his investments were in South 
 American stock, which was thought to be 
 very good at that time. In fact, it stood so 
 high that I was tempted to dabble a little in 
 it myself. I happened to hear of a good 
 opening, and in I went with every penny I 
 had. This was not long after that talk with 
 John. One morning I, went on 'Ohange and 
 
128 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 found there was a corner. Unless I could 
 buy a thousand pounds' worth within two 
 hours, I would lose all I had ; if I could buy, 
 I stood a chance of making seventy-five to 
 eighty thousand sterliug. There never had 
 been such a grand opportunity known. Well, 
 I hadn't ten pounds ready money to my 
 name. I thought a minute, and then I went 
 straight to John. 'Lend me a thousand 
 pounds,' said I. You see, I was certain of 
 not losing, and I knew how glad dear John 
 would be at having been the means of mak- 
 ing me a miDionaire. He wrote a check on 
 the spot. By George, Cuthbert," exclaimed 
 Golightley at this point, " he was as good and 
 kind a fellow as ever lived on this earth, and 
 if there is a heaven he's in it now." 
 
 " We will assume there is a heaven,'' said 
 Cuthbert. " Go ahead." 
 
 " Well, not to make a long story of it, I 
 used that check just 'where it was needed, 
 and a week afterward I paid back to John 
 the thousand I owed him, and had left to 
 my credit, all told, just eighty-three thou- 
 sand pounds sterling. I didn't tell him then ; 
 merely said I'd made a good thing, thanks 
 to him, and turned the conversation. I 
 meant to surprise him afterward. Poor 
 Johnl five days after that, we knew that 
 everything he had was gone ; and what was 
 devilish strange, considered as a coincidence, 
 I mean, was the fact that it had gone in the 
 same crisis that had made me. I tell you, 
 Cuthbert, it made me feel very queerly. 
 Who can tell, you know — who can teU 
 whether some of poor John's property may 
 not actually have passed into my possession? 
 I assure you, my dear Cuthbert, I almost felt 
 as though some infernal fatality had brought 
 to pass, in this way, precisely that ' trans- 
 fer ' that we had been joking about a few 
 weeks before. Poor John! he never sus- 
 pected ; but that notion crossed my mind, 
 and has bothered me ever since. Who 
 knows? Somebody must have lost what I 
 gained, of course, and why not poor John 
 as well as anybody else 1 Well, it decided 
 me on one point — I made a vow that day" 
 that I would never gamble in stocks again 
 as long as I lived." 
 
 " You're as wise after success as before. 
 Such good luck could hardly be repeated. 
 
 certainly. But do I understand you to say 
 that the amount of Mr. Tenterden's loss was 
 the same as what you won ? " 
 
 '' Oh, much greater ; John must have lost 
 a great deal over one hundred thousand, at 
 least. But the reason I've bored you with 
 all this, dear boy, was so you might compre- 
 hend my attitude and feeling toward Mildred 
 and Elinor. I felt, by George, as if all I had 
 belonged to them ; and the thought that that 
 thousand pounds which John lent me may 
 have been the means of losing him every- 
 thing he had — well, you can imagine, better 
 than I can tell you, the way it was with 
 me." 
 
 "But Mrs. Tenterden seems to think 
 there was a robbery, or some sort of foul 
 play." 
 
 "Dear, good Mildred! I've sometimes 
 had half a mind to teU her, right out, that 
 if anybody is to be apprehended on that 
 count, it might just as well be me as the 
 next manl Poor dear Mildred! She's a 
 clever woman in many ways, too, and de- 
 licious all through ; but you know how un- 
 reasonable women will get now and then ; 
 no doing anything with them. Yes, she had 
 some wild idea that there had been a con- 
 spiracy and fraud and forgery, and I don't 
 know what not ; and it was all I could do 
 to prevent her setting a detective at work, 
 at ten pounds per diem, to hunt down the 
 guilty ones. Dear, good soul that she is! 
 Well, I hope to make her more comfortable 
 than she could ever have made herself." 
 
 Cuthbert sat eying his brother in si- 
 lence, and seemingly in a fit of abstraction, 
 until at last the latter, having finished his 
 breakfast, rose from the table and turned 
 toward the fireplace. There sat old Niko- 
 mis in her corner, apparently fast asleep : 
 as well she might be, under stress of so much 
 powwow that concerned her not. Golight- 
 ley, who had perhaps quite forgotten her 
 existence for the time being, stood scruti- 
 nizing her for a moment, and then strolled 
 to the window. 
 
 " It is nearly time to be under way for 
 the picnic," he remarked. " What can have 
 become of that boy of yours, old chap?" 
 
 " Before he comes," said Cuthbert, rous- 
 ing himself and passing his hand up over 
 
UNCLE AND NEPHEW. 
 
 129 
 
 his foreliead ■with a sigh, " I -want you to 
 listen to a few more enigmas about the pict- 
 ure." 
 
 "Make haste, then, for here he is! " Go- 
 lightley exclaimed, from the window-seat. 
 
 In a minute Garth's forcible step was 
 heard through the house. He flung open the 
 kitchen-door abruptly, and, seeing his father 
 seated alone at the table, came forward with 
 his cap still on his head, and his face flushed 
 and frowning. He sat down opposite his 
 father, and pulled a letter out of his pocket, 
 the envelope of which bore a foreign post- 
 mark. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 •UNCLE AND NBPHEW. 
 
 Foe some days Garth had been under a 
 cloud: a certain sweetness generally per- 
 ceptible beneath his most rugged manifesta- 
 tions had been almost entirely obscured. 
 A man of his temperament can easily be- 
 come the most disagreeable companion im- 
 aginable. Stripped of the silent kindliness 
 and geniality which should redeem stern 
 features and reserved manners, he soon 
 grows intolerable. To attempt to conciliate 
 him is like putting your head in a lion's 
 mouth, and it needs more than average 
 nerve and audacity to bully or ridicule him 
 into good-humor. The best part of him at 
 such times is his morbid tendency to keep 
 out of the way. 
 
 Since the morning of the reception in the 
 studio, Garth had scarcely spoken a pleasant 
 word, or done a kind deed. He had moved 
 sullenly about, his under lip grimly pursed 
 up, his rough brows lowering over his eyes. 
 He rambled off in the forest after dark, only 
 returning in the small hours of the night. 
 He had avoided his father, stared his uncle 
 out of countenance, and had conducted him- 
 self toward Madge with an odd. mingling of 
 rudeness and impulsive tenderness. Tlie 
 only person he had fraternized with was 
 Nikomis ; he would sit opposite her in the 
 roomy fireplace for hours at a time, neither 
 speaking nor spoken to. Her dusky com- 
 panionship suited him better than that of 
 any pale-faces ; and he appeared to regret 
 9 
 
 that he had not been born and bred a fall- 
 blooded Indian, with a copper-colored skin, 
 a wigwam, and a collection of smoke-dried 
 scalps. AD this time he touched neither 
 pencil nor paint-brush. 
 
 Such having been his history of late, the 
 impetuosity of his manner as he entered the 
 room on this morning of the picnic was 
 something of a surprise. Golightley, who 
 had withdrawn to the window-seat, escaped 
 his notice at first, and he sat down opposite 
 his father, conscious only of him and of the 
 letter in his own hand. 
 
 "Father, I must read you this,'' he be- 
 gan; "it's from — " 
 
 " Good-morning, Garth," said Outhbert, 
 in a low, sarcastic tone, which he used but 
 seldom. " You might take off your cap and 
 say good-morning to your uncle; and per- 
 haps, if you ask her properly, Nikomis may 
 give you some buckwheats." 
 
 Garth rose, putting the letter in the side- 
 pocket of his coat, but leaving the envelope 
 on the table. He understood that his father 
 had desired to warn him that they were not 
 alone, and he thanked him with a look. 
 
 "I want no breakfast," said he; "be- 
 sides, it's time we were off, uncle. — Father, 
 you're coming with us?" 
 
 "No; I find I must keep my study to- 
 day. Besides, I think I've eaten too many 
 buckwheats. Make my excuses to the la- 
 dies." 
 
 Garth paused a minute, eying his gray, 
 pale, emaciated, bright-eyed father wist- 
 fully. 
 
 ".I'll see you this evening, then — late," 
 he said at length. 
 
 " Off with you, then, and may the nuts 
 and grapes be plentiful ; though, for my 
 part, I think buckwheats are a great deal 
 nicer, and quite as indigestible. Good-by." 
 
 The uncle and nephew accordingly made 
 ready to depart, each of them, perhaps, 
 wishing he might have had Outhbert's pri- 
 vate ear a while longer. Golightley, how- 
 ever, was too affable to manifest any discon- 
 tent: he gayly donned his hat, threw a pre- 
 cautionary shawl across his arm, glanced at 
 his spurs, and professed himself eager for the 
 woods. 
 
 " Addio, fratello mio ! " be cried, turning 
 
130 
 
 GAETH, 
 
 on the thresTiold, and airily kissing the tips 
 of his fingers ; and so preceded Garth out of 
 the room. 
 
 Mr. Urmson took up the envelope from 
 the table, glanced at the handwriting and 
 the postmark, and finally put it in the pocket 
 of the dressing-gown he wore, with a sigh. 
 Then he turned to the old Indian. 
 
 " Nikomis," said he in a feeble and rather 
 dejected tone, " I find my pains are going to 
 come on again. This will he a bad day for 
 me, I apprehend. I've been doing so well 
 for the past week or so that I suppose I must 
 pay for it. Can you have the medicine 
 ready in about half an hour? I shall be 
 overhead in the study." 
 
 Nikomis only grunted in reply; hut, as 
 Mr. Urmson prepared to leave the room, she 
 got up from her seat, and, hobbling after 
 him, threw open the door, took him gently 
 but effectively under the arm, and so moved 
 beside him down the hall, and slowly up the 
 stairs. Mr. ¥rmson's face looked pinched 
 and bloodless, and in mounting the stairs he 
 pressed his lips rigidly together, and once or 
 twice his eyelids quivered and almost closed. 
 Arrived at his study-door, however, he 
 turned, with something like his customary 
 smile, and said : 
 
 " Thank you, Nikomis ; you are a very 
 kind old lady.'' 
 
 Meanwhile Garth and Golightley were 
 on their way to the village, the latter, ac- 
 coi'ding to his persistent custom, having 
 linked his own through the former's unwill- 
 ing arm. Golightley was probably a be- 
 liever in the magnetic influence of one hu- 
 man being upon another, and fancied that, if 
 he could but contrive to handle his com- 
 panion enough, he would be thereby enabled 
 to make a corresponding moral impression. 
 Doubtless there are many persons who do 
 enjoy being stroked and patted, and who 
 are more or less liable to pur under the 
 operation ; but Garth never purred in any 
 circumstances, and was as averse from being 
 tQuched indiscriminately as though he had 
 lacked a skin. Nevertheless, he had never 
 openly resented the tactics of his uncle, tow- 
 ard whom he was, perhaps, the more dog- 
 gedly determined to showr liking, because 
 , instinctively holding him in disfavor. Garth 
 
 had a powerful imagination and more than 
 enough sensibility; but along with these 
 qualities he possessed a sturdy rational fac- 
 ulty, which was continually collaring its 
 more refined associates, and asking them 
 what they were up to. 
 
 His uncle, as they left the house, had 
 entered upon a discussion of Mr. Urm- 
 son. " Outhbert, your dear father. Garth,'' 
 said he, " is a man you might call avof 
 avdpav — 3 chief of men, as old Homer has 
 it. By George, he is a fine feUow ! I really 
 knew him very little before I went to 
 Europe ; he was away himself, you know, 
 during most of my big-boyhood ; and being 
 so much older than I, of course — and, then, 
 having different mothers, too, I suppose — 
 we weren't so intimate as we might have 
 been otherwise. But I always knew — bless 
 you, I knew just as well ! — that there was 
 the making of a grand friendship between us 
 two, if ever we got a fair show. But I'm 
 bound to confess that there's more to dear 
 old Outhbert than even I had given him 
 credit for. I only wish he didn't look so 
 confoundedly like his own ghost sometimes. 
 I remember he nsed to be rather delicate, 
 and, of course, I knew that years would 
 have their way with him, as with the rest 
 of us ! but, by George, I wasn't prepared for 
 such a change as this ! " 
 
 To hear his father eulogized made Garth 
 restive, even when convinced that the en- 
 logy was sincere. But the mention of iU 
 health merged this petty emotion in a deeper 
 one. ' 
 
 " You spoke of that once before," he 
 said, looking at his companion, " and I 
 heard Mrs. Tenterden say something about 
 it, too. My^ father is getting old, and the 
 last few months has had pain sometimes — 
 rheumatism, I suppose ; but he cannot be 
 seriously ill." 
 
 " Ah, my dear boy, you see, you are 
 with him from day to day, and his debility 
 wouldn't come on you with a shock, as it 
 did on me. He has hardly a remnant of the 
 vivacity and sparkle that I remember in 
 him. I still catch a glimpse occasionally of 
 that old subtile, ironical humor that can 
 never quite die out of him ; but the elas- 
 ticity, the mischievous glance — ah, dear old 
 
UNCLE AND NEPHEW. 
 
 131 
 
 Cathbert ! I fancy your dear mother's death 
 must have shattered him a good deal ? " 
 
 " He bore it so much better than I," 
 murmured Garth, speaking less to his uncle 
 than to himself, " that I almost forgot he 
 had anything to bear." He was silent for 
 some moments, but finally said, heaving a 
 deep sigh : " Yes, I can see now that my 
 father is not the same man since then. No 
 doubt it struck him deeper than it did me. 
 But he never shows what he feels — hardly 
 ever — either joy or sorrow." 
 
 " Ah, yes, that's Cuthbert : a great deal 
 of the Indian stoic in him. But a loss of 
 that kind will wear a man down, you know, 
 give it time ; and, no doubt, it may have 
 impaired the reoupei'ative power. Doesn't 
 be consult a physician ? " 
 
 " No — yes ; Professor Grindle (a college 
 professor of mine, who used to practise 
 medicine) was here last spring ; perhaps 
 my father consulted him. He has letters 
 from him once in a while." 
 
 " Oh, we must get him a regular live 
 doctor ! " exclaimed Golightley, enterpris- 
 ingly ; " see what's the matter with him, 
 and cure him up. I dare say, now, this little 
 variety of having me with him, and seeing 
 Mildred now and then, and so on, will be of 
 the greatest benefit to him. I hope to do 
 wonders, my dear Garth, in ttfe way of rais- 
 ing his spirits and making everything easy 
 and comfortable for him. Bless his heart! 
 he's had plenty of anxiety and trouble, I 
 don't doubt ; so have I — we all have had ; 
 this uncertainty and restriction regarding 
 money-matters, you know, and all that sort 
 of thing; but that's done with now, thank 
 Fortune, and I mean to have us all easy and 
 comfortable from this time forth. As for 
 you, you have genius, and are bound to 
 make a fortune of your own. However, I 
 should be glad to think that I'd given you a 
 bit of a lift at the start — eh ? " 
 
 Garth was silent for some time. At last 
 he said : 
 
 " You have given me such a hft that I 
 shall never want another." 
 
 Golightley's recent conversation with 
 Cuthbert had put him somewhat on his 
 guard as to Garth's possible sentiments on 
 this subject, and he had already made up 
 
 his mind what was the proper thing to 
 say. 
 
 "Now, my dear young nephew," he be- 
 gan, engagingly, " I can't let you forget that 
 I am your uncle, and have a right to take 
 avuncular liberties with nephews and nieces 
 whom I love. I see what's in your mind, 
 and I like you the better for what I see; 
 and, to prove it, I mean to be perfectly 
 frank with you. There's a little bit of pro- 
 fessional pride and jealousy at work in you. 
 You want your picture to sell entirely on its 
 own merits, and not — " 
 
 " If you did not see what is in my mind," 
 said Garth, taking advantage of his uncle's 
 hesitating for a suitable expression, "I 
 should feel like telling you." 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! Well, now, my dear boy, 
 you must consider, you know, how deep 
 and genuine my interest in you is. Why 
 should not you prefer to see your picture — 
 which, as I have often said, has intrinsic 
 power and originality enough to make your 
 reputation without me — to see it in the 
 haads of a warm friend and relative rather 
 than of a mere disinterested connoisseur? 
 When you come to think it over, I know, 
 without your telling me, that that considera- 
 'tion alone will give you more satisfaction 
 than the mere price, more or less, that goes 
 in your pocket. Why, it's a mutual pleasure 
 and gratification to both of us." 
 
 " Why do you tell me this. Uncle Go- 
 lightley? " demanded Garth, with an air of 
 grave curiosity. 
 
 " Ah, my dear Garth, because a rather 
 said experience has taught me the wisdom of 
 perfect frankness between those who would 
 be friends. And I want you to feel how 
 great my interest is, not only in your artistic, 
 but in your domestic future. I'm so glad 
 you're going to marry that sweet, lovely 
 girl, Madge ! It's such a good thing for a 
 young man like you, of sound, high princi- 
 ples, just entering on life, to have such a 
 charming creature as that always at your 
 side, helping you over the rough places, and 
 beckoning you up the heights. Ah, Garth, 
 what a different life I might have led, if — 
 But no matter. No doubt it's better as it 
 is. ,H'm ! where was I ? " 
 
 Perhaps Garth did not know ; at all 
 
132 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 events, lie did not tell, but callously left his- 
 uncle to find out for himself. 
 
 " Well, what I'm coming to is this : I 
 spoke just now of professional jealousy. 
 Now, I know what it is to be a hot-blooded 
 young fellow, and I know that there's more 
 kinds of jealousy than one. And I tell you 
 fairly, Garth — I hinted it once before — that 
 the portrait which you have incorporated 
 with your picture in such a mastei'ly man- 
 ner, and which is a masterpiece in itself— 
 that portrait, and the associations which will 
 always cling to it, have mainly influenced 
 me in this little transaction of ours. But, 
 I'm sure, after what I've said about that 
 charming girl, that you cannot misunder- 
 stand my attitude toward her. I admire 
 her, you know, in the esthetic sense. I 
 might say, impersonally, but that I feel my- 
 self too much bound up with you all on 
 other grounds to call it that." 
 
 Uncle Golightley seemed likely to go on 
 yet further in this earnest vein, but at this 
 point Garth interrupted his solemn discourse 
 with a laugh, which, despite the elder's in- 
 sight into the workings of the artist's mind, 
 seemed to take him by surprise. 
 
 " I'm afraid I'm not a hot-blooded young 
 fellow, Uncle Golightley," said the nephew. 
 " I never had a misgiving on Margaret Dan- 
 ver's account, and it doesn't matter to me 
 what the picture is bought for, so long as 
 it's bought. That is the unpoetic fact. I 
 hope you admire Margaret — or her portrait 
 — at least as much as you say you do, be- 
 cause otherwise you would be, from an ar- 
 tistic point of view, a fool to spend a cent 
 upon the picture, not to speak of a thousand 
 pounds. But I told you my opinion on that 
 matter at the time." 
 
 Uncle Golightley was seldom so much 
 put out as not to be able to rally quickly, 
 and he now recovered himself with great 
 good-humor. 
 
 " I remember, you young Vandal ; and, 
 by-the-by, I wish you'd explain how you 
 came. to put that wonderful face into your 
 composition, only to utter blasphemy against 
 it afterward." 
 
 Garth shook his head. 
 
 "I forgot the picture," said he, " while I 
 was painting the face." 
 
 "By Goorge, well you might! Ha! ha! 
 You rascal ! So you're not afraid of a rival 
 well up in the forties — eh ? Ah, well, I 
 don't blame you ; and I see we understand 
 each other very well. But it struck me you 
 were a trifle in the blues lately, and I feared 
 I might have unwittingly trod on yonr corns 
 in one way or anotlier." 
 
 " I truly believe," said Garth, after a 
 minute or two, " that the only person I'm 
 quite safe in distrusting is — this! " indicat- 
 ing himself by a slight contemptuous ges- 
 ture. "Do you know, whenever I dream 
 of you, you appear as a scoundrel! The 
 discredit is mine, not yours. And I disliked 
 your ways — ^your free way with women. I 
 beg your pardon for it. It was because I 
 haven't the strength or the goodness, or 
 whatever the virtue is, to do innocently 
 what you^can do. I'm in a bad way, it 
 seems." 
 
 "See here, my beloved nephew,'' cried 
 Uncle Golightley, with a half-laughing, half- 
 apprehensive glance at his saturnine com- 
 panion, "have you gone melancholy mad, 
 or are you dreaming awake ? I never heard 
 you in this vein before." 
 
 " Have no anxiety,'' returned Garth, 
 shaking his shaggy head again, with a brief, 
 unmirthful smile. " It must be an eccen- 
 tricity of genius — and that will soon pass. 
 Heaven knows! There are the wagons." 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 I.OVEE AND MI8TEBS8. 
 
 In fact, the forest had now thinned away 
 and they were within sight of the Danvers' 
 cottage, which stood on the hither outskirt 
 of the little village. Before the front-gate 
 of the garden inclosure stood a roomy but 
 rather primitive rustic vehicle, consisting of 
 a platform mounted on four wheels and 
 fenced round with half a dozen uprights — in 
 short, an old-fashioned hay-rigging. To fit it 
 for its present employment three or four 
 stout boards had been fastened horizontally 
 to the uprights, at a suitable height above the 
 flooring, by way of seats ; and a number of 
 baskets of provisions had been securely 
 
LOVER AND MISTRESS. 
 
 133 
 
 stowed away forward. Two wiry farm- 
 horses were harnessed to the shafts, and a 
 group of persons, among whom were Mrs. 
 Tenterden, Madge, and Mrs. Danver, was 
 collected hard by. Madge was feeding the 
 horses with handfuls of hay, while Mrs. Ten- 
 terden seemed to be examinin'g the rude 
 conveyance with some misgiving at its lack 
 of springs, and confiding her apprehensions 
 to Mrs. Danver. 
 
 As Garth and his uncle drew near, the 
 latter stepping jauntily along with his beard 
 in the air, the former butting forward with 
 downward brow, Q-olightley, in the exuber- 
 ance of the moment, took off his hat and 
 waved it in the air, uttering a view-halloo. 
 Mrs. Tenterden straightway began hunting 
 in her pockets for a handkerchief to wave 
 in response, but did not find it until the gen- 
 tlemen were so close at hand as to rob the 
 act of its propriety. Madge left the horses 
 and advanced to meet the new-comers, look- 
 ing like an incarnation of the rich and lovely 
 day. 
 
 Golightley was on the point of greeting 
 her with all his customary gallantry of man- 
 ner, but happening to remember his com- 
 panion's crotchets on the subject, he forcibly 
 constrained his cordiality to a mere gentle 
 pressure of both her hands and a fatherly 
 compliment on her appearance and costume. 
 
 She laughed, and looked so provokingly 
 kissable that poor Uncle Golightley sighed, 
 and passed on to wreak his tenderness upon 
 sister Mildred, leaving Madge to her lover. 
 She stood in front of him, holding on to a 
 button of his coat, and twisting it as she 
 spoke : 
 
 "I saw you pass twice this morning, 
 from my window, and you didn't look up. 
 Tell me, dear Garth, have I done anything 
 wrong ? Are you sorry, or glad— or angry ? " 
 
 " I've been growing wise during the last 
 few days, that's all. You have done noth- 
 ing wrong." 
 
 "But why should growing wise make 
 you sad ? " 
 
 " Because it shows me what a fool I have 
 been, until within the last few days. But I 
 shall get over it soon, and be as merry as I 
 am wise." 
 
 " TeU me what you have been growing 
 
 wise about 3 " demanded Madge, with a 
 quick, scrutinizing glance. 
 
 " About marrying you. I ought to have 
 married you years ago instead of going to 
 Europe. By this time we should have been 
 a well-to-do farming couple, with something 
 tangible to do and think of — crops and hogs 
 and markets.'' 
 
 " Hogs and markets I You funny boy ! 
 I am thinking about fine people and society." 
 
 "It is all the same what you call them; 
 I think hogs and markets sounds the best. 
 That is my wisdom. "When I was a fool, I 
 shduld have preferred something abstract 
 and ideal. A fool, Madge, is a person who 
 talks and thinks about things above him. 
 When I first fell in love with you, I ought 
 to have made up my mind never to busy 
 myself about anything more above me than 
 you are. I never saw you looking better 
 than you do this morning; but," hci con- 
 tinued, taking both her wrists in his hands 
 and griping them hard, "there's nothing ab- 
 stract about you — or ideal either ! and there 
 sha'n't be in my life from this time forward." 
 
 " Do, Mrs. Tenterden, look at those two 
 sweethearts, without a word for anybody 
 but their two selves ! " cried Mrs. Danver. 
 — " Maggie, we're starting, child ! — Well, 
 wouldn't you think she was deaf, ma'am ? " 
 
 "It's a very delightful kind of deafness, 
 I'm sure," said Mrs. Tenterden, laughing ; 
 for she was not so old as to have forgotten 
 the time when she suffered from a like in- 
 firmity. "It makes one forget all about 
 matter-of-fact things and people." 
 
 " Ah ! " sighed Golightley, caressing his 
 cheek, as he turned his tinted eye-glasses on 
 the lovers. "When boys and girls are in 
 love, it comes to the surface in every look 
 and gesture ; but when we get a little older, 
 Mildred, it may show less, but it makes more 
 havoc with our insides. Where's Elinor? " 
 
 " She's always the last one to be ready, 
 you know," said Mrs. Tenterden. "But 
 there she comes." 
 
 " All in gray and scarlet, like fire and 
 ashes. Buon' giorno, fair lady! the last, 
 best gift of Heaven to man ! " He took her 
 hand and kissed it. " Come, Garth, show 
 your public spirit enough to get us in the 
 wagon. You and I must act as derricks for 
 
134: 
 
 GAETH. 
 
 these four nymphs. — Mrs. Danver, let us be- 
 gin with you." 
 
 Mrs. Danver, who was entirely capti- 
 vated by Uncle Golightley'a attentions, was 
 accordingly hoisted on board, and Mrs. Ten- 
 terden, a much heavier weight, and the 
 heavier for her laughing timorousness, fol- 
 lowed. Then came Elinor, who, as she gave 
 her hand to Garth to be lifted up, expected 
 him to say good -morning to her, and had the 
 answering greeting on the tip of her own 
 tongue ; but he turned his face away and 
 said not a word, upon which the proud, self- 
 contained young lady flushed pink to the 
 ears. Madge was the last, and she bounded 
 up with such unexpected lightness that Un- 
 cle Golightley lost his balance and fell back- 
 ward, to his great chagrih, especially as the 
 mishap unseated his tinted eye-glasses. How- 
 ever, he immediately jumped up again with 
 a great laugh, and declared that Madge was 
 the first young lady who had ever got the 
 better of his understanding, and defeated his 
 upright intentions. 
 
 By this time the two or three other 
 wagons which had been waiting, full of pic- 
 nickers, at the comer of the adjoining road, 
 were beginning to rumble away toward their 
 destination, amid much noise and merriment. 
 Garth, who had taken his place as driver, 
 was preparing to follow them, when Mrs. 
 Danver, with a sudden shriek of recollec- 
 tion, reminded him that it had been arranged 
 they should call at the parsoliage for Mr. 
 Graeme, wliose age and position entitled 
 him to that attention. The horses' heads 
 were therefore turned in that direction; 
 but before they had proceeded many rods, 
 the hoary patriarch's colossal form loomed 
 into view, somewhat bent and stiiFened be- 
 neath his vast, invisible weight of years, but 
 still sturdy enough, as it seemed, to bear 
 half a generation more. "While yet at a dis- 
 tance he uplifted his voice, mighty in spite 
 of the cracks and quavers that occasionally 
 sounded through it, and began a jovial mon- 
 ologue. 
 
 " Hullo, folks! Why, I began to think 
 you'd forgotten me, I'm such an inconsider- 
 able young man — haw ! haw I haw ! So 
 there's Master Garth ! is he actually going 
 to a picnic at last? Well, I've lived to some 
 
 purpose, now that I've seen that come to 
 pass ; no mistake about it — ho ! ho ! Wliy, 
 the other day; when he was a little chap 
 about up to my knee-buckle — he's not much 
 over that now, either — the other day — well 
 — eh ? what was it happened the other day? 
 I was just going to say something, but I do 
 believe I've forgotten it, though I've got a 
 wonderful good memory ; no mistake about 
 that — ha! ha! ha! — -Whoa, Dobbin! — Good- 
 morning, boys and girls. — -Young man, if 
 you'll lend a helping hand — I'm not quite so 
 spry in the joints as usual this morning — 
 once more! Thank you, sir. — I don't know 
 your name, hut — Golightley? Maud Urm- 
 son's boy that went to London five-and- 
 twenty years ago? Got back? Why, lad, 
 we're all heartily glad to see you again. I 
 do believe — though, now I think of it, I saw 
 you yesterday — or was it day before yes- 
 terday ? Yes, yes ; but it's the hair on 
 your face that bothered me. You're the first 
 Urmson ever wore side- whiskers ! hut there 
 was always more of Maud thian of Brian in 
 you, anyway. You had a show of the 
 split in the chin, but not the jaw — not the 
 eye, either. Garth's the man — Urmson all 
 over, like his grandfather and his great- 
 great-great-grandfather before bins. They 
 didn't any of them paint pictures, though — 
 eh, Garth ? I always said you ought to give 
 that up ; you will, too, I guess, one of these 
 days, and take to soldiering or privateering, 
 as an Urmson ought — haw! haw! ho! — 
 Madam, good -morning — Mrs. Tenterden? 
 Yes, yes; I know you all now — Maud's lit- 
 tle girl that we heard of, but never saw. 
 Do you know, madam, you came very near 
 not being born at all? Why, if Maud hadn't 
 been told that Brian was dead, and if he 
 hadn't been told that she was dead, they'd 
 have been made man and wife in the year 
 1781 ; and then where would you and Outh- 
 bert have been, I want to know ? — ho ! ho ! 
 where would you have been, Cuthbert, lad? 
 Why, where is he ? " 
 
 " He said he must keep to his study to- 
 day," Garth made answer. 
 
 " Ay, working on his history — a history 
 of the United States, Mrs. Tenterden, incar- 
 nated, so to speak, in the Urmson family. 
 The family, madam, has been here pretty 
 
AN UNFINISHED SENTENCE. 
 
 135 
 
 nearly from fhe start, and borne a hand 
 more or less directly in all the chief events ; 
 but never, if you observe, ma'am, aiming for 
 the top places — no commanders-in-chief or 
 Governors or Presidents among 'em; they 
 represent the heart more than the head of 
 the people, you see, Mrs. Tenterden ; though 
 as for Garth there, it isn't easy to say what 
 he represents. Guthbert would make him 
 out the full body corporate, I suspect — ho ! 
 ho ! But I tell him no TJrmson ever took to 
 paint and canvas before — though Garth has 
 a fist for other things as well, ma'am, when 
 the time comes. Why, last Michaelmas-day 
 — ^haw ! haw ! — he gave such a licking to 
 Sam Kineo as scared the chap out of the vil- 
 lage — that was five or ten years ago, and he 
 hasn't been back here since. And all on 
 Miss Madge's account. But she's a little 
 witch ; and some day, when Garth gets big 
 enough, I'm going to try a tussle with him 
 about her myself. I believe she loves me 
 better than she does him now." 
 
 So saying, the venerable Titan drew 
 Madge, who happened to be sitting near 
 him, on his gigantic knee, and kissed her on 
 both cheeks. The love-making between him 
 and this young woman had never undergone 
 abatement or eclipse from its beginning to 
 the present day. Madge, to do her justice, 
 had been as true to him as he had been to 
 her. Possibly she appreciated the moral 
 support whicli his countenance and affection 
 afforded her in a community where the par- 
 son was still able largely to influence and 
 direct public opinion upon all social ques- 
 tions. Moreover, his unswerving and out- 
 spoken belief in her may well have had the 
 effect of moulding in some degree her own 
 estimate of herself. Although too clear- 
 headed not to be aware that in this or that 
 particular respect the genial credulity of the 
 old giant palpably overrated her, she would 
 nevertheless think better of her deserts from 
 . a comprehensive point of view ; and thus, in 
 deceiving him, she would be indirectly com- 
 passing a self-deception. Parson Graeme 
 had never, perhaps, been a person of very 
 profound intelligence: and, during the last 
 few years, such mental faculties as he had 
 had been gradually becoming clouded and 
 untrustworthy. Madge, however, though 
 
 possessing no small talent for demure ridi- 
 cule, was never known to exercise it at the 
 expense of her hoary admirer — a piece of 
 self-restraint which becomes easily intelli- 
 gible if we suppose her to have recognized 
 his value as a moral ally ; for who but a sim- 
 pleton would think of discrediting the pillar 
 of his respectability by chalking caricatures 
 upon it? Although, moreover, the good 
 minister could hardly have boasted such per- 
 sonal attractions as would be likely in them- 
 selves to captivate a young woman of 
 Madge's tastes, yet did she seem to find a 
 peculiar pleasure in clinging about him in 
 every affectionate attitude, caressing and 
 caressed. I would by no means deny the 
 possibility of her having detected in him 
 qualities so superior to all merely external 
 attributes as to sink the latter beneath con- 
 sideration ; but, be this as it may, it was 
 patent to the dullest eye that the contrast 
 between the warm grace of the lovely, bloom- 
 ing girl and the frosty ponderousness of the 
 age-smitten parson was vastly picturesque, 
 and, so far at least as Madge was concerned, 
 certainly most politic. However, the wisest 
 policy is not necessarily self-conscious, and 
 Madge might have been a politician un- 
 awares. It is not easy to look upon such 
 a woman and judge her severely, or even 
 impartially. She appeals to something in 
 man more potent than any merely judicial 
 or logical weapon that he is apt to have at 
 command. 
 
 OHAPTEK XL. 
 
 AN "UNFINISHED SENTENCE. 
 
 Soon after leaving the village the wagon 
 got into the rough woodland ways, and jolted 
 horribly, much to the distress of Mrs. Ten- 
 terden — one of those women who seem es- 
 pecially fitted by nature to grace a smooth- 
 rolling carriage, drawn by pampered steeds, 
 and attended by hveried footmen, but who 
 are quite out of their element in a New Eng- 
 land hay-rigging, or in any other situation 
 involving physical unease and awkwardness. 
 She clung to the wooden upright on one side, 
 and to Golightley's arm on the other, in mani- 
 fest discomfort and alarm. 
 
136 
 
 GAETH. 
 
 "Don't yon think you'd better walk, 
 daughter ? " she said to Elinor. " This jolt- 
 ing will be sure to give you one of your 
 headaches; and I'll come with you, so as 
 you won't get lost." 
 
 "No, I enjoy jolting," replied Elinor, 
 with a malicious smile ; " besides, what if 
 you should find you had forgotten the way 
 to the picnic-ground yourself? " 
 
 " I think that's very mean of you, Nel- 
 lie," cried Mrs. Tenterden, laughing at the 
 detection of her own duplicity. " "Well, I 
 hope, at any rate, there are no eggs or brit- 
 tle things in those baskets, or there'll be 
 nothing left of them." 
 
 " Oh, dear me, ma'am 1 " said Mrs. Dan- 
 ver, shaking her poke-bonnet, with its im- 
 maculate starched frill, " when you've been 
 bumped about as much as I have, you'll 
 never notice this at all — though, too, I've 
 got aches and pains in all my poor bones, 
 and have had many years, ma'am — yes. But 
 you always being able to live in luxury, as I 
 might say, it is but natural you should find 
 it come a little hard at first." 
 
 " Oh, I know all about country-life," re- 
 turned the other lady, who had too much 
 spirit to submit to any such assumption of 
 superiority. " I was brought up on the plan- 
 tation down in Virginia, and ran wild all 
 over the place till I was seventeen. — But I 
 must say I don't know where you get all 
 your endurance from, Nellie ; you were such 
 a puny little thing when we took you, after 
 Mr. and Mrs. Golightley died ; and then we 
 all went over to Europe, and lived there 
 ever since — in luxury, as you would say, 
 Mrs. Danver," she added, with her good- 
 natured laugh. 
 
 "Elinor has the old Cavalier spirit," said 
 Golightley, " and minds jolting no more than 
 one of Prince Rupert's horsemen." 
 
 Elinor seemed inclined to resent being 
 made the subject of personalities in mixed 
 company, and she would have withdrawn 
 into herself with all the haughtiness of her 
 twenty maiden years ; but at this juncture 
 Parson Graeme put his enormous finger in 
 the pie. 
 
 "Is miss a Golightley?" he asked, in 
 his time-worn rumble. " "Why, I thought, 
 madam, she'd been your own daughter. A 
 
 real Golightley ! Outhbert and I had been 
 thinking they'd died out. Let's see : there 
 was Rupert, Brian's friend, was killed near 
 Jamestown, when I was no older than Garth 
 is now. But,' to be sure, he had a brother 
 Charles — ay, that's the man! "We knew 
 Charles had a son, hut we never heard of a 
 daughter. — Miss, we're right glad to have 
 you among us — eh, Outhbert ? "Why, where 
 is the lad? He'd rejoice to see Charles Go- 
 lightley's daughter." 
 
 This was certainly tiresome and foolish, 
 especially. since something similar to it had 
 taken place once or twice before ; and Uncle 
 Golightley wore a compassionate sneer, while 
 Mrs. Tenterden looked as if she might have 
 laughed. But Elinor answered him with a 
 gentleness which she could not help feeling 
 for the decayed old patriarch, with his rec- 
 ollections of seventy years ago, and his for- 
 getfulness of the passing hour. 
 
 " Charles Golightley was my grandfather, 
 Mr. Graeme," said she ; " his son James was 
 my father. "We have not quite died out yet, 
 you see ; but I am the last of the Golight- 
 leys." 
 
 " Tou have a sweet voice, ray lass," said 
 the venerable minister, gazing at her with 
 his ancient eyes ; " a sweet voice, that tells 
 of a true soul and a pure heart. Take an old 
 man's word for it.'', 
 
 His own voice, as he spoke, abated some- 
 what of its ruggedness, for he was suscep- 
 tible as a child to certain superficial im- 
 pressions. The next moment, however, he 
 reverted, with a child's inconstancy, to his 
 customary noisy joviality. 
 
 " "When that boy yonder v/as born, 
 ma'am," he began, addressing Mrs. Tenter- 
 den, and pointing to Garth, " we were look- 
 ing about to see whom he was to marry. 
 Cuthhert was always for historical compen- 
 sation — something of that sort — ho! ho! — 
 and he said the TJrmsons had treated the Go- 
 lightleys so shabbily, it ought to be made up 
 somehow : if there was only a little girl Go- 
 lightley, Garth might marry her when they 
 grew up, and settle it that way. 'Better 
 hunt her up,' said I, 'before he gets ahead 
 of us, and falls in love with the wrong girl.' 
 Haw! haw! haw! However, miss," con- 
 tinued this old enfant terrible, "he grew up 
 
AN UNFINISHED SENTENCE. 
 
 137 
 
 sncli a bastful ciap, he was always hiding 
 away by himself, and we couldn't get him 
 even to go to the picnic till he was quite a 
 lad ; and then he shinned up a tree before 
 any of us got there, and never came down 
 till we were all out of the way again. But, 
 sure enough, that same night he was punch- 
 ing Sam Kineo's head because Sam had — 
 "What was it he did to you, Madge, my 
 lass ? " 
 
 " Nothing, grandpapa, dear," replied that 
 young lady, with a covert glance at Garth, 
 who had turned partly round as if trying to 
 relieve her from her supposed embarrassment 
 by commanding the eyes of the auditors to 
 his own flushed and darkening visage. 
 
 "I beg the company's pardon," said he, 
 " for having to rake up the story ; but Sam 
 Kineo said he had done what he had not." 
 
 Good Mrs. Tenterden, whose own good 
 humor not seldom betrayed her into inad- 
 vertently exasperating the raw places of less 
 happily constituted persons, hereupon began 
 to chuckle and shake her statuesque shoul- 
 ders, at the same time casting arch glances 
 at poor Madge, evidently with the intention 
 of presently uttering some unforgivable innu- 
 endo aboht the coquettishness of pretty girls 
 and the unsuspecting credulity of young 
 men. Elinor saw the impending peril, and 
 was impelled, despite her declared hostility 
 and contempt for Garth Urmson, to make an 
 attempt at turning the conversation. 
 
 " We met a gentleman abroad who, I be- 
 lieve, was a friend of yours, Mr. Urmson. 
 His name was Selwyn." 
 
 "Yes," said Garth, involuntarily putting 
 his hand in his coat-pocket; "he was with 
 me in Europe the first year, and afterward 
 studied law in Germany. A very diflerent 
 man from Kineo ! " 
 
 "He was a very intelligent person," ob- 
 served Mrs. Tenterden. "We all got to like 
 him very much. At least,'' she added, 
 recollecting herself, "/ thought him very 
 clever and agreeable.-— -You didn't, Golight- 
 
 ley." 
 
 "I'm glad to hear it," Golightley hast- 
 ened to say, settling his eye-glasses and 
 bringing forward his hair over his ears — 
 "very glad to hear, Garth, that Jack Sel- 
 wyn was a friend of yours. Of course, one 
 
 who has seen so much of what strangers on 
 the Continent sometimes turn out to be, has 
 to exercise great caution in admitting peo- 
 ple to too great familiarity. H'm ! — ^You 
 mustn't say I disliked him, my dear Mildred ; 
 but I felt it would be un advisable to consult 
 a man whose respectability we bad no means 
 of establishing, upon a matter like the re- 
 covery of your lost property, you know. 
 Besides, it was perfectly impossible to re- 
 cover anything. I — h'm — I believe I never 
 mentioned it to you before, my dear, but for 
 several months I employed the first detec- 
 tives of London and Paris, and nothing came 
 of it." 
 
 " My fathers ! Golightley, did yon real- 
 ly?" exclaimed Mrs. Tenterden. — "Well, 
 if that isn't the funniest thing, daughter! 
 Well, to think of our not knowing it! " 
 
 " Selwyn," began Garth, and hesitated 
 for a moment — " Selwyn," he continued, " is 
 one of the most upright and keen men I 
 know. He has traveled over tlie world ever 
 since he was a child, and knows men better 
 than most men do. — You were mistaken in 
 not trusting him. Uncle Golightley. I be- 
 lieve he would know a thief or a scoundrel 
 as soon as he looked at him." 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! a sort of moral touch-stone 
 of hurhanity. Well, it's really a pity we 
 hadn't been better introduced to him. But 
 I'm interested about this Kineo, Garth. 
 What was he, and what became of him ? " 
 
 As Garth did not at once reply, old Mrs. 
 Danver interposed her thin, faded voice. 
 " He was just one of those half-breed In- 
 dians, Mr. Golightley, and I suppose that's 
 about all anybody does know about wliat he 
 is. He first came here, just a little baby, 
 with Nikomis, now the cook up to Urm- 
 hurst, where you've likely seen her, sir. She 
 called herself his grandmother. But the 
 best I can say is, I never did take to either 
 of 'era. I was really quite glad when Garth 
 put him down so, for I do believe he might 
 have troubled Maggie, though she always 
 laughs when I say it." 
 
 " A half-breed, was he ? Light or dark ? " 
 
 " Well, seems like he was pretty light for 
 a half-breed," said Mrs. Danver. " I recol- 
 lect we used to say, when Garth was more 
 tanned than usual, there wasn't much to 
 
138 
 
 GAETH. 
 
 choose but what he was as dai'k as Sam. 
 We did use to say, too, now and again, that 
 there was a likeness to each other between 
 them other ways, though Sam was taller 
 than Garth, and his hair was straight, and 
 he hadn't eyes like Garth — I'm sure of that 
 — and his nose and mouth were different. 
 Fact is, I don't know just how it was, and I 
 am not a good hand at putting likenesses, 
 anyway." 
 
 " Are there any half-breeds in Europe ? " 
 demanded Madge. " Perhaps he stole Mrs. 
 Tenterden's money.'' 
 
 "Ha! ha I" laughed Uncle Golightley. 
 " Then we must get Garth to give him an- 
 other thrashing. Ha ! ha ! " 
 
 " How lonely you must have been, Mar- 
 garet, dear, when everybody had gone to 
 Europe and left you behind ! If I were you, 
 I would make Mr. Garth give a pretty strict 
 account of liis acquaintances while he was 
 abroad. I, for my part, think it's very sus- 
 picious when a young man stays away so 
 long from the lady he's engaged to," said 
 mischievous Mrs. Tenterden. 
 
 "By George, Garth, that's a fair sus- 
 picion ! " cried Golightley, entering loudly 
 into the spirit of the fun.. "Come, who 
 knows but what you have a full-fledged 
 Don Juan under that red shirt of yours ! 
 Let us constitute ourselves a committee of 
 inquiry." 
 
 Garth, who had been giving his attention 
 to the horses during the latter few minutes, 
 faced about again at this attack. 
 
 " Be careful," said he ; " for if you guess 
 the truth, I shall confess it.'' 
 
 " This is getting serious," observed Go- 
 lightley. " Perhaps, in deference to the feel- 
 ings of some of those present, we had better 
 let this unfortunate matter rest." 
 
 " Well, I was down to the post-office this 
 morning," said Mrs. Danver — who, although 
 not chargeable with any quick appreciation 
 of the humorous, was happy to be able to 
 contribute her item to the discussion — " and 
 Mr. Stacy said to me there was a foreign let- 
 ter come for Mr. Garth Urmson." 
 
 "I declare, Mr. Garth," cried Mrs. Ten- 
 terden, laughing, "that does look very — 
 very — Do you admit receiving foreign let- 
 ters?" 
 
 Gai'th again put his hand in his pocket, 
 and pulled out a fold of blue letter-paper. 
 "Here it is," said he. 
 
 " The letter is in evidence, and should be 
 read," affirmed Uncle Golightley, in his self- 
 assumed character of Madge's counsel. 
 
 " I have read it," rejoined Garth, with a 
 smile ; " but that must suffice for the present. 
 You will all probably know the contents 
 hereafter." And he thrust the fold of blue 
 paper back. ' 
 
 Hereupon the Eev. Mr. Graeme, who had 
 been sitting in seeming oblivion of 'external 
 things for some time past, began to chuckle 
 inwardly. At length, when every one's face 
 was more or less set working by the conta- 
 gion of his stupendous mirth, he found utter- 
 ance as follows : 
 
 "Ho! ho! Foreign letters don't come 
 as often as they did a while ago, when Guth- 
 bert, poor lad, used to hear from Europe four 
 or five times a year, telling him he'd been 
 drawn on for a thousand dollars and odd, and 
 signed — haw ! haw ! haw ! — ' Your af — ' " 
 
 What the signature was will never be 
 known ; for, before it could leave the forget- 
 ful old gentleman's lips, the wagon suddenly 
 swerved violently to the left, and Garth 
 shouted, in a voice that might have done 
 credit to the stentorian parson himself in 
 his best days, "Look out for your heads, 
 everybody ! " 
 
 Everybody crouched instinctively, and 
 the overhanging branch of a tree swept 
 close above them. The horses, taking ad- 
 vantage, as it seemed, of their driver's care- 
 lessness, had shied off the roadway, and 
 hence the accident. Everybody escaped ex- 
 cept Uncle Golightley, whose hat was talien 
 off; hut such was his agility that, almost 
 before any one else had remarked his mis- 
 hap, he had vaulted from the wagon and was 
 running toward the place where it had fallen, 
 laughing loudly at the adventure ; and when, 
 having picked it up and clapped it jauntily 
 on his head, he had overtaken the others, 
 his amusement at the adventure was stiU un- 
 subdued. 
 
 Garth had halted his horses, partly out 
 of consideration for Mrs. Tenterden, who, 
 like most of her sex possessing ample physi- 
 cal development, was timorous as a rabbit, 
 
CAPTIVE. 
 
 139 
 
 and who now needed time to convince her- 
 self that neither she nor any other member 
 of the party had actually been deprived of 
 life ;, and, when that point had been settled, 
 sho was moved to expostulate with Garth 
 for his recklessness in putting so many lives 
 in jeopardy. 
 
 " Now, just suppose we'd all been killed! 
 I'm sure its providential." 
 
 " Yes, it was an escape," responded Garth, 
 gravely, eying Uncle Golightley as he spoke. 
 " But a hat is no great loss, especially when 
 it can be picked up again. We have but a 
 quarter of a mile to go. Jump in, sir." 
 
 " Since we're so near, I have a mind to 
 stretch my legs a little along this charming 
 forest path," said Golightley. "Au revoir, 
 though I'm a quick walker, and shall prob- 
 ably keep you in sight most of the way. By- 
 the-by, I wonder if Miss Elinor would con- 
 sent to keep me company ? " 
 
 Elinor had not uttered a syllable since 
 the accident, but bad turned more than usu- 
 ally pale. While Mr. Graeme was speaking, 
 she had looked point-blank at Golightley; 
 after that she paid no more attention to him 
 until he spoke her name. 
 
 She then stood up, and began to make 
 her way to the end of the wagon. Parson 
 Graeme, with elephantine gallantry, lending 
 
 her a helping hand over the seats, while Mrs. 
 Tenterden and Mrs. Danver pursued her with 
 exhortations and advice. Golightley stood 
 ready to receive her at the end of her pas- 
 sage, but she sprang quickly to the ground 
 without touching his offered hand. 
 
 "Good-by," cried Madge, smiling, and 
 kissing her hand. "Now you are going to 
 talk secrets." 
 
 Golightley gayly beckoned a parting salute 
 with his uplifted finger-tips. " We're only 
 in quest of an appetite. Don't eat up all the 
 nuts and grapes before we get there." 
 
 " Shall we carry your hat for you ? " in- 
 quired Garth, as he gathered up his reins, 
 "or do you think you can risk wearing it 
 yourself? " 
 
 "Ha! ha! ha! ha! I believe I won't 
 trouble you," was the reply. "You know, 
 I can keep out of the way of branches better 
 on foot than in your old hay-rigging." 
 
 Garth spoke to his horses, and the spring- 
 less vehicle trundled off^ bouncing along the 
 uneven wheel-i'uts, and was soon lost to 
 sight round the bend of the lane. The two 
 pedestrians were thus thrown upon their 
 own resources for mutual entertainment. 
 They advanced at a leisurely pace, side by 
 side, but not arm-in-arm, and conversing 
 with earnestness' and animation. 
 
 BOOK VI. 
 L0V3-MAEIN0 AND FLIRTATION'. 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 OAPTIVB. 
 
 Elistoe was angry: the delicate color 
 which rose and fell in her face, and the tone 
 of her voice, showed that plainly enough. 
 At such moments she stood revealed as pre- 
 eminently of an emotional temperament. 
 Her customary disguise of cold indifference 
 became transparent, and could never again 
 mislead. The feeling that was in her frankly 
 
 and pungently expressed itself; it tingled 
 forth through every avenue of gesture and 
 aspect. Like a child, she would forget her- 
 self in the generous vehemence of her utter- 
 ance, though never overstepping that which 
 lay deeper than consciousness itself — the in- 
 nate, vital law of ladyhood. Not that this 
 subtile restraint would render her indigna- 
 tion less formidable. Bitter is a woman's 
 tongue ; but the tongue of a lady can prick 
 like an envenomed needle ! 
 
140 
 
 GAETH. 
 
 But Golightley was not disheartened. 
 He had a well-grounded confidence in his 
 strategical and persuasive ability, and in his 
 knowledge of Elinor's temper. He had no 
 doubts of his ability to explain things. 
 Moreover, he was versed in the ways of 
 women enough to know how not to exas- 
 perate them — a rare accomplishment. Eli- 
 nor pointedly avoided touching him, for 
 with her a mental or moral antagonism was 
 inevitably carried into physical manifesta- 
 tion; but although he was particularly fond 
 of laying his hands on people, especially if 
 they were young and pretty women, he took 
 not the least offense, but maintained his 
 gentlemanly hilarity at its full height. He 
 prattled on engagingly about the woods and 
 the weather, the freedom and simplicity of 
 country-life, and the happy prospects of the 
 present party, and met all Elinor's stabbing 
 little rejoinders with an artless mildness that 
 showed no wound. At length she turned 
 upon him with dilated eyes and fell intent. 
 
 "Mr. Urmson, I should like to know 
 what you think Mr. Graeme was going to 
 say when he was interrupted ? " 
 
 "My dear Elinor, I didn't interrupt him. 
 Why didn't you ask him, or the horses, or 
 perhaps our friend Garth, who made most 
 of the noise?" 
 
 " I thought it would be fairer to ask you. 
 I'd been looking at you, and it struck me 
 that you were most concerned in it, and that 
 Mr. Garth knew it." 
 
 "What most struck m,e," observed Go- 
 lightley, comically, " was the branch of that 
 confounded tree that took ray hat off. Now, 
 Elinor, don't be cross, but tell me frankly 
 what's the matter." 
 
 "It was the way you looked," she ex- 
 claimed, with an impulse of shame and re- 
 sentment at being forced to explain herself 
 on so ignoble a matter. " Any one might 
 speak against you ; but I couldn't be mistak- 
 en in what your own face said. If what you 
 have told us about the way things stand be- 
 tween you and your brother is not true, Mr. 
 Urmson . . . how could you dare to do it? 
 You looked so frightened at what he was 
 going to say — oh, dear me! — and when that 
 interruption came, you looked so thankful, 
 and you were in such a hurry to get out 
 
 after your hat, that it came into my mind 
 the name Mr. Graeme would have spoken 
 was yours. Well, that's all I have to say." 
 
 "By George 1 it would serve you right 
 if I were mortally offended," remarked Go- 
 lightley, stroking his beai-d musingly, and 
 wrinkling his forehead. " I wish I wasn't 
 so good-natured. Here is Miss Elinor tell- 
 ing me that I've been begging aU my life 
 of my brother, instead of giving him mon- 
 ey, as I pretended, and that I was so afraid 
 of detection that I jumped out of a hay- 
 rigging and ran away! And she insin- 
 uates that Garth — a good-looking fellow, 
 much younger than I am — improvised the 
 accident to save my credit! I am too good- 
 natured — ^by George, I am." 
 
 " Do I wish you to be good-natured ? " 
 exclaimed the young lady, with contemptu- 
 ous lips. Golightley wiped his forehead 
 with his handkerchief and sighed. "And, 
 oh! how you have made me wrong your 
 brother ! " she continued, vehemently. " Tell 
 me what is the truth, quick, Mr. Urmson! 
 I can't bear this." 
 
 "Now, my dear Elinor," said Golightley, 
 in a large tone of charity, " you are making 
 a great to-do about nothing, and you will be 
 very sorry before long. You dear child, 
 what a terrible puzzle and fume you have 
 got yourself into, to be sure ! Let me see if 
 I can't clear you up and make you all happy 
 again. I'm not sure I'd do it merely on my 
 own account; but my brother Cuthbert is 
 one of the best and noblest of men, and I 
 must put him in a right light, come what 
 com.6 may." 
 
 This honorable exordium might have 
 made more impression upon Elinor had not 
 the inward turmoil of her wrath muffled her 
 ears, and disordered her understanding to 
 such an extent that she scarcely heard what 
 her companion was saying. She walked 
 along with her teeth set edge to edge, and 
 an expression which she meant should be 
 impassive, though, in fact, it was very far 
 from being so. But Golightley was sure of 
 his ground, and proceeded with all his cus- 
 tomary self-possession : 
 
 "If there were only a recognized law of 
 the Medes and Persians, which changeth not, 
 about primogeniture in this country, I dare 
 
CAPTIVE. 
 
 141 
 
 say it would be a good thing in some ways. 
 I believe it's still in some vogue down 
 South ; but we Down-Easters go in for 
 equal rights in our families as well as in our 
 politics. But the Urmson family — either 
 purposely or accidentally — have always set- 
 tled the bulk of the property on the eldest 
 son, and packed the younger ones off with a 
 few dollars in their pockets to get along the 
 best way they could. It was as much a 
 matter of course with us as it had been be- 
 fore we emigrated ; although, mind you, it 
 was perfectly free to us to change the order 
 of things whenever we pleased." 
 
 By this time Elinor's mind had a little 
 recovered its poise, and she was able to pay 
 some heed to what followed. 
 
 " Well, now, Cathbert being the eldest, 
 it was an understood thing that the estate 
 went to him : I never thought of questioning 
 it, for one ; and besides, you see, there was 
 the old captain's will, dated after his first 
 marriage — that is, dated before ever I was 
 born or thought of — distinctly bequeathing 
 everything to him. All I could expect 
 would be a codicil giving me something 
 to begin the world on. As it happened, 
 though, there wasn't even a codicil for me ; 
 though there was a provision made for Eve 
 or her descendants, in case any of them 
 should turnup. The truth is — ha! ha! — I 
 wasn't much loved by my good father, and, 
 my mother dying so early, there was no one 
 to take my part." 
 
 Elinor's face softened at this indirect 
 appeal : she could not but sympathize ; for 
 though Mrs. Tenterden loved her quite as 
 much as if she were her own daughter, yet 
 it was not with the love of the mother Eli- 
 nor had lost, and the difference was such 
 as a girl of Elinor's disposition would be 
 specially alive to. 
 
 "Now, my dear," continued Golightley, 
 repressing a strong desire to take Elinor's 
 hand, and contenting himself with smooth- 
 ing forward his hair on his temple, " it is 
 enough to say, as regards Outhbert, that 
 this will is the only one he ever saw or 
 knows anything about ; consequently, he al- 
 ways has believed, and believes now, that the 
 entire property, except the provision made for 
 Eve's possible descendants, belongs to him." 
 
 " But you told mother and me that you 
 had been supporting him ever since Captain 
 Brian died. What ! were there two wills? " 
 she added quickly, with a searching, half- 
 distrustful glance at him. 
 
 Golightley caressed himself musingly for 
 a full minute before replying. " When I 
 made that assertion to you and Mildred," he 
 said, slowly, " I was thinking of facts. We 
 weren't thinking of coming here then, and, 
 of course, I never contemplated having to 
 explain matters on poor, dear Outhbert's 
 account. It wasn't likely that the particu- 
 lars would interest you, and I never was 
 much giveo to tooting my own whistle. 
 And, even now, my dear child, I sha'n't 
 make any direct assertions in self-vindica- 
 tion. I haven't kept silence all my life to 
 break it now. If you are bent on damning 
 me on the evidence of my changes of counte- 
 nance, and Garth stopping a wagon, you 
 probably wouldn't really wish me to bring 
 forward better evidence in my defense. 
 However, I can put a few things to you 
 hypothetioally, as it were, and so leave the 
 matter in your hands. Now, I have good 
 reason to believe that, though I didn't please 
 my father, my mother really did love me, 
 and it's fair to suppose that she would wish 
 me to be well provided for; and, since my 
 father was entirely devoted to her, it's fair 
 to suppose that her wishes would have the 
 greatest influence on him ; but she died 
 when I was a baby ; so that, supposing my 
 father had been persuaded to do anything 
 or everything for me, you see he had a score 
 of years or so to think better of it in, and 
 go back to his first purpose." 
 
 " But her dying wish ! " 
 
 " Well, but to go on with our hypothesis. 
 You suggested a second will just now. I 
 don't say there was one, but you see how 
 there might have been one, and also why 
 there might have been an intention to de- 
 stroy it. And, then, not being at all a 
 methodical man, he might easily have mis- 
 laid it, or thought he had destroyed it, per- 
 haps. Then, by-and-by, you can imagine 
 an inquisitive boy, left pretty much to his 
 own devices, ransacking the old garret, for 
 lack of something better to do, and coming 
 across — By-the-by, my dear Elinor, don't 
 
142 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 you remember a very tiresome ghost-story 
 I was trying to amuse you all with the other 
 night?" 
 
 "Oh!" murmured Elinor, raising her 
 hand to her forehead, and then letting it 
 fall, abruptly. Such impromptu side con- 
 firmations often carry conviction more sure- 
 ly than oi'dinary demonstration. " Why 
 don't you speak straight out ? I'm feverish 
 ■with this ' supposing,' " she exclaimed. 
 " The truth can be trusted." 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! I don't know about that ; 
 the truth is about the only wild beast that 
 nobody has been able to tame. But I will 
 trust you, my dear, and I won't bother you 
 any more. There isn't much more to it. 
 My father sent me to England with a couple 
 of thousand pounds, and nothing was said 
 about lost wills on either side. I made up 
 my mind to fight my own way, and hold 
 my tongue. Outhbert had a wife, and, of 
 course, would need a settled property more 
 than a flighty, unencumbered bachelor like 
 me. Outhbert behaved like the gentleman 
 he always has been, and offered to go halves 
 with me ; but I told him if ever I needed a 
 trifle to help me out of a scrape, why, I'd 
 apply to him ; but I couldn't consent to 
 anything more. The devil of it is," said 
 Golightley, pulling forward his hair, and 
 glancing at Elinor, " that I have been obliged 
 to apply to him pretty often. I met with 
 such a confounded lot of ill-health and ill- 
 luck as brought mo high and dry more than 
 once. Oh, I don't set up for a saint at all ; 
 still, yon see, I might have been worse.'' 
 
 " Mr. TJrmson ! " was all Elinor found 
 to say. She bent her head, and her arms 
 drooped at her sides. 
 
 " I had the best of poor Outhbert, didn't 
 I ? " continued Golightley ; " not only had 
 the pleasure of helping him without his 
 knowing it, but the pleasure of giving him 
 the pleasure of being generous to me. It 
 was just as generous in him, you know, as 
 if the means had really been his. To be 
 sure, I had to put up with some people's 
 thinking me a sponge, and with one young 
 lady's thinking me both a sponge and a 
 story-teller ; but I'd do more than that for 
 dear old Outhbert; and, now that I've got 
 my little pile all safe, I hope to do at least 
 
 as much — and for Master Garth, too. By-the- 
 by, as to that wagon-accident, I'm afraid I did 
 the dear boy great injustice. My first idea 
 was that the venerable parson was alluding 
 to his letters home for remittances, and that 
 Garth, naturally disliking to have the subject 
 ventilated in public, stopped the venerable 
 tongue in the only way he could. But it 
 occurs to me, on second thoughts, that 
 Garth, ten to one, supported himseK during 
 his travels— portrait-painting, and so forth ; 
 and so I am really the guilty one, after all. 
 And Miss Elinor doesn't consider me fit to 
 be spoken to." 
 
 Elinor turned to him with as sad a smile 
 as ever glimmered in a young lady's eyes. 
 " If you consider rae fit to be shaken hands 
 with, will you do it ? " she asked. " Oh, 
 you don't know how much you have to for- 
 give I " 
 
 For did he seek to know, though the in- 
 quiry might not be uninteresting. For it is 
 perhaps to be feared that her extraordinary 
 suspicion of Golightley could hardly have 
 taken such sudden and vigorous root in a 
 reluctant or even impartial soil. The truth 
 probably was that, disliking the man in- 
 stinctively as much as she was forced to es- 
 teem and admire him on principle, she had 
 snatched at the mere shadow of a dishonor- 
 able appearance in him with the half-de- 
 spairing hope of proving it a substance, and 
 thus justifying her blind intuition, and free- 
 ing herself forever, at this latest moment, 
 from a union to which she was painfully 
 averse. 
 
 The issue was a double punishment to 
 her sinister desire. Not only was she re- 
 buked by Golightley's vindication, but she 
 was sliamed by the revelation that his seem- 
 ing falsehood pointed to an even greater no- 
 bility of conduct than he had yet been cred- 
 ited withal. He was verily a paragon of 
 generosity and self-sacrifice, and now her 
 defeat left her with neither strength nor 
 purpose to contend longer against whatever 
 might be his wish regarding her. She had 
 but one oflTering to make in requital of her 
 injurious thought, and, if he chose to de- 
 mand it, she must not refuse. No wonder, 
 therefore, if her smile was dismal and her 
 gesture spiritless. 
 
CAPTIVE. 
 
 143 
 
 GoligMley, on the other hand, hrimmed 
 over with the milk of human kindness and 
 self-satisfaotion. He understood his Yiotory 
 and its value ; he felt himself distinctly in 
 love, and inclined to press his advantage. In 
 spite of his worldly experience, he was, 
 under certain conditions, a susceptible man, 
 and even an impulsive one ; and there were 
 few things that suited him better than giv- 
 ing expansive utterance to warm and caress- 
 ing sentiments. He took Elinor's sad, shrink- 
 ing little hand between both of his own, 
 then lifted it to his lips, and finally tucked 
 it away tenderly under his arm. 
 
 "My sweet Elinor," he began, "I must 
 not let this crimson and gold path come to 
 an end without asking for one golden hope. 
 A year ago I broke in upon your mourning 
 too abruptly and heedlessly ; I was full of 
 my own selfish hopes and desires, and longed 
 to preserve you and dear Mildred from feel- 
 ing the pressure of the straitened circum- 
 stances — " 
 
 "Yes, yes, that was — my misgiving," in- 
 terrupted Elinor, who was now pale to the 
 lips. " 1 am proud, Mr. Golightley — I'm 
 sure I don't know what for — and so I an- 
 swered as I did, because I couldn't believe 
 that any one who knew me well enough to 
 care for me could find anything in me to 
 care about, but only to pity ; and I was too 
 proud to be pitied ; and I'm sure you can't 
 care for me." 
 
 If Golightley had not persuaded himself 
 beforehand that Elinor was at bottom quite 
 as ready to marry him as he her, the be- 
 seeching tremor that shook this last sentence 
 could hax'dly have been misinterpreted. Be- 
 ing thus prejudiced, however, he accepted 
 it as a tender hint to proceed, and gallantly 
 complied with it. 
 
 " Ah ! my dear little girl ! I see you have 
 plenty to learn on some subjects, and it must 
 be my privilege — Plucky dog that I am ! — to 
 spend the rest of my life in teaching you, by 
 practical example, how to appreciate your- 
 self. I will only say now that you are the 
 only entirely lovely and admirable creature 
 I have met. I don't pretend to be worthy 
 of you — what man is? But there's a sort of 
 poetical compensation, isn't there? in our 
 coming together in this way, a healing up 
 
 of the old legendary feuds, reconcilement of 
 Cavalier and Puritan, eh ? — ha, ha ! Now, my 
 dearest child, if you think you can ever come 
 to put a value on the devotion of an elderly 
 chap like me, who has sown his wild-oats, 
 such as they were, why, you know how 
 long it has been yours ! " 
 
 After a moment Elinor stopped in her 
 walk, and, pressing her forehead against Go- 
 lightley's arm, burst into a fit of tearless 
 sobbing. Her companion's words had smit- 
 ten her with a sense of desolation and exile. 
 Youth cannot easily be reconciled to the 
 sin-born divorce between physical and spir- 
 itual beauty or ugliness. Had Golightley, 
 indeed, been indictable merely for a rude 
 and ungainly outside, Elinor might soon 
 have schooled herself to endure or even to 
 love this for the sake of the inward loveli- 
 ness. But her quarrel lay deeper. Golight- 
 ley was comely and graceful with the refine- 
 ments of society and culture, and her aver- 
 sion grew from an instinctive perception of 
 some impalpable, indescribable quality in 
 him which had , as little to do with ordinary 
 physical repulsiveness as had his virtues 
 with his good looks. In short, if his beauty 
 were mainly spiritual, his ugliness would 
 seem to be wholly so. What malicious per- 
 versity of Nature was this ? 
 
 Elinor had dreamed her virgin dreams 
 of ideal love, wherein all was harmony and 
 most interior satisfaction. Was the fault in 
 her or in the world, that the realization was 
 so dreary? If this love were heaven on 
 earth, what must heaven be? And why 
 were human beings endowed with longings 
 and intuitions which there was nothing in 
 heaven or earth to appease and justify? 
 This marriage would be like a taking of the 
 black veil, with the tragic difference that, 
 instead of consecrating her to a mystic and 
 impersonal union, it would subject her in 
 absolute self-surrender to a being of flesh 
 and blood. Yet if she could not surrender 
 here, what place had she in the world, where 
 a worthier love — one built on less selfish 
 foundations — was to be looked for ? She 
 was bewildered, and so forlorn of help and 
 sympathy, that she was clinging to the very 
 man of all others who was the cause of her 
 forlornness. There was nothing left to her 
 
lU 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 but him ; and perhaps God, in requital of 
 her sacrifice, would either so open or so shut 
 her eyes that she might love him with heart 
 as well as mind. 
 
 " Why these untimely sobs, dearest lady- 
 love?" cried Golightley, putting his arm 
 round her waist, encouragingly. 
 
 Elinor freed herself in a moment, and 
 stood before him with quivering, breathless 
 mouth and piteous eyes, rubbing her hands 
 round each other and intertwining her fin- 
 gers. 
 
 " I think the best thing would be for me 
 to die, but I wUl be yours if you want me — 
 if you think you ought to have me. Seems 
 to me I wasn't made to love as other people 
 do. If I must live, I suppose you are best 
 for me. I wish I were more like other girls. 
 Perhaps I shall become better by-and-by." 
 
 " Now, my sweetest little Elinor — " 
 
 "Don't speak to me so! " she broke in, 
 with a sudden, startling cliange of tone and 
 expression, clinching her hands and setting 
 her teeth. " Why are you always so soft 
 and kind, humoring my foolishness and pet- 
 ting me and complying with me? Why 
 don't you show the strength that must be in 
 you ? Be strong and commanding with me ! 
 You must be like an iron man. Never be 
 weak and yielding to me. Mr. Urmson, I 
 believe there is a devil in me that would 
 tear you to pieces if it thought it could mas- 
 ter you. I want strength and laws, and a 
 will over me like Fate. Tou are too good — 
 never let me get the advantage of you by find- 
 ing out how good you are." 
 
 To this passionate outburst Golightley 
 was able, at the moment, to oppose nothing 
 better than a somewhat unmeaning smile. 
 He was not one of the rugged, hammer-and- 
 anvil sort of men, and could not pretend to 
 be. His conquest of women Lad always 
 been accomplished, not by main force, but 
 by finesse, and by taking cunning advantage 
 of feminine weaknesses. Although a little 
 daunted, however, he was not seriously dis- 
 turbed. He thought he understood the pow- 
 er of soft methods better than Elinor did; 
 and, moreover, he could not suppose that 
 this strange mood was other than transient. 
 She would soon calm down, and take her 
 new happiness as a sensible girl should. 
 
 Doubtless it would require tact to manage 
 her just at first ; but who had more tact than 
 Golightley himself? He had not lived up- 
 ward of forty years in the world for noth- 
 ing. 
 
 "Take my arm, my dear," he said, quiet- 
 ly ; " we shall soon learn to understand each 
 other. You have made me the happiest of 
 men, and I am not going to ask anything 
 more of you till you are ready to give it. — 
 Ah, we're coming to the end of our golden 
 path, I see ; and hark ! there is no mistak- 
 ing that ' haw, haw, haw ! ' We must be 
 close upon them." 
 
 In a few steps more they would pass the 
 edge of the wood, and come in view Of the 
 merry picnickers. Elinor suddenly tight- 
 ened her hold on Golightley's arm, and 
 looked up at him. " Kiss me ! " she said, 
 in a low, imperious tone that had more fierce- 
 ness than love in it; "not my cheek — kiss 
 my lips ! " He knew not what to make of 
 it, but he obeyed. She drew a long tremu- 
 lous breath, and after a moment said : " It 
 can never be undone now." Golightley, for 
 his part, did not altogether regret that their 
 Ute-A-Ute ended simultaneously with this 
 remark. 
 
 OHAPTEE XLII. 
 
 DAirCING AND FIDDLLNG. 
 
 Hale a dozen wagons were drawn up 
 side by side on the edge of a shallow hollow. 
 Overhead vast trees spread their burly 
 branches, and sent their yellow leaves, one 
 after another, wavering earthward, carpet- 
 ing the glade as with the dying sunshine of 
 the dying year. At the farther end of the 
 stretch of turf rose a granite rock, apparent- 
 ly composed of three separate fragments, so 
 united as to present the semblance of the 
 roughest imaginable chair or throne, with a 
 low seat and high encaverned back — such a 
 throne as Hiawatha might have held his 
 woodland state in. The forest in the im- 
 mediate neighborhood was so thinned out 
 that the place might almost have been con- 
 sidered a pasture, yet it was wilder-looking 
 than where the growth was denser. Knots 
 
DANOmG AND FIDDLING. 
 
 145 
 
 and ribs of rook emerged here and there 
 above the uneven surface of the ground ; 
 wild-apple trees crooked their fantastic limbs 
 on the knolls and ridges ; crimson clusters 
 of huokleberry-bushes sprouted on all sides, 
 and straggling, unpruned grape-vines, heavy 
 with thick-skinned purple clusters, coiled 
 round tree aad bowlder or wriggled prone 
 along the earth. The tract lay high ; at a 
 short distance roundabout the forest thick- 
 ened, and billowed away on all sides over 
 unmeasured leagues, while far southward, 
 at the farther "extremity of the distant, un- 
 seen valley, "Wabeno just showed the crest 
 of his dusky mane. 
 
 The ancient parson was bustling about 
 with ponderous decrepitude, overseeing the 
 unloading of the wagons. Garth had freed 
 his horses from the shafts, and was leading 
 them away to a comfortable spot by the 
 neighboring brook-side. Madge was assist- 
 ing Mr. Graeme, or rather taking charge of 
 him — deftly righting his wrong doings, and 
 guiding and finishing off his right ones. 
 Mrs. Tenterden had mounted a small hillock, 
 whence, with her gown gathered about her 
 in one hand and her parasol open in the 
 other, she was contemplating the scene in a 
 solid, majestic sort of way, as though she 
 were the genius of the place. This, how- 
 ever, was but a vain appearance, inasmuch 
 as she was really, despite her vaunted youth- 
 ful experiences of country-life on the planta- 
 tion, infinitely less at home than any one of 
 the company. Bat she had at least escaped 
 from that dreadful jolting hay-rigging, after 
 which anything was home-like. 
 
 As the two pedestrians drew near, Eli- 
 nor, to Golightley's renewed surprise, sent 
 forth her voice in a long, loud trill — a throb- 
 ing scream of vehement melody, which over- 
 topped all the buzz" and tumult of the party, 
 and drew upon her universal attention. No 
 one but Elinor knew what a sore burden 
 went out on the wild music of that scream. 
 Garth's horses, on their way to the brook, 
 threw up their heads and pranced, more like 
 battle- steeds at the sound of a trumpet 
 than the sober-sided old farm quadrupeds 
 that they were ; and Garth himself felt his 
 heart hound and his brows lift, and anon 
 was visited by a reminiscence of that other 
 10 
 
 outburst at the lake, and was angry, he 
 knew not why. Meanwhile Golightley, not 
 to be outdone, swung his hat,-,and was de- 
 livered of a well-rounded huzza; to which 
 the whole band of picnickers, led by the 
 reverend Stentor, bellowed and screamed 
 a noisy response. Mrs. Tenterden rashly 
 waved her parasol; caught by the breeze, 
 it overcame her balance, and she came tot- 
 tering down from her perch with desperate 
 steps, and threw herself, with an involun- 
 tary gesture of passionate abandon, into the 
 arms of the mighty minister. Hereupon 
 uprose a huge volley of many-toned laugh- 
 ter, so confusedly echoing from every side 
 that it seemed as if all the rocks and trees, 
 and the wagons and the babbling brook, 
 took part in it. In the midst of this mirth- 
 ful uproar Elinor and Golightley came np, 
 and stood the centre of the hilarious assem- 
 blage. Every eye was turned upon her 
 with a new interest. She seemed to have 
 advanced at one step from the position of a 
 silent, unnoticed, somewhat stiflf-mannered 
 young lady to the rank of a leading social 
 favorite, rivaling Madge on her own ground, 
 besides being mistress of another to which 
 Madge was a stranger. There are sometimes 
 epochs in a life when the reserved soul comes 
 fiushing to the surface, feels its deep brother- 
 hood with humanity, draws recognition and 
 sympathy therefrom, and for an hour is and 
 does that which shall in the retrospect as- 
 tonish itself and its companions, though 
 seeming at the moment more true to Nature 
 than Nature's self. So Elinor, in the reac- 
 tion from her passion of loneliness and re- 
 pulsion, sprang abruptly into an intense and 
 homely fellow-feeling with her kind, knew 
 herself one with them in each intimate trait 
 of soul and body, felt their warm, racy life 
 flowing through her fine blue veins, and was 
 conscious thereby of a new unbounded scope 
 of power and freedom. She forgof her frigid 
 misgivings, and became instinct with quaint, 
 genial delights. How easy, sweet, and 
 many-sided was existence, with joys like 
 daisies and buttercups, as numerous, as 
 humble, and as simply gathered ! She saw 
 how flimsy were the barriers of aristocracy : 
 longed to be of the mass, to act and think 
 and play with them, to hide from herself 
 
146 
 
 GAETH. 
 
 behind their wholesome vulgarity, and 
 plunge over head and ears in safe depths of 
 commonplace. Withal and beneath all, she 
 sadly knew this humor could not last, that 
 her half-baffled identity was on her track, 
 and soon would hunt her down, and, there- 
 fore, she yearned to taste the full flavor of 
 the flitting time. 
 
 "What shall we do first?" she asked 
 looking smilingly around upon the smiling 
 faces. '' Let's play hide-and-seek, or blind- 
 man's-buff, or let's have a dance ! Oh, yes, 
 a dance — shall not we, Margaret? because 
 we can all enjoy that together." 
 
 " Oh, but there's no fiddler^ miss," an- 
 swered half a dozen voices; "the fiddler's 
 sick, and couldn't come. Old Dave's got 
 his rheumatics, and had to stay back. Have 
 to give up dancing to-day, I guess." 
 
 "Oh no, we sba'n't!" cried Elinor, 
 blushing and laughing. " I'm so glad I 
 brought my violin ! and I'll fiddle for you as 
 long as you like. Yes, I can, really, just as 
 well as Dave — can't I, Margaret? — Oome now, 
 ladies and gentlemen, take your partners. — 
 Mother, you must dance — you must dance 
 with Mr. Graeme ; I'm sure you can't refuse 
 him. Well, but what is the dance to be ? " 
 
 " Dear life ! " cried Mrs. Tenterden, be- 
 tween bewilderment and amusement, as the 
 minister made her a mammoth obeisance, 
 and presented his arm ; " if I ever thought 
 of anything like this ! — Why, Nellie, I de- 
 clare you're a perfect captain 1 " 
 
 " The Virginia Reel, boys and girls," 
 proclaimed Mr. Graeme ; "in honor of our 
 Southern visitors. Bustle about now, lads, 
 and choose your lassies! — Here, my little 
 lady, let me help you to the choir-box — 
 there you are I I never saw you before, my 
 dear lass, but I like your face, right well. 
 Ay, the fiddle — where is it ? — there, in the 
 box I All ready now — ^hold on ! where's 
 Garth? where is that hx>j1 climbed up the 
 chestnut again ? Ho ! ho ! ho I Down to 
 the brook — ^no, here he is back again. — 
 Hnllo, Garth Urmson, you're late I no part- 
 ners left." 
 
 Garth, sauntering moodily up, with his 
 hands in his coat-pockets, might have seen 
 a pretty picture had his eyes been open to 
 it. Elinor, violin in hand, was standing in 
 
 Hiawatha's throne, whose hollow canopy 
 rose high above her head, while the rugged 
 and weather-worn texture of the rock pict- 
 uresquely contrasted with the delicate com- 
 plexion and clear-cut features of the slender 
 and stately young musician. Down the 
 glade in front of her were ranged the 
 dancers in two lines facing each other, the 
 men on the left and the women on the right, 
 headed respectively by Parson Graeme and 
 Mrs. Tenterden, Golightley and Madge stand- 
 ing second. The misty sunlight slumbered 
 over this scene ; the great trees cast tender 
 shadows across it, and made it rich with 
 tributes of golden leaves ; the mighty sky 
 impended infinite above all. Amid such large 
 surroundings, the full-grown company of 
 human beings might almost have been taken 
 for a band of frolic elves, joyously preparing 
 to cut fafatastic caprioles to the music of 
 Titania's bow. The spot was precisely such 
 a one as imagination would have fixed upon 
 for a fairy meeting ; and the sunshine was 
 so moderated and mellowed by its journey 
 through the Indian-summer atmosphere 
 that -it might easily take the place of the en- 
 chanted moonlight of elf-land. 
 
 " Never mind," said Garth, " I'd rather 
 look on than dance." Accordingly, he 
 threw himself down at full length on the 
 slope of the little hollow, clasped his hands 
 beneath his head, and so composed himself 
 for the spectacle. 
 
 " Turn out your toes now, children-r- 
 best foot foremost. Let drive now, my 
 lass ! " boomed the parson ; and with the 
 word Elinor waved her bow and let it caper 
 across the strings, and the reel began. 
 
 Never, certainly, since picnics began had 
 such dance-music been heard as this. It 
 inspired each awkward village boy and girl 
 and dame and elder with the nimble spirit 
 of sylvan nymphs and fauns. Nobody could 
 keep still. Those who were legitimately 
 engaged in the figure naturally threw ofi" all 
 restraint, whirling, bounding, and gallopad- 
 ing as if all laws of gravity, both physical 
 and metaphysical, were at an end ; but the 
 many whose turn had not yet come, and 
 upon whom it was incumbent to keep 
 steadily in line, found it a task beyond their 
 most resolute powers. They jigged up and 
 
A COUPLE OF INNOCENTS. 
 
 147 
 
 down and to and fro in their places, waving 
 their arms, swaying their bodies, and tilting 
 their beads this way and that, like so many 
 heathen dervishes. The madcap tune set 
 their blood dancing hi their veins, their eyes 
 dancing in their heads, and their souls dan- 
 cing in their bosoms. Old people and yonng 
 were there ; yet all seemed young alike, for 
 it was odd and pleasant to see how the boy- 
 ishness and girlishness latent in the aged 
 ones cropped out under the magic influence 
 of the violin, as fresh as ever in itself, "albeit 
 sadly thwarted by the load of crusty old 
 years which had been silently hardening 
 over it. That in them which danced was 
 the same now as ever in childhood, only the 
 fleshly instrument was not quite so handy. 
 
 Parson Graeme had in ancient times 
 been a most Titanic performer, dangerous to 
 be within reach of when the fit was on him ; 
 and though of late years he had hardly at- 
 tempted to do more than hobble through a 
 turn or two, and then back to his seat, to- 
 day he seemed to cast from him a score or 
 so of his supernumerary winters, and to re- 
 call in some degree the heroic achievements 
 of his mighty youth. If the enormity of his 
 gamholings was somewhat subdued, the por- 
 tentousness of his enjoyment was no less 
 than of yore. As for Mrs. Tenterden, 
 though almost young enough to be his grand- 
 daughter, she was less than a match for him 
 on this score ; her best exertions served only 
 to keep her inevitably in the way of the rest 
 of the dancers, where she revolved slowly, 
 first in one direction and then another, 
 laughing, breathless, bewildered, and per- 
 haps not a little astonished at finding her- 
 self hail-fellow-well-met with such a number 
 of the commoner sort of people. 
 
 Madge and Golightley meanwhile repre- 
 sented the refinements of the art. Golight- 
 ley was master of its sesthetics and scien- 
 tifics, and entered into the fun of the thing 
 with a kind of cultured yet humorous vigor, 
 which contributed greatly to the popular en- 
 joyment. But Madge danced with a grace 
 and poetry of motion such as she alone was 
 capable of. She danced with complete self- 
 surrender, spontaneous and care-free as the 
 sparkle of a fountain. Here was an end to 
 which she was created ; here was fit exer- 
 
 cise for her. Faultless and unweariable were 
 her flying steps. She made dancing seem 
 something worth being born and living for ; 
 she was the matchless embodiment of the 
 matchless music. Golightley, though his 
 acquired and educated proficiency could not 
 rival her inborn genius, was at least the 
 worthiest partner she could Lave chosen. 
 Madge had never liked him half so well be- 
 fore, nor, on the other hand, had she ever 
 appeared so fascinating to him. This was a 
 ground on which they could meet with ut- 
 most mutual cordiality, and from which they 
 might proceed, perhaps, to still more interior 
 and significant degrees of sympathy. 
 
 But Elinor, by whose skill all this merry 
 enchantment was wrought, had so identified 
 herself with the spell she was weaving that 
 by-aud-by she could no longer distinguish 
 between herself and it. It seemed to her 
 as if these creatures were thus gesticulating 
 and coming and going solely in obedience to 
 a fiat of lier will, and without any volition 
 of their own. They moved in harmony 
 with the wild fancies that gamboled through 
 her brain, and were, in fact, nothing more 
 than mystic incarnations thereof — a sort of 
 visible expression of her fantastic mood, a 
 palpable reflection of her mind ! This quaint 
 notion so worked upon her imagination, and 
 thence upon her violin, as to elicit a yet 
 crazier development of the hurrying tune, 
 immediately responded to by an increased 
 fury on the dancers' part ; and it occurred 
 to Elinor that, if she should happen to go 
 mad, the whole company of caperers would 
 have no choice or alternative but straight- 
 way to go mad likewise. 
 
 CHAPTER XLin. 
 
 A OOTTPLK OF INNOOBNTS. 
 
