$$$$$$

DAWN. 

BOSTON:LONDON:

1868. 

DAWN. 

CHAPTER I. 

They sat together in the twilight conversing. Three years, withtheir alternations of joy and grief had swept over their marriedlife, bringing their hearts into closer alliance, as each newemotion thrilled and upheaved the buried life within. 

That night their souls seemed attuned to a richer melody than everbefore; and as the twilight deepened, and one by one the starsappeared, the blessed baptism of a heavenly calm descended andrested upon their spirits. 

"Then you think there are but very few harmonious marriages, Hugh?"

"My deep experience with human nature, and close observations oflife, have led me to that conclusion. Our own, and a few happyexceptions beside, are but feeble offsets to the countless cases ofunhappy unions. "

"Unhappy; why?" he continued, talking more to himself than to thefair woman at his side; "people are only married fractionally, as agreat thinker has written; and knowing so little of themselves, howcan they know each other? The greatest strangers to each other whomI have ever met, have been parties bound together by the marriagelaws!"

"But you would not sunder so holy a bond as that of marriage, Hugh?"

"I could not, and would not if I could. Whatever assimilates, whether of mind or matter, can not be sundered. I would only destroyfalse conditions, and build up in their places those of peace andharmony. While I fully appreciate the marriage covenant, I sorrowover the imperfect manhood which desecrates it. I question again andagain, why persons so dissimilar in tastes and habits, are broughttogether; and then the question is partly, if not fully answered, bythe great truth of God's economy, which brings the lesser unto thegreater to receive, darkness unto light, that all may grow together. I almost know by seeing one party, what the other is. Thus are theweak and strong--not strength and might--coupled. Marriage should be ahelp, and not a hindrance. In the present state of society, we aretoo restricted to know what marriage is. Either one, or both ofthose united, are selfish and narrow, allowing no conditions inwhich each may grow. "

"Do I limit you, Hugh?"

"No, dearest, no; I never meant it should be so, either. When I gaveyou my love, I did not surrender my individual life and right ofaction. All of my being which you can appropriate to yourself isyours; you can take no more. What I take from you, is your love andsympathy. I cannot exhaust or receive you wholly. "

"But I give you all of myself. "

"Yet I can only take what I can absorb or receive into my being. Thequalities of a human soul are too mighty to be absorbed by any one. "

"What matters it if I am content in your love that I wish for noneother?"

"I have often feared, dear Alice, that your individual life was lostin your love for me. "

"What matters it, if you give me yourself in return?"

"It matters much. If we are not strong for ourselves, we are notstrength to each other. If we have no reserve force, we shall intime consume each other's life. We can never be wholly another's. "

"Am I not wholly yours, dear Hugh?" she said, raising her eyestenderly to his, in that summer twilight. 

"Not all mine, but all that I can receive. "

"It may be true, but it seems cold to me, " she replied, a littlesadly. 

"Too much philosophy and not enough love for your tender womannature, is it not, darling?"

"I think you have explained it. I feel as though you were driftingaway from me, Hugh, when you talk as you do to-night. Although Idearly love progress and enlarged views of life, I do not like manyof the questions that are being agitated in reference to marriage. "

"Because you do not take comprehensive views of the matter. I can, Ithink, set you clear on the whole subject, and divorce from yourmind the thought that liberty is license. Liberty, in its full, truemeaning, is the pure action of a true manhood, in obedience to thelaws of the individual. For a simple illustration, look at ourneighbors, Mr. And Mrs. Danforth. She, as you well know, is anambitious woman; smart, and rather above the majority of herneighbors, intellectually, but not spiritually. Her husband is akind-hearted man, content to fill an ordinary station in life, butspiritually far her superior. His nature is rich in affection; hernature is cold and intellectual. He knows nothing of other woman'sviews, consequently has no standard by which to form an estimate ofthose of his wife. If she was wise, as well as sharp, she would seethat she is standing in her own light; for the man whom she wishesto look upon her, and her only, will soon be a pure negation, a meremachine, an echo of her own jealousy and selfish pride. Now, freedom, or his liberty, would give him the right to mingle andconverse with other women; then he would know what his wife was tohim, while he would retain himself and give to her his manhood, instead of the mere return of her own self. At present he dare notutter a word to which she does not fully subscribe. She talks of his'love' for her; it should be his 'servility. ' They live in too closerelation to be all they might to each other. I have heard herproudly assert, that he never spent an evening from home! I thinkthey are both to be pitied; but, am I making the subject of freedomin any degree clear to your mind, my patient wife?"

"Yes, I begin to see that it is higher and nobler to be free, andfar purer than I supposed. "

"Yes, dear one, " he said, drawing her close to his heart, "we mustat times go from what we most tenderly love, in order to be drawncloser. The closest links are those which do not bind at all. It isa great mistake to keep the marriage tie so binding, and to forceupon society such a dearth of social life as we see around us daily. Give men and women liberty to enjoy themselves on high socialplanes, and we shall not have the debasing things which areoccurring daily, and are constantly on the increase. If I shouldtake a lady of culture and refinement to a concert, a lecture, or toa theatre, would not society lift up its hands in holy horror, andscandal-mongers go from house to house? If men and women come nottogether on high planes, they will meet on debasing ones. Give usmore liberty, and we shall have more purity. I speak these words notimpulsively; they are the result of long thinking, and were they mylast, I would as strongly and as fearlessly utter them. "

"I feel myself growing in thought, to-night, Hugh, and O, how proudI feel that the little being who is soon to claim our love, if allis well, will come into at least some knowledge of these things. "

In a few weeks she expected to become a mother, and was lookinghopefully forward to the event, as all women do, or should, who havepleasant homes and worthy husbands. 

"I, too, am glad that we can give it the benefit of our experience, and shall be proud to welcome into the world a legitimate child. "

"Why, Hugh! what do you mean? All children are legitimate, are theynot, that are born in wedlock?"

"Very far from it. In very many cases they are wholly illegitimate. "

His wife looked eagerly for an explanation. 

"All persons who are not living in harmony and love, are bringinginto the world illegitimate offspring. Children should be bornbecause they are wanted. A welcome should greet every new-bornchild, and yet a mere physical relation is all that exists betweenthousands of parents and children, while thousands who have notgiven physical birth are more fitted by qualities of heart and soulto be the parents of these spiritual orphans than the bloodrelations, who claim them as their own. I often think that many inthe other life will find, even though they may have had no offspringin this, that they have children by the ties of soul andheart-affinity, which constitutes after all the only relationshipthat is immortal. "

Ten days after the above conversation, the eventful period came. Allnight she lingered in pain, and at daybreak a bright and beautifuldaughter was laid at her side. But, alas! life here was not for her. Mother and babe were about to be separated, for the fast recedingpulse told plainly to the watchful physician that her days werenumbered. Her anguished husband read it in the hopeless features ofthe doctor, and leaning over the dear one he loved so well, becaught from her these last words, --

"Call her DAWN! for is she not a coming light to you? See, the dayis breaking, Hugh, "--then the lips closed forever. 

"Come back, come back to me, my loved, my darling one, " broke fromthe anguished heart of the stricken husband, and falling on hisknees beside the now lifeless form, he buried his face in his hands, and wept. 

But even grief cannot always have its sway. 

A low, wailing cry from the infant moved his heart with a strangethrill, he knew not whether of joy or pain, and rising from theposture in which grief had thrown him, he went and bowed himselfover the silent form. 

One gone, another come. 

But the little being had her life in its veins, and slowly he felthimself drawn earthward by this new claim upon his love andsympathy. 

A strange feeling came over him as the nurse took the little child, and laid upon the bed the robes its mother had prepared for it. 

It was too much, and the heart-stricken man left the room, andlocking himself in his library, where he had spent so many happyhours with his lost one, gave full vent to the deep anguish of hissoul. He heard the kind physician's steps as he left, and no more. For hours he sat bowed in grief, and silent, while sorrow's bitterwaters surged over him. 

No more would her sweet smile light his home; no more her voice callhis name in those tender tones, that had so often been music to hisears; no more could they walk or sit in the moonlight and converse. Was it really true? Had Alice gone, or was it not all a troubleddream?

Noon came, and his brow became more fevered. But there was no softhand to soothe the pain away. Night came, and still he sat andmourned; and then the sound of voices reached his ears. He rousedhimself to meet the friends and relations of his dear departed one, and then all seemed vague, indefinite and dreamlike. 

The funeral rites, the burial, the falling earth upon the coffinlid; these all passed before him, then like one in a stupor he wentback to his home, and took up the broken threads of life again, andlearned to live and smile for his bright-eyed, beautiful Dawn. Mayshe be Dawn to the world, he said unto himself, as he looked intoher heaven-blue eyes; then thanked God that his life was spared toguide her over life's rough seas, and each day brought freshinspirations of hope, new aspirations of strength, and moreconfiding trust in Him whose ways are not as our ways. 

CHAPTER II. 

Dawn grew to be very beautiful. Every day revealed some new charm, until Hugh feared she too might go and live with the angels. Butthere was a mission for her to perform on the earth, and she lived. 

Each day he talked to her of her mother, and kept her memory aliveto her beautiful traits, until the child grew so familiar with herbeing as to know no loss of her bodily presence, save in temporalaffairs. 

A faithful and efficient woman kept their house, and cared forDawn's physical wants; her father attending to her needs, bothmental and spiritual, until she reached the age of seven, when achange in his business required him to be so often away from home, that he advertised for a governess to superintend her studies andher daily deportment. 

"What was mamma like?" asked Dawn of her father one evening as theysat in the moonlight together, "was she like the twilight?"

He turned upon the child with admiration, for to him nothing innature could better be likened unto his lost and lovely Alice. 

"Yes, darling, " he said, kissing her again and again, "mamma wasjust like the twilight--sweet, tender, and soothing. "

"Then I am not at all like mamma?" she remarked, a little sadly. 

"And why?"

"Because I am strong and full of life. I always feel as though itwas just daylight. I never feel tired, papa, I only feel hushed. "

"Heaven grant my daughter may never be weary, " he said, and stoopedto kiss her, while he brushed away a tear which started as he didso. 

"I shall never be weary while I have you, papa. You will never leaveme, will you?"

"I hope to be spared many years to guard and love my charge. "

A few days after, Dawn was surprised to find the governess, of whomher father had spoken, in the library, and her father with hiscarpet-bag packed, ready for a journey. 

Am I not going too, papa?" she said, turning on him her face, asthough her heart was ready to burst with grief. It was their firstparting, and equally hard for parent and child. 

"Not this time, darling, but in the summer we shall go to thesea-shore and the mountains, and take Miss Vernon with us. Come, this is your teacher, Dawn; I want you to be very good and obedientwhile I am away, " and then, looking at his watch, he bade them bothadieu. 

He knew the child was weeping bitterly. All the way to the cars, andon the journey through that long, sunny day, he felt her calling himback. There could be no real separation between them, and it waspainful to part, and keep both so drawn and attenuated in spirit. 

In vain Miss Vernon exerted herself to make the child happy. It wasof no use. Her delicate organism had received its first shock; butin due time her spirit broke through the clouds in its nativebrilliancy, and there was no lingering shadow left on her sky. Dawnwas as bright and smiling as she had been sad and dispirited. 

"I will gather some wild flowers and make the room all bright andlovely for papa, " she said, and in a moment was far away. 

"It's no use training her, you see, Miss, " the good housekeeperasserted, as a sort of an apology for the child, whom she lovedalmost to idolatry, "might as well try to trap the sunlight or catchmoonbeams. She'll have her way, and, somehow to me, her way seemsalways right. Will you please step out to tea, Miss, and then I willgo and look after her; or, if you like, you can follow that littlepath that leads from the garden gate to the hill where she has gonefor her flowers. "

Miss Vernon was glad to go; and after a light supper, was on herway, almost fearful that the child might consider her an intruder, for she instinctively felt that she must work her way into theaffections of her new charge. 

She followed the path to the hill, and after walking for some timeand not finding Dawn, was about to retrace her steps, when she hearda low, sweet voice, chanting an evening hymn. She sat upon a bed ofgrey moss until the chanting ceased, and then went in the directionfrom which the sound came. 

There sat Dawn, with eyes uplifted, lips parted as though inconversation, and features glowing with intensest emotion. Then theeyes dropped, and her little hands were pressed to her heart, asthough the effort had been too great. 

Slowly Miss Vernon stepped towards her. Dawn caught her eye, andmotioned her to come nearer. 

"Are you not lonely here, child?" she asked. 

"Lonely? O, no. I am not alone, Miss Vernon, God is here, and I amso full I sing, or I should die. Did you hear me?"

"I did. Who taught you that beautiful chant?"

"No one; it grew in me; just as the flowers grow on the plants. "

"I have an instructor here, and one I shall find more interestingthan tractable, " mused the governess, as she looked upon the child. But Dawn was not learned in one day, as she afterwards found. 

The sun sank behind the hills just as they entered the gardentogether. Dawn missed her father too much to be quite up to herusual point of life, and she went and laid herself down upon a couchin the library, and chatted away the hour before her bedtime. Shemissed him more than she could tell; and then she thought toherself, "Who can I tell how much I miss my father?"

"Did you ever have any body you loved go away, Miss Vernon?" she atlast ventured to ask, and her voice told what she suffered. 

"I have no near friends living, dear child. "

"What! did they all die? Only my mamma is dead; but I don't missher; I think she must be in the air, I feel her so. Have n't you anyfather, Miss Vernon?"

"No. He died when I was quite young, and then my mother, and beforeI came here I buried my last near relative-an aunt. "

"But aunts don't know us, do they?"

"Why not? I don't quite understand you, " she said, wishing to bringthe child out. 

"Why, they don't feel our souls. I have got aunts and cousins, butthey seem away off, O, so far. They live here, but I don't feelthem; and they make me, O, so tired. They never say anything thatmakes me thrill all over as papa does. Don't you see now what Imean?"

"Yes, I see. Will you tell me after I have been here awhile, if Imake you tired?"

"I need not tell you in words. You will see me get tired. "

"Very good. I hope I shall not weary you. "

"I can tell by to-morrow, and if I do look tired you will go, won'tyou?"

"Certainly; and for fear I may weary you now, I will retire, if youwill promise to go too. "

She yielded willingly to Miss Vernon's wish, and was led to herroom, where the sensitive, pure being was soon at rest. 

It seemed almost too early for any one to be stirring, when MissVernon heard a little tap on her door, and the next moment beheld achildish face peeping in. 

"May I come?"

"Certainly. I hope you have had pleasant dreams, Dawn. Can you tellme why they gave you such a strange name?"

"Strange? Why I am Dawn, that is the reason; and mamma was Twilight, only her mother did n't give her the right name. "

"Have you slept well?"

"I did n't know anything till I woke up. Was that sleeping well?"

"I think it was. Now will you tell me at what hour you havebreakfast, that I may prepare myself in season?"

"When papa is at home, at eight o'clock. This morning I am going tosee Bessie, the new calf, and Minnie Day's kittens, and PercyWillard's new pony, so Aunt Sue says she can have breakfast anytime. "

Miss Vernon upon this concluded that she need make no hasty toilet, and sank back upon her pillow to think awhile of her newsurroundings. 

Breakfast waited, but no Dawn appeared. Aunt Sue, fearing that thetoast and coffee might be spoiled, rang for Miss Vernon. 

At eleven Dawn came in with soiled clothes and wet feet. 

"O, Aunty, the pony was so wild, and the kittens so cunning, I couldn't come before. "

"And see your clothes, Dawn. I must work very hard to-day to washand dry them. Now go to your room and change them all, and try toremember others when you are in your enjoyments, won't you?"

"Yes, and I won't soil them again, auntie. "

"Until the next time, I fear, " said the kind housekeeper, who was, perhaps, too forgiving with the strange, wild child. 

The next day Dawn was filled with delight at her father's return. Hecame early in the morning, and found his pet awake and watching forhis approach. 

"O, papa, such a dream, a real dream, as I had last night. Sit righthere by the window, please, while I tell it to you. "

"Perhaps your dream will be so real that we shall not want anythingmore substantial for breakfast. "

"O, it's better than food, papa. "

"Well, go on, my pet. "

"I was thinking how glad I should be to see my papa, when I went tosleep and had this beautiful dream:--

"I was walking in a garden all full of flowers and vines, when I sawmy mother coming towards me, with something upon her arm. She cameclose, and then I saw it was a robe, O, such a white robe, whiterthan snow. She put it on me, and it was too long. I asked if it wasfor me why it was so long. 'You will grow, ' she said, 'tall andbeautiful, and need the long garment. ' Then she led the way, andmotioned me to follow. She led me down a dismal lane, and into adamp, dreadful place, where the streets were all mud and dirt. 'O, my dress, ' I said, 'my pure white robe. ' 'No dust and dirt can stainit, ' she replied, 'walk through that dark street and see. ' I went, and looked back at each step, but my pure white robe was not soiled, and when I returned to her, it was as spotless as ever. Was it not alovely dream, and what does it mean, papa?"

"A lesson too deep for your childhood to comprehend, and yet I willsome day tell you. But here comes Miss Vernon, and the bell has rungfor breakfast. "

CHAPTER III. 

The next day, while Dawn wandered over the hills, her fatherconversed with Miss Vernon on what to his mind constituted aneducation. 

"I know that all our growth is slow, but I wish to take the rightsteps if possible in the right direction; I wish my daughter to bewholly, not fractionally developed. There are certain parts of hernature which I shall trust to no one. Her daily lessons, a knowledgerespecting domestic affairs, a thorough comprehension of the makingand cost of wearing apparel, and a due regard to proper attire, Ishall trust to you, if you are competent to fill such a position, and I think you are. "

"I have seen so much misery, " he continued, "resulting from theinability of some women to make a home happy, that I have resolvedif my child lives to years of maturity, all accomplishments shallgive way, if need be, to this one thing, a thorough knowledge ofdomestic affairs. Society is so at fault in these matters, and womengenerally have such false ideas of them, that I despair of reformingany one. If I can educate my daughter to live, or rather approximatein some degree, to my ideal of a true woman's life, it is all I canexpect. Are you fond of domestic life, Miss Vernon?"

He turned so abruptly upon her that she feared her hesitation mightbe taken for a lack of feeling on the subject, and yet she could notbear the thought that one whose ideal was so near her own, did notfully comprehend her upon such a theme; but there was no mistakingher meaning when she replied, --

"I love home, and all that makes that spot holy. I only regret thatmy one-sided labor and my circumstances have kept me from mingling, to any great extent, in its joys and responsibilities. My ideal lifewould be to work, study and teach, but as no opportunities for doingso have been presented to me, and having had no home of my own, Ihave been obliged to work on in my one-sided way, unsatisfying as ithas been. "

"It shall be so no more, Miss Vernon. If you will call my house yourhome, so long as we harmonize, you shall have an opportunity torealize your wishes, and I will see that your services are wellrequited. "

She was too full of gratitude to speak, but a tear started from hereye, and Mr. Wyman noticed that she turned aside to brush it away. 

"You will stay with us, Miss Vernon, I am sure of that. Take Dawninto the kitchen every day, no matter if she rebels, as I fear shemay, and slowly, but thoroughly educate her in all those seeminglyminor details of household economy. Cause her to feel the importanceof these things, and teach her to apply herself diligently to labor. I am not anxious that she should make any exhibition of her mentalaccomplishments, for I have learned to dislike parlor parades, andthe showing off of children's acquirements. I do not want Dawn todazzle with false how, but to be what she seems, and of use to theworld. At the close of each day I shall question her about herstudies, and show to her that I am interested not only in her books, but in her domestic attainments. Supply to her, as well as you can, that material, the want of which is so great a loss to a young girl, and your happiness shall be my study. Treat her as you would an owndear child, and when she gives you trouble, send her to me. I fear Imay have wearied you, Miss Vernon, and as the day is so fine, hadyou not better take a walk?"

She was already too anxious to go by herself, and think of thehappiness which was about opening for her. It seemed too much. Allthe years that had passed since her dear mother's death had been solonely. No one had ever understood her nature, or seemed to thinkher anything but a machine to teach the children their dailylessons. But now what a prospective! How earnestly would she beginher new life; and burdened with this thought she walked to the edgeof a green wood, and sat down to weep tears of pure joy. 

When she returned she found her room filled with mosses and trailingvines, which Dawn had gathered for her. She was rapidly learning tolove the child, and felt lonely when she was out of her sight. 

In the evening they sat together, --father, child, and teacher, orcompanion, as she really was to them, in the library, communing insilence, no word breaking the spell, until Dawn did so by askingMiss Vernon if she played. 

She glanced longingly at the beautiful instrument, which had notbeen opened since Mrs. Wyman's death, and said, --

"I do play and sing, but not as well as I hope to with opportunitiesfor practice. "

"Do open the piano, papa, it will spoil shut up so. "

"So it will, Dawn. I will open it this moment, " and he silentlyaccused himself for keeping it closed so long. 

"Do you love music, Dawn?" asked Miss Vernon, "can you sing?"

"You shall hear her, and then judge. Come, darling, while I playyour favorite song;" and he commenced the prelude to a low, sweetair. She began at first tremulously, but gained confidence at eachword, until at length her sweet, childish tones rose pure and clearabove the voice of her father, who hummed rather than sang the songin his deep, rich bass. 

His eyes were full of tears when they closed, for that hymn was hiswife's favorite. He had taught it to Dawn, without telling her thather mother ever sung it. 

"It seemed just as though mamma was here and sang too, papa, did n'tit?"

"Mamma, no doubt, is with us. I am glad my little girl feels herpresence, and always remember that she is with you, too, when youfeel tempted to do wrong. "

She nestled her head on his bosom and wept. Tears of joy or sorrow?Only they whose souls are finely and intensely strung, can know whatmade her weep. 

"You must sing for us now, Miss Vernon, " he said, and would have ledher to the instrument, but for the burden of love, which was restingon his heart. 

"I play only simple songs, Mr. Wyman, and, indeed, am quite out ofpractice. "

"You have some gems stowed away, I know; please sing us one. "

She arose, and after a few trembling notes, sang a sweet song withsuch pathos and richness that Mr. Wyman called again for more andmore. Dawn was wild with joy, and then her father, after Miss Vernondeclined to play more, proposed that they should sing an eveninghymn. 

In this they all joined, Miss Vernon's rich contralto blendingsweetly with Dawn's pure soprano. 

Their dreams were sweet and peaceful that night. Their souls had allmet and harmonized, and harmony ever brings rest. 

The following day Miss Vernon looked over Dawn's clothing, and laidaside whatever needed repairing. She was just folding some aprons, when the child rushed into the room, saying, --

"O, Miss Vernon, I must wear my blue dress to-day. "

"Why that one?"

"Because I feel good, and blue is heavenly, so let me wear it, please, will you?"

"It's rather short, Dawn, but I suppose it will cover all yourgoodness for one day, will it not?"

"O, don't laugh, I feel truly good to-day, and any other dress wouldnot do. "

"You shall have it, Dawn. I am glad you like to dress according toyour feelings. I do myself. "

"Then how do you feel to-day, and what shall you dress in?"

"I feel very, very happy, but have no garment to symbolize myfeelings. "

"I don't want you to wear that grey dress, though, to-day?"

"Why?"

"Because it don't say anything. "

"Nor my black?"

"O, no, no!"

"How will the drab with blue trimmings suit?"

"It's just the dress. You are silent, and have been rather sad, youknow, Miss Vernon, and the blue is the glimmer of sky above yourold, dull life. Do wear the drab with blue ribbons. "

"I will, Dawn. My life is brighter, because I have some one tolove;" and she pressed her lips warmly to the cheeks of her littlecharge. 

When Mr. Wyman came in to dinner he thought he had never seen Dawnlooking so fresh and beautiful, while his eyes rested in fullsatisfaction on Miss Vernon's lovely form, so becomingly arrayed. Heliked the absence of the black dress, for its removal seemed tobetoken a happier life, a life which he knew she needed, and whichhe mentally resolved she should possess, so far as he couldcontribute to it. 

At the table, Mr. Wyman was talkative and gay, touching lightly hereand there, upon subjects, without argument. It was conversation, notdiscussion, or an array of opinions, which flowed from the minds ofthose around the board, and of such a nature that all could join, from young to old. 

Miss Vernon delighted in watching him as his eyes rested tenderly onhis child. It was charming to witness such a tender relationexisting between father and daughter. 

CHAPTER III. 

The days flew swiftly by, and the still, peaceful Sabbath dawned. 

How tranquil, and yet how full of life it seemed to Miss Vernon asshe sat at her window and gazed on the scene of beauty before her. Alovely spring morning-the distant hills soft and mellow; the emeraldfields glittering with dew-the tasseled pines nodding in the gentlebreeze-and the whole atmosphere vibrating with the tones of theSabbath bells. 

"Surely, " she said, "I need no form of worship. God is in all this. I wonder if I must go from all these beauties to a temple made withhands. "

"Is n't this pleasanter than sitting in a bare walled church?" saidDawn, who had entered the room so softly that Miss Vernon was onlymade aware of her presence by this inquiry. 

"I think it is. Do you go to church?"

"No. Papa does sometimes, but he never makes me go. "

"I hope not. "

"Shall you go to-day, Miss Vernon?"

"Not if I can act my pleasure. "

"I am so glad, for papa said if you did not go, we would all take awalk, but if you wished to go, he would harness Swift and take you. 

"I had much rather take the walk to-day. Some day, I shall want togo to your church. "

"There, papa is ready, I hear him in the hall. Get your hat, MissVernon. "

"But you forget he has not yet invited me. "

"Dawn, ask Miss Vernon whether she will take a walk with us, or goto church?" said Mr. Wyman, at that moment calling from the foot ofthe stairs. 

Miss Vernon was not long in making known her choice, for she sprangand put on her hat, and in a few moments the three were walkingthrough the garden towards the woods and fields. 

"Which direction, Miss Vernon, shall we take?"

"Any; it's all lovely. "

"Then lead the way, Dawn, and mind you act as a good pilot, and donot get us into any brooks. "

She ran gaily on before, and they soon found themselves on the vergeof a rich, mossy dell. 

"O, is it not beautiful, papa? I shall carry all this lovely mosshome. "

"No, Dawn, let it remain. Gather a few specimens from here andthere, but do not mar the general beautiful effect. It is ours now;we can not make it more so by carrying it home to fade and die. Canwe, darling?"

"No. You are always right and good, papa. "

"To-morrow others may come here, and the lovely scene will be aspleasing to them as to us. There is a possession, Miss Vernon, otherthan that which the world recognizes; and it is always pleasant tome to think that though a man may build himself a palace, and callhimself its proprietor, he alone really owns it whose eyes see themost of its beauties, and whose soul appropriates them. And so, alovely spot like this, or the finest garden may belong to thepasser-by whose purse does not contain a penny. "

"How it smoothes in life the inequalities of station, and makes uscontent to admire, rather than strive for ownership. "

"I see by your fervent enjoyment of the scene around us, MissVernon, that you, too, have discarded some of the old forms ofworship, or rather found that a true worship of the divine is notlimited by four walls. "

"I have. For a long time I have seen so much bigotry, and so great alack of all the Christian virtues, even in the most liberalchurches, that I have felt I must seek my own mode of enjoying theSabbath. "

"I long ago found my true relation to all places and forms ofdevotion, " remarked Mr. Wyman. "I do not for a moment ignore thechurch, nor what Christianity has done for us, yet while I see thegood the church has accomplished, I also see its shortcomings andregret them. As an individual, I can say that I have done with mostchurch organizations. I have heard good and earnest words spoken byclergymen in the pulpit once a week, and as good from the lips ofworking people at their tasks every day. I do not undervalue theinfluence that the forms of worship have on the masses. While theyneed them, they must remain where they are, and have them. I onlywant the church to be so liberal, that men and women who feel thatthey are getting life in another direction, will be recognized by itto be as good and true to their needs, as though they sat within itswalls. How much have we at the present day of this? Who is largeenough to feel that we cannot always draw from one fount? We are notmachines, to be continually run in one direction. "

"What do you think of our sabbath schools. Do they not need a newlife, too?"

"Unquestionably. I think they need an infusion of dramatic life;something that interests while it instructs. Dry catechisms are notsuited to the children of our day. We want the living present, andnot the dead past. If I was called to superintend a sabbath school, I would have a little play enacted by a portion of the children, andthen another portion, until all were actors in their turn. "

"If you express your opinions, I fear you will wait a long time fora call?"

"I do not crave the position; I am only anxious to see the effect ofmy theory in practice. Children need demonstration; need muscularaction. But I am, perhaps, wearying you. "

"Go on. I am interested in all that relates to new phases of life. "

"I should astonish some divines of the conservative order, were I topublish my views of social and religious life. I would sooner givemoney to build theatres, than churches. Everywhere I would cultivatea love for the drama, which is the highest and most impressive formof representing truth. My being is stirred to greater depths by goodacting than it can possibly be by mere preaching. I shall be happyto see the day when religion is acknowledged to be the simple livingout of individual lives, always toned, of course, by pure morality. I hope to see acts of kindness looked upon as religion, instead of amere personal attendance upon worship. But I have talked too long. Where is Dawn?"

They walked on, and soon found her sitting on a moss-covered stone, twining a wreath of wild flowers. She looked like a queen, as shewas for a time, of that beautiful dell. 

"Have flowers souls, papa?" she asked, as he approached her. 

"I hope they are immortal, at least in type. But why do you ask?"

"Because these flowers I have gathered will fade and die, and ifthey have souls they will not love me for gathering them, willthey?"

"Perhaps all the sweetness of these flowers, when they die, passesinto the soul of the one who gathers them. "

"O, how pretty! That makes me think about the little girl who playedwith me one day and got angry. You told me that she was better forthe bad feeling I had; that I had taken some of her evil, because Icould overcome it-it with good. "

"I am glad you remember so well what I tell you. Now as we cannottell whether flowers have souls or not, we will believe that alltheir sweetness passes into ours. "

"But if I should kill a serpent?"

"You must cover the evil with good. "

"But, papa, people come to our house all full of evil things, likeserpents. Don't they have enough good to cover them, or why do Ifeel them so plain?"

"I fear not; or, rather, their goodness has not been cultivated andmade large enough to absorb the evil. We must go home now, or AuntSusan will be waiting for us. "

The three walked home together, in harmony with nature andthemselves. They found their dinner waiting, and the simple mealneatly prepared, was graced with a vase of beautiful flowers. 

CHAPTER IV. 

In a few weeks the little neighborhood was duly aroused, anddiscussing the state of affairs at Mr. Wyman's. Each one consideredherself called upon to pass judgment upon the daily proceedings. 

"It's too ridiculous, right in the face and eyes of honest people, to see this woman and Mr. Wyman carrying on as they do, " said MissGay, a lady of forty years, whose notions of the mingling of thesexes were of the strictest character. 

"Why, how? Do tell us, " chimed in her companion, a garrulous oldlady. 

"Why, they say that this young woman is going about with Mr. Wymanall the time. He takes her to ride almost every day, and they haveinterminable walks and daily confabs together. "

"Well, I should think the child's lessons would come off slim, MissGay. "

"O, that's only a subterfuge. They'll be married 'fore one year hasgone by. "

"I do not believe Hugh Wyman will ever marry again, " said one whoknew his character better than the others. 

"Then what can he want of that young woman? No good, depend onthat, " and Mrs. Green shook her head as though she had more in itthan she wished at that time to display. 

While they chat and waste the hours, let us go and listen to theparties talked of, and judge for ourselves whether two earnest soulscan not approach, enjoy each other, and yet be pure and blameless. 

"I can scarcely believe, Mr. Wyman, that so brief a period couldwork such a change in my being. Before I came here, I thought allthe world cold and heartless. You have taught me that friendship, even between men and women, may exist, and that the only truerelations are of soul and not of blood. I can never by words tellyou how grateful I feel to you for all these teachings, " and shelooked thoughtfully out on the summer scene before her. 

"I am very glad that you are happy here, Miss Vernon, for when Ifirst saw you I instinctively felt that you were just the companionfor myself and daughter. I saw, too, the cloud which hung over you, and felt that my hand could lift it. You belong to Dawn and myself, and we shall keep you so long as you are happy. "

"But-"

"But what? I know your fears, and what this busy little neighborhoodwill say. I care no more for all its ideas of life than for thewind, while I feel right here, " said Mr. Wyman, placing his handupon his heart. "The time has come for all to live individual lives. I would not for a moment have your name sullied, but should you go, would gossip cease? No; stay here, Miss Vernon, and show to thislittle portion of the world that man and woman can live togethersociably and honorably. I love you as a sister; no more. My dearAlice is now my wife, the same as when on earth. I speak as I do, knowing that you will meet with many sneers and frowns if you stay, but the consciousness of right will sustain you. "

"How could you know what was in my mind? You have, indeed, expressedall my fears as regards this relation between us. "

"Will you go or stay?"

"I shall stay. "

"May you never regret the decision. "

"Now may I ask you about this strange belief, that the departed areabout us? Excuse me, if I seem curious, but when you spoke of yourdear wife, my whole being quivered with a new and strange emotion. Ionly ask from deepest interest. "

"I believe you. I wish I could transmit to your mind the proofs ofmy belief. I have almost daily positive proof of my wife's presence, sometimes by my own powers, and then again from those of my child. "

"Then she, too, sees like yourself?"

"She does. And every day my experiences are too real and tangiblefor me to deny, or even doubt that the loved, and so-called 'lost, 'are with us still. To my mind, there is nothing unnatural about it. Every day my faith deepens, and not for all the glory of this lifewould I change my belief. Death has brought myself and Alice nearertogether. But I can only state to you my faith in this, myexperience cannot be imparted. Each must seek, and find, and beconvinced alone by personal experience and observation. "

"I believe you, and your earnest words have sunk deep within mymind, yet in modern spiritualism I have little faith. "

"Mere phenomenal spiritism is of course only designed to arrest theattention; its other form appeals to the soul, and becomes a part ofthe daily lives of those who realize it. "

"But I have heard of so much that was contradictory, so much thatcannot be reconciled. "

"Neither can we reconcile the usual manifestations of life. Ourdaily experiences teach us that seeming absurdities abound on everyhand. "

"That is true. I sometimes think I shall never get the evidencewhich my nature requires to convince. "

"In God's own time and way it will come, and when you are bestfitted to receive it. "

"But please go on, Mr. Wyman, and tell me more of your experience. "

"I would I could tell you how often when I am weary, my dear Alicecomes and watches over me at night; how truly I feel her thoughts, which she cannot express in words; and how, when the poor and needyare suffering, she leads me to where they dwell amid scenes of want. When my pure child speaks thoughts beyond herself, and describes tome some vision which I at the same time behold, with the exact lookand gesture of her mother, I say I believe in spirit communion. Ican well afford to let the world laugh; I know what I see and feel. And well do I know how much there is mixed with this modernspiritism, which has no origin save in the minds of the persons whosubstitute their hopes and thoughts for impressions. On this I havemuch to say to you at some future period. It is well that it is so, else we should not discriminate. Life is so full of adulterations, that which the world calls 'evil' is so mingled with that it calls'good, ' would it not be strange if this phase should come to us pureand unmixed?"

"It would not take you long to make me a convert to your faith; yetI hope sometime to have my own experiences. If there was not so muchthat conflicts with our reason, I think every one would naturallyaccept the belief you so fondly cherish. "

"Without such conflicting experiences, we should be mere machines. We must grow in every direction, using every faculty for ourguidance, yet ever remembering there are mightier realms thanreason, and that the human soul must often go beyond that portal, tocatch glimpses of the silent land. "

"Life would indeed be blessed to me, could I feel an assurance thatmy mother was near me to strengthen me in my hours of weakness, andthat she was interested in my labors. "

"I know all our earnest longings are answered, and that sufficientproof will be given you. Say nothing of this conversation to Dawn. Ihave my reasons, and should not be surprised if, in a few days, sheshould give you a test of spirit presence. "

"Can Dawn see as clearly as yourself?"

"She can, and far better. I do not force the gift upon her, or seekto overwork her powers. I want it to be natural and to unfold withall her other capacities. Never question her, let all come freely. "

"I will remember; and here she comes laden as usual with flowers. "

"O, Miss Vernon, O, papa, I have had such a good time!" sheexclaimed out of breath and almost wild with excitement. 

"What was it all about, child?"

"I was on the hill out here, getting flowers, when I seemed to hearmusic, all at once in the air. I think I went to sleep, but if itwas a dream I know it means something, for I saw a tall, beautifullady come to me, and on her forehead were the letters, M. V. Thenshe took a little box inlaid with gems, and drew from it a necklaceof pearls, and then she went away, and as she turned-I saw thesewords come like a light-'Tell Florence. ' Now, papa, what did itmean?"

Mr. Wyman turned to Miss Vernon who was weeping. He waited until heremotion subsided and then said, --

"Your mother, was it not?"

"They were my mother's initials. Her name was Mabel Vernon, and mineFlorence. "

"How strange. And the necklace, do you recognize that?"

"My mother gave me-on her dying bed-a pearl necklace in such a boxas described by Dawn. "

"And we did not know your name was Florence. We only knew you asMiss Vernon. "

"Can it-can this be true? Ah, something tells me I may believe. I amtoo full now, Mr. Wyman, to talk. I must go. "

"Call me Hugh, Florence, I am your brother--" and he led her gentlyto the house. 

She remained in her room all that evening. Deep and strong was thetide which was setting into her new life. "If 't is true, 't is thegreatest truth mortal has found, " she said again and again toherself, as the old upheaved, and the new flowed into her soul. Lifewas becoming almost too full; her brain grew fevered, but at lastsweet sleep, that soul refiner, came, and after a night's repose sheawoke, calm and at rest. 

CHAPTER V. 

After breakfast, Mr. Wyman informed Miss Vernon and Dawn that heshould go away that day on business, and be absent perhaps twoweeks. 

"I have a book which I would like you to take to Miss Evans for meto-day, " he said, addressing Miss Vernon. 

"The lady who called here soon after I came?"

"The same. "

"I like her much, and should be pleased to see her again. "

"I am glad you do. She is my ideal of a true woman, and one whomevery young, earnest soul ought to know. You will go to-day?"

"Certainly; I am anxious to see her in her own home. "

"She is queen of her domain, and entertains her friends in a mostlady-like manner; but I must bid you both good-bye, and be off. Behappy, Miss Vernon, Florence, and let me find you full of goodthings to tell of yourself and Dawn, on my return. Good-bye. "

"Good-bye, papa, " rang out on the sweet summer air till he was outof sight, then the child's lid trembled, the lips quivered, and shelaid her head on the bosom of her friend and teacher, and gave ventto the grief which ever wrung her at parting with her kind parent. 

"I am glad you did not let your father see those tears. You aregetting quite brave, Dawn. "

"I feel so bad when he goes. Shall I ever be strong like you, andlook calm after these partings? Perhaps you don't love papa; butevery body does that knows him-you do, don't you?"

"Very much; but we will go to our lessons, now, dear. "

"Can I bring my book into the hall, to-day? I like to stay where Isaw him last. "

"Certainly; and we will have a review to-day and see how well youremember your lessons. We shall have no interruptions this morning, and after dinner we will go together to see Miss Evans. "

An hour passed, and the lessons were but half through, when a ringat the door caused them both to start, and they left the hall. 

Aunt Susan answered the call, and ushered the visitors into thefamily sitting-room. 

"Some ladies have called to see you, Miss Vernon, " she said, thrusting her head into the doorway of the room where teacher andpupil sat close together with clasped hands, as though some invadingforce was about to wrest their lives apart. 

"In a moment, Aunty, I will see them, " and a strange shudder shookher frame. 

"Where shall I go while they stay?" asked Dawn. 

"Anywhere; only not far from home, as we intend to have an earlydinner. "

"Then I will stay here, and look over papa's folio of drawings. "

Miss Vernon went to her room to see that her hair and dress were allright, and then slowly descended the stairs to the sitting-room. Herhand trembled violently as she turned the knob, and she almostresolved to go back to her room. "I am growing so sensitive oflate, " she said to herself, "but this will never do, I must go in, "and she opened the door. 

Three ladies hastily rose and bowed very formally, as she entered. 

The tallest and most stylish of the three blandly inquired for herhealth, and after a few commonplace remarks, announced the object oftheir visit. 

"We have come to you, Miss Vernon, to-day, as friends of our sex, toinform you of, as you may not fully comprehend, the character of theman whom you are serving. "

Miss Vernon coolly signified her attention. 

"We deemed it our duty to do so, being married women, " broke in alittle squeaky voice, belonging to the most demure-looking one ofthe party. 

"Yes, we all decided, after long deliberation, " added the third, "that no young woman who cared for her reputation, would tarry a daylonger under this roof. This visit of ours is an act of the purestkindness, and we trust you will receive it as such, and in a kindspirit. "

"Yes, " resumed the first speaker, "it is no pleasant duty, and onewe have long delayed performing, but we could not bear to see youthand innocence betrayed. "

Miss Vernon at first seemed stunned. She knew not what to say, somany emotions filled her. She tried to speak, but her tongue lostits power, and all was silent. She made one more effort, and voiceand courage returned, enabling her to address her "friends. "

"Will you inform me, ladies, what grounds you have for youraccusations against Mr. Wyman?"

"I beg pardon, Miss, we who have known him longer than yourself, ofcourse know both sides of his character; indeed he has no reputationin B--, as all know. "

She started involuntarily. What passed through her mind at thatmoment none can tell, but all can form some idea of the wild tremorof doubt which was gaining strength under their vile calumny andfalsehood. 

They saw their vantage ground, and followed close with suchinvectives as women only know how to hurl against whomsoever theyassail. 

"Strangers, " she could not call them ladies, "I can only speak outof my own experience of this person who a few months ago was unknownto me. He has ever treated me with all delicacy and respect. I haveever found him to be a gentleman. I cannot, will not, believe yourassertions, " she said with emphasis, a sudden strength coming overher. 

"If you do not believe us, then seek one proof of his wrong dealing, which you can find any day, at a small cottage near the uplands, onthe road to L--. 'Tis only a mile from here, Miss, and we wouldadvise you to acquaint yourself with the fact. Take our good adviceand leave this house. That is all we can say to you. Of course, ifyou remain here, you will not be admitted into respectable society. "

"I will not leave his house while he remains the friend and brotherhe is to me now. "

"No virtuous woman will permit you, then, to enter her house;remember this, Miss Vernon, " and the tall lady assumed an attitudeof offended dignity. 

"I see, " she continued, "our visit has done but little save toarouse you. It may be at some future day, you will thank us for ouradvice to you this morning. We must go now. Good day, Miss. "

"Good morning, " replied Miss Vernon, rising and accompanying them tothe door, scarce able to repel the strong tide of grief, or bear upunder the weight of sadness that was bearing down her soul. 

"My brief, happy days so soon, O, how soon, gone by, and over, " shesaid, after she had closed the door; and she sank on her knees andprayed as only those have prayed before, in like trouble. 

She knew not how long she knelt there, but she was roused by Dawn'ssweet voice, which was always music to her soul, saying, "Please, may I come, Miss Vernon?"

She rose and held out her arms to receive the little one, who stoodhesitatingly on the threshold of the library, then pressing the dearchild to her heart, found a sweet sense of relief in doing so. 

"I know what makes you feel so, Miss Vernon. "

"What, Dawn, tell me all you feel, " and she sank upon a seat andrested her face on her hand. 

"I was looking over the drawings, and feeling very happy, when theroom grew dark and cold, so cold I was frightened. Then I heardsomething say, 'Fear not, Dawn, ' and I laid my head down upon thecouch, and saw you standing in a damp, cold valley, on either sideof which were beautiful green mountains, whose tops overlooked allthe towns around. They were so steep that no one could climb them. While you stood there, a great cloud came directly over your head. It was full of rain, and it burst and flooded the whole valley. Ifeared you would be drowned; but you rose with the water, instead ofits going over you, and when the tide was as high as the mountain, you stepped to its highest point, on the beautiful green grass, andsat down. Slowly the waters went down and left you on themountain-top, where you could never have gone without the flood. Then I looked up, and the room was all full of sunshine just as itwas before. I felt cold, and I heard the women go, and then-"

"Then what, Dawn?"

"Then I came to you. The cloud is over you now, but the high greenmountain is more lovely than the valley, and overlooks all thepleasant vales and hills around. Do you care if the clouds burstnow, Miss Vernon?"

"No, child, I will stand firm and sure while the rain descends. O, Dawn, so justly named, come and soothe my brow, for it aches sohard. "

The child passed her soft, white hands over the forehead of MissVernon, and the throbbing pain passed away under her magic touch. 

The bell rang for dinner long before they were ready for thesummons, but they soon took their places at the table, yet withlittle appetite for food. 

"A poor compliment you pay my dinner, " said Aunt Susan, as she cameto remove the dishes, and prepare for dessert. "I suppose you areboth lonely without Mr. Wyman. I, too, miss his pleasant face andsmile to-day. "

How Miss Vernon wished she had not spoken his name just then. 

The form of dinner over, Miss Vernon and Dawn dressed themselves fortheir walk, knowing that they must start in good season, as it was along way to the house, and they would need to rest a little beforetheir return. 

"I almost question, Dawn, if I should go to Miss Evans while thiscloud is over me, " remarked Miss Vernon, feeling as though she wasseeking counsel from one her superior in wisdom, rather thanaddressing a mere child. 

"Why, Miss Evans is just what you need to-day. She is as calm as thelovely lake on which we sailed last week. "

"Well, I need her to-day; but should I carry my state to her?"

"Why, she is like a great stream that carries all lesser streams tothe ocean of truth, " said Dawn, in a voice not her own, and so deepand thrilling that it made her teacher start and gaze with newwonder upon the child. 

"Then we will go this very minute, Dawn; and through the pleasantfields, that we may avoid the dusty road. "

CHAPTER VI. 

Miss Evans sat quietly reading, when a gentle ring at the door, which seemed to reach her heart rather than her ears, aroused herfrom an intensely interesting chapter; but she laid the book aside, and promptly answered the call. 

Her face looked the welcome her heart gave them, as she asked Dawnand her teacher into her cool, airy room. It was one of those snug, homelike spots, made bright by touches of beauty. Here a vase offlowers, there a basket of work; books, pictures, every chair andfootstool betokened the taste of the occupant, and the air of homesacredness that pervaded all, soon made Miss Vernon at ease. 

"We could n't help coming, " said Dawn, as Miss Evans removed her hatand mantle, and her glowing features confirmed the assertion. 

"Just the kind of visitors I like, fresh and spontaneous. We shallhave a nice time, I know, this lovely afternoon. "

"Can I walk in your garden, Miss Evans?"

"Certainly. But are you not too tired, now?"

"O, no, " and Dawn was out of sight the next instant. 

"I have brought you a book, Miss Evans, which Mr. Wyman requested meto bring, myself. "

"O, yes, " she said, glancing at the title, "the one he promised toloan me so long ago. Is he away from home?"

"He left this morning. "

"You must miss him very much. "

"We do. "

Miss Evans saw, with a woman's intuition, that something wasweighing on the mind of her visitor, and kindly sought to divert herthoughts. The conversation brightened a little, yet it was apparentthat Miss Vernon's interest flagged, and that her mind grewabstracted. 

"I shall not relieve her, unless I probe the wound, " said Miss Evansto herself, and she boldly ventured on grounds which her subtlepenetration discovered to be the cause of her gloom. 

"You find my friend, Mr. Wyman, an agreeable companion, I hope, MissVernon?"

"He has ever been so, and very kind and thoughtful. "

"He is a true gentleman, and a man of honor, as well of refinementand noble character. "

Miss Vernon breathed freer. 

"You have made him very happy, " resumed Miss Evans, "by consentingto remain with him and his daughter. They are both much attached toyou. "

A flush of pain she could not conceal passed over the face of thecaller. "O, if I might but speak to you as I would, " she said, almost fainting with emotion. 

"Do tell me in words what you have already so plainly told me inyour looks. Tell me freely the cause of the shadow that hangs overyou. "

In response to this appeal, Florence related the experience of themorning. 

"I am not at all surprised at this, " said Miss Evans, after thestatement had been made, "for well I know the dark surmisings thatthe dwellers in this little village have worked up into imaginaryevils. Sages would no doubt assert that all rumors have some degreeof truth, however slight, for a foundation. This may be true; atleast I will not deny that it is so, but the instigators of thecruel slanders in this case have nothing but ignorance upon which tobase them. Hugh Wyman is what some might call eccentric. The factis, he is so far beyond the majority of his fellow men that hestands alone, and is the cause of great clamor among those who donot know him. He expresses his views upon social questions freelybut wisely. His opinions respecting the social relations that shouldexist between men and women, and their right to selfhood, are nothis alone, but are held by the best minds in the world; and his homeis often visited by men and women of the largest culture andability, both as thinkers and writers. I do not wonder for a momentthat your equilibrium was disturbed by these shallow-brained women. And now before I advocate my friend's honesty and virtue farther, Iwill tell you, what no one save myself and he knows, of one of thewomen who called upon you this morning. It is your due, after whathas occurred, and belongs to this moment. I believe in such momentsit is right to raise the veil of the past. Listen:--

"A few years ago, one of that number who came to you, sought byevery subterfuge and art, to gain the affections of Hugh Wyman. Intellectually, spiritually, in every way his inferior, of course hecould not for a moment desire her society. Yet she sought him at alltimes, and when, at last, he told her in words what he had all alongso forcibly expressed by his acts, that he had not even respect forher, and bade her cease her maneuverings, she turned upon him inslander; and even on his wedding day asserted that his fair Alicewas a woman of no repute--abandoned by her friends. Nor is thisall;-one year after the marriage of Hugh, she gave birth to a child;it was laid at night at his door, and he was charged with being itsfather. "

"But was she married, then?"

"No. She subsequently went to a small village in N--, and married. "

"Did the town people believe her story?"

"A few-but proofs of his innocence long since established thefalsity of the charge, except in the minds of those who seem todelight only in that which dispoils the character of another. "

"But his wife? did she too suffer with doubt?"

"Never. Not for a moment was her faith in her husband clouded. "

"And this child must be the one they spoke of to deceive me. "

"It is. I will go with you some day to see him, and if your eyes candetect the slightest resemblance to Hugh Wyman, I shall think youare gifted with more than second sight. I do not wish to weary you, Miss Vernon, but my friend's character is too sacred to me to bethus assailed, and I not use all my powers to make known the truth, and prove him innocent. "

"I believe his views upon marriage are rather radical, are they not, Miss Evans?"

"They are. I join him fully in all his ideas, for long have I seenthat our system needs thorough reformation, and that while themarriage bond is holy, too many have desecrated it. I believe someof the most inharmonious offspring are brought into the world, underthe sanction of marriage-children diseased, mentally and physically;and worse than orphans. I do not say this to countenancelicentiousness. Indeed, I know that licentiousness is not alloutside of wedlock. It is to purify and elevate the low, and not togive license to such, that earnest men and women are talking andwriting to-day. I do not blame you, Miss Vernon, for wishing proofof Mr. Wyman's purity and honor. I like a mind that demandsevidence. And now, tell me, have I scattered or broken the cloudthat hung over you?"

"You have. I shall trust Mr. Wyman till I have some personal proofthat he is not all I feel him to be. "

"That is the true course to pursue, my friend. In that way alone youhave your own life developed. If by word, look or deed he everbetrays your trust, I shall call my intuitions vain, and all myinsight into human character mere idle conjecture. "

"But I must go now, Miss Evans. I thank you much for the light whichyou have given me, and your sympathy, all of which I so muchneeded. "

"Your position was indeed trying, but do you not feel that yourcharacter will be deeper and stronger for this disturbance?"

"I feel as though I had lived through a long period. "

"I have one question to put to you, which you must answer from yoursoul's deep intuition, and not from your reason alone. Do youbelieve Hugh Wyman guilty of the crimes charged against him?"

"I do not. "

There was no hesitation in the answer; their souls met onsympathetic ground, and those two women loved Hugh Wyman alike, witha pure sisterly affection. 

CHAPTER VII. 

There are pauses in every life; seasons of thought after outwardexperiences, when the soul questions, balances, and adjusts itsemotions; weighs each act, condemns and justifies self in onebreath, then throws itself hopefully into the future to await theincoming tide, whether of joy or sorrow it knows not. 

In such a state Florence Vernon found herself a few days after hervisit to Miss Evans. She thought when with her that no doubt couldever shadow her heart again; but fears had crept over her, eventhough she desired to be firm. 

"Shall I stay and trust his nature, or go away and take up my oldlife, and be again desolate and lonely? Which?" She kept asking thisagain and again to herself. "I have been so happy here; but, if Igo, it must be before he returns. No! I will not. I will stay andbrave the talk, and-"

"Miss Vernon, please come down, papa has come!

"O, why did he come so soon? How I dread to meet him, " were thewords that Florence found springing to her lips; but not hearing hisvoice, she thought that Dawn must have been only in jest. 

She listened again. Yes, Mr. Wyman was talking to Dawn in the hall. She sat very still, and soon heard them both go into the garden;then all was still. Again alone, she tried to analyze her emotions, and see whether her deepest feeling was that of peace and rest, thesame she felt when she first entered the home of Mr. Wyman. It wasthere, as it had been, but so agitated that the effort to ascertainits presence gave back no deep trust to her questioning heart. Thebell rang for tea. She would gladly have stayed away, but could fameno excuse, and after bathing her eyes, which were red and swollen, she went slowly down stairs. 

"I suppose you are surprised, Florence, among the rest, at myunexpected presence. I did not myself expect to be at home so soon, but meeting one of the firm with whom my business was connected, Iwas but too glad to adjust it and return at once. I have felt veryweary, too, since the first day I left home, as though some cloudwas hanging over my home. My first thought was of Dawn, but herrosy, happy face soon put to flight the apprehensions I had for her;yet you, Florence, are not looking well; are you ill?"

"I am quite well, thank you. "

He looked deeper than her words, and saw within a tumult ofemotions. He did not notice her farther, but talked with Dawn duringthe remainder of the meal, and when they were through went alone towalk. 

"He shuns me, " she said, as she went into her room and sat down, sadand dejected, "what but wrong can make him appear so? But I will notleave it thus. I will know from him to-night whether these reportsare true, and then if true, leave here forever. Happiness, like thatI have experienced the past few months is too great to last. "

He sat alone in the library; she rapped softly at his door. 

"Come in, " he said kindly, and rose to meet her as she entered. 

She motioned him back to his seat. "Stay, do not rise, " was all shecould say, and fell at his feet. 

He lifted her gently, as a mother might have raised a weary child, and placed her beside him. Then, taking her hand, cold withexcitement, in his own, said, --

"I knew, Florence, by my depression, that your grief called me home. Some slander has reached your ears. Is it not so?"

"It is. I have trusted and doubted, until I scarce know my ownmind. "

"Do you feel most at rest when you trust me?"

