“‘Come one, come all! this rock shall flyFrom its firm base as soon as I.’”
“‘Come one, come all! this rock shall flyFrom its firm base as soon as I.’”
“Brave, bravo! my gallant knight. I’ll swap my domino for a laurel crown, to deck the brow of my brave champion.”
“There, there, Scottie, I cry enough! Come, let us join our friends—they are waiting for us yonder. Don’t you see the queen is beckoning to you?”
“When I received Lottie’s note requesting me to come to her immediately, you may guess how my heart fluttered—for I thought something serious had surely occurred, and but very few moments elapsed before I was at the gate in front ofMr. Rockland’s residence. It was a considerable walk from the drug-store to his residence, and I was compelled to halt in order to rest a moment before entering, as I wished to appear composed. While I was leaning against a tree wiping the perspiration from my face and panting with fatigue, I saw Lottie coming rapidly toward me. She had been watching for me.
“‘Oh, Eddie, it’s all settled!’ she exclaimed, as she caught both my hands in hers. I made a move as if I were going to take her in my arms. She gently pushed me back. ‘Don’t be quite so familiar, Eddie—can’t you see papa looking at us? Oh, such a storm as we have had here to-day! Papa ordered me to go away from his home because I wouldn’t let him tell you that I wanted our engagement broken off.”
“‘Well, why didn’t you take him at his word? you knew where you could find another home.’
“‘I did, but the good, dear old darling relented before I could pack my things, and fell to hugging and kissing me, and wouldn’t let me go.’
“‘Lottie, Mr. Rockland is really a good man, and I respect him very much—mainly because he loves you.’
“‘Indeed he is! and my heart was most broken when he ordered me to go away; but did you wish to have our engagement broken off?’
“‘No, you know I did not! What could have put such an idea as that into your mind? Mr. Rockland did not tell you I wished it ended, did he?’
“‘He didn’t say that you said so, but he said you were willing to cancel it if I would consent to it.’
“‘Ah, I see now how it is: Mr. Rockland put the case very strong in favor of his side. That was a good stroke of policy, you see, Lottie; you didn’t believe for a moment that I wanted to have the engagement canceled?’
“‘No, I did not.’
“‘I declare, Lottie, I never saw you look so pretty before.’
“‘I am truly glad that you think so; it makes me very happy to please you.’
“‘Ah! how could I be otherwise than well pleased when I know Lottie loves me? I feel like a new man since I found it out. Will my Lottie always love me?’
“‘Yes, of course I will; I am so very, very happy when you are with me, and so miserable when you are away from me. What shall become of poor me when my Eddie goes away to Philadelphia?’
“‘Let us look forward to the happy day that brings me back to my love. Let us keep our minds on the bright future, when we shall be always together.’
“‘I wish I could do that, but I cannot; I shall all the time be thinking you are ill, or that something has gone wrong with you. I should die if you were to fall ill among strangers!’
“‘I’ll take good care of myself for your sake; I’ll be prudent in all things, and let you know if anything goes wrong; but you must do the same.’
“‘Let us go in; I see Mr. Rockland waiting for you—he is going to talk to you about our engagement, and you must be careful not to offend him.’
“‘Fear nothing on that score; I think we will now come to an understanding entirely satisfactory to all parties concerned.’
“Mr. Rockland met me on the portico with his cold, placid smile, and directed me to follow him into the library. He also asked Lottie to go with us. Pointing to a seat, he requested me to take it; Lottie stood calmly by my chair, while Mr. Rockland took his usual seat on the opposite side of the table.
“‘Mr. Demar,’ he began, with his austere tone of voice, ‘I have had an interview with Lottie on the subject about which we were speaking a short while ago.’
“‘So Lottie told me, Mr. Rockland.’
“‘Her views and mine differed somewhat; but we have managed to reconcile them to some extent; and we may therefore reasonably hope to have all things amicably settled.’
“‘I am truly glad to hear it, Mr. Rockland.’
“‘Thank you, Edward; are you willing to promise me that the marriage shall be deferred until the end of two years from this date?’
“‘Indeed, Mr. Rockland, I should like very much to be able to comply with your request, but why not let the marriage be solemnized when I return from Philadelphia in the spring?’
“‘Lottie would be too young to marry then.’
“‘Grant papa’s request, Eddie,’ said Lottie; ‘I am very willing to put it off indefinitely, if you can be with me often.’
“That settled the question; so it was agreed that Lottie should be my wife at the end of two years.
“‘Come,’ said Lottie, as she took my arm, and looking up at me, her sweet little mouth puckered up in a comical shape; ‘we’ll go to the study now, as everything has been settled between you and papa; I want to show you some new flowers that I have secured; oh, they are such nice ones! They flourish better in the fall season than they do in the spring.’
“She led me through her flower garden, stopping occasionally to point out the different plants, giving a graphic description of their nature and the manner of their culture; and when we came near the summer-house the old parrot began to chatter:
“‘Ah, ha! Lottie! here we come—here we come!’
“‘Can’t he say anything but that, Lottie?’ I inquired.
“‘Oh, yes, he can talk a great deal when he takes a notion. Did you know I had a letter from Viola, Eddie?’
“‘No, have you?’
“‘Yes; let me read it to you; she writes such a nice, smooth hand, and her letter is so friendly; but here it is:
“‘New York, Aug. 16.“‘DEARLOTTIE—I must first offer an apology to you for neglecting to answer your last letter. You must not for a moment think that the delay was caused by a lack of love for you on my part. When your letter came I had not returned from my boarding school, but as soon as I came home and found your darling letter I lost no time in answering it. Oh, Lottie, I am so happy just now that I cannot find words to tell you as I should like to do. Papa has consented to let me spend the winter in Memphis, and you may look for me by the last of September. Oh, isn’t that delightful? Won’t we have lots of fun? I often think of you and your heroic little brother—but I ought not to speak of him as your little brother now, I suppose, because he must be a man by this time. I have his picture, you know, Lottie, and oh, how much I do think of it! I keep it next to my heart all the time. All the gold in California could not buy it from me. I expect Harry has changed very much since we parted—you know I was only a little child then, but now I am a great, overgrown mushroom—and as green as a half-grown gourd. Dear papa says I am pretty, but you know evidence of that kind is unreliable; still Iconfess I should like to know it was true. You may tell Harry—I suppose I ought to say Mr. Wallingford—that I have not forgotten him, and I don’t think I ever shall. I was so glad to hear that he was going to make a great lawyer of himself. Mr. Rockland says, in his letters to papa, that Mr. Wallingford possesses great talent, and will be sure to distinguish himself some day. Would you believe it, I shed lots of joyful tears when papa read the letter to me? I envy you; how happy you must be! how proud of such a brave, heroic, talented brother! You see, I am well posted in everything that concerns you and your noble brother. I often wonder if he ever thinks of the little foolish girl he kept from being crushed to death by the engine? I wonder if he has forgotten how he and I went rolling and tumbling down the embankment together! I was so much delighted at your description of your flower garden; I know I shall enjoy it very much. You people of the dear sunny South have great advantages over us in that respect. I think I should like to live in the South all the time. I suppose you knew I had a darling little brother—yes, I know you did, because I remember now that I told you of it in my other letters. Poor little fellow, he is not a healthy child at all; he is now nearly five years old, and looks like a mere baby, though papa says he will come out all right after a while. Did I ever tell you what his name was? I don’t think I did. Well, you see mamma and papa couldn’t agree on a name for him, and, to keep peace in the family, it was agreed that I should have the honor of selecting his name. What do you think I did? I named him after your heroic brother. We call him Wallie. That, you know, is an abbreviation of Wallingford. He was baptized as “Harry Wallingford Bramlett,” and papa and mamma were both delighted with the good selection I made. But I must close now, because I fear I have made this letter too long, anyway. Present my highest regards to your brother, and accept my best, truest love for yourself, and write soon to“‘Your true friend,“‘VIOLA.’
“‘New York, Aug. 16.
