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Α Τ Α Ι Ε
OF THE EARLY
BY MRS. ANN S. STEPHENS.
$200 PRIZE ARTICLE. Il penitent, that you offer to mediate between me and my
Creator? No, man! if I have sinned, the penalty has
been dearly paid. If I have sorrowed, the tears shed in
solitude and in secret, have fallen back on my own heart,
I have no hope, no God—wherefore
should I pray?" “ Alas! thought he, how changed that mien;
“This hardiness and impiety is unreal. There is a How changed those tirnid looks have been, Since years of guilt and of disguise
God, and, despite of your haughty will and daring intelHave steeled her brow and armed her eyes.
lect, you believe in him; ay, at this moment when there Ah, why should man's success remove The very charm that makes his love ?"
is denial on your lips !" Catharine Montour was too deeply engrossed by
Believe-ay, as the devils, perchance; but I do not her own feelings to observe the strange agitation of the tremble!” replied the daring woman, with an air and . Missionary. She seated herself on the stool, and, with voice of defiance. her face buried in her robe, remained minute after
The Missionary fixed his eyes with a stern and reprominute in deep silence, as if gathering strength to unlock ving steadiness on the impious woman. She did not the tumultuous fountains of her heart once more to a shrink from his glance, but stood before him, her eyes mortal's knowledge. When she, at length, raised her braving his with a forced determination, her brow fixed face there was nothing in the appearance of her auditor in defiance beneath its gorgeous coronet, and a smile of to excite attention. He still leaned against the rude scornful bitterness writhing her small mouth. Her arms wall, a little paler than before, but otherwise betraying were folded over her bosom, flushed by the reflection of no emotion, save that which a good man might be sup- her robe, and the jewelled serpent glittered just upon her posed to feel in the presence of a sinful and highly gifted heart, as if to guard it from all good influences. She fellow-creature.
She caught his pitying and mournful seemed like a beautiful and rebellious spirit thrust out look, fixed so earnestly upon her face, as she raised it from the sanctuary of heaven. A man less deeply read from the folds of her robe, and her eyes wavered and sunk in the intricacies of the human heart, or less persevering beneath its sorrowful intensity. There was a yearning in his Christian charities, would have turned away and sympathy in his glance which fell upon her heart like sun-left her as one utterly irreclaimable, but the Missionary shine on the icy fetters of a rivulet ; it awed her proud was both too wise and too good thus to relinquish the spirit, and yet encouraged confidence; but it was not till influence he had gained. There was something artificial after his mild voice had repeated the question of—" Lady, in the daring front and reckless impiety of the being beconfide in me—who and what you are ?" that she spoke, fore him, which betrayed a strange but not uncommon and when she did find voice, it was sharp, and thrilled desire to be supposed even worse than she really was. pain lly on the ear of the listener. The question had With the ready tact of a man who had made character a aroused a thousand recollections that had long slumbered study, he saw that words of reproof or authority were in the bosom of the wretched woman. She writhed unlikely to soften a heart so stern in its mental pride, and under it as if a knot of scorpions had suddenly began to his own kind feelings taught him the method of reaching uncoil in her heart.
her. His anxiety to learn something of her secret histo" What am I? It is a useless question. Who on ry would have been surprising in a man of less comprehenearth can tell what he is, or what a moment may make sive benevolence, and even in him there was a restless him? I am that which fate has made me, Catharine | anxiety of manner but little in accordance with his usual Montour, the wife of the Mohawk chief. If at any time quiet teachings. His voice was like the breaking up of I have known another character, it matters little. Why a fountain when he spoke again. should you arouse remembrances which may not be forced
• Catharine," he said. back to their lethargy again? I ask no sympathy, nor
She started at the name—her arms dropped, she lookseek counsel: let me depart in peace ?" And with a
ed wildly in his eyes: sorrowful and deliberate motion she arose, and would
“Oh, I mentioned the name," she muttered, refolding have left the cabin, but the Missionary laid his hand her arms and drawing a deep breath. gently on her arm and drew her back again.
“Catharine Montour, this hardihood is unreal; you “We cannot part thus," he said. “ The sinful have are not thus unbelieving. Has the sweet trustfulness of need of counsel, the sorrowing of sympathy.