 All this time Garth was lying on the 
 slope of the hollow, precisely as he had at 
 first disposed himself, except that his eyes, 
 after wandering abstractedly from one to 
 another of the Virginia Eeelers, had at 
 length settled upon Elinor, and did not again 
 remove. His complete physical repose was 
 
148 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 in such utter contrast to tlie frantic unrest 
 of the others that he appeared to exist in a 
 different world, or rather, as Elinor fancied, 
 only he and she bad real existence at all ; 
 the rest were mere shapes of the imagination, 
 whose sole use, little as they might think it, 
 was to interpret between her and him. And 
 what was it that she would communicate to 
 him ? Nothing describable ; nothing that 
 words could convey ; nothing, surely, of the 
 slightest practical moment. Nor could it be 
 aught susceptible of being hereafter recalled 
 and brought into relation with matter-of- 
 fact and normal conditions. Garth, as he 
 existed in the matter-of-fact world, was any- 
 thing but congenial to her. What sympathy 
 could she have with a man capable of selling 
 his artistic honor? But in this ecstatic state 
 something like a one-sided sort of communion 
 appeared not only possible, but inevitable ; 
 and hence a conceivability, to say the least, 
 that the artist of form and color might, in 
 some primitive and paradisiacal form of be- 
 ing, have met and held fruitful converse 
 with the artist of sound. The transcenden- 
 talism of this idea made it harmless, and at 
 the same time rather enhanced its attractive- 
 ness. The entire fabric of it must vanish 
 the moment the violin-strings had ceased to 
 quiver ; therefore let its evanescent perfume 
 be enjoyed to the full. Was Garth, on his 
 side, conscious of it ? Never might that be 
 known. Tet he lay so still, and withal so 
 subtilely awake, it seemed as though he alone 
 could comprehend and translate the inner 
 meaning of that whose outward effect was 
 but to inspire a score of queer phantasms 
 with an antic frenzy. The vibrations which 
 whirled them in idle circles like dead leaves, 
 breathed to his soul, perhaps, the vague, un- 
 utterable secret of a virgin's heart. 
 
 In this manner it came to pass that Eli- 
 nor, when the Virginia Reel had spun itself 
 out, found herself in an apparently quite 
 other mood than when it began ; neverthe- 
 less, the last was an orderly outcome of the 
 first, or was possibly the first, more inti- 
 mately apprehended. How the dance ended, 
 or wherefore, or why it did not happen to 
 go on forever, she could not have told ; but 
 at length it was all over — the world no 
 longer obeyed the laws of harmony ; the 
 
 dream-shapes relapsed into the vulgarity of 
 flesh and blood ; and the pale musician 
 stood, with her violin folded in her arms, 
 wondering, like the rest, whence the late 
 enchantment had come, and whither it had 
 gone. Garth still preserved his supine im- 
 mobility, and made no sign. 
 
 The dancers were all very warm, espe- 
 cially Mrs. Tenterden, who had, however, 
 exerted herself less than anybody. They 
 gradually wandered oflf, singly or in pairs, 
 to seek coolness and repose in this or that 
 shady nook ; the big minister crawled under 
 the largest of the wagons,- and instantly fell 
 asleep ; and Mrs. Tenterden spread her 
 parasol and wandered hither and thither, 
 exclaiming, panting, and declaring that she 
 had no idea an Indian summer was so hot. 
 Golightley stood fanning himself with his 
 hat, and wiping his forehead with his scented 
 pocket-handkerchief, sending the while oc- 
 casional inquiring glances toward Elinor, 
 who, however, seemed wholly unconscious 
 of him and of everybody else. Madge, as 
 the result of some little reconnoitring, dis- 
 covered a similar insensibility in Garth ; and 
 thus it happened that the late partners found 
 themselves thrown back upon one another — 
 a state of things which neither, perhaps, 
 altogether regretted. The lady proposed a 
 short stroll in the direction of the tawny 
 belt of woodland on the left, and, the gentle- 
 man assenting with gallant alacrity, they 
 presently walked off together. 
 
 When they had threaded their way for 
 a few minutes through the living pillars of 
 the foi'est, Madge took Golightley's arm 
 with an innocent confidence that charmed 
 him. 
 
 " How beautifully Miss Elinor plays I " 
 she said. " How happy you must be, dear 
 Uncle Golightley I Mrs. Tenterden has 
 been telling me a great deal about how you 
 were in Europe — ^how kind and helpful you 
 were to them, you know. What a delight- 
 ful coincidence, wasn't it ? that you should 
 become rich just at the time they became 
 poor ! " 
 
 " Ah," said Golightley, putting on his 
 hat seriously, "those things that we call 
 coincidences. Miss Margaret, are a mystery ; 
 they are providentisd." 
 
A COUPLE OF INNOCENTS. 
 
 149 
 
 " Oh, do you believe in providence ? " 
 exclaimed she, softly. " I'm so glad 1 be- 
 cause, if you do, surely everybody can — you 
 are so wise, you know. But how funny 
 providence is sometimes ! One would think 
 it was hardly worth while to take the money 
 out of poor Mrs. Tenterden's hand only to 
 put it into yours ; because, you see, you use 
 it to take care of Mrs. Tenterden and Miss 
 Elinor, just as he did. However, I dare say, 
 you have a better right to it than he had — 
 I mean, you understand better what it's 
 worth." 
 
 " H'm ! what I should have preferred, of 
 course, would have been that poor John 
 should remain affluent, whatever the state 
 of my fortunes." 
 
 " Of course," assented Madge. " But I 
 suppose,'' she added, reflectively, " there's 
 only a certain amount of money in tlie world, 
 and what one loses another gets. And it's 
 particularly providential, to be sure, this 
 time, because Mrs. Tenterden is the daughter 
 of your mother, and it was from your mother 
 that the money first came." 
 
 "Eh? What a clever little head you've 
 got. Miss Maggie ! " said Golightley, with an 
 avuncular smile. "But I believe you're a 
 little beyond me now." 
 
 " Now you're making fun of me, Uncle 
 Golightley. I know how stupid I am," re- 
 joined Miss Maggie. "All I meant was 
 that since it was only by a sort of accident 
 that your mother got separated from your 
 father, after their first meeting down there 
 in Virginia, it is a sort of accident, too, that 
 Mrs. Tenterden ever was born, and so it's 
 another accident — now don't laugh at me ! 
 — that all the money didn't belong to you ; 
 and not only all your mother's. Uncle Go- 
 lightley, but all your father's, too ; because, 
 you see, it's just as much an accident that 
 your brother Cuthbert was born as that Mrs. 
 Tenterden was." 
 
 Golightley threw back his head and 
 laughed loudly. " By George ! Why, what 
 a little casuist you are! Ha ! ha ! I don't 
 know what Cuthbert and Mildred would say 
 to being told that they were nothing but a 
 BOrt of faux pas — eh? Ha! ha! He glanced 
 narrowly at her from underneath his blue 
 glasses; she was stepping along with her 
 
 I finger on her lip, which seemed to pout a 
 little, as if she were childishly resentful of 
 being made fun of ; but the broad brim of 
 her hat so overshadowed her lovely face 
 that he could not be certain whether he 
 read her expression aright. He fancied at 
 one moment that she partly returned his 
 glance from the corner of her long, dark 
 eye. 
 
 " Oh, there's a good grape-vine ! " she 
 exclaimed, suddenly, pointing to a huge oak- 
 tree, which had died in the grasp of a vine 
 which seemed almost as old as itself, though 
 abounding witli fruit. " What a splendid 
 bunch that is ! Oh, thank you ! But here's 
 too much for one person to eat ; you must 
 therefore go shares with me. Uncle Golight- 
 ley." 
 
 " Ah ! with pleasure. I can never refuse 
 to go shares with you in anything, Miss 
 Margaret," said Uncle GoHghtley, with an 
 indulgent smile. " These grapes, though," 
 he added, after eating a few, " are not worthy 
 of the occasion. Ah ! if you could have 
 eaten grapes with me in Italy and France ! 
 Well, who knows but we may all meet there 
 one of these days? Garth, of course, being 
 an artist, will steer for Rome and Florence 
 as soon as he can weigh anchor here ; and, 
 as for me, I fear it may turn out that I've 
 been an exile too long to take kindly to my 
 native soil at this late day." 
 
 " Tell me why you came back here at 
 all ? " demanded Madge, abruptly, resuming 
 his arm and peeping brightly at him from 
 beneath her shadowy hat-brim. " Mrs. Ten- 
 terden says it was decided on so suddenly 
 that she had hardly time to pack up. I'll 
 tell you what I think was the reason, shall 
 I ? — you won't be angry ? " 
 
 " Nothing that you can say, my dear," 
 affirmed Uncle Golightley, affectionately pat- 
 ting her hand, " can make me angry." 
 
 " Well, then," she continued, with a 
 peculiarly mischievous smile, " it was be- 
 cause you were frightened away by your 
 ghost. Ah ! you were just a tiny bit angry, 
 after all." 
 
 " What has got into your little head ? 
 My ghost ! Why, I'm not dead yet." 
 
 " You know very well, sir, that isn't the 
 ghost I mean. I mean the same ghost that 
 
150 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 you saw up in the garret at Urmhurst, and 
 went down-cellar with. The one that 
 opened the triangular parchment, you know, 
 which was dated in 1781, and was signed — 
 you won't be angry if I tell you how it was 
 signed?" 
 
 " Look here, Miss Maggie," said Golight- 
 ley, dropping his voice, and looking cautious- 
 ly about him, " what the deuce have you been 
 up to? You didn't hear anything about 
 dates and signatures from me, nor from Mil- 
 dred either. Ha! ha! "Well, here I am, 
 talking as if my ghost-story had been a true 
 tale." 
 
 "You didn't know, I suppose, Mr. Go- 
 lightley, that I am a witch," returned his 
 charming companion, tossing her head. " I 
 know all sorts of strange things about peo- 
 ple, and I could tell you everything that was 
 in that parchment, though neither I nor Ni- 
 komis can imagine why the ghost should hide 
 it away in the grave of Nikomis's ever-so- 
 great grandfather." 
 
 "Nikomis's ever - so - great grandfather, 
 was it?" 
 
 "Yes; but that's a secret, and you must 
 not tell anybody. You see, I tell you all my 
 secrets, because I know you can keep secrets 
 better then most people, especially such ones 
 as I tell you. And then Nikomis is a terri- 
 ble witch, and if she were to hear that you 
 had spoken about her to any one, she might 
 get angry and burn you up, or change you 
 into somebody else, or somebody else into 
 you." 
 
 " Dear me ! and how would she manage 
 that?" 
 
 " Oh ! " laughed Madge, evidently enjoy- 
 ing her own grotesque and absurd fancies, 
 " by muttering some spell over the triangu- 
 lar parchment, I suppose." 
 
 Golightley echoed her laugh, though in 
 so preoccupied a manner that it was plain 
 he must be thinking of something else. The 
 two walked onward for a considerable dis- 
 tance in silence, for Madge, perceiving that 
 oomething had given his meditations a seri- 
 ous turn, had too much good-breeding to 
 break in Upon them with any further unfold- 
 ing of her fanciful conceits. At length, 
 however, Golightley spoke, and himself led 
 back the current of talk into the former 
 
 channel, as though the quaint humor of it 
 had taken his own imagination captive. 
 
 " How long, may I ask, have you been 
 in the witch-business, Miss Maggie? " 
 
 " Oh, ever so long," she replied. " I re- 
 member Nikomis gave me my first lessons 
 when she lived in her wigwam in the woods, 
 before coming to Urmhurst. But the time 
 I studied most in witchcraft was while Garth 
 was abroad. There was nothing else to do, 
 hardly, all those years. I learned a great 
 deal. In some ways I got to be even more 
 of a witch than Nikomis ; for she doesn't 
 know how to read, you see, and I can read 
 in two or three languages, and that is very 
 useful in some kinds of witchcraft." 
 
 "But you never read anything," pur- 
 sued Golightley, " either with or without a 
 signature, that gave you grounds for believ- 
 ing that I had been frightened by a ghost 
 in Europe? Nikomis doesn't keep a Eu- 
 ropean witch correspondent, I fancy^-eh? 
 Ha! ha!" 
 
 " Well," began Madge, hesitatingly, and 
 paused — then suddenly brightened up again, 
 and went on. " Yes ; we have a corre- 
 spondent who travels all over the world,and 
 in Europe as well as in other places. He 
 sends us messages every once in a while, and 
 then Nikomis and I get inside our magic 
 circle, and I read them- to her. And there 
 was something he wrote us about a year ago 
 that I couldn't quite make out; but, since 
 you told us your ghost-story, I see the mean- 
 ing of it. So you see. Uncle Golightley,'' 
 she added, with an arch glance, "you be- 
 trayed yourself." 
 
 Uncle Golightley shook his head and 
 smiled. "And what sort of a chap is this 
 correspondent of yours?" he asked; "and 
 what may his name be? " 
 
 "Oh, he's a very strange creature in- 
 deed," said Madge, mysteriously ; " he's 
 half red and half white, and, if you strike 
 him with a sword, fire comes out of him." 
 
 Had Madge, after making this extraor- 
 dinary speech, happened to look at her com- 
 panion's face, she might have seen a singular 
 expression come into it and immediately pass 
 away again. In a few moments he spoke in 
 his usual tone. 
 
 " Which do you like best, my dear Mar- 
 
THE OTHER TWO. 
 
 151 
 
 garet — blind-man's-bufi', hide-and-seek, or 
 being my partner in the Virginia Keel ? " 
 
 " I like being your partner, I think — you 
 dance ao well. And then I like going shares 
 with you in the grapes." 
 
 " You're a witch, and of course you can 
 beat me at dancing," said the other, with a 
 short laugh ; " but, I dare say, we shall suit 
 better after having had a little more practice 
 together. As for the grapes, I see you have 
 some of the bunch still left. I suppose that 
 lucky dog. Garth, will get those? " 
 
 "I suppose so," assented Madge, with a 
 sigh ; " though I don't think he cares for 
 them so much as I do. He never will take 
 the trouble to pick them for himself ; but if 
 I put them into his mouth, he might prob- 
 ably consent to eat them." 
 
 "I think very likely," responded Go- 
 lightley, dryly. " I offered him a rousing 
 good bunch the other day, and he swallowed 
 it without winking. But, by-the-by, my 
 dear, aren't we getting pretty deep in the 
 woods? " 
 
 "Oh, we sha'n't get lost,'' she answered, 
 with a smile. "Keep to the left. I was 
 brought up in the woods, you see, and can 
 always find raj way." 
 
 They kept to the left accordingly, and 
 are lost to our, sight amid the falling gold of 
 autumn. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 THE OTHEE TWO. 
 
 Gaeth and Elinor, meanwhile, on emerg- 
 ing from their respective brown studies and 
 looking about them, had found themselves 
 virtually alone together. Garth raised him- 
 self on one elbow, stared at Elinor until she 
 was forced to return his glance, and then 
 threw himself to his feet and walked tow- 
 ard her with a superfine set grin on his face, 
 the cynical grotesqueness of which would 
 have made her laugh had she not been both 
 irritated and secretly startled. What did he 
 want with her ? She could not doubt that 
 she must be as disagreeable to him as he to 
 her ; and the last thing she would have an- 
 ticipated was a malice-prepense conversation 
 
 between them. It is true that she did not 
 despise him quite so much as before Golight- 
 ley'a explanation : and the discovery that 
 she had wrouged him on one score, perhaps 
 mitigated Jher sternness on another. On the 
 other hand, she might have reflected that 
 previous to his artistic self-degradation the 
 charge against him of indolent dependence 
 had not disturbed her in the least. Probably 
 all she did think of at this moment was that 
 his approach was unwelcome, and that she 
 would be rid of him as soon as circumstances 
 would admit. 
 
 " We must not appear singular, Miss Go- 
 lightley," began Garth, bowing with punc- 
 tilious politeness. " We aren't asleep, so 
 we must take a stroll. I'll help you down 
 — jump ! " 
 
 "I don't care to walk, thank you," said 
 Elinor; but she had already "jumped" at 
 his bidding, and now, in spite of her dis- 
 claimer, kept beside him as he sauntered 
 toward the brook on the right. She meant 
 to turn back after a few steps ; but it did 
 not appear necessary, or even very easy, di- 
 rectly to withstand a man of this kind. 
 
 " Since we're in different walks of art," 
 he resumed, " I may safely praise your pro- 
 ficiency. Such genius certainly should be 
 published. There was an undercurrent in 
 that tune you played which might have sold 
 at a high price." 
 
 "I don't look forward to playing in pub- 
 lic," replied Elinor, coloring high with in- 
 dignation at what seemed to her, fresh from 
 her dream, a most ungenerous and injurious 
 speech. 
 
 " No ? Well, selfishness is pleasant when 
 you can afford it. But, where's your van- 
 ity? Think of enrapturing thousands of 
 people! Art, you know, has three recom- 
 mendations : it can minister to your private, 
 selfish enjoyment, and it can get you money, 
 and flattery. But I should soon be tired of 
 painting pictures merely for my own amuse- 
 ment. I need admiration and good pay to 
 keep me going." 
 
 " I have no right to suppose you are not 
 in earnest in what you say, Mr. Urmson ; 
 but I must say it seems to me strange that 
 Art should reveal so much of her beauty to 
 — one holding your opinions. And it's hard 
 
152 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 to understand, too, how any one who can 
 see so much of her divinity should find it 
 possible to speak of her as a drudge and a 
 convenience." 
 
 " I suppose this is meant for praise con- 
 cealed under a thin veil of reproof. Between 
 your praise and my uncle's money, I ought 
 to be very happy. Do you recollect our pro- 
 found conversation in the studio a few days 
 ago? I've been afraid you misunderstood 
 something I said then. I fully agreed with 
 your criticism on the picture, hut of course 
 the alteration suggested was out of the ques- 
 tion. My uncle had already offered a large 
 price for the picture as it stood. Highly as 
 I honor art, Miss Golightley, a check for a 
 thousand pounds is worth all the ideal scru- 
 ples in the world." 
 
 " You are really very frank. But how 
 have I deserved this confidence ? " 
 
 " No confidence at all ; only it's pleasant 
 to feel you are understood. There's a sort 
 of inverted analogy helSvf een your case and 
 mine, thanks to one and the same individual 
 — ^that is, if I may construe your remark 
 about not playing in public as hinting at 
 your betrothal to my beloved uncle. I con- 
 gratulate you. His affection for you, you 
 see, has freed you from the necessity of do- 
 ing that to which his affection for mo com- 
 pels me." 
 
 " There could never possibly be any like- 
 ness or sympathy between you and me, Mr. 
 Urmson. Excuse me, I must turn back 
 now." 
 
 " No ; you can do more good here than 
 anywhere," returned Garth, his sardonic ex- 
 pression darkening into something less un- 
 natural but more lowering. " Come, come. 
 Miss Golightley, you'U have to put up with 
 me sooner or later ; and there's something 
 I wish to find in these woods. Besides, you 
 were an old friend of mine long before you 
 knew of my existence. After that first meet- 
 ing in the Green Vaults I followed you — in- 
 advertently, of course — all over Europe. At 
 last, to break the spell, I took your portrait. 
 That answered for a time ; but here we are 
 again, you see." 
 
 " It is easier to take such a liberty than 
 to resent it, sir ; but — " 
 
 Garth laughed. "Liberty? A cat may 
 
 look at a king ; and, to be honest, I put your 
 face on canvas only to free my memory of 
 it. A liberty 1 Why do you wear a face ? 
 If there be a liberty, it is on your part." 
 
 " I am glad you can speak to a lady in 
 this way," said Elinor, with her iciest 
 haughtiness ; " I may have been mistaken in 
 thinking well of your pictures; but after 
 this I can never be mistaken in you." 
 
 " Say more like that ! " exclaimed Garth, 
 grinning with a kind of savage delight. " I 
 like to hear you say what I am. Consistent, 
 am I not ? a charlatan in art and a charla- 
 tan in character ! I told you you could do 
 more good here than anywhere." 
 
 " I must consider myself as well as you, 
 Mr. Urmson,'' said she, stopping short in her 
 walk, and turning her face aside. 
 
 "Yes; but don't go back — don't!" he 
 repeated, in a tone of such strange entreaty 
 as made Elinor's heart beat quicker, in spite 
 of her best resolution. Half involuntarily 
 she moved on. "Think what a dramatic 
 situation 1 " he went on with a hurried im- 
 petuosity of utterance. " You detest me for 
 what I am, and I hate you for what I'm not, 
 and we are saying what we think 1 Appre- 
 ciate your privileges. Miss Golightley ; you 
 might search the world for charlatans, and 
 not find another like me." 
 
 " Let me go," said Ehnor, speaking low 
 lest her voice should tremble. 
 
 "Do you know why?" he continued, 
 not heeding her. " Because I was meant 
 for a gentleman. I'm no common man. 
 My mother was a most pure and sweet wom- 
 an; and there's no nobler, gentler, braver 
 man than my father. You understand that ? " 
 he demanded, suddenly, frowning at her 
 with glowing eyes. 
 
 Elinor drew her breath and said, " I am 
 willing to believe it." 
 
 "Yes. "Well, they're in me, both of 
 them," he said, motioning toward himself 
 with his chin. " And, against that, I've 
 made myself what I am. You mustn't for- 
 get, either, that I'm an only son, and the 
 last of the TJrmsons ; and that all the honor 
 of the race, and all the life-long hopes and 
 prayers of my father — he has devoted his 
 whole life to me — end in me." 
 
 It seemed to Elinor that the last three 
 
THE OTHER TWO. 
 
 153 
 
 words were as if he had struck so many 
 blows on her heart. She drooped inwardly, 
 and kept her body erect only by a conscious 
 physical effort. She no longer thought of 
 turning back, however, though to go for- 
 ward was now even more painful than irk- 
 some. 
 
 " Hear more, since you're so condescend- 
 ing," resumed her companion, after a short 
 silence. "Tou must excuse my egotism, 
 but I have reason to be proud of myself. To 
 realize my merit, you should have heard 
 what my father said to me when he sent me 
 to college, and once before, when I was a 
 boy ; and you should have known the fine 
 resolutions I made after my mother's death. 
 I tell you I'm no common man. Then you 
 should know in what a religious, reverential 
 way I have talked and thought about art. 
 You needn't trouble yourself to disparage 
 the good in my pictures. There is good in 
 them, and power in me, but that I choose 
 to be a charlatan, to paint pictures as great 
 as any in the world. Excuse my laughing ; 
 but when I remember the doubts and anxi- 
 eties I used to suffer as to my genius — But 
 I recognize my genius now, and I've no 
 doubt I can make myself rich by it. It 
 was only while I thought of consecrating 
 it to lofty ideal ends that I had any mis- 
 givings about it. Such a blessed peace 
 and security as I enjoy now, Miss Golight- 
 ley!" 
 
 " Oh, what are you throwing away ! " 
 muttered Elinor. " It weighs me down." 
 
 " Not that tone, after my pains to be ex- 
 plicit ! "With all my complaisance — no sen- 
 timental sympathy, if you please. Show me 
 how bitter you can be." 
 
 " You could not be so bitter if you were 
 what you would have me believe. Think of 
 the girl who is to be your wife, Mr. Urm- 
 son." 
 
 " I care only to talk of myself. Miss Go- 
 lightley. I haven't talked so much in ten 
 years as I have talked to you. I'm dumb, 
 enough to people who love me, but detesta- 
 tion loosens my tongue. You bring the 
 worst in me to the surface, and so put me at 
 my ease; but my admirers misunderstand 
 me, and torture me by probing after imagi- 
 nary good. Our relation can be of great 
 
 mutual benefit. Love is sugar, but hate is 
 salt. Haven't I made out my case yet? 
 Think again of a man knowing the good 
 that I know, and having such reasons to be 
 honorable as I have, who nevertheless gives 
 it all up for a paltry thousand pounds. I 
 admire your gravity. In your place, I should 
 laugh till I cried." 
 
 " Mr. Urmson," began Elinor, hurriedly, 
 " I am alone in the world, with no father or 
 mother, or brothers or sisters. Seems to me 
 it would be safer to die than to believe what 
 you ask me to. Your uncle wishes to marry 
 me, and I think him a good and noble man ; 
 but he could not help the harm this would 
 do me. But, if you are so base, how can 
 you wish to marry a girl without money, 
 like Margaret? There is a contradiction 
 somewhere — an impossibility. I used to 
 think my life had been sad in some ways, 
 but how am I to endure this ? " 
 
 " Take care ! there's danger of my hating 
 you in a different way — a worse way." 
 
 " Nothing is worse than this," she said, 
 with a slight shudder. 
 
 " Oome, let us be wise, and make the 
 best of our position," said Garth, smiling. 
 " I like recognition for my sins even better 
 than for my virtues ; and you happen to be 
 the only person qualified to give me full 
 measure. I've taken special pains to bring 
 my moral state clearly before you, and you 
 have naturally less charity and tenderness 
 than any woman I know of. Let me feel 
 secure of your constant and thorough de- 
 testation — if you would be so kind. Put all 
 your available contempt and venom into 
 every word you say to me, and then I shaU 
 have a real pleasure in meeting you. In the 
 natural course of things, we must often 
 meet ; but, I tell you fairly, if you try any 
 other method with me, you'll be sorry for 
 it. I won't put up with any gentleness or 
 relenting from you. Miss Golightley. If you 
 falter, you may stir up seven devils in the 
 place of one." 
 
 The latter sentences came in a growl, 
 with latent fierceness underlying it ; but 
 anything like a threat kindled Elinor's cour- 
 age. 
 
 " You ask me to become a devil myself! " 
 she exclaimed, vibrating with excitement 
 
154 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 " What have I done that gives you the right 
 to speak to me so ? " 
 
 " You would not like to hear. You have 
 played on your violin there, for one thing, 
 and I've heard your voice in singing. Why 
 did you stay to talk with me in the studio ? 
 What have you done with the violet I gave 
 you down by the lake? it was not meant 
 for you. Oh ! " cried Garth, with an im- 
 petuous gesture of his arms, "don't refuse 
 my request on any plea of conscience ! Keep 
 your conscience for something else. For I 
 solemnly assure you, whatever might ap- 
 pear, you would be doing an angel's work, 
 not a devil's." 
 
 Elinor made no reply. AU this time they 
 were pressing onward through the woven 
 forest, hurriedly, as though driven by some 
 swift necessity ; he mechanically putting 
 aside the branches for her to pass, and aid- 
 ing her to protect her violin from a chance 
 blow or scratch. After this silence between 
 them had continued for a few moments, he 
 looked at her, and saw tears running down 
 her face. She herself hardly seemed con- 
 scious of them, so intense was her painful 
 preoccupation. 
 
 He continued to fix his eyes upon her, 
 until she felt them, and their glances met. 
 Almost immediately he spoke, in a quiet, in- 
 different tone: 
 
 " We must not get lost. Miss Golightley. 
 Keep to the right. I think the lane is not 
 far off. There are some strange things in 
 these woods ; but I have not found what I 
 came out for, and I beg your pardon for 
 bringing you. Seliish people like myself 
 are always getting into such scrapes. I beg 
 your pardon for leading you so far out of 
 your way." 
 
 "I'm not used to the woods," returned 
 Elinor, who had hastily wiped her eyes. 
 "I like some sort of path ; this seems a wil- 
 derness." 
 
 "It is a wilderness; even the paths don't 
 go far ; the longest only leads from one wil- 
 derness to another. However, the lane is 
 not far off. Hark ! " 
 
 They stopped and listened, each with a 
 sensation oddly compounded of chagrin and 
 relief. In a moment it came again — the 
 sound of voices, a man's and a woman's, 
 
 easily recognizable, though the speakers were 
 still too distant to be descried between the 
 trees. 
 
 " This is the end," muttered Garth, with 
 the mingled smile and frown that sometimes 
 appeared on his visage. " We're in the world 
 again. Miss Golightley. Doesn't it seem to 
 you, now that civilization is within haU, that 
 we've been making a great ado about noth- 
 ing? My dear uncle, I guess, would poke 
 fun at us without mercy. After all, how 
 can we do better than to adopt the world's 
 views? Kindly oblige me by looking upon 
 me as an upright, sensible young gentleman, 
 with too just a perception of what is due to 
 himself and to those connected with him to 
 throw away fortune for what really is, when 
 you come to examine it rationally, the most 
 purely fanciful crotchet imaginable. Recol- 
 lect, too, that even if circumstances force me 
 to go a little beyond my conscience in one 
 instance, I can, and no doubt will, pay back 
 debt and interest on the very next oppor- 
 tunity. You wouldn't give a man up for 
 one trumpery little genial, venial fault ? I 
 beg to take back aU my morbid and ill-tem- 
 pered self-abuse. I'm a very nice sort of 
 person." 
 
 " I'm not sorry we took this walk, Mr. 
 TJrmson," said Elinor, glancing at him with 
 a timid humility in the expression of her 
 eyes and mouth, which lent them a new 
 charm. " We seem to have come to noth- 
 ing ; but I don't think I shall ever feel so — 
 so much in the right again. How should I 
 judge ? how can you, even ? " 
 
 " Oh, let it go 1 " growled Garth, with a 
 gritting of his teeth. " What are judgments 
 to me? I've insulted you with a lot of 
 weak rubbish, and you fitly punish me by 
 taking it kindly. But I'm in such a per- 
 verted fix. Miss Elinor, that the kindest 
 kindness helps me less than none at all. I'll 
 hail those two people." 
 
 " Please wait a moment ! " said she, 
 hurriedly, coming in front of him as he was 
 on the point of raising a halloo. " Just let 
 me say that I know you will do right, what- 
 ever happens." As she spoke, flushing and 
 paling almost at the same instant, she held 
 out her hand as a pledge of her sincerity. 
 As Garth faced her, she fancied that. 
 
THE VEIL AND THE LETTER. 
 
 155 
 
 from his short, massive figure, his shaggy 
 liead and dark brows, his glowing eyes and 
 grim mouth, suddenly came forth an in- 
 iluence of tenderness and manly sweetness 
 so powerful that it affected her almost as a 
 physical touch. He also made a motion to 
 take her hand in his own ; but, ere he had 
 done so, the gentle impression vanished as 
 abruptly as it had come ; he thrust his hand 
 doggedly into his coat-pocket, and turned 
 aside. 
 
 " Be offended or not, as you choose," he 
 said, gruffly ; " I can't touch your hand, nor 
 justify your expectation ; it's as foolish as 
 it is well meant ! " With this, and without 
 again looking at Elinor, he hollowed one 
 hand beside his mouth and gave a whoop, 
 which instantly put an end to all confiden- 
 tial disclosures on the part either of himself 
 and Elinor, or Uncle Golightley and Madge. 
 In another minnte all the four friends and 
 lovers were standing together in the lane. 
 
 CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 THE VEIL AND THE LETTEE. 
 
 " It's fortunate that our respective moral 
 and social reputations are without spot or 
 blemish," remarked Uncle Golightley, with 
 a humorous glance and smile ; " otherwise 
 this might be an awkward meeting for all of 
 us— eh. Garth? Ha! ha!" 
 
 They walked onward in a group at first, 
 as if shy of pairing off again ; but soon a 
 sort of neutral division was effected. Garth 
 and his uncle going in advance, while Elinor 
 and Madge followed on behind. Golightley 
 alone, however, seemed to be in the vein to 
 talk. He was in a most affable humor, and 
 did his best to make the others as pleasant 
 as himself. 
 
 " I say, old fellow," he cried, banteringly 
 addressing his nephew, but talking over his 
 shoulder for the benefit of the ladies, " I'm 
 afraid you're a gallant, gay Lothario I — ^Tou 
 must look after him, Miss Margaret. If I 
 were in your place, I wouldn't be letting my 
 young man receive mysterious epistles in 
 the morning, and go off on secret expedi- 
 
 tions with young ladies in the afternoon, 
 without instituting a pretty strict inquiry. 
 Eh?" 
 
 " Why, then, I think you must be his 
 confederate, Uncle Golightley," retorted 
 Madge, cleverly ; " for it was you who 
 carried me off, and left him free to do what 
 he liked. — But I sha'n't be anxious about 
 him so long as he chooses you for a com- 
 panion," she added, with affectionate di- 
 plomacy, to Elinor. 
 
 After proceeding a little farther, the 
 party came to a fork of the path, marked by 
 a clear woodland spring, which bubbled up 
 at the base of a large rook-maple, and so 
 slipped sparkling and tinkling away into the 
 heart of the golden forest. The source was 
 set in a margin of large rounded stones and 
 pebbles ; but the bottom of the little basin 
 was strewed with soft, white sand, which the 
 ebullition of the crystal water caused to cm-1 
 and gyrate in curious palpitations. The 
 maple had already lost most of its foliage, 
 the earth round about was strewed with it, 
 and two or three leaves swam like great 
 drops of blood on the surface of the spring. 
 
 " By George ! " exclaimed Uncle Golight- 
 ley, as he caught sight of this refreshing 
 spectacle, " I didn't know till now how 
 devilish tired and thirsty I am ! Let's play 
 we're four little children, and all lie down 
 on our stomachs and have a good drink. 
 Come ! " 
 
 They sat down on the smooth stones, 
 and every one of them owned to being more 
 weary than they had supposed. Elinor took 
 off her hat to arrange the veil which had 
 got torn from its fastenings during her pas- 
 sage through the wood. While hunting for 
 a pin, she laid the veil on a stone by her 
 side ; and, being a hght, gossamer thing, the 
 southwesterly breeze caught it, and wafted 
 it upward. Garth saw it go, and sprang for 
 it, but was too late. It floated and swung 
 through the air, now sinking, now rising, 
 and, at length, just as it seemed on the 
 point of starting on a long flight northward, 
 it was caught and held by a forked twig on 
 the tip-top of the very maple at whose base 
 the party were seated. 
 
 " Now's our chance to prove who's the 
 best climber. Garth," exclaimed Uncle Go- 
 
156 
 
 GAETH. 
 
 liglitley, intrepidly rising to his feet and ad- 
 vancing upon the tree. 
 
 Garth laughed, threw off his coat, and 
 measured the maple with his eye. " Give 
 me the first chance," said he ; "if I fail, 
 your success will be the brighter." 
 
 " Please, don't either of you go up," 
 said Elinor. " No one needs a veil in the 
 Indian summer ; it is more trouble than 
 use." 
 
 " Oh, yes, do let him go ! " Madge ex- 
 claimed, clapping her hands ; " I want you 
 to see how beautifully he climbs." 
 
 Uncle Golightley retired, laughing, while 
 Garth clasped the trunk with his arms and 
 knees, and prepared to swarm upward. In 
 go doing he found himself face to face with 
 a rude inscription, or perhaps it was a nat- 
 ural irregularity in the surface of the hark ; 
 at all events, it bore a distorted resemblance 
 to four letters, M. D., G. U., the last two in- 
 scribed below the first two, and all four sur- 
 rounded by a circular incision. In a moment 
 he both recognized the inscription and the 
 occasion on which it had been made. It 
 was on that day, ten or a dozen years ago — 
 the day of his first picnic, when he had 
 paused here to drink and to muse over his 
 untold love, and to dream of a temple built 
 on this spot to Love and Peace. Yet here, 
 a few hours later on that same day, he had 
 half murdered Sam Kineo, and hence had 
 fied with the terror of blood-guiltiness upon 
 him. It was a spot, therefore, where the 
 evil omens overpowered the good. Even 
 these letters, straight and shapely as they 
 had once been, had now grown into dis- 
 torted ugliness and malproportion. 
 
 " Dear me. Garth, are you never going 
 to move ? " exclaimed Madge, impatient for 
 the exhibition to begin. 
 
 " AU right," he responded, and forthwith 
 began the ascent in earnest. 
 
 " Oh, you careless boy ! " cried the young 
 .lady the next moment — " look if he hasn't 
 thrown his coat right into the water ! " 
 
 The careless boy was by this time too 
 far on his way to remedy the mishap, nor 
 was it necessary he should do so, for Madge 
 herself had snatched up the garment, and, 
 after giving it a good shake, threw it cloak- 
 like over her own pretty shoulders. The 
 
 whole action was very graceful and femi- 
 nine. In many girls, lacking the requisite 
 ingenuous artlessness, it might have seemed 
 in slightly doubtful taste to put on a lover's 
 coat ; but there was such an unaffected, 
 childlike spontaneity about Madge as trans- 
 formed the slight impropriety into a refined 
 and charming, because innocent and impul- 
 sive, act of affection. 
 
 All eyes were now fixed upon the climber, 
 who made his way uninterruptedly to the 
 lower branches, from which point his prog- 
 ress was too easy a matter to excite much 
 interest. As ill-luck would have it, how- 
 ever, at the very moment when he was bal- 
 ancing among the topmost boughs and reach- 
 ing upward for the veil, an eddy of the 
 breeze lifted it lightly from the forked twig 
 and bore it once more aloft, amid a general 
 wail from the on-lookers. This time it did 
 not linger aimlessly about, but set off at a 
 steady, business-like rate, and in less than a 
 minute was hopelessly out of sight. Garth 
 retraced his steps, and, swinging from-tlie 
 lower branch, dropped to the ground. 
 
 " Your efforts were well meant, but of 
 no avail;" said incorrigible Uncle Golight- 
 ley. 
 
 " If you hadn't waited so long, just at 
 the beginning," observed Madge, " you'd 
 have caught it before the wind did. You're 
 not so light as a zephyr, poor boy,'' she 
 added, with a half-mischievous, wholly- 
 admiring glance at his sturdy shoulders. 
 " Oome, let me help you on with your coat. 
 It didn't get very wet, after all — only the 
 sleeve a little." 
 
 The party now resumed their walk, and 
 about a quarter of an hour later arrived at the 
 picnic-ground. They must have been absent 
 much longer than they had supposed, for the 
 picnic, so far as the meat and drink part of 
 it was concerned, was over. Nor were they 
 destined even to partake of the broken rem- 
 nants, for poor Mrs. Tenterden, shortly before 
 their arrival, had been seized with a bilious 
 attack, consequent, in part, upon her exer- 
 tions in the dance, and partly from having 
 eaten a little too much omelette aux finu 
 Jierbea, exquisitely prepai'ed by Mrs. Danver, 
 and was now reclining in the shadow of 
 Hiawatha's throne, surrounded by a sympa- 
 
THE VEIL AND THE LETTEE. 
 
 157 
 
 thetic throng, while the gigantic parson ten- 
 derly supported her head, and fanned her 
 with his hat. Meantime her groans and 
 sighs were distressingly audible, and sevei'al 
 of the less experienced of the spectators had 
 already made up their minds that she was 
 about to breathe her last. 
 
 " O Elinor, child, where have you been ? " 
 gasped the good lady, as the girl hastened 
 up. " I thought you were lost. Ah ! I de- 
 clare I believe I am going to die. I declare 
 I think you mightn't have left me all alone 
 here. Oh, dear 1 I never was so sick in my 
 life. You must get me back home somehow. 
 I won't die out here in the woods, you mark 
 my words." 
 
 " Can we have one of the wagons to go 
 back in ? " asked Elinor of Garth. " There's 
 no danger, but she is so seldom ill that any- 
 thing makes her think she will die." 
 
 The wagon was soon ready, and Mrs. 
 Tenterden was lifted into it, and made as 
 comfortable as possible on a couch of shawls 
 and wraps. Elinor, Madge, and Golightley, 
 got aboard with her, while Garth drove as 
 befoi-e, the minister and Mrs. Danver re- 
 maining behind to see that the rest of the 
 picnickers got into no mischief. It was now 
 late in the afternoon ; the dry, golden haze 
 which had more or less pervaded the land- 
 scape all day began imperceptibly to in- 
 crease, and the sun sank earthward slowly, 
 like a great red Chinese lantern. There 
 was little or no conversation among the 
 party, all efforts In that direction being re- 
 sented by Mrs. Tenterden as a disregard 
 of the solemn fact of her approaching dis- 
 solution, and she accordingly bemoaned her- 
 self with very slight interruption during the 
 whole journey. 
 
 At last, after driving for what the invalid 
 declared to be hundreds of miles, the Dan- 
 vers' cottage was reached, and she v/as 
 safely disembarked. Garth and Golightley 
 gave her each an arm into the house, and 
 afterward lingered a while on the steps with 
 Madge, Golightley delivering himself of his 
 parting pleasantries, while Garth stood by 
 silent, with his hands in his coat-pockets, 
 and a rather unamiable smile on his -face. 
 But all at once his expression changed ; he 
 felt in all his pockets, one after another, 
 
 and finally demanded, in a disturbed tone, 
 whether either Golightley or Madge had 
 seen him drop a letter. 
 
 " How now ? the hillet-doux lost ? " cried 
 his uncle. " Ah, my dear boy, see the im- 
 prudence of carrying such treasures to pic- 
 nics and forest-walks ! — By George ! it 
 serves him right. Miss Margaret ; and I 
 shouldn't blame you if you'd picked his 
 pocket of it." 
 
 " It was a letter of importance," said 
 Garth, impatiently, still searching his pock- 
 ets. — " Have you seen it, Madge ? " 
 
 " I was trying to think," said she, with 
 her finger on her lip, and her eyes fixed ap- 
 prehensively on his face. " O my dear 
 Garth, don't be angry ! I'm afraid I do 
 know where it might possibly be ; at 
 least—" 
 
 " You have seen it ? "Where? " 
 
 "Dear me! you know, when you threw 
 down your coat, I picked it up and shook it 
 to get the water off; and I'm afraid, dear, 
 it must have got shaken out of the pocket. 
 Which pocket was it in? " 
 
 "In this side-pocket. That was up by 
 the spring, I shall find it there. — I'll go 
 back at once, if you'll take the horses round, 
 uncle." 
 
 " I'm sure I hope you will find it, de:ir ; 
 but I'm afraid — O Garth, had it an en- 
 velope ? " 
 
 " Yes — no ; I left the envelope at home." 
 
 " "Well, I believe I saw something I 
 thought must be a leaf, but I guess now it 
 must have been the letter, floating off down 
 the little rivulet from the spring. I was so 
 excited in your climbing the tree that I only 
 just glanced at it, and then forgot all about 
 it. You don't think that could have been 
 it, dear, do you ? " 
 
 " I'm afraid it was ; and it may be in the 
 brook, or even in the lake, by this time. 
 "Well, I must look for it. Luckily there's a 
 moon. — Tell father not to sit up for me, 
 Uncle Gohghtley. Good-by." 
 
 He walked away, but in a few moments 
 heard a swift, rustling step behind hira, and 
 there was Madge, rosy and panting. 
 
 " Say you'll forgive me, dear Garth — 
 and kiss me, won't you? I'm so sorry J 
 Good-by, dear. I do hope you'll find it." 
 
158 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 He kissed her, and left her standing in 
 the twilight road — rosy, sparkling, and love- 
 ly. " There never was such a woman ! " he 
 said to himself; "and am not I the luckiest 
 and happiest of men ? " 
 
 CHAPTER XLVr. 
 
 COLD COMFORT. 
 
 As Garth walked on toward the forest, 
 his steps quickened, and his down-turned 
 face worked silently. The moon hung low 
 over the valley — ^pallid, still, but promising 
 sumptuous brilliancy anon. The wind was 
 veering to the north ; it came cold across 
 the young man's cheek, with a prophecy of 
 the Indian summer's departure and winter's 
 onset. Already the slumberous gaze was 
 melting out of the air, and the rims of the 
 ghostly moon showed sharp and clear. The 
 twilight woods were full of solemn grand- 
 eur, more impressive than the sunlight and 
 glow of noonday. But Garth was not at- 
 tuned either to beauty or to grandeur. The 
 day had gone ill with him ; he seemed to 
 tilt against the might of Fate — he could not 
 prosper, and his best efforts helped against 
 himself. 
 
 He had gone forth that morning with 
 the intention of doing Elinor what he pre- 
 sumed would be a service. The idea of her 
 being united to Golightley had always been 
 distateful to him — not that he admitted car- 
 ing for her himself; but, with the fastidious- 
 ness of an artist, he was averse from seeing 
 her fine, pure tone impaired by association 
 with a perhaps good-hearted and enlightened, 
 but not profound nor truly delicate person, 
 like his uncle. He did not believe that Eli- 
 nor really loved this man ; more probably 
 she would accept him mainly out of consid- 
 eration for the well-being of Mrs. Tenterden. 
 But this would involve a sacrifice of art to 
 convenience, as deplorable in its way as 
 Garth's own mercenary transaction regard- 
 ing his picture. There was need of a deua 
 ex maehina to set matters right. 
 
 Now, precisely such a divine deliverance 
 was provided in the news which Garth had 
 found in his letter that morning. It would 
 
 enable Elinor to act without reference to 
 anything less than her own highest impulses. 
 The news must, indeed, be kept secret for a 
 time from every one except Outhbert ; but 
 Garth had seen his way to dropping such 
 hints to Elinor as would put her on her 
 guard against prematurely entangling her- 
 self. A word or two, when opportunity 
 offered, would doubtless suflace, and the pic- 
 nic could scarcely fail to afford such an op- 
 portunity. 
 
 But, alas ! the opportunity had come too 
 late. When the outpouring of Elinor's voice 
 in that musical scream of hers fell upon 
 Garth's ears he felt a premonition that the 
 mischief had been done, and this premoni- 
 tion she had subsequently confirmed. It only 
 remained for him, therefore, to keep his news 
 to himself, and inwardly to denounce the 
 folly and precipitation of womankind. Not, 
 he was careful to repeat, that he felt the 
 least direct personal concern in the matter ; 
 but it was disagreeable, on general grounds, to 
 see a refined young lady throw herself away. 
 
 This disappointment had aided to becloud 
 the day for him, and now the loss of his 
 letter hade fair to give him an uneasy night. 
 It was of great importance that the letter 
 should be found — for, although Garth was 
 familiar enough with its contents, their pub- 
 lication might bring aboiit much trouble. In 
 spite of what Madge had said about its fall- 
 ing into the water, he still hoped it might 
 be lying on the margin of the little spring. 
 He resolved, however, to begin his search at 
 the upper mill-dam, and so work upward to 
 the junction of the mill-stream and the rivu- 
 let, and thence along the rivulet to its source 
 beneath the maple-tree. A less imaginative 
 man would have gone to the most probable 
 spot first ; but Garth loved hope better al- 
 most than its gratification, and chose to 
 move in the direction of the best chances 
 rather than away from them. 
 
 Three or four hours later he arrived at 
 the spring, and after casting a keen and 
 anxious glance about, he flung himself down 
 with a groan on the grass beside the margin. 
 He was weary and haggard; he was wet 
 from wading in the stream, and his hands 
 and face were scratched by the brambles. 
 His search had been unsuccessful, and it was 
 
A FORGATHERING OF FOREFATHERS. 
 
 159 
 
 useless to think of pursuing it further. The 
 letter was lost, and Garth could only hope 
 that it was as much lost to everybody else 
 as it was to him. He had done what he 
 could. 
 
 He lay on his hack, gazing upward at 
 the purple sky. The moon, now riding high 
 and clear, shone with great brilliance. On 
 every side uprose the penciled shadow of the 
 trees, and at every breath of the northerly 
 breeze their dark leaves forsook the boughs 
 whereon the pleasant summer had been spent, 
 and swam zigzagging earthward through the 
 air. "Without sound they fell, continually, 
 like dusky tears, into the bosom of the earth. 
 The great forest was steeped in overwhelm- 
 ing silence ; the liquid bubbling of the spring, 
 which in the daytime was almost inaudible, 
 now resounded clearly through the stillness. 
 How ghastly white the lifeless moonlight 
 lay! 
 
 It lent a death-like pallor to Garth's face 
 as he reclined motionless and with shut eyes 
 , on the turf, his arms thrown out each side, 
 and one knee drawn up. Slight shiverings 
 passed through him from time to time, but 
 he was scarcely conscious of cold or even of 
 hunger. He only felt overpowered by invin- 
 cible drowsiness. 
 
 CHAPTER XL VII. 
 
 A FOEGATHEEINQ OF FOEEFATHEES. 
 
 At length he fell asleep, and had a singu- 
 lar dream. It seemed to him that he was 
 possessed by the spirit of each one of his 
 ancestors in succession, beginning with the 
 first emigrant. Taken separately, they were 
 more or less one-sided versions of one cen- 
 ti-al principle ; but, as a whole, they formed 
 a nearly symmetrical individual^ — an indi- 
 vidual more nearly akin to Garth himself 
 than was any one of the component types, 
 kindred though these were. Or, in other 
 words. Garth was realizing the various 
 phases of one life in its progress through 
 half a dozen generations ; and often, so in- 
 timate was his sympathy with the ghosts of 
 the past, he seemed almost to be but re- 
 membering old experiences of his own. Yet, 
 
 through all, that mysterious something, 
 which we call personal identity, asserted 
 itself, and made him know that he was 
 Garth, and not another. 
 
 First he grew instinct with the spirit of 
 an ambitious, haughty, but not ungenerous 
 man, whose stern and headstrong temper 
 was mitigated by deep^lying veins of tender- 
 ness. His effort was toward freedom and 
 honor ; but the immitigable pride and self- 
 will that nothing could subdue, ever tended 
 to hamper and pervert his fairest purposes. 
 At last the noble friendship, which might 
 have elevated and purified him, was by jeal- 
 ous love poisoned into hatred and treachery. 
 Yet, in the moment when the murderer 
 stood with finger on trigger, taking his fatal 
 aim, he felt a thrill of horror and relenting, 
 and half intended to forbear. But it was 
 too late; the deed was done, and was be- 
 come a part of the past and of the doer, and 
 crowded out remorse. He had made his 
 choice between good and evil ; and his de- 
 scendants, in order to their redemption, 
 would have the burden of his sin to deal with 
 in addition to their own. 
 
 " I have felt this before," thought the 
 dreamer ; " this spirit has been in me from 
 the beginning, and has his battle to fight 
 over again in my life." 
 
 The influence became indistinct and 
 ebbed away, and a new one entered in its 
 place. Garth's heart beat faster and his 
 blood seemed burning hot. The soul that 
 now possessed him was like the last, but 
 endowed with more fire and less light, with 
 fewer waverings toward good, and with 
 more downright lust for ill. His look was 
 intolerant, his temper dangerous and pas- 
 sionate. But he, too, could win men to love 
 him, and loved he was with all a true friend's 
 heart. And once more a woman— this time 
 a guilty woman — came between. There was 
 no misgiving on the husband's part; he 
 frankly trusted his wife with his friend and 
 his friend with his wife, and thought no 
 eviL But temptation came secretly, and 
 yielding ; and worse followed, for the sinful 
 union must needs be sealed with the hus- 
 band's blood. Verily, the load of iniquity 
 was becoming unwieldy ! 
 
 Garth stirred in his sleep and breathed 
 
160 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 more heavily ; he owBed a fellowship with 
 tliis dark spirit not less than with the former 
 one ; the possibility of a like crime lived in 
 him, if he did not strangle it. The secret 
 sympathy with sin lies nearer to the natural 
 heart of man than sympathy with virtue, 
 and an evil influence affects him more posi- 
 tively than many good ones — for he recog- 
 nizes more of himself in it. Good, never- 
 theless, if the man acknowledge in it not of 
 himself but of God, may outweigh all the evil 
 in the world : and at all events it was doubt- 
 less well for Garth that his next ghostly visi- 
 tant was of a different complexion from the 
 preceding ones. There was need of an in- 
 terval of health and sanity. 
 
 Here was now a purer and quieter phase 
 of life ; an organism in which the hot blood 
 of the race might cool itself a little ere flow- 
 ing further ; a personality, grave, thought- 
 ful, and silent ; one who followed the sea, 
 'and traveled widely, and looked much at 
 men. But as the stamp of lineage was less 
 distinct in him than in the others, so was 
 his influence upon the dreamer less power- 
 ful, and the sympathy between them less 
 interior. The state was a passive rather 
 than an active one ; space was given to draw 
 breath and to reconsider, but little actual 
 advance was made. There were no griev- 
 ous sins, but neither were there any great 
 struggles or victories ; and save in so far as 
 rest and freedom from loss are themselves 
 a sort of gain, the tale would have to be re- 
 sumed at the next step, pretty nearly at the 
 point where it left off before. Pass on, 
 however, inoffensive soul, and may he who 
 follows be the stronger because of thee ! 
 
 Tlie visionary succession was now ap- 
 proaching the present daylight, and the mys- 
 tic presence which next held sway came into 
 closer union with the sleeper's being than did 
 any of those who had gone before. He was 
 vehement, adventurous and lawless ; with 
 great capaoitieSj^energies, and silences ; pas- 
 sionate in his affinities and fatal in his ha- 
 treds. Withal a strange faculty of secrecy 
 and reticence — a kind of rugged cunning, 
 compatible with rough outspokenness and 
 stalwart courage ; and joined to a strong 
 picturesqueness of aspect and manner. He 
 was formed to quell men and to master wom- 
 
 en, and in all ways to he at battle with the 
 world. It was fitting that he was born to 
 an age of war and anarchy. He, too, is 
 destined to turn against those who love him, 
 and to shed blood ; but his sins are not 
 without remorse, and perhaps his worst- 
 seeming errors are the result rather of reck- 
 lessness than of ill-intent. Not the less do 
 they remain as pitfalls for posterity ; and the 
 prospect lias never looked so dark as at the 
 moment when this last turbulent spirit fades 
 away. 
 
 The dream is near its end, for the dead 
 have declai-ed tliemselves, and he who still 
 lives must influence the dreamer otherwise 
 than through midnight visions. Yet Garth, 
 between waking and sleeping, has borne in 
 upon him a perception of his father's sphere. 
 Lofty and refined though it be, it is too little 
 allied with the passionate weaknesses of its 
 predecessors to work their regeneration. 
 Such a man puts evil to flight, not takes it 
 up and transforms it into good ; whereas the 
 enemy must be fought and conquered with 
 his own weapons, if the victory is to hold. 
 Such a man can only raise the battle-field to 
 a higher level, where the contest will rage 
 with a more comprehensive intensity — 
 where there shall be no forces in reserve, 
 nor any avenues of retreat, and where the 
 issue, however it fall, will be final. But 
 happy for Garth that such a man watched 
 over his youth, not too much interfering or 
 fault-finding, and ever obliging the wrong 
 to work out its own correction ! Deprived 
 of such wise guidance, doubtless worse 
 things would have befallen him than had 
 been the lot of his ancestors. Even as it 
 was, his plight was critical enough. Tingling 
 with the traits and impulses of six genera- 
 tions, he walked with unsteady balance be- 
 tween light and darkness. He followed a 
 vision of beauty through all forms of life, 
 and would fain quench his thirst with no 
 drink less noble than the true elixir of life ; 
 but how many a poisonous draught sparkles 
 and tastes as well ! The future was ominous : 
 unholy shapes lurked beside the pathway, 
 plotting to overthrow him. Oh for some 
 beneficent goddess to -shed a radiance about 
 his footsteps, and shield him from harmful 
 clutches in the folds of her enchanted veil! 
 
A POWWOW. 
 
 161 
 
 Garth opened hia eyes. His sleep had 
 hrought him no refreshment; rather it 
 seemed as if the weight of two centuries 
 were heavy upon his shoulders. As he 
 gazed upward, a sort of floating film inter- 
 vened between his eyes and the large star 
 which twinkled in the zenith. Now it hov- 
 ered almost within his grasp, swaying upon 
 the light northern breeze. It sanls yet lower, 
 and at length settled gently on his face. A 
 faint, delicate fragrance eminated from it. 
 What was.it ? Garth put up his hand donht- 
 fuUy, and grasped Elinor's veil. He had 
 missed the thing he came to seek, hut this 
 fllmy truant, which had eluded him before 
 sunset, had returned with the veering wind 
 and descended upon him like a fragrant bene- 
 diction while he slept. 
 
 The young man rose stiffly to his feet, 
 with hot head and shivering limbs, and set 
 off homeward along the ghostly forest lane, 
 his inky shadow silently keeping pace with 
 him, like an evil memory. As he stumbled 
 onward, it crossed his mind how he had fled 
 down this same path twelve years before, 
 leaving what he believed a dead body out- 
 stretched on the same spot whence he had 
 just now arisen. He had looked forward 
 to the gallows ; and had rushed, instead, into 
 the soft embrace of Madge. What more 
 pleasing disappointment could have been 
 imagined? And yet, might not the honest 
 hug of the hangman's noose have saved him 
 many a trouble, against which even Madge's 
 loving arms could not protect him? Was 
 his outlook now less sinister, on the whole, 
 than that which had confronted him on the 
 terror-stricken night of boyhood ? A child's 
 troubles grow out of the earth, and may 
 generally be uprooted and trampled down ; 
 but in after-life they seem to descend from 
 the clouds, and are not so easily managed. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVni. 
 
 A powwow. 
 
 It was a good deal after midnight when 
 Garth reached Urmhurst, and paused a mo- 
 ment under the porch before entering. The 
 wind during the last half-hour had waxed 
 greatly stronger, and whistled shrewdly 
 11 
 
 round the northeast corner of the dark and 
 massive old house, and rattled the rose-vine 
 which climbed over Eve's window, and 
 rustled through the dried oak-leaves of the 
 porch. It was a cold sharp night : winter 
 was hurrying down from the Arctic Ocean, 
 and would be here by morning. From the 
 valley came the white gleam of the lake and 
 winding river, looking as if the frosty gusts 
 were already beginning to shiver them into 
 ice. The valley itself was bleak and deso- 
 late, its brown woods and meadows gradu- 
 ally paling to gray, until Wabeno lifted its 
 shadowy, dim-gleaming barrier against the 
 farther world. Many an Urmson — all those 
 old fellows whose dust lay in yonder grave- 
 yard, but whose lives Garth had gathered 
 up into his own that night — had stood where 
 he stood now, and gazed across the bleak, 
 moonlit valley till that immemorial moun- 
 tain stopped the way. The stern Puritan, 
 in his jack-boots and steel breastplate ; the 
 black-browed, handsome, reckless soldier, 
 who followed Phipps to Quebec; the blue- 
 eyed, swarthy mariner who had traded in 
 the East Indies and in Arcadia, and had 
 traversed all the world between ; the Revo- 
 lutionary captain in blue and buff, broad- 
 shouldered, grim, choleric, and reticent — 
 each one of them had leaned with folded 
 arms against this stunted oak-trunk, and 
 had frowned at Wabeno as at the symbol of 
 an irremovable bar in the way of Ms suc- 
 cess. But not one, Garth fancied, had borne 
 so heavy and unquiet a heart as he; for 
 they, at least, had been forth to wrestle 
 with the world, and had done something, 
 good or bad, that had had a flavor and a 
 fashion of its own, and was not, at all event.s, 
 insignificant. But he, the descendant of them 
 all, had done nothing ; had only vexed his 
 soul with doubts and broken beginnings and 
 marrowless compromises. Yet he was the 
 heir of their qualities as well of their name. 
 What was the clog in his machinery that pre- 
 vented his bringing all this accumulated 
 energy to bear ? Were scruples and conscien- 
 tiousness but an artful device of the devil? If 
 he could pluck something out of his breast and 
 fling it away forever, would not the world lie 
 at his feet ? If Christ, when he went up into 
 that high place whence he overlooked all the 
 
162 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 kingdoms of the earth, had chosen to comply 
 with his companion's moderate condition, 
 would not his name have heen better known 
 and celebrated to-day than it actually had 
 come to be ? 
 
 Garth ground his heel against the stone, 
 and it was wedged in the cleft of the granite 
 threshold, so that an effort was needed to 
 pull it out. The fancy suggested itself that 
 the old Indian underneath had put forth a 
 skeleton gripe, with the intention of drag- 
 ging him down into the grave, and taking 
 revenge upon him for the injuries perpe- 
 trated by his forefathers. But this scheme 
 of retribution did not meet Garth's views; 
 on the contrary, it brought him to a sudden 
 recognition of the immense value of life, 
 and of the inestimable possibilities which 
 were within his power to realize. If he 
 could but fasten his hold firmly upon some- 
 thing definite and continuous, he felt that 
 he could climb upward to the stars, even 
 though the sins of twenty generations were 
 piled upon his shoulders. "Were not the 
 worst of his difficulties, after all, imaginary ? 
 Had he not been a little insane of late ? or, 
 at least, might he not be visited presently 
 by some luminous inspiration of genius, in 
 comparison with which ordinary perception 
 was mere purblindness ? He passed his hand 
 over his forehead, and was startled to feel 
 how hot it was ; and yet, how chilly was the 
 wind ! Heaven forbid that he should be 
 taken ill at a time when something more than 
 common good health was to be wished for ! 
 
 He opened the heavy green door and 
 entered the house. The kitchen-fire was 
 alight, and Nikomis sat smoking in the 
 chimney-corner. On the table stood a joint 
 of meat, and though, in spite of his long 
 fast. Garth now felt little positive appetite, he 
 managed to swallow somewhat, and then, in- 
 stead of drinking the tea which Nokomis had 
 ready for him, he asked the old lady whether 
 she could not find him any whiskey. 
 
 Being an Indian, it was entirely beneath 
 Nikomis to manifest any surprise even at 
 so unprecedented a demand as this. As for 
 whiskey, no house in New Hampshire, ex- 
 cept the meeting-houses, was ever known 
 to be without it ; and Urmhurst was no ex- 
 ception to the rule, although the only mem- 
 
 ber of the household who was in the habit 
 of consuming it was Nikomis herself. Go- 
 lightley, indeed, occasionally took a glassi 
 embellished with a little hot water and a 
 lump of sugar, but neither Guthbert nor 
 Garth was inclined to keep him company. 
 To-night, however, the young man was sen- 
 sible of a pervading shiver such as only a 
 draught of fire could allay. He had taken 
 cold, and so potent, because unusual, a rem- 
 edy could hardly fail to check its further 
 progress. 
 
 Nikomis grunted, and laid down her 
 pipe. The liquor was not far off ; in truth, 
 she forthwith drew from her pocket a bat- 
 tered pewter flask which proved to be half 
 full of it. She poured some into a tumbler, 
 added a little water from the teakettle, and 
 a few other ingredients, stirred it up, tasted 
 it, and then handed it to the young man 
 with a grunt of emphatic recommendation. 
 He sipped it, shuddered, sipped again, laid 
 down the spoon, and i-esolutely drank ofi^ 
 about half of the mixture. 
 
 " There's something very genuine about 
 that, Nikomis," he said, with tears in his 
 eyes ; " I dare say I might get to like it in 
 time." 
 
 " Ugh ! " responded Nikomis, relighting 
 her pipe, and gazing at the fire ; " dare say 
 — dare say ! " 
 
 As was usual after supper-time, the kitch- 
 en was unlighted save for the flickering 
 flrelight, and even this had now subsided to 
 a ruddy glow, which served to illumine 
 hardly more than the cavernous fireplace. 
 Garth drew the antique oaken chair far up 
 on the hearth, and held his hands toward 
 the embers, while his dusky companion 
 puffed at her pipe, and the slowly-emitted 
 smoke hung and swayed in flne clouds until 
 it came within the draught of the chimney, 
 which whisked it suddenly upward and out 
 of sight. It was a snug old place, this chim- 
 ney-corner, and just now it seemed to Garth 
 to contain the only bit of human life that 
 was left in the world. Here sat Nikomis 
 and himself, types and compendiuras of two 
 hostile peoples, literally hobnobbing together 
 in the most amicable manner imaginable. 
 All the bitterness of a traditional and hered- 
 itary enmity had simmered down to yonder 
 
A POWWOW. 
 
 163 
 
 pungent noggin of punch, or was vanishing 
 into oblivion along with the fumes from the 
 Indian's pipe-howl. But this was only be- 
 cause they were the last of their race ; all 
 the rest had been exterminated on both 
 sides ; and, Nikomis and he, having before 
 them the alternative of either scalping each 
 other, or of making up all grievances over a 
 feast of whiskey and tobacco, had wisely 
 decided upon the latter course, and had 
 thereby become aware, at this late day, 
 what pleasant company they had been deny- 
 ing themselves during the latter centuries. 
 
 " What a good thing it would have been, 
 Nikomis," said Garth, " if that old sachem 
 of yours and my contemporary ancestor could 
 have come to an understanding as cozy and 
 sensible as this, instead of pitching into one 
 another with blunderbusses and tomahawks ! 
 I wish you had been sitting here two hun- 
 dred years instead of ten. But two hun- 
 dred years ago you would have brewed me 
 a cup of poison instead of a glass of grog.'' 
 
 The fire in the old lady's pipe-bowl 
 glowed and dulled again, but she said noth- 
 ing. G-arth took another sip from his tum- 
 bler, and continued : 
 
 " Nikomis, if you really represent the 
 posterity of the old sachem, as my father 
 says, we owe you much more than bare 
 house-rbom. But, if, as I suspect, your 
 people were the kidnappers of my aunt 
 Eve, the account between us may be con- 
 sidered balanced. Now, tell me honestly, 
 was it not so ? " 
 
 "Nikomis old squaw — know nothing,'' 
 grunted the Indian, after a pause. " Why 
 you ask, Garth ? What you think we do 
 with Eve ? Think we scalp — um ? " 
 
 Garth, shook his head. "It isn't likely 
 you wouM have come to Urmhurst if Eve's 
 scalp had been among your collection," said 
 he. " But, if she lived to marry one of your 
 tribe, Urmhurst and a legacy would belong 
 to her children." 
 
 " Why yon talk that way. Garth ? Ni- 
 koniis old squaw ; papoose all dead ; tribe 
 all dead. Why you talk so — ^um ? " 
 
 "I talk of what I wish were true," re- 
 turned he, grasping his hair with both 
 hands, and resting his elbows on his knees. 
 " I can conceive of notliing better than to 
 
 leave this blood-stained old Urmhurst to a 
 descendant of your side and mine. It isn't 
 your sachem, but we Urmsons, who have 
 really been buried underneath this great 
 heavy house all these generations past. No 
 good will come to us tiU it is either got into 
 other hands or burned down." 
 
 " Ugh ! " assented Nikomis, with smoky 
 utterance. " Big house — big curse — ugh ! " 
 
 " A wigwam is much better," continued 
 Garth ; " better even than a grave, at least 
 so far as other people are concerned. A 
 grave is a selfish luxury, apt to make a 
 quarrel among survivors. Only the last 
 man — supposing him to have dug his own 
 pit beforehand — can drop into it with the 
 certainty of not causing a spirit of strife to 
 rise up out of it. Nikomis, do you know 
 that I'm going to be married ? " 
 
 He raised his head as he made the in- 
 quiry, but his interlocutor answered only 
 with a puff of smoke ; so he resumed his 
 former position, and continued : 
 
 " And, since my wife wants to see the 
 world, we shall probably leave Urmhurst to 
 my father and you. You must take care of 
 him till we come back." 
 
 " How long-a-that ? " demanded Niko- 
 mis. 
 
 Garth gave a gruflf, short laugh. "A 
 year or more — as long as the whim lasts." 
 
 " Outhbert dead in a year," observed the 
 sibyl, smokily. " Nikomis too, maybe.'' 
 
 " My father dead in a year ! " repeated 
 Garth, with a momentary sinking of the 
 heart. He sat upright in his chair and 
 looked hard at the wrinkled bronze statue 
 that smoked so impassively in its sombre 
 niche. He took the tumbler from the hob 
 and slowly drank what was left of the con- 
 tents, then cleared his throat, and said, very 
 gently, " My father is not an old man, Ni- 
 komis." But the old Indian, having com- 
 mitted herself to an assertion, was evidently 
 resolved that it should stand unaltered, right 
 or wrong. Meanwhile her ominous words, 
 whether justifiable or not, sank, during the 
 few minutes' silence that ensued, so deeply 
 into Garth's centre of existence, that the 
 outward effect was the same as if they had 
 altogether passed out of his memory. He 
 made no further allusion to them ; hs could 
 
164 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 not talk — could hardly think — so far below 
 the surface as they lay. Nevertheless, they 
 could tinge every drop of blood that coursed 
 through his veins. The only ostensible re- 
 sult, however, took the form of a resentful 
 impulse against his uncle and Mrs. Tenter- 
 den. "Meddlesome fools!" he whispered, 
 setting his teeth hard together ; " they've 
 been babbling their nonsense here, and she 
 got it from them." 
 
 " That was a good punch," he remarked, 
 presently ; " I believe it's gone to my head, 
 and made me talkative. Suppose you let 
 me have a pull at your pipe," he added, ob- 
 serving that Nikomis was knocking out the 
 dead ashes preparatory to refilling it. She 
 recharged it, still silently, and handed it to 
 him. It was an old red-clay pipe, curiously 
 chased about the bowl — such a pipe as the 
 sagamores might have smoked in the time 
 of Columbus, or earlier. As Garth took it, 
 and set it going with a brand from the fire, 
 it occurred to him that it was one of Niko- 
 mis's most precious possessions, and had 
 never, so far as anybody knew, been seen in 
 another mouth than hers since her appear- 
 ance in Urmsworth. Her present surrender 
 of it, therefore, must be looked upon as a 
 really extraordinary piece of condescension. 
 •' The calumet of peace, Nikomis," he said, 
 with a smile, as he puffed out the first 
 gray cloud. " This ought to complete my 
 cure.'' 
 
 The swarthy sibyl took a dry stick of 
 wood from the oven and laid it on the glow- 
 ing embers. It quickly caught fire, and 
 flooded Garth's face and figure with dancing 
 light. She studied him for a moment with 
 her wrinkled eyes, and then asked, ab- 
 ruptly : 
 
 " How you like Sam — um ? " 
 
 " I ought to like him, since I gave him a 
 thrashing," replied the young man, meeting 
 her look with a glance of momentary curi- 
 osity; " but, I think that white rascal, who 
 was said to be his father, spoiled him. But 
 I dare say he's improved since he was here. 
 Have you heard of him lately ? " 
 
 " Ugh ! he great man now : very rich. 
 Come here by-'n'-by. 'Ugh ! very rich." 
 
 Garth was aware that Nikomis had re- 
 ceived occasional intelligence of Sam ever 
 
 since he went away ; but this was the first 
 time she had ever volunteered any informa- 
 tion about him ; and. Garth, not having 
 potent faith in his old associate's manly 
 worth, had delicately forborne to push his 
 inquiries beyond the bounds of formal polite- 
 ness. But the idea of Sam in the character 
 of a great and wealthy man came as an amus- 
 ing surprise. 
 
 " I'm glad to hear it,'' he said, in his 
 deep, kindly tones. " And has he a family 
 along with his other riches ? " 
 
 " No squaw yet," rejoined Nikomis, with 
 her characteristic grunt. " Sam get squaw 
 here. He live here ; not go 'way. Great 
 man.'' 
 
 "And who is his squaw to be?" in- 
 quired Garth, pleasantly. 
 
 " Madge his squaw," replied Nikomis, 
 with the most phlegmatic composure. 
 
 Garth stared a moment, but, on second 
 thoughts, laughed very good-naturedly. He 
 was not so used to conversation with this 
 fantastic old personage as to be always pre- 
 pared for her peculiar and unheralded flashes 
 of humor. 
 
 " But, I thought Madge was to be my 
 squaw," he said. " Does Sam mean to fight 
 me for her again ? WiU no one else suit 
 him ? " 
 
 " He take Madge — you take Elinor ! " 
 grunted the sibyl, as composedly as before. 
 
 " You're not a good match-maker," re- 
 turned Garth, growing grave again. *" It's 
 a more complicated business with us than 
 with the red people. But I'll make this 
 bargain with you," he added, smiling once 
 more— for he was in a singular mood of pro- 
 found shallowness, and more or less defiant 
 and reckless withal—" if Madge tells me 
 that she prefers Sam to me, and if, then. 
 Miss Golightley offers me her hand, I'll take 
 it." 
 
 " Ugh ! ugh 1 " assented Nikomis ; and, as 
 if to ratify the agreement, she stretched out 
 a dark talon for the calumet. "What-a- 
 good-a-have wrong squaw — um ? Sam rich 
 man, take Madge ; you picture-man, take 
 Elinor. Tell you what. Garth, you not very 
 wise. You think Madge care for you ? " 
 Here Nikomis made a sound in her throat 
 like a crow cawing under its breath, at the 
 
A POWWOW. 
 
 165 
 
 same time shaking her head slowly. " You 
 not very wise." 
 
 These deliberate attacks upon the very 
 roots of his hopes and happiness might have 
 irritated him, coming from any other mouth 
 than Kikomis's, or dismayed him, hut that 
 he believed unalterably in Madge's affection. 
 As for poor Sam, if Garth could have ac- 
 cepted the idea that the vagabond half- 
 breed was really capable of loving her, he 
 would have felt some compassion and even a 
 little respect for him. But he saw in old Ni- 
 komis's grotesque utterances only the half- 
 cunning, half-senile attempts of a tenacious 
 but narrow and decaying mind to realize a 
 long-cherished though hitherto unacknowl- 
 edged purpose. And — his mood to-night 
 being, as I have said, somewhat reckless and 
 defiant, owing either to the whiskey, or to 
 the peculiar effect upon his brain of the chill 
 he had got while dreaming in the woods be- 
 neath the moon, or to the stress of things in 
 general — he chose to amuse himself by hu- 
 moring the ancient squaw's whim. He felt 
 free to converse with her in a strain of fan- 
 ciful extravagance such as he could have 
 permitted himself with no one else, and 
 which, just at this time, was especially com- 
 forting to him. He was grateful to her for 
 being precisely the strange, unorthodox, half- 
 savage creature that she was, and would not 
 have exchanged her company for that of the 
 most charming civilized woman in the world. 
 He was aware of the stirring of something 
 unorthodox and savage within himself, which 
 rendered a contact with the Indian's nature 
 congenial and stimulating. 
 
 " I can understand your knowing Madge's 
 heart, Nikomis,'' said he; "you were inti- 
 mate with her all the time I was away. But 
 are you as sure about Miss Golightley ? If 
 she were to refuse me, after Madge had 
 left me in the lurch, I should be obliged to 
 take your Sam's scalp." 
 
 The idea of a woman's refusing a man 
 who had made up his mind to have her 
 seemed to be beyond Nikomis's primitive 
 conceptions. What her own romance might 
 have been is unknown: perhaps, after a 
 good stand-up fight, she was knocked down 
 with effectiveness enough to satisfy her 
 maidenly scruples, and so borne off to her 
 
 husband's wigwam ; although the North 
 American Indians usually manage these 
 matters rather in a mercantile spirit. At 
 all events, the wooers where Nikomis was 
 brought up had evidently been in the habit 
 of carrying their point, one way or another ; 
 and when Garth suggested the contingency 
 of Elinor's refusing him, she replied with a 
 grunt of uncompromising contempt for so 
 paltry an objection. 
 
 " Then you make her ! " 
 
 "You are a true sibyl 1 " exclaimed the 
 young man. " You're much wiser than 
 civilization, Nikomis ! Of course — ^make 
 her ! Why wasn't all the world born In- 
 dian? — all warriors and squaws and wig- 
 wams ? I might have felt as if I were alive 
 then. Or beasts! why aren't we bears and 
 lions, instead of pottering about between 
 heaven and earth, afi-aid to say what we 
 think, or do what we wish ? I want to roar, 
 and have no soul, and tear my enemies to 
 pieces with my teeth and claws, and eat 
 them raw ! ha, ha, ha 1 No right and wrong, 
 and duty and law — only instinct." 
 
 This rhapsody was uttered in Garth's 
 customary low but powerful bass voice, and 
 with such savage zest as might have stirred 
 Nikomis's wild old blood better than a war- 
 whoop would have done. 
 
 " Ugh, ugh ! " quoth she ; and after an 
 interval again, with confirmed approval, 
 "Ugh!" 
 
 " But we are forgetting my uncle,'' re- 
 sumed Garth, after a short silence. " If 
 I don't take Sam's scalp, I must have 
 his. He thinks Miss Golightley belongs to 
 him!" 
 
 " Caw ! his scalp no good," said Niko- 
 mis, with a motion of her hand, as if throw- 
 ing away so pitiful a bauble. " You take her 
 — he do nothing! Oawl he nobody. Niko- 
 mis put him-a-fire 'nd burn up ! You take 
 her ; me fix him." 
 
 " Let's get him and put him in the range 
 now," suggested Garth, rubbing his hands 
 and chuckling. " He'll keep us warm while 
 we're drinking another glass of punch. Shall 
 we take him whole, or split him up into 
 kindlings ? " 
 
 "No need a-that," replied the other, 
 gravely ; and then, peering at Garth through 
 
166 
 
 GAETH. 
 
 her cloud of smoke, " you think-a-make fun 
 —urn ? " 
 
 " Yes ; fun worth making. What, you 
 mean 'make-helieve?' No, no! burn him, 
 and the house with him, if you like. That 
 might be the best plan." 
 
 " You nut wise. Garth,'' repeated Niko- 
 mis, with sometliing of the pride of superi- 
 or faculties in her manner. "Me burn him- 
 a-not^see him — ^not touch him. He go Bos- 
 ton — ^go London : Nikomis sit-home in kitch- 
 en 'nd burn him all up. Ugh ! " 
 
 " Witchcraft! " exclaimed Garth, becom- 
 ing suddenly enlightened; and tndy the ap- 
 pearance of the old lady at this moment, 
 bending forward from the shadow of her 
 niche into the red glow of the firelight, 
 which kindled up her dark, bronze features, 
 the wrinkled' eyes, the prominent cheek- 
 bones, the great hooked nose, and the wide 
 thin lips, and flickered upon the grizzled 
 lengths of coarse, straight hair that hung 
 down on each side of her furrowed cheeks — 
 her aspect certainly was as witch- like as 
 ever woman wore — "witchcraft! Mkomis, 
 I had forgotten. You'll make a wax image 
 of him, and melt it before a slow fire; or 
 wi'ite a spell on a piece of paper, and light 
 your pipe with it ! Why, a witch is better 
 than either an Indian or a wild beast. 
 Have you got the paper with you — or the 
 image ? " 
 
 Before Nikomis could answer, the con- 
 versation had a sudden interruption. There 
 was a sound of low, steady knocking, whence 
 proceeding Garth could not at first deter- 
 mine. It seemed to come from the air round 
 about them. Nikomis, however, immediate- 
 ly pointed upward. Guthbert's room was 
 overhead, and evidently he was awake and 
 knocking on the floor. Garth sprang to his 
 feet. 
 
 " Is my father iU ? Has he been ? " 
 
 Nikomis also had risen, and stood half 
 revealed in the glimmer, like a grotesque ap- 
 parition which the next moment would van- 
 ish altogether. After listening an instant, 
 she quietly resumed her seat in the chimney- 
 corner. 
 
 "He all right," said she; "powwoV 
 wake him up, maybe. You go see, Garth ; 
 maybe he want you." 
 
 Garth left the kitchen with quick, heavy 
 steps, and bounded up-stairs. His father's 
 door was ajar; and, as he approached, it 
 opened wide, and he saw his father standing 
 in his dressing-gown, with a lighted lamp in 
 his hand. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIX. 
 
 PUTTIUe THB OABE. 
 
 Garth looked anxiously at Mr. Urmbon's 
 pale, composed face. Under the rigorous 
 oppression of a heavy fear, his late half-de- 
 lirious mood had been suddenly quenched, 
 as fire is smothered by ashes. " Is anything 
 the matter, father?" he asked, in a low 
 tone. 
 
 " So I began to think," replied Mr. Urm- 
 son. " Oome in out of this cold entry." 
 He led the way into the study, and set the 
 lamp on the table. "How's this? " he con- 
 tinued, standing in front of his son. " You've 
 been smoking Nikomis's tobacco, you vil- 
 lain, and drinking her whiskey too, I be- 
 lieve ! " 
 
 Garth could not repress a smile of relief 
 at hearing himself called villain — a term of 
 endearment which recalled the boyish days 
 when he was always either villain, troglo- 
 dyte, ragamuffin, sockdolager, Hottentot, or 
 whatever else his father's gift for bestowing 
 grotesque epithets could devise, and which 
 likewise seemed to intimate that his fears 
 had been premature, since a man sick unto 
 death would not be apt to indulge in playful 
 banter. The two sat down, Mr. Urmson in 
 the rough-hewed, but indestructible old black 
 oak chair, upholstered in figured green vel- 
 vet, which was said to be a good deal older 
 than tlrmhurst itself. Garth in the broad 
 window-siU on the other side of the table. 
 
 The study was large, furnished with mas- 
 sive and antique simplicity; the floor was 
 brown and bare save for a few rugs; the 
 walls above the dark wainscot were picture- 
 less and unornamented. At one end of the 
 room was a deep alcove fitted up with book- 
 shelves, and containing the whole of Mr. 
 Urmson's practical library — a somewhat re- 
 markably small one for a literary man. The 
 writing-table was the most modern piece of 
 
PUTTING THE CASE. 
 
 167 
 
 furniture in the study, large, convenient, and 
 kept in good order. The fireplace, although 
 smaller than those on the lower floor of the 
 house, was yet of ample extent ; and a log 
 of wood still glowed and flickered, lying 
 athwart the brass-headed fire-dogs. A se- 
 rene, ascetic, yet mellow and pleasant at- 
 mosphere pervaded the place, and Mr. Urm- 
 son himself, in his long, sober-colored dress- 
 ing-gown, looked like an enlightened and 
 humanized acolyte. Since his wife's death 
 he had become more and more secluded in 
 his habits, not as if repelling the world, for 
 the essential kindliness which underlay his 
 superficial manner of demure satire was 
 never obscured ; but as failing by mild de- 
 grees to find a certain sort of mystic sunshine 
 there familiar to his youth. 
 
 Garth, being seated, and his immediate 
 anxiety appeased, allowed an odd humor of 
 dullness to possess him. He leaned his elbow 
 on his knee, and his chin on his hand, and 
 stolidly beheld the still-running sands of the 
 old hour-glass which stood beside his fa- 
 ther's desk, its crystal sides uncracked by 
 more than ninety years of use, though one 
 of the four ebony columns of its frame had 
 given way beneath the weight of the count- 
 less hours that it had undergone. Mr. Urm- 
 son, quietly but keenly observing him, curved 
 the fine corners of his mouth with a sub- 
 dued, humorous smile. Almost immediate- 
 ly, however, the smile passed away, for Mr. 
 TJrmson's smiles of late years, though they 
 came nearly as readily as of yore, and were 
 no less pleasant than ever, were yet much 
 shorter-lived than formerly, the sunshine 
 that called them into existence seeming in- 
 adequate to their long preservation. We can 
 remember when they used to play thought- 
 fully about his clear face, subsiding and si- 
 lently brightening again for minutes, but 
 now they appeared to share the infirmity at- 
 tendant upon nearly seventy not altogether 
 unshadowed years. Some old men smile 
 chronically, with the vacant, sly happiness 
 of idle senility ; others suffer their features to 
 stiffen into wrinkled and hoary harshness. 
 Outhbert Urmson's spirit was too wholesome 
 and too strong for either feeble alternative, 
 but perhaps it had grown a trifle weary of 
 its life-long burden of earth, and impatient 
 
 of the labor of urging a cloddish, incom- 
 plete response to the transcendent inner 
 movements. 
 
 After red sand enough to fill a thimble 
 had flowed from the upper into the lower 
 bulb of the primitive timepiece which Mr. 
 Urmson preferred to arjy modern innova- 
 tions, he said, tapping his chin with his fore- 
 finger, and moving his foot forth and then 
 back beneath the table: "You seem to be 
 ripe for bed, old gentleman ; we can talk to- 
 morrow ; I only wanted to know whether 
 you'd found your letter." 
 
 Garth passed his hand across his fore- 
 head, as if brushing away troublesome cob- 
 webs, and paused, apparently for the purpose 
 of gathering his wits together before reply- 
 ing. "I should have come up at once if I'd 
 known you were awake," he said. "The 
 letter is lost; it was from Jack Selwyn." 
 
 "So I thought, from the envelope." 
 
 " The amount of it is," continued Garth, 
 rousing himself with another effort, "that 
 Jack has foimd out something about the 
 Tenterden money." 
 
 "Has he got it back?" 
 
 "What? — Oh, he knows who robbed 
 them." 
 
 "Who is the robber?" demanded Mv. 
 Urmson, in a tone low but ringing, and with 
 a sudden gleam in his eyes. 
 
 "He doesn't say. He will be here in a 
 few weeks. Some mystery or other. That 
 is why I wanted to find the veil. If any one 
 else were to — What did I say? I mean 
 the letter. But it must have got dissolved at 
 the dam." 
 
 " Have you spoken about it to your un- 
 cle ? " asked Mr. Urmson, after a pause. 
 
 Garth shook his head. "There's some- 
 thing wrong between Jack and my uncle. 
 Jack was disrespectful, probably. No, he 
 said no one was to be told. I might have 
 told Miss Golightley, though, but that — it 
 turns out to be of no consequence. She 
 won't need the money when she gets it." 
 
 Mr. Urmson moved his eyebrows inquir- 
 ingly- 
 
 "She is to marry my uncle," explained 
 Garth, shortly. 
 
 His father leaned back in his chair and 
 held his chin musingly between his fore- 
 
168 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 finger and thumb. "They are engaged, 
 then," he murmured; and added, after a 
 pause, with an arch lifting of the brows: 
 "Why, I don't see how Golightley could 
 have done better. What is your objection ? 
 Shall no one marry except you ? " 
 
 "It's a shame," said Garth, seeming at 
 length to get the better of his stolidity. 
 " But she did it for Mrs. Tenterden's sake." 
 
 " Oh, then you imagine her to be not in 
 love ? Why, your uncle seems to me a very 
 fascinating as well as clever fellow : and 
 highly-educated young ladies like Miss Eli- 
 nor are apt to admire men a good deal older 
 than themselves. I suppose, at any rate, 
 there's no doubt about his being in love with 
 her?" 
 
 "Anybody might love her.'' 
 
 "To tell the truth, this surprises me a 
 little; it had got into my head that, if he 
 were smitten by one person more than an- 
 othei-, it was by Madge. And, Garth, if you 
 are seriously opposed to this match, I am 
 still inoUned to think that you might stave 
 it off by presenting him with Madge as a 
 substitute." 
 
 Garth remained sullenly silent to this 
 suggestion ; but his father, seemingly deter- 
 mined to prick him through his sullenness, 
 continned on in the same vein : 
 
 " To be sure, there are difficulties in the 
 way ; in some respects it seems like a game 
 at cross-purposes. Miss Elinor, by your 
 notion, marries to enrich Mrs. Tenterden; 
 and Golightley, as he tells me, owes his 
 whole fortune to some lucky help that Mr. 
 Tenterden gave him at a critical moment. 
 So he may be marrying from a sense of duty 
 or gratitude too. Really, it looks as if they 
 ought to be spoken to. There's no telling 
 what troublesome and absurd embarrass- 
 ments an overgrown sense of duty may lead 
 people into." 
 
