ISHMAEL. OR IN THE DEPTHS.

Te Aroha News, Volume VII, Issue 457, 26 March 1890, Page 6

ISHMAEL. OR IN THE DEPTHS.

BY •MRS EMMA D. E. N. SOUTH-WORTH,

Author of •‘Self-Raised," "Fair Play." "Tin Aliasing i ride," “ A •' oble Lord," "Low He Won Her," " '■ ho Prince of Darkness, rried for Her. Life." .Etc.. Etc. CHAPTER XXXll.— (Continued.) * Ishmael, will you answer me — why have you brought me here ? What have you to say to me so serious as to demand this grave for the place of its hearing ? said Hannah. ‘ Aunt Hannah,’ began the boy, * what I have to say to you is even more solemn than your words import.’ 4 Ishmael, you frighten me. 4 No, no—there is no cause of alarm. 4 Why don’t you tell me what has brought us here, then ? ~ T , i 4 1 am about to do so, said Ishmael. solemnly. 4 Aunt Hannah ! you have often told me that she whose remains lie below us, was a saint on earth and is an angel in Heaven !’ ‘ Yes, Ishmael. I have told you so, and I have told you truly.’ 4 Aunt Hannah, three years ago I asked you who was my father. \ou replied by a blow. Well, I was but a boy then, and so of course you must have thought that that was the most judicious answer you could give. But now, aunt Hannah, I am a young man, and I demand of you who was my father ?’ 4 Ishmael, I cannot tell you ! With a sharp cry of anguish, the youth sprang up ; but governing his strong excitement, he subsided to his seat, only gasping out the question : ‘ln the name of Heaven, why can you not ?’ Hannah’s violent sobs were the only answer. 4 Aunt Hannah I know this much—that your name is Hannah Worth ; that my dear mother was your sister ; that her name was Norah Worth ; and that mine is Ishmael Worth ! Therefore I know that I bear yours and my mother s maiden name ! I always took it for granted that my father belonged to the same family ; that he was a relative, perhaps a cousin of my mother, and that he bore the same name, and therefore did not, in marrying my mother, give her a new one. That was what I always thought, aunt Hannah ; was it right?’ Hannah sobbed on in silence. * Aunt Hannah- ! by my mother’s grave I adjure you to answer me 1 Was I right ?’ 4 No Ishmael, you were not! wailed Hannah. 4 Then I do nob bear my father’s name ? ‘No.’ 4 But only mv poor mother’s ?’ 4 Yes.’

4 Oh, Heaven ! how is that ?’ ‘ Because you have no legal right to your father’s; because the only name to which you have any legal right is your poor,wronged mother’s.’ With a groan that seemed to rend body and soul asunder, Ishmael threw himself upon his mother’s grave. ‘You said she was an angel ! And I know that she was !’ he cried, as soon as he had recovered the power of speech. ‘I said truly, and you know the truth !’ wept Hannah. ‘ How, then, is it, that I, her son, cannot bear my father’s name ?’ • Ishmael, your mother was the victim of a false marriage !’ Ishmael sprang up from his recumbent posture, and gazed at his aunt with a fierceness that pierced through the darkness. • And so pure and proud was she that the discovery broke her heart !’ Ishmael threw himself once more upon the grave, and clasping the mound in his arms, burst into a passionate flood of tears, and wept long and bitterly. And, after a while, through this shower of tears, came forth in gusty sobs these words : • Oh, mother 1 Oh, poor, young, wronged, and broken-hearted mother ! sleep in peace ! for your son lives to vindicate you ! Ye 3, if he has been spared, it was for this purpose ! to honour, to vindicate, to avenge YOU !- And after these words his voice was again lost and drowned in tears and sobs. Hannah kneeled down beside him, took his hand, and tried to raise him, . saying : ‘lshmael, my love, get up, dear ! There was no wrong done, no crime committed, nothing to avenge ! Your father was as guiltless as your mother, my boy ; there was no sin ; nothing from first to last bub great misfortune ! Come into the house, my Ishmael, and I will tell you all about it!’

‘Yes! tell me all! tell me every particular! have no more concealments from me !’ cried Ishmael, rising to follow hia aunt.