"I think-yes, I know I do. Forgive me, " she continued, "if theseshadows had not fallen so suddenly on my path, I never should for amoment have lost my trust in you. I have been shaken, convulsed, andscarce know my best thoughts. "

"You have, indeed. I know not who have thus disturbed you, but maythey never suffer as we both have, and more especially yourself. Isay I know not, and yet my suspicions may not be entirely withoutfoundation. And now remember, Florence, the moment you feel that Iam not what your ideal of a friend and brother should be, thatmoment we had better part. "

She started, and grew pale. 

"I do not allude to the present, or to the scandal which hasunnerved and disturbed your state; nor can I expect you who arelearning to trust impressions rather than experiences, to feelotherwise than you have. It was natural. I only wonder that you didnot go at once. Your remaining has shown me your worth, and a traitof character which I admire. Now that the ordeal is passed, I shallfeel that you are my friend, even though slander, vile and dark, maybe hurled against me, as it is possible, for I have a battle tofight for you, my friend, and all womankind. The rights of woman, which have been ignored, or thought but lightly of, I shall stronglyadvocate, as opportunity occurs. I shall be misunderstood, over andunderrated in the contest, but for that I care not. I only am tooimpatient to see the day when your sex shall not marry for mereshelter, and when labor of all kinds shall be open for their headsand hands, with remuneration commensurate with their efforts. I amanxiously looking for the time when their right to vote shall beadmitted them, not grudgingly, but freely and willingly given; foris not woman God's highest work, and his best gift to man? Now, ifthe shadows come again, in shape of scandal, think you, you cantrust me?"

"I can. I do, and can never doubt again. Forgive the past. I wasweak-"

"There is nothing to forgive, " said Mr. Wyman, as he leaned over andkissed her forehead. 

The seal of brotherhood was set, and Hugh and Florence knew fromthat hour the bond which bound them, and that it was pure andspotless. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

Mrs. Deane sat rocking, and casting impatient glances at the littleclock upon the mantle. The book which she had an hour previous beendeeply interested in, lay closed upon her lap, while the nervousglancing of her eye towards the door, told that she was anxiouslyawaiting the arrival of some one. The clock struck ten, and risingfrom her seat, she went to the window, and drawing the curtainaside, looked out on the soft summer night. It was one of thoselovely evenings towards the close of the season, when the slightlychilled air reminds one of cosy firesides, and close companionshipwith those dearest to the heart. But her thoughts were not of apeaceful cast. She was alone, and jealous of him who had left herso. A moment later and the sound of footsteps was heard upon thepiazza; a sound which in earlier years she had heard with thrills ofpleasure. But to-night they only loosed the tension of long-pentpassion, and selfish thoughts of neglect. She sank into a chair, andsat with the air of one deeply wronged, as her husband entered theroom. 

"What, up and waiting for me?" he said, going towards her, his faceglowing with mental exhilaration. 

She turned coldly from him, and took up her book. He drew it gentlyfrom her, saying, --

"Listen, Mabel, to me. I want to talk with you awhile. You can readwhen I am away. "

"Yes, sir, I find ample opportunities for that, " and she cast on hima look of keen rebuke. 

"Don't, Mabel; listen to me. "

"I am all attention; why do you not proceed?"

"Do you think I can talk while you are in such a frame of mind?"

"Why, what would you have me do? I am waiting for your words ofwisdom, or, maybe, a lecture on the foibles of the sex in general, and myself in particular; proceed, it's quite a relief, I assureyou, to hear a human voice after these lonely evenings, which seeminterminable. "

"Why, Mabel, what do you mean? I have not spent an evening away fromyou for nearly a year before this. My absence this evening has beenpurely accidental, although I have passed it very agreeably. "

"And may I ask where you find such delightful entertainment, thatkept you away till this late hour, for it is nearly midnight?"

"Yes. I have spent the evening with Miss Evans. "

"That detestable strong-minded-"

"Mabel! I will not hear her spoken of in this manner. "

"O, no indeed. All the men in L--are crazy after her society, --sorefined, so progressive, so intelligent. I am sick of it all. Isuppose you think we poor wives will submit to all this. No, no; Ishall not, for one. You will spend your evenings at home with me. Howard Deane, you have no right to leave me for the society of anywoman, as you have to-night. "

Having thus expended her breath and wrath, she sank back into herhair and gave vent to her feelings in a flood of tears. To herlimited sight, she was an injured woman. How different would shehave felt could she have kindly listened to the words which he waslonging to speak to her. 

"O, Mabel, if you would only listen to me. To-night I have heardsuch glorious thoughts that my whole being longed to share them withyou. Thoughts that would make any man or woman live a nobler andbetter life. O, Mabel, be my helpmate. Do not turn from one wholoves you. "

"A strange way to manifest your love for me, spending your hourswith other women, --"

"Stop, Mabel. I will, at least, have myself heard, and be free tohear the thoughts of other women, as well as those of men. I beginto believe that the words of Hugh Wyman are too true, 'marriage, innine cases out of ten, is a bondage-a yoke of tyranny, keeping twosouls fretting and wearing each other's lives away. '"

He stopped, fearful that he had gone too far, and looked earnestlyon the cold features of his wife. Forgive him, reader, he could nothelp comparing her then with Miss Evans, the latter so calm, earnest, and deep in her love for humanity and progressive life. 

He stepped close to her side, and taking her hand as tenderly as alover might, said, --

"Mabel, forgive me; I was excited, and said too much. I love you, asyou well know, as I love no other woman, but I must have theinnocent freedom of enjoying a friend's society, even though thatfriend be a woman. 

"O, certainly, Mr. Deane. I would not for a moment debar you fromsocial pleasures. I see I am not congenial, and do not attract you. Perhaps Miss Evans is your soul-affinity; if so, I beg you not tolet me stand in your way. I can go to my father's, any day. "

"Mabel!" It was all he could utter, and went out of the room. 

Alone, and left to her own reflections, she became more calm. A tearof real penitence for her hasty words, stole down her cheek. "I willgo and tell Howard I am sorry for my unkind remarks, " she said, asshe brushed it from her face, and she rose to do so. At that momenta short, quick ring of the doorbell shook away the resolve, and shetrembled with fear, unable to answer the summons. 

How thankful she felt to hear her husband's firm, manly step in thehall, and then his voice, low and rich as ever, welcoming her ownparents. Why were they here? and what could have happened? were thequestions which came to her mind, as her mother rushed into theroom, followed by her father, with a carpet-bag and sundry packages. 

"We have given you a surprise this time, I guess, Mabel, " he said, kissing her as tenderly as he used to when she sat upon his knee, and listened to almost endless stories of his own making. 

"But why is it that you are so late?" she asked, anxiously. 

"The cars were delayed three hours by an accident, so instead ofarriving in good time, we have come in rather out of order, but notunwelcome, Mabel, I know. "

He did not see her face, or he might have feared that the welcomewas not as warm as usual. She answered quickly:

"Why, yes, father, you and mother are welcome at any time of day ornight, " and yet she wished she was alone with Howard that moment. 

"I told father, " said her mother, looking at the clock, "that it wasso late we had better go to a hotel, but he would come, saying, Howard would not mind getting up to give the old folks a welcome. "

"We should have been very sorry to have had you done so. O, herecomes Howard, " and the husband of Mabel entered, looking very pale. 

"Late hours don't agree with you, my son. What has kept you up solong?"

"Some winged messenger, I suspect, knowing you were coming; but youmust be weary, " and he offered the new-comers refreshments from theside board. Mabel, however, had flown to the dining-room andprepared them something more substantial in the way of cold meats, and a cup of tea, which she made in an incredibly short space oftime. 

It was a relief when she had shown them to their room. She wentbelow and sat alone, hoping Howard would come to her. He had goneinto his study, where he sometimes passed a greater part of thenight in writing, for he was a lawyer by profession, being a man ofmore than average abilities, his services were sought for many milesaround. Mabel waited, but he came not, and being unable longer tobear delay, she sought him in his retreat. 

"Mabel, you ought to be in bed; its now half past one. You willscarce be able to entertain your father and mother, I fear, if youdo not go now, " and he resumed his writing. 

"So cold! Well, I can live without his love, " she said to herself, and turned to leave the room. He glanced at her lithe form, and allthe lover-like feelings of early years came over him. He longed tofold her once more to his heart, and rose to follow her. 

"Good night, sir, " came from her lips in icy tones, and he returnedto his labors, chilled, heart-sick and weary, where we will leavehim and turn back one chapter to the cause of all thismisconception, and see if we find in it aught but words of truth, and principles which should be understood by all. 

Like too many women, Mrs. Deane had striven to keep her husbandwholly to herself. She could not realize that one who is determinedin her own way and time to get the whole, may not get even a part. She wanted him entirely for herself, ignorant of the fact, or ifknowing, rebellious against it, that his being would flow to herselfafter a temporary receding, far richer in love. Alas, how many womenare dwarfing noble men, and cheating themselves out of the highestenjoyments of life. 

Of Miss Evans she knew nothing, save by report. Like the many, sheallowed her prejudices to control her, and avoided all opportunitiesof making the acquaintance of a worthy woman, one who was fastbecoming life and light to minds of a high order. The thoughts whichhad thrilled the heart and soul of her husband we will record forthe benefit of those who may be struggling for light. 

Howard Deane walked to the village post office that evening with noother thought than of receiving his papers and returning home. Whilethere, he met Hugh Wyman, who requested him, as it was on his way, to take a magazine to Miss Evans. He did not hesitate to grant therequest of his friend. Reaching her home he found her alone, andcommon courtesies led them into conversation. This at first touchedonly upon daily events, but soon it led into deeper channels, andtheir individual thoughts were brought out upon religious subjects, each receiving suggestions from the standpoint of the other. 

"I am impatient, I know, " said Miss Evans, as the subject warmed andbrightened under the glow of words, "to see the day when my longcherished ideas will be wrought into actual life. Will it not begrand when religion shall no longer be an abstract, soullessscience, a musty theology, but a living, vital truth, lived andacted, not merely professed and preached; when the human familyshall be united in one bond, and man love to do his brother good;when he who is strong, shall care for him who is weak; when dailydeeds of kindness shall be accepted as true worship; when the goldenrule shall be the only creed of mankind, and woman shall throw uponher erring sisters the blessed veil of charity. The world is full ofneed to-day. It never so much needed the labor of every earnest manand woman as now. All can work for its advancement; some speak, somewrite, others act, and thus unitedly aid in ushering in themillenium of humanity. Religion is to me only a daily life ofgoodness. The church has little but form. We want vital christianityflowing from heart to heart; and prayers, not at stated times, butwhen souls mount heavenward, whether in words or deeds, to berecognized as true worship. When our churches shall be adorned byart; when the theatre, now so little understood, is employed as alever of moral power, equal if not greater than the church, forreaching the heart, and enriching the intellect; when these twoforces approach each other, then shall we have a real church andtrue worship. Art in every form must be acknowledged as the greatmediator between God and man, and when this is done we shall have acompleteness in our worship, which is little dreamed of now. To mymind, the drama appears as the great instructor of the coming time--greater than the church, more potent, hence more effectual, andwill, I think, at some day occupy its place. I have talked long, butthe fullness of the theme must be my excuse. "

"I am but too glad to hear expressions of such thoughts from anyone. I have been for a long time reaching for something moresatisfactory than I have received. The forms of worship have longbeen dull and void of life to me. "

"Too long have our minds been lumbered with doctrines, instead ofprinciples, " said Miss Evans, her face glowing with earnest thought, "but the signs of the times are now glorious. Men will no longerfeed on husks and dry bones. The call is every day for light, morelight, and theories are fast giving place to human experiences. Astrong current of individual life, too, is setting in, whichinspires every speaker and writer with high and noble thoughts, andthey are forced to give bread and not stones to the multitude. Weshall, I hope, Mr. Deane, live to see the coming of the new day, forsurely we have little but darkness now, and yet all the light wecould use, I suppose, else it would have come before. "

"I trust we shall, and if men and women are true to the light theyhave, the day will soon be here. But, really, Miss Evans, " he said, looking at his watch, "'t is almost ten o'clock; how rapidly themoments have flown. "

"I lose all idea of time when I feel the beating and pulsing of ahuman soul, " responded Miss Evans. "I hope you will come again andbring your wife; I only know her by features; I really wish to knowher through her thoughts. "

"I will, I thank you, " and he left, full to overflowing, impatientto impart to his wife the thoughts of an earnest soul. We have methim in his home, and know the result, --the sharp reverse side of mostof life's best experiences. 

CHAPTER IX. 

Mrs. Deane found the hours drag heavily while her parents remained. She was not like her former self, and they could not but notice thechange. 

It was the first time in their married life that she wished them athome. One hour alone with her husband would have set all right; butthere were none, for business seemed to press in from all quarters, and every moment of his time, far into the night, was occupied inwriting. 

They saw nothing of each other save in the presence of theirparents, for Mr. Deane only snatched a few hours' sleep at earlydawn, and awoke just in time to prepare for breakfast. They wereestranged, and circumstances to embitter the sad state of affairsseemed to daily multiply. 

The fourth evening after the arrival, there was a slight pause inthe pressure of his business, but feeling no inclination to join thefamily, knowing that Mabel and himself would be in feelings milesapart, he called again upon Miss Evans. 

To his relief he found her alone, for he longed for anothercommunion with a mind so comprehensive, and a soul so pure as herown. She noticed the look of sadness on his face, and was glad herown heart was light and her soul strong in trust, that she mightadminister to him. 

Had he come last night, she said to herself, how little could I havedone for him, for my own soul was dark with grief, my lips dumb. Hisface bore a more buoyant look as her words of hope and thoughtfulsayings appealed to his good judgment, and before long it glowedwith joy like her own. He forgot the cloud that had arisen overhimself and Mabel; forgot her words that so wounded his soul; andonly her best and true self was mirrored on his heart, as helistened to the vital truths which flowed from the lips of the noblewoman in whose presence he sat. 

"Our conversation the other night, " he said, "awakened such newemotions, or rather aroused feelings which were dormant, that Icould not resist the strong impulse I felt to call on you again andrenew our conversation. "

"I am very glad you have come, for it does my soul good to seeothers interested in these newly-developed views, and recognizingthe great needs of humanity, and the imperative demands of ournatures. "

"I have felt, " remarked Mr. Deane, "for a long time that the church, the subject of our last conversation, needs more life; that it mustopen its doors to all rays of light, and not longer admit only afew, and that those doors must be broad enough and high enough, thatwhatever is needed for the advancement of mankind may enter therein, come from whence it may, and called by whatever name it may be. In aword, the church must go on in advance of the people, or at leastwith them, else it will be left behind and looked upon as a worn outand useless institution. "

"I am glad to hear you express your thoughts thus, and hope you willgive them as freely at all times, for too many who entertain theseviews do not speak them, standing in fear of what their friends orthe church may say or do. Of such there are tens of thousands. Givethem utterance. Every honest man and woman should, and thus aid inhastening on the day of true life and perfect liberty. While I valueassociative effort, I would not for a moment lose sight ofindividual thinking and acting. We do not have enough of it. Thechurch has much to adopt to bring it into a healthy condition. To-day it ignores many valuable truths which retired individualshold, while it feeds its hearers on husks. Finding better food fortheir souls outside, they go, and cannot return, because the truthsthey hold would not be accepted. "

"We have made rapid advances in art and science, Miss Evans, but thechurch has lagged behind, until at length we find that morechristianity is found outside than inside its walls. "

"True. The best men and women I have ever known, have never sat atthe table of the Lord, so called, have never broken the bread anddrank the wine, yet their souls have tasted life-everlasting whenthey have given in His name food to the hungry and clothing to thenaked. Each soul is a temple and each heart a shrine. The only thingthe church can do to-day is, to reach forth and take its life fromthe world. All the accessions of art must be unfolded, if she wouldkeep alive. Fortify it with these things, and we shall not see, aswe do now, in every town and city even, the whole burden of itssupport resting on one or two individuals. If it has life enough itwill stand; if it refuse light, such persons only retard itsprogress, although strictly conscientious in their position. I thinkone of its greatest errors is in keeping one pastor too long. Howcan the people be fed, and draw life from one fount alone?"

"True, " he said, "and is not that view applicable to our social anddomestic as well as to our religious state? Can we draw life alwaysfrom one person?"

"No; nor was it ever intended that men and women should so exhausteach other. The marriage law is too arbitrary; it allows no scopefor individual action, and yet the subject is so delicate, sointricate, that none but the keenest and nicest balanced minds dareattempt to criticise, much less improve it. The misconstructions ofa person's motives are so great that many who see its errors, tremble and fear to speak of them. But if we are to bring any goodto the covenant, so sacred in its offices, we must point out itsdefects and seek to remedy them, and I sometimes think it will be mymission to help it to higher states. Although such a task would befar from enviable, I will willingly give my thoughts to those whoare struggling, at the risk of being misunderstood nine times inten, as I probably shall be. "

"Then please give me your best thoughts, Miss Evans, for I need allthe light I can get, not only for myself, but for others. "

"I am but a scholar, like yourself, Mr. Deane, and I sometimes thinkthat all I may hope to do will be but to lift the burden an instantfrom the pilgrim's shoulder, that deeper breath may be taken for thelong and often dreary journey. "

A sharp ring of the door-bell interrupted further conversation, andMr. Deane, bowing to the intruder, as such she seemed at that momentto be, bade Miss Evans good evening, and departed. 

The caller was a gossiping woman, who kept many domestic fires alivewith her fuel of scandalous reports. 

"Dear me, Miss Evans, " she said, as soon as comfortably seated, "wasn't that Mr. Deane? Yes, I thought so; but my eye-sight 'aint overgood, and then he looked so sad-like; maybe he 'aint well, " and shelooked inquiringly to Miss Evans, who replied, --

"I think he is in his usual health; a little worn, perhaps, withbusiness. How is your family, Mrs. Turner?"

"O, tol'rable, thank ye. But Mr. Deane did n't say anything, did he, about his folks?

"His folks? What do you mean, Mrs. Turner?"

"Law me, I might as well tell as not, now I've said what I have. Whyyou see Miss Moses who nusses Mrs. Baker, was up ter Mrs. Brown'slast night, and Mrs. Deane's hired gal was there, and she told Mrs. Brown's man that Mr. Deane and his wife had some pretty hard wordstogether, and that her folks-her father and mother-was 'goin tertake her home. "

"Mrs. Turner, I have no interest in this gossip; we will change thesubject if you please. "

"Lor, don't be 'fended; I only-I mean I meant no harm. "

"You may not; but this idle habit of retailing the sayings ofothers, is worse than folly. It's a great wrong to yourself and theindividuals spoken of. "

"Well, I did n't think to have such a lectur', " said the woman, affecting a feeling of good nature, "I say as I said afore, I meantno harm. I like Mr. And Mrs. Deane very much, and thought it was toobad for such things to be said. "

"Is marm here?" inquired a coarse voice at the door, and a red, chubby face was thrust in the narrow opening. 

"Why, Josiah Turner, I told you ter go ter bed an hour ago. Well, Imust go, Miss Evans. I 'spose my boy won't go without me, " andtaking her son by the hand, she departed. 

"A storm upon their domestic horizon, I fear, is coming, if notalready there, " said Miss Evans, setting down and resting her leadupon her hands. "I wish he had not come. Something may be charged tome-but why should I fear. I have said simply what I felt was right. I must expect to encounter many storms in this voyage whose haven ofpeace is-where? None knoweth. "

She fastened her door, and after lifting her heart in prayer forguidance, retired. 

Mr. Deane found his wife alone when he returned, and one could haveseen by his manner how glad he was to find her so. 

"It seems a month, Mabel, since I have seen you alone. "

She only remarked that she feared her parents felt his absence fromhome. 

"I do think, Howard, " she continued, "that you could give us alittle of your time. It is due to my parents. It must seem to themthat you willingly absent yourself, and it is hard for me toconvince them to the contrary. "

"I am sorry that any such impression should have worked its way intotheir minds. They ought to know that it is quite a sacrifice for meto devote myself so closely to business. I hope, Mabel, you arewrongly impressed as regards them, and it may be that your own statehas more to do with it than theirs. This is the first evening I havehad to myself since they have been here. "

"And why was this not spent at home?"

"Because I cannot assume to be what I am not, and you know I am notat rest; that our harmony is disturbed. Could I have seen you alone, I should have been at home before this. "

"You have sought society, I suppose, more congenial?"

"Mabel, be careful. You may so unnerve me that I may say much that Ishall be sorry for. "

"Howard?"

"Well, Mabel. "

"I think I shall return with father and mother. They will go homeday after to-morrow. "

He did not raise his eyes, nor appear in the least anxious to detainher, but merely said:

"Where are they this evening?"

"At Mrs. Norton's. They went to tea. I felt too ill to accompanythem. "

"Are you very ill, Mabel?"

"I feel far from well, and yet it does not seem to be from physicalindisposition. It is something deeper. "

"True, my poor wife, we have become estranged; and what has causedit?"

She looked thoughtfully at him a moment, but no answer came from herlips. 

"I think we had better part awhile. It will do us both good. "

She started, scarce expecting such a remark from him. 

"Then my presence has, indeed, become irksome to you?" Her tone andmanner implied more than she cared to display. 

"You know better than that, Mabel; but I-we both are sadly out ofharmony; perhaps have exhausted each other. Let us part, and eachfind ourselves. We shall be brighter and happier when we cometogether, Mabel; shall we not?" and he laid his hand tenderly on herhead. 

O, why cannot two at least see things in their true light? Why wasit that she remained so blind to the real state of affairs? Eitherignorance or wilfulness kept her from the light, and coldly biddinghim good night, she left the room. 

The next day was indeed gloomy. Mabel's parents had becomeacquainted, not with the facts, but with a distorted view of thecase, and in their eyes she was a greatly abused woman. It was nolonger any use for her husband to exert himself for their happiness, the poison of prejudice had entered their minds, and tinctured everythought. 

It was a painful parting. Misconception on one side, and deepsuffering with pride, upon the other. No lighting of the eyes, nopressure of the hand, no warm good-bye, to keep his heart alivewhile she was away. 

He stood, after the cars had left, deeply pondering the strangeaffair, until the crowd jostled him, and brought him back to theexternal world, with its toil, its sounds of mirth, and its variedforms of life. 

What a break in his usual peaceful life; what a void he found in hissoul when he entered the silent home. There was no lingeringatmosphere of love about the rooms; everything was put away out ofsight. The order was painful, and he left to seek companionship ifnot sympathy. 

CHAPTER X. 

"What is it like, Dawn?"

"Like a great Soul that has absorbed a million lives into its own, and cannot rest, it is so full of joy and sadness, " and she fixedher gaze more intently on the foam-crested waves. 

It was the first time she had seen the ocean, and her father's keenenjoyment watching her enraptured, wondering gaze, afforded MissVernon another source of pleasure, aside from the wide expanse ofbeauty, which stretched from shore to horizon. 

The three, according to Mr. Wyman's promise, had come to enjoy thepleasures and beauties of the seaside for a few weeks, as well as tosee the different phases of human character which were dailythronging there. 

It was intensely interesting to Miss Vernon to watch the child'seager interest in this glorious display of nature, and her strangeinsight into the character of the people with whom they were indaily contact. 

There was one faint, gentle girl, about twenty years of age, whowalked every evening alone, and whom Miss Vernon watched with greatinterest. 

"I like her, too, " said Dawn, coming close to her teacher oneevening, as she walked up and down on the beach. 

"Who? and how do you know I like her. "

"Why, the lady there, walking in front of us. I feel you like her. "

"I am glad you do, Dawn. And now tell me why you love her. "

"I love her because she is white. "

"You mean that she is pure. I think she is. "

"Yes. I mean that and something else. "

"What?"

"In one of my lessons, you told me, that some objects were white, because they absorbed none of the rays, but reflected all. "

"You must explain your singular application-or in plain words, tellme how she reflects all, and takes none. "

"Why, because she don't take the life from people, but gives tothem. "

"You know just what I mean-she throws it back to themselves purifiedby her light. " And the child's face was not her own, another's shonethrough it. 

"Very good, Dawn, I hope we shall sometime know this pure younglady, and receive a brightness from her, " said Miss Vernon, talkingmore to herself than the strange child who was dancing at thatmoment in time to the waves. 

"According to your scientific symbol, I suppose we shall see someblack people here before we go, " she said laughingly to the child. 

"Yes, there are plenty of those everywhere. They take all the light, and give none out. But see, Miss Vernon, the lady is sitting on arock and weeping, may I go to her?"

"Would it not be an intrusion?"

"Yes, sometimes, but not now. May I go? Papa would let me, I think. "

"You must ask him. I had rather not give you such a liberty. "

"Then I will, " and she flew at the top of her speed to the bankwhere he was sitting. 

"May I go and see that lady out on the rock, papa?"

"Why? Do you know her?"

No, but I must go, " and as she spoke Dawn's eyes had that strangelook which betokened an inner vision. 

"Yes, daughter, go, " was his answer, and she bounded from his side, and was close to the weeping stranger, in an instant. 

Her father watched her with the deepest interest, and almost wishedhimself within hearing. 

She did not approach the stranger quietly, but with one bound sprangand threw her arms around her neck, saying in a voice deeper andstronger than her own:

"Pearl, I am here. Weep no more!"

The young girl thrilled, but not with terror, for to her such thingswere of frequent occurrence. Yet the proof to her now of thepresence of the unseen was of such a positive nature, more tangiblethan she had felt for months, that all her accumulated doubts gaveway, and the pure waters of faith flowed over her soul. 

Here, among strangers, where none knew her name, or her grief, hadthe voice of her loved one spoken. Why should she doubt? Why shouldthousands, who have every day a similar experience?

She rose from her position, and taking the hand of the child, whichthrilled strangely to her touch, walked towards the house. 

"Do you love the sea?" she asked of the little stranger. 

"O, ever so much. I mean to ask papa to live here forever, " and shelooked enthusiastically towards the receding waves. 

"Do you live here?" asked Dawn. 

"No; my home is far away. I come here to rest. "

"Was that what made you weep? Was you weary?"

"Yes, dear. My soul is very weary at times. "

"Is the sea weary when it moans?" and she looked wonderingly overthe wide expanse of changing waves. 

"I think it is; but I must leave you now; I see your friends arelooking for you. "

But Dawn would not let her pass on. She held her hand tighter, andsaid:

"This is my papa, and this is my teacher. "

"I hope my child has not annoyed you, Miss, " said Mr. Wyman, as hegazed on the face of the beautiful stranger before them. 

"Far from it, sir. She has comforted me. Children, under ordinarycircumstances, are ever welcome, but when they bring proof-"

She stopped, fearful that she might not be understood. 

"I comprehend it, Miss. I saw another life than her own in her eyes, else I should not have permitted her to have gone to you. "

"I thank you both, " said the gentle girl, and bowing gracefully, shewent towards the house. 

"Is she not white, Miss Vernon?" asked Dawn, exultingly, when thestranger was out of hearing. 

Yes, she is beautiful and pure. "

"I hope she was comforted, for her face has a look of sorrow, deeperthan we often see on one so young, " remarked Mr. Wyman, who had beenenlightened by Miss Vernon on Dawn's strange application ofsoul-science. 

"Yes, she was, papa. Some one in the air made me speak and call hername. It's 'Pearl'; is n't it pretty? O, see those clouds, papa, "she cried, with thrilling ecstasy; "I hope they will look just likethat when I die. "

"You are weary now, darling; we must go in, " said her father, watching with jealous eyes the snow-white and crimson clouds whichlay on the horizon, just above the foaming waves. 

"There are some people here from L--, " said Miss Vernon, as she andMr. Wyman sat together on the piazza the next morning, watching thechanging sea. 

"Ah, who are they; any of our friends?"

"I have never seen them at your house. Two ladies, --a Mrs. Foster andsister. Do you know them?"

"I know that there are such people in L--. When did they arrive? Ihave not seen them. "

"Last evening; but you do not look particularly pleased. Will theydisturb you?"

"I do not mean they shall, although they are busybodies, and knowevery one's affairs better than their own. "

"So I judged by their conversation last evening, which I could notbut overhear, as they talked so loud, their room being next to mine, and their door open. "

"Of whom were they speaking?"

"Of a Mr. And Mrs. Deane. I think I have heard you allude to them. "

"I have; nice good people too. As usual, I suppose they werecharging them with all sorts of foibles and misdemeanors. "

"I heard one of them assert that Mr. And Mrs. Deane had parted, andthat she had gone to live with her parents. "

"It cannot be! Howard Deane is too just and honorable for anythingof that nature; but if they have, there are good reasons for it. Ithink I will write him this very morning, and urge him to come andbring his wife to this beautiful spot for a few days. Will you lendme your folio, Florence? Mine is up two flights of stairs, and Iwould really like to be waited on this morning. "

She flew to her room, and returned and placed it before him, andthen went in search of Dawn. 

Selecting a delicate sheet from its orderly arranged contents hecommenced, --

"My Dear Friend Howard. 

"Come and spend a few days in this loveliest of--"

At this point a strong hand was laid on his shoulder, and anotherplaced over his eyes. 

"I am here;" said a well-known voice, "so throw aside pen and paper. We will commence in a better way. "

"Why? when? where did you come from, and how came you to select thisplace?"

"I came this morning; arrived ten minutes ago from L--. Did not'select' this place; the place drew me here. Now I have answered allyour interrogatories, may I ask you how long you have been here, andwhy you did not let me know you were coming?"

"Two days only. I should have told you, but did not suppose youcould leave for a moment, knowing the pressure of your business. Buthow is your wife? She is here of course?"

His averted face did not reveal the look of pain which passed overit, as he replied:

"She is not well, and went home with her mother. "

"So you was lonely and betook yourself to this scene of life to passthe hours away. You could not have chosen a better place. I hope theperiod of your stay here is not limited to a few days. "

"Instead of that it is indefinite. "

The tone of his voice was too sad to be mistaken, and Mr. Wymanbegan to think that there might be some truth in the rumor whichFlorence had heard. 

He glanced at Mr. Deane's face, and read all he had failed to seewhen he first met him. 

"I hope nothing has occurred to mar your pleasure while here; atleast nothing but what the waves will wash away?"

"The sea is a good place for the soul-weary, as well as for thelight of heart. I cannot, however, leave my burden here. I am, indeed, very sad, Hugh. Are you much engaged? If not, we will take awalk together, " he said, in tones which plainly implied a need of acompanion like Mr. Wyman. 

"I have nothing to do, now you have arrived and saved me thelaborious effort of writing to you. "

"Then you wished me here?"

"I did. My thoughts went out to you this morning. I felt that youneeded a change. "

"I do indeed;" and they walked together for awhile, then sat beneaththe shade of a tree, whose long outstretched branches seemed to wavebenedictions on their heads. 

"I need change, but human sympathy most. Mabel has gone from me. Itis not a corporal separation only, but one of soul and heart. "

"Mabel gone! Is it, indeed, true? But the separation cannot last;she will surely return to your love and protection. Howard, I amglad you are h; ere. Some unseen power must have brought you to thisplace, where you can unburden your grief, and take better andclearer views of the case. "

"Then you think she will come again to me?"

"Certainly; and you will both be stronger for the temporaryseparation. "

"I could bear it better were I not so sensitive to the opinion ofthe world. "

"You must rise above that. There is no growth to him who, seekingthe new, fears to lose his grasp on the old. These backward glancesretard the pilgrim on his way. Do what you feel to be right, andcare for no man's words or opinions. "

"I wish I had your strength, Hugh. "

"I think you were sent here to me to be strengthened. God's hand isin the cloud as well as the sunshine, and I know He will work goodfrom the seeming evil that encompasses you. "

"Your words cause me at least to hope. "

"This separation will work good for both of you. "

"I felt myself, when I found my love doubted and my truthfulnessquestioned, that it would be best for us. "

"Then you favored it?"

"I did. "

"I am glad it was so. You will each have an opportunity to knowyourselves, and how much you are to each other. When together, wordstake the place of thoughts, while absence ever kindles the flame ofholy love, and by its light we see our own short-comings, and ourcompanion's virtues. Were I you, I should look on this as one of thegreatest opportunities of my life to test my heart's true feelingstowards one whose affection had grown cold, or rather whoseunderstanding had become clouded; for I doubt not her heart is aswarm as when you led her to the altar. Like yonder receding wave, her love will return to you again, while to her restless soul youmust be as firm as this rocky coast. "

"Woman's love, " he continued, "is stronger, mightier than man's. Itis no argument against their devotion that they are changeable. Sois this ocean. Each hour a different hue comes upon its surface, butthe depth is there. Thus is woman's soul full of varied emotions;the surface play is sometimes dark, at others reflecting the blue ofthe heavens above. Yes, they are deeper, higher than ourselves, andevery day's experience attests to the fact of their superiordelicacy and nicer perceptions. Their keen insight into dailymatters, their quick sense of everything pertaining to religious andsocial life, are to me proofs of their fine qualities. "

"But their inconsistency at times wars with your assertions. "

"No; it is sterner stuff that reasons most; they are nicer in theirperceptions, and feel instinctively their way into questions overwhich we work and solve alone by long reasoning. "

"I believe it is so. "

"Then you have advanced one step. We cannot appreciate woman toohighly. That many do foolish things is no proof that many are notwise and good, bearing crosses day after day which would make youand I ready to lie down and die-they ever do great things, eithergood or bad, and men, I hope, will some day place her image next tohis maker's, and look upon it as to him the holiest and highest onearth-the best gift of God. "

"Why, Hugh, you are wild upon this subject. "

"I am awake, and hope I shall never slumber. "

"Your words have given me rest, and stirred my best emotions. I willwrite to Mabel to-night. But yesterday and I felt that all womenwere as fickle as these waters. I am changed, and your remarks havecaused me to think differently. 

"I have not changed your mind, I have only brought some of yourbetter feelings to the surface. "

"And what is that but change?"

"It may be, that it is. Do you not see that something mightier thanyourself brought you here, where your morbid feelings will passaway, --though I do not wonder that you felt as you did, neither can Iblame you. The human soul has many sides, and turns slowly to thelight. "

"If I had your penetration, I could bear the discords of life. "

"We must learn not only to bear them, but to gather wisdom fromtheir teachings. If we cannot grow under to-day's trial, we surelycannot under to-morrow's. "

"I begin to feel that we shall both be better for thisestrangement. "

"You will, and come together, on a higher plane. Married people livein such close relations that each becomes absorbed by the other, andthen having nothing fresh to give, what was once attraction becomesrepulsion. I see these things so plainly myself that the criticism, and may be, censure of a multitude, jealous of personal freedom, affects me no more than the passing breeze. I know that if I standupon a mount and behold a beautiful scene beyond, that it is there, although the people below may declare with positiveness that it isnot. A man knows nothing of the value of his wife who sees not otherwomen and learns their thoughts. "

"True. I have felt for a long time that I needed a fresh mind withwhich to hold converse, and my seeking one, although accidental, hasbrought about this state of things. "

"And that person?"

"Was Miss Evans. "

"I remember; and the evening, I asked you to call and leave themagazine. Little did I think of such a result, which I shouldregret, perhaps, did I not fully believe that all things are orderedand arranged for our best good. Long and prayerfully I have studiedthis question, so vital and so closely allied to our best interests. I could not gleam even a ray of truth did I not live above the crowdand fearlessly pursue my own way. I see no escape from our thraldom, but through soul expanse, and this is produced only through soulliberty. I loved my Alice most when I was learning her throughothers; I am still learning and loving her each day, through mychild and our friend Miss Vernon. With all our laws, we have andever have had haunts of vice. Will the emancipation of soul increasetheir number? I think not. If men and women can be brought togetheron loftier planes we shall not have these excresences. The sexesneed to be purely blended; they will approach each other, and it isfor society to say how. Block up harmless social avenues and weshall have broad roads to destruction. I know husbands and wives whoare consuming, instead of refreshing each other's lives. Yes, Howard, this is your great opportunity to take your position anddraw your wife up to it. Life will be a new thing to you, and all ofus who can accept these truths. Our present forms and ceremonieshold us apart, and there is scarcely a ripple of spontaneity uponlife's surface. The highest hours, and those most productive ofgood, are when two souls converse and reflect each other's innermoststates. "

CHAPTER XI. 

It was not by words that they knew each other, but when their eyesmet each felt that the other had passed some ordeal which made theirsouls akin. 

The stranger to whom Miss Vernon had been so drawn, met her on thebeach the next morning, and asked her to walk with her. 

"I would like to tell you, " she said, "of my strange experience lastnight; perhaps these things are not new to you, " and she went on ina confiding tone at Miss Vernon's visible look of deep interest;--

"I was weeping, as you may have noticed, when your strange andlovely pupil came to me, --weeping for the loss of one to whom I wasbetrothed. No mortal save myself knew the name which he gave me onthe day of our engagement. It was 'Pearl. ' My own name is EdithWeston. Judge of my emotion and surprise, when that child-a totalstranger-came and spake my name in his exact tones. I have had othertests of spirit presences as clear and as positive, but none thatever thrilled me like this. Do you wonder that I already love thatchild with a strange, deep yearning?"

"I do not. I have myself had proof through her that our deardeparted linger around, and are cognizant of our sorrows as well asour joys. "

"Perhaps you too have loved. "

"Yes; but not like yourself. My mother's love is the only love Ihave known. "

"And you are an orphan like myself?"

"I am. "

"That is what drew us together. And may I know your name?"

"Florence Vernon. And I was attracted to you the first time I sawyou. "

"I cannot tell you how glad I am to experience these proofs of humanties. It is a pleasure to me to think that wherever we go we shallmeet some one who loves us. I am a dependent character, as you nodoubt have perceived. I need the assurance and support of strongerminds even when I see my own way clear. Some there are who can seeand go forth. I need to be led. "

"I hope you are fortunate enough to have some stronger mind aboutyou. We are not all alike, and the vine nature must have somethingupon which it may cling and find support, or otherwise it will trailin the dust. "

"I am not thus fortunate. I have no one on whom to lean, or to whomI can look for guidance. Shall you remain long here?" she asked, fearing she had spoken too freely of herself. 

"We shall stay until we have received all that this atmosphere andthese scenes can supply us with. It will then be our duty to go. "

"I like that. I must go away very soon to join my aunt who isobliged to remain among the mountains, as the sea air does not agreewith her. But look, Miss Vernon, here comes Mr. Wyman and anothergentleman!" and she seemed greatly disappointed at the interruption. 

"Miss Weston, Mr. Deane, " said Florence, introducing them, and thenext instant she watched with earnest gaze the look of admirationwhich he gave the timid girl. It was not a bold or intrusive look, but such an one as a man might have bestowed were he suddenlyushered into the presence of his highest conception of female worthand loveliness. 

Every line of his features betokened the keenest admiration, whileher glance was far over the sea. Hugh saw the look, too, and wasglad. 

Miss Vernon trembled, she knew not why. She wished that he had notcome to the sea-shore, and that the beautiful stranger was all herown. 

The four walked together on the beach, until the heat of the day, and then Miss Weston withdrew. 

"The finest face I ever saw, " said Mr. Deane, watching her figuretill she was out of sight, "and as lovely in soul as in form andfeatures, I perceive. " Then turning to Miss Vernon, he said:

"I see you harmonize. I am really glad it is so, for you can helpeach other very much. "

Mr. Deane dropped the conversation, and assumed an air ofabstraction, his gaze fixed on the blue waves-his thoughts none knewwhere. 

Hugh and Florence walked to the house and seated themselves in theshade, within view of the sea. Then he told her in his clear, briefway, of what had transpired between Mr. Deane and his wife, with theremark that it was far better she should be informed of the truestate of affairs, and thus be guarded against the evil of falsereports. 

"I saw your look of concern when he met Miss Weston-"

She looked wonderingly in his face. 

"You feared for him, and her then. That was natural. I see beyond, and that no harm will come from any attachment that may arise. Ihope to see them often together. "

"Mr. Wyman, if I did not know you, I should sometimes fear yourdoctrines. "

"I have no doctrines. "

"Well, theories then. "

"No theories either. I follow nature, and leave her to perfect allthings. Sometimes you think I am not sufficiently active; that I sitan idle looker on. 

"What! do you know my every thought-everything that passes throughmy mind?" she asked, a a little agitated. 

"Nearly all, or rather that which goes with your states ofprogression. "

She was vexed a little, but as the lesser ever turns to the greater, the earth to the sun for light, --so she, despite difference oftemperament and mental expansion, was inclined to rest on hisjudgment. 

"This pure girl will give him a deeper faith in woman, unconsciouslyto herself, and he will become a better man; therefore fear not whenyou see them together, that he will lose his love for his wife. Yes, she will do him good, as you, Florence, are every day benefitingme. "

"Do I? Do I make you better?" she asked in a quick, nervous way; andher soul flooded her soft, brown eyes. 

"You do, Florence, and make me stronger every day; while yourdeepening womanhood is my daily enjoyment. You give me anopportunity to know myself, and that there are many holy relationsbetween men and women beside the conjugal. "

Mrs. Foster lost no time in informing the people of L--of themovements of Mr. Deane. She well knew there were persons who wouldcirculate the report, and that it would finally reach his wife, eventhough she was several miles away. The report was, that Mr. Deanehad brought a young lady to the sea-shore, and was seen walking withher every day and evening, and that they both were greatly enamouredwith each other. 

Strange to say, Mrs. Deane, weary and sad, left her parents andreturned to her home just before her husband's letter reached itsdestination, and just in time to hear the narration of his strangeconduct. 

Howard gone, no one knew where, save from the vague and scandalousreport of a few busy tongues; no letter telling where he was, andher soul sank, and all its good resolves faded away. When she lefther parents that morning, she fully resolved to meet him with allthe love of her heart, for she had found that love beneath therubbish of doubt and jealousy that had for a time concealed it. Itwas not strange, therefore, that all the fond trust died out whenshe realized that he had gone, and the bitter waters returnedstronger and deeper over her hope. 

Shall we ever reach a world where we shall not have to plod throughso much doubt and misgiving, and where our real feelings will bebetter understood?

"He will surely come back soon, " she said again and again toherself, while the veil of uncertainty hung black before hertroubled vision. Every day she listened for his footsteps, tillheart-sick and weary she returned to her parents, and told them allher grief and all her fears. 

An hour later they handed her his letter, received an hour after herdeparture, and which her father had carried every day in his pocketand forgotten to re-mail to her. 

While every one in L--was rehearsing the great wrong which, intheir estimation, Mr. Deane had done his wife, she was eagerlyabsorbing every word of his warm-hearted letter, which he wrote onthe day of his conversation with Mr. Wyman. Could she have receivedit before she returned again to her old home, how different wouldshe and her parents have felt towards him. It was only for them shecared now. In vain she argued and tried to reinstate him in theirgood graces; but words failed, and she felt that time andcircumstance alone were able to reconcile them. 

She longed to go to him, but he had not asked her, and only said atthe close:

"I shall return when I feel that we are ready to love each other asin the past. Not that I do not love you, Mabel, but I want all therichness of your affection, unclouded by distrust. We have been muchto each other; we shall yet be more. When I clasp you to my heartagain, all your fears will vanish. Be content to bear thisseparation awhile, for 'tis working good for us both. "

She read it over a score of times, felt the truthfulness of hiswords, but could not realize how it was possible for the separationto benefit them. To her the days seemed almost without end. To himthey were fraught with pleasure, saddened they might be a littlewith a thought of the events so lately experienced, but gladdened bythe sunshine of new scenes, inspirited with new and holy emotions. It was well for her weak faith that Mrs. Deane did not see him thatvery evening walking with Miss Weston upon the sea-shore, engaged inclose conversation. She would have questioned how it was possiblethat under such conditions his love for herself was growing moreintense; not thinking, in her shallow philosophy, that the contrastof two lives exhibits more fully the beauties of each, and that itwas by this rule she was growing in his affections. 

"We must wait awhile for our friends, Miss Weston; I see they are inthe rear, " and he spread his shawl upon a rock, motioning her to beseated, close by the foam-white waves. 

Mr. Wyman and Florence soon came along. They had forgotten thepresence of every one. Nothing engaged their attention but thelovely scene before them, while the moon's light silvered therippling surface of the waters. Their communion was not of words asthey all sat together that lovely summer eve. Soul met soul, and washushed and awed in the presence of so much that was entrancing, andwhen they separated each was better for the deep enjoyment they hadmutually experienced. 

"I may seem strange, " remarked Miss Weston to her new friend, MissVernon, the next morning, as they sat looking at the sea, so changedin its aspect from that of the evening before, "that I should in thecompany of comparative strangers, feel so little reserve. I know myaunt would chide me severely, but I have not felt so happy for manyyears. It may be that the influence of the ocean is so hallowed andpeaceful that our souls live their truer lives, but I have neverbefore opened my heart so fully to strangers. I wonder if I haveoverstepped any of the lines of propriety?"

"I might have thought so once, but I see and feel differently now. Ithink the soul knows its kin, and that it is not a matter of yearsbut of states which causes it to unfold. "

"I am glad you feel so. I seemed so strange to myself, everconservative, now so open and free. I do not feel towards any of theothers here as I do towards you and your friends. I regret that Ihave not a few days more to enjoy you all, " she said quite sadly, "as my aunt has written for me to come to her the last of thisweek. "

Miss Vernon could not help thinking how much more this fair beinghad to impart to her aunt, for this season of rest and enjoyment. "Iwonder if the time will ever come, " she often asked herself, "whenwe can go when and where we gravitate, and not be forcedmechanically. "

"I wish people could follow their natural attractions once in awhile, at least, " said Miss Edith, and she fixed her fair blue eyeson the sea. 

Florence started; for it seemed as though she had read her thoughts. 

"I suppose these limitations and restrictions are for our good, elsethey would not be, " replied Miss Vernon. 

"And the desire to shake them off is natural, if not right; is itnot?"

"Natural, no doubt, and pleasant, if we could have the desiregranted; but duty is greater than desire, and circumstances may attimes impel us to the performance of the one rather than favor uswith the gratification of the other. What I mean is, that it is ourduty sometimes to take a part in scenes in which our hearts cannotfully sympathize. "

"And yet you say you are attracted heart and mind to Mr. Wyman andhis daughter. Is it not possible that, notwithstanding this, yourduty calls you elsewhere, --that some other soul may be in need ofyour presence?"

"You have questioned me very close, Miss Weston, but I will answeryou promptly: I know of no one who needs me, else I should certainlygo. Remember this, --in following our attractions we should never losesight of our duties. They should go hand in hand. "

"Very true. I feel that my aunt needs me, and I will go at once;this very day. I have lost a part of my restless self, and gainedthe repose I so much needed, since I have been here; and I amindebted to you and your friends for the exchange. Now I will gowhere duty calls. "

"You have decided right, and I have no doubt you will be amplyremunerated for the seeming sacrifice you are making of the few daysof happiness you would have had in longer remaining here, had notthe summons come for you to leave. "

"I do not doubt it; and yet Miss Vernon, I need your atmosphere. HowI wish our lives could mingle for awhile. "

"If there ever comes a time when no earthly tie binds you, when dutywill permit you to follow this attraction, come and live with us, and remain as long as you wish. "

"With you?" exclaimed the astonished girl. "Can I? Is Mr. Wymanwilling?"

"He has authorized me to invite you. "

"But would it be right? Will it certainly be agreeable to him?"

"Most assuredly. We all love you, and as for Mr. Wyman, he neverinvites those to his home in whom he has no interest. So come. Iknow you will. "

"Thank him, for me, " warmly responded Miss Weston, "and I trust thetime will arrive when I can more practically demonstrate how much Ithank you all for your kindness. "

The morning was spent by Miss Weston in packing her trunk, andmaking ready for her departure, much to the surprise of Mr. Wyman, and to the disappointment of Mr. Deane, who had hoped for a longerenjoyment of hours of communion with one so rich in goodness andinnocence of heart. 

In her atmosphere all his hardness seemed to pass away. She was balmto his troubled soul; light to his darkened vision. She would gothat day, and life, busy life, close over the fresh, happy hours, and perchance never again before his vision would come that fairyoung face. 

He asked permission to ride with her to the station, and see to herbaggage and tickets. It was cheerfully granted, and in a moment allwas over. The train came, stopped but a second, then moved on, andwas soon hid from sight by a sharp curve. Then his past life cameover this little break, this brief respite, and he felt that he, too, was ready to go and kindle anew the waning flame upon hisdomestic hearth. 

Dawn, to the surprise of her father, was greatly delighted when shefound Miss Weston was going. 

"She is wanted there; some one in the air told me, " she said, andclapped her hands in glee. 

Her departure made quite a break in the little party, and when Mr. Deane made ready to go the next day, Florence and Mr. Wyman bothfelt that their own stay was about over. 

Judge of their surprise two days after, to receive a note from MissWeston, saying that her aunt had been seized with paralysis of thebrain the day she arrived, and would not recover. 

Every test of this nature strengthened Mr. Wyman in the belief inhis daughter's vision, and he felt that there could be no saferlight placed in his path for him to follow; a light which no moreinterferes with man's individuality or reasoning powers than thefalling of the rays of the sun upon the earth. 

The cry of the multitude is, that mediumship and impressibilitydetract from individual life, lessens the whole tone of manhood, andtransforms the subject to a mere machine. Such conclusions are farfrom correct. Our whole being is enriched, and made stronger andfuller by true impressibility. Are we in any degree depleted if wefor a time become messengers to bear from friend to friend, words oflove, cheer and encouragement? Are we mere machines, because we obeythe promptings of the unseen and go where sorrow sits with bowedhead, or want and misery wait for relief? If so, we are in goodservice, and have the consciousness of knowing, that, being thus theinstruments of God's will, we cannot be otherwise than dear to him. 

All matter is mediumistic. Life is tributary, one phase to another, and soul to soul speaks suggestively. 

The ocean has its fullness from tributary streams which flow to itsbed. 

Lives alone are great that are willing to be fed. 

CHAPTER XII. 

Summer's soft foliage changed to gold and red, and the distanthill-tops rested their brown summits against blue and sapphireskies. A soft mist lay over the scene, almost entrancing, to thesoul, while the senses seemed wrapped in that dream-cloud whichborders the waking and sleeping worlds. 

Seven times had the cyprus turned to a golden flame, beside thegrave of fair Alice. 

Seven times had the pines nodded over the snow-white bed, underwhich lay her sacred dust. 

Seven years had gone by with their lights and shadows, since he laidher form beneath the green sod-and wept as only those have wept, whose light has gone out from their dwelling. 

Rich and full had these years been in their strange experiences, while firm as a rock had grown his faith in the unseen whose loveand guardianship is round us as the atmosphere is about the earth. It was a fact to him and not sentiment alone, that, though his Alicehad passed on to a higher existence, her life was more clearly thanever blended with his own. Like warp and woof, their souls seemedwoven, and he would sooner have doubted his material existence, thanquestion her daily presence. 

The days grew richer in glory, till one by one, the dry leaveswithered and fell to the ground, as even our brightest hopes mustsometimes fade and fall. The sky was darker and more lowery. The airlost its balmy softness, and was harsh and chilly, till no sign offoliage was seen, --nought but the leafless branches stretching theirbare arms towards the sky. The meadows were brown and cheerless. Thesilvery brooks trilled out no merry song. Life grew hushed and stillwithout, while more joyous became the tones of happy hearts withinpleasant homes. Fires blazed on the hearth-stones, and charity wentabroad, to administer to those whom Christ has said, "Ye have alwayswith you. " Cities were gay with life, and people went to and frofrom homes of plenty, with quick, earnest steps, as though life wasa continuous chain of golden links. 

The thoughtful walked amid all these lively scenes, and wondered ifthe gay plumage covered only happy breasts. 

The gay passed on, and thought only of joy and their own pleasures, dreaming not that saddened lives had an existence near at hand. 

Afar from all this life and gaiety, stood a low, brown cottage in abarren spot, upon the brow of a hill. No trees sheltered it, givingthat air of protection which ever sends delight to the beholder. Noindication of taste or culture met the sight; naught but a bareexistence, and every-day toil to sustain it, impressed thepasser-by. 

One day when the wind blew loud and bleak, and the snow fell fast, ayoung girl looked from that cottage window, upon the scene beforeher, with that abstraction which one feels when all hope haswithered, and every fresh impulse of a young heart has been chilled. 

She scarcely realized that the afternoon was fast wearing away, until the entrance of one, who, in a sharp, shrill voice, thusaddressed her: "Well, Margaret Thorne, I hope you have looked out ofthat ere winder long 'nough for one day. I've been inter this roomfifty times at least, and you hav n't stirred an inch. Now go andget supper, milk the cows, and feed the pigs; and mind, don't forgetto fodder that young heifer in the new stall-and look here, you lazything, this stocking won't grow any unless it's in your hands, sowhen supper's over, mind you go to work on 't. "

Margaret went quickly to her duties, glad to escape from the soundof that voice, and be alone with her own thoughts. 

This was but a portion of her daily life of drudgery. The old housewas no home to her, now that her dear mother was laid in the littlechurch-yard. She could just remember her. It was years before, when, a little child, she used to hear a sweet voice singing her to sleepevery night. The remembrance of that, and of the bright smile whichgreeted her each morning, was all that made her life endurable. Shehad no present-no future. It was this bright recollection on whichshe was pensively meditating that stormy afternoon. 

Margaret's mother, Mary Lee, had married when very young, a mangreatly her inferior. She was one of those gentle, timid beings, whocan not endure, and brave their way through a cold world, much lessa daily contact with a nature so crude and repulsive as that of herhusband's. She longed to live for her child's sake, but the roughwaves of life beat rudely against her bark-it parted its hold, thecold sea swept over it, and earth, so far as human sight went, knewher no more. 

One balmy spring day, when the blue skies seemed wedded to theemerald hills, they laid her form away, and little Margaret had losta mother's earthly protection. 

In less than a year after that sweet face went out of the home, another came to take her place; a woman in form and feature, but innature a tyrant, harsh and cruel. 

For little Margaret she had no love, nought but bitter words; whileher father, growing more silent and morose each day, and finding hishome a scene of contest, absented himself, and passed most of hisleisure hours with more congenial companions in the village. 

Margaret grew to womanhood with but a limited education; indeed, avery meagre one, such only as she could obtain from an irregularattendance at the village school, in summer when the farm work waslightest, and in winter, a day now and then when the bleak weatherand the rough, almost impassable roads allowed her to reach theplace which was to her far more pleasant than any other on earth. 

