Littell's Living Age

"Don't ask me," said she, looking down, while a sudden glow rose to her cheeks; "yet I hope and believe that I could."

happiness, too, which partakes not of the quietness | broke by saying, in a changed and playful tone, and restraint consistent with her habitual demeanor. "This is good philosophy, but I hope it may not be It is as if you were to follow a stream from its put to the test. Margaret, could you play Thekla source, under the shadow of thick trees and tall if there were need?" overhanging rocks, and then suddenly step forth into the sunshine, and see the dark, sombre waters changed into gushing, sparkling ripples of light. She passes from tears to laughter, and from laughter to tears, like a child. How Owen would be astonished if he could see her! He once told me that he thought her the most uninteresting of all his nieces.

Dr. Thornton, or Francis, as I am to call him(he called me aunt Peggy immediately, and entreated me to be equally unceremonious with him) -arrived early. At the first glance I admired, at the first warm shake of the hand I felt sure I should like him. I detest that cold stroking of fingersthat light touch of the lips against the cheek, which some persons consider to be the warmest testimonies of affection tolerated by refined society. Give me my darling Margaret's shower of fond kisses, or her Francis' hearty, prolonged shake of the hand, which sends a feeling of warmth and comfort to the heart. He is a distinguished-looking man; tall and stately, with a remarkably fine forehead, mouth expressive, intellectual, and somewhat stern, but eyes so full of openness and kindliness, that you feel at home with him instantly. I can easily believe what Emma tells me, viz., that he has been an object of speculation among the Wearmouth ladies; and I can fancy, moreover, that no little astonishment has been felt at this choice.

My dear child," cried her fond mother, who did not exactly understand the allusion, "I am quite sure you could play anything you chose to attempt, only you are so diffident. Was not that a knock at the door?"

"You have a late visitor," said I. "Who can it be?"

The servant announced Mr. Moreton, the rector of Wearmouth, and an old friend of the family. He entered, and greeted me kindly, with an effort to assume his ordinary manner; but his face was grave and his demeanor troubled.

You are come early, or rather late, to pay your respects to aunt Peggy," said Emma. "When did you hear that she had arrived ?" "I did not know Miss Forde was here," returned he. "I came for a different reason. I am sorry to say, my dear friends, that I bring you unpleasant news.

All looked at him in silent anxiety.

"Let me begin," continued he, "by telling you our great cause for thankfulness. Frederick is perfectly well."

"What has happened?" cried Emma, vehemently. It is this," replied he. "The Alceste has arrived, but cannot be admitted into the harbor; in short, there is sickness on board, and she must go through some sort of quarantine." "And Frederick?" said Emma. "Are you

The evening was rather happy than lively, and afforded several opportunities for the display of Francis Thornton's conversational powers. It was easy to see that he had read much and thought deep-telling me the truth?” ly; but I was chiefly interested by certain slight indi- "I pledge you my word," replied he, solemnly, cations of an under-current of high enthusiastic feel-"that he is, as yet, perfectly well; but it would be ing, which I knew to be so thoroughly in accordance mistaken kindness to conceal from you that he is in with the temper of Margaret's mind. For instance, a position of danger." my sister, in speaking of her son's character and "What is the complaint?" inquired Francis. prospects, observed, "Yes, he should have had a They call it," answered Mr. Moreton, with college education, ill as I could have afforded it—some appearance of reluctance," the Black Fever." but, from a child, his heart was set upon the navy, so I let him have his way. What more can we wish for those we love than to know that they are happy?"

Thornton acquiesced in the sentiment, but glanced somewhat expressively at Margaret, who answered with kindling eyes, "You don't think so, do you, Francis? That is not in accordance with your theories."

He turned to Mrs. Ferras with a kind of halfdeprecating smile, and said gently, in answer to her exclamation of wonder, "Oh, we shall find that we think pretty nearly alike when we come to define our notions of happiness."

"And what is your notion of happiness?" asked I.

