sons she would be likely to meet. "Ah! my beloved friend!" murmured Heaven- | and introduced him to Eveline, whom he amused until lietta, as soon as she found herself recognized-" At | tea-time, with information as to the place and the perlength then I have found a congenial soul! 'Soul!' did I say? The people around us have no souls!” "No souls!" exclaimed our Eveline, trying to look as solemn as the occasion seemed to require, "No souls! you alarm me!" "Ah yes! you can sympathize with me; for sensitive as you are, you must often have suffered as I have. Can you imagine a suffering more exquisite ?" "Are you in pain, Heavenlietta?" "In pain! No! why do you ask?" "The four principal boarding-houses here, Miss Willis, have been nicknamed the Nunnery, the Funnery, the Factory and the Pottery. The first is kept by a cool and economical Quaker lady, who has a virtuous horror of music and dancing, and has lately expelled from the public drawing-room a piano-forte, which had been smuggled into it. Some of the rebellious boarders, for want of more rational and elevating amusements, have betaken themselves to cards, which "Oh! you spoke of suffering, and I thought you I have seen in play so early as ten in the morning. In looked as if you had the tooth-ache." the intervals of whist, tongues and netting-needles are set in motion-the tongues go rather the fastest of the two, and if a lapsus linguæ could be as easily remedied as a slip of the needle or a false stitch, the spirit "Eveline!" said Miss Waddle solemnly, with a sublime pathos of voice and manner, "the agony to which I allude is of a more terrible nature!" Eveline was really frightened now-" What agony, of Harmony might still reign triumphant in the house, my dear Miss Waddle?" in spite of its anti-melodious landlady's prohibition. "The agony of being constantly misunderstood by By the way, how will the poor Quakers endure the the heartless, thoughtless, frivolous beings around me. music of the spheres, to which, as we are taught, the Gifted as I unhappily am by nature with a sensitive-spirit's ear will one day wake in Heaven? There are ness the most exquisite, and affections the most many interesting persons at the Nunnery—' black ardent, they are wounded at every turn." "But is it possible that all the ladies and gentlemen present are thoughtless, heartless and frivolous?" "All!" averred Heavenlietta, with a mournful shake of the head; "All but Mr. Maynard," she added, suddenly assuming her sweetest smile, and looking up confidingly in the face of a young man who now sauntered toward them. Mr. Maynard threw himself on the sofa in a lounging attitude, showering by the movement, as he did so, a mass of long hair all over one expressive eye, probably with the intention of doing, like Moore's Eastern beauty, "all the mischief he could with the other." spirits and brown, white spirits and gray"—there is a little gem from the South, a dark-eyed Carolinian, graceful, delicate and spirituelle as Shakspeare's Ariel, in the Tempest; but my favorite-for I've not been introduced to the gem-is a frank, quiet, cheerful, sensible girl from P-, whose beauty is forgotten in her goodness and her truth. She shows off every one but herself, and has always a kind word for the present and a charitable one for the abssent. The Funnery takes its name from the gayety of the bright and beautiful spirits who lead the sports at M's. The Factory is that long, light green house, all windows and no blinds, which you passed on your way hither. "You are more animated than usual, Miss Waddle," It is said the entertainments there are neither few nor said he. 66 Ah, my friend, believe me! The cloud but leaves the laughing eye The tempest raves beyond control!" "Don't, Miss Waddle, I beg of you! You look altogether too Sidonian for my nerves. However, that is a pathetic verse; but why not make it rhyme. How much better it would read thus "The cloud but leaves the laughing chin,'" etc. "Ah! now you are quizzing me! I don't believe but what you are. Are you not, now? Tell me candidly! do! I implore! I entreat! You are! You are trying not to laugh! Positively I wont stay another minute: I wont, indeed; so you need not urge me;" and, playfully tapping his cheek with her fan, the too sensitive Heavenlietta waddled from the room. Mr. Maynard had his peculiarities, as who has not? He was, however, agreeable, intelligent and interesting-rather too Childe Haroldish perhaps, at times, in his views of men and things; but that is often the case with young persons of his age and sensitive temperament. Harriet, who had met him before, now joined them dull, and that the queen of the revels is fair as the fabled nymphs of Diana. The