The Maid of Maiden Lane Read online

  CHAPTER X

  LIFE TIED IN A KNOT

  One morning soon after the New Year, Hyde was returning to the ManorHouse from New York. It was a day to oppress thought, and tighten theheart, and kill all hope and energy. There was a monotonous rain and asky like that of a past age--solemn and leaden--and the mud of theroads was unspeakable. He was compelled to ride slowly and to feel inits full force, as it were, the hostility of Nature. As he reached hishome the rain ceased, and a thick mist, with noiseless entrance,pervaded all the environment; but no life, or sound of life, broke themelancholy sense of his utter desolation.

  He took the road by the lake because it was the nearest road to thestables, where he wished to alight; but the sight of the livid water,and of the herons standing motionless under the huge cedars by itsfrozen edges, brought to speech and expression that stifled grief,which Nature this morning had intensified, not relieved.

  "Those unearthly birds!" he said petulantly, "they look as if they hadescaped the deluge by some mistake. Oh if I could forget! If I couldonly forget! And now she has gone! She has gone! I shall never see heragain!" Grief feels it a kind of luxury to repeat some supreme cry ofmisery, and this lamentation for his lost love had this poignantsatisfaction. He felt New York to be empty and void and dreary, and theManor House with its physical cheer and comfort, and its store ofaffection, could not lift the stone from his heart.

  In spite of the chilling mist the Earl had gone to see a neighbourabout some land and local affairs, and his mother--oblivious of thecoronet of a countess--was helping her housekeeper to make out the listof all household property at the beginning of the year 1792. She seemeda little annoyed at his intrusion, and recommended to him a change ofapparel. Then he smiled at his forlorn, draggled condition, and went tohis room.

  Now it is a fact that in extreme dejection something good to eat, andsomething nice to wear, will often restore the inner man to his normalcomplacency; and when Hyde's valet had seen to his master's refreshmentin every possible way, Hyde was at least reconciled to the idea ofliving a little longer. The mud-stained garments had disappeared, andas he walked up and down the luxurious room, brightened by the blazingoak logs, he caught reflections of his handsome person in the mirror,and he began to be comforted. For it is not in normal youth to disdainthe smaller joys of life; and Hyde was thinking as his servant dressedhim in satin and velvet, that at least there was Annie. Annie wasalways glad to see him, and he had a great respect for Annie'sopinions. Indeed during the past few weeks they had been brought intodaily companionship, they had become very good friends. So then theabsence of the Earl and the preoccupation of his mother was not beyondcomfort, if Annie was able to receive him. In spite of his grief forCornelia's removal from New York, he was not insensible to the pleasureof Annie's approval. He liked to show himself to her when he knew hecould appear to advantage; and there was nothing more in this desire,than that healthy wish for approbation that is natural toself-respecting youth.

  He heard her singing as he approached the drawing-room, and he openedthe door noiselessly and went in. If she was conscious of his entranceshe made no sign of it, and Hyde did not seem to expect it. He glancedat her as he might have glanced at a priest by the altar, and wentsoftly to the fireside and sat down. At this moment she had a solemn,saintly beauty; her small pale face was luminous with spiritual joy,her eyes glowing with rapture, and her hands moving among the ivorykeys of the piano made enchanting melody to her inspired longing

  Jerusalem the golden, With milk and honey blest, Beneath thy contemplation Sink heart and voice oppressed. O one, O only mansion, O paradise of joy! Where tears are ever banished And smiles have no alloy. O sweet and blessed country! Shall I ever see thy face? O sweet and blessed country! Shall I ever win thy grace?

  and as these eager impassioned words rose heavenward, it seemed to Hydethat her innocent, longing soul was half-way out of her frail littlebody. He did not in any way disturb her. She ceased when the hymn wasfinished and sat still a few moments, realizing, as far as she could,the glory which doth not yet appear. As her eyes dropped, the lightfaded from her face; she smiled at Hyde, a smile that seemed to lightall the space between them. Then he stood up and she came towards him.No wonder that strangers spoke of her as a child; she had the size andface and figure of a child, and her look of extreme youth was muchaccentuated by the simple black gown she wore, and by her carriage, forshe leaned slightly forward as she walked, her feet appearing to takeno hold upon the floor; a movement springing INTERIORLY from the souleagerness which dominated her. Hyde placed her in a chair before thefire, and then drew his own chair to her side.

  "Cousin," she said, "I am most glad to see you. Everybody has some workto do to-day."

  "And you, Annie?"

  "In this world I have no work to do," she answered. "My soul is herefor a purchase; when I have made it I shall go home again." And Hydelooked at her with such curious interest that she added--"I am buyingPatience."

  "O indeed, that is a commodity not in the market."