 " H'm 1 " gi-owled Garth, moving his head 
 assentingly. 
 
 "But then," proceeded Mr. TJrmson, 
 "even supposing this sense of duty done 
 away with, there remain further difficulties. 
 Madge herself might object to being trans- 
 ferred; or, if she could be persuaded, the 
 objection might possibly come from you. 
 It's a pity you can't gird on sword and shield 
 
 and settle the matter, as your forefathers 
 would have done, by hacking and thrusting. 
 But in this age I fear there's no hope of that 
 kind of rescue." 
 
 " I have no hopes,'' was Garth's moody 
 rejoinder. — 
 
 "Besides," added his father, following 
 out his train of thought without heed of the 
 interruption, "if it were morally right to 
 cut off your uncle's head or run him through 
 the midriff, it would stiU be a rash and im- 
 pohtic act. He hasn't yet paid you for your 
 pictm-e, has he? and your very marriage 
 seems to depend on his doing that." 
 
 "Father, I have had a dream, and a 
 strange talk with Nikomis, and my head 
 feels queerly. I'm in a bad humor, and I 
 can't pretend otherwise. If Uncle Golight- 
 ley pays me for my picture, I shall never 
 paint again." 
 
 " Why not ? " asked Mr. Urmson, with a 
 quiet look. 
 
 "Madge doesn't care for painting," said 
 the other. 
 
 " What shall you do instead ? " 
 
 "I don't know. Be a farmer." 
 
 " Does Madge dislike painting so much 
 as to like poverty better ? If you go on as 
 you have begun, painting would make you 
 richer than farming. Does she fuHy under- 
 stand that?" 
 
 "It's hard to teU what she really wants. 
 I ought to be Julius Csesar and Oroesiis made 
 into one. But farming is my only alterna- 
 tive." 
 
 Mr. Urmson leaned his thin cheek on his 
 hand, and appeared to meditate. "I don't 
 understand, from what you say, whether 
 you give up art and culture for digging and 
 planting to please yourself or her. If it's a 
 whim of hers, which you know to be unwise, 
 might it not be advisable to say no to it? " 
 
 " It is my whim," said Garth, with some- 
 thing of a savage effort, raising his face. " I 
 thought you would have seen through it, 
 father." 
 
 " When-you were a boy, I remember you 
 used to be afraid of painting, or ashamed of 
 it—" 
 
 " Well, painting is ashamed of me now." 
 
 "Oh I But let us see, old gentleman. 
 If you have compromised with your con- 
 
PUTTING THE CASE. 
 
 169 
 
 science for the sake of getting married a lit- 
 tle sooner, but intend by way of penance to 
 give up what is, to say the least of it, your 
 best means of livelihood, don't you write 
 yourself down even more an ass than a sin- 
 ner? Would not Madge rather wait than 
 marry a poor, stay-at-home farmer ? You'll 
 make a very poor farmer. I should think, 
 by a little waiting, you might in this case 
 eat your cake and have it too." 
 
 " But that is not all — " began Garth, and 
 broke off feverishly. 
 
 "Is it on your own account that you are 
 in haste?" 
 
 Garth got to his feet, and stood, with 
 suppressed excitement, beside the table. 
 "Yes," he said. "I'm not safe till she's 
 my wife. I must be chained down and 
 locked in." 
 
 " When you were a boy — Here, do you 
 remember this?" asked Mr. IJrmson, open- 
 ing a drawer of the table and taking there- 
 from an ancient birchen rod, which he 
 switched through the air once or twice, and 
 then handed to his son. " When you were 
 a boy, you once volunteered to chain down 
 and lock in yourself. Now, it seems, you 
 need a wife to do it for you." 
 
 Garth took the rod and examined it, as 
 though it were some great natural oimosity, 
 turning it over and about, and slowly draw- 
 it from one hand to the other It recalled 
 to him the past years of childish passion and 
 struggle and conquest, which had seemed a 
 fair promise of greater conquests afterward. 
 Yet what his father said was true: he was 
 more manly then than now. But on the 
 other hand, a whipping with a birch rod 
 was a simple and palpable matter, whereas 
 the course of discipline or castigation to be 
 enforced in the present case was far from 
 being so. There is an incorrigible distinc- 
 tion, and difference both, betwixt childhood 
 and puberty. It sometimes seems as if a 
 human being's enemies multiplied out of all 
 proportion to the development of his power 
 of fighting them. Garth laid down the rod 
 and looked at his father gloomily. 
 
 " You have not told Madge of this ? She 
 might not relish the profession of jailer. 
 But what particular enormity are you in 
 danger of committing? " 
 
 "I haven't told myself what," returned 
 Garth, gruffly. 
 
 "Why, I always took you for a pretty 
 honest fellow. I had relied on you to help 
 me out with the peroration of my history. 
 But if you really mean to betray your art, 
 and to marry a wife under false pretenses, 
 without fairly giving yourself a reasou — " 
 
 " Father, there is more the matter than I 
 am responsible for. Every way is the wrong 
 way. I must take the way that wrongs 
 myself rather than the way that wrongs 
 other people. There's no help ; and I can't 
 laugh about it." 
 
 " No ; the best help one man can give 
 another is the opportunity to feel and use 
 the strength that God puts into him. I have 
 always tried to do that much for you, old 
 gentleman. But methinks that must be a 
 very ugly knot which has no loose end at 
 all. Now we have always behaved to one 
 another like decent Yankee gentlemen, who 
 prefer letting their hearts be guessed to turn- 
 ing them inside out at once. However, once 
 in a great while — not oftener, perhaps, than 
 once in a lifetime — it is worth while to drop 
 our points for a moment, and be a little un- 
 ceremonious. Old boy, I used to tell your 
 mother — sometimes, when she asked me very 
 hard — that maybe you were not altogether a 
 bad person. And, to be quite candid, I don't 
 like to see you brought to your wits' end 
 (however far that may be) without wishing 
 to lend you as many of my own as I may 
 happen to have to help you along." 
 
 Garth's face changed somewhat for the 
 better at this beginning, and liis father went 
 on: 
 
 " Well, as to this picture-business, which 
 seems to have arisen on purpose to give you 
 trouble, though it may not turn out so badly 
 — the only strictly honorable and healthy 
 course seems to be to have your own way 
 with it, come what will. And the first con- 
 sequence would be to delay your marriage. 
 I don't take into consideration any possible 
 Providential interference, because that would 
 be unpractical. Your marriage would be 
 delayed, your uncle no doubt disappointed, 
 and Madge hurt and perhaps offended, the 
 more because she knows it was in your 
 power to fulfill your engagement, and would 
 
iro 
 
 GAETH. 
 
 not be likely to appreciate at their fuU value 
 your reasons for not doing so. Still, so far 
 as that goes, and in spite of appearances, you 
 would have done right and not wrong both 
 to yourself and others. And you would 
 have the advantage of being able to paint 
 on." 
 
 " Yes, father ; but that is only the begin- 
 ning." 
 
 Mr. TJrinson here took his penknife from 
 the tray of the inkstand and began to whit- 
 tle, in default of a better subject, the shaft 
 of a quill pen. He had a way (said to be a 
 trait of the TJrmson race) of fixing his eyes 
 steadfastly upon those of the person to whom 
 he was speaking. Some people liked this 
 sometimes ; others did not ; but few, per- 
 haps, found it pleasant at all times. And 
 Mr. Urmson, at the present juncture, antici- 
 pated having to touch upon delicate matters, 
 and provided this means of keeping his eyes 
 averted, and thus relieving, so far as might 
 be, the listener's embarrassment. 
 
 "If I were some fathers," said he, "I 
 might tell you that a good end cannot ex- 
 cuse a wrong act; or, if I were some others, 
 that you were a fool to risk your happiness 
 for a shadow, and still more to abandon your 
 profession for having once disgraced it ; and 
 I might say all this as though it were an 
 original discovery of my own. But since I 
 left the birch rod in your keeping when you 
 were a boy, I sha'n't assume the responsibil- 
 ity of this sort of metaphysical birching now. 
 But as an outsider, who may as such have 
 his faculties of perception and reflection in 
 better working order than yours can be, I'll 
 ask you a few leading questions. You 
 needn't answer them to me, but you wiU to 
 yourseK ; and so I may help you indirectly 
 to get some light thrown on this difficulty. 
 You were in Europe a long time ; Madge is 
 a beauty, but beauty does not wear so weU 
 through absence as some other qualities ; it 
 pays, in that way, for being so powerful at 
 close quarters; and perhaps your absence, 
 in spite of all you could do, taught you as 
 much." 
 
 Garth gave a great sigh, but, before he 
 could say anything, Mr. Urmson, smoothly 
 paring off a long white strip from his quill, 
 continued : 
 
 " In that case, I venture to take it for 
 granted you would feel the more bound to 
 keep your word to her ; and you would nat- 
 urally, from a very proper feeling of self-re- 
 proach, and also, perhaps, from a prudent 
 distrust of your own strength, wish to keep 
 it as soon as possible ; and so it would be 
 harder to forego the means your uncle offers 
 you : and wrong would look uncommonly 
 like a higher sort of right." 
 
 " You are making this too easy for me ; 
 I ought to say it myself," interposed the 
 culprit, with heaving and uneven utter- 
 ance. But Mr. Urmson shook his head and 
 smiled. 
 
 " N"o ; every man to what he can do best. 
 These things should be said, because, once a 
 trouble is reduced to words, it is reduced to 
 its least harmful terms too ; and I say them, 
 because I have a much readier gift of the gab 
 than you, and don't wish to sit here till 
 breakfast-time seeing yon stumble where I 
 can run. As to making it easy for you, 
 you'll find it hard enough, I doubt, to satisfy 
 your tenderest conscience before you are 
 quit of it. I can see nothing easy about it, 
 for my part. Well, now. old boy, I can im- 
 agine another thing. Yon are much im- 
 proved in the way of taste and judgment and 
 cultivation generally by your experience 
 abroad ; . and it is fair to infer that yon 
 learned how to appreciate finer degrees of 
 harmony and form than you could before you 
 went away. You may have met with an in- 
 carnation of this loftier ideal, and felt drawn 
 to it by what seemed the loftier part of your 
 nature, although in opposition to common- 
 place morality. You may have thought that 
 in giving it up you would be giving up all 
 your better possibilities, and folding your 
 talents in a napkin. And this would bring 
 about rather a curious complication. That 
 ancient friend of yours, the old Adam, 
 would not miss the opening to observe that 
 if you really thought you ought not to accept 
 that thousand pounds, here was something 
 to console you for refusing it. You would 
 remain unmarried another year or so, but 
 meanwhile yon would be entitled to more 
 freedom of thought and fancy than if you 
 were a husband ; and in a year or so what 
 might not happen? In this case, you see, 
 
PUTTING THE CASE. 
 
 171 
 
 old Adam, though no doubt arguing for his 
 own ends, would have the very truth, and 
 right to back him which were your own best 
 weapons against him ; and in my opinion you 
 would be in a very awkward fix. At all 
 events, a candid observer cannot help 
 admiring the skill and ingenuity of old 
 Adam." 
 
 "I seem to be made of glass," muttered 
 Garth, leaning back against the window-sill, 
 with his hands in his coat-pockets, and gaz- 
 ing at the pale, keen, gentle, firm-hearted 
 old man. 
 
 " You might have given me credit for 
 seeing through something less transparent 
 than glass," rejoined the latter, who had now 
 whittled away all the feathery half of his 
 pen, and was beginning on the quill proper. 
 " However, the fact is that you gave me the 
 key to my discoveries by saying, a few minutes 
 ago, that every way seemed to be the wrong 
 way. But I tell you again that I don't see 
 any smooth way out of this scrape ; you 
 have got to catch it heavily one way or an- 
 other. All I can do is to put your alterna- 
 tives cleai'ly before you. I have got you 
 now so that you can neither marry without 
 dishonoring your art, nor forbear to marry 
 without seeming to court a dishonorable pas- 
 sion, which, nevertheless, seems to be your 
 only opening to a higher life. And I don't 
 see any present use in going farther, old gen- 
 tleman. Only, I hope it may comfort you a 
 little to remember that I have been with 
 you, at any rate, so far." 
 
 " I begin to know you at last — to know 
 I know you, rather." 
 
 "And after a fellow has done what he 
 can, Providence is not a bad thing as a 
 background. Meanwhile we must go to 
 bed." 
 
 "I remember when mother died yon 
 met me before I knew about it, and talked 
 quietly and cheerfully for half an hour until 
 the others came in ; and afterward I thought 
 how plucky you had been, and I was 
 ashained to give i©. It's the same now. 
 Most men are brave enough if they are so 
 
 for themselves ; but you can help other peo- 
 ple to be brave." 
 
 Mr. Urmson stood up in his long monas- 
 tic gown and yawned. " Did you find Niko- 
 mis good company ? " he asked. 
 
 " She said some strange things. Is she 
 a daughter of the sachem, father ? and does 
 she mean to do us good or evil? She is a 
 witch, I know." 
 
 " Well, I have found her a very valuable 
 acquaintance. She knows things I would 
 be glad to know. I shall tliink just as high- 
 ly of her whether as friend or enemy. The 
 worst thing I ever knew her to do was let- 
 ting you share her whiskey-bottle. You 
 have not been quite in your right mind, old 
 gentleman." 
 
 "It is not that," said Garth, putting his 
 hand to his head. " I have been cold and 
 hot and topsy-turvy ever since my nap in 
 the woods. Maybe I'm in for a fever." 
 
 His father felt the shaggy young man's 
 pulse with his pale, sensitive fingers. " Now 
 your tongue," said he. " Well, it's proper 
 enough that your spiritual struggles should 
 have their projection in the body — if that 
 will be of any comfort to you. You are not 
 in a very desirable condition, certainly ; and, 
 if you have a fever at all, you may make up 
 your mind for a pretty severe one. How- 
 ever, you shall have nurses enough, and 
 homoBopathic medicines." 
 
 "Is nothing the matter with you, your- 
 self? " demanded Garth, turning about and 
 facing his father at the door. " Everybody 
 has been saying lately that you were looking 
 ill ; and Mkomis said — " 
 
 "What? her opinion is always worth 
 hearing.'' 
 
 " She said you wouldn't live another 
 year," said Garth, intending to speak it light- 
 ly, but ending with ignominious solemnity. 
 
 Mr. Urmson laughed in his quiet, inward 
 way. " After all, I see, Nikomis is less than 
 omniscient. I have not speculated as to the 
 day of my departure, but I hope to live as long 
 as is good f oi' me, and to die to some good pur- 
 pose. Good-night, my good old reprobate ! " 
 
172 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 BOOK VII. 
 DISCORD AND HARMONY. 
 
 CHAPTER L. 
 
 CTJTHBBET . 
 
 Had he been essentially a practical man, 
 it is not likely that Garth would have got 
 much solid encouragement out of this inter- 
 view with his father. Ostensibly, indeed, 
 there might rather have seemed to be reason 
 for greater dejection than before. Instead 
 of making light of his difficulties, or suggest- 
 ing a feasible way out of them, Mr. Urmson 
 had deliberately counted them up and set 
 them in order, denying its full weight to 
 none, and sparing not to admit the multi- 
 plied menace of aU combined. 
 
 Nevertheless, and despite his increasing 
 bodily discomfort, Garth, ere he fell asleep, 
 was in better spirits than for several days 
 previous. That the evil of his plight had 
 not been extenuated was implicitly compli- 
 mentary to his ability for getting the upper 
 hand of it. If his father had thought him 
 craven, he would scarcely have been at the 
 pains of frightening him ; and, on the other 
 hand, what more poignant way is there of 
 suggesting heroism than to warn of heroic 
 obstacles ? A hero delights to battle against 
 odds ; and, if Garth knew himself for less 
 than a hero, he was yet near enough akin 
 thereto to feel the inspiration of standing in 
 a hero's shoes. 
 
 To be understood, moreover, is to be 
 twice one's self, and his father understood 
 hira but too well. To find that another 
 mind than our own has analyzed our posi- 
 tion and entered into our doubts, is armor 
 against danger and assurance of sanity. 
 Hard is it for man to be alone in trouble. 
 He blenches, partly from ignorance, and in 
 part because in his loneliness he is not afraid 
 to blench. And though God be forever 
 present with every man, yet were mankind 
 
 created for mutual sympathy, and through 
 that sympathy is it that God indirectly seeks 
 to impress his love upon us. Garth was 
 far from being an infidel ; but he had fallen 
 into the shadow, and perhaps at this stage 
 was better helped by a friendly human hand 
 than he could have been by dint of abstract 
 religious faith. There might come a season, 
 however, to him as weU as to others, of want 
 whereto no merely hum«,n aid could minis- 
 ter, and well would it be for him in that 
 time if he had recognized the Divine inspira- 
 tion of all human charity. 
 
 Outhbert Urmson heard the door of his 
 son's room close, and then he sat down again 
 in the old chair, leaving the study-door ajar. 
 The aspect of cheerful composure which lie 
 had maintained during the interview now 
 began to fade out of his face, and in a few 
 minutes he looked many years older. He 
 leaned his head heavily on his hand, and 
 his shoulders bent forward. The lower lids 
 of his eyes were contracted, his lips set to- 
 gether, and occasionally he fetched a long 
 sigh, like a man enduring wearisome physi- 
 cal pain. 
 
 By-and-by he turned himself toward 
 the table, and began, mechanically and with 
 exaggerated accuracy, to put in order the 
 papers and other things which lay upon it. 
 The scattered parings of the quill pen he 
 brushed slowly together in a heap with his 
 fingers, and dropped them into the waste- 
 paper basket. Then he closed a drawer 
 which was standing open ; but the action 
 reminded him that he had taken the birch 
 rod out of it, and he looked across to the 
 other side of the table* for it. It was not 
 there. It had fallen to the floor, then? 
 Outhbert rose and walked round the table. 
 But no ; it had disappeared entirely. Garth 
 must have taken it with him as he went out. 
 It was a good omen. The young man, in 
 
CUTHBERT. 
 
 173 
 
 his usual silent and undemonstrative fashion, 
 had put himself upon his honor ; and that 
 was so far significant as to show, at all 
 events, that he did not consider himself to 
 he hopelessly beneath a flogging. "And 
 the best of sinners," thought Outhbert, with 
 the faint smile playing about his mouth, 
 " could hardly come into a healthier state 
 of mind than that 1 " 
 
 Clasping his hands behind him, he stood 
 on the hearth with his back to the fire, 
 swaying his body with a slow motion from 
 side to side and forward and backward, 
 after a fashion peculiar to him during soli- 
 tary meditation. The deep stillness of the 
 night and of the sleeping house seconded the 
 grave abstraction of his thought. In glanc- 
 ing back over his life he saw himself, per- 
 haps, as a man who had hoped well, if not 
 too wisely, andThad thus kept a modest light 
 of happiness and serenity burning secure 
 throughout a great deal of unpropitious 
 weather. A fretful, selfish, impatient man 
 would hardly have reached even Outhbert's 
 moderate age without stumbling or altogeth- 
 er falling by the way. But Outhbert's roots 
 grasped beneath the surface-loam of exist- 
 ence, and drew their essential nourishment 
 from subterranean springs. He had taken 
 a wife- whom few persons of his intellectual 
 rank would have looked upon as a fit help- 
 mate in the wearisome endeavors of earthly 
 life ; hut he, being wise as well as intellect- 
 ual, had seen her in a more searching hght 
 than that of the understanding, and found 
 in her all he needed. In fact, he had rever- 
 enced and looked up to her from first to last 
 in a way which must have seemed akin to 
 infatuation to those whose judgments of 
 human worth are made solely from the 
 standpoint of the brain. Outhbert, how- 
 ever, constantly felt her superiority to him- 
 self, and this perception charmed while it 
 humbled him. He used to say to himself, 
 or to Professor Grindle, who was a sort of 
 masculine other self to him, that Martha 
 was so much better than himself in all vital 
 respects as to be above the reach of envy, 
 which could not have been the case had she 
 condescended to meet him on his own ground. 
 He would admit her inferiority on one point 
 ojjy — the power, namely, of being as much 
 
 delighted with him as he was with her ; but 
 for this failure there was the all-sufiBcient 
 excuse that he was incomparably the less 
 delightful person of the two. Professor 
 Grindle had never attempted to impugn his 
 friend's position in this matter; but the 
 latter never knew that one reason, at least, 
 of this forbearance lay in the fact that the 
 learned, brusque, kindly man of classes had 
 himself been in love with Martha, at the 
 time when Outhbert stepped between from 
 foreign parts and married her. 
 
 Martha's unexpected death had been pre- 
 cisely the deadliest thrust that her husband's 
 philosophy could have met with. In a sense 
 he had not survived it. A great part of him 
 had died with her. She had left him at the 
 time when he was most dependent upon her 
 comforting companionship. While she lived 
 he had been able to look upon the gradual 
 decay of his worldly affairs with a compos- 
 ure that almost amounted to amusement; 
 for he enjoyed the privilege of knowing that 
 the ill luck which so beset him was not of 
 his own making, and meanwhile he possessed 
 the inexhanstible consolation and refresh- 
 ment of a beloved and loving wife, whose 
 value each fresh slight of Fortune rendered 
 but the more conspicuous. As year by year 
 Golightley's speculative Mstheticism ate up 
 the family fortune, until at length there re- 
 mained nothing except the annual produce 
 of the farm and the earnings of Outhbert's 
 pen, he smiled his whimsical smile, and held 
 himself wealthy in the ownership of a com- 
 fortable dressing-gown and slippers, and of 
 a wife who could mend holes, darn and knit 
 socks, and superintend the cooking of a 
 wholesome dinner. Professor Grindle, to 
 whose prudent care Outhbert had intrusted 
 the management of the fifty thousand dollars 
 of Eve's legacy, had more than once coun- 
 seled him, during some severer pinch than 
 usual, to mortgage Urmhurst for at least 
 some part of its value, since it was not to 
 he supposed that Eve or any descendants of 
 hers had any existence, even at the time 
 Captain Brian's will was made, except in that 
 willful old gentleman's imagination. But 
 at this Outhbert would shake his head grave- 
 ly, and reply that Nikomis had always ap- 
 peared to him a mysterious personage, and 
 
174 
 
 GAETH. 
 
 that until her mystery was entirely cleared 
 up he would try to get along on the produce 
 of the Urmhurst farm and on the interest of 
 the fifty thousand dollars — both of which 
 sources of income the terms of the will had 
 left him at liberty to use. Indeed, it was 
 solely through drafts on the latter revenue 
 that Garth had been enabled to keep at col- 
 lege. Professor Grindle would grumble out 
 something uncomplimentary to the sagacity 
 of the old captain, and sarcastically ask Outh- 
 bert what became of that part of the three 
 thousand or so dollars of interest which was 
 not included in Garth's expenses; whether 
 Outhbert bought cigars and champagne with 
 it; and, if so, why he never ofiered any to 
 his guests. Mr. Urmson generally affirmed 
 that he spent it for lottery -tickets, or in Paris 
 dresses for Mrs. Urmson. 
 
 " Then I shall tell the Danvers," the pro- 
 fessor would retort, " that you've no head for 
 business, and that they'd better make over 
 the agency of that famous patent affair to 
 me.'' 
 
 At this and similar threats Outhbert 
 would only arch his eyebrow, and the pro- 
 fessor would be forced to console himself 
 with the reflection that the old captain had, 
 after all, done better than he had intended, 
 since, if the Eve legacy had not been set 
 apart, Gohghtley would long ago have squan- 
 dered the whole of it. But neither the pro- 
 fessor nor anybody else could prevail upon 
 Mr. Urmson to regard this matter in any 
 other than a humorous light — so long as 
 Mrs. Urmson was alive._ 
 
 In Garth, again, a less securely grounded 
 faith than Mr. Urmson's might have seen, 
 much to be disturbed about. The boy's 
 most ostensible traits had been ruggedness, 
 reserve, and self-will that could easily be- 
 come obstinacy. The finer, gentler, nobler 
 qualities that lay behind would soon have 
 been irrevocably choked off by any but the 
 most skillful and ingenious treatment. Some 
 persons — among them, as we know, the 
 Reverend Graeme — had been of opinion that 
 Mr. Urmson had grossly neglected his pater- 
 nal duty in not imposing his own will and 
 judgment upon his son, instead of leaving 
 the lad (as he appeared to do) entirely to his 
 own devices. But, though Outhbert never 
 
 would defend himself from this reproach of 
 negligence, neither would he pretend refor- 
 mation. " I sha'n't exactly introduce Garth 
 to the devil," he once said to Professor 
 Grindle, whose ideas on education more or 
 less agreed with his own, " for that would 
 be talcing an unwarrantable liberty ; but if 
 Garth insists deliberately upon forming the 
 acquaintance, it would be taking a liberty 
 still more unwarrantable to lock the door on 
 him. He must do — I won't say as he likes, 
 but as he chooses. I don't pretend to be 
 wiser than my Oreator, and he saw fit to 
 give me free-will. Children are new wine ; 
 they must be let ferment freely, or they' 
 will never become clear, strong, and full- 
 flavored." 
 
 "They maj_talk about desperate gam- 
 bling," remarked Grindle, rubbing his smooth 
 bald crown and wrinkling his forehead ; " but 
 what gambler ever played such stakes as you, 
 or with so steady a hand ? To be sure, the 
 prize is worth the risk, and, as you say, may 
 be unobtainable in any other way. But — I 
 hope the boy'll take to something soon." 
 
 Perhaps Garth's entanglement with 
 Madge had caused his father more doubt 
 and anxiety than any other thing. Mr. 
 Urmson mistrusted everything about Madge 
 except her beauty and her intelligence. He 
 was a man who, though rationally opposed 
 to antipathies, was by nature prone to them ; 
 but reasoning failed to get the better of na- 
 ture in this instance. The fact that Mrs. 
 Urmson shared his unfavorable judgment 
 no doubt tended to conflrm it, though Outh- 
 bert always made a point of disputing with 
 her on the subject, and arraigning her for 
 uncharitableness. Martha, who was charity 
 itself (tempered with a wholesome dash of 
 feminine prejudice), generally yielded a nom- 
 inal assent to his arguments, as a wife should 
 do ; but, unluckily for Outhbert's peace of 
 mind, he never had contrived to convince 
 himself. He had to content himself with 
 hoping that his insight was at fault ; or, if 
 not so, then that Madge, being bad, might 
 vouchsafe the redeeming iniquity of break- 
 ing faith with her lover at the last moment. 
 When Garth went to Europe it had seemed 
 as if Providence were about to promote the 
 latter alternative ; and Outhbert, then grop- 
 
OUTHBERT. 
 
 175 
 
 ing in the fresh shadow of his wife's death, 
 had blessed his son's departure as a ray of 
 light in the prevailing gloom. But when 
 Garth came back, though it was soon mani- 
 fest to his father that hia devotion to Madge 
 was no longer so blind and ardent as before, 
 she, on the other hand, seemed perversely 
 determined on being more inviolably con- 
 stant than ever. In fact, it was impossible to 
 doubt her sincerity. A woman who would 
 remain faithful to a man for years without 
 being married to him, would hardly fail to 
 be a model of wifely faith when they were 
 united. " I don't know," sighed Outhbert 
 to himself; "perhaps I was wrong, and she 
 will make Garth the best wife he could have. 
 If my Cotton Martha were here, she could 
 mend my dull wits. The boy seems to care 
 for no one else, unless that poi'trait sketch 
 he showed me is a sign of something." 
 
 The first months of Garth's return had 
 passed uneventfully away, and matters 
 seemed inclined to adjust themselves with 
 stupid, inert impunity ; there was to be no 
 tension, no crisis, no catastrophe, good or 
 bad. There was a tameness in the prospect 
 that might have dissatisfied Outhbert some 
 six years previous, but now he acquiesced 
 in it with a corresponding tameness and 
 inertia. If the grim, sinister history of two 
 centuries were destined to die away in an 
 uneventful country idyl, with no glimpse of 
 struggle and temptation, no flashing out of 
 poetic justice and retribution, why should 
 not a quiet, elderly gentleman, whose main 
 object in life ought to be to get out of it as 
 quietly and decently as possible, rejoice and 
 thank his stars thereat ? Let Garth, an able 
 but not as yet transcendent artist, marry 
 his pretty and clever and woi'ldly-wise wife, 
 and gradually work his way to a respectable, 
 if not foremost, place among his fellows. 
 Let Golightley wisely invest and temper- 
 ately spend his newly-acquired fortune, pay- 
 ing his debts or not as he thought fit, for 
 Urmhurst could get along with the nothing 
 it had very comfortably. Let the mystery 
 which had brooded beside Captain Brian's 
 death-bed, and overshadowed the relation 
 of his descendants to each other, remain 
 unsolved forever. Let Nikomis pass away 
 unshriven, and Eve's posterity prove a 
 
 dream, and Urmhurst stand firm upon its 
 blood-cemented foundations. In due course 
 let the legacy revert to Garth, and enable 
 him to take his wife on a pleasure-trip to 
 Europe, and by that time, surely, Outhbert 
 might hope that for himself the long, secret, 
 incurable physical anguish of life would be 
 over, and gentle Cotton Martha visibly at 
 his side once more. Let these things be. 
 He had hoped much, and hope, even if it be 
 delusive, has a kind of unearthly wisdom in 
 it, and brings a kind of happiness of which 
 any realization must fall short. Surely, 
 now, at his journey's end, he might be con- 
 tent without earthly realizations. More- 
 over, crippled as he was with age and dis- 
 ease and poverty, what front could he oppose 
 to events of moment, even if they came ? It 
 was better as it was. 
 
 Nevertheless, as the old man stood to- 
 night, on the ash-strewed hearth, with his 
 hands clasped behind him, and mused upon 
 the developments of the last few weeks, he 
 could not but admit that, whether he had 
 strength to meet it or not, the crisis was at 
 hand, and wore a threatening aspect. He 
 knew what Golightley had done, he under- 
 stood Madge's position, he saw Garth's^ dan- 
 ger, he divined Selwyn's mission. He per- 
 ceived, likewise — what they could not — their 
 respective relations one to another, and 
 knew, withal, that they knew not of his 
 knowledge, nor suspected it. Yet there 
 were certain points which still remained 
 obscure to him; and others, perhaps, there 
 were which came not near enough his range 
 of vision even to be speculated about. 
 However, the general winding-up could not 
 be far distant, when all things should be 
 made clear. Outhbert felt that he had a 
 part to play in what was to come, and one 
 rather fitted for a man in the prime of his 
 years and powers than for him, whose flesh 
 was weak, and whose spirit, however will- 
 ing, might well partake of the frailty of hia 
 bodily condition. Nevertheless, as he stood 
 there solitary and uns-upported, and thought 
 of what was to come, the blood entered his 
 face and showed faintly through his cheeks. 
 He drew his feet together, and stood a little 
 taller and more erect. He had never been 
 burdened with self-esteem, and now for the 
 
176 
 
 GAETH. 
 
 first time did he fairly realize tliat he, too, 
 might be of imDortance in the old Urmaon 
 romance. Yes, they could not do without 
 him ; and with the conviction came the gal- 
 lant flush of courage and resolution which 
 assured him that he would not be found 
 wanting. 
 
 A muffled footfall on the staircase in- 
 formed him that old Nikorais, who always 
 wore moccasins, in spite of the civilizing 
 influences of her latter years, was coming 
 up to bed. The hour-glass had just run out ; 
 he turned it, and then went forward to the 
 door, where the Indian met him. 
 
 " Garth looked feverish," said he ; " will 
 he he laid up?" 
 
 " Ugh I do him good ! He too much 
 well ; never been sick ; fever one month — 
 two month — do him good. You better^go 
 to bed," she added, raising her candle and 
 scrutinizing Outhbert's face ; " you more 
 account than Garth." 
 
 " We must take care of him, though," 
 answered he, with a smile. " By-the-way, 
 Nikomis, is it certain that Mr. Kineo is 
 coming here ? " 
 
 " So his letter say," reislied she, with an 
 affectation of indifference. 
 
 " And Madge knows of it, I suppose — 
 yes, for she must have read you the letter. 
 So he has made money ? Does he mean to 
 settle here?" 
 
 "Nikomis know nothing," said the old 
 woman, looking glum. " He stay — he go 
 — me know nothing. Oaw ! me poor old 
 squaw." 
 
 " But he is coming back to see you, Ni- 
 komis — not for any other reason. If he were 
 poor, you might have suspected his motives. 
 I'm glad he has prospered. He must live at 
 Urmhurst while he is here — that is, if he 
 doesn't object. We'll put him in Eve's 
 room, and put Mr. GoHghtley in Garth's old 
 place. "Will that be agreeable to you ? " 
 
 Cuthbert spoke with a smile, yet in a 
 tone that seemed to invite Nikomis to de- 
 clare her mind to him. Outwardly con- 
 sidered, the proposal he had made was 
 rather a singular one ; for Sam Kineo, so 
 far as Urmsworth had had knowledge of 
 him, was not exactly the kind of person 
 likely to be sought after in di-awing-rooms. 
 
 It was fair to suppose, however, that his 
 experience in the world had rubbed smooth 
 his original savagery, especially since he 
 had succeeded in life from a money point 
 of view. But Outhbert, though doubtless 
 hoping that such might be the case, would 
 not have been apt to base his invitation 
 thereon. During the years which had 
 elapsed since Sam's first departure from 
 Urmsworth, Mr. Urmson had grown to be 
 more and more of opinion that the young 
 man's interests were intimately connected 
 with those of the Urmson family. He had 
 not attempted to conceal this opinion from 
 Nikomis, albeit conveying his intimations in 
 such a manner that, if she were unprepared 
 to meet them half-way, they would appear 
 unintelligible. Nikomis, on her side, had 
 been as discreet as only an Indian, perhaps, 
 can be. Not that Indians have more intel- 
 lect than white people : it is tolerably cer- 
 tain that they have not nfearly so much; hut 
 their instinctive prejudice in favor of keep- 
 ing their own counsel often serves them in 
 as good stead. Nikomis admitted little and 
 denied less ; she appeared to know a great 
 deal, yet could not be proved to know any- 
 thing. Animals do things, and perhaps 
 think about doing them, but they are not 
 often overheard talking about their doings. 
 Indians — and Nikomis as an Indian — proba- 
 bly more nearly resemble animals in this re- 
 spect than do their white brethren. They 
 have their powwows, it is true ; but they 
 are incitements to action rather than intel- 
 lectual deliberations. 
 
 On the present occasion the swarthy 
 old woman did not immediately reply, but 
 gleamed at Mr. Urmson out of her narrow, 
 black eye-slits as pungently as if she were 
 expecting a reply from him. " Sam do very 
 well," she said, gruffly, at length ; " he rich 
 — he buy house, if he want. What Sam do 
 here — um ? " 
 
 " Nobody knows so well as you what he 
 wants, or where he should go ; I must leave 
 it entirely to you, Madame Nikomis. If you 
 bring him here, he shall be welcome. Well, 
 I ought to be getting sleepy. Good-night." 
 
 After she had creaked on up the garret- 
 stairs, Outhbert stepped across to Garth's 
 room and looked in upon him. He was 
 
POUR TEMPEES LOST. 
 
 ITT 
 
 tossing and muttering in his sleep, Ms face 
 hot, his lips dry, his hair in a black tangle. 
 His father turned the pillow for him, and 
 smoothed out the twisted sheets and blanket. 
 In doing so he caught sight of a piece of 
 fine bluish gauze, of silken lustre, which ap- 
 peared to be tied about the fevered man's 
 throat. He attempted to take it off, but, 
 finding it impossible without risk of awak- 
 ening the sleeper, he presently withdrew to 
 his own chamber. 
 
 CHAPTER LI. 
 
 FOTTB TEMPERS LOST. 
 
 The following morning was the coldest 
 of the season thus far ; there had been a 
 great change since yesterday. Long, shaded 
 folds of gray cloud lay, along and across the 
 heavens ; a chilling, business-like wind was 
 abroad, and had already done miracles in 
 the way of stripping the forest of the rem- 
 nants of its gaudy finery. Mrs. Tenterden, 
 who, in consideration of her hard jolting in 
 the hay-rigging and over-indulgence in ome- 
 let, had felt herself entitled to exceptional 
 luxui-y, took a late breakfast in bed ; and 
 afterward, wrapping herself in a stately 
 neglige, reclined on the sofa, while Elinor 
 paced up and down the room with her 
 hands behind her, bending her brows at the 
 carpet, and replying somewhat coldly to the 
 elder lady's questions and remarks. 
 
 "Well," exclaimed the latter, laughing 
 comfortably, without interruption to her 
 speech, " all I have to say is, I never thought 
 anything could make up for that knocking 
 about I got yesterday ; but if you're really 
 engaged to Golightley, Nellie, I declare you 
 might have knocked me about for a week 
 without my saying a word. Of course, I 
 knew it must be; I could see well enough 
 that you cared for him, in spite of all your 
 to-do about it. Well, now, I suppose you'll 
 be so taken up with each other I sha'n't see 
 anything of either of you. I shall be quite 
 de trop, 1 suspect." 
 
 "You shouldn't say that, mother," said 
 Elinor, pausing in her walk to fix her strange, 
 unequal eyes upon Mrs. Tenterden's good- 
 12 
 
 humored countenance. " If I become his 
 wife, it will certainly not be with any 
 thought of getting rid of you." 
 
 Here there was a tap at the door, and 
 Madge came in, with a soft, blooming face 
 and a pretty white apron. She had already 
 that morning served Mrs. Tenterden with 
 her breakfast, and spoken sympathizingly 
 about her indisposition, and now she was 
 bound on a new errand of mercy. 
 
 "If you would let me comb and brush 
 your hair for you, dear Aunt Mildred, I 
 should be so glad! You have such lovely 
 hair ! And perhaps it might make your poor 
 head feel a little easier. May I ? " 
 
 Mrs. Tenterden's head felt perfectly well, 
 but she was ready to believe otherwise for 
 Madge's sake. " Bless your heart, my dear, 
 you may do just as you like ! " she ex- 
 claimed, pleased and flattered. " How kind 
 you all are to a poor old woman, to be sure! 
 Mercy! who can that be? — Why, Nellie, did 
 you expect — I declare, I believe it is Go- 
 lightley, sure enough ! Hark! — Quick, Mag- 
 gie, that cap on the dressing-table ; oh, and 
 my slippers — dear mel where are they? 
 — Did I leave them in your room, Nellie? " 
 
 "You'll have to do without them now, 
 
 at any rate," returned Elinor, a mischievous 
 
 I smile brightening through tlie midst of her 
 
 I seriousness. ' " Ourl up your feet under 
 
 your peignoir. There — but remember, you 
 
 mustn't move ! " 
 
 Golightley knocked and entered, bending 
 at once beneath the weight of his news, and 
 of the delicate compliment of being admitted 
 to a lady's bedchamber levee. He was grave, 
 sympathetic, subdued, and fascinatingly at 
 his ease. He seated himself on a low cricket 
 beside the sofa, and, taking Mildred's hand 
 between his own, patted and caressed it 
 while he talked to the younger ladies and 
 to her. 
 
 " How delightful you all look here ! By 
 George ! what a lucky fellow I am to know 
 three such women all in a bunch ! I'd like 
 to know who wouldn't envy me now — Garth, 
 or anybody else. Oh, by-the-by, so sad 
 about dear old Garth, isn't it ? You know, he 
 was out late last night, looking after a letter 
 or something, and not finding it, and getting 
 wet and worried and falling asleep in the 
 
11 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 woods, and one thing and another, and now 
 the poor boy's come home with a bad fever, 
 and delirious, and so on and so on, and I 
 told Cuthbert, Mildred, that I knew you'd 
 like to send him up some of your medicine. 
 — There, now, Margaret, dear child, don't you 
 be frightened. I've told you the worst all 
 at once, because I thought that was the best 
 way. Don't be frightened, because he's go- 
 ing to get well again, you know, and be bet- 
 ter than ever." 
 
 "Good gracious alive ! " cried kind Mrs. 
 Tenterden, sitting up in genuine concern, un- 
 conscious that her bare white feet were visible 
 below the hem of her morning-gown. " Why, 
 the poor young man ! I declare, I'm so sorry 
 for him ! He ought to have had aconite the 
 first thing. What sort of a fever is it, Go- 
 lightley ? " 
 
 "Is it contagious?" demanded Madge, 
 at the same moment, rousing herself from a 
 brief trance or fit of abstraction caused by 
 the ill news. 
 
 "Well, we hardly know what it is yet; 
 it may turn out contagious, or it may not. I 
 wouldn't advise any of you dear people to 
 go near, anyway ; it wouldn't do to have you 
 taken down too, Margaret — -delirium and all 
 — no, no ! We must keep your little head 
 straight, whatever happens. But as for Cuth- 
 bert and me and Mkomis, we're case-hard- 
 ened old veterans, and we aren't afraid of it. 
 But I thought I'd better tell you, you know, 
 for fear it might leak out in some other way 
 and make you anxious." 
 
 Golightley addressed himself to the com- 
 pany generally, but Madge had an impres- 
 •sion that he was talking at her and covertly 
 watching her. These two had conversed 
 with somewhat unusual frankness — to use 
 an agreeable word — the day before, but had 
 not prolonged their interview far enough to 
 arrive at any distinct and practical basis of 
 action. Consequently they were still a little 
 wary of each other, and prepared to make 
 the best of whatever chance advantage. Go- 
 lightley, perhaps, had not come out of the 
 late encounter with quite his usual sense of 
 superiority ; for Madge, while displaying an 
 alarming aouteness of apprehension as to his 
 own weak places, had given him no corre- 
 sponding purchase against herself — none, at 
 
 least, that he could use without more dis- 
 concerting himself than her. But he was 
 not yet ready to admit that no such handle 
 was discoverable ; and Madge, recognizing 
 tliis, was old enough to know the wisdom of 
 avoiding even the appearance of evil. 
 
 " You are very kind," said she ; " but he 
 — belongs to me. Uncle Golightley, and I 
 must be with him, however it is." There 
 was a slight tremulous cadence in her tone 
 which toiiohed the heart — her own, maybe, 
 as well as others. Women often beguile 
 themselves better than any one can do it for 
 them. 
 
 " No, no, Maggie dear ! " exclaimed Mrs. 
 Tenterden, getting up with energy. " What 
 do you know about nursing, and what would 
 young Mr. Garth say to us if we allowed you 
 to catch the disease from him ? Just let me 
 go over there; I know how to manage, and 
 nothing can hurt me. The idea of nobody 
 but that Indian creature to take care of 
 him I I declare it is perfectly dreadful ! " 
 
 Here'Mrs. Tenterden interrupted herself 
 with a small scream, at the same time bun- 
 dling back on the sofa. She had set her heel 
 upon a crooked hairpin, which had reminded 
 her of her unshod and exposed condition, 
 and for the moment put all her Good-Sa- 
 maritariism out of her head. But the mishap 
 served its purpose in inducing a less flurried 
 and headlong view of what should be done. 
 Golightley was presently sent back to Urm- 
 hurst with an homoeopathic medicine-chest 
 under his arm, and a message to the effect 
 that Mrs. Tenterden would follow so soon as 
 the inertia of earthly 'conditions could be 
 overcome. 
 
 Madge waited until Golightley had passed 
 by the windows on his way homeward, and 
 then she retired to her own room, and began 
 mechanically to put on her boots and other- 
 wise array herself as for a walk. But before 
 her preparations were half completed — In 
 the act of tying on her hat before the look- 
 ing-glass — she lapsed for the second time 
 into a trance, and was so found some time 
 afterward by her mother, who came with 
 the information that Mrs. Tenterden was 
 ready to set out for Urmhurst. 
 
 "Well, what are you doing, Maggie girl, 
 and ghe waiting, and Garth down with the 
 
FOUR TEMPERS LOST. 
 
 179 
 
 typhus?" expostulated Mrs. Danver, in a 
 complaining monotone. "Sitting half-dressed 
 and staring into a looking-glass — it's real 
 unthinking.'' 
 
 Madge caught her mother's eye in the 
 mirror ■ without turning round, and after a 
 moment deliberately untied her hat and laid 
 it down on the table. 
 
 "What ails the child? " cried Mrs. Dan- 
 ver, heightening her tone. "I guess Mrs. 
 Tenterden isn't going to be sitting waiting 
 Jail day with her things on, either. Do, now, 
 Maggie, have done and come along ! " 
 
 Madge was accustomed to treat her 
 mother without much ceremony when they 
 ■were in private ; but she had never yet al- 
 lowed herself to forget the consideration 
 due to persons of more importance. Now, 
 however, she said curtly, " I'm not going 
 with Mrs. Tenterden." 
 
 "Well, I should think you'd had more 
 manners, Maggie ; let be what G-artb '11 say 
 when he comes to and hears you've not been 
 near him. Of course there's nobody expects 
 you to go in his room and catch the con- 
 tagion, child. Goodness knows there's plen- 
 ty to do, this side of running risks ; but 
 seems to me, if he was my young man, I 
 wouldn't risk strangers being round and me 
 staying home like I didn't care for him : let 
 be Garth's not the kind that seems over- 
 eager for marrying, either." 
 
 " Is Miss Golightley going over ? " asked 
 Madge, after a pause. 
 
 " Well, I don't see what sTie should be 
 doing there, that I must say ! " returned 
 Mrs. Danver, tartly. "Maybe she will, 
 though, if you don't, just to bear Mrs. Ten- 
 terden company, if no more.'' 
 
 " I sha'n't go," said the beautiful young 
 woman, finally, turning and facing her 
 mother with a hard look. "I don't like his 
 being sick in this way, and delirious, just as 
 if he were some old woman. It isn't manly. 
 Men such as I care about are never laid up 
 in bed with fevers, having medicines given 
 them, and not able to take care of them- 
 selves. I don't like Garth for it, and I never 
 shall like him so well again, even if he gets 
 well. Garth sick with a fever! Pah! I 
 wouldn't have believed it." 
 
 These sentences were uttered in Madge's I 
 
 customary soft tone, or, if there was a me- 
 tallic ring in them, it was very subdued. 
 Nevertheless, the half-resentful contempt 
 which they expressed was conveyed like- 
 wise by a certain subtile inflection of the 
 voice : there could be no question that she 
 was speaking sincerely. Mrs. Danver was 
 quelled, and could say not a syllable. After 
 a short silence, Madge turned back to the 
 glass, as if to address her reflection therein, 
 and added : 
 
 "I would rather have a fever myself 
 than think that he has one. Do you sup- 
 pose I'm afraid of the contagion ? I'm, a 
 woman, and sickness couldn't degrade me, 
 and, if there's to be any sickness, I should 
 have had it and not he. Think of my Garth, 
 who canoed the rapids and beat Sam Kineo, 
 lying helpless, with a set of doctors and 
 nurses round him! I'd be ashamed to get 
 well, if I were a man." 
 
 " There, now, Maggie, I do think you've 
 said enough," put in Mrs. Danver, partly 
 soared and partly scandalized. " I've often 
 found you hard and bitter, goodness knows, 
 but I did think you cared for something, 
 anyway." 
 
 " I do care for something ; but I don't 
 care for feebleness and disease. If he were 
 wounded half to death in a duel or a battle, 
 I'd give the blood he lost out of my own 
 veins to make him strong again. Well, I 
 won't go to him ; you may tell what you 
 like to Mrs. Tenterden." 
 
 "Maggie Danver, you was always an un- 
 certain child to do with," said Mrs. Danver, 
 with solemnity. "Times when one might 
 look for you to be cross and ugly, you'd 
 come out soft and smiling as an ear of corn ; 
 and times again, for no cause ever I could 
 see, you'd turn as uncomfortable as a hail- 
 storm. And goodness knows it's I that gets 
 the worst of it; it's not Mr. Graeme, nor 
 the Urmsons, nor the folks at the picnic and 
 the sewing-bees that hear of it. What I say 
 is, I used to think you had a bad side to you, 
 Maggie Danver, as might be the case with 
 others, no more, no less. But to hear what 
 you've said this day, one needn't go far to 
 believe you're just bad clear way through. 
 Ah, maybe you don't pay much heed now," 
 continued the aggrieved parent, in a strained 
 
180 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 quaver — for, to tell the truth, Madge had 
 been quietly walking about the room during 
 the greater part of this harangue, laying 
 away her things and humming softly to her- 
 self, as though in profoundest solitude and 
 abstraction — " but the time will come, Mag- 
 gie Danver — " 
 
 At this juncture Mrs. Tenterden's voice 
 and step were heard in the passage, and the 
 next moment her imperative knock sounded 
 on the door. Madge's mother stepped aside, 
 with a pantomime to her daughter, as much 
 as to say, " How are you going to get out of 
 it now ? " But Madge's spirit was fully up, 
 in its own peculiar way, and there can be 
 little doubt that she would, at that moment, 
 have asserted herself in the face of any odds, 
 come what might of it. She walked quietly 
 to the door and opened it. 
 
 "Margaret," said Mrs. Tenterden, in a 
 good-naturedly authoritative tone, "you 
 mustn't think of coming with me, dear. I'm 
 so forgetful, I asked you to go without think- 
 ing, just after we'd been talking about the 
 contagion too! Just you stay quietly at 
 home, and we'll send you Jiews of him. Oh, 
 I don't suppose it's anything serious — just 
 he caught a cold and got a little feverish. — O 
 Mrs. Danver, you here ! Keep her at home, 
 and don't let her get all nervous and wor- 
 ried. Oh, I shall find my way; Nellie's 
 going out for her constitutional now, and 
 she'll accompany me part way, so as I won't 
 get lost.'' So spake the good lady, busily 
 drawing on her gloves and shaking out her 
 skirts: she much enjoyed the importance 
 of all feminine affairs. " Good-by, dear ! " 
 she added, and stepping forward took Mar- 
 garet's hand and kissed her on the cheek, 
 the young lady submitting to the caress with 
 unusual nonchalance ; but Mrs. Tenterden 
 was too much preoccupied to notice it. 
 With a nod and a smile to Mrs. Danver, she 
 bustled off, and soon she and Elinor were on 
 the road to Urmhurst. 
 
 Elinor had listened to the news of Garth's 
 illness with an apparent apathy which would 
 have struck an observer as being distinctly 
 uncomplimentary to the invalid. While the 
 others were conversing about it, 'she had 
 turned away to the window, and stood 
 drumming absently on the pane with her 
 
 slender finger-tips. After all had gone out, 
 and Mrs. Tenterden was stepping briskly 
 hither and thither, getting ready for her ex- 
 pedition, Elinor left the window and daw- 
 dled listlessly to the sofa, upon which she 
 threw herself with an expression of gloomy 
 ennui. She made no reply to the elder lady's 
 interjections and scraps of remark; only 
 upon the latter's asking her to run and see 
 if Margaret was ready, she had replied, with 
 a slight yawn : " Of course, she mustn't go 
 with you, mother. It would be better that 
 I should take the fever than that she should." 
 And again, more decidedly: "Of course, 
 she'U want to, mother ; but what difference 
 does that make? As to your missing the 
 road, I'm going out myself by-and-by, and 
 I'd as lief go in that direction as in any." 
 Mrs. Tenterden was in the habit of yielding ' 
 to Elinor's will and judgment in all questions 
 pertaining to social and practical conduct, 
 reserving the right to disagree with her on 
 subjects moral and theoretical. Hence the 
 worthy lady's countermand to Madge, and 
 Ehnor's unpremeditated " constitutional." 
 
 As they walked along, Mrs. Tenterden 
 as usual, assumed the laboring oar of talk, 
 conning over, as talkative people will, all 
 the possible and impossible aspects of the 
 affair, trying back for causes and explana- 
 tions, and prophesying all that would or 
 might or could not result therefrom. At 
 length, however, she became aware that her 
 companion was not paying even her custom- 
 ary tribute 6f "Yes," "No," and "Oh," 
 but was moving beside her absolutely silent 
 and inattentive, fixing her eyes on the 
 ground, and making thrusts at the earth 
 with the point of her umbrella. 
 
 " You don't seem to hear any more than 
 if you were deaf, daughter," she cried, in 
 some pique. " Don't you feel well ? Mercy 
 alive!" she added, laughing, "I hope you 
 haven't taken the fever by sympathy. 
 There's no telling but it may have been in 
 the air last evening, and then every blessed 
 one of us might get il" 
 
 " There would be some fun in having a 
 malignant case of typhoid," remarked Elinor, 
 with one of her odd, one-sided smiles ; "you'd 
 feel you had a right to ask all your best 
 friends to let you alone. I believe I'U take it." 
 
FOUR TEMPERS LOST. 
 
 181 
 
 " No, Elinor ; I don't tMnk it's right to 
 say such things ; it's like tempting Provi- 
 dence," said Mrs. Tenterden, with religious 
 gravity. 
 
 " Providence tempts us,'' returned the 
 girl, with a slight laugh. " It goes by con- 
 traries. Either Garth Urmson or I might 
 have had the fever, and, because it would 
 have suited me, he had it. I haven't even 
 an excuse for catching it from him, as Madge 
 would have." 
 
 " It seems a very strange time for you to 
 be talking this way, daughter, just when 
 you ought to be most contented — with your 
 fate settled in life, and everything." 
 
 " What a funny thing fate is ! " remarked 
 Elinoi", who seemed to be in a moralizing, 
 mood this morning. " People can have 
 only one fate in their lives, and yet they 
 can't have that the way they'd like it. I 
 wonder if they are sorry afterward ? Be- 
 cause, after all, they might do as they please, 
 if they only would. Imagine having used 
 up aH your life in doing what you are told 
 is your duty, and then finding, after all, that 
 you had only wasted and spoiled yourself, 
 and been made a fool of ! Then — I should 
 feel that Providence was evil. Ton needn't 
 be shocked, mother ; I could say a great 
 deal worse things, if I chose ; I do very 
 often to myself. Unluckily, it makes no 
 difference what I think or say. I feel some- 
 .times that, if I were to have two lives, I 
 should be unspeakably wicked in the sec- 
 ond one, out of revenge; oh, 'more wicked 
 than — I never could be wicked enough." 
 
 " I declare, I think you're quite wicked 
 enough as it is, Nellie," exclaimed Mrs. Ten- 
 terden, thoroughly angered by this uncalled- 
 for wantonness of impiety. " I beg you 
 won't speak to me again ; I've a right to 
 my ears, I suppose, and I won't listen to it. 
 I don't see who has less right to find fault 
 with the way she has been treated than yon 
 have. What have you ever known of any 
 hardships, I should like to know ? and 
 everything, has always been just as you 
 wanted it. You're a spoiled child — ^that's 
 what you are. I'm sure John and I did 
 everything ; I'm sure I never asked or ex- 
 pected any return — I wouldn't demean my- 
 self to take the least thing. Ton can never 
 
 say that against me. I declare, I think it's 
 very unfeeling and ungrateful of you, Nellie, 
 to do-7-the — way you — do ! And just when 
 you've got Golightley to marry you, so as — 
 you — can do without me." Here Mrs. Ten- 
 terden began to sob resentfully and for- 
 lornly. She belonged to a class of per- 
 sons who must ever be the despair of lo- 
 gicians. 
 
 Elinor stabbed a tuft of grass with her 
 umbrella, and halted. " The house is right 
 round this bend," she said, with her coldest 
 tone and glance. " I had better not go any 
 farther. I suppose your brother will come 
 back with you. Good-by." Mrs. Tenter- 
 den stared a few seconds at the stern, pure 
 young face with a cross-eyed glance that 
 characterized her when embarrassed or of- 
 fended. Then she wheeled about, and 
 walked off with short steps, her head 
 thrown up and slanted toward the right- 
 likewise signs expressive of indignation. 
 Elinor also turned, and set forth in the op- 
 posite direction ; but before she had gone a 
 dozen yards she stopped iagain, and, hasten- 
 ing back, overtook Mrs. Tenterden. 
 
 " Mother, will you forgive me ? I sup- 
 pose I think I have hardships, and that is as 
 bad as really having them, or worse. But, 
 don't say I was taking advantage of my — of 
 your brother, to be ungrateful. Mother — 
 oh, not ungrateful, am I ? " The girl's face, 
 always so susceptible of delicate shades of 
 expression, was touched for a moment with 
 an angelic light. Her monijj trembled, try- 
 ing to smile, and longing to weep. Her eyes 
 grew large and tense, till tears entered them. 
 Her hands unconsciously reached forward 
 as if she would have fallen on the other's 
 neck, to try and kiss and be forgiven. But 
 who are so implacable as those who cannot 
 tell how they have been injured ? Mrs. Ten- 
 terden's wrath had not had time to subside. 
 With an air of insulted resignation she held 
 up her cheek for Elinor's penitential salute. 
 Elinor shrank back as from an invisible buf- 
 fet, looking aged and hardened in a breath. 
 " Well, never mind," she said, lightly ; " no 
 .doubt I shall be properly punished, at last." 
 
 So they parted, being none the better 
 for this attempted reconciliation. Mrs. Ten- 
 terden proceeded to Urmhurst, supported 
 
182 
 
 GAETH. 
 
 by a lively sense of the disparity between 
 her deserts and her allowances ; and Elinor 
 walked like one in the wilderness, alone and 
 without hope of companionship. 
 
 CHAPTEE LII. 
 OPINION And peejudioe. 
 
 Gaeth's fever seemed to fasten its grip 
 npon the brain ; he lay muttering unintelli- 
 gibly and tossing about ; his eyes generally 
 closed, his lips dark and cracked, he knew 
 po one, but he was particularly sensitive to 
 sound and to the tones of various voices. His 
 delirium sometimes became violent, and then 
 only his father might come near him. From 
 his boyhood up Garth had reverenced his 
 father almost more than he had loved him ; 
 and now, in the confusion of his reason, he 
 would still listen and yield when the old 
 man spoke. He commonly endured the 
 ministrations of Nikomis indifferently well ; 
 but Mrs. Tenterden, in spite of her truly 
 kind and warm-hearted intentions, had an 
 unfavorable effect upon his nervous system, 
 apparent whenever she entered the room. 
 Her talk — or rather her whisper, but it 
 amounted to nearly the same thing — her 
 would-be cautious manner of moving about, 
 the very sphere of her presence, seemed to 
 discomfort him : at least so thought every- 
 body except good Mrs. Tenterden herself, 
 who could never- be brought to suspect it. 
 Outside of the sick-room, indeed, she was a 
 useful assistant, but the ever-instant prob- 
 lem was how to keep her outside. Cuth- 
 bert, who was constitutionally prone to be- 
 come genial under the pressure of active 
 misfortunes, was in the mood to derive a 
 good deal of secret enjoyment from the plan- 
 ning and carrying out of the numberless 
 subtile schemes whereby his fair fellow-nurse 
 was beguiled into keeping her distance, and 
 blinded to the fact of her beguilement. 
 
 As to poor Golightley, there was no op- 
 portunity for smoothing over matters with 
 him. It may be recollected that Garth, in 
 his first interview with his uncle by the lake- 
 side, had conceived what is called an instinc- 
 tive prejudice against him, owing to some 
 
 unprepossessing quality or other in the in- 
 flection of his voice. This prejudice, so long 
 as the young man's impulses remained sub- 
 ject to will and reason, had been kept in 
 abeyance; but it now asserted itself with 
 distorted emphasis. When his benevolent 
 relative, therefore, duly fortified by fumiga- 
 tion, stepped soothingly up to the bedside, 
 and, laying a gloved hand on the sick man's 
 shoulder, exclaimed, " Why, Garth, my dear 
 boy, what is the meaning of this? Come, 
 you must get well at once — I can't allow you 
 to be breaking all the young ladies' hearts 
 by any such devices " — the unbridled Garth 
 howled like a wild beast, and raised himself 
 up in bed with such a formidable aspect as 
 plainly declared his enmity. Golightley took 
 this ugly reception very good-humoredly ; 
 and, though, of course, he made no further 
 attempt to heal the distemper by personal 
 magnetism, he grudged no pains to be ser- 
 viceable and considerate at second-hand. 
 
 When fever gets hold of a strong and 
 hitherto healthy man, it seldom minces mat- 
 ters with him, but puts forth its full strength 
 and virulence. Garth, who since the measles 
 hid never known sickness, seemed bound to 
 make up for lost time now. He plunged 
 into the disease as if he loved it and could 
 not get enough of it; it was hard to say 
 whether he possessed it or it him, but it was 
 a perilous intimacy either way. The homoeo- 
 pathic medicines, though possibly keeping 
 matters somewhat within bounds, did not 
 immediately check or even visibly alleviate 
 the complaint. Mrs. Tenterden, who had 
 seen yellow fever at Charleston, and conse- 
 quently thought her opinion upon sickness 
 in general to be entitled to the first consid- 
 eration, began after a day or two to lift her 
 eyebrows and depress her mouth, and affirm, 
 with a shake of the head, that Gai'th was a 
 very sick man. Golightley hem'd and ha'd 
 at this information, stroked his face and 
 scrutinized his boots dejectedly, and, walking 
 to the window, stood putfing cigarette-smoke 
 against the panes. Nikomis received it with 
 wrinkled and swarthy impassiveness ; had 
 she been chiseled out of the bricks of the 
 chimney-corner in which she abode, she 
 could not have displayed completer apathy ; 
 nevertheless, she always took care to have 
 
OPINION" AND PKEJUDIOE. 
 
 183 
 
 the invalid's food and drink ready and good, 
 and she further vouchsafed one or two dishes 
 of pure Indian parentage — mysterious con- 
 coctions of certain herbs — which seemed to 
 suit liim better than any other part of his diet. 
 When Garth's illness became known to 
 the general public of Urmsworth, and it was 
 understood to be something really serious, 
 they all constituted themselves his biogra- 
 pher, giving one another abstracts of his 
 career from infancy up to the present time ; 
 throwing especial light (gratuitously provided 
 by the brilliance of their imaginations) upon 
 the more obscure and questionable episodes ; 
 weighing his good qualities against his bad, 
 and generally shaking their heads over the 
 result; forecasting sagely what might have 
 been his future, and pointing oiit, with a ca- 
 dence of warning melancholy in their tones, 
 the causes leading up to his present over- 
 throw and approaching dissolution. So the 
 old Urmson family was doomed to die out ? 
 Well, like as not it had run on about long 
 enough. No call to suppose it would have 
 grown better than it had been ; and, speaking 
 honestly, the Urmsons were never a grow- 
 ing, progressive lot; had not gone ahead 
 with the times, but stuck in the same place, 
 pretty near, that they were in two hundred 
 years back. They weren't the kind to do 
 their neighbors much good, and, worse than 
 that, they wouldn't let their neighbors im- 
 prove them. Aristocracy was not recog- 
 nized in the American Constitution, bat 
 somehow the Urmsons had always acted as if 
 they were an inch or two bigger than any- 
 body else. G-olightley (Jrmson — well, there 
 was some excuse for him, and he might do 
 something' yet ; but the rest had about as 
 well go. Urmhurst was a flrst-rate site for 
 an hotel, and an hotel was what the village 
 wanted ; Garth would likely be buried this 
 winter; the old man would hardly stop 
 above-ground many months after him ; some 
 enterprising chap might purchase the estate, 
 put in a few additions and alterations to the 
 old shanty, paint it white, and cut down the 
 big trees round about, and who knows but 
 what — well, say, a year from next spring — 
 there might be as spruce an hotel standing 
 there as could be found in the State ? Say a 
 year from next spring at the outside. 
 
 The Rev. Mr. Graeme, on first learning 
 the news, set out for Urmhurst with the in- 
 tention of bringing to bear upon the invalid 
 his three hundred pounds avoirdupois of re- 
 ligious cheer and consolation. But the road 
 was longer than it had been in the good pas- 
 tor's younger years, and by the time he had 
 reached his destination he had quite forgot- 
 ten the occasion of his coming. It was 
 therefore with renewed concern that he 
 heard of his grandson's indisposition; but, 
 having in the course of his walk traveled 
 backward into time some twenty years or so, 
 he bethought himself to remark that, after 
 all. Garth was barely five years old yet, and 
 could only be suffering from some one of the 
 complaints incident to childhood. " Wliere's 
 Martha? " he added, looking around. — " Ay, 
 you are here, Mrs. Tenterden; and very 
 hearty you are looking, ma'am; but the 
 child ought- to have its own mother — noth- 
 ing like its own mother. — Eh, Cuthbert? 
 ha! ha!" Then, after a silence of a few 
 moments, he looked again at Mr. Urmson, 
 and said : " Ay, boy, she's dead, poor girl ! 
 It was I read the service over her; and 
 Garth, to be sure, is a man now; so he's 
 done with that fever you were telling me of 
 — done long ago. Well, well, it seemed but 
 just now I was starting up from the village 
 to comfort ye all about him. — I forget things 
 here and there, ma'am, sometimes, I believe. 
 — I came to tell you, Outhbert lad, I'd preach 
 again on Sunday. I'll preach from the 
 blessed Lord's healing the siflk; and we'll 
 have prayer for Garth, and for ye all, that 
 ye may be comforted concerning him. — Oome 
 and hear me, lad, and you'll feel all the bet- 
 ter for it. God bless you and prosper you ! — 
 You've been a good husband, Outhbert, and 
 you'll be a happy father. — God bless ye 
 all ! " 
 
 So the benignant old giant went back to 
 the village. His heart was as true and sound 
 as ever, but the strings of the mind had 
 grown slack and out of accord, so that it was 
 no longer possible to get coherent music 
 from them. Whether the minister ever 
 wrote out or composed his proposed sermon 
 must remain a matter of doubt; at all 
 events, he duly appeared in the pulpit (where 
 he had rarely officiated of late), and gave out 
 
184 
 
 GAETH. 
 
 the text as lie liad announced it a few days 
 before to tlie circle at Urmliurst. But when 
 he began to preach, the congregation rubbed 
 their foreheads, and consulted the text over 
 again. The sermon was logical, connected, 
 and able beyond all expectation ; but it had 
 nothing whatever to do with the subject 
 specified. The preacher's delivery was more 
 forcible and like old times than had been the 
 case for years — on that point everybody 
 agreed ; but not a word did he let fall about 
 healing the sick from beginning to end. 
 Probably the solution of the mystery would 
 never have been discovered to this day, had 
 not Madge Danver been in church ; she had 
 always been noted for her good memory, 
 and by the time the discourse was half 
 over she had seen through the whole mat- 
 ter. 
 
 " It was one he preached about ten years 
 ago," she said to Elinor, as they walked 
 home together. "I remember it very well, 
 because it was the only time Garth was ever 
 at church. I suppose the poor old man, in 
 thinking of Garth and of preaching at the 
 same time, got possessed somehow with his 
 old sermon, and imagined the world had 
 gone back to that same memorable Sun- 
 day." 
 
 " It was a good sermon," said Elinor. 
 
 "I remember, when he preached it be- 
 fore, people said it was the best he had 
 done; but it wasn't very appropriate for 
 this occasion, was it? It was meant, you 
 know, to giv? advice and encouragement to 
 some one just beginning life, as it were ; 
 and Garth, perhaps, is very near the end of 
 his life now." 
 
 Elinor turned and looked full at her com- 
 panion, who had uttered this sentence in the 
 same soft, even tone in which she had been 
 speaking all along. "Was Madge a miracle of 
 resignation? or was it possible that she was 
 indifferent? As the question presented it- 
 self to her, Elinor suddenly blushed. Could 
 Garth be dying, and this girl not care — this 
 lovely, sweet -^tempered, naive, charming 
 creature, who had seemed to love him so 
 devotedly — could she actually not care ? It 
 was not to be believed. Yet, with a renewed 
 shock of misgiving, Elinor recollected her 
 first secret surprise when Mrs. Tenterden 
 
 had succeeded in persuading Madge not to 
 run the •risk of visiting Urmhurst. It was 
 true that Elinor herself had argued against 
 it, and had hitherto not permitted herself to 
 harbor a suspicion against Madge's true- 
 heartedness. But now, venturing for a mo- 
 ment to imagine herself in Madge's place, 
 she could not help thinking that nothing 
 short of physical force would have availed 
 to restrain her from tending the bedside of 
 a man she loved. It might be unreasonable, 
 rash, selfish — anything; but she felt that she 
 would have gone, and trusted to love to take 
 care of her. Had Madge felt thus, and yet 
 let herself be held back, yielding, too, with 
 so little apparent difficulty, and now allud- 
 ing to a possible fatal end with so strangely 
 quiet a demetoor ? "Why, that was not to be 
 believed either! 
 
 Elinor was almost severely straightfor- 
 ward, and she was at first on the brink of 
 directly asking Madge in so many words to 
 resolve her doubt. But a second thought 
 made her pause and change her intention. 
 For more reasons than one she could not 
 speak with her companion on this subject, 
 and she blushed again as she admitted it. 
 But the episode produced a deep effect upon 
 her, one that would not easily wear away. 
 From this time forth she watched Madge 
 with a singular kind of impersonal jealousy, 
 and her own situation became fraught, to her 
 mind, with many fresh difficulties. 
 
 CHAPTER LIII. 
 
 A VOLUNTEER. 
 
 The third week of Garth's illness was 
 marked by great prostration, only occa' 
 sionally varied by dehrinm. "Whereas in the 
 first week it had been necessary to lower 
 the preternatural unrest of the patient, it 
 was now requisite to prop him up with every 
 kind of stimulant. Nikomis stolidly but 
 actively asserted her faith in the virtue of 
 pure brandy, and administered it with a free- 
 dom which somewhat awed squeamish Mrs. 
 Tenterden. But, in the teeth of all remedies, 
 Garth continued to sink, the mischief appear- 
 ing to concentrate more and more in the 
 
A VOLUNTEER. 
 
 185 
 
 brain. A secret dread began to grow in 
 Cuthbert's mind lest, even should Garth fight 
 his way back to health, his reason would be 
 lost in the struggle, and he began to pray 
 that his son might rather die. After so stern 
 a prayer, the faded old gentleman, lying 
 wrapped in his dressing-gown on a sofa near 
 the sick-room, would sometimes indulge in 
 one of his subtile, unaccountable smiles. "Was 
 he amused at this ignoble end of the haughty 
 Urmson family? or could he, defeated and 
 thrust down to the lowest pit of fortune, yet 
 so far sympathize with inscrutable Destiny 
 as to reflect her ironic grimace? 
 
 Long, blank silences ebbed themselves 
 away, Outhbert sitting or lying motionless, 
 but for the most part unsleeping ; for a phys- 
 ical not less than a mental anguish dwelt in 
 his breast, and left him small leisure for re- 
 pose. - The only nurses besides himself were 
 Nikomis and Mrs. Tenterden. The village 
 doctor, who had tended the case up to the 
 last week, had then had the misfortune to be 
 thrown from his horse and break his leg, 
 and he had been confined to his room ever 
 since. Outhbert thereupon had determined 
 upon sending for Professor Grindle, and Go- 
 lightley had volunteered to go to Bowdoin 
 College to fetch him ; but they had not yet 
 been heard from. It was a critical and 
 anxious time. Garth, as he lay muttering on 
 his bed, was an unprepossessing thing to look 
 at. His bony forehead and shaggy brows, 
 his great cheek-bones and gaunt jaws stood 
 forth almost fleshless ; his sunken eyes were 
 like dull embers at the bottom of caverns ; 
 his swarthy hair rose erect about his head, 
 a black jungle of inextricable tangles; his 
 hollow cheeks were rough and savage with 
 a three weeks' growth of beard. Through 
 all his prostration, however, he was singu- 
 larly alive to certain seemingly immateri- 
 al things, such as the influence of certain 
 spheres, and harmonious or discordant 
 sounds. No one but Outhbert could approach 
 him with impunity, though, except when he 
 was irritated, or, more rarely, soothed, he 
 appeared imoonscious of everything around 
 him. By-and-by even his father felt that 
 his power over him was on the wane. Garth 
 disregarded his voice, and resented his touch. 
 Good Mrs. Tenterden, who, helpful though 
 
 she had been throughout, could not forego 
 her prerogative of discussing painful matters 
 with the wrong persons, once let fall to Mr. 
 Urmson something about keepers and asy- 
 lums, thereby occasioning him a momentary 
 awful sinking of the soul. Anon summon- 
 ing his strength from some hidden source 
 (there was no sign of any in his meagre, 
 bowed figure), he made shift to answer with 
 a sober cheerfulness of tone that must have 
 cost him dear. But again that night, after 
 Mrs. Tenterden had returned home, he re- 
 lapsed to an inward agony, and, for the first 
 time in his life. Amen stuck in his throat. 
 Toward morning he prayed that, if there 
 were anything in the world which might 
 save his son, it should be made manifest at 
 once;. if not, might the worst declare itself 
 without delay ! With this petition on his 
 lips, he stood with folded arms by the bed 
 side of the gaunt invalid, and gazed yearn- 
 ingly upon him. " Garth, dear old curmud- 
 geon, what a good-for-nothing father I must 
 seem to you ! It's hard I cannot help you 
 now." 
 
 A bird, the latest lingering of the south- 
 ward-departing tribe, alit for a moment on 
 the bare bough of a tree by the window to 
 warble a golden bar of farewell melody. It 
 seemed to reach Garth's ears. He partly 
 turned his head toward the window, and 
 moved his hand ; the haggard harshness of 
 his face softened somewhat. "If I could 
 cage that bird, its song might help him," 
 went through Outhbert's mind. But the 
 next instant the bird flew oif, and soon was 
 miles away, sailing southward over the frost- 
 nipped valley, and aiming onward toward 
 Wabeno and far beyond. It was like the 
 flight of a last hope. Outhbert turned round, 
 pressing his hand on his breast, and uttering 
 a low sigh of pain. Nikomis was standing 
 in the doorway, looking like a grotesque 
 heathen idol carved out of mahogany. 
 
 " Outhbert, you come go to bed," she 
 said, gruflBy. " You die too soon enough 
 anyway. Garth all right ; he better soon ; 
 me take care. Oome!" 
 
 "I suppose I ought to outlive him, for 
 decency's sake, being his head nurse," an- 
 swered Outhbert, with a nervous twitching 
 of the corners of his mouth. "And I be- 
 
186 
 
 GAETH. 
 
 lieve I'm in for a bad hour or so, sure enough. 
 If I shouldn't be better by ten o'clock this 
 morning, you must look out for Mrs. Tenter- 
 den with the new medicine. She expected 
 to be up from the village by that time. And 
 be sure you understand the directions she 
 will give you. However, I shall have to be 
 up, anyway, for no one but I can follow out 
 the directions even when they are known. 
 So call me when she comes, Nikomis." 
 
 But it so happened that Mrs. Tenterden 
 did not arrive at the expected hour. On 
 reaching the Danvers' cottage the night pre- 
 vious, she had gone to bed complaining of 
 indisposition, and declaring that she believed 
 she had caught the fever at last, and only 
 wondered she had not done so long before. 
 Elinor, after some examination, was pretty 
 well satisfied that the matter was not quite 
 so serious as the elder lady supposed, and 
 the sequel justified her diagnosis. Never- 
 theless, Mrs. Tenterden contrived to pass a 
 tolerably bad night, and by morning it was 
 a settled thing that she must keep her bed 
 during the day. 
 
 " If anybody could take my place ! " 
 complained she. " But that's the worst of 
 it. Poor Mr. Urmson's as sick as can be 
 himself, but he and I together might man- 
 age; but he can do nothing alone. There's 
 Golightley gone over to Brunswick to see 
 that Professor Grindle ; but he'd be no good, 
 anyway. It's no use, the poor young man 
 must die, and that's all about it. I declare, 
 Nellie, I shouldn't be surprised if I died my- 
 self You've no idea how sick I am ! " 
 
 The breach between these two had till 
 now remained unhealed; but the presence 
 of disease and worry seemed to influence the 
 kind old lady to forgive and forget, and Eli- 
 nor was disposed to meet the hand of recon- 
 ciliation half-way. She had never felt so 
 alone as during these latter days — not even 
 when her father and mother lay dying in 
 Charleston, and she knew not where to find 
 a home beyond their grave. It is not rever- 
 ent nor necessary to inquire too closely what 
 thoughts and impulses, what resolves and 
 fears, had visited her in the cheerless period 
 of her late solitude. Their only outward 
 effect upon Elinor was to render her unusu- 
 ally gentle and forbearing, as one might be 
 
 who had secretly determined on making a 
 long journey, and wished to leave tender 
 recollections in the hearts of those she left 
 behind. 
 
 " Couldn't you at least send some one to 
 the house with the medicines, mother? " she 
 asked. " Would not Mrs. Danver — or ought 
 not Madge to go? If he were to die for 
 want of some help that Madge might have 
 given him, what would become of her? I 
 think we have no right to prevent her from 
 having a free choice about it, one way or 
 the other. Shall I tell her ? " 
 
 " Seems as if it would look rather hai-d to 
 have him just dying up there, and she know- 
 ing nothing about it," groaned Mrs. Tenter- 
 den. " She can't do anything, though, and 
 it would be just tempting Providence to go 
 into that house with the contagion. I know 
 that to my cost. And it's more apt a great 
 deal to catch young people than old ones. 
 Besides, it was I prevented Madge from 
 going when she wanted to at first, and there's 
 really no more reason for it now. Poor 
 young man ! I wish he was in better hands. 
 Of course, Mr. Urmson is very kind and care- 
 ful, but he really doesn't seem to care much 
 about him ; I'm sures he smiles and makes 
 jokes as if he expected him to be well to- 
 morrow. And the poor young man has got 
 something twistedround his neck. Nikomis 
 says he's had it there ever since the first 
 morning; anyway, it's twisted so tight that 
 I wouldn't be surprised to hear he'd stran- 
 gled himself with it at any time." 
 
 " Why isn't it taken off ? " 
 
 "Yes, you don't know, my dear. It 
 would be as much as anybody's life was 
 worth to take it off. Of course, it can't be 
 untied, and if you were to use a pair of scis- 
 sors or a knife, it would be the death of one 
 or both of you. I tell you he's as jealous 
 of it as if it were some great treasure. I 
 thought," added Mrs. Tenterden, chuckling 
 faintly, in spite of her general misery, " may- 
 be it was something of Madge's she'd given 
 him, and he remembered was hers all through 
 his delirium, poor boy." 
 
 ''What was it? — a handkerchief, or a 
 scarf — " 
 
 "Mercy, child, I don't know," said Mrs. 
 Tenterden, rolling over on the pillow. "I 
 
A SOPHIST. 
 
 187 
 
 didn't see distinctly. It looked gray and 
 silky. Maybe it was a scarf, or an old veil, 
 or something. But you mark my words, if 
 he don't strangle himself if it isn't taken 
 away from him." 
 
 Elinor felt her heart beating and her 
 hands growing cold. She walked to the 
 window and looked out, trying to quiet her- 
 self. But she could not be quiet. She 
 walked back to the bedside. Mrs. Tenter- 
 den, with her back turned, seemed to have 
 fallen into a doze. After a moment's hesita- 
 tion Elinor went softly out of the room, and, 
 running down-stairs, entered the kitchen. 
 
 "Mother won't be able to go up to the 
 house to-day, Mrs. Danver," she said. " There 
 is some medicine which should be taken there 
 immediately. Will Madge go with it? " 
 
 "Well, Miss Golightley, I suppose likely 
 the child would take it, and gladly," Mrs. 
 Danver replied, speaking with hesitation, 
 however, and avoiding Elinor's eyes. "To 
 be sure, it has seemed as though folks was 
 working to keep 'em apart, and those who 
 hadn't so much call was taking her place. 
 It's not for me to speak, and Garth he's 
 near to me as my own son, goodness knows, 
 though I do think he might have been a little 
 more spry, and not have kept my poor girl 
 waiting while he was painting his pictures 
 and living in Europe, and not making much 
 out of the business, either, if one might say 
 
 30." 
 
 "She won't go, then?" 
 
 " Eeally, well, I don't see any call to be 
 so sudden. Miss Golightley," said Mrs. Dan- 
 ver, panting. " I'm sure there's a good long 
 time gone by, and nobody thought of asking 
 her whether she'd go or not. Not but the 
 child would go, and gladly, if it hadn't 
 seemed as if folks was keeping her away. 
 But now I think of it, miss, I don't know 
 where Maggie is just at the present. She 
 went out about an hour since without drop- 
 ping a syllable, and when she'll be back is 
 more than I can say. Likely she's run up to 
 the house without waiting for an asking. I 
 couldn't say." 
 
 "And you yourself could not leave the 
 house, I suppose?" 
 
 " Well, really, miss, you come so sudden. 
 I'm sure I'd go, and gladly, and have gone 
 
 any time the last three weeks, but Mrs. Ten- 
 terden seemed to think it belonged to her, 
 being a relation, I presume, and it wasn't 
 for me to speak. But I'm such an invalid, 
 and my hip comes on so badly these last cold 
 days. Though if Mr. Stacy could lend his 
 wagon, perhaps I might. I'm sure I care 
 for Garth dearly as i my own son, though it 
 seemed hard of him to keep Maggie waiting 
 so long." 
 
 "Don't you think it would be better for 
 me to find some one to take up the medicine, 
 without need of your troubling youi'self about 
 Mr. Stacy's wagon?" suggested EUnor, in- 
 voluntarily putting her hand over her heart. 
 " No doubt one of the village boys would be 
 glad to run up with it. You might be with- 
 in call of Mrs. Tenterden, if she were to 
 need anything while I'm away. Will' that 
 do?" 
 
 Mrs. Danver seemed to think there were 
 no insurmountable objections, and Elinor 
 returned up-stairs, trembling, but glad in 
 a subdued, exalted way. She hastily put on 
 her hat and warm winter jacket, scarlet, 
 with lining of soft, gray fur, and then noise- 
 lessly reentered Mrs. Tenterden's chamber. 
 The packet of medicine was lying on the 
 table, and she put it in her pocket. She 
 stepped up to the bed, and, bending over the 
 sleeping woman, lightly kissed her on the 
 cheek. She started down the stairs, but, 
 before reaching the landing, she returned in 
 obedience to a sudden impulse, and, going to 
 her violin-case, took out her instrument and 
 bow, and slipping them underneath her jack- 
 et, finally left the house. 
 
 CHAPTER LIV. 
 
 A SOPHIST. 
 
 Without wasting any time in making in- 
 quiries after errand-boys, she struck off from 
 the village, and took her way swiftly toward 
 Urmhurst. She walked with her eyes on 
 the ground, wholly preoccupied, but there 
 were a freedom and good-will in her motion 
 which showed that she was going whither 
 her deepest inclination led her. And, now 
 that the Rubicon of her purpose was safely 
 
188 
 
 GAKTH. 
 
 overpassed, and there were no more obsta- 
 cles or hesitations in her way, her heart 
 moved at ease, her fingers were warm, her 
 breathing quiet, and her cheeks slightly 
 tinged with pink. A man in her place 
 woulH have been grave and stern, or astir 
 with nervous anxiety; but Elinor was 
 sweetly conscious of an inward lightness and 
 satisfaction, contrasting with the gloom of 
 the past weeks as a summer day with a win- 
 ter night. An older woman, or one who 
 tasted the sweet and bitter flavors of life 
 with less intense an appreciation, might 
 have lent an ear to the demurs of con- 
 science, questioning her right to put health 
 and life in jeopardy by interference in mat- 
 ters which concerned other persons (from 
 the social point of view at least) more nearly 
 than herself. But it must be confessed that 
 Elinor made little account of conscience 
 when conscience came in collision with emo- 
 tion. She trusted her intuitions, being un- 
 able to believe that what they seemed to 
 justify could be other than right; and a 
 young woman's intuitions are simply the 
 voice of her heart. Elinor's heart would 
 doubtless never suffer her to do anything 
 unwomanly or base, however far it might 
 occasionally lead her from the path of or- 
 thodox morality; but her example is none 
 the less indefensible, until all young women 
 shall have hearts as pure and upright as hers, 
 and a great deal calmer and wiser. 
 
 At the time when the events of which 
 this history treats took pl^ce, the disease 
 called typhoid fever was popularly believed 
 to be contagious. Probably not a few coun- 
 try doctors, a quarter of a century ago, were 
 more or less partakers of the current delu- 
 sion, and it is not to be wondered at if un- 
 professional persons believed in it. As for 
 Elinor, she never entertained a doubt upon 
 the subject; indeed, her persuasion as to 
 this point had not a little to do with the 
 strangely gladsome sense of exaltation and 
 relief wherewith she had embarked on her 
 present enterprise. It is not enough to 
 say that she fancied she was about to im- 
 peril her life; it must be added that she 
 faced the supposed danger rather as courting 
 than braving it. During her dark hours we 
 may imagine her to have thought, on some 
 
 girlish insufficient ground or other, that life 
 was not so desirable a thing as it was gener- 
 ally credited with being. When such a no- 
 tion had once gained possession of her, she 
 would not be long without an occasion for 
 humoring it. Some array of circumstances 
 would be sure to arise — romantic, pathetic, 
 peculiar — fatally enticing her to take her 
 fate in her own hands, and seeming to jus- 
 tify her in the deed. To welcome death, 
 when it lies in the path of love, of despair, 
 or of womanly self-devotion, is not the in- 
 firmity of ignoble minds ; the subtile selfish- 
 ness and irreverence which underlie it escape 
 the eye of the person most concerned, 
 though they be revealed to the disinterested 
 critic. And Providence, being perhaps as 
 wise and just as most of us, may sometimes 
 take such wanderers under its especial pro- 
 tection, and either forgive their error or 
 gently prevent their attainment of the end at 
 which they so crudely aimed. 
 
 It was scarcely ten o'clock when Elinor 
 set her slim foot upon the threshold-stone 
 of Urmhurst, and knocked at the great 
 green door. Upon twice repeating the sum- 
 mons, and obtaining no response from with- 
 in, she turned the latch and stepped into 
 the broad, dark hall. The kitchen-door was 
 ajar, and, peeping through, she saw a fire 
 burning in the fireplace, and for a moment 
 fancied she heard a step in the passage-way 
 at the farther extremity of the great room ; 
 but, after listening awhile in vain for any 
 repetition of the sound, or for any other 
 signs of a human being, she went up-stairs 
 without further ceremony. It was not until 
 she had reached the upper floor that she met 
 Nikomis, coming out of Outhbert's chamber. 
 
