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ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 «\ 
 
 A NOVEL. 
 
 BY A LADY. 
 
 " peace of niind, angelic guest, 
 Thou soft companion of the breast, 
 
 Dispense thy balmy store ! 
 "Wing all our thoughts to reach the skies, 
 "Till earth, receding from our eyes, 
 Shall vanish as we soar!" 
 
 Goldsmith. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA: 
 
 CHARLES DESILVER, 714 CHESTNUT STREET. 
 
 CHICAGO : 
 W. B. KEEN, 148 LAKE STREET. 
 
 loOOi 
 
9^ 
 
 Entered according to the Act of Congress in the year 1858, by 
 
 CHARLES DESILVER, 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, for 
 the Eastern District of Pennsylvania. 
 
 Crissy & Markley, Printers, 
 
 Goldsmiths Hall, Library Street, Philadelphia. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 I respectfully present this small volume to the public, and 
 solicit for it the kind indulgence of criticism. 
 
 It would have been far more congenial to my own feelings, and, 
 I doubt not, also to those of numerous readers, if a description of 
 more gay and cheerful scenes had formed the subject-matter of our 
 tale ; but an intimate acquaintance with the varied vicissitudes of 
 life, coupled with a firm impression that the shadows of life are, in 
 the majority of instances, vastly in excess of the sunshine, has led 
 me to think that it is profitable to all, to occasionally review those 
 principles which form the only true support of the often weary, 
 and nearly despondent, pilgrim through the cheerless highway of 
 sorrow- embittered existence. 
 
 THE AUTHORESS. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 PAGE 
 
 1. — The Promise 1 
 
 2._The Funeral 7 
 
 3. — Family History and Fvelative Events 17 
 
 4.— The Love-Letter 42 
 
 5. — The Business Letter 55 
 
 6. — New Resolves 64 
 
 7. — A Brother's Sympathy 80 
 
 8.— Visit to the Rectory 91 
 
 9.— The New Enterprise 108 
 
 10. — Commencement of Duties 120 
 
 11. — Formidable Obstacles 132 
 
 12. — Conversation on Card-Playing 148 
 
 13. — Renewal o'f Negotiations 164 
 
 14. — The Explanation 179 
 
 15.— The Tempter Prevails 185 
 
 16.— A Fresh Sorrow 200 
 
 17.— Development of Plans 227 
 
 18.— The Conclusion 238 
 
CHAPTER I 
 
 THE PROMISE. 
 
 " Leaves have their time to fall, 
 And flowers to wither at the north wind's breath, 
 
 And stars to set, — but all, 
 Thou hast all seasons for thine own, oh ! Death." 
 
 Mrs. Hemans. 
 
 In a noiseless, and somewhat hurried manner, Mrs. 
 Gray entered a small parlor, from an adjoining apart- 
 ment, with an expression of countenance indicating 
 deep and heart-felt emotion, and, throwing herself, 
 with a nervous movement, into a large arm-chair, in 
 front of a dimly-burning coal fire, exclaimed, as she 
 did so, with clasped hands, and upturned eyes — "Oh, 
 God ! must I see him die? Cans't Thou not spare me 
 this second blow?" 
 
 Then, resting her elbows upon the arms of her chair, 
 and her burning brow upon her cold and pallid hands, 
 she sat for some fifteen or twenty minutes, in solitary 
 and bitter reflection. Her overburdened heart found 
 not the relief of tears — human nature, she thought, 
 knew no sorrow so deep as hers. 
 1 
 
Z ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 The room in which she sat, serving alike for parlor 
 and eating room, "was scantily furnished with the rem- 
 nants of former luxury. The chair in which she re- 
 clined had been her husband's favorite seat. "Who can 
 marine her sufferings, as she thought of him who had 
 been, for so many years, her tender support in all 
 trials ? And now, impoverished, — without either his 
 counsel to direct, or his sympathy to comfort — she was 
 called upon to relinquish her only son to the fell 
 destroyer. Is it strange that her woman's heart 
 should be appalled at the vision of the dreamy future ? 
 
 "Mother!" said Isabella Gray, as she opened the 
 door leading into the room where Mrs. Gray was sit- 
 ting ; " Henry is calling for you — will you come ?" 
 
 Mrs. Gray immediately arose, and, on hearing that 
 her son had again rallied, and could speak, the hope 
 that clings to us while life remains, encouraged the 
 fond mother to anticipate some favorable change ; and, 
 when taking a seat beside him, she felt his pulse to be 
 stronger, her countenance brightened, and, in imagi- 
 nation, she again saw her darling son restored to 
 health. 
 
 For a short period she dared not speak, fearing the 
 bright vision would vanish. 
 
 "Henry!" said his sister Isabella (his only sister, 
 now a young lady in the bloom of early womanhood) 
 as she took her brother's hand in hers ; " you are bet- 
 ter, are you not? You look better." 
 
 In a voice scarcely audible, the dying man replied, 
 "No, Isabella; only revived." 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 6 
 
 Mrs. Gray laid her son's hand gently upon the bed, 
 and walked to the window, where Doctor Barton was 
 standing, apparently much absorbed in thought. 
 
 "Doctor," said she, "do you not think there is a 
 favorable change in my son?" 
 
 " No, madam, not any ; embrace this opportunity, 
 if you have any thing to communicate. I have been 
 confident during the night, that if he should survive 
 until this hour of the morning, he might revive for 
 a time ; but you must not deceive- yourself, it will 
 be of short duration." And, as the mother turned to 
 retrace her steps to the bedside, he added, " Be calm ; 
 I think he has something to communicate." 
 
 Just at that moment the young man was seized with 
 a paroxysm of coughing, which was so violent, and 
 exhausted his feeble strength to such an alarming 
 degree, that the doctor had great apprehensions he 
 might pass away during its continuance. But the 
 prompt administration of palliatives, and the calm, 
 tender attentions of his mother and sister, allayed the 
 excitement, -and he dropped off into a gentle sleep, 
 from which he awakened so much refreshed, that he 
 spoke in an audible voice, though but slowly, and asked 
 for a drink. 
 
 After receiving it, he drew his mother and sister 
 nearer him, held a hand of each, and, looking earnestly, 
 very earnestly, in their faces, addressed them alter- 
 nately, saying : 
 
 " Promise me that you will not grieve for me !" 
 
 Oh ! what did it not then cost the devoted mother 
 
4 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 and sister to remain calm, -when called upon to grant 
 such a request — the last one of him whose final depart- 
 ure must inevitably, for them, render the world a 
 desert, and life a weary pilgrimage. For his sake, 
 and the love they bore him, they would not embitter 
 his last moments ; yet they both hesitated to answer. 
 
 " You have every thing to comfort you in my sick- 
 ness," said the tremulous voice. " All has been done 
 which medical skill could do ; and you see my com- 
 posure, and willingness to depart — only for your sakes 
 would I live. The only thing which now disturbs. me, 
 is the fear you will grieve too much for me. Promise 
 me now, in perfect sincerity, that you will not, and I 
 shall then be at peace." 
 
 "Yes, my dear son," said Mrs. Gray, in a subdued, 
 calm tone of voice, " I cannot embitter one moment of 
 the few that yet remain to you, by withholding any 
 thing, at whatever cost it is purchased. I now give 
 you my sacred promise, that I will at all times cherish 
 your memory with love, and, as far as lies in my power, 
 I will not only refrain from yielding to my grief, but 
 also try, my dear boy, to be thankful you are at rest. 
 It will be our daily duty, so to live that w 7 e may be 
 reunited in perfect happiness." 
 
 The sister, as she kissed his death-chilled lips, could 
 not trust herself to say more than — " I'll do my best, 
 Henry, for your sake." 
 
 For some time after this conversation, the young 
 man lay quiet and calm; but at length he spoke, say- 
 ing: 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 5 
 
 " Of late I have thought much of you both. I have 
 been very anxious on your account, as your means of 
 support is so limited. But no good can I now do you 
 either by act or counsel. I know your energy and 
 your trustfulness ; and in the hands of Him who has 
 ordered and directed the changing events of the last 
 year of our lives, I leave you, with perfect confidence 
 that you will not be comfortless. So much goodness 
 and virtue cannot always suffer." 
 
 He had conversed slowly, and with- great labor; but 
 his anxiety to extort from his mother and sister a 
 promise that they would not sink down, overwhelmed 
 with sorrow at his loss, as is too commonly the case, 
 gave him unnatural strength ; and, after many assur- 
 ances from them, both by word and look, that they 
 would use their efforts to be sustained, resting, with 
 perfect confidence, their trust in Him who has promised 
 he will never forsake the widow and the fatherless, he 
 exclaimed : 
 
 " All is right, now, and peaceful. Give me a drink, 
 please." 
 
 After he had received it, he expressed a desire to 
 have his pillows arranged, as he felt inclined to sleep. 
 And he did sleep — but 'twas his last. 
 
 The comforting belief felt by the survivors, that the 
 peace of mind he had so recently exhibited was but 
 the beginning of that perfect peace now open to him, 
 gave them almost superhuman strength to fulfill their 
 promise. 
 
 1* 
 
6 ISABELLA. GRAY. 
 
 Doctor Barton had been an entire stranger to Mrs. 
 Gray, previous to her son's illness; but, being a man 
 of kind and benevolent impulses, he had become deeply 
 interested in her apparently friendless condition. He 
 therefore insisted upon relieving her as far as he possi- 
 bly could, from the painful duty she was now called 
 upon to perform ; and, accordingly, he sought an under- 
 taker without delay. 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 THE FUNERAL. 
 
 "Weep not for those whom the vail of the tomb, 
 In life's happy morning, hath hid from our eyes." 
 
 Moore. 
 
 The following morning the small, unostentatious, 
 but comfortable dwelling of Mrs. Gray, was a quiet, 
 and solemn habitation to its two occupants. 
 
 The mother, with the aid of the undertaker, had 
 prepared the remains of her son for their final resting- 
 place. How could she permit strangers' hands alone 
 to perform that sad office ? He had ever been to her 
 all that a fond mother could desire, and she did not 
 falter, while .there remained one act to perform, how- 
 ever painful it might be to her. 
 
 During the morning, Dr. Barton called to inquire 
 about the health of the ladies, and also to inform them 
 that he had made arrangements for the burial, which 
 he recommended should take place on the following 
 day, if it met their approbation. 
 
 " You are very kind, Dr. Barton," said Mrs. Gray ; 
 " you told me yesterday that you would select the 
 burial-place. May I ask where it is ?" 
 
 "In Greenwood, madam," said the doctor. 
 
b ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 Mrs. Gray remained silent for a time, evidently, 
 from her excited, restless manner, desirous of making 
 an unpleasant communication. At length she said," 
 In justice to you, doctor, as well as to ourselves, you 
 should be informed of our limited means of support ; 
 and we must act in all things accordingly." 
 