Pottery is the house we are in. It takes its name from its proprietor, and is one of the pleasantest in the place. That remarkably stout lady, who is just entering the room, with a little girl clinging to her dress, is Mrs. Waddle, the mother of our friend. She approaches, I must resign the sofa to her. She will inevitably occupy all but the small space which you have appropriated. Listen to her and command, if you can, your countenance." The stout lady sat down panting and fanned herself. Eveline, who was very fond of children, held out her hand to the little, sallow, glum-looking thing, with large, staring, black eyes and curly hair, who still clung obstinately to her mother's gown. The child was dressed in a stiff, blue silk, with a gold chain and locket, coral bracelets, and a pink ribbon round her head "Go to the lady, Azurelina," said Mrs. Waddle. "I named her Azurelina, ma'am, because I was in hopes she would have had blue eyes. They were blue when she was born. Is n't it a pity that they turned out black after all? However, I can hardly have the heart to regret it, since they are so beautiful now. By the way, ma'am, speaking of beauty, I have a particular favor to ask. We never allow ourselves to tell Azurelina how remarkably charming she is. I must beg of you, therefore, to control your admiration before her. We wish her to be modest, as she is lovely and graceful. Dear little pet! Go to the lady, Azurelina, and give her a sweet kiss, there's a love!" All this was said in a tone sufficiently loud for the "little pet" to hear, and not only the "little pet" but every one else in the room. Why is it that if a child happen to have large black eyes and curly hair, no matter how dull and inexpressive the former may be, nor how dry and ill-colored the latter, it is always taken for granted, at least by the parents, that she is a beauty? Miss Azurelina Waddle, unmoved by flattery and coaxing, resisted all her mother's efforts to draw her out. "Go to the lady, pet, and you shall have a piece of candy." "Two pieces!" said "pet." "Ah! the rogue! Well, two pieces then." "Three pieces!" said "rogue." forward on all occasions, and looking down with infinite contempt upon all the commonplace people around her, as she will term us poor inoffensive mortals." At this moment a graceful, modest-looking girl entered the room with a timid and unobtrusive air, and gliding to a corner began to sew very industriously. She was dressed in the becoming costume of the time. The snowy Persian cymar of delicate linen peeped beneath the loose sleeve and above the high, closelyfitting waist of her light gray silk robe, and her darkbrown hair, loosely braided, was confined by a comb of jet. Her face was not what the world calls beautiful; the features were irregular and the clear cheek was colorless as marble; but her large black eyes were gloriously eloquent, with sorrow and love and earnest thought, and the expression of her full, soft mouth was ineffably sweet and touching. "I must go and talk to that lady," said Maynard, "She looks shy and sorrowful; she is ill, I think, and "Two pieces, darling; candy is n't good for little must be very lonely; for no one knows her or speaks tot, you know. Two great pieces!" "No, no, no!" screamed "little tot," "three pieces! I will have three pieces!" to her. She always sits in that quiet corner and sews as if her life depended upon it. Will you go with me?" "Certainly," said Eveline rising, "and we will in "Well, there! three pieces, and that's all! not troduce each other." another one, sweet!" "Three great big pieces!" said "sweet." "Yes, yes! now go!" "Little tot" then allowed Eveline to kiss her thick lips, and instantly turning to her mother exclaimed"Now give me my candy!" "Yes! I'll go right up stairs and bring it if you'll just make one tableau for the lady-just one, and then you shall have it." "Little tot" pouted and shook her shoulders for a few minutes; but at length, overcome by the promise of four sticks of candy, she consented, and kneeling down in a most awkward fashion, and looking more sullen than ever, she put one foot out behind, and one hand above her head, and, rolling up her eyes, made what her foolish mother was pleased to dignify by the appellation of "tableau vivant;" though "tableau mourant" would have been a more appropriate phrase for the exhibition. "Now give me my candy!" The youthful lady looked up as they approached, with a tranquil smile, yet with a shade of reserve and embarrassment in her manner, which wore off by degrees as they conversed. "I have been giving Miss Willis a description of a certain poetess, who is daily expected, as she exists in my imagination," and he repainted, with