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“Dodge's Literary Buseum.
67
* “T saw her playing. with her knife this
morning at breakfast. The French teacher
was saying grace, and no one was looking
at her but me.~
the glitter of the steel, felt the edge, and
then making a sudden flourish with it, as if
she was about to stab some one to the heart,
laid it down, and smiled her strange, awful
smile. Ugh! It made my blood run cold
to look at ‘her” :
_ “I think Ican see her, presiding at our
patty to-morrow’ night. She will be the
life of us all. Yet, every few minutes, she
will throw a strange look at you, Olive, and
then you, who are generally so selfpossess-
ed and haughty, will tremble and shrink
like a wounded dove. Three of our party
will be hiding a sceret in’ their breasts—
Julie and Jennie are yet free from trouble,
thank Heaven! Never mind, Olive. The
wine, the feast and excitement will give us
a gayety we cannot always feel. We will
be as happy as they for one short night.”
“What a piece of deception this world
is, Jael. Every face wears a mask, every
lip smiles when it should quiver in sup-
pressed agony, every eye brightens when
it should be dimmed with tears. We are
all at a carnival, and she who wears the
falsest mask is most applauded.”
“Then let us see how bravely we can
bear our part.”
They sat in silence for some time. Grad-
ually there stole over Jael’s face a look of
remorse and self- -upbraiding. The shadow
deepened, and she sighed heavily.” Look-
ing up, and meeting Olive’s inquiring gaze,
she said, sadly, mo
“I was thinking of my mother, Olive.
She is so pure and good. What would she
say to the reckless life we lead? “She be-
lieves me to be a quict and orderly student.
How I am deceiving her.” .
“Tt is only a part of the play, Jael. “It
would do no good to tell her the truth.
Why do you not let her remain in blissful
ignorance ?””
. “She has the quick eye of a mother, and
will soon see the change in me. 0, if I was
only a happy, innocent child once more!
Why did she send me away from her ?”
- “She certainly made a great mistake ;
yet I don’t see that you are accountable for
the consequences. She sent you from her
when you were but a child. How did she
expect you could kéep’ clear of all the
roguery that is carried on in such schools ?
What could she have been thinking of ?”
“ Boarding-schools in my mother’s day
were not what they are now,” said Jael, in
a low voice.
“Tleaven knows they can never be much
worse!” replied Olive. “If my little Inez
bal lived, she should never have entered
. And yet, Jael, we do nothing very
wrong”
“No, we commit no crimes. But i in the
name of Ileaven, what is all this feasting,
wine-drinking and opium-smoking going to
lead to? Five of us have formed a society
—we have been together some six months.
Are we the same we were when we first
met? Have we not lost health, time, spir-
its, energy and happiriess? As for Emmie
Ansel, I believe nothing could undermine
her constitution, or touch her heart; but
youand 1 have more to lose. Above all,
Olive, my mother taught me to pray.
What would she think if she knew that I
had not crossed the threshold of a church
since I left her?—what would she say if
she should enter this room and look at the
books yonder—Voltaire, Paine, Volney, By-
ron, Madame De Stacl, George Sand, Bul-
She took it up, watched ‘
wer, and Eugene Sue?. She would think I
was lost beyond redemption. My: poor
mother !” :
“Tt may be all wrong, Jael.. I don’t
know—and, in faith, I don’t care! If you
wish to leave us, you are free to do so.» But
don’t speak of ruining constitutions. I
never saw you looking better in my life.
As for me, I ‘tell you honestly, I care not-a
straw for life. If this careless, dissipated
way of living kills me, it is little matter. I
have nothing to live for now. Your exer-
cise in the open air saves you, Jacl. Any
girl who takes such rides and walks as you
undergo, can outlast any amount of revelry.