“‘DEARLOTTIE—I must first offer an apology to you for neglecting to answer your last letter. You must not for a moment think that the delay was caused by a lack of love for you on my part. When your letter came I had not returned from my boarding school, but as soon as I came home and found your darling letter I lost no time in answering it. Oh, Lottie, I am so happy just now that I cannot find words to tell you as I should like to do. Papa has consented to let me spend the winter in Memphis, and you may look for me by the last of September. Oh, isn’t that delightful? Won’t we have lots of fun? I often think of you and your heroic little brother—but I ought not to speak of him as your little brother now, I suppose, because he must be a man by this time. I have his picture, you know, Lottie, and oh, how much I do think of it! I keep it next to my heart all the time. All the gold in California could not buy it from me. I expect Harry has changed very much since we parted—you know I was only a little child then, but now I am a great, overgrown mushroom—and as green as a half-grown gourd. Dear papa says I am pretty, but you know evidence of that kind is unreliable; still Iconfess I should like to know it was true. You may tell Harry—I suppose I ought to say Mr. Wallingford—that I have not forgotten him, and I don’t think I ever shall. I was so glad to hear that he was going to make a great lawyer of himself. Mr. Rockland says, in his letters to papa, that Mr. Wallingford possesses great talent, and will be sure to distinguish himself some day. Would you believe it, I shed lots of joyful tears when papa read the letter to me? I envy you; how happy you must be! how proud of such a brave, heroic, talented brother! You see, I am well posted in everything that concerns you and your noble brother. I often wonder if he ever thinks of the little foolish girl he kept from being crushed to death by the engine? I wonder if he has forgotten how he and I went rolling and tumbling down the embankment together! I was so much delighted at your description of your flower garden; I know I shall enjoy it very much. You people of the dear sunny South have great advantages over us in that respect. I think I should like to live in the South all the time. I suppose you knew I had a darling little brother—yes, I know you did, because I remember now that I told you of it in my other letters. Poor little fellow, he is not a healthy child at all; he is now nearly five years old, and looks like a mere baby, though papa says he will come out all right after a while. Did I ever tell you what his name was? I don’t think I did. Well, you see mamma and papa couldn’t agree on a name for him, and, to keep peace in the family, it was agreed that I should have the honor of selecting his name. What do you think I did? I named him after your heroic brother. We call him Wallie. That, you know, is an abbreviation of Wallingford. He was baptized as “Harry Wallingford Bramlett,” and papa and mamma were both delighted with the good selection I made. But I must close now, because I fear I have made this letter too long, anyway. Present my highest regards to your brother, and accept my best, truest love for yourself, and write soon to
“‘Your true friend,“‘VIOLA.’
“‘That’s a splendid letter, Lottie, for a girl of sixteen to write,’ said I, when it was read through.
“‘She is not quite sixteen yet, either,’ said Lottie.
“‘That document conveys the best news, my darling, that I have heard since you told me you would be mine.’
“‘To what part of it do you refer?’
“‘That wherein she says she is going to spend the winter with you. It will be a great consolation for me to know, when I am so far from you, that you will have such a sweet friend for a companion. I was thinking of the long, dreary winter days and nights that you would be compelled to passthrough all alone, but now how could you be lonely with such a lively little cricket as Viola?’
“‘I dare say she will prove a great comfort to me, yet she cannot fill the aching void that will be caused by your absence.’
“As she said this her large dreamy eyes were glancing up at me, while a tear trembled in each, and I drew her head against my breast, too happy to speak. I led her to a seat, letting her fair cheek remain resting on my heart, while my mind went straying into the future. A thousand thoughts of various kinds intruded on me—some pleasant, others very different. What if Mr. Rockland should resort to strategy, during my absence, to entrap my Lottie into a marriage with Heartsell? What if he should throw his great intellect, with his vast wealth and influence into the balance against me? Would my Lottie be able to withstand it? Would she be able to do battle successfully against such odds? These unwelcome questions forced themselves upon me, causing a shudder to dart through my body. Lottie felt the shock, and exclaimed:
“‘What’s the matter? why do you tremble so? I declare, your heart made a violent jump just now, then began to flutter and knock against your breast; what does it mean?’
“‘I was thinking how I should feel if you were to cease loving me, when I went away, and should marry Mr. Heartsell!’
“She started up, looking at me reproachfully: ‘How can you talk so; didn’t you know I had rejected Mr. Heartsell’s offer?’
“‘Indeed I did not; I was not aware of the fact that he had made it, though I knew he intended to do so.’
“‘Well, he has done it, and you may be easy now.’
“‘Tell me what he said, and what you said.’
“‘Mr. Heartsell, I think, is a very nice, good man, and worthy of a true woman’s love; but I had no heart for him, because you, like a good old thief, went and stole it. I felt highly honored by Mr. Heartsell’s partiality, and told him so; but I thought it my duty to tell him the truth at once, which I did. I told him my hand and heart belonged to another. Poor fellow! he wept when I told him I loved another, andcould not love him. He said he would not give me up, but would wait until I should think better of him; and he seemed to think that I would change my mind and love him after all; but don’t you know that I can never change?’
“‘I can’t express my admiration, Lottie, for your extraordinary prudence; not one girl in a hundred would have taken the proper view in such an emergency. Of course you did right to tell Mr. Heartsell the whole truth; most girls under similar circumstances would have evaded the truth, and left the man a reasonable hope.’
“‘By the by, have you ever mentioned our engagement to brother Harry?’
“‘Oh, yes, I named it to him before I did to any one else.’
“‘And what did he think of it?’
“‘He was glad of it—said it was just what he expected and desired—congratulated me heartily—said I was a lucky fellow to be the winner of such a heart—said he knew you loved me, all the time—told me that if ever I caused you trouble he would kill me—and, to tell you the truth, Lottie, I believe he would kill any one who would bring trouble on you.’
“‘Oh, he is such a noble, generous, heroic brother! Viola loves him, and I hope they will make a match of it.’
“‘Ah, Lottie, that will never happen.’
“‘May I know the reason why you think so?’
“‘Viola is a great heiress, and you know how proud Harry is; no matter how much he might love her, he would never tell her of it. Do you know that I think the only fault Harry has is his unprecedented pride? I have been acquainted with many proud men, but there is something in Harry’s pride that places it beyond anything I ever have witnessed in other people. No, Lottie, let me advise you not to build your pyramid of hopes on a foundation of that sort.’
“‘Is Mr. Bramlett very wealthy?’
“‘Mr. Rockland tells me that he is a millionaire, and you know he has only two children.’
“‘Then I must confess that I don’t think Harry would be doing exactly right were he to seek Viola’s hand in marriage. If that’s what you refer to when you speak of his pride, I am fully prepared to indorse it.’
“The dreadful day for my departure had come at last; theawful moment in which I was to part from Lottie had come and gone. The parting words had been uttered—the bitter tears had been shed, the farewell kiss given; the long, loving embrace was over. I had handed dear Lottie, fainting, into Mrs. Rockland’s arms, and was on my way to Philadelphia.”
“I arrived in New York City in due time, and set about the work which Doctor Dodson had charged me with. When I reached Philadelphia I found a long letter from Lottie. Here it is:
“‘DEAREDDIE—Your letter was received yesterday, and if you knew how happy it made me you would write me one every day. I have read it through at least a dozen times, and every dear expression is engraved on my heart. I beseech you to take good care of yourself, and you must be sure to tell me if you ever feel the least ill. But lest I should bore you with so much talk about love matters, I will tell you something about Viola. She has been with me nearly three weeks, and is the sweetest, prettiest little cricket that any one ever looked upon—not so little, however, as you might think, for she is as tall as I am. She has a most charming disposition—as gentle as a dove—and can sing, oh, so sweetly! It would make you weep to hear her play on the guitar, while singing one of her plaintive songs. She is complete mistress of the piano and guitar. I had been flattering myself that I was a pretty good musician, but when I heard Viola play my conceit oozed out. She is in love with Harry, but just as I expected, he is too proud to let her know how he loves her. He maintains a dignified stiffness of manner, when with her, that chills me to the heart and frightens her. I wonder if this hateful money of Mr. Bramlett’s is going to break these two young, loving hearts? Viola has Harry’s picture—wears it in her bosom all the time; I saw her kissing it the other day and crying over it, when she thought no one was near. What a darling little wife she would make for Harry, if he would only ask her! I wish I had a gold mine, so I could give it to him, and make his fortune equal to hers. I believe he loves her fervently, and would tell her so, but for the hateful gulf that Mr. Bramlett’s gold has placed between them. I fear that much sorrow is in store for both of them; but let us hope for the best. Viola and I are rooming together; poor old Bob dozes on the hearth in my room all the time since the weather got too cold for him to stay in his house. He has quit quarreling with old Roderick, and they have becomevery good friends now. The parrot comes up to my room every night, and takes his snooze in the closet. He has learned to speak several new words since you went away. It would amuse you to hear him try to say Philadelphia; but he can’t do it—the word is too big for him. I was trying to teach him to tell where you were living, and when he failed to say Philadelphia we compromised on New York, because he can say that as plainly as I can.“‘Mr. Heartsell has called on me several times since you left. Poor fellow, he looks so sad! He treats me with such tender consideration—never mentions the subject; I suppose he has given up all hope in that direction. I can’t help having the very highest respect for him; but do not become jealous, for I don’t love him the least bit. How could I love any one else when my Eddie has taken my heart away with him?“‘I think poor old Bob will die before you come home—he is very old, you know; I never let him want for anything—how could I, as I think of the time when we were poor homeless tramps? Do you ever let your mind wander back to those old days when we were all tramps? Have you forgotten the cloth shoes you made for me while you were convalescing at Mrs. Holly’s farmhouse? I have got those old shoes yet; I am preserving them as relics of the happy days of old.“‘Papa says that he will have to mortgage his estate to buy postage stamps if I don’t quit writing so many long letters to you. I don’t care if he does—I mean to write a long letter every day.“‘The autumn weather has been delightful, and you may guess Viola and I have made good use of it. She is the liveliest girl I ever saw—always mirthful and happy, except when Harry gets on his high horse of pride; then a shade of melancholy chases away the jolly look. Alas! what misery will ensue if Harry does not conquer this strange, mysterious passion called pride. Poor girl! she does not know that it is the hateful money that keeps Harry and her so far apart. Harry is not happy, as he was before Viola came, and I begin to see a cloud of sorrow rising in the distance which is sure to burst over their heads, unless something intervenes to prevent it. Oh, love, love, love! what a wonderful thing thou art! How much happiness canst thou give when circumstances are favorable, and what misery when unfavorable! When I think of what exquisite delight your love has given me I can’t realize the fact that the same kind of passion has caused so much misery to others. I am so selfish in my love, yet so happy; but then, when I think of the many long, dreary days that must elapse before I shall see you, I am in despair. I sometimes imagine that I should like to fall into a trance, and not wake up till you return. The old clock on the mantel goes on ticking away deliberately, while an age seems to intervene between the strokes. Oh, how can I wait so long before I shall lookagain in those dear eyes? Your eyes always looked so tenderly down into mine; I could read your thoughts when gazing in your eyes. You were always so tender and gentle with me, in the good old days; when my feet were bleeding from their many wounds, I remember you lifted me in your arms—when I was unable to walk—and carried me to the banks of the little brook and bathed my feet so tenderly! Do you never let your mind recall those happy days? I call them happy days, though they were not unmixed with sadness—but those were the days in which you won my heart. Do you remember the evening when old Bob came to our camp looking so poor and miserable? What a lucky thing it was he happened to take it into his head to follow me! But you will be laughing at me when you read this nonsense. Well, do you know, darling, I don’t care how much you laugh at me? I rather like it, when I know you love me so well. Viola is looking over my shoulder just now, telling me to give you her highest regards; and I imagine it makes her sad to know that my love is returned, while she thinks hers for Harry is not. Harry says he wishes to be kindly remembered by you; he thinks you are the best fellow in the world—shows his good sense, don’t it, darling? Well, I suppose when you read this long letter you will be tired; but I could write all day to you and never tire. I could write a volume about love, and then not have space sufficient to describe all I feel for my darling; but I reckon I had better halt here. Good-by, and don’t forget the kisses I have sent in this letter. Your faithful, loving“‘LOTTIE.’