 " I have already received such information. Your 
 son, during his illness, conversed with me freely upon 
 the subject; but I beg you will not suffer yourself to 
 think of it for the present. The place I have selected 
 in Greenwood Cemetery is on my own lot ; and I do 
 assure you, madam, I shall esteem it a privilege to 
 have the remains of one whom I so highly regard laid 
 near the spot I desire to be my own last resting-place. 
 I feel myself unfortunate in not having had a longer 
 acquaintance with Mr. Gray, for he certainly was a 
 young man of most estimable qualities. It has been 
 one of the most painful events of my long practice of 
 twenty years, that I could not administer to his reco- 
 very. The few nights which I have passed with him 
 alone have endeared him much to me. His greatest 
 inducement to live was for you two. Often did he 
 speak of you with great solicitude! and I think he 
 was never satisfied until you gave him such assurances 
 as seemed entirely to allay all his doubts and fears. 
 I think I never witnessed such confidence in the fulfill- 
 ment of a promise as he exhibited in that of yours. 
 
 "But, my friends," continued Dr. Barton, " we have 
 nothing to mourn for, so far as he is concerned. Let 
 us look to ourselves, and see that we so live as to be able 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 9 
 
 to join him, and then the trials you are now passing 
 through will be at an end. Mrs. Gray, I have been 
 much more impressed, as I stood by the bed of your 
 sick and dying son, than is usual for me ; and anything 
 I can do for yourself and Miss Gray, that will in any 
 small degree mitigate your present affliction, I beg you 
 will consider as a tribute to his memory. 
 
 The doctor's high eulogium of the young man, and 
 his kind, unostentatious sympathy, were to the mother 
 and sister like a healing balm ; and, for the first time 
 since the spirit of their loved one had taken its upward 
 flight, they both wept ; and they wept long, for the 
 chords of sympathy in their hearts, when touched so 
 tenderly, could not but respond. 
 
 Dr. Barton was happy to see them find relief in tears. 
 Their calm but dejected composure foreboded no good ; 
 and, with the view of leaving them unobserved, and for 
 a time alone, he arose and walked into the room where 
 all that remained of Henry Gray was lying. 
 
 When the doctor returned to the room he found the 
 ladies quite composed, and he again resumed his for- 
 mer seat in front of a small fire in the grate ; for, not- 
 withstanding the month of May had far advanced, 
 the mornings were sufficiently cool to require some 
 fire. 
 
 "I desire, doctor," said Mrs. Gray, in a trembling 
 voice, " to assure you of our appreciation of your kind- 
 ness ; and, as you have been pleased to anticipate my 
 most ardent wish, in procuring so desirable a burial- 
 place for my son, I feel a delicacy in asking anything 
 more at your hands ; but " 
 
10 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 " Certainly not, madam. I insist that you allow me 
 the favor of hearing any suggestion or request you 
 may have to make." 
 
 "I only wished to remark, that I know very few 
 persons in the city ; indeed, none whom we could claim 
 as friends, from our slight acquaintance; and therefore 
 I desire that the funeral should be private." 
 
 " Consult your own pleasure, madam. But, are not 
 your acquaintances aware of your residence here ?" 
 
 "No. We have been so disinclined to society, 
 since our arrival in the city, that we have not .made 
 ourselves known." 
 
 But she did not add, what rushed to her mind and 
 hung upon her lips for utterance, that, having had the 
 society of those she most loved and enjoyed, she had 
 not a wish beyond, and therefore was content. As 
 she thought of her recent bereavement, which had 
 robbed her earthly paradise of one of its greatest trea- 
 sures, she dared not hazard an explanation, and con- 
 sequently concealed the emotions of her heart. 
 
 " Our rector, Dr. Montgomery, came to see us yes- 
 terday, supposing my son was better, as he was im- 
 proving when he last saw him, eight days since ; and, 
 being slightly indisposed himself, he had omitted to 
 call." 
 
 "Yes," said the doctor; "he was surprised, and 
 reproached himself very much, when I saw him last 
 evening." 
 
 " He ought not," said Isabella, who had been sitting 
 in quiet, almost like a statue. " He could have done 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 11 
 
 Henry no good during the last few days. His pre- 
 vious visits to him, and the last administration of the 
 Lord's Supper, seemed to finish his ministry in all that 
 could be of any special benefit. Although it would 
 have been gratifying to my mother and myself to 
 have seen him daily, it has no doubt been better, in 
 consequence of Henry's extremely nervous condition, 
 that he was not disturbed by any stranger's face. He 
 enjoyed my reading, perhaps, more than he could 
 another person's, for, being perfectly* at ease with me 
 alone, his thoughts were not at all distracted." 
 
 "No doubt you are correct, Miss Gray ; for I have 
 often observed, during my practice, that the excite- 
 ment produced in the minds of my patients, by the 
 visits of those with whom they were not familiar, 
 seriously retarded their recovery, although it was not 
 perceptible to friends." 
 
 " A very strong inducement, then, is presented for 
 the laity to seek the personal acquaintance of the 
 clergy ; for ' the dark valley ' must, at some time, be 
 passed by us' all," said Mrs. Gray. 
 
 Your remark is perfectly just, madam, and if 
 personal intercourse between the clergy and laity 
 were more common, our profession would not be so 
 frequently and unjustly censured, for prohibiting the 
 clergyman to visit his patient. I had a patient, whose 
 life was in most imminent danger from hemorrhage 
 of the lungs ; the young lady was alarmed and ex- 
 tremely nervous, but I had hopes of controlling the 
 disease, if I could allay the great nervous irritability. 
 
12 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 The mother, as was very natural, became alarmed for 
 her daughter's safety, and desired her clergyman to 
 visit her. I begged her not to think of such a thing, 
 for a little time ; that there was great hazard from the 
 least excitement, and it might prove a serious injury. 
 She could not agree with me, and said she was con- 
 fident that she, herself, would be more soothed than 
 excited by such a visit. 
 
 " I remarked, that I did not consider one who was 
 in full health, and possessing strong powers of self- 
 control, qualified to sympathize in her daughter's very 
 feeble, and nervously excited condition. However, she 
 insisted that a clergyman should be sent for, which I 
 had no objection to ; but I very reluctantly told her I 
 would not take the responsibility of his entering her 
 daughter's room. And I persevered in keeping my 
 patient quiet, until I considered it safe to admit her 
 spiritual adviser ; and, I am confident, if I know my 
 own heart, that no one was more relieved by so doing 
 than myself. I had much to contend with, for a time, 
 in ill-natured remarks, but a consciousness of right 
 sustained me !" 
 
 " I think I hear some one at the street door, Isa- 
 bella," said Mrs. Gray. 
 
 Doctor Barton, not having seen or heard anything 
 of a servant in the house, during his attendance upon 
 Mr. Gray, immediately arose, saying — 
 
 "Allow me to open the door, Miss Gray." 
 
 The entry being small, which separated the street 
 door from the little parlor, the ladies could distinctly 
 hear the conversation. 
 
ISABELLA (f R AY. 13 
 
 " Doe3 Mr. Henry Gray reside here?" was the 
 inquiry, in a manly tone of voice ; and, after some con- 
 versation in the entry, in too low a tone for the ladies' 
 ears, the doctor entered the parlor, accompanied by a 
 gentleman, whom he introduced to Mrs. and Miss Gray, 
 as "Mr. Isaacs, the principal proprietor in the large 
 commercial house in which Mr. Gray had been employed 
 during his residence in New York." 
 
 Mr. Isaacs was a gentleman of affable, agreeable 
 manners, apparently about fifty years of age, good- 
 looking, tall, erect in stature, and having rather a 
 nervous cast of countenance, common to those who 
 pass their time mostly in the counting-house. 
 
 " I regret exceedingly," said Mr. Isaacs, after being 
 seated, and addressing Mrs. Gray, " that I had not 
 sooner learned the severity of your son's illness." 
 
 " When I addressed you by note, Mr. Isaacs, excusing 
 my son's attendance at the store, I had not the least 
 idea that two weeks would find him where he now lies." 
 
 " No, your note did not indicate alarm, or I should 
 have called to see him ; for the young man has won 
 my confidence and esteem by his gentlemanly and 
 upright deportment during the time he has been with 
 us. Allow me to inquire if any of the young men from 
 the store have visited him?" 
 
 "They have not, sir. But we do not regard it as 
 any want of respect for my son, for they were not 
 aware of his extreme illness, or they, doubtless, would 
 have done so. He often spoke of the good feeling 
 which existed between several of them and himself." 
 2 
 
14 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 " Sorry, very sorry. I regret it exceedingly," said 
 Mr. Isaacs. 
 
 "I beg you will not indulge in any unpleasant re- 
 flections, Mr. Isaacs; for my son, even after the day I 
 wrote you, was too ill to have seen any person." 
 
 " But it might have been a gratification to him to 
 have been inquired for, and to know that he was not 
 entirely forgotten by us — it certainly would have been 
 such to us;" then turning to Dr. Barton, he inquired 
 what was Mr. Gray's disease. 
 
 The doctor gave him a full account of the young 
 man's severe attack of hemorrhage of the lungs, and of 
 his want of constitutional strength. 
 
 " Poor fellow !" exclaimed his employer, with a trem- 
 bling lip and a tear-dimmed eye, " it is hard to have 
 him taken so early." 
 
 Mr. Isaacs was desirous of having Mr. Gray's fune- 
 ral cortege in keeping with his own estimation of his 
 merits; but Mrs. and Miss Gray expressed a great 
 desire that the funeral should be as private as possible, 
 in order that they might see his remains deposited in 
 their narrow house. 
 
 Having no friend to whom they could commit that 
 sacred trust, they asked not to be prevented from 
 accompanying his remains to Greenwood. What was 
 a long funeral train, composed of strangers, in the 
 estimation of their grief-stricken hearts ? No — they 
 desired no ostentation, but a simple, respectable burial. 
 
 The next morning, at the hour of twelve, there ap- 
 peared at Mrs. Gray's door the undertaker's hearse 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 15 
 
 and three carriages. The coffin containing the body 
 was placed in the hearse.. 
 
 The Rev. Dr. Montgomery, Dr. Barton, and Mr. 
 Isaacs occupied one carriage ; four of the young gen- 
 tlemen from Mr. Isaacs' store, another ; the ladies the 
 remaining one, alone. 
 
 Slowly and solemnly did that funeral procession 
 wend its way to the lonely, but beautiful city of the 
 dead. Alighting at the door of the chapel, which stands 
 near the entrance gate of the cemetery, they entered. 
 The young gentlemen officiating as bearers, carrying 
 the coffin, followed by the ladies, accompanied by Mr. 
 Isaacs and Dr. Barton, and preceded by the man of 
 God, repeating that sublime passage from St. John, 
 " I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord : 
 he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall 
 he live : and whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall 
 never die." The remainder of the service, not less 
 sublime and beautiful, was listened to with the deepest 
 interest by all present, and by it the bereaved were 
 soothed and prepared for their last sad duty. 
 
