"When do you call the mountain in its grandest array? I cannot imagine anything beyond what I am looking at just now. I have seen Mount Blanc, but there was nothing on it save the awful whiteness, which blinds and awes the spirit." season. "Miss Clinton, to my mind the sublimest scene of these hills is to be seen in the white winter. The loneliness pleases me so, that I feel a reverence for High Peak which I never feel at another All then is so still that I can hear my heart beating. It is only at rare times that its real grandeur appears. One day, a few years ago, in January I was here. There had been a thaw and a heavy rain for a whole day, which beat upon the snow without melting it, making it so hard that it could be trodden upon without sinking. Toward midnight the wind came around suddenly to the northwest, and blew one of the coldest blasts I ever knew. The rain continued, but it froze as it fell, so that not a tree, nor a twig nor a leaf but hung in icicles, clear as crystal. As soon as my father arose, he said, 'Now is the time for chasing that mischievous painter that has troubled the sheep so long. He will sink in the crust. Let us after him with our snow-shoes.' A company was gathered, Teunis among them. Sleds filled with skins, guns and victuals, and warm hearts. We landed here when the sun was at the highest. I had come up so far, just to take my favorite look and return; but of all the sights that mortal eye ever beheld, it seems to me still that that must have surpassed them. The mountain was one lump of glass, not a dark spot on the whole. The trees all hung in crystals. The hard snow, frozen and glittering to the very top. It was one diamond, glistening and enriched by all the colors of the rainbow. I looked, but my eyes filled so with tears that I turned away, for I was ashamed to be seen weeping at what no one else seemed to care to look upon but myself." "Did no one enjoy the vision but you? It seems to me that I see it now as you describe it." "Not one," said Elsie, "cared about it after a moment was passed; one girl of my own age declared that she would rather get a look at the big kitchen fire. And a good-hearted girl she was for all that. We must not judge other people by their taste in these things." "No, Elsie," said Miss Clinton, "for we find that true love does not always unite itself with refined taste. I have known some of the most sentimental men and women in the world who would not sacrifice a single gratification for the good of others. But I know others who can enjoy all the beautiful in nature and art, and they would this day lay down their life for me. Here I am cut off from all, and not a friend but one." Elsie, with great art, turned her thoughts away from this melancholy theme, by saying: "Miss Clinton, stand out there, and let me tell you what I have been planning. The Hermit that you have heard me speak of, told me about the Queen of May in England. I have been thinking that the Queen of October would be the most suitable for our country, and I would like to have you as our model.” "Well, dress me up as you please; it will put off care for the day, and give me something to tell when I return to London—that is, if I ever return. I feel for a moment now that I might act Lady Hope in the pageant." 'My dear lady, you must be my queen, since I have elected you. Let me gather the leaves and the branches while you will use your skill in putting them together, to your own fancy. Here is a piece of stick which will serve as the stalk for your sceptre. You must twine it around with the things I shall bring to you, and there is a needle and thread. Now, you are better off than Mother Eve, the Queen of Eden." "You seem, my friend and maid of honor, as I shall call you, to use great familiarity here, in putting a queen to work. But since it must be so, let me try. Tell me who is this strange man who has informed you of old country customs so well. Is he a real hermit, or only some mock anchorite that affects these strange ways, for some good end, or in some whim of his own? I should like to see a real recluse." "I cannot tell you much about him; at least, I dare not. He has been in this region for more than a year; he came here, no one can tell whence; and as he knows so much about the world, we think he must have been a great traveller. The common people say he is a spook; and the place he has chosen for his retreat favors the notion, for from the earliest time it has always been thought that some ghost of an old countryman frequented that spot. Some say that Hendrick Hudson comes back every year to play at bowls, up in these hills, in honor of his finding out our famous river; others, that Captain Kidd, He "No, Miss Clinton; he is always calm and quiet when I am near. He tells me of things has seen and of some things he has done has been in battles, by land and sea. But, hus I am speaking too loud; I sometimes think c knows my very thoughts. Hark! there is Rover a bark. Hush! there is the wildcat's mew, as sure as I live. Quick! let us to the bed of the stream My mother is afraid, and is calling us." Here the mewing became more distinct, t which