 The old Indian's face was as inscrutable 
 as usual, but she stopped short on seeing 
 Elinor, and uttered a grunt of inquiry. She 
 had evidently expected to meet some one 
 else, and waited for an explanation. Elinor, 
 who had never felt so serenely uplifted in 
 spirit as now, or so instinct with all the 
 tender potency of womanhood, spoke briefly 
 of Mrs. Tenterden's indisposition, and of her 
 own purpose to take that lady's place for 
 the time being. " Is Mr. Urmson with his 
 son?" she added. "I should like to see 
 him first." 
 
A SOPHIST. 
 
 189 
 
 Nikomis fixed lier small black eyes upon 
 the girl, as if to find out what sort of stuff she 
 was made of; and Elinor met her glance with 
 an inspiration of curiosity on her own part. 
 These two women, though they had often 
 before been in each other's company, had 
 never till now happened to think of taking 
 each other's measure. But at a moment 
 like this some such mutual inspection was 
 natural and inevitable. Are you like me, 
 or different from me ? Have you good for 
 my good, or evil for my evil ? These are 
 the unspoken questions which eye asks of 
 eye. Persons of the same race and general 
 condition may read the answers with com- 
 paratively little diifioulty ; but, when the 
 new comes in contact with the old, the in- 
 vader with the aboriginal, civilization with 
 savagery, then does the inquiry become 
 complicated. 
 
 The Indian might, indeed, perceive at 
 the first glance that Elinor was of a refined 
 and straightforward nature ; but she would 
 wish to probe her more deeply than this 
 before admitting her to favor and confi- 
 dence. Elinor, however, had in Nikouiis a 
 problem that might have posed anybody. 
 
 " Outhbert very bad," said the old witch, 
 in answer to Elinor's inquiry. " Tou can 
 see him 'f you like— in there." She mo- 
 tioned with her head toward the chamber. 
 
 Elinor passed before her and went in. 
 A slender, gray-haired figure in a brown 
 dressing-gown was lying on the bed, with 
 one hand over its breast, its eyes closed, 
 and its face entirely colorless. Elinor went 
 close up to it, but could perceive no motion 
 or sign of life. There was a peculiar, faint 
 odor in the room, which the young lady 
 instinctively disliked to breathe. After a 
 few moments a tingling, numbing sensation 
 seemed to creep through her body from 
 head to foot, and she felt, with a fluttering 
 of the heart, that the form which she looked 
 upon would not respond were she to touch 
 or speak to it. She stUled her own breath- 
 ing in order to see whether the body 
 breathed ; but it lay awfully still. She now 
 became aware that Nikomis was standing 
 just behind her, and, with a shock, the 
 thought entered her mind that perhaps this 
 grim, inscrutable old savage had dealt foully 
 
 with the lives committed to her charge. 
 She recollected hearing certain things from 
 time to time about Nikomis, which hitherto 
 she had disregarded or taken in jest, but 
 which now sharpened her suspicions. It 
 seemed more than probable that Nikomis 
 had had motives to crime, and had waited 
 so many years only for fit opportunity: 
 and what opportunity could have been more 
 fitting than this ? The horror of the situa- 
 tion so wrought upon Elinor as to lift her 
 above the region of selfish fear. She did 
 not think of herself at all, save as a voice 
 and instrument of retribution. She looked 
 round upon Nikomis, who stood da;rk and 
 portentous at the foot of the bed, and, at 
 the same time, grasped with one band the 
 sleeve of the prostrate figure's garment, as 
 though at once protecting and seeking pro- 
 tection from the dead. 
 
 " Have you done this ? " she asked. 
 
 The Indian's eyes glittered, and she 
 threw up one arm above her head : there 
 was in the gesture a revelation of savage 
 and untamed power. The wild, lawless 
 strain, usually concealed beneath her stoical 
 exterior, seemed now on the verge of break- 
 ing forth. The furrows about her mouth 
 and forehead, and the harsh, stern features, 
 bore witness to the cruel and inhuman deeds 
 told of her race. 
 
 "What you do here?" she demanded, 
 in an imperious, guttural voice. " Nikomis 
 belong here. Garth, Outhbert, Urmhurst — 
 all mine." 
 
 " They are not yours. They are mine — • 
 for I love them!" Elinor exclaimed, her 
 slender figure seeming for the moment to 
 dilate and heighten. She wore an expres- 
 sion impressive to see on the face of a girl. 
 Suddenly, she came forward and stood so 
 close to the Indian as almost to touch her. 
 The latter's eyes blinked under so near and 
 passionate a scrutiny. Some time passed — 
 it might have been half a minute — before 
 Elinor spoke, in a new tone, from which 
 the unnatural huskiness had vanished. 
 " Tou were not so wicked — you have not 
 done it," she said. 
 
 Nikomis made no reply. 
 
 But Elinor returned to Outhbert, and, 
 bending over him, laid her delicate cheek 
 
190 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 beside his. It was not so warm as her own, 
 but it was not cold ; and presently a barely 
 perceptible movement of breath whispered 
 past her ear. She rose, smiling and tremu- 
 lous from the recoil of passion. " O Ni- 
 komis, he isn't dead," said she. " What is 
 it ? — you have given him an opiate to make 
 him sleep ! I am always distrusting and 
 wronging people." She spoke with her 
 eyes full of tears. 
 
 Nikomis turned sullenly away. Did the 
 strange old creature really half regret not 
 having been so criminally revengeful as 
 Elinor had fancied her ? Certainly, if she 
 had come to Urmhurst with the intention 
 of paying off on its occupants the ancient 
 grudge of her tribe, she had good grounds 
 for feeling dissatisfied with herself. As an 
 Indian, the inheritor of a traditional policy 
 of retribution, she had not acted up to what 
 was expected of her ; and she was not to 
 be consoled by imputations of charity and 
 forgiveness. Elinor's suspicion had per- 
 haps suggested to her the idea of masquer- 
 ading for a while in the guise of a wicked- 
 ness not actually her own, and thus stealing 
 credit for that which she had lacked gall to 
 make a reality. 
 
 The girl now took up her violin and bow, 
 whiol) she had put down on the bed, and 
 repaired to Garth's chamber. There lay he 
 with whom her thoughts had dwelt much 
 of late. Mrs. Tenterden's account of him 
 had not prepared her for such a spectacle 
 of helplessness and decay. A feeling of 
 sharp distress made her month quiver, and 
 contracted the lower lids of her eyes. But, 
 again, he was alive, 'and evidently had re- 
 ceived every care of which the case ad- 
 mitted. The bed and the room were spot- 
 lessly neat and fresh. Garth was lying with 
 his haggard face turned sideways on the 
 pillow, his eyes dull and partly closed, an 
 intermittent, unintelligible muttering moving 
 his unshaven lips. The fingers of one hand 
 were fumbling strengtblessly at a gray twist 
 of silky material which tightly encircled his 
 neck. Elinor knew her veil at once. She 
 drew nearer, and stood between the sick 
 man and the light ; but he muttered on as 
 before, and did not seem to notice her. 
 
 At this juncture she became conscious 
 
 of a profound change which had taken place 
 within herself during the last few minutes. 
 She had set out for Urmhurst believing that 
 she was about to imperil her life, and mean- 
 ing to make that peril as inevitable as she 
 might. But the searching though rapid ex- 
 perience she had passed througli since her 
 arrival had pnt her in a new mood ; and she 
 now recognized the unworthiness of her for- 
 mer one. She had pictured herself minis- 
 tering to Garth, and winning him back to 
 life at the same moment that she herself 
 declined from it. Whether he lived or died, 
 life would be equally a blank to her; but 
 she could imagine a happiness in dying with 
 the thought that but for her he might have 
 died also. She had seen herself loosening 
 the veil from his neck, and drawing it, poi- 
 soned as it was, across her face, pressing it 
 to her lips, and at night folding it in her 
 bosom. In the morning she would awake 
 to a dreamy languor, which again should 
 lapse into the fever that by sure and fatal 
 degrees must bring her toward her death. 
 Each friend who had cared for her should 
 have a word — a token of remembrance. 
 Garth Urmson would not be among those 
 friends; but Golightley should have some- 
 thing — her violin, perhaps — >whioh might ut- 
 ter to his ear in harmonious chords all that ' 
 its mistress would fain have felt for him, but 
 could not. But Garth would expect nothing 
 from her; he did not care for her; it was 
 with a quaint, grave pleasure that Elinor 
 told herself this. And he was nothing to 
 her — save in so far as he had made all other 
 men and women in the world less than noth- 
 ing. By no earthly possibility could they 
 ever have become anything to each other. 
 Nevertheless, she had learned from him one 
 thing — that God had not seen fit to make 
 the man with whom she could have been 
 happy. For, had such a man existed, he 
 would have looked like Garth, and spoken 
 as he did, and shown like traits of temper 
 and disposition; and still would have been 
 some other than he. But since it was evi- 
 dent that no man who was thus at once Garth 
 and not Garth could exist, the unavoidable 
 inference was that she, Elinor, was out of 
 place in this world. They were nothing to 
 each other; yet through him she had ao- 
 
A SOPHIST. 
 
 191 
 
 quired the oonception of an ideal man. For 
 that she thanked him ; and was content to 
 acknowledge the obligation by spending a 
 healing, fatal hour at his bedside. 
 
 To some such effect had Elinor com- 
 muned with herself while on the way to 
 Urmhurst. But, since entering there, her 
 mind was changed. She had till then viewed 
 her purpose mainly from the imaginative 
 and, as it were, {esthetic side ; but afterward 
 she had found herself in the grasp of appall- 
 ing realities. She had been made to know 
 that the death which comes not in the strict 
 course of nature is a hateful thing, and that 
 those who inflict it, whether upon them- 
 selves or others, are abominable before God 
 and man. Elinor was perhaps more apt 
 than the generality of people to do right 
 when once she had clearly convinced her- 
 self what right was. She perceived that the 
 romantic circumstances wherewith she had 
 ornamented her intention were a mashroom 
 growth of false and unwholesome sentiment ; 
 and, when these were stripped away, the 
 thing which they had masked stood forth in 
 frank and naked ugliness — cowardly self- 
 murder, neither more nor less. Elinor 
 blushed, as at a suggestion immodest and 
 indelicate. She faced life again ; and if she 
 saw nothing pleasanter therein than here- 
 tofore, she had at least the sad satisfaction 
 of knowing that there was no honorable 
 alternative against it. But, indeed, at this 
 moment, by a kind of instinctive wisdom, 
 she forbore to dwell upon the future at all, 
 and looked only to the duties immediately 
 in hand. 
 
 The situation in its new aspect was not 
 without its perplexities; for, though her 
 mind was changed, her peril from the sup- 
 posed contagion remained unaltered, or near- 
 ly so. To leave the house without having 
 done what she could for the invalid was out 
 of the question ; but, though she might take 
 every precaution, only the mercy of Provi- 
 dence could secure her from harm. Think- 
 ing this, Elinor was moved to do something 
 which not every young lady of her age and 
 experience of life would have deemed it 
 worth while to do. She left the bedside, 
 and, walking to the window, knelt down 
 there and clasped her hands on the broad 
 
 low sill, and turned her face toward the 
 cloud-flecked sky, as a child might have 
 done; for there was a precious element of 
 childlikeness at the core of her grave, re- 
 served, and haughty appearance. She said 
 no words, but simply opened the petals of 
 her heart, and willed that the living God in 
 whom she believed should see into it, and 
 do his pleasure with her. Anon she rose 
 and looked round with a downcast timorous- 
 ness that would have surprised persons who 
 had only met Miss Golightley in society. 
 
 But no one had seen her, and in a few 
 moments she took her place in the world 
 with renewed confidence. The dreamy ex- 
 altation of the earlier morning had passed 
 away; so, too, had the violent revulsions of 
 feeling which had followed it; and now she 
 felt both inspired and practical, as those do 
 who have been able to pray earnestly and 
 unreservedly. She took the medicine-box, 
 and in a skillful and self-possessed manner 
 proceeded to administer the prescriptions, 
 and otherwise carry out the instructions 
 which the doctor had given. She had the 
 power of self-concentration, and in fact 
 could not help becoming so utterly absorbed 
 in anything that interested her as to be 
 blind, deaf, and dumb, for the time being, 
 to everything else. It would have charmed 
 a physician, amused Outhbert, and scandal- 
 ized Mrs. Tenterden, could they have seen 
 this cold-mannered, fastidious young lady 
 busy with her whole soul in care of the un- 
 conscious invalid, herself more unconscious 
 than he, pink and serious of face, light and 
 effective of hand. She did not remember 
 Garth, until she had done with him. Few 
 men (in a like position) could so completely 
 have sunk the what they were in what they 
 did. 
 
 By-and-hy she drew breath and paused, 
 and the patient became a person once more. 
 He had taken his treatment so unresistingly* 
 thus far that Elinor thought she might 
 achieve the second part of her mission 
 (which was to relieve him of that silken 
 necklace that he had come by so unaccount- 
 ably) as readily as the first. Accordingly, 
 though now with some little hesitation and 
 shrinking, because the wearer of the neck- 
 lace was at this moment less a convenient 
 
192 
 
 GAETH. 
 
 parcel of impersonal sjTiiptoms than a per- 
 sonal and inconvenient Garth, she bent over 
 him anew, and began with wariest fingers 
 to search for the Icnot. But immediately, 
 and as if he had known what was intended, 
 the invalid moaned and feebly bestirred him- 
 self, obstructing as best he might Elinor's 
 already timid efforts. She was not long in 
 coming to the conclusion that nothing could 
 be done while he remained in that cross- 
 grained condition ; but neither was she so 
 infirm of purpose as to yield until a certain 
 original expedient of her own had received 
 fair trial. The idea might or might not be 
 worth anything ; it had occurred to the 
 young musician without premeditation just 
 before leaving the Danvers cottage ; at all 
 events, she was disposed to put faith in it. 
 Should it succeed, there would be for her a 
 poetical beauty in the success which would 
 render it doubly dear. 
 
 CHAPTER LV. 
 
 A QWAOK. 
 
 She took her violin and retired again to 
 the broad window-sill; for Elinor always 
 liked to be within hail, as it were, of the 
 sky when she was doing anything that in- 
 volved the deeper energies of her nature; 
 aud, after a little musing over the strings, 
 she began to play. At first she kept her 
 eyes toward Garth, to mark the effect upon 
 him ; but as the music grew upon her, she sur- 
 rendered herself to it, and heeded only the 
 harmonious visions which her bow created. 
 The chamber sang with wholesome melody ; 
 within the sphere of such fresh sounds it 
 seemed impossible that any wrong or infirm- 
 ity should exist. The discord of disease must 
 surely be silenced and brought to health at 
 the command of chords so finely potent and 
 inspiriting. The knotted and disordered 
 fibres must relax and gently reassume their 
 right arrangement; the fever and the an- 
 guish must slink away, powerless to hold 
 out against the sane and attempered onset of 
 measured strains and tuneful cadences. That 
 which is beautiful, in a word, must prevail 
 over that which is opposed to beauty ; and 
 
 no kind of beauty so inwardly and vigorously 
 affects the condition of most people as the 
 beauty of sound. Garth, as Elinor knew, 
 was peculiarly susceptible to musical impres- 
 sions, and she believed it within her power 
 to unlock the sinister distemper of his brain 
 and body with the golden keys of harmony. 
 Possibly, too, she counted somewhat upon a 
 vein of personal sympathy on the aesthetic 
 side between her and him, existing despite 
 their incompatibility at other points — a sym- 
 pathy enabling her to choose such concords 
 as should medicine him best, and him to em- 
 ploy their virtues to the utmost. A person 
 with less reverence for her art than Elinor 
 might have dallied with so novel a project, 
 but would have lacked the chQdlike confi- 
 dence and constancy actually to attempt it. 
 To Elinor, however, the divine efiBcacy of 
 music was not questionable, and, if she felt a 
 doubt, it was only as to her own ability to 
 do rightly what could be done. 
 
 To look upon music as one of the healing 
 arts, if it be a heresy, is, after all, entitled to 
 respect on the score of its primitive antiqui- 
 ty ; and no doubt Elinor was quite enough 
 of a classical scholar to have read the story 
 of Orpheus, and drawn her own conclusions 
 from it. I have called her idea original, and 
 in its practical and particular application it 
 was so; but most probably its germs had 
 long been present in her mind, biding their 
 time to blossom into definite form. Nor can 
 I venture, in face of the magic doings of 
 modern science, to deny its power so to an- 
 alyze disease and melody as to match one 
 against the other on definite fixed principles, 
 and prescribe precisely the sort of tune most 
 suitable to rheumatic cases, or pronounce 
 what overture or symphony should he ex- 
 hibited to sufferers from heart-disease or 
 consumption. Beethoven, Bach, and Men- 
 delssohn, would then be hailed as among the 
 great physicians of humanity ; every doctor 
 would keep his violin or flute in the same 
 case with his pills and ointment, or even 
 exclude the latter altogether; and medical 
 students would divide their time between 
 thorough-bass, pathology, counterpoint, and 
 physiology. Whether or not this dream bo 
 ever realized, to Elinor must belong the 
 credit of having been bold and simple-heart- 
 
A QTJAOK. 
 
 193 
 
 ed enough to apply the theory as well as to 
 believe in it, without waiting for the tardy 
 experiments of science. Boldness must not 
 be left out of the account, especially if we 
 regard the matter from Elinor's standpoint. 
 Garth's life was at a low ebb, and whoever 
 held the opinion that the right music would 
 do him good, must also accept the risk of 
 seeing him made worse by a wrong selection 
 or a false accord. Yet Elinor's only guid- 
 ance here was again her intuition. 
 
 Of false accords there certainly were 
 none, and each fresh movement seemed to 
 be a more subtile, persuasive, and unanswer- 
 able argument than the last, to forsake sick- 
 ness and become sound and whole. Not a 
 mere argument either, but a charm, able to 
 effect that which it advocated. As she 
 played on, feeling herself more and more at 
 one with her instrument, a mom&t came, as 
 once before at the picnic, when she seemed 
 to herself to rise above the crabbed condi- 
 tions of flesh and blood, and to address Garth 
 immediately, in a comprehensive and trans- 
 cendent utterance ; and he and she seemed 
 the only realities in a world of shadows. 
 With this fantasy came a sense of the inade- 
 quacy of any hand-made medium — even of 
 a violin — to transmit or interpiet the all of 
 what she meant ; and forthwith she relin- 
 quished it, as one forgets a thing outgrown, 
 and merged, like a blackbird weary of its 
 artiScial accomplishments, into a full tide of 
 native song. Now at last she knew herself 
 at the height of her power, and did not 
 think of doubt or failure. She journeyed on 
 through happy realms of melody, at ease, un- 
 trammeled, and secure. Garth the invalid, 
 gaunt, feverish, and feeble, had vanished 
 from her apprehension ; he was well again, 
 with activities and capacities larger than be- 
 fore, at once the reader and the inspirer of 
 her harmonies. Perhaps it is unwise to at- 
 tempt to paraphrase in words the strange, 
 unconditional vagaries of a young woman's 
 musical ecstasy. The best success can be 
 but an obscure suggestion, which the chari- 
 table imagination of some few of the initiates 
 may enable them to supplement. Be it 
 rather said in simplest speech, therefore, 
 that Elinor sang her fill, and stopped : and 
 suddenly the ecstasy was gone, and the room 
 13 
 
 and the invalid and the singer quivered back 
 like a smitten harp-string into the unrespon- 
 sive, staid rigidity of common life. The 
 singer slid from the window-sill to her feet, 
 and pressed the tips of her fingers to her 
 temples, as though bewilderment were' throb- 
 bing there. Presently she looked up, smiled, 
 sighed, and anon slowly approached the bed, 
 with a shy inspection of the bony, unshorn 
 visage that was reposing on the pillow. 
 
 Garth's eyes were open, and for the first 
 time Elinor saw in them a steady and intel- 
 ligent light. Decidedly there was an im- 
 provement, though whether due to the doc- 
 tor's remedies or to the musician's, the latter 
 troubled not herself to inquire. She stood 
 still for a minute or two while he looked at 
 her and accustomed himself to the idea of 
 her presence. There was no wonder in his 
 regard — he had been brought too near the 
 verge of life for that; it was a far-off gaze 
 of solemn contentment ; hardly the gaze of 
 a living, material man, but suggesting the no- 
 tion that a departed spirit had come back to 
 earth for a moment, and was glancing at this 
 life through the windows it had been wont 
 to use while in the body. Elinor was slow 
 to speak, lest it should vanish, after the 
 manner of departed spirits, upon being ad- 
 dressed. At length, however, it seemed 
 natural to say, in a subdued, fluent tone, as 
 though they had previously been conversing 
 together : 
 
 "You will feel better after I have taken 
 the veil oflf your throat." 
 
 There was a long pause, as if the spirit 
 were essaying to incarnate itself once more, 
 and found some difficulty in making use of 
 its fleshly instrument. Meantime the eyes 
 kept up their look of inaccessible, contented 
 gravity. Finally, after a trial or two, the 
 voice came, slow, hushed, and intermittent: 
 
 "Yes. I — kept it — for you. It — came 
 back to me — in — my dream." 
 
 Elinor also waited awhile before reply- 
 ing, not because her voice was sluggish, but 
 from an idea that such a leisurely mode of 
 talk would best suit his invahd condition. 
 "I shall have to cut it," said she. "The 
 knot is too tight." 
 
 She felt in her pocket for her penknife, 
 and brought out along with it a pair of 
 
194 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 gloves, which, mindful of her new purpose 
 to avoid contagion as much as possible, she 
 proceeded to draw on. But by the time 
 she was ready, Garth had found his tongue 
 again. " No," said he, with the quiet, un- 
 reasoning perversity of a helpless man ; 
 "untie it.'' 
 
 Elinor knew better than to argue the 
 point with him, and even fancied she 
 understood something whimsically compli- 
 mentary to herself in his unwillingness to 
 let her veil be summarily dealt with. She 
 put up her knife, therefore, and set to work 
 with her gloved fingers upon the compact 
 intricacies of the knot. Neither the light 
 nor the position of things was favorable, 
 and Elinor labored for some time, bending 
 down her pure face close to Garth's without 
 accomplishing much. All the while she was 
 wondering with a still feeling about her 
 heart, whether this idle whim of his would 
 cost her her life, and, if it did, what he 
 would think when he came to know it. 
 Garth, for his part, was probably too near 
 the balancing-point of existence to fee! the 
 same sensations as he would have felt in 
 health ; but the nearness of that face, with 
 its lines as clear as flower-petals', could not 
 but have been grateful to him. Meantime 
 her gloved touch was doubtless more or less 
 objectionable to him, and had speech been 
 easy he might have remonstrated. As it 
 was, he lay voiceless and motionless; and 
 when at last Elinor conquered the knot and 
 softly drew away the veU, he breathed an 
 infantile sigh of satisfaction, which con- 
 trasted comically with the gaunt ruggedness 
 of features that disease had made to look 
 much oldei' than before. His glance rested 
 for a moment on the veil, which Elinor was 
 now holding in her hands, uncertain what 
 to do next; then, to her no small relief, 
 his eyelids drooped and closed, and almost 
 immediately he was deeply and serenely 
 asleep. , 
 
 She walked with a meditative step to the 
 window, drawing the veil backward and 
 forward through her fingers, and then un- 
 folding it to its full breadth. It was wofully 
 creased and soiled, and there were half a 
 dozen rents in it. Needless to say, it could 
 never be jpresentable as a veil again. Never- 
 
 theless, Elinor felt a strong, unmanageable 
 desire to keep it, to treasure it, to hide it 
 away in some place as near to her as remote 
 from the rest of the world. Her former 
 temptation came back to her, somewhat 
 modified in kind, but even more urgent than 
 at first. She leaned her shoulder and head 
 against the window-frame, and looked out, 
 folding her arms and crossing one foot over 
 the other. The sun, half-way up the cold, 
 blue sky, was steering his course through 
 bevies of broken clouds, and Elinor's oddly 
 attractive countenance, with its small nose, 
 low, sharp-cut brows, high cheek-bones, and 
 finely resolute mouth, was alternately lighted 
 and shadowed by their flight. She leaned 
 there many minutes, wholly rapt in serious 
 musings. The bleak, wide landscape met 
 her eyes, and may have rhymed with her 
 mood, but she was not actively aware of it. 
 It was the vision of her future that pos- 
 sessed her. How more than bleak it was! 
 It did not seem possible to her, as a modest 
 and honorable girl, to fulfill the destiny that 
 awaited her. A month ago, ignorant of her 
 own nature and capacities, in a fit of cyn- 
 ical, self- contemptuous passion, she had 
 pledged her word and surrendered her lips, 
 and had felt and said, " It can never be un- 
 done.'' The month — or was it the last hour? 
 — had taught her so much that, were the 
 past revocable, not all the world could have 
 prevailed upon her so to dishonor herself 
 again. But now, what relief was there? 
 Life was full of such hasty errors and late 
 regrets. If it were unwomanly to submit, 
 to resist was despicable. There was only 
 one escape, but, oh, how easy and alluring ! 
 — wrong, perhaps, but surely there were 
 greater wrongs. What use and good were 
 there in death, save as it was a refuge from 
 life's fatigue and bitterness? Might not 
 one say, " Let it come,' and yet be pardon- 
 able? 
 
 It is vain to seek answers to these argu- 
 ments; they aie based upon appearances, 
 and cannot be refuted from their own stand- 
 point. Pagans cannot refute them at all; 
 but, fortunately for the peace of Elinor's 
 conscience, if not for the health of her body, 
 she was not a pagan. When she had reached 
 this crisis in her meditations, she stood 
 
A QUACK. 
 
 195 
 
 erect, looking np, and twisting the veil into 
 a ball between her hands. Grasping it. 
 tightly in one slender fist, she went to the 
 fireplace and laid it carefully on the red-hot 
 centre of the half-burned log. Afterward 
 she pulled oif her gloves and threw them in 
 heedlessly among the ashes. She did not 
 remain to watch the burning, nor stay in 
 the room at all; but with a glance at Garth 
 to assure herself that he was still sleeping, 
 she passed out of the door, and, with the 
 business-like air of a professional nurse, be- 
 took herself to Mr. Urmson's chamber. 
 
 He was lying much as Elinor had left 
 him; but, after observing him for a while, 
 she was of opinion that the effect of the 
 opiate was wearing off, and that he must 
 soon awake. She sat down beside him in a 
 low, leather-covered easy-chair, leaning hack 
 her head and folding her hands in her lap. 
 Now that she had come to a stopping-place 
 in her morning's labors, she began to realize 
 how greatly they had exhausted her. Her 
 body felt as weary as her mind; but the fa- 
 tigue was not of a painful sort, but such as 
 made repose a luxury. She wished she 
 might sit in that comfortable chair for a 
 whole year, with nothing to think of, and 
 nothing to do. 
 
 Had she been in a less worn-out condi- 
 tion, the revelation of Mr. Urmson's ill case 
 must have kept her thoughts busy. She had 
 known him to be in delicate health, but had 
 thought of nothing worse than the rheuma- 
 tism, neuralgia, and dyspepsia, to which any 
 gentleman of his age and habits of life might 
 be subject. His habitually composed and 
 cheerful air had seemed inconsistent with 
 the presence of any acute disease ; and Eli- 
 nor, in common with most other people, 
 had too much enjoyed the playful hunaor, 
 which derived an added charm from his 
 bodily frailty, to ask much about his com- 
 plaints. But as he now lay pallid and un- 
 conscious, without the power to beguile or 
 parry the observer's eye, the lines of suffer- 
 ing worn into his face showed very distinct, 
 and the fact that they could ever have been 
 kept in the background seemed more than 
 ever strange. Elinor contemplated the re- 
 fined, sharp-featured visage in a fit of dreamy 
 preoccupation ; but at length it occurred to 
 
 her that a person so reserved as was this 
 gentleman, and so sensitive to scrutiny, 
 would be sadly discomposed at the idea of 
 being stared at when the veil of his volun- 
 tary self-control was withdrawn. There- 
 fore she chivah-ously closed her eyes; and 
 with the purpose in her mind to have an ex- 
 planation with Mr. Urmson, so soon as he 
 should awake, touching the nature of his 
 malady, she quietly dropped asleep. Thus 
 it happened that, in spite of tjhe trouble 
 which seemed a while ago so dominant at 
 Urmhurst, a stranger entering unheralded 
 would have been first of all struck by the 
 prevalent tranquillity. 
 
 Minute after minute passed away, how- 
 ever, without the stranger making his ap- 
 pearance. Garth, in his chamber, was 
 breathing his prosperous way through the 
 first refreshing slumber that had come to 
 him since the beginning of his illness. 
 Guthbert, by an occasional movement of the 
 mouth and eyelids, or a slight change of 
 posture, showed that ere long he would 
 emerge from his stupor ; but Elinor, whose 
 face had the rare charm of looking more 
 lovely in sleep than in awakening, dreamed 
 as sweetly and profoundly as a baby in its 
 cradle. These three might have passed for 
 the sole occupants of the house. Nikomis, 
 if she were within-doors at all, must have 
 retired to her den in the garret ; and we 
 have no warrant for supposing the presence 
 of any other person besides her. Neverthe- 
 less, had one of the three sleepers happened 
 to wake up and listen intently, a dull, inter- 
 mittent sound might have been heard, as of 
 voices conversing together in some corner 
 remote from intrusion. Voices, was it ? and 
 not rather Nikomis humming to herself the 
 burden of an Indian chant? or even the 
 wind rumbling in tlie chimney and sighing 
 hoarsely in the attic overhead? 
 
 However that might be, at all events 
 there were none to listen. Sleep, which has 
 something sacred in it, and through which 
 mankind pass from one day to another, and 
 from the old to the new, and from darkness 
 into light, and from weariness to refresh- 
 ment — sleep brooded over these three har- 
 assed persons, and perhaps brought them 
 visions of a serener state of things to come. 
 
196 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 So Bound was their repose, it wonld have 
 needed more than a distant murmur of 
 voices, or the complaining of the wind, to 
 have aroused the least rapt among them. 
 They had surrendered their own self- 
 guardianship, and lay helpless and exposed 
 to whatever danger menaced them. Bat 
 angels, it has heen said, watch with especial 
 jealousy over those who sleep, and perhaps 
 the most fortunate thing that can happen 
 to the unfortunate is to sink down in un- 
 conscious slumber at the moment when they 
 have done whatever they could do, in vain. 
 The sun had passed the highest point 
 that he would attain that day, before this 
 peaceful condition of affairs seemed likely 
 to be disturbed. But soon after noon there 
 was an alert, firm step upon the threshold 
 of Urmhurst, and a brisk knocking at the 
 door. The knock, like Elinor's earlier in 
 the day, was unanswered, though the mur- 
 murs of the wind in the chimney seemed to 
 have been startled into silence by it. Like 
 hers, it was presently repeated, more em- 
 phatically than at first; but, albeit tlie 
 sharp echoes traveled through the old house 
 from top to bottom, visiting every darksome 
 nook and corner, and even finding their way 
 into Garth's long-neglected studio, where 
 the tragic picture of Lady Eleanor's wedding 
 stood dusty on the easel, no one came for- 
 ward to open the door and give the visitor, 
 whoever he might be, a hospitable Urmson 
 welcome. Outhbert, indeed, sighed uneasily, 
 and half opened his eyes for a moment ; but 
 no one else stirred ; and STikomis, if she 
 were not asleep as well as the rest, was 
 strangely neglectful of her duties. By-and- 
 by the visitor, who seemed to be of a bold 
 and impatient disposition, threw the door 
 open, entered, and closed it again with a re- 
 verberating bang. He paused a moment in 
 the hall, and then began an exploration of 
 the rooms on the lower floor. Finding 
 nothing there, he bounded up-stairs with 
 the light activity of youth, and, after an- 
 other short pause at the top to listen, he 
 turned to the right, and walked directly 
 into the room where Mr. Urmson and Elinor 
 were reposing. 
 
 CHAPTER LVI. 
 
 AWAKENING. 
 
 On seeing the sleepers the young stran- 
 ger doffed his hat, and holding it against his 
 hip, stopped short, and ejaculated below his 
 breath, " Deuce ! " Presently he came for- 
 ward, stepping lightly, a rather quizzical 
 smile stirring the corners of his golden- 
 brown mustache He halted again in front 
 of Elinor's chair, and looked down upon her 
 with the full glance of a pair of bright hazel 
 eyes. His smile gradually forgot itself in a 
 more tender and wistful expression. Tljen 
 a sudden resolve flashed into his face; he 
 j stooped quickly but gently, and, for half an 
 instant, his mustache touched a little brown 
 mole upon the upper part of the young lady's 
 else immaculate cheek. She received the 
 salute with disconcerting equanimity. Had 
 her admirer been a fly she could not more 
 superbly have ignored the liberty. Her 
 serene eyelids quivered not, nor did the 
 faint color deepen in her face. Indeed, the 
 young man looked much the more disturbed 
 of the two. 
 
 " It was a devilish contemptible action ! " 
 he murmured to himself. " By the saints, 
 though, I've a mind to do it again ! " 
 
 But a low voice behind him said, " Wait, 
 young gentleman. That lady is private 
 property." 
 
 He turned with a start. Mr. Urmson 
 was awake, and was eying him with an 
 aspect partaking, after all, rather of per- 
 plexity and inquiry than of severity. The 
 stranger immediately approached the bed- 
 side, and took the elder's thin hand in his 
 own warm, white one. " Selwyn — you re- 
 member me? — old Garth's Jack," said he, 
 speaking with a touch of embarrassment, 
 but frankly and heartily. " I took this for 
 the Sleeping Palace in the fairy-book ; and 
 when I came on the Beauty here, I imagined 
 myself the Prince, predestined, you know — 
 But something must be the matter, Mr. Urm- 
 son? Anybody ill?" 
 
 " Garth is ill," replied the other, raising 
 himself on his elbow and drawing his brows 
 together in the effort to collect his ideas. 
 " You haven't seen Mrs. Tenterden ? How 
 
AWAKENING. 
 
 197 
 
 long has — Do you know how this young 
 lady came to be here ? " 
 
 "My good luck must have had some- 
 thing to do with bringing her, I should 
 think ; but doesn't she belong here ? I 
 landed in Boston only day before yesterday, 
 and came right on. Seen nobody but yon, 
 and know nothing. Old Garth — ^he ill ! " 
 
 " I'm afraid Nikomis has been giving me 
 one of her famous herbal distillations," said 
 Mr. Urmson. "Excuse my not sitting up 
 just yet — I'm none the less glad to see you, 
 Jack. "What's the news ? You look well ; 
 growing older seems to have done you more 
 good than it has the rest of us. Garth got 
 your letter ; but he lost it again the same 
 day, and. has had typhoid ever since." 
 
 "Devil! " rejoined Selwyn, sympatheti- 
 cally. " And you and Mrs. Mildred been 
 nursing him? Poor old genius ! Don't you 
 think, though, he needed something of the 
 sort to thin him a little ? he was such an 
 infernally heavy lump, mind and body, he 
 couldn't budge himself nor be budged. Ter- 
 rible fellow for slumping into holes and 
 crawling in grooves ! But about the letter, 
 Mr. Urmson," continued the young man, 
 drawing a chair to the bedside and seat- 
 ing himself. " Garth read it you, didn't 
 he?" 
 
 " Suppose you turn your back to Miss 
 Golightley; you'll be less apt to awaken 
 her," said Mr. Urmson, a little maliciously. 
 " Besides, I want to look at you, Jack. So 
 you are turned detective? Speak low." 
 
 " I like to match my head against a clev- 
 er rogue's ; but — Oh, I'm no detective my- 
 self. I hit upon a lucky suggestion or two 
 that put my dogs on the scent, but — " 
 
 " Why, what was it to you whether Mrs. 
 Tenterden got back her money or not ? " 
 
 Jack dropped Ms eyes with a half-smile, 
 but raised them again immediately. " If 
 you hadn't waked up just when you did, I 
 might have lied to you about that," said he. 
 "WeH; I may never be able to kiss her 
 again ; but I shouldn't have done it at all if 
 I hadn't meant to try and get leave to do it 
 all the rest of my life, Mr. Urmson." 
 
 " In that fairy-tale, if I remember aright, 
 the Beauty was awakened by the kiss of the 
 true Prince. Miss Golightley seems to be 
 
 still asleep. I fear the omen's a bad one for 
 you." 
 
 " Omens be damned ! — or no, I beg par- 
 don; been trying to break myself of that 
 habit since — I'll risk my chance with the 
 other fellows." 
 
 "She is already engaged to be married," 
 Mr. Urmson continued. 
 
 Selwyn's face seemed to grow older ; he 
 leaned forward on his knee, biting his lip ; 
 took his breath to speak, but let it forth 
 again in a short sigh. " Garth, I suppose," 
 he said at length. "Dear old fellow, I'm 
 glad it's he ! " 
 
 " It's a yet more eligible match than that 
 — Mr. Golightley Urmson.'' 
 
 The blood flew into the young man's face, 
 and he sat up erect, as if he had been pricked 
 with a lancet. " Then," exclaimed he, smit- 
 ing his knee with his clinched hand, he'll 
 never marry her ! " 
 
 "Why not?" inquired Mr. Urmson, 
 gravely. Jack was forced to recollect him- 
 self. 
 
 " That's the second time you've seen me 
 make a fool of myself. I had no business 
 to make any such assertion. I don't happen 
 to like your brother — your half-brother, Mr. 
 Urmson. Miss Golightley will marry whom 
 she likes, of course. Well, I'm glad I didn't 
 know it before. Are you fond of your half- 
 brother?" 
 
 " Why, I wish him well. We have al- 
 ways been on the best terms." 
 
 " He's staying with you, I suppose ? " 
 " He took a room in the village while 
 Garth is ill. At present he's in Brunswick, 
 to get an old acquaintance of yours, Pro- 
 fessor Grindle, down here." 
 
 " Old Grindle — how he used to ' dead ' 
 me ! But he'll put life into Garth, if any- 
 body can. But Garth's not one of the dying 
 kind ; he'll live till he's tired of it. I want 
 to see him. Where is he?" 
 
 " He was in this world at five o'clock this 
 morning; but his stay seems rather uncer- 
 tain, in spite of what you say. Jack. We'll 
 go in as soon as I get my house-legs on again. 
 If you have any business to talk, though, you 
 had better trust me. Garth has been deliri- 
 ous for the last two or three weeks." 
 
 "Poor old Garth — dear fellow! I do 
 
198 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 hope ie won't die, Mr. TTrmson," said Jack, 
 his voice husky with earnestness, and his 
 sensitive face darkening. " I'm just like a 
 woman about him- -always have been since 
 a shaking he gave me in college. But I know 
 he won't die. Think of having her to take 
 care of him ! By — Jove, if I were Gohght- 
 ley, I'd keep her out of the way ! Unless — 
 Is that Danver affair on slill ? " 
 
 "It was when he caught the fever, I be- 
 lieve; but the shadow of death may hold 
 such matters in abeyance for a while," an- 
 swered Mr. Urmson, with the glimmer of a 
 smile. " Yes, Jack, if you came here for 
 love, luethlnks you are too late." 
 
 Jack tossed his head. " Well, business 
 first, and love afterward, Mr. Urmson. I 
 haven't told you about our success with the 
 thieves. To begin with, we haven't got 
 either of them, and we have found out that 
 one of them has spent most of his share of 
 the money." 
 
 '' Oh ! then there are two of them ? Do 
 you know who they are ? " 
 
 "We know who one of them is, and I 
 have ray suspicions of the other, though my 
 detectives don't know that I have yet. We 
 followed the first one to Liverpool, and there 
 lost sight of him. His name is Flint. We 
 are pretty sure of coming upon him sooner 
 or later, and then he will tell us how to get 
 hold of the other one, who is the chief sin- 
 ner, and an infernally clever fellow. The 
 way they contrived the robbery it was al- 
 most worth the money they stole to see. 
 And the other one managed so well that 
 nothing short of Flint's evidence could con- 
 vict him, even if we caught him." 
 
 " Who do you suspect him to be, Jack? " 
 asked Mr. Urmson, taking pains to meet the 
 young man's eyes with his own penetrating 
 glance. "From your letter, it should be 
 some one in this neighborhood. Is it any 
 one I am likely to know ? " 
 
 Selwyn caught up his knee and set his 
 hat upon it ; the hat fell to the floor, and he 
 stooped to pick it up. " Knowing is an am- 
 biguous expression," said he, with a smile. 
 " You might think you knew him, but, if he 
 turned out a thief, you'd think yon hadn't 
 known him, after all.- Anyway, though, it 
 would be unbusiness-like of me to blab my 
 
 suspicions. They might be wrong, in the 
 first place." 
 
 "But that's too unlikely a supposition, 
 Jack. What in the second place ? " 
 
 "You might receive and comfort him, 
 Mr. Urmson," returned the other, smiling 
 again. "You'd do that for a near friend or 
 relative, wouldn't you ? Most men would." 
 
 " I am not a bigot in the cause of human 
 methods of justice," said the gray gentle- 
 man, holding his chin musingly between his 
 thumb and forefinger. " I should probably 
 let my action be guided a good deal by cir- 
 cumstances. However, your second sup- 
 position doesn't apply, either ; for the only 
 man of the kind for me is that poor half- 
 brother of mine — your successful rival, young 
 gentleman. He has lately been in Europe, 
 you know, and has come back with some 
 money. But a thief who should rob a lady 
 for the sake of making himself an eligible 
 match for her would be sui generis, to say 
 the least of him.'' 
 
 "Well, I shall hold my tongue, or you 
 will begin to think me a poor detective. If 
 Golightley is to be the first villain, you'll say 
 nobody short of Garth ought to play second. 
 But, joking aside, I don't believe she can 
 love him; and when it comes to the point, 
 she won't marry a fellow she doesn't love." 
 As Jack made this assertion, he caught a 
 peculiar expression in Mr. Urmson's face, 
 such as caused him to turn abruptly in his 
 chair. Ehnor was still reclining in the same 
 position, with her hands clasped in her lap, 
 but her eyelids were unmistakably open, 
 though still heavy with slumber. Jack rose 
 at once and made his bow. His bow was 
 somewhat noted in society for its easy grace, 
 but this time it scarcely justified its reputa- 
 tion. His self-possession was impaired by 
 the necessity for wondering how much of 
 the late conversation the young lady had 
 overheard, and by the attempt to recollect 
 precisely in what words it had been couched. 
 
 " I only came in to tell you he was bet- 
 ter, Mr. Urmson," said Elinor, sitting up 
 and putting her hands to her hair. " I didn't 
 know you were busy. — Mr. Selwyn! oh, I 
 think I must have been asleep." 
 
 " It was my cursed bellowing waked you 
 up ; though I thought we were whispering," 
 
AWAKENING. 
 
 199 
 
 Jack interposed regretfully. " Is — a — Mrs. 
 Tenterden well, I hope? " 
 
 " Oh, not at all ! I left him asleep — 
 Yes, she felt a little feverish this morning, 
 so I came up with the medicine. — I hope my 
 playing didn't disturb you, Mr. Urmson? " 
 
 "That spell which Nikomis wrought on 
 me has left its influence in the air, I think," 
 said he, looking pleasantly on the young 
 lady's face, and making a determined effort 
 to get up. "Everything you do and say is 
 music, Miss Elinor, and would cure me of 
 being old and good-for-nothing, if anything 
 could. As for Garth, I don't wonder that 
 he's better. Come on ; let's aB go in and 
 have a look at him." 
 
 As he stood erect, the young people placed 
 themselves on either side of him, each sup- 
 porting an arm; and so they advanced, a 
 well-united trio, toward the door. But at 
 the same moment a lightsome step sounded 
 along the passage-way, and a charming figure 
 of womanly youth and grace, with high color 
 and sparkling eyes, appeared at the threshold. 
 The trio paused with one accord ; but the 
 new-comer, after a brief hesitation, just long 
 enough to give the beauty of her presence 
 its full effect, came straight up to Mr. Urm- 
 son and kissed him on the cheek. Elinor 
 looked hard at her, and did not ofier any 
 greeting ; but the other took her hand with 
 a kind of joyous freedom, and said : " Yon 
 dear Elinor, I've seen him ! I dared come, 
 because Mrs. Tenterden's in bed, and is not 
 to know. How thin he is! but I like his 
 beard — it looks like a pirate's." 
 
 Unless one positively hated Madge, it 
 was nearly impossible to withstand the fresh 
 onset of her glowing loveliness when she 
 was bent upon being agreeable. All pre- 
 vious doubts and criticisms must for the mo- 
 ment forget or rebuke themselves ; or it 
 might even seem that such a woman was bet- 
 ter worth believing in than any cut-and-dried 
 distinctions between right and wrong. Eli- 
 nor, who had studiously avoided associating 
 with her since their conversation after church 
 a fortnight previous, and had even indulged 
 in unspoken disparagement of whatever she 
 had seen her do or heard her say in the mean 
 while, now felt a twinge of remorse — a mis- 
 giving lest, after all, she had misunderstood 
 
 and done her less than justice. For here 
 stood Madge, where Elinor had uncharitably 
 believed her afraid to come, and spoke of 
 Garth in such tones as she surely durst not 
 have used had she been indifferent to him — 
 which Elinor had suspected her of being. 
 The words were nothing ; it was the loving 
 tone that was unmistakable. On the whole, 
 therefore, it seemed likely that poor Madge 
 had really acted from the most lofty and dis- 
 interested motives up till to-day ; and to-day, 
 in breaking loose from her self-imposed re- 
 straint, she had betrayed just that trait of 
 loving womanly weakness which made the 
 charm of her character complete. So, not 
 for the first time in her experience, Elinor 
 found herself obliged to do homage to a vir- 
 tue which her reason rather than her intui- 
 tion acknowledged. 
 
 All this time Madge had paid no direct 
 attention to Selwyn, though the corner of 
 her long, oval eye had no difBculty in taking 
 sidelong note of him. Jack, on the other 
 hand, made little effort to disguise his ad- 
 miration of Madge, whose developed beauty 
 quite beggared his anticipation. "It's sad 
 to be forgotten. Miss Danver," he said, with 
 an independent toss of his head sideways ; 
 " but it seems I must remind yon of your 
 pirate's right-hand man — Jack Selwyn, at 
 your service." 
 
 "Truly, I knew you very well, only I 
 never thought you would remember me," 
 returned Madge, naively giving him her 
 hand. " I can never forget any one who 
 loves my Garth." 
 
 Selwyn gave Madge a keen look, and be- 
 fore he let go her hand he pressed it gently, 
 but so significantly as might justify her in 
 supposing that he wished to establish a ten- 
 der private understanding with her. Under 
 the circumstances, it was an audacious act, 
 to say the best of it ; yet, with the perverse 
 luck that seems so often to attend audacity, 
 it met with no open rebuke. Madge, per- 
 haps, thought the best way to discourage 
 flirtation was not to make too prudish a re- 
 sistance to it. At all events, she kept a de- 
 mure countenance, and withdrew her soft 
 fingers only in time to avoid attracting re- 
 mark. 
 
 "Did you see Nikomis when you came 
 
200 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 in ? " asked Mr. Urmsori. " I begin to think 
 that Sam Kineo must have come back unex- 
 pectedly and carried her off." 
 
 " Oh, I don't think she expects him now," 
 Madge hastened to say, veiling another side- 
 glance at Selwyn beneath her dark lashes. 
 "He doesn't care much for the poor old 
 thing, I'm" afraid ; besides, it must be so 
 much pleasanter to stay in Europe than to 
 come back here." 
 
 " Sam Kineo — isn't that the fellow Garth 
 thrashed 1 — Queer name, Mr. Urmson. And 
 I remember a Mount Kineo, somewhere 
 north of us, so called on account of the num- 
 ber of flint-stones found there. Probably 
 Sam is a pretty hard case." 
 
 "Ton have a talent for analogies. Jack; 
 but the world is fuU of flints," remarked Mr. 
 Urmson, a little ironically. During their 
 somewhat disconnected colloquy the group 
 had been collected jast within the doorway. 
 As the old gentleman spoke, he drew Selwyn 
 a few steps onward across the threshold, 
 leaving the two girls behind. " We are for- 
 getting Garth," he continued ; " but we'ie 
 too large a party to visit him aU at once. — 
 Madge, you might take Miss Elinor down to 
 the kitchen, and fumigate yourselves in the 
 ohimney-corner.^Do you come with me, sir. 
 I presume your cigar-case will be a sufficient 
 protection to us both. Come along ; and, 
 after we've made our call, we'll rejoin the 
 ladies by the kitchen-fire." 
 
 CHAPTER LVII. 
 
 A FEESH FAOTOE. 
 
 Thet entered the sick-room accordingly, 
 and shut the door behind them. Mr. Urm- 
 son approached the bedside, and, after touch- 
 ing Garth's pulse and laying his finger-tips 
 on his forehead, he said, "Well," with along 
 sigh, and then below his breath, " God bless 
 her ! " The invalid breathed on in seeming- 
 ly dreamless sleep. Selwyn, standing mo- 
 tionless and in silence, observed him for a 
 long time, afterward walking moodily to the 
 fireplace and leaning there, with his shoul- 
 ders against the side of the chimney-piece 
 
 and his hands in his pockets. Mr. Urmson 
 had taken a seat over against him. 
 
 "I had no idea of this,'' Jack said at 
 length. " Np mere fever has done that to 
 Garth; there's been hell in his mind. And 
 you may call me a fool if you like, Mr. Urm- 
 son, but I know one thing that's been the 
 matter." 
 
 "Be as wise as you please; I sha'n't 
 mind." 
 
 " Well, look here. I love Garth, and I 
 don't care who knows it: tliat's one thing. 
 And I know a cheat when I see it, no mat- 
 ter if it's as pretty as Madge Danver. Pve 
 seen women enough, good and bad, but 
 never her equal, either for beauty or deviltry. 
 If I were Mephistopheles and Caliban mixed 
 half and half, there might be a chance of 
 her getting suitably married. No wonder 
 Garth got the fever ! " 
 
 " I don't know your sources of informa- 
 tion, but, judging by appearances, their en- 
 gagement has been remarkable for the good 
 faith and constancy shown on both sides." 
 
 " Good faith and constancy are life to 
 scoundrels, but death to honest men. J 
 don't pretend to fathom Madge Danver, but 
 there's no mystery about Garth's share in 
 the business. When we were in Europe to- 
 gether, Mr. Urmson, he lived like a man who 
 felt that he was at bis best and happiest, 
 and knew there must soon be an end of it. 
 Bat often, after we'd had a particularly fine 
 time somewhere, and had got home again, 
 he'd begin to tramp up and down the room, 
 with that scowl of his, and his hands in his 
 pockets, talking about Madge. By God, it 
 was pitiable ! He'd set his teeth, and growl 
 out that she was the loveliest, sweetest, 
 purest — that whatever good or great thing 
 he did would be her doing — you can imagine 
 the kind of stuff it was : always the same 
 thing, and a lie from beginning to end. Once 
 he came near killing me, for the second time 
 in our acquaintance, because I told him he 
 didn't care a damn for her, and knew it. 
 He swore she was all he lived for, and that 
 he had come to Europe only to make himself 
 worthier of her. I told him I believed he 
 lied, and then he took me by the throat. 
 I hope I'll never get such another look as 
 he gave me for a couple of seconds. If he'd 
 
A FEJESH FACTOR. 
 
 201 
 
 only look that way at Madge once, I could 
 almost believe she'd be true to him ever 
 after ; for she'd see that Garth had a bigger 
 devil in him than she had. It wasn't two 
 seconds before he let go of me, and put his 
 hands down by his sides ; but I'd made up 
 my mind to be murdered, and almost wished 
 he'd go on and finish me. Then I saw an- 
 other thing I don't care to see again — I 
 saw him cry. I never meant to tell this, Mr. 
 TJrmson. He's a terrible fellow." 
 
 Jack took a chair and sat down, fixing 
 his eyes on the fire, his face moving with 
 suppressed excitement. Mr. TJrmson folded 
 his arms, and was silent. 
 
 " At aU events," Jack went on, advanc- 
 ing his chin and using a steadier tone, " that 
 was the last I heard from him about Madge 
 Danver. He went home some months after- 
 ward, and I must say I never imagined he'd 
 find her faithful to him. But all I knew of 
 her then was the glimpse or two I got of 
 her before we started for Europe. She's 
 clever enough to cheat with honesty. She ' 
 has her own reasons for not letting him 
 go till she's got her other strings in proper 
 order.'' 
 
 " You have a clear head, Jack, and some- 
 thing better than that, maybe. I agree with 
 you that Garth ought not to marry her. 
 You know him well ; hut Madge you do not 
 know. You have penetrated further than 
 most people are able to do; you see the 
 subtlety and perverted principles beneath 
 the beauty and fascination, but you've taken 
 no account of the goodness and sincerity 
 that are mixed up along with t.hem. That is 
 what makes Madge hard to deal justly with. 
 I have reason to beUeve that she has loved 
 Garth at times as much as she can ever love 
 anybody, and that she would rather love 
 him than any other man. She might have 
 married twenty times while Garth was 
 abroad, and the reason she didn't was that 
 she feared to find out, when it was too late, 
 that Garth was her true match, after all. 
 Her love seems to come and go like the tide ; 
 but, in fact, it is her opinion as to the iden- 
 tity of the man with her ideal of him that 
 varies. She would be perfectly happy if 
 Garth would assert himself so powerfully as 
 to drive aU doubt and wavering out of her 
 
 mind. She doesn't enjoy fickleness for its 
 own sake." 
 
 "That's just what she does do, I say," 
 interposed Selwyn. " What sort of an ideal 
 has a girl like that got ? What she likes is 
 to feel the contact of a peremptory, mascu- 
 line nature with her own. But she wouldn't 
 be satisfied to find all the qualities she likes 
 collected in one man. She'd rather have 
 them distributed among half a dozen or a 
 hundred, and so have the fun of going to a 
 different man for the enjoyment of each 
 quality. Fickleness is the breath of her life. 
 I beg your pardon for disputing you, Mr. 
 TJrmson, but I believe what I say." 
 
 " I quite believe you believe it ; but I'd 
 rather be too lenient. Jack, than over-harsh ; 
 and maybe, when you have lived long enough 
 to find out how little good the best-disposed 
 people can do, you'll think lenient opinions 
 the wiser." 
 
 " Yes, but no fellow can hoist himself by 
 his own waistband. I take myself as I am ; 
 God only knows whether I'll ever he any 
 wiser. Look here. When Madge first came 
 in just now, she was as full of the devil as 
 she could hold. She has been up to some 
 mischief or other this morning. Garth had 
 nothing to do with her coming. That senti- 
 mental talk about him was humbug, and — " 
 
 "How do you know that?" inquired 
 Mr. TJrmson, beginning to smile. 
 
 "Because in the next breath she en- 
 couraged me to make secret love to her. 
 Yes, I'm set down for a place among the 
 happy hundred already. Was there ever 
 anything between this Sam Kineo and 
 her?" 
 
 " There may have been ; but Sam hasn't 
 been in this part of the world for the last 
 ten years or thereabouts, and I'll admit she 
 may have been fickle enough to forget him." 
 
 "But she'd remember if she saw him. 
 And what if she had seen him, and he were 
 in the house at this moment ? " 
 
 " And what if he should turn out to be 
 the Mr. Flint whom you lost sight of at 
 Liverpool — who, of course, is a half-breed 
 Indian, known to have received letters di- 
 rected in a feminine handwriting,- and post- 
 marked New Hampshire? That would be 
 rather curious, in spite of its probability ; " 
 
202 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 and Mr. Urmson took his chin meditatively 
 in his hand. Jack was not fully satisfied 
 whether the other's mood were wholly ironic 
 or partly earnest ; hut at all events he 
 seemed to resolve, after a little consider- 
 ation, to let that particular subject drop for 
 the time being. There were several other 
 questionable matters. 
 
 " How about this nursing, and medicine- 
 bringing, and music-playing? " he demanded, 
 rising to get the violin, and returning with 
 it to his seat by the fire. " Yes, this is Miss 
 Elinor's instrument. But how came she, 
 and not Madge, to act as Mrs. Mildred's sub- 
 stitute S " 
 
 "That is one of the few things that I 
 don't know. I was asleep. Madge, you will 
 be gratified to hear, has not visited Gartli at 
 all until to-day. It seems strange that she 
 and Elinor should have come separately and 
 apparently in ignorance of each other. I 
 must say I was more surprised to see Madge 
 here than Miss Elinor.'' 
 
 " It's all cross-purposes now," said Jack, 
 biting his under lip ; " but there seem to be 
 about as many good people as bad mixed up 
 in it, so it ought to come out right in the 
 end — as right as things in this world are 
 likely to come.- — There's somebody.'' 
 
 A wagon had driven up to the door, 
 and there were voices in the hall below. 
 The two men sat looking at each other, lis- 
 tening. Madge's voice, with its elastic rise 
 and fall, soft and yet penetrating ; the mag- 
 niloquent superiority of Golightley's organ; 
 and then a short, forcible rumble that caused 
 a smile to chase away the pugnacious ex- 
 pression which had just darkened Selwyn's 
 face, and Mr. Urmson to rise to his feet with 
 a breath of relief. Professor Grindle ! 
 
 "We'll meet them down-stairs,'' Mr. 
 TJrmson said, leading the way ; and arm-in- 
 arm they descended and entered the kitch- 
 en, whither the whole party had betaken 
 itself. 
 
 " Ah, my dear Cuthbert, I got him, you 
 see, in spite of the prince of the powers of 
 Bowdoin and all bis angels. But the dear 
 boy's on the mending hand already — so our 
 little Margaret tells me — and all Elinor's do- 
 ing, eh? Ha! ha! H'm!" 
 
 This latter interjection, with an accom- 
 
 panying change of expression from gay to 
 grave, was' elicited by Jack Selwyn, whom 
 Golightley had not till then happened to 
 see. Feeling an authoritative tap on the 
 shoulder, however, he turned his head, and 
 had the sensation, which, whether agree- 
 able or the reverse, was manifestly unex- 
 pected, of beholding within two feet of him 
 a face he had supposed to be distant at least 
 three thousand miles. Jack's hazel eyes 
 seemed to find their way through Golight- 
 ley's tinted glasses, and there was no avoid- 
 ing a recognition. " Ah, you must be Sel- 
 wyn — Jack Selwyn, I think. Let me see — 
 studying law in Vienna, aren't you ? How- 
 d'y'-do?" 
 
 He held out an amicable, if somewhat 
 patronizing, hand, which Jack looked at 
 curiously, without moving his own from 
 behind his back. " I keep an eye on the 
 law," he said, while Golightley endeavored 
 to ignore the rebuff by ostentatiously unbut- 
 toning and removing his kid glove; "biit 
 speculation is my hobby just now. You 
 ought to be able to give me a hint about 
 South Americans, if any man can.'' 
 
 " Yes, I'm sure of that, Mr. Selwyn," said 
 Madge, who had been observing the encoun- 
 ter of these gentlemen with an arch expres- 
 sion of mischief. She came up to Golightley 
 as she spoke, and put her hand affectionately 
 within his arm. " He made all his money 
 in South Americans — didn't you, uncle ? But 
 then, you know, poor Mr. Tenterden lost all 
 his in them ; so you mustn't be too precipi- 
 tate and positive, Mr. Selwyn. — Now you 
 needn't laugh. Uncle Golightley, because 
 you know you taught me those words your- 
 self." 
 
 Uncle Golightley had not laughed, nor 
 even betrayed an inclination to do so ; but 
 after Madge had spoken, he seemed to think 
 it as well to draw back his mustache and 
 wrinkle the corners of his eyes in what might 
 have answered for a spasm of polite merri- 
 ment. At this juncture Elinor came up and 
 touched his other arm, with a gesture imply- 
 ing both reluctance and the determination 
 to overcome it. 
 
 " Won't you have some lunch ? " she 
 asked. "We've been getting it ready, and 
 you are come just in time. You must 
 
PICKLES AND OIGAKETTES. 
 
 203 
 
 hare something to tell me about your jour- 
 ney." 
 
 " My sweet Elinor ! " lie exclaimed, turn- 
 ing quickly and raising her hand to his lips. 
 It was, perhaps, as honestly affectionate a 
 salute as he had ever given a woman. 
 
 " Oome, then," said she, blushing and 
 drawing him away. 
 
 Jack looked after them rather blankly ; 
 but he bit his lip with chagrin on finding 
 that his discomfiture was being secretly ob- 
 served by Madge. 
 
 " They are ever so much in love with 
 eaqji other," she remarked, as soon as their 
 eyes met. "Don't you think they will be 
 very happy ? " 
 
 " I think she ought to be," Jack replied, 
 after a pause, solacing himself with the am- 
 biguity of his phrase. 
 
 In fact, however, Madge must have been 
 as much.suprised as he that Elinor should so 
 far break down the barriers of her maidenly 
 and constitutional reserve as thus deliber- 
 ately to seek out her lover. Only Elin-or 
 knew how, during the last few hours, she 
 had sadly but resolutely bound herself to be 
 to Golightley, in deed as already in word, 
 all that a woman may be to a man. He, for 
 his part, had herein a new experience before 
 him, and one which, in the present aspect 
 of his affairs, was likely to occasion him a 
 good deal of unpremeditated emotion. For 
 it should be said of him that if hitherto he 
 had been practically a stranger to the more 
 noble and unselfish kind of love, he had 
 also never happened to meet with a woman 
 at once capable of rendering him the like 
 tender and refined observance, and willing 
 to do so. For the present the change in her 
 bearing flattered and titillated him only ; but 
 a time might come when it should influence 
 him more importantly. 
 
 CHAPTER LVIII. 
 
 PICKLES AND OIGAEETTEg. 
 
 "Let us have luncheon, too," Madge 
 proposed, with a dash of demure convivial- 
 ism in her tone which made her appear de- 
 lightfully Jolly. " I know where there are 
 8ome pickles, and I think maybe Nikomis 
 
 might let you have a little brandy. And 
 then you'U smoke a cigar over me, won't 
 you ? so as to drive away the contagion." 
 
 " Contagion ! " echoed Jack, as he fol- 
 lowed his beautiful entertainer to the pantry. 
 "Everybody here seems to think typhoid 
 contagious. It's nothing of the sort." 
 
 "Oh, isn't it? How clever you are! 
 Well, I don't care whether it is or not, for 
 I know I shall never die of a fever. That's 
 the pickles, I think. Can you reach them ? " 
 
 " These are infernally good pickles, Miss 
 Madge. Suppose we sit on these two water- 
 pails and eat our lunch off the flour-barrel. 
 I suppose I mustn't tell you how much in 
 love with you I am? besides, you know it 
 already." 
 
 "Oh, I'm engaged to Garth, Mr. Sel- 
 wyn," said she, very gravely ; " so you may 
 tell me whatever you please." 
 
 "You are as logical as you are lovely. 
 Well, I admire your genius for finance. 
 Perhaps you can tell me something about 
 South Americans? " 
 
 " Now you are making fun of me. Why 
 should you come all the way tvcjm Eu- 
 rope to this pantry to ask such a question as 
 that?" 
 
 "All the wise people don't live in Eu- 
 rope ; but, after eating these pickles, I'm 
 prepared to expect almost anything of this 
 pantry. I'd give a thousand pounds for 
 trustworthy information about South Amer- 
 icans." 
 
 " Oh, I dare say ; then you'd go off and 
 make eighty or a hundred thousand. I'd 
 give five times as much as that, Mr. Selwyn, 
 if — I had it in my pocket." 
 
 " But the better way is to find out for 
 yourself, without asking anybody, and then 
 you could put the hundred thousand in your 
 purse ; and if any fellow came along, and 
 offered you five thousand for information, 
 you could turn up your nose and look vir- 
 tuous and say : ' Go away, you naughty man. 
 I don't know what you mean ! ' " 
 
 Madge laughed heartily, though not 
 loud. "I like you ever so much," said she. 
 " It's so pleasant to be perfectly silly once 
 in a while! Aren't you going to eat any 
 more ? Oh, I suppose you want your 
 brandy." 
 
204 
 
 GAETH. 
 
 " Thank you, Miss Madge, I always carry 
 the creature with me," replied Jack, produc- 
 ing a small traveling-flask from his pocket. 
 "Mkomis's might be too strong, you know. 
 But this will keep us just at the right point 
 of sDliness. You must take a little." 
 
 " I will, if you are sure it's good for con- 
 tagion, Mr. Selwyn; and perhaps I ought 
 to smoke a cigarette too, if you have one. 
 Thank you. South American ladies smoke 
 cigarettes, don't they? Let's pretend we 
 are there." 
 
 Jack struck a match and handed it to 
 her; she lit her cigarette, inhaled the deli- 
 cate smoke, and breathed it forth again 
 through her nostrils, her dark eyes sparkling 
 at him through the fragrant haze. "Do I do 
 it right?" she asked, innocently. 
 
 " Yes ; and all you want now to make 
 you perfect is a little refined swearing now 
 and then ; only you must be careful always 
 to do it in a low, quiet voice, and with a 
 very distinct enunciation. Let me instruct 
 you." 
 
 ." No," said she, with a sigh ; " I sha'n't 
 be perfect till I have a fortune. What was 
 that we were talking about? Oh, finding 
 out about things for yourself. But, even if 
 you had, there might be so much trouble in 
 the way of turning it into money, that you 
 would prefer to let the other fellow pay you 
 for informing him. Shouldn't you think so ? 
 Because I'm sure anybody who couldn't 
 make a fortune out of five thousand pounds 
 might as well stay at home and forget all 
 about South America." 
 
 " You'd have to convince the other fel- 
 low, though, that your information would 
 lead to something, else he might prefer to 
 find out for himself too; and then where 
 would you be ? " 
 
 Madge touched her lips to the brandy, 
 gave a little shudder, and set it down ; then 
 the ash of her cigarette fell on her dress, 
 and she shook it hastily off with a merry 
 pretense of dismay. She was evidently in 
 the highest spirits, yet thoroughly under 
 control of herself. Jack was by no means 
 sure that he could read her thoughts, yet he 
 felt it to be highly probable that she read 
 his; and whether or not she was decided 
 what to do, had, at all events, no special 
 
 anxieties. She comprehended the bearings 
 of the case, and meant to profit by her 
 knowledge in one way or another. So much 
 seemed likely enough; but how she got her 
 knowledge Jack was unable to conceive. It 
 could hardly have been by dint of pure 
 mother-wit; and, on the other hand, it was 
 incredible that any criminal in his proper 
 senses would spontaneously confess himself 
 to a woman, be her fascinations what they 
 might. Was it possible, then, that Madge 
 really knew nothing, and was audaciously 
 attempting to bluff him into giving her a 
 clew ? These speculations passed through 
 Jack's head while he was biting off the end 
 of his cigar and striking a fresh light. He 
 leaned back on his water-pail till his shoul- 
 ders came against the side of the meat-safe, 
 and in this position awaited what his charm- 
 ing companion might say next. It ought 
 to be something to the point. But there 
 was never any forecasting what Madge 
 would say or do. 
 
 " I wish you'd teach Garth to smoke and 
 drink and swear," she began, dropping her 
 festive air for one of thoughtful gravity. 
 " He does them once in a while, of course, 
 but not smoothly and as if they were noth- 
 ing. He would be shocked if he saw me — 
 this way." With the words, she crossed one 
 knee over the other, and fell into a beautiful 
 parody of Selwyn's careless attitude. He 
 smiled satirically, and said, "After a ten 
 years' courtship, that's odd." 
 
 " Oh, there's a great deal about me that 
 Garth doesn't know, and wouldn't if he 
 were to court me ten years more. I don't 
 behave to him as I do to you, Mr. Selwyn. 
 Garth isn't a detective ; and he says straight 
 out what he means and what he wants, as a 
 man ought to do. There's nobody like him, 
 I know. I don't want there to be." 
 
 " If I teach him to smoke and drink and 
 swear, there wouldn't be any Garth at all. 
 Is that what you want? " 
 
 " You teach him anything ! " exclaimed 
 she, with a pungent accent of angry con- 
 tempt, though still the tone was low. " You 
 think you know me. Jack Selwyn. You've 
 found out that I didn't visit him while he's 
 been ill, have you? And you eay I don't 
 love him. You are an honorable gentleman, 
 
PICKLES AND OIGAEETTES. 
 
 205 
 
 of course, and can tell women how they 
 should behave and think ; and yoii can see 
 through them, can't you? You teach my 
 Garth anything I Ha 1 ha I ha ! I do love 
 him ! I do — do love him ! " ' 
 
 "Do you?" 
 
 " Yes, I love him. And yet I can tell you 
 all you would like to tell me, if you weren't 
 too — polite. I didn't go to him when he 
 was ill, because I didn't care to ; and I didn't 
 care whether he died or not. I don't care 
 now. And you may tell that to everybody 
 you meet : I dare say you will. But rather 
 than see him get to be like other men, with 
 their airs and lies and little vices, I'd die my- 
 self. So I love him. I don't want to die ; I 
 like to live, and I never want to die ; but I'd 
 sooner die than see him like you, or like — 
 the man who's engaged to marry Elinor." 
 
 " You are very acute, Miss Madge," mut- 
 tered Selwyn, conscious that he had winced, 
 
 " Would you be willing to take me on 
 your detective force? " asked she, with an 
 angry smile, resting her firm round arms on 
 the barrel-head, and bending her bright face 
 toward him. " It must be such an interest- 
 ing profession, if a handsome, fashionable 
 young gentleman goes into it just for fun — 
 or no, it was because he had a noble, abstract 
 hatred of wrong, and love of justice ! And 
 now that he finds somebody is going to marry 
 Elinor, how much more abstract his hatred 
 of wrong becomes, and how much harder he 
 will make his detectives work! And he 
 means to get people to help him without 
 their knowing it themselves; he sees through 
 everybody, and manages them so cleverly 1 " 
 
 " Yon are letting your cigarette go out, 
 Miss Madge." 
 
 " Thank you ; I know what you mean. 
 You don't want Garth to marry me ; I 
 wouldn't make a good wife for him. Per- 
 haps he don't love me, because we have 
 waited so long? But then you know that 
 he'd marry me, whether he loved me or not, 
 because he's said he would ; so you want to 
 make him believe that I'm not faithful to 
 him. Do you think I didn't understand why 
 you began to flirt with me the first minute 
 you saw me, and why yon proposed to sit 
 in here, and gave me brandy to drink and 
 tobacco to smoke ? You thought you'd get 
 
 evidence against me, and teU Garth I was 
 immodest and false, and would betray him 
 for the sake of the first fop that came along. 
 That was honorable and like a gentleman, 
 wasn't it ? And how self-sacrificing of you 
 to flirt with a pretty girl in the cause of ab- 
 stract right and justice ! — only you wouldn't 
 tell Garth that part of it. Tell him all, if 
 you like ; you'll find he loves me enough to 
 kiU you for it. "What right have you to med- 
 dle between us ? If I ran away from him 
 with another man, what would you think ? " 
 
 "I should wonder what had been the ob- 
 ject of all this talk." 
 
 " Ah, Jack Selwyn, what a quick-witted 
 man ! " She paused abruptly, and for a mo- 
 ment Jack thought she was about either to 
 laugh immoderately or give way to a passion 
 of tears ; it was uncertain which. But af- 
 ter a few irregular breaths, she regained con- 
 trol of herself and did neither. She went 
 on in a less rapid tone than before, though 
 there was now a jarring metallic ring in it. 
 
 "I'll tell you, because I know you can't 
 understand, and wouldn't believe if you did. 
 If I ran away from him, it would be be- 
 cause I loved him too much to stay and 
 marry him. I know what he needs, and 
 what I am. He needn't feel jealous of the 
 man I run off with, nor of anybody in the 
 world. What is love? Can you tell me? 
 Do you think there could be a woman who 
 honored it so much as to turn her back on it ? 
 — Well, have I kept you entertained, Mr. Sel- 
 wyn ? Have you enjoyed your lunch ? " 
 
 "Yes; I never had a spicier one," re- 
 turned he. He spoke, as he had done ever 
 since she had launched into this unexpected 
 and bewildering tirade, in a cold, cynical 
 tone, not because he felt cynical, but as an 
 instinctive defense against being quite over- 
 borne and vanquished by the passionate 
 hap-hazard subtilty of her attack. So soon 
 as the stress was removed, however, he could 
 venture to take a more genuine attitude. 
 And now he owned to himself that he had 
 taken this young woman's measure quite 
 too heedlessly, and had fairly laid himself 
 open to the taunts and ridicule she had dealt 
 out to him. The intervie w had greatly modi- 
 fied his idea of her, yet in such a manner as 
 to stagger all expectation of easily finding her 
 
206 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 out. What slie tad said was one thing, and 
 something of a puzzle in itself; why she had 
 said it, and whether she meant it, were other 
 questions which Jack felt his inability to an- 
 swer. He did not know whether she meant 
 to marry Garth or not. Had she made up 
 her mind to desert him, and was she trying 
 to justify her fickleness hy calling it fine 
 names? Or was she (feeling herself inse- 
 cure) striving to shame herself into honesty ? 
 Had she spoken from deliberate forethought 
 or from unpremeditated impulse? It had 
 sounded very like the latter ; yet, on going 
 over what had passed. Jack could not find 
 that she had anywliere given him a practical 
 handle against her. She had said some ap- 
 parently very reckless things, yet nothing 
 really irretrievable, that she might not in- 
 terpret to her own advantage. On the whole, 
 the main impression left upon his mind was 
 that Madge was more of a woman, in every 
 sense of the phrase, than he had given her 
 credit for being. And though Jack was not 
 given to fear of either woman or man, he 
 was frankly willing to congratulate himself 
 that his destiny was not bound up with that 
 of this beautilul and brilliant girl. 
 
 "I'm sorry to have made you angry," 
 he said; "but you ought to consider that no 
 one but you would have been keen-witted 
 enough to take offense. Take my advice for 
 what it's worth — don't marry Garth : marry 
 some old fool. You were born to set the 
 world by the ears, and Garth would be ter- 
 ribly in your way, I can tell you." 
 
 " Thank you. You would not dare say 
 that to me if Garth were here." 
 
 "I'll repeat it before him where yon 
 choose. Why should I varnish words with 
 you. Miss Madge? You have given me the 
 right to say what I think to yon, and I shall 
 use it henceforward. What would be the 
 Use of my declaring that I had a profound 
 reverence for your candor and constancy and 
 
 moral and religious fastidiousness, or that I 
 believed in the guileless innocence of a girl 
 who had just outwitted me ? Yes, I admit 
 you've outwitted me. I know no more about 
 South Americans, for instance, than I did be- 
 fore ; but then. Miss Madge, I know as much ; 
 and probably that will be enough for the 
 purpose." 
 
 Madge got up and set her foot upon the 
 water-pail, resting her elbow on her knee 
 and her chin upon her hand, while her dark 
 glance wandered over the brown boarded 
 floor. "I'm glad you have treated me as 
 you have done," said she. " I have looked 
 forward to your coming, and I might have 
 helped you, and you me; but I shall feel 
 better to do without you, and to hate you. 
 Do your best to take Garth from me," she 
 added, looking up at him with a sudden 
 gleam of enmity. " He won't thank you in 
 the end, and I will have my way in every- 
 thing in spite of you all." 
 
 " And I'm to clear out ? " said Jack, rising 
 also and going to the door. " Well, good-by. 
 It's worth a man's being born to quarrel 
 with you ; but he'd better die than love you." 
 
 He went out, closing the door of the 
 shadowy little pantry behind him. Madge, 
 when she felt herself entirely alone, reseated 
 herself on the bucket, and staid long in 
 still-eyed reverie, one arm thrown across the 
 top of the barrel, while the fingers of the 
 other hand pinched little creases in the skirt 
 upon her knee. At last a change came over 
 her; she began to pant and tremble; sud- 
 denly she turned and pillowed her forehead 
 on her arms, and then for a time she wept 
 from her very soul. Could Garth have 
 come to her then, he might have gained a 
 blessing both for Madge and for himself. 
 But the time passed, and she got slowly to 
 her feet, feeling that she had done with 
 tears. And, after all, the blessing might 
 have grown into a curse. 
 
THE PHYSICIAN. 
 
 207 
 
 BOOK VIII. 
 
 LEA YEN. 
 
 CHAPTER LIX. 
 
 THE PHYSICIAN'. 
 
 The meeting between Mr. Urmson and 
 Professor Grindle had not been outwardly 
 effusive. The professor's bald pate had red- 
 dened a little as he strongly griped his old 
 fellow-student's hand, and he hadsaid, " How 
 do, Urmson? " in his usual abrupt, bass tones, 
 perhaps made a little more uncompromising 
 than usual to keep up the good old Anglo- 
 Saxon traditions of unfeelingness. Mr. Urm- 
 son had replied, " How do you do, profess- 
 or?" and after the exchange of a few 
 questions and observations of no less mo- 
 mentous import, the two elderly gentlemen 
 left the younger people to themselves, and 
 proceeded in total silence up-stairs, Outhbert 
 leading, and the professor tramping sternly 
 after him. In silence they entered Garth's 
 chamber, and there the professor stood for 
 a moment, motionless but observant, by the 
 bedside. Then, without having touched the 
 invalid, or emitted so much as a single pro- 
 fessional grunt, he stepped back to the door, 
 and beckoning to his companion, they went 
 silently out into the hall again. 
 
 "Let him sleep,'' said the professor. 
 "Lead on to your chamber, Urmson. Must 
 smoke a cigar and toast my toes after that 
 drive. The winter's upon us; you'll catch 
 it up here sooner than we shall. Ay, I see ; 
 not much desk-work for you nowadays. 
 Nursing. And Mrs. Urmson not here to 
 help." Since Mrs. Urmson's marriage this 
 old lover of hers, who had never told his 
 love either to her or to any one else, had re- 
 frained from speaking of her by her Chris- 
 tian name ; and this not from any unwor- 
 thy jealousy, but because he derived a stern, 
 unselfish pleasure from the thought that 
 the only woman he had loved belonged to 
 
 the man whom he loved best, and chose 
 to keep that fact before his mind by al- 
 ways giving her the name she was mar- 
 ried to. 
 
 "Heaven is too near us, I sometimes 
 think," Cuthbert answered. " The people 
 we want most are so "apt to slip into it out 
 of our reach." 
 
 " 'Tisn't that the boy needed her," said 
 Grindle, taking a brand from the hearth and 
 lighting his cigar with a series of short, rapid, 
 whiffs. " He'll do very well — a strong grip 
 of life, sir. 'Twas you I referred to more 
 particularly, Urmson. You're not looking 
 as I'd like to have you. You have that in 
 your face, my man, that — none of your 
 late communications had prepared me to see 
 there. Now as your physician, I'll ask yon 
 a question or two. Your mother was a 
 Danver, was she not ? What was her con- 
 stitution ? " 
 
 "Take oS your spectacles, Tom," said 
 Cuthbert, coloring slightly ; " you'll be sharp- 
 sighted enough without them. I didn't get 
 you here for this. However — No, nothing 
 was developed in her, God bless her ! It 
 came, if anything, from her mother, who 
 belonged to another stock — a poor one. She 
 died of it." 
 
 Grindle took off his glasses and rested 
 his elbows on his knees. "Ay, ay," he said 
 slowly, gazing into the fire. " And that has 
 always somewhat posed me, Cuthbert. That 
 old curse — why did the Lord pronounce it 
 against his creatures? — ' The children's teeth 
 shall be set on edge.' How often does the 
 children's suffering accomplish the erring 
 parent's reformation ? It never can. What 
 knows or cares that dead and buried and 
 forgotten woman — or it may have been Tier 
 father or mother — that you sit there hand-in- 
 hand with disease, who might have been a 
 vigorous man still, full of health and power? 
 
208 
 
 GAETH. 
 
 Saoh a curse-seems only to revenge; not to 
 restrain, nor to requite justly." 
 
 "I suppose you must have a personal 
 interest in such problems before you can 
 expect to tackle them, Tom. "What I have 
 felt is, that the curse may smite the body 
 and pass through to bless the soul. For, 
 after all, I wasn't a perfect man when you 
 and I used to argue the universe in college ; 
 nor afterward, even — quite. Some com- 
 plaints you were in the habit of making 
 anent the evils of a too ironical and self- 
 complacent disposition, if my memory fail 
 not. My grandmamma has very likely not 
 cured me of those imperfections — not even 
 bettered me, perhaps'^ but I'm self-compla- 
 cent enough to believe she has kept me from 
 intensifying them, and ironical enough to 
 hope that she is none the worse off herself 
 for having done so." 
 
 "Inform me how long this has been 
 coming on you, my man." 
 
 " More than a year — a good deal more. 
 Slow, but knows how to make itself felt." 
 
 " Where ? " demanded Grindle, after a 
 long puff at his cigar, still keeping his eyes 
 upon the fire. Guthbert's only answer was 
 to put his hand for a moment over his breast. 
 Then the two friends looked at each other. 
 The professor, whose face during the past 
 twenty-and-odd years had not been trained 
 to the expression of tender emotions, wore 
 an aspect of gloomy severity, as though he 
 were reproving some delinquent for a grave 
 misdemeanor ; while Guthbert's pale and 
 slender visage had rather an arch and de- 
 murely unrepentant look, as if defying the 
 other's sternness to do its worst. 
 
 " Had you acquainted me with this 
 promptly, Urmson — " Grindle began. But he 
 did not finish his sentence. He replaced his 
 spectacles, leaned back in his chair, and con- 
 tinued his smoking. His large-boned but not 
 fleshy figure, high, bald forehead, and mas- 
 sive Roman nose were silhouetted against the 
 brightness of the window at the other side of 
 the room. He was still a strong and able man, 
 though somewhat Guthbert's senior in years ; 
 and, while the silence lasted, the latter was 
 indulging in the quaint speculation whether, 
 in the next world, his friend would exhibit 
 a spiritual excellence corresponding to his 
 
 present physical superiority, or whether he 
 would take rank by his mental qualities 
 alone. But the settlement of the question 
 was indefinitely put off by the interruption 
 of Grindle himself. 
 
 "I'll not speak to you as a physician, 
 then," said he. " Some alleviation may be 
 practicable; but you don't require me to 
 tell you, Cuthbert, what the end must be. 
 Now, however, since I must leave you to- 
 morrow, it would be advisable to go through 
 with our business affairs and get them final- 
 ly settled. When we may meet again, no 
 man knows. I shall try to come up during 
 the Christmas holidays ; but quid sit futu- 
 rvm eras fuge quwrere. Tour brother 60- 
 lightley, I presume, is at least independent 
 of you ? " 
 
 "Yes, so far as money goes, and for the 
 time being." 
 
 " I forbore questioning him on the sub- 
 ject, though he once or twice hinted toward 
 it. I own to disliking his physiognomy and 
 the ring of his voice : twenty years of col- 
 lege-boys have made me over-critical, no 
 doubt. Has he suggested reimbursement ! " 
 
 "I fancy we can do without that," said 
 Cuthbert, with a slight nervous movement 
 of bis shoulders and hands. 
 
 "You have the produce of your garden 
 and orchard," returned Grindle, pufling un- 
 compromisingly at his cigar, " and nothing 
 else. The interest of Eve's legacy amounts 
 to less than twenty-five hundred dollars this 
 year, and, when Mrs. Danver's 'patent' an- 
 nuity has been paid out of it, and the other 
 regulai- and incidental expenses met, there'll 
 be about one hundred left over. That's 
 your year's income, sir. There's not a poorer 
 man than you in the village. How do you 
 pay your butcher?" 
 
 "Why, we pelt him with apples. But 
 you forget Garth's canvas, and my pen and 
 paper. Moreover, Golightley is ready to pay 
 his board. We are doing first rate ! " 
 
 "Well, well, sir, that's your own affair. 
 And there's this to be said — if you have 
 reason to be ashamed of your own improvi- 
 dence, you have still greater cause to con- 
 gratulate yourself on the way Providence 
 makes it up for you. If you had not, years 
 and years ago, consented to your father's 
 
THE PHYSIOIAK 
 
 209 
 
 laying an emSargo on that fifty thousand 
 dollars — a proceeding, sir, against which 
 every principle of prudence and economy 
 seemed to protest — " 
 
 " You protested, if I remember rightly, 
 Tom," interrupted Outhbert, arching his eye- 
 brow; "but the economic principles were 
 rather on our side. So soon as poor Go- 
 lightley's drafts began to be a matter of 
 course, I, with my unfailing sagacity, fore- 
 saw the future up to this very day, and per- 
 ceived that, unless the legacy had been put 
 out of reach in that way, it would have been 
 drafted away with the rest. Then I in- 
 formed Golightley of the exact amount at 
 my disposal, and explained to him the worse 
 than uselessness of overdrawing. And he 
 never did overdraw." 
 
 "Ah, he had no lien upon Eve's rights, 
 whatever he may have had upon yours. 
 Captain Urmson had that fact in mind, I 
 apprehend, when he executed the codicil. 
 He never really believed but that the girl 
 was tomahawked ; but he had a presenti- 
 ment that Golightley would make trouble, 
 and so used Eve's name to secure you at 
 least half the property. It may almost be 
 called your own now, the allotted term of 
 years is so nearly out." 
 
 " Five or six years hence seems a long 
 'now' to a fellow in my condition," re- 
 mai-ked Outhbert, with a smile. 
 
 "You have got the same erroneous im- 
 pression that I had tiU lately. 'Tis true, the 
 codicil was executed some years later than 
 the will; but, whetherby accident or design, 
 the date of the will governs the provisions 
 of the codicil ; therefore, unless the persons 
 therein mentioned appear within the next 
 few months, their claim will be antiquated. 
 Ay, ay, you are providentially favored so far 
 as that goes, and Garth will have something 
 to get married on." 
 
