Arthur Gilman - "The Story of Rome From the Earliest Times to the End of the Republic"

J.M. Stone - "Studies from Court and Cloister"

Gerold K. Rohner - "Frau und Kindern auf der Spur"

D.H. Lawrence - "Women in Love"

Self Raised

E >> Emma Dorothy Eliza Nevitte Southworth >> Self Raised




"Post Cript. Ive jist redd this letter to Hannah. And she doo say as
every uther wurd is rote rong. I dont think they is; becawse Ive got
a sartain roole to spell rite; which is--I think how a word sownde
and then I spell it accordin. But law, Ishmael! ever sense Hannah
has been teechin them young uns o ourn to reede there primmers, shes
jest got to be the orfullest Bloo Stokkin as evver was. Dont tell
her I sed so tho, for she ralely is wun of the finest wimmin livin
and Ime prowd of her and her young uns. So no more at present onle
kum.
"R.G."

Grateful for this kind invitation as he had been for any that had
been given him, Ishmael sat down immediately and answered the
letter, saying to Reuben, as he had said to others, that he would
thankfully accept his offered hospitality as soon as his duties
would permit him to do so.

The last day of the family's sojourn in town came. On the morning of
that day Mr. Brudenell took leave of his friends and departed,
exacting from Ishmael a renewal of his promise to visit Brudenell
Hall in the course of the summer. On that last day Ishmael completed
the packing of the books and sent them off to the boat that was to
convey them to the Tanglewood landing. And then he had all his own
personal effects conveyed to his new lodgings. And finally he sought
an interview with Bee. That was not so easily obtained, however. Bee
was excessively busy on this last day. But Ishmael, with the
privilege of an inmate, went through the house, looking for her,
until he found her in the family storeroom, busy among the jars and
cans, and attended by her maids.

"Come in, Ishmael, for this concerns you," she said pleasantly.

And Ishmael entered, wondering what he could be supposed to have to
do with preserved fruits and potted meats.

Bee pointed to a box that was neatly packed with small jars, saying:

"There, Ishmael--there are some sealed fruits and vegetables, and
some spiced meats and fish, and a bachelor's lamp and kettle, in
that case which Ann is closing down. They are yours. Direct Jim
where to find your lodgings, and he will take them there in the
wheelbarrow. And there is a keg of crackers and biscuits to go with
them."

"Dearest Bee, I am very grateful; but why should you give me all
these things?" inquired Ishmael, in surprise.

"Because you are going away from home, and you will want them. Yes,
you will, Ishmael, though you don't think so now. Often business
will detain you out in the evening until after your boarding-house
supper is over. Then how nice to have the means at hand to get a
comfortable little meal for yourself in your own room without much
trouble. Why, Ishmael, we always put up such a box as this for
Walter when he leaves us. And do you think that mamma or I would
make any difference between you?"

"You have always been a dear--yes, the dearest of sisters to me! and
some day, Bee--" He stopped, and looked around. The maids were at
some distance, but still he felt that the family storeroom was not
exactly the place to say what was on his heart for her, so he
whispered the question:

"How long will you be engaged here, dear Bee?"

"Until tea time. It will take me quite as long as that to get
through what I have to do."

"And then, Bee?"

"Then I shall be at leisure to pass this last evening with you,
Ishmael," answered Bee, meeting his wish with the frankness of pure
affection.

"And will you walk with me in the garden after tea? It will be our
last stroll together there," he said rather sadly.

"Yes; I will walk with you, Ishmael. The garden is lovely just at
sunset."

"Thank you, dearest Bee. Ah! how many times a day I have occasion to
speak these words!"

"I wish you would leave them off altogether, then, Ishmael. I always
understand that you thank me far more than I deserve."

"Never! How could I? 'Thank you!' they are but two words. How could
they repay you, Bee? Dearest, this evening you shall know how much I
thank you. Until then, farewell." He pressed her hand and left her.

Now Ishmael was far too clear-sighted not to have seen that Bee had
fixed her pure maidenly affections upon him, and to see also that
Bee's choice was well approved by her parents, who had long loved
him as a son. While Ishmael's hands had been busy with the book-
packing his thoughts had been busy with Bee and with the problem
that her love presented him. He had loved Claudia with an all-
absorbing passion. But she had left him and married another, and so
stricken a deathblow to his love. But this love was dying very hard,
and in its death-struggles was rending and tearing the heart which
was its death-bed.

