I discovered that there was little love between him and Alice. I never heard from either an expression denoting that each felt an interest in the other's individual life; neither was there any of that conjugal freemasonry which bores one so to witness. But Alice was not unhappy. Her ideas of love ended with marriage; what came afterward—children, housekeeping, and the claims of society—sufficed her needs. If she had any surplus of feeling it was expended upon her children, who had much from her already, for she was devoted and indulgent to them. In their management she allowed no interference, on this point only thwarting her husband. In one respect she and Charles harmonized; both were worldly, and in all the material of living there was sympathy. Their relation was no unhappiness to him; he thought, I dare say, if he thought at all, that it was a natural one. The men of his acquaintance called him a lucky man, for Alice was handsome, kind-hearted, intelligent, and popular.

Whether Cousin Alice would have found it difficult to fulfill the promise she made mother regarding me, if I had been a plain, unnoticeable girl, I cannot say, or whether her anxiety that I should make an agreeable impression would have continued beyond a few days. She looked after my dress and my acquaintances. When she found that I was sought by the young people of her set and the Academy, she was gratified, and opened her house for them, giving little parties and large ones, which were pleasant to everybody except Cousin Charles, who detested company—"it made him lie so." But he was very well satisfied that people should like to visit and praise his house and its belongings, if Alice would take the trouble of it upon herself. I made calls with her Wednesday afternoons, and went to church with her Sunday mornings. At home I saw little of her. She was almost exclusively occupied with the children—their ailments or their pleasures—and staid in her own room, or the nursery.

When in the house I never occupied one spot long, but wandered in the garden, which had a row of elms, or haunted the kitchen and stables, to watch black Phoebe, the cook, or the men as they cleaned the horses or carriages. My own room was in a wing of the cottage, with a window overlooking the entrance into the yard and the carriage drive; this was its sole view, except the wall of a house on the other side of a high fence. I heard Charles when he drove home at night, or away in the morning; knew when Nell was in a bad humor by the tone of his voice, which I heard whether my window was open or shut. It was a pretty room, with a set of maple furniture, and amber and white wallpaper, and amber and white chintz curtains and coverings. It suited the color of my hair, Alice declared, and was becoming to my complexion.

"Yes," said Charles, looking at my hair with an expression that made me put my hand up to my head as if to hide it; I knew it was carelessly dressed.

I made a study that day of the girls' heads at school, and from that time improved in my style of wearing it, and I brushed it with zeal every day afterward. Alice had my room kept so neatly for me that it soon came to be a reproach, and I was finally taught by her example how to adjust chairs, books, and mats in straight lines, to fold articles without making odd corners and wrinkles; at last I improved so much that I could find what I was seeking in a drawer, without harrowing it with my fingers, and began to see beauty in order. Alice had a talent for housekeeping, and her talent was fostered by the exacting, systematic taste of her husband. He examined many matters which are usually left to women, and he applied his business talent to the art of living, succeeding in it as he did in everything else.

Alice told me that Charles had been poor; that his father was never on good terms with him. She fancied they were too much alike; so he had turned him off to shift for himself, when quite young. When she met him, he was the agent of a manufacturing company, in the town where her parents lived, and even then, in his style of living, he surpassed the young men of her acquaintance. The year before they were married his father died, and as Charles was his only child, he left his farm to him, and ten thousand dollars—all he had. The executors of the will were obliged to advertise for him, not having any clue to his place of residence. He sold the farm as soon as it was put in his hands, took the ten thousand dollars, and came back to be married. A year after, he went to Rosville, and built a cotton factory, three miles from town, and the cottage, and then brought her and Edward, who was a few months old, to live in it. He had since enlarged the works, employed more operatives, and was making a great deal of money. Morgeson's Mills, she believed, were known all over the country. Charles was his own agent, as well as sole owner. There were no mills beside his in the neighborhood; to that fact she ascribed the reason of his having no difficulties in Rosville, and no enmities; for she knew he had no wish to make friends. The Rosville people, having no business in common with him, had no right to meddle, and could find but small excuse for comment. They spent, she said, five or six thousand a year; most of it went in horses, she was convinced, and she believed his flowers cost him a great deal too. "You must know, Cassandra, that his heart is with his horses and his flowers. He is more interested in them than he is in his children."

She looked vexed when she said this; but I took hold of the edge of her finely embroidered cape, and asked her how much it cost. She laughed, and said, "Fifty dollars; but you see how many lapels it has. I have still a handsomer one that was seventy-five."

"Are they a part of the six thousand a year, Alice?"

"Of course; but Charles wishes me to dress, and never stints me in money; and, after all, I like for him to spend his money in his own way. It vexes me sometimes, he buys such wild brutes, and endangers his life with them. He rides miles and miles every year; and it relieves the tedium of his journeys to have horses he must watch, I suppose."

Nobody in Rosville lived at so fast a rate as the Morgesons. The oldest families there were not the richest—the Ryders, in particular. Judge Ryder had four unmarried daughters; they were the only girls in our set who never invited us to visit them. They could not help saying, with a fork of the neck, "Who are the Morgesons?" But all the others welcomed Cousin Alice, and were friendly with me. She was too pretty and kind-hearted not to be liked, if she was rich; and Cousin Charles was respected, because he made no acquaintance beyond bows, and "How-de-do's." It was rather a stirring thing to have such a citizen, especially when he met with an accident, and he broke many carriages in the course of time; and now and then there was a row at the mills, which made talk. His being considered a hard man did not detract from the interest he inspired.

My advent in Rosville might be considered a fortunate one; appearances indicated it; I am sure I thought so, and was very well satisfied with my position. I conformed to the ways of the family with ease, even in the matter of small breakfasts and light suppers. I found that I was more elastic than before, and more susceptible to sudden impressions; I was conscious of the ebb and flow of blood through my heart, felt it when it eddied up into my face, and touched my brain with its flame-colored wave. I loved life again. The stuff of which each day was woven was covered with an arabesque which suited my fancy. I missed nothing that the present unrolled for me, but looked neither to the past nor to the future. In truth there was little that was elevated in me. Could I have perceived it if there had been? Whichever way the circumstances of my life vacillated, I was not yet reached to the quick; whether spiritual or material influences made sinuous the current of being, it still flowed toward an undiscovered ocean.

Half the girls at the Academy, like myself, came from distant towns. Some had been there three years. They were all younger than myself. There never had been a boarding-house attached to the school, and it was not considered a derogatory thing for the best families to receive these girls as boarders. We were therefore on the same footing, in a social sense. I was also on good terms with Miss Prior. She was a cold and kindly woman, faithful as a teacher, gifted with an insight into the capacity of a pupil. She gave me a course of History first, and after that Physical Philosophy; but never recommended me to Moral Science. When I had been with her a few months, she proposed that I should study the common branches; my standing in the school was such that I went down into the primary classes without shame, and I must say that I was the dullest scholar in them. We also had a drawing master and a music-teacher. The latter was an amiable woman, with theatrical manners. She was a Mrs. Lane; but no Mr. Lane had ever been seen in Rosville. We girls supposed he had deserted her, which was the fact, as she told me afterward. She cried whenever she sang a sentimental song, but never gave up to her tears, singing on with blinded eyes and quavering voice. I laughed at her dresses which had been handsome, with much frayed trimming about them, the hooks and eyes loosened and the seams strained, but liked her, and although I did not take lessons, saw her every day when she came up to the Academy. She asked me once if I had any voice. I answered her by singing one of our Surrey hymns, "Once on the raging seas he rode." She grew pale, and said, "Don't for heaven's sake sing that! I can see my old mother, as she looked when she sang that hymn of a stormy night, when father was out to sea. Both are dead now, and where am I?"

She turned round on the music stool, and banged out the accompaniment of "O pilot, 'tis a fearful night," and sang it with great energy. After her feelings were composed, she begged me to allow her to teach me to sing. "You can at least learn the simple chords of song accompaniments, and I think you have a voice that can be made effective."

I promised to try, and as I had taken lessons before, in three months I could play and sing "Should those fond hopes e'er forsake thee," tolerably well. But Mrs. Lane persisted in affirming that I had a dramatic talent, and as she supposed that I never should be an actress, I must bring it out in singing; so I persevered, and, thanks to her, improved so much that people said, when I was mentioned, "She sings."

The Moral Sciences went to Dr. Price, and he had a class of girls in Latin; but my only opportunity of going before him was at morning prayers and Wednesday afternoons, when we assembled in the hall to hear orations in Latin, or translations, and "pieces" spoken by the boys; and at the quarterly reviews, when he marched us backward and forward through the books we had conned, like the sharp old gentleman he was, notwithstanding his purblind eyes.



CHAPTER XVI.

I heard from home regularly; father, however, was my only correspondent. He stipulated that I should write him every other Saturday, if not more than a line; but I did more than that at first, writing up the events of the fortnight, interspersing my opinions of the actors engaged therein, and dwindling by degrees down to the mere acknowledgment of his letter. He read without comment, but now and then he asked me questions which puzzled me to answer.