You speak of your books. Is it not as
well to read anything that will really sct us
to thinking, as it is to waste our time over
yellow-covered novels, as other girls of our
agé do? Pshaw, Jael! * A short life and
& merry one.’ All your reading ‘has not
shaken your faith in God. You still be-
lieve’ you are only eating of the tree of
knowledge of good and evil.”
fa Our. respected progenitors got turned
out of Eden for the same thing,” said Jacl,
drily. “The taste of the apple: that Eve
bit still lingers in my mouth. If is a delic-
ious flavor.. Say no more. I shall remain
with you.” :
“Then be yourself. We have had many
conversations together, yet I never saw you
dispirited tillnow. We will be happy while
we are together here. The world. will
eramp us‘ soon enough with its laws and
customs, and we must have a little liberty
now. Your mother knows nothing of your
life here—tet her remain. in ‘ignorance.
She could not blame you, for she sent you
from her at an age when you needed a
mother’s loving care most. You have done
nothing wrong, that I can-see; you have
only asserted your right to think and act
for yourself. Few girls of your age, Jael,
with your wealth, would do as well as you
have done. Come, confess that you are not
quite so great a sinner, after all. Your
conscience is quite too tender, my dear.”
“Tt will soon be tough enough, Olive, if
Itake you fora Mentor. I know that if I
were judged by the morality of a boarding-
school, I should appear to great advantage ;
but do you think I could meet my mother’s
eye without blushing ?”
“Don’t think of this any more, Jacl.
We have both made clean breasts of it to-
night. “One would think we were in a
confessional. T have ‘told you all my sins,
(and what’ are yours cdmpared to them ?)
and you have whispered’ your doubts and
fears tome. Now Iet them drop. No one
is perfect. It is folly to expect any girl to
pass through one term at boarding-school,
without joining in some escapade. Now,
Jael, smile once more. See, it is nearly
day. Iam going to sleep, and it won't hurt
you to follow my example. But first read
a page in Voltaire. He will brush all the
cobwebs from your brain, and give you a
sound slumber and pleasant dreams.”
' Olive placed the withered flowers she
still held carefully in a tiny ebony casket.
Some letters were inlaid upon the cover.
As she passed Jael, she saw that they com-
posed one word, “Inez.” Olive returned
the casket to its place, and then, throwing
herself on the bed, was soon buried in
sleep.
Jael sat beside her, and read. But Vol-
taire was still lying upon the shelf, and in
her hand she held the little golden-clasped
Bible her mother had given her. She
turned to the text she loved so weil in other
days, “ Suffer little children to come unto!
me, for of such is the kingdom of Heaven,”
and as she read, tears fell fast upon the
page.
Chapter Seventh.
Therefore my heart is weary
With a sense of unquiet pain,
For but Heayen ean tell if the parted
Shall meet in Heaven again.
But knowing God’s love extendeth
Wherever His children are,
And tenderly round about them
Are the arms of His watchful care;
With lim be the time and the season
Of our meeting again with thee,
Whether here on these earthly borders,
Or the shore of the world to be.
—Phabe Carey. |
FIRE burned clear and red in the
L large music-room of “ The Mountain
louse,” and a solitary figure paced back
and forth with folded arms before it. It
was the young music-teacher, Horace
Glenn, awaiting his pupil, Jael. The piano
was already opencd, the music-stool arrang-
ed, and yet she came not. Ever and anon
he paused in his rapid walk, as if to catch
her advancing footstep; then turned away
with a muttered imprecation, and struck a
few sharp, hasty notes upon the instrument,
as if he would express by them his impa-
tience at her delay. At last a light step
hurried down the stairs; the door opened,
and the deserter stood beside him.
She had never looked more lovely. ! She
was pale, with the vigil of the- previous
night, and the fire had died away from her
large, dark eyes. She looked gentle, wom-
anly, and loveable. It was not the haughty
and impulsive Jael that stood there, but a
meek and loving girl.
The heart of ‘the young teacher beat fast,
but he only led her to her seat before the
instrument, to hear the lesson she had pre-
pared for him. Jacl played it through me-
chanically, and then sat listening, with
drooping head and downcast eyes, to his re-
marks upon the succeeding one. Such a
mood of supine listlessness was an unusual
thing in her, and after gazing at her fora
few moments he asked,
“You look pale. Are you sick?”