 On reaching the place of interment, the mother and 
 daughter calmly and composedly alighted from their 
 carriage and stood beside the narrow space. They saw 
 earth committed to its mother earth, and dust to dust ; 
 but, with a firm faith and hope in a happy reunion at 
 the resurrection morn, they stood, apparently lost to 
 all around them, in deep, profound meditation, until 
 the service was ended, and all were in readiness to 
 return, when they were aroused to consciousness by 
 
16 ISABELLA. GRAY. 
 
 Dr. Barton offering his arm to Mrs. Grav, and Mr. 
 Isaacs proffering his to Miss Gray, for the purpose of 
 handing them to their carriage. 
 
 They were now returning to their lonely home, the 
 dread of which seemed almost insupportable. Before 
 they had left the cemetery grounds they were aroused 
 by a sharp flash of lightning, followed by distant thun- 
 der. The sky became rapidly overcast with dense 
 black clouds, the wind arose to a fearful height, the 
 lightning momentarily streaked the heavens, and the 
 thunder, which was by this time fearfully near, rolled 
 with solemn grandeur ; but its sublimity was lost upon 
 Mrs. and Miss Gray, who only felt an emotion of 
 terror. 
 
 The comfort derived from the shelter which their 
 home afforded them from the terrific storm, mitigated 
 for a time its loneliness, and gave them an opportunity 
 for composure and rest; at the same time enabling 
 them fully to appreciate the truth — that man, if 
 he will but accept it, will never cease to find some ray 
 of comfort, something that will divert the channel of 
 his thoughts, and thereby enable him to receive conso- 
 lation, though it may chance to be the terrifying 
 storm. 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 17 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 FAMILY HISTORY, AND RELATIVE EVENTS. 
 
 " There is a face whose blushes tell 
 Affection's tale upon the cheek ; 
 But pallid at one fond farewell, 
 
 Proclaims more love than words can speak." 
 
 Byron. 
 " I pray thee let my heart alone, 
 
 Siucc now 'tis raised above thee." 
 
 Thomas Stanley. 
 
 We will now leave Mrs. Gray and her daughter, for 
 the purpose of giving the reader the information neces- 
 sary to a more perfect understanding of the causes 
 which have placed them- in their present humble con- 
 dition. 
 
 Mrs. Gray was a native of England ,and resided 
 there until about sixteen years of age, when she re- 
 moved to the United States with her father, mother, 
 and her only brother, James — the latter five years her 
 senior. 
 
 The loss of an only sister, two years older than her- 
 self, was the original cause of their leaving their native 
 home. Her father, Mr. James Henry Fitzgerald, 
 after his daughter's decease, became melancholy. 
 Yielding to the advice of friends, he sought change of 
 2* 
 
18 ISABELLA. GRAY. 
 
 scene, — and having, while traveling in this country 
 for the purpose of diversion, purchased a small farm 
 adjacent to the city of Cincinnati, he returned at 
 at once to England for his family, who rather reluc- 
 tantly accompanied him to their new home. But, find- 
 ing it to be pleasantly situated upon the banks of a 
 fine river, they very soon became domesticated (having 
 brought with them almost their entire household furni- 
 ture,) and settled down, with that home-feeling so pecu- 
 liar to the English character. 
 
 Mr. Fitzgerald did not possess great wealth, but a 
 very liberal competency. His aim was not so much 
 to amass a large fortune, as to retain what he had, and 
 to enjoy it. Possessing a finely-cultivated literary 
 taste, he was more partial to his library than to the 
 cares of his farm. However, he superintended the 
 latter sufficiently to keep it in good order, and, with the 
 aid of a man whom he had brought with him, it was 
 easily accomplished without becoming a tax upon his 
 time. 
 
 He was fond of society, and entertained his friends 
 moderately, but with true hospitality. Mrs. Fitzgerald 
 saw the beneficial effect that change had wrought upon 
 her husband's spirits, and encouraged his natural incli- 
 nation for society, which was an advantage to her 
 daughter, who became a bright ornament in the social 
 circles of the adjacent city. 
 
 She had been educated with great care, possessed 
 much of her father's taste for literature, w T as fond of 
 drawing, but more partial to music, and performed 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 19 
 
 upon the piano with skill. She had strongly-marked 
 and pleasing features, was comely in person, and agree- 
 able in manners and conversation. 
 
 On her twentieth birth-day she was led to the altar 
 by Mr. William Gray, a highly respectable lawyer of 
 Cincinnati, who was ten years her senior. He had 
 been left an orphan when quite young, with a very 
 handsome property in the hands of executors, who were 
 unfortunate in not having much of it to surrender when 
 the young man became of age. His guardian, how- 
 ever, had looked well to his education, which was, per- 
 haps better for him than the possession of a large 
 property. Having ascertained that, after defraying 
 the expenses of his education and his profession, he 
 had but a pittance left, and that his executors were 
 both bankrupt, he saw that no alternative was left him 
 but to pursue with active energy and an iron will, the 
 arduous practice of his profession. But a short time 
 elapsed, as may be supposed, before he had obtained a 
 highly respectable position, and at the period of his 
 marriage he was in the enjoyment of more than a com- 
 fortable living. 
 
 Isabella and Henry Fitzgerald Gray were their only 
 children. Isabella was two years older than her bro- 
 ther, and, as she matured into womanhood, developed 
 a truly lovely character. She was a descendant, on 
 her mother's side, from an old Roman family, and had 
 more strongly-marked Roman features than her imme- 
 diate ancestors. To a clear brunette complexion, dark 
 brown hair, large hazel eyes, tall person, graceful 
 
20 ISABELLA GR AY. 
 
 form, and dignified bearing, were joined a thoughtful 
 expression when her features were in repose ; but, when 
 aroused by conversation, her countenance reflected her 
 intellect, with that radiant variance which has so 
 powerful a tendency to fascinate. Strong in her at- 
 tachments, forbearing in her disposition, she never 
 failed to maintain a dignified self-respect whenever its 
 assertion became necessary. However, those instances 
 were rare, as, being a great favorite, her countenance 
 and approbation were more universally sought, than 
 her wishes were opposed. 
 
 At the age of twenty her hand was sought in mar- 
 riage by Mr. Alexander Brown, a gentleman of leisure, 
 possessing but two qualifications that were desirable — 
 a very fine personal appearance, and wealth. He had 
 inherited a princely fortune ; and no one doubted his 
 ability to retain it, for his soul was of decidedly too 
 small a calibre to understand the luxury of spending 
 more than was requisite to maintain his position in 
 genteel society. He made some pretensions to literary 
 taste, talked of books, read some, and occasionally made 
 presents of others, which he was careful to purchase at 
 the lowest possible price. He drove an elegant pair 
 of horses — the only real luxury in which he indulged 
 himself, except his cigar and full-length mirror — was 
 not principled against taking wine with a friend, but 
 had an aversion to paying the bills. Having no near 
 relatives with whom he could make his residence, ren- 
 dered it necessary for him to make his home at lodg- 
 ings ; but, at the time of his introduction to the reader, 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 21 
 
 he had sought the freedom of a hotel, managing to 
 keep himself so much aloof from the commonalty, as 
 not to render it necessary to entertain many ; and, 
 owing to his general exclusiveness he expended but a 
 trifling portion of his income. His conversation was 
 generous and liberal, and he no doubt flattered himself 
 that he really was so ; but then he seldom was in funds 
 when charity was solicited. 
 
 Notwithstanding this was the general estimate of 
 Mr. Brown's character, his wealth, like a pleasant de- 
 lusion, concealed his defects to those who were dazzled 
 by a fine personal appearance, fine establishment, and 
 a fortune in actual possession. To such, Mr. Brown 
 was certainly an eligible match; but not. to Isabella 
 Gray. She had been educated in an entirely oppo- 
 site school from that of her handsome admirer. 
 
 Her father was a gentleman, who realized from the 
 practice of his profession a handsome remuneration ; 
 but, in gratifying his generous views in the education 
 of his daughter and son, in traveling, in hospitality, 
 and in benevolent acts, his expenses were generally 
 found to equal his income. As might be supposed, the 
 daughter of such a man imbibed her father's noble 
 sentiments. Isabella Gray possessed decided natural 
 talents; and, having been from childhood educated to a 
 high appreciation of intellectual culture, beside im- 
 bibing daily, by intercourse with her parents, as also 
 her more intimate associates, pure and ennobling sen- 
 timents, which, when combined, complete woman's true 
 character, she could not find a companion in the man 
 
22 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 ■whose highest appreciation of woman was personal 
 appearance. 
 
 " Strange !" soliloquized Mr. Brown, after recover- 
 ing somewhat from his astonishment at the refusal of 
 his hand ; " she is the first lady I have met with, whom 
 I think could grace such a fortune as mine. Fine look- 
 ing — yes, beautiful — in conversation, fascinating — just 
 the woman for the establishment I mean to support. 
 True, she is not wealthy" — and, with a contemptuous 
 smile, as he paced up and down his solitary room, he 
 exclaimed — " D — n it ! she ought to feel flattered 
 with the honor of marrying as handsome a man as 
 this ;" turning at the same time to feast his eyes upon 
 the perfect representation of his splendid person in a 
 full-length mirror. His vanity satiated, he continued 
 to promenade the room, with his eyes riveted upon 
 the carpet. 
 
 "To think," continued he, in his reverie, " of my 
 fortune against her small outfit, at best, and perhaps 
 none at all. Oh ! it cannot be — she does not mean it ; 
 she only wants to see me at her feet; but she'll wait 
 awhile for that. This is only the first refusal. I see 
 how it is : this is her first offer ; they say ladies never 
 accept the first. Well, I'll wait for a time, and make 
 her a second. She does not know my perseverance. 
 I'll marry her yet." 
 
 So thought Mr. Alexander Brown. Others may 
 have done likewise under similar circumstances. 
 
 Miss Gray was much in society, but did not thus 
 pass all her time. She received the visits of many 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 2 
 
 o 
 
 gentlemen at home, the result of her father's social 
 taste as well as her own attractions, and was much 
 admired. However, she neither desired nor sought a 
 multitude of conquests; it was uncongenial to her 
 sincerity of character — one of her most prominent 
 traits ; and the unexpected, very systematic, business- 
 like, self-confident proposal she received from Mr. 
 Brown, a gentleman who was only a general acquaint- 
 ance, was perhaps as astounding to her as her refusal 
 was to him. 
 
 About this period she became acquainted with Mr. 
 Robert Williams, and the intimacy very soon ripened 
 into a mutual attachment. 
 
 Mr. Williams was a resident of Cincinnati, and at 
 the time a student of law ; but, in consequence of 
 limited means and an ardent desire to acquire his 
 profession, he was so fully occupied as to prevent his 
 devoting much time to society. His term of proba- 
 tion, however, being nearly ended — he had but six 
 months longer to apply himself to study, before he 
 would be admitted to the practice of his profession — 
 and, as he had heretofore been a very close student, 
 he resolved to relax in some small degree, and enjoy 
 that society which his education and acquirements so 
 well qualified him to adorn. 
 