“‘DEAREDDIE—Your letter was received yesterday, and if you knew how happy it made me you would write me one every day. I have read it through at least a dozen times, and every dear expression is engraved on my heart. I beseech you to take good care of yourself, and you must be sure to tell me if you ever feel the least ill. But lest I should bore you with so much talk about love matters, I will tell you something about Viola. She has been with me nearly three weeks, and is the sweetest, prettiest little cricket that any one ever looked upon—not so little, however, as you might think, for she is as tall as I am. She has a most charming disposition—as gentle as a dove—and can sing, oh, so sweetly! It would make you weep to hear her play on the guitar, while singing one of her plaintive songs. She is complete mistress of the piano and guitar. I had been flattering myself that I was a pretty good musician, but when I heard Viola play my conceit oozed out. She is in love with Harry, but just as I expected, he is too proud to let her know how he loves her. He maintains a dignified stiffness of manner, when with her, that chills me to the heart and frightens her. I wonder if this hateful money of Mr. Bramlett’s is going to break these two young, loving hearts? Viola has Harry’s picture—wears it in her bosom all the time; I saw her kissing it the other day and crying over it, when she thought no one was near. What a darling little wife she would make for Harry, if he would only ask her! I wish I had a gold mine, so I could give it to him, and make his fortune equal to hers. I believe he loves her fervently, and would tell her so, but for the hateful gulf that Mr. Bramlett’s gold has placed between them. I fear that much sorrow is in store for both of them; but let us hope for the best. Viola and I are rooming together; poor old Bob dozes on the hearth in my room all the time since the weather got too cold for him to stay in his house. He has quit quarreling with old Roderick, and they have becomevery good friends now. The parrot comes up to my room every night, and takes his snooze in the closet. He has learned to speak several new words since you went away. It would amuse you to hear him try to say Philadelphia; but he can’t do it—the word is too big for him. I was trying to teach him to tell where you were living, and when he failed to say Philadelphia we compromised on New York, because he can say that as plainly as I can.
“‘Mr. Heartsell has called on me several times since you left. Poor fellow, he looks so sad! He treats me with such tender consideration—never mentions the subject; I suppose he has given up all hope in that direction. I can’t help having the very highest respect for him; but do not become jealous, for I don’t love him the least bit. How could I love any one else when my Eddie has taken my heart away with him?
“‘I think poor old Bob will die before you come home—he is very old, you know; I never let him want for anything—how could I, as I think of the time when we were poor homeless tramps? Do you ever let your mind wander back to those old days when we were all tramps? Have you forgotten the cloth shoes you made for me while you were convalescing at Mrs. Holly’s farmhouse? I have got those old shoes yet; I am preserving them as relics of the happy days of old.
“‘Papa says that he will have to mortgage his estate to buy postage stamps if I don’t quit writing so many long letters to you. I don’t care if he does—I mean to write a long letter every day.
“‘The autumn weather has been delightful, and you may guess Viola and I have made good use of it. She is the liveliest girl I ever saw—always mirthful and happy, except when Harry gets on his high horse of pride; then a shade of melancholy chases away the jolly look. Alas! what misery will ensue if Harry does not conquer this strange, mysterious passion called pride. Poor girl! she does not know that it is the hateful money that keeps Harry and her so far apart. Harry is not happy, as he was before Viola came, and I begin to see a cloud of sorrow rising in the distance which is sure to burst over their heads, unless something intervenes to prevent it. Oh, love, love, love! what a wonderful thing thou art! How much happiness canst thou give when circumstances are favorable, and what misery when unfavorable! When I think of what exquisite delight your love has given me I can’t realize the fact that the same kind of passion has caused so much misery to others. I am so selfish in my love, yet so happy; but then, when I think of the many long, dreary days that must elapse before I shall see you, I am in despair. I sometimes imagine that I should like to fall into a trance, and not wake up till you return. The old clock on the mantel goes on ticking away deliberately, while an age seems to intervene between the strokes. Oh, how can I wait so long before I shall lookagain in those dear eyes? Your eyes always looked so tenderly down into mine; I could read your thoughts when gazing in your eyes. You were always so tender and gentle with me, in the good old days; when my feet were bleeding from their many wounds, I remember you lifted me in your arms—when I was unable to walk—and carried me to the banks of the little brook and bathed my feet so tenderly! Do you never let your mind recall those happy days? I call them happy days, though they were not unmixed with sadness—but those were the days in which you won my heart. Do you remember the evening when old Bob came to our camp looking so poor and miserable? What a lucky thing it was he happened to take it into his head to follow me! But you will be laughing at me when you read this nonsense. Well, do you know, darling, I don’t care how much you laugh at me? I rather like it, when I know you love me so well. Viola is looking over my shoulder just now, telling me to give you her highest regards; and I imagine it makes her sad to know that my love is returned, while she thinks hers for Harry is not. Harry says he wishes to be kindly remembered by you; he thinks you are the best fellow in the world—shows his good sense, don’t it, darling? Well, I suppose when you read this long letter you will be tired; but I could write all day to you and never tire. I could write a volume about love, and then not have space sufficient to describe all I feel for my darling; but I reckon I had better halt here. Good-by, and don’t forget the kisses I have sent in this letter. Your faithful, loving
“‘LOTTIE.’
“I often think that men who never loved are not capable of understanding the wonderful mystery, because they are often heard to speak of it as simple nonsense—a foolish weakness, only known to weak minds. I have been told that many a man has lived a long life, and died without ever having felt the charming influence of true love; if they did, they died in ignorance of what real happiness was. To say that I read Lottie’s sweet letter a thousand times would, perhaps, be an exaggeration—to say I only read it once would be short of the mark; I read it a great many times. But I must hasten on, and not consume your time with too much talk about my dear Lottie, as I shall have many thrilling events to describe—events that occurred after I had finished my attendance at the lectures. I will, however, ask permission to read one of my letters to Lottie, after which I promise to hasten on to the stirring events which really constitute the gist of this story.