Elsie answered by putting her hand to ter mouth, giving out a sound which imitated a you the great pirate, hid some chests of gold there, and killed a big negro on the spot. One old money-hunter, called Fred Martin, told a terrible tale of his going at midnight, and digging under a tree. The secret of his success lay in his not uttering a single word, whatever he should see, and the whole efforts of the ghosts lay in forcing him to speak. He dug on till the hour of twelve, when around him rose the crowd of imps, led on by the big, black negro. On Fred worked till out of breath, he lay down on his back to rest; one more shovelful, and he would be at the chest ; but over him whirled a large round rock, like a mill-kitten, eager to reach its mother. Lowering of stone, that rose and fell at a great rate, wheeling all the time. Speak he would not, and speak they were determined he should. Down the stone again came, till he thought it touched the hair of his head, when forgetting himself, he cried, 'Off, you black duivel.' The words no sooner left his mouth than all was pitch dark, and he was left there lying till the morning. He declares till this day, if he could only have held his peace, he would have been rich enough by this time. So superstitious are the people, that many of them think that the hermit is either Hendrick Hudson, or the spook' that guards the moneychest of Captain Kidd." "But whom does Elsie think he is? He must be some one worth speaking of, when you are so interested in him." "I dare not say all I think of him, my lady. He takes up the most of his time in reading and writing; he knows all that is going on, which makes me think he must be in communication with strange things and persons. He wanders every day to the top of the mountain, and sometimes comes this way looking always as if he expected some one from the west. At such times he is fearful to look upon." "You are not afraid of him yourself since you have heard his account of the May Queen ?" own head, she signed to her companion to folɔ@ her example as they ran toward the fall, where Angelica was waiting for them in the intenses anxiety. Rover stood trembling by her stie, then running up to Elsie, he cowered down as f he had been chastised; every now and then giving forth a short, quick bark, more through terr than eagerness to be sent out on a hunt. "Some wild animal," was the ready explana tion of the experienced girl, who having been so often out with her father, had seen the dog treable before when through instinct he perceived 11 enemy near. To this the mother assented, w`cn she listened and heard a howl fierce and dep All four stood gazing down the ravine, every sense quickened to the utmost; while as howl aner howl came up, nearer every time, they felt te chills of death coming over them. After a t. ne. it seemed as if the yells were changed in their depth, and that some power stronger than the animal, whatever it was, held it in check. Tis was confirmed by the increasing boldness of the dog, which was seen in his running as far as te verge of the shelf, and even putting his paws forward on a tree that grew near the elge, then coming back, as if he wished to encourge a friends. The cause of this alarm must be ex plained hereafter. WOOED AND MARRIED. BY ROSA NOUCHETTE CAREY, Author of "Nellie's Memories," "Wee Wifie," "Barbara Heathcote's Trial," and "Robert Ord's Atonement." CHAPTER XX. CROWNED. GUY CHICHESTER was alone. Honor's pretty sitting-room had a pleasant, homelike air about it this evening; the soft lamplight fell on the gray damask and delicately stencilled walls, Kiddleawink was stretched on the white rug, a work-basket stood open on Honor's little table, and some lace work lay where it had been thrown down weeks ago; a riding-whip and gauntlet were beside it. A look of pain crossed Guy Chichester's face as he noted these little tokens of Honor's presence, and then he threw his arms across the back of the low velvet lounging chair, and buried his face on them. Heaven knows what bitter thoughts were surging up in the man's mind as his head sank despondingly on his folded arms. Regret for the past mingling with fears for the future; intolerable longings, remorse for a wasted life, for talents frittered away, for opportunities lost, for faults that had blasted so fair a promise, blended with rebellion against Fate, that had robbed him of his heart's desire. "I nearly lost her," was his inward groan. "She was right, and what good would my life have been to me-what good is it now? I am weary of this struggle; of what avail is my manhood? I cannot bear this state of things much longer; it is maddening. The broad shoulders. heaved with the impatient sigh. "Fool!" he went on, "weak, unmanly, to think I can hardly master myself in her presence. One of these days I must rise against this soft tyranny; one of these days I must tell her that she must be my wife or nothing to me. Nothing! As though I could blot her out of my life-as though I could endure existence without her! Friendship! the very thought is oppressive-a mere mockery. Oh, Honor, I may have sinned, but at least you will have to answer for these wasted, embittered years." A stifled sigh seemed to echo the unspoken reproach-a soft sweep of drapery came nearer and nearer. "Guy!" It scarcely needed that whispered monosyllable to bring Guy Chichester back to the VOL. VII.