* I will not; but oh, my boy ! gladly would I have kept the sorrowful story concealed from you for ever, but that I know from what I have seen of you to-night, that some rude tongue has told you of your misfortune ! and told you wrong besides !’ said Hannah, as they re-entered tho hut. They sat down beside the small wood-fire that the chill night made not unwelcome, even in August. Hannah sat in her old arm-chair, and Ishmael on the three-legged stool at her feet, with his head in her lap. And there, with her hand caressing his light brown hair. Hannah told him the story of his mother’s love and sufifering and death.

In some parts of her story his tears gushed forth in floods, and his sobs shook his whole frame. Then Hannah would be forced to pause in her narrative, until he had regained composure enough to listen to the sequel. Hannah told him all ; every particular with which the reader is already acquainted ; suppressing nothing but the name of his miserable father.

At the close of the sad story both remained silent for some time ; the deathly stillness of the room broken only by lshmael’s deep sigh 3. At last, however, he spoke: * Aunt Hannah, still you have not told me the name of him my poor mother loved so fatally.’ * Ishmael, I have told you that I cannot; and'now I will tell you why I cannot.’ And then Hannah related the promise that she had made to her dying sister, never to expose the unhappy but guiltless author of her death.

‘Poor mother! poor, young, brokenhearted mother ! She was not much older than I .ana now when she died—was she, Aunt Hannah ?’ «Scarcely two years older, my dear.’ « So young !’ sobbed Ishmael, dropping his head again upon Hannah’s knee, and bursting into a tempest of grief. She allowed the storm to subside a little, and"then said : < Now, my Ishmael, I wish you to tell roe what it was that sent you home so early from the party, and in such a sorrowful mooch I know, of course, that something must have been said to you about your ijirth. What was said, and who said it ?’

‘Oh, aunt Hannah ! it was in the very height of my triumph that I was struck down ! I was not proud, Heaven knows, that I should have had such a fall ! I was not proud—l was feeling rather sad upon account of Walter’s having missed the prize ; and I was thinking how hard it was in this world that nobody could enjoy a triumph without some one else suffering a mortification. I was thinking and feeling so as I tell you, until Walter came up and talked me out of my gloom. And then all my young companions were doing me honour in their way, when—’ Ishmael’s voice was choked for a moment; but with an effort he regained his composure, and continued, though in a broken and faltering voice : ‘Alfred Burghe left the group, saying that I was not a proper companion for young ladies and gentlemen. And when— she —Miss Merlin, angrily demanded why I was not, lie—Oh ! aunt Hannah !’ Ishmael suddenly ceased and dropped his face into his hands.

‘ Compose yourself, my dear, dear boy, arid go on,’ said the weaver. * Ho said that I was a—No ! I cannot speak the word ! I cannot!’ 4 A young villain ! If ever. I get my hands on him I will give him as good a broomstickingas ever a bad boy had in this world ! He lied, Ishmael ! You are not what he called you. You are legitimate on your mother’s side, bec-ause she believed herself to be a lawful wife ! You bear her name, and you could lawfully inherit her property, if sho had left any ! Toll them that, when they insult you !’ exclaimed Hannah, indignantly. ‘Ah ! aunt Hannah, they would not belieie it without proof.’ ‘ True ! too true ! and we cannot prove it, merely because vour mother bound me by a promise nover to expose the bigamy of your father. Oh ! Ishmael, to shield him, what a wrong sho did herself and you !’ wept the woman. ‘Oh, aunt Hannah, do not biame her! she was so good !’ said this loyal son. ‘ I can bear reproach for myself, but I will not bear it for her ! Say anything you like to me, dear aunt Hannah ! but never say a word against her !’

4 But, poor boy ! how will you bear the sure reproach of birth that you are bouud to hear from others ? Ah, Ishmael ! you must try to fortify your mind, my dear, to bear much unjust shame in this world. Ishmael, the brighter the sun shines the blacker the shadows falls. The greater your success in the world, the bitterer will be this shame ! See, my boy, it was in the hour of your youthful triumph that this reproach was first cast in your face ! The envious are very mean, my boy ! Ah, how will you answer their cruel reproaches !’ • I will tell you, aunt Hannah ! Let them say what they like of me ; I will try to bear with them patiently ; but it any man or boy utters one word of reproach against my dear, dear mother —’ the boy ceased to speak, bub his face grew livid. ‘Now, now, what would you do?’ exclaimed Hannah, in alarm. * Make him recant his words , or silence him for ever !’ ‘Oh, Ishmael ! Ishmael ! you frighten me nearly to death ! Good Heaven, men are dreadful creatures ! They never receive an injury but they must needs think ,of slaying ! Oh, how I wish you had been a girl ! Since you were to be, how I do wish you had been a girl! Boys are a dreadful trial and terror to a lone woman ! Oh, Ishmael ! promise me you won’t do anything violent. !’ exclaimed Hannah, beside herself with terror.