It was her hands which done the heaviest and hardest work of thefamily. No word of cheer or praise ever passed her mother's lips. All this, and it was no wonder her life was crushed out, that herstep had no lightness, and her eye none of the vivacity of youth. The out-door work, such as caring for the cattle, was, at last addedto her other burdens; yet all this she would have done willingly, could her soul have received something which she felt she so muchneeded-the light and blessing of love. She was deeply impressed withthis when she entered other homes on errands, and she longed for thewarmth of affection she saw manifested in every look and word oftheir happy inmates. Yet her poor, crushed nature dared not rise andassert its rights. She had been oppressed so long, that the mind hadlost all native elasticity, and one whose sympathies were alivewould have looked on her as a blighted bud-a poor uncared forflower, by life's road-side. 

It was quite dark when she finished her milking, and went to givethe young heifer her hay. She loved this animal more than any livingthing beside the old house dog, and as she patted her soft hide, thecreature turned on her eyes which seemed full of love, as if to showto her that there is some light in the darkest hour, somethingcompensatory in the lowliest form of labor. Margaret lingered besidethe animal, and thought how much better she loved her than she didher present mother. "I love you, Bessie, " she said, as the creaturestretched forth her head to scent the warm milk in the pail. "I 'vea good mind to, Bessie; you want some, don't you?" and withoutstopping to think of the consequences, she turned some of thecontents of the pail into Bessie's trough. 

"Margaret Thorne! I wonder if you don't know when it's dark. It'shigh time your work was done!" screamed her mother at the top of hervoice. She seized her pails and ran to the house, making allpossible haste to strain and set the milk away. But Mrs. Thorne tookit from her hands, saying, "Go and 'tend to the supper. I'll do thismyself. "

"There ain't as much as there ought to be inter two quarts, " saidher mother, returning and looking the girl squarely in the eye. "What does this mean? I'd like to know. "

Margaret was awe-struck. She dared not tell her that she had givensome to Bessie, and yet she could not tell an untruth. One struggle, and she answered: "I gave some to Bessie, " letting fall a dish inher fright. It broke into atoms. 

"Careless jade you! Break my dishes and steal my milk; giving itwithout my leave to a dumb beast. There, take that, " and she gaveher a sharp blow on the face. 

It was not the blow that made the poor girl's blood tinge hercheeks, but the sense of degradation; the low life she was living, in daily contact with one so overbearing, coarse, and rude. 

She did not weep, but one might have known by those suppressed sobs, that the heart's love was being sapped, all its feelings outraged. 

At that moment her father came in, and finding supper delayed, commenced scolding in a loud voice. 

"I tell ye what, woman, I won't work and provide, to be treated inthis ere way. D' ye hear?" and he came close to Margaret and lookedinto her face. 

"Yes, sir. I was late to-night. "

"Yer allus late, somehow. Why don't yer stir round and be livelylike other gals, and be more cheery like?"

His poor, rough nature was beginning to feel the need of a betterlife. 

"Let her work as I have, and she'll be thankful to have a roof overher head, let alone the things I make her, " broke in Mrs. Thorne. "When I was a gal, I had to work for my bread and butter. " Havingthus relieved her mind, she flew busily about, and the supper wassoon ready, to which they sat down, but not as to a homelike repast. Such a thing was not known in that house. 

The evening, as usual, passed in a dull routine of drudgery, andMargaret was, as she had been hundreds of times before, glad toreach its close and retire to her room. 

Thus wore the winter slowly away, and the days so full of labor, unrelieved by pleasure of any kind, were fast undermining the healthand spirits of the sad girl. 

When spring came, her step was slower and her cheek paler, but therewas no eye of love to mark those changes, and her labors were notlessened. At length her strength gave way, and a slow fever coursedthrough her veins as the result of over-taxation. The languor itproduced was almost insupportable, and she longed for the greenwoods, and the pure air, and a sight of running waters. 

Mrs. Thorne saw that something must be done, and finally consentedthat Margaret might take a little recreation in the manner she hadproposed, accompanying her consent with the remark that she thoughtit a very idle way of spending one's time. 

Margaret's constant companion in her rambles was the faithful dogTrot, who highly enjoyed this new phase of life, and with him at herside she had nothing to fear. 

The change brought new life to her wasted system, and as she connedover the beauties around, watched the sparkle of the running brooks, and listened to the songs of the free birds, she wished that herlife was as free and beautiful. 

One day while trimming a wreath of oak leaves, she thought she heardfootsteps, and the low growl of Trot, before she had time to turnher head, confirmed her impression that some one was approaching. 

She turned, and encountered the gaze of a stranger, who said in adeep, pleasant voice:

"I have lost my way, I believe. Is this Wilton Grove, Miss?"

"It is, " she answered, not daring to raise her eyes. 

"Thank you. I was not quite sure, yet I thought I followed thedirection, " said the stranger, and gracefully bowing, departed. 

In all her life so bright and manly a face had never crossed herpath. And that voice-it seemed to answer to something down deep inher soul. It kindled a fire which was almost extinct, and that firewas hope. Perhaps she would some day see people just like him, livewith them, and be young and happy. 

Old Trot seemed to share her new-found pleasure, and lookedknowingly into her face, as much as to say, "There are some folks inthe world worth looking at. "

She went home that night to dream of other forms and faces thanthose she had been so long accustomed to, and slept more sound thanshe had for many months. 

Weeks passed away, and the bloom came back to Margaret's cheek, anew life was in her eye, for the voice of love had spoken to herheart, and the blood leaped till the color of her face vied withthat of the roses. 

The young man whom she met that day in the grove, often found hisway to that spot, not by mistake but by inclination, attracted bythe fair face of Margaret. Again and again he came, till his glowingwords kindled the flame of hope to love, and it became a source ofgreatest pleasure to him to watch her dreamy eyes glow withbrightness under his repeated vows of constancy. 

Clarence Bowen was the only son of a city merchant of great wealth, acquired by his own indefatigable industry. His son had inheritednone of his father's zeal for business, and after repeated effortsto make him what nature had never intended he should be, he sent himto study law at the college in D--, a thriving town a few miles fromMargaret's home. It was while there, and in an hour when weary withstudy, he wandered away to the spot where he accidentally met her. His nature being not of the highest order, he did not hesitate topoison her mind with flattering words, until at length he won herheart, not as a pearl of great price, a treasure for himself, but asa bauble, which he might cast aside when its charm had departed. 

Sad indeed was the day to her in which he told her she could neverbe his wife. Pity her, ye who in happy homes have kind friends toguide your hearts into peace, and refresh your souls with a true andperfect love. Have charity, and raise not hand nor voice against onewho, had her life been cast in as pleasant places as yours, wouldnot have trusted so fondly in a broken reed, or listened soconfidingly to the siren voice of the tempter. She had pined for awarm heart and a faithful love. She had trusted and been betrayed. You owe her your pity, not your condemnation. 

"Did you say you were not going to marry me, Clarence?" and askingthis, she cast her eyes to the ground, and sobbed like a child. 

"No, girl; you ought to have known I could not. I have no money butthat which my father supplies me with to pay my board and expenses. I have nothing to support--"

She looked so pale he dared not say more. 

"Go on, " she at length said, pressing her hand closer to her heart, lest its strong beating might too plainly betray her feelings. 

"And even could I support you, my father would disown me were I totake such a step. "

"Then you never loved me, Clarence. You only sought your ownpleasure and--and my--my ruin?"

She broke down. Life had nothing now for her but shame and sorrow. Alas, the world has no pity for its children. 

Hard indeed must have been his heart, had it not relented then. Hewent and placed his hand upon her head, saying, "I would marry you, Margaret, if I had money enough, " and just thatmoment he meant it. 

She looked up through her tears to him, and seeing the expressionwhich accompanied his words, mistook it for real sorrow at partingfrom her, and answered in a hopeful, bright voice, --

"I can work ever so hard, and we might be married privately if youchose, as no one knows us, and go away. You don't know how hard Ican work, Clarence. "

"And then, sometime we might become rich, " she continued, withoutlooking at his face, "and I would study, too, and improve myself. Then we could return to your parents and be forgiven. They surelycould not blame us for loving each other. You will not forsake me, will you, Clarence?"

He bowed his head. She thought he wept, and she continued her wordsof cheer till he could bear it no longer. 

She laid her bursting head upon his bosom saying, "I will go awayfrom here to-day, Clarence, and be no burden to you, till you cansupport us both. "

He nerved himself for the desperate emergency, and shook her off asthough she was poison, saying, in cold, measured words, not to bethis time misunderstood, --

"No, it cannot be; don't deceive yourself; you can never be mywife, " and then he left her. 

Angels pity her. Heaven have mercy on her who sank prostrate withgrief that bright day on the green lap of earth. One heart-piercingcry went up for help and mercy from above, and hope and love wentout of that heart, perhaps forever. 

Faster and faster flew the betrayer, as though he would elude apursuer from whom he could not escape. But he could not close hisears to that pleading voice, nor his eyes to that agonized look. Aye, erring mortal, that sound will pierce your soul till somereparation, some pure, unselfish deed, washes the sin away. 

"Why, Clarence, you look as pale as a ghost; what on earth hashappened to you!" exclaimed his college chums, as he walkedbreathless and weary into the house. 

"I am sick, " he answered, and went by himself to evade furtherquestions, which he knew would rend his soul with anguish. He earlyrepaired to his room, but found no rest, and finding himself unableto attend to his studies the next day, obtained leave of absence. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

How long Margaret laid there, she never knew, but when she came toconsciousness she found herself in her own room, and her fatherbending over her, with a look she had never seen on his facebefore, --one of deep anxiety for her. 

"All this ere comes from letting her go out in the air every day, "were the first words which broke the silence, and conveyed to hersenses that any one beside her father was in the room. 

All the recollection of her misery came over her then. She hadforgotten all, save that her father looked with eyes of love uponher. The shrill voice broke the heavenly spell, and Magdalen kneltagain in prayer at the Saviour's feet. 

She closed her eyes as though she would shut out the sorrow from hersoul, while a look of deep pain settled on her features which herfather mistook for physical suffering. There was something in herpale face then, that reminded him of her dear, dead mother. Ittouched the long buried love which had lain in his uncultured naturemany years, and he drew his sleeve roughly across his eyes to wipeaway the tears which would come, despite the searching glance of hiswife, who looked upon any demonstration of that kind as so much lossto herself. 

He thought Margaret would surely die. It must be some terribledisease that caused her to look so white, and made her breathing solow and still, and he resolved to go for a physician. 

His decision met with little favor from Mrs. Thorne, who frettedcontinually about the extra work and expense of a sick person, interspersing her growls with the remark which seemed stereotypedfor the occasion:

"A nice job I've got on my hands for the summer. "

"Come, I 'll have no more grumbling to-night. How long the poor girllaid in the woods nobody knows. May-be she fainted and fell, andthem ere faintin' spells is dreadful dangerous, and I'm going forthe doctor, if it takes the farm to pay for 't. "

When Caleb Thorne spoke like that, his wife well knew that words ofher own were of little avail, and she wisely concluded to keepsilent. 

Margaret might have remained as she had fallen, faint and uncaredfor in the woods, for a long time, had not the faithful dog, whoinstinctively knew that something was wrong, ran furiously to thehouse, and by strange motions and piteous pleading moans attractedthe attention of Mr. Thorne from his work. Trot would not act as hedid without cause. Caleb knew that, so he left his work and followedthe dog, who ran speedily towards the woods, momentarily lookingback to be sure that his master was close at hand, until he reachedthe spot where Margaret laid. 

He thought her lifeless, and raising her from the ground, bore herhome, while a heavier burden at his heart kept his eyes blinded, hissteps slow, and his walk uneven. 

When the physician arrived, he saw, at a glance, that some greattrouble rested, like a dense cloud, on the girl's mind. Her restlessmanner and desire to remain silent, showed plainly that some greatanguish was working its sorrow within, and silently he prayed toheaven, that the young heart might find that relief which no art orskill of his could impart. He could only allay the fever into whichher blood was thrown, and as he went out, left his orders, saying, he would call again on the morrow. 

"She's as well able to work as I am, this blessed minit, "impetuously exclaimed Mrs. Thorne, who could ill brook the state ofaffairs. 

"If looks tell anything, her pale face aint no match for yourn inhealth, Huldah, " remarked Caleb, as he glanced somewhatreproachingly at the full, red features of his wife. 

"A white face aint allus a sign of sickness; here I might be next todeath, and my face be getting redder and redder at every pain, --butthen who cares for me? No one, as I knows on. "

She turned and found she might have left her last words unspoken, for Caleb had gone to milk the cows, and she was alone. 

It was no sudden thought. Every hour since the day they found her inthe woods insensible, she had busily matured her plans. Thosewords, --"You can never be my wife, " made life to her of no moment, save to find a spot of obscurity in which to conceal her shame, andspare her old father the grief she knew it must bring him. 

She must leave her home, none but strangers must know of her sorrow;and when health returned and she went about her daily toils, a shorttime prior to the crisis of her grief, she deeply thought upon whereshe might turn her weary steps. She had heard of a factory in N--, a town twenty miles distant, where girls earned a great deal ofmoney. She would go there and work until-O, the pain, the anguish ofher heart, as the terrible truth came close and closer every dayupon her. And then she would go. Where? No mother's love to helpher, no right granted her to bring another life into being. Howkeenly upbraiding came to her at that moment the great truth, atruth which cannot be too deeply impressed upon every human mind, that no child should be ushered into this world without duepreparation on the part of its parents for its mental, moral andphysical well-being. Let pity drop a tear, for sad indeed was herlot. 

One day she gathered what little clothing she possessed, and made upa small parcel preparatory to her departure, and as her only time ofescape would be in the night, she carefully concealed it, and wentabout her work in her usual, silent manner. 

One moonlight night when all was still, she took her little bundleand went softly down stairs. Noiselessly she trod across the kitchenfloor, pulled the bolt, lifted the latch, and stood outside. For aninstant she paused. A rush of feelings came over her, a feeling ofregret, for it was hard even for her to break away from familiarscenes, and leave the roof that had sheltered her; but it would notdo to linger long, for Trot might bark and arouse her father. Thenshe could not bear the thought that she should never see thefaithful old dog again; and almost decided to go to him, but thethought had scarcely entered her mind ere her old companion was ather side. His keen sense of hearing had caught the sound of hermovements, though to her they had seemed noiseless, and he had comefrom his kennel and stood at her side, looking up in her face asthough he knew all her plans. 

Her courage almost forsook her as he stood there, wagging his tailand eyeing her so closely. She feared that he would follow her, andthought she must go back to her room and make a new start; but nowshe was out of the house, and, perhaps she could not escape anothertime without disturbing her parents. This thought nerved her tocarry out her resolve, and she walked rapidly away. One look at theold house, as her step was on the hill which would soon hide it fromher view. One more look at old Trot, then she waved her hand for himto go back, and swiftly walked as though borne by some unseen power. The grey light of morning touched the eastern hills just as she lostsight of her native village. 

New scenes were before her, and from them she gathered freshinspiration. The houses scattered along the roadside, from whichpersons were just coming forth to labor, gave her new feelings andenlivened her way, until at length something like fear that shemight be recognized and sent back came upon her; but her fears weregroundless, and she passed on and soon came to a deep, wooded road, closely hedged on either side by tall trees, whose spreadingbranches seemed to her like protecting arms. There she could walkslower, and breathe more free, and for the first time for many daysher mind relaxed its tension. 

She was plodding along, musing upon the past and trying to discernsome outline of her future, when the sound of steps following hercaused the blood to leap to her face. Looking around she beheldTrot, and ordered him back; but words were of no avail; he hadscented her footsteps thus far, and seemed determined to follow herto her journey's end. 

"Poor fellow, " she said, patting his head, "I would not send youback if I had a home for you, " and she tried again to induce him toreturn, but he only gave a sigh, or sort of moan, as thoughimploring her to keep him with her. 

She could no more bid him depart. Was he not her only friend, anddid he not love her as none other did? So she patted him again andsaid, --

"Perhaps God will provide for us both. Come on, dear, old bravefellow, " and then the faithful animal's eyes lit up with almosthuman gratitude, and he ran on joyfully before her. 

The tall trees waved their branches in the morning breeze, and theirmusic touched her soul, and attuned it to sweeter harmony than ithad known for years. The flame of hope began to kindle anew. Theremight be some one, after all, who would pity her, who would notwholly condemn her; while the music of the tall pines seemed likeangel voices, saying: "Yes, love her, pity her, and all on whom theblight of sorrow falls. "

She loved the music of the singing trees, and was grieved when theroad turned off towards a hill, and she was obliged to part with theprotection and seclusion which they afforded her. But taking freshcourage from the guide-board, which indicated her approach to N--, she travelled bravely on. She had provided herself with provisionsfor a single day only, and had scarcely dared to take even that fromthe plenty of her father's home. Reaching a sheltered spot by theroadside, and feeling faint and weary, she sat down and shared herfood with her dog. 

Ten miles of her journey had been passed, and more rapidly than shecould hope to continue, and she found that on a renewal of it, shemust proceed more leisurely. 

A sad, but interesting picture they made. She, with her young, fairface, touched by lines of grief; the once dreamy eyes, so soft, nowfull of nervous fire, and wild with restless fear. Her bonnet wasthrown back from her shoulders, and the golden sun of morningtouched her wavy hair, till it glowed and seemed like a halo oflight about her pale brow. 

When their little repast was over, she rested her head upon herhands, and from her soul went forth a prayer for guidance andprotection, --more deep and earnest than words can portray. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

Morning broke in all its splendor over the little village she hadleft behind. 

Dewy flowers, touched by the rising day, glittered in their beds ofgreen, while mists, etherial as air, hung over the verdant meadows. Long lines of hills whose tops rested against the blue sky, mirroredtheir heads in the waters which flowed at their feet. 

Beauty was on every hand. In whatever direction the eye turned, itbeheld the smile of God, and all nature seemed a psalm ofthanksgiving. 

Caleb Thorne arose, and shaking off dull sleep, called Margaret toher morning duties, while his wife bustled about the house in herusual manner. 

Neither looked on the lovely scene before them. If their eyeschanced to turn in its direction, their souls took no cognizance ofall the wealth of beauty which was before them. 

"What on earth keeps that gal up stairs so long, " said Mrs. Thorne, "I'll call her and bring her down I guess, --Mar-ga-ret-Mar-ga-retThorne; it's most six o'clock-get up. "

No sound; no footstep. She waited a full half hour, then Calebreturned from the barn, having milked the cows, a labor which he hadperformed since Margaret's illness. 

"That gal ain't up yet, " said his wife, as he came and placed thepails on the table. 

His breath came fast, for he feared she might be ill, or dead, perhaps. 

"Go and see what the matter is, " he said to his wife. But as she wassomewhat afraid to enter a room where all was so silent, shehesitated. At length she mounted the stairs very slowly, callingMargaret's name at each step. When she had reached the landing, shefound the door wide open, but no Margaret was there, and the bed wasundisturbed. Pale and trembling, she went down stairs. 

"She's-she's gone!" were the words with which she met her husband'sinquiring gaze. "Yes, gone; run away, I s'pose, in the night. "

Mr. Thorne sank into the nearest seat, almost paralyzed with emotionand apprehension. 

"Gone?" he repeated; it was a long time before he could take in hermeaning. It came at last; not as some truths do with a flash, but itdropped like lead into his soul, down-down-to depths he knew not of. And she had gone, just when he was waking to realize a fraction ofher worth; just as he was learning to look with a single spark oflove on her young, fair face, growing every day so much like herdear, dead mother's. 

He leaned his face upon his hands and wept. The fount of feelinglong dried was touched, and his heart felt a tenderness it had neverknown before, for his child. 

Through the dark atmosphere about his soul a ray of light broke in. Down through long years it crept, and seemed to carry him back tothe time when his Mary was a bride. 

There comes a moment to every soul, when its treasures are trulyappreciated; when hearts God has given to love and bless us arerightly valued. Well is it for us if that moment comes while theyare with us in the earthly form. 

It seemed but yesterday when she was a bride, white in soul, as wellas attire. How vividly the scene now stood before him, and he felt, as he then did, the beating of her young, trusting heart, which shegave into his keeping. 

Down through all these years flowed the light of recollection, andbrought to mind the morning when a tiny babe was placed beside itsmother for him to love and cherish. Grief shook his soul to itsfoundations. Through his rough nature crept a tenderness he had notknown for years, for those two treasures-one beneath the sod; theother, --where?

"I s'pose you did n't look to see if the door was onbolted, didyou?" remarked his wife, wondering what made him so long silent. 

"Come to think 'ont, 't was, " he answered, like one awaking from adream. 

"Then, the ungrateful thing's gone; and I am glad, if she could n'tbe more thankful to us for her home. "

"Yes, --Margaret's gone. " His voice sounded far off, as though hissoul was off in search of her. 

"Margaret Thorne has run away!" went from mouth to mouth, and harshcomments, bitter words, flashed through the village a few days, andthen all was still again. 

Wild and fearful emotions rushed through the mind of Margaret, when, after a long, weary walk, she reached the town of N--, with old Trotat her side. 

It was a small white house, apart from others, and far from theroad, at which she applied for board, drawn thither by its quiet, home-like appearance, and a strange feeling within her mind whichshe had not fully learned to trust. 

She felt that her weary feet could go no farther, as she walked upthe path, bordered by flowers, and knocked timidly at the door. 

It was opened by a woman of about forty years, whose pleasant facesmiled upon her, as she invited her to enter. 

Margaret took courage from the kind manner in which she was met, andat once made known her desire to obtain a boarding place, designingto work in the factory near at hand. 

"I have no room at present for any one, " she answered, "but if youare to work in the factory there are boarding houses built by thecorporation, at which you can obtain accommodations. The first step, however, will be to call upon the overseer, and if you like I willgo with you after you have rested. "

Margaret was too grateful to reply in a satisfactory manner, but herface looked what her tongue could not speak. 

Mrs. Armstrong glanced at the young girl, and thought how unfittedshe seemed for such a place of labor. With her large experience, formany had wandered there before, burdened with heavy struggles, shequickly saw that grief, or want, perhaps both, had driven her fromhome, or shelter, whichever it might be. 

She shrank as she thought of the rough influences to which she wouldbe subjected, and though she knew she could not avert the fate ofthis wanderer, or any of those who came to her for love andsympathy, yet she inwardly resolved to befriend her, and do all thatshe could to aid one so young and innocent, through a cold world. 

"I'll get you a cup of tea, and something to eat, " she said, andhurried out of the room before Margaret could reply. 

This was not the first one to whom her bounty had been given; notthe first lonely stranger who had supped at her table. 

Old Trot sat on the door-step during this time, his eyes riveted onthe house, and his ears poised to catch every sound within. 

When all was ready, Mrs. Armstrong called Margaret to partake of agood substantial meal, which her busy hands had so speedilyprepared, and knowing that the young girl might feel diffident, seated her alone at the table, while she busied herself about theroom. 

How Margaret longed to share her meal with Trot. What was hersurprise to see Mrs. Armstrong gather some scraps of meat and bones, and carry them to the hungry animal. 

No wonder the girl thought her an angel; she rose from the table, her eyes too dim to see her newly-found friend, and her heart toofull to thank her for all her kindness. 

In a short time Mrs. Armstrong was in readiness to accompany her tothe factory, and the two left the house, the former making the walkpleasant by her familiar conversation and the sympathy shemanifested for the wanderer. Trot followed them, and, as ifconscious that his young mistress had found a friend, occasionallyran on before, looking up in their faces, and leaping as if wildwith joy. 

After a short walk through the most retired part of the village, they reached the factory building and entered. 

The noise was so great that Margaret thought she should be stunned, and put her hands upon her ears, to keep out the sound. She hadnever been in a factory before, and the thought of having to bearall that confusion, every day, sent a feeling to her heart somewhatakin to terror; but she must labor, and where else could she go?

The curious gaze of the girls, as they entered the weaving room, wasmost trying to her sensitive nature, and Margaret's face crimsoned, as she followed Mrs. Armstrong to the farthest part of the room, where Mr. Field, the overseer, was conversing with one of theoperators. 

He was a black-eyed, sharp-featured person, and there was somethingin his look which caused her to shudder, as Mrs. Armstrong madeknown her errand. 

"Have you ever worked in a factory?" he asked, in a quick, impatientmanner. 

"No sir. "

"A new hand, then, " he said, with a little more suavity. 

"We need another hand in the carding-room, so you may go there. Iwill show you the room. "

He led the way, Margaret following, yet keeping close to her newfriend. 

The noise of the room was almost as great as that of the other, butit was sunnier, and the windows were adorned with some beautifulplants. The girls seemed more modest and less inclined to stare atvisitors. Mr. Field was about to leave, when he suddenly turned toMargaret and inquired when she intended to commence. 

"To-morrow, sir, if you are ready for me?"

"All right. Be on hand at the ringing of the bell. "

"I had almost forgotten an important part of my errand, " said Mrs. Armstrong, "and that is, a boarding place for this young lady. "

"Ah, she wishes to board in the Corporation. Well, there is a placeat Mrs. Crawford's. I think she has a spare room. Her house is onElm Street, third block. "

It was a relief to feel the fresh air again, and to be away from thenoise and confusion of the factory. As soon as they had reached thestreet, Margaret inquired of Mrs. Armstrong, the way to Mrs. Crawford's. 

"O! I shall go with you, " said that kind lady, to the great reliefof the young and timid girl, already worn and weary with fatigue andexcitement. 

"Thank you, " in low, but sweet tones, came from her lips, and thetwo wended their way along, with Trot close behind. 

They passed pleasant private dwellings, and then turned into a longand narrow street, with blocks of houses on either side. Margarethad supposed by the name, that the street must be very pretty, withrows of trees on each side. She was just learning that there aremany misnomers in life, and that this was one. 

The house in the third block was reached, and Mrs. Armstrong rappedwith her parasol on the door. A red faced, but good-naturedappearing woman answered the call. 

"We have called to see if you have a spare room for a young lady whowishes board, " said Mrs. Armstrong. 

"We 've got a spare bed for a factory girl, if that's what youwant, " she replied, grinning, and eyeing Margaret from head to foot. 

"But have you no room she can have by herself?"

"Bless your stars, no my lady. We don't take them kind o' boarders. There's plenty of places where genteel folks are taken, if they liketo be starved out and out, " and her face glowed with such genuinegood nature, that her questioner felt that whatever else one mighthave to endure, they would at least have a sunny face to cheer them. 

"This young woman can sleep with other folks, can't she?" inquiredthe good-natured woman, and her smile, not of sarcasm, but truegoodness, though rough, saved Margaret's tears. 

"If you have no other, she must, " said Mrs. Armstrong, disappointedly, for she saw from the first, a native dignity anddelicacy in Margaret which would shrink from the contact withothers, and intended to have paid the extra price demanded for aroom herself, if one could have been obtained. 

At that moment, old Trot came in through the open door, and lookedaround, as though he did not like the appearance of things. 

"That dog can't come, " said the woman, losing for the first time herpleasant smile. "May-be he's your's though, madam?" she saidapologetically. 

"No, he's mine, and I must have him with me, " broke in Margaret, "and I cannot-"

She stopped short, frightened at her own earnest words and manner. 

"I think he will be better off with me, " said Mrs. Armstrong; "Iwill keep him for you. "

"I would n't care myself about the cur, " said Mrs. Crawford, following them to the door, "but my boarders are so agin anything inthe shape of a dog. "

"Certainly; she could scarcely expect you to take him; and besides, I want him to watch my chickens and garden. I took a fancy to himthe moment I first saw him. "

Having thus made all satisfactory in regard to the dog, as far asMrs. Crawford was concerned, they bade her good-day, and reachedhome just before dark. 

"You are too kind, " said Margaret to Mrs. Armstrong, who told herthat she must remain all night with her, and then she could say nomore, but broke down completely. 

The kind woman took her at once to a neat little bed-room, andpermitted Trot to lie on a mat close to the door of his mistress. 

Weary and worn, she gladly went to bed. Sleep came at last, and thetired, intense state of her mind was lost in slumber. She dreamtthat she was at her home again, and that she was going to marryClarence. They were walking to the village church together, over thesoft green meadows. The air was balmy and full of sweetness; thesunshine lay in golden bars at her feet, and her whole soul glowedwith happiness, life, and love. The bells--her marriage bells--pealedout joyously on the air, while she turned to Clarence, saying, "Ihad a terrible dream; I thought you had deserted me. " Anotherpeal, --merry and full-then the meadows that were so warm and sunny, grew cold and wet; and a cloud came between her and the golden sun. The bell rolled forth another peal-it sounded like a knell-and sheawoke. 

The factory bell was ringing, calling the operatives to labor. 

A sweet voice broke on her utter desolation just at that moment, saying:

"That is the first bell; you will have just time enough to dress andtake your breakfast. "

Mechanically she arose, dressed, and forcing back her hot tears, went below, to sit again at the table of one who ever rememberedthese words: "As ye have opportunity. "

CHAPTER XV. 

There comes to every one at times the inquiring thought, of what useis life? What will be the result of all this seemingly useless toil, these states of unrest, these earnest efforts of the soulunappreciated, these best endeavors misunderstood? Such questionsflood the reason at times, and we are ready to lay down our lifeweapons, scarce caring how the busy scene goes on. 

Then, through the parted clouds, the rays of truth illumine the mindagain, and we take up the life-song once more, not as we laid itdown, but with a richer melody, a fuller and sweeter strain. Thesoul feels new pinioned, and spreads its wings for loftier flights, rising, height after height, up and on to the fields of theinfinite. 

This questioning state is sure to come to the most earnest, truthful, and thoughtful worker. All along the pathway of life theseweary, yet hopeful pilgrims, sit waiting for "light, more light. "

In such a mood sat Miss Evans, at the close of one summer day, asthe sun was going slowly to his fold of gold and crimson clouds. Asort of mental twilight had gathered over her, dimming the sharplines of thought which gave her words at all times such force. Allher best and most earnest endeavors seemed as nought. Words whichshe had spoken, warm with life, vital with her own enthusiasm, hadbecome metamorphosed, till their real meaning was lost to her. 

"Alas! we must remain a riddle to ourselves forever, " she said, andher deep brown eyes, always warm with affection, now seemed cold, asshe turned her thoughts inward to sound herself more thoroughly, andif possible detect any other than a desire for advancement. 

How long she might have searched we cannot say, for just as herthoughts were most abstracted, Hugh came and sat down by her side, before she knew that any one had entered. 

"Why, Hugh!" was her exclamation of surprise. 

"You are not at home, I see. "

He brought her back with those words. 

"Really, I was away; but how glad I am to see you, " and her glowingfeatures endorsed the truth of her assertion. 

"How far had you wandered?" he asked, his face full of glowingsympathy; "far enough to gather a new impetus for the soul?"

"I fear not. I was questioning my motives, and looking for myshortcomings. "

"I fear I should have been absent much longer on such an errand, " hesaid, and then dropping their badinage they resumed their trueearnest relation to each other. 

"Tell me, Hugh, you who have so often illumined my dark states, ifall this contest is of any avail; if it is any use to put forth ourwords and have their meaning misinterpreted?"

"I question, " she continued, "if we should project our thought untilmankind is impelled by the actual need of something new, to seekit. "

"Our thoughts and soul exchanges are not like the merchant's wares, to be held up for a bid. The soul is too grand and spontaneous acreation to be measured. Yes, we must often speak our deepestthoughts, even though they are cast away as nought, and trampledupon. There would be little richness or worth without this freeoffering, this giving of self for truth's sake, even though we knowthat we and our words may be spurned. You are cloudy to-day, myfriend; you have been too long alone, and are consumed by your ownthoughts. "

"I am mentally exhausted, Hugh. I needed you to-day, for my soul haslost all vision. I know by my own experience, that we must speakwhen we are full, no matter who misapprehends or turns upon us. Itis this fear that keeps too many from great and noble utterances. Weforget that truth can clear itself, and that principles are notdependent upon persons. You have given me myself, as you ever do, when the mist of doubt hangs over me. "

"Yes, we must give when there is no approving smile, no look ofrecognition; give when our giving makes us beggars, alone andfriendless in the chill air of neglect. "

"This is but your own life. I have but put it into words for youto-night. "

"O, Hugh, you are ever on the mount, looking with calm, steady gazeover the dark mists. Your head rests in eternal sunshine, like thetowering hill whose top is mantled with the golden light, eventhough its base is covered with fog. Shall we ever see the day whenthese inner, pivotal truths will be accepted?"

"We shall behold it in the lives of thousands. It matters not when, or where. Our part is to labor, to plant the seed, though it may notbe our hands that garner the harvest. "

"True. I was selfish and looking for grain. "

"Not 'selfish. ' The human soul seeks recognition, and finds it oftena difficult task to wait for the presence of that human face whichsays in every line and feature, 'I know you; I feel your salientthoughts and motives. ' A long time it takes us to learn to dowithout the approving smile of man, and go on our way with none butGod and angels to sanction our efforts. I, too, have hours ofdarkness. All souls are at times tossed on heaving waters, that theymay rise higher than their weary feet can climb. "

"You have done me good to-day; but do not go, " she said, seeing himrise to leave. 

"I must; but first tell me if I can have your aid in a materialmatter, which I had nearly forgotten?"

"I am at your service. "

"Well, then, I am going to have a party, which I suppose is the lastthing you would have imagined of me. "

"I should have thought of any thing else; but what has put such anidea into your head?"

"Some fairy, perhaps. I expect to get some life out of it, and thesatisfaction of seeing my guests enjoying themselves. I shall bringtogether a strange medley, --counterparts, affinities, opposites, andevery form of temperament which our little village affords, besidesdrawing on places largely remote from here. I must go now. Will youcome and help us to-morrow?"

"I will. My love to Dawn and Miss Vernon. "

"Thank you, " and he passed out, leaving her bright and full of hope. She felt the transfusion of his strong life into her own, andneither herself nor her friend was the same as yesterday. 

The day for the party was fair and balmy. Dawn and Miss Vernon rodeto the green-house and purchased flowers for the occasion, and thehome seemed like a fairy bower, so artistically and elegantly hadthey arranged the fresh and fragrant blossoms. 

Miss Evans glided from room to room, placing a vase here, and astatuette there, as her feeling suggested, and what was her fancywas Hugh's, for their tastes were one, and their lives ran parallelin natural, innocent ways, never able to translate their feelings toanother, but giving and enjoying each other more and more at everymeeting. 

Poor Mrs. Norton thought how pleasant it would be to her, to see aroom full of beautiful things, pleasant faces, and elegant clothes:it would be such a contrast to her own dull life, which would bestill more lonely but for the frequent visits of Mr. Wyman's family, and the substantial evidence often given by them that they did notforget the poor and needy. She arrayed herself neatly in her blackalpacca, the gift of a friend; and when she looked in her littleglass which hung above the table, just were it did thirty years ago, when her good husband was alive, a rush of better thoughts andfeelings came over her. She lived over again the happy days of hermarried life, and almost thought she was making ready to walk by herhusband's side to the little church on the hill. Then the scenechanged, years rolled away, and it seemed but yesterday when sheleaned over the coffin, and looked on the still, pale face thatwould never light her home again. Thoughts grew into words, and shesaid, --

"How little to keep me here. I have far more to recover by deaththan to lose; and somehow it seems as though it would not be longere I go. "

She was not sad; far from it. The thought was pleasant to her, andfolding her white handkerchief over her breast, she surveyed herselfonce more, and then putting on her shawl and bonnet, was soon on herway to Mr. Wyman's, thinking again and again how much good it woulddo her to see so many people together. 

Mrs. Clarke wondered if Mrs. Simonds would be dressed in greatstyle, for she had a wish not to be outdone in that direction, andyet possessed a sufficient degree of good sense to feel thatoverdress would be out of place at such a gathering; so she arrayedherself in a blue silk, not over-trimmed, and put pearls in her darkhair to match her jewels. 

And thus, from different sections, arose a kind of magnetic life, aseach individual's thoughts went out and centered there. 

Dawn was dressed in white, with scarlet sash, and coral ornaments. She seemed like a ray of light flashing through darkness. Her soft, brown hair hung in wavy curls over her shoulders, and theinvoluntary exclamation was, "How beautiful, " as the pure light andbrightness of her inner being shone through and over the external. 

At dusk, the carriages began to appear, winding up the long avenue, which led to the house. Then came a few persons on foot, and in anhour all the bustle and stir attendant upon a crowd was heard in thehall, on the stairs, and in every room. The house was all aglow withlife, and lines of care and sorrow were swept away by radiantsmiles. 

Masks were drawn over aching hearts; jealousies, envyings, and allstrifes were put at bay, and the better natures of all were calledforth, and responded, each to each. Palm grasped palm, that had notin the ordinary relations of life thrilled with contact for manyyears. Hearts that had grown cold and callous under slights, andchilling indifferences, were warmed anew in the social atmospherewhich filled the whole house; and then the sound of music sweptthrough the rooms, lifting all out of their narrowness into higherand better states. 

Mr. Wyman had a word of cheer and love for all, and delicatelybrought such temperaments together as could best enjoycompanionship, and for the time kept himself aloof from those heloved best, that others might partake of their genial natures. 

"Can you tell me who that tall, graceful lady is?" asked MissVernon, before Mr. Wyman was aware that she was at his side. 

"A Mrs. Hammond, " he replied, without looking at her. 

"She is very elegant, " continued Miss Vernon. 

"She is, externally. "

"What, not lovely in mind? Can it be that such an exterior coversunloveliness?"

"I fear it does. I have known her many years, and although she is awoman of decorous manners, and some polish, she has none of theelements of a true lady, to me. "

"Why, Mr. Wyman, see how thoughtful she seems of those around her, "said Florence, her eyes still fixed upon the engaging stranger. 

"Yes, I see all that, and all the externalism of her life. It is allacting. Within, that woman is cold and heartless. She is sharpenough, and quick in her instincts, but give me hearts inconjunction with heads. "

"Why, then, did you invite her?" she accompanied this inquiry with amost searching glance. 

"For the same reason I invited all. I want them to mingle, for thetime to lose their sense of individual importance, their feelings ofselfishness, or in a few words, to throw off the old and take on thenew. "

"Are you enjoying yourself, Florence?"

"Yes, very much. I like to see so many people together, and absorbthe spirit of the occasion. "

"I am glad you do. Come this way. " He led her to a remote part ofthe room, where stood a tall, dark-eyed stranger. 

"Miss Vernon, Mr. Temple" and he watched their eyes as they met, andknew he had linked two souls for at least one evening's enjoyment. 

A bustling woman, who could not conceive of any christianity outsideof church-going, came and stood beside Miss Evans, and commenced aconversation by saying, --

"There seems to be plenty of people in our village, though we don'tsee many of them at church. "

This was put forth as a preface, designed to exhibit the characterof a forthcoming volume, but Miss Evans adroitly changed the subjectto one of general interest. 

Just at this point, a stir was made, a rustling of silks was heard, and the way opened for a young prodigy in music, considered by hisparents to be the wonder of the nineteenth century; one of thoseabstracted individuals who seem to live apart from the multitude, speaking to no one, save in monosyllables, and walking about, withan air of superiority, constantly nurtured by his doating parents'admiration, --at home a tyrant, abroad a monkey on exhibition. 

After a flourish of sounds, and several manipulations, eachaccompanied with a painful distortion of countenance, he commenced along and tedious sonata, --tedious, because ill-timed. On a suitableoccasion it would have been grand and acceptable. Of course themusic was wasted on the air, because it had only a mental rendering. 

The anxious parents looked around for the expected applause. It didnot come. Only a few murmured, "How very difficult, " while a senseof relief was so manifest, that none could have failed to realizethat such elaborate performances should be reserved for a fardifferent occasion. But we are slow in learning the fitness ofthings, and that everything has its proper time and place. 

The next performer was a sprightly girl of seventeen, who playedseveral airs, and sung some sweet and simple songs, charming allwith their light and graceful beauty. 

Mr. Wyman then led his friend and guest, Mr. Temple, to theinstrument. He touched it with a master hand. One forgot everythingsave melodious tones; forgot even that there was a medium, throughwhich those tones were conveyed to the senses. The performer lostself, lost all save the author's idea, until, at length, theecstatic sounds came soft and clear as light from a star. There wasno intervention of self; his whole being was subordinate to thegreat creation--the soul of the theme. Eyes grew moist as the musicfloated on the air in one full, continuous strain. Hearts beat withnew pulsations; hopes soared anew; sorrows grew less; life seemedelectric, full of love; sharp lines, and irregularities of mind weretouched, softened, and toned to harmony under the swelling notes, now soft, sweet, and dulcet; now broad, high, and upsoaring. Nowords broke the heavenly spell when the performer left theinstrument, but each thrilled heart became a temple, in which onlylove and beauty dwelt. 

There, in that holy atmosphere, a soul burst its fetters and wenthome. Old Mrs. Norton, who came with such glorious anticipations, sank back upon the pillow upon which she was resting, whilelistening to the soul-ravishing sounds, and died. 

No feeling of awe came over the people assembled; but all felt asthough they, too, had entered within the confines of the silentland. 

Gently they raised her form as one would a child who had fallenasleep. 

There, in the presence of the still, pale face, they parted, withbetter, truer natures than when they met. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

The months wore away, and Margaret applied herself closely to herlabor, and became a favorite with her companions. Gladly would shehave changed places with most of them, but they knew not the secretsorrow which was wearing her bloom away. Her sighs grew morefrequent, as the time rapidly approached when she must leave them. 

Again and again she resolved to go to Mrs. Armstrong, and tell herall her grief, but the remembrance of her kindness made her cheekturn scarlet when the thought suggested itself. No, she could notreveal it to one whom she loved so well. She must go far away, andhide her shame from the eyes of all who had befriended her, and shehad made many friends, yet would have lingered a few weeks longer, had she not one evening just at dark espied an old gentleman fromher village, an acquaintance of her father's. She could not bear thethought that she must be carried back, to scenes so closely alliedto her sufferings, and bear the scorn of those who knew her. Shecould not endure that, and fearing that the person whom she had seenmight some time meet and recognize her, she hastened thepreparations for a change. Again she collected her clothing, nowmore valuable, packed it and awaited some indication of thedirection in which she should move. 

She must once more see the face of that good woman, who had been sofaithful and kind to her; and after many efforts to call upon her, finally gained courage and did so. 

A strange thrill came over Mrs. Armstrong, as she heard the gateclose, and a well-known step on the gravel walk. Margaret patted herold friend Trot as she approached the house, and somewhat surprisedMrs. Armstrong with her presence when she entered. 

"I am glad to see you, " said Mrs. Armstrong, with her usual kindlook of welcome, but with a deep tremor in her voice. "Come and sitby me, Margaret, and let me see if your hard labor is wearing youout. I have thought for some weeks that you looked pale. "

Margaret trembled in every limb, as she took the seat her friendoffered her, for a searching glance accompanied her friend's words. Just then a strange thought flashed through Mrs. Armstrong's mind-athought she could not put aside, and she tried in every way to winthe poor girl's confidence, and perhaps might have succeeded hadthere not been heard the sound of footsteps outside. Trot's loudbark made them both start and turn their faces to the window. Margaret gave one glance, --and she needed not a second to assure herthat the caller was none other than the old gentleman she had seenon the street. In a moment there was a knock at the door. While Mrs. Armstrong answered the call, Margaret made one bound from thesitting room to the kitchen, and from thence into the open air, andflew as fast as her feet could carry her, towards her boardinghouse. 

As she turned from the principal street, a woman accosted her, andinquired the way to the Belmont House. Glad of anything that wouldeven for a moment take her thoughts from herself, she offered toshow her the way. 

The darkness was so great, she had no fear of being recognized, asshe walked in silence with the stranger. One thought filled herwhole being, and the problem with her was, how she could escape fromN--, and where should she find shelter?

"Perhaps you can tell me, " said the lady, in a clear, silvery voice, "of some young girl, or two, or three even, whom I can get to returnwith me to B--. "

"I am here, " she continued, "in search of help; good American help. I am so worn with foreign servants that I can endure them nolonger. "

Margaret's heart gave one bound. Here was her opportunity, and sheonly needed the courage to offer her services. 

"Perhaps you would go?" said the stranger, who looked for the firsttime on Margaret's face, as they stopped in the light that shonebrilliantly in front of the Belmont House. "Or, maybe you do notwork for a living. Excuse me, if I have made a blunder. "

"I do, " answered Margaret, "and would like to go with you if I canearn good wages. "

"I will see that you are well remunerated, provided you suit me. Ishall go to-morrow, in the noon train. If I do not succeed ingetting any others beside yourself, will you meet me at thestation?"

Margaret replied in the affirmative, and retraced her steps, pondering upon how she should secrete herself during the interveningperiod. 

She walked rapidly back to her home, and thought how fortunate itwas that her room-mates were absent that night, and good Mrs. Crawford would never suspect that the quiet girl up stairs wasplanning how she could escape with her clothing. The darkness of theevening favored her, and the noise within prevented any that mightbe without, from being noticed. 

She enclosed the balance due for her board, in an envelope, sealed, and directed it to Mrs. Crawford, and laid it on the little table atwhich she had stood so many mornings, weary in body and sick insoul. 

She hoped she would not encounter any one on the stairs, and to herrelief she did not. For an instant she paused, as she heard thefootsteps of the good housewife walking from the pantry to thedining-room, intent on her useful life, uncouth, illiterate, butkind and well-meaning. A tear stole over her cheek as she listenedfor the last time to that firm step, which never seemed to flag inits daily rounds, and one which often, when the day's work was over, went lightly to the bedside of the sick. But no time must be lost;the door was opened and closed, and she was once again out in theworld, a wanderer. She knew not what her next step was to be. Standing there in the silence and darkness of the night, she claspedher hands, and with earnest prayer, implored Divine guidance. 

Down through the earthly shadows, through clouds of oppression, swept a mother's pure, undying love. Love for her wronged child, andpity for her state; for angel's missions are not in halls of light, amid scenes of mirth, but far away in desolate homes, with theoppressed and the forsaken, bringing hope to the despairing, comfortto the lonely, joy to the sad, and rest to weary hearts. 

A thought darted through her mind, and she rose firm and collected, as though a human hand had been outstretched for her aid. Who shallquestion that it was a mother that spoke to her at that moment?

She arose, and as noiselessly as possible wended her way to a smalland obscure dwelling, inhabited by a strange old woman, known to allthe villagers, as possessing a wondrous power of vision, by whichshe professed to foretell the future, and decide questions of loveand business. 

Margaret had often heard the girls in the factory speak of her, andknew that they frequently consulted her; but she had always shrankfrom the thought of going to her dwelling, though often importunedby them to do so. Now, how gladly her feet turned that way, as toher only refuge, for she well knew if she was searched for, no onewould think of going there to find her. 

She reached the place at last, and with beating heart and dizzybrain, raised her hand and rapped very softly at the door. Then thethought flashed over her, that some one might be there who knew her, and hope fled for an instant. 

The rap, low as it was, soon brought the old woman, who opened thedoor and said in a voice tremulous but sweet, "Come in, my dear. Isaw last night that a stranger was to visit me at this hour; yes, it's the same face, " then motioned for her to pass in. 

Margaret's first thought was that some evil was intended, and shetrembled and grew pale. 

"No fears, my child, " said the woman, as though she had read hervery thought, "angels are around you, guarding your life. I do onlymy part of the work, which is to keep you to-night. "

And this was the strange woman of whom she had heard so munch. Herfears vanished, she took the proffered seat, and without a shadow ofdistrust, drank the glass of cordial which was passed to her. 

A feeling of rest came over her, --a rest deeper than sleep imparts. She leaned back in the chair, pillowed her head against the cushion, and felt more peaceful than she had for many months. 

A strange curiosity pervaded her being, as she watched the womanmoving about the room, to know of her former life-the life of hermaidenhood, --and learn if others beside herself had loved and beenbetrayed. 

"I shall have no visitors to-night, " said the woman, seating herselfopposite to Margaret. 

"Do you often afford a shelter to strangers, as you have to meto-night?"

"Yes, child; many a sorrow-laden traveller, worn with life, seeks mylowly cot. "

"Sorrow-laden and worn with life, " said Margaret, repeating thewords to herself; "she must have known my past experience;" and shewished she would go on, for somehow her words comforted her. 

"Yes, there are more sinned against than sinning, " she continued. "Iknew that you was coming, or rather some one, for last night in mydreams I saw a form, and now I know it was your own, floating on adark stream. There was no boat in sight, no human being on shore, tosave you. The cold waters chilled you, till you grew helpless, andthe waves bore you swiftly to the ocean. I cried for help, and wasawakened by my effort. That stream represents your past, and hereyou are now in my dwelling. Some one has wronged you, girl?"

She did not see the tinge on the pale cheek of Margaret, butcontinued, "Yes, wronged; but I see clouds and darkness before you, and then happiness, but not the joys of earth. Something higher, holier, my child. "

A light seemed to have gathered over the face of the speaker, andher words, although strange and new to Margaret, seemed full oftruth and meaning. 

"Shall I find rest on earth?" she inquired. 

"No, not here; above, " the old woman lifted her eyes toward heaven, then said:

"You are stepping into sorrow now; going with one who will degradeyou. Do not follow her. Though her outer garments are of purple andfine linen, her spiritual robe is black and unseemly. "

"Where? O, tell me, then, where to go, " exclaimed Margaret, herwhole face pale with terror. 

"Go nowhere at present. I see nothing now; all is dark before me. Stay beneath my roof, till light breaks. I see that you will need amother's care ere long. "

Here the poor girl's long pent up tears flowed in torrents; tearssuch as angels pity. It was a long time ere she grew calm; and whenpeace came, it was like that of a statue, she was cold and silent. No future stretched before her, nothing but a present, sad andhopeless, in which circumstances had placed her. 

"Shall I tell you the story of my girl-life, " said the strange, weird woman, putting a fresh supply of wood upon the fire, which hadfallen into embers. 

Margaret's interest manifested itself in her face, as she answered, "I would like to know if others have suffered like myself?"

"It will help you bear your own burden better, and perhaps show youthat none escape the fire. I will proceed with my narrative. "

"Many years ago, so many that it seems as though ages must haveintervened, I loved a young and elegant man, who returned myaffection with all the devotion which an earnest, exacting naturelike mine could desire. I was the only child of wealthy parents, whospared no pains or expense on my education. With them I visitedEurope, and while there, met this person, who seemed to be all thatmortal could aspire to; refined, educated, and the possessor of afortune. The alliance was the consummation of my fond parents'wishes. I will pass over the weeks of bliss which followed ourengagement, and speak of scenes fraught with the most intenseexcitement to myself and others. We were at Berlin when myengagement was sanctioned by my parents. A few weeks subsequent, there arrived at the hotel at which we were stopping, a family ofmost engaging manners. We were at once attracted to them, and in afew days words of kindly greeting were exchanged, and finding themvery genial, a warm friendship soon existed between us. The familyconsisted of parents, three sons, and two daughters. Laura, theeldest, was the one to whom I was particularly drawn. She was tall, graceful, and had about her an air of elegance, which showedunmistakably, her early associations. But to the point: I had beenwalking with my lover one evening, in the summer moonlight, and hadretired to my room, strangely fatigued. I had never before partedfrom Milan, my betrothed, with such a lassitude as then pervaded myentire being. I had always felt buoyant and strong. -That night, as Ilaid on my bed, seeking in vain the rest which sleep might give me, I seemed suddenly to float out in the air, to rise above my body, and yet I distinctly felt its pulsations. The next moment, the soundof voices attracted me, and though I was in my room, and the personsin conversation in a distant apartment, yet I could hear every wordwhich was uttered. What was my horror to see, for my sight was openas strangely clear as my hearing, the beautiful Laura sitting besideMilan, his arm encircling her waist. I tried to speak, but no soundcame from my lips. I shook with fear and wonder. I had surely died, I thought, just then, and this is the vision and hearing of the soulreleased from flesh. 'O, Milan, hear me, hear me, ' I cried inanguish. But no sound of my own lips floated on the air. Nothing washeard but their words, which I was obliged to hear. And O, how myheart was turned to stone, and my brain to fire, as these words cameto my ears:

"'Love her! Why, dearest Laura, whom I have adored so long, and whomchance has again brought into my path, --how can you question myaffection for you, ' and then I saw that he knelt at her feet!

"'I think I heard but yesterday, that you were engaged, ' continuedthe fair and brilliant girl, at whose feet he still remained. 

"'O, angel of my heart, will no words convince you that I love youbeyond, above all women? I have in times past exhausted the languageof love in speaking to your heart, Laura, are you heartless? I canplead no more. '

"'I saw the tears glitter on her face as purely white as marble, then her lips parted and these words fell on my ear, --

"'O, Milan, I would that I could divine my feeling towards you. Myheart is full of love for you, but my reason falters, and somethingwithin me tells, I must not accept you. I feel thrills of horror attimes, even when my affection turns toward you. I cannot fathom thestrange mystery. ' She bowed her face in her hands and wept. I sawhim rise from his kneeling posture, and walk away to hide hisemotions. I felt the fearful contest going on within himself, andthen all grew dark. I heard no sound again, though I listenedintently. I seemed back again in my form-sleep at last came to myweary senses. In dreams, then, I was walking again with him, by abeautiful lake, over which a storm had just passed, leaving a lovelyrainbow arching its bosom. I felt the pressure of his hand, as heheld mine, and saw his eyes beam tenderly into mine own. 

"'The storm is over, ' he said, 'see how the waves are tipped withgolden rays. '

"Cheered by these words, I looked on the scene-the calmed lake, thebow of promise, --with a feeling of rapturous delight thrilling mywhole being. Gazing thus earnestly, my attention was drawn to acurious ripple on the lake's surface. Then I beheld a female formrising from the waters, upon whose broad, white brow were thesewords:-Loved and Deserted. Startled by this, I turned to look uponMilan, but I saw him not. He had fled, and I was alone. All waslonely and still as death. 

"Tremblingly I pursued my way back. The sun was sinking behind thehills, and darkness would overtake me before I could reach home. Iquickened my speed, when suddenly I stumbled over something in mypath. A light from the heavens, a flash of summer lightning revealeda grave, from which the form of a fair, sweet girl arose, and said, 'Beware! He, too, loved me, and for his love I pined and died. ' Theform vanished and the air seemed full of sounds of admonition, whilearound me appeared hosts of beings of another world. My sensesreeled. I called for help, and must have cried aloud, for just thenI heard my mother's voice from the adjoining room, --'What is it, Sibyl?' and when I awoke she was at my side. 

"'Bring a light, ' I cried, as I placed my hand on my forehead, whichwas cold and damp with perspiration. Mother went to her room, andreturned with a candle and came to my bed side. 

"I can remember her look of horror, as though it was butyesterday-and her voice when she sobbed, rather than spoke thesewords:-'My child, O, my poor child, what has happened?' Then shefainted. 

"I learned on the morrow, that my beautiful hair had turned white;not one thread of my deep brown tresses was left, and my featurestoo, were shrunken. That night's vision had done the work of yearsof suffering, and Sibyl Warner, the belle, the heiress, was nolonger an object of love. 