“‘DEARLOTTIE—Your highly appreciated letter was here when I arrived, and were I to exhaust Webster’s unabridged, I am sure I could find no words adequate to describe the pleasure I felt while perusing it. You inquired if I ever let my mind wander back to the old days, when we were homeless tramps. Ah, yes, Lottie! my mind has traveled a thousand times over every path where your dear feet have trod. I can call to mind every little trifling circumstance that was in any manner connected with you. I have seen nothing in the shape of a woman that can begin to compare with my Lottie.“‘I am stopping at the Girard House, on Chestnut street—have comfortable quarters on the second floor, fronting the street. That is one of the most beautiful streets in the city. Every evening it is crowded with splendid equipages and handsome ladies, but none so beautiful as my Lottie. Independence Hall is situated on this street; I spent one whole day looking at the quaint old relics that are to be seen there. The old bell, whose brazen tongue proclaimed the birth of a new nation nearly a hundred years ago, is there still. The heavy old carved chairs that were used by the members of the Continental Congress may be seen in the very places where they stood when occupied by those heroic old patriots. A life-size portrait of George III. hangs on the wall. His youthful features have no expression that would indicate the tyrant. The old flint-lock pistols used by Lafayette during the war of independence are great curiosities in themselves. Washington’s camp-chest may be seen, with the cooking utensils used while commanding the American army; all put together would scarcely weigh fifty pounds. A common lieutenant of the present day would tender his resignation, if he were required to reduce the bulk of his camp equipage to that used by the Commander-in-Chief in 1776. This is a fast age, you know, and ideas have changed since the honest days of old. Strange reflections crowded on my mind as I gazed on those dear old relics. Where are all those brave old soldiers now? Where are all the heroic men and beautiful women who inhabited this continent then? All dead, all gone; perhaps not a living soul can now be found on the earth who heard the old bell proclaim the notes of liberty to the people in 1776.“‘Philadelphia is a beautiful city—so clean, so quiet, so charming; everything so systematic. I think I should like to live here, but for the severely cold winters. I visited Girard College the other day, and would you believe it, Lottie, a man at the gate asked me if I was a preacher. Now, don’t I look like a preacher? Have you ever imagined that I, in any manner, resembled one? Of course not, yet he did ask me the strange question. I, of course, answered promptly, No! and then he allowed me to go in. My curiosity was roused, and I didn’t stop till I learned the reasons why the question was put to me. Mr. Girard inserted a clause in his will that no minister of the gospel should ever be permitted to enter the inclosure.“There are many things to amuse and instruct one in this sober old city, and I mean to give you a more elaborate history of them in my next letter. I don’t think I ever shall make a very great surgeon, because the dissecting room is a very unpleasant place to me. When engaged in it I can’t for the life of me keep my mind on the business before me, but, in spite of me, it will go straying off into the realms of philosophy. The first time I entered the dissecting room I felt unusually sad; the subject was a young man of powerful frame, well-shaped limbs, brawny chest and handsome face, whom I supposed to be about my own age. A feeling of horror thrilled through my whole frame as I saw the sharp, glittering steel inserted in his white flesh. I then and there became convinced that I never should master the science of surgery, if that was the only way it could be done. When the dead man’s brain and heart were taken out, I took the heart in my left hand and the brain in the other, seated myself as far away as I could without leaving the room, and began to philosophize in a most singular manner. What is this little dark red lump of flesh that I hold in my left hand? Answer—The human heart, the supposed seat of life, the little governor that regulates the quantity of blood that each tiny vein is entitled to as its share. This little lump of flesh puts all the small pumps in motion that move the red life through the human body. This little insignificant thing is the great throne where love holds his court; where all the passions assemble round to pay homage to the king of love. In what corner of this little ball does love hold his court? Where is the identical spot? How is it we can feel it, and not see it? How can so much delicious joy find room in this little bulk? How can it produce such heavenly joys, such ecstatic bliss, as I feel in my love for my Lottie? Then again, how can so small a bulk suffer such untold, indescribable torture as we endure when we love some beautiful object who returns scorn for true love? As I held the heart in my hand, I thought of Shakespeare’s wonderful creations of beauty, and asked myself the question, Was his great heart like this? How could a man possessing a little heart like this, compose such soul-inspiring poetry? Then I thought perhaps it was the brain where all those beautiful things originated, and I turned my attention to it. What was it? Nothing but a few ounces of soft, fatty substance. Is this the great spring from whence such brilliant ideas flow? Was the great Bard of Avon’s brain like this? How could such an insignificant mess of fat give life to such soul-stirring sentiment, such heaven-born inspiration? Was this little gob of fat all that Napoleon had to depend on to enable him to overturn kingdoms and to make kings out of peasants? Did Alexander and Cæsar have brains like this? Did Byron’s base of thought depend on such a slender foundation as this? The more questions I propounded to myself on the subject the more I became bewildered. Scientists assert that the brain is the dome of thought; but if it is so, I must say that the dome of thought is a very insignificant dome.No, it is the soul that dwells in the head, sitting back on its throne, that directs and moves everything. It is not dependent on this little lump of fat for its existence, nor is it in any manner indebted to it for the thoughts that man produces. The soul sits on a throne in a man’s hand, and issues orders, like a king from his earthly throne; all parts of the body are moved by orders from the soul; just as great armies are moved by orders of the king. When the body falls into decay the soul steps out uninjured, and reports to its Creator for duty. Who made this incomprehensible thing called a soul? God. Who made——? Stop right here and seek to know no more; trust everything to that mysterious Power who created this admirable machine called man.“‘“What are you doing, Mr. Demar?” inquired the professor; “you have been looking at those little organs a long time—what have you discovered?”“‘“Enough to convince me that man is a poor, helpless, ignorant thing, unable to tell anything about his own creation.”“‘I then took a sharp knife and began to dissect the heart. I cut it into a hundred little slices, looking with all the eyes I had to see where love resided, but my search was in vain. Was my Lottie’s heart like this? Was my own heart like it? If so, why could I find nothing that would indicate the part where love dwelt? I knew from the feelings of my own heart that love dwelt there; but with all my surgery I could not find it. I was so nervous I did not sleep a wink that night and I think I shall not attempt to pry into the secrets of nature any more. When I know that my Lottie loves me dearly, and that I adore her beyond everything on earth, that is enough for me, and I shall not again attempt to investigate secrets which God never intended weak mortals to know. I am happy, oh, so very happy! no matter how or wherefore; I am happy, and that’s sufficient.“‘I was exceedingly sorry to hear that Harry still clings to his absurd notions of pride; it will kill all pleasure, destroy all hopes of happiness, unless he discards it. Why should he reject the love of such a charming woman, when it would make him the happiest man in Memphis if he would lay aside his foolish pride? I fully concur with you in the idea that his conduct is going to produce unspeakable sorrow. I knew that Viola loved him when she was a mere child, and she is worthy of any man’s love. Use all your powers of persuasion, my dear Lottie, on him; see if you cannot convince him of his error. I know he loves you dearly, and has a high opinion of your judgment, and I trust you may be able to induce him to change his mind. I am sorry to be compelled, however, to tell you that the reports you have heard regarding Mr. Bramlett’s wealth have not been at all exaggerated. His estate is estimated at ten to fifteen hundred thousand dollars. I was invited to dine with him during my stay in New York. I accepted the invitation, and was delighted with the entertainment. The dinner party consisted of a dozen invited guests besidesthe family—all persons of distinction, except myself, of course. One ex-Governor, one United States Senator, one Brigadier-General, and two railway presidents; the others were newspaper men, and bankers, and two literary ladies. Mrs. Bramlett, knowing how green I was in such matters, took charge of me at the start, and piloted me through so skillfully that I was not at all embarrassed. To describe the grand display of wealth that met my eyes would be, indeed, a difficult task. Mrs. Bramlett made a great many inquiries about Harry; so did Mr. Bramlett. They both seem to think a great deal of him, and, no doubt, would readily consent for Viola to marry him. Mr. Bramlett is by no means a gold worshiper; he has made his fortune by energetic work and close attention to business, is very liberal with his money, and exceedingly popular with the business men of New York. Mrs. Bramlett is a confirmed invalid, though she is one of the best little women I ever knew. But, dear Lottie, I must not undertake to tell everything in one letter, but will reserve something to be said in my next. Having kissed this paper a hundred times for you, I now bid my darling angel good night. Yours, forever and ever,“‘EDDIE.’
“‘DEARLOTTIE—Your highly appreciated letter was here when I arrived, and were I to exhaust Webster’s unabridged, I am sure I could find no words adequate to describe the pleasure I felt while perusing it. You inquired if I ever let my mind wander back to the old days, when we were homeless tramps. Ah, yes, Lottie! my mind has traveled a thousand times over every path where your dear feet have trod. I can call to mind every little trifling circumstance that was in any manner connected with you. I have seen nothing in the shape of a woman that can begin to compare with my Lottie.
“‘I am stopping at the Girard House, on Chestnut street—have comfortable quarters on the second floor, fronting the street. That is one of the most beautiful streets in the city. Every evening it is crowded with splendid equipages and handsome ladies, but none so beautiful as my Lottie. Independence Hall is situated on this street; I spent one whole day looking at the quaint old relics that are to be seen there. The old bell, whose brazen tongue proclaimed the birth of a new nation nearly a hundred years ago, is there still. The heavy old carved chairs that were used by the members of the Continental Congress may be seen in the very places where they stood when occupied by those heroic old patriots. A life-size portrait of George III. hangs on the wall. His youthful features have no expression that would indicate the tyrant. The old flint-lock pistols used by Lafayette during the war of independence are great curiosities in themselves. Washington’s camp-chest may be seen, with the cooking utensils used while commanding the American army; all put together would scarcely weigh fifty pounds. A common lieutenant of the present day would tender his resignation, if he were required to reduce the bulk of his camp equipage to that used by the Commander-in-Chief in 1776. This is a fast age, you know, and ideas have changed since the honest days of old. Strange reflections crowded on my mind as I gazed on those dear old relics. Where are all those brave old soldiers now? Where are all the heroic men and beautiful women who inhabited this continent then? All dead, all gone; perhaps not a living soul can now be found on the earth who heard the old bell proclaim the notes of liberty to the people in 1776.
“‘Philadelphia is a beautiful city—so clean, so quiet, so charming; everything so systematic. I think I should like to live here, but for the severely cold winters. I visited Girard College the other day, and would you believe it, Lottie, a man at the gate asked me if I was a preacher. Now, don’t I look like a preacher? Have you ever imagined that I, in any manner, resembled one? Of course not, yet he did ask me the strange question. I, of course, answered promptly, No! and then he allowed me to go in. My curiosity was roused, and I didn’t stop till I learned the reasons why the question was put to me. Mr. Girard inserted a clause in his will that no minister of the gospel should ever be permitted to enter the inclosure.