The heart your childhood departed for ever? Have you no thought which has been long astray requires an intercessor with of those bours when the young heart is made up of faith the Most High."
and dependence-when prayer and helpless love breaks “ And does the God whom you serve suffer any human up from the soul as naturally as perfume from the urn of heart to become so depraved that it may not approach | a flower ? Nay," he continued, with more touching his footstool in its own behalf? Is the immaculate purity || carnestness, as he saw her eyes waver and grow dim beof Jehovah endangered by the petition of the sinful or the neath the influence of his voiee, "resist not the good
spirit, which even now is hovering about your heart, * Continued from 66.
as the ring-dove broods over its desolated nest. Hoar
ded thoughts of evil beget evil. Open your heart to distance to sketch that church; and never did there pass confidence and counsel. Confide in one who never yet a summer-day in which that grave-yard was not haunted betrayed trust—one who is no stranger to sorrow, and by some stranger detained in the village by its exceeding who is too frail himself to lack charity for the sins of loveliness. Back from the church, stood the parsonage others. I beseech you tell me, are you not of English house ; an irregular old building, surrounded by a grove birth ?"
of magnificent oaks, through which its pointed roof Tears, large and mournful tears, stood in Catharine and tall chimnies alone could be seen from the village. Montour's
's eyes. She was once more subdued and hum- Around the narrow lattices, and up to the pointed gables, ble as an infant. A golden chord had been touched in a rich, viny foliage had been allowed to blossom and luxuher memory, and every heart-string vibrated to the music riate year after year, unpruned and abandoned to its of other years. Thoughts of her innocent childhood, of own profuse leafiness, till only here and there a sharp the time when her heart was full of affection and kind- || angle or a rude stone balcony broke out from the drapery ness, when hopes were springing up and blossoming with of leaves and flowers that clung around the old building, each new day—when the whole earth was pleasant and wherever a tendril could enweave itself or a bud find beautiful to her young nind-all the recollections of her room for blossoming. A tribe of rooks dwelt in the oaks, youth came thronging to her bosom, like a host of gentle and a whole bevy of wrens came and built their nests in spirits to their desolated haunts. She sat down and the vines. With my earliest recollection comes the soft opened her history to that strange man abruptly, and as chirupping of the nestlings under my window—and the one under the influence of a dream. The large tears carrolling song which broke up from the larks when they rolled slowly one after another down her cheeks, and fell left the long grass in the grave-yard, where they nestled to her robe as she spoke; but she appeared unconscious during the summer nights. I remember one little timid that she was weeping, and sat with her hands locked in hare which haunted the violet banks, that sloped down her lap, and her face raised to that of the Missionary, | from behind the grove, from season to season, unmowith the humility of a penitent child confessing its faults lested and in safety, so tranquil and quiet was every to some indulgent parent. It was a beautiful contrast thing around that dwelling: and yet that was my birthwith her late bold and unfeminine assumption of superi- | place. ority. Her voice was broken and changeful as she spoke, My father was rector of the parish, the younger son now sinking to the deepest pathos, and again raising in of a noble family. He had a small independent fortune passionate appeal, or concentrating in accents of bitter- which allowed him to distribute the income from his living ness and reproach, sometimes applied to herself, and at among the poor of the village. He was a man of simple others to persons who had been linked with her remark- habits, quiet and unostentatious in his benevolence, and able destiny.
dwelling among his books, with his wife and child, with“Yes, I was born in England,” she said, “ born in a out a thought of ambition, or a desire beyond his own place so beautiful that the heart grew happy from the mere pleasant hearth-stone. He was a fine scholar, deeply influence of its verdant and tranquil scenery. I have read in ancient lore, and familiar with every branch of stood in the heart of an American forest, where civilized | modern belles-letters. From the rich stores of his own foot had never trod, surrounded by the solemn gloom of the mind, he delighted in cultivating mine; but he was too vast wilderness and overshadowed by massive branches, mild and contemplative in his nature to hold a suffiwhich had been outspread centuries and centuries cient restraint over a will like mine, or even to underbefore my insignificant existence. I have felt my blood stand it. creep through my veins when standing thus alone, encom My mother was a gentle creature of refined and passed by the stirless solitude of nature, and when a deer delicate, but not comprehensive mind.