 "Unless the persons therein mentioned 
 do appear," Outhbert murmured, half to 
 himself, and he added, aloud, " Did you 
 speak of this to my brother? " 
 
 " No, sir," said Grindle, with emphasis. 
 " As I said, he does not inspire me with con- 
 fidence. By-the-by, he made some remarks 
 on Madge, who seems to have grown into a 
 lovely young woman ; he volunteered some 
 14 
 
 reflections on her which I can tardly recon- 
 cile with my own impression of her. Do 
 you like the match? " 
 
 "It has been a long engagement, you 
 know," replied Outhbert, with some hesita- 
 tion, " and one might suppose that if there 
 were any incompatibility, it would have 
 come to the surface before now. Neverthe- 
 less, I think it would be juster to both par- 
 ties if this discovery of yours about the 
 codicil were kept private for a time. How- 
 ever ardent Madge's affection for Garth may 
 be, I fancy money would inflame it still 
 more; and though in process of time she 
 might find Garth a little wearisome, I'm sure 
 she would remain constant to — Plutus." 
 
 " Oho I Outhbert, I'm sorry to hear this 
 — heartily sorry. Your brother's insinua- 
 tions, had I been inclined to accept them, 
 might have prepared me for it. No ; Garth 
 is no fit rival for Plutus. But is that lovely 
 girl . . . . ? " Professor Grindle mused a 
 moment and sighed. His interviews with 
 Madge had been brief and far between, yet 
 enough, apparently, to render this- new light 
 thrown upon her character something more 
 than a disappointment to him. Under or- 
 dinary circumstances, he would uncompro- 
 misingly have rebelled against any deprecia- 
 tion of her ; but Outhbert, unlike most peo- 
 ple, was accustomed to say less than he 
 meant, and only to say that upon grave occa- 
 sion. " Have you hinted of this to Garth ? " 
 Grindle added. 
 
 " I have always allowed Garth's opinions 
 to correct themselves, Tom. He is often 
 wrong ; but, when he is right, he knows 
 why. I may as well unburden my soul to 
 you : I hope they won't marry ; and, if Garth 
 can manage to stay poor awhile longer, I 
 don't believe they will. The situation is a 
 peculiar one. She likes him weU enough, 
 all but his artistic phase ; and he, if he would 
 abjure his art, would love her fiercely with 
 all that remained^that is, with the less 
 noble part of him. He partly understands 
 that, I think, and dreads it the more because, 
 at the same time, he feels it a temptation. 
 Yon can imdef stand, Tom, how Madge might 
 tempt a hot-hearted yet undemonstrative 
 young fellow like him." 
 
 "Ay, very well," said Grindle, nodding 
 
210 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 his head slowly. "And, being betrothed, 
 honor would seem to throw its weight into 
 the wrong scale. 'Tis an awkward knot for 
 the boy to untie, indeed. But, if Madge has 
 made up her mind for riches, she will untie 
 it for him." 
 
 " She must not be depended on either 
 for good or ill. 1 believe her capable of 
 making a great sacrifice, if her feminine per- 
 versity be inflamed. Jealousy, or pique, or 
 a sudden impulse of admiration for his phys- 
 ical manliness, would be likely to drive her 
 straight into Garth's arms, though it is quite 
 as likely that she would repent the day after- 
 ward. She is a good deal more or less than 
 mercenary. But her attackable point is her 
 seif-esteem. She would hardly believe that 
 Garth could tire of her, or esteem her second 
 to any other woman ; and, feeling no anxiety 
 about the security of her power over him, 
 she naturally values him the less. Besides, 
 I fancy his illness has rather cooled her re- 
 gard than warmed it ; she is like a beautiful 
 animal in her inability to sympathize with 
 physical suffering." 
 
 "Don't tell me she hasn't been at his 
 side through it all, Urmson I What did your 
 brother say about her having played him to 
 sleep this very morning? " 
 
 "Not Madge. That was Elinor." 
 
 "That cold, silent girl? Elinor — hardly 
 saw her, sir ! " Grindle took his short 
 beard in his hand, and crossed his leg em- 
 phatically toward his interluctor. "Hey? 
 Elinor — Is that another complication, 
 Urmson ? Unless my recollection's at fault, 
 it was to an Elinor that your brother told me 
 he was betrothed. Hey ? " 
 
 " The engagement has been made public, 
 and need not further concern us," returned 
 Cuthbert, with one of his quiet looks of 
 dismissal. " Elinor took Mrs. Tenterden's 
 place for to-day, that's all ; and Garth seems 
 to have improved more by an hour with her 
 than by what the rest of us could do for him 
 in three weeks. She has the nursing talent, 
 which Madge lacks, and seemingly she didn't 
 fear contagion." 
 
 " Typhoid contagious ! " said Grindle, 
 grimly chuckling. 
 
 " So say many ; and I have thought it as 
 well not to combat the prejudice. Mrs. Ten- 
 
 I terden, though most kind and helpful down- 
 stairs, would be a little tremendous in a sick- 
 chamber; and Madge, since she seemed in- 
 clined to keep away at any rate, would he 
 none the worse for a pretext both for jus- 
 tifying her resolution and making her stick 
 to it. ' This only is the witchcraft I have 
 used.' " 
 
 "You are a more subtile man than 
 OtheUo — hut always in an honest way, too," 
 obseived Grindle, slowly settling back into 
 gravity. "Well, well. If music physics 
 him best, and neither Madge nor Golightley 
 objects, the experiment is worth prosecut- 
 ing. Cold, she seemed to me — impassive. 
 Not handsome either, though refined. Must 
 look at her again. But, by-the-by, how 
 came Madge, your beautiful animal, to put 
 herself in the way of sick-rooms and con- 
 tagion to-day ? Is she returning to human- 
 ity?" 
 
 " If it were not Madge, I thould lay it to 
 Elinor's having come first; but I can't ac- 
 count for it. She was in a rather remarka- 
 ble mood. Something must have happened, 
 I think, which has put her out of her usual 
 course. There's no use in speculating about 
 it; but, once kindled or goaded into full 
 emotional and intellectual activity, Madge 
 would be a very interesting and unconven- 
 tional object. Oome, Tom, throw away your 
 cigar, and let's see whether the sick boy is 
 awake yet." 
 
 "He'll come out of it, sir," said Grindle, 
 getting to his feet, and standing for a mo- 
 ment with his fists upon his hips, gazing in- 
 to the fire. " All he needs is care, patience, 
 and eating. Let the young lady play to him 
 once in a while, if he likes it. Must have 
 a word with her, by-the-by, before I go. 
 Lead on, lead on." 
 
 CHAPTER LX. 
 
 KIKOMIS'S LODOEB. 
 
 Meanwhile, it is no less than the due of 
 SO respectable a personage as Nikomis that 
 some inquiry should be made into her doings 
 on this somewhat eventfnl morning. Tlie 
 old lady was a notable "medicine-woman," 
 
NIKOMIS'S LODGER. 
 
 211 
 
 from an Indian point of view ; and, in her 
 own opinion, Garth's recovery, if it toclc 
 place, would be mainly owing to what she 
 had done for him. Her chief concern, how- 
 ever, had all along been rather for Cuthbert 
 than for him. Toward Cuthbert her senti- 
 ments had, during the past ten years, under- 
 gone some important modifications, the fall 
 significance of which may appear later on. 
 But it may be mentioned in this place that 
 something like a feeling of mutual respect 
 had grown up between the two ; and this 
 had ripened latterly into a peculiar confiden- 
 tial relation, unsuspected by any third per- 
 son, not only as to its nature, but in itself. 
 Among other matters, Nikomis had been 
 made acquainted with the character of the 
 disease from which Cuthbert was sufiering, 
 and which, in all human probability, must 
 sooner or later make an end of him. It 
 might, however, be alleviated, and to this 
 good end the Indian had taxed the best re- 
 sources of her knowledge and experience. 
 But the anxiety of mind and bodily exhaus- 
 tion brought about by Garth's illness had 
 hastened the progress of his father's trouble, 
 and Nikomis, while nursing both invalids 
 with tolerable impartiality, could not free 
 herself from a shade of resentment toward 
 the younger man for sapping, however 
 unconsciously, the springs of the elder's 
 life. 
 
 When Cuthbert, therefore, went to lie 
 down early that morning, leaving Garth in 
 her care, she resolved that he and not Garth 
 should get the first benefit of her ministra- 
 tions. She had already prepared a narcotic, 
 famous in her Indian pharmacy for its 
 soothing and restorative virtues, and possi- 
 bly had enhanced its efficacy by distilling it 
 under certain aspects of the moon, or mut- 
 tering over it spells which made it worth all 
 the unhewitched nostrums in the world. Be 
 that as it may, she now poured a sufficient 
 dose of it into a wineglass, disguised its fla- 
 vor with a little brandy, and got Cuthbert 
 to swallow it between waking and sleeping. 
 Then, leaving the glass upon the table, she 
 hobbled grimly oflT to Garth's chamber — as 
 unprepossessing a herald of health, perhaps, 
 as ever did her best for two human lives. 
 Garth having been made as easy as might 
 
 be, 'Nikomis betook herself to the congenial 
 kitchen, intending, no doubt, to spend an 
 hour or so over a pipe and a tumbler of 
 grog. Ere she could estaWish herself in her 
 iwonted corner, however, her attention was 
 caught by a scratching sound, alternating 
 with a low, whining whimper, which seemed 
 to come from outside the back-door that 
 opened upon the orchard. An ordinary lis- 
 tener woidd have supposed that some vaga- 
 bond dog, chilled by the night air and em- 
 boldened by hunger, was trying to gain ad- 
 mittance to the warm hearth and the hospi- 
 tality of a bone. But Nikomis was not an 
 ordinary listener ; she had the ears and in- 
 stincts of a savage, and so seemingly com- 
 monplace a sound as this had for her a 
 meaning as definite and clear as the most 
 straightforward utterance of sentences could 
 have conveyed. She stood rigid, with her 
 head thrust forward and her breath drawn. 
 The noise came again ; she took a few quick, 
 moccasined steps forward, and pausing close 
 to the door, gave vent to an answering 
 whimper, ending in a mufiled bark. There 
 was a brief pause, and then the door was 
 cautiously opened, and a tall man, carrying a 
 heavy, oblong box strapped to his shoulders, 
 and a stout, smooth cudgel in his hand, ap- 
 peared on the threshold. 
 
 " All alone, granny ? " he asked in a 
 rapid, sliding utterance, still holding the 
 door-latch in his hand, and peering round 
 and beyond her as he spoke. 
 
 Nikomis gazed at him intently — so in- 
 tently that the faculty of speech seemed 
 temporarily lost to her; but on the tall 
 man's repeating his inquiry somewhat impa- 
 tiently, she made a gesture of assent with 
 her hand, still keeping her black eyes fixed 
 upon his face. After yet a moment's hesita- 
 tion, he came in, with a step rapid and slid- 
 ing, like his voice, though at the same time 
 there was about his bearing a something half 
 defiant, half jaunty, which indicated a man 
 whose satisfaction with himself had outlived 
 his faith and reliance on most other matters. 
 He was dressed in a dirty velveteen jacket 
 and torn felt hat ; his black hair hung in 
 straight black masses about a swarthy face, 
 which might have been handsome but for 
 the disfigurement of a pair of green specta- 
 
212 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 cles with heavy brass bows to them. Alto- 
 gether, he had rather an Italian aspect ; and 
 the heavy burden upon his shoulders, which 
 on a nearer glance appeared to be a hand- 
 organ, might have confirmed a stranger in 
 assigning him that nationality. It was ten 
 to one that he was a Neapolitan organ-grinder 
 in very needy circumstances. 
 
 "What you staring at, granny?" de- 
 manded he in a whisper, putting his hand 
 briskly on the old woman's shoulder. " Glad 
 t' see me, eh ? Why don't you say so, then ? 
 Here," he added, "help me off with this 
 damned old box, granny, and carry it up to 
 the wigwam for me. Got wigwam up in the 
 garret, eh ?— I know." He slipped the broad 
 leathera strap down from his shoulder and 
 swung the organ round against Nikomis, who 
 helped him lower it noiselessly to the ground. 
 " That feels good," said he, expanding his 
 chest and giving his shoulders a shake. "I've 
 carried that thing all the way from Boston, 
 granny. You get it up to the garret rigiit 
 off. Wait a minute ! " He took her abrupt- 
 ly by the arm again. " Sure all safe here — 
 what? no harm in th' house — what? " 
 
 Nikomis put up her hand doubtfully and 
 took the disfiguring green spectacles from 
 the man's nose. The black eyes thus dis- 
 closed were handsome and penetrating, but 
 evasive. But to Nikomis they were dearer 
 than her own. " Sam ! " said she, fastening 
 her long knotty fingers on his tall shoulders, 
 and looking up at him in a kind of spasm of 
 grotesque delight. " You at home now. 
 This all safe — your home. Nikomis bid you 
 welcome." With the last words she straight- 
 ened herself and made a waving gesture of 
 greeting with her hand, as though she were 
 an envoy come to present a palace to a mon- 
 arch. Sam laughed — an almost noiseless 
 laugh, covering his teeth with his lips and 
 ducking his chin down to his breast. 
 
 " You very grand, old woman ! My home 
 — I know ; but there's some little things to 
 be settled up first, you know. Let's see, now 
 — Garth sick, is he ? But where's the old 
 man ? — he sick too ? " 
 
 " Cuthbert sleeps," returned the Indian. 
 "Why you come this way?" she added, 
 noticing for the first time the significance of 
 his disguise. " Why you make look so poor, 
 
 Sam? You not rich any more? Anybody 
 you're afraid of? " 
 
 " Oh, well, that's a long story ; tell you 
 all about it directly, granny^too damned 
 hungry for any powwow now. Show me 
 where I can get something to eat, first thing • 
 and take that old' organ-box, up-stairs — d'yon 
 hear ? Got all my things in it — mustn't be 
 where anybody can find it. I'm going to 
 keep dark for a while, granny — d'you un- 
 derstand? Oome, now, show me where the 
 meat is." 
 
 Nikomis, although accustomed to exact 
 and receive ceremonious treatment from all 
 pale-faced mortals, seemed ready to accept 
 with meekness any amount of this dark- 
 skinned vagabond's cavalier behavior. She 
 set a plentiful meal before him, and then, re- 
 turning to the box, contrived with difiBculty 
 to mount it on her venerable back, and so to 
 lug it slowly and uncomplainingly up to her 
 wigwam. Arrived there, she seated herself 
 upon it and spent a few minutes in regaining 
 her breath, both physical and metaphysical. 
 Eising at length, she made a few alterations 
 in the arrangement of the place; and when 
 all was ordered to her satisfaction, she hob- 
 bled silently down to the kitchen again, 
 where Sam was leaning back in his chair and 
 enjoying the luxury of appeased appetite. 
 The beef and bread, and still more the flat- 
 tering unction of a glass of brandy, had evi- 
 dently won him to a more genial mood. 
 
 "There you are again, granny! So the 
 old thing didn't break your back, after all— ^ 
 what? Oh, I knew you wouldn't mind it. 
 Didn't you lug me on your shoulders when 
 I was a papoose, and your cursed old knea 
 was out of joint? Hobbling still, are you? 
 That's right. So yon remember the signals 
 we used to have ten years ago, 'nd let in 
 your little Sammy that had been away so 
 long! He been through great lot of things 
 since he saw you last, granny. Come along 
 up to th' wigwam, 'nd he'll tell you about 
 it." 
 
 Nikomis signified her willingness to lead 
 the way, and Sam, having slipped off his 
 travel-stained boots, followed her up to the 
 first floor. The door of Onthbert's room 
 stood ajar; the half-breed peeped in, and, 
 seeing how soundly the inmate slept, he 
 
NIKOMIS'S LODGER. 
 
 213 
 
 glided stealthily up to the bedside. Nikomis, 
 who had remained at the entrance, saw him 
 stoop down and listen to the old man's low- 
 drawn breathing. Then he drew a straight, 
 narrow-bladed knife from an inner pocket of 
 his coat, and made a pass with it toward the 
 sleeper's heart. Nikomis uttered a guttural 
 exclamation, loud enough to have waked 
 Outhbert but for the sleeping potion he had 
 taken, and clutched forward vehemently with 
 both hands. Sam had turned the point aside 
 just as it arrived within a hair's-breadth 
 of the other's breast ; but at Nikomis's cry 
 he uplifted the knife again, while his feat- 
 ures took on a more sinister expression than 
 they had yet worn, and for a few moments 
 he stood in position to strike, watching if 
 Outhbert's eyelids trembled. But he lay as 
 quiet and untroubled as though the breadth 
 of the world had interposed between him 
 and violence. Sam now threw a glance of 
 jeering defiance toward the door, turned the 
 knife in his hand,- and, with a rapid motion 
 of the wrist, made a pretense of taking Mr. 
 Urmson's scalp. Then slipping the weapon 
 back into his pocket, and laughing one of 
 his silent laughs, he came away. 
 
 " What made you yell out, you old fool ? " 
 he said, as he rejoined Nikomis. " What 
 should you care 'f I stuck him ? I'd 'a done 
 it 'f he'd waked ; 'most sorry he didn't. Hira 
 and Garth, too, curse 'em I Where is Garth ? 
 Never mind, never mind ; I'd cut his heart 
 out 'f I were to see him — couldn't help my- 
 self. All right, all right ; we'll be even with 
 'em some day. Come on, granny.'' 
 
 They creaked up the attic-stairs together, 
 and entered Nikomis's apartment. It was at 
 the corner of the garret opposite to Garth's 
 studio, partitioned ofiE from the intermediate 
 space by a rough boarding, and lighted by 
 two small windows cut in the northern and 
 western walls. But Nikomis ignored wood- 
 en walls, and had fitted up the interior in 
 such a manner as vividly to recall the abo- 
 riginal wigwam. Seven or eight bean-poles 
 were fixed at the circumference of a large 
 circular space on the floor, and leaned 
 toward one another until they met in a 
 clump just below the ceiling. Around this 
 framework were draped a number of old 
 skins and blankets, s6 that the whole formed 
 
 a rude tent, quite dark within, save when 
 the loose flap that served as a door was fold- 
 ed back. When this was done, however, 
 and the eyes had had time to get used to the 
 gloom, the floor was seen to be carpeted with 
 dried sweet-fern; and the bed or mattress 
 at one side was formed of a thicker layer of 
 the same heathery shrub, covered over with 
 a threadbare rug. Around the sloping sides 
 of the structure might be dimly discerned 
 various savage implements and trophies, 
 while strings of colored beads, charms, med- 
 icine-bags, and a number of quaint utensils, 
 such as only an inveterate old witch like 
 Nikomis could have imagined any use for, 
 glimmered duskily here and there. But 
 perhaps the most impressive sight, albeit the 
 one least likely to be discernible to prying 
 eyes, was the row of questionable objects dan- 
 gling from a string which stretched from one 
 side to another of the wigwam, at about a 
 man's height from the floor. They resembled 
 bunches of dried sea- weed as much as any- 
 thing, or small clots of turf, with long, fine 
 tufts of grass depending from them. In fact, 
 however, they were no such innocent mat- 
 ter : they were an assortment of old, smoke- 
 dried scalps, cut from their enemies' heads 
 by Nikomis's forefathers, and by her jealous- 
 ly preserved and prized, together with the 
 bloody legends belonging to each one of 
 them. In her more pensive moments the 
 old lady may be supposed to have derived 
 as much consolation from a view of these 
 ghastly mementos, dully illumined by the 
 lurid glow from the bowl of her tobacco- 
 pipe, as wonld a more civilized personage 
 from the gold-mounted miniatures of her de- 
 ceased grandparents and uncles, with locks 
 of their hair braided neatly into the backs 
 of the frames, and covered over with glass. 
 
 Into this retreat did Nikomis introduce 
 her tall companion, bidding him make him- 
 self at home there. He glanced about some- 
 what discontentedly, and would plainly have 
 preferred more commodious quarters, even 
 at the cost of a good part of the aboriginal 
 flavor. But there was no present oppor- 
 tunity of improving matters, and he was fain 
 to content himself with such solace as lay in 
 a pipe. His hostess's rank old clays faiUng 
 to suit his taste, which a residence abroad 
 
214 
 
 GAETH. 
 
 seemed to have rendered fastidious, he un- 
 locked his hand-organ and rummaged among 
 the medley of clothes, toilet-articles, skates, 
 perfumed letters, and other personal furni- 
 ture which it contained, until he laid hold 
 of a finely-colored meerschaum. This he 
 filled with some fragrant tohacco from an 
 oil-skin bag, and then, laying himself at 
 length upon Nikomis's sweet-fern mattress, 
 he began a leisurely account of his advent- 
 ures. 
 
 CHAPTEE LXI. 
 
 CHANGES. 
 
 To judge from his own version of them, 
 they reflected great credit upon his physical 
 address and intrepidity, upon his cunning, 
 and upon his freedom from moral prejudices. 
 Probably he described his ideal self, and no 
 doubt he occasionally ornamented the events 
 to match the hero of them. Nevertheless, 
 the main thread of the story must have co- 
 incided more or less closely with the truth, 
 and it certainly indicated a career of con- 
 siderable vicissitude. After leaving Urms- 
 worth, Sam, as we know, went to Newbury- 
 port, where Cuthbert supported him for up- 
 ward of a year as -an independent apprentice 
 at the gun-making trade. But the young 
 fellow had altogether too much ambition to 
 think of settling down in life as a gonsmith. 
 About the time that his tedium was ready 
 to drive him into some ill-advised escapade 
 or other, a lucky accident occurred to him. 
 It was the year of the robbery of the New- 
 buryport Bank. Neither in the deed itself 
 nor in the plotting of it did Sam have any 
 hand; but it so happened that a pistol, 
 whose stock he recognized as his own handi- 
 work, led him on to the discovery of the 
 criminals ; and so coolly and astutely did he 
 manage matters as to compel their purchase 
 of his silence at the price of no less than 
 five hundred dollars. Possessed of this vast 
 sum, he felt that the world lay before him, 
 and he was resolved to lose no time in 
 making trial of it. Ere setting forth, hdw- 
 ever, he bethought himself that it would be 
 a pleasant thing to have the society of an 
 agreeable and clever companion on his trav- 
 
 els; and he made a secret expedition to 
 Urmsworth in order to persuade the person 
 of his choice to join him. She hesitated 
 and wavered long, but finally yielded; and 
 it was in Kikomis's former wigwam, on the 
 borders of the forest, that the arrangements 
 for the elopement were made. It was on a 
 Saturday evening, about the middle of March, 
 and the flight was to take place the night 
 following. All went well, and the fugitives 
 had got safely to the borders of the lake, 
 and were almost on the point of embarking 
 on Sam's boat, when the unexpected appa- 
 rition of Garth, stripped to his waist, and 
 shooting the rapids in his canoe, changed the 
 young lady's mind. After a brisk dispute 
 with her would-be abductor, the pair sepa- 
 rated, she stealing quietly back to the little 
 cottage on the village outskirts, while Sam 
 rowed across the lake alone, and five days 
 later sailed out of Boston Harbor in a vessel 
 bound for Liverpool. 
 
 Over the first five or six years of his 
 European life he passed very lightly, and it 
 is not improbable that he may have looked 
 back upon them with something less than 
 pure satisfaction. His money was soon spent, 
 and he set himself to get some more. At one 
 time he was a member of a circus troupe, 
 and by bis own account achieved vast suc- 
 cess as a bare-back rider. Later he engaged 
 as groom in the family of an English noble- 
 man connected with the turf, and by taking 
 advantage of "private information," he con- 
 trived to land a large sum on the Derby of 
 that year. From this he might have gone 
 on and made a fortune, had he not unfortu- 
 nately persuaded himself, with cause or with- 
 out, that his employer's daughter, whom he 
 was in the habit of attending on her rides, 
 was in love with him. In the midst of his 
 hopes he received a summons to his master's 
 presence, when the latter handed him his 
 wages and then feU upon him with a horse- 
 whip. Sam resisted; the nobleman was 
 worsted in the fray ; and the upshot was, that 
 Sam was heavily fined for assault and battery. 
 
 He now left England and crossed over 
 to the Continent. Establishing himself at 
 Baden-Baden, he cut a considerable dash 
 with the remains of his Derby winnings, 
 gambled with a good deal of success, and 
 
CHANGES. 
 
 215 
 
 was accounted a personage of distinction. 
 One of the stock countesses of the place, 
 however, induced him to enter into a part- 
 nership. At the critical moment the out- 
 raged husband made his appearance, picked 
 his quarrel with Sam, and demanded satis- 
 faction. This he received — though in an 
 irregular way. Sam, having accepted the 
 challenge for the next morning, provided 
 himself with a whip and a pistol, surprised 
 the countess and her accomplice at their 
 rooms that night, forced the woman to gag 
 the man and tie him, half -naked, to the bed- 
 post ; then himself did a like service for her, 
 and grasping his whip, set to work with a 
 will upon both his enemies, nor held his 
 hand until both hung fainting and bloody 
 before him. In that situation did he leave 
 them, locking the door upon them and car- 
 rying off the key in his pocket. The next 
 evening he was safe in Paris, though with 
 only a hundred francs in his purse, and the 
 clothes he wore. This episode Sam related 
 with relish, nor did Nikomis withhold the 
 applause of glittering eyes and sympathetic 
 grunts. 
 
 But there can be little doubt that for a 
 long time thereafter the adventurer expe- 
 rienced almost unmitigated ill luck, and 
 made acquaintance with very low depths of 
 life indeed. He dodged about from one great 
 city to another, trying his fortune at cards, 
 billiards, thimble - rigging, acrobatisin, or 
 whatever else would put a little money in 
 his scrip. About this period he began to be 
 aware that by a sort of continuous coinci- 
 dence he kept meeting a rather good-look- 
 ing, stylishly-dressed gentleman, who seemed 
 to have no more settled residence or occu- 
 pation than himself, but who uniformly asso- 
 ciated withconspicuona personages lived lux- 
 uriously, and fared sumptuously every day. 
 Sam never had any communication with this 
 gentleman, never knew who he was, and sel- 
 dom got near enough to him even to distin- 
 guish the sound of his voice. But he thought 
 he remembered catching a glimpse of him 
 on the day of his landing in Liverpool ; he 
 believed he had once distinguished his blue 
 eye-glasses among the spectators at the cir- 
 cus, and he was sure he had seen him make 
 a bet at the Derby, and afterward drink a 
 
 glass of water at the spring in Baden-Baden. 
 By degrees, therefore, he came to regard 
 him as somehow connected with himself — a 
 repetition, in a higher sphere and with dis- 
 tinguished fortune, of his own vagabond 
 personahty. This superstitious fancy af- 
 fected Sam differently at different times. 
 Now he felt a sort of irrational attachment 
 to the man who played so well the part in 
 the world which it was his own ambition to 
 play; now he hated him for being so like 
 and yet so hopelessly above him. At one 
 moment he hailed him as an omen and pre- 
 figurement of what he himself was destined 
 to become ; at another, he cursed him as a 
 tantalizing ideal which he never would at- 
 tain. Sometimes he hoped to raise himself 
 to his level ; sometimes he longed for the 
 power to drag him down to his own. Oc- 
 casionally months would go by without 
 their meeting ; then, again, they would 
 seem to dog each other week after week. 
 Sam wondered what the issue of it all 
 would be. , 
 
 He was now about twenty-two years old, 
 rather striking in appearance, with manners 
 smoothed by contact with mankind, yet re- 
 taining enough individual flavor to be notice- 
 able. His faculties were alert and keen ; 
 his passions violent yet cold ; his bodily 
 vigor and versatility were much beyond the 
 average. His native stock of cunning had 
 been considerably enlarged, and he had rid 
 himself of all such moral and social preju- 
 dices as would be likely to impede him in 
 the struggle for existence. He desired the 
 good of no living creature but himself, and 
 he was ready to believe evil of anything or 
 anybody. On the whole, his chance of get- 
 ting ahead of circumstances was worth back- 
 ing ; but what he desperately needed and 
 could not obtain was a secure and respect- 
 able footing from which to act. 
 
 One day, in Vienna, after an unnsual 
 run of luck at billiards, which had enabled 
 him to deck himself out in better raiment 
 than ordinary, he strolled into a handsome 
 cafi to get a glass of brandy and a cigar. 
 From his table he could see through a half- 
 open door into an inner private room, where 
 four gentlemen were playing cards. Three 
 of these Sam knew by sight as persons of 
 
216 
 
 GATITE. 
 
 consequence in the city — wealthy men, 
 either connected with the government or 
 prominent in finance. The fourth, who sat 
 nearest the door, he immediately recognized 
 as his man of destiny. The'sight occasioned 
 him no surprise, though he had not before 
 known that the mysterious being was in 
 Vienna. Their fates were intertwined, al- 
 though they might never come into direct 
 contact. 
 
 The game was one which Sam held in 
 especial favor, perhaps because he had de- 
 vised a simple but exceedingly ingenious 
 trick which made winning almost a cer- 
 tainty, while detection was next to im- 
 possible. All that was required in it were 
 three prepared cards and a fair amount of 
 manual dexterity. As the swarthy and 
 saturnine adventurer moodily watched the 
 play, he cursed the luck that prevented him 
 from taking a hand at such a table. What 
 was the use of sleight-of-hand and ingenuity 
 if one had only shabby fellows, with coppers 
 in their pockets, to practise upon? One 
 hour in the chair now occupied by his 
 unknown other self would be worth ten 
 years' swindling of empty pockets. "What 
 he lacked was a word of introduction. Once 
 established on a footing with good society, 
 his fortune thenceforth would be secure. 
 But how, in the name of Beelzebub, was 
 that word of introduction to be had ? 
 
 The game proceeded with varying re- 
 sults, only the stakes became higher and 
 higher. All at once Sam had a sensation. 
 Unless his eyes deceived him, he had seen 
 his man perform precisely the trick which 
 Sam knew to be his own private invention. 
 He- rose quietly from his table and walked 
 to the door of the inner room, when a glance 
 at the cards convinced him that he had not 
 been mistaken. The latest and strangest 
 coincidence had taken place, and it had 
 brought their long correspondent careers 
 finally into collision. Sam returned to his 
 table, drank oif his brandy, again returned 
 to the private room, and entered it boldly. 
 He knew, and did not let slip, his oppor- 
 tunity. 
 
 The play was over ; the four gentlemen 
 were standing up, talking and laughing, the 
 winner carelessly folding up and placing in 
 
 his pocket-book a dozen or so of hundred- 
 thaler bank-notes. Sam took him familiarly 
 by the arm and grasped Ms hand. 
 
 " Act as if you knew me," said he in 
 English. " I sa5v you do that trick. You 
 have three prepared cards in your pocket. 
 I can have you searched' here before every- 
 body, and kicked out of society. I'll do it, 
 unless you present me to all these men as 
 your particular friend Mr. Flint. Come, 
 nowl " 
 
 The man, upon perceiving Sam's drift, 
 partially recovered his disturbed equanimity, 
 and shook hands with simulated cordiality. 
 The ceremony of presentation was then 
 punctiliously performed, and the disrepu- 
 table half-breed was a member of the best 
 society. After the usual compliments had 
 passed, Sam bade his sponsor enlarge upon 
 their early intimacy, and allude to him as a 
 young gentleman of vast wealth and highly 
 connected. The command was obeyed, and, 
 as in a fairy tale, the beggar was trans- 
 formed into a prince. The Baron von 
 Stecknadeln invited him to dine ; Kriegs- 
 rath Pickelhaube hoped to be honored by 
 his presence at the reception on Sunday 
 evening ; the banker Groschenlieb would 
 feel hurt if he did not drop in at his read- 
 ing-rooms the next morning. Mr. Flint 
 gravely bowed his acknowledgments. Be- 
 fore the company separated, he turned again 
 to his involuntary benefactor and requested 
 him for his card, remarking that he must 
 make a note of his address. It was given 
 accordingly, and Sam read upon it the name 
 of Mr. Golightley Urmson. 
 
 In a few minutes more they were alone. 
 
 " I want six hundred thalers,'' said Mr. 
 Flint. 
 
 " You may go to the devil 1 " said Mr. 
 Golightley Urmson. 
 
 " Gome, now, we'd better be friends, Mr. 
 Urmson. You're all right for this time, but 
 you'll be wanting to play that same game 
 again some day, and then I'll be there, you 
 depend. No use, Mr. Urmson, old boy! 
 You're no better than I am, 'nd you needn't 
 pretend to be. Come, now, I don't want to 
 hurt you ; 'f I get something to start on, I'll 
 do the rest for myself. Or we'll make a 
 pair of us, if you likcy *nd do business to- 
 
CHANGES. 
 
 217 
 
 gether. Six hundred thalers, old boy ! You 
 wouldn't want me to discredit your intro- 
 duction, would you ? " 
 
 Mr. Golightley TJrmson straightened him- 
 self, curled forward his side-looks, and made 
 his tinted eye-glasses glisten overawingly. 
 He explained that he was not what Mr. Flint 
 took him for ; that this had been the first 
 and would be the last time he ever cheated 
 at cards ; that he had done it only to relieve 
 a temporary embarrassment, and that so soon 
 as his remittances arrived he intended giving 
 the gentlemen their revenge. " You are an 
 impudent rogue,'' he added ; " but you hap- 
 pened to detect me in an action which I re- 
 gret, and I am willing to regard your impu- 
 dence as a timely retribution for my — ah — 
 fault. I don't mind giving you some money 
 as a free gift— a self-inflicted penance. Un- 
 derstand, I am not in the least danger from 
 you, nor would I consent to be intimidated 
 if I were. This is a free — ah — contribution." 
 Here the orator magnificently drew forth his 
 pocket-book, took out of it with the tips of 
 his long fingers a fold of bank-notes, and, 
 averting his eyes, held them superciliously 
 toward Mr. Flint. " IsTow go to the devil ! " 
 he repeated, turning away. 
 
 "Ifow you look here, old boy," said the 
 other, stepping quickly in front of him ; " I 
 know you 'nd all about you. I know what part 
 of ITew Hampshire' your remittances come 
 from, and who sends 'em. I've watched 
 you for five years 'nd more. You're no bet- 
 ter than I am, except for luck. I knew we'd 
 be even some day, whether I went up or 
 yon went down. You've kept up very nice- 
 ly, haven't you, and know all the fine peo- 
 ple ? Very well. I'm even with you now, 
 and if I go down, you'll go with me. The 
 same devil for us both, old boy ! I shall do 
 all right without you for a while ; but if I 
 ever get in any scrape, I shall use your name 
 to get out of it again. Maybe it'll get worn 
 out sooner with both of us using it, but it'll 
 be worn out for you 's well as for me. So 
 maybe you'll want to keep me out of scrapes 
 —what?" 
 
 " I cannot consent to be intihiidated," 
 Golightley repeated, still fingering his side- 
 looks with an air of superiority, and begin- 
 ning to walk off. Mr. Flint allowed him to 
 
 get some distance away, and then called af- 
 ter him, in a tone so loud as to attract the 
 notice of every one in the cafe, " Hi! Urm- 
 son, hold on ! " 
 
 Golightley looked over his shoulder and 
 paused. " Something wrong about this 
 money," called Mr. Flint, not moving from 
 his easy position on the end of the table, 
 and shaking the notes in the air. "You've 
 cheated me out of — " 
 
 Golightley came hastily back. Mr. Flint 
 had spoken in German, and the tenor of his 
 remarks did not promise to be such as the 
 public ought to be made priv>y to. Golight- 
 ley came up pale and a little tremulous, either 
 with fury or, despite his disclaimer, with fury 
 mingled with fear. Mr. Flint ducked down 
 his head and laughed. " There's only five 
 hundred here," explained he, so soon as he 
 had recovered his gravity. " Come on, now 
 — another hundred, old boy ! " 
 
 The other hesitated. No doubt that, for 
 a moment or two, he meditated rebellion at 
 whatever cost. He looked into Mr. Flint's 
 keen black eyes, and knew that he had to 
 deal with a man more unprincipled and more 
 desperate than himself — a man who had 
 gained a most unlucky advantage over him, 
 and who, moreover, had in some inexplicable 
 manner become possessed of a knowledge 
 concerning himself and his private aflfairs^ 
 which already went far enough, and might, 
 for all Golightley knew, extend much further. 
 Of Mr. Fhnt, on the other hand, Golightley 
 knew nothing ; but, as he looked at him, he 
 fancied he recollected having met with that 
 swarthy, sinister, impenetrable face often 
 before ; it had haunted him for years past, 
 like an evil genius, and now, at last, had 
 fastened its ugly hold upon him. To defy 
 an unknown, unscrupulous, hostile power 
 like this was certainly rash, and might be 
 fatal ; nevertheless, the momentary impulse 
 to do so was almost irresistible. A man's 
 freedom, when it is first threatened, seems 
 better worth preserving than honor, reputa- 
 tion, wealth, or any other thing. Yet it so 
 happens that, in perhaps nine cases out of 
 ten, freedom is sacrificed in the end. In the 
 present instance Golightley had greatly weak- 
 ened his position by yielding to Mr. Flint's 
 first approaches : had he resisted from the 
 
218 
 
 GAETH. 
 
 outset, all might have heen well ; but he had 
 been taken too utterly by surprise to weigh 
 the matter, and the first demands'made upon 
 him had seemed to be such as it could do no 
 great harm to grant. By so doing, however, 
 he had crippled his independence, and to re- 
 trieve it now might be ruin. He hesitated 
 for nearly a minute, while Mr. Flint silently 
 but guardedly watched him. It is hardly too 
 much to say that during these few seconds 
 Golightley suffered as much anguish of mind 
 as it was within his scope to feel. Suddenly 
 drops of sweat started out on his forehead 
 and ran down into his beard. He hastily 
 took out his pocket-book, thrust the note 
 into Mr. Flint's hand, and hurried away. 
 The strength seemed to have slid out of him. 
 He stumbled once or twice before reaching 
 the street, and did not keep his chin uplifted 
 as usual. 
 
 Such, in effect, is the version of this 
 occurrence which Sam confided to Nikomis. 
 Perhaps he exaggerated the ease and com- 
 pleteness of his own victory, and under- 
 stated the prowess of his antagonist ; yet 
 there can be little question that the final 
 result of the contest was much as he repre- 
 sented it to be. At all events, his worldly 
 standing underwent a transformation forth- 
 with. He rose at once to the higher social 
 strata. His Indian strain rather helped him 
 than the contrary in his intercourse with 
 polite circles ; his foreign appeai'ance was a 
 distinction, the more because no one knew 
 from what nationality he sprang ; and he 
 had tact enough, and a suflScient smattering 
 of languages, to satisfy tolerably well the 
 demands of fashionable society. He lived 
 by his wits as before, but the opportunities 
 and the gains were far greater ; and he nsed 
 so much caution in his operations as for the 
 most part to escape even suspicion. With 
 Golightley he wisely interfered as seldom as 
 possible ; although, whenever his own re- 
 sources waned, he never hesitated to demand, 
 or failed to receive, assistance. By degrees 
 the relations of the two men became less 
 hostile; they drifted into a half-explicit 
 partnership. Either Golightley's moral fibre 
 continued to deteriorate, or he tacitly con- 
 fessed himself a greater rogue than he had 
 at first pretended. Be that as it may, he 
 
 accepted Mr. Flint's cooperation in several 
 shady strokes of business. But the more 
 closely their actual interests were identified, 
 the further did they retire from visible in- 
 timacy. The breadth of Europe was more 
 often between them than not ; when neces- 
 sary, they corresponded through the post, 
 and once in a while they had an interview. 
 Life went on with them pretty comfort- 
 ably, and Mr. Flint at least greatly en- 
 joyed himself. His physical accomplish- 
 ments aided to render him somewhat con- 
 spicuous : as a horseman, a hunter, and a 
 swordsman, he was in high repute ; and 
 once, after skating before Ozar Nicholas of 
 Russia, that potentate personally expressed 
 to him his satisfaction, and gave him a 
 diamond ring, which Sam still retained — 
 less, perhaps, out of sentiment than as a 
 resource in the hour of adversity. 
 
 " Why you make look so poor now, 
 Sam?" demanded Nikomis, at this point, 
 recurring to the question which had puzzled 
 her at the outset ; since, for all he had said 
 thus far, there seemed no reason why her 
 grandson should not be as affluent as at any 
 period of his career. 
 
 " Oh, well, granny, Golightley's here, 
 isn't he ? S' long as he's rich, I sha'n't stay 
 so very poor — he ! he ! he ! Madge says 
 he's going to be married, and I s'pose,'' 
 added Sam humorously, "he'll like having 
 me best man at his wedding.'' 
 
 " You seen Madge ? " asked Nikomis, a 
 little jealously. 
 
 " Seen her this morning ; mighty pretty 
 girl she is now, granny — mighty nice ! She 
 told me something I didn't know before," 
 he continued, after a pause, throwing a 
 sharp glance at the old woman. "I knew 
 who your daughter-in-law was before, 
 granny ; but you never told me how kind 
 my grandpa had been to me — what? Oh, 
 no, I'm not so very poor, aft;er all, gran- 
 ny." 
 
 " What you goipg to do with Madge ? " 
 asked Nikomis, passing over these allusions. 
 
 " What d' you want me to do ? " 
 
 " Ugh ! marry her," said Nikomis. 
 
 Sam knocked the ashes out of his pipe 
 and laughed silently to himself. "She 
 mighty pretty girl, granny," was all his 
 
CHANGES. 
 
 219 
 
 reply. After refilling and lighting his pipe, 
 he said: " Old Golightley's got ahead of me 
 this time. They can't touch him till they've 
 caught me. No evidence against him, 'less 
 I give it. Tell you what, though, I don't 
 care. I spent all my share, 'nd if they track 
 me down, I'll peach on him. Damn hi:n, 
 he had more 'n half the money, anyway, 'nd 
 I'll do it, 'less he gives me half what he's 
 got." 
 
 " You stolen money, Sam ? — stolen money 
 right out ? Whose money — urn-? " 
 
 " What you looking so glum about, 
 granny ? " returned Sam, with a passing 
 Boowl. " What do you care whose money 
 it was ? It was Golightley's stealing, any- 
 way ; he put me up to it, 'nd then covered 
 all his own tracks, curse him ! " 
 
 " Nikomis sorry you a thief, Sam," said 
 the old squaw, with a grim solemnity of man- 
 ner different from her hitherto submissive 
 and fond demeanor. " Nikomis never been 
 a thief. You might have had my money. 
 Me sorry you came here 'fraid to show your- 
 self. Nikomis never 'fraid to show myself." 
 
 " Never mind, granny. Garth 'nd Outh- 
 bert can't deny the legacy — that's safe, any- 
 way." 
 
 " Don't know 'bout that," said Nikomis, 
 shaking her head. " Maybe Golightley 
 spent all that. Besides, how you going to 
 make show it's yours ? " 
 
 " You've got the papers, haven't you, to 
 prove who I am ? " exclaimed Sam, jerking 
 himself suddenly up on his elbow. " Damn 
 you, you haven't lost them? Madge said 
 you had 'em. Come, now, granny, no non- 
 sense ! " 
 
 " Ugh ! Madge. You better ask her for 
 'em, then," retorted the Indian, with a 
 gleam of sullen resentment. " Maybe she 
 got 'em." 
 
 " By the devil, you old hag," said Sam, 
 sitting up with a threatening look, " didn't 
 I tell you, no nonsense? What you done 
 with those papers, now ? I want 'em." 
 
 " You cut raf heart out, Sam," was Ni- 
 komis's reply, sitting grimly impassive be- 
 fore him. "Maybe you find the papers in- 
 side me." 
 
 The other threw himself back on his 
 mattress, with something between a snarl 
 
 and a snicker. Plainly his grandparent was 
 not to be intimidated, and since she alone 
 could establish his claim to the Eve legacy, 
 he had made a mistake in trying to buUy 
 her. She must be cajoled into good-humor ; 
 though, as to the probable cause of her 
 sudden perversity, Sam was quite in the 
 dark. 
 
 And, indeed, such waywardness might 
 well appear singular. During many years 
 Sam had been the old woman's hero. She 
 had seen in him the Instrument of retribu- 
 tion upon the traditional enemies of her 
 tribe. In his absence she had adorned him 
 with every stern or subtle quality that an- 
 swered in her savage code for virtues, and 
 had looked forward to his return as to the 
 proud consummation of her life ; she was no 
 squeamish moralist, and her decalogue had 
 little in common with the Mosaic one. Nev- 
 ertheless she owned her prejudices, and next 
 to cowardice disdained vulgar theft. A man 
 might conquer men by open violence, or 
 by superior craft if force were unavailing; 
 but tamely to steal was beneath the dig- 
 nity of a true Indian, descendant of mighty 
 sachems. 
 
 In short, deep-seated and long-suSering 
 though Nikomis's affection was, it could not 
 stand the strain of her contempt ; and Sam's 
 shameless avowal of his shame had fortified 
 her scorn. Moreover, the thonght that en- 
 riching him meant impoverishing the TJrm- 
 sons bore weightily against him. For, al- 
 though theoretically hostile toward Garth 
 and his father, their cliaritable and kindly 
 conduct toward her throughout the past 
 years had not been without effect ; insomuch 
 that at this crisis she found herself, not a 
 little to her own surprise, taking their part 
 against her grandson and herself. It was a 
 strange transformation, albeit by the logic 
 of circumstances inevitable. Eevenge, if put 
 off too long, is apt to become an irksome 
 affair, the realization of which would bring 
 more disaster than its defeat. Yet it might 
 be rash to credit Nikomis, on the strength of 
 her quarrel with Sam, with an abandonment 
 of all sinister designs against the Urmsons. 
 Her nature was a dark and involved one, and 
 she was probably capable of shielding her 
 foe from an unworthy tomahawk, only in 
 
220 
 
 GAETH. 
 
 order to btitoher him herself with proper 
 respect afterward. 
 
 Meanwhile, before Sam could reopen the 
 conversation upon a more conciliatory basis, 
 Elinor's knock at the outer door of the house 
 put an end to the interview for the time 
 being. Nikomis, who supposed the visitor 
 to be Mi's. Tenterden, prepared to go down ; 
 and the half-breed, with his pipe still be- 
 tween his teeth, turned on his side and com- 
 posed himself for a nap. Nikomis, at the 
 door of the wigwam, turned round, with the 
 flap in her hand, and looked within. There 
 lay Sam, the darkest object in the darkness, 
 as he was the least heroic in her regard. 
 With a grunt the old Indian let the flap fall 
 over the opening, and so made the darkness 
 uniform and complete. Then she turned 
 away, and slowly hobbled down the garret- 
 gtairs. She had blotted her grandson out. 
 
 CHAPTER LXII. 
 
 MADGE'S VICISSITUDES. 
 
 Although Nikomis had opposed a toler- 
 ably impassive front toward her degenerate 
 grandson, her heart was secretly bitter with 
 its unsunned wrath, and she retired in a 
 mood to avenge herself upon friend and foe 
 alike. Had she, at this juncture, encountered 
 Mrs. Tenterden instead of Elinor, the for- 
 mer's constitutional timidity and want of 
 tact, acting upon the sardonic and exasper- 
 ated temper of the Indian, might easily have 
 brought on a catastrophe. But after her 
 brief and vehement altercation with the 
 younger lady, the old witch withdrew in a 
 state of such composure as often results from 
 the meeting together of two strenuous men- 
 tal atmospheres. Yet the storm may have 
 been rather postponed than dissipated, the 
 exciting causes remaining. Nikomis might 
 yet find occasion to relieve her soul. 
 
 Madge, after her interview with Sam in 
 the small hours of the morning, had returned 
 to her chamber glowing with pleasurable ex- 
 citement. Lying upon bar bed, her hands 
 clasped between her cheek and the pillow, 
 and her dark, sparkling eyes looking into the 
 darkness, she had meditated until dawn. At 
 
 an early hour she left the house and betook 
 herself to Urmhurst, which she entered noise- 
 lessly by the kitchen-door. A few minutes 
 afterward she was standing (as Sam had 
 stood two or three hours before, and as Sel- 
 wyn was to do not long afterward) by Outh- 
 bert's bedside. 
 
 "He looks dead," she thought to herself. 
 " What if he and Garth were dead — it's all 
 so silent here ! " She shook her head. " I 
 shouldn't like it ; I don't want it to be so. 
 Death is disgusting; besides, then, every- 
 thing would happen because there was no 
 help for it, and there would be no chance of 
 changing one's mind, nor of having one's 
 way in spite of difficulty. I like uncertainty. 
 I would not murder anybody; death is hate- 
 ful ; but for death the world would be good, 
 because there'd be time enough for every one 
 to get what he wanted out of life. No 
 one is really wicked — only some have to do 
 more in order to enjoy themselves than 
 others. If Mr. Urmson, for instance, wanted 
 to do all I mean to do, he'd have to be more 
 wicked than I expect to be. But he is 
 clever! he's the only man who ever came 
 near understanding me. If my poor Garth 
 were half so keen — " 
 
 As the thought of Garth entered her 
 mind, she slowly moved toward his chamber; 
 but on reaching the door she opened it 
 brusquely. The face upon the pillow lay 
 with its hollow, half-opened eyes turned tow- 
 ard her, while the lips moved in indistinct 
 mutterings. Madge's warm, brilliant visage 
 at first expressed aversion, but soon curiosity 
 seemed to become dominant. She drew near 
 and laid her white hand, firm and tenacious, 
 despite its softness and dimples, on Garth's 
 bony wrist, and tried to catch his unrecog- 
 nizing eye with her own. 
 
 " What an unlucky fellow he is ! " ran her 
 thoughts; "I wish he were not; but that 
 has always been the trouble with him. I 
 could never get on with unlucky people, be- 
 cause I don't mean to be unlucky myself. I 
 wish disagreeable people might be the only 
 unfortunate ones, and all the agreeable, 
 lucky ! See what a man Garth is, in" spite 
 of his troubles ! Any one else w^onld look 
 effeminate and silly after such an illness, but 
 ho seems only older and manlier. I like that 
 
MADGE'S VICISSITUDES. 
 
 221 
 
 coarse, black beard. He suits me — Garth, 
 you suit me, on the whole, better than any 
 one else. Why won't you be what I want 
 you to be ? But you won't, and if you did I 
 suppose it would spoil you somehow — how 
 provoking ! I love him for not being what 
 he must be if I'm to marry Mm ! Dear me ! 
 what will become of me? I wish I knew 
 what had become of some woman who was 
 like me, and had felt as I do when she was a 
 girl. . . . Peoplehere will be surpi-ised when 
 they hear of me, years from now — shocked, 
 too, I suppose." She laughed under her 
 breath, stroking Garth's unresponsive hand 
 with hers. 
 
 " And what will you think, my Garth ? " 
 she whispered, bending over him. " O Garth, 
 you mustn't die! I shouldn't half enjoy 
 anything afterward — I should be thinking 
 that perhaps I might have been happier with 
 you. And so I should be — if there weren't 
 so many ways of being happy ! I should like 
 to try them all, and then come back to him. 
 No — dear me ! I don't know what I do most 
 want, and that's the worst of it. I don't 
 want Golightley ; and Sam. . . ." She 
 rested her forefinger on her smooth cheek 
 and meditated for several moments. Sud- 
 denly rousing herself, she drew a long breath, 
 glanced toward the door, and then crouched 
 down till her face was on a level with her 
 lover's, and, his feverish breath mingled with 
 hers. 
 
 "Never mind about Sam, Garth dear," 
 she whispered. " You are the best, no mat- 
 ter what happens. They may say I don't 
 love you — but feel this, dear ! " She pressed 
 her mouth to his parched lips, and more than 
 one heart-beat passed ere she removed it. 
 " Do you think I would have done that for 
 Sam ? " she asked, smiling. " Have you poi- 
 soned me, my Garth ? " Again she kissed 
 him, deliberately as before, and afterward 
 yet a third time. " Shall I have the fever 
 and die? Let them say I didn't love you 
 now, if they dare ! " She sprang to her feet. 
 " Good-by, Garth," she said, waving her 
 hand, her face and figure radiant with life. 
 " If i have poison on my lips — Sam shall be 
 poisoned too ! and you won't be jealous, will 
 you?" 
 
 From Garth's chamber Madge descended 
 
 to the kitchen, and, building up a fire there, 
 proceeded to cook herself a comfortable 
 breakfast. By the time this was eaten it was 
 nearly ten o'clock, and she was preparing to 
 go up-stairs to the wigwam when the sound 
 of knocking at the outside door made her 
 pause, and conceal herself in the alcove: for 
 she did not wish her presence at Urmhurst 
 to be known just at present to Mrs. Tenter- 
 den (whom she supposed the new arrival to 
 be). But when, after entering the house, 
 Elinor walked into the kitchen with her 
 violin under her arm, Madge, in her surprise, 
 stepped on a creaking board, and Elinor's 
 eyes at once turned in the direction of the 
 sound. The next moment, however, all risk 
 of discovery was over ; Elinor left the kitch- 
 en and went up-stairs. Madge listened, and 
 soon heard the sound of voices in dispute; 
 then ensued a silence ; and finally the old 
 Indian came hobbling down and was received 
 by Madge with an engaging smile. 
 
 The two exchanged a few words together 
 — affable on Madge's part and sulky on that 
 of Nikomis — and then the former made her 
 way to the garret. As she passed Garth's 
 door, the sound of music from within made 
 her pause a moment. What, right had Eli- 
 nor to play to Garth? Madge had never 
 yet found occasion to be jealous, but it did 
 now occur to her that here was an infringe- 
 ment of her proprietorship. Should she go 
 in and protest ? No — she desired no present 
 outbreak with Elinor; moreover, to assert 
 exclusive rights over her lover would tend 
 to cripple her freedom of action. She passed 
 on, therefore ; but the episode had its effect : 
 a woman like Madge knows how to use a 
 provocation both as a handle against an op- 
 ponent and as a justification of wider liber- 
 ties on her own part. 
 
 "Come in, Madge," said Sam, with a 
 yawn, rolling himself over on the mattress 
 at the summons of her voice at the wigwam 
 entrance. " Come in — all at home ! " 
 
 " Come outside immediately, Sam Kineo," 
 retorted she, with dignity. " I wish to speak 
 with you." 
 
 "By the devil, you can order a chap 
 round ! " muttered he, crawling out on his 
 hands and knees and looking up at her. 
 " Hi ! she is a beauty, sure enough." 
 
222 
 
 GAETH. 
 
 " That'll do for complimenta," said 
 Madge, in a tone of decision; "and be so 
 kind as to use proper language when yon 
 speak to me. Are those your best clothes? " 
 
 "Good enough to lie in a garret with, 
 aren't they? I've better in the box when 
 the time comes." 
 
 "I wish you to come to the village with 
 me this afternoon, and be introduced to 
 everybody ; so you had better put them on 
 soon." 
 
 Sam chuckled sardonically. " I think I 
 won't appear in society this afternoon, thank 
 you," said he. " Some people might be too 
 glad to see me." 
 
 " Afraid of the police ! " exclaimed Madge, 
 scomfiiUy ; and added, with a favorite phrase 
 of hers, " If I were a man I'd never be afraid 
 or ashamed to face anybody." 
 
 " Oh, you can talk about polipe ; but how 
 is a chap to face the United States army ! " 
 demanded Sam, sulkily. 
 
 "If you'd had any sense, Sam Kineo, 
 you would have got all you wanted without 
 interfering with the law at all." 
 
 " Gently now, Madge, that's a little dear. 
 If you'd been with me, it would ha' been all 
 right, no doubt ; but you wouldn't come 
 when I asked you." 
 
 "What do you mean? I am to marry 
 Garth Urmson, I've nothing to do with 
 you." 
 
 " Marry Garth — eh ? curse him ! If you'd 
 said that last night, I'd have cut his heart 
 out for him this morning." 
 
 Madge laughed. " You haven't forgotten 
 how he thrashed you when you were boys. 
 But you mustn't think I'm so foolish as I 
 was in those days. Do you suppose I'd 
 run away with an escaped robber when I 
 might stay at home and marry a prosperous 
 artist?" 
 
 The haK-breed fastened his narrow, level 
 glance on the young woman's blooming face. 
 "You look here now," muttered he; "I'm 
 not so foolish now as then, either. Tou've 
 fooled me twice in my life, and that's enough. 
 You may call me an escaped robber, but I'll 
 / be an egoaped something else before I'll see 
 you and Garth come together ! " 
 
 Madge drew nearer her companion and 
 rested her hand onjiis ai'm. "What fun! " 
 
 said she. "It's quite romantic to hear you 
 talk that way. Do it some more, won't 
 you?" 
 
 "No need of that,'' returned the half- 
 breed. " You know what I mean." 
 
 "How stupid you are! I thought you 
 would he at least as entertaining as Golight- 
 ley ; but he is ever so much better than you 
 are." 
 
 "Golightley Urmson is no better than 
 I am," returned Sam, moodily ; " and I'U 
 make him feel it before I'm done with him. 
 Maybe yon didn't know that he and I were 
 pals?" 
 
 Though there were few things which 
 Madge knew better than this, she chose to 
 express proper surprise, and so drew from 
 Sam the same story which he had just told 
 Nikomis, together with some further partic- 
 ulars which Nikomis had not heard. An 
 hour or two passed away in the narration, 
 when it was interrupted by a loud summons 
 rapped out upon the house-door below. 
 
 " That sounds like a policeman I " ex- 
 claimed Madge, maliciously. 
 
 She rose as she spoke ; but to her aston- 
 ishment Sam caught her wrist and violently 
 dragged her down again. "If that's the 
 police," whispered he, between his teeth, 
 "it's a bad day for you, Madge Danver! " 
 
 "I hope it is the police," she cried, pas- 
 sionately, struggling to free her wrist. 
 
 By a rapid movement, Sam pinioned the 
 girl, and pushed her back against the hand- 
 organ box. She struggled desperately, and, 
 being exceedingly strong for a woman, would 
 probably have escaped from a man less pow- 
 erful than Kineo. But he gripped her like a 
 vise, and his fingers sank deep into the firm 
 flesh of her arms. At length, with short 
 breath and cheeks afire, she gasped, "If yon 
 don't loose me, I'll scream." 
 
 " Then I'll cut your throat," he hissed in 
 her ear. " Curse you, I can hate easier than 
 love you. You little jade 1 think you could 
 bully me? " 
 
 "Sam, let me go! " 
 
 He gripped her tighter, and snickered. 
 " Want to marry dear Garth, do you? Yon 
 little liar ! How'd you like to see that 
 pretty scalp of yours hanging there with the 
 others— eh?" 
 
POISON. 
 
 223 
 
 " Sam — I'll never be false to yon." 
 
 "Wait till I out your throat, my little 
 dear — then 1 miglit trust you. Think I for- 
 got how you lied about me to Garth ten 
 years ago ? I'd not trust you out of reach 
 of my knife for all Golightley's money and 
 Mo'ther Eve's legacy put together I " 
 
 "What have I done?" 
 
 " We'll see, my little dear. If you've set 
 the police on me .... hush ! " 
 
 Madge Danver, full of life as she was, 
 would rather have died than endure the sus- 
 pense of the minute that followed. A man's 
 step, resolute, and vigorous, was audible on 
 the lower flight of stairs. Who could it be ? 
 Had some hideous fatality actually brought 
 the police to the house, at this moment of 
 all others? If that vigorous step kept on 
 up the garret- stairs, Sam would murder her, 
 in the belief that she was an accomplice 
 against him. He held her rigidly down, 
 though she had ceased struggling, and they 
 were both listening intently. As she lay 
 there, her memory reviewed all her past re- 
 lations with this man, and she fancied that, 
 beneath her uniformly arrogant bearing tow- 
 ard him, she had always harbored a secret 
 fear— nay, had even foreseen the present cri- 
 sis, and herself at his mercy. She was con- 
 quered, perhaps in the only way that such a 
 woman could be conquered, by sheer physi- 
 cal force and brutality. And as she panted 
 in the grasp of the man who had conquered 
 her, and who might the next moment be- 
 come her murderer, she felt a strange and 
 new satisfaction in him. He was the incar- 
 nation of power, irresponsible and irresisti- 
 ble ; and he could not have hit upon a bet- 
 ter way of wooing this wayward creature. 
 She might be quicker-witted than he, but 
 his muscles had forced her to the brink of 
 eternity, and the superiority was a real and 
 substantial one. 
 
 Meantime the steps had paused on the 
 bedroom-floor, and there was a low murmur 
 of voices. Was the officer showing a search- 
 warrant, and demanding information? As 
 the two strained their ears to listen, it sud- 
 denly came into Madge's mind that of course 
 the enigmatic stranger could be none other 
 than Jack Selwyn. Instantly the painful 
 tension of her mind and body relaxed, she 
 
 broke into a faint, tremulous laugh, and mur- 
 muring, "It's all right, Sam— I'm so gladl " 
 her head drooped over sideways, and she 
 fainted away. 
 
 CHAPTER LXIII. 
 
 Sam loosed his victim with a grunt of 
 surprise, and saw her topple over toward 
 the right and lie limp and insensible on the 
 floor. Before he could make up his mind 
 what to do next, Nikomis had entered. At 
 sight of Madge she stopped short ; then fixed 
 her eyes on Sam. "You fool!" she ex- 
 claimed, gutturally, "you killed her?" 
 
 " Not I ! " replied the half-breed ; " she's 
 fainted, that's all. Who came ? " 
 
 " No one t' hurt you," grunted the In- 
 dian, stooping over the girl. 
 
 It was not long before Madge began to 
 gasp and sigh, and the color to flow back to 
 lips and cheek. Anon she upraised her- 
 self giddily on one arm, and put her other 
 hand over her heart, afterward holding up 
 the fingers, as if to see whether they were 
 bloody. 
 
 "I thought you had stabbed me," she 
 murmured with a shuddei'. 
 
 Sam felt ill at ease ; the glow of his fe- 
 rocity had cooled, and it did not occur to 
 him that Madge could be free from resent- 
 ment at his treatment of her. He had prob- 
 ably been carried beyond his original inten- 
 tion by mere savage excitement ; but he 
 was alarmed to think how narrowly he had 
 missed committing a crime objectless in it- 
 self, and sure to have been fatally disastrous 
 to him. 
 
 " Oome, now, forgive and forget ! " said 
 he, sitting down by Madge, and assuming hia 
 most agreeable manner. " What's the use 
 of you and me bearing malice, Madge? " 
 
 Madge gazed at him thoughtfully for a 
 while, saying at last with a sigh: "You are 
 a real devil, Sam, aren't you ? — No, don't 
 mind my saying it. I think a real devil is 
 what I need. I shall never forget how you 
 looked. . . ." Here she shuddered again. 
 "No one but you would have treated me so 
 — I am so beautiful. Any one else would 
 
224 
 
 GAETH. 
 
 have relented. But what can yon he made 
 of?" 
 
 "Flesh and blood, ain't I?" 
 
 " Well, perhaps ! " She eyed him cnrious- 
 ly. " Can you really be my hero ? I ought 
 to hate you. It isn't quite pleasant to have 
 been conquered, after all." 
 
 " Oh, I wouldn't have hurt you," affirmed 
 Sam, reassuringly. 
 
 There was a gleam in the young woman's 
 eyes as she answered : " If I believed that, I 
 would despise you as well as hate you. But 
 it's false ; you meant to do it ! " She raised 
 her hand and laid it on his shoulder appeal- 
 ingly. " Don't you disappoint me, too ! I 
 have tried so many things ; I'm tired. Don't 
 speak any more about it ; you don't under- 
 stand me ; you'd only say something stupid." 
 
 It was true that Madge was a mystery to 
 the half-breed ; yet he was shrewd enough 
 to perceive that his violence had somehow 
 not wholly displeased her. Perhaps the right 
 way to win a woman's heart was to threaten 
 it with a bowie-knife. However evil are a 
 man's, deeds, he may generally be persuaded 
 that some involuntary virtue is mixed up 
 with them ; and, however bad he may be, the 
 virtuous persuasion flatters him. 
 
 " It was Jack Selwyn who came," re- 
 marked Madge, after a pause. " A friend 
 of Garth's; they were in Europe together. 
 Did you never meet him ? " 
 
 "Selwyn? — hold on! a slender, sharp- 
 eyed chap, always dressed well? By the 
 devil, shouldn't wonder if I did know him, 
 after all ! Selwyn. You knew he was go- 
 ing to be here — eh? " 
 
 " Yes. Does he know you by sight ? " 
 
 " Not he ! knows Golightley, though ; 
 Golightley thought he suspected something." 
 
 " At all events, Selwyn knows all about 
 the robbery, and I think he's after you." 
 She was speaking in a faint, listless tone, 
 and Sam sat motionless, his dark face set in 
 malevolent abstraction. Nikomis had re- 
 tired into the wigwam some time before, 
 and both Madge and Sam had forgotten 
 her. 
 
 " Think he's brought any one with him ? " 
 inquired the half-breed after a while. 
 
 Madge shook her head. 
 
 Sam reflected a minute and then asked. 
 
 " How did you come to know 'bout this affair 
 of ours before I told you ? " 
 
 " From Mrs. Tenterden, and from Golight- 
 ley, and from a letter," replied Madge, non- 
 chalantly. Then, noticing Sam's surprise, 
 she added with a smile, " The letter was from 
 Jack Selwyn." 
 
 " He writes to you — eh ? " hissed the 
 other, with a momentary return of the sav- 
 age. 
 
 The young woman smiled again, some- 
 what defiantly. 
 
 " Got him after you, too, eh ? — by the 
 devil! How does he begin, then? — 'Madge 
 dearest,' or 'My sweet mistress,' or what is 
 il^eh?" 
 
 " Ah ! " cried Madge, angrily ; for a wom- 
 an will endure bullying far more submissive- 
 ly than coarseness. " If yon know how it 
 began, you may find out what was in it ! " 
 
 Perceiving that he had made a mistake, 
 Sam would again have attempted an apology ; 
 but Madge impatiently stopped him. " Never 
 mind — never mind. The letter was written 
 to Garth, but I read it, without Garth's Itnow- 
 ing." 
 
 " I see ! " nodded the other with a glance 
 of crafty significance. " You .... eh ? " 
 
 " I found it in the woods," said Madge, 
 hastily. 
 
 Sam still nodded significantly, as much 
 as to say that the finding was wonderfully 
 opportune. " So Selwyn's the chap's been 
 tracking me down ! " he muttered, presently. 
 " Did you show this letter to Golightley ? " 
 
 " No — nor to any one else. Don't sus- 
 pect me, Sam ; if I chose to deceive yon, I 
 could do it without your suspecting. I didn't 
 wish to frighten Uncle Golightley away, nor 
 to let him know how much I knew about 
 him. But j'ou can do me neither good nor 
 harm — except bodily harm." 
 
 There was a sincerity in her tone which 
 was pathetic, because, in her, it betrayed so 
 much inward stress ; and Kineo could not 
 but feel some sense of her forgiving disposi- 
 tion toward him. "I've been shabby to you, 
 my little beauty," said he, " and I'm sorry 
 for it — by the devil I am ! Tell you what, 
 Madge, if yon 'nd me pull together we can 
 fool Jack Selwyn 'nd all his gang. Just you 
 get round Selwyn 'nd find out how much he 
 
COUNTERMINING. 
 
 225 
 
 knows, and if he suspects I'm here, just 
 throw him off the soent — d'ye see ? You've 
 got brains, 'nd, if you do the best you can 
 for me, I'm satisfied." 
 
 "I should think you might be, Sam 
 Kineo," she answered, quietly. "But what 
 shall I get in return for it ? How can you 
 help me? Uncle Golightley is too clever 
 for you. If he marries Elinor, don't you see 
 he's sure of the money whether he's found 
 out or not." 
 
 " Not a bad notion — marrying the wom- 
 an you've robbed ! " assented the other. 
 " We ought to stop that off, somehow." 
 
 " When do you mean to see Golightley ? " 
 
 "Oh, soon enough. And look here, 
 Madge Danver— if that chap Selwyn's in 
 love with Elinor as well, he'd bear easy on 
 the man that could prove his rival a thief — 
 eh?" 
 
 "What do you think of me?" asked 
 Madge, abruptly. 
 
 "Sweetest piece of flesh ever I came 
 across ! what more d'you want ? " 
 
 She gave a short, hard laugh. " Nothiag, 
 I suppose. But I mean, you seem to think 
 I would stop at nothing. I've never done 
 anything very wicked, yet." 
 
 The half-breed ducked his head in noise- 
 less cachinnation. " Yes — you look innocent 
 enough, 'nd that's the wickedest part of you. 
 I know you — you love devilry just for its 
 own sake, 'nd you can't keep your fingers 
 out of it." 
 
 " It isn't true ! " cried Madge, getting to 
 her feet excitedly. " I like good people and 
 good things — only — " 
 
 Sam had risen too, and, catching her 
 hands in his, he peered with a penetrating 
 grimace into her eyes. "No you don't — ^no 
 you don't — no you don't ! " he repeated, 
 shaking his head slowly. " No use, my little 
 dear ; should have liked good things before 
 that picnic that you and I and Garth went 
 to. Too late now — the devil's got you — bet- 
 ter give in to him ! " 
 
 She flushed, and tears filled her eyes; 
 then she grew pale and smiled. Immediate- 
 ly Sam threw his arm around her waist and 
 kissed her, not reverently, upon the mouth ; 
 kissed those lips which were poisoned now, 
 if never before. 
 15 
 
 She partly freed herself from him, and 
 at the same moment they both, by a common 
 impulse looked toward the opening of the 
 wigwam. There appeared the grotesque 
 visage of Nikomis, swarthy and framed in 
 darkness: and her black eyes seemed to 
 gleam approval of what had been done. 
 
 CHAPTER LXIV. 
 
 OOTJNTEBMININO. 
 
 The arrival of Golightley and Professor 
 Grindle, shortly after the episode just de- 
 scribed, brought to an end that parallel 
 movement of events whose progress has been 
 indicated from the earliest hours of the 
 morning. Madge returned with Elinor to 
 the village in the afternoon, and Selwyn 
 undertook the care of his friend Garth dur- 
 ing the ensuing night. 
 
 The next morning Professor Grindle, 
 finding Garth still on the mending hand, bade 
 farewell to the household and set off through 
 the woods to the village. It was a gray, cold 
 day, and the professor resentfully anticipated 
 an early and severe winter. "The young 
 folks will enjoy it, no doubt," muttered he, 
 as he gathered his old-fashioned top-coat 
 more closely about him, and stepped sturdily 
 along the frost-hardened pathway ; " but 
 after a fellow gets to be forty, he should 
 move a degree nearer to the equator every 
 year, and allow the sun to restore the caloric 
 which old age takes away. I don't know, 
 though; if all the graybeards lived in the 
 south, and left the youths and maidens to 
 their own devices up north, the world would 
 go to rack and ruin very soon. Ay, and 
 what would we poor duffers do without 
 them, to remind us of what we once were, 
 or hoped to be ? — Hullo ! there she is." 
 
 At the end of a long, leafless vista an 
 erect and slender figure, equipped in fur- 
 lined jacket and muff, had come into view. 
 As they neared each other, the old gentleman 
 lifted his hat, exposing his bald pate to the 
 icy breeze, while Elinor, whose face was 
 pink with cold and exercise, smiled and be- 
 came pinker still. 
 
 " Good-morning, young lady," he called 
 
226 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 out in his strident, kindly tones ; '•' I wish I 
 had such a nice muff to keep my old fingers 
 warm ! May I ask your permission to walk 
 back a little distance and chat with you? " 
 
 " I'd rather go with you, Professor G-rin- 
 dle, if you don't mind," replied she, turning. 
 "How are your patients? " 
 
 " Garth'U get well ; Cuthhert won't," said 
 Grindle, sternly. 
 
 " I know Mr. Urrason very little, I sup- 
 pose," said Elinor, after a pause; "but I 
 can't help feeling that I love him." 
 
 " Ay, ay, Outhbert stands high in our 
 Yankee peerage, as an honest, enlightened, 
 tender-hearted man. May his son prove 
 worthy of him ! — I think he will." 
 
 " They are very unlike," was all Elinor's 
 answer. 
 
 "Ay, that they are. Well, young lady, 
 like or unlike, I leave them in your care. 
 I've left aU necessary prescriptions in writ- 
 ing, hut you don't need to be told what the 
 errands of mercy are." 
 
 "Thank you. Professor Grindle. I've 
 never been useful to anybody ; I shall be 
 glad if you will teach me how to begin." 
 This was said with earnestness, tempered 
 only by the reserve which rendered most of 
 Ehnor's utterances apparently mere society- 
 talk. Bat Grindle, in addition to his native 
 penetratioti, had heard enough about Miss 
 Golightley during the past twenty-four hours 
 to enable him to estimate her more accu- 
 rately than most of her acquaintances. There 
 was a cordial glow in his resolute old eyes 
 as he looked upon her. 
 
 " You'll give the sick people music from 
 time to time," said he. " Harmony and mel- 
 ody are valuable commodities in this world, 
 and those who can produce them deserve 
 the world's thanks." 
 
 " I like to think that music may do more 
 than merely amuse people," remarked Eli- 
 nor, looking up shyly. 
 
 " Urmhurst is a fine field for a purveyor' 
 of harmony, just now, my dear young lady. 
 You apprehend me — I don't speak strictly 
 by the letter. Your violin is the symbol of 
 something deeper and better." 
 
 " But you must not think that I am like 
 my music; I have no such power." 
 
 " Well, well, we'll not quarrel about 
 
 that," said Grindle, smiling. "Kow, you'll 
 pardon me if, in speakiug of our patients, I 
 take you a bit into the family confidence — 
 and after all, you know, you're a cousin. 
 Outhbert is a man who cannot live long; 
 but peace of mind, though it won't cure him, 
 is his best medicine: and I find that this 
 match between Garth and Maggie Danver 
 causes him great anxiety — he thinks they 
 don't really care for each other." 
 
 " Does Mr. Urmson wish me to hear this, 
 sir?" 
 
 "Telling you of it is my own idea entire- 
 ly. 'Tis the old story, you perceive, of a 
 boy and girl falling in love, and growing up 
 to repent it, and yet, for one cause or an- 
 other, failing to break it off. Now, inter- 
 ference in these affairs, unless delicately 
 managed, is quite as apt to tighten the knot 
 as to loosen it. An honorable man, so long 
 as he believes his mistress true to him, 
 would chop his right hand off sooner than 
 deny her. But if there were eVidence that 
 she wasn't true — ^the case would be altered. 
 Are you intimate with Madge Danver, Miss 
 Ehnor ? " 
 
 The intonation given to these words ex- 
 plained their significance. Elinor fiushed 
 suddenly. " I would rather not have suspi- 
 cions,'' said she. 
 
 Grindle gave a grimly humorous smile. 
 "Wrong should not be suffered, my dear 
 young lady," said he, "through disincli- 
 nation on the part of honest people to take 
 counsel against it." 
 
 " I think we are more apt to wish our 
 suspicions true than to find them so," re- 
 turned Elinor, shrinkingly. 
 
 " Ay, ay," assented Grindle, with his 
 uncompromising nod. " But should the ca- 
 reer of a young fellow who might do good 
 in the world be spoiled by the selfishness of 
 a pretty girl, who, however she may wish 
 her own advantage, would most likely ruin 
 him without securing it ? " 
 
 Elinor took one hand from her muff and 
 let both hands fall at her sides ; her figure 
 drooped, and the light faded from her eyes. 
 Grindle, looking at her, had a new impres- 
 sion of her personality. Her face had a 
 charm easily missed by an unsympathetic 
 •observer, but which, once recognized, was 
 
COUNTERMINING. 
 
 227 
 
 fascinating forever after. It was a face in 
 whicli nobleness and severity were singular- 
 ly blended with tender human irregularity : 
 it contained a discord analogous to that by 
 which great composers elicit their most 
 poignant harmonies. She had spent her life 
 without finding a fit opportunity for parting 
 asunder the veil which hid her inward ardor 
 and impetuosity. Professor Grindle half 
 doubted whether he would be justified in 
 urging these latent forces into action. To 
 cut a leash is a less revocable proceeding 
 than to apply a spur. 
 
 " What right have I to meddle between 
 them ? " she demanded at last. 
 
 " The universal human right to support 
 s good cause," answered the professor, with 
 great gentleness. " Besides, there's no one 
 to take your place. Cuthbert has begun to 
 stagger under his responsibility : your young 
 shoulders may relieve him, if you will. You 
 are a heroine. Miss Elinor, if you'll let your- 
 self be one," 
 
 " I'm afraid I could not be impartial," 
 said she. 
 
 " Glad to hear it ! " cried Grindle, hearti- 
 ly. "Be heart and soul on the right side, 
 and don't mind about giving quarter till aR's 
 over. And now I've said all I need say, Miss 
 Elinor, so I'll only add good-by." He 
 stopped and held out his hand, Elinor put- 
 ting her own frankly within it. 
 
 "I'm glad we met, Professor Grindle," 
 said she, with a smile and a look that made 
 the hackneyed phrase valuable. 
 
 "God bless her!" muttered Grindle, 
 more than once, as he tramped toward the 
 village. " I might have had a daughter like 
 her ! " 
 
 When Elinor came in view of Urmhurst 
 she saw a gentleman with a cigar in his 
 mouth approaching from the direction of 
 the farm-yard. He was sauntering medita- 
 tively along, holding his cane behind his 
 back with both hands, except when, from 
 time to time, he took the cigar from beneath 
 his mustache and filliped away the white 
 ash. He did not seem aware of Elinor's ap- 
 proach, and she had leisure to remark the 
 slender, vigorous grace of his fignre, the 
 manly, keen-eyed comeliness of his face, and 
 even the excellent fit and good taste of his 
 
 apparel. The shadows of life seemed to 
 abate somewhat of their gloom in view of 
 this handsome, energetic, and independent 
 young fellow, who could dress so well and 
 pufl his cigar so composedly through them 
 all. 
 
 As he caught sight of her he took off his 
 fur cap and made a bow — gracefully enough 
 this time — and exclaimed cheerfully: " Good- 
 morning, Miss Golightley! How's the old 
 lady?" 
 
 Elinor smiled in spite of herself at this 
 rather irreverent paraphrase for Mrs. Ten- 
 terden ; but Jack Selwyn was not like other 
 people, so she only replied that the lady in 
 question was doing rather better. 
 
 " That's all right," observed Jack, 
 " Garth had a tip-top night, too, as I know 
 fo my cost ; he'll be out skating by Christ- 
 mas. Mr. Urmson's asleep in celebration of 
 his son's convalescence. Golightley's got 
 the dyspepsia from too many buckwheats, 
 and even I have been obliged to smoke an 
 extra cigar and take a run over the farm- 
 yard. Ever been in the barn, Miss Golight- 
 ley ? " 
 
 "I never was in any barn, I don't 
 think." 
 
 " Deuce 1 wish I might have the luck to 
 introduce you to many a better enjoyment. 
 Oome on, and know what you've never 
 known till now ! " 
 
 She went beside him, smiling occasionally 
 as he chatted about the weather and the 
 country, until he lifted the broad, wooden 
 latch, and ushered her into the fragrant, 
 brown-shadowed interior. He then pulled 
 out the old sleigh to the middle of the floor, 
 and arranged a comfortable seat in it with 
 the buffalo-robe. 
 
 "This is very jolly," said Elinor; "how 
 good the hay smells; and nothing can be 
 sweeter than cows' breath ! " 
 
 " Oh, yes, there can ! " Jack longed to re- 
 tort ; but he repressed himself, and said in- 
 stead : " So you like New England savagery? 
 Do you mean to live here? " 
 
 "I believe my mother and — Mr. Go- 
 lightley Hrmson think of living in New 
 York." 
 
 " To tell the truth and shame the devil, I 
 1 don't adore Golightley myself, and am not 
 
228 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 going to congratulate you on his having 
 the right to dispose of you. Are you 
 angry ? " 
 
 " It's the devil who ought to he offend- 
 ed, I should think," said Elinor, lifting her 
 brows a trifle. 
 
 "I hope he may he, before I'm done 
 with him ! " muttered Jack, setting his teeth. 
 "Well — but look here; about that money- 
 business of yours." 
 
 "Mrs. Tenterden's? She will be very 
 much obliged to you." 
 
 "Oh, damn her obligations — no, no! I 
 mean it's very kind of her to let me be of 
 some use. She'll recover probably two- 
 thirds of what was stolen — say eighty thou- 
 sand pounds." 
 
 Elinor sat still and gradually became 
 very pale ; the announcement had taken her 
 by surprise, and seemed to produce anything 
 but a pleasant effect upon her. "It's too 
 late now," she said, at length, rather bitter- 
 ly. " All the good things in life wait until 
 you don't need them before they come. 
 What should a girl on the eve of a wealthy 
 marriage want with eighty thousand pounds? 
 But it was very kind of you, Mr. Selwyn." 
 
 "Oh, that's all right!" returned Jack, 
 very cheerfully. " Yes, Golightley has just 
 about the same sum we hope to recover 
 for you — eighty thousand. Funny, isn't it? " 
 
 "Yes," murmured Elinor, abstractedly; 
 but all at once she turned and said, " What 
 do you mean ? " 
 
 " Nothing ; only it's funny, you know." 
 
 "Where is the man who stole the 
 money ? " 
 
 "Under surveillance. But it's the ac- 
 complice we're after — want to get State's 
 evidence out of him. We believe he's hid- 
 ing somewhere hereabouts." 
 
 "State's evidence? Does that mean be- 
 traying the other? " 
 
 " It's this way. The accomplice has in 
 his possession letters or proofs of some kind, 
 which are necessary to the conviction of — a 
 — the chief scoundrel. And the accomplice 
 has spent all his share of the booty. There- 
 fore, his evidence is worth more to us than 
 his person, and if he'll sell it in considera- 
 tion of escaping prosecution, we'll agree to 
 the bargain." 
 
 " That is, you punish one thief for keep- 
 ing what he has stolen, and pardon the other 
 for having dissipated his part? " 
 
 "Oh, we'll be down on both of them 
 with all the pleasure in the world, if it can 
 be managed," said Jack, smiling. 
 
 "Does the principal know that he is un- 
 der surveillance ? " 
 
 "Rather imagine not. Miss Golightley." 
 
 " He lives openly — isn't hiding, as the ac- 
 complice is ? " 
 
 Jack nodded, not certain whither this 
 swift questioning tended. 
 
 "He lives openly — as you and I and Mr. 
 Urmson do — here in our neighborhood ? " 
 
 " Hold on I what put his being ' in our 
 neighborhood ' in your head? " 
 
 "You said the accomplice was without 
 money, and hiding hereabouts. He could- 
 only come here to get money from the 
 principal, and so the principal must be here 
 as well." 
 
 " You are deuced clever," said Jack, 
 smiling upon her admiringly. " I must tell 
 you though that it's very evident you know 
 nothing at all about this affair ; and, since I 
 have charge of it, and it isn't finished yet, I 
 sha'n't let you know anything." 
 
 "I don't wish to be told anything," re- 
 plied Elinor, with one of her point-blank 
 looks. " But I don't like your consenting 
 to such a piece of meanness." 
 
 "Hullo! why, what?" 
 
 "Encouraging one of these men to be- 
 tray the other." 
 
 " But, look here — ^if we can't touch the 
 chief scamp in any other way — " 
 
 " Then don't touch him at all ! " exclaimed 
 Elinor, with a glance and a tone that made 
 Jack's eyes sparkle ; and, rising as she spoke, 
 she bade him good-morning and walked out 
 of the barn, and thus ended the conversation. 
 
 "She can't really care for the black- 
 guard, you know,'' said Jack to himself 
 afterward, reviewing her words and be- 
 havior. "But does she suspect Golightley 
 of being the blackguard ? If not, why take 
 blackguard's part? Hum — why take it any 
 way? As to scruples against State's evi- 
 dence — inadmissible, of course; though it 
 does seem mean, as she says. What a di- 
 vine, glorious creature she is, now ! Com- 
 
HOUSEWORK. 
 
 229 
 
 pare her with Madge. By-the-way, I must 
 make friends with Madge again, and see 
 whether she can't tell us anything about 
 that accomplice. I wish this damned busi- 
 ness was settled, so I might attend to my 
 own 1 She doesn't care for me yet, but she 
 may at last! God bless her, whether she 
 does or not! " 
 
 CHAPTER LXV. 
 
 HOnSEWOEK. 
 
 The current of affairs at Urmhurst now 
 flowed on with that smoothness vulgarly 
 supposed to be of ill omen. Garth rapidly 
 grew better, but there was a change ap- 
 parent in him such as may often be noticed 
 in new convalescents, but which generally 
 fades away with the full return of health. 
 To lie in the same bed with death purifies a 
 man, at least for a time. With Garth, an 
 ngly knot seemed to have been loosened at 
 the centre of his spiritual life, setting free 
 his nobler energies. 
 
 It was a rule of the sick-chamber that no 
 painful topic should be discussed in it ; and 
 thus Garth's bedside became a sort of moral 
 oasis in the midst of a wilderness of conflict- 
 ing interests and passions. Here did the 
 world put on its most smiling and light- 
 hearted aspect; and if"^Hiybody during the 
 day thought of anything agreeable to be said 
 or done, such word or deed was reserved for 
 the court of his majesty King Convalescent. 
 An unimpassioned observer (were such a 
 monster possible) would have admired the 
 change wrought in the bearing, and seem- 
 ingly in the very nature, of some half-dozen 
 rational human beings, when they stepped 
 across the threshold of this enchanted cham- 
 ber. It was analogous to the difference of 
 colors in light and shadow. Garth's august 
 infirmity forbade the impertinence of gloom. 
 
 " Nothing like the typhoid for putting 
 a moody, sulky, crack-brained brute of a 
 genius in a good-humor," remarked Jack 
 Selwyn to his friend one day. " But hurry 
 up and get well, man, and come out skating, 
 that the world may benefit by your improve- 
 ment." 
 