‘ I cannot, aunt Hannah ! For I should be sure to break such a promise if the occasion offered. Oh, aunt Hannah ! you don’t know all my mother is to me! You don’t! You think because she died the very day that I was born that I cannot know anything about her and cannot love her; bub I tell you, aunt Hannah, I know her well! and I love her as much as if she was still in the flesh. I have seen her in my dreams ever since I can remember anything. Oh ! often, when I was very small and you used to lock me up alone iri the hut, while you went away for all day to Baymouth, I have been strangely soothed to sleep and then I have seen her in my dreams !’

‘lshmael, you rave !’ ‘ No, I don’t; I will prove it bo you, that I see my mother. Listen, now ; nobody ever described'.her to me; not. even you; but I will tell you how she looks—she is tall and s'ender; she has a very fair skin and very long black hair, and nice slender black eyebrows, and long eyelashes, and large dark eyes— and she smiles, with her. \ eyes only J. -Now, .ds.riot that ,my mother ? For chat is the form I see in my dreams,’ said Ishmael, triumphantly, and for the moment forgetting his.grief.. ... * Yes, that is like what,she was ; .but of course you must havo- heard her described by some one, although you may have forgotten it. Ishmael dear, I. shall pray for you to night that all thoughts of vengeance may be put out of your mind. Now let us go to bed, my child, for we have to be up early in the morning. And, Ishmael?’ ‘ Yes, aunt Hannah.’ ‘ Do .you also pray to God for guidance and help ?’, ‘Aunt Hannah, I always do,’ said the boy, as he bade his relative good-night and went up to his loft. Long Ishmael lay tumbling and tossing upon his restless bed. But when at length he fell asleep a heavenly dream visited him. He dreamed that his mother, in her celestial robe, stood by his bed, and breathed sweetly forth his name: ‘ Ishmael, my son.’ And in his dreams he answered : ‘ I am here, mother V ‘Listen, my child.: Put thoughts of vengeance from your soul 1 In this strong temptation think not what Washington, Jackson, or any of your warlike heroes would have done ; think what the Prince of Peace, Christ, would have done ; and do thou likewise !’ And so the. heavenly vision vanished. CHAPTER XXXIII. LOVE AND GENIUS. Her face was shining on him; he had looked Upon it till it couid not pass avi ay ; He had no breath, no being but in hers; She was his voice; he did not speak to her, But trembled on her words; she was his sight; For his eye followed hers and saw with her 3, Which coloured all his objects.—Byron.- . Early the next morning, Ishmael walked over to Brudenell Hall, with the threefold purpose of making an apology for his sudden departure from the ball; taking leave of the family for the holidays, and bringing home the books he had won as prizes. As he approached the house, he saw Mr Middleton walking on the lawn. That gentleman immediately advanced to meet Ishmael, holdiner out his hand, and saying, with even more than hia usual kindness of manner: ..

‘ Good-morning, my dear boy ; you quite distinguished yourself yesterday; I: congratulate you.’ ‘ I thank you, sir ; I thank you very much ; but. I fear that I was guilty of great rudeness in leading the party so abruptly last night ; but I hope, when you hear my explanation,, you will excuse,me, .sir;’ said Ishmael, deeply flushing.

Mr Middleton kindly drew the boy’s arm within his own, and walked him away from the house down a shady avenue of elms, and when they had got quite out of hearing of any chance listener, he said, gravely : ‘My boy, I have heard the facts from Walter, and I do not require any explanation from you. I hold you entirely blameless in the affair, Ishmael, and I can only express my deep regret that you should have received an insult while under my roof. I trust, Ishmael, that time and reflection will convince young Burghe of his great error, and that the day may come when he himself will seek you to make a voluntary apology for his exceeding rudeness.