“There are many things to amuse and instruct one in this sober old city, and I mean to give you a more elaborate history of them in my next letter. I don’t think I ever shall make a very great surgeon, because the dissecting room is a very unpleasant place to me. When engaged in it I can’t for the life of me keep my mind on the business before me, but, in spite of me, it will go straying off into the realms of philosophy. The first time I entered the dissecting room I felt unusually sad; the subject was a young man of powerful frame, well-shaped limbs, brawny chest and handsome face, whom I supposed to be about my own age. A feeling of horror thrilled through my whole frame as I saw the sharp, glittering steel inserted in his white flesh. I then and there became convinced that I never should master the science of surgery, if that was the only way it could be done. When the dead man’s brain and heart were taken out, I took the heart in my left hand and the brain in the other, seated myself as far away as I could without leaving the room, and began to philosophize in a most singular manner. What is this little dark red lump of flesh that I hold in my left hand? Answer—The human heart, the supposed seat of life, the little governor that regulates the quantity of blood that each tiny vein is entitled to as its share. This little lump of flesh puts all the small pumps in motion that move the red life through the human body. This little insignificant thing is the great throne where love holds his court; where all the passions assemble round to pay homage to the king of love. In what corner of this little ball does love hold his court? Where is the identical spot? How is it we can feel it, and not see it? How can so much delicious joy find room in this little bulk? How can it produce such heavenly joys, such ecstatic bliss, as I feel in my love for my Lottie? Then again, how can so small a bulk suffer such untold, indescribable torture as we endure when we love some beautiful object who returns scorn for true love? As I held the heart in my hand, I thought of Shakespeare’s wonderful creations of beauty, and asked myself the question, Was his great heart like this? How could a man possessing a little heart like this, compose such soul-inspiring poetry? Then I thought perhaps it was the brain where all those beautiful things originated, and I turned my attention to it. What was it? Nothing but a few ounces of soft, fatty substance. Is this the great spring from whence such brilliant ideas flow? Was the great Bard of Avon’s brain like this? How could such an insignificant mess of fat give life to such soul-stirring sentiment, such heaven-born inspiration? Was this little gob of fat all that Napoleon had to depend on to enable him to overturn kingdoms and to make kings out of peasants? Did Alexander and Cæsar have brains like this? Did Byron’s base of thought depend on such a slender foundation as this? The more questions I propounded to myself on the subject the more I became bewildered. Scientists assert that the brain is the dome of thought; but if it is so, I must say that the dome of thought is a very insignificant dome.No, it is the soul that dwells in the head, sitting back on its throne, that directs and moves everything. It is not dependent on this little lump of fat for its existence, nor is it in any manner indebted to it for the thoughts that man produces. The soul sits on a throne in a man’s hand, and issues orders, like a king from his earthly throne; all parts of the body are moved by orders from the soul; just as great armies are moved by orders of the king. When the body falls into decay the soul steps out uninjured, and reports to its Creator for duty. Who made this incomprehensible thing called a soul? God. Who made——? Stop right here and seek to know no more; trust everything to that mysterious Power who created this admirable machine called man.
“‘“What are you doing, Mr. Demar?” inquired the professor; “you have been looking at those little organs a long time—what have you discovered?”
“‘“Enough to convince me that man is a poor, helpless, ignorant thing, unable to tell anything about his own creation.”
“‘I then took a sharp knife and began to dissect the heart. I cut it into a hundred little slices, looking with all the eyes I had to see where love resided, but my search was in vain. Was my Lottie’s heart like this? Was my own heart like it? If so, why could I find nothing that would indicate the part where love dwelt? I knew from the feelings of my own heart that love dwelt there; but with all my surgery I could not find it. I was so nervous I did not sleep a wink that night and I think I shall not attempt to pry into the secrets of nature any more. When I know that my Lottie loves me dearly, and that I adore her beyond everything on earth, that is enough for me, and I shall not again attempt to investigate secrets which God never intended weak mortals to know. I am happy, oh, so very happy! no matter how or wherefore; I am happy, and that’s sufficient.
“‘I was exceedingly sorry to hear that Harry still clings to his absurd notions of pride; it will kill all pleasure, destroy all hopes of happiness, unless he discards it. Why should he reject the love of such a charming woman, when it would make him the happiest man in Memphis if he would lay aside his foolish pride? I fully concur with you in the idea that his conduct is going to produce unspeakable sorrow. I knew that Viola loved him when she was a mere child, and she is worthy of any man’s love. Use all your powers of persuasion, my dear Lottie, on him; see if you cannot convince him of his error. I know he loves you dearly, and has a high opinion of your judgment, and I trust you may be able to induce him to change his mind. I am sorry to be compelled, however, to tell you that the reports you have heard regarding Mr. Bramlett’s wealth have not been at all exaggerated. His estate is estimated at ten to fifteen hundred thousand dollars. I was invited to dine with him during my stay in New York. I accepted the invitation, and was delighted with the entertainment. The dinner party consisted of a dozen invited guests besidesthe family—all persons of distinction, except myself, of course. One ex-Governor, one United States Senator, one Brigadier-General, and two railway presidents; the others were newspaper men, and bankers, and two literary ladies. Mrs. Bramlett, knowing how green I was in such matters, took charge of me at the start, and piloted me through so skillfully that I was not at all embarrassed. To describe the grand display of wealth that met my eyes would be, indeed, a difficult task. Mrs. Bramlett made a great many inquiries about Harry; so did Mr. Bramlett. They both seem to think a great deal of him, and, no doubt, would readily consent for Viola to marry him. Mr. Bramlett is by no means a gold worshiper; he has made his fortune by energetic work and close attention to business, is very liberal with his money, and exceedingly popular with the business men of New York. Mrs. Bramlett is a confirmed invalid, though she is one of the best little women I ever knew. But, dear Lottie, I must not undertake to tell everything in one letter, but will reserve something to be said in my next. Having kissed this paper a hundred times for you, I now bid my darling angel good night. Yours, forever and ever,
“‘EDDIE.’
“I had been in Philadelphia but a short time when the news of Mr. Bramlett’s death reached me—and Lottie informed me, by letter, that Viola was overwhelmed with grief at the loss of her father, and that she had immediately started home, accompanied by Harry. I was glad to learn that Harry had gone home with her, for I still clung to the idea that Viola would yet be his wife. I was satisfied that she soon would be left all alone, for her mother’s health was wretched, and it was certain she would not long survive her husband. I received a letter from Harry, soon after his arrival in New York, and as it has an intimate connection with this narrative, I think I had better read it now:
“‘Dear Edward—I presume you have heard of the death of Mr. Bramlett, as sister Lottie promised to give you the information. His death has cast a cloud over Viola’s young life; she loved her father devotedly, and is plunged in despair at his sudden death. Misfortunes, it seems, never visit us singly, but most always come crowding on us in platoons. Mrs. Bramlett is dying now—we don’t think she will last more than twenty-four hours longer. Poor Viola! I pity her from the bottom of my heart. I am so glad I consented to accompany her home, and that I can be with her during this awful affliction! She is the most amiable, charming girl I ever knew; the sweetest disposition, the gentlest manners—and I believe I might say the most beautiful, too. I willtell you a great secret, if you will keep it to yourself—I am desperately in love with Viola—nay, to tell you the whole truth, I adore her—and my love is returned without discount; I might say with a good interest; but alas! I can never marry her, you know. There is an impassable gulf that separates us. I should despise myself if I thought that I was a sneaking fortune-hunter. I would look upon myself as a disgraced, unworthy, mean fellow, and so would everybody else, were I to take advantage of that poor girl’s situation.“‘Mr. Bramlett made a will placing all his property in the hands of trustees, to be divided equally between Viola and her brother, Harry W., both to have control of their respective shares on arriving at the age of twenty-one years. Mrs. Bramlett was amply provided for under the will, but she will not live to enjoy the benefits of her husband’s generosity. Stanley Ragland, a half-brother of Mr. Bramlett’s, is named in the will as guardian to Viola and her brother. Mr. Ragland resides in Memphis—a lawyer, though I don’t think he is engaged in the practice of his profession now. I am glad to know that Viola is to reside permanently in Memphis; it will be a consolation to see her now and then, even if she is to be some other man’s wife. I never shall see another happy moment after the day that Viola is wedded, and, as a matter of course, she will not remain single long. Memphis will swarm with unscrupulous fortune-hunters as soon as Viola arrives, and it becomes known that she is an heiress to a great fortune. I shall remain here until after Mrs. Bramlett’s funeral, for the purpose of accompanying Viola and her brother to Memphis. As I have already said, the poor woman cannot possibly survive more than two days longer. Viola’s grief is crushing her young heart, and I think it best to take her away from here as soon as possible. Her brother is a handsome, well-disposed boy, and I think I shall like him very much; he is a bright, lively little fellow, and has become very much attached to me. I am proud to have such a boy named after me; that, you know, was done by Viola—which, you perceive, is another evidence of her affection for me.“‘I shall be glad to hear from you as soon as I get home, and shall expect you to write often. Poor Lottie! she hated so much to part with Viola; they had become true friends—loved each other fervently; she will be quite lonely until we get home. I have extended this communication much longer than I intended, and must apologize to you for it. With many wishes for your good health and happiness, I am,“‘Yours most truly,“‘HARRYWALLINGFORD.’