“No, sir; but I did not sleep very well
last night.”
“You are tired of your lesson—of your
teacher, perhaps?”
“@O, no, indeed!” said she, looking up
and holding out her hand to him. ‘“ How
could you think such a thing? You know
Llove you very much.”
Her companion inclosed the little hand
in his, and replied, with a burning glance,
“Love! Do you know what the word
means? You cannot. You would never
speak it so calmly if you did.” ©
Jacl looked troubled. At last she said,
“I love my mother very much. I love
Olive—and you.”
“You name us together, and your voice
never changes, your check never flushes,
when you say you love me. But is there
not one dearer than all others—one whose
name you have not spoken, though it is
graven on your heart?”
“What are you laughing at me about
now? . Who do you mean ?”
“Our Professor, Henry Linn. Do you
not love him, Jacl?”
“You are ungenerous, Horace. Why
do you wish to know ?”
“ You promised that if you were ever in
love, you would come and tell me of it.
Mave you kept that promise? I will not
urge you, Jacl, to tell me anything, if you
would rather keep ita secret, yet I wish
you had a litle more confidence in me. T
would be a true friend to you.”
“T know it, Horace, and yet I hardly
know what to tell you. I love him, but the
feeling is so different from what the world
calls lov e, that I could never make you un-
derstand it.”
“Ah! Tle-has been “teaching you
Platonism, then? Do you believe in the
existence of any such thing ?”
“Tt is a beautiful doctrine. Why should
Inot?”
“ So is any fable, and the more beautiful,
the more visionary and unsubstantial. I
asked you if you believed in it, merely that
I might discover if there lived any human
being who took such a chimera in perfect
good faith to her heart.’ It is a humbug,
Jacl. We are all. human, and have the
weakness and the passions of humanity.
Platonic affection may exist between men,
and women, but not between the two sexes.
It is an unsatisfying love in that case. Ja-
el, if you are in love, say so, boldly, but
don’t screen yourself behind such a flimsy
breastwork.”
“Well, then,” said Jael, drawing herself
up to her full height, “ I love him.”
A shadow passed over the young man’s
face as she spoke, but when she’ looked up
he was calm as ever. « .-
“Well done, my little sister,” said he,
kindly. “ You have confessed like a good
Catholic.’ But of what avail is this affee-
tion? You cannot marry him. He has a
wife already.”
Jacl looked up in surprise.
“ Yow did you know that ?”
“O, a little bird came and told me one
day. Whatastrange man he is! No oth-
er would’ ever have taken such a way to
disguise himself.. I used to wonder how
you could love him, but it is all explained.
A woman’s heart is always captivated by a
delicious little mystery. When did you
discover his secret, Jacl?” : -
“A few days after I came here. But re-
member, I loved him when I thought him
deformed as well as I do now.”
“That is like your scx. If ever I wish
to make an impression on a feminine heart,
Iwill be maimed, halt and blind, and my
wounds will carry the day. Do you know,
Jael, much as we men slander and belie
your sex, we worship your goodness and
reverence your noble, unselfish qualities, at
heart? You are changeable and fickle,
but you are far better than we are.”
“Thank you, sir. I accept’ the compli-
ment in behalf of the sisterhood.”
“Now let us talk. seriously about this
matter, Jacl. This man is married, so of
course you can be nothing more to him
than a friend.”
“Well, who has spoken of anything
more ?”
“Tle may not have done so, yet, but you
may rely upon it he will soon. He is sick,
now. What would you do if he should
die?”
“Don't speak of such a thing! » How can
you?” said Jacl, under her breath, clatch-
ing his arm as she spoke.
“ Jael, it may | ‘be so. If he has another
relapse, the physician says it is not possible
for him to live. But we will hope for the
best, my little sister. We will hope that he
may yet be free to call you his wife.”
The: girl repeated the words in a low
voice and with a happy smile.
The young teacher drew her to him with
a sudden movement, and pressed his lips
upon her brow. She looked up to him
with smiling eyes.
“O,-Horace, those words sound so sweet
tome! Ido not wish to marry him, yet I