Ishmael did not reply ; his eyes were fixed upon the ground, and his forehead was crimson. Mr Middleton saw all this, divined his thoughts, and so gently continued : ‘You will be troubled no more with Alfred Burg o or his weak brother ; both boys left this morning ; Alfred goes to the military Academy at West Point; Bento the Naval Station at Annapolis ; so you will be quite free from annoyance by them.’ Still Ishmael hung his head, and Mr Middleton added :

‘And now, my young friend, do not let the recollection of that scapegrace’s words trouble you in the slightest decree. Let me assure you, that no one" who knows you, and whose good opinion is worth having, will ever esteem your personal merits less, uj:on account of— ’ Mr Middleton hesitated for a moment, and then said, very softly ‘ your poor, unhappy mother.’

Ishmael sprang aside, and groaned as if he had received a stab ; and then with a rush of emotion, and in an impassioned manner, ho exclaimed : ‘My poor, unhappy mother! Oh, sir, you have used the right words ! She was very poor and very unhappy ! most unhappy ! but nob weak ! nob foolish ! nob guilty! Oh, believe it, sir! believe it, Mr Middleton ! For if you were to doubt it, I think my spirit would indeed be broken ! My poor, young mother, who went down to the grave when she was but little older than her son is now, was a pure, good, honourable woman. She was, sir ! she was ! and I will prove it to the world some day, if Heaven only lets me live to do it! Say you believe it, Mr Middleton ! Oh, say you believe it !’ ‘ I do believe it, my boy,’ replied Mr Middleton, entirely carried away by the powerful magnetism of Ishmael’s eager, impassioned manner. ‘Heaven reward you, sir,’ sighed the youth, subsiding into the modest calmness of his usual deportment. ‘ How do you intend to employ your holidays, Ishmael?’ inquired his Mend. ‘By continuing my studies at homo, sir,’ replied the youth. ‘ I thought so 1 Well, so that you do nob overwork yourself,, you are right to keep them up. These very long vacations are made for the benefit of the careless and idle, and nob for the earnest and industrious. Bub, Ishmael, that little cob of yours is not the best place for your uurpose ; studies can scarcely be pursued favourably where household work is going on constantly; so I think you had bettor come here every day as usual, and read in the schoolroom. Mr Brown will be gone certainly ; but I shall be at home,and ready to render you any assistance you may require.’ ‘Oh, sir, how shall I thank you?’ joyfully began Ishmael. ‘ By just making the best use of your opportunities to improve yourself, my lad,’ smiled his friend, patting him on the shoulder. ;

* But, sir—in the vacation—it will give you trouble—’ ‘lt will afford me pleasure, Ishmael! I hope you can take my word for that?’ ‘ Oh, Mr Middleton ! Indeed you—how can I ever prove myself grateful enough ?’ ‘ By simply getting on as fast as you can, boy ! us I told you before ! And let me bell you now, that there is good reason why you should now make the best possible use of your time ; it may be short.’ ‘ Sir ?’ questioned Ishmael in perplexity and vague alarm. ‘ 1 should rather have said it must be short! I will explain. You know Mr Herman Brudenell ?’

* Mr—Herman —Brudenell,’ repeated the unconscious son, slowly and thoughtfully ; then, as a Hash of intelligence lighted up his face, he exclaimed : ‘ Oh, yes, sir, I know who you mean ; the young gentleman who owns Brudenell Hall, and who is now travelling in Europe.’ ‘ Yes ! but he is not such a very young gentleman now ; he must be between thirtyfive and forty years of age ! Well, my boy, you know, of course,that he is my landlord. When I rented this place, I took it by the. year, and at a very low price, as the especial condition that I should leave it at six months’ warning. Ishmael, I havereceived that warning this morning. I must vacate the premises on the first of next February.’ Ishmael looked confounded. ‘ “ Must vacate these premises the first of next February,” ’ he echoed, in a very dreary voice.

‘ yes, ray lad ; bub don’t look so utterly sorrowful; we shall not go out of the world, or even out of the State ; perhaps not out of the county, Ishmael; and our next residence will be a permanent one ; I shall purchase, and nob rent, next time; and I shall nob lose sight of your interests ; besides, the parting is six months off yet; so look up, my boy! Bless me, if I had known it was going to depress you in this way. I should have delayed the communication as long as possible ; in fact, my only motive for making it now, is to give a good reason why you should make the most of your time while we remain here.’ ‘ Oh, sir, I will ; but I am so sorry you are going to leave us,’ said the boy, with emotion.