 In personal appearance he was not remarkable in 
 any respect, except for his manly bearing — he was 
 rather tall in stature, and fine-looking, but by no 
 means a handsome man. No person, however, could 
 observe his features, when lighted up by the varying 
 
24 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 emotions produced by conversation, without acknow- 
 ledging his possession of a highly-gifted intellect. 
 His eyes were dark, full, and expressive, his voice 
 deep, manly, and musical ; in conversation he was in- 
 telligent and fascinating, and his whole character dis- 
 played the noble, generous, high-minded man. 
 
 Mr. Gray had met him at the office of his profes- 
 sional brother, in business intercourse; and, from sym- 
 pathy of feeling, after learning that he had yet his 
 fortune to make, (for Mr. Gray had not forgotten his 
 own early struggles,) he invited Mr. Williams to visit 
 him at his residence, "which," said he, "is a pleasant 
 drive from town." 
 
 "Thank you, Mr. Gray," said Mr. Williams, "it 
 will afford me pleasure to do so." 
 
 " A little recreation will be of service to you. I 
 rather think you are working too close." 
 
 "I may have done so, but not now." 
 
 " Well, you had better take it a little easier ; there 
 is not much doubt of a successful examination. Come 
 out, and make us a visit. Now, don't delay ; I shall 
 anticipate the pleasure of seeing you shortly." 
 
 " Thank you, Mr. Gray ; I shall avail myself of that 
 pleasure as early as possible," was Mr. Williams' cor- 
 dial reply, as he accepted Mr. Gray's proffered hand 
 on leaving the office. 
 
 After his introduction to Mr. Gray's family, Mr. 
 W 7 illiams was in the habit of repeating his visits quite 
 frequently. He enjoyed the pleasant drive from town ; 
 the pleasant promenade through the grounds leading 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 25 
 
 to the river's bank; the cordial, sincere hospitality of 
 Mr. and Mrs. Gray ; but, most of all, his conversations 
 with Isabella. 
 
 He was scarcely conscious, for a time, of thet cause 
 of his desire to repeat his visits ; but the heart is justly 
 said to be a prompt tell-tale in all matters which con- 
 cern its emotions ; and it was not long before Mr. 
 Williams became conscious of a deep and tender interest 
 in Miss Gray. He was satisfied, too, that it was 
 mutual. 
 
 "And what was he to do ?" was the question he put 
 to himself one night, after returning from a visit to 
 Mr. Gray's, just previous to the time of his ad- 
 mission to the bar. " Yes ; what am I to do ? I 
 cannot marry Miss Gray ; I am not in a situation to 
 marry. Poor — nothing to depend upon but my own 
 exertions — I cannot take her from such a delightful 
 home without some more certain prospect to rely 
 upon. I may fail in my profession — may not succeed 
 in business of any kind ; and the idea of bringing such 
 an one to poverty — oh, no ! I cannot think of it. 
 But suppose I ask an engagement — no, never ! I will 
 not bind a lady to an engagement that I may never 
 be in a situation to fulfill. No, it must not be. But, 
 had I wealth, how quickly it should be laid at her feet. 
 So lovely — so intellectual — everything that I could 
 desire in my wife. Oh ! the very thought that I may 
 never call her mine, almost maddens me !" 
 
 In this manner did Mr. Williams reflect upon his 
 love for Miss Gray, which had now assumed an unmis- 
 3 
 
26 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 takable form. He understood perfectly the source 
 from which he derived pleasure in his visits at Mr. 
 Gray's ; and that night he decided, before he slept, 
 that, as an honorable man, he must make those visits 
 less frequent, whatever the cost might be. 
 
 He had not declared his love in words ; but, as love 
 begets its kindred passion, theirs was reflected in 
 each other's hearts by the thousand nameless ways 
 which the heart alone can employ, to reveal its hidden 
 emotions. 
 
 Not long after Mr. Williams was admitted to prac- 
 tice, an opportunity presented for his removal to Cali- 
 fornia, where he could engage in the business of his 
 profession under very advantageous circumstances. 
 
 He decided at once to go. The hope of gain induced 
 him *to separate himself from all his congenial associa- 
 tions, and from the individual whose society had, 
 during the greater part of the past year, given a new 
 impulse to his aspirations for the future. 
 
 Before departing, he took leave of Mr. Gray and his 
 family, with many expressions of friendship and of 
 gratitude for their hospitality. A casual observer 
 would not have noticed any trace of emotion, but the 
 mother, who witnessed the silent shaking of hands as 
 Mr. Williams parted from Isabella, saw that his feel- 
 ings deprived him of the power of speech, and was con- 
 vinced of the reality of that which she had previously 
 only suspected. 
 
 The summer subsequent to the departure of Mr. 
 Williams for his new theatre of action, Mr. Gray died 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 27 
 
 suddenly of cholera. His son was immediately sum- 
 moned home from the city of New York, where he had 
 pas ad the previous year in the acquirement of business 
 knowledge. Mr. Gray gave his son the opportunity of 
 selecting his own occupation, after he had finished his 
 education ; and, as the young man was not very strong, 
 he feared that the sedentary life, which was insepara- 
 ble from the study and practice of a profession, might 
 produce a deleterious effect upon his health, wherefore, 
 consulting his inclination, he made choice of a com- 
 mercial business, and, with his father's influence, 
 readily obtained a desirable situation in the extensive 
 establishment of Mr. Isaacs, in the city of New York. 
 
 Before setting out from that city to join his mother 
 and sister, and mingle his tears with theirs in the sud- 
 den and almost overwhelming affliction which had 
 befallen them, he obtained the privilege of retaining 
 his situation, provided his absence did not exceed one 
 month. 
 
 Wt pass over the meeting with his afflicted family, 
 as also the events usual on such occasions, which fol- 
 lowed in rapid succession, and resume our narrative at 
 the period when Henry Gray's leave of absence from 
 his business had nearly expired. 
 
 Mrs. Gray found her husband's pecuniary affairs 
 were so much embarrassed, that, after liquidating the 
 claims against his estate, she had but a comparatively 
 small sum remaining, and even that was obtained by 
 a great sacrifice of feeling. She had now no relative 
 to look to but her brother, her parents having some 
 
28 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 years previously passed away, leaving nothing but 
 their homestead, which Mr. Gray had since made his 
 residence. And now, their beautiful, long-cherished 
 home — cherished from love for its former occupants, 
 and the multitude of associations twining around the 
 hearts of the survivors — their comfortable, spacious 
 dwelling and beautiful pleasure-ground, with its roman- 
 tic seclusions and beautiful promenades, enlivened by 
 a view of the gently-flowing river, on whose bank it 
 reposed, must be parted with — must all be sold. 
 
 Mr. James Fitzgerald married not long after arriving 
 in the United States, and removed to a large tract of 
 land, which he had previously purchased in one of the 
 States of the far West, with the view of indulging his 
 fondness for agriculture. The brother and sister saw 
 each other but seldom, except during their annual 
 visits, which had a tendency to foster a mutual kind 
 feeling ; but Mr. Fitzgerald devoted his time and ener- 
 gies almost exclusively to his agricultural pursuits, 
 and was fully compensated for his labors in the- pos- 
 session of a fine farm and well-stored coffers. His 
 fondness for gain increased with his prosperity — the 
 natural consequence of an isolated position. Genero- 
 sity, like all virtues, acquires strength by its frequent 
 exercise, and, undoubtedly, the most accessible avenue 
 to it is sympathy ; a road which must be well traveled, 
 in order that the rank weeds of selfishness may not 
 obstruct the pathway. 
 
 As might be supposed, the brother, upon receiving a 
 letter from his sister, detailing the particulars of her 
 
ISABELLA GllAY. 29 
 
 husband's death, of the depressed condition of their 
 circumstances, and of the necessity which compelled 
 them to leave the home so dear to them all, and to 
 seek their future subsistence by their own exertions, 
 expressed his sorrow for his sister, as well as his satis- 
 faction with the courageous resignation which her let- 
 ter seemed to indicate, and intimated that, with her 
 energy, he had no dcubt she would be successful. In 
 like manner he wrote to his sister, requesting her to 
 correspond with him frequently, saying that it would 
 ever be gratifying to hear of her prosperity and wel- 
 fare, and that it would afford him great pleasure to 
 visit her immediately, did not his agricultural cares 
 just at that period present an insurmountable obsta- 
 cle. His letter closed with the most affectionate 
 epithets. 
 
 On receiving her brother's letter, Mrs. Gray felt, as 
 the writer of it intended, that she must depend upon 
 herself; and, at her son's earnest solicitaion, she 
 decided to remove at once to New York. Prepara- 
 tions for their departure were immediately commenced, 
 and the young man set out in advance of his mother 
 and sister, to return to his business, as well as to pre- 
 pare a home for them when they should arrive. 
 
 After Mrs. Gray had settled all her business trans- 
 actions, she packed up her little remaining furniture 
 and sent it on to her son, while she and her daughter 
 remained for a few days with a friend, to rest and com- 
 pose themselves. 
 
 "Now," thought Mr. Brown, "is my opportunity; 
 3* 
 
30 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 I'll make my dark-eyed beauty another offer ; I've not 
 spoken with her since her father's death ; I know she'll 
 be mortified to see me now that her poverty is so well 
 known." Filled with these thoughts he determined to 
 pay Miss Gray a visit, and to make another offer of his 
 august personage, confident that he would not then be 
 refused, as the appendage of his wealth was so much 
 needed. 
 
 Entering the house at which he had ascertained Miss 
 Gray was staying, he awaited her presence in the 
 drawing-room ; and, while he did so, he became almost 
 excited in anticipation of her enthusiasm and delight 
 at the proposal he was soon to make. 
 
 When Isabella received Mr. Brown's card she was 
 sitting with her mother in her chamber. 
 
 " Alexander Brown ! " said she, looking at the card. 
 "I think I'll not see him, mother." 
 
 " Just as you please, my dear." 
 
 " I have not met him for a long time," said Isabella, 
 " I hoped he had forgotten me ; but I presume the 
 object of his visit is to express his sympathy for us, as 
 we are soon to leave. Yes," said she, rising to depart 
 from the room, " I'll see him, — I'll see any one who 
 respects my dear father's memory sufficiently to induce 
 him to offer sympathy to his afflicted family," and thus 
 saying, she descended to the parlor. After the usual 
 salutations, and both parties had seated themselves, 
 Mr. Brown opened the conversation by saying: 
 
 " I have heard with deep regret, Miss Gray, that 
 you are soon to leave us-" 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 31 
 
 "Yes," replied Isabella, " iny mother and myself 
 purpose leaving to-morrow morning." 
 
 " Does your brother intend making New York his 
 residence?" asked Mr. Brown. 
 