  "I assure you it is. I buy it daily. Once I used to wonder what for Ihad come to earth. I had no strength, no beauty, nothing at all to buyEarth's good things with. Three years ago I found out that I had cometo buy for my soul, the grace of Patience. Do you remember what animperious, restless, hard-to-please, hard-to-serve girl I was? Now itis different. If people do not come on the instant I call them, I rockmy soul to rest, and say to it 'anon, anon, be quiet, soul.' If Isuffer much pain--and that is very often--I say Soul, it is His Will,you must not cry out against it. If I do not get my own way, I say,Soul, His Way is best; and thus, day by day, I am buying Patience."

  "But it is not possible this can content you. You must have some otherhope and desire, Annie?"

  "Perhaps I once had--and to-day is a good time to speak of it to you,because now it troubles me no longer. You know what my father desired,and what your father promised, for us both?"

  "Yes. Did you desire it, Annie?"

  "I do not desire it now. You were ever against it?"

  "Oh Annie!--"

  "It makes no matter, George. I shall never marry you."

  "Do you dislike me so much?"

  "I am very fond of you. You are of my race and my kindred, and I loveevery soul of the Hydes that has ever tarried on this earth."

  "Well then?"

  "I shall marry no one. I will show you the better way. Few can walk init, but Doctor Roslyn says, he thinks it may be my part--my happypart--to do so:" and as she spoke she took from the little pocket ather side a small copy of the gospels, and it opened of its own accountat the twentieth chapter of St. Luke. "See!" she said, "and read it foryourself, George--"

  "The children of this world marry and are given in marriage. But theywhich shall be accounted worthy to obtain that world, and theresurrection from the dead, neither marry, nor are given in marriage.

  "Neither can they die any more; for they are equal unto the angels, andare the children of God, being the children of the resurrection."[Footnote: St. Luke, chap. xx. 34-36.]

  "To die no more! To be like unto the angels! To be the children of God!This is the end and aim of my desires, to be among 'the children ofGod!'"

  "Dear Annie, I cannot understand this."

  "Not yet. It is not your time. My soul, I think, is ages older thanyours. It takes ages of schooling to get into that class that may leaveEarth forever, and be as the angels. Even now I know, I am sure thatyou are fretting and miserable for the love of some woman. For whoselove, George? Tell me."

  Then Hyde plunged with headlong precipitancy into the story of his lovefor Cornelia, and of the inexplicably cruel way in which it had beenbrought to a close. "And yesterday," he continued with a sob in hisvoice--"yesterday I heard that her father had taken her toPhiladelphia. I shall see her no more. He will marry her to Rem VanArenas, or to one of her Quaker cousins, and the taste is taken out ofmy life, and I am only a walking misery."

  "I do not believe it is Cornelia's fault."
/>   "Here is her letter. Read it." Then Annie look the letter and afterreading it said, "If she be all you say, I will vow she wrote this inher sleep. I should like to see her. Why do you think wrong of her?What is love without faith in the one you love? Do you know first andfinally what true love is? It is THINKING kindly and nobly. For if weGIVE all we have, and DO all we can do, and yet THINK unkindly, itprofits us nothing. Doctor Roslyn told me so. You remember him?"

  "Your teacher?"

  "My teacher, my friend, my father after the spirit. He told me that ourthoughts moulded our fate, because thought and life are one. So then,if you really love Cornelia, you must think good of her, and then goodwill come."

  "If thought and life are one, Annie, if doing good, and giving good,are nothing to thinking good, and we are to be judged by our quality ofthinking, there will be a greater score against all of us, than we canimagine. I, for one, should not like to be brought face to face withwhat I think, and have thought about people; it would be an accountingbeyond my power to settle."

  "There is no accounting. If all the priests in Christendom tell you so,believe them not. Do you think God keeps a score against you? Do youthink the future is some torture chamber, or condemned cell? Oh, howyou wrong God!"

  "But we are taught, Annie, that the future must correct the past."

  "True, but the future, like the present, is a school--only a school.And the Great Master is so compassionate, so ready to help, so ready toenlighten, so sure to make out of our foolishness some wise thing. Ifwe learn the lesson we came here to learn, He will say to us 'Welldone'--and then we shall go higher."

  "If we do not learn it?"

  "Ah then, we are turned back to try it over again! I should not like tobe turned back--would you?"

  "But He will punish us for failure."

  "Our earthly fathers are often impatient with us; His compassions failnot. Oh this good God!" she cried in an ecstasy--"Oh that I knew whereI might find Him! Oh that I could come into His presence!" and her eyesdilated, and were full of an incomparable joy, as if they were gazingupon some glorious vision, and glad with the gladness of the angels.