"First, to be good, and then to do good; and then, if possible, to be great.

"What, Francis?" cried Mrs. Ferrars, reproachfully; "and you leave out affection in your notions of happiness?"

"Do I leave it out?" said he earnestly. "Nay, on the contrary, it pervades the whole idea. But the happiness of affection consists not so much in the presence as in the nobleness of the object beloved. It is the incentive and safeguard to virtue. Love, to be perfect, must cast out not only fear, but sin also-and even weakness. And it does so."

There was a momentary pause, which Francis

My eyes were on Thornton's face, and I could see that he changed color as these words were uttered. He continued to question Mr. Moreton, but in an under tone of voice.

"How many deaths?"
"Nine-in three days."
"And the medical officer-"

"Died, on the second day after the disease made its appearance."

"But what attendance have they? Who has volunteered to take his place?"

"No one," replied Mr. Moreton. "Dr. Monckton has a wife and family; and so has Brookes. But the news has been sent up to London, and doubtless by the day after to-morrow"

"The day after to-morrow!" cried Thornton. "And they are dying by dozens!"

He paused-perhaps struck by a sudden deep sigh from Margaret, who clasped my hand at the moment with a movement as of terror. Her cheeks were as white as paper, and her eyes fixed on her lover's face. Looking earnestly upon her, he stood up and said, "My dear, dear friends, surely there can be but one opinion as to my duty."

"Good God, Francis," exclaimed Emma," what are you thinking of? Is there not misery enough?" "These poor people," began he-but Emma interrupted him, putting her hand upon his arm and speaking with much agitation.

THE MAIDEN AUNT.

"We will not hear of it," she said. "No, no; of bright waters, like the evil spirit lurking at the vou have no right to sport with Margaret's happi-gates of paradise, lay the black hulk of the plagueYou have other duties to ship, rocking and swinging with every movement What scenes were enacting on ness in this manner. of the lazy waves. think of. Margaret, speak to him!" Poor Margaret! She sat speechless and motion-board that gloomy vessel! What tortures were less, drawing her breath with a quick, uneasy sound, there preparing for our unconscious hearts! I and never lifting her eyes. I held her trembling shudder when I think of it. hand between my own.

"Margaret shall herself decide," said Francis, whose voice plainly showed how deeply he shared the emotion to which he was determined not to yield. "You are right, my dear mother; her claim is indeed great. Speak, my beloved, shall I go or stay?"

We were sitting toThe fourth evening came. It was now somewhat gether, as we generally did, when the hour of Mr. Moreton's visit drew near. past the time at which he usually arrived, and we uneasily avoided each other's eyes, as we tried to were beginning to keep up a forced and languid conversation, to conceal from ourselves that we fearful. She cast herself upon her knees, covering her "Poor Mrs. Ellis sent for some wine for her face with her hands, and murmuring, in broken tones, the words, "God help me! God help me!" little boy this morning," said Margaret; "he has Francis approached her, raised her with the ut-been-" She stopped short; her cheeks and lips Nay, became deadly white, as though every drop of blood most tenderness, and placed her in a chair. " my dearest,' said he, greatly moved, "it is too had been driven back to the heart. There was a much for you. Be calm, be comforted; I will knock at the door. never leave you."

With a sudden movement she flung her arms around him. "Oh, go-go!" she cried, "I would not keep you for a moment. Go, dearest-God be with you!"

Gently unlocking her clasped hands, he consigned her to me; the poor mother, utterly overwhelmed with sorrow, was sobbing on the sofa. Oh, the sound of his feet as he moved across the room to depart! Each step seemed planted on one's bare and shrinking heart. He paused in the doorway, and gave one look back-Margaret did not see itshe was kneeling, with her face hidden in my lap. She had not dared to look upon him since she pronounced the fatal word "go!"—and the door closed, and he was gone.