 " He inclines to do so," said Isabella, " and I think 
 most probably will." 
 
 After further general conversation, Mr. Brown re- 
 marked, " I have called, Miss Gray, for the purpose of 
 laying an injunction upon your departure at present." 
 
 "I hope not, Mr. Brown," rejoined Isabella; "I 
 hope nothing will prevent our speedy departure, for it 
 is quite important that we join my brother." 
 
 " I trust I may be able to offer you such induce- 
 ments as will incline you to waive the necessity of 
 joining your brother so speedily." 
 
 " Oh, no, Mr. Brown, I think that is not possible," 
 said Isabella, in a somewhat excited manner; for she 
 began to apprehend what might follow. 
 
 "No ! Suppose," said he, with a self-confident man- 
 ner, at the same time taking a seat on the sofa beside 
 Isabella,— r" that I again offer you my hand, my heart, 
 my all ? " and, looking her full in the face, he added, 
 " which I most sincerely do, Miss Gray. Will not 
 that be an inducement to detain you ; or, if not to 
 detain you, to insure the promise of your return? " 
 
 " No, Mr. Brown ; I regret thai I am under the 
 necessity of again declining so great an honor." 
 
 " No honor ca,n surpass your merits, Miss Gray ; 
 allow me to assure you of my unbounded admiration." 
 
 " Pardon me, Mr. Brown, but justice to you, as well 
 as to myself, requires that I should not deceive, but deal 
 
32 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 frankly with you ; and I prefer that, from this time 
 forth, you will relinquish all hopes of obtaining my 
 hand ; for, I assure you, were you to receive it, it 
 would be unaccompanied with the treasure which 
 every man must desire to possess in a wife." 
 
 " The heart?" 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 " But might I not hope to win that afterwards ? " 
 
 " Love must precede the nuptial rite, or it shall 
 never have my sanction." 
 
 "May you not be already engaged?" asked Mr. 
 Brown ; for he was not ignorant of Mr. Williams' at- 
 tentions to Isabella, though he had never before sup- 
 posed they had thought of marriage. 
 
 "No, sir, I am not engaged, — and I am frank in 
 saying that I shall never enter into a matrimonial en- 
 gagement until my heart can accompany my hand." 
 
 To Isabella's great delight, for she desired to close 
 so uninteresting a conversation, Miss Gray's friend 
 entered the room at that moment, without any intention 
 of intruding. The interruption, however, terminated 
 the interview, and Mr. Brown departed, to reflect over 
 the disappointment of another refusal. 
 
 View the matter as he would, in all its varied forms, 
 he could not fathom the cause of this second refusal ; 
 and finally he dismissed it from his mind, with the belief 
 that Miss Gray was too much occupied with her afflic- 
 tion to give the subject proper reflection. *. A dogged, 
 obstinate perseverance when opposed, was Mr. Brown's 
 prevailing trait of character, and he still consoled him- 
 self with the hope of future success. 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 33 
 
 " I have not heard you speak of your visit from Mr. 
 Brown, iny dear," said Mrs. Gray, after they had re- 
 tired to their room for the night. 
 
 " He came to negotiate for the purchase of a wife." 
 
 "Ah!" said the mother, smiling at her daughter's 
 coolness — u could you not come to terms ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes — no difficulty at all in that. I think he 
 is satisfied, by this time, that his money can never buy 
 me while it is in his possession. His very great beauty 
 and his money are the ruin of him. His vanity is 
 past endurance. Money occupies the first place in 
 his thoughts, and he fancies it to be more powerful 
 than it really is, — he thinks it can take the place of 
 the dearest emotions of the heart; but it cannot with 
 me. If I ever marry, it will be a man whom I can 
 love, respect, and be happy with. Money is a great 
 object to us, at present, I very well know, but I 
 cannot be guilty of such profanation as to marry for 
 that alone." 
 
 "You are very right, my dear," said Mrs. Gray, 
 u I am happy in hearing you advance such true prin- 
 ciples." 
 
 "While Mrs. Gray and Isabella were occupied, on the 
 morning of their departure from Cincinnati, in num- 
 berless and nameless preparations requisite for a jour- 
 ney — and especially so in this instance, as they con- 
 templated a permanent change of residence — Dinah, a 
 very old colored servant, who had been in Mrs. Gray's 
 household for many years, entered the room. 
 
 " Oh, mammy ! I am very glad you have come to 
 see us once more before we go," said Isabella, as she 
 gave the faithful old woman her hand. 
 
34 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 " Yes, Missis," said Dinah, — tears almost choking 
 her as she spoke — "Miss Bella, can't you 'suade your 
 ma to take de old woman along?" 
 
 By this time Isabella had seated herself on a lounge, 
 and placed her dear old nurse by her side. 
 
 " Mammy, we would like to take you with us," said 
 Isabella ; "but you know we cannot, now. I thought 
 you had become reconciled, and were willing to be 
 left." 
 
 " I thought so, too, Missis ; but I can't, and there's 
 no use in trying." 
 
 Isabella used her most powerful arguments to induce 
 her to be content ; for she was well satisfied she would 
 be more comfortable in her new home than it would 
 be in their power to make her, provided they had the 
 ability to take her with them ; but her persuasions were 
 lost, for mammy would not think of being left behind. 
 
 Mrs. Gray had heard the conversation between them, 
 and, although she had promised herself and Dinah, 
 that if it were possible, when they were again settled, 
 she would send for her — for she was as reluctant to 
 relinquish her care of the faithful old woman, as 
 the latter was to be left — yet she had doubts and 
 fears of her ability to fulfill that promise before 
 Dinah should have done with the things of earth; for 
 she was now very old and becoming quite infirm. She 
 had been for many years a free woman, and having 
 accumulated a very comfortable support, Mrs. Gray 
 had procured a good home for her ; but her dear Missis' 
 home was all the world to her. 
 
 Mrs. Gray seated herself near her daughter and 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 85 
 
 Dinah, and spoke encouragingly to her, saying, " Di- 
 nah, you must try to be happy ; it is your duty." 
 
 " Bless your heart, Missis, I did try, and I prayed 
 to de Lord to keep me from wanting to go with my 
 dear Miss Bella, who I brought up from a little baby. 
 And dere's Massa Harry, too, he'll miss dis chile, I 
 know. But I can't keep from wantin' to go and live 
 wid em, no how." 
 
 " But you know I told you that, if I possibly could, 
 I would send for you." 
 
 "Oh, no! oh, no!" said Dinah, shaking her head, 
 " dese eyes will neber see Missis again." 
 
 " Oh, yes, mammy," said Isabella, cheerfully; 
 "you must not be so desponding. Just think of the 
 pleasure you will enjoy in my letters." 
 
 " Will you write den to ole mammy, when you're 
 gone, Miss Bella ?" 
 
 u Certainly I will, Dinah. I shall write you very 
 long letters, and write them so that you can read them 
 yourself. So you must cheer up, now, and not feel 
 bad." 
 
 " Well, Miss Bella, I will try an' be cheerful. Yes, 
 Miss, Dinah will try her best." 
 
 " It is time to have the baggage taken down," said 
 Mrs. Gray, looking at her watch, as she rose to pre- 
 pare for their departure, the time for which was now 
 at hand. The hurry and confusion consequent upon 
 a departure leaves but little or no time for reflection, 
 and not unfrequently causes the long dreaded " good 
 bye " to be said with unexpected composure. So it 
 was with Mrs. Gray and Isabella. They took a hur- 
 
36 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 ried leave, were conveyed to the railway station, and, 
 when seated quietly in the cars, which were progress- 
 ing rapidly toward their new home, they felt their 
 haste and excitement was over for a time ; and, draw- 
 ing their veils more closely, to conceal from each other 
 the sad emotions which had taken possession of their 
 hearts and minds, they remained silent for a long 
 while. . 
 
 Mrs. Gray's mind reverted back to the freshness of 
 youth, when she first made her home on the banks of the 
 lovely river that was now fast receding from their view. 
 In almost every thing which had contributed to beau- 
 tify and adorn the grounds, she could trace her father's 
 taste and skill. In the pleasant grove adjoining the 
 house, she first listened to the whispering of love from 
 him whose voice was now hushed forever ; with him and 
 her dear parents she had there enjoyed pleasant walks 
 day after day ; there, year after year, had she refreshed 
 herself by admiring nature's beauties, and held com- 
 munion with those she loved. 
 
 But she dared not, even in imagination, enter the 
 house which had been for so many years a happy 
 home. It would not do. She must buckle on her 
 armor with fortitude ; stern reality was before her, 
 and she must not falter. He who was ever near to 
 participate in her joys and sorrows, had passed away, 
 and all that was dear in the name of home had van- 
 ished with him. But the mother's heart quickly whis- 
 pered, " Not all ; oh ! no, not all. Beside me here sits 
 my darling child, a bright jewel in my gloom. 'Tis for 
 her I most grieve, and for my darling boy ; they have 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 37 
 
 lost their guide and counsel. Oh, God ! leave not the 
 widow and the fatherless, I beseech thee." 
 
 Such was the train of reverie and reflection in which 
 Mrs. Gray indulged. Isabella knew less of the past ; 
 but it was not altogether forgotten by her. Her home 
 was associated with her childhood, and a happy one it 
 had been ; with her youth, which was pure, intellectual, 
 elevating and lovely ; with her dear young friends, 
 whose affections were interwoven with her own, like 
 the tendrils of the vine. In her estimation there was 
 a halo of sanctity around the memory of all that had 
 been admired and enjoyed by him who was far away 
 in a distant land. Why could she not forget him ? 
 She had tried. He had never said he loved, still she 
 could not doubt it. " But why did he leave me thus," 
 thought she, " without one hope to cling to ? No mat- 
 ter ; I'll cherish the love I cannot forget, and, 
 
 " Let fate do her worst, there are relics of joy, 
 Bright dreams of the past, which she cannot destroy." 
 
 The future, to Isabella, was not so dark and fore- 
 boding as to the mother. She had the advantages of 
 buoyancy of youth, as well as her mother's firm forti- 
 tude to rely upon ; change, also, lent its aid to encou- 
 rage " bright hopes of the future to overshadow the 
 past," and life to her was not altogether sad. 
 
 On arriving in New York, they were conducted at 
 once to their new home, a small dwelling in Brooklyn, 
 in which their furniture had been already arranged. 
 Henry Gray had chosen this location on account of its 
 cheap rent, as well as its immediate proximity to his 
 4 
 
38 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 place of business in New York ; and, arranging it to 
 look as much like their old home as possible, he took 
 his mother and sister to it with feelings of great sad- 
 ness. 
 
 As they drove from the terminus of the railway 
 through the crowded thoroughfare, and across the ferry, 
 Mrs. Gray observed a deep gloom on her son's coun- 
 tenance, and asked him if he was not well ? 
 
 " Perfectly well, mother." 
 
 " I think you are not as much delighted to see us 
 as we are to see you," said Isabella, playfully. 
 