"Do you like Mr. Morgeson?" he asked once.

"He is very attentive," I wrote back. "But so is Cousin Alice,—she is fond of me."

"You do not like Morgeson?" again.

"Are there no agreeable young men," he asked another time, "with Dr. Price?"

"Only boys," I wrote—"cubs of my own age."

Among the first letters I received was one with the news of the death of my grandfather, John Morgeson. He had left ten thousand dollars for Arthur, the sum to be withdrawn from the house of Locke Morgeson & Co., and invested elsewhere, for the interest to accumulate, and be added to the principal, till he should be of age. The rest of his property he gave to the Foreign Missionary Society. "Now," wrote father, "it will come your turn next, to stand in the gap, when your mother and I fall back from the forlorn hope—life." This merry and unaccustomed view of things did not suggest to my mind the change he intimated; I could not dwell on such an idea, so steadfast a home-principle were father and mother. It was different with grandfathers and grandmothers, of course; they died, since it was not particularly necessary for them to live after their children were married.

It was early June when I went to Rosville; it was now October. There was nothing more for me to discover there. My relations at home and at school were established, and it was probable that the next year's plans were all settled.

"It is the twentieth," said my friend, Helen Perkins, as we lingered in the Academy yard, after school hours. "The trees have thinned so we can see up and down the streets. Isn't that Mr. Morgeson who is tearing round the corner of Gold Street? Do you think he is strange-looking? I do. His hair, and eyes, and complexion are exactly the same hue; what color is it? A pale brown, or a greenish gray?"

"Is he driving this way?"

"Yes; the fore-legs of his horse have nearly arrived."

I moved on in advance of Helen, toward the gate; he beckoned when he saw me, and presently reined Nell close to us. "You can decide now what color he is," I whispered to her.

"Will you ride home?" he asked. "And shall I take you down to Bancroft's, Miss Helen?"

She would have declined, but I took her arm, pushed her into the chaise, and then sprang in after her; she seized the hand-loop, in view of an upset.

"You are afraid of my horse, Miss Helen," he said, without having looked at her.

"I am afraid of your driving," she answered, leaning back and looking behind him at me. She shook her head and put her finger on her eyelid to make me understand that she did not like the color of his eyes.

"Cassandra is afraid of neither," he said.

"Why should I be?" I replied coldly.

We were soon at the Bancrofts', where Helen lived, which was a mile from the Academy, and half a mile from our house. When we were going home, he asked:

"Is she your intimate friend?"

"The most in school."

"Is there the usual nonsense about her?"

"What do you mean by nonsense?"

"When a girl talks about her lover or proposes one to her friend."

"I think she is not gifted that way."

"Then I like her."

"Why should she not talk about lovers, though? The next time I see her I will bring up the subject."

"You shall think and talk of your lessons, and nothing more, I charge you. Go on, Nell," he said, in a loud voice, turning into the yard and grazing one of the gate-posts, so that we struck together. I was vexed, thinking it was done purposely, and brushed my shoulder where he came in contact, as if dust had fallen on me, and jumped out without looking at him, and ran into the house.

"Are you losing your skill in driving, Charles?" Alice asked, when we were at tea, "or is Nell too much for you? I saw you crash against the gate-post."

"Did you? My hand was not steady, and we made a lurch."

"Was there a fight at the mills last night? Jesse said so."

"Jesse must mind his business."

"He told Phoebe about it."

"I knocked one of the clerks over and sprained my wrist."

I met his eye then. "It was your right hand?" I asked.

"It was my right hand," in a deferential tone, and with a slight bow in my direction.

"Was it Parker?" she asked.

"Yes, he is a puppy; but don't talk about it."

Nothing more was said, even by Edward, who observed his father with childish gravity, I meditated on the injustice I had done him about the gate-post. After tea he busied himself in the garden among the flowers which were still remaining. I lingered in the parlor or walked the piazza with an undefined desire of speaking to him before I should go to my room. After he had finished his garden work he went to the stable; I heard the horses stepping about the floor as they were taken out for his inspection. The lamps were lighted before he came in again; Alice was upstairs as usual. When I heard him coming, I opened my book, and seated myself in a corner of a sofa; he walked to the window without noticing me, and drummed on the piano.

"Does your wrist pain you, Charles?" still reading.

"A trifle," adjusting his wristband.

"Do you often knock men down in your employ?"

"When they deserve it."

"It is a generous and manly sort of pastime."

"I am a generous man and very strong; do you know that, you little fool? Here, will you take this flower? There will be no more this year." I took it from his hand; it was a pink, faintly odorous blossom.

"I love these fragile flowers best," he continued—"where I have to protect them from my own touch, even." He relapsed into forgetfulness for a moment, and then began to study his memorandum book.

"A note from the mills, sir," said Jesse, "by one of the hands."

"Tell him to wait."

He read it, and threw it over to me. It was from Parker, who informed Mr. Morgeson that he was going by the morning's train to Boston, thinking it was time for him to leave his employ; that, though the fault was his own in the difficulty of the day before, a Yankee could not stand a knock-down. It was too damned aristocratic for an employer to have that privilege; our institutions did not permit it. He thanked Mr. Morgeson for his liberality; he couldn't thank him for being a good fellow. "And would he oblige him by sending per bearer the arrears of salary?"

"Parker is in love with a factory girl. He quarreled with one of the hands because he was jealous of him, and would have been whipped by the man and his friends; to spare him that, I knocked him down. Do you feel better now, Cassy?"

"Better? How does it concern me?"

He laughed.

"Put Black Jake in the wagon," he called to Jesse.

Alice heard him and came downstairs; we went out on the piazza, to see him off. "Why do you go?" she asked, in an uneasy tone.

"I must. Wont you go too?"

She refused; but whispered to me, asking if I were afraid?

"Of what?"

"Men quarreling."

"Cassandra, will you go?" he asked. "If not, I am off. Jump in behind, Sam, will you?"

"Go," said Alice; and she ran in for a shawl, which she wrapped round me.

"Alice," said Charles, "you are a silly woman."

"As you have always said," she answered, laughing. "Ward the blows from him, Cassandra."

"It's a pretty dark night for a ride," remarked Sam.

"I have rode in darker ones."

"I dessay," replied Sam.

"Cover your hand with my handkerchief," I said; "the wind is cutting."

"Do you wish it?"

"No, I do not wish it; it was a humanitary idea merely."

He refused to have it covered.

The air had a moldy taint, and the wind blew the dead leaves around us. As we rode through the darkness I counted the glimmering lights which flashed across our way till we got out on the high-road where they grew scarce, and the wind whistled loud about our faces. He laid his hand on my shawl. "It is too light; you will take cold."

"No."

We reached the mills, and pulled up by the corner of a building, where a light shone through a window.

"This is my office. You must go in—it is too chilly for you to wait in the wagon. Hold Jake, Sam, till I come back."

I followed him. In the farthest corner of the room where we had seen the light, behind the desk, sat Mr. Parker, with his light hair rumpled, and a pen behind his ear.

I stopped by the door, while Charles went to the desk and stood before him to intercept my view, but he could not help my hearing what was said, though he spoke low.

"Did you give something to Sam, Parker, for bringing me your note at such a late hour?"

"Certainly," in a loud voice.

"He must be fifty, at least."

"I should say so," rather lower.

"Well, here is your money; you had better stay. I shall be devilish sorry for your father, who is my friend; you know he will be disappointed if you leave; depend upon it he will guess at the girl. Of course you would like to have me say I was in fault about giving you a blow—as I was. Stay. You will get over the affair. We all do. Is she handsome?"

"Beautiful," in a meek but enthusiastic tone.

"That goes, like the flowers; but they come every year again."

"Yes?"

"Yes, I say."

"No; I'll stay and see."

Charles turned away.

"Good-evening, Mr. Parker," I said, stepping forward. I had met him at several parties at Rosville, but never at our house.

"Excuse me, Miss Morgeson; I did not know you. I hope you are well."

"Come," said Charles, with his hand on the latch.

"Are you going to Mrs. Bancroft's whist party on Wednesday night, Mr. Parker?"

"Yes; Miss Perkins was kind enough to invite me."

"Cassandra, come." And Charles opened the door. I fumbled for the flower at my belt. "It's nice to have flowers so late; don't you think so?" inhaling the fragrance of my crushed specimens; "if they would but last. Will you have it?" stretching it toward him. He was about to take it, with a blush, when Charles struck it out of my hand and stepped on it.

"Are you ready now?" he said, in a quick voice.

I declared it was nothing, when I found I was too ill to rise the next morning. At the end of three days, as I still felt a disinclination to get up, Alice sent for her physician. I told him I was sleepy and felt dull pains. He requested me to sit up in bed, and rapped my shoulders and chest with his knuckles, in a forgetful way.