"A physician was summoned the next morning, who pronounced mesuffering under mental hallucination, for I had told my mother allmy strange dream or vision. I had no way to prove that my lover wastreacherous, and I alone must suffer. But Laura. What was my dutytowards her? was my dominant thought, even while I sat writing, aday or two after, a note to Milan, releasing him from hisengagement. Vainly my mother entreated me to see him just once more. I was inexorable, and there being nothing now to bind us to Europe, we made all possible haste to return to our native land. 

"Laura came to bid me good-bye. I tried to speak my fears to her, but my tongue seemed paralyzed. I kissed her warmly, and the tearsflowed over her pale, lovely face. We parted. I knew she would behis bride ere long. I hoped she would be happy; but the revelationof that night led me to fear that such might not be the case. 

"The first week of our voyage home was very pleasant, but soonafter, a gale arose, and then a fearful storm set in. After beingtossed by wind and wave five days, our ship went down. O, thatmorning so vividly present to my memory now. My parents were bothlost. I was saved with a few of the passengers, and most of theship's crew, --a vessel bound to my own native port, took us on board. But what was life to me then, alone, and unloved as I must everafter be. '

"It was not the Sibyl Warner who stepped on shore the day of ourarrival who had left it years before; not the young girl ofseventeen, but a woman, with love, trust, hope, all departed-a wreckof her former self, and yet within, a strange light glittering. Asone sees, hung over dangerous, impassable ways at night, or halfsunken rocks, a light telling of danger, so I had thrown over myentire being a blaze of fire, which, while it guided others, seemedto be consuming myself. I possessed what is now called 'secondsight, ' and could see the motives of persons, and their most secretthoughts and designs. Life became burdensome because I could notbalance the power with any joy, until I learned that I must live forothers and not for myself, alone. 

"My father's estate was settled at last, and I had means enough tolive in luxury and ease the rest of my days; but a strange inwardprompting continually urged me to give up my former mode of living. I disposed of my property, exchanging it for ready money, and oneday found myself penniless, through the treachery of one whoprofessed to be my friend. I had not been allowed to learn hismotives, and fraudulent designs, because, as I subsequently saw, myexperience must be gained through toil and want, but when otherswere in danger of losing their material goods, I could readilydiscern their perils, and warn them. 

"Since then, I have travelled years and years, following this light;when I did not, I have failed in my mission. I am not understood. This little village, to which seven years ago I found my way, hasnot a soul in it that knows me as anything but a 'Witch'-a divinerof events. I have sat in halls of splendor, and revealed strangethings to men and women. I have visited the sick anddown-trodden-and everywhere this power has gone with me, carryingcomfort and light. I think my earthly mission is almost over. I seemto see a light, like the glimmer of a lamp which shines for atraveller to guide him home. "

She paused. The story was told. Margaret sat silent, too muchoccupied with her own deep thoughts, to look on the woman's face. 

It was past midnight. The fire was out, on the hearth. A strangestillness pervaded the room. It grew oppressive. Margaret rose andwent towards the old woman, who seemed to have dropped asleep. Shetook the withered hand in her own. It dropped lifeless. She wasdead; the two whose lives had become as one by suffering, wereparted. Sibyl had gone to that world where the erring are forgiven. Margaret was left to struggle on with an adverse fate, and therebyripen for the kingdom. 

The morning flooded through the narrow windows of the humble cot, and lit up the pale, dead features with a strange light. Margaretmust leave. Though heeding the woman's words of warning, andresolving to avoid the stranger she had met, she saw but one coursebefore her, and that was, to go to the city and seek refuge in somehospital, during her approaching need. She struggled with herfeelings a long time at leaving the dead alone, and so irreverently, but circumstances were pressing her on; she could not do otherwise, and stepping out from the shelter, where her soul had been so deeplythrilled, she walked rapidly to the station, and sat with her veilclosely drawn, awaiting the hour for the departure of the train. Itcame at last, though the time seemed very long to her, the more so, as she was in constant fear of being recognized, but fortunately noone saw her whom she knew. 

She trembled all over, as she took her seat in the car, and saw anelegantly dressed woman enter and look about as though in search ofsome one; for under the "purple and fine linen" was the stranger, the willing destroyer of hundreds of young, innocent lives. To herrelief, however, the woman passed on to another car, and Margaretfelt as though all danger was over. It gave her a respite from herfears, that was all, for she did not know that the woman's keen eyerecognized, and was quietly laying her plans to ensnare her. 

One weary form was through with its earthly toil; one bark wasmoored to celestial shores, beyond this rough clime, this imperfectworld, in which all are judged by externals. She was no longer oldand wrinkled, --"But a fair maiden in her father's mansion. "

The town buried her and sold the few articles of furniture to defrayexpenses. Thus ended the life of one who was once the belle of agreat city, the child of luxury and tender care, and her body waslaid in the town lot among the graves of the poor. All supposed shedied alone, at night, and a few words of real pity fell from somelips as all that remained of her on earth was borne through thestreets. 

Before the winter snows fell, Mrs. Armstrong planted a white rosebeside her grave, remarking to her husband, that it was hard for oneto die alone unloved, and a stranger to all about her. "She may havebeen once lovely and beloved, " she said, as she pressed the sodclose about the tree. "I should not like to die away from mykindred, with none to care for my last resting place. " This done, the kind woman walked home happier for the deed of goodness she hadperformed, while unseen hands dropped their heavenly benedictions onher head. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

In a small parlor in the city of Berlin, where, fifty years ago, young Sibyl's heart had thrilled to words of love, sat a party ofyoung men, over their wine, while mirth and song flowed freely. 

Light-hearted, and free from care, they had met to pass the eveninghours, with songs and wondrous tales. 

"Come my good fellows, " said the eldest, who appeared to be theleader of the group, "we must relate our stories, as the hours arewaning. Krepsel, we will hear from you first, to-night. "

"Shall the tale be sad or gay?" said Krepsel, looking around thegroup. 

"Either, " exclaimed the voices in chorus. He took a glass of wineand then commenced. 

"Many years ago a young man was studying in a Military Academy inthis city, who, a few weeks after his entrance, had a strange dream, or vision, which changed all the future which he had mapped out forhimself. He had a great love of art, and was often found with hispencil and paper, apart from others, instead of mingling in theirrecreations. For several nights, he dreamed that a lovely femaleapproached his bed-side, and bent over him with a look ofaffectional interest. 

"The vision so vividly impressed him that he employed his firstleisure moment in sketching the lovely face. At every touch andline, his admiration grew more intense, until at length he couldscarcely keep the fair image from being ever prominent in his mind. It haunted his day dreams, till he could scarcely conceal hisimpatience to relate the strange vision to his mother and sister. The fair one stood each night at his side, until the first day ofhis vacation season arrived, and he left to pass its days at home. When within a few miles of his destination, he saw the same facebefore his waking vision. This time her features were sad, but notless lovely. Indeed the air of melancholy gave the features a deepercharm, and more strongly than ever he desired to reach his home, andfind, if possible, a solution of the strange apparition. 

"At last the hills of his native town rose to his view; then the oldpines which sheltered his home. Soon he felt the warm tears on hischeek, and the soft arms of his mother and sister around his neck. 

"'Where is Reinhold?' he asked, after he had released himself fromtheir embrace. 

"He is away to-day; gone to a fair, but will be back by supper time, and bring his fair affianced. 

"'Reinhold engaged!' exclaimed Conrad, in tones so strange thatMarie, his sister, turned pale. But his quick return to himselfassured her that he was not angry, as she supposed, only surprised;and taking his proffered arm they walked together in thegarden-talking of old scenes and pleasures, till even the fair faceof his vision was forgotten, and he rested his eyes in tender, brotherly love, on the fair girl at his side. 

"They were in close conversation, so earnest, they did not hear theapproaching footsteps, when the well-known voice of his brothercalled:

"'Welcome, Conrad; welcome home, ' and the next instant a pair ofstout arms were around him. 

"'I believe he is stronger than you, Con. , with all your militarydrills, ' said Marie, laughing to see her brother trying to extricatehimself. 

"'I am so glad you have come, ' said Reinhold, 'I want you to seeyour new sister, ' then he called her from where she stood apart fromthem, behind a clump of trees. Conrad's back was towards her whenshe approached, and he turned, at his brother's words. 

"'Miss Rosa, --Conrad, my brother, ' and for the first time he lookedon the face that had so long haunted his dreams. 

"'My God!' he said, 'It is the same, ' and fell prostrate on theground. 

"The poor girl flew to the house, laid her head on the shoulder ofReinhold's mother, and wept bitterly. She, too, had seen his face inher dreams, and supposed it an ideal which she should never meet. She had seen it before she met Reinhold, and thought as she lookedon him, that he approximated somewhat to it, nearer then she evenhoped to see, and had grown day by day to love him, not as one oughta lover, but tenderly like a brother. 

"The deepest anxiety seized the good parents, and Marie, to fathomthe cause of Conrad's strange state. They carried him to the house, where he lay insensible for hours, but once only his lips parted, and then he breathed the name of 'Rosa, ' in accents so tender, thathis brother, who stood bending over him, in agony of grief at hisstate, flew from the room. 

"In half an hour Conrad started as though shot, and rose from thebed with blood-filled eyes, and wildest terror on his features. Heplaced his hand upon his heart, and then sinking on his knees, cried, imploringly, 'God forgive me; I have killed my brother!'

"'Go and call Reinhold, Marie, ' said the affrighted father, 'andprove to the poor boy that his brother is alive and well. O, whathas come over our happy home. '

"Marie flew from room to room; no Reinhold was to be found. Then tothe garden, calling his name at each step. A wild fear seized heryoung heart; her brain grew giddy; yet on she went, calling againand again his name. As though impelled by an unseen force, she flewtill she reached the edge of a wood, where herself and brothers hadplayed together. She went on. Something lay on the ground; anobject, she could not at first discover what. A cold chill runthrough her frame. The blood seemed to stagnate in every vein, forthere, under an old oak, lay the lifeless body of Reinhold. 

"She fainted, and fell. The cool air blew on her temples andrestored her to consciousness. She passed her hand over herforehead, as though trying to recall some terrible dream, --and thenit all burst upon her mind, more fearful and appalling in itsrebound. 

"'My mother, my father, ' were the only words that broke from herlips, and she went back, slowly, for the fright and agony had almostparalyzed her brain and limbs. 

"'You were gone a long time, ' said her anxious parents, who did notsee her face when she entered; 'where is Reinhold?'

"She had no words. The deathly face, the beating heart, and thetrembling limbs, told all. She led them to the spot, and the mysteryappeared still deeper. 

"Seven days Conrad lay in a raging fever. At their close, reasonreturned, and they learned from him the vision which had so hauntedhim, and wondered over the strange phase of life, in which actionhad been involuntary, but dual. 

"They buried Reinhold under the tree where he had shot himself, andkept it covered with flowers, watered by tears. 

"Poor Rosa returned to her home with her good parents, and pinedslowly away. Conrad held his brother's memory sacred, and neverbreathed words of love to his affianced. 'She will be his inHeaven, ' he said, as he walked with his sister one day to his grave;and when the Summer flowers faded they made another beside it, forRosa went to join Reinhold, and to guard, with tender love, Conradand Marie. "

Krepsel rose from the chair. The hours were waning. 

"We can have but one more, " said the leader, "and from whom shall itbe?"

"From Berthhold, " cried several voices. 

"I have seen his eyes full of strange, weird tales to-night, " saidone. 

"I know by his far-off look he has something interesting to say, "said another. 

"Berthhold, take the chair, " said the leader. 

He rose, walked like one in a dream, took the seat, gazed a fewmoments around, and then commenced:

"My story will be told in a few words. It is not of tradition, butexperience. "

All eyes turned to the youth, whose face glowed with a strangelight, as he commenced. 

"While sitting here to-night, listening to the story just narrated, my eyes have seen something I never saw before, and I pray I may notagain see, at least until my nerves are stronger. "

"What was it? What was it like?" they all cried together, whileBerthhold looked around the room, as though expecting the vision tobe repeated. 

They were called to order by their leader, and he went on, --

"A soft, misty light filled the room, and rested at last just beforeme. I strained my eyes to assure myself that I was not dreaming, andlooked upon all your faces to assure myself that I was of the earth, and not a spirit. Then my eyes seemed to be fastened upon the light. In vain I tried to remove them; I could not; and only hoped none ofyou would notice me. 

"Soon a face, radiant and fair, burst from the mist; one almost toolovely to gaze upon. I was spellbound as I gazed, then the vision ofthe face faded. I seemed to float away, far over the sea, and therecame before my sight a low, humble cot, whose walls offered noresistance to my vision. They seemed like glass as I looked throughthem, and saw sitting in a chair an old woman, wrinkled and faded, her hair white as snow, but on her face a peace which gathers onthose who sleep the last sleep. 

"I also felt conscious of another presence, but could not see anyone. Then all was dark again. I saw neither mist nor cot, butsomething spoke to me. A voice whispered in my ear, 'Tell Milan Iforgive him. ' That is the name of my mother's father. "

"How strange, " said the listeners, who had followed him closely tothe end. 

"Does your grandfather still live?" inquired one. 

"He was alive this morning, and is now, for aught I know. "

The party were about to separate, when a messenger entered in greathaste, and called for Berthold, stating that his (Berthold's)grandfather was very ill, and greatly desired his presence. 

He was not long in answering the summons, leaving those who hadlistened to his story wondering over it, which wonder was not alittle increased by this sudden call. 

It was thought that the old gentleman was dying, but when Bertholdwent and sat by his side he brightened up, and motioned for theothers to leave the room. 

"I have been very ill, " he said, grasping the hand of his grandson, "and have had a terrible dream. For fear I may some day departsuddenly, I wish to tell you of a portion of my early life, that youmay avoid the sin, and escape the suffering which I have endured. "

He then related the wrong of his early years, in deluding a youngand pure girl, while loving another. 

"Have you a picture of the one you allude to, " asked Berthold. 

His grandfather started as though a voice from the other world hadspoken to him. 

"Why, how do you know that? No one but myself knows that I carry herminiature about me. "

"May I see it?" asked his grandson, not a little alarmed at theexcited manner of the sick man. 

"Yes, --that is if no one knows it, --not even Laura. Mind, Berthold, your grandmother knows nothing of this, --not a word. "

Berthold's word was sacred, and the old man drew from his pocket anoval case of blue velvet, ornamented with pearls. 

"Here, look, and be quick; I fear some one may come; and if, if Ishould die, Berthold, take this and keep it forever. "

"I will, " said the faithful boy, as he unclasped the case. 

Was he dreaming? There, before him, was the same; yes, the very samefair face he saw in the mist. He could not take his eyes from thepicture, so strange was the spell. 

"I have seen this face to-night, grandfather, " said Berthold, goingclose to him, and laying his hand upon his brow. 

"Seen what! seen her? Sibyl! O, God, she must have died. "

He sank back exhausted on his pillow. 

"Did it-did she speak?" he gasped, as he revived. 

"Yes. She said, 'Tell Milan I forgive him!'"

"Berthold, Laura, quick! O come, --my breath is go-. I--am--dy--. "

He, too, was gone; gone before his wife could be summoned; gone tomeet one he had so greatly wronged, perhaps to learn of herbeautiful truths, which her sad life experience had taught her; andperchance to woo her soul, this time with truth and love. 

Berthold kept the miniature, and when, after a few months, the clubmet again, confirmed the truth of the story he had startled themwith that night. He could never account for the lowly cot, and theold wrinkled woman, but he remembered his grandfather's dying words, and never wooed where he knew he could not give his heart and soul;nor was his vision ever again unfolded, but one of heaven'schoicest, purest women was given him to love, and in her high andspiritual life, his soul grew to sense that which by sight he couldnot obtain. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

Three years had swept by, with their lights and shadows, bringing nochange to the house of Mr. Wyman, save the daily unfolding of Dawn'scharacter, and the deepening happiness of all. 

Mr. Wyman had promised Dawn that when she was eighteen he would takeher to Europe. 

Miss Vernon passed her time very happily, dividing it betweenteaching, study, and labor, and found herself improving daily, bothspiritually and physically; indeed, such a change had come over herwhole nature, that she could scarce believe herself the same beingthat entered Mr. Wyman's home, three years previous. Life openeddaily to her such rich opportunities for usefulness and growth, thatno day seemed long enough to execute her plans. 

Mr. Temple, whom the reader will remember as one of the guests ofthe party, came often to Mr. Wyman's, and soon found himself greatlyinterested in Miss Vernon. 

It was a new experience to her to contrast him with Hugh, and tolearn to analyze the new feeling which suffused her being, --thatdeep, undercurrent which lies beneath all surface emotions andinterests, namely, Love. 

How broad, deep and rich her being grew. How near and dear to hernow seemed Hugh, her friend and brother. How sharply were the linesof their true relation defined, --a relation as pure as untroddensnow. Her heart overflowed with thankfulness to the giver of allgood, who had brought her feet into such pleasant paths of peace. 

In the same spot where ten years ago Mr. Wyman and fair Alice wereseated, sat Herbert Temple and Florence. The night was as fair andcloudless, while the rustle of the trees alone broke the stillness. Pale moonbeams rested at their feet, while words of love flowedbetween them. 

"I think I found my way to your heart the first evening I saw you, for I felt my being thrill as though I had another life pulsing withmy own; am I right?"

She raised her eyes to his, and answered in words which he evertreasured, --

"It was so, Herbert. I felt as though I was stepping from my ownconfines; as though some strong hand had taken mine, and infused newlife into my being. It was when you played, Herbert, that I wasabsorbed in your soul. "

"It was you, Florence, who helped me to play. I felt and wasinspired by your interest, your appreciation, for no one can do suchthings alone. I never play as I did that night, when alone. Now, that I shall have you always to help, shall we not be happy?"

"O, Herbert, will these days last? Will love bind us the same inyears to come?"

"No, not the same; but deeper, holier, if we do not exhaustourselves by free ownership. "

"You talk like Hugh, " she said, resting her hand on his arm, andlooking out on the soft, still scene before them. 

"I would I could talk like him. While I admit no oracles, I confessI admire his views, and his life which is a perfect transcript ofhis theories. "

"He is a noble man, Herbert, and has done much towards mydevelopment. I thought I loved him all I could, but since you havecome to my life, I feel nearer than ever to him. "

"Such is the law, and beautiful it is, that true love expands ourbeing, while the opposite contracts it. Hugh's views at first seemedwild, and rather disorderly, but close contact with the man, andopportunities of knowing him, in public and private, have made meacquainted with his worth. Love him always, Florence, and when Itake you to my home never fear that I shall not understand you needto see him at times alone, for he will need you. You have beenfriends, and friends need each other. I am not taking you from himin soul and heart; I will but help you to give yourself to him, withyour being made richer by my love. "

Florence had no words with which to thank him. She only nestledcloser to the heart which loved her so well. 

"How lovely this night is, " she said, breaking the long silencewhich followed; "the stillness is so sacred, I would not for worldsdisturb it with a sound, even of the sweetest music. "

"Your words give me much comfort, Florence, for long have I wantedsome one who could sympathize with me on that subject. To mostpersons, sound alone is considered music; to me, a night like thisshould not be jarred save by soft vibrations of ‘olian strings. Andthe same of beautiful scenery. I cannot bear to hear one burst forthin song, for the landscape is to me, in itself, a Te Deum, a perfectsong of praise. "

"I am made happy by your words, Herbert, for there are moments whenmusic seems to me to be so sadly out of place, that I feel almostlike crushing the instrument and performer together. And now may Iask you, why the music of some performers gives me pain instead ofpleasure? I know, but I want your answer. We will take Miss York, for instance; she is full of hearty, earnest life, robust andstrong. I know she plays in time and tune, and sings correctly, butI feel all out of tune, and completely disharmonized when sheperforms in my presence. "

"I fully comprehend your feelings. I have had the same myself, andmy interpretation of it is that I cannot accept the music throughher organism; or, rather, her atmosphere being between the subjectand the auditor, the latter feels only time and sound, not music, not the idea the composer designed to convey. Is not that it?"

"Exactly. After all, there are very few who are organizedsufficiently delicate to translate music. "

"True, Florence; how many seek the glorious art, not for itsuplifting power, but as a means of display. Let us love it for thegood it does for mankind, and use it, not for the end, but as ameans, of enjoyment. "

"I play but seldom, Herbert, dearly as I love it. "

"I am not sorry to hear that. I think that greater good is obtainedby not being too much in its immediate sphere. Of course greatermechanical skill is acquired by constant practice, but I know by myown experience that when the soul has reached a certain height ofculture, the physical nature becomes subordinate to the spiritual, and is controlled by it, because the two natures are then repletewith harmony, and the fullness of the one finds expression throughthe other, --the hand moves in complete obedience to the spirit. Dearly as I love music, I cannot hear or execute it too often. Onthis I am pleased to see we agree. The air is growing chilly; wewill go in and sing one song before we part. What shall it be?"

"The Evening Song to the Virgin, " she answered. 

Seating himself at the instrument, he played the prelude soft andlow, then their voices mingled in that graceful, gliding song, asonly voices can mingle that are united in the harmony of love. 

It filled the whole air with sweetness, and Hugh's senses revelledin the holy spell, as he sat alone on the piazza, thinking of thepast, his lovely Alice, and the beautiful child which was left tobless his years. 

No other song followed; none could. Florence listened to theretreating footsteps of her lover, and then sat in the moonlight tothink of her joys. 

Howard Deane was weary. Life had not gone pleasantly with him, sincewe introduced him to the reader. His business, so lucrative and oncefull of interest, demanding his closest attention, now seemed of noaccount. Existence had become to him a round of duties mechanicallyperformed. The very air was leaden, and void of life. He needed arevivifying influence, something to invigorate him. His energieslanguished, and there seemed no one to extend to him a helping hand, as his wife was at deadly variance with those who could have givenhim what he was so much in want of. 

The fire had gone out on his domestic altar, for no trusting wifesat there. She was dark and heavy in soul. They had become strangersto each other, not by roaming, but by a too close relationship. 

Mrs. Deane had returned only bodily to her home; her heart and mindwere on a sea of doubt, at the mercy of every wind and wave. Noripple of love broke their long silence, as they sat together intheir home. They each felt lonely, and would have been far less soapart. Mr. Deane at length broke the spell, by saying, --

"I am going to the mountains next week, Mabel; would you like togo?"

"I am going home. Mother has sent for me. I may as well be there ashere; no one will miss me. "

She had better have left the words unsaid, and saw it herself in thedark, contracted brow of her husband, who replied, --

"I shall go alone. It is best I should. You can remain with yourparents the remainder of the season, for I shall not be back formonths, " then abruptly left the room. 

The words were as decisive as his manner. She felt she had gone toofar, and would have given worlds to retract. But it was too late; hewas now out of hearing. 

What had come over their lives? They were treading a road thick withdust, which rose at every step, soiling their once white garments. Surely they needed a baptism to make them pure. 

The cloud which overhung their sky held the heavenly water whichwould make them clean. 

It came in the form of sickness. Their eldest boy laid ill and nearunto death. Hope and fear alternated in their hearts as they stoodbeside the little one, and saw a raging fever course through hisveins, and day by day the full form wasted away. Thus the baptismalwaters flowed over their souls, and they wept together. Joy beamedfrom their faces when the dread crisis was past, and they were toldhe would live. Through sorrow they were reunited. They had wandered, but were returning with life and love in their hearts, and crowns offorgiveness in their hands. Thus do we ever become strong throughour sufferings, and seeming evils work our good, for they are partsof the great unity of life. 

Mrs. Deane lessened her prejudices, and learned to know and lovethose whom her husband had found worthy, and among them, Miss Evans. With her she passed many pleasant hours, and that noble woman madeknown to her, many paths of rest and peace which she had previouslythrough her ignorance and jealousy, persistently shunned. 

The years sped on; some were gathered to their homes above; somefound new relations and strong ties to bind them here, until, atlength, Dawn's eighteenth birth-day came, bright and sunny over theeastern hills. On the morrow, with her father, she was to leave forthe city where they were to embark for England. The morning waspassed in receiving the calls of friends, and later Mr. And Mrs. Temple and Miss Evans came to dine with them. The evening was spentby Dawn alone with her father. 

The next day, Florence, now a happy wife and mother, came to seethem off. It had seemed to her for a month previous that all herpartings with them had been final adieus, and now the moment was athand which was really to separate them-for how long she knew not. Itwas not strange that a vein of sadness ran through the pleasure ofthe hour. But each strove to conceal aught that would mar the joywith which Dawn anticipated her journey, and the gladness whichFlorence would experience on their return was by her made to doservice at this their time of departure. 

Hugh took the hand of Florence in his own, and held it so closelythat his very soul seemed to vibrate its every nerve. Then his lipstouched her brow; fond good-byes were exchanged, the quick closingof the carriage door was heard, and they were gone. 

Statue-like stood Florence for several moments, then going to theroom she had for so many years occupied, she permitted her tears toflow, tears which she had kept back so nobly for their sake. Herhusband walked through the garden with a sense of loneliness hescarce expected to experience; and then back to the library, wherehe awaited the appearance of his wife. 

She came down soon with a smile on her face, but the swollen eyesshowed the grief she had been struggling with. 

"We must look cheerful for Miss Evans' sake, " he said, kissing her;for, somehow he felt as though she too had gone, and he must assurehimself that it was not her shadow alone that stood before him. 

"It is so nice, " she said brightly, "that Hugh has prevailed on MissEvans to remain here during his absence. It would be so lonely withonly Aunt Susan at home. As it is, we can see the library anddrawing-room open, and we shall not feel his absence so keenly. "

"And what a charming place for her to write her book in, " remarkedHerbert, walking to the bay-window that overlooked the garden. 

"We can come over every week and see her and the house, which willbe next thing to seeing Dawn and her father, " said his wife, earnestly. 

Despite all his theory, his large and unselfish heart, a strangefeeling came over him, a cloud flitted over his sunny nature. It washardly discernable, and yet were it to take a form in words, mighthave displayed itself thus: "I fear she loves them better than me. "He shook the feeling off, as though it was a tempter, and saidfondly:

"As our friend Hugh arranged that we take tea in his home to-night, we will go and meet Miss Evans, who, I think, must be near by thistime. "

It was Mr. Wyman's desire that Miss Evans should be at his house assoon after they were gone as possible, and establish herself withinit. She granted his wish, and requested them to bid her adieu at herown home, which she would close immediately after, and repair tohis. 

"What an atmosphere she will have to work in, " said Florence, as shearranged a delicate vine over a marble bust. "But come, it will belonely for Miss Evans to walk all the way by herself, to-day. "

They met her just turning into the path. She had a wreath on herarm, Dawn's parting gift, and a beautiful moss rose-bud in her hair, which Hugh gave her when he bade her good-bye. 

"How were they, happy?" were the first words of Florence, anxious tohear a moment later from her dear ones. 

"Very happy and bright, " answered Miss Evans, with an inwardstruggle to keep back a tide of emotion. Florence clasped her hand, and held it in a manner which said, "Let us be close friends whilethey are away, and help each other. "

The firm pressure assured her that we may talk without words, theyentered the house, and sat down to a nice repast, which Dawn hadprepared with her own hands, while the room was fragrant withblossoms which she had gathered an hour before her departure. 

After supper they walked in the garden, and when twilight came on, returned to the house, and listened to the charming music which camefrom the instrument, under Herbert's magic touch. 

"I expect we shall all dream of sunny France, and dreamy Italy, "said Miss Evans, after the music had ceased, and the time for wordshad come. 

"If we expect to dream, we must place ourselves in proper condition;so we must bid you good night, Miss Evans, " said Mr. Temple, rising. 

"I did not expect my words to hasten your departure, Mr. Temple. Canyou not stay longer?"

"Not another moment, " he answered, taking his wife's bonnet andshawl, which she had brought from the hall, and putting them uponher. "I expect Florence has gone with our good friends. Come and seeus, Miss Evans, soon. Good night; I will speak for both. Florencehas gone away in spirit. "

At this Florence roused, and kissed Miss Evans good night. She hadno words. She was very weary, and felt glad to know that her homewas not far off, only a pleasant walk, for Hugh would not consentthat there should be a great distance between them, so long as thefreedom to build where they chose was allowed. 

Florence was indeed weary; neither the morrow, nor the deep love anddevotion of her husband brought her strength back, but she pined dayby day. 

Miss Evans carried flowers, Dawn's favorites, to her each day, withthe hope that she would revive. On the contrary, they only served tokeep the spell of languor upon her. At last her husband grewalarmed, and one evening after she had retired to rest, earlier thanusual, he sought Miss Evans, who, hearing his step on the carriagepath, knew he was alone, and expected to be summoned to his wife. 

"How is Florence, to-day?" she inquired, as soon he was seated. 

"The same languor oppresses her, and I have come to speak with youabout it. Can you enlighten me in regard to her state? Some strangefears have crept into my mind, I suppose, because my nerves areweak, in my anxiety for her. " Here he paused, as though he dared notentertain the thought, much less make it known to another. 

In an instant she read his fears. 

"I think I understand the cause of your wife's languor, for, although not an educated physician, I lay some claim to a naturalperception of the causes of physical and mental ills. "

"Some people are magnetically related. " She continued. "I think Hughand your wife were bound by spiritual laws which are as sacred asphysical. They lived upon each other's magnetism. She will droop fora while, but revive when she receives his letters. He will not feelthe change so sensitively, as he has new life and interests beforehim every moment. This relation ought to be better understood, andwill be, I trust, with many others, which are not now recognized ashaving an existence. "

"Then you think she will recover?"

"Certainly; and a change for the better will be apparent as soon asshe receives his first letter. She is only attenuated now, reachingafter him, her friend and instructor for so many years. "

"I feared-I almost-forgive me, Miss Evans, for the strange thought, that Florence might, after all, have loved Hugh better than myself. I will not stand in her or any woman's way to happiness, if I knowit. "

"Drive that thought from your mind, Herbert. " As she said this withso much depth of earnestness, he noticed that her manner and tonebetrayed not a shadow of surprise at his confession, and his faceturned inquiringly to her. 

"It was a wicked thought, I know; let it rest with you, Miss Evans. "

"It is buried, " she said, "and will never know a resurrection. Butas to its being wicked, it was far from that, and very natural. "

"Your words allay my fears, and strengthen my trust. "

"They have lived such an earnest life together that his was aconstituent, a part of her own. No wonder that she drooped when thisunion of vital sympathy was divided. Neither is it strange that youshould be agitated by doubts and fears; but let me assure you again, that she by this attraction is none the less your own. She will feelan infusion of his life through his letters, and regain her wontedstrength. She is yours, and his too; and more to you because she ismuch to him. "

A smile of peace settled over his disturbed features, as he took herhand, saying, --

"You have made me strong and trustful, and from this hour my lifewill flow in broader and deeper channels. My present is bright; myfuture all radiant with hope. "

"I am very glad that your call has resulted so pleasantly, " saidMiss Evans, and as Mr. Temple left she sent her love to Florence, with the assurance that she would soon have the pleasure ofwelcoming her again to the home of Dawn. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

There are two classes that are specially liable to disease, --thosewho live grossly, and whose lives are spent in scenes of excitement, and those who are finely organized, so delicately constituted, thattheir nerves vibrate to every jar, not only of the physical but ofthe moral atmosphere. 

There are persons whose routine of daily life is seldom if everdisturbed; whose minds are at ease on material questions. Havingenough, and to spare, they seek their pleasure from day to day, withscarcely an interruption of their established course. Such may wellbe free from the ills of the flesh, and being so, they complacentlyattack the less fortunate, those whose lives are tumultuous andheavily-laden with their own and other's needs; applying to themsuch remarks as, "They might live more regular. " "They work toomuch. " "They do not work enough. " "They go about too much. " "They dodo not go about enough;" and having delivered their opinions, theseself-satisfied mortals settle themselves down in their comforts, thanking God they are not as other men. 

There are lives that are shaken with convulsions; circumstances overwhich no mortal has control, surge their wild, tempest-waves overthem, and all their wishes are of no avail; they must take what isborne to them. Raying out life every moment; pressed on every side, with every faculty strained to its greatest tension, is it a matterof wonder that they become weak, that they sicken and suffer?

Sickness is not a sin, neither is its presence derogatory to ournature. It implies a susceptibility to the inharmonies of life, andis complimentary than otherwise to our organization. They are not tobe envied who have never known an hour of pain and languor, for theycome not under the discipline and instruction of one of life's greatteachers. They are apt to be harsh, and cold, and unfeeling towardstheir fellows; apt to be boastful of their own strength, andregardless of the delicate sensibilities of others. While we shouldstudiously endeavor to live in harmony with the laws of our being, it is nevertheless true that with all the caution we may exercise, we cannot avoid, if we are spiritually true, the jarring of theinharmonies of this world, and from this as much if not more thanfrom any other cause, come the ills and pains of our earthly life. 

These disturbances of the spirit produce to those of fine natures asimilar disturbance of their physical condition; then diseasefollows and makes sad havoc with the temple of the soul. 

On a subject so intricate as the cause of disease, only a few hintscan here be given. 

People become sickly from living too long together; from pursuingcontinuously one branch of study or labor; from meeting too oftenwith one class of minds; from living on one kind of food, or on foodcooked by one person; besides, there are countless other causes;agitations of mind, overtasked and irregular lives are constantlygenerating impure magnetisms, with which the whole atmosphere istainted, and which those who are susceptible are forced to absorb. 

As there are many causes of disease, there must be many ways ofcure. No one system can regulate the disturbances of the complexmachinery of the human frame. 

Dr. Franklin subjected himself to what was denominated the air bath, as a remedial agent. Others believed in the direct action of thesun, placing themselves beneath glass cupolas to receive it; whilestill later we have the water-cure, which is thought by many to healall diseases. These are right in combination, but no one will curealone. 

Does the strong man, with steady nerves, compact muscle, and perfectarterial circulation, need the same remedy when ill, as a lessvigorous person, one whose hourly suffering is from a diseasednervous organization?

One member of a family argues that because he can bathe in icewater, another, with more feeble circulation, can do the same, andrealize the same results. One man will take no medicine, anotherswallow scarcely anything else, and thus we find extremes followingeach other. 

One ideaism in this direction is as much to be avoided as in anyother. The man of good sense says, "I will take whatever is requiredto restore the balance of my system. "

Of mental disorders we know little. Asylums for their treatment havemultiplied in our midst, but few of the thousands of educatedphysicians are qualified to minister to a mind diseased. Past modeswill not do for to-day. Our conditions are not the same. Our livesare faster, our needs greater. Our grand-parents lived in the age ofmuscle; we exist in the nerve period, and have new demands, both inour mental and physical structure. 

And new light will come in answer to the demand. The eye ofclairvoyance is already penetrating beyond science, and traversingthe world of causes. 

Eagerly Florence broke the seal of her first letter from Hugh. Hehad arrived safely, and wafted over the sea his own and Dawn's loveand remembrance. 

"Dawn desires to go to Germany, first, " he wrote, "and as I havebusiness with parties in Berlin, I shall gratify her wish. Ithought, all along, how much I wished you were with us, but sincewriting I feel different. I need you at home to express myself to, when I am overflowing with thought. If you were at my side, when Iam seeing all these things, we should both have the feast together, and be done. Now, in rehearsing it to you, I enjoy it over again. Very much we shall have to talk about, when we meet again. How Iwould like to transmit to your mind the vivid impressions of my own, when I first put my foot on the soil of England; but such things arenot possible, and sometime I hope you will be here yourself, andfeel the thrill of the old world under your feet. "

This portion of the long and interesting letter so refreshed her, that Miss Evans, when she came in after tea, guessed at once thecause of the sparkling eye that greeted her. 

"Letters are wonderful tonics, " said Mr. Temple, laughingly, as heglanced toward Florence. 

"That depends from whom they come, " she answered, and repented of itas soon as said. She looked up after a while, but there was noshadow on his face. She saw that he was sharing her joy, and thenshe knew that not a ripple of doubt would ever disturb theirsmoothly flowing life. 

Miss Evans left at an early hour, and reaching her home, wrote tillnearly midnight. Her nature was one that was most elastic at night;her brilliancy seemed to come with the stars. 

Page after page fell from her desk to the floor; thought followedthought, till the mortal light seemed to give place to the divine. At length the theme grew so mighty, and words seemed so feeble toportray it, that she laid down the pen and wept, --wept not tears ofexhaustion, but of joy at the soul's prospective. Sublime was thescene before her vision; enrapturing the prospect opening beforeearth's pilgrims, and she felt truly thankful that she wasprivileged to point out the way to those whose faith was weak, andwho walked tremblingly along the road. 

She gathered her pages, laid them in order, and then wrote thefollowing in her journal:

"Night, beautiful night; dark below but brilliant above. I am notalone. These stars, some of them marking my destiny, know well myjoys and my griefs. They are shining on me now. The waters aredarkest nearest the shore, and perchance I am near some haven ofrest. I have been tossed for many a year, yet, cease my heart tomourn, for my joys have been great. The world looks on me, and callsme strong. Heaven knows how weak I am, for this heart has had itssorrows, and these eyes have wept bitter tears. The warm current ofmy love has not departed; it has turned to crystals around my heart, cold, but pure and sparkling. There is a voice that can melt them, as the sun dissolves the frost. -I turn a leaf. This shall not recordso much of self, or be so tinged with my own heart'spulsations, --this page now fair and spotless. 

"I thought, a month ago, this feeling would never come again. I holdmy secret safe; why will my nerves keep trembling so, when down, fardown in my soul, I feel so strong?

"To-night I must put around my heart a girdle of strong purpose, andbid these useless thoughts be gone. I must not pulsate so intenselywith feeling. My fate is to stand still and weave my thoughts intogarlands for others. I must lay a heavy mantle on my breast, andwrap fold after fold upon my heart, that its beating may not beheard. Why have we hearts? Heads are better, and guide us to saferports. 

"'T is past the midnight hour. What scratches of the pen I have putupon this virgin page. So does time mark us o'er and o'er. We mustcarry the marks of his hand to the shore of the great hereafter. Beyond, we shall drink from whatever fount will best suffice us. Here, we must take the cup as 't is passed to us, bitter or sweet-'tis not ours to choose. These boundaries of self are good. Whereshould we roam if left to our inclinations? Let me trust and waitGod's own time and way. "

"Dear Florence, " wrote Dawn, some months after they had been away, "I have seen gay, smiling France, and beautiful Italy with itswealth of sunlight, and its treasures of art. I have seen classicGreece, --of which we have talked so many hours, --and its fairy islandsnestling in the blue Archipelago, --isles where Sappho sang. I havebeen among the Alps, and have seen the sunset touch with its lastgleam, the eternal waste of snow; but more than all, I love dearGermany, the land of music and flowers, scholarship and mysticlegends. 

"Now, my good friend and teacher, how shall I describe to you mystate amid all this new life? At first I felt as though my formerexistence had been one long sleep, or as I suppose the mineralkingdom might feel in passing to the vegetable order, as some onehas expressed it. 

"It was an awakening that thrilled my being with intensest delight;a fullness which left nothing to hope for. A new revelation of lifehas arisen within me, as sudden and grand as the appearing of thosemysterious isles which are upheaved in a single night from thedepths of the ocean. 

"A deeper pulsation than I have ever known, now stirs my blood. Ifeel the claims of humanity calling me to labor. My purpose isstrong; I shall return with this thrill in my heart, and become oneof God's willing instruments. That He will own me, I feel in everyheart-beat. My mission is to erring women, and you, my friend, willsmile, I know, on my purpose. 

"The other night I dreamed that a beautiful being stood by my side, while a light, such as I have never seen on earth, shone about her. 

"'Tell me, ' I said, 'why this heavenly halo is around you? and if I, too, may become like you?'

"'Listen. ' She answered. 'Years ago, I lived on earth and passedthrough much suffering. I seemed to be placed in a close, highbuilding, into which all the light that could enter came from above. I could only look up, with no power to turn to the right or left. After being years in this state, the rays coming thus directly fromabove, cleansed my soul, whitened my garment, and made it spotless. This light became a part of myself; it followed me to the otherworld, and now, when I approach earth, it enables me to see all theerrors and virtues of humanity. Wouldst thou be willing to become alight by which pilgrims can see the way to Heaven?'

"'I would. My only desire is to do good, ' I replied. 

"'It is easy to desire this, ' she remarked, sadly. 

"'But wouldst thou be willing to be almost annihilated, were it bythat only you might become a lamp to the pilgrim's feet?'

"I looked into my heart, and think I spoke truthfully, when Ianswered that I would. 

"'Then thou art accepted, ' the angel said. 'It shall not be literalannihilation, although akin to it, for all your earthly desires mustbe swept away; all ambition, fame, learning, friends, must besacrificed upon this altar. The light you will bear is fed alonefrom heavenly sources. Think again, child, if all these things canbe as naught. '

"I searched my soul once more. One answer, one word broke from mylips, --'Amen. '

"'T is well, ' the angel visitant said; 'thy being shall be turned tolight. '

"I awoke. The morning sun shone in my windows, and laid in goldenbars upon my bed. I thought long of the vision of the night, andthen sat down to pen it to you. To me it is significant. Write andtell me if it seems but a dream to you. I should like to bepermitted to glorify my name, and be the 'Dawn' of light to some ofearth's weary pilgrims. "

CHAPTER XX. 

In a pleasant room in Frankfort, on a slight eminence whichoverlooked the river Maine, sat a young man, of about thirty years, in deep meditation. His face showed traces of recent suffering; hisbroad, high brow was white as marble, and his hands, though large, were soft and delicate as a woman's. Near by sat a young girl, whosephysiogomy showed close relationship to the invalid. She was hissister, and was travelling with him, hoping that change of air andscenery might produce a beneficial effect on his health. 

"I think you seem stronger than when we came, Ralph; don't you?" Shehad been watching the color flickering on his face and lips, thelast half hour. 

"Yes, the air of Frankfort has done me good, and the present fatigueis only the result of my journey. "

"I am glad to hear you say so; it confirms my impression, which is, that you will recover. "

"Heaven grant it may be so. Long suffering has robbed me of thebuoyancy of hope. I think I have not enjoyed myself more at any timeduring my illness, than while we were at Heidelberg, among itscastles. "

"I hope you will enjoy your stay here as much. You know how long youhave wished to see the birthplace of Goethe. "

"I have, and expect to see his statue to-morrow, which will bepleasure enough for one day; at least for an invalid. Do youremember his 'Sorrows of Werter, ' Marion? In what work has the depthof men's emotional nature been so sounded?"

"I remember you read it to me last winter, while I was working thoseslippers you have on. "

"Ah, yes; delightful days they were, too. I wonder if I shall beable to see Dannecker's Ariadne the same day?"

"I have forgotten, Ralph, the figure. "

"It is that of a beautiful female riding on a panther. The light islet in through a rosy curtain, and falling upon the form, isabsorbed and incorporated into the marble. "

"How beautiful; I wish we could go to-day. "

"I shall be stronger to-morrow, and perhaps be able to sketch alittle before I leave. "

"Ah, if you could. What a pity that we had to come away fromHeidelburg without your being able to add anything to your folio. "

"It was; but if I recover my health, as you think I will, I shall goagain, and see how that place of beauty looks to me in full vigor. "

"I wonder if there are many visitors at the hotel? Taking our mealsas we do in our rooms, we see but little of them. "

"There have been several arrivals to-day, " she answered. 

"And there are more coming. Sister, I feel strangely here. Thefeeling has deepened ever since I came. I feel a soul; some one nearme; a being strong in soul and body, and more lovely than any one Ihave ever met. "

Marion looked distressed. She feared his mind was wandering. In vainshe tried to hide her look of concern; he saw it, and relieved herfears by his words and manner. 

"It is not mere fancy, nor mental illusion, my dear sister, butsomething real and tangible. I feel it in my entire being: some oneis coming to make me whole. "

"A woman?"

"Yes; a woman such as you nor I have never looked upon. "

"You are weary now, Ralph; will you not lie down?"

"I will to please you; but I am far from being weary. "

She smoothed his pillow, and led him to the couch. At that instant acarriage drove to the door, and several persons alighted. 

Marion turned her gaze from the strangers to her brother. Never inher life had she seen him look as he did then. His eyes glowed, notwith excitement, but with new life. The color mounted to cheeks andforehead, while he kept pacing up and down the room, too full of joyand emotion to utter a single sentence. 

"What is it, brother?"

This question, anxiously put, was all she could say, for sheperceived, dimly, a sense of some approaching crisis. 

Her anxious look touched him, and he threw himself on the couch, andpermitted her to pass her hand gently over his brow. 

"There; it's over now. "

"What, Ralph?"

"The strange tremor of my being. Marion, some one has come to thishotel, who will strangely affect my future life. "

"The woman, --the soul you felt in the air?" she inquired, now excitedin turn. 

"Yes, the soul has come; my soul. I shall look on her beforeto-morrow's sun has set. I feel an affiliation, a quality of lifewhich never entered my mental or physical organization before. AndMarion, this quality is mine by all the laws of Heaven. " He sankback upon the couch like a weary child, and soon passed into a sweetslumber. 

Marion watched the color as it came into his face. It was the flushof health, not the hectic tinge of disease; and his breath, oncelabored and short, was now easy and calm as an infant's. 

Some wondrous change seemed to have been wrought upon him. What wasit? By what subtle process had his life blood been warmed, and hisbeing so strongly affiliated with another life? and where was thebeing whose life had entered into his? Beneath the same roof, reading the beautiful story of "Evangeline. "

The next morning Ralph arose, strong and refreshed, having sleptmuch better than he had for many months. 

"Such rest, Marion, " he said, "will soon restore me to health, " andhis looks confirmed the truth of his statement. 

"I should think you had found life's elixir, or the philosopher'sstone, whose fabled virtues were buried with the alchemists of old. But who is the fairy, Ralph, and when shall we behold her face?"

"Before the sun has set to-day, " he answered, confidently. 

Marion smiled, looked slightly incredulous, and sat down to herbooks and work. 

Towards the close of the day, her attention was attracted by agraceful figure approaching the river bank. Her hat had fallen fromher head, displaying its beautiful contour, and in her hair werewild flowers, so charmingly placed, that they seemed as though theyhad grown there. She watched her with the deepest interest, andturned to beckon her brother to the window, when lo! he was directlybehind her, and had seen the fair maiden all the while. He had beendrawn there by an irresistible power, and in the single glance hefelt the assurance that she was the being who was to bless his life. He would have given much, then, to have seen her face, and havingwatched her till out of sight, went to his couch for rest. 

Marion looked on his placid features, and hope sprung up in herbreast. She felt that her brother was, by some mysterious power, improving, and knew that he would fully recover his health. Theflood-tides of affection flowed to the surface, and she wept tearsof joy. 

Towards sunset they walked out together. Even the mental excitementcaused by looking upon Goethe's statue, and the beautiful Ariadnehad not exhausted him as formerly, and he was able to go into theevening air for the first time for many months. 

They returned to their rooms, and talked of the stranger. 

"Is she not lovely?" asked Marion, after long silence. 

But in that dreamy silence, Ralph had, in spirit, been absent fromhis sister and present with her of whom she inquired. The sound ofher voice brought him back; he started and said, --

"Who?"

"Why the stranger, of whom we were speaking. "

"Lovely?" he replied; "she is more than that, she is holy, heavenly, pure. But let us talk no more tonight, dear; I am weary. "

The link was broken; her words had called him from the sphere of thebeautiful stranger, and he needed rest. 

"Just what I feared, " she said to herself, "he is mentally excited, and to-morrow will droop. "

Contrary to her fears, however, he awoke fresh and bright on themorrow, and able to visit with her, many places of interest. He didnot see the stranger that day, nor the one succeeding. 

"I fear they have gone, " said his sister, as Ralph walked nervouslythrough the room. "I saw several go last evening, and she may havebeen among the number. "

"No, no; she has not gone. I should feel her absence were she away. I should have no strength, but lose what I have gained, and droop. Ifeel her here under this roof. I am approaching her, and shall, within a few hours, look on her face, and hear her voice. "

"Ah, Ralph, don't get too much excited, for I want you to look wellwhen father and mother join us at Paris. They will be overjoyed tosee how much you have improved. "

He made a hasty gesture, which she did not see, and then, ashamed athis feeling of impatience, went and sat beside her, and arranged thesilks in her basket. Engaged in this light pastime, he did not heara low rap at the door. 

"Come in, " rose to the lips of Marion; then the thought flashed onher mind that the caller might be a stranger, and she arose andopened the door. 

"Have you a guide-book you can loan me?"

The voice thrilled Ralph's being to its centre. He raised his eyesand said, --

"Come in; we will find the book for you. "

To Marion's surprise she entered and seated herself by the window, but never for a moment took her eyes from the features of Ralph. 

His hands trembled violently as he searched for the book among apile on the table, and Marion had to find it at last, and pass it tothe stranger, who took it, but moved not. Her eyes seemedtransfixed, her feet fastened to the floor. 

"This is the person who has drawn my life so since I came here. Heis ill, but will recover, " she said, stepping towards him, andplacing her soft, white hand upon his brow. 

During this time Ralph was speechless, and felt as though he wasstruck dumb. He trembled in every limb, as she gently led him to thecouch and motioned him to lie down. Then his limbs relaxed, hisbreath became calm, the face lost all trace of weariness, and hepassed into a deep, mesmeric sleep. "Fold on fold of sleep was o'erhim, " and the fair one stood silently there, her eyes dreamy and faroff, until his being was fully enrapt in that delicious state whichbut few on earth have experienced. 

Then silently she withdrew, while Marion whispered in her ear, "Comeagain; please do, for this is so new and strange to me. "

"I will, " she said, and quietly departed. 

An hour passed, and he did not awake; another, and still heslumbered. "Can it be? O, is it the sleep which precedes death? Ifear it may be, " and the anxious sister, musing thus, suppressed arising sigh. He moved uneasily. She had disturbed the delicate stateby her agitated thoughts. 

"O, if she would come, " said Marion, "I should have no fear. "

At that instant the door opened, and the wished for visitor glidedin. 

"Has she read my thought?"

"Fear not, " whispered the stranger, in a voice and manner not herown, "thy brother but sleepeth. All is well; disease will have lefthim when he awakes. I will stay awhile. "

A volume of thanks beamed from Marion's face at these words, as shetook her seat close by the side of the fair girl. 

At the end of the third hour he awoke. The stranger glided from theroom just as his eyes were opening, and Marion closed the door, andwent and sat beside him. 

"What was it like, Ralph? O! how strange it all seems to me. "

"Like? sister mine; like dew to the parched earth; strength to thelanguished; light unto darkness. What was it like? Mortal cannotcompare it to anything under the heavens. It was as though my beingsoared on downy clouds-the old passing out, weariness falling as Iascended, and all sense of pain laid aside as one would a garmenttoo heavy to be worn. I knew I slept. I was inspired with currentsof a new life. I was lulled by undulating waves of light; eachmotion giving deeper rest, followed by a delicious sense ofenjoyment without demand of action; a balancing of all the being. O!rest, such rest, comes to man but once in a lifetime. But where isthe fair one to whom I am so much indebted for all this?" He glancedaround the room. 

"Gone. She left just as you were waking. But tell me, Ralph, is itthe mesmeric sleep that has so strengthened you, and with which youare so charmed?"

"It must be. What wondrous power that being has; Marion, I am asstrong and well as ever; look at me, and see if my appearance doesnot verify my assertion. "

She looked and believed. The past hour had developed a wondergreater than could be found among all the works of art in that greatcity; for Christ, the Lord, had been there and disease had fled. 

Ralph and Marion met the strangers quite often, and passed manyhappy hours in her society. Marion rallied her brother on his longtarry at Frankfort, at which he smiled, saying, "I cannot go whileshe remains. " No more was said concerning his departure, it beingher pleasure to go or stay, as he wished. 

One bright morning, they sat under the trees. Ralph was sketching, while Marion and the young lady who had so entranced him, wereamusing themselves with some portraits which he had drawn a longtime previous, when a servant delivered a letter to Marion. Sheopened it eagerly, and said, "It's from mother, Ralph, and we mustmeet her in Paris by the twentieth; it's now the seventh. "

A look of disappointment passed over his face, which was soon chasedaway by smiles, at the words of their companion who said:

"How singular. Father and myself are going there. We leaveto-morrow. "

Marion excused herself, and ran to her room to answer her mother'sletter. The two thus left alone, sat silent for some time, untilRalph broke the calm with these words, "I long to know the name ofone who has so long benefited me. I only know you as Miss Lyman. Ishould like to treasure your christian name, which I am sure isbright, like your nature. "

"My surname is Wyman, not Lyman, and my christian name, Dawn. "

"How strange! How beautiful!" almost involuntarily exclaimed Ralph. 

"Will you allow me, Dawn, " he said, after a brief silence, "tosketch your profile?"

"Certainly, when will you do it?"

"Now, if you have no objection. "

"I have not the slightest, provided I can have a duplicate, in caseI like it. "

He complied readily, and she took a position requisite for the work. 

"Look away over the river, if you please. "

He did not know how much these words implied. Her gaze was far away, and would ever be, for her real home was beyond. 

He succeeded at the first effort, and asked her judgment upon it. 

"Truthful and correct, " she said. "Now another for me, if youplease. "

"This is yours. I shall idealize mine, and in it I shall sketch youas you appear to me. Mine would not please you, I know. "

"You judge me correctly. I wish my portrait to be exactly likemyself. "

"Yet if you sketched, you would want to draw your friends profilesas they appeared to you, would you not?"

"Certainly. Is this your speciality, heads, or do you go to natureand reproduce her wonderous moods and shades with your pencil?"

"My great ideal is Nature. You, too, are an artist. "

"I have no talent whatever, but the deepest sympathy with Nature, and an appreciation of her harmonies. "

"Do you not paint flowers, or sketch home scenes?"

"I have never used pencil or brush, and yet I feel at times suchlongings within me to give expression to my states, I think I musthave, at least, some latent power in that direction. "

"As all have. I could teach you in a very short time, to sketchwoods, hills, and skies. "

"I think I should never copy. You don't know how foreign it is to mynature to copy anything. I should respect artists more if they didnot copy so much. I reverence the past; I honor and admire the purelives and noble works of those who are gone; but where are the newsaints and the new masters? Was genius buried with Michael Angeloand Raphael? The same God who inspired their lives, inspires ours. We can make ourselves illustrious in our own way. We may not allpaint, but whatever our work is, that should we do as individuals. If we copy, we shall have no genius to transmit to futuregenerations. "

Dawn wished to be pardoned if she had wearied her listener, but shesaw at once, as she looked on his face, that the thoughts she hadexpressed were accepted, and that her words had not fallen onunappreciative ears. 