She loved my has bounded through the thickets, or a serpent glided father, and next to him, or rather as a portion of himself, across my path, breaking with a sound of life the deep me, her only child. Years passed on, and I grew in hush of the forest, I have started with a feeling of awe, culture and beauty. I remember my own looks as reas if I had unwittingly trodden upon the confines of a flected in the mirror when my mother caressed me in her darker world. There is indeed, something awful in the little boudoir-and I was indeed very beautiful, but it wild, majestic scenery of this new world; I have seen all I was the wild and graceful loveliness of a spoiled child, that is savage and grand in it—all that is rich and beauti- | petted and caressed as an idol, or a spirited plaything, ful in my own land; but never yet have I seen a spot of rather than as a being endowed, as my father believed such quiet loveliness as my own birth-place. No traveller me to be, with an imperishable soul. As a child I was ever passed through that village without stopping to ad- passionate and wayward, but warm of heart, forgiving mire its verdant and secluded tranquillity. There was and generous. My spirit brooked no control; but my something picturesque and holy in the little stone church, indulgent father and sweet mother could see nothing with its porch overrun with ivy, and its narrow gothic more dangerous than a quick intellect and over abundant windows half obscured by the soft moss and creeping healthfulness in the childish tyranny of my disposition. plants which had gathered about them from age to age- Though even as a child, I had strong feelings of dislike something that hushed the pulsations of the gayest heart towards some distasteful individuals; my nature was in the deathly stillness of the grave-yard, with its stones very affectionate, and I loved every thing appertaining to slanting away among the rank grass beneath the dark, my home, with a fervor seldom experienced at my early solemn drooping of the yow troes. Artists came from a years. The wealth of my affections seemed inexhausti
ble. It was lavished without stint on every thing about my canaries were fluttering affright from my sudden
from the parents who took me nightly to their bosoms approach, I fixed my eyes with a deeper feeling than that with kisses and blessings, to the gentle flowers that clung of mere curiosity on my father and his companion. The around my nursery window, and the sweet birds that latter was a slight, aristocratic youth, with an air of fashhaunted them with melody. I was passionately fond of ion and manliness beyond his years, not the manliness to my mother, and when she would steal to my bed and be acquired in society alone; but a dignity orignating in lull me to sleep with her soft kisses and pleasant voice, deep and correct habits of thought, seemed natural to I would promise in my innermost heart never to grieve him. He was very handsome, almost too much so for her again ; and yet the next day I would feel a kind of a man. The symmetry and calm repose of his features pleasure in bringing the tears to her gentle eyes, by some were not sufficiently marked for changeful expression; wayward expression of obstinacy or dislike. It is strange || yet their usual tone was singularly blended with sweetthat we often take pleasure in teasing and tormentingness and dignity. I have never seen a fece so strongly those whom we most love. There is a feeling of selfish characterized by intellect and benevolence. He was power in it by no means confined to the thoughtlessness speaking as he advanced up the sepentine walk which of childhood, and often acted upon by those who would led to the balcony, and seemed to be making some ob despise the feeling could they trace it to its unworthy servation on the wild beauty of the garden. Once he
At ten years of age I was absolute in my stooped to put back a tuft of carnations which fell over father's house, and tyrannized over the hearts of both the path, and again he paused to admire a large whitemy parents with an innate thirst for ascendency: yet I rose tree, which half concealed the flight of steps leadloved them very, very dearly!