 " When I go skating. Jack, there'll be an 
 
 end of this peace and good-will we're all 
 making so much of. I've not been ill for 
 notliing — and I won't get well for nothing, 
 please God ! " 
 
 " Oh, damn your holiness ! It's because 
 yon couldn't help it, in both cases." 
 
 Garth laughed. 
 
 " Well, what do you think you've been 
 ill for ? " 
 
 "I did some strange thinking. I im- 
 agined I was going through a great spiritual 
 experience. I was in a fight between devils 
 and angels — and, what seemed odd, they had 
 the voices of members of the family and 
 acquaintances ! At last, when I was at the 
 very bottom of the pit, I was lifted out by a 
 divine angel of harmony." 
 
 "The first sane word you've said yet I " 
 cried Jack. "Elinor Golightley is a divine 
 angel of harmony. The rest is bosh." 
 
 "No it isn't," returned Garth. "When 
 a fellow has been knocking about in chaos 
 for what seems thousands of lifetimes, he 
 doesn't come out feeling quite so selfish and 
 impudent as when he went in." 
 
 "I think I'll try your recipe, if you 
 haven't patented it. Get my fever, go to 
 bed, dream and gibber my way through 
 chaos for three weeks, and then jump up 
 and prate about my spiritual vicissitudes — 
 and pose as a saint ever afterward! " 
 
 " Confound you. Jack Selwyn, how dare 
 you exasperate me when I'm ill? I']l tell 
 Elinor Golightley!" 
 
 " Don't ! " cried Jack ; " I'd rather you'd 
 punch my head." He tossed the end of his 
 cigar behind the fire, and rested his elbows 
 on his knees. "This has' been a jolly fort- 
 night. Garth, old fellow. We'll not see such 
 another soon." 
 
 "Where do you suppose we'll be ten 
 years from now? " 
 
 " Ten years ! Say ten weeks. I'm none 
 of your Parson Graemes, or Methuselahs 
 even ! " said Jack, getting impatiently to his 
 feet. " Hark ! there comes Miss Golightley 
 with your dinner. Good-by; I'm going to 
 the lake to see if the ice bears." 
 
 Elinor, having arranged Garth's dinner 
 for him, took up her favorite position by the 
 window, whence she could gaze out upon 
 the frosty sky, and the bleak valley beneath 
 
230 
 
 GAETH. 
 
 it. This young lady had during the last 
 two weeks become the governing spirit at 
 TJrmhurst. For the first time since gentle 
 Martha Urmson's death, TJrmhurst had found 
 a mistress. Elinor was by no means averse 
 from taking a human interest in lowly 
 affairs ; her scope was broader than that of 
 the mere lady of culture and refinement. 
 And the duties she performed reacted upon 
 herself: she was less frigid and haughty, 
 and her eyes were brighter and her voice 
 cheerier, than before her houskeeping began. 
 
 " "When I was a boy," observed Garth, 
 " my mother handed over the housework to 
 me for nearly a year. I did everything, 
 from sawing wood to making pudding. Do 
 you do as much as that ? " ^ 
 
 "Almost. You should have seen my 
 hands a week ago : there was a great blister 
 on this finger, and a sore place inside the 
 thumb, and a scald on the wrist. But after 
 all, you know, I have the Danvers' char- 
 woman to help me. She is very amusing. 
 She said yesterday she didn't like scrubbing 
 and rubbing about an old place like this ; it 
 was like cleaning and laying out a corpse 
 ready for burial ! " 
 
 " Is poor old Urmhurst so near its 
 death?" muttered Garth. 
 
 " I told you to make you laugh," said 
 Elinor, reprovingly. " Another time, when 
 we were brushing the cobwebs from the 
 great beams in the ceilings, she said it was 
 cruel to strip the poor things of their cover- 
 ings, just when winter was coming on." 
 
 " "What is Nikomis doing all this time ? " 
 
 " She is such a strange old creature — she 
 grows stranger every day. Lately she has 
 taken to wearing beads and old feathers, 
 and such things; and once she appeared 
 with her face painted in blue and yellow 
 stripes. She doesn't work herself, but 
 sometimes she watches the charwoman and 
 me with a kind of smile — if you can imagine 
 her smiling ! — as if the house were hers, 
 and we her servants. And once, when we 
 had gone to put the cellar in order — If 
 you've done your dinner, I'll take the tray 
 out." 
 
 " No — I must hear the rest first." 
 
 " "Well," resumed Elinor, smiling, and 
 growing pink, " the amount of it is that we 
 
 were given to understand that the cellar was 
 her exclusive property, and no one was to 
 trespass in it. For, when we got to the 
 bottom of the stairs, she suddenly rose up 
 before us, throwing up her arms and mo- 
 tioning us back. She looked like the spec- 
 tre of the old sachem that Mr. Urmson says 
 is buried there." 
 
 " Yes, there's no telling what awful se- 
 crets may be hidden in that cellar. ■ Have 
 you ever been in her wigwam, up in the 
 garret ? " 
 
 " 1^0, indeed. But sometimes I hear a 
 rumbling sound, as if she were talking to 
 herself there : and the two tones are quite 
 different ; it reminded me of the chanting of 
 the priests in the Eoman Catholic churches." 
 Here Elinor took up the tray, and, remark- 
 ing that she must go down and make the 
 coffee, she departed in spite of Garth's ex- 
 postulations. 
 
 It was doubtless fortunate for Elinor 
 that this pressure of alien duties and in- 
 terests kept her from brooding too much 
 over her own destiny. Her housework gave 
 her wholesome bodily exercise and fatigue, 
 while her mind was busied with the difficult 
 and delicate enterprise of searching for the 
 clew to the problem intrusted to her by Pro- 
 fessor Grindle. A main obstacle in the way 
 of success was the necessity of working in 
 silence and unaided. A feminine intuition 
 restrained her from seeking the help of Jack 
 Selwyn, and there were equally good reasons 
 against taking counsel with Outlibert. Eor, 
 clear-brained and honest though she was, 
 Elinor lacked the authority which wifehood 
 always confers in emergencies of this kind ; 
 and, in the present instance, her embarrass- 
 ment was perhaps increased by the fact that 
 j the person whose marriage prospects were 
 ' in jeopardy happened to be Garth. 
 ' Meanwhile, time dragged along very irk- 
 somely with Sam Kineo. The fact that he 
 I was comparatively safe so long as he staid 
 I in the wigwam, only made abiding there 
 j more dismal to him : there was not even 
 the excitement of uncertainty and suspense. 
 "TeU you what, Madge," he grumbled 
 out one day, as she stood at the door of the 
 wigwam, looking down upon him, " I'm 
 going to see Golightley now ; get this thing 
 
A NEW NEPHEW. 
 
 231 
 
 over, one way or 'nether. You tell him I 
 must see him to-night." 
 
 " You'd better leave me to manage him ; 
 he'll get the better of you, somehow. And 
 I sometimes think, from the way he goes 
 on, that he has done something already to 
 make himself safe." 
 
 " I've got something to make him safe ! ' 
 growled Sam, tapping the breast ' of his 
 coat. 
 
 " If you mean that old bowie-knife of 
 yours — " 
 
 "Knife? — it's his handwriting I'm talk- 
 ing about. No, no ! no use knifing Golight- 
 ley yet awhile. I'd like to knife that chap 
 Selwyn." 
 
 " He's the only man I ever met that I 
 couldn't make in love with me," remarked 
 Madge, thoughtfully. "But that's because 
 he's so infatuated with Elinor Golightley. 
 I can't make out, though, why she doesn't 
 marry him instead of Golightley." 
 
 " Oh, no telling 'bout women ! " muttered 
 Sam, contemptuously. " Most likely she's 
 in love with Garth, and jealous of you." 
 
 " In love with Garth ! " repeated Madge, 
 sharply ; then she smiled incredulously. 
 " Poor Garth ! nobody was ever in love 
 with him but I : and he never loved any one 
 but me. I've never had the fun of being 
 jealous." 
 
 " You just wait," returned Sam, chuck- 
 ling maliciously. "Going? Fill my pipe 
 for me first, there's a little dear ; and don't 
 forget about Golightley." 
 
 On leaving the wigwam and its loutish 
 occupant, Madge descended weai'ily to the 
 bedroom floor. It was quite dark ; from 
 Garth's chamber came sounds of light- 
 hearted talk and laughter.- Suddenly the 
 door opened, and Elinor came forth, her 
 whole bearing eloquent of alert and cheer- 
 fal composure. Madge drew noiselessly 
 aside and saw her, herself unseen, pass 
 down the broad staircase. A sphere of 
 purity and wholesomeness seemed to invest 
 her as she moved. Madge gave a short 
 sigh, and passed her hand across her fore- 
 head. After a few moments' hesitation she 
 advanced toward the door which Elinor 
 had just closed, and laid her finger on the 
 latch. But her purpose, whatever it may 
 
 have been, faltered : she drew back, and 
 went wearily on down-stairs. In truth, it 
 was a long way from the wigwam to Garth's 
 chamber. 
 
 CHAPTER LXVI. 
 
 A NEW NEPHEW. 
 
 Aftee supper that night, the audience 
 being assembled as usual in the convales- 
 cent's room, Elinor took up her violin and 
 made ready to play. Whereupon Uncle Go- 
 lightley, who had been making himself high- 
 ly entertaining for the past half -hour, got up 
 and caressed his cheeks and settled his eye- 
 glasses. • 
 
 " Now I'm going to be impolite," said he, 
 stepping to Elinor's side and taking her hand 
 lightly in his. " Instead of listening to your 
 music I'm going to retire to my room and 
 see whether I can't get rid of a confounded 
 headache that's been dogging me all day. 
 By-by! pray that I may reappear sound 
 and whole at breakfast." He raised her fin- 
 ger-tips gallantly to his lips, waved his hand 
 with a smile to Garth and Cuthbert, and de- 
 parted. 
 
 Among many odd specifics for the cure 
 of headaches, Golightley's was certainly one 
 of the oddest. Having shut himself into his 
 room, he slipped a pair of India-rubber over- 
 shoes over his boots, washed his hands care- 
 fully,, brushed his hair and beard, and ended 
 by putting on a jaunty traveling-cap and a 
 pair of lemon-colored kid gloves. After 
 surveying himself in the glass, he took from 
 a corner of the room a handsome gold-head- 
 ed walking-stick. Pressing a spring in the 
 handle, he drew forth out of its hiding-place 
 a long, blue, needle-pointed stiletto. He ex- 
 amined the blade closely, tried the point upon 
 his thumb, resheathed it slowly, and re- 
 mained for several moments with the cane 
 balanced across his hand and his eyes fixed 
 doubtfully upon it. At length he seemed to 
 alter his mind as to the expediency of taking 
 the weapon with him, and, replacing it in its 
 corner, he stepped out of the room and noise- 
 lessly ascended the garret- stairs. 
 
 The person who admitted him to Niko- 
 mis's apartment closed the door after him 
 
232 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 and fastened it. The room was lighted only 
 by the small oil-lamp which was burning in- 
 side the wigwam. Golightley, having re- 
 moved his eye-glasses, was able to discern a 
 tall, athletic figure standing close beside him. 
 
 "Mr. Flint, I presume?" said Jje. "Is 
 your respected female relative present ? " 
 
 " Just you 'nd me alone together, and the 
 door locked ! " was the somewhat menacing 
 reply. Apparently the host meant to intimi- 
 date his visitor before dealing witli him. 
 
 "I've no doubt you're right in thinking 
 we're alone, Sam," rejoined the latter, easily, 
 replacing his eye-glasses. " Still, you know, 
 humanum est errare. I'll trouble you to bring 
 that lamp out of the tent, and let me have a 
 look for myself. Elderly men, you know, 
 get fussy about small matters. — The lamp, if 
 you please ! " he repeated in a louder but 
 still affable tone. "Or shall I call down- 
 stairs for one? " 
 
 " Oh, take a look 'f you like," said Sam, 
 with a sneer. He brought out the lamp, and 
 Golightley, taking it from his hand, stepped 
 back and surveyed him attentively from head 
 to foot, smiling blandly the while. 
 
 " The face is the face of Samuel," he re- 
 marked at length ; " but the toggery is the 
 toggery of — where did you find those gar- 
 ments, my young friend ? singular eccentrici- 
 ty in a fellow with fifty thousand pounds in 
 his pocket ! " 
 
 Mr. Flint gave a snarl, and stepped quite 
 close up to his interlocutor, as if to empha- 
 size his own superiority in height and brawn. 
 "I don't want that sort of talk," said he. 
 "My money's gone, 'nd you've got to make 
 it up to me." 
 
 "See what comes of wearing shabby 
 clothes! Your pocket, I suppose, had a hole 
 in it?" As Golightley made this laughing 
 reply, he held the lamp close to Sam's face, 
 which wore at this moment a most unamiable 
 expression. " Takeit," he added, " it's soil- 
 ing my gloves; and I'll excuse you from 
 hunting after eavesdroppers this time. Will 
 you lead the way into your boudoir ? " They 
 entered, and the visitor threw himself down 
 on the mattress and looked about him. " Ah ! 
 80 this is the abode of the noble savage ! " 
 said he, as he drew off his gloves. " And — 
 one, two, three, four — ^by GaOrge! do you 
 
 mean to say the old lady lifted all that hair 
 herself ? " 
 
 "If 't hadn't been for Nikomis," an- 
 swered Sam, who had squatted down just in- 
 side the wigwam-door, " my mother's scalp 
 would ha' been there too." 
 
 " Really ? And may I ask who your 
 mother was ? " 
 
 " You know, but I don't mind telling you. 
 She was your father's daughter." 
 
 " That's interesting," murmured Golight- 
 ley, prod uoing a cigarette. " And what may 
 have been my sister's married name ? " 
 
 " I've got the -papers. All safe, 'bout 
 that." 
 
 " It's to be hoped they're drawn up in 
 proper form," rejoined the other, as he struck 
 a match. " If it's your ambition to share 
 with Garth the honor of being my nephew, 
 you must be careful not to tell lies, you know. 
 However, taking the papers for granted, 
 what next ? Have you any plans ? " 
 
 " Oh, I know what b'lungs to me ! " said 
 Sam, nodding his head. 
 
 "Eve's legacy, eh? Well, now, Samuel, 
 I'll speak to you for argument's sake, as if 
 you were the nephew you profess to be, as 
 well as the thieving vagabond that you are. 
 — There, there — don't get excited ! Try one 
 of my cigarettes. Now keep your eye on 
 me!" 
 
 Here the speaker sat erect, and spreading 
 out the long fingers of his left hand, accented 
 his discourse upon them with the forefinger 
 of his right. 
 
 " Assuming, then, the lawful heir to have 
 arrived armed with the proper credentials, 
 we have first to consider certain irregulari- 
 ties of his, evidence of which is in the hands 
 of the police, and which constitute him a 
 felon. This fact, we may suppose, would 
 make him feel a certain delicacy about pro- 
 claiming himself, as it were, from the house- 
 tops ; he would be more likely, perhaps, to 
 hide himself in the top of the house — ha, ha ! 
 Well, hut let us suppose that this legacy 
 was not his only resource ; that he had an- 
 other, by which he might benefit without 
 being obliged to declare his identity. Let 
 us suppose, in short, that the uncle of this 
 individual possessed a fortune of a good 
 many thousand pounds." 
 
A NEW NEPHEW. 
 
 " What's the use of all tliis powwow ? " 
 interrupted Sam, surlily. "Twenty thou- 
 sand pounds is my figure, 'nd low enough, 
 too. If you don't pay up, I'll turn State's 
 evidence — that's all about it ! " 
 
 " The value of State's evidence, my dear 
 Samuel," rejoined Golightley, still unruffled, 
 "depends upon its being obtainable only 
 from one source. Now, in the present case, 
 without questioning your possession of suffi- 
 cient evidence to convict me, I must inform 
 you that, if you decide upon giving that evi- 
 dence, it will be at once forestalled, and thus 
 rendered valueless. In other words, rather 
 than put you to the pain of swearing your 
 uncle into jail, I would swear myself in ! See 
 the point?" 
 
 Golightley was evidently enjoying his 
 command of the situation, and the humor- 
 ous sententiousness of his statement of it ; 
 while Sam could not but feel that he had 
 been to some extent outwitted. He re- 
 flected, however, that although Golightley 
 might, by surrendering his booty, and giv- 
 ing himself up to justice, nullify Sam's own 
 attack, he must still be willing to pay liber- 
 ally for the assurance of Sam's -silence. 
 What other propositions he might have in 
 reserve, the half-breed could not divine ; so 
 he waited sullenly for developments ; and 
 Ms patience was rewarded. 
 
 " It amounts to about this," said the el- 
 der man. " You have, or are supposed to 
 have, two things which I am willing to buy 
 of you. The first thing is the bundle of my 
 letters and memoranda relating to our little 
 transaction abroad. The second thing is the 
 certificate of your mother's marriage, and 
 your own birth. I'm disposed to be gener- 
 ous. How much ? " 
 
 Sam was neither a saint nor a person or- 
 dinarily sensitive about his honor; yet the 
 idea of selling his birthright struck him un- 
 pleasantly. He had, all his life, had occa- 
 sion to lament the disadvantages of obscure 
 birth ; and having only within the last few 
 weeks come to a knowledge of his true par- 
 entage, he was not disposed lightly to sur- 
 render the proofs of it. True, he could 
 make no practical use of it at present ; but 
 every human being has something which, to 
 kim, is above being bartered for on any 
 
 233 
 
 terms : and in Sam's case this priceless treas- 
 ure turned out (somewhat to his own sur- 
 prise and annoyance, perhaps) to be his 
 birthright. He was perplexed, and a little 
 ashamed, but he could not help it. 
 
 " I don't want to be hard on an old pal," 
 he said, in his rapid, undertoned way. " Give 
 me a check for ten thousand pounds, 'nd 
 you may have your letters." 
 
 "Ten thousand for the letters? — -modest, 
 upon my word! But I suppose you throw 
 the certificates in ? " 
 
 " Not a bit of it ! I mean to keep 
 those." 
 
 "Keep them! You're crazy; what can 
 you do with them ? " 
 
 "Well, I'll just keep 'em." 
 
 " Now, Samuel, no one knows your mer- 
 its better than I do ; but I've only a moder- 
 ate capacity, and I can't swallow more than 
 one nephew. Those certificates can never 
 be worth a penny to you, and yet I'll pay 
 you well for them. It's a feeling I have — 
 you, very naturally, can't understand it — 
 that the line must be drawn sonlewhere; 
 and I draw it at your nephewship. Come, 
 what will you take ? " 
 
 "You're my uncle," said the half-breed, 
 sullenly, " and you've got to say so. I'd go 
 to the gallows sooner than give it up. 
 You'll not get those certificates, Uncle Go- 
 lightley." 
 
 Luckily for Sam, his unwilling relative 
 did not know that not he but Nikorais was 
 the actual possessor of the certificates in 
 question. As it was, the position of the men 
 toward each other was changed, and now 
 the nephew had the best of it. 
 
 "I'll take the check for your letters," 
 observed the latter, as Golightley smpked 
 his cigarette in silence. Golightley looked 
 up, and the eyes of the men met. They 
 were at bay ; but the elder had the most to 
 lose ; and after a moment he spoke with the 
 manner of a man who accepts the inevitable 
 with the best grace possible. 
 
 " Well, since you insist upon being one 
 of us, you ought to look at things from a 
 family point of view. I'm to marry the 
 woman to whom this money belongs; not 
 only that, but I should never have laid a fin- 
 ger on the money if I hadn't had that mar- 
 
234 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 riage in view. It wasn't a robbery in the 
 ' ordinary sense of the term — only a sort of 
 family arrangement." 
 
 " You're as much a thief as I am," was 
 Sam's gracious interruption; "and I'm as 
 much of a gentleman as you are." 
 
 " It would be spoiling two good things 
 for you to insist too much upon the gentle- 
 man. However, my point is this : In pay- 
 ing you hush-money, I rob her^my future 
 wife — and defeat the object for which I en- 
 gaged in the transaction at first. You've 
 had more than a fair share already. "Will 
 you take five thousand ? I appeal to you as 
 a thief and a man of honor." 
 
 Sam perceived Golightley's irony, though 
 he could not perceive his object in being 
 ironical just at that time. He answered 
 doggedly : 
 
 " Ten thousand is what I'll have. Uncle 
 Golightley, 'nd more afterward, if I need it. 
 Whichever of us has it, it'll be in the family 
 all the same, you know ! And if I go to the 
 devil, the rest of you shall go along with 
 me." 
 
 " You drive a hard bargain, Samuel," 
 remarked Golightley, looking at the half- 
 breed with a curious expression of amuse- 
 ment. " Eecoll6bt how the last straw broke 
 the camel's back, and be careful to stop at 
 the last but one. Well, I'll write you the 
 check. You know our bankers, and how 
 to manage the affair with safety to yourself. 
 How long do you propose to remain in your 
 present quarters ? " 
 
 " That's my own lookout ; just you write 
 out the check." 
 
 " Perhaps you'd like a little ready money 
 to start on ? If you travel in that costume, 
 with a check for ten thousand pounds in 
 your pocket, it might prove awkward for 
 you, and so for me." He took out his 
 pocket-book. " I've a thousand dollars in 
 gold and bank-notes here ; you'd better take 
 them and get yourself an outfit." 
 
 Sam took the money and examined it 
 closely, being naturally suspicious of such 
 kindly thoughtfulness on the part of his 
 new-found uncle. But both notes and coin 
 were genuine, and the half-breed pocketed 
 them with the self-satisfied grimace of a 
 scamp who has got the better of his fellow. 
 
 Golightley now arose and stepped forth 
 from the wigwam, and began putting on his 
 gloves again. " I shall see you once more, 
 then,'' said he, turning upon his host, who 
 stood like a black pillar against the smoky 
 light that glowed within the wigwam. 
 " Perhaps, by that time, you'll have thought 
 better about those certificates. I sha'n't 
 mind writing that check double if you do.'' 
 
 " Good-night, uncle ! " was all Sam's 
 reply. 
 
 " Au revoir! you're a sharp fellow," re- 
 turned the other, and went out. On the 
 landing below he heard the sound of Eli- 
 nor's singing. Moving softly to the door, 
 he leaned against the jamb, and listened 
 there until the song ceased. Then he stole 
 back to his chamber, and was seen no more 
 that night. 
 
 CHAPTEK LXVII. 
 
 EvEE since his quarrel with Madge Dan- 
 ver in the pantry, Jack Selwyn had been 
 asking himself whether or not her infoi-ma- 
 tion regarding the robbery was extensive 
 and particular enough to be of value : and 
 Madge, on the other hand, had amused her- 
 self with mystifying him to the utmost of 
 her power. He had pretty well made up 
 his mind that the accomplice of whom he 
 was in search was named Sam Kineo ; but, 
 assuming such to be the fact, he was at a loss 
 to imagine why Madge should hesitate to 
 expose him. He knew that the two had 
 been acquainted in childhood ; but, even 
 supposing an attachment to have existed be- 
 tween them at that time, it was not credible 
 that it should survive a separation of ten 
 years or more. Neither could he believe 
 that her reticence was merely whimsical, 
 for he had offered her substantial induce- 
 ments to break it. And finally, if she really 
 knew nothing, how was she able to appear 
 so knowing ? 
 
 One evening, when she was preparing 
 to return from Urmhurst to her own home. 
 Jack offered to accompany her, and his 
 escort was accepted. It was a cold, bright 
 night, and as the two young people paced 
 
OEAFT. 
 
 235 
 
 arm-in-arm together beneath the leafless 
 trees, they might have been taken for a pair 
 of lovers. Indeed, Madge, glancing at Sel- 
 wyn's manly face out of the corner of her 
 long, dark eye, may have sighed to think 
 what a charming wooer he would make ; 
 and Jack, as he felt the light pressure of 
 her shoulder, and caught the outline of her 
 glowing cheek, might have mused how sweet 
 would be the wooing of her. But it did not 
 happen to be their destiny to love each 
 other. The conversation proceeded in an 
 unromantic and even uninteresting strain, 
 until Madge exclaimed, slipping her hand 
 from his arm and stepping aside : 
 
 " Do be more agreeable, or witty, or 
 something ! Why did you come with me ? 
 I can find my own way home perfectly 
 weU." 
 
 "I've been wondering, then, how jou 
 got hold of my letter to Garth, and what 
 use you made of it ? " 
 
 " That is neither witty nor agreeable, 
 nor even polite. If you have reason to sus- 
 pect me of knowing anything about it, you 
 should know how I caine to know ; and, if 
 you suspect me without reason, you are in- 
 sulting ! " 
 
 " If it would be politer to believe you a 
 witch — that's my only alternative." 
 
 " That is to say, a woman with brains 
 must be either dishonest or a witch. Per- 
 haps there are other ways of finding out 
 things than through your letters, Mr. Sel- 
 wyn. If you were not so busy with your 
 suspicions, maybe you'd see more. Tell 
 me now — of what do you suspect me?" 
 She bent forward and looked smiling in his 
 face. 
 
 "Of not seeing your own best inter-- 
 ests." 
 
 " Yes ; women must always be thinking 
 of their best interests — that's men's ideal 
 — and the lower the interest, of course the 
 more they think of it." 
 
 " No, Miss Madge. Some women are | 
 disinterested — " 
 
 "Elinor Golightley, for instance — be- 
 cause you are in love with her. But if she 
 should happen to marry the gentleman to 
 whom she's engaged, maybe you wouldn't 
 except even her. What right have you to 
 
 treat me as if I were not a lady ? " she went 
 on, angrily. " You know nothing against 
 me. What are you ? Do gentlemen try to 
 get on the right side of women when they 
 want to steal something from them, and are 
 not clever enough to get what they are after 
 fairly ? " 
 
 " All right. Miss Madge ; I'll be plain 
 with you, if you wish it. It's true that I 
 undertook this job chiefly for Elinor Go- 
 lightley's sake ; but that is nothing to the 
 present purpose. But it's true, too, that I 
 do suspect you — of intending to play false 
 with Garth, and turn all this trouble to your 
 own advantage." 
 
 " But how I'm going to make it turn to 
 my own advantage is more than you can 
 imagine — eh, Mr. Selwyn?" she interposed, 
 banteringly. " 1 can guess your thoughts. 
 You believe that Mr. Golightley Urmson 
 has done something very wrong, and that I, 
 somehow or other, have found it out ; and 
 that I meant either to marry poor Golight- 
 ley or to blackmail him, and then run away 
 to Europe and he happy. And yet you were 
 puzzled at my being such a goose as to 
 receive stolen goods, knowing them to be 
 such ; and you wondered why — if money 
 was what I wanted — I didn't take your re- 
 ward and tell all I knew. Am I correct so 
 far, Mr. Selwyn? " 
 
 "At all events, you guess well," said 
 Jack, with a smile. 
 
 " Well, perhaps you'll tell me the rest of 
 your suspicions yourself" 
 
 " I'm sure you can do it better than I 
 could." 
 
 " You promised to be straightforward, 
 and instead of that you are sarcastic. Well, 
 I'll play myown part and yours too. Did 
 you never hear of Sam Kineo ? " 
 
 " I've heard of a Mr. Elint— " 
 
 " Oh, yes, and Mr. Flint is Mr. Kineo — 
 that's easy enough. Well, he and I used to 
 he great friends. He was in love with me, 
 and ... a great many things might have 
 happened, only that I became engaged to 
 Garth, and thought it to my interest (as you 
 would say) not to break with him. Of 
 course, I wasn't true to Garth, because I 
 loved him, you know ; I shouldn't think of 
 trying to make a clever man of the world 
 
236 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 like Mr. Jack Selwyn believe such an absurd 
 thing as that." 
 
 " What do you want me to believe 1 " 
 
 "Only what you can't help believing; 
 but please don't be so cross ! Well, Sam 
 Kineo has written to me several times since 
 he was abroad ; and several months ago he 
 wrote me that he had made a great deal of 
 money, and wanted — me! — to help him 
 spend it. But my best interests, as usual, 
 prevented me from accepting his offer. 
 Then, only a little while ago — since you 
 came here, in fact— he wrote me that he 
 was poor again, and — " 
 
 " He wrote you since I have been here? " 
 
 "Don't get excited, Mr. Selwyn, please," 
 said Madge, quietly resuming his arm. 
 
 " Where was his letter dated from ? " 
 
 " Oh ! I'm not sure that I remember 
 that!" 
 
 " I have reason to think that Sam Kineo 
 is concealed somewhere in this neighbor- 
 hood. Perhaps you'll let me see his letter? " 
 
 " It wouldn't be right, I'm afraid, with- 
 out his permission. Besides, if he's in this 
 neighborhood, the letter must be a forgery, 
 so it would be of no use to you." 
 
 "Look here!" exclaimed Jack, impatient- 
 ly, "damn this hide-and-seek game! I'll 
 admit I'm not your equal at it. If you've 
 anything to tell, out with it, in your own 
 way ! Tou know whether or not it wiU be 
 worth your while. But if you only want 
 to amuse yourself— be amused, in the devil's 
 name ! " 
 
 "I am amused, thank you," said she, 
 with a low laugh. " But I have something 
 to tell you too. This Mr. Flint, as you call 
 him, had a plan which he wanted me to 
 help him in. The police, it seems, after try- 
 ing to catch him for a long hime, and fail- 
 ing, at last gave him to understand that if 
 he would come forward of his own accord 
 and give evidence against a certain person 
 who was implicated with him, he should 
 receive a free pardon for himself." 
 
 " He was right, so far," remarked Sel- 
 wyn. 
 
 " But, you see, one reason of his receiv- 
 ing such a kind offer was, that he had lost 
 all his money, so that nothing except his 
 evidence could be got out of him. Well, he 
 
 thought the offer over, and by-and-by it 
 seemed to him that he could do better." 
 
 " He thought so, did he ? " 
 
 " Yes, and I think he was right. This — 
 certain person, you know, could be con- 
 victed only on Mr. Flint's evidence — there 
 would be no use in arresting him without 
 that ; so it was probable that he would be 
 willing to pay Mr. Flint a good deal — sev- 
 eral thousand pounds, perhaps — to destroy 
 all evidence against him. And this letter 
 that I received asks me to find out how 
 much money this certain person will give for 
 the evidence-papers ; and if the bargain i8 
 made, I am to hand over the papers to the 
 certain person, and carry the money to Mr. 
 Flint. Isn't that a good plan? and don't 
 you think it would be to my best interest to 
 help in it?" 
 
 " I don't know what to think." 
 
 " Oh, then it's no matter ; especially as 
 I have given him my answer." 
 
 " Given him your answer ? " 
 
 " I wrote him to send me the papers, and 
 I would get the money for them." 
 
 " Gracious God ! " muttered Jack, and 
 plunged into a silent tumult of thought. 
 Could it be that this girl, so far from schem- 
 ing dishonestly for her own advantage, had 
 actually contrived to bring both thieves to 
 justice by her unaided ingenuity? If so, 
 what a long and painful apology Jack owed 
 her! But it was his instinct to distrust her, 
 and even yet his faith was weak. " Have 
 you got the papers ? " he asked. 
 
 " I shouldn't give them to you, Mr. Jack 
 Selwyn, if I did have them." 
 
 " What the mischief are you going to do, 
 then ? " 
 
 " Well, yon see," replied Madge, folding 
 her hands demurely in her muff and looking 
 up at him, "it wouldn't be nice to have 
 people we know arrested and sent to prison, 
 no matter what they had done. I'm sure 
 Mr. Cuthbert Urmson wouldn't like that, 
 nor Miss Elinor Golightley either. So I 
 thought I would tell the certain person that 
 I had the evidence against him, but that if 
 he would give back the money to the per- 
 son from whom it was stolen, I would de- 
 stroy the evidence ; and nothing more should 
 be said or done about it." 
 
GRAFT. 
 
 237 
 
 Jack mused for a while, twisting his 
 mustache and rubbing his chin. " It's true 
 enough," said he, "that the recovery of the 
 money is the main thing, and that arrests 
 may be very disagreeable to all concerned ; 
 but, for all that, we have no right to com- 
 pound a felony. Why should you shield 
 these two scamps? You don't really care 
 for them ? " 
 
 " I care for the honor of the family," re- 
 plied Madge, after a pause. 
 
 " The honor of the family has suffered 
 all it can already ; punishing those who've 
 dishonored it won't make matters any worse. 
 Put us on the track of this fellow Flint, or 
 Kineo, and let Justice take its course." 
 
 "Are you quite sure, Mr. Selwyn, that 
 you'd be so anxious justice should take its 
 course, if its doing so would not clear a rival 
 out of your way-? " 
 
 " The thief would be known to those 
 most concerned, whether he were publicly 
 convicted or not : it would be the same to 
 me in either case." 
 
 "If I loved a man,'' exclaimed Madge, 
 quickly, "I'd stick to him aU the closer if 
 he did wrong and got into trouble ! " 
 
 " I dare say you would. But, since you 
 don't love such a man, let's understand each 
 other. Your plan is to destroy the evidence- 
 papers, after having used them to compel 
 the restoration of the stolen money to its 
 owner. But have the papers actually been 
 handed over to you? " 
 
 She appeared to hesitate, and finally shook 
 her head. 
 
 " I thought not : and it isn't likely that 
 Kineo would be such a fool as to let you have 
 them until he got his fingers on the money. 
 Bat, look here. If we know where he is, 
 you can safely pay him the money, and we'll 
 come down on him after he's received it, and 
 bag money, papers, and all. That's the only 
 sure way." 
 
 "If Sam Kineo would trust me with 
 knowing where he was, he would trust me 
 with his papers. I can deceive him about 
 the money, for that belongs to some one else ; 
 but his liberty belongs to him ; it wouldn't 
 be fair to help you take that away from 
 him." 
 
 " Oh, for mercy's sake, my good young 
 
 friend, don't let yourself become sentimen- 
 tal about such a blackguard ! If he trusts 
 you, depend upon it he trusts you to be a 
 fool : he would take your scalp any moment 
 if ho thought he could get five dollars for 
 it!" 
 
 " Do you really think so ? " murmured 
 Madge, gazing guilelessly up in her com- 
 panion's eyes. "Is he such a villain as 
 that?" 
 
 " I'm afraid he is. Miss Madge," replied 
 Jack, shaking his head. 
 
 She appeared to hesitate awhile, but 
 finally said: "Don't you think, after getting 
 the papers from him, you might make that 
 certain person give up the money without 
 sending him to prison, or having any more 
 trouble ? " 
 
 " It isn't for me to decide. But, if you 
 think it would make you feel better, I'll do 
 what I can to bring it about." 
 
 " Well, then — but maybe you won't be- 
 lieve I'm telling you the truth ? " 
 
 " Good Lord ! Nobody lies without an 
 object," cried Jack, who was quite at the 
 end of his patience. 
 
 " And since you see no object in my tell- 
 ing lies, you are willing to believe me ? You 
 are always so polite ! " 
 
 " If you care for my apologies. Miss Dan- 
 ver, you shall have as many as you want, 
 with all my heart. But you yourself helped 
 me to misjudge you." 
 
 She put her hand reluctantly in her pock- 
 et. "Do you know Sam Kineo's hand- 
 writing? — Very well, then, this letter will 
 teU you all I know. I don't believe you'll 
 catch him, mind ! The address is not very 
 precise." 
 
 Jack took the lettei-, and, holding it in the 
 moonlight, glanced hastily through it. " The 
 deuce ! " muttered he ; " in Canada ! " 
 Madge watched him with a peculiar sparkle 
 in her eyes, but said nothing. " I shall leave 
 here to-morrow," continued Selwyn, after 
 another examination of the letter. " If we 
 succeed, it will be owing to you. Of course, 
 you won't speak of this to any one. A care- 
 less word, you know, might do as much harm 
 as you have done good." 
 
 " I shall be very prudent, Mr. Selwyn," 
 returned Madge, demurely. " You needn't 
 
238 
 
 GAETH. 
 
 come any farther with me — there is my 
 house. Good-night." 
 
 " I managed that well," said Jack self- 
 approvingly to himself, as he slammed the 
 door of his bedchamber half an hour later, 
 and set about packing his valise. " But I'll 
 
 be hanged if I can quite see through that 
 girl, yet ! " 
 
 Sam Kineo, awakened from his doze in 
 the garret by the noise of the door, muttered 
 a curse on the world in general, and rolled 
 up his head in the blanket. 
 
 BOOK IX. 
 FEBMENTA TION. 
 
 CHAPTER LXVIII. 
 
 LADY ELEANOE. 
 
 One afternoon Elinor took it into her 
 head to have a look at the studio. No one 
 had entered this room since the occasion of 
 the little party's assembling there in the au- 
 tumn, to see the unfinished picture. After 
 standing a moment or two on the threshold, 
 she went in. 
 
 A gray film of dust had gathered over 
 everything, deepening the feeling of solitude 
 and desolation which the studio inspired. 
 The intruder stepped lightly, as one who 
 fears to awaken a sleeper. Each object that 
 mether eyes seemed entranced, awaiting the 
 moment when a spell should be broken, and 
 the frozen stillness change to genial life. It 
 was a bitterly cold day, and the skylight was 
 arabesqued with frost. Glancing toward the 
 fireplace, Elinor saw a small pile of wood, the 
 remains of last year's fuel, standing behind 
 the stove. She kindled a fire ; and soon the 
 frost on the skylight began to liquefy, the 
 air to smell faintly of heated iron, and the 
 dreary influence which heretofore had brood- 
 ed over the room to yield to the benign in- 
 fluence of flame. 
 
 An old duster of peacock feathers was 
 hanging from a peg beside the fireplace. 
 She disengaged it, and was about to whisk 
 it across the surface of the dust-veiled pict- 
 ure on the easel. On second thoughts, how- 
 ever, she left this untouched, and contented 
 
 herself with dusting the other objects in the 
 studio. As she did so, the recollection of 
 that October afternoon returned upon her 
 with circumstantial distinctness. There was 
 the very sketch upon the wall which Mr. 
 TJrmson had pointed out to her, and com- 
 mented upon so humorously. Yonder, in 
 front of the easel, had stood Golightley, his 
 hand upon Garth's shoulder, and speaking 
 to him in an undertone, while the artist 
 leaned against the back of the chair, with 
 lowering brows, biting his lip. On the sofa, 
 Madge and Mrs. Tenterden laughed and chat- 
 ted together. Later, when the rest had 
 gone, Elinor sat on the same sofa, the port- 
 folio lying open between her and Garth, who 
 was so preoccupied that only her involuntary 
 outburst of laughter had aroused him. She 
 smiled again at that recollection. And here 
 was the same sofa, and the portfolio just as 
 they had left it so many weeks ago. She 
 sat down in the old place, and thought over 
 all that they had spoken together, until she 
 could almost believe that he was once more 
 beside her. . . . No ! she was alone. 
 
 Having furbished up the neglected studio, 
 Ehnor, after the wont of benefactors, con- 
 ceived a kindness for it, and thenceforward 
 used it as her boudoir. She had not much 
 leisure; for, though Garth was now quite 
 convalescent, his father seemed to be failing 
 rapidly, and it was Elinor's sad pleasure to 
 be his nurse. When occasion served, how- 
 ever, she would quietly mount the garret- 
 stairs, and, having made her fire in the little 
 
LADY ELEANOR. 
 
 239 
 
 stove, sit down to read or ponder over the 
 portfolio, or play upon her violin. No one 
 ever disturbed her here, or even seemed 
 aware of her retreat. Even Golightley never 
 sought her out; but his manner toward her 
 had, during the last few weeks, undergone 
 a welcome change from flippant gallantry to 
 unobtrusive observance. As for Jack Sel- 
 wyn, he had some time since departed on a 
 journey — whither or with what purpose was 
 not declared. 
 
 As she was reclining one day on the 
 sofa, shaping out dreamy forms of melody 
 on her violin, the door opened, and Garth 
 came in. 
 
 "So this is where you go?" said he. 
 "I've heard mysterious music for the last 
 week or two. The old studio looks comfort- 
 able." 
 
 " You shouldn't have come up," exclaimed 
 Elinor, blushing a little. " What if you were 
 to have a relapse ! You must lie down on 
 this sofa." 
 
 " No relapses or sofas for me ! I'm going 
 to get to work again at my old picture. Go 
 on with your playing.'' 
 
 " I was going down in a few minutes." 
 
 "Don't — I shall work better to music. 
 Stay a little while." 
 
 He sat down in front of the easel. He 
 was far from robust-looking ; but the fever 
 seemed to have filed away an incrustation 
 over the true man, leaving the spirit in him 
 more free and powerful. His expression had 
 lost its former sullenness, and there was 
 something really beautiful in his smile. 
 
 "You didn't touch this," he remarked, 
 nodding toward the picture. " I'm glad you 
 didn't — no one but I can make it clean ! " 
 He seized the palette-cloth as he spoke, and 
 rubbed it over the canvas, which glowed 
 forth once more in the sombre brilliance of 
 its coloring. Then, leaning back in his chair, 
 he gazed at it long and steadfastly, as he 
 might have gazed at an enemy who had 
 fought him to the death. At length he took 
 up his palette and brushes, and began mixing 
 some fresh tints. 
 
 " It was here we had our first talk — do 
 you remember it? The first, and the last, 
 but one ! The other was at the picnic ; and 
 now here we are again. After all, it's less 
 
 than a dozen weeks, altogether. But we 
 must forget each other now, and set to 
 work. You play me something, and I'll 
 paint it." 
 
 After some little wandering prelude, Eli- 
 nor rose by degrees to the full height of 
 musical possession, and played as she had 
 never played to any one but Garth. Like 
 all profound musicians, she penetrated to 
 the soul of facts and incidents ; she saw the 
 story of her life translated into large mean- 
 ings, and with subtile bow and faultless fin- 
 gers she gave the vision utterance. Art is 
 the duct through which divinity reaches 
 man, and there are moments when the duct 
 becomes a river, and the artist prophesies 
 with a voice greater than his own — the cre- 
 ative voice that harmonizes all things. But 
 insomuch as every interpretation smacks of 
 the interpreter there was so much of Elinor's 
 personality in her music that Garth, inspired 
 with it, was in truth inspired with her. He 
 painted rapidly and vehemently, and yet in 
 a kind of trance. It was the emotional side 
 of the man that was at work ; his intellectual 
 and material parts acted merely as instru- 
 ments. 
 
 At length Elinor lowered her bow, and 
 Garth his brush, both with a sense of ex- 
 haustion, as after intense albeit unheeded 
 exercise. Drops of sweat stood on Garth's 
 forehead, and his hands trembled. After a 
 few moments he got up, and, walking with 
 a heavy step to the sofa, sat down there 
 wearily. 
 
 "You see, you were not strong enough," 
 Elinor said, with an upbraiding smile. 
 
 " Yes, I was ; for it's done." 
 
 "I'm very glad," said she, with a long 
 breath. 
 
 " So am I! " rejoined he ; and there was 
 a happy look in his deep-set eyes. 
 
 " May I see it ? " 
 
 " Yes — in a few minutes. I don't know 
 myself what I've painted yet. The music 
 did more of it than I." 
 
 After a pause, he continued : " In fact, 
 it's been your doing from the beginning. 
 You first set me fermenting that day up 
 here ; then you shamed the devil out of me 
 at the picnic ; and you saved my life in the 
 fever." 
 
240 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 ( 
 
 " I should like to think I had helped yon. 
 I was useless hefore I met you." 
 
 " You sha'n't find it useless to have 
 helped me." 
 
 They had fallen unawares upon a region 
 of emotion which was perilous, yet hard to 
 escape from. There was much that they 
 might say to each other. 
 
 " A man can only begin to be happy 
 when he sees that happiness is not good for 
 him. It is hard to take things to heart and 
 yet keep tender-hearted — isn't it? " 
 
 " I suppose we live here so as to become 
 strong enough for heaven. It takes strength 
 to bear worldly happiness; and eternal hap- 
 piness — " 
 
 " If I become strong enough to be your 
 friend, I shall he satisfied." 
 
 " Then be satisfied ! " said Elinor, smiling, 
 but with tears. Garth took her extended 
 hand, and held it for a breath or two, meet- 
 ing her eyes the while. The world seemed 
 far off, but whether joy or pain were migh- 
 tiest in their hearts, they knew not. But 
 they knew that in the last few minutes they 
 had lived. 
 
 It is the profoundest emotion that soon- 
 est veils itself. Garth presently stretched 
 up his arms, clasped his hands behind his 
 head, and said, with a smile : 
 
 " I shall be a great artist, after all — an 
 old master! I feel immense confidence in 
 myself! Other artists have not had my in- 
 spiration. The world ought to know that 
 my best pictures were painted with a vio- 
 lin." 
 
 " I like better that the violin should be 
 hidden in the pictures," said she, tremu- 
 lously. 
 
 " Well — as the soul is hidden in the body. 
 But the soul outlasts the body ; so you wiU 
 get your deserts at last." 
 
 " Oh, I have them now ! " 
 
 "Let us see what I have been doing 
 here ! " exclaimed Garth, abruptly, rising 
 from the sofa. " The light will be gone in 
 half an hour more." 
 
 At this juncture, however, Madge and 
 Golightley climbed the garret-stairs, knocked 
 and entered. 
 
 "Didn't I tell you so?" laughed the 
 former, glancing at her companion. " Dear 
 
 me, how cozy everything looks! — It was so 
 kind of you, dear Elinor, to think of bring- 
 ing that poor black-and-white creature up 
 here for a change ! " 
 
 Golightley stood by in silence ; his usual 
 volubility a.id self-importance seemed to 
 have deserted him of late. Garth explained 
 laconically that he was an intruder in the 
 studio, not a guest. 
 
 " But music and painting belong togeth- 
 er, as we all know," retarned Madge, light- 
 ly. " I suppose you inspire one another." 
 
 "I have kept you waiting a long time 
 for your picture," remarked Garth, turning 
 to his uncle, " and now I have no picture for 
 you. Come and see." 
 
 They all moved in front of the canvas. 
 Garth was himself the first to break the mo- 
 mentary silence that ensued. He glanced at 
 Elinor and murmured : 
 
 " It was a real inspiration ! " 
 
 " What ? " demanded Madge, sharply, 
 setting her small, white teetli against her 
 under lip. 
 
 " E'm — yes — I see ! " muttered Golight- 
 ley, adjusting his eye-glasses, and bending 
 forward. " You've painted Margaret out and 
 Ehnor in. An inspiration, sure enough ! " 
 
 " Of course, the alteration puts an end 
 to our bargain. I preferred to follow my 
 own judgment. — But I'd no idea I was paint- 
 ing you, Elinor ! it's strange ! " 
 
 " I don'ti»think it looks much like me," 
 Elinor said. 
 
 " Not pretty enough, of course," began 
 Madge. 
 
 "I mean, it's idealized too much to be 
 called a likeness," interrupted the other, with 
 one of her point-blank looks. 
 
 " But at least you think it better than 
 mine ? " Madge continued, the blood rushing 
 into her cheeks. 
 
 Elinor turned upon her again, and said, 
 coldly : 
 
 " It is better than yours, for the pict- 
 ure." 
 
 " Garth, you said just now that our bar- 
 gain was off," observed Golightley, laying 
 his hand on the artist's shoulder. "By 
 George! so say I, too. The picture, as it 
 was yesterday, was a fine picture — worth a 
 thousand pounds to me, and more to a richer 
 
BETWEEN DARKNESS AND LIGHT. 
 
 241 
 
 man. But, as it stands there at this mo- 
 ment, Garth Urmson, it's worth ten times 
 that — a hundred times that! With those 
 few rapid touches you have wrouglit a mira- 
 cle ; and I believe, from my soul, that you 
 have painted the greatest picture of its kind 
 that there is in the world! By George, 
 Garth, I mean what I say ! " 
 
 Indeed, it was very evident, both from 
 the tone of Uncle Golightley's voice and the 
 workings of his countenance, that he was 
 unusually moved. Everybody was surprised, 
 not only at his emotion, but at his words. 
 The greatest picture of its kind in the world ! 
 They all looked again at the canvas. The 
 light was already fading, but the face of the 
 new Lady Eleanor gleamed forth with mar- 
 velous power. The greatest in the world ! 
 Was it not so, indeed ? 
 
 " I'm afraid Uncle Golightley won't have 
 money enough to pay for it," remarked 
 Madge, dryly. The light had faded quite out ; 
 the spell was broken. The picture had lived 
 its moment. But if it had touched the top 
 of art, and found appreciation, a moment 
 was long enough. 
 
 " By-the-by, my dear Elinor," said Go- 
 lightley, as they turned away from the easel, 
 "Mildred sent me up here to find you. She 
 wants to ask you something about Outhbert's 
 medicine. Shall we go down ? " 
 
 CHAPTER LXIX. 
 
 BETWEEN- DAEKNES3 AND LIGHT. 
 
 When the two had taken their departure, 
 Madge threw herself down on the sofa and 
 burst out laughing, holding her handkerchief 
 before her mouth and biting it with her teeth. 
 Meanwhile she watched Garth with an angry 
 sparkle in her eyes. She looked as danger- 
 ous as she was beautiful. Garth had re- 
 mained in front of the picture, but his face 
 was turned toward her. Suddenly she 
 stopped laughing and exclaimed • 
 
 " Do, pray, look somewhere else. Isn't 
 the greatest picture in the world better 
 worth studying than I am ? " 
 
 " I wasn't looking at you as an artist." 
 
 " Oh, no, I suppose not. I'm not good 
 16 
 
 enough for pictures. You were only looking 
 ■at me as a lover — a true, devoted, passionate 
 lover — ha, ha, ha! " 
 
 " I expected you to be angry." 
 
 "What! angry because I caught yoa 
 flirting with Elinor Golightley ? My own 
 sweet Garth, you were never more mis- 
 taken ! Did you imagine I haven't seen 
 what's been going on between you two from 
 the first? I understand it — it's an artistic 
 affinity, that's all ! " 
 
 A flash of resentment crossed Garth's 
 face, and he turned away. 
 
 " I want you to listen to me," said Madge, 
 in a low, smooth voice, leaning forward 
 toward him with an undulation of the neck 
 and shoulders, as of a tiger- creeping to am- 
 bush. " Come and sit by me, please." 
 
 He drew up a chair and sat down before 
 her. " Try not to say what is disgraceful, 
 Madge — for your own sake." 
 
 " Or for Elinor's sake — which ? You are 
 an impostor, Garth Urmson ! I don't care 
 how wicked a man is, if only he lets it be 
 known, and isn't afraid. If you had said, 
 long ago, ' I'm tired of you — I'm going off 
 with another woman ! ' — if you'd strike me, 
 now, for saying what I'm saying, instead of 
 sitting there with your hands in your pockets, 
 pretending you're shocked and grieved — ^ha, 
 ha, ha, ha ! " 
 
 Garth lowered his eyes ; he made no reply. 
 Madge was drawn up on the sofa, resting 
 her cheek on her clinched white hand ; she 
 kept one position, yet a subtile, continuous 
 motion vibrated through her body and limbs. 
 There was a look in her eyes which Garth did 
 not choose to meet. Such looks are harder 
 to forget than the most poisonous words. 
 
 " You may find that you'd better have 
 sold your picture as it was, instead of taking 
 all that trouble to insult me. Golightley 
 won't buy it now, for all his talk ; and I'd 
 have le.t you go and welcome without your 
 throwing away a thousand pounds. You 
 think Elinor can make it up to you; but 
 what if she didn't get back her fortune after 
 all? Do you suppose she could make you as 
 rich as I could have done ? I wish you were 
 worth being jealous of — but I can live as I like 
 in spite of you ! What do you know of how 
 a woman may love a man ? I wish I did love 
 
24:2 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 yon— for an hour — so that I might show you 
 what love is, and then leave you to want me- 
 forever! I wonder that there's a single 
 good woman in the world ! I don't believe 
 there is, unless she's a fool ! " 
 
 Tliese wild sentences followed each other 
 -rapidly, with low-toned, malignant emphasis. 
 Still looking down. Garth said, huskily : 
 
 "How came such thoughts into your 
 mind?" 
 
 " They are the truth." 
 
 "They are false!" said he, in a voice 
 that made her shrink. He raised his eyes, 
 and such was the light of indignation in 
 them, that the expression of the woman's 
 face was quenched. Though she knew that 
 Garth would never harm a hair of her head, 
 she felt the thrill of absolute fear. Some- 
 thing he would do ! 
 
 " What makes you beautiful? " he asjced, 
 sternly and sadly. Other words seemed 
 about to follow, but he held them back. 
 That one question was pregnant enough. It 
 entered into Madge's soul, and made her 
 know that all power of her physical fascina- 
 tion was thenceforth at an end with him. 
 If she would regain him now, it must be by 
 other means. But what other means had 
 she? She had worshiped her beauty, con- 
 quered by it, risked her future upon it. If 
 it were despised, what was left her ? 
 
 " Make me ugly, then ! " she whispered, 
 setting her teeth; "strike my face! crush 
 me ! " She was half beside herself. 
 
 "I could give you no other beauty in- 
 stead of that." 
 
 She caught a tone of compassion in his 
 voice, and the idea that he pitied her 
 drove her mad. She sprang up with a 
 wild look, and the thought, "I will kill 
 myself! " 
 
 Glancing about, her eyes lighted on the 
 rusty cutlass that hung above the fireplace. 
 She glided round Garth, leaped up with a 
 sharp cry and caught it down. Awkwardly, 
 but with good-will enough, she aimed a sort 
 of thrust at herself. Garth was in time to 
 turn the blow aside; then he struck the 
 weapon from her grasp. She screamed with 
 rage, and sprang for it again. It had fallen 
 at the foot of the easel ; as she rose with it 
 in her hand, -the picture confronted her. 
 
 Instantly she plunged the blade through the 
 canvas, cutting and stabbing until every ves- 
 tige of the new Lady Eleanor was destroyed, 
 and the entire painting was a mass of 
 tatters. This done, she looked round for 
 Garth. 
 
 The excitement of the afternoon, culmi- 
 nating in Madge's desperate attempt against 
 herself, had been too much for the convales- 
 cent, and, the moment after disarming her, 
 he had fainted away. Madge saw him lying 
 face downward on the floor, and felt her 
 blood thicken with horror ; for her first idea 
 was that he had been wounded by the cut- 
 lass in the struggle, and was dead. She got 
 on her knees beside him, took him in her 
 arms, and, with the unconscious strength of 
 excitement, rose and fairly carried him to 
 the sofa. Then she searched for a wound 
 or a blood-stain; but there was none to 
 be found. It was only a fainting-fit — with 
 a sob of relief in her throat that assurance 
 came to her at last. She herself was worse 
 used than he. Her dark hair hung loose 
 upon her shoulders, the bosom of her dress 
 was torn open, the wrist which he had 
 struck was bruised, and there was a thin cut 
 across her left palm. 
 
 She lifted his powerless hand to her lips 
 and kissed it ; then put it in her bare bosom 
 and let her heart beat against it. " Do I not 
 love him ? " she asked herself. " I would die 
 for him. But I can't get up to him; and 
 now he doesn't care that I am beautiful." 
 
 The fainting man gave a sigh ; she took 
 his hand from her bosom and stood up. "If 
 I only had some cordial ! " she thought ; and 
 in a moment an idea struck her, and she 
 swiftly left the room. 
 
 Sam Kineo, moodily smoking on his pile 
 of blankets, was startled by her sudden en- 
 trance and sprang to his feet. " What's the 
 matter now ? " he whispered; "police? " 
 
 "Give me your brandy — quick! Garth 
 has fainted." 
 
 " Gai-th ? bah !— let him faint." 
 
 " Sam Kineo, you must give it me." 
 
 " Must, eh? I see, you're making love to 
 him again! Now, don't get excited, my lit- 
 tle dear ; the brandy's safe in my coat-pock- 
 et. But; before you get it, you'll have to 
 give me a kiss. Oome, now ! " 
 
BETWEEN DARKNESS AND LIGHT. 
 
 243 
 
 " I will never — " 
 
 " Then you don't get the brandy." 
 " O Sam, don't ask me now — only not 
 this time ! I'll come back afterward— Oh, 
 any time but now ! " 
 
 "Any time won't do. Tell you what, 
 my little beauty, I won't stand this dodging 
 about — pleasant 's pie-crust in the morning, 
 'nd flustering up in the evening! You'll 
 just give me a nice, affectionate kiss, and 
 then you may go to dear Garth with the 
 brandy." 
 
 Madge felt that she must submit. She 
 had put herself in the way of evil with her 
 eyes open, and had ere now discovered that 
 it is not so easy to play fast and loose with 
 evil as with good. The spirit of darkness 
 stretched out its arms, as Sam did now, and 
 forced her to yield him tribute. 
 
 " Very well ; do as you like,'' said she, in 
 a hard, hopeless tone. Sara chuckled, and, 
 having exacted full payment for his brandy. 
 Buffered her to take it. At the door she 
 turned and said, "You will be sorry' for this 
 all your life." The half-breed only laughed 
 his noiseless laugh, and she came out. But 
 her returning step had lost all spring and 
 lightness, and on the threshold of the studio 
 she faltered, shamed and wretched, and half- 
 minded to steal away again. Nevertheless 
 she entered, and found Garth already in part 
 recovered. The brandy was not needed, 
 after all. "I wonder if he'd thank me," 
 thought the girl, " if he knew what I paid 
 for it ! " 
 
 "I've not done much good to-day! " was 
 Garth's first observation. 
 
 " That's a thing one soon gets used to," 
 she rejoined, with bitter lightsomeness. 
 
 "Madge — with all my heart I want to be 
 good to you," said he, gently. "I'm partly an- 
 swerable for what you said and did, to-day." 
 
 "No, no, no! It would make no difler- 
 fince to me to be answerable for much worse 
 things." 
 
 " That alteration in the picture was not 
 the insult to you that it seemed to be. It's 
 the first thing I have done to make me worth 
 an honest woman's marrying.'' 
 
 At the mention of the picture, it occurred 
 to Madge that probably Garth had not seen 
 her act of vandalism. She stepped to the 
 
 easel and ^moved it so th-at he could behold 
 the tattered canvas^ He gazed straight at it 
 for an appreciable time, and asked — 
 
 "Did you do that?" 
 
 She nodded. 
 
 He clutched his hair and laughed so pleas- 
 antly and unexpectedly, that Madge bright- 
 ened up for a moment as if sunshine had 
 fallen on her. 
 
 "Well, I'm glad it's done," said he. 
 " The old picture has served its purpose, and 
 was destroyed at the most fitting moment. 
 My girl, let us annihilate our past in the same 
 way — the bad and foolish part of it, I mean. 
 This shall be our last quarrel." 
 
 He tried to take her hand, but she drew 
 it away. "Don't think I'm angry— Or 
 think what you please ! There's blood on 
 my hand — it's a bad omen. I've been 
 naughty; I'm not good enough yet. Per- 
 haps — to-morrow ! " 
 
 " Did you cut yourself? " 
 
 " Only a little scratch : I'm sure it might 
 have been much worse — or better ! Yes, why 
 did you interfere? You'd have had your pict- 
 ure safe and me out of the way by now." 
 
 " Nothing would be safe for me without 
 you, Madge." 
 
 " Don't speak so ! If I don't laugh, I 
 shall cry — or go mad again! Don't touch 
 me. I tell you I'm not ready." 
 
 " Only say we shall be married soon." 
 
 " So that you can say, ' I kept my promise 
 to her ! ' You don't love me. Why don't you 
 tell me the truth about Elinor Golightley? " 
 
 " There are some things a man had bet- 
 ter not put too plainly even to himself. At 
 least, Madge, I have never thought of mar- 
 rying any one but you. My fever has given 
 me time to think, and I believe that if lever 
 wanted — something, it was because I knew 
 I could never have it — not because it was the 
 thing for me to have." 
 
 After a long pause, Madge said : "I didn't 
 hate the picture for being altered. But why 
 did you put her in my place ? " 
 
 " I did it unconsciously." 
 
 Madge sat a few moments as if preoc- 
 cupied, then rose with a tired look. " Thank 
 you for telling me all this," said she. " Of 
 course, I don't understand much of it — You 
 can't expect me to understand things by 
 
2M 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 Sympathy, as some people do. But you are 
 very kind to tell me." 
 
 " You'll understand when we're married." 
 "Perhaps I'd better not understand. 
 But we'll talk about being married some 
 other time, when you are stronger, and I'm 
 in a better humor. The fire has gone out, 
 too, and Elinor would scold me if I kept you 
 here in the cold." 
 
 CHAPTER LXX. 
 
 DATES AND INITIALS. 
 
 Afteb Garth and Madge had left the 
 studio that evening, and Madge had gone 
 home, he remembered that he had left the 
 door unlocked ; and since it seemed inadvis- 
 able that the sumnAry fate of the picture 
 should become known just then, he mounted 
 the garret-stairs again, shortly before going 
 to bed, in order to make all safe. 
 
 At the head of the stairs a gust of air 
 blew out his lamp. He groped his way 
 toward the studio, found the door, and en- 
 tered. It was dark, save for a slight glow 
 of red through the draught-holes of the little 
 stove. It seemed to Garth, however, that 
 he was not alone in the room. He stood 
 quite still and listened intently, but there was 
 no sound. He moved toward the stove to 
 get a match from the box on the wall beside 
 it ; his leg struck the chair, and it fell over 
 with some racket. A moment afterward he 
 fancied be heard a step, light and stealthy, in 
 the passage outside the room ; and then — 
 unless his ears deceived him — a door closed 
 softly — the door of Nikomis's apartment. 
 Had she been in .here before he came? If 
 so, for what purpose ? and why had she stolen 
 away so stealthily ? 
 
 He now struck a match, lit hislamp, and 
 looked about him. Everything appeared 
 much in the same condition as he had left 
 it a few hours before. There stood the tat- 
 tered canvas on the easel ; on the floor lay 
 the cutlass; and the other evidences of 
 Madge's outbreak and his struggle with her 
 were present. There were no signs of any 
 foreign disturbance. Possibly his senses 
 had deceived him; at all events, Nikomis 
 
 was welcome to enter his studio if she 
 wanted to ; only, why should she have been 
 at such pains to get away undiscovered ? 
 After some reflection, Garth dismissed the 
 subject from his mind, as of no possible im- 
 portance ; and having locked the door, and 
 put the key in his pocket, he returned down- 
 stairs. 
 
 During the next ten days the artist was 
 content to lay his art aside, and to devote 
 himself exclusively to the business of regain- 
 ing health and strength ; and they returned 
 to him with extraordinary rapidity. It 
 seemed as if the false Lady Eleanor had been 
 the bar to his recovery, if not the cause it- 
 self of his illness ; and now that she was an- 
 nihilated, the sick man might arise. Garth 
 was light-hearted, energetic, and serene. 
 He walked, sleighed, or skated, day after day, 
 breathed deep of the clear cold air, and ate 
 enormously. He was even sociable, was 
 seen often in the village, and became known 
 and liked there as he had never been before. 
 Everybody remarked the change in him for 
 the better, and congratulated him upon it. 
 Mrs. Tenterden merrily supposed that it 
 must be the prospect of being so soon mar- 
 ried that was bringing him round ; and Girth 
 did not deny it. In fact, it was his deter- 
 mination to be married in the ensuing 
 spring, and he spoke much with Madge 
 about their future, and urged her to use all 
 due dispatch with her preparations. And 
 Madge seemed to be more than usually active 
 with her needle, though she could hardly 
 have expected to manufacture an entire 
 trousseau herself. She was not so full of 
 bright talk as usual, but often fell into long 
 silences; and when, occasionally, she al- 
 lowed herself an outburst of vivacity, a 
 certain hardness was apparent in her voice 
 and manner, seeming to indicate an absence 
 of genuine feeling, and suggesting a latent 
 bitterness. In her ordinary conversation, 
 she betrayed a curious and almost morbid 
 interest in her own condition and prospects. 
 She put hypothetical cases and worked out 
 imaginary situations for herself. But such 
 eccentricities are not uncommon with young 
 women for whom a gi-eat change in life is 
 imminent; and Madge's odd behavior gave 
 anxiety to no one. 
 
DATES AND INITIALS. 
 
 245 
 
 Garth made himself especially agreeable 
 to poor Mrs. Danver, who had been serious- 
 ly ill of late, and did not seem likely to sur- 
 vive very much longer. He visited her every 
 day, and she became deeply and favorably 
 impressed with him : insomuch that so far 
 from carping at him, as had heretofore been 
 her custom, she now took to extolling him 
 in and out of season. She declared — what, 
 indeed, was the truth — that she'd never had 
 the chance to know him for what he was 
 before; and glad she was, and didn't care 
 who knew it, that Madge was to have a hus- 
 band who was a gentleman, and a clever, 
 sober, kind-hearted man, what was more ; 
 for she would like to know how many there 
 were like him that would come and sit an 
 hour or two every day beside a poor, sick, 
 complaining woman, who'd never had much 
 sympathy nor consideration that ever she 
 could remember; which it wouldn't have 
 been her fate to say, as say it she must, if 
 there'd been more people, young or old, like 
 Mr. Garth Urmson. And all that troubled 
 her now was, that that strange child Maggie 
 didn't at times more than half seem to ap- 
 preciate her good fortune; not that she 
 supposed that there would be much fortune, 
 leastways at first, in the worldly point of 
 view: though there was the Eve legacy 
 would likely be coming round to those the 
 Lord properly intended it for one of these 
 days : but money was not everything, though 
 times there were she almost feared her 
 Maggie took that view ; and, if she did, all 
 Mrs. Danver could say was, it wasn't from 
 her mother that the girl got such worldly no- 
 tions, nor would she ever cease to raise her 
 voice against it. These declarations were gen- 
 erally made to Mrs. Tenterden, who laughed 
 incredulously at any exceptions taken against 
 the beauty who had won her own heart, 
 and affirmed that two young people more 
 in love than Garth and Madge she had never 
 seen — unless it were Golightley and Elinor. 
 
 About a week before Christmas, Garth 
 was visited with an idea, which, after he had 
 turned it over in his own mind for a while, 
 he resolved to communicate to Madge. Ac- 
 cordingly, he took possession of her as soon 
 aa she arrived at Urmhurst, and carried her 
 up to the studio. 
 
 " You must help me look over the 
 sketches," he explained, " and pick out 
 those which would be most likely to sell. 
 I shall take them to Boston and sell them to 
 some picture dealer. They ought to bring 
 four or five hundred dollars, at least." 
 
 " What could you do with four or five 
 hundred dbllars. Garth ? " 
 
 "At least I could buy a wedding-ring 
 with it," he answered, smiling at her. 
 
 " Do you really want me for your wife ? " 
 she asked, glancing at him sidelong. 
 
 " If you were at the other side of the 
 world, I'd leave everything to bring you 
 back." 
 
 "But suppose, after all, I wouldn't come 
 with you ? " 
 
 "If I found you, yon would come." 
 
 " Well, perhaps ! for you are very strong. 
 But, then, I might not let you find me, you 
 know 1 " 
 
 Garth put his arm round her waist with 
 a masterful air. "I have you,'' said he, 
 " and it will be my fault if I let you go ! " 
 
 He unlocked the door of the studio, and 
 they went in. The chill and disorder were 
 in unfavorable contrast with the snug aspect 
 of things when Garth had last entered the 
 room, and discovered Elinor on the sofa. 
 
 " Oh, how cold ! " was Madge's exclama- 
 tion. " No one has been here since we went 
 out — that's evident!" As she spoke the 
 last words, she gave him a covert look, 
 quickly averted. 
 
 " Yes, I came up here to lock the door 
 that same night : and, by-the-way," he 
 added, turning to her, "I imagined some 
 one was here when I came in. My lamp 
 had gone out — " 
 
 " You saw nothing, then ? " 
 
 " No ; I only had the feeling that I was 
 not alone. Afterward I heard a sound in 
 the passage, and a noise like a door shut- 
 ting." 
 
 "Dear me! what do you suppose it 
 was?" 
 
 " Nikomis, no doubt : either she, or my 
 imagination. I didn't follow up the advent- 
 ure, and had forgotten it till now." 
 
 " Sha'n't we have a fire? " 
 
 "Yes; I mean to burn whatever we 
 don't pick out for sale, beginning with the 
 
246 
 
 GAETH. 
 
 ^ve- thousand -dollar picture. Next year 
 we'll start fresh, with no relics of the past 
 to drag with us. Sit down there, and see 
 whether my paintings can't make you warm 
 and comfortable for at least an hour." 
 
 Madge crouched down beside the stove 
 as he bade her, and Garth tore the strips of 
 canvas off the frame, and with them and 
 some billets of wood soon created a fine 
 blaze, quite sufficient to keep his beautiful 
 companion's fingers from getting cold. Then 
 he collected together aU the sketches and 
 studies in the room, piled them on the sofa, 
 and began making his selections, appealing 
 from time to time to Madge for her opinion 
 upon a doubtful specimen. The condemned 
 ones he passed over to her, and she put them 
 in the stove, for the most part without look- 
 ing at them, and with an air as if her 
 thoughts were elsewhere. 
 
 At length, however, she summoned to- 
 gether her wandering thoughts, and asked 
 Garth to give her a pile of sketches to look 
 over and decide upon for herself. He placed 
 a portfolio full beside her, with the permis- 
 sion to burn them all if she liked, and then 
 returned to the sofa. 
 
 She took up a handful of them, listlessly 
 looked til em over, and fed one after another 
 of them into the red-hot little maw, that 
 always roared the more insatiably the more 
 it was filled. These gone, she gathered up 
 a second supply. The first drawing that 
 met her eye was a study of the steel head- 
 piece which Captain Keil Urmson had once 
 worn, and which had been reproduced in 
 the picture; this was allowed to add its 
 quota to the now genial wai-mth of the 
 studio. The second scrap represented 
 Madge's own cottage on the verge of the 
 forest, with a glimpse of the village beyond. 
 After a minute's hesitation, she gave this to 
 the fiames also. The third sketch caused 
 her to concentrate her gaze into sudden in- 
 tensity, and to set her teeth against her lip. 
 After the first look slie glanced round at 
 Garth, to see whether he were watching 
 her ; hut he seemed absorbed in some dis- 
 covery of his own. She returned to the 
 sketch, which she scrutinized long and curi- 
 ously. Considered as a work of art, it hard- 
 ly merited such attention ; it was merely a 
 
 rough and hasty rendering of a woman's 
 head, and neither the features nor the color- 
 ing were such as Madge considered beauti- 
 ful. Nevertheless, she must have been im- 
 pressed, for her own expression underwent 
 a marked change during the short time she 
 was examining the portrait. In the lower 
 left-hand corner was a date — 1845 — and the 
 name " Dresden." It had then been painted 
 some years ago, while Garth was abroad: 
 he had never shown it to her, nor ever said 
 anything to lead her to suppose that such a 
 thing could have existed. Why had he kept 
 such a secret ? 
 
 The incident was, in itself, as unimpor- 
 tant as it could well be ; but circumstances, 
 inward and outward, gave it no little weight 
 to Madge's mind. She put herself in Garth's 
 place, with a result not entirely creditable 
 to him ; for it is not always charitable to 
 judge others' motives by our own. The 
 effect upon Madge in the present instance 
 was to make her conclusions cynical. But, 
 since she was not in the habit of giving her 
 thoughts frank and immediate expression, 
 and since, moreover, it may have better 
 suited her convenience to be cynical than 
 explicit, she kept silence upon her dis- 
 covery. 
 
 "Madge! " said Garth. 
 
 She slipped the portrait into her pocket, 
 and said, without looking round — 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " Do you remember, the last time we 
 were up here, giving me some brandy ? " 
 
 " Oh — when you fainted away ? Yes." 
 
 "Where did you get it ? " 
 
 " It was Nikomis's, I believe. I got it 
 from her room." 
 
 " This flask isn't hers, is it? " He held 
 up a silver flask mounted in Eussia leather, 
 and handsomely chased. " I found it under 
 the sofa," he added. " It has the English 
 mark upon it ; and a date and initials he- 
 sides." 
 
 " Let me look at it," said Madge, getting 
 up and coming to the sofa. She took the 
 flask and examined it ; on the bottom had 
 been scratched the letters " S. K.," and 
 tbe date 1845. A few moments' reflection 
 showed her that to prevaricate in this mat- 
 ter would be more perilous than to confess. 
 
CHRISTMAS PROSPECTS. 
 
 247 
 
 She had anticipated the finding of the flask, 
 but had not been aware of the existence of 
 the initials and date, which made all the 
 difference. It was a situation in which 
 presence of mind was worth more than any- 
 thing else, and presence of mind was a vir- 
 tue which Madge had always cultivated. In 
 a wonderfully short space of time, there- 
 fore, she took her decision, and the sequel 
 evidenced its soundness. 
 
 " I will tell you all I know. Garth," she 
 said, returning his inquiring glance with 
 perfect frankness. " Perhaps I should have 
 told you before, but I did what I thought 
 was for the best : and, at any rate, I'm glad 
 not to have the secret to keep any longer. 
 Sit down here and listen." 
 
 The conference lasted for an hour or 
 two. At the end of it Garth said : 
 
 " I'll write to Professor Grindle to-night. 
 You could not have done more kindly or 
 wisely than you did." 
 
 His look and tone caressed her with a 
 tenderness so deep and masculine as well- 
 nigh to impel her to the utterance of those 
 few further words which would have left 
 nothing to be said. But she remembered 
 that little sketch of a woman's head — and 
 turned away unconfessed. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXI. 
 
 OHEISTMAS PBOSPEOTS. 
 
 "When Christmas was still three days dis- 
 tant, there was again a gathering around 
 the broad kitchen-hearth of Urmhurst. Mr. 
 Urmson was able, for the first time in three 
 weeks, to leave his room and Join the group ; 
 he sat in the centre, the high, dark back of 
 his chair rising above his clear, pale face, 
 which seemed to grow more transparent and 
 spiritual-looking day by day. But the bright- 
 ness of his eyes, and the indomitable cheer- 
 fulness of his bearing, whenever he let him- 
 self be seen at all, did much to counteract 
 the efiect of his bodily frailty. People are 
 mostly taken at their own estimation, espe- 
 cially if it be such as to let us off easily on 
 the score of sympathy. 
 
 Elinor sat beside him; then came Go- 
 
 lightley, Mrs. Tenterden, and Parson Graeme. 
 The two latter had lately contracted a genial 
 partnership with each other, the chief aim 
 of which was to discuss the people and the 
 events of years long gone by. The parson, 
 whose memory of the past seemed to gain 
 in clearness in proportion as his notions of 
 the present, grew confused, executed really 
 portentous feats of historic reminiscence ; 
 while Mrs. Tenterden came in with a flow- 
 ing embroidery of minute and detailed in- 
 formation, such as only a lady of much 
 leisure and natural curiosity could ever hope 
 to get together. 
 
 On the opposite side of the fireplace sat 
 Madge and Garth, both somewhat taciturn. 
 In fact, as Mrs. Tenterden was just observ- 
 ing, the young people, who had every rea- 
 son to be chatty and lively, were sedate and 
 laconic as a Quaker meeting ; and thereby, 
 she supposed, designed to bring upon her- 
 self and others the reproach of senile garru- 
 lity. " However, daughter," she added, "I've 
 got something to tell you that I reckon will 
 set the tongues of all of you a-going. I sup- 
 pose I oughtn't to tell now, though, because 
 it's for Christmas — there! well, since that's 
 slipped out, I might as well say the rest. 
 It's what Christmas-present I mean to give 
 you. Or maybe I'll let you all guess ! — 
 that'll be best of all ! " and the good lady 
 chuckled comfortably and folded her statu- 
 esque arms. 
 
 But never, apparently, had so poor an 
 assemblage of guessers got together rotmd a 
 New England hearth as this. No one had 
 the enterprise to hazard a failure, except the 
 parson, who instantly proclaimed the answer 
 to be a wedding-garment ! and thereupon 
 exploded into stentorian mirth. 
 
 "Well, you're nearer to it than the 
 others, parson," said Mrs. Tenterden indul- 
 gently, as soon as she could make her voice 
 heard. — " I never saw such a stupid set as 
 they are all to-night. — Well, then, Nellie, 
 I'm going to give you whatever money is 
 got back from our robbers,- whenever they're 
 caught ! You'd have had it for a wedding- 
 present, if you'd been married before Christ- 
 mas, and the money had been got in time; 
 and maybe I'd better call it a dowry, any- 
 way ; only, as life is so uncertain, I thought 
 
248 
 
 GAETH. 
 
 I'd speak of it now, so as you might know 
 in case anything happened." 
 
 Several members of the company ap- 
 peared to consider all this more impressive 
 than amusing ; but Elinor answered, with 
 heightened color : 
 
 "Thank you, mother; hut I shouldn't 
 have minded waiting, though life is so un- 
 certain. A Barmecide fortune is as good 
 one time as another. However, if any one 
 pays me the money before Christmas, I'll 
 consider I have the right to spend it imme- 
 diately, without referring to you." 
 
 ""What a pity the robbers, or one of 
 them, couldn't have heard you. Aunt Mil- 
 dred ! " remarked Madge. " I'm sure he'd 
 have gone straight off and brought you the 
 money." 
 
 " My good fathers, Margaret ! " cried 
 Aunt Mildred, glancing over her shoulder 
 with a shudder, " why, I'd rather never have 
 the money than have the awful creature 
 himself bring it here 1 " 
 
 " Even robbers — especially repentant 
 robbers — are a kind of men," said Outh- 
 bert. 
 
 " If one of them could have heard you 
 say that, my dear brother, he'd have thanked 
 you I " was Golightley's observation. 
 
 " Since Aunt Mildred has been so munifi- 
 cent," said Onthbert again, " I may as well 
 inform yon, Garth, that Eve's legacy belongs 
 to you in default of the other claimant ; so 
 unless he puts in an appearance some day or 
 other, you will be pretty well off ! " 
 
 Madge laughed. " If we could only man- 
 age to prove that the claimant was one of 
 the robbers," said she, " he could be shut 
 up in prison, and then both Garth and Eli- 
 nor would have their forttmes ? " 
 
 " I don't know that I should care for the 
 claimant's money any more, because he hap- 
 pened to be a convict," said Garth. " But 
 talking about Christmas-presents, I have one 
 to propose which we may all give ourselves 
 — a skating-party on the lake on Ohristmas- 
 eve. It shall be a great affair ; all the vil- 
 lage, besides ourselves, shall be there, and 
 we'll build the biggest bonfire that ever was 
 seen. The moon is full on that night ; and, 
 if the ice is good, we ought to have a better 
 picnic than any of the parson's." 
 
 This suggestion met with general ap-~ 
 proval. 
 
 " As to that about the ice, though," said 
 Golightley, leaning forward and caressing 
 his mustache, "is there reason to suppose 
 that it is what it should be in view of such 
 an occasion? Anybody been down there 
 lately?" 
 
 " This snow fell before the lake froze,'' 
 replied Garth. "But we can go and find 
 out." 
 
 " Happy thought, by George ! " exclaimed 
 the other. He sprang up and went to the 
 window. " Ah ! what a superb night. Now 
 what do you say to some of us wrapping up 
 warm and going down to-night? Just look 
 at that moon ! " 
 
 " Mercy, Golightley, you'd all catch your 
 death ! " cried Mrs. Tenterden. 
 
 But some of the others favored the idea ; 
 and finally the four lovers, as the good lady 
 called them, made up their minds to start. 
 While Madge and Elinor were putting on 
 their wraps. Garth went out and harnessed 
 the double sleigh, and filled it with buffalo- 
 robes, blankets, and hot bricks. Then the 
 party got in, and they drove off with much 
 noise and festivity. The moon, shining on 
 the snow, made the woods light as day; and 
 the road had been worn by the sledges of 
 the wood-cutters sufiBciently to render the 
 sleighing good. They reached the lake \Wth- 
 out accident; and when Garth had tested 
 the ice and found it safe, they drove forth 
 upon it toward the little islet at the mouth 
 of the cove. 
 
 " By George — black ice, too ! That beats 
 my experience — eh. Garth ? " said Golightley. 
 " It's like driving on air. You might see the 
 stones on the bottom." 
 
 " How thick is the ice ? " inquired Elinor. 
 
 " About nine inches." 
 
 "Where is the bonfire to be?" asked 
 Madge. 
 
 "On the nose of the island," Garth re- 
 plied, " so that it can be seen all over the 
 broad part of the lake. If it were in view 
 of the meadows, it would be hidden from 
 the place where most of the people will be. 
 I believe there's a shed on the island which 
 was used by the ice-cutters last year. We 
 can stable the horses in that ; and by clear- 
 
CHRISTMAS PEOSPEOTS. 
 
 249 
 
 ing away the snow a little, we can cook and 
 eat our dinner in the midst of warmth and 
 comfort." 
 
 "How is it ahout fish? " asked Golight- 
 ley. " Any chance for a chowder ? " 
 
 "Nothing easier. The lake is full of 
 trout and perch; the women shall catch 
 them through the ice, and I'll cook them." 
 
 " It's a paradise on ice! " Golightley de- 
 clared. 
 
 They came to the islet, and passing round 
 the promontory, the panorama of valley, 
 lake, and river, lay before them. The river 
 was dammed lower down, and had over- 
 flowed its banks to an average breadth of 
 half a mile ; and this polished pathway, like 
 a black mirror twenty miles long, glistened 
 lonely and silent in its white setting of snow, 
 farther than the eye could trace it. But 
 farther still, Waheno showed his dim out- 
 line against the sky, like the ghost of some 
 traditionary mountain, the material sub- 
 stance of which had long passed away. 
 
 "I wished I'd brought my skates!" 
 Madge exclaimed. " The ice is perfect now. 
 Day after to-morrow may not be so fine as 
 to-day." 
 
 " Can you skate, Elinor ? " asked Garth. 
 
 " Hardly at aU ; but it seems as if I could 
 do anything to-night ! " 
 
 " And I — since nobody will have the 
 good manners to toot my horn for me — I 
 am the fortunate purveyor of all this delec- 
 tation," remarked Golightley. " Remember 
 it in my favor, friends, if ever you should 
 have occasion to think ill of me." 
 
 " One cannot be expected to carry a De- 
 cember night about in one's mind quite all 
 the time. Uncle Golightley," returned Madge, 
 maliciously. — " But Pm sure you must know 
 how to skate, Elinor ; at all events, you have 
 a lovely skating-suit, and I have been all the 
 last week making one to look exactly like it." 
 
 " Aha ! so that you may be mistaken for 
 one another, and one of you, perhaps, escape 
 to parts unknown, while her accomplice in 
 the plot delays pursuit until it be too late I 
 I scent mischief," laughed Golightley. — "And 
 by-the-by. Garth, d propos of mischief, what 
 has become of your friend Jack Selwyn ? Is 
 his business so pressing that he can't post- 
 pone it for a treat like this ? " 
 
 " There he goes, now ! " cried Madge, 
 suddenly. 
 
 They aU looked where she pointed, and 
 saw a figure, faint and far away in the moon- 
 light, skimming across the meadow-ice half 
 a mile below. In a minute or two the figure 
 gained the shadow of a clump of pines on 
 the right, and was lost to view, only the low 
 reverberation of the ice bearing testimony 
 to the reality of the vision. 
 
 " It might have been he ; he's mysterious 
 in his movements,'' said Garth. "But I 
 don't know his address. Professor Grindle, 
 though, sent me word this morning that he 
 sliould try to spend Christmas-day with us. 
 He may get down in time to join us here." 
 
 They sat silent for a while, looking at the 
 scene. " Ah, it seems a shame ever to leave 
 this," murmured Golightley at last. " Why 
 can't we be changed into moon-elves, and 
 dance here all night long ? Who knows when 
 we shall be so well-tuned again? I declare, 
 I believe I'd walk home if I thought I could 
 get anybody to go with me ! " 
 
 He glanced at Elinor as he spoke; but 
 she made him no answer. " It seems a pity 
 to lose this so soon," repeated he. 
 
 " But we must," said Garth, " since we're 
 sensible people, and not moon-elves, or even 
 lunatics ! " He turned his horse with the 
 words, hut the animal slipped, and, in re- 
 covering itself, struck the forward sleigh- 
 runner with its hoof, and snapped it. 
 
 " That horse has a soul," said Golightley, 
 when the nature of the accident was known. 
 "He heard me mention walking home, so 
 he just put down his foot and said, 'You 
 shall do it!'" 
 
 " One of us can still ride," observed 
 Garth. 
 
 "Why not two of us?" said Madge. — 
 " Have you got your spurs on, Uncle Go- 
 lightley ? " 
 
 "No, no! I wouldn't ride an animal 
 that has shown himself such a Christian as 
 Dobbin ! You three must fight it out be- 
 tween you." 
 
 " I shall walk," said Ehnor. 
 
 " All right," said Garth, after a pause. — 
 " Madge, you and I will ride. It won't be 
 the first time we have been on a horse to- 
 gether." 
 
2j0 
 
 GAETH. 
 
 He slipped the horse out of the shafts, 
 and drew the disabled sleigh under the shed 
 on the islet. Then they all walked across 
 the ice to the mainland, Garth leading the 
 steed. Arrived there, he mounted, and Madge, 
 taking his hand, rested her foot on his, and 
 sprang up behind him; then clasped her 
 arms round his waist, and they galloped 
 away through the glimmering forest. It 
 needed only the parson and the shining ar- 
 mor to render the parallel to their childish 
 exploit complete. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXII. 
 
 CONFESSION". 
 