And in the meantime Bee's love was alive and healthy, and it was
fixed on him. He was not insensible, indifferent, ungrateful for
this dear love. Indeed, it was the sweetest solace that he had in
this world. He felt in the profoundest depths of his heart all the
loveliness of Bee's nature. And most tenderly he loved her--as a
younger sister. What then should he do? Offer to Bee the poor,
bleeding heart that Claudia had played with, broken, and cast aside
as worthless? All that was true, noble, and manly in Ishmael's
nature responded:

"God forbid!"

But what then should he do? Leave her to believe him insensible,
indifferent, ungrateful? Strike such a deathblow to her loving heart
as Claudia had stricken to his? All that was generous, affectionate
and devoted in Ishmael's nature cried out: "No! forbid it, angels in
heaven!"

But what then could he do? The magnanimity of his nature answered:

"Open your heart to her; that she may know all that is in it; then
lay that heart at her feet, for accepting or rejecting."

And this he resolved to do. And this resolution sent him to beg this
interview with Bee. Yet before going to keep it he determined to
speak to Mr. Middleton. He felt certain that Mr. Middleton would
indorse his addresses to his daughter; yet still his fine sense of
honor constrained him to seek the consent of the father before
proposing to the daughter. And with this view in mind immediately
upon leaving Bee he sought Mr. Middleton.

He found that gentleman walking about in the garden, enjoying his
afternoon cigar. In these afternoon promenades Mr. Middleton, who
was the shorter and slighter as well as the older man, often did
Ishmael the honor of leaning upon his arm. And now Ishmael went up
to his side and with a smile silently offered the usual support.

"Thank you, my boy! I was just feeling the want of your friendly
arm. My limbs are apt to grow tired of walking before my eyes are
satiated with gazing or my mind with reflecting on the beauty of the
summer evening," said Mr. Middleton, slipping his arm within that of
Ishmael.

"Sir," said the young man, blushing slightly, "a selfish motive has
brought me to your side this afternoon."

"A selfish motive, Ishmael! I do not believe that you are capable of
entertaining one," smiled Mr. Middleton.

"Indeed, yes, sir; you will say so when you hear of it."

"Let me hear of it, then, Ishmael, for the novelty of the thing."

The young man hesitated for a few moments and then said:

"Mr. Middleton--Mr. Brudenell has, I believe, put you in possession
of the facts relative to my birth?"

"Yes, my dear Ishmael; but let me assure you that I did not need to
be told of them. Do you remember the conversation we had upon the
subject years ago? It was the morning after the school party when
that miserable craven, Alfred Burghe, disgraced himself by insulting
you. You said, Ishmael, 'My mother was a pure and honorable woman!
Oh, believe it!' I did believe it then, Ishmael; for your words and
tones and manner carried irresistible conviction to my mind. And
every year since I have been confirmed in my belief. You, Ishmael,
are the pledge of your parents' honor as well as of their love. 'Men
do not gather grapes of thorns, nor figs of thistles,'" said Mr.
Middleton earnestly.

"And yet, sir, I have suffered and may again suffer reproach that
neither myself nor my parents deserved," said Ishmael gravely.

"You never will again, Ishmael. You have overcome the world."

"Thank you! thank you, sir! I purposely reminded you of this old
injustice. You do not regard me the less for having suffered it?"

"The less! No, my boy; but the more, for having overcome it!"

"Again I thank you from the depths of my heart. You have known me
from boyhood, Mr. Middleton; and you may be said to know my
character and my prospects better than anyone else in the world
does; better, even, than I know them myself."

"I think that quite likely to be true."

"Well, sir, I hope in a few years to gain an established reputation
and a moderate competency by my practice at the bar."

"You will gain fame and wealth, Ishmael."

"Well, sir, if ever by the blessing of Heaven I do attain these
distinctions, taking everything else into consideration, would you,
sir, would you then--"

"What, Ishmael? Speak out, my boy?"

"Accept me as a son?"

"Do you want me to give you Bee?" gravely inquired Mr. Middleton.

"When I shall be more worthy of her, I do."

"Have you Bee's consent to speak to me on this subject?"

"No, sir; I have not yet addressed Miss Middleton. I could not
venture to do so without your sanction. It is to obtain it that I
have come to you this evening. I would like very much to have an
understanding with Miss Middleton before we part for an indefinite
time."

Mr. Middleton fell into deep thought. It was some minutes before he
spoke. When he did, it was to say:

"Ishmael, Bee is my eldest daughter and favorite child."

"I know it, sir," answered the young man.

"Parents ought not to have favorites among their children; but how
can I help it? Bee is almost an angel."

"I know it, sir," said Ishmael.