additions, his former picture of the blue." "And why do you judge so hardly of her?" said the stranger, in a low, musical voice. "Have you ever read her writings?" "Not I! I have something better to do." For an instant the lady raised her strange eyes to his with a sad, sweet smile, and then silently resumed her work. "Most of my lady acquaintances," said Maynard after a pause, as he watched her slight fingers in rapid motion for a moment-" Most of my lady acquaintances are of those who sew 'not wisely but to well;' I do not think you are liable to that censure," and he "Yes! by and by, after tea-there, run away and smiled at the long stitches she was taking. play-you'll spoil my dress." The modest, lovely and graceful Azurelina Waddle set up a roar, which nothing but the sight of an enormous paper of candy, all of which was devoured before dinner, could quiet. Eveline sighed, and turned toward Mr. Maynard, who stood near with a smile of quiet satire upon his countenance. "Let us change the subject," said he, as Mrs. Waddle left the room with her interesting charge. "We are expecting here a poetess of some celebrity. Many conjectures have been formed of her character. Most of the boarders expect an acquisition in her as a talker; others dread her for the same reason. Shall I tell you what I anticipate? I imagine her a bold, loquacious, pedantic, independent, unfeminine sort of a person, about forty years of age, full of pretension in dress and manner, putting herself "Oh! don't look at it!" she exclaimed, blushing and laughing. "I only sew here because I don't know what to do with my eyes among so many people. I can work well sometimes, but this does not require it. I think a great deal of time is wasted in sewing too nicely." While they were thus conversing, a group near them listened to a Mr. Brown, who was reading aloud a New York paper. "Ah!" said he, as he turned the paper, "here, I see, is a paragraph concerning Miss N, the poetess, whom we are expecting, and, by the way, why don't she come? But let's see what they say about her," and he read an extravagant puff with great "goût." The stranger gazed for a moment, like a startled fawn, at the reader as he commenced the paragraph. As he read on, she looked down, colored, smiled, and then rose to leave the room; but, at the door, a visiter intercepted her, and exclaiming "My dear Miss N-I am delighted to meet you"-drew her arm within his and led her back to the sofa, "the observed of all observers." The new comer was no other than our friend, Howard Gardner, and the quiet young lady was the poetess herself, Genevieve N-, of C. Mr. Maynard stood aghast and tried to recall every word he had said about the literary lady; but, in the midst of these confused cogitations, he caught again those soft, dark eyes, and there was so much of kindness in their look that he felt himself forgiven and was reassured at once. CHAPTER III. Come with me, dear reader, to the drawing-room at Potter's, and let us join the gayest group within it. Eveline, Harriet Grey, Howard Gardner, Maynard, Miss Waddle, and Miss N, were seated at that nice promoter of sociability, a round table-making charades, reading or repeating scraps of poetry, and playing Consequences. Did you ever play Consequences, reader? Let us try it with them. Maynard writes, on half a sheet of paper, a gentleman's name, folds it down and passes it on; the next, without seeing what has been written, writes a lady's name-the next, the name of a place-the next, a gentleman's speech to a lady-the next, a lady's reply-the next, what were the consequences, and the next, what the world said about the matter. Each person hides what they have written by folding the paper. Maynard then unfolds the paper, and reads it with a demure face and much expression, filling up at will. "Howard Gardner, Esq., one pleasant evening, was so fortunate as to meet Miss Eveline Willis in Purgatory. He exclaimed, kneeling as he did so, 'Dearest, I love but thee!' and she replied, with a bewitching smile, Oh! I am so glad! The consequences were an elopement to Paradise, and the world said You do n't say so?" " Poor Eveline blushed and laughed, and pretended to be busily occupied with a purse she was knitting. Howard gazed upon her with an earnest smile, and Miss N's pale cheek colored suddenly with a crimson light, and then grew white as death. The next instant, however, she subdued, with a strong effort, her emotion, and turning, with a gay, almost wild smile, to Maynard, began to banter him upon his morning's embarrassment. And oh! each smooth and silken tress And worse than this, if worse can be, "To me, is full of beauty. I dream, while thus the rent I close, Of