  Hyde looked at her with an intense interest. He wondered if thisangelic little creature had ever known the frailties and temptations ofmortal life, and she answered his thought as if he had spoken it aloud.

  "Yes, cousin, I have known all temptations, and come through alltribulations. My soul has wandered and lost its way, and been broughtback many and many a time, and bought every grace with much suffering.But God is always present to help, while quest followed quest, andlesson followed lesson, and goal succeeded goal; ever leaving some evilbehind, and carrying forward some of those gains which are eternal."

  "If Adam had not fallen!" sighed George, "things might have been sodifferent."

  "But the angels fell before Adam," she answered. "I wonder if Adam knewabout the fallen angels? Did he know about death before he saw Abeldead? He was all day in the garden of Eden after eating of the fruit ofsin and death, and yet he did not put out his hand to take of the Treeof Life. Did he know that he was already immortal? Was he--and arewe--fallen angels, working our way back to our first estate throughmany trials and much suffering? Doctor Roslyn talked to me of thesethings till I thought I felt wings stirring within me. Wings! Wings!Wings to fly away and be at rest. Wings! they have been the dream ofevery race and every age. Are they a memory of our past greatness, forthey haunt us, and draw us on and on, and higher and higher?--but whydo you look so troubled and reluctant?"

  Before Hyde could answer, the Earl came into the room and the young manwas glad to see his father. A conversation so unusual, so suggestiveand cleaving made him unhappy. It took him up the high places thatindeed gave him a startling outlook of life, but he was not comfortableat such altitude. He rose with something of this strange air about him,and the Earl understood what the trend of the conversation had been.For Annie had talked much to him on such subjects, and he had beensensibly moved and impressed by the wisdom which the little maid hadlearned from her venerable teacher. He lifted her head in passing, andkissed her brow with that reverent affection we feel for those whobring out what is noblest and best in our character, and who lead ushigher than our daily walk.

  "My dear George," he said, "I am delighted to see you. I was afraid youwould stay in the city this dreadful weather. Is there any news?"

  "A great deal, sir. I have brought you English and French papers."

  "I will read them at my leisure. Give me the English news first. Whatis it in substance?"

  "The conquest of Mysore and Madras. Seringapatam has fallen; and Tippoohas ceded to England one half his dominions and three millions ofpounds. The French have not now a foothold left in India, and 'CitizenTippoo' can no longer help the agents of the French Republic. Faith,sir! Cornwallis has given England in the east, a compensation for whatshe lost in the west."

  "To make nations of free men, is the destiny of our race," replied theEarl.

  "Perhaps so; for it seems the new colony planted at Sydney Cove,Australia, is doing wonderfully; and that would mean an English empirein the south."

  "Yet, I have just read a proclamation of the French Assembly, callingon the people of France 'TO ANNIHILATE AT ONCE, the white, clay-footedcolossus of English power and diplomacy.' Anything else?"

  "Mr. Fox and Mr. Burke are quarrelling as usual, and Mr. Pitt is makingthe excesses of France the excuse for keeping back reform in England.It is the old story. I did not care to read it. The French papers telltheir side of it. They call Burke a madman, and Pitt a monster, and theMoniteur accuses them of having misrepresented the great French nation,and says, 'they will soon be laid prostrate before the statue ofLiberty, from which they shall only rise to mount the scaffold, etc.,etc.'"

  "What bombastic nonsense!"

  "Minister Morris is in the midst of horrors unmentionable. The otherforeign ministers have left France, and the French government isdeserted by all the world; yet Mr. Morris remains at his post, thoughhe was lately arrested in the street, and his house searched by armedmen."

  "But this is an insult to the American nation! Why does he endure it?He ought to return home."

  "Because he will not abandon his duty in the hour of peril anddifficulty. Neither has the President given him permission to do so.How could he desert American citizens unlawfully imprisoned, Americanvessels unlawfully seized by French privateers, and American captainsdetained in French ports on all kinds of pretences. I think MinisterMorris is precisely where he should be, saving the lives of Americancitizens; many of whom are trembling to-day in the shadow of theguillotine."

  "It is to be hoped that Jefferson is now convinced of the execrablenature of these brutal revolutionists."

  "I can assure you, sir, he is not. He still excuses all theirabominations and says Minister Morris is a high-flying monarchy man,and not to be taken without great allowance. I hear that MadameKippon's daughter, whom Mr. Morris rescued at the last hour, hasarrived in New York; and yesterday I met Mr. Van Ariens, who isexceedingly anxious concerning his daughter, the Marquise deTounnerre." "Is she in danger? I thought her husband was a leader inthe new National Assembly."

  "He is among the Girondists. They are giving themselves airs and makingfine speeches at present--but--"

  "But what?"