• Thank you, Ishmael; I shall nob forget you ; and in the meantime, Mr Brudenell, who is coining back to the Hall> and is a gentleman of great means and beneficence, cannot fail to be interested in you; indeed,l myself will mention you to him. And now come in, my boy, and bake luncheon with us, We breakfasted very early this morning.in order to get the teachers off in time for tho Baltimore boat; and so we reqpire an early luncheon,’said Mr Middleton, as he walked his young friend off to the house.

Mi-3 Middleton and all her children and Claudia were already seated around the table in the pleasant morning room, where all the windows were open, admitting the free summer breezes, the perfume of flowers and the songs of birds. The young people started up and rushed towards Ishmael; for their, sympathies were with him ; and all began speaking at once.

‘Oh, Ishmael ! why did you-disappoint me of dancing with the best scholar in the school ?’ asked Claudia. ‘ What did you run away for ?’ demanded James. ‘I wouldn’t have gone for him, said John. ‘ Oh, Ishmael, it was such a pleasant party,’said-little Fanny. ‘ A. lf was a bad boy,’ said Baby Sue. " ;

‘ It was very impolite in you to run away and leave me when I was your partner in the first quadrille ! I do not see why you should have disappointed me for anything that fellow could have said or done!’ exclaimed Claudia, ; u ? . i .

As all were speaking at once it was quite impossible to answer either, so Ishmael looked in embarrasmenb from one to the other.

Bee had not spoken ; she was spreading butter on thin slices of bread for her baby sisters ; but now, seeing Ishmael’s perplexity, she whispered to her mother : ‘ Call them off, mamma dear; they mean well; bub it must hurt his feelings to be reminded of last night.’

Mrs Middleton thought so too; so she arose and went forward and offered Ishmael her hand, saying: ‘Good-morning, my boy ; I am glad to see you ; draw up your chair to the table. Children, take your places. Mr Middleton, we have been waiting for you.’ ‘I know you have, my dear, but cold lunch don’t grow colder by standing, or if it does, so much the better this warm weather. I have been taking a walk with my young friend here,’ said the gentleman as he.took his seat.

Ishmael followed his example, but nob before he had quietly shaken hands with Beatrice,

At luncheon Mr Middleton spoke of his plan, that Ishmael should come every day during the holidays to pursue his studies as usual in the school-room.

‘ You know he cannot read to any advantage in the little room where Hannah is always at work,’ explained Mr Middleton. ‘ Oh, no ! certainly not,’ agreed his wife.

The family were all pleased that Ishmael was still to come.

‘ But, my boy, I think you had better not set in again until mondayL A few days of mental rest is absolutely necessary after the hard reading of the last few months. So I enjoin you not to open a class-book before next Monday.’ As Mrs Middleton emphatically seconded this move, our boy gave his promise to refrain, and after luncheon wa3 over be went and got his books, took a respectful leave of his friends and returned home.

‘Aunty,’ he said, as he entered the hut, where he found Hannah down on her knees scrubbing the floor, * what do you think? Mr Middleton and his family are going away from the Hall ! They have had warning to quit at the end of six months.’ ‘Ah,’ said Hannah, indifferently, going on with her work.

‘ Yes ; they leave on the first of February, and the owner of the place, young Mr Herman Brudenell, you know, is coming on to live there for good !’ ‘Ah !’ cried Hannah, no longer indifferently, but excitedly, as she left off scrubbing, and fixed her keen black eyes upon the boy. ‘Yes, indeed! and Mr Middleton—oh, he is so kind—says he will mention me to Mr Herman Brudenell.’

‘Oh ! will he ?’ exclaimed Hannah, between her teeth.

‘ Yes ; and Mr Herman Brudenell is a very kind gentleman, is he nob?’ ‘ Very,’ muttered Hannah. ‘You were very well acquainted with him, were you not ?’ * Yes.’

‘ You answer so shortly, aunt Hannah, Didn’t you like young Mr Herman Brude nell ?’

‘I —don’t know whether I did or not; but Ishmael, I can’t scrub and talk at the same time. Go out and chop me some wood ; and then go and dig some potatoes, and beets, and cut a cabbage-—a whitehead, mind ! arid then go to the spring and bring a bucket of water ; and make haste ; but don’t talk to me any more, it you can helDib.’

Ishmael went out immediately to obey, and as the sound of his axe was heard, Hannah muttered to herself: ‘ Herman Brudenell coming back to the Hall to live !’ And she fell into deep thought. Ishmael was intelligent enougji to divine that his aunt Hannah did not wish to talk of Mr Herman Brudenell.