Margaret arose, went to her mother, clasped her arms around her, and they wept in silence on each other's bosoms. We felt how vain it was to offer consolation; we could only sympathize; but when Mr. Moreton spoke of the nobleness of that spirit of martyrdom which was ready to give up all for the sake of duty, the poor girl lifted up her face, and looked at him for an instant with such an expression-it was proud, it was almost joyful. But it was drowned in a fresh burst of tears.

Never shall I forget the few days that followed. Margaret moved about the house like a restless spirit, or sat motionless with clasped hands; sometimes, to all appearance, unconscious, sometimes evidently engaged in mental prayer. Emma, with the true unselfishness of a mother's grief, did nothing but watch and wait upon her child. Each evening Mr. Moreton brought us the report from the Alceste. Entering without knocking, and coming rapidly up stairs so as to give us no suspense, he ," before he opened the would cry, "Good news,' door. And then we kneeled down and gave thanks; and then heard the sad tale of disease and death, which always, however, began and ended with the delicious words, "Frederick and Thornton are well."

grow

My darling girl, how nervous you are!" cried "There-stay quietly where you I, jumping up. are, and I will go and learn what it means. I hurried out of the room, and met Mr. Moreton on the stairs. The first glance at his face was sufOh, how shall we tell ficient; I saw we had something terrible to hear. He grasped my hand. her? how shall we tell her?" said he, much agitated.

"Which is it?" I gasped, scarcely able to artic

ulate.

"Thornton," he replied; "he sickened this morning."

We were interrupted by a cry, the sound of which did not leave my ears for many days-it expressed such bitterness of desolation. Margaret, unable to restrain her anxiety, had followed me to the door, and heard the fatal words. The next instant she was, happily for herself, insensible.

Her swoon lasted long, and, when she recovered, she was in a high fever-a result which might easily have been foreseen, after four days of such suffering, ending so terribly. She was delirious, and knew no one who approached her. For three weeks the violence of her disorder continued unabated; alternating between fits of raving and a kind of stupor that was not sleep. During this time our kind and true friend, Mr. Moreton, was constantly with us; and great were the comforts and support which my poor sister and I derived from his presence. "A friend loveth at all times, and a brother is born for adversity." How much added force does the truth of these words acquire, when the friend and comforter of your affliction is one whose high and holy mission it is to speak peace to the troubled spirit, and declare the counsels of God!

At length the delirium ceased, and was succeeded For several days after this by a long and profound stupor, supposed to be the crisis of the disease. left her she was in a strange kind of state her eyes were open, and she took obediently whatever When I would call up before my eyes an image was presented to her, but never spoke nor moved; of those four terrible days, it is neither the pale and and we knew not how far she was conscious of tearful face of Emma, nor poor Margaret's glazed what passed around her. Every day there seemed and melancholy eyes and drooping figure, that I to be more and more of sense in those sad eyes, behold. I see the scene visible from the staircase which feebly followed our movements about the window of my sister's cottage, at which it was chamber, with an expression so pathetic, that Emma impossible to help pausing every time one passed and I were frequently unable to restrain our tears. it. The gay town, the busy harbor with its clus- At last-it was about five weeks from the first tering masts, the cloudless summer sky, the broad beginning of the fever-I was sitting alone by her and sunny sea; and there, in the midst of that sheet | bedside, and the sloping rays of the red and sinking

her. last.

I was troubled, and hardly knew how to answer "What am I to tell you, love?" I said, at "You must try to compose yourself." Yes, yes; I will indeed," she replied. "But I shall be so much better when I know it with certainty. It is several days since my mind came back to me; but it is still weak. I remember all; but sometimes my recollection is confused; and then my dreams-my dreams are so dreadful. I think, if I were once to hear it distinctly, I should not dream in this dreadful manner. Oh, if anything would stop my dreams!"

"Are they so very melancholy?" asked I. "Oh, no, no; it is their happiness which is so terrible. I dream as if nothing had happened; and then, you know, I wake, and can hardly bear it; and then I get bewildered. But if you would only tell me how it all happened; if you would say it to me in words, perhaps I should not dream so again." My tears fell fast, as I kissed her forehead, and replied: "But I would not check those dreams; they are sent in mercy, my own one; they are comforts, and not torments.'