"You have spoken my own views, and if my health remains, I shallgive the world my best efforts in my own way. Nature shall be mystudy. I will not fall a worshipper, like Correggio, to light andshade, but use them as adjuncts to the great idea which must everdwell in the soul of the faithful artist, to give the whole ofnature. "

"I would not have spoken so much upon a theme even so dear to me asthis, had I not felt that you would accept my thoughts, andtherefore knew that I should not weary you. "

"I shall see you before you go, " he said, retaining her hand whichshe extended, as she arose to leave. 

"I should be very sorry not to bid you good-bye. Have you myportrait?" He handed it to her, and walked with her to the hotel. 

"To-morrow she will depart, I may never see her again. Never! No, itcannot be. I shall see her, live near her, feel her life flowinginto mine each day. It must be, I shall droop and fade without her, as the flower without dew or water. " He went in and found the letterwritten, sealed and directed to Paris. He loved the word, since shewas going there. 

Dawn went to her room and wrote her last letter from the land ofmusic, flowers, legends and art. 

"Dear Ones at Home:-To-morrow we bid good-bye to this land ofbeauty, which so accords with my feelings. We shall bid adieu to itsmountains, its castles, and its works of art. When you receive thiswe shall have visited Paris, thence to London to embark for home. 'Home, ' dear word. All my roamings will only make me love homebetter, and those whose lives are so woven in with mine. TellHerbert he must come here to have his inspiration aroused. When hehas walked upon Mont Blanc; when he has sailed on the Rhine, stoodby Lakes Geneva and Lucerne, and by the blue Moselle, then he willfeel that his whole life has been a fitting prelude to a rapturousburst of immortal song. He must come to Germany before he can fathomthe sea of sound, or understand in fullness what the rippling wavesof sweet music are saying. Florence, Herbert! do not let old agecome on you, before you see this land, if none other. It is growingdark, or I would write more. Were I to sing a song to-night it wouldbe, 'Do they miss me at home?' Three years have passed; I could stayas many more and not see half of that which would interest andinstruct me, yet I feel ready to leave, for I know it to be my dutyto do so. May the waves bear us safely to the arms of those who loveus. Yours ever, DAWN. "

CHAPTER XXI. 

During the voyage home, Dawn was too indrawn to converse much withher father. He saw her state, and delicately left her to herself, except at brief intervals. What a help is such an one to us in ourmoods-one who knows when to leave us, and as well when to linger. 

The days went swiftly by. As they neared home, Dawn's abstractedmanner warmed to its usual glow, and parent and child talkedearnestly of the joy of returning to their own dear fireside. Withdeepened life within, and extended views of happiness, howpleasantly would the days glide on, lit with the sunlight of thehappy faces they were so soon to behold. 

The autumn had just flashed its beauties on the forest trees, whenMr. Wyman and Dawn drew near their home. It was sunset when theyreached the little station at L--and saw their carriage waiting, and Martin, their faithful servant, holding Swift. A bright facepeeped out from a corner of the carriage. One bound to the platform, and Florence and Dawn were clasped in each other's arms. Tearssprang to Hugh's eyes as he held her hand and read in her happy facethat all was well with herself and friends. The old horse even gavethem a kindly greeting, turning his head and looking upon the joyousgroup, then pawing the ground as if anxious to take them to theirhome. They were not long in catching the hint, and soon Martin gaveSwift the reins, and he pranced along as though his burden weighedno more than a feather. 

"Who do you think is at our house?" inquired Florence. 

"I have been too long away from yankee land to 'guess'; tell me atonce, Florence. "

"Miss Weston, whom we met at the sea-shore. "

Dawn held up both hands with delight. 

"Why did you not mention it in your last letter?"

"Because she arrived since I wrote. "

"I hope she is to stay awhile with us, " said Dawn. 

"We shall need all the balancing power we can bring to offset ourenthusiasm. Do you not think so, Florence?" asked Mr. Wyman. 

"I do, indeed. I expect Dawn's earnestness will kindle such desiresamong these home-loving people, that by next spring, all L--willembark for Europe. "

"Some fuel will not ignite, " said Dawn, casting a mischievous glanceat Florence. 

"I think foreign travel has injured my pupil's manners, " remarkedMrs. Temple, assuming an air of dignity. 

"Yes, you must take her in charge immediately, " answered her father. "But here we are at our own gate. Stop, Martin, " and with a bound hesprang from the carriage. He could sit no longer. The familiar treeswhich his own hand had planted, spread their branches as though towelcome his return. Brilliant flowers flashed smiles of greeting. The turf seemed softer, and more like velvet than he had ever seenit; the marble statues on the lawn more elegant than all thebeautiful things he had looked upon while away. Some hand hadtrailed the vines over the pillars of the house; the birds sang, andthe air seemed full of glad welcomings. The good, honest face ofAunt Susan met them at the hall door, and a warm, hearty shake ofthe hand was the greeting of each. 

Flowers everywhere, --pendant from baskets, and grouped in vases;vines everywhere, --laid as by a summer breeze, on marble busts andstatuettes; blossoms everywhere:-but where was she whosethoughtfulness and taste was made manifest in all these?

Impatiently he passed to the drawing-room, then to the library, anda feeling of blank disappointment rose in his breast, for she he somuch expected to see, was not there to greet him. 

"I forgot to tell you, " said Aunt Susan, "that no sooner was thecarriage gone for you, then Miss Evans was called to a very sickfriend. She left this note for you. "

Hugh hastily opened it, and found a line expressing regret that suchsummons should come at such an hour, and welcoming him home with allthe warmth of a true and earnest soul. 

"O father! is it not heavenly to be back again?" and the sensitivedaughter fell weeping with joy into her father's arms. He pressedher to his heart, held her as though she had been away from him allthese years, instead of at his side beholding the wonders of the OldWorld. "Dawn, Dawn, my darling girl, " was all he could say. 

"Where is she?" she inquired, suddenly rising. 

"Who?"

"Miss Evans. Strange I have not thought of her since we entered ourhome. "

"She is away. Here is her note, which will explain her absence. "

Dawn read it without looking at the words, and said:

"The house is full of her. I like her sphere; she must not go awayfrom us. "

Her father glanced wonderingly towards her. How strangely woven intohis own life was the tissue of his child's, how vibratory had theirexistence become. 

"Shall she not always stay, dear father? You will need some one-someone with you. "

The last words were slow and measured. What was it that seemeddrifting from his grasp just then? What more of joy was recedingfrom his life-sphere?

"Dawn, my child, " he said, "You are not going from me?"

"Why, poor frightened papa, I am not so easily got rid of. I am notgoing, but some one is coming, coming, I feel it, close to you, yetnot one to sever us. There are some natures that bind others closer, as some substances unite by the introduction of a third element. "

"Child, you are my very breath; how can you come closer to me?"

"By having a new set of sympathies in your being aroused; byexpansion. Was my mother farther removed or brought nearer to you, when she gave birth to a new claimant upon your love?"

"Brought nearer, and made dearer a thousand times. "

"Do you understand me now, father?"

"I feel strange to-day, Dawn. It came over me when I left thecarriage, --a something I fain would put away, but cannot. Some othertime we will talk upon it. "

"May we come in?"

The door was flung wide open, and Florence and her husband stoodbefore them. The children were in the garden just at that moment. The tea-bell rang, and soon they all formed a happy group around thebounteous board. 

Revelations come to us sometimes in flashes, at others in partialglimpses. The revelation of Hugh Wyman's feelings towards one he hadknown but as a friend, came slowly. There was no sudden lifting ofthe veil, which concealed the image from his sight. It rose andfell, as though lifted by the wind, --and that merely a chancebreeze, --no seeming hand of fate controling it. 

How should ho know himself; how fathom the strange fluttering of hisheart, the quickening breath, the flashing blood, at times when hemost earnestly sought to put such emotions away. What meant hischild's close words touching his dim thoughts floating like nebul‘in his mind? What was this vague questioning state, with norevelations, no answers? He tried to put it away, but each endeavorbrought it closer, and he yielded at last to the strange spell. 

Three days after their arrival, Miss Evans came from the house ofmourning to their home of joy. 

Hugh met her suddenly in the garden, whither she had gone in searchof Dawn. But where was "Hugh, " her brother, when they met? Notbefore her. The person had the manners of a stranger, instead of along absent friend returned. 

She sought Dawn, and met with a cordial welcome from her, which insome measure removed the chill from her heart. 

Dawn struggled long that night with her feelings. Her thoughts wouldwander over the sea to one who had so deeply touched her sympathies. Her last meeting with him was in Paris. He then stood with hissister gazing on Schoffer's picture, which so beautifully representsthe gradual rise of the soul through the sorrows of earth to heaven. This beautiful work of art "consists of figures grouped together, those nearest the earth bowed down and overwhelmed with the mostcrushing sorrow; above them are those who are beginning to lookupward, and the sorrow in their faces is subsiding into anxiousinquiry; still above them are those who, having caught a gleam ofthe sources of consolation, express in their faces a solemncalmness; and still higher, rising in the air, figures with claspedhands, and absorbed, upward gaze, to whose eye the mystery has beenunveiled, the enigma solved, and sorrow glorified. "

That picture floated through her mind. 

"Shall I ever be among the 'glorified, '" she asked of her innerself; "among those who see the divine economy of suffering, whichpurifies the soul from all grossness? I must banish the thought ofhim from my mind, " she exclaimed, vehemently. "I must have noearthly moorings; far, far out on life's tumultuous sea, I seemyself buffeting the waves alone. " Thus spoke reason, while her soulkept up the swelling tide of emotion, and soon away went thought andfeeling far over the blue sea, where he was yet gazing on thebeauties of the Old World. 

Would chance once more send him across her path? Would she everagain look into those eyes of such wondrous depth? These were thethoughts which floated through her mind-the last she experiencedbefore passing into dreamland. 

Lulled in sweet sleep, she seemed to stand upon a shore watching thewaves which threw, at each inflowing, beautiful shells at her feet. They were all joined in pairs, but none were rightly mated; allunmatched in size, form and color. What hand shall arrange them inorder? Who will mate them, and re-arrange their inharmoniouscombinings?

She tried to tear a few asunder. She could not separate them, forthey were held so firmly by the thick slime of the sea, that no handcould disunite them. 'They must go back, and be washed again andagain by the waves, ' a voice within seemed to say, 'on eternity'sbroad shore they will all be mated. They symbolize human life, andwhat in the external world are called marriages. The real mate is inthe sea, but not joined to its like. '

A feeling of impatience came over her, as she saw the shells rollback, and the incoming tide still throwing more at her feet. Thefeeling deepened, and she awoke. 

It was midnight; a gentle breeze scarce stirred the curtains of herwindows and bed, and there broke over the room a wave of sound. 

Dawn knew that some one was there, yet no fear of the visitant cameupon her. She only feared her breath might disturb the delicateatmosphere which filled the room, growing at each moment morerarified and delicate in its quality. She knew that the presencecould be none other than that of her mother, for none but she couldso permeate her being, and fill the room with such an air ofholiness, and she felt that in the atmosphere which was thusgathering, her angelic form must soon become cognizant to her sight. As these thoughts filled her mind, the rays of light began toconverge and centre at her side. Her eyes seemed rivited to thespot, as she saw the dim but perfect outline of a form. It grew moretangible, until at last the form of her mother stood saintly andglorified before her. 

O, the rapt ecstacy of such an hour; the soothing influence whichflows into the brain when a mortal is thus blessed. 

Dawn tried to speak; her lips parted, but no sound issued, and shelearned that there is another communion than that of words, whichmortals hold with those who have passed into a broader and deeperlife. 

Slowly the form faded away; first the limbs, then the shadows, orsemi-transparent clouds, rose gradually, till nought but the whiteeffulgent brow beamed out; yet but for an instant, then all wasgone. 

A rest deeper than that of sleep came over her. She closed her eyesto shut out the darkness, and retain the vision, and remained thusuntil slowly the golden orb of day rolled his chariot over theeastern hills, when reluctantly she arose, and the heavenly spellwas broken. 

"Dear Pearl, how good you are to come and see us, " burst from thelips of Dawn, when, two hours later, she entered the parlor of herteacher and clasped the hand of Miss Weston. "I shall claim herto-day; may I not, Florence?" and without waiting for a reply, shecarried her to her own home. 

They talked long and earnestly; Dawn's description of her travelsentertaining her guest exceedingly, and it was noon ere they wereaware that one half of the morning had passed away. 

"And now I have talked long enough, and will stop; but may I ask youwhere you propose to spend the coming winter? If you are notpositively engaged, I want you to stay with Florence and myself. "

"I am going to the quiet little town of B--, to remain for anindefinite period with some dear friends, relatives of my dearEdward, who have just returned from Europe. I had a letter from themyesterday, saying they were all safe at home, and should be lookingfor me next week. "

"Then all my plans must fail. "

"As far as having me here for so long a time; but how I wish youcould know Ralph and Marion, Dawn. -Why, what is the matter; what isit, dear Dawn?"

"Nothing but a sharp pain. It's all over now. Were your friendsin-in Paris last month?" her voice trembled as she spoke. 

"Yes. But how pale you look. Dawn, you must be ill. "

"I am not. I did not sleep well last night. But Pearl, I have seenyour friends. "

"Seen them; seen Ralph?" exclaimed Miss Weston, in joyous surprise. "Is his not a fine character? And Marion, his sister, is she notlovely?"

"I know them but little. They were at a hotel in Frankfort, where westopped. I first met them there, and again in Paris, twice, accidentally. "

"How strange, " continued Miss Weston. "Will they not be greatlysurprised when I tell them I know you?"

Dawn laid her hand heavily on her friend's shoulder, saying:

"Miss Weston, I have my reasons, which sometime I may explain toyou, for asking you not to mention my name to any member of thatfamily. " It was the same bright face which years ago was turned onher with words of consolation; the same childish pleading, forDawn's face was a type of her spirit, --free, innocent and pure. "Willyou promise without an explanation?"

"I will, strange as it seems; but, may I ask you one question, before we leave this subject?"

"Certainly. "

"Has Ralph or Marion ever injured you?"

"Never. I think very highly of them both. "

The subject was dismissed, and although their words floated tointeresting topics, no deep feeling could be experienced by either, for each had become insphered and separate; one pondering, despiteher efforts to the contrary, upon the strange request; the otherthinking how strangely fate had again approximated lives which, inher present state, she could only see, must be kept apart. 

Little did Dawn think she should meet in her own home, one who knewRalph. It seemed an indication that she might meet him again, whenand where she knew not, but of one thing she was certain, themeeting could not be one of friendship only. A conflict of emotionspulsed through her being. She could not converse, and plainly toldher friend that she was too abstracted to be companionable. 

"Go to Florence, " she said, "and tell her she may have you the restof the day. To-morrow--to-morrow, " she said slowly, "I shall wantyou, for then I shall be myself. "

CHAPTER XXII. 

When Margaret Thorne left N--, it was with the intention offollowing the old woman's warning, and avoiding the stranger. 

"Where shall I go?" was the ever prominent question, repeated againand again, to the end of the journey. 

At last the train stopped at the busy city; the close of the journeyhad come, but no end to her restless thoughts. While she was thusmusing, she was aroused by the usual, "Have a hack? a hack, miss?"This seemed to indicate her next step. She handed her baggage checkto the person who addressed her, and directed him to drive to apublic house. 

Seated in the carriage she was somewhat relieved of the feeling ofuncertainty which had oppressed her. Alas, the poor girl did notknow that at that moment the woman of evil deeds was directing thecoachman where to carry the helpless victim. 

And thus her fate was sealed; her child was born in a house of sin, and its little eyes first opened in its dark, immoral atmosphere. 

The woman had managed all so cunningly that Margaret did not knowbut that she was in a respectable house, nor see her until it wastoo late. Then, knowing her helplessness, the woman, by subtleflatteries and approaches in her hour of womanly need, at a timewhen she was weak and susceptible to seemingly kind attentions, wonher confidence. The child of circumstances caught at the brokenstaff held out for her as a drowning one seeks any hold in a storm. In her hour of sorrow and destitution, she accepted the only aidwhich was proffered her, for aid she must have, and she was not ableto command her choice. 

Day by day the woman into whose hands she had fallen, worked herselfinto her life and affection, until at length Margaret began to thinkthere might be worse persons than those about her, and greater sinsin the wide world than those which were committed beneath the roofwhich now sheltered her. 

Creatures of circumstance as we are, we are too apt to attribute toour own strength of purpose the virtue, so called, in which we prideourselves. Women in happy homes, by pleasant hearths, and surroundedwith every means of social enjoyment, take credit to themselves fortheir upright demeanor, and indulge in bitter denunciation of those, who, less fortunately circumstanced, yield to the tempter'sallurements. Little do they think of what they themselves might havebeen, but for the protection which some good angel has thrown aroundthem. It would be well for us all to pause and think, and ask oursouls the question which this thought suggests. 

As has been seen, Margaret Thorne came not willingly to the home inwhich she now was, neither did she willingly remain. Circumstancesnot of her own making, governed her; and may it not be there aremany similarly situated. To such the world owes its pity, not itscondemnation. 

The "social evil" is not confined to the houses which the publicmarks as its only abode, but is to be found in many of those inwhich the marriage ceremony is supposed to have insured chastity. 

In these, too often, the unwelcome child is ushered into being, thefruit of a prostitution more base than any which is called by thatname, because sanctioned and shielded by a covenant of holiness. Ifany children are illegitimate such are. If any mothers are to becondemned, they are those, who, vain and foolish, filled withworldly ambition, angrily regret that their time is encroached uponby the demands of their dependent offspring. In vain the little onesreach out for the life and love which should be freely given them;then, finding it not, fade and die like untimely flowers. Thousandsof innocent beings go to the grave every year from no other causethan this, that though born in wedlock they are the offspring ofpassion, and not the children of love. 

Sad as these thoughts are, they are nevertheless true. An hour'swalk in any community, will bring to any one's observationinharmonious children. Let the married reflect, and closely questionthemselves, in order that they may know the true relation which theybear to the children who are called by their name. Better by farthat a child of pure love be brought into the world, with a heart tolove it, a hand to lead it, and a soul to guide it, than a child ofpassion, to be hated and forsaken by those who should care for andprotect it. 

Little can be done by one generation to right this wrong, but thatlittle should be done with earnestness. 

"I will not forsake it, " said Margaret, looking into the eyes of herchild; eyes that fastened on hers such a questioning gaze, that itmade her heart beat fast, and the scalding tears flow down hercheeks; eyes that resembled those that once flashed on her the lightof passion, which she mistook for that of pure affection. 

Years rolled on, and she struggled with life, trying to supportherself and child by her efforts. But, alas, the taint was on her;none would help her to a better existence, and she fell to rise nomore this side the grave. 

Not suddenly did she surrender her womanhood, but slowly, as hopeafter hope failed, and all her efforts were met with a fouldistrust. 

The years that came and went by, bringing happiness to many, broughtnone to her. One night the angel of death stole noiselessly to herside, and took her only earthly comfort, --her child. His fair faceand innocent smile had repaid her a hundred fold for the frowns ofthe world she had met. Now she had no moorings, no anchor in thebroad sea of existence. 

"I shall die some day, " she said, "and perhaps the angels willforgive me. " So she walked alone, and cared not what came to herlife, or filled the measure of her days on earth. 

Miss Evans sat alone in her home, musing, as she had often done. Shehad just been reading passages from "Dream Life, " having opened thebook at random to a chapter entitled, "A Broken Hope. " Was lifemocking her at every step? She turned the pages listlessly, and"Peace" flashed before her vision. Peace, at last. No matter howgreat the struggle, rest shall be ours. We may not attain what wehave striven for on earth, but peace will come, and the "rest whichthe world knows not of. "

But her mind did not feel the promise then. Life seemed growingdull, insipid. The course of the chariot wheels of progress, wereimpeded. What had become of her earnest, working self, whose deepesthappiness was in laboring for humanity? Why were her hands so idle, and her mind so listless? Question rose on question, until her mindseemed plunging into a sea whose troubled waves moaned and dashedagainst her life-bark, giving her spirit no repose. Why was shefloating on this restless sea?

A hand was laid upon her shoulder. She turned, and the warm bloodtinged her cheeks and brow. 

"Hugh!"

"Arline!"

It was the first time for years that the sound of her own name hadthrilled her so deeply. 

He sat by her, took her hands in his own, and had never seemed tobelong to her so much as in that hour. 

"I never was more delighted to see you, " she said, unaware of thetide of emotion which his answer would awaken. 

"I am glad, indeed, that it is so. Then I do not seek you to berepulsed. I love you, Arline. "

She was not startled by this avowal, as it might have been supposedshe would have been, and yet she never thought to hear words likethose pass his lips. Like dew upon withering flowers they came, andshe looked up, saying, --

"How long has this feeling existed in your heart, Hugh?"

"Since I found I could love more than one, and yet love that onedeeper and more tenderly. "

"And when was that?"

"When I first saw my home after my foreign trip. Until then, I hadbut one feeling towards you, and that, you know, was a brother'slove. "

"I do. "

"But tell me, " he said, as though a new thought had impressed him, "how long have you loved me?"

"Always, Hugh. "

"Always?" he repeated. "And yet you kept that love a secret to everysoul but your own. It is well, and in order. I could not have knownit before. May I ever prove worthy of such devotion, such true love. Arline, our love has not the fire of passion, but a purer flameburns upon its altar, one which consumes not, while it illumines ourway. "

For many hours they sat together, much of the time in silence, theirsouls communing in that language which has not an earthlyexpression. Soon the current of their lives mingled; the green banksof peace were in view. Night adorned itself in the robes of morning;doubt and questioning gave place to faith and trust. 

She went to his home to walk daily with one whom God had made tovibrate in soul to that of her own earnest life. There was no crowdto witness the external rite; only a chosen few who could enter intothe true spirit of the occasion, were present, while over themhovered the angelic form of the dear, departed Alice, happy indeed, that a woman's affection and gentleness had come to bless him whomshe too so truly loved. 

Dawn was radiant with emotion at the union. "Another life nowenfolds me, " she said to her father, when they were alone for thefirst time after the ceremony. "I knew she was coming; I felt itwhen we came home. You did not seek it, father, it came to you; itwas to be; and now as you have some one to sit by your side, I mayroam a little, may I not?"

"Ah, yes; I remember a certain pair of eyes over the sea, which morethan once flashed on a young lady who shall be nameless. "

Dawn suddenly interrupted this remark by the exclamation, "Ah, don't, father, don't!" and her tone struck him as sadly out of placefor the time and occasion; so he said no more, but wondered at herstrange, and to him at that moment, unaccountable manner. 

"What a peculiar wedding, " said every one; "just like the Wymans, they never do anything like any one else. "

"What he found to admire in Miss Evans, is more than I can see, "said one of the busy-bodies who favored Miss Vernon with a call ona certain memorable morning. 

"He's a curious man, " said an old lady, between a yawn and a smile, "and nobody ever could understand him. "

These, and a hundred similar expressions equally unimportant, wereheard, and then all was still again. 

The new pair took up the deep current of their lives with unitedstrength, and merged their efforts into one channel, each distinct, but flowing in time to the divine order, enriching each other'slives. 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

Some lives are steady, with a continuous flow of discipline; other'sconvulsive and terrible in their wild upheavings. Slowly we learnthe goodness of God's mercy, which sends the storm that whitens ourgarments, making them pure as snow. When our song should be praise, we fly here and there bemoaning our fate, crossing and re-crossingthe path which leads into life, instead of walking therein, andfollowing it out to its glorious goal. 

Slowly we learn to take each day, and fill it with our bestendeavor, leaving to-morrow to God. Life's experiences should teachus to find where our work begins and where it ends; but in ourlearning, how we project ourselves, and exalt our own littleknowledge. 

Like children, we meddle with our father's tools, and so retard theblessing. When we learn to work with God, then will our lives be indivine order, and flow deep and peaceful to the end. Our impatientmovements cut the threads in the heavenly warp, and the garmentwhich was to enfold us is delayed in its making. 

It has been said, "Man is his own worst enemy, " and life'sexperience proves the truth of the assertion. But our final successis born of our present failures. It is in our efforts to ascend thestream, and thus rowing against the current, that we gain strength. Without resistance life would be a negation, and our running, sparkling river, become a stagnant pool. 

Dawn brightened with the rising sun, or rather the cloud went by, leaving her in all her native brilliancy. Miss Weston spent her lastday with her, and then went to her friends, with permission to writewhenever she felt disposed, but with the caution not to say anythingof her to Ralph or Marion. 

"I think I must take one more look at the sea before winter closesin, " said Dawn to her father, one pleasant day when the air wasstill and the foliage bright with autumn hues. 

"You will be obliged to go alone, then, for I have too many duties, to accompany you, " he said, and after a moment's pause, he asked, "Can you not wait a day or two?"

He read an answer in her pleading eyes, which said, "To-day, or notat all; I am in the mood, and must go now. "

"Go, then, " he said, "but do not allow the waves to steal you away. "

It seemed to him that she was slipping from his life; and indeed shewas receding, but only to flow again more freely and strongly tohim. As the tide which sweeps out and comes back, each time making afarther inroad upon the shore, so she was outflowing and inflowing, each tidal return beating deeper into his soul. We must flow out tothe ocean, to the depth of living waters, if we would win a firmerabiding in the hearts of those we love. 

Dawn walked upon the beach, the very spot where in childhood herardent spirit first looked upon the sea. Idly, some might think, shewore the hours away, gathering white pebbles, and throwing them intothe waters. 

How long she continued thus, thinking of the past and musing of thefuture, she knew not. With her, one thought was uppermost, and thatwas of Ralph, whose letters to her had of late been warm with thatspirit which sooner or later glows in every heart. She felt that tohim she had a duty to perform which at the farthest could not longbe deferred, and she knew that to meet it, required a strength and asingleness of purpose which would call into service all thephilosophy she could command. 

The deep silence that surrounded her was at length broken by thesound of a footstep; then a voice was heard, that seemed to her, inher half-entranced state, to come from the world of spirits. Shestarted, as the voice sounded nearer. She knew whose voice it was, yet she only whispered to herself, "How strange, " and still gazedupon the sea, while a feeling pervaded her whole soul, akin to joysupernal. 

"Dawn, Dawn; I have found you at last, and by the sea!"

Still she looked on the restless waters. There are moments in everylife when speech fails, when words are powerless, when the soul canonly express itself by silence. Such a moment came to Dawn. 

Ralph took her hand in his own. She turned on him a gaze whichseemed to bring her soul nearer to his own than ever before, andthey walked slowly side by side. Then he told her that his sisterand a friend were on the beach, a mile below; that they had allthree come to take one more look at the sea, and to gather mosses. 

"I knew not why I had such a strong desire to come here, " he said"but now see clearly what drew me in this direction. The feeling tocome was overpowering, and I could not resist it. "

They walked, and conversed of all the past, until finally, thequestion of so momentous interest to both was approached, and Ralphpleaded as none but a lover can. 

A long silence ensued. Hope and fear, doubt and uncertainty, cameand went, and every moment seemed to him an age. 

Dawn at length turned her face slowly towards him, and then raisedher eyes to heaven, as if imploring its aid. The deep working of herspirit was plainly depicted upon her features; first the conflict, then the triumph. 

"I must walk alone. I love you, Ralph, as I have never loved before;but I have a mission on earth; one which I cannot share withanother. To its service I dedicate my life. "

She sprang towards him, threw her arms for an instant around hisneck; then, tearing herself away, was gone before he could fullyrealize what had happened. 

Slowly the reality of what had occurred came upon him, like a stormmore terrible for its slow approach. 

"O, that I had not seen her to-day, " he said, "for then hope wouldhave been left me. Now, all is over. With me life must be gonethrough with mechanically, not lived earnestly; happiness must berelinquished, peace and rest prayed for. "

When Marion and Edith came in search of him, the crisis of his greatgrief was past, but the white face showed it was not the Ralph wholeft them. 

"Why, you are ill; what has happened?" was his sisters' ejaculation. 

"I came near sinking. "

"Were you bathing?" they both asked, together. 

"In sorrow's sea, " he was about to say, but kept the words back, andappeared cheerful for their sakes. 

"Then a wave did really come over you, Ralph?" said his sister, looking anxiously into his face. 

"Yes, a strong one. I came near going under. "

They did not know that he spoke in correspondences, and accepted theliteral explanation, which was true in the abstract. 

"You look as though you had concentrated a dozen years into oneday, " said Mr. Wyman, as he met Dawn at the door. 

"I have had a very intense day. "

"You should have taken more time, child. "

This was her first unshared sorrow, and she longed to be away, alone. It seemed as though an ocean rolled, for the time, betweenherself and her father, and she hastily left him and sought herroom. That night none but angels witnessed her struggles, and thepeace which afterwards flowed into her troubled heart. 

When morning came, with light and love in her face, she went below, and those who met her knew not the conflict of the night, --the greatdarkness, --so brilliant was her morning. 

"I am going to the city, to-day, to make some purchases: my wardrobeneeds replenishing. "

"Which announcement, I suppose, is an appeal to my purse, " remarkedMr. Wyman. 

"I should put her on a shorter allowance, if I were you, " said hiswife, "if she does not give us more of her company. "

"Are you aware that you have been roaming most of the time, Dawn, since the change in our home?" said her father, as he presented herthe means for her purchases. 

"Of course, having some one to take my place as housekeeper, I wishto enjoy my freedom a little. "

Mrs. Wyman looked troubled. Had she separated them? Was Dawnabsenting herself on her account? A look of pain passed over herface, which she little knew the subject of her thoughts caught andinterpreted. 

"I am not going because you are here, " said Dawn at parting; "I amgoing because I feel impelled to. I am truly grateful to you, thatyour love came to bless my father's life. Do you believe me?"

"I do; and thank you from my heart for your words. " This was saidwith a depth of feeling that is always accompanied by the holybaptism of tears, and this was no exceptional occasion. 

The first thought that came to Dawn, on her arrival in the city, wasthe dream of her childhood, --the pure white robe, and the damp, darklanes. 

"Perhaps my mission is close at hand, " she said, stepping aside tolet an old man pass. She glanced at his sad, wrinkled face. Itseemed as though other eyes were looking through her own into it. She took some money from her purse, and thrust it into his hand. 

He closed his fingers mechanically over the bill; it was somethingmore than money he needed. 

"I am looking for-for-her, " he said, his eyes gazing on vacancy. 

"Any one I can find for you?" inquired Dawn, touched by his gentle, childlike manner. 

"Find her? Can you find Margaret? Why, she went away when she was alittle gal; no, she has grown up-like you. But I guess she's lost;yes lost. O, my little Margy, --your own mammy, and your other mammyis dead, and I am all alone. Come, Margy, come, " he said, reachingforth his hands to Dawn. 

"I am not Margy; but perhaps we can find her. " She drew nearer tohim, and walked by his side down the street. 

They passed along until the crowd grew more dense, and the sea ofhuman forms, rushing and jostling, made her head swim. 

What a variety; from childhood to age, --faces in which sorrow andhope were struggling; faces marked with lines and furrows; cheekssunken by disease and many griefs; bright, glowing faces, fresh asflowers, before the dew had been parched by noon-day sun and heat. On, on they went, --the busy crowd, and the old man, and the maiden;he, looking at all, yet seeing none; she, gazing with restlessvision, for what? for whom? How typical of life's great highway, onwhich we wander, looking for that which we know not; hoping, thatout of the sea of faces, one will shine forth on us, to receive orgive a blessing. 

They passed spacious buildings, and came to those less pretentiousin style. The crowd grew less dense, the apparel less showy andelegant; the low wooden houses contrasting strangely with the loftyedifices which they left behind. Little shops, with broken panes inevery window; children ragged, idle, and brutal in their appearance, stirred the heart of the passer-by with a grief which no words couldportray. 

Dawn looked on them, and longed to gather them all into one fold oflove and harmony. "O, guide me, Father, and help me to lead them tobetter lives, " was the earnest prayer of her soul. 

"I am led hither to-day, that my sympathy with human want may bedeepened, " she said to herself, while a thrill of joyous emotionpervaded her being, and faith laid hold more firm of the eternalanchor, which holds us fast, in the deep waters. 

She was so indrawn that she did not notice the approach of acarriage, as they were on a street that ran at angles with the greatthoroughfare, until a sharp cry from the old man aroused her to thestate of affairs. He had been struck, and had fallen under thewheels. One moan, one convulsive motion of the features, and he waswhite as marble. 

Before she had time to think or act, a shriek rent the air, andpierced the very soul of Dawn, for it was a wail from depths whichfew have fathomed. She turned to see from whom it came, and beheld alight female form bending low over the prostrate man. She was poorlyclad, and her face bore every mark of the workings of great inwardstruggles. Two men raised the fallen one carefully, and carried himinto a store near by. But it was only the clay they bore there; thesoul had fled; gone to a world of a larger charity, and nobler soulsthan this. 

"O, my father; my poor, old father, " broke from Margaret's lips, andher body swayed to and fro with its burden of grief. 

Dawn took her hand; it was icy cold. Thus had the father and childmet; one in the slumber of death; the other with the last sorrow ofearth eating away what little of life remained in her. It was, truly, a pitiful scene, and touched all who witnessed it. 

"Where shall we take him, miss?" said the police respectfully, toDawn, whom he supposed, from her manifest interest, knew theparties. 

"I do not know them, sir, " she replied, turning a look of deepestpity on Margaret. 

"May I ask where your father shall be taken?" said Dawn tenderly, toMargaret. 

"Taken? Why, home; no, it's a great way off; but don't bury him herein the wicked city. O, take him where the grass will wave over hisgrave, and the blue birds sing at early morn. O, do not bury himhere, " she cried, clinging to Dawn with that confidence born of thesoul when ushered, however strangely and suddenly, into the presenceof truth and goodness. 

"He shall be carried away to the green fields, and we will follow, "said Dawn, and stepping to a kindly-looking man in the crowd, shegave him orders to prepare a casket and shroud, and carry the bodyto the home of the poor woman who stood moaning beside her. 

"Where shall we take him, Miss?" he said, stepping towards Margaret. 

"Take him? I-I have no home. I was sent from my lodging thismorning, because I had no money to pay. Take him anywhere, only letme go to his grave. "

Her pleading voice and look told that life had now but one more stepfor her. All was swept away; one hope after another had departed, and she stood alone in darkness. 

Clarence Bowen, and his young and elegant wife, were riding in apart of the city whose broad avenues were overarched with trees allradiant with autumnal flames, when a hearse, followed by a singlecarriage, suddenly attracted the attention of the former. 

Why was it that his whole frame shook, and the color left his face?His wife laughed and chatted by his side, and it was no uncommonsight in those streets to see a funeral pass. What was it, then, that so thrilled him? And his wife, too, she became alarmed as sheglanced at his altered countenance. 

From that lone carriage a face looked forth upon him. It looked witha vacant gaze. It was Margaret's face that, even she knew not why, stared upon Clarence. An electric chord seemed to connect thetwo, --the one with wealth and the vigor of life, the other withpoverty and death. 

"Why! what has come over you?" asked his wife. He was wanderingagain in the green woods, and stood once more by the innocentmaiden's side. He heard not the voice that spoke to him, and sheleft him to his thoughts. The reins slackened in his grasp, and thehorse walked at a slow pace, while his wife knew not of the bitterwaters that were surging about his soul. Thus by our side do formssit daily, while our thoughts glance backward and forward withlightning speed. At such times, the soul brings from the past itsdead, to gaze on their lifeless forms, then turns and looks, withrestless longing, towards the unknown, impenetrable future. 

"Why! hus', I declare if you are not too stupid. I'll take the reinsmyself, if you do not arouse. "

She little knew how his soul was aroused then, and how great theconflict that was going on between self and conscience. 

He struck the horse lightly, and they passed on while the littlefuneral cortege went slowly to the burial place for the poor andunknown dead. 

It was a simple, and somewhat dreary place, which they reached atlast. There were no cared-for flowers blossoming there, and thegrass grew uncut around the nameless graves. 

The old man with his spade had just finished his work. The lastshovel-full of earth was thrown out when the hearse and carriagestopped at the gate, and the men bore the coffin slowly in, followedby Margaret and Dawn. 

The angels must have wept had they seen the grief-prostrated formbeside that grave, when the sound of the earth, as it fell on thecoffin, came to the ear of the desolate-hearted Margaret. 

Moan after moan broke forth, as they bore, rather than led her awayto the carriage. 

Homeless and friendless; where would the morrow find her? Godtempered the wind to the shorn lamb, and sent his ministering angelin his own good time. Dawn had decided, on the way to the grave, totake her home, and gave the hackman directions to drive to thestation. 

The rain drops began to patter on the pavement, the air grew chilland heavy, adding to the gloom of the occasion, and it was a reliefto both to step into the cars, and see faces lighted up by hopes, going to life's experiences, rather than floating away from them. 

There was no action in the dumb soul, which sat beside Dawn. She hadpassed beyond question and agitation of thought. It was that simplequiescence which every soul feels when the curtain of sorrow hasfallen, even amid scenes of hope and happiness; but to one whom hopehad long since forsaken, and life's bitter experiences been oftenrepeated, there could be no projection of self, nought but the Now, divested of all earthly interest. 

The train rushed past hills, through valleys, fields and woods, likea thing of life and intelligence, and stopped at the station, wherea carriage was waiting. Mechanically Margaret followed, and Martin, at Dawn's gesture, lifted her into the carriage. The smoke of thereceding train rose and curled among the trees, assuming fantasticshapes, while the shrill whistle caused the cattle to race over thefields, and the lithe-winged warblers to recede into the forests. Just so does some great din of the world, falling on our ears, sendus to our being's centre for rest. 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

She laid still and pale upon the bed, while Dawn moved, or ratherfloated, about the room. The tide of life was fast ebbing; the lastgrief had sundered the long tension, and soon her freed spirit wouldbe winging its way heavenward. 

"Shall I sit by you and read?" asked Dawn, as the hand on the clockpointed to the hour of midnight. No sleep had come to the wearyeyes, which now turned so thankfully and trustingly to thebenefactor of the outcast. 

In tones sweetly modulated to the time and state, she commencedreading that comforting psalm, "The Lord is my shepherd. "

At its close, Margaret was asleep, and Dawn laid back in her chair, rested, and watched till morning. 

"Where am I? What has happened?" were the questions expressed on thefeatures of the poor girl, when she awoke, and her spirit wanderedback from dreamland. 

It was some time before she could take up the thread of joy whichwas now woven into her last earthly days, and forget the dark, sorrowful past. The old years seemed to her then like musty volumes, bound by a golden chord. The present peace compensated her for thelong season of unrest, and in its atmosphere her soul gathered itsworn, scattered forces, and prepared itself to leave the old and totake on the new form. 

How few homes are such gates to heaven. And yet they who expectangels to abide with them, must not forget to entertain the lowlyand the erring. Many have houses decked and garnished, but howrarely do we find on life's journey, these wayside inns for theweary pilgrims who have wandered away into forbidden paths. 

Not alone did Dawn administer to her; her father and mother soothedthe dying girl's pillow, and infused into the otherwise dark andtroubled soul, rays of eternal light. 

Ye who would have beautiful garlands beyond, must care for theneglected blossoms here, and wash the dust of life's great highwayfrom their drooping petals. Ye who would seek life, must lose it;the flowing stream alone is pure and vital. Lives are selfish thatare stagnant, and generate disease and death. 

How poor, because destitute of enduring wealth, are those who, richin worldly goods, neglect their opportunities, and hence know notthe blessedness of doing good. There is no provision in all God'suniverse for such pauperism. Slowly must they, who by their ownacts, become its subjects, work themselves from it into the sphereof true life. Another world will more plainly reveal this, and itwill be found that they who value not such opportunities here, willbeg for them there. In that existence will be many, who, forgetfulor neglectful of their duty while on earth, must remain in spiritabout this world, and through other organisms than their own, dothat which they should have done, and could have accomplished fareasier, when occupants of their earthly temples. There is no escapefrom the law of life, for God is that law, and that law is God. Happy they who become willing instruments in his hand. 

In selfhood, nothing can be done, for life is always in conjunction. All potent forces are combinations, and egotism ever limits thatpower which is daily and hourly seeking lodgment in the midst ofmankind. He who trusts only to himself, destroys his own usefulness, and blindly turns away from every source of highest enjoyment. 

The sun passed slowly over the western hills, tinging with abeautiful mellowness the clouds along the horizon. It was a pleasanthour to die, when the earth was still, and weary feet were turningfrom labor to rest. 

"Shall we know each other there?" asked the dying girl of Dawn. 

"It is there as here. We are ever known and loved, for God'sprovision for his children extends beyond the vale. "

"And are the sinful, the erring, received into peace and rest?"

"None are without sin; none spotless; peace and rest are for theweary. "

"O, comforting words. They must be from God, " softly whisperedMargaret; she closed her pale blue eyes as though she would shut outeverything but that one consoling thought. 

When she opened them, they shone with a heavenly radiance, and shereached forth her thin, white hand towards Dawn, who clasped it inher own. A few short breaths, a single pressure, --it was Margaret'slast token as she went over the river to find that life and restwhich on earth had been denied to her. 

Dawn laid the cold, white hands on the breast of the sleeper, andwent out of the chamber where a soul had had its new birth, withdeepened emotions of life, and its claims upon humanity. 

The next instant she was clasped to the warm heart of her father, and nestled closely there until the weary lids closed, and sleepdescended upon her. 

He held her through her slumber, and prayed for strength to bear theseparations which must come between himself and child; for mostclearly did he perceive that God had mapped out for her a labor thatwould call her from his side. 

"May I never shadow the rays of the Infinite, " he said, just as sheawoke. 

"How clear it is; some cloud seems to have been removed from me, "spoke Dawn, looking up into his eyes, not perfectly comprehendingall. "I may work in my own way, now you have some one to love besideme; may I not?"

"Not for worlds, my child, would I hinder you in your mission ofusefulness, and if in the past, I have been selfish, I am not now. Go and come at your pleasure; bring whom you will to your home, andmy blessings shall rest on them and you. "

Dawn had no words with which to express her gratitude. The tears, that in spite of her efforts to keep them back, would glisten in hereyes, indicated the depth of her feelings, and the love shecherished for her father. From that moment their lives flowed like ariver, in a deeper and broader channel, and many bright flowersblossomed on its margin giving hope to the despairing, rest andstrength to the weary and fainting pilgrims of time. 

They made a grave under a willow, and engraved on a plain, whitestone, the simple word: MARGARET. 

Parents and child had met in the world beyond, to grow into dailyrecognition of, and unfold in a more genial clime, their individuallives. 

Mrs. Thorne (Margaret's step-mother) had died a year previous to thetime when Dawn found the old man in the city, looking for hisdaughter. 

After Margaret's departure from home, he became dull and listless, and finally deranged. What subtle attraction led him to the citywhere Margaret was stopping, few can comprehend; but to those whofully realize that guardian angels watch over and guide us, themystery is solved, and it, like many other seemingly strange thingsof life, made clear in the light of that faith. 

It was for woman that Dawn labored, for through her elevation shesaw that the whole race must ascend. All should know that men willbe great if women are; and it is a truth that is daily becoming moreevident, that he must be reached through her. In a Hindoo fable, Vishna is represented as following Maga through a series oftransformations. When she is an insect, he becomes an insect; shechanges to an elephant, and he becomes one of the same species; tillat last she becomes a woman, and he a man; she a goddess, and he agod. So, outside the regions of fable, if woman is ignorant andfrivolous, man will be ignorant and frivolous; if woman rises shewill take man up with her. 

Two years passed away, and the current of life grew stronger, aseach wave inflowed to the shore where Dawn sat, waiting forshattered barks. This was her life-mission, and well she knew, tohelp the lowly and down-trodden in every station of life, was butfulfilling the divine command. 

They were not all outcasts who laid claim to her love and sympathy;for, sanctioned by the marriage law, the soul's chastity was dailybeing sacrificed to lust, shame, and dishonor. She saw many livingtogether in wedlock, under the most debasing influences, void ofevery grace and feeling which makes life holy and refined; bringinginto the world children, gross, dull, and inharmonious, likethemselves. 

The question will force itself upon every thoughtful mind, Why isall this?

Even to destroy life, heinous as that sin is, cannot be deemed moresinful than to bring it into being, under such circumstances, tosuffer. 

But we are passing through the refining process. Much will bequestioned, much remain unanswered. Let us look well to ourselves, and learn that there are many ways in which we may err, before wecondemn others. 

The light of to-day is insufficient for to-morrow; let us, therefore, be not too assertive, and bold, but follow quietly theindications of life, not closing down our opinion upon any of itsagitations. To-day is ours, no more; sufficient unto the day is theevil. We burden ourselves each hour with too many questions whichretard our progress. 

A wise man takes no more weight than his horses can draw. Ourjourney would be swifter, if we started with less each morning. Wecan not hasten God's purposes. Growth is slow; feverish action isdisease. The throbbing pulse is beating away our vital forces, notadding to life, and yet how many do we behold, who, working in thisunhealthy manner, look on those more calm and collected, as lackingforce. 

The cataract expends itself in spray and foam; the deep river, moreslow, bears its tribute of wealth to the ocean. 

Let us work calmly, and not mistake mists for mountains. Depth isheight. 

Enthusiasm is the sun which warms, not burns, our lives. It is arichness, a fullness of being, not a wild, spasmodic action. 

With Dawn's efforts came increased light, until it seemed to her, that all the motives of human souls were laid open before hervision. This power of perception made her life compact, sharp, andreal; and there were moments when she longed for a veil to be letdown between her and the persons with whom she came in contact. 

She walked among the crowd, but did not mingle with it. She soaredabove, and they who could not comprehend her, called her strange andodd. Such chasms must ever exist, where one sees the heart'sinterior, and knows that its true beatings are muffled andsuppressed. With such clear vision, the mind at times almost losesits mental poise, its equilibrium, and forgets the glorious hopesand promises which are recorded in the book of life, as compensatoryfor all its conflicts here. 

After many months of a life of intensity, it was with a sense ofrelief that Dawn, upon opening a letter from Miss Weston, receivedinformation of her intention of making her a short visit. This wouldso change the tenor of her life, that she was overjoyed at thethought of the happiness in store for her. But when, at the close ofa bright summer day, she met her friend at the door, and recognizedthe life of Ralph so closely blended with her spirit, sheinvoluntarily shrank from her approach, and almost regretted thatshe had come. She, however, quickly rallied all her forces, fearfullest the shadow might be mistaken for that of uncordiality, anddrawing her tenderly to her side, imprinted her warmest kisses uponher lips. 

Tears sprang to Edith's eyes, and coursed down her cheeks; tearswhich Dawn could not comprehend, for her vision, both mental andspiritual, was clouded, her thoughts wandered, and her words seemedvague and indirect. 

Seated in the library after tea, she asked her friend to sing forher. 

Miss Weston readily complied, and sang with beautiful pathos andfeeling, Schubert's Wanderer. 

"Why that song?" said Dawn, as Edith rose from the instrument. 

"I seemed to sing it for you, for I, surely, am no wanderer now. "

The color rose to Dawn's face, as she said quickly, "I hope not. Then you, at last, have found rest?"

"Perfect peace and rest. I think I never found my home before; for Iam so happy with Ralph and Marion. "

Was Dawn jealous? What did that blushing face mean, followed by awhiteness rivalling that of the snow? Was it caused by fear, orhope?

Miss Weston seemed not to notice her agitation, but continuedpraising Ralph and his sister, till her listener proposed a walk inthe garden before retiring. 

They strolled among the flowers and shrubbery, and then sat upon thesame seat which her father and mother had so often occupied. 

Her tears could flow now and not be seen, so she repressed them nolonger, but allowed them to fall freely over her blanched cheek. 

"Dawn, " said Edith, suddenly, "I have a fairy tale which I wish toread to you to-night, before we go to our slumbers. "

Dawn, glad of any diversion, gladly assented, and they went into herroom, where they sat together, while Edith read the following tale:--

"In the days of chivalry, when life to the wealthy was a series ofexciting enjoyments, and to the poor a hopeless slavery, a Fairy anda beautiful child lived in an old castle together. The owner of thislarge and neglected building had been absent on the crusade eversince the time which gave him a daughter and deprived him of a wife;but many an aged pilgrim brought occasional tidings of the glory hewas winning in the distant land. At last it was said he was wendinghis way homeward, and bringing with him a young orphan companion, who had risen, by dint of his own brave deeds alone, from the rankof a simple knight to be the chosen leader of thousands. The childhad grown to girlhood now, and very bright upon her sleep were thedreams of this youthful hero, who was to love her and be the all ofher solitary life. I said she dwelt with the Fairy; true, but of herpresence she had never dreamed. Always invisible, the being had yetnever left her. She whispered prayer in her ear, as she kneltmorning and evening in the dim little oratory; she brought calm andhappy feelings to her breast, which the commonest things awoke tojoy and life; she led her to seek and feel for the needy, the sick, and the suffering; she nurtured in her the holiest faith in God, andtrust in man; yet the maiden thought she breathed all this from thesummer evenings, the flowers, the swift labor of her light fingers, and the thousand things which cherished the happiness growing upwithin her heart. 

"It was night, and Ada slept; the moon's rays, gilding each turretand tower, crept in at the narrow portal which gave light to thechamber, and lingered on the sunny hair and rounded limbs of thesleeping girl. 

"The Fairy sat by her side, weeping for the first time. 

"'Alas!' said she, 'the stranger is coming; thou wilt love him, mychild; and they say that earthly love is misery. Among us, we knowno unrest from it; we love, indeed, each other and all thingslovely, but ages pass on, and love changes us not. Yet they say itfevers the blood of mortals, pales the cheek, makes the heart beat, and the voice falter, when it comes; yet it is eternal, mighty, andentrancing. Alas! I cannot understand it! Ada, I must leave thee toother guidance than my own. I love thee more than self, still I canbe no longer thy guide. '

"The Fairy started, for she felt, though she heard not, that otherspirits had suddenly become present. She raised her eyes, and threeforms, more radiant than any fairy can be, were gazing on her insilent sadness. 

"'O, spirits, ' cried the weeper, faintly, 'who can ye be?'

"'The shades of love, ' replied voices so etherially fine that aspirit's ear could hardly discern the words. 

"'The shades, " repeated the Fairy in surprise; 'I thought love wasone. '

"'I am Love, ' said the three together; 'intrust the untainted heartof your beloved one to me. '

"'O, pure beings, ' cried the Fairy, bending reverently before them, 'will ye indeed guide Ada to happiness, yet ask my permission? Tellme, though not human, to choose which a human heart would prefer. '

"'My name is Mind, ' replied the first. 'When I dwell on earth, Ibind together two etherial essences; I unite the most spiritual partof each; I assimilate thought; I cause the communion of ideas. Nolove can be eternal without me, and with me associate the loftiestenjoyments. Words cannot tell the rapture of love between mind andmind. Dreams cannot picture the glory of that union. Very rarely doI dwell unstained and alone in a human breast, but when I do, thatbeing becomes lost in the entireness of its bliss. Fairy, the loverof Ada is a hero; wilt thou accept me to reign in her heart?'

"The Fairy paused, and then spoke sadly, --

"'Alas, bright being, Ada is a girl of passionate and earnestfeeling. Thou couldst not be happiness to her. Thou mightest, indeed, abstract her intellect in time from all things but itself;but the heart within her must first wither or die, and the death ofa young heart is a terrible thing. Pardon me, but Ada cannot bethine. '

"'They call me Virtue, ' said the second spirit; 'when I fill aheart, that heart can live alone. It wakes to life on seeing myshadow in the object it first loves; that object never realizes theform of which it bears the semblance, and then turns to me, theideal, for its sole happiness. I am associated with every thing pureand holy and true. Where human spirits have drawn nighest to theEternal, I have been there to hallow them; where the weak havesuffered long without complaint, where the dying have to the last, last breath held one name dearer than all; where innocence hathstayed guilt, and darkest injuries been forgiven, there ever am I. Fairy, shall I dwell with Ada?'

"Still sadder were the accents of the guardian Fairy:

"'And is this human love?' said she. 'This would be no happiness tomy child, who is a mortal and a woman, and who will yearn for acloser and a dearer thing than the love of goodness alone; erringcreatures cannot love perfection as their daily food. Beautifulspirit, thou art fitted for heaven, not earth, for an angel, but notfor Ada. '

"Then spoke the third:

"'My name is Beauty, ' said she. 'Men unite me to imagination andworship me. Many have degraded me to the meanest things I own, because my very essence is passion; but they who know my truenature, unite me with everything divine and lovely in the world. IfI fill Ada's heart when she loves, the very face of all things willchange to her. The flowing of a brook will be music, the singing ofthe summer birds ecstacy; the early morning, the dewy evening, willfill her with strange tenderness, for a light will be on allthings-the light of her love; and she will learn what it is to stayher very heart's beatings to catch the lightest step of the adored;to feel the hot blood rushing to her brow, when only he looks onher, the hand tremble, and the whole frame thrill with exquisiterapture, and meet with delicious tremor, the first look of love froma man. The raptures of my first bliss were worth ages of misery;and, pressed to the bosom of the beloved, a human spirit feels it isindeed blessed. Youth is mine, eternal youth and pleasure. Fairy, Ada must be mine. '

"'Thou seemest, ' said the Fairy, musingly, 'to be the most suitedfor mortals. In thy words and emblems I see nothing but sensualityof the least material order. And to all there seemeth, too, to be atime when one clasp of the hand that is loved is more than thecomprehension of the grandest thought. Beauty, I will give up mychild to thee; and O, if thou canst not keep her happy, keep herpure till I return. Guard her as thou wouldst the bloom of the roseleaf, which may not bear even a breath. '

"The Fairy's voice faltered as she turned away, and imprinted a kisson the sleeper's cheek. Ada moved uneasily, but did not awake; andin the last glance that she gave to her charge was united the formof the spirit of Beauty, folding, in motionless silence, her radiantwings over the low couch. The other shades had fled some brief timesince, and, burying her face in her slight mantle, the beautifulFairy faded slowly away in the moonlight. 

"A brief time passed, and the baron had returned with his hero guestto the castle, and the beneficent being who had guarded Ada'schildhood, had been up and down the earth, cheering the sad, soothing the weary, and inspiring the fallen. 

"Much had she seen of human suffering, yet many a great lesson hadit taught her of the high destiny of mortals, and she winged herflight back to Ada's couch, sanguine of her happiness. The spirit ofBeauty still floated above it, but the Fairy thought that the brightform had strangely lost its first etheriality. 

"Fevered and restless, the sleeper tossed from side to side. Withtrembling fear she drew near the low bed, and gazed fondly on theunconscious form. Alas! there was no peace on that face now. Therewas that which some deem lovelier than even beauty-passion; but tothe pure Fairy the expression was terrible. 