  "Their day will be short."

  "What of the king?"

  "The royal family are all prisoners in the Temple Tower. I do not dareto read the particulars; but not a single protest against theirbarbarity is made. Frenchmen who silently saw the Abbaye, the Force,and the Carmes turned into human shambles three months ago, now holdtheir peace while murders no less horrible are being slowly done in theTemple."

  "They are inconceivable monsters. Poor little Arenta! What will she do?"

  "I am not very uneasy for her; she has wit enough to save her life ifput to such extremes; her father is much to be pitied; and it isincredible, though true, that the great majority of our people arestill singing the M
ARSEILLAISE, though every letter of it is washed inblood and tears."

  "I am troubled about that pretty little Marquise."

  "She is clever and full of resource. I have had only one letter fromher since her marriage, and it was written to the word 'glories!' Sheseemed to be living in a blaze of triumph and very happy. But change isthe order of the day in France."

  "Say of the hour, and you are nearer the truth."

  "If Arenta is in trouble she will cry out, and call for help on everyhand. I never knew her to make a mistake where her own interests wereconcerned. I told her father yesterday that it would be very difficultto corner Arenta, and comforted him beyond my hope."

  During this conversation Annie was in a reverie which it in no waytouched. She had the faculty of shutting her ears to sounds she did notwish to take into her consciousness, and the French Revolution did notexist for her. She was thinking all the time of her Cousin George, andof the singular abruptness with which his love life had been cut short;and it was this train of thought which led her--when the murmur ofvoices ceased for a moment--to say impulsively:

  "Uncle, it is my desire to go to Philadelphia," The Earl looked at herwith incredulity. "What nonsense, Annie!" he exclaimed. "The thing isimpossible."

  "Why impossible?"

  "For you, I mean. You would be very ill before the journey washalf-finished. The roads, as George will tell you, are nearlyimpassable; and the weather after this fog may be intensely cold. Foryou a journey to Philadelphia would be an arduous undertaking, and onewithout any reasonable motive."

  "Oh, indeed! Do you call George Washington an unreasonable motive? Iwish to see him. Imagine me within one hundred miles of this supremehero, and turning back to England without kissing his hand. I should belaughed at--I should deserve to be laughed at."

  "Yes, if the journey were an easier one."

  "To be sure, the roads and the cold will be trials; but then my uncle,you can give them to me, as God gives trials to His Beloved. He breaksthem up into small portions, and puts a night's sleep between theportions. Can you not also do this?"

  "You little Methodist!" answered the Earl, with a tender gleam in hiseyes. "I see that I shall have to give you your own way. Will you gowith us, George?"

  "It will be a relief. New York is in the dumps. Little Burr havingbeaten the Schuyler faction, thinks himself omnipotent; and thisquarrel between Mr. Jay and Governor Clinton keeps every one else onthe edge of ill-humour. All the dancing part of the town are gone toPhiladelphia; I have scarcely a partner left; and there is noconversation now in New York that is not political. Burr, Schuyler,Jay, Clinton! even the clergy have gone horse and foot into thesedisputes."

  "Burr has a kind of cleverness; one must admit that."

  "He is under the curse of knowing everything."

  "Nevertheless his opinions will not alter the axis of the earth. It ishowever a dangerous thing to live in a community where politics are thestaple of talk, quarrels spring full armed from a word in such anatmosphere."

  "I have accommodated my politics, sir, to my own satisfaction; and Imake shift to answer people according to their idols. I vow, I am soweary of the words 'honour and honesty' that they beat a tattoo on mybrain."

  "When you are as old as I am, George, you will understand that thesewords are the coin, with which men buy office. The corruption ofcourtiers is a general article of faith, but the impudence of patriotsgoing to market with their honesty, beats courtly corruption tonothing. However, let us go to Philadelphia and see the play. That iswhat Annie desires."

  "I desire to see Washington. I wish to see the greatest of Americans."

  "Let me tell you, Annie," said the Earl, "that there never was a man inAmerica less American in character and habits, than Washington."

  "For all that," interrupted George, "there will never come a man afterhim, that will be able to rob Washington of the first place in thehearts of the American nation."

  "Nor at this day can we judge him as he deserves," added the Earl; "forhe is cramped and hustled by the crowd of nobodies around him."

  "I shall look at him, and I shall know him," said Annie. "George tellsme that he is good and handsome to look at."

  "On horseback," continued the Earl, "there is none like him; he is theideally perfect cavalier--graceful, dignified, commanding. Indeed sosuperb a man comes not twice in a generation. At Monmouth, where Icommanded a division, I remember him flying along the lines, cheeringthe men and restoring by his tremendous enthusiasm the fortunes of thefight to our standard. The grandest of men! You are right, Annie, itwould be a stupidity to go back to England without seeing him."