-29 present again, for the hand whose touch had always thrilled through his man's pulses was lying lightly on his arm, but the brown bearded face was only lifted for a moment. She could feel the electric shock that ran through him. "Oh, Honor, Honor!" She kept her steady hand on his arm, but her voice shook in its sweetness. "Dear Guy, look again; it is your old Honor.” "But so changed, so pitiably changed! Honor, the girl was right; I might have lost you." "True, dear friend.” He raised his head, and drew her towards him with a fond peremptory movement, but for once there was no resistance. She stood with her head a little drooping and eyes downcast, as his keen glance noted the ravages that disease had made in her beautiful face and figure; evidently he was unprepared for the change, for he relaxed his hold with a sudden groan. "Guy, you frighten me. For the poor soul feared What if sickness had Her clear, wistful eyes questioned him, and then a fear seized her; she grew paler, and pressed her hand to her side. Am I such a wreck?" that her beauty had faded. robbed her of her charms, and she no longer found favor in his eyes? But in his pain he misunderstood her. "It would not have been fair. Death had no right to deprive me of my treasure before it had come into my keeping," he said, almost savagely. The old Berserk spirit kindled in his eye; the man seemed defying his fate. "I wanted to live. Oh, it seemed too dreadful to die!" she murmured, pressing nearer to him. Another time she would have rebuked his bitterness; now her weakness and need of him were so great that she could not refrain from a pang that he did not open his arms, and take her into them who had been given to him back from death; as though in his reverence he would have touched a hair of her head unless she had suffered him! Had he forgotten that only a little while ago he had prayed her to have mercy upon him, for that his trouble was greater than he could bear, and she had said him nay? How could he know that during these long years she had proved him, and that she was willing, aye ready, to trust him now? Already the sullen gloom on his brow was infecting her with a new terror. Was she so changed, pitiably changed, as he said? Was it this that was clouding his thankfulness, and making him so unlike himself? Honor's limbs trembled; her woman's nature had received a shock; the light died out of the beautiful eyes. "Guy, I cannot bear this. What makes you so strange to me?" He drew his hand before his eyes, and then his voice changed; he answered her with feigned cheerfulness. "To be sure, I have no right to be making you as dreary as myself. I ought to be thankful, I am thankful, that you are spared, though it may not be for me; but one grows so heart-sick sometimes. But you cannot help that, can you dear ?" "Guy, how can you misunderstand me so ?" "Am I misunderstanding you, my poor Honor? How pale you look, and I am keeping you standing! Sit down, dear." "Not now.' Yet Honor's limbs could hardly support their weight; she leant heavily against the chair, steadying herself with hands that had begun to tremble. Why did he not look at her? -yet his voice was kind. "You sent for me," speaking hurriedly, as though he had suddenly remembered something; "you must not make me lose my train." "Oh, Guy, must you go, and to-night?" "Elliott says there is no need—” "Then stay," interrupted Honor. "Stay-why?" he repeated, looking at her in surprise. "You are the last person, are you not, to tell me to neglect my duty?" back from death. You do not think me unk -2. do you, Honor ?" "No, Guy;" but there was a ring of desp in her voice. "You are so true a friend-you mean so by me; but once for all you must understand tha a man's nature is not always under his contr This friendship between us is mockery. I- Waz ails you, dear?" "O, Guy, my heart is breaking! Guy! Gay At the cry of anguish from the woman he love Guy Chichester turned pale, and involuntarily opened his arms, but the next moment they dropped to his side. "I forgot; I have no right," he muttered. Honor tottered back into a seat and covered her face with her hands; and tears, the bitteres she had ever shed, dropped slowly through r wasted fingers. Had she come back to through the valley of the shadow of death for the? But the next moment he sprang to her side. "Anything but that!" he cried, in a vore hoarse with emotion. "Honor, it shall be as you wish. I would rather die than you shord shed a single tear. Keep me by you if you w when it grows too hard I will go away, as I have gone away before. O, my darling, my darling' I never meant to hurt you like this." She looked up in his face and smiled—'aw sadly!—through her tears. "O, Guy, am I that still ?" "Are you what, my darling? God help me. Honor, but I think you grow dearer to me every day I live. Ever since the first hour I saw you, you have been the only woman in the world to me-my heaviest curse and my dearest blessing" "And you love me still?" With quick revulsion he left her side and began "Your duty!