"Nothing serious," he said; "but, like many women, you will continue to do something to keep in continual pain. If Nature does not endow your constitution with suffering, you will make up the loss by some fatal trifling, which will bring it. I dare say, now, that after this, you never will be quite well."

"I will take care of my health."

He looked into my face attentively.

"You wont—you can't. Did you ever notice your temperament?"

"No, never; what is it?"

"How old are you?"

"Eighteen, and four months."

"Is it possible? How backward you are! You are quite interesting."

"When may I get up?"

"Next week; don't drink coffee. Remember to live in the day. Avoid stirring about in the night, as you would avoid Satan. Sleep, sleep then, and you'll make that beauty of yours last longer."

"Am I a beauty? No living creature ever said so before."

"Adipose beauty."

"Fat?"

"No; not that exactly. Good-day."

He came again, and asked me questions concerning my father and mother; what my grandparents died of; and whether any of my family were strumous. He struck me as being very odd.

My school friends were attentive, but I only admitted Helen Perkins to see me. Her liking for me opened my heart still more toward her. She was my first intimate friend—and my last. Though younger than I, she was more experienced, and had already passed through scenes I knew nothing of, which had sobered her judgment, and given her feelings a practical tinge. She was noted for having the highest spirits of any girl in school—another result of her experiences. She never allowed them to appear fluctuating; she was, therefore, an aid to me, whose moods varied.

After my illness came a sense of change. I had lost that careless security in my strength which I had always possessed, and was troubled with vague doubts, that made me feel I needed help from without.

I did not see Charles while I was ill, for he was absent most of the time. I knew when he was at home by the silence which pervaded the premises. When he was not there, Alice spread the children in all directions, and the servants gave tongue.

He was not at home the day I went downstairs, and I missed him, continually asking myself, "Why do I?" As I sat with Alice in the garden-room, I said, "Alice." She looked up from her sewing. "I am thinking of Charles."

"Yes. He will be glad to see you again."

"Is he really related to me?"

"He told you so, did he not? And his name certainly is Morgeson."

"But we are wholly unlike, are we not?"

"Wholly; but why do you ask?"

"He influences me so strongly."

"Influences you?" she echoed.

"Yes"; and, with an effort, "I believe I influence him."

"You are very handsome," she said, with a little sharpness. "So are flowers," I said to myself.

"It is not that, Alice," I answered peevishly; "you know better."

"You are peculiar, then; it may be he likes you for being so. He is odd, you know; but his oddity never troubles me." And she resumed her sewing with a placid face.

"Veronica is odd, also," was my thought; "but oddity there runs in a different direction." Her image appeared to me, pale, delicate, unyielding. I seemed to wash like a weed at her base.

"You should see my sister, Alice."

"Charles spoke of her; he says she plays beautifully. If you feel strong next week, we will go to Boston, and make our winter purchases. By the way, I hope you are not nervous. To go back to Charles, I have noticed how little you say to him. You know he never talks. The influence you speak of—it does not make you dislike him?"

"No; I meant to say—my choice of words must be poor—that it was possible I might be thinking too much of him; he is your husband, you know, though I do not think he is particularly interesting, or pleasing."

She laughed, as if highly amused, and said: "Well, about our dresses. You need a ball dress, so do I; for we shall have balls this winter, and if the children are well, we will go. I think, too, that you had better get a gray cloth pelisse, with a fur trimming. We dress so much at church."

"Perhaps," I said. "And how will a gray hat with feathers look? I must first write father, and ask for more money."

"Of course; but he allows you all you want."

"He is not so very rich; we do not live as handsomely as you do."

It was tea-time when we had finished our confab, and Alice sent me to bed soon after. I was comfortably drowsy when I heard Charles driving into the stable. "There he is," I thought, with a light heart, for I felt better since I had spoken to Alice of him. Her matter-of-fact air had blown away the cobwebs that had gathered across my fancy.

I saw him at the breakfast-table the next morning. He was noting something in his memorandum book, which excused him from offering me his hand; but he spoke kindly, said he was glad to see me, hoped I was well, and could find a breakfast that I liked.

"For some reason or other, I do not eat so much as I did in Surrey."

Alice laughed, and I blushed.

"What do you think, Charles?" she said, "Cassandra seems worried by the influence, as she calls it, you have upon each other."

"Does she?"

He raised his strange, intense eyes to mine; a blinding, intelligent light flowed from them which I could not defy, nor resist, a light which filled my veins with a torrent of fire.

"You think Cassandra is not like you," he continued with a curious intonation.

"I told her that your oddities never troubled me."

"That is right."

"To-day," I muttered, "Alice, I shall go back to school."

"You must ride," she answered.

"Jesse will drive you up," said Charles, rising. Alice called him back, to tell him her plan of the Boston visit.

"Certainly; go by all means," he said, and went on his way.

I made my application to father, telling him I had nothing to wear. He answered with haste, begging me to clothe myself at once.



CHAPTER XVII.

It was November when we returned from Boston. One morning when the frost sparkled on the dead leaves, which still dropped on the walks, Helen Perkins and I were taking a stroll down Silver Street, behind the Academy, when we saw Dr. White coming down the street in his sulky, rocking from side to side like a cradle. He stopped when he came up to us.

"Do ye sit up late of evenings, Miss Morgeson?"

"No, Doctor; only once a week or so."

"You are a case." And he meditatively pulled his shaggy whiskers with a loose buckskin glove. "There's a ripple coming under your eyes already; what did I tell you? Let me see, did you say you were like father or mother?"

"I look like my father. By the way, Doctor, I am studying my temperament. You will make an infidel of me by your inquiries."

Helen laughed, and staring at him, called him a bear, and told him he ought to live in a hospital, where he would have plenty of sick women to tease.

"I should find few like you there."

He chirruped to his horse, but checked it again, put out his head and called, "Keep your feet warm, wont you? And read Shakespeare."

Helen said that Dr. White had been crossed in love, and long after had married a deformed woman—for science's sake, perhaps. His talent was well known out of Rosville; but he was unambitious and eccentric.

"He is interested in you, Cass, that I see. Are you quite well? What about the change you spoke of?"

"Dr. White has theories; he has attached one to me. Nature has adjusted us nicely, he thinks, with fine strings; if we laugh too much, or cry too long, a knot slips somewhere, which 'all the king's men' can't take up again. Perhaps he judges women by his deformed wife. Men do judge that way, I suppose, and then pride themselves on their experience, commencing their speeches about us, with 'you women.' I'll answer your question, though,—there's a blight creeping over me, or a mildew."

"Is there a worm i' the bud?"

"There may be one at the root; my top is green and flourishing, isn't it?"

"You expect to be in a state of beatitude always. What is a mote of dust in another's eye, in yours is a cataract. You are mad at your blindness, and fight the air because you can't see."

"I feel that I see very little, especially when I understand the clearness of your vision. Your good sense is monstrous."

"It will come right somehow, with you; when twenty years are wasted, maybe," she answered sadly. "There's the first bell! I haven't a word yet of my rhetoric lesson," opening her book and chanting, "'Man, thou pendulum betwixt a smile and tear.' Are you going to Professor Simpson's class?" shutting it again. "I know the new dance"; and she began to execute it on the walk. The door of a house opposite us opened, and a tall youth came out, hat in hand. Without evincing surprise, he advanced toward Helen, gravely dancing the same step; they finished the figure with unmoved countenances. "Come now," I said, taking her arm. He then made a series of bows to us, retreating to the house, with his face toward us, till he reached the door and closed it. He was tall and stout, with red hair, and piercing black eyes, and looked about twenty-three. "Who can that be, Helen?"

"A stranger; probably some young man come to Dr. Price, or a law student. He is new here, at all events. His is not an obscure face; if it had been seen, we should have known it."

"We shall meet him, then."

And we did, the very next day, which was Wednesday, in the hall, where we went to hear the boys declaim. I saw him, sitting by himself in a chair, instead of being with the classes. He was in a brown study, unaware that he was observed; both hands were in his pockets, and his legs were stretched out till his pantaloons had receded up his boots, whose soles he knocked together, oblivious of the noise they made. In spite of his red hair, I thought him handsome, with his Roman nose and firm, clefted chin. Helen and I were opposite him at the lower part of the hall, but he did not see us, till the first boy mounted the platform, and began to spout one of Cicero's orations; then he looked up, and a smile spread over his face. He withdrew his hands from his pockets, updrew his legs, and surveyed the long row of girls opposite, beginning at the head of the hall. As his eyes reached us, a flash of recognition shot across; he raised his hand as if to salute us, and I noticed that it was remarkably handsome, small and white, and ornamented with an old-fashioned ring. It was our habit, after the exercises were over, to gather round Dr. Price, to exchange a few words with him. And this occasion was no exception, for Dr. Price, with his double spectacles, and his silk handkerchief in his hand, was answering our questions, when feeling a touch, he stopped, turned hastily, and saw the stranger.

"Will you be so good as to introduce me to the two young ladies near you? We have met before, but I do not know their names."