ing to the balcony on which I stood. There was some“When I was fifteen, an old college associate died and thing in the tones of his rich voice, a quiet dignity in left my father guardian to his son and heir. The young his manner that awed me. I shrunk back into the room gentleman's arrival at the parsonage was an epoch in my | where my mother was sitting, and placed myself by her life. A timid and feminine anxiety to please took pos- side. My cheek burned and my heart beat rapidly when session of my heart. I gave up my own little sitting he entered. But my confusion passed unnoticed, or if room, opening upon a wilderness of roses and tangled remarked, was attributed to the bashfulness of extreme honeysuckles which had once been a garden, but which youth. Varnham was my senior by four years, and he I had delighted to see run wild in unchecked luxuriance, evidently considered me as a child, for after a courtly till it had become as fragrant and rife with blossoms as an bow on my introduction, he turned to my mother and East India jungle. It was the first act of self-denial I began to speak of the village and its remarkable quiehad ever submitted to, and I found a pleasure in it which rude. He even seemed surprised when I joined familimore than compensated for the pain I felt in removing arly in conversation during the evening; and more than my music and books, with the easel which I had taken once he looked in my face with an air of concern and such pains to place in its proper light, to a small cham-disapproval when I answered either of my parents in the ber above. It was not in my nature to do things by careless and abrupt manner which their excessive indulhalves. With my favorite room I resigned, to our ex gence had made habitual to me. I returned to my room pected guest, all the ornaments that had become most
out of humor with myself, and somewhat in awe of our endeared to me. The drawings, over which I had lin- guest. I had evidently rendered myself an object of disgered day after day, were left upon the wall. My pet like to him whom I had been most anxious to please. canary was allowed to remain among the passion-flow- The consciousness originated a feeling of self-distrust, ers which draped the balcony. The most treasured of and I was both hurt and offended that he did not look my Italian poets still encumbered the little rose-wood on me with the blind partiality of my parents. For the table; and I ransacked the garden and little green-house first time in my life I went to the mirror anxious about again and again for choice fowers to fill the vases of an my personal appearance. I had been tnught to believe tique china, which had been handed down an heir-loom myself beautiful; but it rather displeased me than otherin my mother's family. My father went to meet his I wise. There was something in my heart of contempt ward at the last stage, and I shall never forget the girl. for mere personal loveliness, which rendered its possesish impatience with which I waited his return; but it was sion a matter of slight importance. I had an innate not till after the canaries had nestled down on their longing to be loved for something more lofty than mere perches in the evening twilight, and the little room, which || symmetry of person or features—an ambition to be disI had prepared for his guest, was misty with the perfume || tinguished for the qualities and accomplishments which shed from the numerous vases and wafted in from the I could myself acquire, rather than by those bestowed flowering thickets beneath the windows, that we saw them by nature. But this evening I loosened the blue ribbon slowly picking their way through the tangled luxuriance which bound my hair, and shook the mass of long silken of my garden. Heedless of my mother's entreaty, that I ringlets over my shoulders with a feeling of anxiety which would remain quiet and receive our guest in due form, I I had never before experienced. I contrasted the rich sprang out upon the balcony, and winding my arm around bloom on my cheek with the pale and graceful loveliness one of its rude pillars, pushed back the clustering passion of my mother, and I felt how infinitely I fell beneath her flowers, and bent eagerly over to obtain a perfect view in that exquisite refinement of look and manner which of our visitor. Heedless that my arm was crushing the characterized her above all women I had ever seen. I delicate flowers which clung around the pillar, and that was disgusted with the richness and exuberance of my
own healthful beauty, and felt almost jealous of the gen- | gorgeous coffins of his lordly ancestors. But in three days tle attractions of my sweet parent.
after, I was alone in the wide world; for she was dead ** The disapproving look with which young Varn- | also. Two lone, sad nights, I sat beside that beautiful ham had regarded me, haunted my slumbers. It was corpse, still and tearless as one in a waking dream. I the first token of disapprobation that had reached my remember that kind voices were around me, and that heart, and I was filled with strange hesitation and self- more than once pitying faces bent over me, and strove to distrust. I could not bring myself to wish our new in- persuade me from my melancholy vigils. But I neither mate away, and yet I felt under restraint in my father's answered nor moved; they sighed as they spoke, and house.