“‘Dear Edward—I presume you have heard of the death of Mr. Bramlett, as sister Lottie promised to give you the information. His death has cast a cloud over Viola’s young life; she loved her father devotedly, and is plunged in despair at his sudden death. Misfortunes, it seems, never visit us singly, but most always come crowding on us in platoons. Mrs. Bramlett is dying now—we don’t think she will last more than twenty-four hours longer. Poor Viola! I pity her from the bottom of my heart. I am so glad I consented to accompany her home, and that I can be with her during this awful affliction! She is the most amiable, charming girl I ever knew; the sweetest disposition, the gentlest manners—and I believe I might say the most beautiful, too. I willtell you a great secret, if you will keep it to yourself—I am desperately in love with Viola—nay, to tell you the whole truth, I adore her—and my love is returned without discount; I might say with a good interest; but alas! I can never marry her, you know. There is an impassable gulf that separates us. I should despise myself if I thought that I was a sneaking fortune-hunter. I would look upon myself as a disgraced, unworthy, mean fellow, and so would everybody else, were I to take advantage of that poor girl’s situation.
“‘Mr. Bramlett made a will placing all his property in the hands of trustees, to be divided equally between Viola and her brother, Harry W., both to have control of their respective shares on arriving at the age of twenty-one years. Mrs. Bramlett was amply provided for under the will, but she will not live to enjoy the benefits of her husband’s generosity. Stanley Ragland, a half-brother of Mr. Bramlett’s, is named in the will as guardian to Viola and her brother. Mr. Ragland resides in Memphis—a lawyer, though I don’t think he is engaged in the practice of his profession now. I am glad to know that Viola is to reside permanently in Memphis; it will be a consolation to see her now and then, even if she is to be some other man’s wife. I never shall see another happy moment after the day that Viola is wedded, and, as a matter of course, she will not remain single long. Memphis will swarm with unscrupulous fortune-hunters as soon as Viola arrives, and it becomes known that she is an heiress to a great fortune. I shall remain here until after Mrs. Bramlett’s funeral, for the purpose of accompanying Viola and her brother to Memphis. As I have already said, the poor woman cannot possibly survive more than two days longer. Viola’s grief is crushing her young heart, and I think it best to take her away from here as soon as possible. Her brother is a handsome, well-disposed boy, and I think I shall like him very much; he is a bright, lively little fellow, and has become very much attached to me. I am proud to have such a boy named after me; that, you know, was done by Viola—which, you perceive, is another evidence of her affection for me.
“‘I shall be glad to hear from you as soon as I get home, and shall expect you to write often. Poor Lottie! she hated so much to part with Viola; they had become true friends—loved each other fervently; she will be quite lonely until we get home. I have extended this communication much longer than I intended, and must apologize to you for it. With many wishes for your good health and happiness, I am,
“‘Yours most truly,“‘HARRYWALLINGFORD.’
“Three days after Harry’s first letter reached me I received another announcing the death of Mrs. Bramlett, and informing me that he would start for Memphis, in company with the two orphans, on the following Monday, with a view of placing them with their guardian. About two months after Viola had arrived at her new home, with Mr. Ragland’s family, I received another long letter from Harry, the perusal of which caused me much pain; and, as I think it would assist me on with this history, I will read it now:
“‘Dear Eddie—It is with a heavy heart that I write this communication, because things are not going on well here by any means; and I would not distress you with a history of our troubles, but I know you must learn of them sooner or later. Viola has changed very much since she arrived here two months ago. She is by no means like the same girl she was when she came here last fall. There is a breach between her and me that grows wider every day—since she became aware of my determination not to place myself in a situation where the world would be justified in applying the dishonorable name of fortune-hunter to me. I was alone with Viola one day in Lottie’s flower garden, happy to be near one I loved so devotedly. I think I must have lost control of myself—I was so completely overcome with my passion that I scarcely knew what I was doing. I think she concluded that I was about to make a declaration of my love for her, and to make her an offer of marriage. I am sure I do not know exactly what I did say; but I will try to tell you the substance of what occurred. She was pinning a rose on my breast, while her sweet lips were near mine, and I seized her hand and kissed it.“‘“Miss Bramlett,” said I, “how beautiful you look to-day. Do you know that I think you are the most charming girl in the world?”“‘“How should I know your thoughts, Mr. Wallingford, about anything, when you are so cold and formal with me? You always talk to me as if I were a mere stranger, whom you had never met before.”“‘“Don’t call me Mr. Wallingford, I beseech you; speaking of coldness, that makes me shiver.”“‘“It is a poor rule that won’t work both ways; you made it, and should not now complain of my adopting it.”“‘“The retort is just, and I have no right to complain; but weare both getting to be quite formal of late; nevertheless, I may be permitted to think and speak of your great beauty, I hope, without offending you.”“‘“Oh, no offense, I assure you, Mr. Wallingford—I am used to flattery, and it does not make me vain at all.”“‘“No doubt you are often annoyed with compliments, but I was only speaking the honest truth when I said I thought you were the most beautiful creature I ever saw.”“‘“Indeed, I am much gratified to know that you don’t think me ugly. I never saw but one gentleman whom I thought was extra handsome; but, alas! he has a heart as cold as an iceberg, and is too proud to be happy.”‘“I knew in an instant to whom she alluded, and I felt my heart begin to melt at once.“‘“May I know the name of this wonderful paragon?’ I inquired, as I gazed eagerly into her expressive eyes.“‘“Oh, never mind his name—he is a particular friend of mine, anyway.”“‘“Is he nothing more than a friend, Miss Bramlett?”“‘“If he is, he is too proud to say so. Like Achilles, he wraps himself up with his cloak of selfishness, and smiles at other people’s woes.”“‘I still held her little hand in mine, every now and then pressing it to my lips.“‘“Viola, how can you be so cruel, when you know how miserable I am?”“‘“I had no idea that you were miserable; pray what has caused it?”“‘“I love one whose high position places her so far above my humble sphere that I know she never can be mine.”“‘“We are all equals in the eyes of God, and the accidents of birth or fortune should make no difference with us—the worth of the man should be measured according to his deeds.”“‘“No doubt your theory is altogether correct, but you know that the world takes a different view of it”“‘“A man who strives to please the world in all things may expect to please himself in none. For my part, I think the world’s a humbug, and society a tyrant; and the man who worships either will make himself miserable. I believe it was Mr. Pope, in his ‘Essay on Man,’ who said,“‘“‘Honor and shame from no condition rise,Act well your part, there all the honor lies;Worth makes the man, and want of it the fellow;The rest is all but leather and prunella.’”“‘“Viola, don’t you know that I have been loving you devotedly ever since we first met?”“‘Her head sank down, and she turned her face from me to hide the tears that were streaming from her eyes. I was crazywith passion; my brain was on fire. I forgot my pride, I lost my self-possession; I was, for the time being, raving mad with love; I took her in my arms and held her against my heart—her head resting on my shoulder. I would be willing to suffer a long life of pain for an hour of such joy! but, alas! it could never be. Suddenly I recollected what I had done—I saw the folly of it—nay, I began to see the meanness of it, and my cheeks burned with shame. I felt like a cowardly sneak; I sprang away from Viola.“‘“Pardon my presumption, Miss Bramlett; upon my honor, I was joking; I beg you to forgive and forget me; I did not think of the impropriety of my conduct. Let us be good friends; that is all I ask, nothing more. I shall go to California. I—I—could have loved you, Miss Bramlett, under different circumstances; but, as it is, I must try to forget you; good-by—let us part as friends.”“‘I took her hand in mine—it was as cold as ice, and her face was deadly pale; I started to leave her. I had gone about twenty paces from her, when I heard a groan—such a groan of despair as never before broke on my ear! It was not loud, but sounded like the knell of death to me. I hastened back, and found Viola lying on the ground, apparently dead, her temple stained with blood, that came from a severe wound which she had received from falling against a corner of the bench. For a moment I was paralyzed with horror, the first thought that occurred to my mind being that she had committed suicide. But Lottie had heard the groan, and came running to ascertain the cause. She sat down and placed Viola’s head on her lap, and began to wipe the blood from her temple.“‘“Bring water—quick, Harry!” said Lottie.“‘I hastened to the house, seized a bucket of water, and was back in a moment. Lottie sprinkled Viola’s face and bathed her temples, and in a short time signs of returning life were appearing. I was gratified to find that the wound was not serious, and that all danger was over. I lifted Viola in my arms and carried her to the house, having my bosom stained with her precious blood. She did not open her eyes at all while I was carrying her to the house; but I saw tears falling rapidly from them. I whispered a few words to Lottie, by way of directing her what course to pursue, as I placed Viola on a sofa, and fled like a coward from the premises. I know you will condemn my conduct, and I know I deserve it; but, as God in Heaven is my judge, I meant to do nothing wrong. My reason was overthrown by my intense passion. You have been in love yourself, and can readily understand how love can steal away one’s reason. Who can love as I love Viola, and then be discreet? Who can retain his senses when his blood is boiling in his veins and his brain on fire? I confess my conduct was shameful, disgraceful and cowardly. I should never have placed myself under the influence of her charms—I should have kept my love for her a secret, but in herpresence I could not do it. I have sworn a solemn oath that I would never ask her to marry me while I am penniless and she so rich. I thought I was right then, and I have never changed my mind. Having made that resolve, it was criminal in me to act as I did. I think I shall go to California soon, because I cannot endure the torture that will be mine if I remain near her. I am foolish enough—call it vanity, if you please—to think that if I were in California I might make a fortune in a few years; then I could claim Viola’s hand without feeling degraded in my own estimation. I never, until lately, cared to be rich, but now I would make any sacrifice, endure any hardship, to accumulate wealth.