"Ah," said the Doctor, taking off his spectacles and wiping them leisurely; then raising his voice, said, "Miss Cassandra Morgeson and Miss Helen Perkins, Mr. Ben Somers, of Belem, requests me to present him to you. I add the information that he is, although a senior, suspended from Harvard College, for participating in a disgraceful fight. It is at your option to notice him."

"If he would be kind enough," said Mr. Somers, moving toward us, "to say that I won it."

"With such hands?" I asked.

"Oh, Somers," interposed the Doctor, "have you much knowledge of the Bellevue Pickersgills' pedigree?"

"Certainly; my grandpa, Desmond Pickersgill, although he came to this country as a cabin boy, was brother to an English earl. This is our coat of arms," showing the ring he wore.

"That is a great fact," answered the Doctor.

"This lad," addressing me, "belongs to the family I spoke of to you, a member of which married one of your name."

"Is it possible? I never heard much of my father's family."

"No," said the Doctor dryly; "Somers has no coat of arms. I expected, when I asked you, to hear that the Pickergills' history was at your fingers' ends."

"Only above the second joint of the third finger of my left hand."

I thought Dr. Price was embarrassing.

"Is your family from Troy?" Mr. Somers asked me, in a low tone.

"Do you dislike my name? Is that of Veronica a better one? It is my sister's, and we were named by our great-grandfather, who married a Somers, a hundred years ago."

Miss Black, my Barmouth teacher, came into my mind, for I had said the same thing to her in my first interview; but I was recalled from my wandering by Mr. Somers asking, "Are you looking for your sister? Far be it from me to disparage any act of your great-grandfather's, but I prefer the name of Veronica, and fancy that the person to whom the name belongs has a narrow face, with eyes near together, and a quantity of light hair, which falls straight; that she has long hands; is fond of Gothic architecture, and has a will of her own."

"But never dances," said Helen.

There was a whist party at somebody's house every Wednesday evening. Alice had selected the present for one, and had invited more than the usual number. I asked Mr. Somers to come.

"Dress coat?" he inquired.

"Oh, no."

"Is Rosville highly starched?"

"Oh, no."

"I'll be sure to go into society, then, as long as I can go limp."

He bowed, and, retiring with Dr. Price, walked through the green with him, perusing the ground.

I wore a dark blue silk for the party, with a cinnamon-colored satin stripe through it; a dress that Alice supervised. She fastened a pair of pearl ear-rings in my ears, and told me that I never looked better. It was the first time since grandfather's death that I had worn any dress except a black one. My short sleeves were purled velvet, and a lace tucker was drawn with a blue ribbon across the corsage. As I adjusted my dress, a triumphant sense of beauty possessed me; Cleopatra could not have been more convinced of her charms than I was of mine. "It is a pleasant thing," I thought, "that a woman's mind may come and go by the gate Beautiful."

I went down before Alice, who stayed with the children till she heard the first ring at the door.

"Where is Charles?" I asked, after we had greeted the Bancrofts.

"He will come in time to play, for he likes whist; do you?

"No."

We did not speak again, but I noticed how gay and agreeable she was through the evening.

Ben Somers came early, suffering from a fit of nonchalance, to the disgust of several young men, standard beaux, who regarded him with an impertinence which delighted him.

"Here comes," he said, "'a daughter of the gods, divinely tall, and most divinely fair.'" Meaning me, which deepened their disgust.

"Come to the piano," I begged. Helen was there, but his eyes did not rest upon her, but upon Charles, whom I saw for the first time that evening. I introduced them.

"Cassandra," said Charles, "let us make up a game in the East Room. Miss Helen, will you join? Mr. Somers, will you take a hand?"

"Certainly. Miss Morgeson, will you be my partner?"

"Will you play with me then, Miss Helen?" asked Charles.

"If you desire it," she answered, rather ungraciously.

We took our seats in the East Room, which opened from the parlor, at a little table by the chimney. The astral lamp from the center table in the parlor shone into our room, intercepting any view toward us. I sat by the window, the curtain of which was drawn apart, and the shutters unclosed. A few yellow leaves stuck against the panes, unstirred by the melancholy wind, which sighed through the crevices. Charles was at my right hand, by the mantel; the light from a candelabra illuminated him and Mr. Somers, while Helen and I were in shadow. Mr. Somers dealt the cards, and we began the game.

"We shall beat you," he said to Charles.

"Not unless Cassandra has improved," he replied.

I promised to do my best, but soon grew weary, and we were beaten. To my surprise Mr. Somers was vexed. His imperturbable manner vanished; he sat erect, his eyes sparkled, and he told me I must play better. We began another game, which he was confident of winning. I kept my eyes on the cards, and there was silence till Mr. Somers exclaimed, "Don't trump now, Mr. Morgeson."

I watched the table for his card to fall, but as it did not, looked at him for the reason. He had forgotten us, and was lost in contemplation, with his eyes fixed upon me. The recognition of some impulse had mastered him. I must prevent Helen and Mr. Somers perceiving this! I shuffled the cards noisily, rustled my dress, looked right and left for my handkerchief to break the spell.

"How the wind moans!" said Helen. I understood her tone; she understood him, as I did.

"I like Rosville, Miss Perkins," cried Mr. Somers.

"Do you?" said Charles, clicking down his card, as though his turn had just come. "I must trump this in spite of you."

"I am tired of playing," I said.

"We are beaten, Miss Perkins," said Mr. Somers, rising. "Bring it here," to a servant going by with a tray and glasses. He drank a goblet of wine, before he offered us any. "Now give us music!" offering his arm to Helen, and taking her away. Charles and I remained at the table. "By the way," he said abruptly, "I have forgotten to give you a letter from your father—here it is." I stretched my hand across the table, he retained it. I rose from my chair and stood beside him.

"Cassandra," he said at last, growing ashy pale, "is there any other world than this we are in now?"

I raised my eyes, and saw my own pale face in the glass over the mantel above his head.

"What do you see?" he asked, starting up.

I pointed to the glass.

"I begin to think," I said, "there is another world, one peopled with creatures like those we see there. What are they—base, false, cowardly?"

"Cowardly," he muttered, "will you make me crush you? Can we lie to each other? Look!"

He turned me from the glass.

At that moment Helen struck a crashing blow on the piano keys.

"Charles, give me—give me the letter."

He looked vaguely round the floor, it was crumpled in his hand. A side door shut, and I stood alone. Pinching my cheeks and wiping my lips to force the color back, I returned to the parlor. Mr. Somers came to me with a glass of wine. It was full, and some spilled on my dress; he made no offer to wipe it off. After that, he devoted himself to Alice; talked lightly with her, observing her closely. I made the tour of the party, overlooked the whist players, chatted with the talkers, finally taking a seat, where Helen joined me.

"Now I am going," she said.

"Why don't they all go?"

"Look at Mr. Somers playing the agreeable to Mrs. Morgeson. What kind of a woman is she, Cass?"

"Go and learn for yourself."

"I fear I have not the gift for divining people that you have."

"Do you hear the wind moan now, Helen?"

She turned crimson, and said: "Let us go to the window; I think it rains."

We stood within the curtains, and listened to its pattering on the floor of the piazza, and trickling down the glass like tears.

"Helen, if one could weep as quietly as this rain falls, and keep the face as unwrinkled as the glass, it would be pretty to weep."

"Is it hard for you to cry?"

"I can't remember; it is so long since."

My ear caught the sound of a step on the piazza.

"Who is that?" she asked.

"It is a man."

"Morgeson?"

"Morgeson."

"Cassandra?"

"Cassandra."

"I can cry," and Helen covered her face.

"Cry away, then. Give me a fierce shower of tears, with thunder and lightning between, if you like. Don't sop, and soak, and drizzle."

The step came close to the window; it was not in harmony with the rain and darkness, but with the hot beating of my heart.

"We are breaking up," called Mr. Somers. "Mr. Bancroft's carriage is ready, I am bid to say. It is inky outside."

"Yes," said Helen, "I am quite ready."

"There are a dozen chaises in the yard; Mr. Morgeson is there, and lanterns. He is at home among horses, I believe."

"Do you like horses?" I asked.

"Not in the least."

Somebody called Helen.

"Good-night, Cass."

"Good-night; keep out of the rain."

"Good-night, Miss Morgeson," said Mr. Somers, when she had gone. "Good-night and good-morning. My acquaintance with you has begun; it will never end. You thought me a boy; I am just your age."

"'Never,' is a long word, Boy Somers."

"It is."

It rained all night; I wearied of its monotonous fall; if I slept it turned into a voice which was pent up in a letter which I could not open.



CHAPTER XVIII.

Alice was unusually gay the next morning. She praised Mr. Somers, and could not imagine what had been the cause of his being expelled from the college.

"Don't you like him, Cassandra? His family are unexceptionable."

"So is he, I believe, except in his fists. But how did you learn that his family were unexceptionable?"

"Charles inquired in Boston, and heard that his mother was one of the greatest heiresses in Belem."