"Oh, yes; you know it! you know it!" exclaimed Mr. Middleton, half
laughing and not far from crying; "but do you know what you do when
you ask a father to give up his best beloved daughter?"

"Indeed I think I do, sir; but--daughters must some time or other
become wives," said Ishmael, with a deprecating smile.

"Yes, it is true!" sighed Mr. Middleton. "Well, Ishmael, since in
the course of nature I must some day give my dear daughter up, I
would rather give her to you than to any man on earth, for I have a
great esteem and affection for you, Ishmael."

"Indeed, sir, it is mutual!" replied the young man, grasping the
hand of his friend.

"It is just the state of feeling that should exist between father-
and son-in-law," said Mr. Middleton.

"I have your sanction, then, to speak to Bee?"

"Yes, Ishmael, yes; I will give her to you! But not yet, my dear
boy; for several reasons not just yet! You are both very young yet;
you are but little over twenty-one; she scarcely nineteen; and
besides her mother still needs her assistance in taking care of the
children; and I--must get used to the idea of parting with her; so
you must wait a year or two longer, Ishmael! She is well worth
waiting for."

"I know it! Oh, I know it well, sir! I have seen women as beautiful,
as amiable, and as accomplished; but I never, no, never met with one
so 'altogether lovely' as Bee! And I thank you, sir! Oh, I thank you
more than tongue can tell for the boon you have granted me. You will
not lose your daughter, sir; but you will gain a son; and I will be
a true son to you. sir, as Heaven hears me! And to her I will be a
true lover and husband. Her happiness shall be the very first object
in my life, sir; nothing in this world over which I have the
slightest control shall be suffered to come into competition with
it."

"I am--I am sure of that, my boy!" replied Mr. Middleton, in a
broken voice.

"And I do not presume to wish to hurry either you or her, sir; I am
willing to wait your leisure and hers; all I want now is to have an
understanding with Bee, and to be admitted to the privileges of an
accepted lover. You could trust me so far, sir?"

"Trust you so far! Why, Ishmael, there is no limit to my trust in
you!"

"And Mrs. Middleton, sir?"

"Why, Ishmael, she loves you as one of her own children; and I do
think you would disappoint and grieve her if you were to marry out
of the family. I will break the matter to Mrs. Middleton. Go find
Bee, and speak to her of this matter, and when you have won her
consent, bring her to me that I may join your hands and bless your
betrothal."

Ishmael fervently pressed the hand of his kind friend and left him.

Of course Bee, who was still busy with her maids in the store-room,
was not to be spoken to on that subject at that hour. But Ishmael
went up to his own room to reflect.

Perhaps the whole key to Ishmael's conduct in this affair might have
been found in the words he used when pleading with his father the
cause of the Countess of Hurstmonceux; he said:

"It seems to me, if any young lady had loved me so, I must have
loved her fondly in return; I could not have helped doing so."

And he could not. There was something too warm, generous, and noble
in Nora's son to be so insensible as all that.

His inspiration also instructed him that not the beautiful and
imperious Claudia, but the lovely and loving Bee was his Heaven-
appointed wife.

He was inspired when in his agony that dreadful night he had cried
out: "By a woman came sin and death into the world, and by a woman
came redemption and salvation! Oh! Claudia, my Eve, farewell! And
Bee, my Mary, hail!"

And now that he was about to betroth himself to Bee, and make her
happy, he himself felt happier than he had been for many days. He
felt sure, too, that when his heart should recover from its wounds
he should love Bee with a deeper, higher, purer, and more lasting
affection than ever his fierce passion for Claudia could have
become.




CHAPTER V.

SECOND LOVE.

The maiden loved the young man well,
And pined for many a day,
Because that star-eyed, queenly belle
Had won his heart away.
But now the young man chooses well
Between the beauteous pair,
The proud and brilliant dark-haired belle,
And gentle maiden fair.
--_M. F. Tupper_



After tea Ishmael, having missed Bee from the drawing room, went out
into the garden, expecting to find her there. Not seeing her, he
walked up and down the gravel walk, waiting for her appearance.

Presently she came up, softly and silently, and joined him.

"Thanks, dearest Bee," he said, as he drew her arm within his own.

"It is a beautiful evening, Ishmael; I have never seen the garden
look more lovely," said Bee.

And it was indeed a beautiful evening and a lovely scene. The sun
had just set; but all the western horizon and the waters of the
distant river were aflame with crimson fire of his reflected rays;
while over the eastern hills the moon and stars were shining from
the dark gray heavens. In the garden, the shrubs and flowers, not
yet damp with dew, were sending forth their richest fragrance; the
latest birds were twittering softly before settling themselves to
sleep in their leafy nests; and the earliest insects were tuning up
their tiny, gleeful pipes before commencing their evening concert.