Ah, you cannot understand me," she said; "but pray, pray, have pity on me, and do what I ask you.

"You have not strength," I said; "I must go for Dr. Monckton."

She held my hand tightly. “Oh, no—no, no," she cried, earnestly; "don't go away; I want no one but you. I have strength for anything; you don't know how much better I am."

I hesitated, and considered within myself. It was ten days since the crisis had terminated favorably. Dr. Monckton had pronounced that the disease was absolutely gone. Her weakness was excessive; but then she had been taking nourishment, and gaining strength day by day. I thought that the vexation consequent upon my evasion of her inquiries, might be worse for her than the agitation of having them answered. At any rate, I saw no means of escape; and being at all times a bad dissembler, I felt that I could not disguise the truth any longer; so I stooped over her, and kissed her, and spoke with a trembling heart.

My darling child, suppose that those dreams were only preparations for reality."

She looked wildly at me, but did not speak. "Recollect," I continued, "you know nothing certainly. When your dreadful illness began, it was all doubtful. God has been very merciful to us your dear brother never caught the fever, and he is now at home; and-" I burst into tears, and could not proceed. But the disclosure which I had begun, perhaps somewhat rashly, was still more rashly completed. The door opened, and Frederick entered. But whose was that pale, joyful face behind him? Who is it that lingers on the threshold, looking wistfully into the chamber, but afraid to advance; his eyes bright with thankful hope and eager happiness, though his whole figure bears the traces of recent and severe illness? Need I name him? The sound of his step was enough-Margaret

wept, and stretched out her arms. But we must leave the sacred rapture of that meeting untouched. And what a party was it that gathered around the invalid's bed that evening! The mother, with her eyes fixed on her child's face, scarcely daring to rejoice, yet full of thankfulness, and clasping fondly in hers the hand of her restored son; and Thornton, the noble and self-devoted, receiving, even on earth, the abundant reward of his goodness. Of all who sickened in that unhappy Alceste, he was the only one who recovered. And don't forget Aunt Peggy; no heart was happier, or more grateful, than hers. Truly may we old maids thank God that the privilege of sympathy is vouchsafed to us; for, if we suffer by the sorrows of those we love, we have also great happiness in their joys.

DUNCOMBE PARK.

[Colonel Harwood was the husband of Jane, the next sister of Margaret Forde. Mrs. Harwood brought her lord a son and a daughter within the first three years of their marriage. Ten years afterwards she died in giving birth to a second little girl. The disconsolate widower went to reside in France, both to divert his own grief by change of scene, and to afford his daughters the advantages of education, which that region of indefinite extension, the Continent, is in England somewhat vaguely supposed to afford. He did not return till his two eldest children had attained the ages, respectively, of twenty-six and twenty-eight, while Janet, the youngest, had just passed her sixteenth birthday.]

CHAPTER I.

Dec. 14th.-It was an interesting visit on which I entered to-day, and I felt unusually nervous as my humble one-horse fly drove through the great gates of Duncombe Park, and finally deposited me, my carpet-bag, my trunk, my bandbox, my two baskets, and my seven parcels, beneath the stately portico of the mansion itself. I was ashamed to burthen the dignified footman with all my odds and ends, especially as I saw him raise a wistful look, first at the coach-box and then to the door, evidently expecting to see my lady's maid in the act of descending; and, when he became convinced that I travelled without any such appendage, I detected a spice of contempt in the elaborate civility with which he took package after package from my hands to deposit them on the hall table. I was afraid lest the yet grander butler, who stood behind, should see my prunella shoes; which I carried in a separate parcel that I might not have to fish them up from the bottom of the bag when making my toilette for dinner; so I thrust them into my spacious pocket in a great hurry, somewhat to the disadvantage of the symmetry of my figure, and affecting a lofty indifference as to the fate of that precious heap of parcels, every one of which I longed to carry up stairs and unfasten with my own hands, I followed my conductor across the marble floor. On the threshold of the drawing-room I was met by my brother-in-law, who took me by both hands, and welcomed me in the kindest possible manner. "My dear Miss Forde," said he, "I can assure you that this is one of the most gratifying moments I have experienced since I left the Continent." Then, giving me his arm, he led me forward and introduced me to his daughters, the elder of whom submitted to my embrace, while the younger cordially returned it. During the five or ten minutes which elapsed before I was conducted to my bedroom to dress, I had time to make a rapid survey of the trio, and compare them