"'My child, my child, ' cried she in agony, 'is this thy love? Betterhad thine heart been crushed within thee, than that thou shouldsthave given thyself up to it alone. Thou hast an eternal soul, andthou hast loved without it; thou art feeding flames which willconsume the feelings they have kindled. Spirit, is this thy work?'

"'Such is the love of mortals, ' answered the shade. 'It is everthus; the sensual objects are but emblems of the spirit union ofanother world; yet this is never seen at first, and every impetuoussoul, rushing on the threshold of life, worships the symbol for thereality, --the image for the god. Fear not, Fairy, the flame dies, butthe essence is not quenched; from the ashes of Passion springs thePhoenix of Love. Ada will recover from this burning dream. '

"'Never!' cried the Fairy, 'if she yields her heart up to thoughtslike these. Thou art a fiend, Beauty, --a betrayer. Avaunt, thou mostaccursed, thou hast ruined my child. '

"And as she spoke, weeping bitterly, she averted her face from theshade. All was still once more, and her grief slowly calming, theFairy hoped she was now alone, until, raising her eyes, she saw thebeing, more radiant and glorious than ever, still guarding thesleeping girl. 

"'Fairy, ' said the shade, sadly, 'this is no fault of mine. I haveever come to the human heart with thoughts pure as the bosom of thelily, and beautiful as paradise, but the nature of man degrades andenslaves me. Thou sawest how my wings were soiled, and their lightdimmed by the sin of even yon guileless girl, and, alas! thousandshave lived to curse me and call me demon before thee. Now, at thybidding, I will leave Ada, and forever. She will awake, but neveragain to that fine sympathy with nature, that exquisite perceptionof all high and holy things, I have first made her know. She willawake still good, still true; but the visions of youth quenchedsuddenly, as these will have been, leave a fearful darkness for thefuture life. '

"'Alas! alas!' cried the Fairy, wringing her hands, with a burst ofsudden grief, 'whether thou goest or remainest now, Ada must bewretched. '

"'Not so, ' returned the shade, in a voice whose sweetness, from itsmelancholy, was like the wailing of plaintive music; 'not so, ifthou wilt otherwise. Thou hast erred; from the shades of Love thoudidst select me, and, panting as we each do for sole possession ofthe heart we occupy, it is impossible either separately can bringhappiness to it. Each has striven for ages, but in vain. It is theunion of the three, the perfect union, that alone makes Lovecomplete. '

"'But will Mind and Virtue return?' asked the Fairy, doubtingly; 'Ibid them myself depart. '

"'They will ever return, ' said Beauty, joyfully, 'even to the heartmost under sway, if desired in truth. A wish, sometimes-fervent andtruthful it must be, but still a wish-alone often brings them. '

"At that moment a hurried prayer sprang to the Fairy's lips, but ereit could frame itself into words, light filled the little chamber, and the three shades of Love stood there once more, beautiful andshining. 

"'Mighty beings, ' said the spirit, 'forgive me. Attend Ada unitedand forever, and I shall then have fulfilled my destiny. '

"'We promise, ' returned the shades; and gazing for a few moments inearnest fondness on the dreamer's happy face, the Fairy bade a lastfarewell to her well-loved charge. "

"Where did you find this strange tale?" inquired Dawn, as soon asher friend had finished. 

"In Ralph's folio of drawings, which he loaned me a few days ago. "

"Have you the folio here?"

"No, I left it at home; but took some of his last sketches to copy, or rather study. "

"I did not know you could sketch. "

"I do not; but Ralph is teaching me. "

"Do you enjoy it?"

"Very much, with him for instructor. I should not like any one elseto teach me. "

"How do you know that, as you have never tried any other?"

"We know some things intuitively; as I know that you love this man, though no words of yours have ever lisped that love to a livingbeing. "

"Edith!"

"Dawn, it's true; and may I not know the reason why you so steelyour heart against him?"

"I steel my heart against him? Who told you that?"

"Some Fairy, perchance; but seriously, my dear friend, answer me, and forgive me if I seem curious and intrusive. Do you know aughtagainst him? Is he not high, and good, and noble?"

"For aught I know he has all those qualities of heart and soul whichwould draw any woman's heart towards him. "

"Then you cannot love him, save as a brother, or you would respondto his longing to take you to himself, and help you in your labors. "

"Edith, how do you know this? Has he thus laid his feelings beforeanother? I could not ever reverence one who could do this. "

"He has not. I know it all by living in his home. I feel his sorrowsand know their nature, as well as his joys. You seem strange, Dawn;I do not understand you. "

"Neither do I understand myself. My life is strange; although I lovethis man as I never loved before, I do not see that I can wed him. Perhaps we shall be one above, but no one must come between me andmy labor, --not even the dearest idol. "

"Perhaps his love might make you stronger; help you to extend yourusefulness by increasing your happiness. "

Carlyle says, 'There is in man a higher than love of happiness; hecan do without happiness, and instead thereof, find blessednss. '"

"Very true; and yet happiness might also be blessedness. "

"And yet you have read to me, in the fairy tale, that 'earthly loveis misery, ' that it 'fevers the blood of mortals, pales the cheek, makes the heart beat, and the voice falter, when it comes. ' I cannotbe thus consumed. I have another mission. Edith, who do you supposewrote that tale?"

"I know not; it bore no name. Which of the three shades would youprefer to guide you, Dawn?"

"Virtue. "

"I knew your answer before you spoke it. May the spirit you havechosen remain with you forever, and may your career be as bright asyour name. "

They parted; one to rest, the other to struggle long and earnestlywith passion and feeling, ere the tide of peace flowed in. 

It was morning when her soul cast off the contest, and as theshadows of night were swept away, so her mental shadows were lost inthe soul's bright effulgence; for her emotions had been madesubordinate, not destroyed, as they should ever be, to thespiritual. They were only submerged, not annihilated, ready to flowagain when the hour should demand them. 

The natural emotions of the heart are right, when kept subservientto reason. They are the soul's richest reserved forces, and shouldnot be daily consumed. 

A more intimate relation sprang up between Edith and Dawn, and whenthey met that morning, it seemed as though they had just emergedfrom a long experience. So closely and unexpectedly do we sometimescome to one another. 

Herbert and Florence, to Dawn's great joy, were travelling inEurope, and their children were now a part of her father'shousehold. The day's pleasure was planned with a view to theirhappiness, and spent mostly in the woods gathering mosses, wildflowers, and ferns. 

Hugh and his new wife were daily extending their usefulness, andgrowing in stronger individuality and deeper harmony. It was alwaysa great pleasure to have Dawn with them in their most earnestconversations. She seemed to vivify and to cause their thoughts toflow with a power they knew not, separately or together, without herpresence. Thus do some natures impart a sense of freedom to ourmental action, while others chill our being with a feeling ofrestraint, and limit all our aspirations. In the presence of theselatter we seem and act directly the opposite of ourselves, or ratherbelow our intellectual and affectional plane, and the warm heart andgenerous nature appears cold and distrustful. 

Young Herbert, Florence's eldest, was a great talker, and as theywandered through the woods, naught scarce could be heard, but hisvoice in exclamation, questioning, or surprise, as each turn andwinding revealed some beauty new to his admiring eyes. 

"I think I shall have to relate to you the fable of Echo andNarcissus, " said Dawn, as he was contending for the last word withhis sister. 

"What is that? tell me right away, won't you?" he said impatiently, seizing her hand and looking eagerly into her face. 

"Not just now, but after we have gathered more mosses, and had ourluncheon, I will tell you all about the beautiful nymph. "

"Nymph, nymph! what was that? Was it alive? Could it see us?" Theseand other questions followed, till Dawn found it quite hard tolonger put him off. 

"If you are patient and good to your sister, I will tell you allabout the nymph. Now go and take good care of her, while I go onfarther, where Miss Weston is sketching those rocks. "

"I will be good, but don't forget the story, Auntie, when you comeback. Are there any nymphs here?"

"Perhaps there may be. I think there is one who resembles them verymuch, " and she kissed his young, happy face, turned so eagerly up toher own. Leaving him to amuse himself as best he might, Dawnapproached Edith and seated herself beside a bed of deep green moss, and watched, with intense interest, the growing picture for a longtime; then her mind became abstracted and cloudy. She was no longerin the green woods, amid the fern and wild flowers, but away, faraway on life's great highway, where the dust, rising at every step, blinded her eyes. 

Thus semi-entranced, Dawn sat unconscious of the presence of herfriend, and everything earthly around her, until the spell wasbroken, and her attention was attracted by a sheet of note paper, which fluttered at her feet. Almost involuntarily she picked it up, and her gaze was fastened upon the writing with which it wascovered. 

 "'Tis love which mostly destinates our life. What makes the world in after life I know not, For our horizon alters as we age; Power only can make up for the lack of love-- Power of some sort. The mind at one time grows So fast, it fails; and then its stretch is more Than its strength; but, as it opes, love fills it up, Like to the stamen in the flower of life, Till for the time we well-nigh grow all love; And soon we feel the want of one kind heart To love what's well, and to forgive what's ill In us--"

Then followed these lines, written with a trembling hand, some ofthe words being almost illegible:

 "I cannot love as I have loved, And yet I know not why; It is the one great woe of life, To feel all feeling die; And one by one the heart-strings snap, As age comes on so chill; And hope seems left, that hope may cease, And all will soon be still. And the strong passions, like to storms, Soon rage themselves to rest, Or leave a desolated calm-- A worn and wasted breast; A heart that like the Geyser spring, Amidst its bosomed snows, May shrink, not rest, but with its blood Boils even in repose. And yet the things one might have loved Remain as they have been, -- Youth ever lovely, and one heart Still sacred and serene; But lower, less, and grosser things Eclipse the world-like mind, And leave their cold, dark shadow where Most to the light inclined. And then it ends as it began, The orbit of our race, In pains and tears, and fears of life, And the new dwelling place. From life to death, --from death to life, We hurry round to God, And leave behind us nothing but The path that we have trod. "

She knew whose hand had copied these words, and how keenly the heartthat sensed their meaning was suffering, and yet she could not placeher hand upon its beatings and quell its throbs. 

"Why! how came this from Ralph's folio? The wind must have taken itout, " said Miss Weston, noticing the paper, while holding thepicture for her friend to look at. Dawn did not reply to herinquiry, but gave her words of praise and encouragement, while herthoughts were afar from forest, friends and picture. 

"Come, Auntie, it's time for the luncheon, your father says, and wehave it almost ready. "

She arose, and with Miss Weston joined the party, thinking howstrange it was that those lines should come to her; for somethingseemed to tell her that they had been accidentally placed in thefolio, as they were evidently not intended for any eye but that ofthe writer. 

The luncheon was partaken of with more avidity by the others than byDawn, whose mind was constantly reverting to the words which she hadread. 

"Now for the story, Auntie, " said Herbert, seating himself on thegrass, beside her. 

"Do you remember the name of the nymph I am going to tell youabout?"

"Yes, it was-it was Echo. "

"Very good. I am glad you remembered it. Well, Echo was a beautifulwood-nymph, fond of the woods and hills, where she devoted herselfto woodland sports. She was a favorite of Diana, and attended her inthe chase. But Echo had one failing; she was fond of talking, andwould always have the last word. One day Juno was seeking herhusband, who, she had reason to fear, was amusing himself among thenymphs. Echo by her talk contrived to detain the goddess till thenymphs made their escape. When Juno discovered it, she passedsentence upon Echo in these words: You shall forfeit the use of thetongue with which you have cheated me, except for that one purposeyou are so fond of--reply. You shall have the last word, but nopower to speak first. 

"This nymph saw Narcissus, a beautiful youth, as he pursued thechase upon the mountains. She loved him, and followed his footsteps. O, how she longed to address him in the softest accents, and win himto converse; but it was not in her power. She waited with impatiencefor him to speak first, and had her answer ready. One day the youth, being separated from his companions, shouted aloud, 'Who's here?'Echo replied 'here. ' Narcissus looked around, but seeing no one, called out, 'Come. ' Echo answered, 'come. ' As no one came, Narcissuscalled again, 'Why do you shun me?' Echo asked the same question. 'Let us join one another, ' said the youth. The maid answered withall her heart in the same words and hastened to the spot, ready tothrow her arms about his neck. He started back, exclaiming, 'Handsoff; I would rather die than you should have me. ' 'Have me, ' saidshe; but it was all in vain. He left her and she went to hide herblushes in the recesses of the woods. From that time forth she livedin caves and among mountain cliffs. Her form faded with grief, tillat last all her flesh shrank away. Her bones were changed intorocks, and there was nothing left of her but her voice. With thatshe is still ready to reply to any one who calls her, and keeps upher old habit of having the last word. "

"Speak to her now, and see if she will answer you?" said Dawn to herattentive listener. 

"Why, is she here? in these woods?"

"Call her, and see. "

"Echo-Echo!" The words came back to the wondering child, his faceaglow with curiosity and fear. 

"Now I will tell you the moral of this little story, which is: benot anxious for the last word, as I see my good little Herbert is, too often, especially when talking with his sister. "

"Will I change into rocks and shrink all up if I do?"

"That is not the thing to be feared. But you would not; your mindwould grow narrow and selfish, which is a fate most to be deplored, for you wish to be a good and great man, do you not?"

"Yes, I want to be good as papa, and uncle Wyman, as he always callshim. "

"Then remember and be unselfish, and think first of others' welfare, will you?"

"I will try; and can I always talk with Echo?"

"Whenever you are near the wood where she lives. "

"Will she live here when I am a grown-up man?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Because, if I don't like folks' answers, I can come and talk toEcho. "

"She will certainly be very likely to be of your opinion, or, atleast, she will express herself to your liking; but I hope my littleHerbert will find those more agreeable than Echo to talk with. "

"I don't want to, Auntie; I like her. "

Dawn smiled, and thought how older heads did not like disputation, preferring often the companionship of a mere echo, to good sense andsound judgment, forgetting that "he who wrestles with us, strengthens us. "

The party returned home laden with flowers, with just wearinessenough to enjoy their rest. The children were put to bed, after agood supper, and the family enjoyed themselves with music andconversation, each feeling differently related to each other, as weever do, when some fresh life is infused into the every-day scenesof life. 

The barren soul seems like a kaleidoscope, changing its relations ateach experience, whether of joy or sorrow. How beautiful is life, when we learn how much we can be to each other, and how varied maybe the relations we bear to our friends. 

CHAPTER XXV. 

Miss Weston returned to her friends, and Dawn took up the thread ofher life, which was every day extending and winding into new scenesof darkness and light. But a voice within her, told her that one dayall the darkness would become light. She trusted that voice, for itwas speaking unto her every day, and growing each hour into deeperrecognition. What avails the love of our friends, if it be but for afew earthly days or years? What is the love of a mother to herchild, without an eternity for its manifestation? "Whatever haslived upon earth still lives. "

The mother, forced from her new-born child, sorrows over thephysical separation. It is natural; but what power does she notpossess to live and breathe into its spiritual unfolding. Silent, but subtle, like nature's most potent forces, her spirit descendsinto its being, and there dwells, molding it every hour into ahigher form of life. Truth is at the basis of all theories, and, though man builds many a superstructure in accordance with his ownfancy, he can in no way affect this truth. It is a natural law ofthe universe, that love should linger and remain after thehabiliments of flesh are withdrawn. No one lives who has not felt, at times, the presence of the unseen; and it seems strange thatthere can be one so limited in thought and understanding as to saythere is nought beyond the narrow limit of physical life to holdcommunion with our souls? Happy the man who opens the doors of hisspirit wide for angel visitors. Happy the heart which knows by itsown beating, when they come and go, for, "It is a faith sublime and sure, That ever round our head Are hovering on noiseless wing, The spirits of the dead. "

It has been said that nothing is more difficult than to demonstratea self-evident truth. To those who feel and know of thisguardianship of friends, gone beyond, this affiliation of soul withsoul, language is powerless to transmit the conviction. It must befelt and experienced, not reasoned into the mind, because it is acomponent of the soul, a legitimate portion of its life. 

"I must go, and remain away a long time, " said Dawn to her father, one morning, after they had just finished reading a letter fromFlorence. 

"And why, may I ask?"

"Because we are replete with the same kind of life; our minds areset to the same strain, and exhaust each other. I can be more tomyself and others, if I go, you will enter mother's sphere morecompletely in my absence, and thus shall we both be refreshed andstrengthened. "

"I feel the truth of your words, and I am glad to know that yourphilosophy of life so fully accords with my own. "

"We have a superabundance of one quality of life in our home, and achange is absolutely requisite for our mental as well as for ourphysical well-being. Absence from it, separation between us, a goingout into new atmospheres, a social mingling with persons we do notdaily come in contact with, will produce the most beneficialresults. This is what every family at times needs. One greatobjection I have to our marriage system is, that as society is nowconstittuted, it allows no freedom to the individual. The two are soexclusively together that they lose knowledge of themselves. Theysuffer physically and intellectually. On the other hand, if morefreedom existed, if their lives took a broader scope, each wouldknow each more perfectly, and absorb from others that vigor whichwould develop a natural growth of their own. For my part, I cannever submit to the existing rules of married life. "

"The analogies of the natural world to human life are good, for therocky shore symbolizes the highest power of the human soul, which isendurance rather than action. To most persons such characters seemvapid and sentimental, lacking force and tone, and generallyunfitted for the enterprises of the world. And yet there are forcesin man beside the grappling and hammering manifestations of the day. There is a greater mastery in control, than in the exercise ofpower. An angry man may evince more energy than he who keeps calm inthe heat of provocation, but the latter is the man of most power. Inthe common circumstances of life we must act, and act lawfully; butto bear and suffer is alone the test of virtue, for there come hoursof pain and mental anguish when all action is vain, when motion oflimb and mind is powerless; then do we learn

"How sublime it isTo suffer and be strong. "

Then do we learn the great lesson that there is no quality moreneeded in our life than endurance. There is so much which occursoutside the circle of our own free will, accidents both mental andphysical. "

"And yet we feel there can be no accident. "

"Nothing in the highest analysis which can be termed such, for allthings are either in divine order, or under human responsibility, which latter power is too limited. What we term accidents are partsof, and belong to, the general plan, and when these occur, theyserve to inspire us with endurance, which is no minor virtue-it isachievement-and bears its impress on the face. These thoughts arethose of another, who has so well expressed them, that I have giventhem to you in his own language. "

"I shall profit by your words, dear father. I shall need much ofthat heavenly quality which is so little appreciated, and apt to bemistaken for lack of force. "

"May you grow in all the Christian graces, and be life and light toyourself and others, always remembering that your light is none theless for lighting another's torch. "

"I shall go to-day to G--. Will you drive there, yourself alone?"

"I will. "

An hour later they were on their way to a quiet village, a few milesfrom the Wyman's, where lived a friend of Dawn and her father, withwhom she would stay a few days. The ride was delightful, and theircommunion so close and deep, that when they parted, it seemed asthough they had never realized before, their need of each other. This feeling of tenderness brought them nearer in soul, if that werepossible. It was like moonlight to the earth, mellowing andsoftening all lines and angles. 

"Dearest father, did I ever love you before?" said Dawn, throwingherself on his breast, at parting. 

"If you had not been working yourself so many years into my heart, you could not touch its very centre as you do now, " he said, wipingthe moisture from his eyes, and folding her more tenderly tohimself. "Partings are but closest approaches, drawings of theheart-strings, which tell how strong the cords are which bind us toeach other. " The door of the friend's house was thrown open just atthis point of his remarks, and a welcome face smiled on Dawn, whosprung from her seat beside her father, into the arms of her friend. 

"Take good care of her, and send her home when you are weary, " saidher father, and turned his face homeward, but lingered long inspirit in the atmosphere of his child. 

As he wound his way slowly up the long, shady avenue, that led tohis home, another love came to his bosom, and transfused his beingwith a different, but equally uplifting life. A moment more, and heheld that other love close to his heart, the woman whom he hadchosen to brighten his days and share his happiness. 

"It seems as though Dawn had returned with you, " she said, as shereceived his loving caress. 

"She is with me, and never so near as now. Heaven grant I may notmake her an idol, " he said, fervently, and then, almost regrettinghis words, he gazed tenderly into the eyes of his wife. 

"You would find me no iconoclast, " she said, "for I, too, love herwith my whole heart, and am jealous at times of all that takes herfrom us. Yet she must go; day must go, for we need the change whichnight brings. "

"True, " answered Hugh, "no mortal could live continually in suchconcentrated happiness as I enjoy in the companionship of my child. "He looked into the face of her who sat beside him, and saw in itsevery feature love, true love for him and his own, and he thankedGod for the blessings of his life, laid his head on that truewoman's breast, and wept tears of joy. 

It was twilight when they rose from their speechless communion, andeach felt how much more blessed is the silence of those we love, than the words of one whose being is not in harmony with our own. 

It was a relief to Dawn to drop out of her intense sphere into theeasy, contented, every-day life of her friend. They were not alikein temperament or thought. It was that difference which drew themtogether, and made it agreeable for them to associate at times. Suchassociation brought rest to Dawn, and life to her friend. There waslittle or no soul-affiliation, consequently no exhaustion. It wasthe giving out of one quality, and the receiving of another entirelydifferent, instead of the union of two of the same kind, hence therewas not the reaction of nervous expenditure, which two ever feel, who perfectly blend, after a period of enjoyment. How wise is thatprovision which has thrown opposites into our life, that we may notbe too rapidly consumed. For pure joy is to the soul what fire is tomaterial objects, brilliant, but consuming. 

"I am going to have some company to-night, charming people most ofthem. I think you will enjoy them, Dawn; at least I hope so, "remarked Mrs. Austin, rocking leisurely in her sewing chair. 

"No doubt I shall. " She was not called upon to tell how she shouldenjoy them. Amused she might be, but enjoyment, as Dawn understoodit, was out of the question with such a class as came that evening, and to each of whom Mrs. Austin seemed very proud to introduce herfriend. 

Among the guests was one who attracted the particular attention ofDawn, not from grace of person or mind, although he had them, butfrom some interior cause. He was tall, and rather elegant inappearance, a kind of external beauty which draws most women, andwins admirers in every circle. 

At a glance Dawn perceived that although mentally brilliant, he hadnot the spiritual and moral compliment. By his side stood a woman ofthe world, whom Dawn at once knew to be his wife, and on her, shefelt that involuntarily her look was steadily, almost immovablyfixed. 

She felt like testing the power of inner vision. It seemed to herthat the woman was weighing heavily upon the man, holding him toearth rather than in any way uplifting him to heaven in hisaspirations. She saw that the chain which bound them, was large, coarse, and flashed like gold. This led her to conclude that shemarried him for his wealth. She saw that the chain was wound aroundthem both so tight that it was almost suffocating, and that thelinks that passed over the woman's heart were corroded and black. 

At the instant that Dawn noticed this, some one approached the ladyand asked her to seat herself at the piano. She consented, and aftera great many excuses and unnecessary movements, began to play. Adark cloud took her place at the side of her husband when she left, which became greatly agitated as the music proceeded, and soon thereissued from it a female form. That face Dawn had surely seensomewhere; she passed her hand over her brow and endeavored torecall the familiar features. 

Like a flash it came; it was poor Margaret's face, white andglorified, but with a shade of sadness resting upon it. 

Dawn's whole being quivered with emotion. She saw nothing now in theroom but that form, and the earthly one beside it. The young manpressed his hand to his brow, as though in troubled thought, andmoved from where he stood, shivering in every limb. 

"Are you cold, Mr. Bowen?" some one inquired of him; the window wasclosed to shut out the chill air; but the chill which ran over hisframe, no material substance could keep off, for it was caused by aspirit touching him. 

"I declare, he looks as though he was frozen, " said his wife, risingfrom the instrument amid the usual applause, and drawing close tohim, she whispered in his ear, "You look precisely as you did theday we met that hearse and one carriage. Come, it's a shame to be soabstracted. " Then, addressing Mrs. Austin, she expressed a wish tobe introduced to the gentleman who came in last, and theintroduction followed. 

Nearer and nearer she went. She could not do otherwise, until atlast Dawn stood beside Clarence Bowen, the destroyer of Margaret'searthly happiness. The face in the cloud grew brighter; hope seemedto glow from its features, as she stood there and found her way tohis troubled soul, with all the native instinct and delicacy of atrue woman. She talked of life and its beauties, its opportunitiesto do good, and of uplifting the down-fallen; still the face shoneon, till it seemed to her that every person present must have seenit, as she did. Such presences are no more discernable by themultitude, than are the beautiful principles of life, which lieevery day about us, but which though not seen by them, are none theless visible to the few. 

A new interest glowed in the young man's face; he felt that he hadmet a woman divested of the usual vanities of most of her sex. Hisbeing awoke to life under the new current of earnest words whichflowed in his own narrow stream of life. The waters deepened-he feltthat there was something better, higher to live for, as he gazed onthe glowing face before him. 

During all the conversation, his thoughts kept flowing back to thegreen grove, and the sweet, innocent face of Margaret. There wassurely nothing in the face before him to recall that likeness, yetthe bitter waters of memory kept surging over him, each wordreflecting the image of the wronged girl. 

The face which had all the time been visible to Dawn, slowly fadedaway, and when the last outline had passed from her sight, sheceased talking, and left him alone with his thoughts. 

Alone with those bitter reflections, heaven only might help him, forthe chains that bound him to earth were many and strong. 

He could not resist the impulse to ask permission to call upon Dawnsome day while she remained at Mrs. Austin's, which she readilygranted, and then the party broke up, with a strange murmur ofvoices, and rustling of silks. 

"Was it not delightful? I hope you had a good time, Dawn, " was thefirst remark of Mrs. Austin, after the last of the company had left. 

"I have enjoyed it very much, " and she answered truthfully; butlittle did her friend surmise in what manner. 

It was a relief to be in her room alone that night, and think overthe thrilling experience of the evening. And this is one of thelights the world rejects, and calls by every other name but holy. Alight which reveals the inner state, and shows the needs of thehuman soul. It may be rejected, but it cannot be destroyed. Man mayturn his back upon it, yet it shines on, though he wilfully refusesto enjoy the blessing it imparts. The testimony of one who lives ina dark, narrow lane, that the sun does not exist, would not beconsidered of any value. Supposing one chooses to close his eyes, and declare that it is not morning; shall those whose eyes are openaccept his assertion? Alas, how true it is that many are talkingthus, with closed mental vision, from the rostrum and the pulpit. Let each see for himself, and take no man's word upon any subjectany farther than that word gives hope and encouragement. Each mustdo his own thinking, and look upon every effort of another, to limithis range of thought or debar him from the investigation of everynew presentation of truth, as an attempt to deprive him of hisliberty. 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

When Clarence next met Dawn he was greatly dejected. She thought heappeared too old and wan for one of his years. The brow on which thelight of hope and life should repose, was indeed wrinkled, andfurrowed with unrest because the spirit was ill at ease. There was aclaim upon him, a voice calling for retribution, which through thevery law of life, aside from personal wrong, would not let him rest;and was only in the presence of Dawn that he experienced anythinglike repose. His wife and friends taunted him daily upon hisdepression, because they were far from his soul, and could notcomprehend the agony which was working therein. Many thus live onlyon the surface of life, and see only results. What a righting ofaffairs will come when all are able to see the soul's internal; whendarkness shall be made light. That time is rapidly approaching. 

Dawn sat beside him, the same grieved but saintly face shone out, inthe atmosphere. 

"I have heard, Miss Wyman, that you sometimes have interiorsight-that you can see conditions of the mind, and the cause of itsdepressions. May I ask you if you can at present, penetrate mystate, and ascertain the cause of this unrest?"

She was silent for a moment. The workings of her own mind werevisible on her features. She scarce knew how to break the truth tohim, but soon lighting up she said:

"I think I have seen at least one cause of your unrest. There is aspirit presence now in this room, a young and lovely girl whom youhave at some time neglected. " She did not say "wronged. "

He started to his feet. 

"The face, Miss Wyman; can you describe her appearance?" his wordsand manner indicating his interest, if not belief, in her power. 

"She has light blue eyes, heaven blue, and brown hair. She is alittle taller then myself, has a very fair complexion, and she holdsa wreath of oak leaves in front of you. "

Clarence turned deadly pale. 

"I think she must have been once dear to you, by the look of sweetforgiveness which she gives you. "

He groaned aloud. 

"Now she holds in her arms a child-a bright-eyed boy, which has yourlook upon its face. "

He started with a defiant look, but this changed in an instant toone of grief, and he leaned his head upon his hands and wept. 

Slowly the fair face faded away; then Dawn knew all, and knowingall, how great a comforter did she become to him! Angels smile onand mingle in such scenes; mortals see but the surface, and wonderwhy they thus mingle, with the usual earthly questioning, whether itis for any good that the two thus come together. 

The long pent-up grief passed away, in a measure, and Clarence feltas though in the presence of an angel, so sweet and soothing werethe words of promise, and tender rebuke which came from the lips ofDawn and flowed to his heart, strengthening his purpose to become abetter man. 

"Can he who fully repents be wholly forgiven, " he asked, in a toneof deepest want. 

"God's mercies are for such and his forgiveness is free, full, andeternal. It does not flow all at once: it must be obtained bylong-suffering and earnest asking, that we may know its value, andhow precious is the gift. "

"Do you think if I were to go beyond, where dwells that one I havewronged, I could be with her and walk by her side?"

"If your repentance was pure and complete. You would be where yoursoul was attracted. "

"Do spirits feel the change in our states? If we are sorry for ourmisdeeds, can they see that we are?"

"Their mission to earth as helps and guardians to mortals would beof little use if they could not. They rise and fall with us. Theyadminister to us, and learn of us. The worlds are like warp andwoof. We stay or go where our labor is, wherever the soul may bewhich has claim upon us. "

"This must be sight then, real vision, for such a person as you havedescribed I once loved and wronged. But the hour is late, I must go, yet I hope you will permit me to call upon you once more. Can I haveyour promise to see me again, before you leave the place?"

"If I remain I shall be most happy to see you. Remember that allyour efforts to do right will relieve and elevate this friend who isaround you, who cannot leave you, until her mind has becomeassimilated with yours, and the balance of your nature is restoredby the infusing of her life into yours. If she is relieved by youract, rest will follow; if not, the opposite. This is a law ofnature, and cannot be set aside, no more than two on the earthliving disharmonized and misunderstood, can find rest away from, orout of, each other. '

"I deeply thank you, " he said, "for your kind words. May allhappiness be yours forever. " And then they parted, not the same aswhen they met, but linked together by the chain of sympathy andcommon needs. 

Clarence heard not the words of his wife that night as he enteredhis home, who after a while grew weary of his absent replies, andfound consolation in sleep. But to him sleep was not thought of. Allnight he laid awake, his being transfused with a new current ofthought, and his life going out and soaring upward into a higherexistence. The warp of a new garment was set in the loom. What handwould shape and weave the woof?

When day broke over the hills another morning burst on his senses, and Clarence Bowen, of the gay world, was not the same as before, but a man of high resolves and noble purposes, trying to live abetter life. 

Slowly his higher nature unfolded. Very slowly came the truths tohis mind, as Dawn presented them with all the vigor and freshness ofher nature. She told him the story of Margaret, of her death andburial, and of her father; and while he listened with tear-dimmedeyes, his soul became white with repentance. As Dawn spoke, thevision came and went, --each time with the countenance more at rest. It was an experience such as but few have; only those who seenbeyond, and know that mortals return to rectify errors after theirdecease. 

There could be no rest for either, until a reconciliation waseffected. Happy he who can stand between the two worlds and transmitthe most earnest wishes of the unseen, to those of earth. Themission, though fraught with many sorrows, is divine andsoul-uplifting to the subject. But who can know these truths saveone who has experiened them? The human soul has little power ofimparting to another its deepest feelings. We may speak, but whowill believe, or sense our experiences? An ancient writer says:"There are many kinds of voices in the world, but none of themwithout signification. Therefore, if I know not the meaning of thevoice, I shall be unto him that speaketh a barbarian, and he thatspeaketh shall be a barbarian unto me. "

"When you tell me of these things I believe; they are real to me, "said Clarence, "but if I read them, or hear them related as theexperience of others, they are dull and meaningless; why is this?"

"I suppose it is because you so feel my life and assurance of them, that in my atmosphere they become real and tangible to you. "

"I think it must be so. I may yet find strength enough to walkalone. "

"You will walk with her who comes to mingle her happiness withyours, and to help bear your crosses. "

"Is it wrong to wish to die?"

"It is better, I think, to desire to live here our appointed time, and ultimate the purpose of our earthly existence. "

"But I can never be happy here, for there are none who understandme. "

"Seek to understand yourself, and that will draw others to you. Itmatters but little whether we are understood in this world, when wethink of the long eternity before us. There is danger of becomingmorbid on that point. We lose time and ground in many suchmeditations. Our gaze becomes too much inward, and we lose sight oflife's grand panorama while thus closed in. We can see ourselvesmost clearly in others; our weakness and our strength. We need to goout, more than to look within. Do you not in conversing with me feelyourself more, than you do when alone?"

"I do. Another essence, or quality of life mingling with our owngives us our own more perfectly. Will all this power go with us tothe other world, or do we leave much behind?"

"Nothing but the husk-the dust is left here. Whatever is, shall be. Should you or I pass on, to-day, we should still preserve ourindividuality of thought and being. "

"And our loves will unfold there, and we be free, think you, toassociate with whom we love?"

"I have no doubt of it in my own mind, but can scarce expect anotherto feel the conviction as I do. We shall be better understood there. Here we have inharmonious natures of our own and others to contendwith. These are given to us and are brought about us without anyability in ourselves to accept or reject. Our surroundings are notalways what we would wish them, and few find rest or harmony of soulwhile here. And yet all this is necessary for proper unfoldment anddevelopment, else it would not be. Few weary pilgrims reach in thislife the many mansions prepared for the soul; few find theirfullness of soul-enjoyment. I have seen some of these weary ones asthey entered the other world and were led to places of rest. As theycaught a single glimpse of the peace and rest awaiting them, theirfaces glowed with the light of a divine transfiguration; yet theyknew that the bliss they had been permitted to look upon, and tohope for, could be theirs only as they were developed into a stateof perfect appreciation of it. Even so the person who enters themost fully and understandingly into our own feelings, grasps andholds the most of us. I am yours and you are mine just so far as wecan fathom and comprehend each other. "

"I had never thought of that before. How little do they who claim usas their own, know of the existence of this law; and yet the more Iconsider it, the more do I see its beauty, its truth, and theharmony of all its parts. "

Dawn was greatly pleased in seeing how readily he recognized herposition, and continued:

"The relation which such claimants bear to us is one purely externalin its nature, and oft-times painful. It is a kind of propertyownership which ought to be banished from social life. It should becast out and have no place nor lot with us, for those higher anddivine principles cannot dwell with us until these things areregarded as of the past, and now worthless. "

"But might not the new flow in naturally, and displace the old?"

"That is partly true, but when content with our condition we feelthe need of no other. This is one reason why to many, the blessingsin store for them are seemingly so long in coming. The man who isstruggling with adversity, and sees nothing but darkness and wantsurrounding him, fondly imagines that in the possession of abundancehe would find rest and peace. And yet he could never be blest whilein that condition of feeling, though all wealth were his. But havingpassed through, and out of, this condition, and learned that theexertion induced by privation was the best possible means of hisgrowth, then, wealth might come to him and be a blessing and apower. Blessings will come to us when we are prepared by culture ordiscipline to rightly employ them for our own good and the good ofothers. "

"Your thoughts have made me truly blest. You have withdrawn the darkveil which has hung over me so long. I must surely call this ablessing. "

"And the darkness was the same, for it has led you to appreciate thelight. "

He took her hand at parting, and pressed it with the warmth ofgenerous gratitude, bade her adieu and went out into the darkness ofthe evening, but with rays of the morning of life shining in hissoul. 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

"Dawn! Dawn! where are you?" called Mrs. Austin from the libraryafter Mr. Bowen had left. "I'm glad that stupid fellow has gone, "she continued, "for we want you to sing for us. "

How could she sing? The sentiment which would suit her mood wouldnot surely be fitted to those who would listen; but forcing her realstate aside, she played and sung several lively songs. 

"Delightful!" exclaimed her friend, "we mean to have more of yourcompany now, and keep such stupid people as Clarence Bowen away, heis so changed; he used to be very gay and lively; what do you findin him, Dawn?"

"A need; a great soul need. He wants comforting. "

"What, is he sad? He ought to be the merriest, happiest fellowalive. He has enough of this world's goods, and a most brilliantwoman for a wife. "

"These alone cannot give happiness. True, lasting happiness is madeup of many little things on which the world places but little value. He has much to make him thoughtful and earnest, and very little tomake him gay. "

"You are so unlike everybody else, Dawn. Now I like life; real, hearty, earnest life. I don't care a straw for hidden causes. I wantwhat's on the surface. I think we were put here to enjoy ourselvesand make each other happy. "

"So do I; but what you call 'happiness, ' might to some, be meremomentary excitement, mere transient pleasure. To me, the wordhappiness means something deeper; a current, which holds all theripples of life in its deep channel. "

"Well, if happiness is the deep undercurrent, as you say, I don'twant it. I want the ripples, the foam, and the sparkle. So let us goto bed and rest, and to-morrow ride over the hills on horseback. I'll take Arrow, he's fiery, and you may take Jessie. Will you? Youneed some roses on your cheek. " And the joyous-hearted woman kissedthe pale face of her friend till the flush came on her cheeks andbrow. 

"There; now you look like life; you seemed a moment since as stilland white as snow!"

"Your warm nature has surely changed the condition of things, for Ifeel more like riding just now than sleeping. "

"That's good. Suppose we have a moonlight race?"

"I protest against any such proceeding, being the lord and master ofthis manor, " said her husband, looking up from his book, in whichthey supposed he was too deeply engaged to hear their conversation. 

Reader, don't trust a gentleman who has his eyes on the page of avolume when two ladies are conversing. 

"Then I suppose there's nothing left for us but to go to bed. "

"Yes, a something else, " said her husband. 

"What?"

"Go to sleep. "

"Stupid! I suppose you think you have made a brilliant speech. "

"On the contrary I think it the reverse. I never wastescintillations of genius on unappreciative auditors. "

"Edward Austin! you deserve to be banished a week from ladies'society. Come Dawn, let us retire. "

It was in this pleasant, light vein of thought that Dawn recoveredher mental poise, and she sank into a sweet and profound slumber, which otherwise would not have come to her. Thus do we range fromone sphere to another, and learn, though slowly, that all states arelegitimate and necessary, the one to the other. The parts of lifecontribute to the perfection of the whole. Each object has its ownpeculiar office, as it has its own form. The tulip delights with itsbeauty, the carnation with its perfume, the unseemly wormwooddispleases both taste and smell, yet in medicinal value is superiorto both. So each temperament, each character, has its good and bad. The one has inclinations of which the other is incapable. 

"This is a world of hints, out of which each soul seizes what itneeds. " So from other lives we draw and appropriate continually intoour own, and we need the manifestations of life to make usharmonious. Each person draws something from us that none other can, and imparts out of its special quality that which we cannot receivefrom any other. We need at times to surrender our will, to mergeourselves into another sphere, and loose the tension of our ownaction; this surrender being to the mind what sleep is to the brain. 

The whole of life does not flow through any one channel; we drinkfrom many streams. "A ship ought not to be held by one anchor, norlife by a single hope. " Slowly we learn life's compliments, and thevalue of its component parts. Many threads make up the web, and manyshades the design. As we advance in experiences, we feel that wecould not have afforded to have lost one shade, however dark it mayhave been. Time, the silent weaver, sits by the loom, seeing neitherthe light nor shade, but only the great design which grows under hishand in the immortal web. 

The morning was clear and lovely. Mrs. Austin and Dawn rode over thehills, their spirits rising at every step, under the exhilaratingexercise. A fresh breeze stirred the leaves of the trees, and madethe whole air sweet and vital. Birds carolled their songs, and madethe woods vocal with praise. Nature seemed set to a jubilant key;while fresh inspiration flowed into the heart of man as he gazed onthe scene so redolent with life and beauty. 

"You are as radiant as the day, " said Mrs. Austin, drawing in Arrowa little, and coming to the side of Dawn. 

"Thank you for your compliment, but it's more the reflection of theouter world, than a manifestation of myself. One cannot but bebright on such a morning. "

"I cannot hold Arrow in longer, or I might argue on that point. " Ina moment she was out of sight, round the bend of the road. 

"She does me good every moment. I sometimes wish I did not see theconditions of life, and its states as I do. I must keep on thesurface a little more, --so run along Jessie, " said Dawn, giving thegentle animal a little touch of the whip that caused her to canteraway briskly and catch up with Arrow. Yet it was but for an instant, for Arrow bounded off as he heard the approach, and horse and riderwere soon as far in the distance as before. 

At the end of the long road Mrs. Austin halted, and reined Arrowunder a tree to wait for her friend. 

"You are quite a stranger, " said Dawn, coming up at a slow pace. "I've been taking time to enjoy the scenery. "

"So I perceive. I thought you had dismounted and was sketching, orwriting a sonnet to the woods. "

"It were most likely to have been the latter, as I never sketchanything but human character. "

"Then tell me what I am like. Sketch me as I am. "

"You are unlike every one else, " said Dawn, in an absent manner. 

"That's a diversion. Come to the point, and define me. I'm a riddle, I know. "

"If you have got thus far, you can analyze yourself. It's a goodbeginning to know what you are. "

"But I cannot unriddle myself. I have, under my rippling surface, afew deep thoughts, and good ones, and they make me speak and actbetter, sometimes. I am not all foam, Dawn. "

"I never supposed you were. There is a depth in you that you havenever fathomed, because your life has been gay, and you have neverneeded the truths which lie deep, and out of sight. "

"But I'd rather go up than down; much rather. "

"Depth is height, and height is depth. "

"So it is. I never thought of that before. Dawn, you could make awoman of me. Edward does not call me into my better self as you do. Why is it?"

"I suppose because he does not need that manifestation of yourbeing. Your lives are both set to sweetly flowing music. You havenever felt the sting of want and suffering, either mental orphysical, nor witnessed it to any great extent in others. "

"Why are we allowed to sit in the sunshine, then, if there is somuch sorrow in the world?"

"You are saved for some work. When the worn laborers now in thefield can do no more, perhaps you will be called forth. "

"O, Dawn, your words thrill me. Then we may not always be as happyas now?" and her glance seemed to turn inward on her joyous heart. 

"You may be far happier, but not so full of life's pleasures. "

"Yes; I remember the deep, strong current, and the ripples. Let usgo on, Dawn. I feel, I don't know how, but strange. Shall we start?"

"Certainly; I wait your move. Come, Jessie, show me another phase ofyour nature. I have seen how gentle you are; now go. "

At the word, the creature seemed to fly through the air, so swiftlydid she leap over the ground, and Arrow was left behind. 

At noon they stopped at a house on the mountain side, the home of anacquaintance of Mrs. Austin's, to refresh themselves and theirhorses. 

"I have brought you to some strange people, " said Mrs. Austin, asthey alighted, and a boy came and led their horses to the stable. 

"Strange; in what way?"

"O; they believe in all sorts of supernatural things-in the doctrineof transmigration, second-sight, and every other impossible andimprobable thing. "

"I am delighted. I shall be most happy to see them. "

"Because you yourself are so much inclined that way?"

"No. I should be more curious to see them if I were not interestedin the things you have mentioned. But now I shall meet kindredsouls, and in those I always find delight. "

"I've half a mind to take you home without even an introduction, foryour impudence; as though I was not a 'kindred soul. '"

"It's too late, now, for here comes a lady and gentleman to welcomeyou. "

"Miss Bernard, my friend Miss Wyman, Mr. Bernard. "

Dawn took their proffered hands which seemed to thrill with awelcome, and they led the way to a large, old-fashioned parlor. Thehouse was one of those delightful land-marks of the past generation, which we sometimes see. It stood on a high hill, or rather on amountain shelf, shaded by lofty trees which seemed like sentinelsstationed about to protect it from all intrusion. No innovations ofmodern improvement had marred the general keeping of the grounds andbuildings, for any change would have been an injury to the generalharmony of the whole. A large, clean lawn sloped to a woody edge infront, and in the rear of the dwelling were clusters of pines andoaks. 

Miss Bernard could not be described in a book, nor sensed in asingle interview, yet we must lay before the reader an outline to befilled by the imagination. She was a blending of all the forces, mental, moral, and spiritual. Her face was full of thought, withoutthe sharp, defined lines, so common to most women of a nervoustemperament. It impressed you at once with vigor and power;chastened by a deep, spiritual light, which shone over it like thatof the declining sun upon a landscape. It seemed to burst fromwithin, not having the appearance of proceeding from dross burningaway, but like a radiance native to the soul, a part and quality ofit, not an ignition which comes from friction and war within. 

Basil, her brother, whose name indicated his nature, made every onefeel as though transported to a loftier atmosphere. He seemed tobelong among the stars. Dawn felt at home at once in his presence, which was a mystery to her friend, to whom he seemed intangible anddistant. She had never seen upon the face of Dawn such raptadmiration as she saw there, when Basil conversed. 

The conversation changed from external to inner subjects, just asthe bell rung for dinner. At the table there were no strangers, andto Dawn it seemed as though she had always known them, and manytimes before, occupied the same place in their midst. Thus do thosewho are harmonious in spirit affiliate, regardless of materialconditions. 

A vase of elegant flowers decked the table, also a basket ofblossoms, unarranged, which, at dessert, were placed on the platesof the guests. 

A light shone from Basil's eyes, which did not escape Mrs. Austin'snotice, as he placed a scarlet lily upon her plate. 

 "The wand-like lily which lifted up, As a M‘nad, its radiant-colored cup, Till the fiery star, which is in its eye, Gazed through clear dew on the tender sky. "

While these lines of Whittier's ran through her mind:

 "I bring no gift of passion, I breathe no tone of love, But the freshness and the purity Of a feeling far above. I love to turn to thee, fair girl, As one within whose heart Earth has no stain of vanity, And fickleness no part. "

Then she watched him with deeper interest as he placed a spray ofbalm beside the lily. 

 "Balm that never ceases uttering sweets, Goes decking the green earth with drapery. "

"I wonder what he will give me, " she said to herself, almostimpatiently, yet fearing the offering might not be complimentary, for she well knew that Basil Bernard was always truthful. He heldalready in his hand a rose, blooming and fresh as morning, which heput upon her plate, and beside it a spray of yellow jessamine. Graceand elegance-while the beautiful Mundi rose spoke its ownlanguage-"you are merry. "

 "Blushing rose! Blown in the morning-thou shalt fade ere noon: What boots a life that in such haste forsakes thee? Thou 'rt wondrous frolic being to die so soon, And passing proud a little color makes thee. "

And now came the most interesting point, to see what flowers hewould place upon his sister's plate. 

First, a handful of violets. "Faithfulness, " thought Dawn, "he isright thus far. " And then, as though his thoughts rose with thesentiment, he laid snowballs gently around them, while these wordsflashed upon her mind:

 "Should sorrow o'er thy brow Its darkened shadow fling, And hopes that cheer thee now, Die in their early spring; Should pleasure, at its birth, Fade like the hues of even, Turn thou away from earth-- There's rest for thee in heaven. "If ever life should seem To thee a toilsome way, And gladness cease to beam Upon its clouded day; If, like the weary dove, O'er shoreless ocean driven, Raise thou thine eyes above-- There's rest for thee in heaven. "

"And now we will each make a contribution to Basil" said his sister, smiling on him in a manner which told how dear he was to her. 

She passed the basket to Dawn, who blushed and trembled at first, not with fear, but pleasure. 

"The offering, " said his sister, "is to be an expression of thesentiments, which, in the opinion of each of us, are most in keepingwith his character. "

Dawn reached forth, and drew, without hesitation, a cluster ofverbenas, and one white water-lily. 

"Sensibility and purity of heart. She has read him aright, " thoughtMiss Bernard. 

 "Gentle as an angel's ministry The guiding hand of love should be, Which seeks again those chords to bind Which human woe hath rent apart. "

"She has seen my brother's very heart, his most noble self, " sherepeated to herself, as she passed the basket to Mrs. Austin, whoplucked a Clyconthas, and laid it on his plate, with a blossom ofIris. 

"Benevolence, " said Dawn, and to her mind these beautiful words weresuggested;

 "Wouldst thou from sorrow find a sweet relief, Or is thy heart oppressed with woes untold? Balm wouldst thou gather for corroding grief; Pour blessings round thee like a shower of gold? 'Tis when the rose is wrapped in many a fold Close to its heart, the worm is wasting there Its life and beauty; not when, all unrolled, Leaf after leaf, its bosom, rich and fair, Breathes freely its perfume throughout the ambient air. Rouse to some work of high and holy love, And thou an angel's happiness shalt know. Shalt bless the earth while in the world above; The good began by thee shall onward flow In many a branching stream, and wider grow; The seed that in these few and fleeting hours Thy hand unsparing and unwearied sow, Shall deck thy grave with amaranthine flowers, And yield thee fruits divine in heaven's immortal bowers. "

But one more offering, and that from his sister. She drew the bayleaf, of which the wreath to adorn the conqueror and the poet ismade, and, while the eyes of the two women rested on her, drew forthalso the pale, but sweet-scented mountain pink, signifyingaspiration, beautifully expressed by Percival in these lines:

 "The world may scorn me, if they choose-I care But little for their scoffings. I may sink For moments; but I rise again, nor shrink From doing what the faithful heart inspires. I will not falter, fawn, nor crouch, nor wink, At what high-mounted wealth or power desires; I have a loftier aim, to which my soul aspires. "

"We regret that we must leave, now, " said Mrs. Austin to her friend, after they had returned to the drawing-room and conversed awhile. 

"We would gladly detain you longer, but knowing you have a longdrive, we cannot conscientiously do so, " said Miss Bernard; "but maywe not hope to see you both, again?"

"Not unless you return our visit; we cannot take another long driveright away, having so many ways to move, and so little time tospare. But come and see us whenever you can. "

"Thank you, " replied Miss Bernard, and Basil bowed, while his eyesrested on Dawn. 

"We should both be happy to see you again, Miss Wyman, " he said, taking her hand, and the horses having been brought to the door, hehelped her into the saddle first, and then Mrs. Austin. 

They bounded away, and were soon far from the hospitable home, discussing, as they rode side by side, the merits and beauties ofits occupants. 

"I did not tell you Miss Bernard's name. I think her brother did notmention it while we were there; now what do you think it can be?"

"I do not know; perhaps Margaret-a pearl. No, not that; maybe, Agathe, which signifies good; and yet I do not feel I have it yet. "

"No; guess again. "

"I thought once while there, it might be Beatrice, for she seemslike one who blesses. "

"You are right. That is her name, and most nobly does she illustrateits signification. "

"I am glad, for I hoped it was. How strange their names should sosuit their natures, " said Dawn, musingly. 

"Not if you knew them and their ancestry. They are of Germandescent, and believe in all sorts of traditions, and, as I have saidbefore, supernatural things. They live almost wholly in sentiment, and are little known save by a very few. I like them, yet I cannottell why. When in their presence I feel a sort of transcendentalcharm, a something intangible, but restful to my soul. It's onlywith you and them, Dawn, that I ever feel thus, and that is why Ibrought you together. "

"I can never thank you enough, but I wish to know them better. "

"You shall. Did I not see how they felt your sphere, as you'impressionists' say. "

"I hope they felt my desire for a better life, for it is a greatrest to be comprehended. It is as though some one took us by thehand, and led us over the hard places of life. "

"I wish I could feel and live as you do, Dawn. You seem to havesomething so much deeper and richer in your life, than I have inmine-but, I suppose you would say, if I wanted deeper thoughts, Ishould search and find them. "

"I should, most certainly; you have anticipated my answer. We havewhat we aspire to--what we feel the need of. "

"We are getting too earnest, it makes me feel almost sad. Come, Arrow, let me see you speed over that shady road;" and away he flewat the sound of his name, leaving Dawn and Jessie, who seemed in nomood just then for galloping, far behind. 

It was almost twilight when they reached home together, Mrs. Austinhaving checked her horse's speed, for her friend to come up withher. They had passed a most delightful day, and cosily seated intheir parlor, we will leave them talking as the twilight deepensaround, and go to the home of Basil and sister, who are conversingupon the day's events. 

"It seems as though somewhere, in this or another existence, I hadseen that face and form, " said Basil to his sister. 

"She is certainly very lovely, wherever you may have met her. Shemay have been a dove, brother, and rested on your shoulder. I do notknow but that we should hesitate before we condemn the belief in atransmigration of spirits, souls, and forces, when nature seems tosomewhat imply its truth in her kingdom?"

"Spirit cannot, in its countless transmigrations, be limited to thelittle space which we call earth. The life of the universe is theactivity of its ever-living forces and existences, and their eternalstriving to separate or to unite. 

"The belief in the transmigration of souls is of high antiquity, andis worthy of more than a passing thought. A writer has said: 'Beingitself does not change, but only its relations. Mind and soul movein other connections, according to divine ordinances. The strengthor weakness of the will, which the mind is conscious of, in itself, by a natural necessity creates a distinction between the elevationor the degradation of self. That is its heaven-this is its hell. There is an infinite progress of spirit towards perfection in theInfinite, as the solar systems with their planets wheel through therealm of the immeasurable. All eternal activity! New union to begoing on of spirits and souls with new powers, which become theirserviceable instruments of contact with the All of things-this istransmigration of souls. Any other kind of continued duration andcontinued action is inconceivable to us. Whether upon earth, or inother worlds, is a matter of indifference. ' But one spirit seesthese things more clearly than another. "

Basil stopped, and gazed long into the dim twilight, that light sofitted for communion; and as he gazed he felt his mind going outfrom his home, towards the being who had so touched hissoul-thoughts. Was it his counterpart, or second-self, that made himfeel that evening as though he had never known himself? What newquality had so blended with his own, in that brief space of time, asto quicken all his spiritual and intellectual perceptions? Wouldthey meet again? and when and where? were the concludinginterrogatories as he came back from his reverie, his thoughtsflowing again into audible language. 

"You seem freshened, brother, " said Beatrice, perceiving that helacked words for the full expression of his intense feelings. 

"It's the power of a new mind. I am quickened in spirit. "

"I see you are; and is it not wonderful how much a person whom we donot daily meet can inspire us? What an impetus such an one brings tous, even though but a few words may be spoken. Its fresh magneticlife mingles with our own, and tinctures our inspirations andaspirations with a new fervor. 

"True; how much we have to learn regarding social intercourse. Wehave in society so little spontaniety, that it will take many genialnatures like that of Miss Wyman to melt the frost away. "

She saw that he was pleased with Dawn, and felt glad. It was almosta relief to feel the strong tension of his love for her relax alittle. It is not often that sisters have thus to complain, butBasil Bernard knew what love was, and how to enfold his object in anatmosphere of delight. It was protective and uplifting, refining andbroadening, to all who felt it. 