him, who wore the silken hose, And when he, trustful, draws them on, A smile upon his face will dawn, A general laugh followed the reading of these lines, in the midst of which the party broke up. CHAPTER IV. "Ah! thus to the child of Genius too, Is that passionate soul in its lonely pride!" A soft, impassioned voice is murmuring in the moonlight. Let us listen! They are singing-they are happy! They have joyous hearts and light! For me, in all the wide, wide world, No answering heart throbs high; No hope, save one-to die! No hand clasps mine in tender truth, And yet I am alone! With a heart overflowing with tenderness, yet shy to almost painful timidity, Genevieve N, an orphan at thirteen, had been thrown unprotected upon the world. With that rich and glowing heart, thrown Mr. Brown now joined the circle and the conversa- back upon itself, chilled, disappointed, yet still confidtion. "We are very apt," said he, "to do that sorting as a child, and grateful for every look and tone of of injustice to literary ladies. I will show you some sympathy or love, we see her at twenty, as we have verses somewhat apropos to the subject." He drew described. from his pocket-book and read as follows: THE HOLY STOCKING. I went a poetess to see, I thought to find her lying, In languid grace, with tresses free, And robe all loosely flying; But oh she wore a common dress Of silk, a little faded, While she leans absorbed from the window, let us turn over her portfolio. It is one of a story-teller's countless privileges, you know, so it need not shock your delicate sense of propriety, dear reader. We will read some of her verses. Poor child! a vein of subdued and sorrowful tenderness runs through them all. And wealth seems worthless in mine eyes, Even wayward fame may sound my name, Nor I the echo ask. Then say no more I love too much! All else to me is vain; I cannot live unless I love, And am beloved again! Here is another-softly! lest she hear us— now, And gayer friends surround thee But in my sorrowing soul for thee, Then, when misfortune's winter comes, All pure and bright, with hope's own light, And thou shalt bless the simple flower, CHAPTER V. Hops, pic-nics, riding parties, tableaux, acted charades, &c., followed each other in brilliant succession at the Pottery. The season was a gayer one than had been known for many years; for the ruling spirit of the scene was one who never failed by his kindness, genius, and ready wit, to enliven the dull, and inspire the intelligent. One evening, when Eveline was dressing for a hop, Harriet Grey, a lovely, joyous, thoughtless child of sixteen, ran into the room, with her pretty, blue eyes full of tears, exclaiming, "Oh! Eveline! after all, I have left my box of ornaments at home, and have nothing to wear in my hair!" Eveline kissed the tears away, and clasped around the graceful head a costly pearl chain which she had intended to wear herself. Harriet clapped her little hands in an ecstasy of childish delight, as she saw herself reflected in the glass, looking more lovely than ever; but suddenly a cloud came over the sunny face, and she turned to her friend, "But what will you wear, Eveline?" "Oh! my white wreath will do nicely for me." Harriet threw her arms round her neck, thanked her, and ran to find her fan and bouquet. She had hardly gone when a knock was heard at the door, and Miss Waddle entered in great trepidation. "Miss Willis, you must lend me something for my hair-you must indeed! Will you? Oh! what a lovely wreath! that is just the thing;" and she caught it up, wound it round her head and waddled to the glass. Eveline had wished, she hardly knew why, to look particularly well this evening; perhaps it was because Howard Gardner was to see her for the first time in full dress. However, with a passing smile and sigh, which ended in a laugh at the loss of her wreath and chain, she simply wound her soft hair about her classic head, and, in pure white, without any ornament but her own native grace and sweetness, descended to the drawing-room. Harriet Grey looked enchantingly beautiful in her pearls and lace dress. She was decidedly the belle of the evening. But Eveline danced twice with Howard, and talked with him during all the waltzes in which neither of them joined, and she was happier than she had ever been before in her life. Happier and lovelier too; for joy and affection illumined and softened her countenance, and Howard thought her, when she blushed, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. And where was Genevieve? She had wandered miles away in the moonlight, with a little brother, and was sitting in a wild nook among the cliffs called Conrad's Cave, listening to the sublimest voice in