-ah, yes. But may it not be pacing the room. here ?" But again he misunderstood her. "You are a good woman, Honor; you mean it for the best, but this must cease. Hush!" as she tried to interpose a word; "I did not mean to tell you this to-night-not to-night." "What is it you have to tell me, Guy?" and Honor's voice grew faint. He was trying her cruelly, but she had no strength with which to answer him. "I have been thinking it over- No, there is no time to-night, you are not well enough, and it seems ungrateful after you have been brought "Have I deserved this doubt? I thought ye perfect, Honor; but you have no right to test your power like this;" and then, as though afra of his vehemence, "Do you remember how vet clung to me that night? I could see your har's waving out to me in the darkness ever so tar away; will you ever cling to me again?" He stopped and looked at the fair, bowed face with intense yearning, and his voice grew low and passionate. "O, Honor, if it be for the 20 time, for the sake of the dear old days, kiss me urce again, and bid God bless me before I go, for to-night I feel like a Cain, branded with the thought of some lost paradise." Under the sheltering hands the pale face grew radiant. What were the words that seeined echoing down deep in her heart?"They that sow in tears shall reap in joy." "Guy, come here ;" and as he leant over her she lifted up her face, flushed with brilliant color, and kissed him, and then laid her head on his breast. "God bless you, dear! O, my dear, my dear, you have nearly broken my heart; but I understand it now. You must never leave me again, Guy, for," in a whisper, "I cannot do without you." Crowned indeed! Had it come to him at last— the prize he had won and lost, and which he had been striving to regain all these weary years. Was the seed he had sown in bitterness to bring forth a fair harvest? "My God, I am not worthy," were the only words that came to him in that moment of culminating joy, when the woman he had wooed for so many years came to him and laid her noble head on his breast, and he could feel the beating of the pure heart against his own. "My love, my love!" was all he said; but the tightening of the strong arms about her, the murmured blessing from the lips that rested upon the bright hair, spoke volumes, and holding her to him in that long silent embrace, Guy Chichester thanked God and took courage. "Honor, are you sure you trust me now?" They were sitting together side by side. Honor looked a little spent and weary with happiness, but the tender shining of her eyes and the varying color on her face made her so like the "Honor bright" of the old days, that Guy Chichester could almost have thought that the long bitterness was a dream, and that they had never been parted. "It was in this room, do you remember, Honor, that you gave me back this ;" and he opened a little case and showed her the diamond hoop. "I have carried it about with me ever since. I hardly dared to hope its owner would wear it again." She looked at him with her old beautiful smile, but it deepened into gravity as the diamonds slipped into their old place, and Guy took hand and ring into his keeping. "Six years ago, in this dear old room, you promised to be my wife. We have gone through a good deal since then. You will not keep me long waiting, will you, dear?"’ "No, Guy." "You will soon come to me?" "Whenever you wish it," was the quiet answer. There was something almost solemn in this second betrothal. Guy Chichester was the first to break the silence. "And you can really trust me now?" "For all these wasted unhappy years, when we might have been together. No, don't stop me, dear. dear. If you only knew how I have longed to ask your forgiveness !" "Mine? You must be jesting, Honor." She smiled and shook her head. "No; I have been wrong, too. I have been harsh and ungenerous. Your mother was right when she said I loved my own will too much to make you happy; and yet no woman was ever prouder of her lover than I was of you, Guy." "You were always too good to me. have you reproach yourself like this. But for my cursed temper, you would have been my wife long ago.' I will not She sighed, and he could feel the hand he held trembled slightly. "Do you know the thought that haunted me most in my illness? It was remorse that I had not loved you well enough. Yes, indeed," as Guy uttered an incredulous exclamation, 'perfect love casteth out fear.' My love was imperfect while I feared to trust you." "You knew me too well; it was all my fault, all my fault." "You say that to comfort me, but indeed I was hard on myself as well as you. Do you remember that day when I interceded for Stewart? I was nearly yielding then." "Nearly, but not quite." "No; the old fear still remained. I had heard all about your noble work then, Guy, and when you prayed me to come to you, such a longing constrained me that I could have cast myself into your arms, if you had only been less stern with When I thought that I should die, and that me. |