passed in and out, like the actors of a tragedy in which “The history of the next two years would be one of I had no part. I was stupified by the first great trouble the heart alone—a narrative of unfolding genius and re- of my life! The third night, care strange men into the fining feelings. It was impossible that two persons, how-room, bearing a coffin covered with crimson velvet and ever dissimilar in taste and disposition, should be long glittering with silver. My heart had been very cold, but domesticated in the same dwelling without gradually as- it lay within me like marble when those large men revesimilating in some degree. Perhaps two beings more rently lifted the body of my beautiful mother, and laid decidedly unlike never met than Varnham and myself, it upon the pillow which had been placed for her last but after the first restraint which followed our introduc- rest. Had they spoken a word I think my heart would tion wore off, he became to me a preceptor and a most have broken ; but they passed out with a slow, solemn valuable friend. Hitherto my reading had been desultory, tread, bearing the coffin between them. I arose and and my studies interrupted. I had become accomplish-| followed to the little room in which I had first seen ed almost without effort, deeply read without method, and Varnham. A thrill of pain, like the quick rush of an conversant even with many of the obstruse sciences by | arrow, shot through my heart as I entered. It was the constant intercourse with my father. I had little appli- first keen anguish I had felt since the burial of my father. cation, and yet accomplished much by mere force of The men set down the coffin, and again I was alone with character. My whole energies were flung into the oc- my dead-alone in the dear sanctuary of our domestic cupation of the moment, and almost instinctively I had affections. accumulated a rich store of mental wealth; but my mind “As I looked around the apartment, gentle associalacked method. I had extensive general, but little tions crowded on my heart, and partially aroused it to a minute knowledge. Except in the common run of femi- sense of its bereavement. The scent of withered flownine accomplishments, I had submitted to but imperfect ers was shed from the neglected vases, and a soft night discipline. Among these, painting and music were my wind came through the sash doors, wafting in a cloud peculiar delight; a travelling artist had given me lessons of perfume from the garden. The balmy air came rein the first, and my own sweet mother taught me the freshingly to my temples, and aroused my heart from last—to her gentle heart, music was almost as necessary the torpid lethargy which had bound it down in the as the air she breathed. I inherited all her love and all gloomy and suffocating chamber above; but even yet, I her talent for it; but with her it was a sweet necessity;! could not fully comprehend the extent of my desolation. with me a passion. I revelled in the luxury of sound ; Around me were a thousand dear and cherished things, she only delighted in it. Not even Varnham-and his connected with my mother; and before me lay the gorgepower with me was great-could induce me to under- ous coffin in which she was sleeping her last, long death take a course of regular study; but after his residence sleep. There was something horrible in a sense of the with us my mind gradually yielded to the influence of his stifling closeness of that silken lined coffin. I raised the teaching-became stronger, more methodical, and far lid, and it was a relief to me when the cool air stole over more capable of reasoning. But, as I more nearly ap- the beautiful face beneath; it seemed as if my mother proached the standard of his intellect, my reverence for must bless me that I had released her once more from him decreased. The awe in which he first held me gradu- the terrible closeness of the grave—that I had given her ally died away, and that feeling which had been almost back to life and the pure air of heaven. A silver lamp love, settled down to strong sisterly affection—deeper and stood on the mantle-piece, shedding a sad, funereal light more lasting, perhaps, than a more passionate attach- through the room and revealing the sweet, pale face of ment might have been. I could no longer look up to the dead with the shadowy indistinctness of moonlight. him as a being of superior strength and energy to myself; But though she lay there so still and cold, I could not, but next to my parents he was the dearest object to me even yet, feel that she was truly and for ever departed, in existence.
The fountains of my heart were still locked, and as one “Two years brought Varnham to his majority. His in a dream I turned away and stepped out upon the balfortune, though limited, was equal to his wants ; and he cony. The passion-flower was in bloom, and hung in resolved to travel, and then make choice of a profession. festoons of starry blossoms from the balustrades. That It was a sorrowful day to us when he left the parsonage. solitary white-rose tree was standing by the steps as it The loneliness which followed his departure, never gave had two years before; but its branches had spread and place to cheerfulness again. In four weeks from that shot upwards over the front of the balcony in profuse day, my father was laid in the vault of his own loved leafiness. A host of pearly blossoms intermingled with church. My gentle mother neither wept nor moaned the passion-flowers, and hung in clustering beauty around when she saw the beloved of her youth laid beside the the pillars and rude stone work. The steps were white