  This was the initial conversation which after some opposition, and alittle temper from madame the Countess, resulted in the Hyde familyvisiting Philadelphia. It was a great trial to the Countess to leaveher own well ordered, comfortable home for apartments in an hotel; andshe was never done asserting it to be a great imprudence, as far asAnnie was concerned. But the girl was immovable, and as she wassupported by her uncle and cousin, the Countess was compelled toacquiesce. But really she was so ready to find her pleasure in thepleasure of those she loved, that this acquiescence was not anunmitigated trial. She suspected the motive for her son's eager desirefor Philadelphia, and as she had abandoned without much regret the hopeof his marriage with Annie Hyde, she was far from being disinclined toCornelia. She had accustomed herself to the idea of Cornelia asmistress of the beautiful home she had made. She was an American, andmadame loved her country and wished her daughter-in-law to be ofAmerican lineage. She was aware that some trouble had come between thelovers, and she trusted that this visit might be the ground of areconciliation. Without question, or plan, or even strong desire, shefelt the wisdom of making opportunities, and then leaving theimprovement of them to circumstances.

  So about the beginning of February the Hydes were settled inPhiladelphia more comfortably than could have been expected. A handsomehouse, handsomely furnished, had been found; and madame had broughtwith her the servants necessary to care for it, and for the family'scomfort. And she was glad, when the weariness of the journey was over,to see how naturally and pleasantly her husband and son took theirplaces in the gay world around them. She watched the latter constantly,being sure she would be able to read on his face, and by his manner andtemper, whether affairs relating to Cornelia were favourable.

  In a week she had come to the conclusion that he was disappointed;which indeed was very much the case. He could hear nothing of Cornelia.He had never once got a glimpse of her lovely countenance, and noscrutiny had revealed to him the place of her abode. Every houseinhabited by a person of the name of Willing, had been the object ofhis observation; but no form that by any possibility could be mistakenfor hers, had passed in or out of their doors. He became ashamed ofhaunting particular streets, and fancied the ladies of certain houseswatched him; and that the maids and menservants chattered andspeculated about his motives.

  Every day when he went out Annie gave him an assuring smile, every daywhen he returned, she opened her eyes on him with the question in themshe did not care to formulate; and every day she received in an answeran almost imperceptible negative shake of the head, that slight as itwas, said despairingly, "I have not seen her."

  A month passed in this unfruitful searching misery, and Hyde was almosthopeless. The journey appeared to be altogether a failure; and he saidto Annie, "I am to be blamed for my selfishness in permitting you tocome here. I see that you have tired yourself to death for nothing atall."

  She gave her head a resolute little shake and answered, "Wait and see.Something is coming. You have no patience."

  "I assure you, Annie, I ought to have. I have been buying it every daysince we came to this detestable place."

  "The place is not to blame. Do you know that I am going to Mrs.Washington's reception to-morrow evening? I shall see the President. Hemay even speak to me; for my uncle says he appears there, only as aprivate gentleman. Cousin, you are to be my cavalier if it please
you;and my uncle and aunt will attend us."

  "I am devotedly at your service, Annie; and I will at least point outto you some of the dazzling beauties of our court--the splendid Mrs.Bingham, the Miss Allens, and Miss Chews, and the brilliant SallyMcKean."

  "And the lovely Cornelia Moran?"

  "She will not be there."

  "My aunt says I must wear a white gown, and I shah do you all thejustice it is in my power to do."

  "I am always proud of you, Annie. There is no one like you."

  "Do not say that, George!" The few words were almost a cry; and sheclosed her eyes, and clasped her small hands tightly.

  "What have I said, Annie?"

  "Nothing--nothing--only do not flatter me."

  "It is the very truth."

  "Let it pass?--it is nothing." She was silent afterwards, like a personin pain; all her childlike gaiety gone; and Hyde having a full share ofa man's stupidity about matters of pure feeling, did not for one momentsuspect why his praise should give her pain. He thought her objectionmust come from some religious scruple.

  The next evening however he had every reason to feel proud of hiscousin. She was really an exquisite little creature; angels would havegiven her all she wished, she was so charming. The touch of phantasyand flame in her nature illumined her face, and no one could look ather without feeling that a fervent and transparent soul gazed fromeyes, so lambent with soft spiritual fire. This impression was enhancedby her childlike gown of white crape over soft white silk; it suggestedher sweet fretless life, and also something unknown and unseen in hervery simplicity.