 " You are mistaken, Isabella, I am very happy to 
 see you ; but I am fearful you may be disappointed 
 in your house, it is so unlike the one you have left." 
 Just at that moment the dust, or something else, seemed 
 to obstruct his sight, which made it necessary for him- 
 to use his handkerchief. 
 
 " Oh, no, my son, you must not give yourself any 
 fears, for we are well armed against disappointments." 
 
 By this time they had reached the door, and, on enter- 
 ing the house, which was a small two-story wooden tene- 
 ment, of somewhat ancient construction, with two small 
 parlors, two chambers, and a basement, which served 
 the purpose of a kitchen, Isabella went immediately 
 through it, to gratify her curiosity — her mother and 
 brother following. She was delighted with everything, 
 and thought it was very convenient, as well as pleasantly 
 arranged. " We have furniture in abundance," said 
 she ; "but I must go and see my piano;" and again 
 they all returned to the parlor, for the purpose of 
 examining the instrument. It was opened, inspected, 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 39 
 
 and its tone tried. "I am surprised," said Isabella, 
 " that it is so little out of tune ;" then rising from the 
 stool and closing the instrument, she turned to her 
 mother and brother, saying, " Well, I think we have a 
 nice, cosy little home, and we shall be so much happier 
 here, together, in this unpretending house, than we 
 should be if separated, although we occupied a palace." 
 
 " I am very happy that you like it so well," said 
 Henry, " for it is the best I could find, without going 
 a long distance from the ferry ; and that would not 
 answer our present income." 
 
 " You have been very successful, my son. I like the 
 house very much ; it is just the house, and in just the 
 place, for us to study economy ; and that is what we 
 intend doing." 
 
 " That you may do for the present ; but wait until I 
 am a rich merchant." 
 
 " Ah, my son, I am glad to see you so hopeful." 
 
 U Yes, mother, you shall not always be poor if I live 
 and have my health." 
 
 After they had become settled in their new home, 
 and had forgotten the fatigue of their journey, the 
 mother, son, and daughter were one evening seated 
 around a small centre-table, the ladies occupied with 
 their needles, the young gentleman with his evening 
 paper. Isabella broke the silence which had prevailed 
 for some time, by saying — " I would like to lend a 
 helping hand in procuring the means of our support." 
 
 " What would you do ?" asked her mother. 
 
 " I could give music lessons. I feel myself compe- 
 tent for that, and you know it pays better than almost 
 anything a lady can undertake." 
 
40 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 The mother and daughter again relapsed into silence, 
 both being busily occupied with their work and their 
 thoughts, of which the latter were probably the most 
 active ; for who that has been unexpectedly aroused to 
 self-reliance, has not experienced the great activity of 
 mind which accompanies it? How often do we see 
 instances of the mind, like the body, becoming sluggish 
 through the enjoyment of a peaceful, calm, luxurious 
 indolence ? From persons in that state of lethargy we 
 hear expressions like these : " Oh, I never could do so ;" 
 "I certainly could not exist through such troubles," 
 etc., etc. ; but, when the avalanche of affliction bursts 
 upon its victim in some one of its varied forms, we see 
 the mind rise superior to surrounding circumstances, 
 and witness an energy in its struggles which it had 
 never before exhibited. 
 
 Such was now, in some degree, the energy which 
 Isabella felt, and desired to display ; but she was 
 forced, for the time, to yield to the solicitations of a 
 high-minded, noble-hearted brother. 
 
 Henry Gray, though in years a mere youth, not 
 numbering yet twenty summers, was matured by the 
 changes which had come upon his household, into a 
 sensible, active man. He was neither strong in con- 
 stitution, nor yet sickly ; but the buoyancy of youth, 
 and the energy of manhood, made the path of life seem 
 bright before him ; and his pride was gratified with the 
 idea that his mother and sister, the two beings he most 
 loved, should yet enjoy ease and happiness through his 
 instrumentality. 
 
 After finishing the perusal of his paper, he turned 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 41 
 
 to his sister, and asked " What it was he had heard 
 about music lessons ? " 
 
 " I said I should like to give them." 
 
 " You must not think of it, Isabella." 
 
 " Why not, Henry ? You know our means are very 
 limited." 
 
 " I know they are, but I have been thinking the 
 subject over, and I find that, by the rigid practice of 
 economy in every respect, for two years to come, we 
 shall have sufficient means to last that length of time ; 
 then I can command a salary which will do away with 
 any such necessity for exertion on your part. I con- 
 fidently hope that my salary will be increased next 
 year ; should it be, I shall consider myself not only 
 fortunate, but favored." 
 
 " Yet, Henry, it does not seem right for us to 
 depend so much upon you, a young man, just entering 
 into life." 
 
 " Isabella, if you regard my feelings, I beg you will 
 not press the subject any further, — certainly, not for 
 the present ; wait until there is a more imperative 
 necessity for your exertion, if that time should ever 
 come ; I shall commend you for it." 
 
 " Very well, Henry, just as you say ; I will turn 
 maid of all work, then, and economize in that way." 
 
 " ' A penny saved is worth two pence earned,' must 
 be our motto now," said Henry. 
 
 4* 
 
42 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE LOVE-LETTER. 
 
 " 'T was indeed a goodly dream ; 
 But thou art right to think it was no more ; 
 And study to forget it." 
 
 Ion. 
 
 Go to, base slave, 
 How durst thou tell thy master 
 That his cheek looks blanched, and pale ? 
 
 We will now introduce our readers into a lawyer's 
 office, in the city of San Francisco, California, where 
 we shall find Mr. Robert Williams at his table, 
 busily engaged in writing. A client is seated in front 
 of him, to whom he occasionally addresses a few words. 
 Mr. Collins, the senior partner, is seated at another 
 table, occupied in a similar manner. Some half a 
 dozen clients in waiting make up the company, each 
 impatient for an opportunity to communicate his tale 
 about the troubles and annoyances which thwart his 
 ambitious desires to gain the prize, for which he left 
 the home of his choice and affections. These gentle- 
 men have come to seek professional counsel, and their 
 impatience is readily discerned in their restless, un- 
 easy countenances. 
 
 Mr. Williams having completed the contract he was 
 drawing up, folded it carefully, and handed it to the 
 gentleman who sat beside the table. 
 
ISABELLA GEAY. 43 
 
 "What fee, sir?" asked his client. 
 
 " One hundred dollars," answered Mr. Williams. 
 
 His client drew his pocket-book from the inner 
 pocket of his coat, and, taking from it the amount re- 
 quired, handed it to his lawyer, saying, as he did so, 
 " Mr. Williams, I would like to retain you in the suit 
 we have been speaking of." 
 
 " I shall be very happy to attend to it for you, Mr. 
 Frelinghuysen ; for I am confident that, if the case be 
 as you represent it, there can be no doubt that you 
 will gain your suit." 
 
 Mr. Frelinghuysen, still holding his wallet in his 
 hand, asked what would be the retaining fee ? 
 
 " One thousand dollars," was the answer. 
 
 A check for that amount was immediately laid upon 
 the table, for the purpose of securing the professional 
 services of Collins and Williams, in the case of Fre- 
 linghuysen vs. Taylor, on the issue of which a very 
 large sum was pending. 
 
 As the client rose to depart, he was requested by 
 his counsel to call in two days from that time, when 
 he hoped to have it in his power to make some favor- 
 able communication. 
 
 Mr. Frelinghuysen, now fairly initiated into the 
 preliminaries of a lawsuit, left his lawyer's office with 
 bright anticipations of recovering, by the strong arm 
 of the law, a just claim, which would insure him a 
 fortune for life, and enable him to indulge in his 
 innate propensity for speculation. Whether, at the 
 close of the suit, he entertained the belief that law and 
 equity were synonymous terms ; or, whether he ever 
 
44 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 ascertained what law really was, when divested of the 
 mysticism of technicalities with which lawyers envelope 
 the science, has never been ascertained ; but this much 
 is certainly known, that, as he rapidly walked to his 
 place of business, he thought over the many opportu- 
 nities, then known to him, of reaping golden harvests, 
 if he had but the money he was now seeking to recover 
 by legal means. 
 
 Mr. Williams gathered up the hundred dollars, 
 which he had earned in about one hour, and folded his 
 thousand dollar check carefully and thoughtfully, as 
 the postman entered and laid upon his table several 
 letters, which had just arrived by the morning steamer. 
 The business correspondence of the firm was very con- 
 siderable ; but Mr. Williams was prevented from an 
 examination of his letters by another client, who then 
 presented himself. Just at that moment he observed 
 his Cincinnati paper. Ah ! thought he to himself, 
 here is my paper from Cincinnati, I must look at it ; 
 and, tearing off the wrapper, he scrutinized the record 
 of deaths, which almost universally is first sought by 
 all sojourning in a distant land. Imagine his great 
 surprise on beholding, at the top of the column, the 
 name of his much esteemed patron, Mr. Gray. 
 
 Relieved at length from the routine of his daily 
 duties, Mr. Williams, in the retirement of his private 
 apartment, recalled to mind the happiness he had en- 
 joyed in the hospitable residence of his departed 
 friend. He it was who first distinguished him from 
 the multitude of those similarly circumstanced — toiling 
 and struggling to obtain rank in the legal profession — 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 45 
 
 and extended to him a helping hand, as well as the 
 cordial hospitality of his family circle, when those of 
 his own blood, having almost countless wealth at com- 
 mand, stood aloof — barely recognizing, with cold cere- 
 mony, the claim which ties of consanguinity gave him 
 upon their notice. 
 
 " But he is an orphan ; a good education will insure 
 him fortune and distinction if they are rightly used, 
 and he will be the better for self-reliance." Such 
 having been the conclusion of the orphan's friends, 
 how natural was it that he should cling with affection 
 to the memory of him, who had learned by experience 
 to sympathize with the oppressed. 
 
 Mr. Williams's retrospect of past events naturally 
 led him into anxious conjectures about Isabella Gray, 
 the treasure ever dear to his heart — "Where is she," 
 he soliloquized? "Surrounded no doubt by friends 
 who will supplant me, even in her memory. No, that 
 cannot be ; it is unjust, 'tis base even to think thus of 
 her, when her every look and act has told me what 
 her heart could not conceal. Upon her sincerity I 
 would willingly risk worlds, were they at my command. 
 Yes, yes, she loves me — I cannot doubt it ; and, 
 where am I ? here, in this far-off land, away from all 
 I love and adore. If I am ever to seek her hand, 
 why not now? now is the time she most needs my 
 sympathy ; and now she shall have it, without longer 
 delay." Seating himself at his writing-table, with pen 
 in hand, he leaned back in his chair, and again re- 
 sumed his soliloquy. " The more fastidious will say, 
 I am in too much haste. But it is not so; I have 
 
46 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 long considered the proposal I am now about to make, 
 for the hand of her, whom of all others I most love. 
 I may be repulsed ; yet, the sooner I know my fate, 
 the better. I am confident that, with my present 
 prospects, I shall soon have the means of placing her 
 in a position equal to that in which she now moves, 
 and which her whole character well qualifies her to 
 maintain — that of a lady ; besides, let what will result 
 from my proposition, I shall have the satisfaction of 
 knowing that I have made an honest effort to secure 
 the wife of my choice." With this conclusion to his 
 reflections, he commenced a letter as follows : 
 
 "San Francisco, California," 
 October 12th, 18—. 
 