‘ Some old grudge, connected with their relations as landlord and tenant, I suppose,’ said Ishmael to himself. And as he chopped away at the wood, he resolved to avoid in her presence the objectionable name.

The subject was not mentioned between the aunt and nephew again. Tshmael assisted her in preparing their lace afternoon meal of dinner and supper together, and then, when the room was made tidy and Hannah was seated at her evening sewing, Ishmael, for a treat, showed her his prize books; abwhichHannah was so pleased, that she went to bed and dreamed that night that Ishmael had risen to the distinction of being a country schoolrhaSter. The few days of mental rest that Mr Middleton had enjoined upon the young student were passed by Ishmael in hard manual labour that did him good. Among bis labours, as he had now several valuable books, he fitted up some shelves over the little low window of his loft, and under the window he fixed a sloping board that would serve him when at home for a writing-desk.

CHAPTER XXXIV. UNDER THE OLD ELM TREE. She was his life. The ocean to the river of his thoughts, Which terminated all; upon a tone, A touch of hers, his blood would ebb and flow. And his cheek change tempestuously-his heart Unknowing of its cause of agony,— Byron. On Monday morning he resumed his attend ance at Brudenell Hall. He was received very kindly by the family and permitted to go up to the empty school-room and bake his choice among all the vacant seats, and to make thec'p ©i use of the school library, maps, globes, and instruments. Ishmael moved his own desk up under one of the delightful windows, and there he sat day after day at hard study. He did nob trouble Mr Middleton much ; whenever it was possible to do so by any amount of labour and thought, he puzzled out all his problems and gob over all his difficulties alone. He kept up the old school hours ; punctually, and exactly at noon, he laid aside his books and went out on the lawn for an hour’s recreation before lunch. There he often met his young=friends, and always saw Claudia. It was Miss Merlin’s good pleasure to approve and encourage this, poor bub gifted youth ; and she took great credit bo herself for her condescension. She seemed to herself like some high and mighty princess graciously patronising some deserving'young peasant. She often called him to her side ; interested herself in his studies and in his health; praised his assiduity ; but warned him nob to confine himself too closely to hi 9 books, as ambitious students had been known before now to sacrifice their lives to the pursuit of an unattainable fame. She told him that she meant to interest her father in his fortunes ; and that she hoped that in another year the judge would be able to procure for him the situation of usher in some school, or tutor in some family. Although she was younger than Ishmael;yet her tone j and manner in addressing him was that of an older as well as of a superior-; and blended the high authority of a young queen with the deep tenderness of a-little mother. For instance, when he would come out at noon, she would often Mbeckon him to her side, as she sat in her? gardenphair, ffnder the shadow of the: great glm •

tree, with a book of poetry or a piece of needlework in her hands. And when he came, she would make him sib down on the grass at her feet, and she would put her small, white hand on his burning forehead, and look in his face with her beautiful, dark eyes, and murmur softly : ' Poor boy ; your head aches ; I know it does. You have been sitting under the blazing sun in that south window of the school-room, «o absorbed in your studies that you forgot to close your shutters.’ And she would take a vial of eau-de-cologne from her pocket, pour a portion of it upon a handkerchief, and with her own fair hand bathe his heated brows ; at the same time administering a queenly reprimand, or a motherly caution, ns pride or tenderness happened to predominate in her capricious mood.

This royal or maternal manner in this beautiful girl would not have attracted the hearts of most men ; but Ishmael, at the age of seventeen, was yet too young tot')) that haughty pride of full manhood whicn recoils from the patronage of women, and most of all from that of the woman they love.

To him, tli is proud and tender interest for his welfare added a greater and more perilous fascination to the charms of his beautiful love ; it drew ber nearer to him ; it a 1 lowed him to worship her, though mutely ; it permitted him to sit at her feet, and in that attitude do silent homage to her as to his queen ; it permitted him to receive the cool touch of her fingers on his heated brow ; to hear the soft murmur of her voice close to his ear ; to meet the sweet questioning of her eyes. And. oh, the happiness of sitting at her feet, under green shadows of that old elm tree ! The light touch of her soft fingers on his brow thrilled him to his heart’s core; the sweet sound of her voice in his ears filled his soul with music; the earnest gaze of her beautiful dark eyes sent electric shocks of joy through all his sensitive frame.