"Did you enjoy last night, Alice?"

"Yes, I am fond of whist parties. You noticed that Charles has not a remarkable talent that way. Did he speak to Mr. Somers at all, while you played? I was too busy to come in. By the by, I must go now, and see if the parlor is in order."

I followed her with my bonnet in hand, for it was school time. She looked about, then went up to the mantel, and taking out the candle-ends from the candelabra, looked in the glass, and said, "I am a fright this morning."

"Am I?" I asked over her shoulder, for I was nearly a head taller.

"No; you are too young to look jaded in the morning. Your eyes are as clear as a child's; and how blue they are."

"Mild and babyish-like, are they not? almost green with innocence. But Charles has devilish eyes, don't you think so?"

She turned with her mouth open in astonishment, and her hand full of candle-ends. "Cassandra Morgeson, are you mad?"

"Good-by," Alice.

I only saw Mr. Somers at prayers during the following fortnight. But in that short time he made many acquaintances. Helen told me that he had decided to study law with Judge Ryder, and that he had asked her how long I expected to stay in Rosville. Nothing eccentric had been discovered in his behavior; but she was convinced that he would astonish us before long. The first Wednesday after our party, I was absent from the elocutionary exercise; but the second came round, and I took my place as usual beside Helen.

"This will be Mr. Somers's first and last appearance on our stage," she whispered; "some whim prompts him to come to-day."

He delighted Dr. Price by translating from the Agamemnon of AEschylus.

"Re-enter Clytemnestra."

"Men! Citizens! ye Elders of Argos present here."

"Who was Agamemnon?" I whispered.

"He gave Cassandra her last ride."

"Did he upset her?"

"Study Greek and you will know," she replied, frowning at him as he stepped from the platform.

We went to walk in Silver Street after school, and he joined us.

"Do you read Greek?" he asked her.

"My father is a Greek Professor, and he made me study it when I was a little girl."

"The name of Cassandra inspired me to rub up my knowledge of the tragedies."

Helen and he had a Homeric talk, while I silently walked by them, thinking that Cassandra would have suited Veronica, and that no name suited me. From some reason I did not discover, Helen began to loiter, pretending that she wanted to have a look at the clouds. But when I looked back her head was bent to the ground. Mr. Somers offered to carry my books.

"Carry Helen's; she is smaller than I am."

"Confound Helen!"

"And the books, too, if you like. Helen," I called, "why do you loiter? It is time for dinner. We must go home."

"I am quite ready for my dinner," she replied. "Wont you come to our house this afternoon and take tea with me?"

"Oh, Miss Perkins, do invite me also," he begged. "I want to bring Tennyson to you."

"Is he related to Agamemnon?" I asked.

"I'll ask Mrs. Bancroft if I may invite you," said Helen, "if you are sure that you would like a stupid, family tea."

"I am positive that I should. Tennyson, though an eminent Grecian, is not related to the person you spoke of."

We parted at the foot of Silver Street, with the expectation of meeting before night. Helen sent me word not to fail, as she had sent for Mr. Somers, and that Mrs. Bancroft was already preparing tea. Alice drove down there with me, to call on Mrs. Bancroft. The two ladies compared children, and by the time Alice was ready to go, Mr. Somers arrived. She staid a few moments more to chat with him, and when she went at last, told me Charles would come for me on his way from the mills.

My eyes wandered in the direction of Mr. Somers. His said: "No; go home with me."

"Very well, Alice, whatever is convenient," I answered quietly.

Mrs. Bancroft was a motherly woman, and Mr. Bancroft was a fatherly man. Five children sat round the tea-table, distinguished by the Bancroft nose. Helen and I were seated each side of Mr. Somers. The table reminded me of our table at Surrey, it was so covered with vast viands; but the dishes were alike, and handsome. I wondered whether mother had bought the new china in Boston, and, buttering my second hot biscuit, I thought of Veronica; then, of the sea. How did it look? Hark! Its voice was in my ear! Could I climb the housetop? Might I not see the mist which hung over our low-lying sea by Surrey?

"Will you take quince or apple jelly, Miss Morgeson?" asked Mrs. Bancroft.

"Apple, if you please."

"Do you write that sister of yours often?" asked Mr. Somers, as he passed me the apple jelly.

"I never write her."

"Will you tell me something of Surrey?"

"Mr. Somers, shall I give you a cup-custard?"

"No, thank you, mam."

"Surrey is lonely, evangelical, primitive."

"Belem is dreary too; most of it goes to Boston, or to India."

"Does it smell of sandal wood? And has everybody tea-caddies? Vide Indian stories."

"We have a crate of queer things from Calcutta."

"Are you going to study law with Judge Ryder?" Mr. Bancroft inquired.

"I think so."

Then Helen pushed back her chair; and Mrs. Bancroft stood in her place long enough for us to reach the parlor door.

"And I must go to the office," Mr. Bancroft said, so we had the parlor to ourselves; but Mr. Somers did not read from Tennyson—for he had forgotten to bring the book.

"Now for a compact," he said. "I must be called Ben Somers by you; and may I call you Cassandra, and Helen?"

"Yes," we answered.

"Let us be confidential."

And we were. I was drawn into speaking of my life at home; my remarks, made without premeditation, proved that I possessed ideas and feelings hitherto unknown. I felt no shyness before him, and, although I saw his interest in me, no agitation. Helen was also moved to tell us that she was engaged. She rolled up her sleeve to show us a bracelet, printed in ink on her arm, with the initials, "L.N." Those of her cousin, she said; he was a sailor, and some time, she supposed, they would marry.

"How could you consent to have your arm so defaced?" I asked.

Her eyes flashed as she replied that she had not looked upon the mark in that light before.

"We may all be tattooed," said Mr. Somers.

"I am," I thought.

He told us in his turn that he should be rich. "There are five of us. My mother's fortune cuts up rather; but it wont be divided till the youngest is twenty-one. I assure you we are impatient."

"Some one of your family happened to marry a Morgeson," I here remarked.

"I wrote father about that; he must know the circumstance, though he never has a chance to expatiate on his side of the house. Poor man! he has the gout, and passes his time in experiments with temperature and diet. Will you ever visit Belem? I shall certainly go to Surrey."

Mrs. Bancroft interrupted us, and soon after Mr. Bancroft arrived, redolent of smoke. Ten o'clock came, and nobody for me. At half-past ten I put on my shawl to walk home, when Charles drove up to the gate.

"Say," said Ben Somers, in a low voice, "that you will walk with me."

"I am not too late, Cassandra?" called Charles, coming up the steps, bowing to all. "I am glad you are ready; Nell is impatient."

"My dear," asked Mrs. Bancroft, "how dare you trust to the mercy of such vicious beasts as Mr. Morgeson loves to drive?"

"Come," he said, touching my arm.

"Wont you walk?" said Mr. Somers aloud.

"Walk?" echoed Charles. "No."

"I followed him. Nell had already bitten off a paling; and as he untied her he boxed her ears. She did not jump, for she knew the hand that struck her. We rushed swiftly away through the long shadows of the moonlight.

"Charles, what did Ben Somers do at Harvard?"

"He was in a night-fight, and he sometimes got drunk; it is a family habit."

"Pray, why did you inquire about him?"

"From the interest I feel in him."

"You like him, then?"

"I detest him; do you too?"

"I like him."

He bent down and looked into my face.

"You are telling me a lie."

I made no reply.

"I should beg your pardon, but I will not. I am going away to-morrow. Give me your hand, and say farewell."

"Farewell then. Is Alice up? I see a light moving in her chamber."

"If you do, she is not waiting for me."

"I have been making coffee for you," she said, as soon as we entered, "in my French biggin. I have packed your valise too, Charles, and have ordered your breakfast. Cassy, we will breakfast after he has gone."

"I have to sit up to write, Alice. See that the horses are exercised. Ask Parker to drive them. The men will be here to-morrow to enlarge the conservatory."

"Yes."

"I shall get a better stock while I am away."

I sipped my coffee; Alice yawned fearfully, with her hand on the coffee-pot, ready to pour again. "Why, Charles," she exclaimed, "there is no cream in your coffee."

"No, there isn't," looking into his cup; "nor sugar."

She threw a lump at him, which he caught, laughing one of his abrupt laughs.

"How extraordinarily affectionate," I thought, but somehow it pleased me.

"Why do you tempt me, Alice?" I said. "Doctor White says I must not drink coffee."

"Tempted!" Charles exclaimed. "Cassandra is never tempted. What she does, she does because she will. Don't worry yourself, Alice, about her."

"Because I will," I repeated.