  Hyde, who was dressed in the very finest mode, was proud to take her onhis arm; and the Earl watched them with a fond and faithful hope thatall would soon fall out as he desired it. He could not indeed imagine aman remaining unimpressed by a beauty so captivating to the highestsenses. "It will be as we wish," he said to his Countess as theywatched them entering the waiting coach; and she answered with thatsmile of admission, which has always its reserved opinion.

  Mrs. Washington's parlours were crowded when they entered them, but thesplendid throng gave the highest expression of their approval possible,by that involuntary silence which indicates a pleased astonishment. TheEarl at once presented his niece to Mrs. Washington, and afterwards tothe President, who as a guest of Mrs. Washington was walking about therooms talking to the ladies present. Resplendent in purple and whitesatin and the finest of laces, the august man captivated Lady Annie atthe first glance. She curtsied with inimitable grace, and would havekissed the hand he held out to her, had he permitted the homage. For afew minutes he remained in conversation with the party, then he wentforward, and Hyde turning with his beautiful charge, met Cornelia faceto face.

  They looked at each other as two disembodied souls might meet and lookafter death--reproaching, questioning, entreating, longing. Hydeflushed and paled, and could not for his very life make the slightesteffort at recognition or speech. Not a word would come. He knew notwhat word to say. Cornelia who had seen his entry was more prepared.She gave him one long look of tender reproach as she passed, but shemade no movement of recognition. If she had said one syllable--if shehad paused one moment--if she had shown in any way the least desire fora renewal of their acquaintance, Hyde was sure his heart would haveinstantly responded. As it was, they had met and parted in a moment,and every circumstance had been against him. For it was the mostnatural thing in life, that he should, after his cousin's interviewwith Washington, stoop to her words with delight and interest; and itwas equally natural for Cornelia to put the construction on hisattentions which every one else did. Then being angry at her apparentindifference, he made these attentions still more prominent; andCornelia heard on every hand the confirmation of her own suspicions:"They are to be married at Easter. What a delightful little creature!"

  "They have loved each other all their lives."

  "The Earl is delighted with the marriage."

  "He is the most devoted of lovers."

  And there was not a word of dissent from this opinion until prettySally McKean said, "A fig for your prophecies! George Hyde has lovedand galloped away a score of times. I would not pay any more attentionto his proposals and promises, than I would pay to the wind that blowswhere it listeth; here to-day, and somewhere else to-morrow."

  To all these speculations Cornelia forced herself to listen with a calmunalterable; and Hyde and Annie watched her from a distance. "So thatis the marvellous beauty!" said Annie.

  "Is she not marvellously beautiful?" asked Hyde.

  "Yes. I will say that much. But why did she look at you with so much ofreproach? What have you done to her?"

  "That is it. What have I done? Or left undone?"

  "Who is the gentleman with her?"

  "I know not. She has many relatives here; wealthy Quakers, and some ofthem doubtless of the new order, who do not disdain the frivolity offine clothing."

  "Indeed, I assure you the Quakers were ever nice in their taste forsilks and velvets and laces. The man is handsome enough even to be herescort. And to judge by appearances he is her devoted servant. Will youregard them, cousin?"

  "I do. Alas, I see nothing else! She is more lovely then ever."

  "She is wonderfully dressed. That gown of pale blue and silver wouldmake any woman look like an angel?-but indeed she is lovely beyondcomparison. There are none like her in this room. It will be a thousandpities if you lose her."

  "I shall be inconsolable."

  "You may have another opportunity even tonight. I see that my aunt isapproaching with a young lady, if you do not wish to make a newacquaintance, go and try to meet Cornelia again."

  "Thank you, Annie. You can tell me what I have missed afterwards."

  He wandered through the parlours speaking to one and another but everon the watch for Cornelia. He saw her no more that night. She hadwithdrawn as soon as possible after meeting Hyde, and he was somiserably disappointed, so angry at the unpropitious circumstanceswhich had dominated their casual meeting, that he hardly spoke toanyone as they returned home; and was indeed so little interested inother affairs that he forgot until the next day to ask Annie whoseacquaintance he had rather palpably refused.

  "You cannot guess who it was," said Annie in answer to his query; "so Iwill make a favour of telling you. Do you remember the Rev. Mr. Darner,rector of Downhill Market?"

  "Very well. He preached very tiresome sermons."

  "The young lady was his daughter Mary."

  "'Tis a miracle! What is Mary Darner doing in America?"

  "She is on a visit to her cousin, who is married to the Governor ofMassachusetts. He is here on some state matter, and as Miss Damer alsowished to see Washington, he brought her with him."

  "Mary Damer! We went nutting together one autumn. She came often toHyde Court when I was a lad."

  "And she promises to come often to see me when I return to England. Iwonder what we have been brought together for. There must be a reasonfor a meeting so unlikely--Can it be Cornelia?"