Ishmael was intensely happy. This earth was no longer a common-place world, filled with common-place beings ; it was a paradise peopled with angels. But, oh, how precarious, oh, how dangerous, oh, how latal were all these delights to the susceptible, earnest, entliusiasuc boy !

Did Mr and Mrs Middleton fear no harm in the close intimacy of this gifted boy of seventeen and this beautiful girl of sixteen ?

Indeed, no ! They believed the proud heiress looked upon the peasant boy merely as her probdge, her pet, her fine intelligent dog ! They believed Claudia secure in her pride and Ishmael absorbed in his studies. They were three-quarters right, which is as near the correct thing as you can expect imperfect human nature to approach ; that is, they were wholly right as to Claudia and half right as to Ishmael. Claudia was secure in her pride ; and half of Ishmael’B soul—the mental half —was absorbed in his studies ; his mind was given to his books ; but his heart was devoted to Claudia. And in this double occupation there was no discord, but the most perfect harmony. But though Claudia, whom he adored, was his watchful patroness, Bee, whom he only loved, was his truest friend. Claudia would warn him against danger, but Bee would silently save him from it. While Claudia would be administering a queenly rebuke to the ardent young student lor exposing himself bo a sun-stroke by reading under the blazing sun in an open south window, Bee, without saying a word, would go quietly into the schoolroom, close the shutters of the sunny windows, and open those of the shady ones, so that the danger might nob recur in the afternoon.

In September, the school was regularly re-opened lor -the reception of the day pupils.: - r Their parents were warned, however, that; this was to he the last term ; that the school must necessarily be broken up at Christmas, as the house must be given up on the first of February. The return of the pupils, although they filled the schoolroom during study hours, and made the lawn a livelier scene during recess, did not in the least degree interrupt the intimacy of .fshmaei and Clau lia. He still sat at her feet; under the green shadows of the old elm tree, ; oftpnij§adijgig to her while she worked her croQ.het upon his old guitar an-accomp.initneht to her song. For long ago the ‘ professor ’ had taught Ishmael to play, and loaned him the.instrument. '

It is not to be supposed that, Claudia’s favour of Ishmael could be'witnessed by his companions without exciting their envy and dislike of our youth. But the more strongly they evinced their disapproval of her partiality for Ishmael, the more ostentatiously she displayed it. Many, were ibe covert sneers levelled at * Nobody’s Son.’ And often Ishmael felt his heart swell, his blood boil and his cheek burn at these cowardly insults. And it was well for all concerned that the youth was ‘ obedient ’ to that ‘heavenly vision’ which had warned him, in these sore trials, not to ask himself—as had been hjs boyish custom what Marion, Butman, Jackson, or any of the great, battle-axe heroes would have done in a similar crisis ; but what Christ, the Prince of Peace, would have done ; fqr lshmael knew that all these great historical/warriors held the ‘ bloody code of honour" that would oblige them to answer insult.with death; but that the Saviour of the world ‘ when reviled, reviled not again ;’ and that He commanded all His followers to do likewise, returning ‘ good for evil,’ ‘ blessings for cursings.’ AH this was very hard to do ; and the difficulty ot it finally sent Ishmael to study his Bible with a new interest to discover the mystery of the Saviour’s majestic meekness. In the light of a new experience, he read the amazing story of the life, sufferings and death of Christ. Oh, nothing in the whole history of mankind could approach this, for beauty, for sublimity and for completeness ; nothing had ever so warmed, inspired and elevated his soul as this ; this was perfect, answering all the needs of his spirit. The great heroes and sages of history might be very good and useful as ’ examples and references in the ordinary trials and temptations of life; but only Christ could teach him how to meet the great trial from the world without , where envy and hate assailed him ; or how to resist the dark temptations from the world within , in whose deep shadows rage and murder lurked ! -Henceforth the Saviour became his own exemplar and the Gospel his own guide-book. Such was the manner in which Ishmael was called of the Lord. Ho became proof against the most envenomed shafts of malice. The reflection : What would Christ have done? armed him with a sublime and invincible meekness and courage. CHAPTER XXXV THE DREAM AND IHE AWAKENINGThe lover is a god,—the ground He treads on 13 not ours; His soul by other laws is bound. Sustained by other powers ; His own and that one other heart Form for himself a world apart. Milnes. Time went on. Autumn faded into winter : the flowers were withered ; the grass dried ; the \voods bare. Miss Merlin no longer sat under the green shadows of the old elm tree'; there were no green shadows. there; the tree \yas stripped pf its leayes and-