A nervous foreboding possessed me, the moment I entered my room. Was it the coffee? Twice in the night I lighted my candle, looked at the little French clock on the mantel, and under the bed. At last I fell asleep, but starting violently from its oblivious dark, to become aware that the darkness of the room was sentient. A breath passed over my face; but I caught no sound, though I held my breath to listen for one. I moved my hands before me then, but they came in contact with nothing. My forebodings passed away, and I slept till Alice sent for me. I sat up in bed philosophizing, and examining the position of the chairs, the tops of the tables and the door. No change had taken place. But my eyes happened to fall on my handkerchief, which had dropped by the bedside. I picked it up; there was a dusty footprint upon it. The bell rang, and, throwing it under the bed, I dressed and ran down. Alice was taking breakfast, tired of waiting. She said the baby had cried till after midnight, and that Charles never came to bed at all.

"Do eat this hot toast; it has just come in."

"I shall stay at home to-day, Alice, I feel chilly; is it cold?"

"You must have a fire in your room."

"Let me have one to day; I should like to sit there."

She gave orders for the fire, and went herself to see that it burned. Soon I was sitting before it, my feet on a stool, and a poker in my hand with which I smashed the smoky lumps of coal which smoldered in the grate.

I stayed there all day, looking out of the window when I heard the horses tramp in the stable or a step on the piazza. It was a dull November day; the atmosphere was glutinous with a pale mist, which made the leaves stick together in bunches, helplessly cumbering the ground. The boughs dropped silent tears over them, under the gray, pitiless sky. I read Byron, which was the only book in the house, I believe; for neither Charles nor Alice read anything except the newspapers. I looked over my small stores also, and my papers, which consisted of father's letters. As I was sorting them the thought struck me of writing to Veronica, and I arranged my portfolio, pulled the table nearer the fire, and began, "Dear Veronica." After writing this a few times I gave it up, cut off the "Dear Veronicas," and made lamplighters of the paper.

Ben Somers called at noon, to inquire the reason of my absence from school, and left a book for me. It was the poems he had spoken of. I lighted on "Fatima," read it and copied it. In the afternoon Alice came up with the baby.

"Let me braid your hair," she said, "in a different fashion."

I assented; the baby was bestowed on a rug, and a chair was put before the glass, that I might witness the operation.

"What magnificent hair!" she said, as she unrolled it. "It is a yard long."

"It is a regular mane, isn't it?"

She began combing it; the baby crawled under the bed, and coming out with the handkerchief in its hand, crept up to her, trying to make her take it. She had combed my hair over my face, but I saw it.

"Do I hurt you, Cass?"

"No, do I ever hurt you, Alice?" And I divided the long bands over my eyes, and looked up at her.

"Were any of your family ever cracked? I have long suspected you of a disposition that way."

"The child is choking itself with that handkerchief."

She took it, and, tossing it on the bed, gave Byron to the child to play with, and went on with the hair-dressing.

"There, now," she said, "is not this a masterpiece of barber's craft? Look at the back of your head, and then come down."

"Yes, I will, for I feel better."

When I returned to my room again it was like meeting a confidential friend.

A few days after, father came to Rosville. I invited Ben Somers and Helen to spend with us the only evening he stayed. After they were gone, we sat in my room and talked over many matters. His spirits were not as buoyant as usual, and I felt an undefinable anxiety which I did not mention. When he said that mother was more abstracted than ever, he sighed. I asked him how many years he thought I must waste; eighteen had already gone for nothing.

"You must go in the way ordained, waste or no waste. I have tried to make your life differ from mine at the same age, for you are like me, and I wanted to see the result."

"We shall see."

"Veronica has been let alone—is master of herself, except when in a rage. She is an extraordinary girl; independent of kith and kin, and everything else. I assure you, Miss Cassy, she is very good."

"Does she ever ask for me?"

"I never heard her mention your name but once. She asked one day what your teachers were. You do not love each other, I suppose. What hatred there is between near relations! Bitter, bitter," he said calmly, as if he thought of some object incapable of the hatred he spoke of.

"That's Grandfather John Morgeson you think of. I do not hate Veronica. I think I love her; at least she interests me."

"The same creeping in the blood of us all, Cassy. I did not like my father; but thank God I behaved decently toward him. It must be late."

As he kissed me, and we stood face to face, I recognized my likeness to him. "He has had experiences that I shall never know," I thought. "Why should I tell him mine?" But an overpowering impulse seized me to speak to him of Charles. "Father," and I put my hands on his shoulders. He set his candle back on the table.

"You look hungry-eyed, eager. What is it? Are you well?"

"No."

"You are faded a little. Your face has lost its firmness."

My impulse died a sudden death. I buried it with a swallow.

"Do you think so?"

"You are all alike. Let me tell you something; don't get sick. If you are, hide it as much as possible. Men do not like sick women."

"I'll end this fading business as soon as possible. It is late. Good-night, dad."

I examined my face as soon as he closed the door. There was a change. Not the change from health to disease, but an expression lurking there—a reflection of some unrevealed secret.

The next morning was passed with Alice and the children. He was pleased with her prettiness and sprightliness, and his gentle manner and disposition pleased her. She asked him to let me spend another year in Rosville; but he said that I must return to Surrey, and that he never would allow me to leave home again.

"She will marry."

"Not early."

"Never, I believe," I said.

"It will be as well."

"Yes," she replied; "if you leave her a fortune, or teach her some trade, that will give her some importance in the world."

Her wisdom astonished me.

He was sorry, he said, that Morgeson was not at home. When he mentioned him I looked out of the window, and saw Ben Somers coming into the yard. As he entered, Alice gave him a meaning look, which was not lost upon me, and which induced him to observe Ben closely.

"The train is nearly due, Mr. Morgeson; shall I walk to the station with you?"

"Certainly; come, Cassy."

On the way he touched me, making a sign toward Ben. I shook my head, which appeared satisfactory. The rest of the time was consumed in the discussion of the relationship, which ended in an invitation, as I expected, to Surrey.

"The governor is not worried, is he?" asked Ben, on our way back.

"No more than I am."

"What a pity Morgeson was not at home!"

"Why a pity?"

"I should like to see them together, they are such antipodal men. Does your father know him well?"

"Does any one know him well?"

"Yes, I know him. I do not like him. He is a savage, living by his instincts, with one element of civilization—he loves Beauty—beauty like yours." He turned pale when he said this, but went on. "He has never seen a woman like you; who has? Forgive me, but I watch you both."

"I have perceived it."

"I suppose so, and it makes you more willful."

"You said you were but a boy."

"Yes, but I have had one or two manly wickednesses. I have done with them, I hope."

"So that you have leisure to pry into those of others."

"You do not forgive me."

"I like you; but what can I do?"

"Keep up your sophistry to the last."



CHAPTER XIX.

Alice and I were preparing for the first ball, when Charles came home, having been absent several weeks. The conservatory was finished, and looked well, jutting from the garden-room, which we used often, since the weather had been cold. The flowers and plants it was filled with were more fragrant and beautiful than rare. I never saw him look so genial as when he inspected it with us. Alice was in good-humor, also, for he had brought her a set of jewels.

"Is it not her birthday," he said, when he gave her the jewel case, "or something, that I can give Cassandra this?" taking a little box from his pocket.

"Oh yes," said Alice; "show it to us."

"Will you have it?" he asked me.

I held out my hand, and he put on my third finger a diamond ring, which was like a star.

"How well it looks on your long hand!" said Alice.

"What unsuspected tastes I find I have!" I answered. "I am passionately fond of rings; this delights me."

His swarthy face flushed with pleasure at my words; but, according to his wont, he said nothing.

A few days after his return, a man came into the yard, leading a powerful horse chafing in his halter, which he took to the stable. Charles asked me to look at a new purchase he had made in Pennsylvania. The strange man was lounging about the stalls when we went in, inspecting the horses with a knowing air.

"I declare, sir," said Jesse, "I am afeared to tackle this ere animal; he's a reglar brute, and no mistake."

"He'll be tame enough; he is but four years old."

"He's never been in a carriage," said the man.

"Lead him out, will you?"

The man obeyed. The horse was a fine creature, black, and thick-maned; but the whites of his eyes were not clear; they were streaked with red, and he attempted continually to turn his nostrils inside out. Altogether, I thought him diabolical.

"What's the matter with his eyes?" Charles asked.

"I think, sir," the man replied, "as how they got inflamed like, in the boat coming from New York. It's nothing perticalar, I believe."

Alice declared it was too bad, when she heard there was another horse in the stable. She would not look at him, and said she would never ride with Charles when he drove him.

I had been taking lessons of Professor Simpson, and was ready for the ball. All the girls from the Academy were going in white, except Helen, who was to wear pink silk. It was to be a military ball, and strangers were expected. Ben Somers, and our Rosville beaux, were of course to be there, all in uniform, except Ben, who preferred the dress of a gentleman, he said,—silk stockings, pumps, and a white cravat.

We were dressed by nine o'clock, Alice in black velvet, with a wreath of flowers in her black hair—I in alight blue velvet bodice, and white silk skirt. We were waiting for the ball hack to come for us, as hat was the custom, for no one owned a close coach in Rosville, when Charles brought in some splendid scarlet flowers which he gave to Alice.

"Where are Cassandra's?"