with the faces of thirteen years ago, which still remained vividly impressed on my memory.

concluded he was engaged in some of those mysterious occupations which always separate young men from their families during the morning hours, even if they are neither students nor sportsmen, and that I should see him at the dinner-table.

"I hope you have not suffered from cold during your journey at this unpropitious season, Miss Forde," observed Colonel Harwood; "Anna, is there a good fire in your aunt's room? We must be careful of our visitor's comforts, you know." "I have no doubt there is, papa," returned Anna.

"I went in just before I came down stairs, papa," said Janet, " and saw that everything was comfortable for aunt Margaret."

"This is my little housekeeper," said the colonel, putting his hand on Janet's shoulder with a smile. "You will find differences of character in your two nieces. Anna is fond of her books, and Janet studies the details of every-day life. I am no foe to varieties of character-develop rather than change, guide rather than check, that has been my system of education. Faults must of course be cured-and they both have their faults: but they have also their peculiarities, and I am by no means prepared to say that those peculiarities are faults."

My brother-in-law is still a fine-looking man. He has grown somewhat portly, and a tendency to gout in the left foot has caused him to change his former activity of movement for a deliberateness which is not, however, without dignity. He has the same sweet smile, and his voice is even more gentle, his manners more bland than they used to be. Well, people may say what they please, but I never can believe he has so bad a temper as he is reported to have. Surely, if he were really so pas-White seldom neglects her duties." sionate, I must have seen some specimens of it before now. It is true that many circumstances prevented my having much intercourse with him during my poor sister's life-time, and that, more than once, when I have seen them together, I have fancied that she seemed afraid of him; yet his deportment to her was ever that of a devoted husband, and it really seems impossible that an expression of countenance so benevolent, and a manner of speaking so unusually mild, should belong to a man of violent temper. He is said, moreover, to be proud, and that I believe, although his bearing shows no symptom of it, except, perhaps, a certain elaborateness in his courtesies, which, as Owen used to say, "when you see in a gentleman, you may be sure that he looks down During this speech Anna looked cross and Janet upon you." Perhaps Owen would draw a similar awkward, while I felt it impossible to make any conclusion from his studious gentleness; but Owen answer whatever, except a little absurd laugh, of is a caustic observer, and, though such persons al- which I was ashamed because it was so unmeaning. ways pique themselves on their perception of char-" All very wise and right, my dear brother-in-law," acter, I do not find that they are generally so right thought I," but are you not a little, just the very in the end as those who take a more charitable view least bit in the world, pompous? And is it not of their fellow-creatures. As for myself, I do not very unpleasant for your daughters to be described know that I can be called a good judge of character, before their faces in that manner?" Somehow or but somehow or other I do manage to be generally other the conversation flagged after that speech of on comfortable terms with all the manifold varieties the colonel's. that I encounter; and it has more than once been remarked that I have a true feminine gift of winning influence over even the obstinate. I hope I am not vain of this, and, if it be true that I do possess such power, I hope that I may always use it for good. At any rate I am not going to quarrel with my good brother-in-law, or to hunt for defects in his character just at the time when he is giving me so affectionate a reception.