“‘Viola left our house the next morning after the affair in the garden, and has never been back any more. The occurrence mentioned happened two weeks ago, and I must say I have never seen such a change in any one as has come over Viola. The beautiful rosy tint has left her fair cheeks, and her disposition seems to have undergone an unaccountable change. Her conduct is causing her friends great pain and uneasiness. She treats Lottie with a strange coldness, and passes me with a dignified bow. She has become perfectly reckless with her money—seems to be determined to get rid of it; she does not use it in showy dress or costly jewelry, but is giving it away to the poor as fast as she can. Her guardian endeavors to restrain her, but she heeds not his counsel or his commands. She appears only to study the best and fastest way to get rid of her money. She says she hates the very name of money, and that she means to give it all to the poor as soon as it comes into her hands. Mr. Ragland says her income is very great, but that within two weeks just passed she has given away one whole year’s income, and is borrowing more. Of course she can borrow as much as she pleases, and seems to be determined to use her credit. What is to be the result of this strange freak God only knows. I wish you were here, for she might be influenced by you—she always appeared to like you. Her guardian is greatly distressed at her conduct; he says it is inexplicable to him. I fear that something awful is going to happen. You would not think it possible for any one to undergo such a radical change as she has. Come home as quickly as you can; you may be able to do something with her. Lottie is overwhelmed with grief; we are all in despair—her guardian has given up all hope! Start immediately. I shall leave for California as soon as you arrive. My uncle has made a great fortune there; he offers to aid me if I will come, and I shall accept his offer at once. I must get away from here at all hazards as soon as possible. Probably Viola would recover her former gay and lively feelings if I were away. If her entire fortune were now under her control she would give it away in a month. She is annoyed with many suitors, but she gives none of them any encouragement; in fact, they complain that she does not even treat them respectfully.“‘Lottie joins me in love to you, and also in the hope that you will come home soon after this letter reaches you. Dear Lottie is quite low spirited since Viola has quit visiting us, and nothing but your presence here can revive her. It is useless to tell you how much Lottie loves you, because you have known that all the time. She is a dear, darling sister. God bless her, she will make you a good wife.“‘Hoping to see you at home very soon, I am,“‘Yours truly,“‘HARRYWALLINGFORD.’
“‘Dear Eddie—It is with a heavy heart that I write this communication, because things are not going on well here by any means; and I would not distress you with a history of our troubles, but I know you must learn of them sooner or later. Viola has changed very much since she arrived here two months ago. She is by no means like the same girl she was when she came here last fall. There is a breach between her and me that grows wider every day—since she became aware of my determination not to place myself in a situation where the world would be justified in applying the dishonorable name of fortune-hunter to me. I was alone with Viola one day in Lottie’s flower garden, happy to be near one I loved so devotedly. I think I must have lost control of myself—I was so completely overcome with my passion that I scarcely knew what I was doing. I think she concluded that I was about to make a declaration of my love for her, and to make her an offer of marriage. I am sure I do not know exactly what I did say; but I will try to tell you the substance of what occurred. She was pinning a rose on my breast, while her sweet lips were near mine, and I seized her hand and kissed it.
“‘“Miss Bramlett,” said I, “how beautiful you look to-day. Do you know that I think you are the most charming girl in the world?”
“‘“How should I know your thoughts, Mr. Wallingford, about anything, when you are so cold and formal with me? You always talk to me as if I were a mere stranger, whom you had never met before.”
“‘“Don’t call me Mr. Wallingford, I beseech you; speaking of coldness, that makes me shiver.”
“‘“It is a poor rule that won’t work both ways; you made it, and should not now complain of my adopting it.”
“‘“The retort is just, and I have no right to complain; but weare both getting to be quite formal of late; nevertheless, I may be permitted to think and speak of your great beauty, I hope, without offending you.”
“‘“Oh, no offense, I assure you, Mr. Wallingford—I am used to flattery, and it does not make me vain at all.”
“‘“No doubt you are often annoyed with compliments, but I was only speaking the honest truth when I said I thought you were the most beautiful creature I ever saw.”
“‘“Indeed, I am much gratified to know that you don’t think me ugly. I never saw but one gentleman whom I thought was extra handsome; but, alas! he has a heart as cold as an iceberg, and is too proud to be happy.”
‘“I knew in an instant to whom she alluded, and I felt my heart begin to melt at once.
“‘“May I know the name of this wonderful paragon?’ I inquired, as I gazed eagerly into her expressive eyes.
“‘“Oh, never mind his name—he is a particular friend of mine, anyway.”
“‘“Is he nothing more than a friend, Miss Bramlett?”
“‘“If he is, he is too proud to say so. Like Achilles, he wraps himself up with his cloak of selfishness, and smiles at other people’s woes.”
“‘I still held her little hand in mine, every now and then pressing it to my lips.
“‘“Viola, how can you be so cruel, when you know how miserable I am?”
“‘“I had no idea that you were miserable; pray what has caused it?”
“‘“I love one whose high position places her so far above my humble sphere that I know she never can be mine.”
“‘“We are all equals in the eyes of God, and the accidents of birth or fortune should make no difference with us—the worth of the man should be measured according to his deeds.”
“‘“No doubt your theory is altogether correct, but you know that the world takes a different view of it”
“‘“A man who strives to please the world in all things may expect to please himself in none. For my part, I think the world’s a humbug, and society a tyrant; and the man who worships either will make himself miserable. I believe it was Mr. Pope, in his ‘Essay on Man,’ who said,
“‘“‘Honor and shame from no condition rise,Act well your part, there all the honor lies;Worth makes the man, and want of it the fellow;The rest is all but leather and prunella.’”
“‘“‘Honor and shame from no condition rise,Act well your part, there all the honor lies;Worth makes the man, and want of it the fellow;The rest is all but leather and prunella.’”
“‘“Viola, don’t you know that I have been loving you devotedly ever since we first met?”
“‘Her head sank down, and she turned her face from me to hide the tears that were streaming from her eyes. I was crazywith passion; my brain was on fire. I forgot my pride, I lost my self-possession; I was, for the time being, raving mad with love; I took her in my arms and held her against my heart—her head resting on my shoulder. I would be willing to suffer a long life of pain for an hour of such joy! but, alas! it could never be. Suddenly I recollected what I had done—I saw the folly of it—nay, I began to see the meanness of it, and my cheeks burned with shame. I felt like a cowardly sneak; I sprang away from Viola.
“‘“Pardon my presumption, Miss Bramlett; upon my honor, I was joking; I beg you to forgive and forget me; I did not think of the impropriety of my conduct. Let us be good friends; that is all I ask, nothing more. I shall go to California. I—I—could have loved you, Miss Bramlett, under different circumstances; but, as it is, I must try to forget you; good-by—let us part as friends.”
“‘I took her hand in mine—it was as cold as ice, and her face was deadly pale; I started to leave her. I had gone about twenty paces from her, when I heard a groan—such a groan of despair as never before broke on my ear! It was not loud, but sounded like the knell of death to me. I hastened back, and found Viola lying on the ground, apparently dead, her temple stained with blood, that came from a severe wound which she had received from falling against a corner of the bench. For a moment I was paralyzed with horror, the first thought that occurred to my mind being that she had committed suicide. But Lottie had heard the groan, and came running to ascertain the cause. She sat down and placed Viola’s head on her lap, and began to wipe the blood from her temple.
“‘“Bring water—quick, Harry!” said Lottie.
“‘I hastened to the house, seized a bucket of water, and was back in a moment. Lottie sprinkled Viola’s face and bathed her temples, and in a short time signs of returning life were appearing. I was gratified to find that the wound was not serious, and that all danger was over. I lifted Viola in my arms and carried her to the house, having my bosom stained with her precious blood. She did not open her eyes at all while I was carrying her to the house; but I saw tears falling rapidly from them. I whispered a few words to Lottie, by way of directing her what course to pursue, as I placed Viola on a sofa, and fled like a coward from the premises. I know you will condemn my conduct, and I know I deserve it; but, as God in Heaven is my judge, I meant to do nothing wrong. My reason was overthrown by my intense passion. You have been in love yourself, and can readily understand how love can steal away one’s reason. Who can love as I love Viola, and then be discreet? Who can retain his senses when his blood is boiling in his veins and his brain on fire? I confess my conduct was shameful, disgraceful and cowardly. I should never have placed myself under the influence of her charms—I should have kept my love for her a secret, but in herpresence I could not do it. I have sworn a solemn oath that I would never ask her to marry me while I am penniless and she so rich. I thought I was right then, and I have never changed my mind. Having made that resolve, it was criminal in me to act as I did. I think I shall go to California soon, because I cannot endure the torture that will be mine if I remain near her. I am foolish enough—call it vanity, if you please—to think that if I were in California I might make a fortune in a few years; then I could claim Viola’s hand without feeling degraded in my own estimation. I never, until lately, cared to be rich, but now I would make any sacrifice, endure any hardship, to accumulate wealth.