There are some natures like that of an infant, ever asking for love, and protecting arms. Such need to be carried on one's bosom, andnestled, through their whole life. There are maternally protectingarms that can bear them thus, and in the sphere of their life andlove their souls would rest. There are natures that will ever be aschildren, and also those who can meet their wants. 

Such clinging lives should be all infancy; they should be cared for, until their souls are strong enough to stand alone. 

Why is there so much that is fragmentary and unlinked? Why is thevine left to trail, when the strong oak, with its giant trunk, isstanding bare? It's all in parts, disjointed, broken, as though someworld of glory had been torn asunder, and its portions scatteredhere and there. 

There is completeness somewhere-in the land beyond-where the sighs, the tears, the passionate longings, the hopes and fears will be alladjusted, and our souls rest in celestial harmony. 

We cannot question but that it will be well with us there, if wehave striven for the good, our souls conceived of, here. If, withgood purpose and intent, we have out-wrought the hints andsuggestions which have been given us of life, we must find growingstates of rest, sometime, to repletion. It will not be all peacethere; for the two worlds are interblended, and shadow into eachother. There is an interplay of life and emotion forever, and tothose who sense it, a joy too deep to be portrayed by human words; atruth which helps us to bear the sorrows of this life serenely, andmore fully appreciate its joys. 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

Basil and his sister sat longer that summer evening than was theirwont. There was a deeper intoning of sentiment, a closer blending ofthought, or rather, their individual states had been more clearlydefined by the day's incidents. 

They were of those rare types of mind which know just how far theycan be together, and not detract from each other; just when themental and spiritual assimilation was becoming attenuated, and eachneeded solitude. Thus they were constantly coming each to the other, and consequently drew from exhaustless fountains of intellectual andphysical strength. 

Life is replete with harmonies ready to inflow, if we are butreceptive and delicate enough to receive and appropriate them. Blestare they who recognize life's indications, its index-fingers whichare pointing each hour to some new experience, which will deepen andexpand our lives. 

Generally there is great danger of two persons settling intothemselves, as these two seemed to have done, but Basil and Beatricewere so catholic they could afford it, in fact they needed just theclose companionship which they held. The brother, with his colossalspirit, lofty and original, moving forward through life with thatslow majesty which indicates the wholeness of the individual, unlikethe airy advance of natures which rush with but one facultyquickened, and mistake speed for greatness, supplied the sister withthat manly, noble quality, which must ever exist in the real orideal of every woman. No wonder her warm, beneficent nature expandeddaily, until her heart seemed a garden full of flowers of love andgratitude. 

Did life at times seem dim and hazy, and the mind full of a thousanddoubts, he could dispel the cloud, wrench the truth from its oldcombinations, and present it to her in striking contrast with itsopposite error. 

No wonder that new purposes and aspirations were born every hour inthat woman's heart, impregnated by his manliness of quality. Yeteach drew through the subtle texture of soul a different hue oflife, as in a bed of flowers, from the same sunlight, one drawscrimson, another azure, as though conscious of the harmony ofcomplement and difference. 

"I feel a rich, deep vein of thought to-night, " said Beatrice, "asthough I could write a poem or a book, so vivid are my thoughts. "

"Your life has been a poem, full of sweetly blended words. You havelived yours out, while others have written theirs. "

"But there is such power in books, Basil. "

"I know it well. 'Some books are drenched sands on which a greatsoul's wealth lies all in heaps, like a wrecked argosy. ' And someare sweet and full of passion-tones, and you feel on every leaf thatyou are turning, as though their heart-beats were going into yours;that they were dying that you might have life. Books are indeedgreat, but lives are greater; lives that are full of earnestpurpose, and that fail not, even though the tide beats strong aboutthem and the heavens hang thick and dark with clouds. The greatestpoems are true lives, now surging with grief and passion, nowpulsing with joy-notes, thrilling on each page of life. Some books, as well as persons, make us feel as though we stood in the presenceof a king, while some give us tears. Some books and some beings domeus like a sky. Sister, you are the dome which ever overarches mylife, --if day, with its azure and ermine clouds; if night, with itsstars. Nay, do not write a book, but breathe and live your life outeach day. "

"Yet I know that you, Basil, could write one, and make it full andperfect. "

"I could make one full of words, if not of thought; but come, thenight is passing, we shall scarce have an hour's rest beforesunrise. "

"Indeed, I think we are in a fair way to see its early brightness. "

To their dreams and life we will leave them awhile, knowing that tosuch hearts will ever come peace, whether sleeping or waking. 

Past midnight, that silent hour when the earth is peopled with otherforms. It is the hour for the brain to receive the most subtleinfluences, whether sleeping or waking. 

Some kinds of sleep bring us brighter states than day gives us. Theyare awakenings, in which the understanding, instead of beingdethroned, acquires a power and vivacity beyond what it possesseswhen the external form is awake and active. The soul seemsemancipated from earthly trammels. The ruling thought of a man'slife is not unlikely to shape itself into dreams, the constantthought of the day may encroach on the quiet of the night. ThusColumbus dreamed that a voice said unto him, "God will give thee thekeys of the gates of the ocean. " So any earnest longing, resting onour minds when we composed ourselves to sleep, may pass over intoour sleeping consciousness, and be reproduced, perhaps in somehappier mood. 

Modern writers on the phenomena of sleep, usually concur in theassertion that man's sleeping thoughts are meaningless, and thatdreams are, therefore, untrustworthy. Such was not the opinion ofour ancestors. They attached great importance to dreams and theirinterpretations. They had resort to them for guidance in cases ofdifficulty, or great calamity. We do not claim for all dreams, adivine or reliable character, but that some are to be trusted, everyindividual of any experience can testify. Plato assumes that alldreams might be trusted, if men would only bring their bodies intosuch a state, before going to sleep, as to leave nothing that mightoccasion error or perturbation in their dreams. 

A young lady, a native of Ross-shire, in Scotland, who was devotedlyattached to an officer, with Sir John Moore in the Spanish war, became alarmed at the constant danger to which her lover wasexposed, until she pined, and fell into ill health. Finally, onenight in a dream, she saw him pale, bloody, and wounded in thebreast, enter her apartment. He drew aside the curtains of the bed, and with a mild look, told her he had been slain in battle, biddingher, at the same time, to be comforted, and not take his death toheart. 

The consequence of the dream was fatal to the poor girl, who died afew days afterward, desiring her parents to note down the date ofher dream, which she was confident would be confirmed. It was so. The news shortly after reached England that the officer had fallenat the battle of Corunna, on the very day in the night of which hisbetrothed had beheld the vision. 

Another, a lady residing in Rome, dreamed that her mother, who hadbeen several years dead, appeared to her, gave her a lock of hair, and said, "Be especially careful of this lock of hair, my child, forit is your father's, and the angels will call him away from youto-morrow. "

The effect of the dream on her mind was such, that, when she awoke, she experienced the greatest alarm, and caused a telegraphic noticeto be instantly dispatched to England, were her father was, toinquire after his health. No immediate reply was received; but, whenit did come, it was to the effect that her father had died thatmorning at nine o'clock. She afterwards learned, that, two daysbefore his death, he had caused to be cut off, a lock of his hair, and handed it to one of his daughters, who was attending on him, telling her it was for her sister in Rome. 

Well authenticated cases might be multiplied till they filledvolumes; but the two we have cited, suffice to prove that insleeping, as well as in waking hours, our minds may receiveimpressions of truth, or, that the spirit goes out to other scenes, and there takes cognizance of events and conditions. 

Dawn slept on; her beautiful white face was still and upturned, asthough gazing into the heavens. The excitement of the day had gone, and the look of keen pleasure on her features was changed to one ofintensest emotion, for she was away, her spirit beside one whoselife seemed almost ebbing out of this state of existence. She sawhis pale features half hidden in the snowy pillows, the deep, softeyes looking as though in search of one they loved; and then sheheard him call her name, in tones touching and tender. She wept, andawoke. The sun was shining brightly through the window. She arose, and dressed for her departure, and, to the surprise of her friend, announced her intention of leaving that morning for home. 

"You are no more to be depended on than the rest of your sex, MissWyman, " remarked Mr. Austin, who really enjoyed having her withthem. 

She was in no mood to reply in the same spirit, but said quietly:

"I have concluded not to tire you out completely this time, for Iwant to come again. "

"I think your going must be the result of some very hastyconclusion, Dawn. I had no intimation of it last evening. Really, unless you are ill, you are quite unfair to leave us so soon. " Mrs. Austin having made this remark, glanced for the first time at Dawn'swhite face. What had come over her? Was it Dawn who sat there sostill and white? "Are you ill?" she asked, the tremor of her voicebetraying her deep solicitude for the welfare of her visitor. 

"No; but anxious. I must go to-day, however, or I shall be sick, andon your hands. "

"I'd a deal rather you should be on my hands, than weighing on myheart, as you are now, " and Mrs. Austin expressed the hope, afterher husband had left, that she would confide to her the cause of herdeparture and sudden appearance of illness. 

"I have had an unpleasant dream, " said Dawn, when they were alone, feeling that some explanation was due her friend, "and I must gohome. "

"A dream! O, fie, I never mind them. Why, I once had a mostfrightful one about Ned. He was away on a journey, and I dreamt thatthe boat caught fire, and every one on board was lost. I even wentso far as too see a messenger coming to tell me of the disaster. "

"But had not your mind been agitated through the day?"

"Why, I had read of some dreadful disasters, to be sure, and then Ihad retired at a late hour, after getting my mind wrought up aboutthe liabilities of danger, which, of course, accounted for it-butwas your dream about your father?"

"No. "

"Why must you go? Do you think any one is in danger? I think it wasthe result of the long ride, don't you?

"I do not. My dream was purely impressional, and outside of theeffect of daily incidents. Yes, I must go, Fannie, and right away. "

"In that case I shall ride home with you, " and she rang for the manto harness the horse. 

Each busy with her own thoughts they rode in silence for a longdistance, a silence which was only broken by Dawn's exclamation ofpleasure, as they came in sight of her home. 

The next day she sat beside the bed of Ralph, whose snow-white faceand attenuated form, showed how fast he was passing away. 

He gazed long and tenderly into her face, as she sat there, theirsouls holding their last earthly communion. His spirit was all aglowwith life, and trust, while the shadow of separation rested on her, and dimmed her faith and vision. 

"But for a little while, Dawn, and then we shall meet again;perhaps, to be united. "

How the words entered her heart, for now, under the cloud, she felt, O how keenly, that her state had hastened him home. His was thevine-like nature that must cling to another, or die. It was all darkto her then, and added to the pang of separation, was the thought ofher cold indifference. He, all gentleness and love, lie in rays oflight; all her vision and life had gone into him to help him overthe river. 

"And you do not dread to go, Ralph?" she said, her voice chokingwith emotion. 

"Fear? I only long to do so; to be there, where all is peace andrest;" and the rapt, upturned gaze, confirmed his words. 

"It will be always day there, " he continued; "none of these wearynights which have been so long and lonely-"

"O, Ralph, live; live for me. I have been blind and wayward. O, comeback, and we will live for each other. "

"In my father's house are many mansions; I go to prepare a place foryou. "

The words sounded far, far away. 

"Yes, we will live together above, not here. God has so ordered it, my own Dawn. I shall be light, perhaps, to you, even in that far-offland. Nay, 'tis not 'far'; 't is here. I shall dwell in your heartclose-close-closer than ever. "

He closed his eyes and rested for a few moments. Then, arousing, heclasped her hands firmly, as though he would bear her away with himas he took his heavenward flight. 

"Look there, " he said, "the river! go close with me-for this is ourlast moment. Dawn, I am yours; not even death can part us. I am notgoing; I am coming closer than any earthly relation could bring meto you; coming-call them. "

Parents and sister stood beside the bed with tearful eyes. To themhe was going far away. 

Dawn saw not the death-dew on the marble brow, nor heeded thepassing breath. Another sight was given her, and while they stood sostatue-like with anguish, her eyes beheld a soft mist gather likesnowflakes on the head; and while the breath grew quick and short, this seemed to pulsate with life, until a face was outlined there. That face the same, yet not the same, but her own dear Ralph's, immortalized, set in a softer, finer light. Her being pulsated withnew joy. A tide of life seemed to have flown into her heart, leavingno room for pain. 

A moan struck on her ear; so sad that she started, and the visionfled. 

"O, Ralph, my own loved boy; he's gone, he's gone, " burst from themother's sorrowing heart, as they bore her from the room. 

Marion stood dumb with grief, while the poor stricken father bowedhis head and wept bitter tears for his lost son. 

Had Dawn no grief, that she could stand there and look so calmly on?What made her feel so indifferent to the dead form on which shegazed? Because his life, the life that had once animated it, hadpassed into hers, and they were one and united. Ralph, warm withlife, was imaged in her heart and mind. The clay he bore about him, that husk, had no claim upon her being now, and with scarce a lookat the body, she walked away. 

"I think she could never have loved him, or she would not seem socold, " were the words that floated to her as she passed from theroom where lay all that was mortal of Ralph. 

It was as near as she could expect to be understood here, in a worldwhere so much of her real self was hidden; but such words touchedher sensibilities none the less, notwithstanding her philosophy. They went deep, like an arrow, into her heart, and then she knewthat the house of mourning was no place for her; that she must go, and to the world appear cold and unfeeling, while her heart wasready to burst with its deep emotion. 

She left them, and they never knew how dearly she loved him, nor howclose his soul was linked with her own. They mourned him as dead, while to her he became each hour a reality, a tangible, livingpresence, full of tenderness and love. 

Miss Weston met Dawn as she passed out of the house, with that lookof tender pity, which says, "I know you suffer. " In that look theirsouls met and mounted to higher states. They could not speak, forthe tears which flowed over the graves of their dead; their sorrowsmade them one and akin. 

"You will return by to-morrow, " said Miss Weston, as she parted withDawn at the gate, supposing that she designed returning to bepresent at the funeral. 

"No, I cannot. "

"Why, Dawn! not follow dear Ralph to his grave?"

"I have no Ralph to bury. He is resurrected-gone higher. "

"But the family, they surely-"

"They will not miss me. I am not a part of their lives now. They donot know me, nor do I know myself. "

Here trust, light, and vision left; the weakness of flesh uprose, and she went down into the dark valley of grief. 

She gave a parting pressure of the hand to her friend, and walkedslowly to the station. Alone; O, what relief do our tears give us, when no one can see them flow. In that dim, summer twilight shewalked. Fast fell the tears over her cheeks. None but angels knewthe sobs, the agony of desolation which swept over her, and like apall hung between herself and heaven. 

It was midnight when she arose from prayer, but morning to her soul. Peace had come; the dove had returned with the olive branch; thewaters had gone down, and green banks shored the wild sea of sorrow. 

She spent the day of the funeral ceremonies alone in the solitude ofthe woods. Full of meaning now came to her these words of Christ:"Let the dead bury their dead;" and this was her first personalrealization of the truth. Alone, yet not alone. That presence, unseen, but real, was with her, soothing the harshness of sorrow, filling her heart with peace and comfort. Just as the sun sank inclouds of sapphire and crimson, his form stood, radiant, joyous, andlife-like before her. It was no myth, no hallucination of the mind. Close, within reach, yet she could not touch him; he stood there, the same Ralph, with all the tenderness of love on his beaming facewhich he bore in life. No loneliness came over her as the visionfaded slowly away; he seemed to dissolve and flow into her heart. The soft twilight, the singing of birds, and charming landscape, with the breath of summer floating on the air, came like sweetaccompaniments to the melody which was pulsing her being, and givingher new strength and vigor for life. 

She knew, that to her Ralph would each day be a sustaining power, and give life a dual action. When weary of the outer, she could turnwithin and find one conjoined by the holiest of ties unto her soul. 

His life, too, was being unfolded through her, as it could neverhave been on earth; and as years rolled on she saw how well and goodit was that he had passed on before her. There was more completenessto her being than there could possibly have been, had they beenunited on earth by the form of marriage. 

When she emerged from the cloud, all this light transfused herbeing, and she had no tears, because there was no separation. 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

We learn in unlearning. We lay aside, one by one, the garments inwhich we have enwrapped ourselves; garments of various hues, whichare our opinions, and so clog and hinder our progress. Happily forus that we find our states changing, and the wrappings of old dogmastoo oppressive. Fortunate are we if our freedom of spirit is largeenough to enable us to lay aside what was a shield and protection tous yesterday, if it be not fitted for us to-day. He who is strong todo so, benefits all around him, for no good or evil is confined orlimited to one. Everything flows; circulation is in all things, natural and spiritual. Life in one is life in another; what is faithin one is also faith in another. 

"What is gained by one man is invested in all men, and is apermanent investment for all time. 

"A great genius discovers a truth in science, the philosophy ofmatter; or in philosophy the science of man. He lays it at the feetof humanity, and carefully she weighs in her hand what is so costlyto him, and so precious to her. 

"She keeps it forever; he may be forgotten, but his truth is a partof the breath of humankind. By a process more magical than magic, it becomes the property of all men, and that forever. 

"All excellence is perpetual. A man gets a new truth, a new idea ofjustice, a new sentiment of religion, and it is a seed of the flowerof God, something from the innate substance of the Infinite Father;for truth, justice, love, and faith in the bosom of man are highermanifestations of God than the barren zone of yonder sun; fairerrevelations of him than all the brave grandeur of yonder sky. Notruth fades out of science, no justice out of politics, no love outof the community, nor out of the family. 

"A great man rises, shines a few years, and presently his body goesto the grave, and his spirit to the home of the soul. But noparticles of the great man are ever lost; they are not condensedinto another great man, they are spread abroad. 

"There is more Washington in America now than when he who bore thename stood at the nation's head. Ever since Christ died, there hasbeen a growth of the Christ-like. 

"Righteousness grows like corn-that out of the soil, this out of thesoul. 

"Thus every atom of goodness incarnated in a single person, is putinto every person, and ere long spreads over the earth, to createnew beauty and sunshine everywhere. "

There was one spot which seemed more attractive to Dawn afterRalph's birth, than her home, --our homes are just where our heartscling for the time, here or there, --and that spot was the home ofMiss Bernard and her brother. This desire to be with them wassettling into a fixed purpose to go, when one day her friend, Mrs. Austin, burst into her room, saying, "I've come for you. I think achange will do you good. "

A short time only was needed to pack a few articles of clothing, andthey were soon on their way. 

It was early autumn, and the skies and trees were glowing with allthe tinges and beauties of that season. Scarlet maples flashed hereand there from their back-ground of pines and firs along the road, while over the dead limbs clambered the ivy, more brilliant in deaththan in life. The air was full of life. The voice of her friendchatting by her side was soothing to her nerves and spirits, for herlife had been full almost to bursting since he had come so near. 

"You astonish me more and more, Dawn, " said her friend, who haddropped her lighter mood, as they rode leisurely by the foresttrees, which ever seem to suggest deeper thoughts. 

"And why, may I ask?"

"Because your reconciliation to your loss seems so strange andunusual. "

"I have no loss. My friend has come home closer to my heart andunderstanding. The form is of little value to us when death gives usso much more of an individual. "

"Would I could think as you do, Dawn. You are strange, and yet youseem to get at the very core of life's experiences. "

"We cannot all think alike. There must ever be an individuality ofthought, as well as of feature, yet on the common ground ofprinciples we can meet. My serenity of mind is born of vision, formost clearly do I perceive that had I been united on earth to Ralph, our lives would have been limited. We should have gone into eachother and remained, for he was the complement of my very self. In aworld of so much need of labor, we could not be allowed to be of solittle use to mankind. "

"But I do not see why you might not have blessed humanity more byyour united efforts. "

"Because we should have been located, spiritually insphered in eachother's life. Now I have no excuse for halting. I must be forevermoving to some center, and he will find his life in and through me, loving me ever, but yet never quite settling into my life, which hewas naturally inclined to do. In his atmosphere I shall gatheranother kind of strength and life; a life of two-fold power, becausehe will be so near in affection, so close and indwelling. I shallhave the light of his spiritual life within me to guide me on; andcan I not labor, yea, bear all things with such strength?"

"O, Dawn, for such light one could call life and toil here, rest andheaven. "

"As it ever will be if we seek the harmonies of our lives. "

"Now you rob death of its gloom to me. You must talk with Basil ofthese things, he can understand and appreciate them. Did you knowthat he was a relative of the Seyton's, a cousin to Ralph's mother?"

Dawn started. It was all clear now. Ralph would have her go to them, and that was the cause of her yearning to be there. 

"Shall we go to-morrow, " she asked of her friend, who sat abstractedby her side. 

"Where?"

"To Miss Bernard's?"

"Yes, to-morrow. They are anxious to see you, as is also yourprotege, young Mr. Bowen, who has inquired for you every time I havemet him. "

"I had almost forgotten him in my deep experiences. Has he changed?Does he seem more hopeful?"

"He seems far away. I think it your mission to send people off theearth, or, at least, into larger orbits. "

"I should like to make their lives larger, for life is not worthanything unless we are daily putting off the old, and taking on thenew. We cannot live our experiences over. Fresh breezes and freshtruths correspond-the outer and inner ever correspond. A cleandwelling indicates purity of heart and purpose, while the reverseleads us to beware of the occupant. "

They were now at the home of Mrs. Austin, who consideratelyconducted Dawn to her room and left her alone until tea-time. 

The evening brought Mr. Bowen, who appeared pale and dispirited, buthe was speedily assisted to better states through Dawn's efforts. 

Again poor Margaret appeared to her sight, this time with a new lookon her features, as though she had gathered strength and light fromthe partial recognition of one who had betrayed her, yet from whoselife she could not be separated until the spiritual balance offorgiveness had been given and received. 

Clarence was soon engaged in earnest conversation. "Do you notthink, Miss Wyman, " said he, "that we may be weakened physically byspirits who come into our atmosphere?"

"I have no doubt of it. If they remain, and are not illuminating, orchanging their states; if they come to do us good, even, they maysometimes weaken us, because our magnetism which sustains thembecomes attenuated. "

"I have thought that I was at times weaker, from the presence of onewhom I feel is near to me. "

"It may be. She cannot rise until you are ready to do so. And whenyou both go to higher states, or you enter hers, a new life willinflow. There will come relief. There is monotony now in theinfluence, because she is waiting for new truths to be infused intoyour mind before others can flow in. Perhaps I cannot make it asclear to your mind as I perceive it. "

"The thought is suggestive, at least, and will help me out. Isuppose these things are of slow growth in the human mind, like allthings in nature?"

"They would not be of the soul were they not slow, and of littlevalue to us did they not ripen in the warmth and nurture of our ownsunshine. "

"True. I would know more of these things. They give me strength tobear life's burdens much better, and although they seem to take mythoughts from my duties, I seem to be brought nearer to them; yet Icannot quite comprehend how it is. "

"This influence does not take your mind away; it lifts it above yourcares, and makes you more contentedly subjective to the law thatgoverns. Truth ever renders us content to bear, while it liberatesus from thraldom. "

"I know that my life beyond will be richer and nobler for whatlittle I have of these truths here. You have greatly blest me-"

"And blest myself, " she added, seeing the rich gratitude of his soulfalter with the poverty of words. 

He took her hand, pressed it warmly in token of his deepindebtedness, and they parted, to meet no more on earth, save inspirit. That night the death-angel came. He was seized withhemorrhage of the lungs, and died instantaneously. 

The wife of the world, whom position and society had chained him to, put on robes of mourning, and in three months was a gay, flirtingwidow, while he was happy in the summer land, joined to his mate, the bride of his soul's first love. 

For a long time Dawn felt not the presence of either Clarence orMargaret. They were away, reposing in the atmosphere of forgivenessand love, and learning that "it is not all of life to live, nor allof death to die. "

Dawn sat beside Basil as an old friend, holding a likeness of Ralphin her hand. 

"I little thought that you knew our dear Ralph, " said Mr. Bernard, breaking the silence they had enjoyed, "and yet I ought to haverecognized his life within yours, Miss Wyman. "

Dawn knew well why he did not, for she had kept him away fromherself. 

"I usually feel the sphere of the one dearest to another, when Icome into their presence; but this time I was completely in thedark. There is some reason for it, I know. " She knew it, and alsothat he could read her mind. 

"I will keep nothing back, " she thought, and told him all. Just asshe had finished, Mrs. Austin and his sister came in from thegarden. 

"Your conditions must have blended very closely, " said Beatrice, playfully, "it seems as though there was but one person in theroom. "

"You are becoming a dangerous person to have about, " said herbrother, while his tone and speech were greatly at variance, for hisvoice to her was always sweetly modulated and full of tenderness. 

Mr. Bernard brought to Dawn a folio of drawings, some of Ralph'searly sketches, which they looked over together until the hour ofretiring, when the evening closed with a calm and natural prayer, such as was nightly heard in that pleasant home. 

"I shall claim Miss Wyman to-morrow, " said Beatrice; "I have a greatmany subjects which I wish to talk upon with her; so, brother, youwill see that our friend, Mrs. Austin, is entertained. "

"We will engage to make you very sorry that you are not of ourparty, " he answered, as they separated for the night. 

"Now you are mine for a few hours, " said Miss Bernard, afterbreakfast, to her guest, as she led the way, followed by Dawn, to alittle room which she had fitted up, and in which she studied ormused, sewed or wrote, as the mood prompted. The walls were hungwith pictures, her own work, some in oil, others in crayon; alllandscapes of the most poetic conception and delicate finish. 

"I have always longed for the power to express my thoughts inpictures. What a keen enjoyment it must be, Miss Bernard, to havesuch a resource within one's self. "

"I think the power resides in every person, and only waits aquickening, like all other powers. "

Dawn thought of the hour in Germany when Ralph sat and sketched herportrait, and the intervening time was as though it had not been. Itwas but yesterday, and she sat again by his side watching the deeplife of his eyes, eyes on which she would never look again. Werethey closed forever? "O, heart so desolate. O, lone and barrenshore, where are the waves of joy? All receded; all; and she seemedto stand upon the beach alone, while a chill ran over her. 

"You are chilly, Miss Wyman, let me close the window. "

But Dawn heard not, saw not; for before her vision appeared a faceall radiant with life, toned by a look of intensest sympathy; whileon the brow glittered a star so radiant that mortal might not gazeupon it. Its rays seemed to enter her very soul, and pierce it withlife and light, bathing it with a flood of joy. It was no longerdark, her face beamed with a strange light when Miss Bernard turnedto call her attention to some pictures which were unfinished. 

"You seemed far away, Miss Wyman, " said she. "It's so like Basil. Hehas such moments of abstraction, and almost takes me with him. "

"I was away for a moment; but what a lovely picture you have here. "

"It's one I am trying to copy, but I make little progress. "

"Truth is not necessarily literal, is it? If so, I should make apoor copyist. "

"It is not; and there is where most persons fail. 'The Divine cannever be literal, and there is in all art a vanishing point, wherethe Divine merges itself into the ideal. ' And that vanishing pointis seen in the human composition, as well as in natural objects, that point where we lose ourselves in the Divine, and merge our ownbeing into that greater, grander being. You are an artist, MissWyman, you group human souls and portray them in all theirnaturalness; not on canvas, for that could not be, but spirituallyto our inner sight. 

"I love art in whatever form it may come to glorify life, for trueart is catholic, beneficent, touching with its mystic wand everysoul within its reach, thrilling even the sluggish and theslumbering with a new sense of the Divine bounty which makes thisworld so lovely and fair. "

Miss Bernard looked grateful for the rich appreciation of her guest, which she had scarce dared hope to find; and from art they driftedto life and some of its present needs, glowing with friendlyrecognition as they advanced and found each possessed with similarviews. Thus do we meet pilgrims on the way, at some unexpected turn, when we thought ourselves alone upon the road. 

"I know by these pictures, Miss Bernard, " said Dawn, "that your lifeis full of practicality. "

"You surprise me, for every stranger thinks that I do nothing else. "

"If nothing else, you would not do this, or anything of a fancifulnature. "

"I see you have had some experience, for very few entertain thatsentiment. "

"I have seen enough to know that those whose time is at their owndisposal rarely accomplish anything, either practical or beautiful. The one helps the other, and one who delves hardest in thepractical, rises ofttimes highest in the ideal. "

"It is true of my own self, and others. My experiences have beenvaried and deep in human life and I have learned that time is of novalue unless it is estimated by the amount of labor that can beaccomplished. When thus estimated, however it may be employed, theresults are productive of good to the individual. "

"How I wish, Miss Bernard, that the whole human family might havejust enough labor and time for improvement which they need. Lifelooks so hard and inharmonious at times, when we see thousandstoiling from early morn till night, with no moments for thought orculture, that we cannot but ask where justice to God's children ismeted out. "

"Life is strangely interspersed with clouds and sunshine. I knowthat somewhere all will find recompense for such seeming losses, andthat what we now look upon as evil will be seen to be good and bestfor all. Did I not know this, Miss Wyman, I should have little heartto go on. Of one thing I am certain, and that is, we must each keepworking, performing the labor of the day, and some time the greatunited good will come from all this individual work. It is but anatom that each one does, but it counts as the grain of sand on thesea-shore, and helps by its infinitesimal portion toward theaggregate. "

"Did you ever feel, Miss Bernard, that extended vision of life'sconditions incapacitated us for real, vigorous service?"

"I have felt at times it might be so, but am convinced that it doesnot; it only deepens our effort and endeavor. "

"I have often thought that I was unfitted for life, from the veryfact that I saw so much to be done. "

"When we see so much it makes us meditate, and that very conditiongives birth to greater power. "

"True, and yet I often wish I did not see so much. Why do I notoftener feel a power somewhat commensurate with the demand andwish?"

"I suppose, because the power is born of the time and the need, andnot a burden to encumber us on our way. It is not of materialnature; cannot be packed and stored away for some occasion that mayarise, but is proportioned and adapted to the kind and quality ofthe requirement. "

"You have explained it just as I felt it somewhere in my soul. Thethought in me needed the quickening of another mind. You do me good, Miss Bernard, every moment. O, how much we need interchange ofthought. "

"We do, indeed, in order to know ourselves, if nothing more. But Isee that you are weary. Stay with us and rest, will you? Newatmospheres are good to throw off fatigue in. "

"I should indeed be delighted to stay here. Was Ralph fond of beinghere?"

"Very; and he is here now. "

"Then you believe in the presence of spirits, and their cognizanceof us, and we of them?"

"Yes, for many years, and have been led by their advice. "

"I am at rest. I find many who believe in communion, but notcommunication. I accept both. "

"And so do I. We will compare experiences, and have many happyhours. How much we shall all enjoy. You must know my brother, MissWyman, for he, too, loved Ralph with all the ardor of his deepnature. "

The next hour Dawn sat alone in communion with self, wondering atthe daily events of life, and her own deepening womanhood. Life toher was growing richer each day. She felt that she was catching thedivine breath, and coming into celestial harmony, which is thesoul's true state. O, what bliss awaits us, when we have passed fromthe exterior to the interior life; a state not of worlds, but ofsoul, where we come into divine submission, and can say, "Thy will, not mine, be done. "

CHAPTER XXX. 

Mrs. Austin left the next day, and the soul-united trio were alone. Only those who know the value of fresh minds and blending qualitiesof heart and spirit, can realize how much they enjoyed together. ToDawn, Basil seemed new and old, --old in acquaintance, as we ever findthose who have pursued the same current of thought; new in the powerof presenting truth to her mind, in fresh combination and coloring. He had all the delicacy of Ralph, with more mental vigor, andbroader experiences. 

His sister, Dawn learned to love better every day, as she witnessedthe exercise of her varied powers, all working in harmony, androunding her life into completeness. 

"I could live here forever, " she exclaimed, one morning, when naturewas sparkling with diamond drops of dew, and singing her morningpraises. 

"Then stay forever, " said a voice, deep and musical, at her side. "Why not stay forever? for we should stay where we live the most, "said Basil, laying his hand on her head. "I suppose, however, the'forever' meant, so long as your life here is replete withenjoyment, did it not?"

"Yes, I suppose that is our definition of 'forever, ' and as it is aportion of it, we may properly call it thus. "

"Then see that you stay your 'forever, ' and make us happy in sodoing, " and his earnest eyes fastening their gaze on hers, told howdearly he loved to have her there. 

The bell rang for breakfast, and the little party brought brightfaces and fresh thoughts to the meal. 

"Would you like to sail upon the pond, to-day?" inquired MissBernard of Dawn. 

"Nothing better, if there are lilies we can gather. "

"There is a plenty, so we shall go. You will see my brother in a newphase to-day, Miss Wyman, for nothing calls forth the sweetness ofhis nature like sailing. "

"I should advise one to go often, if it had that effect, " said Dawnscarce daring to lift her eyes. 

"I cannot afford to be exercised that way often, " he answered, looking, it seemed to her, almost stern. 

"Why?" inquired his sister, laughing. 

"Because it so completely exhausts me to be called out into a high, spiritual state too often. "

"You speak of conditions as compartments, brother. May we not blendthe whole, into one perfect state?"

"We may harmonize and unite, but each distinct faculty must foreverhave a separate action, like the functions of the human body, perfect in parts, to make a perfect whole. "

"I perceive your meaning, yet it does not attenuate me, at least Ido not feel that it does, when the spiritual and affectional partsof my nature are exercised. "

"One reason is because your balancing power is greater than mine;another, there is more spiritual elasticity in women than in men. Women rebound in a breath; men take a more circuitous route. "

"You have explained yourself very well, yet we hope to see youto-day in your best mood. "

"My companions would draw me into that state. When will you both beready?" he asked, rising. 

"At nine o'clock. "

"Then be at the lower garden gate at that hour. " Having give thisdirection, Basil went to give some orders for the day, while Dawnand Beatrice dressed themselves for the sail. 

"Wear something which you do not fear to soil, Miss Wyman; and haveyou a broad-brimmed hat to protect you from the sun?"

"I have. It is one of the staple articles of my wardrobe. I never gofrom home without it. "

They were soon ready, and found Basil at the gate at the appointedhour. The lake lay calm and clear in its woodland setting. Theyglided for miles over its smooth surface, and each felt the other'sneed of silence. A gentle breeze just stirred the waters intoripples, breaking the stillness of the hour. 

"The correspondence of speech, " said Basil, giving the boat a suddenturn, and displaying some drooping willows on the shore which wereduplicating their graceful branches in the clear waters. 

"When we are passive, do not they of the upper world thus throwtheir image upon our minds?" he said, looking earnestly on thereflection of the branches. 

Dawn thrilled at the beautiful analogy, and thought of one unseenwho might be, perhaps, at that time, enjoying the outer worldthrough her tranquil state, if not through her senses. 

"I sailed once on this lake with Ralph. It was such a day as this, "said Basil. "O, how he enjoyed it. He loved the water, everythingfrom brook to ocean. "

"I wonder if he is near us to day?" said Miss Bernard. 

Dawn wept. Her spirit was full of love and harmony, and the tearsgushed forth like waters leaping from joyous cascades. They were nottears of sorrow or of loneliness, but crystal drops of emotion. 

 "There are harmonists whose fingers, From the pulses of the air, Call out melody that lingers All along the golden stair Of the spiral that ascendeth To the paradise on high, And arising there emblendeth With the music of the sky. "

And there they were lifted, and dwelt. 

"We are approaching the lilies now, " said Basil, feeling that hemust break the deep spiritual atmosphere into which they were allpassing. "We must keep on the earth-side a little longer, " he said, playfully. 

"Long enough to gather some of these beautiful lilies at least, "said his sister, as she gazed lovingly into his deep, tender eyes. 

He swung the boat round, and gathering a handful, threw them at thefeet of Dawn. 

"I will twine you a garland, " said Beatrice, taking some of thelilies and weaving their long stems together. 

"No, no. There are but few who can wear lilies alone, Miss Bernard. Some may wear them, but not I. "

"You are not the best judge, perhaps, as to what becomes yourspiritual and physical nature, " said Basil. 

"I know my states, and that lilies are not suited to my presentcondition, " answered Dawn. 

"Since you will not be crowned, Miss Wyman, will you please passthat basket? I think we all need to descend into more normalconditions; we are too sublimated. " Following this suggestion heallowed the boat to float without guidance, while they partook ofthe delicate yet substantial repast. 

The evening carnation tinged the clouds about the setting sun asthey sailed homeward, gathering lilies on their way. The bells froma village near by were ringing, and the sound came distinctly overthe water, musical and sweet to the ear. 

"Do you remember the passage in Pilgrim's Progress, where the bellsin heaven were ringing, over the river?" said Beatrice to them both. 

"I do, " said Dawn, earnestly. "O, that we all were across thatriver. When shall we be there?"

"I suppose when our usefulness is most needed here, " said Basil, ina tone which caused them both to start. 

"Why, brother?"

"Because that seems to be the law of life. All men and women go whenmost needed here; as the rose dies when its tinge is brightest, itsblossom fullest. "

"And that is our time, " said Dawn. 

"And God's, " he answered. 

Dawn found on her dressing table that night a garland of lilies andred roses. 

"Passion and purity, " she said. "O, this will do for human heads. "She laid long that night wondering whether Basil or his sistertwined it. It did not seem like Beatrice, and yet she scarce thoughthe would do it. It lay between them, however, and pondering on that, and the day's keen enjoyment, she fell asleep, nor woke till morn. 

Miss Bernard was very busy that day from necessity, she said, andpartly to balance the state of the day previous. 

"I shall want your company this afternoon for a drive, " she said toDawn; "this morning the library, piano and garden are at yourdisposal, to use at your pleasure. I have domestic duties toperform, and hope you will make yourself as comfortable aspossible. "

So little time, and so much to enjoy. First, Dawn went into thegarden and gathered some flowers for the library; then she played anhour, she thought, but it proved to be two, on looking at the clock, and the remainder of the morning was passed with books. The bellrang for dinner long before she thought it could be time, so quicklyand pleasantly had the hours passed away. 

After dinner and a little rest, they started on their drive. 

"I am going to take you to a little village, or cluster of houses, to see how its peculiar atmosphere affects you, " remarked MissBernard. 

After a pleasant drive through shaded streets and roads, they camein sight of a church spire, then a few cottages here and there, andwere soon in the centre of the village, when Miss Bernard lookedinquiringly to her guest. 

"How frigid and cold it seems here. Why, there is such a desolate, unsocial feeling I should not live out half my days if I had toremain in such a place. Have I indicated its peculiarity?"

"Perfectly. "

"But what is the cause of it? Surely the scenery, so lovely andcalm, ought to inspire the deepest sentiments of social life in thehearts of the inhabitants. "

"One cause is too much wealth; another, too few people. The placeneeds the addition of two or three hundred families to give it lifeand impetus. Each family now here has settled into itself, and grownconventional and rusty. Most of the people have considerable mentalability, but lock and bar their souls and hearts so closely thattheir better feelings cannot flow at all, nor find their legitimatesphere of action. They are all nice, quiet people, read a good deal, adopt theories and fine drawn sentiments in profession, but nevermake them of any use to themselves or others. They have considerablemental sympathy, but none of heart and soul. They seem to live byrule. No spontaneous outgushes of their nature are ever seen, forthey have dropped into a kind of polite externalism, and lost allthe warm magnetic currents of life. "

"But are there not a few exceptions?"

"A very few, but the cold is so severe that it soon freezes outtheir warm life, and the good that they would do is put far fromtheir reach. They are a very pious, church-going people, andinvariably as a class, look upon all forms of entertainment, such asassemblies and theatricals, as out of order, and sinful. Of coursethe young people grow old long before their time, and leave theplace, and you know that one of the saddest sights on earth is alittle village deserted of youth. All this might be remedied by aninfusion of a strong social force; but, one or two families who havelived very different lives, and have taken up their abode in it, cando but little towards so desirable a change. The little hall whichwe are now passing should have a series of assemblies each winter, concerts, private theatricals, meetings for conversation, and thelike, in which all, free of caste limitation, might take part. Nowit is seldom lighted with gay and joyous faces. The young have nospirited life, consequently the old have none; for it's the merrybeating of their hearts, and happy faces which enkindles andrejuvenates the joys of their elders. Everything joyous is lookedupon as innovation, and frowned down. Those who reach out for alittle more life, become frost-bitten, and gladly retire withinthemselves. I have given you a sad picture, I know, but it's true, not only of this but of many places. "

"It is sad, indeed, because 't is true. "

"Notice this little vine-clad cottage, which we are approaching, "said Miss Bernard. 

"It's a lovely spot; I hope the people are adapted to it. "

"They are not, or, rather, are not suited to their conditions. It isoccupied by two maiden ladies, who do not know how to live and getthe most out of life, and each other. They live too close, tooenwrapped within themselves. They should have separate interests, oroccupations; but instead of that, they live in each other'satmosphere every day, go together and return together, see the samepeople at the same time, when their interviews should be varied, andeach at times alone. Thus their magnetisms have become sointerblended, that one has nothing to give the other. Now, MissWyman, after such mutual exhaustion, what can they have for eachother?"

"Nothing but exhaustion; and how many live in the same way, ploddingthrough life, growing old before their time, losing power, ormagnetism, which is power, every day. Such persons close their eyesto any light one might throw upon their path, and I see no way, butfor all such to remain where they are. It is lamentably true thatcomparatively few of the inhabitants of earth are growing people;most of them are content with a slow, dull routine of daily life. I'd rather see persons full of zeal and purpose, even though theirimpulsive nature might lead them to commit many mistakes, ratherthan one whose life seems purposeless. "

"So had I. Motion is life; and in that motion we do many thingswhich we afterwards regret, yet find them to have been thelegitimate results of life; so I suppose we should not regretanything. "

"Nothing which has occurred outside or independent of our will ordesign. "

"It is hard to tell where our own will commences to act; is it not, Miss Bernard?"

"I sometimes question whether we can; yet in order for our lives tobe individualized there must be some point where we lay aside ourpersonal will, disengage it, as it were, from the causes or outsideforces, which seem to be ever propelling us. "

"What do you consider the most quiescent state of the soul?"

"That state in which the mind clearly perceives it could not haveafforded to have dispensed with one personal experience, least ofall, with one sorrow which formed a part of that experience. "

"How few can subscribe to that, save in theory, yet I know by thefew years of my own life, that I could not lose one of myexperiences, least of all, those that deepened the mind; or gave mehigher, broader views of life. I hope I shall live many years, MissBernard, for the more we know of this life, the better preparedshall we be to live and enjoy the other. "

"They are so interwoven that one must really know both well in orderto act and live well in either. "

"Have you ever seen with your interior perceptions the conditions ofmortals who have passed beyond the vale? I have felt their states, but have never seen them. I think you also have, for I have heardfrom your friend, Miss Wyman, of your wondrous power to see attimes, those who have thrown aside the mortal. I should be deeplyinterested in a relation of any of your experiences at some futuretime when you feel inclined to give them; for my faith in theability of spirits to return to earth, and influence us, is as deepand strong as my trust in God. "

"In some quiet hour, I will tell you many of my personalexperiences. It is a strange, dual life I live, and sometimes I feelmyself in such mixed states, that I scarcely know my mooring, if, indeed, I have any. "

"Some do not, I think. "

"I am one, then, of that class; I seem to belong everywhere, and toeverybody. "

"I am quite certain of two, to whom you belong-myself andbrother-but here we are in sight of home, and Basil is waiting forus on the piazza. "

"It is pleasant to have a brother like yours, and to me to look uponthe relation you bear to each other, for usually the relation ofbrother and sister is so ordinary and means so little. "

"He is a noble man and brother, and has done much toward developingmy spirit. I want you to know him well, and learn what a friend andcompanion he can be to woman. "

At that moment they wound around the drive, and he came to meetthem, his face full of kindness and affection, greeting his sisteras though she had been gone weeks, instead of hours only; andbestowing a look of generous hospitality upon Dawn, whose thoughtsseemed to grow richer every moment in his presence. 

CHAPTER XXXI. 

Gladly would Dawn have spent many days with Basil and his sister, but her life was too active to allow her to tarry long in one place. On the evening of the day, the events of which were narrated in ourlast chapter, a note was placed in her hand from Mrs. Austin, stating that she was ill and needed her presence. 

"You cannot go before to-morrow, " broke in both sister and brother, at once. 

"We must make much of this evening, " said Beatrice. 

"And spend it as though it was our last together; for life'sconditions are so uncertain, " remarked Basil, in that far-off tone, in which he often spoke. 

"We may have many experiences before another meeting, yet I hope weshall come together again soon. "

"How shall we spend our evening?" said Miss Bernard to her brother, yet looking at Dawn. 

"Naturally. Let it take its own course. " Their eyes at that instantrested on Dawn, whose features glowed with a heavenly light andsweetness. 

"It is a trance symptom, " said Basil. "Let us keep ourselvespassive. "

The light of the room seemed to vibrate with life, and their bodiesto be so charged with an electric current so etherial that it seemedthat their spirits must be freed from all earthly hold. And thenthere came a calm over all. The features of Dawn seemed to change tothose of one so familiar to them in their early days, that theystarted with surprise. 

"I was on earth known as Sybil Warner, " said a voice which seemednot that of Dawn, and yet her vocal organs were employed to speakthe name. 

"Sybil Warner!" exclaimed Basil, white with emotion, and turning tohis sister, whose palor equaled his own, "Have you ever spoken thatname to her?" he asked, pointing to the upturned face of Dawn. 

"Never! I am equally astonished and interested with yourself. "

"Shall we question her, --the spirit?" But before Basil could replythe spirit spoke:

"You were not aware, I know, that I passed to the spirit-land a fewyears ago; and for that reason, and many others, I come to give youa test. The mention of my name must have been a surprise to you, fornever in the earth-life, did I meet this lady whose organism I nowemploy to speak to you. You would know of my life, after I withdrewfrom the world of fashion. At some other time it shall be given you;enough for the present, that I became world-weary, and, possessingwhat is called second-sight, drifted through life, caring naught forthe heartlessness around me. The life which makes up three-fourthsof the so called happiness of humanity I could not adopt as my own;therefore I was alone, and a wanderer. I was, of course, calledstrange and weird. What cared I, when every-day glimpses of thelarger life were given me, --that life which I was so soon to enterupon. One humble spirit stands by me here, whose name is Margaret, and sends love and gratitude to the beautiful being through whom Inow address you. 

"Friends of my youth, always so good and true to me, I come tomingle my life with yours, and to grow strong with you in good andholy purposes. We of the upper air, do not live alone; we need yourlife, as well as you do ours. This communion is as ancient as time, and will endure throughout eternity. Volumes could not tell of thebroken households united through this light. Search for its hiddentreasures; they are worthy of untiring study. Its glory will notfall into your life; it must be worked out by your own efforts andfound within your own experience. Thus it will become a part of yourimmortal self, and help you on your heavenly way. The skeptic cannotsit and call us who have thrown off the mortal, by words alone, foronly in answer to deep and heartfelt desire do we come and holdcommunion with our earthly friends. They who seek shall find. 

"Of the spiritual condition of those who enter this state ofexistence, I can only say to you now that it is identically the sameafter what you call 'death, ' as before; neither higher nor lower. Progress and happiness here, is as it is with you, dependent uponpersonal effort. We of the spirit-world have rest and unrest, hopeand doubt, according as our states, conditions and surroundingsvary. One of my strongest purposes has been to identify myself toyou, my friends, to-night. I have succeeded beyond a doubt; none canexist in your minds of my identity-my self, for you have neverbreathed my name to this mortal. Again will I come to you and tellyou of our lovely world which we enjoy, each according to individualdevelopment. I dwell in peace. Peace I leave with you. Farewell. "

Dawn passed her hand over her brow, as though trying to recall avanished thought, and slowly came to her normal condition, while herface shone with a light most beautiful to behold. 

"Were you conscious of what has transpired?" asked Miss Bernard. 

"Yes; and yet so absorbed in another life, that my own spirit seemedfloating, yielding to another's will and heart pulsations. This isimperfect, I know, as an explanation, but it is the best I cangive. "

"It is something which cannot be explained, " said Basil, and sheknew by these words that he fully comprehended her. 

O, soul, how thou dost relieve the labor of the mind, seeing withfiner vision into the centre of life, and there beholding thecountless workings of the inner being. What an atom of our self dowe exhibit in our little sojourn here. Those of limited sight say weare thus and so, and pass on. Others measure us by themselves, andcall us dull, or lacking vital life, ignorant of the fact thatthey each take all they know how to appropriate, of our quality. Alifetime would give them no more, if their receptive states did notchange. 

"This experience has given our life a new sweetness, " said Basil, seating himself by Dawn. "We have long believed in these things, buthave never had such proof of their truthfulness as to-night. Weneed not tell you how happy you have made us, or how much we shallalways enjoy your coming; for we enjoy you personally, aside fromthis thrilling power which your organization embodies. I, too, haveexperienced this light, and know well the strange thrill which comesover us, when we meet those who are akin in soul, and assimilatewith our mental and spiritual natures. "

"And how the depth is sounded, when we are brought in contact withthose who are antagonistic, " said Dawn. 

"I presume that those who disharmonize us, aid us to higher states, for they force us out in search of something better. The divineeconomy is at work in every phase of life, and our growth of soul isoften greater in our night of sorrow than in our day of joy; orrather, we reach forth deeper and stronger after the true life, whenthe cloud is upon us, than when the sun shines brightly on our path, just as the tree extends its roots farther into the ground, whenrocked and swayed by the tempest. "

"Yet the sunshine of happiness matures the leaves and branches. Ihave had much sunshine, " said Dawn, speaking the words slowly andtenderly. 

"I would that the storms might pass over you, but in the human lot Iknow they must come. "

She looked into his eyes, and they appeared so like Ralph's justthen that tears came to her own, and she could not force them back. 

"This emotion is not all your own, " said Mr. Bernard. 

Dawn looked up inquiringly. 

"He is here-Ralph, and too often for your good and his own. "

A flush came over her face. 

"I mean no harm, " he continued. "It is true that he will weaken youby too much emotion, which was ever a large component of hisbeautiful and trusting nature. Ralph must put aside his deeptenderness, and come less often, and then he will bring you morestrength when he does come to you. "

"But what if he never left me, and never can, Mr. Bernard?"

"Then you must mingle with those who are his opposite, those who canstrengthen him through you. "

"I never thought of that before. "

"Nor I, Miss Wyman. It is the impression of the moment, but none theless true for that. "

"I feel its truth, and will act upon it; thus a portion of hisdevelopment will come through my associations, be drawn up throughthe earthly conditions that surround me. How little we know of theother life, or of this. "

"The two are so conjoined that a knowedge of one cannot but bringwith it some truth concerning the other. "

The conversation had been of so much interest that they had notnoticed how far into the night it had been protracted, until asudden glance at the clock led Beatrice to suggest that Dawn mightwish for rest preparatory for her journey on the morrow. 

"How kind of you to come so soon, Dawn, " said Mrs. Austin, excitedlyclasping her to her heart. "I am so sad, and only you can relieveme. "

"What is it? Are you or any of your family ill?"

"No, no. Something worse, much worse to me. Sit by me while I tellyou. "

Dawn took the seat, while in hurried, trembling tones, her friendrelated her story. 

"You know my sister Emily, Mrs. Dalton. Well, two days ago Ireceived a letter from her, stating that she had left her husband, and was coming to see me a few days to tell me all, and then gothrough the world alone. "

"Is that all? I thought something fearful had happened, " said Dawn, looking calmly on her friend. 

"All? Can anything be worse than that? Think of the disgrace to us;"and Mrs. Austin burst into a flood of tears. 

"It's no disgrace if they could not harmonize, but the very highestand best thing they could do. "

"O, Dawn; but what will the world come to, if all the married peopleflare up at every little inharmony, and separate?"

"You are not the judge of your sister's course. You do not know whatshe may have passed through. She knows best, and this is her workalone, her cross. I do not advocate that parties should separate, until all means for a harmonious life have been tried. Then, if theyfind there can be no assimilation, it is far better that they shouldpart, rather than they should live a false life. The world in itsdifferent stages of progress, has been sustained thus far and willcontinue to be. We are in the midst of a social revolution, andthere must be many separations, and changes innumerable in everyform and condition of life. Truth and error must be divorced, andwhatever does not affinitize in mind and matter, in the moral orspiritual world, must be separated. This is the inevitable result ofGod's law, and can no more be set aside than any other which he hasordained. You speak of 'disgrace, ' but to me that would come only, when, after employing every possible means to live a full, harmonious life, united, and it is found an impossibility, the twocontinue to live together despite the decree of God, made manifestin their nature, that it is sinful for them to do so. This all iswithin the province of that 'higher law' which many profess tocontemn, but to which all must sooner or later submit. "

"I wish you could talk with Edward; he holds nearly the same views. Will you stay with me a few days, until my sister comes, for I havenot strength to bear this?"

"I will; but would it be agreeable for her to see any one here? Shenaturally desires to see you alone. "

"She loves you, and said in her letter, 'if I could see Dawn, or Mr. Wyman, I think I could gain strength. '"

Dawn had no opportunity to escape, for Mrs. Dalton arrived thatafternoon, unexpectedly, and before night had opened her soul toher. It was while Mrs. Austin supposed she had retired for thenight, that Mrs. Dalton sought the room of Dawn; for the heart, while passing ordeals, seeks another to share or to lessen its woe. 

"I will in a few words tell you all, " she said to Dawn. "Twelveyears ago I was married, to please my parents and friends, to onetoward whom I never felt the thrill which should glow through allour being in the presence of one whom we take into so close arelation. Between us there never can exist the conjugal relation, for we are to each other but as brother and sister. Long have Istruggled with my sense of duty and moral obligation, and thestruggle has done me good. I have found that my life could not comeinto fulness, or my being unfold its powers while a relation not ofmy own choosing was maintained. 

"Henry has a good and fine nature, one worthy of the warmest love ofsome woman. We are both on the same mental plane, yet he has not thestrength to brave the world's opinion. In my atmosphere he seems tosee as I do, and to realize that we should be far betterapart, --better physically and spiritually, --but when he leaves me hebecomes weak and distrustful of himself. I cannot say that I regretmy experience; but something within tells me that it has come to anend. We shall both suffer; I feel it; no ordeal of the soul ispassed without it, but my life will be far better alone, far better. Now can you give me any strength or sympathy? for I know well that Imust walk through life with but little of human friendship. My actis frowned upon by all my relatives, which, of course, only servesto raise my individuality to a higher point, and throws me stilldeeper into self. I have no children, and can easily take care ofmyself. Does my decision seem rash or impulsive to you?"