 Elinoe took her companion's arm, and 
 for a while they walked on in silence; for 
 Golightley was not so imperturbable a wooer 
 as he had once been, and his audacity seemed 
 even less when he and his mistress were 
 alone together than in company. This sub- 
 dued bearing of his had been very grateful 
 to Elinor ; yet it was of a kind rather to 
 lead her to suspect him of an increase of 
 affection toward her than the contrary. For, 
 though never obtruding himself upon her, 
 or attempting anything in the way of per- 
 sonal magnetism, as he had not spared to do 
 in the earlier stages of their acquaintance, 
 he now had a way of silently watching her 
 when he fancied her unaware of his obser- 
 vation ; of divining and fulfilling her wishes 
 while they were yet in the germ, and of re- 
 ceiving her words with an undemonstrative 
 reverence, that was flattering because evi- 
 dently sincere. Nay, he was even a trifle 
 too subservient for her taste, for she was 
 not one of those natures that feel it delight- 
 ful to condescend ; and often she found her- 
 self trying to force him into a manlier and 
 more independent attitude toward her than 
 he was himself inclined to assume. She was 
 doing her best to like him, by dint of reso- 
 lutely shutting her eyes to whatever might 
 tend to reflect discredit on him, and by 
 magnifying and dwelling upon everything 
 that made in his favor. Snch honest effort 
 on her part would scarcely fail, in time, to 
 attain something like success. She was ever 
 ready to defend him against detraction ; and 
 
 when, unwittingly, he had spoken or acted 
 in contradiction to what she considered his 
 better phase, she hesitated not to take his 
 part against himself as well. 
 
 At length he broke silence by saying, 
 with some signs of nervousness in his voice 
 and laugh, " By-the-by, what an odd idea 
 was that of Mildred's about your dowry, 
 wasn't it? — the Barmecide dowry — ha, ha! " 
 
 " It may turn out a reality." 
 
 " So it may, Elinor — so it may ! Stranger 
 things have happened. What should you 
 say, now — ^but this is only one of my eccen- 
 tric fancies, you know, such as I'm famous 
 for — what should you say, now, if some 
 strange chance were to bring you that dow- 
 ry, and at the same time were to — ^ha, ha ! — 
 were to — " 
 
 "Were to what?" 
 
 " Well, say, were to leave me a beggar! " 
 
 " How do you mean ? " 
 
 "Well, let's put it this way. What if I 
 were a beggar now — ^by my own voluntary 
 act — and you were the possessor of eighty 
 thousand pounds ? " 
 
 "I'm not sure that I understand yon — 
 unless you mean that you ttiink of settling 
 your fortune on me when you marry, which 
 I should not like at all. But I forget — yon 
 were only joking 1 " 
 
 "Ah, my dear Elinor, there's many a 
 true word spoken in jest! And supposing I 
 were to do — or had already done — such a 
 thing as you mentioned, don't you see how 
 it might rather be an act of justice — of con- 
 science — " 
 
 " Don't let us waste this beautiful winter 
 moonlight by supposing anything foolish,'' 
 interrupted Elinor, with something of ap- 
 prehensiou underlying the brusqueness of 
 her tone. "There's something I want to 
 ask you. You have never told me where 
 you were going to take me after we are 
 married ! " 
 
 "I sha'n't have the right to direct our 
 movements, my dear Elinor. I shall be your 
 dependent, living on your bounty — " 
 
 "Now, you must attend to my ques- 
 tions ! " she interrupted once more, with an 
 affectation of playful rebuke. " I was think- 
 ing, if you liked Europe better, I should 
 prefer it on some accounts, too. We could 
 
CONFESSION. 
 
 251 
 
 come back aftersvard you know, if we found 
 it didn't suit us. Don't you think so ? " 
 
 "Elinor, I — By George, I love you 
 too well I If I cared for you now only as I 
 did at first, I might — it might be better for 
 both of us ! If you could believe how I re- 
 pent — if I could feel that yon forgave me — 
 there's nothing else I should mind! " 
 
 " Is it such a crime to love me ? " said 
 Elinor, laughing sharply, and turning her 
 eyes away from the spectacle of his mani- 
 fest agitation. "I don't know what you 
 are talking about, I'm sure. I wish you 
 would answer my questions about Europe. 
 Don't you think mother would like it bet- 
 ter ? " 
 
 " My God ! don't make it so hard for a 
 poor devil. You'll never forgive me, and 
 that's why you won't listen to me ! It's my 
 only chance — if I don't tell you now, it will 
 be too late, and you'll think even worse of 
 me than I deserve. I have repented — by 
 George, I have! — and made what restitution 
 I could—" 
 
 " Wait a moment — stop ! " She clung to 
 his arm and pressed her forehead against his 
 shoulder. She was tense and quivering with 
 excitement; he was relaxed and tremulous. 
 In a few minutes she steadied herself by 
 main force. " Now will you come home 
 quietly ? " she asked. " Eemember," she 
 added, beseechingly, " we are going to be 
 married! I have not asked to have any- 
 thing told me. But if anything were said, 
 it could never he unsaid .... I will walk 
 home alone if you please ! I think you must 
 have been — drinking! " 
 
 It was an appeal — a final, desperate ex- 
 pedient for remaining deaf and dumb. 
 But, intense as was her will not to hear, Go- 
 lightlej was by this time too much un- 
 manned to be restrained. What was in him 
 to say, must out ! and when Elinor heard his 
 nervous laugh at her impugnment of his so- 
 briety, she felt the vainness of further strug- 
 gle. She quitted his arm abruptly, and 
 moved onward, haughty and cold. 
 
 " If I could get you to realize what my 
 life has been— how one phase has developed 
 into another, without my seeming able to 
 control it! " said Golightley, walking beside 
 her in his wretchedness. "It has seemed, | 
 
 by George ! as if destiny was always against 
 me. I've always meant well — I can say that! 
 But it has really seemed as if my very gifts 
 — ^my peculiar fineness of perception, and all 
 that— had helped lead me wrong. If I'd 
 been formed of such clay as other men, I 
 should have done well enough ! " 
 
 "Do not speak as if I knew anything," 
 said Elinor, with an almost labored distinct- 
 ness of enunciation. " I know nothing. Say 
 wbat is the matter in as few words as you 
 can, since you have begun. Eemember — I 
 would not have listened to it from anybody 
 else!" 
 
 But it was hard for him to speak plainly 
 and succinctly, now that it had come to the 
 point. The crookedness of a lifetime made 
 itself felt. He could not help hesitating and 
 temporizing on the verge of his gulf, though 
 longing to plunge headlong. 
 
 " Ah — you know what a gift I have for 
 finance? of course, everybody knows that. 
 But it was a gift with a curse on it, like the 
 others ; I could make anybody's fortune but 
 my own. Well, then — where was I? Oh, 
 when I got acquainted with poor, dear John 
 and all of you — you know how highly he 
 thought of me, Elinor, how thoroughly he 
 believed in me ? And the good he saw in me 
 may have been there, you know, though 
 with evil mixed with it, of course. Well, I 
 wouldn't take charge of the money — the 
 investments and all that — though dear old 
 John besought me to do it, time and again ; 
 and though I knew, too, that the property 
 being actually Mildred's, and she my sis- 
 ter—" 
 
 "I know all this; I think you did quite 
 rightly and prudently not to interfere. Is 
 that all you had to tell me? " 
 
 " It was just so that you might see things 
 from my point of view. The way I looked 
 at it was, that even if I had taken the man- 
 agement, and the property, by some — some 
 accident or other, you know, had passed into 
 my own possession, still it would have been 
 in the family all the same, and none of you 
 would really have lost anything — in fact, 
 you would have been the gainers, since I 
 could place the investments where they'd 
 realize a fourth as much again as under poor 
 dear Jehn's management." 
 
252 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 "Do you mean to say that anything 
 of this sort happened ? " demanded Elinor, 
 slowly. 
 
 " Ah — that was the principle of the 
 thing, as the moralists say ;, and if you only 
 eliminate the accident — it wasn't strictly ac- 
 cidental — " 
 
 Elinor stopped and faced him, though 
 her eyes were downcast. She spoke with 
 manifest pain and eflfort. "Did you — steal 
 —the money ? " 
 
 He glanced up at her with a blanched, 
 wretched look, his hand feeling about the 
 sidelooks of his hair, and wandering down 
 over his beard. 
 
 " It seems ■» terrible thing to put it that 
 wayl" muttered he. "But, frankly, I've 
 never had a moment's peace of mind since 
 then. But I haven't explained to you the — 
 ha, ha! — what the lawyers call the extenu- 
 ating circumstances. There were extenuat- 
 ing circumstances, Elinor — by George, there 
 were 1 It was that scoundrel Flint, or Kin- 
 eo, or whatever his name is, that got me in- 
 to it!" 
 
 " Tou stole your friend's money — he 
 loved and trusted you so! "What must I be- 
 lieve next? Ah, dear me! " She still spoke 
 with painful, lagging utterance, and the last 
 words were a heavy sigh. Then, though 
 with almost unconquerable repugnance, she 
 raised her head and compelled her eyes to 
 rest on him. Such a look, it was more 
 agony for her to give than for him to sus- 
 tain. For he had not appreciated the full 
 ugliness of the crime he had committed. He 
 saw in it an offense against morals, against 
 good taste, and, worse still, against respecta- 
 bility; he wag miserable at the loss of his 
 prestige in the eyes of Elinor and of the 
 world; and he was poignantly affected by 
 the shame involved in the process of confes- 
 sion. But if everything had turned out 
 comfortably, if his guilt had never been 
 brought to light, and he had been able to 
 enact the part of benefactor and philanthro- 
 pist with the proceeds of his roguery, it may 
 be open to question whether either his heart 
 or his conscience would have beeen dis- 
 turbed. At all events, it had never occurred 
 to him that the knowledge of his degrada- 
 tion might cause Elinor deeper ihame and 
 
 suffering than he himself was capable of 
 feeling. 
 
 " I had expected," said he, at last — " I had 
 expected you'd at least have given me credit 
 for speaking out before we were married. 
 If you knew what my love for you has grown 
 to be, lately, you would give me some credit. 
 I didn't know, frankly, what my capacities 
 for love were until within the last month ; 
 and yet I risk the loss of you — by George! " 
 
 Elinor began to kindle with indignation ; 
 the man had absolutely no thought but for 
 himself. "What credit do you expect?" 
 she asked. " Yon were a coward to tell me 
 all this ! Ton should sooner have died than 
 insult me with the confession of your de- 
 formity ! If you had been faithful even to 
 evil, I might have had a kind of respect for 
 you! But there is no manliness in you! 
 You confessed only when you knew you 
 must be found out at any rate. It was das- 
 tardly and insulting! You were afraid I 
 should listen to gossip against you — you 
 thought I was as treacherous as yourself! 
 But you have thrown away the only trust 
 that any one will ever have in you. I would 
 have believed no evidence but your own ! " 
 
 "Destiny is against me, or this would be 
 none of 1 1 " said Golightlej, with an hysteric 
 sort of bravado. 
 
 "I ought to thank you, though," Elinor 
 continued, not heeding him in her passionate 
 preoccupation. "At least, I can believe 
 myself, now ! I was right in detesting you 
 when I first saw you. You are as contempt- 
 ible as you look — that is my comfort! I 
 am glad you are a criminal — I am glad ! " 
 
 " O Elinor, can't you care for me a little 
 stm?" 
 
 She turned upon him with that strange, 
 uneven glance of hers, which was yet so 
 direct and disconcerting, and with a smile 
 on her lips that made Golightley feel his 
 degradation as no frown could have done. 
 
 "That is not reasonable. You are not 
 lovable. How can I care for a man who 
 has spoilt my life, and deceived me into be- 
 lieving evil good, and good evil? I know 
 why you asked me in marriage. After you 
 had stolen your friend's money, you thought 
 you would steal me for your wife, so that you 
 might say, ' No such great harm was done, 
 
CONFESSIOK 
 
 253 
 
 after all 1 ' I liave no very high opinion of 
 myself, but I will not be the balm of your 
 evil conscience ! " 
 
 "It isn't merely to make me happy, you 
 know," he said, twisting his hands together. 
 " It would be saving a human soul. Only 
 you could do it, Elinor ; and I'm not too far 
 gone to be saved ! " 
 
 The expression of sarcasm passed from 
 Elinor's face and voice, and sadness took its 
 place. " I have a soul, too ! " said she. 
 " You have taken away the freshness from 
 it already. If we had been married, it would 
 have lost whatever else in it is worth pre- 
 serving. Loving me cannot save you, nor 
 my loving you ; you must love truth and 
 honor." 
 
 Golightley shrugged his shoulders, and 
 laughed bis short, empty laugh. " Oh, .well, 
 BO be it I When it comes to fearing the Lord 
 and keeping his commandments, I may ac- 
 count myself done for ! So be it. I'll dis- 
 appear. You may think less despitefully of 
 me some day, my dear Elinor, when things 
 come to be known that are not known now." 
 
 " Who will pity him if I do not ? '' thought 
 Elinor, compassionately. But her sense of 
 justice was too true and keen to yield over- 
 much to the gentler sentiment. Yet she 
 felt that the very fact of having suffered in- 
 dignity at his hands, had given him a sort 
 of claim xipon her. Providence had ordained 
 that their paths should cross; ought she not 
 therefore, bo far as might be possible, to turn 
 the meeting to good ? 
 
 " I shall never be what I might have been 
 if we had not met,'' said she; "but I vfill 
 not think despitefully of you. I will hope 
 and care that you may do well hereafter, if 
 that will be any help to you." 
 
 "I am a beggar, my dear Elinor, too poor 
 even in my deserts for respectable folks to 
 concern themselves about me. All I shall 
 ask of your condescension is that yon enjoy 
 your fortune none the less because of the 
 evil hands it has passed through. I antici- 
 pated Mildred in her generosity — ha, ha! It 
 is all paid in to your credit in the Beacon 
 Hill Bank — all my share that is to say. What 
 the — ha! — the other scoundrel had, is gone 
 past redemption." 
 
 " Has he prooffe against you? " 
 
 " Oh ! you've heard that ? He will prob- 
 ably surrender them in consideration of my 
 check for ten thousand pounds." 
 
 "How can you offer him that, if — " 
 
 "Well, the fact is— though I hadn't meant 
 to trouble you with details — that the check 
 will not be paid when he presents it.'' 
 
 " You mean to cheat even your accom- 
 plice ! " exclaimed Elinor, with irrepressible 
 disgust. 
 
 " You can deliver me up to the majesty 
 of the law, if that will make you any hap- 
 pier. I deserve it, of course. But my being 
 devoured won't save my friend the accom- 
 plice." 
 
 " You need not misunderstand me so ! " 
 said Elinor, blushing sadly. " I wish no 
 harm either to you or him. But there shall 
 be no more cheating! You have not yet 
 given him the false check ? " 
 
 "It still lacks my indorsement. When 
 he hands me my letters — " 
 
 " If they can be got in no other straight- 
 forward way, he must be honestly paid for 
 them. Since the money is mine now, I 
 shall pay him." 
 
 This proposal took Golightley by sur- 
 prise, and changed his recklessness into an 
 emotion that brought tears to his eyes. 
 " My dear Elinor— my dear Elinor ! " ex- 
 claimed he ; " I — no, no ! my safety is not 
 worth that sacrifice." 
 
 " Money is not what I most care for," 
 returned she, a little coldly. " You asked 
 me to sacrifice myself a few minutes ago. 
 I do this on your sistei-'s and brother's ac- 
 count as well as yours. They would not 
 wish to have you — in prison ! " 
 
 " If you could have but said it was partly 
 for your sake too ! But no — let it go ! No 
 one will care. I'll refuse Flint the check, 
 and he may keep the letters and do his 
 worst. I have a grain of pride somewhere 
 about me, still, by George ! I won't accept 
 your noble and generous offer." 
 
 "I shall never be likely to ask another 
 favor of you. You have no right to refuse 
 me this." 
 
 "If you'd only say it mattered a snap of 
 the finger to you what became of me ! " he 
 broke forth, with real passion. "Yon are 
 BO cold to a poor devil that loves you ! You 
 
254 
 
 GAETH. 
 
 make him know he has affections, only to 
 freeze him when he's at your feet. A drop 
 of warm human charity would giVe him life 
 to feel your justice better ! " 
 
 Elinor began to tremble and catch her 
 breath. " I do not wish to be cold and un- 
 charitable," she said, brokenly. " I am all 
 alone ; there is no one to be strong for me. 
 I must defend myself in the best way I can. 
 I try to keep the soul God gave me pure and 
 good. It is because I am so weak that I 
 seem so hard. I would be kind, and help 
 people, if I could." 
 
 Golightley passed his hand across liis face 
 and groaned. 
 
 "I begin to feel all I've lost," said he. 
 " Be cold again, Elinor ; by George, I can't 
 stand that ! " 
 
 " I may do it, then? " she asked, quickly 
 and timidly. " Where is he ? " 
 
 After some pause and hesitation, Golight- 
 ley said: 
 
 " He can't be got at, just now. Selwyn 
 and his detectives are on the lookout for 
 him, and he's obliged to keep dark. But I 
 was to have met him in about a week, and 
 then it might be arranged." 
 
 There was something so constrained in 
 his manner as he made this speech, that 
 Elinor was not free from misgiving. " You 
 do not promise ! " she said. 
 
 "Ah— well, the truth is, I — ha, ha! — I 
 was afraid you might not — " 
 
 "I will believe your promise." 
 
 "Upon my soul, I thank you, Elinor! " 
 He cleared his throat, and strove to recover 
 the jaunty air which he sometimes affected. 
 " Be the oath recorded ! Given life and 
 liberty, your commands shall be obeyed! 
 Of aourse, if I should turn up dead and 
 buried within the next six days, you'd let 
 me off, eh?— ha, ha! " 
 
 " I shall believe you,'' she repeated, gently. 
 
 They were standing facing each other, a 
 few paces apart ; and now there was a short 
 silence. It was broken by Golightley. 
 
 " I must stay hereabouts till all's settled," 
 said he, clearing his throat again ; " but I 
 presume there'll be no more tSte-d-tete for 
 us, so I'll say ' addio ' now. Good-by, Eli- 
 nor Golightley ; may I have been the only 
 pitfall in your path ! " 
 
 Elinor's sad lips could utter no words; 
 but she drew her slender hand from her 
 muff and held it toward him. He stepped 
 quickly forward and took it between both 
 of his. But he did not offer to kiss it. 
 
 In a few moments he relinquished it, and, 
 walking onward, left Elinor alone. As she 
 followed in the same direction, she caught 
 occasional glimpses of him at the turnings of 
 the path, where he waited to see that she 
 did not lose her way. But when the forest 
 became more open, he disappeared, and she 
 reached home solitaiy. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXIII. 
 
 NEXT MORNING. 
 
 Never before had Elinor so greatly felt 
 the need of some friend to whom she might 
 tell her trouble, and who would sympathize 
 with her and counsel her ; and never had 
 she been so isolated. Mrs. Tenterden, Cuth- 
 bert. Garth, Madge — all were alike impracti- 
 cable. Whether or not any of them knew 
 or suspected the truth about Golightley, she 
 could not tell ; but she felt that she must 
 wait unshriven till the end came, when and 
 whatever that might be. Meantime her 
 thoughts gave her no rest. The night passed 
 almost sleeplessly, and, when at length the 
 day confronted her, it came as something to 
 be endured rather than lived through. 
 
 Though she had never loved the man 
 who had so disgracefully failed her, yet he 
 had occupied the lover's place, and, whatever 
 gentle emotions had visited her heart, she 
 had felt in duty bound to train toward him ; 
 striving with faithful desire to render her 
 observances so generous, that in time they 
 might become spontaneous and sincere. 
 Thus had Golightley represented something 
 real to her, though himself a sham; and 
 when he abruptly ceased to exist (so far as 
 her intents and purposes were concerned), 
 she was as a vine robbed of its support, 
 which, though it was perhaps but an infirm 
 wooden post, had nevertheless stood her in 
 the stead of a marble column. The delicate 
 tendrils of her affections grasped instinctive- 
 ly after something that might take the place 
 
NEXT MORNING. 
 
 255 
 
 of what had been lost. It seems a mistake 
 to suppose that those whose feelings have 
 undergone rude treatment are less suscep- 
 tible of fresh impressions immediately than 
 long afterward. The forlornness of recent 
 abandonment calls out for comfort more ur- 
 gently than that which time has inured to 
 its condition. Elinor, possibly, had never 
 been in a mood so accessible to the influence 
 of a true and ardent lover as when, on the 
 morning following her rupture with Golight- 
 ley, she walked out to take the medicines of 
 air and exercise. 
 
 The road she happened to follow led 
 toward the mill-stream, and thence along the 
 hank to the lake. After walking a mile or so, 
 Elinor came in view of a little hut, roughly 
 constructed of unhewed logs and roofed with 
 pine-bark. Smoke was issuing from a prim- 
 itive sort of chimney aperture at one end ; and 
 before the doorway a man was standing with 
 a cigar in his mouth. Upon hearing her 
 step on the snow, he turned quickly, and im- 
 mediately began to make gladsome gestures 
 of greeting. As Elinor got nearer, she per- 
 ceived that the man was Jack Selwyn. 
 
 "Good-morning, princess 1" exclaimed 
 he. "Permit me to rejoice that you have 
 dispensed with your retinue this morning. 
 You were out in force on the pond last night." 
 
 "How did you know we were there?" 
 asked she, surprised. 
 
 " What ! didn't you see the lonely skater ? 
 I recognized Miss Madge's voice, I'm sure ; 
 and Garth's. And my intuitive perceptions, 
 informed me of your presence ! " 
 
 " Why didn't you join us, then ? " 
 
 " Oh, five are almost as poor company as 
 three, you know," replied he, smiling. 
 
 " Why do you stay here ? We thought 
 you were hundreds of miles away." 
 
 " I've only been here a day or two. Will 
 you come in and take a look at my winter 
 palace? I have always looked upon you as 
 the princess in the fairy-tale, and longed to 
 be the fairy prince who rescues you from 
 some danger, and does the polite generally. 
 I found you asleep once ! But come in ! it's 
 quite jolly." 
 
 The shadow on Elinor's face lightened 
 somewhat as she followed him iifto the hut ; 
 he had the happy faculty of raising people's 
 
 spirits without reason given or required. 
 The tiny interior smelt of pine-resin ; a log 
 of hemlock was crackling in the fireplace, 
 and Jack, with great ceremony, offered his 
 guest a seat on the wood-pile. 
 
 "This spot is historic," he remarked. 
 " Here, many thousand years ago, a youth 
 called Garth built him an enchanted canoe, 
 of birch-bark, wherein, when it was com- 
 pleted, he seated his august form, and sped 
 away down yonder rapids to the lake. 
 Death, having failed to catch him on the 
 journey, gave up the pursuit permanently; 
 and thus it happens, dear princess, that this 
 same Garth is yet alive. The place has been im- 
 proved from a mere open shed to a hut, since 
 the era whereof I speak. I find it mighty 
 comfortable. A splendid retreat to study 
 the nature and habits of snow and ice in ! " 
 
 " Why don't you come to Urmhurst, 
 Jack?" 
 
 "Well, for reasons. Changes are in the 
 wind. But ere long, if it please your high- 
 ness, I shall have strange tidings to impart.'' 
 
 "Oh, don't talk so about it!" said Eli- 
 nor, suddenly becoming piteous. " I know 
 it all — even more than you do ! " 
 
 Jack rested a hand on either knee and 
 stared. " What do you know ? " 
 
 "About the robbery. Golightley him- 
 self told me, last night. And he has given 
 it all back— all he had." 
 
 " Golightley told you ? Given it back, 
 has he ? " repeated Jack, taking up one of 
 his knees thoughtfully, and biting his mus- 
 tache. He glanced sharply at Elinor, to see 
 what temper she might be in. 
 
 " You mustn't feel too much cut up about 
 it," he said, cheerfully, " I wasn't sure 
 whether I ought to let you into the secret, 
 long ago, or not. I did give you a sort of 
 hint about it once, you know : I half thought 
 you suspected. But do you really know 
 quite what a scamp the fellow was? Did he 
 remember to inform you, for instance, that 
 the thousand pounds he borrowed of John 
 Tenterden were the means that enabled him 
 to commit the robbery ? and that — " 
 
 Elinor colored. " I didn't ask him ; I'd 
 rather not know.'' 
 
 " Oh, but you'll have to know some time ; 
 and, in my opinion, it's only justice to your- 
 
256 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 self and^other people that you should know. 
 If you go off with the notion that, although 
 he did weakly allow himself to be ensnared 
 by evil counsels, still he might have been 
 worse, and a good deal could be said in his 
 favor, you'd simply be wasting valuable com- 
 passion, much better bestowed elsewhere. 
 Now, the fact is, that never was a meaner 
 or more treacherous theft committed than 
 this! Golightley took advantage of Mr. 
 Tenterden's confidential disclosures to him, 
 and of memoranda which the poor old man 
 had intrusted to him, to forge an order on 
 his agents, directing them to buy up the 
 whole stock of a certain mine. The pur- 
 chase was made, and it took all Tenterden's 
 money to do it. Thereupon Golightley and 
 his partner — Flint by name, and Kineo by 
 nature — circulated the reports they had 
 ready, and down went the stock to nothing 
 at all. It was all contrived beautifully, that 
 must he admitted. Well, then these fellows 
 quietly bought it all in, at a hundred per 
 cent, discount, using for that purpose the 
 very same ready money with which Tenter- 
 den had just obliged them. That was an ar- 
 tistic touch, wasn't it? But all this time 
 the mine was not only good — there was noth- 
 ing better ; and as soon as the false reports 
 were proved to be false, up goes the stock 
 again like a rocket, and our two friends 
 realized at what figure they pleased. Luck- 
 ily, Kineo was sharp enough to get some evi- 
 dences of the forgery and conspiracy into his 
 hands, foreseeing that he might find them 
 useful some day. So now, you see, the 
 knaves have fallen out, and the honest men 
 — or women, rather — are coming by their 
 own again ! " 
 
 Here Jack, who had spoken as fast as 
 possible in order to avoid interruption, 
 stopped, and tossed up his fur cap. I'm 
 glad that's off my mind ! " he exclaimed. 
 " Many's the time my very bones have ached 
 with holding it in ! " 
 
 " I was in no danger of thinking too well 
 of him," said Elinor, with a sigh. " But 
 they are neither of them to go to prison. I 
 am going to get the proofs from Kineo, and 
 burn them." 
 
 " The devil you — How, I mean ? " 
 
 Elinor explained briefly. Jack listening 
 
 with keen attention. " Ton don't mean to 
 say," he exclaimed, when she had finished, 
 " that you're going to throw away ten thou- 
 sand pounds on that — trash ! " 
 
 " It will not be thrown away." 
 
 Jack bit his mustache, and frowned : he 
 had his own convictions on the subject. 
 He was wise enough to perceive, however, 
 that nothing was to be gained by a dispute 
 with Elinor, who would be more likely 
 either to dissent from him, or to impose 
 some restriction upon his action, than to be 
 persuaded by him : whereas, if he dexter- 
 ously changed the topic, he would retain 
 both her favor and his own freedom. 
 
 " Oh, that little villain of a Madge Dan- 
 ver !" he muttered, shaking his head. " What 
 a wild-goose chase she did send me on 1 " 
 
 " Then Madge has known — I " exclaimed 
 Elinor, and stoppted. 
 
 " Bless your heart, princess ! she has 
 been the arch-conspirator from the begin- 
 ning. She took counsel with herself be- 
 times as to whether Golightley, Kineo, or 
 myself, were more eligible for her. But she 
 quarreled with Golightley, and in me she 
 was disappointed; as for Kineo, his pros- 
 pects will, at aU events, be improved when 
 you have carried out your royal purpose of 
 buying the proofs of him." 
 
 " Oh — are you sure that — " 
 
 " I cannot myself believe," interposed 
 Jack, while his cheeks reddened a little, 
 " small as is my reverence for Master Go- 
 lightley, that her hold upon him was any- 
 thing more than a threat of exposure. There 
 must be a limit to the greatest human de- 
 pravity, you know ! " 
 
 " But I meant — " said Elinor, soloring 
 also, " about Garth." 
 
 " Oh, we're safe in calling that match 
 off, I think. That whole affair of hers with 
 Garth has always been a mystery, though. 
 Mr. Urmson says that she loves him, after 
 a fashion of her own. Sometimes I agree 
 with him, and at other times I don't. But 
 whether or not she loves him, I'll bet she 
 won't marry him." 
 
 " Does he love her ? " asked Elinor, in a 
 lower tone. 
 
 " Well, Tie's bullied himself into believing 
 it, as he has bullied himself into a great 
 
NEXT MORNING. 
 
 257 
 
 many other things. But when she elopes 
 and leaves him in the lurch, he will find 
 himself face to face with a truth which I 
 warned him of years ago, when we were at 
 college— that he is married to his paint- 
 ing, and that any engagement outside of that 
 would be bigamous ! " 
 
 Elinor rose from the wood-pile, and stood 
 for a few moments with her hands hanging 
 folded and her eyes on the fire ; then she 
 moved toward the door. 
 
 "Madge must do no such thing! " she 
 said, turning to Jack with a troubled look. 
 " It would be too sad, after all that has hap- 
 pened. If she wishes to visit Europe, and 
 see beautiful things and great people, she 
 shall go with mother and me. She can be 
 as gay and fashionable as she pleases: it's 
 natural she should wish to be — she's so 
 beautiful and brilliant. I'll speak to her to- 
 morrow." 
 
 " You'll find this charity a more ex- 
 travagant one than the other," ventured 
 Jack, twisting his mustache and eying her 
 gravely. 
 
 " Then I shall like it the better," said 
 she, with a passing smile. " This money 
 seems to have had a curse upon it, so far ; 
 I don't need it, and I would like to make it 
 do a little good, after so much harm. I 
 don't want to be rich ; I should like to live 
 by my violin ! " 
 
 She stepped across the threshold, out to 
 the sparkling snow and sunshine. Then 
 Jack took his courage in his hands and fol- 
 lowed her. 
 
 " Princess Elinor," said he, " why do 
 you lavish all yeur bounty on the rogues, 
 and leave the poor honest fellows out in the 
 cold ? " 
 
 " Only the rogues seem to need it," she 
 answered, smiling again. 
 
 " No — because then I would be a rogue ; 
 and I'm not ! I've been a good-for-nothing 
 all my life, but I have always reverenced 
 good women, and told the truth to every- 
 body. Can't yon give me something too? " 
 
 " I'm afraid I have nothing for you," said 
 she, startled. 
 
 " Look here ! I don't want ten thousand 
 pounds, nor to be gay and fashionable at 
 your expense. All I want is the greatest 
 17 
 
 treasure on earth! and that's you. I love 
 you with my heart and soul. I always have 
 loved you ; and I never loved any other wom- 
 an. Elinor — say you'll be my wife. I be- 
 lieve I can make you happy — I know I can I " 
 
 " I cannot — oh, I cannot ! " she exclaimed, 
 turning her face away. " I never can be 
 married. I feel as if I should hate the man 
 I married, even though I had loved him be- 
 fore — marriage has seemed such a gloomy 
 thing to me, since I have looked forward to 
 it at all. It seems like going to prison ! " 
 
 " But to be my wife shall be coming out 
 of prison ! I know it was wrong to ask you 
 so soon after this fuss ; but I won't be impa- 
 tient ; I'll give you forever to think it over 
 in ! at least, I'll give you as long as that fel- 
 low in the Bible had to wait — seven — 
 months, wasn't it ? " 
 
 Elinor laughed ruefully, pressing the point 
 of her foot into the snow. 
 
 "I won't try to persuade you on the 
 ground of the difference it would make to 
 me," continued Jack, "because that would 
 keep me talking here all the seven months. 
 But you should be as much mistress of the 
 world as a man can make you who has seen 
 the world and worships whatever part of it 
 you stand on. After a while, even if you 
 didn't find much of anything to admire in 
 me, you would have associated so many 
 jolly things with me, that at last you'd count 
 me in as one of them — almost without mean- 
 ing to ! Do say, at least, that you won't 
 begin with saying no ! " 
 
 It was not easy wholly to resist this 
 pleading — not the words so much as the 
 manner of it. Jack was so immeasurably in 
 earnest, so heart-and-soul in what he was 
 saying, his face and voice expressed so much 
 more than his sentences, and the vigor of 
 his desire made itself so strongly felt, that 
 Elinor, though she had been all no when he 
 first opened the subject, could not at once 
 say no when he had ceased. And why should 
 she say it — at once ? The ardor and utter' 
 ness of his devotion touched her, coming, as 
 it did, at the season of lier greatest loneliness. 
 No doubt but the marriage would give her a 
 scope and freedom of" life such as she might 
 not otherwise easily attain ; perhaps, too, it 
 offered opportunities for generosity and un- 
 
258 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 selfishness, whicli a solitary existence would 
 lack. Why say no — at all ? 
 
 Again, she was not called upon for an 
 immediate or positive answer, either one 
 way or the other. She was to be allowed 
 time to question and scrutinize the new idea 
 on all sides, and to pronounce upon it at her 
 leisure. All that was asked now was, that 
 she should not say no. She had always 
 liked Jack, the impact of whose vigorous and 
 manly nature was an unspeakable relief after 
 the clamminess of Golightley. And Jack 
 had — unconsciously — used one argument 
 which sank more deeply into Elinor's heart 
 than any of his deliberate ones : " Garth is 
 married to his painting ! " Then, what need 
 for Elinor to be over-solicitous about her 
 destiny ? 
 
 All this while Jack's bright hazel eyes 
 were searching her face, which was turned 
 downward. "When she lifted it at last, he 
 drew himself up like a soldier in presence of 
 the enemy. The color sprang to his cheeks. 
 
 " But you do not know me ! " said she, 
 faintly. 
 
 "If we'd been married a century, I could 
 not say ' I know you ! ' There would still be 
 a thousand new — lovelinesses to learn ! But 
 I love you ! " 
 
 " You say too much. I have nothing to 
 give you. I don't love you, and I'm sure I 
 never can. It would spoil a true friendship 
 if you try to make it anything more ! " 
 
 " Whatever you do, don't think of friend- 
 ship ! " exclaimed Jack, with great earnest- 
 ness. " There never yet was a true friend- 
 ship between a man and a woman! But 
 just stand still and let me love youl Don't 
 move ! " 
 
 " I don't know that it's worth while for 
 me to care what becomes of me — but that's 
 an ungracious thing to say 1 I like you so 
 much that — I feel sure we were not meant 
 for each other ! " 
 
 " But don't say no ! whatever you do, 
 remember that! " He came one entreating 
 step nearer. 
 
 " I won't say it, then — ^now. But," slie 
 added, hurriedly, for the delight that leaped 
 into Jack's eyes frightened her, "it wiU 
 make it harder for you and me if I must say 
 it hereafter. But at any rate you shall see 
 
 I me, and know something about what sort of a 
 person I am ; and then, perhaps, you'll thank 
 me for not having said yes ! " 
 
 " All I'm afraid for is, that one of us 
 may die — for this is too good to be true! 
 Elinor — Elinor — Elinor! — No, don't be 
 scared! I mean to be as subdued and cir- 
 cumspect as a duenna. But a duenna may 
 kiss the princess's hand just once! — Elinor, 
 don't you think seven weeks is a very long 
 time?" 
 
 " O Jack ! " she said, panting and turning 
 pale ; there was genuine dismay in hef eyes 
 and voice. " Remember this is not a prom- 
 ise — not an ebgagement ! " 
 
 "No, of course not, else I'd have — not 
 kissed your hand ! But it was only by acci- 
 dent that I said seven months. You know 
 those Bible fellows lived hundreds of years, 
 and we have left only forty or fifty at the 
 outside." 
 
 Elinor could not help laughing, though 
 there were tears on her eyelashes. And so 
 they parted for that time. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXIV. 
 
 TWO OLD 0EONIE8. 
 
 Eaelt in the afternoon of the same day, 
 Madge left the cottage, and set ofif toward 
 Urmhurst. She walked along with a some- 
 what pensive mien ; occasionally looking up 
 and about, and then again falling into rev- 
 erie. She was pale, but there was brilliance 
 in her eyes extraordinary even for her ; and 
 such a deliberation and stateliness of move- 
 ment as might indicate a great bracing-up 
 and dilation of the spirit within. On arriv- 
 ing at the house, she mounted at once to the 
 garret; for Garth, as she knew, was not at 
 home, and there was no one else to question 
 her proceedings. In the garret she remained 
 for more than an hour. On her return 
 down-stairs, Golightley met her in the hall. 
 He had on his hat and coat, and accompa- 
 nied her, with his usual affability, on her 
 road toward the village. 
 
 " There is an enterprising air about you 
 this morning, Miss Maggie," remarked he. 
 " Are any fresh projects in suspense? " 
 
TWO OLD OKONIES. 
 
 259 
 
 "None tliat concern me, Uncle Golight- 
 ley. But I believe Mr. Kineo would like an 
 opportunity to say good-by to you, before he 
 goes." 
 
 "Ah! I presume he desires to rid him- 
 self of those— ah — documents, does he not? 
 Well, I shall drop in on him this evening, I 
 think." 
 
 " From what I understood, I don't think 
 he means to let you have them until after he 
 is quite sure that they can be of no further 
 use to him. His idea seems to be that, if 
 you had the documents before he got his 
 check cashed, and was on his way to Eu- 
 rope, something might happen to hinder his 
 getting away." 
 
 " H'm ! he doesn't expect me to — h'm ! " 
 Golightley caressed his cheeks thoughtfully, 
 and murmured inarticulately to himself as 
 he stalked along. "If our friend has be- 
 come so cautious," he continued at length, 
 "or has taken such cautious advice. Miss 
 Maggie! — as to mistrust my good faith, the 
 only result would be to defeat the prosperity 
 of both parties. He must know that it would 
 be impossible for me to draw that amount 
 of ready money myself, for, in order to do 
 it, I should be obliged to go to Boston ; and 
 just now there are guardian angels abroad, 
 who might misinterpret my intentions in 
 making such a journey. As to his anticipat- 
 ing any hinderance after our bargain is settled 
 — anything of that sort, you know — he sim- 
 ply outs his own nose off if he's ass enough 
 to suppose it. And he certainly can't ex- 
 pect me to let him keep the documents until 
 he has cashed the check and taken flight! 
 With every respect for his sound memory 
 and conscientiousness, that would — eh ? " 
 Uncle Golightley brought forward his side 
 locks and laughed. 
 
 "I shouldn't imagine he would expect any- 
 thing so unbusiness-like," returned Madge, 
 composedly. "But might not some com- 
 promise be made? For instance, suppose 
 he were to hand the documents to some 
 third person, who would give them to you 
 on receiving word from him to do so ? " 
 
 "Ha, ha! an admirable scheme, my dear 
 Margaret, with only one objection to it, 
 which is — the diflBoulty of finding a fid,ns 
 Achates of both parties ; one whom I could 
 
 depend upon to hand me the documents 
 when my honorable friend sent him the 
 necessary permission ; and whom my honor- 
 able friend could trust to keep them from 
 me until the aforesaid propitious moment 
 arrived ! I must confess that I should be at 
 a loss where to put my finger upon such a 
 treasure of a confidant ! " 
 
 " Yes ; but I believe," said Madge, glanc- 
 ing at him from the corner of her long, 
 dark eye — "I think such a person has been 
 found!" 
 
 Golightley stopped caressing himself, and 
 pressed on his eye-glasses. 
 
 "Who is it?" 
 
 "It's Garth, I believe." 
 
 " You believe it's— ffosr^A ? " He fetched 
 a long breath and retained it for several 
 seconds ; then drew his brows together and 
 threw up his chin. " Well, I don't ! " he de- 
 clared ; and brought his hands together with 
 an emphatic clap. 
 
 Madge laughed lightly. "I was afraid 
 you wouldn't — that is, that it would surprise 
 you at first. Poor Garth seems so innocent, 
 and slow to see things. But the most inno- 
 cent-seeming persons sometimes turn out to 
 have been quite acute. At all events, Garth 
 knows all about your affairs and Mr. Kineo's, 
 and has known for some while. And he has 
 called on Mr. Kineo at his lodgings, and they 
 have made all arrangements. Ic was on his 
 account that Garth got up the skating-party 
 for to-morrow — so that he might be able to 
 skate away down the meadows without any 
 one's suspecting him. And it is Garth who 
 will take charge of the documents for you. 
 Uncle Golightley." 
 
 "When does Kineo propose delivering 
 them to him ? " 
 
 " Oh, Garth has had them several days." 
 
 Golightley paused to recover himself. 
 "If that be the case," he rejoined, "I 
 shall take the liberty to keep my money 
 in my pocket! I begin to think it must 
 be my honorable friend Kineo who is stu- 
 pid ! " 
 
 " Not quite so stupid as that ! " answered 
 Madge, laughing again. " Of course he didn't 
 let Garth have the documents for nothing. 
 Garth paid him fifty thousand dollars in 
 bank-notes for them yesterday ; and you are 
 
260 
 
 GAETH. 
 
 to give him the check yon were to have 
 given Kineo — and more too, I'm afraid ! " 
 
 " H'm ! upon my word, this is interest- 
 ing ! By George, Garth is coming out ! " 
 
 " You see, Garth found out, among other 
 things, that Sam was heir to the Eve leg- 
 acy ; so he wrote to Professor Grindle for 
 it." 
 
 "But it strikes me," interposed Golight- 
 ley, " that the professor is too good a busi- 
 ness-man to give up that same legacy with- 
 out proof positive that it belonged to the 
 person in whose behalf it was applied for." 
 
 " That same thing struck Garth — wasn't 
 it curious?" rejoined Madge, with a smile. 
 " So, as I happened to know where the cer- 
 tificates of his mother's marriage and his 
 baptism were, I got them, and Garth sent 
 them on with his letter. Professor Grindle 
 found them legal, and sent them back to us 
 with the money. Only, that is a secret, be- 
 cause only Nikomis and I know where the 
 certificates are kept, and I borrowed them 
 without her permission." 
 
 " I think I could make it worth some- 
 body's while to show them to me!" re- 
 marked Golightley, with a significant look. 
 
 " Oh, they are quite safe — nothing can 
 happen to them ; and Sam, I know, is very 
 fond of calling himself your nephew ; more 
 so, I think, than Garth is ! " said Madge, 
 with an engagingly confidential air. 
 
 "Well, by George 1 I feel sat upon," ex- 
 claimed Golightley, with a rather ghastly 
 attempt at a humorous grimace. " My proj- 
 ects don't'look especially brilliant, do they? 
 But I ought to thank you for the confidence 
 you have shown in me in giving me such an 
 amount of private information. Suppose, 
 now, I had got a little bit nervous and anx- 
 ious, and had gone and told my friends, the 
 guardian angels, that a dear nephew of mine 
 was starting for Europe on such and such a 
 date, by such and such a route ; but that he 
 was apt to be very heedless and flighty, snd 
 would they please take care that he reached 
 his proper destination ? — What if I had 
 been such a fussy old uncle as to do that — 
 eh?" 
 
 " Ah, but I knew you were never fussy. 
 Uncle Golightley," returned Madge, with an 
 arch glance. " You never will be until you 
 
 have those documents of yours to take care 
 of; and then your nephew will be beyond 
 the guardian angels' reach 1 " 
 
 " Ah ! lelle dame sans merci! You don't 
 leave me a loop-hole, do you ? Not one, not 
 one, not one ! Well, now I suppose you will 
 marry Garth, and settle down here quietly ; 
 happy and contented in the care of your 
 hens and cows, cheerfully busy with the 
 housework and cookery; and, in the even- 
 ings, bringing out your spinning-wheel or 
 your knitting, and sitting with your lord and 
 master before the kitchen-fire! A lovely 
 idyllic picture — two souls possessing perfect 
 confidence and satisfaction in each other! 
 — I suppose, by-the-by, that Garth had no 
 impolite questions to ask you, as to how you 
 came to be so well informed on all these ob- 
 scure points, and as to your reasons for not 
 having confided in him until now? Noth- 
 ing of that sort, eh ? " 
 
 "There was no need for him to ask me 
 such questions. Uncle Golightley," replied 
 Madge, with dignity. "You speak almost 
 as if I had anything to conceal from him ! 
 Of course Garth knows that whatever in- 
 formation I had came to me accidentally, 
 through my intimacy with Nikomis; and 
 that I had not told him about it at first, be- 
 cause he was ill, and because I had hoped 
 that things might be arranged so that the 
 family name need not be disgraced. But 
 when I found that nothing could be done 
 without hjs help, there was nothing left but 
 to ask him for it. He trusts me perfectly ; 
 why should he not? Does not Elinor Go- 
 lightley trust you ? " 
 
 Madge could not have known what would 
 be the full effect of this last stab ; it may 
 have determined Golightley to a course of 
 action as to which he had hesitated until 
 then. He made no reply, however, though 
 his face twitched and grew whiter than be- 
 fore. But when, soon afterward, he had 
 left her and struck off through the woods 
 by himself, he murmured more than once, 
 " There is one loop-hole. Miss Maggie ; just 
 one! " 
 
MUTUAL COURTESIES. 
 
 261 
 
 CHAPTER LXXV. 
 
 MUTUAL OOUETESIKS. 
 
 His course now led him toward the 
 point of junction of the mill-stream with 
 the lake. Although he had never, thus far, 
 been interfered with by any of those " guardi- 
 an angels " whereof he had spoken to Madge, 
 yet he could guess pretty accurately where 
 they might be found, and doubted not that it 
 would be easy enough (should he feel so in- 
 clined) to have speech of one of them. He 
 may not, however, have been aware that 
 Selwyn himself was already returned ; and 
 it was therefore an equal surprise to both 
 of them, perhaps, when they presently met 
 in one of the more secluded forest by- 
 paths. 
 
 Jack was in such high spirits from his 
 morning's interview with Elinor, that he 
 would probably have greeted even the devil 
 with magnanimity, had that personage hap- 
 pened in his way ; and since Golightley had 
 lost what Jack had gained, and was further- 
 more in a fair way to get full measure of 
 retribution for his misdeeds, the younger 
 man was disposed to be forbearing. Ac- 
 cordingly, he bowed with grave politeness ; 
 and, perceiving that Golightley had some- 
 thing to say to him, he stopped. 
 
 "A fine afternoon again, Jack; I'm in 
 hopes this weather will keep on over to- 
 morrow. I see you've returned from your 
 trip in season to join our picnic on the ice." 
 
 " Well, I've not quite made up my mind 
 whether to go." 
 
 " Ah, really ? Your arrival seemed so 
 opportune — " 
 
 " I hope it may prove so." 
 
 " The fact is, my dear Jack, I don't be- 
 lieve we shall be able to do without you ! 
 Have you heard — have you heard the latest 
 developments concerning this robbery busi- 
 ness ? " 
 
 Jack looked at him attentively, wonder- 
 ing whether the man could be meditating 
 some evasion even at this stage of affairs. 
 
 "I'm open to instruction," said he. 
 
 "It's a philosophic virtue, I believe," ob- 
 served the other, "for a man to know when 
 he's beaten; and I'm free to admit that I 
 
 am a very good philosopher, as far as that 
 goes. But I presume even philosophers 
 have their weaknesses ; and mine is, not to 
 be philosophic on any one's account but my 
 own. Now, to proceed to the point at once : 
 our friend Samuel Kineo, alias Flint, who 
 (as you are most likely aware by this time) 
 is on a visit to his grandmamma in the attic 
 of Urmhurst, proposes to leave for foreign 
 parts to-morrow evening, with ten thousand 
 pounds ready money in his trousers-pockets, 
 to pay his traveling-expenses withal." 
 
 " I conceive you, sir 1 " said Jack, sarcas- 
 tically. "Having given him that sum in 
 exchange for the power he held over you, 
 you are now desirous of defrauding him of 
 his hard-won earnings. Very astute, and 
 just what I should have expected of you ! 
 But are you correct in saying that he holds 
 ready money, and not a check, which might 
 or might not be worth more than the paper 
 it's written on?" 
 
 Golightley laughed. " Well guessed — 
 well guessed, my dear Jack ! but you are 
 out for once. Very likely I had intended 
 something of that sort, but I've been fore- 
 stalled. I haven't got the documents, and 
 some one else — my nephew Garth, namely 
 — has paid the ready money. That money, 
 of course, is the Eve legacy, and is, or was, 
 the last scrap of Urmson property left from 
 my ravages. Garth, wishing to save the 
 family honor, and all that sort of thing, 
 dumps it into Kineo's pockets, gets in return 
 the inconvenient documents, and then rec- 
 ommends my fellow-outlaw to be oif as 
 fast as his skates can carry him." 
 
 " That's news certainly ; where did you 
 pick it up ? " 
 
 " From the young lady who, as I take it, 
 contemplates sharing the rewards and perils 
 of Mr. Kineo's future career — unless, indeed, 
 she has contrived a way to outwit him, as 
 well as the rest of us, which is always pos- 
 sible ! She confided the secret to me, you 
 understand, on the assumption that self-in- 
 terest weighs a few ounces more in my bal- 
 ance than is actually the case. By-the-by, I 
 may as well tell you that, some few weeks 
 since, I paid into the account of the lady 
 who was to have been my wife the sum of 
 eighty-and-odd thousand pounds. It's all I 
 
262 
 
 GAETH. 
 
 had, except a trifle, to — ^keep me iu gloves 
 and cigarettes for a month or so ! " 
 
 The tone and manner of this reference to 
 Elinor smote Jack with compassion. In Go- 
 lightley-'s preceding utterances had been 
 perceptible only the jaunty bravado which 
 strove to disguise, however flimsily, the 
 shameful squalor of exposed rascality. But 
 in mentioniag her who, to him as well as to 
 Jack, was the first and dearest of woman- 
 kind, his voice had turned hoarse, and the 
 haggard lines in his face had seemed to deep- 
 en. "If the fellow really loved her," said 
 Jack to himself, "to have lost her is more 
 than enough punishment for meaner crimes 
 than his. Heaven knows I'm far enough 
 from deserving her myself! " 
 
 " Look here ! " he continued aloud, plant- 
 ing himself face to face with his interlocutor, 
 "I don't see but what you deserve some 
 credit for this hint. Of course I see that it 
 gratifies your spite to block Kineo's little 
 game, and of course you rely on Garth not 
 to use the proofs against you, since you've 
 already given up your share of the booty to 
 the proper owners. StiU, you do risk some- 
 thing, and I've no right to suppose that your 
 chief motive is not to save your brother and 
 Garth their fifty thousand dollars. And I'll 
 be damned if I'm not sorry for you, any 
 way ! What do you mean to do with your- 
 self, if you get out of this scrape? " 
 
 "Ah, well — aisit odium, my dear Jack, 
 but you must allow me to say that that 
 would be my own business! " 
 
 " I know. But I had a reason for asking. 
 ■ — Confound it, look here! " said Jack, with 
 some embarrassment, " I've got more money 
 than I know what to do with — what would 
 you say to my shipping you off to Australia ? 
 — my people have got a place of business 
 there — and putting yon in the way of mak- 
 ing a good, honest living? You can make a 
 new man of yourself there, in every sense of 
 the word. What do you say ? " 
 
 " It's kind of you. Jack, by George ! " an- 
 swered the other, indifferently. "But the 
 fact is, I'd thought of a longer jaunt than 
 that — or rather, I hardly think I'm up to 
 that kind of thing now. You see I've given 
 it a pretty fair trial — ^this campaigning about 
 at other fellows' expense, you understand — 
 
 and I'm tired of it ! I don't seem to have 
 the stuff in me ; talent enough, but it doesn't 
 seem to work out in the right way. No — 
 no, I'm afraid I shouldn't do your introduc- 
 tion much credit. I'm pretty well tired out 
 — I'm pretty well tired out ! " 
 
 " Oh, while there's life there's hope ! " 
 returned Jack; but he could not help ac- 
 knowledging to himself that Golightley's 
 words were true. Everything in the man's 
 appearance testified to an exhaustion of 
 moral and mental resources almost beyond 
 hope of remedy. " Well, think it over," he 
 added, "and we'll speak of it again next 
 vreek. Probably we'll be able to let Kineo 
 off in the end, after making him hand back 
 the legacy, so he won't stand in your 
 way. I should like to give you a lift if I 
 can." 
 
 Golightley stood silent awhile, looking 
 abstractedly first in one direction and then 
 in another, and settling and resettling his 
 eye-glasses on his nose. Then, appearing all 
 at once to recollect himself, he lifted his hat 
 to Jack and said : 
 
 "Till next week, then! — by-the-by, what 
 was it? ... . ah, yes — kind of you, very 
 kind of yon, by George! Till next week, 
 then. Jack — Auf Wiedersehen ! as we said in 
 Germany." And, with a wave of his hand, 
 he passed on. 
 
 Jack continued his walk in the opposite 
 direction, pondering over the new aspect 
 things had taken. " Poor old Golightley ! " 
 he murmured; "there doesn't seem to be 
 much left of him, sure enough. His mind 
 has taken to running on two or three sub- 
 jects — and not particularly agreeable ones, I 
 fancy — until he hardly hears or remembers 
 what is said to him on other matters, even 
 when they especially concern him. But 
 that was a happy thought of mine about 
 Australia, if he can only find the sense and 
 pluck to take it up. 
 
 "But to think of dear old Garth, my 
 genius, whom nobody ever suspected of the 
 power to awaken from the reveries of im- 
 agination and idealism — actually making a 
 practical man of affairs out of himself, and 
 concocting a plot to bring things right with- 
 out asking leave of anybody ! Well, no 
 doubt he might beat any of us at our own 
 
MUTUAL COURTESIES. 
 
 263 
 
 game, if he chose to put his mind to it. The 
 plot would have worked beyond a doubt, 
 but for the incalculable contingency of old 
 Golightley's butting against himself. As for 
 me, so far from turning out a success in my 
 amateur detectiveship, I've simply been ca- 
 joled and bullied about like a raw school- 
 boy. I've found out very little that wasn't 
 plain beforehand to anybody, and what I 
 have found out hasn't helped me do any- 
 thing. Then Madge must pack me off to 
 Canada, like a political exile, with that ho- 
 cus-pocus of a letter of hers; and there I 
 might have been to this moment, hunting 
 for phantom Kineos in snow-drifts, if an ac- 
 cident hadn't revealed that I was turning my 
 back on what I was after. It's no thanks 
 to me that the scamp didn't make off long 
 ago ; that must have been what Madge in- 
 tended ; but I suppose the rogues fell out, 
 between the three of them, and let the op- 
 portunity go by while they were busy quar- 
 reling. 
 
 " Well, then, here are Elinor and Garth, 
 both with their scheme all arranged inde- 
 pendently of each other and of me, and 
 Garth must actually have had an interview 
 with his ruffian of a cousin — God save the 
 mark ! I expect he'll punch my -head well 
 for interfering with his plans ; but it would 
 never do to lose the legacy in that way. 
 Besides .... 
 
 "Look here I of course, he can know 
 nothing of Madge's rascalities ? No — these 
 geniuses who can see through stone-walls if 
 they only will look at them, can be blinder 
 than dead men when they choose not to see. 
 She could make him believe what she liked 
 about herself with half a word; and after 
 all there's nothing definite against her ; 
 nothing to be sworn to — only sworn at! ha, 
 ha, ha ! By jingo, it's a shame for me to be 
 giggling here about these things ; but I'm 
 so confoundedly happy on my own account, 
 I should giggle at a funeral I Well, if Miss 
 Madge will only start on an elopement to- 
 morrow evening, it wiU at least have the 
 good effect of averting Jove's anger from 
 my own head, when I intercept and bring 
 back the erring pair. . . . Hullo! behold 
 him, in his habit as he lived! " 
 
 In fact. Garth was in view, walking rap- 
 
 idly with his head down, and making slashes 
 at the snow before him with his stick. He 
 was close to Selwyn before noticing him. 
 
 "Jack! I thought you were in Can- 
 ada ! " They shook hands. 
 
 " Who told you I was in Canada? " 
 
 "Madge." 
 
 "Did she tell you who sent me there? " 
 
 Garth smiled. "Well — it was to keep 
 you out of mischief ! " 
 
 "Just as I thought — she's been telling 
 him a lie ! " thought Jack ; for his friend's 
 light treatment of the matter was not other- 
 wise explicable. " And no doubt she repre- 
 sented me as a busybody, which I am ! — 
 You'd like to have me back there, then?" 
 he demanded aloud. 
 
 "No; you can save me trouble, since 
 you are here. Sara Kineo is to escape to- 
 morrow night, by way of the long meadows. 
 You can take care that nothing gets In his 
 way; and be sure you do it! " 
 
 "Ha! my lord is imperious. Will he 
 deign to remember that I serve, not his in ■ 
 terests, but those of his betters? " 
 
 "I have the means of unloading my un- 
 happy uncle to the last farthing. I shall do 
 substantial justice, without the injustice of 
 publicity." 
 
 "Listen to the autocrat! Might your 
 slave petition for a guarantee? " 
 
 " Take my word. Jack ! " 
 
 "The sublime assurance 1 I wonder 
 whether there is a single thing in this world 
 which Garth Maohiavelli Urmson does not 
 know ? Methinks, not one! " 
 
 "I know that you and I are of one mind 
 on this matter — and that I am in a hurry ! 
 You'll be on the lake to-morrow ? " 
 
 " I know that it's lucky for you I happen 
 to be in an extraordinary good-humor. But 
 I shall not appear on the lake to-morrow ; if 
 your new protege is to have the bars let 
 down for him, it is not in common decency 
 that I should make myself personally con- 
 spicuous in doing hira that service. And — 
 hold on! I must tell yon the occasion of 
 my good-humor, lest you attribute my com- 
 placent behavior to poltroonery. Elinor 
 Golightley has half promised — or maybe 
 three-quarters — to do — what do you think ? " 
 
 " I haven't the least idea." 
 
264 
 
 GAKTH. 
 
 " We have hit upon the one thing that 
 he didn't know ! and now he shall be told 
 that also. Why, to be my wife. — Oho ! in- 
 terested at last, are you ? " 
 
 The expression of Garth's fa6e, and his 
 entire bearing, had in a moment undergone 
 a great though indescribable change. His 
 lips parted ; his eyes seemed to grow small- 
 er ; he leaned heavily on his walking-stick. 
 But before Jack could speak again, he said, 
 slowly : 
 
 " I never was more surprised. There's 
 nothing for which I ought to be more glad." 
 He held out his hand. " I didn't even know 
 that she and my uncle were parted yet. 
 Jack, I'm glad for you with ... all my 
 heart!" 
 
 With the last words he gripped his 
 friend's hand so forcibly that the latter 
 winced. "You've got your muscle back, if 
 not your cordiality ! " he said, laughing. 
 " But as to that affair with Golightley — of 
 course she never cared for him : and I, hap- 
 pening by good luck to come upon her at 
 the right moment — O Garth, dear old cur- 
 mudgeon and friend of my earlier days! I 
 
 am so happy I absit invidia, as poor Golight- 
 ley would say, but you'll never be so happy, 
 with all your genius. But I mustn't give 
 you the idea that she has actually promised 
 yet, because she hasn't, and thinks she 
 never can, and so forth ; and — mind you — 
 I wouldn't have opened my head to any one 
 in the world besides you about it; but you 
 and I, you know . . . Oh, do be enthusi- 
 astic, can't you ? I would for you ! " 
 
 Garth laughed, stretched his arras and 
 shoulders, and yawned! But when he saw 
 a shade of disappointment on Jack's hand- 
 some face, he said, with the deep-toned ten- 
 derness which he rarely threw into his 
 voice : 
 
 " I feel your happiness so much. Jack — 
 that's why I don't say more. You know I 
 was always a dumb beast. But you can't 
 say so much for yourself as I can feel for 
 you ! " 
 
 They parted, each going his way. Jack 
 was appeased. 
 
 " Can the same Creator have made that 
 man and his uncle!" he asked himself, ad- 
 miringly. 
 
 BOOK X. 
 Q A R T H. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXVI. 
 
 GBTTINO UNDEB WAT. 
 
 Gabth was up early on the morning of 
 Christmas-day, and went out to the barn to 
 have a word with the cows and horses. 
 Many changes had occurred in his woi-ld 
 since that October morning of his last re- 
 corded visit; there were new friends, new 
 enemies ; but, alter all, these animals greet- 
 ed him with the same brute sincerity of 
 kindness now as then. They did not sym- 
 pathize with him ; they did not pity him, nor 
 
 hope nor fear for him. They did not honor 
 his pure resolutions, nor share his anxieties, 
 nor respect his principles. Yet they did love 
 him, after their own fashion and upon their 
 own grounds ; and the positive and palpable 
 assurance of this fact gave Garth strong 
 and deep satisfaction. He gazed in their 
 calm faces with eyes as serene as theirs: 
 there was no need to hide his trouble from 
 them, and therefore his trouble took wings 
 and flew away for a time. Peacefully they 
 gazed at him, with just enough recognition 
 of what he was. to be pleased with him ; and 
 he gazed back, until he could almost iden- 
 
GETTING UNDER WAY. 
 
 265 
 
 tify himself with the sweet, soulless animal 
 nature. Blessed is it for the world that only- 
 man is do-wered with a soul ! If moral ex- 
 perience and responsibility descended below 
 hiiu in the order of creation, the earth would 
 be a more intolerable purgatory than any 
 that Dante or Swedenborg has told us of. 
 
 So Garth lounged amid the stalls and 
 mangers for a luxurious hour or two, and 
 thought that the longer he lived within the 
 realm of kine-land, the more loath he should 
 be to bid farewell to it. At last, however, 
 it became necessary to get some breakfast, 
 and prepare for the events of the day ; and 
 he reluctantly put on manhood again and 
 returned to the house. Kineo had already 
 been instructed as to the course he was to 
 pursue and the precautions he was to ob- 
 serve, so there was not much to do besides 
 packing provisions in hampers and baskets, 
 getting fishing-lines in order, and heating in- 
 definite numbers of bricks to the scorching- 
 point for the benefit of tender feet and 
 hands. When everything else was ready, he 
 harnessed two horses to the double sleigh 
 (which had been healed of its late wound), 
 and leaving them at the door, with their 
 blankets on, went up-stairs to bid his father 
 farewell. 
 
 "I shall be thankful to have a day to 
 myself," remarked Mr. Urmson, in answer to 
 Garth's regret that he must be left solitary ; 
 " or, rather, to have the privilege of spending 
 it undisturbed with the select society of the 
 last two hundred and fifty years ! " and he 
 laid his thin, graceful hand on the piled-up 
 manuscript of his history. " I expect to 
 be amazingly refreshed by the time you re- 
 turn." 
 
 " You certainly look better to-day than 
 you have lately," said Garth. " The profess- 
 or will say so when he sees you to-morrow. 
 By-the-way, since you will probably have 
 fallen asleep before I get home to-night, I'll 
 wish you a merry Christmas and a happy 
 New- Year, now. Many of them, father ! " 
 
 "Thanks, beloved Hottentot! But to 
 tell the truth, I hope you'll keep the happy 
 New -Year for yourself. I have had as many 
 as I can hold — quite as many as are good 
 for me. Although I am still the parson's 
 junior by some few winters, it can be said 
 
 of me — when the time comes — ' He died full 
 of years ! ' It takes very much fewer years 
 to fill some people than others ; and Provi- 
 dence has made my capacity somewhat lim- 
 ited." 
 
 "No, no!" said Garth, speaking the 
 words witli an indrawing of the breath. He 
 sat down beside his father ; his throat ached 
 and his eyes filled. " How I love him ! " he 
 thought. Then he looked enviously at the 
 strength of his own youthful limbs and 
 shoulders; with all his love, he could not 
 give away an hour's use of them 1 How 
 almost omnipotent is man's spirit ; how im- 
 potent his flesh! Why were such unkind 
 mates yoked together ? 
 
 " I can do nothing for you ! " said Garth. 
 "I would do anything." 
 
 " Come, be a good boy ! " exclaimed his 
 father, with playful severity. " Else I shall 
 think that I have been able to do nothing 
 for you, though I have beea willing to do a 
 great deal! " 
 
 " I shall be— alone, if you go 1 " 
 
 "Who said I was going, yet awhile? I 
 mean to live quite as long as you or anybody 
 else can find a use for me. Didn't you just 
 tell me that I was looking better? As to 
 your being alone, I doubt whether Provi- 
 dence will have the heart to condemn you to 
 such poor company; you don't seem tome 
 so entirely depraved as to require such dis- 
 cipline. No, old gentleman, I believe you 
 will find the New-Year a happy one, before 
 you are at the end of it. I'll venture that 
 prediction. Now get out, for there comes 
 your grandfather's sleigh ! " 
 
 "I wanted to teU you something," said 
 Garth, pausing and looking at his father. 
 " But I'll wait till to-morrow. You will be 
 at leisure then? " 
 
 " Yes, I shall rest to-morrow. Farewell, 
 beloved Hottentot! Give my love to Mrs. 
 Tenterden and — Elinor." 
 
 When Garth got down-stairs, he found 
 the Reverend Mr. Graeme in his sleigh, with 
 Mrs. Tenterden, Elinor, and Madge. 
 
 "I won't keep 'em all. Garth lad," 
 boomed the parson, with titanic glee. " You 
 can take one of 'em ; and fill her place with 
 your best hamper. — Golightley," he added, 
 as that gentleman made his appearance at 
 
266 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 the door, " I guess you'd better hop in with 
 Garth — he's got a double team and I haven't. 
 Don't be afraid, boy; we'll hand over your 
 belongings to you when we get there — haw, 
 haw, ho ! " 
 
 As Garth helped Madge to alight, he 
 noticed an unusual pallor in her face. 
 
 "You look tired," said he. 
 
 "I am tired. I was doubting whether 
 I'd go." 
 
 " Perhaps you'd better not. You know 
 the party is not for pleasure, though we 
 pretend so." 
 
 " I've a great mind not to go ! " she mur- 
 mured, looking wistfully at him. " I'll leave 
 it to chance ! Let's pull straws : if you draw 
 the longest I'll stay." 
 
 She held the straws, and Garth drew the 
 longest. 
 
 "You stay!" 
 
 "It's absurd! I won't be kept back by 
 a straw ! I'U go ! " she exclaimed, laughing. 
 
 " If you wish to come home early, I'll 
 come with you." 
 
 " Oh, if I go I shall never come back! " 
 was her answer. 
 
 When every one was seated, and the 
 baskets and hampers securely stowed away, 
 Garth gathered up his reins and asked the 
 parson if he were ready. 
 
 "Any one else for the lake?" bellowed 
 the reverend gentleman, directing his in- 
 quiry at the darksome front of Urmhurst. 
 
 " What a pity Mr. Selwyn didn't come I " 
 exclaimed Mrs. Tenterden. "He'd enjoy it 
 so, and he's so lively I " 
 
 " All the lasses are taken up, so far as I 
 can see ! " rejoined the parson, mirthfully. 
 " The young man would be lonely, ma'am I " 
 
 Elinor felt a painful embarrassment. 
 When changes have been rapid and violent, 
 they appear dreamlike in the immediate ret- 
 rospect. Was Golightley really forever dis- 
 connected with her future ? Had she really 
 listened to Jack, and half yielded to him ? 
 If so, why must the old appearances, now 
 vacant of life and truth, still be observed ? 
 Why was it that the forms of the social 
 world must always be under the control of 
 the more shallow-minded and short-sighted? 
 Mrs. Tenterden and the parson represented 
 the conventionalism of society, before which 
 
 all individual tumult and emotion must 
 be still. They saw according to the letter, 
 not the spirit ; and for their sakes all that 
 was real and living must be disguised and 
 stifled. 
 
 As they drove away, Elinor happened to 
 catch Garth's eyes, and fancied she discerned 
 a smile in them — though whether of sym- 
 pathy or of irony, or of something else, she 
 could not decide. Be it what it might, she 
 flushed resentfully, and thereafter sheltered 
 herself behind a haughty reserve; which, 
 perhaps, was the best attitude of which the 
 circumstances admitted. ' 
 
 Sam Kineo, who had heard the parson's 
 stentorian query, and had mentally respond- 
 ed to it, crawled stealthily to the attic-win- 
 dow, and, peeping forth, saw the sleighs dis- 
 appear amid the naked forest. 
 
 "I'll give them a surprise to-night! " he 
 muttered to himself, as he gazed after them. 
 " If they think I'm going t' sneak off with 
 my tail between my legs, they're mistaken ! 
 Those village fools shall have a sight of Sam 
 Kineo before he goes ! If 'twasn't for that 
 pretty little she-devil of mine, I'd let 'em 
 have something more than a sight — curse 
 'em all! but she can't fight 'nd run, as I 
 could : never mind ! we got the best of 'em 
 all ; 'nd Garth 'U find I took the interest on 
 my legacy, before he gets home to-night! " 
 Solacing himself with these refiections, Mr. 
 Kineo withdrew to his bower, and began 
 the preparations for his departure. He felt 
 that his star was once more in the ascendant, 
 and longed to celebrate the occasion by do- 
 ing something memorable. Had he not rec- 
 ognized that the success of his ultimate es- 
 cape and immunity was dependent upon his 
 forbearing to commit any intolerable out- 
 rage, he might have been tempted, in the 
 gayety of his heart, to set Urmhurst on fire, 
 or to take terrible advantage of the loneli- 
 ness of Mr. Urmson. But he felt that such 
 indulgences would be not merely foolhardy, 
 but suicidal ; especially as in Nikomis he had 
 a suspicious and vigilant overseer. He had 
 never succeeded in appeasing the resentment 
 of this grim old witch, who might have 
 served him so well ; and it had been owing 
 chiefly to her that his departure had been so 
 much delayed. He therefore resigned him- 
 
QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS. 
 
 267 
 
 self to inoflfensiveness, tempered by the de- 
 termination to make up for it whenever 
 circumstances should give him a chance; 
 and in this mood he lit his pipe, opened his 
 organ-box, and gave his attention to the 
 selection of an outfit for his journey. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXVII. 
 
 QUESTIONS AND ANSWEKS. 
 
 Meanwhile the party arrived at the lake, 
 it being then about noon, and found a mul- 
 titude of the village-folks already in posses- 
 sion, and flying hither and thither over the 
 ice in all directions. Having reached the 
 islet and stabled the horses. Garth began the 
 construction of the big bonfire, and sent a 
 dozen or so of the younger gentry in quest 
 of fagots and kindlings. They accepted the 
 job with enthusiasm, one small boy, with a 
 huge red tippet wound round his head and 
 body, showing himself especially energetic 
 and untiring; he was a member of Madge's 
 Sunday-school class, and was perhaps stimu- 
 lated to such exertions by a secret passion 
 for his mistress. In a short time there was 
 material enough collected to last through- 
 out the day; and Garth, having built up a 
 lofty superstructure of scientifically-adjusted 
 twigs, boughs, and fragments of decayed 
 stumps, took some paper and a match from 
 his pocket and deftly set the whole pile on 
 fire. "That ought to burn well: the kin- 
 dling was good! " he muttered to himself. 
 And it did burn gloriously. There was no 
 wind, and the flame rose straight upward, 
 until it ended in a thick column of smoke 
 which might have been visible twenty miles 
 away. The buffalo-robes and blankets were 
 now brought from the sleighs, and seats 
 were arranged for Mrs. Tenterden and the 
 parson, where they might at once keep 
 warm and have a view of all that was going 
 on. Golightley, although he had brought 
 with him a highly-ornamental pair of foreign 
 skates, with some kind of patent fastenings, 
 declined taking an active part in the amuse- 
 ment ; he remained near the fire, replenishing 
 it with fresh fuel from time to time, and re- 
 sponding to the sallies of his two companions. 
 
 Madge, as she had foretold, was dressed 
 in a costume which closely copied Elinor's, 
 insomuch that at a short distance one might 
 easily have been mistaken for the other. 
 Madge, however, was an accomplished 
 skater, while Elinor could do little more 
 than move about, with no attempt at curves 
 and fiourishes. Skating had not at that time 
 such vogue among women as it has since 
 acquired; but neither then nor since have 
 there been many who could show such 
 graceful mastery over the art as Madge. 
 She loved it as she loved dancing, and it dis- 
 played her physical beauty and adroitness 
 to at least as good advantage as did the lat- 
 ter exercise. Moreover, she was as tireless 
 on her skates as she was skillful, and could 
 keep in motion for hours at a stretch, with- 
 out any appearance of fatigue. 
 
 Garth, likewise, had complete command 
 over his motions upon the ice, and the com- 
 pactness of his figure enabled him to per- 
 form evolutions which were the despair of 
 many a longer-limbed rival. When he and 
 Madge skated off together, therefore, there 
 was a general disposition to applause among 
 the beholders ; and the small boy with the 
 red tippet was generous enough to ignore 
 unworthy jealousy, and give utterance to his 
 unselfish admiration in a cheer. Not being, 
 however, so familiar with the mysteries of 
 poise and balance as with the exercise of the 
 nobler emotions, his cheer whirled him over 
 backward, and bumped his head unmerciful- 
 ly. When the throes of physical anguish 
 had subsided sufficiently to allow of his sit- 
 ting up and and taking conscious note of 
 earthly things, he descried Madge far away, 
 swinging in easy curves, regardless of his 
 pain. His heart swelled within him as he 
 gazed ; from manly pride he had forborne to 
 weep thus far; but there are bumps and 
 bumps! As he tottered dejectedly to his 
 feet, and scrambled away toward solitude, 
 salt tears were freezing upon his cheeks, and 
 his heart was embittered against the seduc- 
 tions of Sunday-school. 
 
 After Garth and Madge had made the 
 circuit of the lake, they paused where, at its 
 southern extremity, it merged into the river. 
 Presently she said : 
 
 "Garth, will you take my hand, now. 
 
268 
 
 GAETH. 
 
 and skate down there, away and away, as 
 far as we can see — ever so far beyond "Wa- 
 beno ? and then get on board a ship and sail 
 to Europe — O Garth! and live there? Will 
 you do that with me ? " 
 
 "If we had the Eve legacy, we might! " 
 
 " Well — what if I did have it, in my 
 pocket, now ? " 
 
 " If this were the first of the New -Tear, 
 instead of Christmas-eve, yoa might have 
 had it — that is, if Kineo had not come. His 
 right to claim it would have ended with this 
 year." 
 
 " Then I wish he had never come ! But 
 Garth — it is not too late ! Let him be taken 
 — both of them! It would be right! and 
 then we should be free ! Will you, Garth 
 Frmson ? " 
 
 She spoke with a sudden flash of excite- 
 ment, that made Garth's own blood tingle. 
 What she suggested might be done, and pub- 
 lic opinion, justice, and the law, would bear 
 him out in it. And he and Mad,^e needed 
 freedom: how easy to grasp it! The world 
 would lie before them — for a time, at least ; 
 all that was irksome in the ties that held 
 them to each other would be forgotten in 
 the warm flood of the life that they might 
 live. Madge's hand was in his; her look 
 was upon him ; she awaited his decision. 
 On his next words hung their future. He 
 wheeled about; she saw the light in his 
 eyes. 
 
 "You will do it!" she cried, in a low 
 tone of triumph. " That saves me ! " 
 
 He paused a moment; then the light 
 sank back. 
 
 "I won't do it!" he said, harshly and 
 abruptly. 
 
 The harshness was not for her, but for 
 his own infirmity ; but she could not know 
 that. Their hands dropped apart : her vivid 
 face darkened. 
 
 " You are a strange creature. Garth Urm- 
 son. You think every one has rights but 
 me. Heigho! — Well, let us go back, then. 
 It's time you were at work, catching your 
 fish." 
 
 They skated back to the islet slowly and 
 in silence ; and for the next two hours Garth 
 worked like a Titan. First, with the sharp 
 ice-hatchet that he carried at his belt, he cut 
 
 a score or so of holes through the ice, twen- 
 ty feet apart, in straight rows. Beside each 
 of these he set up a little rod, made of the 
 twig of a birch-tree, with a line attached to 
 it, whereby a baited hook was let down to 
 the depths below. These preparations being 
 finished, the fun began. Wherever a rod 
 bent, the fisherman to whose charge it had 
 been intrusted must grasp the line, and haul 
 up whatever was at the other end of it. 
 Women as well as men took part in this 
 sport ; even Mrs. Tenterden laughingly per- 
 mitted herself to be established beside one of 
 the holes, though she was too busy with be- 
 ing amused at the exploits of others to pay 
 any attention to her own business. Fish 
 were plentiful, and before long more than 
 enough for the chowder had been caught, 
 chiefly perch and trout. At length word 
 was given to pull up all the lines; and it 
 was not till then that Mrs. Tenterden was 
 heard to complain that she thought hers 
 must have got caught in something : the rod 
 had been broken down, and only saved from 
 being drawn under by falling across the hole, 
 in which position it stuck fast. Garth took 
 hold of the line, and perceiving at once that 
 something unusual was the matter, hauled 
 away with all his might. In a few moments 
 out flounced a huge pike, three feet long, 
 which snapped its horrid jaws at Mrs. Ten- 
 terden in so bloodthirsty a manner that the 
 good lady sent forth a scream which brought 
 everybody on the pond pell-meU to the spot. 
 When the cause of her alarm became known, 
 there arose a multitudinous roar of laugh- 
 ter; amid which Garth attacked and slew 
 the "sockdolager," as the parson called it, 
 cleaned it, and flung it into the chowder- 
 kettle. 
 
 When the chowder was cooked, it was 
 ladled out into tin bowls, and so handed 
 around to be eaten with iron spoons. Garth 
 took his ^eat by Elinor, and they chatted to- 
 gether about diverse indifferent matters, un- 
 til he said : 
 
 " Jack Selwyn is the only friend I ever 
 made, and he tells me secrets^ he would tell 
 no one else. I saw him yesterday, and he 
 told me what I was glad to hear, for your 
 sake as well as his." 
 
 " He did not say that I — we — " 
 
QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS. 
 
 269 
 
 "No, no! he didn't magnify his hopes. 
 You will find it possible to be kinder to him 
 than you think you can be now. He loves 
 you; and, when you know him better, you 
 can't help loving him ! " 
 
 Here there was an interruption, and Eli- 
 nor was left to her reflections. That Garth 
 should have congratulated her on the new 
 step she had taken, affected her oddly. It 
 was as if some one from whom, by a desper- 
 ate effort, she had escaped, had suddenly ap- 
 peared beside her, serene and kind, and given 
 her joy on the success of her attempt. She 
 wondered whether he would have spoken so 
 calmly had he known what others knew 
 about Madge : she wondered — even while 
 taking shame to herself for so doing. Per- 
 haps he did know : evidently he was aware 
 of his uncle's guilt, and so why not of other 
 things? But, again, wliat was said of Madge 
 might not be true ; the worst part of it, at 
 least, might not be. She and Garth might 
 fully understand each other. "Who could say ? 
 and yet — Elinor could not bring herself to 
 believe it ! 
 
 At this point, however, she was reminded 
 of the promise she had made to herself the 
 day before, bearing upon this very matter. 
 If Madge — supposing her to have formed any 
 such scheme as Jack had imputed to her — 
 could be persuaded to relinquish it for that 
 which Elinor had to oflfer, might not all be 
 well between her and Garth even yet, and 
 Elinor the cause ? 
 
 Ah ! but the task was a hard and ungrate- 
 ful one, and Elinor, now that she was face 
 to face with it, could not help shrinking. 
 She lacked the flow of persuasive speech 
 which seems to render such intercessions 
 easy to some people; and here she might 
 hesitate on other grounds than those of per- 
 sonal unfitness. Not only would it in no way 
 help Elinor's interest to meddle with Madge, 
 but Garth (if the opinion of those who knew 
 him best could be trusted) might be the 
 worse instead of the better off were Madge 
 secured to him. Was it not more reverent 
 as well as more prudent to let Providence 
 work out its own ends in its own way, with- 
 out any impertinent interference ? 
 
 Elinor would have been glad to have felt 
 satisfied of this. But the more she strove 
 
 to be so, the more persistently did certain 
 stubborn questions force themselves upon 
 her. If Madge were ruined for lack of any 
 argument or effort which Elinor could have 
 used, would not the responsibility lie at Eli- 
 nor's door? Did not all women owe a sa- 
 cred duty to their sisters who were in peril ? 
 Was any earthly gain or loss worthy to be 
 set against that duty? 
 
 Elinor got impulsively to her feet, and 
 looked about her. Madge was at some dis- 
 tance upon the ice, teaching the small boy 
 with the red tippet the mysteries of the out- 
 side edge. Elinor came up behind them and 
 said to her : 
 
 "Won't you give me a lesson, too? " and 
 took her other hand. 
 
 Madge looked surprised and on her guard, 
 but offered no objection, and they skated off 
 together, leaving the boy again forlorn. 
 
 "You see it's very easy," Madge ob- 
 served ; " but I suppose you don't have 
 many chances to skate in Europe ? " 
 
 "Not many. Would you like to goto 
 Europe?" 
 
 It was several moments before Madge an- 
 swered — 
 
 " I mean to go, some day ! " 
 
 "But would you like to go soon — with 
 us?" 
 
 There was another pause ; Madge let go 
 Elinor's hand and glided along beside her 
 with a serpentine movement. 
 
 "Does your future husband authorize 
 that invitation ? " 
 
 " I meant with me and Mrs. Tenterden. 
 I have not told you that we have got back 
 most of our fortune. I shall not be married." 
 
 Madge swept about ^nd looked in Elinor's 
 face. " So Jack Selwyn has let out the se- 
 cret, has he ? " 
 
 " It was Golightley who told me, Madge." 
 
 " But what a funny invitation ! " rejoined 
 the other, with a soft laugh. "Is this to 
 part Garth and me ? or is Garth to be of the 
 party? or — would not Garth do without 
 me?" 
 
 Elinor flushed with indignation, and was 
 half resolved to leave Madge to her fate. 
 But her better will still overcame. 
 
 "I thought you might like to see the 
 world before you were married. We could 
 
270 
 
 GAETH. 
 
 bring you to the things and people that 
 would give you most pleasure. You should 
 go where your beauty and talent would be 
 best acknowledged It would be better than 
 for you to go in — in almost any other way ! " 
 
 "But why do you ask me?" repeated 
 Madge, coldly. 
 
 "O Madge! because you are a woman, 
 and I am a woman : and no other woman 
 knows what I know about you — what I 
 found out by chance, I want to be a siste? 
 to you, if you wiU let me ! I have felt what 
 it is to be alone and in trouble — and in 
 temptation! I longed for some one who 
 would speak to me and be kind to me. And 
 though I can do so little for you, Madge — 
 still, if you will believe that I speak from no 
 selfish motive, I might do something! " 
 
 Madge's expression abated somewhat of 
 its hardness and incredulity, and she said 
 more gently : 
 
 " You have never seemed friendly to me 
 before.'' 
 
 " I know it — I was wrapped up in myself. 
 And you never seemed to need a friend be- 
 fore. I do want to be your friend now ! " 
 
 Madge cast down her eyes and was silent. 
 But suddenly she looked up and asked : 
 
 " Ought I to marry Garth? " 
 
 Elinor hesitated : was Madge testing her 
 sincerity? But even to gain her end she 
 could not prevaricate. 
 
 " Not unless you love him," said she. 
 
 " Oome ! " said Madge, holding out her 
 hand again. Presently she continued : " You 
 do seem honest; and, if you are honest, you 
 are very kind! But you mustn't think: I 
 would do anything foolish — ^put myself in 
 any one's power. Perhaps I don't mean to 
 marry Garth ; but, then, I know now what I 
 did not know a month ago — that he does 
 not care for me ! He would marry me from 
 a sense of duty — which I hate ! I don't ex- 
 pect to die of a broken heart about it ; and 
 yet I don't believe there's another man in 
 the world so well worth loving as Garth 
 Urmson! Don't forget I said that, Elinor! 
 — But I'm not iit for him. He is all that I 
 admire in a man, but he is so much more 
 besides, that my part is crowded out of 
 sight. So I should be happier with a lesser 
 man — one more like Jack Selwyn, maybe I 
 
 only Jack happens to hate me (he has some 
 reason to), and to be in love with somebody 
 else. Can you guess with whom ? " 
 
 She smiled as she put the question, and 
 added immediately, "But don't have him, 
 Elinor ! " Then she pressed her hand a little 
 closer and said, hurriedly : 
 
 " I will prove that I thank you for having 
 wished to be kind to me. I will tell you a 
 most precious secret. Garth Urmson loves 
 you — he has loved you ever since he first 
 saw you ! You must do the rest." 
 
 As she spoke the last words, Madge 
 curved aside with a graceful impulse, and 
 was gone. Elinor stood overwhelmed with 
 thick- crowding thoughts. She needed to be 
 alone. But all at once a voice close behind 
 called out: 
 
 "Miss Danver! " 
 
 Elinor looked round. It was the small 
 boy. 
 
 " Oh, you ain't she ! " he exclaimed star- 
 ing. " I guessed you was Miss Danver ! Want 
 her to learn me some more outside edge ! " 
 
 He scrambled away disappointed. Eli- 
 nor now reflected that Madge had returned 
 no definite answer to her proposal. Did she 
 mean to refuse it? or was she revolving the 
 question in her mind? Ehnor looked across 
 the surface of the frozen lake, glistening be- 
 neath the pink light of sunset clouds, but 
 the beautiful skater was not in sight. 
 
 " She shall sit beside me as we go home," 
 was her thought, " and then I shall know." 
 
 CHAPTER LXXVIII. 
 
 BONO AND FEOLIO. 
 
 The sun had by this time gone down, 
 amid a splendid wildei;'ness of crimson and 
 gold, scarlet and green ; and, though the 
 moon had risen, dusk came on apace, for the 
 sky to the east was clouded. The great 
 bonfire was soon the centre of illumination ; 
 its red light gleamed along the ice, and the 
 shadows of those who stood near it stretched 
 out in dark rays, until they were blended 
 with the outer gloom. And out of that 
 gloom figures came gliding up swiftly, and 
 away again ; like strange beings from an- 
 
SONG AND FROLIC. 
 
 271 
 
 other world, making themselves visible for a 
 moment in the light of this, and then vanish- 
 ing for evermore. As the night still deep- 
 ened, the surrounding darkness seemed to 
 creep nearer, growing ever vaster and more 
 mysterious to the imagination ; so that the 
 great roaring bonfire was none too great or 
 too ardent, since it was the only source of 
 life and warmth left to mankind. 
 