the ever-sounding anthem of nature-the soft, yet majestic melody of the ocean surf as it dashed up the beach at her feet. A spirit floating by in the moonlight might have heard another tone, inaudible to earthly ears, yet strangely and sweetly harmonizing with the music of the waves-the moaning of a human soul for sympathy, like the sea-shell asking for the waters that should fill it. CHAPTER VI. "What a fearful chasm!" exclaimed Eveline, as she stood at sunset the next day alone with Gardner gazing down full fifty feet into a dark and fathomless abyss, formed by an enormous rock which had been cleft in two probably by some violent concussion of nature, and in which the waves boiled and hissed and maddened as they rose, like the waters of Phlegethon around the guilty and condemned. "What do they call it, Mr. Gardner?" "Purgatory, Miss Willis." Eveline started and would have lost her footing on the dizzy height, had not her companion caught her in time. She remembered the game of Consequences, and blushed deeply as she turned from Howard's ardent gaze. The declaration, which had been prophesied in sport, was made in earnest, and though the maiden's faltered reply was lost in the roar of waters, yet, as he kissed an answer from her eyes, it did not matter much. The lovers extended their walk around the beach, and came suddenly upon a party of their friends, enjoying a pic-nic, in a wild, rocky, and grandly beauti "How does it look? Is it becoming? May I ful scene beneath a grove of buttonwood trees. The wear it?" "Certainly!" said Eveline, "you are quite welcome to it; and Heavenlietta disappeared with the wreath. warm glory of the setting sun lay like a delicate golden web upon the whole living and ever changing picture; tree, wave, and rock and distant spire gleamed softly beneath the transparent veil of light, and the subdued and murmuring melody of the waves might have been mistaken for the harp of a wandering angel, it was so spiritually soft and clear! "Oh!" cried our heroine, charmed by the picturesque magnificence of the place, "there should be some appropriate name for a scene so lovely as this!" "It is called Paradise, Eveline," whispered Howard. "Do you remember the Consequence, dearest? Love will make a paradise of any place with thee!" But let us back to Purgatory. "Iav n't I proved it already, by asking you to be my wife, Heavenlietta ?" asked the sailor, with an involuntary sigh at the recollection; for he was beginning to see into the innate selfishness of her character through the flimsy veil of sentimentality which affectation had thrown over it. "Yes, Nehemiah, you can truly exclaim, with the poet "By thy dear side the pilot, Love, has moored it safe and fast, Dropped anchor at thy fairy feet, and furled its flying sails.' "But this is commonplace. I require a more chivalric proof of your devotion. Leap for my sake this awful chasm, and I'll believe you love me.” "Leap that chasm! You are mad!-it is ten feet wide!" "And can you hesitate?" cried Heavenlietta, in a pathetic voice. "Then are you no lover of mine, and here we part forever." With one reproachful look from the sky-blues, she turned away. "Stay, Miss Waddle-are you in earnest ?" "Nehemiah, I am!" "Then here goes!" And, receding a few steps from the edge of the precipice, with a resolute but somewhat disdainful smile, he took the fearful leap. But stay!-where is he going? Instead of springing back to claim the reward he deserves-a kiss from those sweet lips-he neither turns nor pauses, but runs on and on in the opposite direction, nor heeds that tender call-"Nehemiah, Nehemiah! whither do you fly? Come back! come back! I am frightened. I don't know the way home. Oh! Nehemiah, Nehemiah!" The louder she called the faster he flew! Away, away— As if pursued by the furies, Nehemiah ran on. he is gone!--he is out of sight! Heavenlietta glanced round despairingly, but it was not worth while to faint, for there was nobody near to see her, and so she waddled home as fast as she could, wiping the skyblue eyes with the sash to match, and murmuring as she went "She never blamed him, never, But received him when he came, And she tried to look the same!" Alas! confiding, but deluded girl! He did not come! She never saw him more! CHAPTER VIII. The events I have related occurred in the early part of August. In October, the following paragraphs, in a southern paper, caught my eye: "Married, at Philadelphia, on Thursday morning, by the Rev. Mr. F—, Howard Gardner, Esq., of New York, to Eveline Willis, daughter of the Hon. George Willis, of this city." "Died, at Charleston, of consumption, on Thursday morning, Genevieve N―, only daughter of the late William N- of Charleston." |