"She does not care for flowers; besides, she would throw them away on her first partner."

He put us in the coach, and went back. I was glad he did not come with us, and gave myself up to the excitement of my first ball. Alice was surrounded by her acquaintances at once, and I was asked to dance a quadrille by Mr. Parker, whose gloves were much too large, and whose white trowsers were much too long.

"I kept the flowers you gave me," he said in a breathless way.

"Oh yes, I remember; mustn't we forward now?"

"Mr. Morgeson's very fond of flowers."

"So he is. How de do, Miss Ryder."

Miss Ryder, my vis-a-vis, bowed, looking scornfully at my partner, who was only a clerk, while hers was a law student. I immediately turned to Mr. Parker with affable smiles, and went into a kind of dumb-show of conversation, which made him warm and uncomfortable. Mrs. Judge Ryder sailed by on Ben Somers's arm.

"Put your shoulders down," she whispered to her daughter, who had poked one very much out of her dress. "My love," she spoke aloud, "you mustn't dance every set."

"No, ma," and she passed on, Ben giving a faint cough, for my benefit. We could not find Alice after the dance was over. A brass band alternated with the quadrille band, and it played so loudly that we had to talk at the top of our voices to be heard. Mine soon gave out, and I begged Mr. Parker to bring Helen, for I had not yet seen her. She was with Dr. White, who had dropped in to see the miserable spectacle. The air, he said, shaking his finger at me, was already miasmal; it would be infernal by midnight Christians ought not to be there. "Go home early, Miss. Your mother never went to a ball, I'll warrant."

"We are wiser than our mothers."

"And wickeder; you will send for me to-morrow."

"Your Valenciennes lace excruciates the Ryders," said Helen. "I was standing near Mrs. Judge Ryder and the girls just now. 'Did you ever see such an upstart?' And, 'What an extravagant dress she has on—it is ridiculous,' Josephine Ryder said. When Ben Somers heard this attack on you, he told them that your lace was an heirloom. Here he is." Mr. Parker took her away, and Ben Somers went in pursuit of a seat. The quadrille was over, I was engaged for the next, and he had not come back. I saw nothing of him till the country dance before supper. He was at the foot of the long line, opposite a pretty girl in blue, looking very solemn and stately. I took off the glove from my hand which wore the new diamond, and held it up, expecting him to look my way soon. Its flash caught his eyes, as they roamed up and down, and, as I expected, he left his place and came up behind me.

"Where did you get that ring?" wiping his face with his handkerchief.

"Ask Alice."

"You are politic."

"Handsome, isn't it?"

"And valuable; it cost as much as the new horse."

"Have you made a memorandum of it?"

"Destiny has brilliant spokes in her wheel, hasn't she?"

"Is that from the Greek tragedies?"

"To your places, gentlemen," the floor-manager called, and the band struck up the Fisher's Hornpipe. At supper, I saw Ben Somers, still with the pretty girl in blue; but he came to my chair and asked me if I did not think she was a pretty toy for a man to play with.

"How much wine have you drunk? Enough to do justice to the family annals?"

"Really, you have been well informed. No, I have not drunk enough for that; but Mrs. Ryder has sent her virgins home with me. I am afraid their lamps are upset again. I drink nothing after to-night. You shall not ask again, 'How much?'"

My fire was out when I reached home. My head was burning and aching. I was too tired to untwist my hair, and I pulled and dragged at my dress, which seemed to have a hundred fastenings. Creeping into bed, I perceived the odor of flowers, and looking at my table discovered a bunch of white roses.

"Roses are nonsense, and life is nonsense," I thought.

When I opened my eyes, Alice was standing by the bed, with a glass of roses in her hand.

"Charles put these roses here, hey?"

"I suppose so; throw them out of the window, and me too; my head is splitting."

"To make amends for not giving you any last night," she went on; "he is quite childish."

"Can't you unbraid my hair, it hurts my head so?"

She felt my hands. I was in a fever, she said, and ran down for Charles. "Cass is sick, in spite of your white roses."

"The devil take the roses. Can't you get up, Cassandra?"

"Not now. Go away, will you?"

He left the room abruptly. Alice loosened my hair, bound my head, and poured cologne-water over me, lamenting all the while that she had not brought me home; and then went down for some tea, presently returning to say that Charles had been for Dr. White, who said he would not come. But he was there shortly afterward. By night I was well again.

Dr. Price gave us a lecture on late hours that week, requesting us, if we had any interest in our education, or expected him to have any, to abstain from balls.

Ben Somers disappeared; no one knew where he had gone. The Ryders were in consternation, for he was an intimate of the family, since he had gone into Judge Ryder's office, six weeks before. He returned, however, with a new overcoat trimmed with fur, the same as that with which my new cloak was trimmed. A great snowstorm began the day of his return, and blocked us indoors for several days, and we had permanent sleighing afterward.

In January it was proposed that we should go to the Swan Tavern, ten miles out of Rosville.

I had made good resolutions since the ball, and declined going to the second, which came off three weeks afterward. The truth was, I did not enjoy the first; but I preferred to give my decision a virtuous tinge. I also determined to leave the Academy when the spring came, for I felt no longer a schoolgirl. But for Helen, I could not have remained as I did. She stayed for pastime now, she confessed, it was so dull at home; her father was wrapped in his studies, and she had a stepmother. I resolved again that I would study more, and was translating, in view of this resolve, "Corinne," with Miss Prior, and singing sedulously with Mrs. Lane, and had begun a course of reading with Dr. Price.

I refused two invitations to join the sleighing party, and on the night it was to be had prepared to pass the evening in my own room with Oswald and Corinne. Before the fire, with lighted candles, I heard a ringing of bells in the yard and a stamping of feet on the piazza. Alice sent up for me. I found Ben Somers with her, who begged me to take a seat in his sleigh. Helen was there, and Amelia Bancroft. Alice applauded me for refusing him; but when he whispered in my ear that he had been to Surrey I changed my mind. She assisted me with cheerful alacrity to put on a merino dress, its color was purple;—a color I hate now, and never wear—and wrapped me warmly. Charles appeared before we started. "Are you really going?" he asked, in a tone of displeasure.

"She is really going," Ben answered for me. "Mr. and Mrs. Bancroft are going," Helen said. "Why not drive out with Mrs. Morgeson?"

"The night is splendid," Ben remarked.

"Wont you come?" I asked.

"If Alice wishes it. Will you go?" he asked her.

"Would you?" she inquired of all, and all replied, "Yes."

We started in advance. Helen and Amelia were packed on the back seat, in a buffalo robe, while Ben and I sat in the shelter of the driver's box, wrapped in another. It was moonlight, and as we passed the sleighs of the rest of the party, exchanging greetings, we grew very merry. Ben, voluble and airy, enlivened us by his high spirits.

We were drinking mulled wine round the long pine dinner-table of the Swan, when Charles and Alice arrived. There were about thirty in the room, which was lighted by tallow candles. When he entered, it seemed as if the candles suddenly required snuffing, and we ceased to laugh. All spoke to him with respect, but with an inflection of the voice which denoted that he was not one of us. As he carelessly passed round the table all made a movement as he approached, scraping their chairs on the bare floor, moving their glass of mulled wine, or altering the position of their arms or legs. An indescribable appreciation of the impression which he made upon others filled my heart. His isolation from the sympathy of every person there gave me a pain and a pity, and for the first time I felt a pang of tenderness, and a throe of pride for him. But Alice, upon whom he never made any impression, saw nothing of this; her gayety soon removed the stiffness and silence he created. The party grew noisy again, except Ben, who had not broken the silence into which he fell as soon as he saw Charles. The mulled wine stood before him untouched. I moved to the corner of the table to allow room for the chair which Charles was turning toward me. Ben ordered more wine, and sent a glass full to him. Taking it from the boy who brought it, I gave it to him. "Drink," I said. My voice sounded strangely. Barely tasting it, he set the glass down, and leaning his arm on the table, turned his face to me, shielding it with his hand from the gaze of those about us. I pushed away a candle that flared in our faces.

"You never drink wine?"

"No, Cassandra."

"How was the ride down?"

"Delightful."

"What about the new horse?"

"He is an awful brute."

"When shall we have a ride with him?"

"When you please."

The boy came in to say would we please go to the parlor; our room was wanted for supper. An immediate rush, with loud laughing, took place, for the parlor fire; but Charles and I did not move. I was busy remaking the bow of my purple silk cravat.

"'I drink the cup of a costly death,'" Ben hummed, as he sauntered along by us, hands in his pockets—the last in the room, except us two.

"Indeed, Somers; perhaps you would like this too." And Charles offered him his glass of wine.

Ben took it, and with his thumb and finger snapped it off at the stem, tipping the wine over Charles's hand.

I saw it staining his wristband, like blood. He did not stir, but a slight smile traveled swiftly over his face.

"I know Veronica," said Ben, looking at me. "Has this man seen her?"

His voice crushed me. What a barrier his expression of contempt made between her and me!