 At length Golightley made a request that 
 Elinor should sing. It was almost the first 
 time he had addressed her that day — a fact 
 which Mrs. Tenterden had observed, and 
 she had not spared to rally Elinor and him 
 on what she called their lovers' quarrel. 
 Nor did she fail laughingly to regard this re- 
 quest of his as the first step toward a rec- 
 onciliation. But to Elinor it had another 
 meaning. Golightley had always shown un- 
 bounded admiration for her powers of song; 
 and now, at this last moment, as it were, 
 of their being together, he was asking, for a 
 parting gift, that only part of her which she 
 need not hesitate to grant him. There was 
 something pathetic to her in the petition ; 
 and as she prepared to fulfill it, what re- 
 mained in her heart of bitterness toward him 
 passed away, and womanly compassion alone 
 was left. 
 
 She stood up beside the fire, and with lier 
 hands folded in her muff and her eyes upon 
 the darkness, she began one of those sweet, 
 pathetic ballads which delight uncultivated 
 ears as well as those that know true music. 
 As she sang, a semicircle of auditors col- 
 lected on the ice before her, continually aug- 
 menting in numbers, until every skater on 
 the lake was there. A wide, open space 
 was nevertheless maintained between her 
 and them ; and every sound except the sing- 
 er's voice was hushed. Presently Elinor 
 noticed, in the front rank directly opposite 
 her, the small boy in the red tippet, with his 
 hands in his pockets and his mouth wide 
 open. Golightley, she knew, was standing 
 not far away on her right, his face shaded 
 by his hand. The others of her party were 
 behind her — save that twice or thrice, 
 and on each occasion in a different part 
 of the semicircle of listeners, she caught— 
 or fancied that she caught — a glimpse of 
 Madge. 
 
 The song came to an end ; but, in the 
 pause and silence which followed the last 
 verse, a new and strange figure suddenly 
 swept upon the scene : as wild in his aspect 
 and movements as any night-goblin of fairy- 
 lore. In figure he was tall, symmetrical, and 
 athletic, and his graceful proportions were 
 well set off by the close-fitting fur-trimmed 
 suit he wore. Eound his waist was twisted 
 a scarlet, silken scarf, whose long, fringed 
 ends waved outward as he moved; and 
 there was a bunch of scarlet feathers in his 
 cap. His black hair hung below his ears ; 
 his face was swarthy, and appeared, in the 
 uncertain light, to possess a sombre and sat- 
 urnine kind of beauty. Such an apparition 
 had never been seen on the lake before ; and 
 the group of auditors, now changed to spec- 
 tators, with one accord widened out, so as 
 to leave him ample space in which to cut his 
 strange, fantastic capers. 
 
 Certainly it can seldom he the lot of hu- 
 man eyes to behold such unearthly gambols 
 as were here displayed. The mysterious 
 skater seemed to be superior to ordinary 
 physical laws. Freedom and boldness are 
 not terms competent to describe the amaz- 
 ing recklessness with which he tossed him- 
 self to and fro, in and out, now backward, 
 now forward, weaving inextricable patterns 
 and wheeling out swift circles, all with as - 
 much inimitable poise, ease, and finish, as if 
 he could lean \Tpon the air and be supported 
 by it. Meanwhile, the red firelight and the 
 black shadow played over him so bewilder- 
 ingly as to render any deliberate scrutiny of 
 him impossible. To many who saw him he 
 was a presence half supernatural, and no 
 one seemed to know whence he came or 
 wherefore. 
 
 "Good mercy, what is it?" exclaimed 
 Mrs. Tenterden, at last. " I declare it looks 
 like a wild creature ! " 
 
 " It's the champion skater of the world ! " 
 replied Garth, who had been watching the 
 exhibition with an expression of mingled an- 
 noyance and amusement. " Do you wish me 
 to present him to you?" 
 
 " Good gracious alive ! " cried the lady, 
 drawing her ample shoulders together with 
 a shudder of dismay; "it would just scare 
 me out of my life I Why, I'd as soon think 
 
272 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 of being introduced to a mountebank in a 
 circus! " 
 
 While tliis short conversation was going 
 on, Elinor, who had remained standing pre- 
 cisely where she had first taken up her posi- 
 tion, saw Madge press through the outer 
 ring of on-lookers, and beckon to her with 
 head and hand. Fearful of she knew not 
 what, she slipped quietly aside, and, skirting 
 along the exterior of the groups, came at 
 length to the point at which Madge had ap- 
 peared. But Madge was no longer there. 
 
 Just then the unknown skater, who 
 heretofore had been as voiceless as he was 
 mysterious, gave utterance to a wild, ringing 
 yell, at the same time urging himself at daz- 
 zling speed round the limits of his arena. 
 The unexpectedness of the outcry and action 
 caused a kind of panic; the ring broke up 
 in confusion; and almost immediately the 
 skater was nowhere to be found. Elinor, 
 however, had seen him a moment later than 
 most of the others. As she stood alone a 
 little way out upon the lake, looking vainly 
 for some sign of Madge, she had felt her arm 
 suddenly seized, and on turning found herself 
 confronted by the swarthy, sinister, hand- 
 some face, with its red-feathered cap and 
 long, black hair. Before she had time to 
 feel alarmed, he had turned quickly behind 
 her and made off; and, but for the impress 
 of his long fingers on her arm, she might al- 
 most have taken the episode for a swift hal- 
 lucination. Be it what it might, it did not 
 lessen her anxiety on Madge's account, and 
 she still continued her search for her, passing 
 to and fro, sometimes coming within range 
 of the firelight, and again returning to the 
 shadow. Often it seemed to her that she 
 recognized the familiar grace of the lost fig- 
 ure swaying in easy evolutions a long way 
 off; but, whe^n she reached the spot, either 
 the appearance had vanished, or it turned 
 out to be some other than Madge. Had 
 Mephistopheles snatched her away with him 
 into irredeemable darkness ? 
 
 At length, after nearly a quarter of an 
 hour's absence, she returned with growing 
 apprehensions to the fireside. The parson 
 was relating some humorous incident of sev- 
 enty years ago, to which Mrs. Tenterden 
 was listening with good-natured chucklings; 
 
 Garth had gone to the shed to give his 
 horses a feed of hay, and what had become 
 of Golightley no one knew. 
 
 " Why, daughter, I thought he'd gone off 
 with you, to finish up the reconciliation," 
 said Mrs. Tenterden. " I should have been 
 after you myself, before now, if I'd known 
 you were alone, and that wild creature rush- 
 ing about ! " 
 
 " I've been looking everywhere for 
 Madge," returned Elinor, impatiently. 
 "Have you seen her lately? " 
 
 "Maggie? why, yes, to be sure I have! '' 
 was the comfortable answer. " She was out 
 there in plain sight not three minutes ago, 
 and we've seen her, off and on, ever since 
 that horrid creature went away." 
 
 Greatly relieved by this information, Eli- 
 nor sat down on a bnffalo-robe beside the 
 fire, and began to realize, for the first time, 
 how tired she was. The fear of danger be- 
 ing removed, she could rally herself on the 
 folly of having admitted it. An air of com- 
 fort and security dwelt within the little cir- 
 cle of firelight, entirely inconsistent with 
 any evil apprehension. Thus five minutes 
 passed away. Then, all at once a thought 
 flashed into Elinor's mind that brought her 
 to her feet with a start. Garth had just 
 left the horses and was coming toward 
 her. She led" him a little way out upon the 
 ice. 
 
 " Have you seen Madge? " was her ques- 
 tion. 
 
 " Yes — before I went to feed the horses." 
 
 " Who was that — who was skating 
 here?" 
 
 " Oh— you mean the champion skater of 
 the world? " said he, smiling. 
 
 "Was it Sam Kineo?" 
 
 Surprised by the vehemence of her man- 
 ner. Garth admitted that it was. "He is 
 gone now," he added, "for good! But it 
 was to have been a secret, and had better be 
 kept a while longer. It was a piece of his 
 melodramatic nonsense, showing himself in 
 that way. We had especially arranged for 
 him to get off secretly." 
 
 "I'm afraid something has happened," 
 replied Elinor, with a trembling which she 
 could not repress. "Madge's dress and 
 mine are alike — ^I'm afraid yon mistook me 
 
GKIM EAENEST. 
 
 2T3 
 
 for her. I looked for her everywhere, and 
 could not find her. If — " 
 
 " Well, I guessed you couldn't be Miss 
 Danver this time ! " exclaimed a voice be- 
 side her — the voice of a small boy. "I 
 guess even she couldn't skate quick enough 
 to be back here 'fore I was! She was going 
 t'other way, too ! " 
 
 " Have you seen Miss Danver ? " asked 
 Garth, gently, of the small boy. 
 
 " Yes, but she's far enough off by this 
 time, I guess," he replied, tucking his chin 
 inside the fold of his tippet. "I see her; 
 she was with that skater chap with the red 
 feathers in his cap. They was goin' it, I 
 tell yer ! Way down there — way down 'long 
 the river ! " 
 
 He scrambled away. Garth had pulled 
 on his gloves, and settled his cap upon his 
 head. He and Elinor exchanged a look, 
 brief and eloquent. 
 
 " Shall you take no one with you ? " she 
 asked. 
 
 " No : and do you say nothing. If I can't 
 do it alone, there is no help. Get the peo- 
 ple home soon. Good-by, Elinor ! " 
 
 " Good-by ; God help you, Garth ! " 
 
 She stood listening to the ring of his fly- 
 ing skates until the sound .was no longer 
 audible, and he himself had long been swal- 
 lowed up in the gloom. Tlien she returned 
 to the fire, faint and sick at heart. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXIX. 
 
 GEIM EARNEST. 
 
 The sky was overcast with great clouds, 
 but at intervals the moon looked forth be- ' 
 tween the rifts, and filled the valley with 
 cold radiance. Garth, as he swept with 
 flying strokes toward the south, peered in- 
 tently into the gray night before him ; but 
 the changes from shadow to light, and back 
 to shadow again, were more perplexing than 
 constant shadow would have been. It was 
 unlikely that he would see those whom he 
 pursued until he was close upon them ; and, 
 the overflow of the river having broadened 
 it to nearly half a mile, he had to guard 
 against the risk of passing them. 
 18 
 
 He moved with great velocity, what wind 
 there was being behind him, and the ice per- 
 fectly smooth : but he knew that the con- 
 ditions were as favorable for the fugitives 
 as for him ; and, besides their long start, it 
 was certain that Kineo, if not Madge, could 
 skate as fast as he. On the other hand, they 
 might not expect the pursuit to begin so 
 soon ; and, since they must travel all night, 
 they would be apt to spare themselves as 
 much as possible. 
 
 In former years, Garth had often skated 
 down this valley from end to end ; and, as 
 he now mentally rehearsed the route, he rec- 
 ollected that at a certain point, about nine 
 miles below the lake, the dead level of the 
 meadows was interrupted by a ridge, lying 
 at right angles to the river, and through the 
 midst of which the current had forced its 
 way. Here, of course, the stream was nar- 
 rowed to its original width, and flowed with 
 such rapidity over a rocky bottom, that ice 
 was rarely formed even in the coldest win- 
 ters. At this place, known in the neighbor- 
 hood as the Bite, there was a wooden bridge, 
 the only one for twenty miles; and here. 
 Garth hoped, there would be a delay, if not 
 an actual stoppage. He was now, as he cal- 
 culated, about three miles behind the fugi- 
 tives : but, if he could maintain his present 
 pace, there was some chance that he might 
 come up with them either there, or a short 
 way beyond. 
 
 As he sped onward, his mind involun- 
 tarily busied itself with a review of his rela- 
 tions with Madge from their first beginning. 
 If, as it was hard to doubt, she was a willing 
 companion of Kineo's flight, the plot must 
 have been arranged, in one form or another, 
 long ago. They must have been in commu- 
 nication, not only since the half-breed had 
 been concealed at Urmhurst, but during all 
 the years of his absence abroad ; and that 
 being granted, then their intimacy, even in 
 childish days, must have been far closer than 
 Garth had ever imagined it to be. In that 
 fight of his with Kineo — which was the 
 opening act of his long love-drama — must 
 he believe that Kineo, and not he, had been 
 in the right ? Eeoalling each one of Madge's 
 well-remembered looks and words on that 
 nignt, ihey now wore a new aspect and sig- 
 
274 
 
 GAUTH. 
 
 nificance. Had she been false even then? 
 Had he been made a fool and a laughing- 
 stock all his life long? The blood burned 
 in his cheeks at the thought, and his eyes 
 sought fiercely through the gloom. The 
 hour of reckoning had come! He flew on- 
 ward like the very spirit of retribution, and 
 the hollow ice resounded beneath his steel- 
 shod feet. 
 
 Hitherto he had not considered how he 
 would deal with the fugitives when over- 
 taken: but now the question arose whether 
 Madge, having dared such a step as this, 
 would return at his command? or whether 
 Kineo would easily relinquish her? Garth, 
 however, was not in a mood nicely to bal- 
 ance doubts and probabilities. All the im- 
 perious, relentless temper of the hot-hearted 
 Urmsons was throbbing within him. Ven- 
 geance was his — ^he would repay! — or, if 
 God's, then was he God's chosen instru- 
 ment! There should be no parleying nor 
 pitying; of that there had been too much 
 already. As for Kineo, he had come to the 
 end of his tether : his punishment should be 
 quick and final. Any other man than Garth 
 would have said, "Either I or my enemy 
 must perish ! " But Garth did not admit 
 the -alternative. The might of his passion 
 made him invulnerable and irresistible. He 
 could not perish until he had worked his 
 will. He felt in his belt, where hung 'the 
 small, sharp ice-hatchet which he had that 
 morning used for cutting fishing-holes. It 
 was his only weapon : but his purpose was 
 deadly enough without any weapon. Kineo 
 should die: and Madge — who had tempted 
 mercy until there was no mercy left — she 
 should not die; but she should be brought 
 back, and held np to the shame and scorn 
 which were her due. As Garth swept for- 
 ward with heightened speed, he cursed these 
 miles of barren Ice that hindered his re- 
 venge ! But he would have it, soon or late. 
 Had not his forefathers defied Fate as he de- 
 fied it now, and conquered ? 
 
 But what had they conquered ? or what 
 had the conquest gained them? Garth's 
 own father had warned him. In their vic- 
 tories they were cursed I Should Garth be 
 /cursed so, likewise? Had he dreamed, that 
 -night beside the spring, to no oetier nurnose 
 
 than now to cast aside the grim lesson of 
 the TJrmson generations, and stain himself 
 also, the last of his race, with blood? Should 
 that old murderous demon triumph over him, 
 as it had triumphed over the rest, and make 
 the blot which had thus far marred their 
 name, eternal ? Were his mother's love and 
 trust to be thus justified ? and had all his 
 boyish struggles and self-discipline brought 
 him to this — that he must stand before his 
 father to-morrow with murder on his soul? 
 — As he cleft his way onward through the 
 cold, still air, two spirits seemed to move 
 beside him, on the right hand and on the 
 left. One wore the mien and features of the 
 Puritan ancestor whose hands had set the 
 granite threshold-stone of Urmhurst above 
 the sachem's grave; the other spirit showed 
 the lineaments of Garth's mother. 
 
 Who could say that Madge, at the worst, 
 had been always and altogether false? Had 
 she never striven to be true ? and if so, had 
 Garth been always blameless for her ill-suc- 
 cess? Even that afternoon she had urged 
 him, with a vehemence which now ho could 
 comprehend, to take her hand on that same 
 journey which, to-night, she was beginning 
 with another. Even so lately she had hesi- 
 tated in her p.urpose, and had needed only 
 sympathy and encouragement to have drawn 
 back. But he had answered curtly and 
 harshly. And if he had been unsympathetic 
 then, how many times had he been so be- 
 fore? Those years of his in Europe — were 
 they guiltless of what was happening now ? 
 And those long months of dullness and delay 
 since his return, when he was paltering be- 
 tween right and wrong, action and inaction 
 — during that time how many golden oppor- 
 tunities to woo and win her had slipped 
 away? Was he not man enough to be at 
 once all she desired, and all he desired for 
 himself? If not, was it strange that Madge, 
 vivid and restless, should have fled from one 
 so paltry, selfish, and one-sided? He had 
 worn her out and driven her away, at the 
 very moment that he was hugging himself 
 for his virtue in keeping faith with her when 
 his heart was elsewhere! Did he well, then, 
 to be angry because the cup himself had 
 filled was held to his lips ? 
 
 Onward stili he swept, and the„pace 
 
GRIM EARNEST. 
 
 275 
 
 must have quickened, for the Bpirit of the 
 old Puritan was now outstripped! Blessed 
 were the barren miles of ice that had hin- 
 dered his revenge ! Nor were they barren, 
 since they had brought forth this fair fruit 
 in him. He loosened the hatchet from his 
 belt, and swinging it from right to left, sent 
 it thence whizzing and spinning far across 
 the glassy surface. "I'll get her, if God 
 pleases," he said, aloud; "let the devil's 
 part go ! " But Providence knows many 
 ways of saving ; and that which seems the 
 speediest is not always so, where wayward 
 human souls are concerned. 
 
 Nearly an hour had now gone by, and 
 the moon, looking down through a cloud-rift 
 upon the long-drawn icy surface, marked 
 the shadows of three human figures hasten- 
 ing along it, two in advance and one pursu- 
 ing : and the space between pursuers and 
 pursued grew constantly less and less. At 
 length the latter, being within about four 
 hundred yards of the old wooden bridge, 
 came to a standstill. The buckle of the 
 man's skate-strap had given way, and he 
 knelt to repair it. The woman, after rest- 
 lessly watching him for a while, threw her- 
 self down on the ice near by, and gazed 
 back toward the place whence she came. 
 Suddenly she crouched low and laid her ear 
 against the surface ; then leaped to her feet 
 with a low exclamation. She had heard the 
 ring of steel, approaching fast. The man, 
 too, arose with a curse, holding one skate in 
 his hand. 
 
 "Give me the money — quick! it's you 
 they're after! " said he. 
 
 "It is Garth!" said Madge, half in a 
 whisper. She lifted her clinched hands to 
 her face and pressed them against her cheeks. 
 
 As the pursuer emerged out of the gray 
 shadow and saw his quarry, he struck the 
 heel of his skate into the ice with a harsh, 
 grinding sound, and brought up between 
 them, breathing deep, his brow moist with 
 sweat. 
 
 " I'm come for you, Madge ! " 
 
 She stood silent, mechanically clasping 
 and unclasping her hands. Kineo, after 
 glancing up the river, took his stand in front 
 of her. 
 
 " It's man to man here. We'll settle 
 
 this. Garth, once 'nd for all. Let her stick 
 to the winner 1 " 
 
 Garth seemed not to hear him. " Come, 
 Madge ! " he repeated. But as he moved 
 round toward her, she retreated, silent, her 
 eyes upon his face. 
 
 " Let her alone ! she's always been my 
 girl ! " said Kineo, with an oath. " She 
 only amused herself with you till I was 
 ready for her 1 " 
 
 Then Madge spoke. " He tells the truth, 
 Garth. He kissed me that day at the pic- 
 nic, years ago, though I denied it. And that 
 night when you ran the rapids, I was going 
 with him — only seeing you changed my 
 mind. But I sha'n't change any more: I 
 shall not come back. You needn't be anx- 
 ious about me, nor regret me. I'm glad you 
 know me for what I am, at last! I liked 
 deceiving you at first, but I'm tired of it 
 now. I'm going where I can be my real 
 self." 
 
 There was no passion in the girl's tone, 
 but a fatal apathy, as of one with whom all 
 moral struggle was definitely over. She did 
 not avoid Garth's look, but rather sought it 
 with a kind of listless directness that was 
 appalling. The truth that she had spoken, 
 ugly though it was, had the power inherent 
 in all truth. Madge had never been stronger 
 than at this moment of frank degradation. 
 
 Garth had no arguments : he could only 
 put forth his will, of the strange force of 
 which he himself was perhaps but partially 
 aware. "Come! " he said to her with the 
 quietness of intense resolve ; and, though she 
 still shrank back, he glided forward and laid 
 one hand upon her wrist. . 
 
 As soon as she felt his touch, all strength 
 seemed to ebb away from her; she sank 
 down on the ice and bowed forward, relaxed 
 and nerveless. Her very eyelids drooped, 
 as though heavy with drowsiuess. Vigor- 
 ous as she had been to escape, she was pow- 
 erless to move one step in return. Garth 
 could stop her flight, but his will could not 
 compel active obedience. It could deaden, 
 but not vivify. 
 
 He knelt beside her and strove to rouse 
 her; but she only sank yet lower, averting 
 her face. Kineo laughed jeeringly. 
 
 ''You let that woman alone now. Garth 
 
276 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 Unnson, 'nd get up 'nd fight like a man! 
 or, by the devil, I'll brain you where you 
 are ! " 
 
 Garth turned, and looked grimly up at 
 him, but said not a word. 
 
 With a sudden snarl of rage, the half- 
 breed raised the skate which he had been 
 holding in his hand, and dashed it in Garth's 
 face. The steel blade struck his chin and 
 cut a deep gash there. Madge started to her 
 feet with a piercing scream. Eineo, stag- 
 gering from the violence of his own throw, 
 slipped and fell. In an instant Madge had 
 stooped and snatched the knife from his belt, 
 and put it in Garth's hand, as he still knelt 
 on one knee, half dizzy from the blow. 
 
 "Kill him! " she whispered through her 
 set teeth. But Garth stood up, grisly with 
 blood, and flung the knife away. 
 
 "He had his grudge to pay," said he, 
 frowning. " But I came for you." 
 
 It seemed as if she must yield, or drop 
 before him lifeless. Kineo was getting to 
 his feet again, but there was no help in him 
 now. Garth was master. 
 
 All at once there was a shout, and the 
 resounding of ice from the direction of the 
 bridge; then other shouts, coming nearer. 
 Madge held her breath to listen ; she recog- 
 nized Selwyn's voice. Quick as thought she 
 turaed to Garth. 
 
 " Don't let me be shamed before them ! " 
 she whispered, hurriedly. " Let me go back 
 alone, and be there before you — then no 
 one need know ! Garth — may I ? " 
 
 The men were near ; there was no leisure 
 to deliberate. 
 
 "Go!" 
 
 She lingered yet a moment. " Say you 
 forgive me ! " 
 
 He looked at her without speaking; his 
 face was ghastly to behold ; but she thought 
 she saw what she had asked for in his eyes. 
 
 When Selwyn and his men came up, 
 Garth and Kineo were standing there alone. 
 Garth looked at Jack angrily. 
 
 " Is this what you promised ? " he de- 
 manded. 
 
 "I took pains not to promise, old biood- 
 and- thunder ! But — is that the whole con- 
 voy ? " He pointed to Kineo. 
 
 "That's all!" 
 
 'i Why, then,',' exclaimed Jack, cheerfully, 
 though not until after a moment's pause for 
 consideration, "so much the better !^-Truss 
 him up, boys! " 
 
 " Let him go : I am responsible ! " said 
 Garth. 
 
 " I'm not going 1 " snarled the half-breed, 
 with sullen malignity. " You've put up this 
 job between you. You want to get rid of 
 me now that the woman's cleared ofE with 
 the money ! But I'll let 'em hear who I am, 
 'nd what I know. You've got me, 'nd now 
 you'll keep me ! " 
 
 " Oh, anything to oblige you, if you feel 
 sensitive about it ! " returned. Jack, with a 
 laugh ; and the prisoner was secured accord- 
 ingly. 
 
 Madge had skated northward a quarter 
 of a mile; then she swerved aside to the 
 left, and in a hundred yards reached some 
 low clumps of bushes on the verge of the 
 ice : behind these she crouched and waited. 
 By-and-by a solitary skater came by; it was 
 Garth, hastening to catch up with her. 
 Even then, so profoundly had his determina- 
 tion swayed her, it was almost by main force 
 that she kept herself from calling out, or fol- - 
 lowing him. But he passed, and she had made 
 no sign. She watched him with wide-open, 
 straining eyes, until he had faded into the 
 night, and out of her sight forever. After 
 that a duU interval elapsed ; the little group 
 of the prisoner and his captors went by ; but 
 she had no eyes for them — ^her face was hid- 
 den in her hands. At last she arose, and fled 
 swiftly toward Wabeno, and toward the 
 world beyond, which she loved so well. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXX. 
 
 BROTHEES. 
 
 As soon as Elinor had ended her singing, 
 Golightley, without waiting to thank her, or 
 speaking to any one of his intention, had set 
 out on foot for Urmhurst. There was a 
 kind of solemn alertness in his bearing, 
 different from his manner during the last 
 few weeks. He seemed to take pains not to 
 let any of the wintry beauties of the night 
 
BROTHERS. 
 
 277 
 
 escape him; several times he paused to 
 watch the clouds drift across the moon, or 
 to observe the black tracery of the branches 
 against the sky. Once he picked up some 
 snow, made it into a snowball, and aimed it 
 at the trunk of a tree thirty paces distant, 
 repeating the effort until he hit the mark. 
 Occasionally he would pull off his hat, and 
 let the night air breathe upon his forehead ; 
 and at two or three points of the route he 
 stopped to look about him, as one might do 
 who wished to impress upon his memory a 
 scene he expected not to see again. 
 
 At length he stood before Urmhurst, and 
 looked up at its darksome front, which 
 seemed to frown forbiddingly upon him with 
 its overhanging brows. Two of the win- 
 dows were alight — those of Outhbert's study, 
 and of the kitchen. Peeping through the 
 latter, Golightley saw an oil-lamp burning 
 on the table, but the room was empty. He 
 passed round to the back of the house, en- 
 tered with as little noise as possible, and, 
 lighting a candle, descended into the cellar. 
 The floor was the bare earth ; the sides were 
 walled with brick, built in between ancient 
 joists of oaken timber. He made his way 
 between a medley of empty apple-barrels, 
 superannuated farming-implements, and oth- 
 er rubbish, until he reached the southern 
 end. He was now standing directly beneath 
 the Urmhurst doorway, and on the other 
 side of the brick wall in front of him was 
 the sachem's grave. 
 
 He set down his candle, and with a 
 broken trowel, which he found lying near, 
 began to loosen the bricks from the square 
 space between four intersecting joists. They 
 came out readily, and, after about a dozen 
 had been removed, he took his candle and 
 peered into the black cavity beyond. 
 
 Nothing was there but some brownish, 
 crumbling fi-agments, which might once 
 have been bones ; and, arranged amid them, 
 a number of quaint little objects of Indi- 
 an origin — ^medicine-bags and other such mys- 
 terious votive offerings — none of which had 
 been there when Golightley last inspected 
 the place more than a quarter of a cen- 
 tury ago. These were all ; the thing which 
 he had come after was gone. Evidently, the 
 same hand which deposited the medicine- 
 
 bags had carried off the sacrilegious pewter 
 waj-ming-dish, with its contents. 
 
 A month ago Golightley would not much 
 have cared whether the triangular parchment 
 were lost or not. But latterly the world 
 had changed for him ; and he needed it, not 
 as a power, but as an apology and a justifi- 
 cation : and it seemed more desirable to him 
 for the later purposes than it had ever been 
 for the former. It was useless to think of 
 hunting for it, however ; and equally vain to 
 hope that the person who knew where it 
 was would tell. Most likely, indeed, it had 
 been destroyed. On that night, three months 
 ago, when Golightley had told his ghost- 
 story to the circle round the kitchen-hearth, 
 he had been half minded to destroy it him- 
 self. Something that Madge had said to 
 him, after the story, had suggested the idea 
 that she had made a shrewd guess as to what 
 the triangular parchment might be; and 
 several keen innuendoes which she had let 
 fall since then had pointed the same way. 
 But other matters of greater temporary im- 
 portance had made him comparatively in- 
 different to this : and now it was too late. 
 Viewing her hints in the light of this disap- 
 pearance, it seemed manifest that they were 
 the issue, not of conjecture, but of knowledge. 
 Nikomis had found the parchment, Madge 
 had seen it and read it ; but neither she nor 
 Nikomis had known how it got in the grave, 
 until Golightley's fireside narrative had ex- 
 plamed the mystery. 
 
 " Confound my stupidity ! " he muttered 
 to himself. "It's not destiny, though I've 
 always said it was ; it's my own stupidity, 
 by George, that's beaten me ! " 
 
 As this wholesome conviction entered his 
 mind, he heard the door at the head of the 
 cellar-stairs open. Some boards were lean- 
 ^ing against the wall near at hand; he crept \ 
 behind them, and snuffed out his candle with / 
 his fingers. Peeping through a crevice, he 
 saw Nikomis come hobbling along, holding 
 the light above her head, and mumbling to 
 herself. She stopped within two paces of 
 his hiding-place, knelt on the ground, and, 
 brushing away a layer of earth and rubbish, 
 lifted up a square bit of planking which had 
 been concealed there. Out of the hollow 
 thus disclosed she took the well-remembered 
 
278 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 pewter •warming-dish ; and unfastening the 
 false bottom, three papers fell into her 
 lap. One of these was the triangular parch- 
 ment. 
 
 The veins in Golightley's forehead swelled 
 as the old witch took it up and turned it 
 about between her dark, knotty fingers. 
 Should he blow out her lamp (he could easily 
 do it, for it stood quite near him), and then 
 trust to the chance of being able to seize the 
 parchment and make his escape in the dark- 
 ness ? To his relief, however, the Indian de- 
 cided the question by replacing the precious 
 document in the dish, and putting the dish 
 itself back in the hole, which she covered 
 over as before. The other papers she stowed 
 away in the folds of the blanket she wore ; 
 and so got to her feet and hobbled away, her 
 frosty breath showing mistily in the light of 
 her uplifted lamp. 
 
 When all was dark and silent once more, 
 Golightley lighted his candle and thankfully 
 repossessed himself of his treasure. At an- 
 other time he might have regretted losing 
 the other papers, which were doubtless the 
 same that Madge had yesterday mentioned 
 having sent to Professor Grindle — without 
 Nikomis's knowledge or consent. But, as it 
 was, he was satisfied, and lost no time in 
 getting to his chamber, where he found a 
 cheerful fire burning, evidence of his broth- 
 er's kindly forethought. He sat down be- 
 fore the fire, with the parchment in his 
 hands. 
 
 After he had sat there for a while, stretch- 
 ing his chilled fingers toward the leaping 
 blaze, a singular temptation came to him. 
 He longed to burn the document which he 
 had been so near losing, and had recovered 
 only by so exceptional a chance. He held it 
 out to the flame — then snatched it hastily 
 back again. Presently he repeated the ac- 
 tion, this time keeping it extended until one 
 of the comers had become brown ; but he 
 could not quite resolve upon the sacrifice, 
 and the parchment was withdrawn once 
 more. Finally, as though fearful lest he 
 should commit the deed by a sort of fasci- 
 nation, without intending it, he jumped up, 
 walked to the table, and laid the parchment 
 down upon it. 
 
 His hesitation thus disposed of, Golight- 
 
 ley tbrew off his clothes, bathed himself from 
 head to foot, dressed himself in elaborate 
 evening costume, scented his handkerchiefi 
 beard, and hands, and finished by, drawing 
 on his neatest pair of patent-leather boots. 
 This done, he seated himself at his table, took 
 out writing-materials, and wrote far into the 
 night. 
 
 Cuthbert had spent the afternoon in his 
 study, looking over and putting in order the 
 MS. pages of his history. The work, the 
 labor of a lifetime, was incomplete ; and no 
 one who had beheld its author's emaciated 
 countenance could have doubted that, so 
 far as he was concerned, it must remain 
 so. 
 
 " It's been a failure in the same way that 
 my life has been," he murmured to himself 
 at last, leaning back in his chair. " There 
 are good passages in it, and the plan of it 
 was not altogether amiss; but Heaven has 
 not seen fit to furnish such odds and ends as 
 alone could have rendered it an effective and 
 intelligible whole. So, being a failure, it 
 had better perish — the manuscript, I mean I 
 Ah, me I why didn't I concentrate all my 
 wisdom in some ^sopiaa fable about mice 
 or chimney-swallows, which children might 
 have learned by heart, and sages have quoted 
 three thousand years from now ? That had 
 been a worthier fruit of sixty years, me- 
 thinks, than a handful or two of ashes. 
 Vain man, who didst undertake more than 
 thou couldst accomplish ! Well — here goes ! " 
 
 He took the thick pile of MSS. from the 
 table, and laid it — not without a certain half- 
 playful reverence — amid the burning logs 
 upon the hearth. Then, with his cheek upon 
 his hand, and an occasional smile stirring the 
 corners of his mouth, he looked on until the 
 busy fiame had mastered every page of the 
 famous history. 
 
 " That was easily done ! " said he. " I 
 wish all human mistakes and shortcomings 
 could be so simply and comfortably rectified ! 
 If free murder and suicide were not immor- 
 al, what a blessing they would be! " 
 
 After a long interval of still meditation, 
 he continued : 
 
 " How funny it is that I, simple as I sit 
 here, have remained all my life as unread as 
 
BROTHEES. 
 
 279 
 
 my history ! I have heen loved, and lilted, 
 and some people have been a little afraid of 
 me, and a few, I trust, have positively dis- 
 liked me ; hut no one has known me, heart 
 and brain at once; though my Martha knew 
 the one, and honest Tom Grindle does more 
 than justice to the other. And sweet, 
 haughty little Elinor has come very close to 
 me. Still, I have been alone. Not willing- 
 ly. Heaven knows ! It is not that I am more 
 nice than wise, but more odd than nice ! I 
 can't tell people how to get at me ; and, if 
 they don't hit the mark the first time, all my 
 efforts to explain myself only seem to puzzle 
 them the more. Most human beings were 
 made in pairs, or quartets, or scores; but I 
 am one of those unfortunates who were put 
 together from the spare pieces, and must re- 
 main unmated. 
 
 " Yet my range of sympathies must be 
 pretty wide, since I have made friends with 
 two such diverse personages as Elinor and 
 Nikomis ! I suspect Nikomis of having 
 made great sacrifices in my behalf, in addi- 
 tion to the grim devotion with which she 
 has tended me through my illness. She 
 meant us no good when she first came here ; 
 but, somehow or other, I have won that un 
 speakable old organ which serves her for a 
 heart. She means to deny her unhappy 
 grandson for my sake : I am to pass my last 
 days in affluence at the expense of my neph- 
 ew ! But I will have a grand explanation 
 with her this evening. How surprised she 
 will be when I open upon her the vials of 
 my omniscience ! She will think that, during 
 my long association with her, I must have 
 found means to appropriate some of her 
 witchcraft. But it has really been touching 
 to behold her, and all the other good people, 
 walking on tiptoe and laying their fingers 
 on their lips in my presence, in order to 
 spare me the pain and humiliation' of discov- 
 ering secrets which I knew before they did ! 
 And I solemnly accept my role of deaf, dumb, 
 and blind. But I must reveal my duplicity 
 now, since a week hence my nephew up- 
 stairs (though he were the most deserving 
 young gentleman out of jail) would be too 
 late for his legacy. Nikomis shall help me 
 prepare a statement that may satisfy Tom's 
 acruples: and to-morrow, when he and 
 
 Garth are both here, we will hold a cabinet 
 council 1 
 
 " The beloved old Hottentot ! Methinks 
 I see a possible way out of the woods for, 
 him. He shall not marry naughty Madge — 
 in fact, I doubt whether she be quite naughty 
 enough, or quite unselfish enough either, to 
 let him do so. But when I shall have shaken 
 the soul of that poor, shameful, pathetic 
 brother of mine, Elmor will be free; and 
 then, if Garth cannot manage the rest, he is 
 more faint of heart than I believe him. 
 
 "But poor, vain, pathetic Golightley, 
 with his mystery which has been, for him, 
 the saddest of mysteries ! what shall become 
 of him? If my life could be of service to 
 him, he were most welcome ; but that's ab- 
 surd ; and he has used up everything else ! 
 Yet what a pity that — since the only thing I 
 can hope successfully to achieve in this world 
 is a speedy getting out of it — I should be 
 unable to benefit any one by my departure. 
 I have no fortune to bequeath — ^no forlorn 
 hope to head; I'm not even in anybody's 
 way — except my own! — But come, Outh- 
 bert ! no grumbling. I'll at all events min- 
 ister unto my brother until this not too solid 
 flesh has melted : I fear he won't find many 
 to take his part after I am gone. 
 
 " So ! there comes my stern friend pain 
 again. What a rigorous guide is this which 
 brings me to thee, my own gentle Cotton 
 Martha 1 I wish this might be the last stage 
 of the journey." 
 
 The hour of physical anguish which now 
 ensued for Guthbert was also the one which 
 saw the departure from Urmhurst of Sam 
 Kineo, after a not very genial parting scene 
 with his grandmother. When, therefore, a 
 few hours later, she and Guthbert had speech 
 of each other, the interview pointed to re- 
 sults somewhat different from those which 
 he had anticipated. They did not hear Go- 
 lightley come in; but the new light upon 
 afiuirs had made Guthbert so anxious to see 
 him, that at length, by way of beguihng his 
 suspense, he crossed the passage, and opened 
 the door of Eve's chamber. Nikomis came 
 behind him. 
 
 Golightley was standing in the centre of 
 the room, his back to the door. He was 
 clad in fuU evening dress. On the table 
 
280 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 beside him were written papers, neatly ar- 
 ranged. In his hands he held an object 
 which Cuthbert was at first unable to dis- 
 cern ; but instinctively he glanced up at the 
 wall above the fireplace. Captain Neil's 
 historic pistol was missing from its accus- 
 tomed place. 
 
 Golightley, unconscious of the other's 
 presence, raised the weapon, his left hand 
 grasping the barrel, while his right was on 
 the look. The muzzle was aimed at his 
 breast. 
 
 " Brother ! " cried Cuthbert ; and hurried 
 desperately forward. 
 
 With a great start, as of one whose 
 nerves had been wrought up almost to the 
 pitch of madness, Golightley turned partly 
 round. At the same moment his thumb 
 tightened convulsively on the trigger. The 
 pistol exploded ; the ball grazed his own 
 shoulder, and buried itself in Outhbert's 
 heart. And Cuthbert, with only a sigh, as 
 of a tired child dropping asleep, fell forward 
 on his face, never to suffer pain of mind or 
 body any more. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXI. 
 
 THE VIOTIM. 
 
 Elinor and Mrs. Tenterden had driven 
 home from the lake in the parson's sleigh ; 
 and he, after gallantly helping them to alight, 
 and wishing them a merry Christmas and a 
 happy New-Tear in advance, had left them 
 at the door of the Danvers' cottage, and slid 
 away with Jingling bells to his own dwelling. 
 
 Mrs. Tenterden had enjoyed her day 
 greatly, and even the unexplained disappear- 
 ance of Madge and Garth had occasioned her 
 no anxiety. As for Golightley's equally 
 unceremonious secession, she had openly 
 quizzed Elinor about it, archly warning her 
 that she must not practise too far upon the 
 good-nature even of such a long-sufEering 
 man as he. After they got back to the cot- 
 tage, the good lady called her to her room, 
 to listen to an exhaustive and leisurely re- 
 capitulation of the day's doings, in the course 
 of which every incident that had come under 
 Mrs. Tenterden's observation was brought 
 
 up for judgment, and dismissed with a laugh, 
 in which it was taken for granted that Eli- 
 nor joined. At length, when nothing was 
 left but to slay the slain over again, the 
 younger lady remarked that it was late, and 
 that she would go to her room. The elder 
 thereupon kissed her afiectionately and bade 
 her good-night, with the assurance that 
 things would soon begin to look more cheer- 
 ful for them all. In that persuasion she 
 went sumptuously and peacefully to bed, 
 and Elinor left her. 
 
 But Elinor could not rest. She waited a 
 long time in the hope that Madge might ap- 
 pear ; pacing up and down her little room, 
 or standing in anxious expectation at the 
 window. But Madge came not; and the 
 white road, and the field and naked forest 
 beyond, looked lonelier and taore lifeless as 
 the empty minutes passed. Unable, at last, 
 to endure inactive suspense any longer, she 
 put on her cloak and hood, left the house, 
 and set off at a swift pace toward Urmhurst. 
 
 Garth, arriving at the lake upward of 
 two hours after he had left it, and finding it 
 deserted, supposed that Madge must have 
 got there in time to accompany the others 
 home. The question was, whether they had 
 gone to Urmhurst or to the cottage. After 
 some consideration. Garth decided that he 
 at any rate would return to Urmhurst, and, 
 if Madge was not there, would defer seeing 
 her' until the next day. Accordingly, he un- 
 fastened his skates, and struck off through 
 the woods in that direction. In rather more 
 than an hour, weary in soul and body, he 
 came in sight of the house and approached 
 the porch. Some one was standing beneath 
 it; was it Madge? It was not until he stood 
 within reach of her that he recognized Eli- 
 nor. He took her hand ; then both at once 
 asked the same question : 
 
 "Where is she?" 
 
 Garth's fingers relaxed their hold, and 
 his arm dropped to his side. 
 
 "You have been to the cottage?" he 
 asked at length, in a dull tone. 
 
 Elinor nodded. She could not say any- 
 thing. 
 
 " O Madge ! I trusted you : you asked 
 m«.to forgive you." His voice had lost all 
 life and depth ; he leaned against one of the 
 
THE VICTIM. 
 
 281 
 
 stunted oak-trees that supported the porch, 
 and breathed like a man exhausted. 
 
 Before Elinor could comprehend the sig- 
 nifioance of his words, a sharp, violent noise 
 from within the house smote upon their 
 ears. Garth raised his head slowly. 
 
 "Who is in this house?" he asked, with 
 something akin to indignation in his tone. 
 
 " I've not been in," replied Elinor, faint- 
 ly pressing her hand on her heart. " There 
 can be no one but your father and Nikomis 
 — and perhaps Golightley." 
 
 He stood erect again and manned him- 
 self. " Give me your hand," said he. " "Will 
 you come ? " 
 
 She replied only by tightening her slen- 
 der clasp. Garth threw open the heavy door 
 fiercely, and they went in. Half-way down 
 the hall they paused a moment to listen. 
 The stillness was complete. " It may be 
 nothing ! " said he. 
 
 r But, when they reached the foot of the 
 stairs, an invisible, appalling warning met 
 them — the faint odor of burned powder. 
 Garth stopped short, and for several seconds 
 his heart seemed to fail him: he gasped 
 audibly, and his hand grew rigid and shook. 
 Then Eliuor's courage roused itself, and she 
 drew him on, striving to make him feel her 
 voiceless sympathy. They went up the 
 stairs together, and stood on the threshold 
 of Eve's chamber. 
 
 Nikomis was sitting on the floor, with 
 Cuthbert's head on her knee, and was part- 
 ing back the gray hair from his forehead 
 with one hand. His eyes were half closed ; 
 Elinor and Garth knew at once that he was 
 dead. Golightley, in his evening dress, half 
 sat on the table, in an attitude which, but 
 for the circumstances, would have appeared 
 jaunty. His left hand held the pistol by the 
 barrel ; with his right he was tremulously 
 adjusting his eye-glasses. The expression 
 of his features seemed, at the first glance, to 
 indicate stupid annoyance — hardly more than 
 that. Stretched along the still air hung a 
 thin veil of smoke. 
 
 Garth relinquished Elinor's hand and 
 came forward a few heavy steps, fetching 
 his breath with a slight scrape in the throat 
 at each inspiration. He had not looked at 
 the dead body, after his first glance at it : 
 
 his eyes were fixed constantly on Golightley, 
 whose blank gaze wandered and shifted un- 
 certainly. Garth faced him for a long time, 
 without word or gesture. At length he ex- 
 tended one arm, and waved the open hand 
 toward his uncle, as if mutely to command 
 his attention. 
 
 Golightley stirred uneasily, and passed 
 his tremulous fingers down his cheek. He 
 moved his lips to speak, but could make no 
 sound. 
 
 " How came you alive ? " demanded 
 Garth. 
 
 Again the other's lips moved, and at last 
 there came a voice, which had no substance 
 in it, and yet was not a whisper. 
 
 " The clumsiest thing ! I hadn't oiled 
 the look. I was very nervous — and his 
 coming in and speaking suddenly made me 
 jump! I had dressed myself on purpose, 
 and — arranged everything. But I missed 
 myself, by George ! and — " 
 
 At this point his wandering glance lighted 
 upon the solemn whiteness of the dead face, 
 and became riveted there. The pistol slipped 
 from his grasp, and fell to the floor. He 
 stood up, like a man awakened, and snatched 
 away his eye-glasses, thereby revealing the 
 haggard obliquity of his vision. 
 
 " It can't be ! " he faltered, querulously. 
 "Some mistake — eh? My brother, you 
 know — the only man who would have for- 
 given me! Who is here? — by George, it's 
 terribly like ! — at least, so it strikes me. But 
 there would be no one to forgive me. . . . 
 O Garth, you here ? Well, now look at that 
 — you've got the artist's eye — ^look at that, 
 and tell me if it isn't a likeness ! — ^ha, ha ! — 
 eh? isn't it?" 
 
 " Garth, why you not kill him — um ? " 
 growled Nikomis. "He kill Outhbert, and 
 laugh ! Why you not kill ? " 
 
 "Heti'ied to die — I cannot help him!" 
 said Garth, gloomily. He turned from his 
 uncle and knelt beside his father's body. 
 "This is for me," he said, taking it from the 
 old Indian's support. 
 
 Elinor had all this while remained where 
 Garth had left her, near the door. She now 
 came quietly forward to withdraw Golight- 
 ley from the room. But his mind, which 
 had for a time been shaken off its poise by 
 
282 
 
 GAETH. 
 
 the horror of his deed, was beginning at last 
 to realize what had happened. He broke 
 into sobs and moans, rubbing his hands over 
 each other, and holding them out entreat- 
 ingly to Elinor, to Nikomis, and even to 
 Garth. 
 
 "My brother! he's dead! Let me go to 
 him — I have a right to go to him, for it was 
 I that killed him ! I have no one but him — 
 everybody will be against me ! I shall never 
 be forgiven if you keep me from him ! Won't 
 any of you relent to a poor wretch who'd 
 have been dead himself, but for an accident? " 
 
 " You must not go to him now ! " whis- 
 pered Elinor. " Oome away — hush I Oh, 
 cannot you pray God to forgive you ? " 
 
 Nikomis seized him roughly by the arm. 
 "You come out, you Golightley! " she 
 growled, pushing him along. " You kill — 
 now you want scalp — um ? Next time you 
 want to die, you tell Nikomis : me help you 
 —ugh!" 
 
 Before Elinor followed these two out of 
 the room, she came and stood near Garth, 
 who, lifting his darkening eyes, met a look 
 of such divine sympathy as he never saw on 
 any face but hers. 
 
 " Your father would have forgiven him ; 
 and you will forgive him, soon," said she. 
 " Even I had something to forgive." 
 
 " Thank you ! " he answered, replying to 
 the spirit rather than to the words. 
 
 Her eyes brightened through the tears 
 that stood in them ; and thus she left him, 
 without further argument, alone. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXII. 
 
 SPECIAL PLEADING. 
 
 On the New-Year's-eve following, three 
 friends of Garth sat round the kitchen-fire- 
 place, discussing the events which had lately 
 taken place. It was morning, breakfast had 
 just been taken, and Garth himself was up- 
 stairs, making his final preparations for a 
 journey. 
 
 "I don't mind telling you, professor," 
 said Selwyn, taking up his knee between his 
 clasped hands, " that I'm against it. In the 
 first place, he won't find her; then, if he 
 
 does, she won't come back with him ; and 
 finally, if she did come back with him, it 
 would only make them both worse off than 
 they are now ! " 
 
 " But he could never rest until he knew 
 there was no more hope," observed Elinor. 
 " And if he were to succeed. Jack, it must 
 be for the best ! " 
 
 "Ay, I'm of your mind, Miss Elinor," 
 said Professor Grindle, folding his arms and 
 nodding his thick eyebrows at her. "Let 
 each do his best before saying, ' God wills it 
 otherwise.' That was my dear friend Urm- 
 son's plan — and he was the worthiest man I 
 ever knew." 
 
 " My friend Garth will be up with him 
 before he's done ! " remarked Jack. Elinor 
 gave him a smile, which, after he had medi- 
 tated on it for a while, cost him a sigh. 
 
 "If I were Garth, though," he resumed, 
 "I should never feel anxious about that 
 young lady. If she is not able to take care 
 of herself, may I be — surprised ! What could 
 have been neater, for instance, than her 
 management of Kineo ? She made him give 
 her his ten thousand pounds on the plea 
 that, if they met with any interruption, it 
 would be safer with her than with him. So 
 it would have been, if she had been as much 
 under his thumb as he fancied she was. But 
 she meant to give him the slip from the first. 
 She has played one of us against the other 
 in a way that gray-haired diplomatists might 
 envy. What a political intriguer she would 
 make! That will be her career, too, if I'm 
 not mistaken. She will set kings and em- 
 perors by "the ears, and alter the map of En- 
 rope, before she's done ! " 
 
 " I don't know that I'd so greatly object 
 to that ! " said Grindle, with one of his un- 
 compromising smiles. " But speaking of 
 Kineo — I understand there was no evidence 
 to convict him on that charge? " 
 
 " No, for Garth lit the bonfire with the 
 proofs of the forgery and conspiracy, and all 
 that remained for Kineo was to be locked. up 
 a few months for some petty felony or other 
 committed before the grand affair. How- 
 ever, I heard last night that he had taken 
 matters into his own hands. He pitched 
 into one of the jailers, day before yesterday, 
 with an iron bar from his cell-window, and 
 
SPECIAL PLEADING. 
 
 283 
 
 so mauled the poor fellow that his life is 
 still in danger. If he dies, it's either murder 
 or the next thing to it ; if he gets well, it's 
 only State-prison for ten years. But even 
 that is something ! " 
 
 "Ay, and enough, I trust, Mr. Selwyn. 
 But 'tis strange how all the evil passions and 
 wickedness called up during this long feud 
 between the Urmsons and the Indians should 
 have centred in this Kineo, who has the 
 blood of both parties in his veins. He is the 
 incarnate emblem of all the wrong done and 
 plotted for two hundred years. May it find 
 its end in him, likewise ! " 
 
 "Didn't you say, Professor Grindle, that 
 Mr. Urmson had left something relating to 
 Eve — telling what became of her after she 
 disappeared ? " asked Elinor. 
 
 "It was merely some notes, my dear 
 young lady, of a conversation had with Ni- 
 komis on the night of his death. Eve, you 
 are aware, was a strange, reserved, advent- 
 urous child, idolized by her father and con- 
 trolled by no one. A party of these Indians, 
 lurking in the neighborhood, made friends 
 with her, and at length enticed her away 
 with them. She and one of their boys — a 
 son of Nikomis — had become quite fond of 
 each other ; and Nikomis conceived tlie idea 
 of having them legally married when they 
 were old enough, and thus, in some unde- 
 fined manner, compassing a more refined 
 retribution upon the Urmsons than could be 
 wrought by merely killing and scalping her. 
 The plan was agreed to, and the pair were 
 afterward married by a missionary residing 
 thereabout ; and, when the child was born, 
 the same priest baptized it with the name of 
 Samuel. 
 
 " That's all about Eve, who died a year 
 or so later. But the tribe got to fighting 
 with its neighbors soon after that ; and at 
 length, in a night-attack, they were nearly 
 all massacred. Nikomis, however, escaped 
 with the boy; and, though wounded in the 
 knee, she got safe to Urmsworth with him 
 and with the certificates. Just what she 
 meant to do seems uncertain; most likely 
 she had no definite plan, but thought to lie 
 in wait, and efl:ect whatever mischief cir- 
 cumstances might put in her way. How- 
 ever, circumstances are powerful things, as 
 
 we all know; and in twenty years they 
 have transformed Nikomis from a foe to a 
 partisan." 
 
 " A partisan with exceptions, though," 
 interposed Jack, with a smile. "She has 
 always had a wholesome hatred of Golight- 
 ley, and even Garth hardly thawed her until 
 very lately. Mr. Urmson was the circum- 
 stances ! " 
 
 " He, and her grandson's delinquencies,'' 
 rejoined Grindle. "It appears, I find, that 
 she was not aware of the application made 
 to me by Garth for the legacy. She had 
 already refused Kineo the certificates, and 
 purposed destroying them, and so, as it were, 
 blotting him out of existence." 
 
 " Mr. Urmson knew nothing of the appli- 
 cation either, did he ? " 
 
 "No, sir: and when, on that last night, 
 he opened the subject to Nikomis, and pro- 
 posed that the legacy should be settled on 
 Kineo in the form of an inconvertible annui- 
 ty, so that it might, if possible, avert rather 
 than hasten his destruction, Nikomis would 
 hear nothing of it; and on his persisting, 
 she fetched the certificates and burned them 
 before his eyes. Of course, things being as 
 they are, that makes small difference ; and 
 Garth tells me that she is to have sole pos- 
 session of Urmhurst henceforth." 
 
 " "Well, things might have been worse ! " 
 exclaimed Jack, after a silence. " I don't 
 believe anybody except Nikomis could be 
 hired to live in this house, now, upon any 
 terms. And as for the money part of the 
 legacy, it must have inflicted a bitter pang 
 upon Kineo's manly heart to lose it in just 
 the way he did ; and since Garth wouldn't 
 have condescended to touch it under any cir- 
 cumstances, there's no great harm done as 
 far as that goes. All that troubles me is, 
 that the rogue who was really at the bottom 
 of the whole misery should get oif scot-free! " 
 
 "I think,'' said Elinor, "that he sufiers 
 more than all, and almost more than he can 
 bear. Eor his punishment is not such as to 
 harden his heart: it has made it sensitive 
 beyond what it ever was before." 
 
 " Ay, his pain is great," said the profess- 
 or, gravely. "Were it greater, the poor 
 wretch's brain, which already betrays oc- 
 casional unsteadiness, would collapse utter- 
 
284 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 ly; and that, I apprehend, may he the final 
 result in any case. But God's ways are not 
 our ways; and, strange though it seems to us, 
 'tis doubtless true — that if anything redeems 
 Golightley Urmson's soul, 'twill he his hav- 
 ing slain his brother at the moment when he 
 sought his own life. And Outhbert, I'm 
 well assured, would gladly have laid down 
 his life for such an end. Nay, it was a hap- 
 py release to hiip in any case. The disease 
 he had would have killed him, with lingering 
 pain, after a few months more. But, as it 
 was — -just one heart-throb, and then — restl " 
 The professor's throat swelled, and his eye- 
 glasses became him. 
 
 A few moments afterward Garth came 
 in. He vrore a long top-coat with a cape to 
 it, and held a fold of papers in his hand. 
 Standing by the fireplace, facing them all, 
 his square, impressive figure and visage 
 filled the eye of the beholder and satisfied 
 it, as a portrait hy Rembrandt might have 
 done ; only that Garth was no portrait, but 
 a reality. His beard was gone, and a deep 
 scar was visible on his chin. 
 
 " I've read what my uncle wrote in Eve's 
 chamber, on that night," said he. " Before 
 I go, I must tell you of it. — Elinor, you re- 
 member his story, that first, evening we sat 
 round this hearth ? It was a veiled confes- 
 sion, characteristic of him. Did you ever 
 think what that triangular parchment may 
 have been ? " 
 
 "He told me, once — at least, he hinted 
 that it was a later will of his father's, leav- 
 ing every thing to him." 
 
 Garth shook his head. " It was not that. 
 It was the marriage-lines of Brian Urmson 
 and Maud Golightley, dated at Jamestown 
 in 1781. The marriage was a secret one : 
 their second marriages, which each made in 
 the belief of the other's death, were illegal ; 
 and the children of them — my father and 
 Mrs. Tenterden — illegitimate." 
 
 "Ay, and so poor Maud's flight north- 
 ward is explained," murmured the professor, 
 grasping his beard and throwing one knee 
 over the other. " It was her husband, not 
 her lover, that she sought. But proceed, 
 sir!" 
 
 "I tell it only for its bearing on my 
 uncle. Maud and Captain Brian agreed 
 
 never to reveal their secret, and thus dis- 
 credit their innocent children. The captain 
 had already willed his property to Outhbert ; 
 Maud, when she disappeared from her home, 
 left all she had to Mildred. But when Eve 
 and Golightley were born — the first and only 
 legitimate children — the captain changed 
 his will ; half the property was to go to 
 Eve; the other half, less two thousand 
 pounds, remained Outhbert's : the two thou- 
 sand was for Golightley. 
 
 "Long after Maud's death, Golightley 
 found the marriage-lines in the garret, and 
 learned that he was the only legitimate son 
 and heir. He was not man enough either to 
 confront the captain with the record, or to 
 burn it up and say nothing. Instead, he hid 
 it, and, without ever meaning to use it 
 against his brother, he enjoyed the secret 
 sense of power it gave him. He brooded 
 over the injustice done him, and by degrees 
 lost all habit of frank speech and thought, 
 and grew sly and hypocritical. It's piteous 
 to think of! for, after all, his intentions 
 were good." 
 
 " But if ever a man paved hell with such 
 things, he didl " muttered Jack. 
 
 " It was not until after he got to Europe, 
 and fell into diiHculties," resumed Garth, 
 " that he said to himself, as he has written 
 here : 'If I ask the captain for part o'f the 
 money which should hy rights have belonged 
 to me, he will give it me rather than have 
 Outhbert know that his mother was not a 
 wife.' And when, twenty years afterward, 
 he met the Tenterdens, he said in the same 
 way : ' This fortune ought to be mine ; I was 
 defrauded out of it.' It seems to me tragi- 
 cal ! His sin, as he told us in his story, was 
 so suhtile, that the more it was reasoned 
 about, the more like a virtue it looked: and 
 his Doppelganger, though secretly poisoning 
 his soul, was ostensibly his best friend all 
 the while." 
 
 " Well — there may he a clean spot left 
 somewhere on his moral carcass yet^I hope 
 there is, with all my heart! " exclaimed Jack. 
 " But I should admire him even more than I 
 do, if, when he contemplated endowing an- 
 other world with himself, he had burned 
 up the triangular parchment, and held his 
 tongue." 
 
THE WAY OF THE WOKU). 
 
 285 
 
 "He did try to burn it, but his heart 
 failed him," replied Garth. "He could not 
 bear to die without having put his poor ex- 
 cuse before the world. He had found an 
 honest way to be dishonest : there could 
 hardly be a more perilous discovery. I 
 don't think we ought to condemn him. — 
 Well, I didn't mean to talk so much ; but I 
 couldn't be silent either I " 
 
 With these words Garth thrust the folded 
 papers into his pocket, and met the glance 
 of each of his three friends in turn; and 
 in all he read the silent acknowledgment of 
 his appeal for mercy. After a pause he 
 said: 
 
 "Now I'm going 1 " 
 
 He shook hands with Professor Grindle, 
 and with Jack, who, after the manner of 
 deep-hearted men, tried to make the strenu- 
 ousness of their gripe compensate for the 
 barrenness of their farewell words. But 
 Elinor, as she put her hand in his, remem- 
 bered their former parting, in the firelight 
 on the frozen lake, a week before, and said, 
 ",God help you, Garth I " as she had said it 
 then. 
 
 As he stood on the porch a few minutes 
 afterward, the venerable parson drove up in 
 his sleigh. Although this reverend gentle- 
 man had officiated at the funeral the day 
 previous, and had come this morning on 
 purpose to see Garth off, he had become 
 quite oblivious of both facts during his morn- 
 ing drive through the cold, bright air. 
 
 "What! Garth, lad, where are you off 
 so early ? " he bellowed. " Going courting, 
 I expect — eh, ho, ho, ho ! Well, you'll find 
 her at the cottage, I suppose, though, now I 
 think of it, I've not seen Maggie for the last 
 day or two. But you'll find her, I don't 
 doubt. Well, good luck to ye, dear lad, and 
 a happy New- Year I Oh, ay, you young 
 folks think all your years are sure to be hap- 
 py ones: but I guess you'll be none the 
 worse oflf for an old man's blessing, any way 
 — eh ? haw, haw, haw ! " 
 
 With that laugh, mighty in spite of its 
 occasional cracks and quavers resounding in 
 his ears, and, as it were, driving home the 
 godspeed which had preceded it, Garth 
 started on his quest. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXni. 
 
 THE WAT OF THE WORLD. 
 
 Nine months later, as Garth was packing 
 his trunk in a room of one of the smaller 
 Parisian hotels, a card was brought up to 
 him ; and almost before ho had found time 
 to read the name it bore, the person to whom 
 the name belonged made his appearance. 
 
 " Garth, dear old curmudgeonl " 
 
 " Jack ! " 
 
 They shook hands ; but the next moment 
 Selwyn impulsively threw his arms round 
 his friend, and hugged him. 
 
 " Are you packing that trunk or unpack- 
 ing it ? " he demanded, 
 
 " I am starting for Vienna this afternoon. 
 How long since you have been on this side 
 of the water? " 
 
 " Not long. But why to Vienna ? " 
 
 "I've not found her yet," replied Garth, 
 looking down, " but I heard — " 
 
 " I know you haven't found her 1 " 
 
 Garth looked up. 
 
 " Because I found her myself, yesterday," 
 Jack continued. " I say, don't look at a fel- 
 low that way ! I've done you no harm ! " 
 
 "Does she know I am here? " 
 
 "Yes. Garth — she's been playing hide- 
 and-seek with you from the beginning : she 
 won't see you: she's afraid of you: you'll 
 never meet her — and that's the long and 
 short of it ! " 
 
 "She need not be afraid of me," said 
 Garth, with a deep tremor in his voice. 
 "Where is she?" 
 
 " I promised her not to tell." 
 
 Garth's face slowly darkened : but Jack, 
 with tears springing to his eyes, came and 
 sat on his knee and put one arm across his 
 shoulders. 
 
 " Just listen to me, will you ? and don't 
 break my heart by sticking that cursed ob- 
 stinacy of youi's in the face of God's Provi- 
 dence ! There are some things no man can 
 do; and this is one of them. Look here — 
 the confounded woman is married ! " 
 
 "Is that the truth?" 
 
 " Do you think I came here to lie to yon. 
 Garth Urmson? Of course she is married, 
 man ! She's not such a fool — As to who 
 
286 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 her husband is, that's of small consequence ; 
 some infernal German baron or other 1 She's 
 living a life you'd as well not inquire into ; 
 but it might Lave been worse. She has got 
 what she bargained for, and it's to be sup- 
 posed she likes it. She's the finest woman 
 on the Continent, past the ghost of a doubt : 
 but — well, she wishes you to let her alone. 
 She said you hadn't cared for her for the last 
 four years at least, and, in proof of it, she 
 showed me a sketch you'd made while you 
 and I were over here together, of a certain 
 young lady's face. I must say that rather 
 floored me ! " 
 
 Garth started and reddened. " Elinor's ! " 
 he murmured. 
 
 " Never mind, old boy ! " said Jack . " I've 
 had time to forgive you since yesterday, 
 though she has not, but keeps the sketch al- 
 ways within reach — a sort of memento mori, 
 you know. But all I meant to prove to you 
 is, that you can't do anything — you simply 
 cannot ! " 
 
 Garth sat gazing straight before him, his 
 hand twisting the hair that clustered on his 
 head, as Selwyn had so often seen him do, 
 when deep in thought, at college. At last 
 he said, almost inaudibly : 
 
 " Well." 
 
 "I'll step out on the balcony," added 
 Jack, getting off his friend's knee, "and 
 smoke a cigar, while you're — unpacking that 
 trunk again! Then I shall have something 
 else to tell you." 
 
 " No,'' said the other, with a smile, " I 
 don't need to be alone, Jack. I've done my 
 best : now I give it up. May God bless 
 her ! " 
 
 " Amen ! — though she is the devil ! " mut- 
 tered Jack. 
 
 " As to your other news, I can guess 
 what that is," continued Garth. " You are 
 going to be— or perhaps you already are — " 
 
 " Let me tell my own news, will you ? — 
 I'm engaged! " 
 
 "Is that your idea of news?" 
 
 "It is news, you'll find! I'm engaged— 
 but not to Elinor Golightley ! " 
 
 "I don't understand you!" said Garth, 
 after a pause, his brows lowering somewhat. 
 
 " Let's look at him ! is he entirely shocked, 
 or secretly pleased into the bargain? — En- 
 
 tirely shocked, of course ! Well, the name 
 of the new young lady — you have heard of 
 her : we used to read poetry about her in 
 college — ^is Bellona, goddess of war! " 
 
 "Jack, tell me what you mean! " 
 
 "Well, I don't know as it's much to my 
 credit," said Jack, with rather a sad laugh, 
 "but it's this way: Elinor Golightley is 
 beyond me. She strikes notes I can never 
 reach, tiptoe as I may ; and if the love I've 
 felt for her can't make me reach them, noth- 
 ing else can. So I give it up, as you say. 
 She said to me nine months ago: ' You don't 
 know me; but you shall have opportunity 
 to know me, and then—' Garth, I should 
 be a fool as well as a selfish brute if I mar- 
 ried her. She is meat for heroes; by which 
 I mean to say (though I'm not given to run- 
 ning myself down as a general thing) that 
 she's beyond me, and beyond any man I 
 know — except one ! " 
 
 " I'm glad yon spoke to me of this. Jack," 
 said Garth, rising from his chair and going 
 up to him. "I may be able to save you 
 from making a great mistake. I don't know 
 what has put these notions into your head — 
 but it's all wrong! You love her so well 
 that yon think you can't be worthy of her — 
 that's all. It's what every honest man feels 
 about the woman he loves ; and it's a true 
 feeling ; but, if we didn't trust to God to 
 make us worthy, there would soon be no 
 more marriages! Besides, you must think 
 of her! Women don't love as we do; and 
 certainly Elinor Golightley, with her shy- 
 ness and haughtiness — Don't laugh, Jack, 
 at my pretending to instruct you in these 
 matters. When a man is in love, as you are, 
 his friend may sometimes comprehend his 
 position better than he himself can — even 
 though that friend be ordinarily thick- 
 headed ! " 
 
 " My dear friend, I have long known that 
 your thick-headedness is merely an appear- 
 ance, artfully assumed to cover fathomless 
 depths of guile. But I'm all the more 
 obliged to you ! By-the-way, what do you 
 think of doing with yourself now? Go 
 home, or become an exile ? " 
 
 " I don't know ! " said Garth, a little dis- 
 concerted. 
 
 " What do you say to coming down with 
 
THE WAY OF THE WORLD, f 
 
 287 
 
 me to Italy, and joining Garibaldi? You 
 could weai" that old red shirt of yours, you 
 know, and be quite in the fashion. But you 
 must be ready to start in three days, for all 
 my preparations are made. Come, I won't 
 be jealous, even in the event of your rising 
 faster and higher in the good graces of Miss 
 Bellona than I do ! Will you go?" 
 
 " You will not go, Jack." 
 
 " Now, by God ! " cried Selwyn, the blood 
 rushing to his cheeks, "I won't be bullied 
 and dictated to by you ! I'm no baby, Garth, 
 to go babbling about without a purpose! I 
 have learned a fact which, if I hadn't been a 
 blind ass, I should have seen from the be- 
 ginning ; I come to you to ask your pardon 
 and make amends, and you put me off with 
 a long-winded, flowery speech, tliat has no 
 particle of sincerity in it. . . . Well, no, I 
 don't mean that. But it's no use, old fol- 
 low ! I shouldn't have come to you if it 
 hadn't been settled. The fact is, she loves 
 you, and has always loved you ; you love 
 her, and have always loved her. You were 
 born and grown for each other. Bless you, 
 my children! This is irregular and prema- 
 ture, of course ; and as Aunt Mildred would 
 say, 'I'm perfectly scandalized, my good 
 fathers, well I do think in my heart, did you 
 ever ! ' But why sliould we dodge each other, 
 Garth?" 
 
 Garth knew that, beneath this screen of 
 gayety, his friend was rendering him the 
 dearest sacrifice that friends can make : and 
 he blenched at the thought of taking the 
 bread of life from the mouth of this too 
 generous recusant. 
 
 "You Ijave no grounds for what you as- 
 sume. Jack," he said, with a troubled voice. 
 "Don't do what both you and she might 
 regret forever! " 
 
 Selwyn again approached him and threw 
 his arm round him. " Garth, do violets ever 
 grow in New Hampshire so late as Octo- 
 ber?" he asked. "Ha! theatric start of 
 villain detected in his guilt! — Because I saw 
 one a few days ago — pressed, you know, on 
 the blank leaf between the Old and New 
 Testaments of a'little pocket Bible — which I 
 hope you may have the pleasure of perusing 
 some time. And what with the violet and 
 the sketch, and my own mother-wit and 
 
 wisdom, here I am, requesting the honor of 
 shaking hands with you ! " 
 
 " O Jack, I wish it had been my luck to 
 do this for you ! " 
 
 " Give me that old red shirt of yours in- 
 stead, and I'll call it square," returned Jack, 
 laughing lightly. " Well, good-by for the 
 present. Of course, you know, if it would 
 really inconvenience you very much to leave 
 a card, any time during the week, at a cer- 
 tain suite of rooms in the Grand H6tel — it's 
 your own affair, and I shouldn't dream of 
 forcing your inclination. I am off for my 
 general's tent in Italy. A hero's death, or 
 victory and no pay ! farewell I " 
 
 So one day Garth found himself in a 
 large room, all mirrors, gilding, and French 
 furniture, waiting for some one to ap- 
 pear. 
 
 She came in at last, with a wide throw- 
 ing-open of the door which had always char- 
 acterized her, and was not inconsistent with 
 a nature in so many ways reserved and shy. 
 Garth stepped forward to meet her, and they 
 shook hands: her hand was cold, she scarce- 
 ly smiled, and her face wore that distant and 
 rather haughty expression which he knew 
 so well, and loved because he knew it. Then 
 followed some highly-commonplace conver- 
 sation; and, at last, Garth bethought him- 
 self to inquire : 
 
 " Is Mrs. Tenterden well? " 
 
 " I believe so — yes, I mean, very well ! 
 She'll be down in aminute." 
 
 Elinor had taken her seat on one of those 
 comfortless little gilded chairs which only a 
 French mind could have originated; a chair 
 which made her seem three times as unap- 
 proachable as she would have looked with- 
 out it, and that is saying much. But a brave 
 man is not to be defeated even by a French 
 chair. Garth walked across the polished 
 floor and stood beside her. She glanced up 
 in fear — in that sweetest of all fears, which 
 no pen can describe. He said : 
 
 " Then I have only a minute to tell you 
 that I love you. I want to tell you. with my 
 whole life ! " 
 
 It was not more awkward, perhaps, than 
 most impromptu love declarations. He had 
 an idea, but not the leisure or composure 
 
288 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 to present it in its neatest or most logical 
 form. 
 
 " Elinor drooped, and hung her head. 
 Garth hent and kissed her cheek, which 
 flamed pink as the kiss came. An instant 
 later she had put her hand in his, and risen, 
 and looked in his eyes. What were French 
 chairs, or the world, to them ? 
 
 Mrs. Tenterden did not make her en- 
 trance for fully a quarter of an hour ; such, 
 at least, was the testimony of the two clocks 
 — the ormolu and the hronze one — which 
 ticked at each other from the ornamental 
 mantel-pieces at opposite sides of the room. 
 But to Garth and Elinor it was a long time, 
 because enough for them to be made all over 
 new in it: and yet the least of times, be- 
 cause, probably, there was a taste of eternity 
 in it. 
 
 Just before Mrs. Tenterden appeared, 
 Elinor said : 
 
 "Dear Jack! I love him, Garth! " 
 
 Garth, strange to tell, kissed her for those 
 words. But such is friendship, and such is 
 love! 
 
 CHAPTEE LXXXIV. 
 
 tIEMHTTEST STEPS DOWN. 
 
 The August of the following year was a 
 very hot one in New England; and, when 
 Garth and his wife landed in Boston, their 
 scheme of riding by easy stages to TJrmhurst 
 seemed by no means so practicable as it had 
 done while they were still on the cool At- 
 lantic. 
 
 " Wife, we must give it up ! " said Garth. 
 " The horses would be sunstruck even if we 
 escaped." 
 
 " Perhaps it will be cooler soon ? " sug- 
 gested Elinor. 
 
 " Not for six weeks at least I " returned 
 the husband, shaking his head. " Except at 
 night ! " he added. " You never experienced 
 a New England summer." 
 
 " Show me an almanac," said the wife, 
 after a pause. 
 
 "Here is the 'Farmer's Almanac,' " an- 
 swered the husband, taking it from his pock- 
 et. " Sit down, and I'll show yon. But 
 I hope my wife is not so weak-minded as 
 
 to believe that these prophecies are trust- 
 worthy?" 
 
 " Garth, this is only an hotel parlor ! 
 Some one might come inl " 
 
 Garth took no notice of this irrelevant 
 remark. 
 
 " This is the twelfth ? " he asked. 
 
 " It is the eleventh," said accurate Elinor. 
 
 " Well, here is the twelfth, then ! " 
 
 " O Garth ! you know you meant what 
 day of the month ! " 
 
 " Men are not like women ; they can mean 
 more than one thing at a time! " returned 
 the husband, with an unsympathetic laugh. 
 " Well, look here — as Jack would say — 'Au- 
 gust eleventh ' — " 
 
 "Dear old Jack!" 
 
 " We must get in the habit of calling him 
 Lieutenant, Mrs. TJrmson; for if his wound 
 is well enough for him to meet us on the 
 Nile next winter, he will stand upon his 
 rank." Elinor thought in her heart that 
 his wound would not be well enough, either 
 then or thereafter ; but she said nothing, and 
 Garth went on : " ' August eleventh — about 
 this time expect warm weather, with occa- 
 sional thunder-showers.' How do you sup- 
 pose the man could have known ? " 
 
 "Give me the almanac! That is not 
 what I wanted to see at all ! " 
 
 "It's no trouble for me to hold it for 
 you." 
 
 "You promised me you would shave 
 every day, and I am sure you have not done 
 it 1 Tell me about the moon." 
 
 " The moon is round : it is like a cheese : 
 
 it has two eyes, a nose, and stay one 
 
 moment; thirteen is an unlucky number, 
 Elinor — Mrs. Tenterden s&ys so ! " 
 
 " O Garth ! you have grown so silly since 
 we were married — and so sweet! I always 
 have to laugh at you now ; and I used to be 
 afraid of you, even after I began to like you ! 
 But tell me, really, when is there a full 
 moon?" 
 
 "On the fifteenth, dear Mrs. TJrmson." 
 
 " And how long would it take us to ride 
 to TJrmhurst?" 
 
 " Three or four days." 
 
 " Well, then, don't you see, my good but 
 slow-witted husband, that we can also ride 
 there in three or four nights, when there 
 
TJRMHUEST STEPS DOWN". 
 
 289 
 
 ■will be no hot sunsMne, but only a cool, beau- 
 tiful moonlight : and in the daytime we can 
 have siestas, like people in the tropics — now, 
 isn't that a good idea? " 
 
 ""We'll try it," replied Garth, with an 
 affectation of non-committal gravity. "At 
 least it may save us something in mosqui- 
 toes." 
 
 That same night, accordingly, they set 
 out, having previously dispatched a courier 
 before them to prepare a halting-place for 
 the next day. The experiment was a com- 
 plete success; they rode leisurely onward, 
 and, as the city was left behind them, there 
 were only the inner voice of crickets and 
 tree-frogs, and the clear hoof-tramps of the 
 two gray horses to interrupt the deep moon- 
 lit stillness. The world seemed all their 
 own — a grave, silent, beautiful solitude. It 
 pleased them more than bustle and brill- 
 iance, for it seemed to press them yet more 
 closely to each other, and to expound to 
 them the full, ineffable delight of mutual 
 love and dependence. Occasionally the front 
 of a wayside farm-house, gray with the rains 
 and suns of many years, or glistening white 
 with new paint, would echo back the sound 
 of the horses' hoofs ; or a dog would bark 
 watchfully, and be answered by other dogs 
 far off and near. Sometimes tall elm or 
 butternut trees flung their black shadows 
 across the pale roadway; sometimes sweet 
 odors of unseen flowers breathed forth a 
 greeting. "When a brook crossed their path, 
 they would draw rein awhile to listen to its 
 liquid volubility; and again, they paused 
 long to catch the distant murmur of the 
 Atlantic on their right. It was a journey 
 of enchantment through a land of dreams. 
 True, there were mosquitoes — a sharp- 
 tongued, business-like race, who do much to 
 mitigate the romance of New England sum- 
 mer nights; but even they were greatly 
 baffled by the breeze of their victims' mo- 
 tion, and could scarcely do more than make 
 the enchantment seem less of a dream and 
 more of a reality. 
 
 Garth and Elinor talked but little as they 
 rode ; but for miles at a stretch they would 
 go hand-in-hand ; and sometimes, where the 
 road was even and the pace a walk, the hus- 
 band's arm would find its way round the 
 19 
 
 wife's waist. At last, just as the dawn be- 
 gan to blanch the east, and the first bird 
 launched forth its song, they came to the 
 farm-house where they were to pass the 
 day; and, while the haymakers sweltered 
 in the noontide sun, they slept. In the af- 
 ternoon they put on broad-brimmed straw 
 hats and strolled forth into the fields and 
 rocky pastures, and sat beneath the shadow 
 of trees, or stained their fingers and lips 
 with blackberries, and at night, after the 
 farm-folks had gone yawning to bed, Garth 
 saddled the horses and they set forth once 
 more. 
 
 On the fourth night they started from a 
 spot about seven miles south of Wabeno, 
 purposing to be at Urmhurst by sunrise. 
 The road mounted a long, irregular acclivity, 
 and so found its way to a rocky pass which 
 wound through the midst of the mountain. 
 On arriving at the highest point of this pass, 
 the whole valley suddenly lay disclosed be- 
 fore them, with the long curves of the river 
 whitening beneath the western moon. But 
 overhead a black cloud was gathering, and a 
 distant rumble of thunder gave warning of 
 a coming shower. The riders urged their 
 horses beneath the low-spreading branches 
 of a chestnut-tree, where the heaviest. rain 
 would hardly reach them ; and there they 
 waited, gazing out upon the broad pros- 
 pect. 
 
 "I shall be glad to see dear old Urm- 
 hurst again — sha'n't you? " said Elinor. 
 
 " I shall be glad ; but I am more glad 
 that we are not to live there. It was a 
 strange fancy our coming here even for a 
 day. All the business might just as well 
 have been done by letter.'' 
 
 " But we could not have seen Parson 
 Graeme and Nikomis by letter! I hope 
 he has remembered to tell her that we are 
 coming." 
 
 "Our, courier will have informed her, at 
 any rate. She probably knows, even with- 
 out witchcraft, just where we are at thie 
 moment.'' 
 
 " I wonder whether she will be glad to 
 see us?" 
 
 "I sha'n't expect much cordiality. But, 
 when she hears our errand, she ought to un- 
 bend a little. I have an idea of making a 
 
290 
 
 GARTH. 
 
 great picture in illustration of an ancient 
 prophecy — did I ever tell it you? — about 
 TJrmlinrst and Wabeno? " 
 
 "I remember! — when TJrmhurst leaves 
 its moorings, Wabeno is to roar — ? " 
 
 " Well, I shall paint that. . . . How bright 
 that light is growing ! " 
 
 " Yes ; and it must be very far off. Isn't 
 that about where TJrmhurst is? " 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Oh, how it blazes up! What can it 
 be? — Oh, Garth—" She turned quickly 
 to him, and put her hand excitedly on his 
 arm. 
 
 " Yes," said he in a low voice, answering 
 her unuttered suggestion; "it is that, Eli- 
 nor ; TJrmhurst is on fire ! " 
 
 As he spoke, there came a flash of light- 
 ning, instantly followed by a thunder-peal 
 so loud that it seemed to shake the moun- 
 tain. The horses started and trembled. 
 Other peals followed in quick succession ; it 
 was as if Wabeno had suddenly awakened 
 from his sleep of unknown ages, and were 
 rousing himself to some great occasion with 
 roar on roar. Meanwhile the flame of the 
 burning house rose higher, and its glare was 
 reflected from the smooth surface of the lake 
 below, and a dark mass of clouds to ,the 
 northward glowed dull red above. It blazed 
 a mighty beacon to all the land. The wife 
 and husband sat and watched, not speaking, 
 but full of many thoughts. The ancient 
 prophecy was undergoing fulfillment, and 
 they were there to see and hear. They were 
 witnessing the last act of a long and gloomy 
 drama; it was a wholesome act ; the beacon 
 was of promise, not of despair. TJrmhurst, 
 whose foundations had been laid in violence 
 and sacrilege, and which had held its position 
 through more than two centuries of wrong 
 and disaster, was now vanishing (like the 
 castles of wicked enchanters in fairy oalas^, 
 because the evil and lawless spirit which had 
 called it into existence had been finally met 
 and overcome. The spectacle was not there- 
 fore a lamentable one ; and yet — there be- 
 ing so much in all human works, not me- 
 chanical, that appeals to human hearts- 
 Garth and Elinor could not behold the an- 
 nihilation of the strong old house unmoved. 
 In this world, where nothing that seems 
 
 stable is really so, all partings that are final 
 must be sad. Long sat they there watching, 
 while the thunder rolled about the moun- 
 tain, and from time to time passionate 
 showers fell. When the storm was over, 
 they rode forward, the glow of the confla- 
 gration still lighting the northern sky. But, 
 as they drew nearer, the earthly fire faded, 
 the clouds vanished from the heavens, and 
 the sun rose clear. It flung the shadow of 
 Urmhurst's eastern chimney across a low 
 heap of blackened ruins; roof, walls, and 
 porch, were gone; and even the granite 
 threshold had been shattered by the heat 
 into shapeless fragments. It was not known 
 how the fire began, nor were any human re- 
 mains found amid the ruins; but that old 
 Indian witch, Nikomis, had disappeared, and 
 was never seen again. 
 
 Some two or three years later a couple 
 of swifts happened to meet on the top of 
 that tall chimney, which stood the sole sur- 
 vivor of TJrmhurst. One was an exceed- 
 ingly ancient and decrepit swallow; the 
 other was a bird of middle age, who had 
 digested his wild-oats, and possessed judg- 
 ment. 
 
 " It appears to me that changes must 
 have occurred in these parts," twittered the 
 latter. " Unless I am mistaken, there was a 
 house here when I was young, and another 
 chimney — an unsalubrious one." 
 
 " Yes, yes ; you are quite right," piped 
 the old one, garrulously. "There was a 
 house, and a chimney, an unsalubrious chim- 
 ney — a kitchen-chimney, in fact. 'Tis a sin- 
 gular fact, by-the-way, that kitchen-chim- 
 neys are always unsalubrious. I don't know 
 whether any one has ever generalized the 
 observation before me, but you may rely 
 upon it as being a correct one." 
 
 '' I have heard it before— when I was 
 quite young — and, now I look at you, I be- 
 lieve you were my informant. Yes, it is a 
 fact of general application, as you say. In 
 my youth, it aroused my indignation, and I 
 contemplated crushing out the abuse ; but 
 there are so many abuses! The world, one 
 is tempted to believe, almost needs abuses ; 
 and besides, as one grows older, one moder- 
 ates somewhat one's zeal for reform. In- 
 
URMHURST STEPS DOWN. 
 
 291 
 
 stead of suppressing abuses, one indulges in 
 abuse ! " 
 
 " Very justly put ! " piped the veteran, 
 wiping his bill appreciatingly. 
 
 " I was going to inquire," resumed the 
 other, disguising his satisfaction at the com- 
 pliment with an unconcerned flirt of the 
 wing, " whether the colony has permanently 
 taken flight ? You are the oldest bird here- 
 about, and, I doubt not, the best informed. 
 How is it ? " 
 
 " You have applied to the right quarter, 
 I assure you," replied the elder, highly grati- 
 fied in his turn. " If any one can afford yon 
 information, I can. The fact is, then, that 
 since the disappearance of the house, the 
 chimney has become unfashionable, and not 
 a bird has built in it. Now, is not that odd? 
 There's as much room as there ever was, and 
 no disturbance; and yet the place is de- 
 serted. The house was never a bit of use to 
 us — rather the contrary, some would say ! — 
 and yet, since it has departed, so have we 1 
 Now, how would yon account for that? " 
 
 The younger swift turned his head saga- 
 ciously, first on one side and then on an- 
 other, but did not think it worth while to 
 hazard an explanation. The old cock wiped 
 his bill again, and sidled up a bit closer. 
 
 "The fact is," he piped confidentially, 
 " in this world, it is the indirect causes that 
 are the most efficacious ! You can't put the 
 fact into more explicit language than that, 
 could you ? The indirect causes are the most 
 efficacious ! " 
 
 " It does sound well, certainly ; and now 
 I think of it, I remember having arrived at 
 some such conclusion myself, a long while 
 ago. But is there no prospect of a new 
 house being built here, in place of the old 
 one?" 
 
 " No, no, no ! The site will never be 
 used again ; though some, no doubt, think it 
 a pity. But the owner has crotchets. How- 
 ever, I respect crotchets ; and since there's 
 no chance of the owner's living here him- 
 self, I don't know that I should care to have 
 any one else. One doesn't usually pay much 
 attention to men and women, of course, 
 though they have their uses — their indi- 
 rect uses, mind you! But Garth was per- 
 haps more noticeable than some men; he 
 was kind-hearted, patient, and gentle. To 
 give you an example of this: I once had 
 the misfortune to break this limb, and, 
 in consequence, fell down the chimney. 
 He happened to be below, picked me up, 
 and set the fracture so skillfully that- 
 ch?" 
 
 The other swift had flown away almost at 
 the beginning of this speech, without the 
 old cock's having observed the circumstance. 
 The latter, when he found himself alone, was 
 at first disposed to be indignant; but, re- 
 flecting that truth and wisdom remain what 
 they are in spite of not being listened to, he 
 smoothed his ruffled feathers, spread his 
 wings, and set off toward the South. But 
 the great chimney still stands erect and 
 lonely, a landmark for many miles. 
 
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 New York: D. APPLETON & CO., 1, 3, & 5 Bond Street