"This garden is a very pleasant place, quite as pleasant as
Tanglewood, if uncle would only think so," said Bee.

"Yes, it is very pleasant. You do not like the plan of returning to
the country, Bee?" said Ishmael.

"No, indeed, I do not; breaking up and parting is always a painful
process." And Bee's lips quivered and the tears came into her eyes.

Ishmael pressed the little hand that lay light as a snowflake on his
arm, drew it closer within his embrace, and turned down the narrow
path that led to the remote arbor situated far down in the angle of
the wall in the bottom of the garden.

He led her to a seat, placed himself beside her, took her hand, and
said:

"It is here, dearest Bee--here in the scene of my humiliation and of
my redemption--that I would say to you all I have to say; that I
would lay my heart open before you, and place it at your feet, for
spurning, or for blessing."

She looked up at him with surprise, but also with infinite affection
in her innocent and beautiful eyes. Then, as she read the truth in
his earnest gaze, her eyes fell, and her color rose.

"And dearest Bee, I have your father's sanction for what I do, for
without it I would not act."

Her eyes were still fixed upon the ground, but her hand that he
clasped in his throbbed like a heart. And oh! he felt how entirely
she loved him; and he felt that he could devote his whole life to
her.

"Dearest of all dear ones, Bee, listen to me. Not many days have
passed, since, one evening, you came to this arbor, seeking one that
was lost and found--me!"

She began to tremble.

"You know how you found me, Bee," he said sadly and solemnly.

"Oh, Ishmael, dear!" she cried, with an accent of sharp pain, "do
not speak of that evening! forget it and let me forget it! it is
past!"

"Dearest girl, only this once will I pain you by alluding to that
sorrowful and degrading hour. You found me--I will not shrink from
uttering the word, though it will scorch my lips to speak it and
burn your ears to hear it--you found me--intoxicated."

"Oh, Ishmael, dear, you were not to blame! it was not your fault! it
was an accident--a misfortune!" she exclaimed, as blushes burned
upon her cheeks and tears suffused her eyes.

"How much I blamed, how much I loathed myself, dearest Bee, you can
never know! Let that pass. You found me as I said. Actually and
bodily I was lying on this bench, sleeping the stupid sleep of
intoxication; but morally and spiritually I was slipping over the
brink of an awful chasm. Bee, dearest Bee! dearest saving angel! it
was this little hand of yours that drew me back, so softly that I
scarcely knew I had been in danger of ruin until that danger was
past. And, Bee, since that day many days of storm have passed, but
the face of my saving angel has ever looked out from among the
darkest clouds a bright rainbow of promise. I did not perish in the
storm, because her sweet face ever looked down upon me!"

Bee did not attempt to reply; she could not; she sat with her
flushed and tearful eyes bent upon the ground.

"Love, do you know this token?" he inquired, in a voice shaking with
agitation, as he drew from his bosom a little wisp of white cambric
and laid it in her lap.

"It is my--my--" she essayed to answer, but her voice failed.

"It is your dear handkerchief," he said, as he took it, pressed it
to his lips, and replaced it in his bosom. "It is your dear
handkerchief! When you found me as you did, in your loving kindness
you laid it over my face--mine! so utterly unworthy to be so
delicately veiled! Oh, Bee, if I could express to you all I felt!
all I thought! when I recognized this dear token and so discovered
who it was that had sought me when I was lost, and dropped tears of
sorrow over me! and then covered my face from the blistering sun and
the stinging flies--if I could tell you all that I suffered and
resolved, then you would feel and know how earnest and sincere is
the heart that at last--at last, my darling, I lay at your beloved
feet."

She looked up at him for a moment and breathed a single word--a name
that seemed to escape her lips quite involuntarily--"Claudia!"

"Yes, my darling," he said, in tones vibrating with emotion, "it is
as you suppose, or rather it was so! You have divined my secret,
which indeed I never intended to keep as a secret from you. Yes,
Bee; I loved another before loving you. I loved her whom you have
just named. I love her no longer. When by her marriage with another
my love would have become sinful, it was sentenced to death and
executed. But, Bee, it died hard, very hard; and in its violent
death-throes it rent and tore my heart, as the evil spirit did the
possessed man, when it was driven out of him. Bee, my darling," said
Ishmael, smiling for the first time since commencing the interview,
"this may seem to you a very fanciful way of putting the case; but
is a good one, for in no other manner could I give you to understand
how terrible my sufferings have been for the last few weeks, how
completely my evil passion has perished; and yet how sore and weak
it has left my heart. Bee, it is this heart, wounded and bleeding
from a dead love, yet true and single in its affection for you, that
I open before you and lay at your feet. Spurn it away from you, Bee,
and I cannot blame you. Raise it to your own and I shall love and
bless you."