Withal, I felt a humiliating sense of defeat.

Charles read me.

As he folded his wristband under his sleeve, carefully and slowly, his slender fingers did not tremble with the desire that possessed him, which I saw in his terrible eyes as plainly as if he had spoken, "I would kill him."

They looked at my hands, for I was wringing them, and a groan burst from me.

"Somers," said Charles, rising and touching his shoulder, "behave like a man, and let us alone; I love this girl."

His pale face changed, his eyes softened, and mine filled with tears.

"Cassandra," urged Ben, in a gentle voice, "come with me; come away."

"Fool," I answered; "leave me alone, and go."

He hesitated, moved toward the door, and again urged me to come.

"Go! go!" stamping my foot, and the door closed without a sound.

For a moment we stood, transfixed in an isolation which separated us from all the world beside.

"Now Charles, we"—a convulsive sob choked me, a strange taste filled my mouth, I put my handkerchief to my lips and wiped away streaks of blood. I showed it to him.

"It is nothing, by God!" snatching the handkerchief. "Take mine—oh, my dear—"

I tried to laugh, and muttered the imperative fact of joining the rest.

"Be quiet, Cassandra."

He opened the window, took a handful of snow from the sill and put it to my mouth. It revived me.

"Do you hear, Charles? Never say those frightful words again. Never, never."

"Never, if it must be so."

He touched my hand; I opened it; his closed over mine.

"Go, now," he said, and springing to the window, threw it up, and jumped out. The boy came in with a tablecloth on his arm, and behind him Ben.

"Glass broken, sir."

"Put it in the bill."

He offered me his arm, which I was glad to take.

"Where is Charles?" Alice asked, when we went in.

"He has just left us," Ben answered; "looking after his horses, probably."

"Of course," she replied. "You look blue, Cass. Here, take my chair by the fire; we are going to dance a Virginia reel."

I accepted her offer, and was thankful that the dance would take them away. I wanted to be alone forever. Helen glided behind my chair, and laid her hand on my shoulder; I shook it off.

"What is the matter, Cass?"

"I am going away from Char—school."

"We are all going; but not to-night."

"I am going to-night."

"So you shall, dear; but wait till after supper."

"Do you think, Helen, that I shall ever have consumption?" fumbling for my handkerchief, forgetting in whose possession it was. Charles came in at that instant, and I remembered that he had it.

"What on earth has happened to you? Oh!" she exclaimed, as I looked at her. "You were out there with Morgeson and Ben Somers," she whispered; "something has occurred; what is it?"

"You shall never know; never—never—never."

"Cassandra, that man is a devil."

"I like devils."

"The same blood rages in both of you."

"It's mulled wine,—thick and stupid."

"Nonsense."

"Will there be tea, at supper?"

"You shall have some."

"Ask Ben to order it."

"Heaven forgive us all, Cassandra!"

"Remember the tea."

Charles stood near his wife; wherever she moved afterwards he moved. I saw it, and felt that it was the shadow of something which would follow.

At last the time came for us to return. Helen had plied me with tea, and was otherwise watchful, but scarcely spoke.

"It is an age," I said, "since I left Rosville."

She raised her eyebrows merely, and asked me if I would have more tea.

"In my room," I thought, "I shall find myself again." And as I opened my door, it welcomed me with so friendly and silent an aspect, that I betrayed my grief, and it covered my misery as with a cloak.



CHAPTER XX.

Helen was called home by the illness of her father and did not return to Rosville. She would write me, she said; but it was many weeks before I received a letter. Ben Somers about this time took a fit of industry, and made a plan for what he called a well-regulated life, averring that he should always abide by it. Every hour had its duty, which must be fulfilled. He weighed his bread and meat, ate so many ounces a day, and slept watch and watch, as he nautically termed it. I guessed that the meaning of his plan was to withdraw from the self-chosen post of censor. His only alienation was an occasional disappearance for a few days. I never asked him where he went, and had never spoken to him concerning his mysterious remark about having been in Surrey. Neither had I heard anything of his being there from father. Once he told me that his father had explained the marriage of old Locke Morgeson; but that it was not clear to him that we were at all related.

In consequence of his rigorous life, I saw little of him. Though urged by Alice, he did not come to our house, and we rarely met him elsewhere. People called him eccentric, but as he was of a rich family he could afford to be, and they felt no slight by his neglect.

There was a change everywhere. The greatest change of all was in Charles. From the night of the sleigh-ride his manner toward me was totally altered. As far as I could discern, the change was a confirmed one. The days grew monotonous, but my mind avenged itself by night in dreams, which renewed our old relation in all its mysterious vitality. So strong were their impressions that each morning I expected to receive some token from him which would prove that they were not lies. As my expectation grew cold and faint, the sense of a double hallucination tormented me—the past and the present.

The winter was over. I passed it like the rest of Rosville, going out when Alice went, staying at home when she stayed. It was all one what I did, for my aspect was one of content.

Alice alone was unchanged; her spirits and pursuits were always the same. Judging by herself, if she judged at all, she perceived no change in us. Her theory regarding Charles was too firm to be shaken, and all his oddity was a matter of course. As long as I ate, and drank, and slept as usual, I too must be the same. He was not at home much. Business, kept him at the mills, where he often slept, or out of town. But the home machinery was still under his controlling hand. Not a leaf dropped in the conservatory that he did not see; not a meal was served whose slightest detail was not according to his desire. The horses were exercised, the servants managed, the children kept within bounds; nothing in the formula of our daily life was ever dropped, and yet I scarcely ever saw him! When we met, I shared his attentions. He gave me flowers; noticed my dress; spoke of the affairs of the day; but all in so public and matter-of-fact a way that I thought I must be the victim of a vicious sentimentality, or that he had amused himself with me. Either way, the sooner I cured myself of my vice the better. But my dreams continued.

"I miss something in your letters," father complained. "What is it? Would you like to come home? Your mother is failing in health—she may need you, though she says not."

I wrote him that I should come home.

"Are you prepared," he asked in return, "to remain at home for the future? Have you laid the foundation of anything by which you can abide contented, and employed? Veronica has been spending two months in New York, with the family of one of my business friends. All that she brings back serves to embellish her quiet life, not to change it. Will it be so with you?"

I wrote back, "No; but I am coming."

He wrote again of changes in Surrey. Dr. Snell had gone, library and all, and a new minister, red hot from Andover, had taken his place. An ugly new church was building. His best ship, the Locke Morgeson, was at the bottom of the Indian Ocean, he had just heard. Her loss bothered him, but his letters were kinder than ever.

I consulted with Alice about leaving the Academy. She approved my plan, but begged me not to leave her. I said nothing of my determination to that effect, feeling a strange disinclination toward owning it, though I persisted in repeating it to myself. I applied diligently to my reading, emulating Ben Somers in the regularity of my habits, and took long walks daily—a mode of exercise I had adopted since I had ceased my rides with Charles. The pale blue sky of spring over me, and the pale green grass under me, were charming perhaps; but there was the same monotony in them, as in other things. I did not frequent our old promenade, Silver Street, but pushed my walks into the outskirts of Rosville, by farms bordered with woods. My schoolmates, who were familiar with all the pleasant spots of the neighborhood, met me in groups. "Are you really taking walks like the rest of us?" they asked. "Only alone," I answered.

I bade farewell at last to Miss Prior. We parted with all friendliness and respect; from the fact, possibly, that we parted ignorant of each other. It was the most rational relation that I had ever held with any one. We parted without emotion or regret, and I started on my usual walk.

As I was returning I met Ben Somers. When he saw me he threw his cap into the air, with the information that he had done with his plans, and had ordered an indigestible supper, in honor of his resolve. As people had truly remarked, he could afford to be eccentric. He was tired of it; he had money enough to do without law. "Not as much as your cousin Morgeson, who can do without the Gospel, too."

This was the first time that he had referred to Charles since that memorable night. Trifling as his words were, they broke into the foundations of my stagnant will, and set the tide flowing once more.

"You went to Surrey."

"I was there a few hours. Your father was not at home. He asked me there, you remember. I introduced myself, therefore, and was politely received by your mother, who sent for Veronica. She came in with an occupied air, her hands full of what I thought were herbs; but they were grasses, which she had been re-arranging, she said.

"'You know my sister?' she asked, coming close, and looking at me with the most singular eyes that were ever on earth." He stopped a moment. "Not like yours, in the least," he continued. "'Cassandra is very handsome now, is she?'

"'Why, Veronica,' said your mother, 'you astonish Mr. Somers.'

"'You are not astonished,' she said with vehemence, 'you are embarrassed.'

"'Upon my soul I am,' I replied, feeling at ease as soon as I had said so.

"'Tell me, what has Cassandra been taught? Is Rosville suited to her? We are not.'

"'Veronica!' said your mother again.

"'Mother," and she shook the grasses, and made a little snow fall round her; 'what shall I say then? I am sure he knows Cassandra. What did you come here for?' turning to me again.