"Far from it. My warmest sympathies are with you, and with all who, seeing the right, pursue it regardless of what the world may say ordo. A deep, conscientious regard for the best interests of the twomost intimately concerned in such a step, is all that is required. You are under inspiration now, and what you have done will be seento be best for your individual lives. You have left him becausethere was wanting that heart reciprocity, which is the vital currentof conjugal life. The experience was necessary for you, else itwould not have been given you. Look on it as such, as no loss to youor to him, and life with its thousand harmonies will flow to you. Ifthe married could but see that the moment they are not in spiritualharmony they are losing life and strength, and in order to avoid theloss would seek a change of some kind, --such change as their interiorwisdom may determine, --earth would be a paradise to-day, and familyrelations what God designed they should be. But it is usually thecase, that, instead of a mutual discernment of this truth, one onlyperceives it, and it follows that it is best the evil should for atime be borne, for the one of smaller vision would only be filledwith jealousy and unrest at the suggestion even, of a change. Thereare innumerable families that this very moment should change theirrelations. Old elements should be superseded by new; conditionswhich have surrounded them so long that they have become powerlessfor good and powerful for evil, so far as physical and spiritualstrength is concerned, should be radically changed. We need arevolution in social life, an amendment to the constitution whichgoverns society. Have this right, and all will be right, --politics, religion, and all else. Slowly these truths are being unfolded tothe comprehension of the human mind. Some have seen them for years;and they whose views of life have been broadened and deepened by theadoption of a spiritualistic faith, long since became familiar withthem. Such are now catching glimpses of the coming light, and havethe assurance that ere long will arise the perfect day. "

"You have done me good, Miss Wyman; and now there is but one personto whom I wish to speak my thoughts, and that is-"

"My father. "

"You are right; for he can give me what I so much need-moralstrength. "

"I think your next step will be to return with me, " said Dawn, inthat cordial and positive manner which made it seem as though therewas really no other step, or at least that it was the first to betaken. The next day Mrs. Dalton and Dawn left together, and afeeling of relief came to Mrs. Austin, for outside of her ownjudgment and prejudice, she seemed to feel that it would do hersister good. Thus are we often obliged to leap mental barriers, layaside preconceptions, and accept what does not strictly accord withour reason, for the soul has larger orbits than those of mere mentalstates. 

It was almost as though they had never met before, so delightful wasthe re-union between Dawn and her father. Would that all might learnhow closely we may come together by bodily separation, paradoxicalas this may seem at first thought. 

"I have been very happy, father, while away, and have brought aneedy soul to you for life, " said Dawn, nestling close to thatstrong, protecting form, and gazing into his eyes, as though shewould infuse his being with her own life. 

"I am glad you have been happy, and that your happiness does notabate, but increase by change of states. Dawn, my own darling, I sawyour mother last night in my dreams. She brought to you a bluemantle, which signifies rest and protection, a rest not of thisworld. She enfolded you in it, and as you passed through the dark, sunless places of earth, the mantle grew brighter and brighter, until its color almost dazzled the human eye. There were many whocould not gaze upon it, and turned away. Others stood until theblinding effect passed, and then followed you with their gaze. Thismantle of blue signifies inspiration, as well as rest. They whoseinner light is strong, will look upon the truths you utter, andappreciate them, while others, less strong, will turn away, blindedby their brilliancy, and repair again to their old and worn ideas. Blue is of heaven; its quality is not of earth. May it never fadewhile this mantle enwraps my child. " Mr. Wyman remained silent forsome moments, and then remarked: "Now, if you will bring Mrs. Dalton, whom I have not seen for many years, I shall be happy tomeet her. "

Dawn found her weeping bitterly, and folded her arms about her untilthe sobs ceased. 

"I am not presentable, had I not better wait and see him to-morrow?"she said, leaning her head upon Dawn's bosom. 

"No; go now. This is just the time for you. You need his counsel andsympathy most, now. Come, " and she led her like a child into hispresence. 

He did not meet her with formality, but took her hand, and led herto a seat, then sat beside her. Dawn left, and soon found her mentalpoise. 

Words grew into sentences, thought leaped after thought, and newlyperceived truths came to the mind of Hugh with strange and wonderfulrapidity, as he sought to calm and console the tempest-tossed mind. A blessing descended on the communion, and when they parted, onecould not tell which face shone the brightest. 

Mrs. Dalton laid down that night with stronger purposes of life, anda deeper conviction that the step which she had taken was the rightone, though all before her was dark and unknown. 

"Give all to her that she calls forth, and inspires in you, for thatis her right, " said Mrs. Wyman, when her husband told her of hisinterview with Mrs. Dalton. 

How many wives of the present day are deep and strong enough toutter such sentiments? It was no lip phrase, for it came from herheart-a true heart, which pulsated to human needs. 

"Noblest of women!" her husband was about to exclaim, but instead ofspeech, he pressed her to his heart, and then turned and wept. 

Why had woman so blest his life, and showered so many gifts upon it, when thousands were dying for one blessing? It was an orison whichrose to heaven from his heart that night, and when he laid his headupon his pillow, a rich resolve stirred his being to its depths, that then and ever, his best self should be dedicated to the serviceof humanity. Pastors sounded the name of God, and proclaimed whatthey called, "his word, " far and near over the land, and were paidin gold for their speech, but few men lived, acted and spoke likeHugh Wyman. Few reached the human heart so closely, or breathed moreconsolation into it than he. Old and young, rich and poor, receivedblessings from his hand and from his cultured mind, each accordingto his needs. He placed in the hands of those who groped in darkenedways, a light which guided them to the temple of truth, and goingout into the highways and hedges of life, invited all to the feastwhich his heavenly father had spread out for every child ofhumanity. 

CHAPTER XXXII. 

"I met Howard Deane a few nights since. He appears to be sadly outof health and somewhat consumptive, " remarked Mr. Wyman to his wife, a few evenings subsequent to Mrs. Dalton's departure. 

"And the reason is quite apparent. He lives too closely in oneatmosphere. He needs a change of surroundings, mental and physical. "

"No one of our course of thinking can fail to perceive that thelong, uninterrupted companionship of his wife, she being naturallyweaker than himself, has so drawn upon his magnetism, that hisvitality has become thoroughly exhausted, " remarked Hugh. 

"I do not doubt that it is so. His nature is large and social, andhe requires a circle of varied minds to keep him in a good, healthycondition of body and spirit, as we all do; for though they may bethose who can unite with one alone, and lose nothing by suchexclusiveness, yet generally, the larger the orbit of life, thebetter the results that accrue to both, and the greater thedevelopment of each. 

"You are right; yet how closely we have lived together, Arline, since we were married. "

"Because we both had large experiences and had mingled in manyspheres, previous to our union. "

"Right again; ever right, " and he gazed on her with tenderestemotion, while she wondered if the time would ever come when sheshould not hold him as she then did. The thought made her tremble, so deeply did she love this man who supplied her nature so richlyevery day with that element of manliness which all women need, butso few receive. 

"I will invite Howard here to spend an evening, " said her husband, little knowing how tenderly the heart of his wife was going out tohim, at that moment. 

The next evening Mr. Deane came with Hugh to tea. Mrs. Wyman wassurprised to see how pale and care-worn he appeared, and longed toreach his mind, that she might give him that life which he so muchneeded. 

Mrs. Deane, after the recovery of their child, finding her husband'stenderness revived towards her, settled into her own ways ofthinking and living more completely than ever. For a time she withher husband lived in a state of undivided love. When that passedaway, she was the same exacting woman as before, allowing him nolife but what he gathered from her; no thoughts but her own to liveupon. In such an atmosphere he drooped, and would have died, but forthe timely aid of Mr. Wyman and his wife; those truth-loving soulswho cared not for the popular sentiment when principles were to bemaintained, and who stood up courageously for the truth, regardlessof those who turned sneeringly aside from them, or ridiculed andmisrepresented their views. 

Mrs. Deane's course amply illustrated one of the evils of ourpresent marriage system, the removal of which will cause confusionand perhaps some wrong doing. But we have confusion and wrongs atpresent, and all history testifies to the truth that revolutions inpolitical, religious and social institutions, though seeminglydisastrous for the time, have been followed by better conditions forhumanity, and advanced mankind to higher states. In a relation sointimate, so holy, as the union of two souls, human law has butlittle to do. When it enters as an external agent, with its rites inconformity with custom, this human law is liable to err, but thedivine law which governs internal relations can never err. Hence, marriage should be subject only to this divine or higher law. Thequestions which grow out of this statement are many, none of whichare probably greater, or about which the public pulse is moresensitive than those relating to property. But they, too, may havehad their day, and higher conditions as regards material wealth, beready to descend upon us. Of woman's right to be paid according toher labor-of her right to the college and the various professions, her eternal right to follow her inspiration, and become just whatshe feels she is fitted for, and thus fulfil her destiny, we havebeen in the dark, and have groped and stumbled; and our theory andpractice of marriage have been as imperfect as all others. Whateverhas been, has been right and proper for its time, but now a changeis called for. The advancement of the race demands it. No more shallone man amass great wealth, and in so doing leave thousandspenniless; no more shall politicians, who twaddle and toady foroffices, deprive themselves and others of manhood and all that isnoble; no more shall the pastor love his money, his position, andthe praise of men, better than an opportunity to speak the truthfearlessly. 

We are living in a great age, and the age demands great men andwomen, who dare brave the public voice and popular side, if thatvoice and side are wrong. We would not confound daring with heroism, or mistake boldness for bravery. Nor should we throw our truths awayupon the dull and listless. There are seekers enough, who, when theyreceive these gems of truth, will value them. Let those who possess, learn to know when and where to utter them. Then will the darknessflee away, for every ray of light aids the advance of the goldenage. 

Mrs. Wyman did not speak to Howard Deane of himself, but uponsubjects of equal interest to both, until of his own accord, healluded to his own state. Hugh left the room to write letters, leaving them to that close communion which is never perfect with athird person present. 

"I think disease often commences in the mind, and acts upon the bodyuntil that may succumb to its power, " said Mrs. Wyman, in answer toa remark of Mr. Deane upon his bodily state. 

"Do you think mine is of the mental?" he inquired, looking at her soearnestly that he seemed to penetrate her very being. 

"I do. "

"What has caused it, can you tell me?"

"I think the need of cheerful and varied society. Your nature islarge, social in its proclivities, and has great needs. It istherefore wrong for one person to claim all of your society, andinjurious to you to grant it. "

"I know it, and, feel the truth, but society allows me no communionor association with women. I need their society more than all elsejust now-their thought, their inspiration. "

"Take whatever comes in your way, when it is in order, and letsociety quibble. How is the world to be made any better, if each onegoes on in the old way for fear of speech. "

"Yet we cannot explain our course to those who do not perceive thesetruths, and our innocent enjoyment may be misconstrued. "

"Can the higher ever be revealed to the lower? Can the lessunderstand the greater? Never. Through the moral and natural worldsno recognition takes place, save when the lower comes up to a higherplane. The rose which needs more sunshine, more air, can neverexpect to reveal its need to, or be understood by one of the fungusorder. We must work and wait, and expect to be misunderstood everyday of our lives. We may be in order and in perfect harmony to somehigher law, the relation of which to ourselves it is impossible toexplain to our brother, our sister, or our friend. There would be noindividual life, if there were no separate harmonies and methods ofaction. You need, my friend, more of woman's sphere to help you tolive in strength and harmony with the one you are united to. She ismentally strong, and gives you of your own quality too much. Findyour balance, your mental and spiritual poise, by mingling withthose who supply your deficiency. "

"You have given me life, Mrs. Wyman, and hope. If I had yourindependent mind, I might be my own helper. "

"I may be the one to give you independence of thought and action, or, rather, to stimulate yours, for all have some independence. "

"I feel stronger, now, bodily, than I have for a long time, " hesaid, looking at his watch, "and hope I shall have the pleasure ofseeing you again soon. "

"Come whenever you feel to; you will always be welcome. "

They bade each other good night; he, refreshed and encouraged by herthoughts and words; she, happier, as all are, by extending theirlife. 

But we must turn another leaf, and look at life as it appears to thenarrow-minded and opinionated. 

"You have been gone a long time, Howard; I'm very tired, " were thewords that came from the lips of Mrs. Deane, as she looked at theclock, which was just striking ten as her husband entered. 

"Not so very late, my dear. I am sorry your head aches; would younot feel better to go out a little oftener?"

"Howard, you know I am not able. Besides, I'm weary of society. I donot find any congenial souls here; the most of them are growing soradical I feel heart-sick and weary whenever I think of minglingwith them. No, Howard, I must be left to myself; my home and myhusband are all on earth I care for. By the way, " she said, a triflebrighter, "have you heard that Hugh Wyman and his wife have been themeans of separating a Mrs. Dalton and husband? I do wish that manwas at the bottom of the Red-"

"Mabel!"

"Why do you always flare up so when I mention his name? I do believethat in your soul you care more for him than all the good men inthis village. "

"I do. "

"You do? Then you are no better than he, in my opinion, and others, Howard; you will ruin your reputation if you associate with him. "

"I wish I was half as good as he is; that I had one fraction of hisindependence and manhood to help me through life. O, Mabel, layaside your prejudices, and learn to see life for yourself, withunclouded vision. "

"You would have me mingle, then, with people who have no respect forthe holy law of marriage; and people who talk as coolly ofseparation of men and women as they would of parting animals?"

"Who told you they were the cause of their separation?"

"Mrs. Ford. She spent an hour with me this evening. "

"And you believe her, and think that she has all the facts of thecase?"

"I do. She is a christian woman, and leads a blameless life. "

Mr. Deane felt the peaceful state he had that evening gained, fastleaving him, and he sought his bed, hoping to lose in sleep theinharmony that swept over him. He did not, however, and morningfound him unrefreshed and weak, the mind restless, seeking forsomething which it could not grasp, though within its reach. 

"I think I will not go to the office to-day, " said he, after tryingto swallow a little breakfast. 

"If you are too ill to work, you surely need a doctor. I shall sendfor Dr. Barrows when Charley goes to school, " said his wife. 

"Do no such thing. I am not sick. I only need rest. "

"You would have your own way, Howard, if you were dying; but Ireally think you do look ill, and ought to have something done. "

That "something" she could not do. She could not reach the mindwhich needed ministering to, because she had kept her own soimpoverished. 

Reader, did you ever have one attempt to do anything for you, andwhile the labor was being performed, have your nerves strained totheir highest tension, and the assistance thus kindly and obliginglyrendered, wearying you far more than to have done all yourself? Suchwas somewhat the way in which Mrs. Deane administered to herhusband's needs that day. She made him realize every step she took. She called him a hundred times from his meditations into her sphereof thought, concerning some petty detail or minor question. Sheprofessed to take care of him, but kept him ever caring for her. 

"Howard, these blinds need new fastenings. Howard, the children'sshoes are wearing out. Howard, I wonder if my new dress will fit; Ifear it's spoiled. Howard, I must have fifty dollars to get thechildren's hats and dresses for next month, I'm behind-hand now. Nowyou are at home, do you suppose you could help me arrange somemagazines I want bound?"

"I'm tired to death. I've been up and down stairs twenty times, atleast, this morning, " she said, as she handed him some drink whichhe asked to have brought up when convenient. All these questions, suggestions and requests added to his weakness, so that by night, heconcluded he would have been far better off at his office. 

When night came Mrs. Deane was too weary to bathe his aching head. They occupied, as they should not, the same room, and exhausted eachother, and arose in the same debilitated state in the morning. 

"Yesterday was a most fatiguing day to me, " said his wife. "Are youwell enough to go to the office, to-day, Howard?" He thought he was, and thanked heaven that he had strength enough to get there. 

It was no wonder he sought what gave him life and strength. It washis right, and he followed the strong impulse of his being, and wentoften to the home of Hugh Wyman. He felt greatly relieved onlearning that Hugh and his wife had no knowledge of the separationof Mr. And Mrs. Dalton, until it was over; and could not realizethat it made no difference to them what judgment public opinionpassed upon them. They looked only to the right and justice of themovement; he had not sufficient strength thus to brave theopposition of popular error. His vital life, the real breath of hismanhood came to him only in the inspiring presence of Hugh andArline. In their atmosphere he grew, therefore he felt drawn to themby a power that he could not withstand, and would not if he could. 

The years swept on with majestic step. Many went over the silentstream; among them Mrs. Temple and her two children, leaving thehome of Herbert desolate and cheerless. Dawn stood beside her to thelast, and saw her go down to the valley, and then she could almostfeel the pulsing of her new birth. 

"How fast they travel home, " said Hugh, when the rosy lips weresealed forever, and the poor stricken husband looked on the formthat would never more spring to greet his coming. 

"Where is she now?" Again and again the question would force itselfupon Herbert's mind, until his heart so wearied with its longwatching, and waiting, and hoping, sank overpowered with griefwithin him. Three days had worked a sad change in his family, bythat disease which was laying parents and children in one grave, andleft few households unvisited. 

We have been so poorly schooled in the past, that it is not strangewhen one passes from this world, or state of existence, to another, that we should speak of them as having gone away, little realizingthat loving hearts can never be separated: that what we call spiritlife is but a natural continuation of this, with no "river" runningbetween. 

Words could not add to the impressiveness of the scene, when, as thefriends met to look their last upon those they should know no moreas of earth, the grief-stricken husband and father bowed himself andkissed the cold lips of the forms that once enshrined the spirits ofhis wife and children. Many mourners were there beneath the shadowof the cloud that had not as yet disclosed its silver lining; butwhen was read that beautiful psalm: "The Lord is my shepherd, Ishall not want, " every soul was lifted into the region of faith;that faith so calm and comforting to

 "Hearts that are broken with losses, And weary with dragging the crosses, Too heavy for mortals to bear. "

It seemed to Herbert to be Florence that they placed in the earth;he could not separate her from that lovely form of clay. How couldhe see her lowered into the grave, and his two darlings beside her?How bear this great grief? Not alone. Only by the help of Him whoseways are not as ours, and who doeth all things well. Long was thenight of sorrow; it seemed as though day would never dawn, so deepand chastening was his grief. 

"I would I had your faith to sustain me, " he said to Hugh, a fewweeks after the burial. 

"It's the only thing which takes the sting of death away, and makesthe tomb but a passage to the skies, " was the response. "I would notbe without its blessed, consoling influence for all this world cangive, aside from the light which we daily receive into our livesfrom those who have passed the vale. "

"Are they not about us the same, whether we believe in theirpresence or not?"

"No, not the same. You are not the same to your friend who haslittle or no faith in your life, and your motives of action, as youare to one who has full trust and belief. "

"No, I am not. In order, therefore, that our unseen friends mayfully aid us, we must believe in their presence and ability to doso. Christ could not help some because of their unbelief. "

"Even so. He who gives us no heed, has no communion with us. But thefaith of which I speak, is not gained at once; it is of a slow andnatural growth. Again and again must we thrust our hand through thedarkness, ere we grasp the anchor. Often will the cloud envelope us, and all seem dark as night. There will be hours and days whenFlorence will come into your atmosphere, bringing her own state ofloneliness and longing to be felt by you; days when you must bothmourn that the veil is dropped between you; but above all, the sunof spiritual light will shine gloriously. "

"Then you think that they suffer after they have gone?"

"I certainly do. It is perfectly reasonable to suppose that theymourn for us as we for them. Reverse the case. Suppose that you werewhere she now is, and that she were here, and that you made strongefforts to approach her, and having thus far succeeded, endeavoredto impress her with the fact of your presence. If she recognizedyou, would you not feel rejoiced? and if she did not, would you notfeel grieved, and all the more so, if instead of honestly admittingself-evident facts, she sought to evade them?"

"True; all that would be most natural. I have never thought of it inthat light before. Do you think I may sometime feel and know thatFlorence is with me?"

"I trust, indeed, I know you will. In some unexpected manner somehuman instrument may be used to give your mind the test it needs. "

"Will it be real to me? O, tell me if I shall feel and know that itis really her?"

"If genuine there will be no doubt in your mind. All this issomething which must be experienced, and not told. A thrill willcome to your heart and brain which you have never felt before, whenyou first realize the possibility of our departed friends communingwith us, and this because the truth will be more intimately relatedto your inner self than anything you have before felt. Dawn is toomuch affected by the death of Florence, yet, to see her; too much inher own state. When she returns to herself-becomes disengaged fromthe anxious condition of Florence, she will see and bring her incommunion with you; yet a stranger can do better, and give your mindmore satisfactory evidence of her ability to speak to you. "

"One of the conditions of this communion has been, that we mustreceive it through strangers. This robs it of its sacredness to me. "

"You will never have that feeling after having once felt herpresence through another. You will feel the blending of humanitymore sensibly, and see how we are all conjoined, that there is verylittle that is yours or mine exclusively; yet we hold all things, and all hearts that inspire us. Human souls belong to God andhumanity. It follows not, because one is near us, blessing us withher daily presence, that she is ours, wholly. She belongs tohumanity, and becomes ours through dissemination. It is like a truthwhich we give unto others; it is more within us, the more we give itforth. Whatever thrills me with joy, is far more to me when I havetold it to a multitude. It is the same with those we love; the morehumanity claims them, the greater they are to mankind, the more theybecome to us. Florence was more to you, because she was beloved byDawn and myself. If she was much to you here, how full and repletewith love will be her ministration to you now. Her immortal spiritis with you each hour, and will act on you through all time. Whenyou know that she is with you, you will feel the thrill of her joy, and your hours will be greatly relieved of their present loneliness. It is strange that for so many years we have laid our friends in thetomb and sat sorrowing at its door. But Spiritualism has rolled awaythe stone, as the angel did of old. It comes with its teachings andhumble appeals to earnest, truthful souls. It reaches our dailywants, and is to us a life-book, not a musty, worthless creed. It isa stream of life, flowing from heart to heart; not for one only, notfor a few, but for all. It winds by eternal habitations, and flowsto the city of our God. Happy is he who drinks from this lowlystream, so untainted by the opinions of men, and clear and crystal. Herbert! happy will thy day be when thou hast tasted of its livingwaters. "

CHAPTER XXXIII. 

"Then you do not wholly ignore the church, " said the village pastorto Hugh, after a long and earnest conversation upon religious andsocial topics. 

"I do not. But I deny that its limitations and its dogmas cancontrol the growing mind, and believe it to be wrong for the churchto assume or desire to do so. As a great, leading guidance topopular thought, I would combine the church with the theatre-. "

"The theatre!" exclaimed the minister, holding up both hands in holysurprise. "You don't mean that we should turn the sanctuary into aplay-house? I tremble for the age, sir, indeed I do, if such viewsare to be tolerated. "

"Not turn the church into a theatre, but combine the two, and withthe good that is to be derived from each, form a perfect temple. "

"But the theatre is a temple of evil, " remarked the pastor. 

"Not so. Because it has at times been perverted and made tocontribute to what we denominate 'evil, ' is no reason why thetheatre should be condemned. For the same reason we might condemnthe church, for it, also, has in some periods of its history beenmade the means of base oppression and wrong-doing; it has drenchedfields with blood, and slaughtered innocent beings by thousands. "

"But that was not the true church. "

"Neither in the former case, was it the true theatre; for thetheatre, when confined to its legitimate purpose, is the greatestmoral instructor the world has ever known. Were you accustomed tovisit the theatre, as I know you are not, you would find that thetriumph of the right is always applauded by the audience, while thetricks and momentary successes of evil-doers are invariablycondemned. This proves more correctly the tendency of the theatrethan all the homilies of those who spin fine-threaded arguments fromthe pulpit and the press. Why, my dear sir, the church itself isunconsciously passing to the theatre, and the theatre equallyunconsciously passing to the church. Witness the fairs, the schoolexhibitions, the tableaux, and the private dramatic entertainmentsof the former, and the Sabbath evening services within the walls ofthe latter. Does not this condition point to the ultimatecombination I have spoken of?"

The pastor sat for a long time in deep thought. At length he lookedup to Hugh, as though relenting from his inward desire to be true towhat was obviously the right, though contrary to public opinion, andsaid:

"I hope the day of its coming is far distant, Mr. Wyman; I fear yourviews would destroy all religious sentiment, and make us a godlesspeople. "

"What do you consider 'religion' sir?" responded Hugh; "merelyattending to the outer forms, or living an earnest life?"

"Living a blameless life, to be sure, while attending to the outerforms; not forsaking the assembling of ourselves together. "

"Which is right, but which is the very smallest part of thechristian's battle. What I call a religious life, is paying tributeto all the arts of living. Everything which contributes to thehealth and happiness of mankind, is to me of vital importance, and achief part of my religion. My christianity leads me to build thebest house I can with my means, and to furnish it in good taste, that the sentiment of its inmates may be uplifted. It extends toevery department-to the food, the garden, the dress, the amusements, to every social want; in fact to everything which elevates thestandard of life. Religion to me, is living in all that elevates, therefore I love the temple in which we all congregate, and believeit ought to be decked with every form of art. "

"I think you are right, thus far; I do not, myself, like the barrenwalls of the present style of churches. "

"That is one step; you have taken that; I have taken another, andsee that the drama is as much a part of God's method of elevatingmankind as flowers and music. Ere long you will see it as I do. Thechurch of the present day is too cold for me; it does not call forththe deep sentiment of my being, therefore I come near to God throughNature. When the church is divested of theology, and has enshrinedthe beautiful within its walls, I shall be happy to be among thosewho 'assemble, ' for all need the magnetic life of assemblies tocomplete the cycle of their existence. I do not like a fractionallife, one which seizes some parts and discards others. In thepresent age of transition, the best minds are thrown out of thesanctuary, waiting for the perfect temple, where they can worship infulness of soul and purpose. "

"Yet all are better for the assembling, are they not, even in itsimperfect state, as you term it?"

"It is well and good for all, but not so essential to some as toothers. Some natures are so alive to sentiment and life, so infusedwith religious thought, that they live deeper and more prayerful, more Godly in one hour, than others do in a hundred years. Everyemotion reveals to such the presence of the Deity. To them each houris one of worship, and every object a shrine. No words of man canquicken their feeling to a brighter flame, for such commune withGod. The dew and the flower, speak unto them of their father'sprotecting care. The manifestations of their daily lives, repletewith heavenly indications, tell that God is nigh. 'Day unto dayuttereth speech, ' and to such all hours are holy. The heart which isattuned to life, is full of worship. Every manifestation, whether ofjoy or woe, brings God near; and the world becomes the temple. Religion should come through life and be lived. It is in the dress, in the kitchen, in the parlor, in books, in theatres, in fact in allforms of life. Theology is dead to the people. They want the living, vital present, with no dogmas nor sectarian limitations to keeptheir souls from growing. "

The pastor felt the force of Hugh's remarks, and the weakness of anyargument he might bring to bear against them. The truth keptpressing upon his mind, and he felt that he might be obliged torelinquish his long-cherished opinions. 

Thus we lose, day by day, one opinion after another. They wear away, and we lay them aside like worn garments that have served theirpurpose. The greatest error of the past has been the belief thatopinions and surroundings must be continuous and unchanging. When welook to Nature we learn a different lesson. She is ever changing andreproducing. The world's opinion holds too many back. One dare notgo forward and live out his or her life, for fear of a neighbor orfriend, and in this way is retarded the full flow of inspiration toall. Strength in one, is strength in many; and he who dares tostrike out in an individual path, has the strength of all who admirethe bravery of the act. Time is too precious to pattern; let eachone seek to do his own peculiar work, for each soul has a separatemission upon earth, though we may all labor apparently in the samedirection. Of a thousand persons taking the same journey, each wouldsee something which none other would. Each soul we meet in life hasa new voice, a new truth to utter, or a new method of presenting analready known truth to our minds. Each arouses a new sentimentwithin us, touches some tender emotion delicately, while anothergrates on our senses like harsh music, until we go searching forharmony and rest and we find treasures of thought within us which weshould never have known had we not thus been driven to the depths ofour being. All help us, then, to higher states; those whotranquilize us, and those who disharmonize us till we fain wouldwithdraw to our soul's innermost for peace. We must look at life onthe grandest scale, if we would find rest. A limited vision gives usnought but atoms, fragments floating in seeming disorder; but themountain view gives the spirit all the vales and hills, and showsthem as parts of an extensive landscape, a complete and perfectwhole. 

"I think it will be a long time before I can see these things as youdo, " remarked the pastor, after a long period of thought. "I fearyour radicalism on on this and some other questions, Mr. Wyman, willinjure society, if broadly disseminated. "

"I do not think that you understand my views upon marriage, any morethan you comprehend them on religious subjects. "

"I hear that you give the fullest license to men and women, to severtheir bonds and unite themselves to others. "

"In one sense I do, sir; in another, nothing can be farther from me. I boldly assert everywhere, that men and women should not livetogether in daily inharmony, and give birth to children to inheritand perpetuate their angularities and discordances. You, yourself, if you spoke without prejudice and fear of the world, would say thesame. "

"But ought they not to try to live in harmony?"

"Most surely; but what if they cannot; if the magnetic life isconsumed? If those whose union is so, merely in a legal sense, feelthat in continuing that union they are daily losing life, power, andmental force, they should surely separate. I had much rather seesuch bonds severed than to witness the soul-harrowing sight I doevery day of my life-parties fearing public opinion, and draggingeach other down, living false and licentious lives-"

"What, sir! Licentious lives?"

"Certainly. Licentiousness is not all outside of wedlock. Every dayand hour, children are being ushered into the world without love ortrue parentage-left in the hands of hired, and often vicious andignorant servants, while those who should care for them, spend theirtime in folly and pleasure, --children undesired, enfeebled mentallyand physically, with no love-sphere to enfold them-offspring oflegalized prostitution, nothing more nor less. "

"I think myself, sir, " said the pastor, deliberately, "that manychildren are born thus, but how does this evil affect the other formof licentiousness, which is so on the increase?"

"It is very closely allied to it. Let married parties see that theygive birth to pure, harmonious children, and the 'social evil' isblotted out forever. The evil of our life to-day is traceable tooffspring, born of false and foolish mothers-of wild and recklessfathers. "

"It's a great evil, I own, but how can we avert it?"

"By making our marriages pure and holy, and by changing ourrelations after the life of each is exhausted. "

"But what would become of the children?"

"That is another question, and one which would settle itself. Theorder of all life is by steps; these we cannot overleap. One truthenfolds another. If the marriage system was perfect, or the relationbetween the sexes understood, we should not see, as we now do, manifestations which force us continually to question the existenceof a God, and to be ever in search of the disturbing cause. Something is needed, sir, in our present social system to make uspure, and that something, is less restraint, and more personalfreedom. We never become pure under restraint. All who know me, knowthat I seek to bring the sexes into pure and holy communion ofspirit. Walls and partitions have ever produced clandestinemovements. Boys and girls in schools should not be separated, butshould meet each other daily; their studies, their sports be one asfar as possible, thus blending their natures, not hividing them. Ifmen lived more in the society of women they would be astonished tofind how much purer and higher-toned their nature would become; howthe mental assimilation was refining their wilder dispositions, their grosser passions. If such was your experience, you would tellme in one year that men and women do not mingle enough. "

"I think you mean well, " said the pastor, "and if I had your faithin personal freedom, I should almost dare to hope the earth mightsee better days. "

"I wish you had my trust in man, and the God-life which is withinhim, waiting to be out-wrought through his deeds. But my faithcannot be transmitted to another; it is a matter of inward growthwith each. It comes to us when our souls soar above the labarynthianforest of opinions and theories, high into the clearer atmosphere, untainted by the dust and smoke of our daily lives. Yes; on themount must the vision ever come. We must ascend, if we would lookbeyond; but no words of ours can portray to another the glory of thescenes we there behold. "

Hugh paused, and his face seemed glowing with light. The pastor wenthome to think over the words and thoughts of an earnest soul-wordswhich sank deep within him, and displaced many of his own opinions. 

"I do believe Hugh Wyman is a good man, after all that is said ofhim, " he remarked to his wife as he opened his Bible that night forthe closing service of the day. 

CHAPTER XXXIV. 

The years passed by and left Dawn steadily and peacefully doing herwork, giving men and women each day extended views of life anddeeper consciousness of their own powers. By the aid of friends andher father, she had succeeded in establishing a home for orphans, ofboth sexes, in a wild and beautiful locality, where all the variedfaculties of their minds could expand. All were required to work acertain number of hours each day; then study and recreationfollowed. She became daily firmer in her belief that bringing thesexes together was the only way to make them pure and refined. Theirlabors in the garden and field were together; as also were theirstudies and lessons. There was a large hall, decorated with wreathsand flowers, where they met every evening and sang, danced, andconversed, as they were disposed; while each day added to theirnumber. The boys were trained in mechanical as well as inagricultural pursuits, and it was pleasing to witness their dailygrowing delicacy of deportment towards the other sex, as well as thetone of love and sympathy which was growing stronger between them. 

Dawn did not succeed in her effort at once; the majority laughed atand ridiculed her plan, but faithful to her inspiration, shecontinued on, and a few years witnessed the erection of a large, substantial building among the tall pines and spreading oaks. Parents who had passed "over the river, " came and blest her laborsfor their children; and they who, though living on earth, had lefttheir offspring uncared for, wept when they heard of the happy homeamong the verdant hills, where their children were being taught theonly religion of life-the true art of living. 

The leading idea and aim was to educate these children into aharmonious life, and to preserve a proper balance of the physicaland mental by an equal exercise of both. The result of her effortswas most gratifying and encouraging to Dawn. Her success wasapparent to all, even to those who at first sneered at her course. The mutual respect which was manifest among them; the quick, discerning minds, and the physical activity; the well-culturedfields, the beautiful lawns, the gardens brilliant and fragrant withflowers, the neatly arranged rooms, the books, the pictures and thevarious means of study, amusement and exercise: and around all, thegentle and loving spirit of Dawn, hovering like a halo of heavenlyprotection, combined to form a scene which no one could fail toadmire. It taught one lesson to all, and that was: make childrenuseful and you will make them happy. 

Basil and his sister came often to the home, where Dawn seemed topreside like a guardian angel. It had been the wish of their livesto see such a home for orphans, a wish they never expected to seefulfilled. They gave largely to its support, and were neverhappier than when within its walls. Mrs. Dalton, whom the worldpitied so generously, here found her sphere, as did many others whohad felt long unbalanced. She taught the children music, drawing, and the languages, and extended her life and interest throughout thedwelling, to every heart therein. Thus the maternal was satisfiedeach day, and each hour she felt less need of a union which the wiseworld predicted she would enter into by the time her divorce wasgranted. Beatrice came and took Dawn's place whenever she wished togo to her home to refresh herself in the abiding love of her fatherand mother. 

"I never thought sich a beautiful thing could be on airth, " saidAunt Polly Day, one of the eldest of the town's people, to Dawn, thefirst time that she met her after the "home" was established. "Seemsas though the angels had a hand in't, child, and only ter think, you're at the head o'nt. Why, I remember the night, or it wase'en-a-most day though, that you was born. Beats all natur how timedoes fly. It may be I shan't get out ter see yer home fer them e'erlittle orphans, in this world, but may be I shall when I goes upabove. Do you s'pose the Lord gives us sight of folks on airth, whenwe're there, Miss Wyman?"

"I know he does. I feel that I have been helped by the angels to dothis great work. "

"Well, it's a comfortin' faith, to say the least on 't; and I don'tcare how much you and your pa has been slandered. I believe yer goodfolks, and desarving of the kingdom. "

"I suppose no one ever feels worthy of the kingdom, Aunty; but weall know that if we seek the good and the true, that we shall findrest here and hereafter. "

"Them's my sentiment, and I don't see how folks make you out soungodly, if livin' true, and bein' kind to the poor isunrighteousness, then give me the sinners to dwell among. Think ofall the things yer pa has given me, all my life, and there's oldDeacon Sims won't take one cent off of his wood he sells me, whenthe Lord has told him in the good book to be kind to the widow andfatherless. He makes long prayers 'nough, though. Well, I s'pose hehas ter kinder reach out to heaven that way, and make up in wordswhat he lacks in deeds. "

"He will make it all up, Aunty, when he has passed into the otherlife, and becomes conscious how little he has done here. "

"May be; but it's like puttin' all the week's work inter Sat'daynight. I reckon he'll have to work smart to make up. "

Dawn could but smile at the quaint, but shrewd remark, and slippinga generous gift of money into the hand of the old lady, departed tospend her last evening with her father, and Herbert, who was nowwith them every evening, before going to her home among the hills. 

How still and white his face looks, thought Dawn, as Herbert, attheir request, seated himself at the instrument to play. One long, rapt, upturned gaze, and then the fingers stole over the keys. 

Was it the music of the air, or some being of the upper realmsbreathing on him, infusing his soul with sound, that caused him toproduce such searching tones, and send them quivering through thesouls of the listeners? Now, moaning like the winds and waves; now, glad as though two beings long separated, had met. Then the songgrew sweeter, softer, mellower, till every eye was flowing; on andon, more lovely and imploring till one could only think that

 "The angels of Wind and of Fire Chant only one hymn, and expire With the song's irresistible stress; Expire in their rapture and wonder, As harp-strings are broken asunder By music they throb to express. "

The strains died away. Herbert sank back and spoke not; but on thewhite, uplifted face they read that an angel had been with him, oneof the upper air. No words broke the stillness of that atmosphere;not a breath stirred its heavenly spell. 

Without speech they separated, and the hallowed sweetness of thathour remained with them in their dreams, which came not to eitheruntil long after midnight. 

From her own experience, Dawn saw that Herbert must mingle more withpeople, and become interested in life. She knew that it would not bewell for him to think too much of the one whom the world pronouncedgone, but who had come nearer than any earthly relation known. 

"Come to my mountain home, and see my family, " she said to him thenext morning, at parting. 

He partly promised by words, but his air of abstraction indicatedthat he had no intention of so doing. 

What was that look which flashed over her features just then?Surely, the expression of his own dear Florence, pleading forsomething. 

"I will come, Dawn, and very soon, " he said, this time decisively. 

Dawn's face lit up with another joy beside her own, as she pressedhis hand and bade him good bye. 

Not many weeks elapsed before Herbert fulfilled his promise to visitthe Home. A murmuring sound of voices fell upon his ears as heapproached the dwelling, and as he came nearer, the beautiful air of"Home" touched his heart with a new sweetness. The children weresinging their evening hymn. Just as he stepped upon the portico thesong ceased, and Dawn came gliding from the hall. 

"Herbert! Welcome!" she exclaimed, with such an expression upon herface that no words were needed to tell him how glad she felt at hiscoming. 

In her own little sitting room she had his supper brought, which heseemed to enjoy greatly, and then they walked in the garden till thedew hung heavy on the grass. 

The days went by, and still he lingered. It was life to him to seeso many children happy through labor and usefulness. Soon a desireto benefit them in some way took possession of his mind, and it wasnot long before he had so won their love by songs and stories oftravel and history, that the evening group was not consideredperfect without Mr. Temple, or "Uncle Herbert, " as a few of theyoungest ventured to call him. 

How childhood, youth, and age need each other's companionship. Howperfect is the household group which includes them all, from theinfant to the white-haired sire. Homes without children! Heaven helpthose who have not the sunshine of innocent childhood to keep themfresh-hearted. 

Through this sphere of life and love, he found his life revived. Gradually the sorrow-clouds passed away, fringed by the sunshine ofhope which was rising in his breast. 

Dawn was his strength and counsellor every day. Through her helearned how closely we are related to the other life, and yet howfirmly we must hold our relation to this, that we may becomeinstruments for good, and not mere sensitives, feeling keenly humanwants, but doing nothing to supply them. 

"I intend to devote myself to life, and help the human family insome way, " he said to Dawn one evening, as the twilight was robingitself in purple clouds. "I have caught my inspiration from you, andwill no longer moan my days away. My treasures lie beyond, and Iwill strive to make myself worthy of the union when I am permittedto go over the silent stream. 

"Do, " answered Dawn, "and thus make her life richer and happier. "

"I make her happier? Has she not gone to rest?"

"A kind of rest, I know; but does she not still live and mingle herlife with yours each day? Therefore, whatever the quality of yourthought and action is, she must partake of it, and for the timeabsorb it into her spirit. If your life is vague and full of unrest, her life will become so. On the contrary, if yours is strong andfull of purpose, you give her strength and rest of soul. "

"Is it so? Are we so united after death?"

"What part of Florence died, Herbert? The spirit passed out, carrying every faculty, every sense and emotion, to that land wheremany dream that we lose all consciousness of life, below, and remainin some blest state of dreamy ease. Not so. Our lives at death, socalled, are made more sensitive to all we owe our friends on earth, and death is but the clasp that binds us closer. "

"Your words stimulate me to labor and make my dear ones happythrough my life. O, that like you, I could know that they at timesare with me; or, rather, that they could come and give me thatevidence I so much need, of their presence and their power tocommune with us. "

"I could not bring to you that evidence, because I know them andyou, but I have a lovely girl who has just come to our Home, astranger to you and to myself, who has this gift of second-sight, and if you wish, I will present her to you. "

"Do so, for nothing would give me more happiness. "

A young girl, with light hair, and blue eyes which ever seemedlooking far away, was led into the sitting room by Dawn, and stoodsilent and speechless as soon as she had entered. Her outer sensesseemed closed, as she spoke in a voice full of feeling these words:

"Be comforted, I am here; thy wife, Florence, and thy little ones. The grave has nought of us you hold so dear. Believe, and we willcome. I whispered a song to your soul one night, and your fingersgave it words. Farewell, I will come again; nay, I go not away fromone I love so well. 'T is Florence speaks to Herbert, her husband, from over the river called Death. "

The child looked wonderingly around, then wistfully to Dawn, whomotioned her to the door, that she might join her companions. 

"Is she always thus successful?" asked Herbert, after a longsilence. 

"No. I have often known her to fail; but when the impression comes, it's invariably correct. "

"Wonderful child. How can you educate her, and yet have her retainthis strange gift?"

"I obey my impressions, and allow her to play a great deal. Shecannot follow her class, therefore I teach her alone, short, easylessons, and never tax her in any way, physically or mentally. "

"You must love her very much; I long to see more of her wonderfulpower. "

"You shall; but the hour is late, I must now send my children to bedand happy dreams. "

There was soon a cessasion of the voices, and cheerful "good-nights"echoed through the dwelling. When all was still, Dawn came and satby him, and long they talked of the land of the hereafter, and itsintimate connection with this life, so fraught with pain andpleasure. 

CHAPTER XXXV. 

Tenderly Dawn looked upon her little group each day, and all thematernal instincts of her nature sprang to the surface, as shethought of their lives coming without their asking, forced upon themto be battled out through storm and fire. Would that all parentsmight feel the responsibility of maternity, as that pure being did, who gave the richest, warmest current of her life to bear thosechildren on. "He who has most of heart, knows most of sorrow, " andmany were the moments of sadness that came to Dawn, as she sawbeings who were recklessly brought into life to suffer for the wantof love and care. But, though sorrowed, she never became morbid. Shelived and worked by the light that was given her, earnestly, whichis all a mortal can do. 

No season was complete to her which did not bring to her side MissBernard, who seemed the complement of her very self. One warm summerevening when the air was sweet with the breath of roses, they sattogether; earnest words flowing from soul to soul, and their naturesblending like the parts of a sweet melody; Dawn's high hope floatingabove the rich undertone of the deep life-tide on which the soul ofher friend was borne. 

"I have often wondered, " said Dawn, as she clasped the friendly palmmore tenderly, "if my life will be as firmly rooted as your own; ifthe same rich calm will pervade my being. "

"If it be once full of agitation, it will surely be calm at last, "said Miss Bernard, in that firm tone which indicates that the stormsof life are over, "for we are like the molten silver, whichcontinues in a state of agitation until all impurities are thrownoff, and then becomes still. We know no rest until the dross isburned away, and our Saviour's face is seen reflected in our own. "

The moonlight fell on her features just then, almost transfiguringthe still, pale countenance. That holy moment brought them nearerthan years of common-place emotions, or any of the externalexcitements of life. A tenderer revealing of their relation to eachother flashed through their hearts-a relation which the silverymoon, and still summer night typified, as all our states find theiranalogies in the external world. 

"I often query, " said Dawn, breaking the silence, "what portion ofyour being I respond to?"

"I have often asked myself the same question. Dawn, of those whom Iloved, and in my earlier years felt ambitious to become thecounterpart of friends dear to my life. I have grown more humblenow, and feel content to fill, as I know I only can, a portion ofany soul. I can truly say, you touch and thrill every part of mybeing, if you do not fill it, and that just now you answer to everypart. With some, my being stands still, I forget the past, and knowno future. There is one who thus acts upon me now, though manyothers have stirred me to greater depths, and excited profoundersentiments, --this one calls forth the tenderest emotions of my heartand stimulates me to kindlier deeds. Thus do all in turn act andre-act upon each other, and what we need is to know just how todefine this relation, for the emotions it calls forth are so oftenmistaken for those of love between the sexes, which marriage seals, and in few years reveals the painful fact, that what was supposed tobe soul blending with soul, was only the union of a single thoughtand feeling, while the remainder of their nature was whollyunresponded to, its deepest and holiest aspirations unmated. "

"Do we not answer to each other now, because we are aglow with life, and each susceptible to the others emotion?" asked Dawn. 

"Something deeper, " said her friend. "It is because we are bothillumined by the divine essence which pervades all space and matter, as the air surrounds this globe. We are both full, and reflect eachother's repletion. The theme is grand, and one which I would like toenlarge upon to-night, before our states are changed to thoseharsher ones, in which diviner truths are ever refracted. "

"I feel the force of your last assertion most thrillingly, " saidDawn, "for I know that a purely mental condition is antagonistic tospiritual light. How beautiful life becomes as we grow into therecognition of its laws, and learn of Him, who is law itself, andwhose daily revealings, are the protecting arms around us. "

"Fully realizing this fractional mating of which we have spoken, Iam led to question if we ever find one soul who meets every want, orwhether we wander, gathering from this one, and that one, until thesoul has all its emotions sounded, all its sentiments aroused andresponded to. In my deepest, most earnest questioning for truth, this answer seems to be the only one, which gives me rest. How is itwith you, whose vision is clearer than my own?"

"I feel that no one soul can meet all the wants of another. Yetseeing this principle, sufficient light does not dawn on the methodof its application. "

"The light will come with the labor, as the fire flashes from theflint by strokes of the steel. "

"True, " said Dawn, gathering inspiration from the words, "And I haveoften felt that the world would be better to-day, if people agreedto live together while life and harmony inflowed to each, and nolonger. I think the whole moral atmosphere would be toned anduplifted, the physical and spiritual beauty of children increased, and purer, nobler beings take the place of the angular productionsof the day, if our unions were founded on this principle. And yet noone mind can point out the defects of our present system, and applythe remedy. The united voices of all, and the efforts of everyindividual must be combined, to accomplish a change so urgentlydemanded. All men and women should fortify themselves, and see thatno being comes through their life, unless they have health andharmony to transmit. Maternity should never be forced; woman'shighest and most sacred mission should never be prostituted, and yetthis sin is every where. When every woman feels this truth, she willpurify man, for he rises through her ascension. He needs herthought, her inspiration, her influence, to keep him every hour; andwhen the world has risen to that point, where minds can mingle; whensociety grants to man the right, to pass an hour in communion withany one who inspires him, we shall have made an advance towards apurer state. To-day mankind are suffering for mental and spiritualassociation. Give to men and women their right to meet on high, intellectual, and sympathetic grounds, and each will become better. We should then have no clandestine interviews, and few, if any ofthe passional evils which now burden every community, for therestraints which the jealousies and selfishness of the married haveestablished, in a great measure create these. "

She paused: and the tall trees waved their branches as though inbenediction on her head. Beauty was every where. There, in thatsummer night, who could utter aught but truth. The soft and gentlelight of the hour, silvering with heavenly charms every rock, andtree and singing brook, excited no sophistries, but rather inspiredthe soul with divinest truths. Their words died away, but thespirit, the influence of their thoughts, will live through ages, andbring, perhaps, to those who read them, states peaceful and calm. That the relation between men and women needs some new revelation, we all know, but the light comes very slowly to us. We must workwith such as is vouchsafed to us. Revelation comes to but few, andsuch can only work and wait, for the multitude. He who has toiled upthe mount of vision, cannot reveal to the pilgrim in the vale, thethings his eyes behold. The landscape view cannot be handed down, nor the emotions of the beholder, imparted to another. 

The day is coming for true and earnest communion between the sexes, and the day is rapidly passing by when the glorious life which hasbeen given us is misdirected and misapplied. 

CHAPTER XXXVI. 

Threads of silver shot through Dawn's silken hair, yet she grew morebeautiful as the years matured her. The children under her care grewto be young men and women, and went out into the world qualified tolive harmonious lives. She had taught them the true religion oflife; had impressed upon their minds the importance of enjoying thislife, that they might be prepared to enjoy the life that follows it;that to be happy now is to be happy forever, for the present isalways ours, the future never. 

"I have one wish more, " she said to her friend, Miss Bernard. 

"And pray tell me what modest ambition you have just now?"

"It is one I have long cherished. I wish to see a hospital forinvalids erected within sight of this Home. "

"You are so successful in seeing your wishes ultimated, I shallexpect to see one in a few months. "

"I should be glad to see a good list of names with generoussubscriptions by that time. I think if all the extra plate andjewelry of wealthy families, articles which do them no good, orrather the surplus (for the beautiful in moderation ever does usgood) were sold, and the money given to such an object, very muchmight be done. I see, when I come in contact with people, the greatneed that exists for an institution where patients can be surroundedwith all that is lovely and artistic, and their spiritual andphysical needs attended to. Many need only change of magnetism andconditions, with the feeling that they have a protecting care aroundthem, to change the whole tone of the system. Others are weak, havelost mental stamina, and need the tonic of stronger minds; whilesome need tenderness and love, and to be treated like wearychildren. Many would need no physical ministration direct, butspiritual uplifting, which would in time project its force throughthe mental, and harmonize the body. There are many such cases. "

"True, I know we need such an institution to meet those wants whichyou have so faithfully sketched; and if a few earnest men and womenwork for that end, may we not hope to see it accomplished, and theblue dome rising somewhere among these hills? I will contribute mypart, and give a good portion of my time for its accomplishment. "

"If all felt as you do we might surely see it in our day; but wewill hope that the need will develop such a place, for the need isbut an index pointing to the establishment of such an institution. "

"I have often wondered if cases of insanity might not be treatedmore successfully than they are by scientific men. "

"I feel that they could be under pure inspiration, and in nine casesout of ten, the disharmonized mind be restored to harmony. "

"O, Dawn, let us work for this, and though we may never see it inour life, we shall have the consolation and happiness of knowingthat we had a part in the beginning. "

"And the beginning is the noblest part, because the leastappreciated. The ball in motion will have many following it, but thestarting must be done by one or two. "

Their conversation was here interrupted by the announcement of avisitor, who proved to be Miss Weston, whom Dawn was delighted tosee. 

"I had a singular feeling, " she said, to Dawn "as I came up thesteps of the portico, what do you suppose it was?"

"I am not clairvoyant to-day. Be kind enough to tell me. "

"I felt as though I was coming to a home, one which I should neverwish to leave. "

"And you need not, so long as you can be happy with me. I have longneeded some one like yourself to help me. Will you stay?"

"Dawn, may I?"

"Nothing would give me more happiness, because you have come in thisway; of your own spontaniety-simply gravitated to my life-and whenthe exhaustion of our mental and vital forces demands our separationwe will part, and consider that as natural and agreeable to each asour present coming together. "

"O, if these principles could be understood and lived out, howhappy, how natural we all should be; and happy because natural. "

"The world is slowly coming to an understanding of them, and you andI may help its advance by living what we feel to be true lives. "

"Dawn, you are life and light to every one, I shall stay here therest of my life. "

With the clasp of true friendship about them, they lived and workedtogether. Winter came, and they sat at evening by the fire-side andtalked of the past, and the golden future for mankind. The texturesof their lives were fast weaving into one web of interest. Dawn'sexcess of spiritual life flowed into Edith's, who never forgot thehour upon the seashore, and the awakening there of her spiritualtrust. 

Miss Weston proved to be one of those household angels who seethings to do, and seeing, perform. Silently she slipped into hersphere of usefulness, and became Dawn's helper in the thousand wayswhich a woman of tact and delicacy can ever be. 

Silently the pines waved over the graves of Florence and herchildren. The snow of many winters fell on their tasselled boughs, while her husband learned through the beautiful philosophy, that ourloved ones find death no barrier to the affections. Gradually helearned the great lesson of patience, which must be inwrought inevery soul-that all our experiences of life are necessary, and indivinest order; that everything which happens is a part of the greatwhole, and that none of the bitter could have been left out of hiscup. The unrest, produced by what he once considered his loss passedaway, as the recognition of life's perfect discipline flowed untohis vision. 

The nearest person on earth, now, was his friend and sister Dawn, kin of spirit, heart and mind. Regardless of people's speech, hewent often to her home, and received the sympathy he needed. To him, she was life and inspiration. Why should he not seek where he couldfind? It was her soul-life he needed, and long and earnestly theyconversed of those interior principles which so few perceive. 

"I have learned by experience what true relationship may existbetween men and women, " said Dawn to Edith, one day when everymoment had been given to Herbert, "and how God intended us for eachother?"

"And I see how your own life is increased by giving it to others, asyou are every day doing. If I had a husband, Dawn, I should enjoyhim most after he had been in your society. Uplifted and toned bythe life of another, he could be far more to me, --far dearer andvital. I wonder women do not see this great truth. "

"They cannot on the merely human plane, which is ever selfish. Raisethem out of that, place them on the mount of vision, and they wouldat once see it, and be glad to give their husbands the liberty oftrue women's society, knowing that they were extending their ownlives in so doing. If men are unduly restrained, they take a lowerform of freedom. "

"It is too true. I can now see that had I been allowed the earthlyalliance, I might have been selfish and contracted. I almost know Ishould. O, Dawn, how much life is worth to us all; how much we haveto thank our heavenly father for, --most of all for the clouds withsilver linings. "

"I am glad that you see it thus, my friend, my sister. That is thesoul's only sure position. Life is a great and glorious gift. If allits hours were mixed with pain, even to have lived is grand. " Thenwith her eyes looking afar, as if discerning scenes invisible toothers, she repeated these beautiful lines:

 "Two eyes hath every soul: One into Time shall see; The other bend its gaze Into Eternity. In all eternity No tone can be so sweet As where man's heart with God, In unison doth beat. What'er thou lovest, Man, That too become thou must; God-if thou lovest God; Dust-if thou lovest dust. Let but thy heart, O man! Become a valley low, And God will rain on it Till it will overflow. "

Golden bars of light lay in the room. The sun was sinking peacefullyto rest, like a great soul who had been faithful to every duty, andrayed out its life on the barren places of earth. In that calmevening, in the greater calm of their lives they sat, gathering restfor the morrow, and peace for their midnight dreams-dreams whichbrought to them the forms of their loved ones who had gone but alittle while before, and who loved them still, rippling the silentstream with memory-waves, till they broke on the shore and cooledtheir weary feet.