 " My dear Miss Gray — 
 
 " It is with emotions of deep sorrow that I have 
 learned of your recent and great bereavement, from 
 the columns of a ' newspaper,' just received. I has- 
 ten to extend to yourself and family my most sincere 
 and heartfelt sympathy, with many regrets that I am 
 not near you, to administer, if it were possible, in some, 
 slight degree, by kind acts and attentions, to the alle- 
 viation of your present sorrow. 
 
 " My acquaintance with your beloved father has . 
 extended over a considerable space of time, though but 
 a small portion of it has partaken in any degree of 
 intimacy. That, during a small portion of my life I 
 had access to his society, and that too, in his own 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 47 
 
 home, where he enjoyed relaxation from the cares 
 and anxieties of his profession, is to me a consolation 
 and source of happiness beyond my powers of descrip- 
 tion. 
 
 " My dear Miss Gray, it was he who first conferred 
 upon me the happiness of your acquaintance. I now 
 ask you to decide whether it shall still prove such. 
 Dearest Isabella, I offer you my hand and my heart, 
 pledging my best endeavors to secure your happiness 
 through life. Grant me my most urgent request : then 
 truly will I be blessed. May I not indulge the hope 
 that you will listen to my petition ? 
 
 " Oh, how cold and formal are letters ! Could I but 
 see you at this moment, idol of my heart, to convince 
 you, not merely by words, but by every look and act, 
 of my earnest sincerity, and to hear from your own dear 
 lips your final decision, what an agony of suspense I 
 should be spared. 
 
 " But I shall wait in patient hope until I learn, from 
 your own pen, the decision of my future fate; during 
 which time- I am sure you will pardon me for enter- 
 taining the fond idea that you will be mine ; an event 
 which I cannot, will not, doubt, as it alone will be the 
 realization of my most ardent aspirations after earthly 
 bliss. 
 
 " With regard to my future prospects and plans, I 
 only wait your acceptance of my poor self, to lay them 
 all before you. Cheer me with the news that I have 
 found a place in your heart, dearest, and all my fond 
 anticipations will soon become realities. With a sincere 
 prayer that favorable gales may speedily waft to me 
 
48 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 your answer, I beg to be considered an humble and 
 devoted lover. 
 
 " Sincerely and respectfully, 
 
 " Your attached 
 
 " Robt. Williams. 
 
 " Miss Isabella Gray, Cincinnati, Ohio." 
 
 This letter was written and dispatched not long 
 after the removal of Mrs. Gray and her daughter to 
 their new home in Brooklyn ; but, the writer not being 
 aware of that fact, the letter was directed, as already 
 observed, to her former residence. 
 
 After Miss Gray had twice refused the honor of an 
 alliance with Mr. Brown, the latter became in some 
 degree suspicious of her ttaachment for Mr. Williams ; 
 indeed, personal observation had made him aware that 
 she was more than pleased with him. As a counter- 
 balance, he had always consoled himself with the idea 
 that Mr. Williams was poor, and therefore would not 
 think of marriage — at least for the present ; and again, 
 the frequent accounts of the fearful ravages which 
 disease was making in the country of his rival's adop- 
 tion, induced him to think, to hope, and at times firmly 
 to believe, that Robert Williams would never again set 
 foot on his native shore. 
 
 A belief that these demoniac desires were the sub- 
 ject of expression, or even of mature reflection, must 
 not for one moment be entertained. Like vague' fan- 
 cies, they flitted through the brain of a selfish man, 
 whose greatest happiness was to conquer. Fully ap- 
 preciating the power and fascination of wealth, and its 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 49 
 
 influence, in the absence of more exalted ones, he felt 
 confident that he would eventually win the prize. How 
 humiliating the thought, that there exists a being who 
 can nourish such fiendish desires, possessing the intel- 
 lect and form of man — a type, as we are told, of his 
 Creator ! In his own mind, Mr. Brown could scarcely 
 define the reason why he so anxiously scrutinized all 
 the California news; yet, though not entirely ignorant 
 himself, he desired to keep others so. 
 
 About one month after Isabella- had removed from 
 Cincinnati, Mr. Brown was taking a morning walk, when 
 he heard the newsboys crying their papers, and 
 announcing the arrival of a California steamer. Imme- 
 diately repairing to the post-office, he ascertained that 
 the mail had arrived that morning, but was not yet 
 opened for distribution. He continued his walk, and 
 returned just in time for the delivery of the first let- 
 ters, but found none for himself. He then requested 
 that all letters for Mrs. and Miss Gray should in future 
 be put in his box, adding, that such was their desire. 
 
 "A letter has just arrived for Miss Gray," said the 
 clerk. a Do you receive it, sir?" 
 
 "Yes," answered Mr. Brown, confusedly. "Yes; 
 oh, yes ; I do receive them. She wished me to forward 
 her letters." 
 
 " I can do that, sir ; there is no necessity to take 
 it from the office for that purpose." 
 
 " No ; very true. But I think I will take it, how- 
 ever, and enclose it with another package I have at 
 my lodgings." 
 
50 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 Here we have an illustration of the maxim, that one 
 falsehood leads to many. 
 
 Mr. Brown received the letter, and immediately 
 left the post-office. On reaching the street, his first 
 impulse was to open it, as he observed it was post- 
 marked "San Francisco;" but his suspicions as to 
 who was the writer in some measure increasing his 
 fears of being detected in the base act of purloining 
 a letter, he hastened with rapid strides to his hotel. 
 
 As he entered his private parlor, his colored servant, 
 John, made his appearance at another door, leading 
 from his bed-chamber, and called his attention to Mr. 
 McPherson's card, which he had just laid upon the 
 table. 
 
 "I can't see him, John ; tell him I'm engaged," was 
 the master's order, given in an excited manner. 
 
 " Shan't I say you are ill, Massa ?" 
 
 ""What the d — 1 do you mean, sir? 111! I have 
 said nothing about being ill. Go, and obey my order." 
 
 "Yes, sir;" said John, and as he turned to leave 
 the room, he added, " I thought you looked pale." 
 
 As John opened the door to pass out, there stood 
 Mr. McPherson, with his hand raised to knock for 
 admittance. Passing John, he walked directly into the 
 room, just as Mr. Brown was preparing to draw the 
 letter from his pocket. 
 
 "Ah! good morning, Brown," said the unconscious 
 intruder; "I've come to ask you to take a drive with 
 me. 
 
 " No ; not this morning, McPherson ; I don't feel 
 in the humor for a drive ; I have just returned from a 
 walk." 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 51 
 
 "No! What's the matter?" 
 
 " Nothing, whatever, only I do not wish to drive, 
 this morning." 
 
 " Well, Brown, I do not wish to alarm you, but you 
 look d d pale. Are you ill ?" 
 
 The question suggested to Mr. Brown a speedy method 
 of relieving himself from his unwelcome visitor, who was 
 usually in the habit of boring him with long sittings, 
 and he resolved at once to act upon it. 
 
 " Yes ; I think I am slightly ill. John has just 
 expressed great fears, on account of his master look- 
 ing pale ; but it's only an attack of sick headache, 
 which will soon pass off with sleep." 
 
 " I was not aware that you suffered from such a dis- 
 agreeable malady." 
 
 "Yes; occasionally; not often." 
 
 "Well," said Mr. Brown's volatile visitor, as he 
 rose to leave, " the sooner I am gone the better, if you 
 have a sick headache, for I know by experience what 
 it is. But, Brown, you don't look like it ; you really 
 do not look- as though you had a headache." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " Your eye's too bright. You are not going to have 
 the cholera, are you ?" 
 
 " Oh ! the d 1 take the cholera, and you, too, 
 
 McPherson. Between you and John you will frighten 
 me to death. Leave me alone for a time, and you'll 
 see I shall come out brighter than ever." 
 
 " Ha, ha," laughed Mr. McPherson, as he left the 
 room, "I think there is no doubt of your recovering 
 from this attack." . 
 
52 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 On his way down the stairs he thought to himself — 
 " What's the matter with the man ? I never saw him 
 so nervous and excited. I fear he is more ill than he 
 thinks himself. I'll step back and ask him to drive 
 with me this evening." 
 
 Without knocking, he opened the door leading into 
 Mr. Brown's room, calling out as he did so, before he 
 had scarcely time to see the occupant, " Brown, will 
 
 you drive Ah ! the d 1 ; I see it all now. Ha, 
 
 ha ! you've got a love letter ; but don't be in such a 
 hurry to conceal it ; I don't wish to read it — only hope 
 the lady writes pleasantly. I returned for the purpose 
 of asking you to take a drive this evening ; but it will 
 require a longer time than that for you to recover from 
 such a severe shock as the reception of a love letter 
 must produce." 
 
 " You draw your own inferences. I have not said 
 it was a love-letter." 
 
 u Ha, ha ! pretty good, Brown ; got a love-letter, 
 and tried to conceal it. Well, well, you are farther 
 gone than I ever knew you to be before." So saying, 
 with a hearty laugh, he left his friend, without enter- 
 taining a suspicion of the contents of the letter in ques- 
 tion, or of the confused, distracted state of mind the 
 man was in, whom he had attempted to rally about a 
 passion he did not possess. 
 
 "I'll bolt my door," thought the pale Mr. Brown, 
 " and see if I can read this letter without interruption. 
 It has already cost me more annoyance than I would be 
 willing to endure again for the best woman living ;" 
 and, suiting the action to the thought, he bolted his door, 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 53 
 
 again drew the letter from his pocket, read it and 
 re-read it, then laid it upon the table, and, reclining 
 in his chair, was for some time lost in thought. Yes ; 
 even the rich man must do his own thinking, occa- 
 sionally. Better, perhaps, in this instance, had it been, 
 like most of the duties of the indolent wealthy class, 
 committed to those who are paid — it might have been 
 better done. 
 
 Mr. Brown was now alone, but the letter on which 
 his eye rested seemed, to his guilty mind, an embodi- 
 ment of the individual who wrote it. 
 
 " Well, Mr. Williams, I have not the least doubt but 
 that you think yourself sure of your bird" — mentally 
 ejaculated the mean-spirited man, as he held an imagi- 
 nary conversation with the author of the letter before 
 him ; " but you will find yourself mistaken for once. ,, 
 " He does not," soliloquized Mr. Brown, "seem to feel 
 very great confidence that his tremendous passion is 
 reciprocated. Yes ;" and smiling at the thought, " such 
 love is truly tremendous ; a d — d sight more tender 
 than I shall ever work myself up to ; too soft for me : 
 but I'll show him that gold is more powerful than his 
 tender passion." 
 