Bee burst into tears.

He put his arm around her and drew her to his side and she dropped
her head upon his shoulder and wept passionately. Many times she
tried to speak, but failed. At last, when she had exhausted all her
passion, she raised her head from its resting-place. He wiped the
tears from her eyes and stooping, whispered:

"You will not reject me, Bee, because I loved another woman once?"

"No," she answered softly, "for if you loved another woman before
me, you could not help it, Ishmael. It is not that I am concerned
about."

"What then, dearest love? Speak out," he whispered.

"Oh, Ishmael, tell me truly one thing;" and she hid her face on his
shoulder while she breathed the question: "Isn't it only for my
sake, to please me and make me happy, that you offer me your love,
Ishmael?" She spoke so low, with her face so muffled on his
shoulder, that he scarcely understood her; so he bent his head and
inquired:

"What is it that you say, dear Bee?"

She tried to speak more clearly, for it seemed with her a point of
principle to put this question; but her voice was, if possible,
lower and more agitated than before, so that he had to stoop closely
and listen intently to catch her words as she answered:

"Do you not offer me your love, only because--because you have found
out--found out somehow or other that I--that I loved you first?"

He clasped her suddenly close to his heart, and whispered eagerly:

"I offer you my love because I love you, best and dearest of all
dear ones!" And he felt at that moment that he did love her
entirely.

She was sobbing softly on his shoulder; but presently through her
tears she said:

"And will my love do you any good, make you any happier, compensate
you a little for all that you have missed in losing that brilliant
one?"

He held her closely to his heart while he stooped and answered:

"Dearest, your love has always been the greatest earthly blessing
Heaven ever bestowed upon my life! I thank Heaven that the blindness
and madness of my heart is past and gone, and I am enabled to see
and understand this! Your love, Bee, is the only earthly thing that
can comfort all the sorrows that may come into my life, or crown all
its joys. You will believe this, dearest Bee, when you remember that
I never in my life varied from the truth to anyone, and least of all
would I prevaricate with you. I love you. Bee, let those three words
answer all your doubts!"

Brightly and beautifully she smiled up at him through her tears.

"All is well, then, Ishmael! For all that I desire in this world is
the privilege of making you happy!"

"Then you are my own!" he said, stooping and kissing the sparkling
tears that hung like dew-drops on the red roses of her cheeks; and
holding her to his heart, in profound religious joy and gratitude,
he bowed his head and said:

"Oh, Father in Heaven! how I thank thee for this dear girl! Oh, make
me every day more worthy of her love, and of thy many blessings!"

And soon after this Ishmael, happier than he ever thought it
possible to be in this world, led forth from the arbor his betrothed
bride.

He led her at once to the house and to the presence of her parents,
whom he found in their private sitting room.

Standing before them and holding her hand, he said:

"She has promised to be my wife, and we are here for your blessing."

"You have it, my children! You have it with all my heart! May the
Lord in heaven bless with his choicest blessings Ishmael and
Beatrice!" said Mr. Middleton earnestly.

"Amen," said Mrs. Middleton.

Later in the evening Judge Merlin was informed of the engagement.
And after congratulating the betrothed pair he turned to Mr. and
Mrs. Middleton and said:

"Heaven knows how I envy you your son-in-law."

The gratified parents smiled, for they were proud of Ishmael, and
what he would become. But Walter Middleton grinned and said:

"Heaven may know that, Uncle Merlin; but I know one thing!"

"What is that, Jackanapes?"

"I know they may thank Bee for their son-in-law, for she did all the
courting!"

The panic-stricken party remained silent for a moment, and then
Judge Merlin said:

"Well, sir! I know another thing!"

"And what is that, uncle?"

"That it will be a long time before you find a young lady to do you
such an honor!"

Everybody laughed, not at the brilliancy of the joke, for the joke
was not brilliant, but because they were happy; and when people are
happy they do honor to very indifferent jests.

But Bee turned a ludicrously appalled look upon her lover and
whispered:

"Oh, Ishmael! suppose he had known about that little bit of white
cambric. He would have said that I had 'thrown the handkerchief' to
you! And so I did! it is a dreadful reflection!"

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