My niece Anna is not so handsome as she promised to be at fifteen; but she has a fine figure and a very sensible countenance. Her manners are a curious contrast to her father's; they are positively abrupt, and, as she never smiles when she speaks, 'the first impression is certainly not pleasing. I should say she was a little ungracious; but I dare say it is fancy. I am so accustomed to breathe a warm atmosphere of love, that I feel chilled and oppressed without it; but how unreasonable it is to expect that a niece whom I have seen very little of for the first fifteen years of her life, and not at all since, should love me by instinct. I must try to win her affections, and it shall be hard if she baffles me in the attempt.

"Will you not like to dress, Miss Forde-aunt Margaret?" asked Anna after a pause. I acquiesced, and we were quitting the room, when I was checked by hearing my brother-in-law say in his politest tone, "Have you not dropped something, Miss Forde? Here, Janet, take this to your aunt. He stooped with some difficulty, owing to his gouty foot, and lifted my unhappy shoes off the carpet. I was the more annoyed as the parcel had opened, and discovered two or three little last thoughts which I had popped in with the shoes just before starting. He collected with the utmost care a pair of black silk mittens, a paper of pins, some bootlaces, and, alas! that it must be confessed, a small box of corn-plaster, all of which he presented to me with an air of complete unconsciousness.

Janet

I could scarcely conceal my vexation. could not restrain a burst of girlish laughter; her father turned to her in displeased surprise. The poor child became crimson; but I put my arm round her waist, and drew her out of the room with me, joining the laugh as I did so, for the whole matter was so ludicrous that my annoyance soon gave way to amusement. "Oh, aunt!" she began apologetJanet is a sweet creature; very shy and down-ically, when we reached the staircase. "Don't cast, but with the brightest little face I ever beheld say a word about it, my love," interrupted I; “old when she smiles at you. She is very pretty, and maids, you know, are privileged to have oddities, very like her mother: tall, slender and blue-eyed, and henceforth I grant you the privilege of laughwith her fair young face in a perpetual blush. She ing at all mine as fast as you find them out. But, glanced so kindly at me through her long eye-lashes, tell me, where is Charles? I shall see him, shall that I could not help taking her hand in mine as we I not?" sat side by side, and indeed, I should have ventured on another embrace, if Anna's eyes had not rested upon us at the moment, with a half-surprised expression which deterred me. And where, thought 1, is my old friend and favorite Charles? But I

Janet's face became gravity itself, and Anna answered, "No, he is not at home."

"Not at home!" repeated I, in dismay, "but he will return before I go, I hope.

"I do not think there is any chance of his being

I acquiesced, and said a few warm words in praise of those dear creatures.

"My girls," proceeded the colonel, "anticipate much pleasure and profit from the society of their cousins. Anna is looking forward to an acquaintance with Katharine, who must, I think, be nearly her own age. Is it not so, Anna?"

"I really don't know papa," returned Anna; "I have not the slightest recollection of my cousin Katharine, and I never thought about her age.'

"She is five-and-twenty," said I, secretly amused at seeing that the colonel appeared a little disconcerted by this speech. Do you remember Frederic? He has just been distinguishing himsef greatly at college.

"He promised to be clever," remarked the colonel, "though I should have supposed him rather brilliant than solid. He visited us at Nice, during his first college vacation, and I observed, then, a certain tendency to repartee in conversation, a disinclination to the steady pursuit of any discussion, and indeed, in some instances, an apparent incapacity to feel the force of the arguments which were employed against him, which, however natural in so young a man-and I hope I am always ready to make allowances for youth-were more creditable to his wit and imagination than to his judgment." "He has just taken a double first class," said I, as demurely as I could.