eemed but the skeleton of itself, and the snow lay around its foot. The season, far from interrupting the intimacy between the heiress and her favourite, only served to draw them even moro;dosely together. This was the way of it. At the noon recess all the pupils of the school would rush madly out upon the lawn to engage in the rough,, healthful and oxciting game of snow-balling each other—all except Claudia, who was far too fine a lady to enter into any such rude sport; and Ishmael, whoso attendance upon her own presence she would peremptorily demand. While all the others were running over each other in the ir haste to get out, Claudia would pass into the empty drawing-room, and seating herself in the deep easy chair, would call to her ‘ gentleman in waiting,’ saying : ‘ Come, my young troubadour, bring your guitar and sib dovyn upon this cushion at my feet an i play an accompaniment to my song, as I sing and work.’ And Ishmael, filled with joy, would lly to obey the royal mandate ; and soon seated at the beauty’s feet, in the glow of the warm wood fire and in the glory of her heavenly presence, he would lose himself in a delicieus dream of love and music. No one ever interrupted their tgte-k-tSte. And Ishmael grew to feel that he belonged to his liogre-lady ; that they were for ever in separate and inseparable. And thus his days passed in one delusive dream of bliss uutil the time came when he was rudely awakened.

One evening, as usual, he took leave of Claudia. It was a bitter cold evening, and she took off her own crimson Berl'n wool scarf and with her own fair hands wound it around Ishmael’s neck, and charged him to hasten home, because she knew that in fluenza would be lying in wait to seize any loitering pedestrian that night. Ishmael ran home, as happy as it was in the power of man to make him. How blest he felt in the possession of her scarf —her fine, soft, warm scarf, deliciously filled with the aroma of Claudia’s own youth, beauty and sweetness. He felt that he was nob quite separated from her while he had her scarf—her dear scarf, with the warmth and perfume of her own neck yet within its meshes ! That nieht he only unwound it from his throat to fold it and lay it on his pillow that his cheek might rest upon it while he slept—slept the sweetest sleep that ever visited his eyes. In the morning he arose early as usual to hasten to schoool and—to Claudia. He wound her gift around his neck and set off at a brisk pace. The weather was still intensely oold ; but the winter sky was clear and the sunshine glittered ‘ keen and bright ’ upon the crisp white snow. Ishmael hurried on and reached Brudenell Hall just in time to see a large fur-oovered sleigh, drawn by a pair of fine horses, shoot through the great gates and disappear down the forest road. A death like feeling, a strange spasm, as if a hand of ice had clutched his heart, caught away Ishmael’s breath at the sight of that vanishing sleigh. He could not rationally account for this feeling ; but soon as he recovered his breath he inquired of old Jovial, who was standing near and gazing after the sleigh : ‘ Who has gone away?’ ‘ Miss Claudia, sir; her pa came after her last night— ’ ' Claudia—gone !’ echoed Ishmael, reeling and supporting himself against the trunk of the bare old elm tree.

‘lt was most unexpected, sir ; misb’ess sat up most all night to see to the packing of her clothes—’

‘Gone—gone—Claudia gone!’ breathed Ishmael, in a voice despairing, yet so low that it did not interrupt the easy flow of Jovial’s narrative.

‘But you see, sir, the judge, he said how he hadn’t a day to lose, ’cause he’d have to be at Annapolis to-morrow to open his court—’

* Gone—gone !’ wailed Ishmael, dropping his arms.

* And ’pears the judge did write to warn master and mist’ess to get Miss Claudia ready to go this morning; but seems like they never got the letter—’ ' Oh ! gone !’ moaned Ishmael.

—‘Anyways, ibwasall—“quick! march 1” and away they went. And the word does go around us, after the court term is over, the judge he means to take Miss Claudia over the seas fto forrin parts to see the world." ;

Which —which road did they take, Jovial?’ gasped Ishmael, striving to recover breath and strength and power of motion. ‘Law, sir, the Bay mouth road, to be sure! where they ’speebs to take the ’Nopolis boat, which it ’ill be a nigh thing if. they get there in time to meet it, dough dey has taken the sleigh an’ the fast horses.’ (To he Continued..) . . jpoistr