  "'Tis the most improbable of suppositions. I do not suppose she eversaw Cornelia."

  "She had not even heard of her--and yet my mind will connect them."

  "You have no reason to do so; and it is beyond all likelihood. I amsorry I went away from Mary."

  "She took no notice of your desertion."

  "That is, as maybe. I was a mere lad when I saw her last. Is shepassable?"

  "She is extremely handsome. My aunt heard that she is to marry a Bostongentleman of good promise and estate. I dare say it is true."

  It was so true that even while they were speaking of the matter Marywas writing these words to her betrothed: "Yesterday I met the Hydes.You know my father has the living of Downhill Market from them, and Ihad a constraint on me to be agreeable. The young Lord got out of myway. Did he imagine I had designs on him? I look for a better man. Whatfate brought us together in Philadelphia, I know not. I may see a greatdeal of them in the coming summer, and then I may find out. At presentI w
ill dismiss the Hydes. I have met pleasanter company."

  Annie dismissed the subject with the same sort of impatience. It seemedto no one a matter of any importance, and even Annie that day had noneof the penetrative insight which belongs to

  "that finer atmosphere, Where footfalls of appointed things, Reverberant of days to be, Are heard in forecast echoings, Like wave beats from a viewless sea."

  As for Hyde, he was shaken, confused, lifted off his feet, as it were;but after another day had passed, he had come to one steadyresolution--HE WOULD SPEAL TO CORNELIA WHEN NEXT HE MET HER, NO MATTERWHERE IT WAS, OR WHO WAS WITH HER. And that passionate stress of spiritwhich induced this resolve, led him also to go out and seek for thisopportunity.

  For nearly a week he kept this conscious, constant watch. Its insistingsorrowful longing was like a cry from Love's watch towers, but it didnot reach the beloved one; or else she did not answer it. One brightmorning he resolved to walk through the great dry goodsstores--Whiteside's, Guest's, and the famous Mrs. Holland's, where thebeauties of the "gay Quakers" bought their choicest fabrics in foreignchintzes, lawns, and Indian muslins. All along Front, Arch, and WalnutStreets, the pavements were lumbered with boxes and bales of fineimported goods, and he was getting impatient of the bustle and pushing,when he saw Anthony Clymer approaching him. The young man was driving anew and very spirited team, and as he with some difficulty held them,he called to Hyde to come and drive with him. Hyde was just in theweary mood that welcomed change, and he leaped to his friend's side,and felt a sudden exhilaration in the rapid motion of the buoyant,active animals. After an hour's driving they came to a famous hostelry,and Clymer said, "Let us give ourselves lunch, and the horses bait anda rest, then we will make them show their mettle home again."

  The proposal met with a hearty response, and the young men had aluxurious meal and more good wine than they ought to have taken. ButHyde had at last found some one who could talk of Cornelia; rave of herface and figure, and vow she was the topmost beauty in Philadelphia. Helistened, and finally asked where she dwelt, and learned that she wasstaying with Mr. Theodore Willing, a wealthy gentleman of the strictestQuaker principles, but whose son was one of the "feeble men or wetQuakers" who wore powder and ruffles and dressed like a person offashion.

  "He dangles around the bewitching Miss Moran, and gives no other man achance," said Clymer spitefully. "It is the talk from east to west, and'tis said, he is so enamoured of the beauty, that he will have her, ifhe buy her."

  "Do you talk in your sleep? Or do you tell your dreams for truth?"asked Hyde angrily. "'Tis not to be believed that a girl so lovely canbe bought by mere pounds sterling. A woman's heart lies not so near herhand--God's mercy for it! or any fool might seize it."

  "What are you raging at? She is not your mistress."

  "Let us talk of horses--or politics--or the last play--or anything butwomen. They breed quarrels, if you do but name them."

  "Content. I will tell you a good story about Tom Herring,"

  The story was evidently a good one, for Hyde laughed at the recitalwith a noisy merriment very unusual to him. The champ and gallop of thehorses, and Clymer's vociferous enjoyment of his own wit, blended withit; and for a moment or two Hyde was under a physical exhilaration asintoxicating as the foam of the champagne they had been drinking. Inthe height of this meretricious gaiety, a carriage, driving at a ratherrapid rate turned into the road; and Cornelia suddenly raised her eyesto the festive young men, and then dropped them with an abrupt, evenangry expression.

  Hyde became silent and speechless, and Clymer was quickly infected bythe very force and potency of his companion's agitation and distressedsurprise. He heard him mutter, "Oh this is intolerable!" and then, itwas, as if a cold sense of dislike had sprung up between them.--Bothwere glad to escape the other's company, and Hyde fled to the privacyof his own room, that he might hide there the almost unbearable chagrinand misery this unfortunate meeting had caused him.