able to do so," replied Anna, shortly. Her manner was so decided, and Janet's eyes had become so tearful since her brother's name was mentioned, that I felt sure there was some mystery behind the scenes, and did not like to say any more. An hour afterwards our little party assembled at dinner. The colonel was the kindest and politest of hosts, but I did not feel very gracious towards him, for I was sure, from Janet's flushed face and timid manner, that she had undergone a lecture on the ill-breeding of laughing at her aunt. Nevertheless, it is evident to me that he is an affectionate father, though, doubtless, somewhat too much of a disciplinarian; both the girls seemed fond though afraid of him, and his manner to the dear little culprit evidently shows that he has forgiven her misdemeanor, after duly reprimanding her for it. I wish with all my heart that he did not think himself such a perfect father, and feel bound to keep up his character on every occasion. Striving after perfection is doubtless right, but constantly trying to act up to an inward self-consciousness of perfection is a very different and a far less pleasant thing. I must take myself to task about my brother-in-law. I am beginning already to find his company a perpetual little provocation to me, and this is both tiresome and ridiculous. I cannot describe what there is about him which I do not like-he is kind, hospitable, sensible, and gentlemanlike; but there is a sort of elaborateness and self-consciousness about all he does and says, which I greatly wish I had not observed, because it teases me, and perhaps after all it is only fancy. It seems as if he were perpetually saying in his own mind, "Now I am being "He stammers a little," answered I, "but we the courteous host-now I am going to speak as hope it is improving. It will be a great disadvanthe kind brother-this must be said with an encour-tage to him if he enters the church." aging bow to Miss Forde-now I am showing by my manners that I think women have a full right to express their opinions, but delicately conveying at the same time that they should always express them with modesty. I never forget the well-bred gentleman in the affectionate relation, nor the affectionate relation in the well-bred gentleman." Oh, if you could but forget yourself, you would be a very agreeable man! But it is foolish and even ungrateful to think in this manner, and I will put it out of my head if I can.

"We are but a small Christmas party," observed the colonel; "I have not yet been sufficiently long at home to renew my acquaintance with the other members of our family, of whom I have lost sight for so many years. I confess that I am fond of family meetings, and always encourage them. They are right, and I generally find that what is right is also agreeable."

You must have been lonely sometimes, when you were abroad," said I. "I think the seasons at which those happy unions are natural and habitual, must be very desolate when you have no familiar faces to gather around you."

"It was a deprivation, certainly," returned he, "but I do not think we were lonely. I hope we have too many resources in ourselves and in each other to find any situation lonely. I should be almost as sorry to find my children dependent on society, as disdainful of it."

I felt nearly out of patience, but scolded myself for my absurdity, and replied very civilly that I thought he was perfectly right.

"I must look to you," he continued, " for information concerning those with whom I hope, ere long to become personally intimate. You have just been staying with the Bryants, have you not?”

"Indeed!" replied my brother-in law, "I rejoice to hear it. And George-he must be growing into a man now-has he not some unfortunate impediment in his speech?"

"A great deal more may be done towards curing or concealing those little natural defects than people are apt to imagine," observed the colonel, complacently; "I speak from experience. If I were so unfortunate as to stammer, I should assume a slow, and, as it were, explanatory mode of speaking, by which the repetition of the word or syllable would generally be avoided, and in which, when such a repetition did occur, it would seem rather an intentional emphasis, in character with the manner, than an inevitable defect."

"Do you think stammering could be cured by such a system, papa ?" asked Anna.

"I am not prepared to say that it could be cured, my dear," returned her father, "but I believe it might, except in very bad cases, be rendered perfectly inoffensive. In a somewhat analogous case, I have followed a similar plan myself, with complete success. Since I last saw Miss Forde-" (with a bow and a smile to me) "I have been afflicted with a slight tendency to gout, but by adopting a slower manner of moving, which is certainly not unsuited to my advancing years," [another smile,] "I have so effectually concealed it, that I would venture to say, that no person, unacquainted with the circumstance, would ever guess it; and that Miss Forde herself would be puzzled to decide in which foot the malady lay.”

By the time he had finished this speech, he had turned to me with an air of modest and triumphant inquiry, and I was once more reduced to my little stupid laugh, for in the first five minutes I had seen as clearly as possible that he had got the gout, that he had it in his left foot, and that he was trying to look as if he had not got it at all. Fortunately his self-complacency on this subject was too secure to be easily alarmed, and he took my short chuckle for

« Previous Continue »

Books

Littell's Living Age, Volume 15