“‘Viola left our house the next morning after the affair in the garden, and has never been back any more. The occurrence mentioned happened two weeks ago, and I must say I have never seen such a change in any one as has come over Viola. The beautiful rosy tint has left her fair cheeks, and her disposition seems to have undergone an unaccountable change. Her conduct is causing her friends great pain and uneasiness. She treats Lottie with a strange coldness, and passes me with a dignified bow. She has become perfectly reckless with her money—seems to be determined to get rid of it; she does not use it in showy dress or costly jewelry, but is giving it away to the poor as fast as she can. Her guardian endeavors to restrain her, but she heeds not his counsel or his commands. She appears only to study the best and fastest way to get rid of her money. She says she hates the very name of money, and that she means to give it all to the poor as soon as it comes into her hands. Mr. Ragland says her income is very great, but that within two weeks just passed she has given away one whole year’s income, and is borrowing more. Of course she can borrow as much as she pleases, and seems to be determined to use her credit. What is to be the result of this strange freak God only knows. I wish you were here, for she might be influenced by you—she always appeared to like you. Her guardian is greatly distressed at her conduct; he says it is inexplicable to him. I fear that something awful is going to happen. You would not think it possible for any one to undergo such a radical change as she has. Come home as quickly as you can; you may be able to do something with her. Lottie is overwhelmed with grief; we are all in despair—her guardian has given up all hope! Start immediately. I shall leave for California as soon as you arrive. My uncle has made a great fortune there; he offers to aid me if I will come, and I shall accept his offer at once. I must get away from here at all hazards as soon as possible. Probably Viola would recover her former gay and lively feelings if I were away. If her entire fortune were now under her control she would give it away in a month. She is annoyed with many suitors, but she gives none of them any encouragement; in fact, they complain that she does not even treat them respectfully.
“‘Lottie joins me in love to you, and also in the hope that you will come home soon after this letter reaches you. Dear Lottie is quite low spirited since Viola has quit visiting us, and nothing but your presence here can revive her. It is useless to tell you how much Lottie loves you, because you have known that all the time. She is a dear, darling sister. God bless her, she will make you a good wife.
“‘Hoping to see you at home very soon, I am,
“‘Yours truly,“‘HARRYWALLINGFORD.’
“Within twenty-four hours after the receipt of that letter I was on my way home, and although I was being hurried on at the rate of forty miles an hour, I felt as if I were going at a snail’s pace. When I arrived at home I of course went to see Lottie before talking with any one else. I found my darling all that heart could wish. She was more beautiful, more charming in my eyes than ever. The large, dreamy blue eyes were swimming in tears of joy as I held her to my glad heart, and I saw a look of love that satisfied me that I was the possessor of a treasure of great value. I lingered by my darling’s side until late at night. Every little trifling incident was described—the days of old were alluded to and discussed, while the present and future came in for a full share. Harry’s case was adverted to, and plans suggested by which we hoped to be able to bring about a reconciliation between Viola and him. Old Bob was dead, and had been honored with a grave in Lottie’s flower garden. Old Roderick was alive, and in splendid humor for talking when Lottie and I called to see him at his headquarters.
“‘Ah, ha! here we are, Lottie! Eddie’s in New York!’ screamed the old parrot, as he jumped down on Lottie’s shoulders.
“‘Ah, ha! here we come, my boy!’ exclaimed Dr. Dodson, as he met me at the door and gathered me by both shoulders, holding me square before him, and gazing into my face with his kind, keen eyes, first drawing me close to him, then pushing me back, as if inspecting some article he intended to purchase. ‘Ah, ha! here we are, my boy, all right! You’ve come out wonderfully; much taller, much better looking; don’t look so green—more polish—not such a booby now, are you, my boy?’
“I did not have time to answer his questions; he pitched them in so thickly and rapidly that I could not have put a word in edge-wise.
“‘Glad to see you home again, my boy! plenty of work to do, lots of patients on hand; you can dive in, you see, right away. Been to see Lottie? Yes, of course you have! had to see her before you came to me. Oh, you sly rascal! had to go to her first, eh? Well, well, well, such is life, you know! I was a fool once myself, when I was young! We are all fools when in love! I was in love with Dolly when she was young; Heaven bless her! I think I am in love with her yet! There, go in, my boy, and see her; she is crazy to see you. Ah, ha! my boy, here we go!’
“Then he shoved me in the house, calling at the top of his voice:
“‘Here, Dolly, our old boy has come at last! hug him first, then scold him roundly for going to see Lottie before coming to see us. Ah, ha! yes he did, a good-for-nothing rascal! Lottie is making a fool of him! Fact is, she is making a fool of herself, also! Well, well, old woman, we were young once, ourselves! you know how it is, yourself!’
“The next morning I sought an interview with Harry, and was deeply pained to see the change that had taken place in his appearance. His face was very pale, his cheeks appeared to be sunken, and his general appearance indicated great mental anguish. The lively smile that used to light up his handsome face in the days of old was absent now. He greeted me kindly, but the tone of his voice made me shiver; it was so melancholy that it startled me.
“‘How is she now?’ I inquired, alluding, of course, to Viola.
“‘Worse all the time—growing more reckless,’ said he, with a mournful shake of the head. ‘For Heaven’s sake, go see her at once.’
“‘Why not go yourself?’ I asked; ‘you could have more influence with her than all the men in the world.’
“‘No, no! I dare not go near her. My senses always forsake me when I am in her presence; I must go away from Memphis immediately.’
“‘Nonsense! why must you go away? Why not discard this foolish pride, and marry her and be happy?’
“‘If that is the only advice you have to offer, we will let the subject drop; my mind is settled on that question, and it must not be mentioned any more.’
“‘The money is mine,’ Viola would reply to Mr. Ragland’s remonstrances regarding the reckless manner in which she was squandering it, ‘and why should I not do with it as I please? Who has any right to say when and how I shall use it? Who has any right to dictate to me on that subject? This hateful fortune has been my bane, and I mean to rid myself of it as soon as possible! Are there not thousands of poor people in this city who need money? Are there not thousands who toil the live-long day and then go to bed at night hungry? Yes, yes, you know it! Well, I mean to give all my money to them, and hire myself out to work as a governess, if I can; and if I can’t do that, I’ll wash or sew; nay, I’ll serve as chamber-maid at a hotel, before I’ll keep this hateful money! Has it not already ruined my hopes of happiness forever? Has it not surrounded me with false friends? Has it not overflowed me with a brigade of brainless fortune-hunters whose silly twaddle about love makes me sick? This accursed gold drives true friends from me, and attracts about me a host of senseless flatterers, whose very presence is hateful to me.’
“There was no boisterous bluster about her manner—no outburst of passion—but a quiet, determined expression was indelibly impressed on her features. It did not require a Solomon to tell me that Harry was responsible for all this; it was as plain as the sun at noontide. What should I do next? was the question that naturally presented itself to me. Should I sit down, fold my hands and quietly wait for the grand smash-up which would be sure to come unless something was done to prevent it; or should I put forth all my energies to save two young hearts from utter ruin? I was deeply impressed with the magnitude of the situation, yet at a loss to know what course to pursue in order to change it. Having pondered over the matter until I was half sick and badly puzzled, in a spirit of desperation I broached the subject to Viola.
“‘Harry is going to California,’ I said to her; ‘we are all greatly distressed about it, and you might prevent it if you would try.’
“‘And pray, Mr. Demar, tell me what I have to do with the movements of Mr. Wallingford?’
“‘I thought you might not wish him to go,’ I said, timidly.
“‘Indeed, Mr. Demar! let me assure you that Mr. Wallingford’s plans are in no respect of interest to me. He may go to Jerusalem—if he thinks it will promote his happiness—or to California, or to Hindostan, or to the North Pole, or anywhere else; what is it to me? I am just now engaged in attending to my own business, and I imagine that Mr. Wallingford is pursuing the same line of policy; I am sure I wish him success in all his undertakings.’
“‘Don’t you know that pride is drawing both of you apart? Stop, I beseech you, before it is too late! Send a message to Harry by me—let me tell him you wish to see him.’
“‘I have no message to send him; why should I wish to see him? Achilles must occupy his lofty tent and let Greece bleed at every vein. When Patroclus is dead, then he may condescend to take the field!’
“As she uttered those words she was pacing the floor rapidly, back and forth while a strange fire flashed from her pretty eyes. She moved like a queen, and I saw the signs of intense passion disturbing her bosom. The truth is, she was hard pressed for courage to keep from exposing her love for Harry.
“‘Give me that rose you have on your throat,’ I said, ‘and let me tell Harry you sent it to him.’
“‘No, no! I might offend this proud Greek! Let him enjoy his god-like pride! Why should he be disturbed by others’ woes? Do you remember the first lines of the “Iliad”?