with a shower of leaves which the breeze had shaken | and hastened home to find me an orphan doubly bereavfrom the over-ripe roses, and their breath was shed around ed, to become my nurse and my counsellor-my all. with a soft steady sweetness. The holy moonlight was Most tenderly did he watch over me during my hours of around me, bathing the flower beds at my feet and tremb-convalescence. And I returned his love with a gratitude ling over the dewy thickets—beyond, lay the grave yard, as fervent as ever warmed the heart of woman. I knew half veiled by the shadow of the little church. Where nothing of business, scarcely that money was necessary the light fell upon it, a few marble slabs gleamed up to secure the elegancies I enjoyed. I had not even dreamfrom the rank grass, and the yew trees swayed gently in ed of a change of residence, and when information reachthe wind with a soft dirge-like melody. The agonizing ed us that a curate had been engaged to supply my conviction of my loss struck upon my heart like the toll father's place; that a rector was soon to be appointed, of a bell-I felt it all! My father was dead—buried, and that Lord Gordon, the elder and brother of my that humble chureh shut him out from my sight for ever! lamented parent, had consented to receive me as an My mother was there-I did not weep nor moan; my inmate of his own house, I sunk beneath the blow as if heart seemed silently breaking. While the pang was
a second and terrible misfortune had befallen me. The keenest, I gathered a handful of roses from the tree thought of being dragged from my home-from the sweet which my mother had planted ; carefully selecting the haunts which contained the precious remembrances of half-blown and most delicate flowers, such as she had my parents—and of being conveyed to the cold, lordly most loved, and scattered them, heavy with dew as they halls of my aristocratic uncle, nearly flung me back to a were, over the pillow and the velvet of my mother's state of delirium. There was but one being on earth to coffin. There was one bud but half unfolded, and with whom I could turn for protection, and to him my heart a soft blush slumbering within its core—such as she had appealed with the trust and confidence of a sister's love. always worn in her bosom on my father's birth-day. I pleaded with him to intercede with my uncle that I That germ brought the date of the month to my mind.' might be permitted still to reside at the parsonage that That should have been an annual day of rejoicing, and I might not be taken from all my love could ever cling they were both gone forth to keep it in another world; , 1o. Varnham spoke kindly and gently to me; he exI was alone-alono! I took the bud, carefully that the plained the impropriety, if not the impossibility of Lord dew might not fall away from its heart, and removing Gordon's granting my desire, and besought me to be the grave-clothes, laid it on the marble bosom of my resigned to a fate, which many in my forlorn orphanmother. I was about to draw the shroud over it, that it age might justly covet. He spoke of the gaieties and might go down to the grave with the sweet memorial distinction which my residence with Lord Gordon would blooming within her bosom, when the leaves trembled open to me, and used every argument to reconcile me to beneath my gaze as if stirred by the pulsation of the my destiny. But my heart clung tenaciously to its old heart beneath. A cry, half of joy, half of fear, burstidols, and refused to be comforted. Had I been flung from my lips: I pressed my shivering hand down upon on the world to earn my bread by daily toil, there was her heart-it was still-oh, how still! The night winds enough of energy in my nature to have met difficulties had mocked me. Then, the passion of grief burst over me, and to have struggled successfully with them; but to beI fell to the floor, and my very life seemed ebbing away come a hanger-on in the halls of my ancestors—a humin tears and lamentations. Hour after hour passed by, ble companion to my fashionable and supercilious cousin and I remained as I had fallen in an agony of sorrow. -the heiress of Lord Gordon's title and wealth—subject I know not how it was, but towards morning I sunk into il to her surveillance, and submissive to her caprices, was a heavy slumber.
a life which my heart revolted at; it spurned the splen“When I awoke, the dawn was trembling through did slavery which was to compromise its independence the heavy foliage of the balcony, and I observed, with- and humble its pride. Had Varnham counselled action out thinking how it had happened, that in my death-like instead of patience and submission, had he bade me to slumber I had been lifted from the carpet and laid upon go forth in the world, to depend on my own energies, and a sofa. My head was dizzy, and acute pain shot through win for myself a station highest among women, my own my temples; but I arose and staggered to the coffin. It i spirit would have seconded his council. The ambition, was closed, but the roses which I had scattered over it, which from my childhood had slumbered an inherent but lay still fresh and dewy upon the glowing velvet. I undeveloped principle in my heart, might have sprung up made a feeblo attempt to unclose the lid, but my head from the ashes of my affections, and the wild dreams of reeled, and I fell to the floor. A step was on the balco- struggle and distinction, which had haunted my earliest ny, the sash-door was carefully opened, and some one years, might have lured me from the sweet home I had raised me tenderly in his arms and bore me away. so loved, and from the resting-place of those who had
“When I again returned to consciousness, Varnham so loved me. But I was now called upon to give up all was sitting beside my bed; physicians and attendants for a distinction which had nothing in it to satisfy a free were gliding softly about the room, and every thing was heart like mine; I had no desire for mere notorietyhush as death around me. I was very faint and weak; nothing of the weak contemptible wish to shine as a but I remembered that my mother was dead, and that I beauty or a belle-esprit among a crowd of superficial, had fainted; I whispered a request to see her once more heartless creatures of fashion. Ambition was with me --she had been buried three weeks.
then but the aspirations of a proud and loving nature“Varnham had heard of my father's death in Paris, a dream of power indistinct, and as yet, never brought