  "Where shall I run to avoid myself?" he cried as he paced the floor inan agony of shame. "She will never respect me again. She ought not. Iam the most wretched of lovers. Such a tom-fool to betray me as AnthonyClymer! A man like a piece of glass, that I have seen through a dozentimes!" Then he threw himself into a chair and covered his face withhis hands, and wept tears full of anger and shameful distress.

  For some days sorrow, and confusion, and distraction bound his senses;he refused all company, would neither eat, nor sleep, nor talk, and helooked as white and wan as a spectre. A stupid weight, a dismal sullenstillness succeeded the storm of shame and grief; and he felt himselfto be the most forlorn of human beings. If it had been only possible toundo things done! he would have bought the privilege with years. Atlength, however, the first misery of that wretched meeting passed away,and then he resolved to forget.

  "It is all past!" he said despairingly. "She is lost to me forever! Hermemory breaks my heart! I will not remember any longer! I will forfeitall to forgetfulness. Alas, alas, Cornelia! Though you would notbelieve me, it was the perfectest love that I gave you!"

  Cornelia's sorrow, though quite as profound, was different incharacter. Her sex and various other considerations taught her morerestraint; but she also felt the situation to be altogetherunendurable, and after a few moments of bitterly eloquent silence, shesaid--

  "Mother, let us go home. I can bear this place no longer. Let us gohome to-morrow. Twice this past week I have been made to suffer morethan you can imagine. The man is apparently worthless--but I love him."

  "You say 'apparently' Cornelia?"

  "Oh, how can I tell? There may be excuses--compulsions--I do not knowwhat. I am only sure of one thing, that I love and suffer."

  For despite all reason, despite even the evidence of her own eyes,Cornelia kept a reserve. And in that pitiful last meeting, there hadbeen a flash from Hyde's eyes, that said to her--she knew not what ofunconquerable love and wrong and sorrow--a flash swifter than lightningand equally potential. It had stirred into tumult and revolt all theplatitudes with which she had tried to quiet her restless heart; madeher doubtful, pitiful and uncertain of all things, even while herlover's reckless gaiety seemed to confirm her worst suspicions. And shefelt unable to face constantly this distressing dubious questioning, sothat it was with almost irritable entreaty she said, "Let us go home,mother."

  "I have desired to do so for two weeks, Cornelia," answered Mrs. Moran."I think our visit has already been too long."

  "My Cousin Silas has now begun to make love to me; and his mother andsisters like it no better than I do. I hate this town with its rampant,affected fashion and frivolities! It is all a pretence! The people arenaturally saints, and they are absurd and detestable, scheming to makethe most of both worlds--going to meeting and quoting texts--and thenplaying that they are men and women of fashion. Mother, let us go homeat once. Lucinda can pack our trunks to-day, and we will leave in themorning."

  "Can we go without an escort?"

  "Oh yes, we can. Lucinda will wait on us--she too is longing for NewYork--and who can drive us more carefully than Cato? And my dearmother, if Silas wants to escort us, do not permit him. Please be verypositive. I am at the end of my patience. I am like to cry out! I am sounhappy, mother!"

  "My dear, we will go home to-morrow. We can make the journey in shortstages. Do not break down now, Cornelia. It is only a little longer."

  "I shall not break down--if we go home." And as the struggle to resistsorrow proves the capacity to resist it, Cornelia kept her promise. Asthey reached New York her cheerfulness increased, and when they turnedinto Maiden Lane, she clapped her hands for very joy. And oh, howdelightful was the pleasant sunny street, the familiar houses, thebrisk wind blowing, the alert cheerful looking men and women thatgreeted each other in passing with lively words, and bright smiles! Ohow delightful the fresh brown garden, in which the crocuses were justbeginning to peep, the bright looking home, the dear father runningwith glad surprise to greet them, the handsome, pleasant rooms, therefresh
ing tea, the thousand small nameless joys that belong to thelittle darling word "HOME."

  She ran upstairs to her own dear room, laid her head on her pillow, satdown in her favourite chair, opened her desk, let in all the sunshineshe could, and then fell with holy gratitude on her knees and thankedGod for her sweet home, and for the full cup of mercies He had givenher to drink in it.

  When she went downstairs the mail had just come in, and the Doctor satbefore a desk covered with newspapers and letters. "Cornelia," he criedin a voice full of interest, "here is a letter for you--a long letter.It is from Paris."

  "It is from Arenta!" she exclaimed, as she examined the large sheetsclosed with a great splash of red wax, bearing the de Tounnerre crest.It had indeed come from Paris, the city of dreadful slaughter, yetCornelia opened it with a smiling excitement, as she said again:--

  "It is from Arenta!"