 Then, taking the letter, and again carefully perusing 
 it, in his excitement he exclaimed aloud — "It's well he 
 has patience to wait for an answer ! Methinks it will 
 be a long time before his much desired ' favorable gale,' 
 wafts him one to this." Then rolling up the letter in 
 the form of a lamp-lighter, he lighted it with a match, 
 and held it between his thumb and finger until it was 
 nearly consumed, when, apparently struck with some 
 
 5* 
 
54 ISABELLA© RAY. 
 
 new idea, he took a cigar from his case, and lighted it 
 with what he thought were the last remnants of Robert 
 Williams' love-letter. 
 
 As he watched the smoke of his Havana ascend, 
 and mingle with the surrounding atmosphere, he 
 fancied he could trace in it an emblem of the love 
 he had just discovered. It would, he thought, evaporate 
 and leave no trace behind. 
 
 What a short-sighted being is man — to deceive himself 
 with the vain belief that he holds the destiny of his fellow- 
 man within his puny grasp. He may exhaust his 
 utmost energies for the accomplishment of his selfish 
 purposes ; yet he is forced to submit, whether willingly 
 or not, to the fiat of Him who ruleth with justice and 
 with truth. 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 55 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE BUSINESS LETTER. 
 
 " Perhaps I was void of all thought: 
 
 Perhaps it was plain to foresee, 
 That a nymph so complete would be sought, 
 
 By a swain more engaging than me. 
 Ah ! love every hope can inspire ; 
 
 It banishes wisdom the while ; 
 
 And the lip of the nymph we admire, 
 
 Seems for ever adorned with a smile." 
 
 Wm. Shenstone. 
 
 Mr. Brown passed the following night in a very 
 restless manner. He saw that his plans had not been 
 sufficiently matured, or rather, that he had no plans, 
 having yielded too readily to impulse, by taking the ill- 
 fated letter himself from the post. This in itself might 
 lead to detection, and he could not fully decide in his 
 own mind what would be the most effectual means of 
 preventing it. Not that he was very much distressed 
 with the idea of not being able to win Miss Gray's 
 approbation of his more tender passion, but the thought 
 that he should be foiled in his undertaking, and .be 
 forced to surrender to a man whom he had ever regarded 
 as his inferior, increased his determination not only 
 to intercept all communications between the parties, and 
 
56 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 thereby obstruct their plans, but so to direct his own 
 course, as at last to secure the prize. 
 
 The next morning he arose, and made his toilet with 
 artistic care, during which repeated consultations of his 
 mirror gave him such renewed assurance of his personal 
 attractions, as to increase his confidence in his ultimate 
 triumphant success. " Fool that I was," thought he, 
 " to have given myself so much trouble about that 
 letter, I had better have let it taken its course. Isabella 
 Gray would not have granted the writer's petition, while 
 she thinks she has me in her train ; oh, no ! she's not 
 given me up yet — only refused me twice — of course she 
 expects to see me in New York, and at her feet, before 
 the year ends. And she shall, too, if I cannot bring 
 her to terms in any other way ; but I'll wait a few 
 months, until she has freely partaken of the bitter cup 
 of poverty ; then I am sure of success. 
 
 " Yes ; I understand her ; she's just like all beautiful 
 women ; she will keep a man dancing attendance for a 
 year or two, meaning to marry him all the time. They 
 have such contemptible ideas of us, and such gloriously 
 exalted ones of themselves, that, for the sake of making 
 magnificent martyrs of their dear selves, they must 
 say 'No' some half dozen times, when in reality they 
 mean ' Yes.' Well, I'll indulge her fancy ; but, when 
 she is Mrs. Alexander Brown, I will reward her for her 
 repeated refusals, by telling her of this letter ; for, 
 although I have not the least idea that she would 
 have listened to the proposal it contained, she'll be 
 annoyed at having been kept so long ignorant of the 
 conquest. 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 57 
 
 "No indeed;" continued he, pursuing his reverie, 
 if I had thought of it sooner, and more deliberately, I 
 would have let the letter go, and thus escaped my pre- 
 sent position ; but what is done cannot be recalled, and 
 now the question is, how to avoid the disagreeable con- 
 sequences. I'll write a letter to his honor, Mr. Wil- 
 liams, announcing my engagement to the ' idol of his 
 heart,' — no, that won't do, my acquaintance will not 
 warrant such intimacy. Oh, the d — 1 ! I feel nervous 
 this morning, I must take time to decide upon this mat- 
 ter." Ringing the bell, he then ordered breakfast — a 
 meal he usually partook of in his own room. 
 
 The morning meal disposed of, the rich man had 
 nothing to occupy his time but to promenade his own 
 apartment, or do whatever else might gratify his 
 caprices. He was pacing his apartments, undecided as 
 to what he should do, when his man John entered with 
 the morning mail. The sight of letters caused a nervous 
 tremor to run through his frame, but it passed as quickly 
 as it came, leaving no impression upon his conscience. 
 
 "John, order my carriage to be at the door in half 
 an hour," said Mr. Brown, looking at his watch. He 
 then seated himself, read his correspondence, and 
 occupied the remainder of his time, while waiting for 
 his carriage, in perusing the morning paper, which 
 seemed to him unusually insipid — containing nothing of 
 sufficient interest to enchain his attention. 
 
 When the carriage was reported to be in waiting, Mr. 
 Brown moved languidly down stairs, entered a most 
 superb carriage, drawn by a fine pair of coal-black 
 horses, covered with highly-ornamented trappings — 
 
58 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 the coachman and John, who officiated as footman, being 
 
 in livery. He gave an order to drive to hotel. 
 
 On arriving there John was just proceeding with his 
 master's card to Mr. McPherson, when the door was 
 opened, and that individual himself walked down the 
 steps. Seeing his friend Brown's carriage, and being 
 at the same moment informed, by the presentation of 
 his card, that he purposed a call upon himself, he imme- 
 diately stepped to the door of the carriage, but was 
 compelled to thrust his head inside, before he could 
 discover that it contained an occupant. 
 
 " Ah, Mr. Brown, how are you ?" said Mr. McPher- 
 son, shaking hands very cordially, "your carriage being 
 closed, I discredited your man, when he said you were 
 here." 
 
 " Step in, Mr. McPherson ; I have come expressly 
 for you to take a ride with me." 
 
 " Ah, thank you ; but why the d — 1 did you come with 
 such a magnificent turn-out as this? I shall hardly 
 know how to support so much stateliness. Oh, I beg 
 pardon, — how's the head ? 
 
 "All right, never better," was the answer. 
 
 " Only the effect of one of Cupid's darts contained 
 in the letter, I presume. You are undoubtedly prudent 
 in not exposing yourself in an open carriage, this chilly 
 morning; you might take cold in the wound." 
 
 " Well; never mind, get in; we will settle those mat- 
 ters afterward;" and, with a promise of returning in 
 an hour, which would enable him to fulfill a previous 
 appointment, McPherson seated himself in the car- 
 riage, and the two gentlemen of leisure rode through the 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 59 
 
 fashionable avenues — the admiration of some, and the 
 envy of others. 
 
 Mr. McPherson called himself a citizen of Boston ; 
 but he spent so large a portion of his time in traveling, 
 that he could be considered only a nominal citizen of 
 that city. Apparently he was a man of wealth, but 
 in temperament and disposition very unlike Mr. Brown. 
 He was gay and volatile in temperament, kind and 
 generous in disposition, though in personal appearance 
 his inferior. 
 
 But that was of no consequence to him, as his pursuit 
 was pleasure, which he never failed to find ; for his 
 motto was, that the agreeable incidents of life were 
 equally mingled with those of an opposite character, 
 and that if the former were sought with due diligence, 
 they would ever be found. 
 
 The acquaintance between the two gentlemen had 
 been of short duration ; but, in consequence of having 
 originated in a railway car, it had matured more rapidly 
 into intimacy, than years of a more ceremonious 
 intercourse would have insured. 
 
 The few days which Mr. McPherson spent in Cincin- 
 nati were sufficient to render him an extensive debtor to 
 Mr. Brown's hospitality. By him he was entertained ; 
 by him he was introduced to some of the first society ; 
 by him he was shown the lions of the city ; and, conse- 
 quently, he enjoyed his stay at Cincinnati vastly. It 
 was one of Mr. Brown's prominent traits, to show great 
 attention to strangers, provided they were of the elite, 
 and there was a fair prospect of a reciprocation of 
 
60 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 the civility, should an opportunity present. Such he 
 thought Mr. McPherson to be, — although two greater 
 opposites seldom meet. 
 
 On Mr. Brown's return to his hotel, after dropping his 
 friend at his, the thoughts which had disturbed his 
 peace of mind the previous night, and, indeed, ever 
 after he had destroyed the stolen letter, returned with 
 increased intensity. ' The danger of detection must be 
 avoided, and he resolved to make the attempt, cost what 
 it would. Taking his pen and opening his portfolio, 
 he wrote as follows : 
 
 " Cincinnati, Nov. 20th, 18—. 
 " Rob't Williams, Esq., 
 
 " Dear Sir : — I am very desirous to make some in- 
 vestments in California, and I know of no one whose 
 judgment I can more implicitly rely upon, for the re- 
 quired information, than yourself. 
 
 " You will confer a favor by informing me whether 
 money is much in demand, at what rates it can be 
 loaned, and upon what securities. Also, if investments 
 in real estate can be profitably made. If after hearing 
 from you, I should decide upon investing in that State, 
 either in real estate or otherwise, I hope to be fortunate 
 enough to secure your services in arranging my busi- 
 ness." 
 
 Having progressed thus far, he stopped writing, and 
 silently but carefully perused what he had written ; 
 then he re-read it aloud. " Well/' said he to himself, 
 " I think that will do, so far, but I rather think he'll 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 61 
 
 find that, by the time I receive his answer, I have 
 concluded not to make investments so far from home : 
 but stop ! let me see ! here's another difficulty ; he knows 
 very well that my money is all invested in bank stocks : 
 that will create suspicion. He may, however, think 
 that I have some spare income, which I wish to invest 
 out of the ordinary channel — I think he will ; perhaps 
 I had better mention it;" and, taking up his letter, he 
 again perused it. " No," thought he, " there'll be no use 
 in that, its perfectly natural he should think so. Yes, 
 that's all right, — I'll proceed." He continued his epistle 
 thus : 
 
 " There is very little news of general interest in 
 Cincinnati to communicate, with the exception of one 
 painful piece of intelligence — the heavy loss your 
 profession, and the community at large, have sustained 
 in the recent death of * Wm. Gray, Esq.' I am not 
 certain that he was an acquaintance of yours, but pre- 
 sume, of course, that you must have known him profes- 
 sionally. His merits are too deeply engraven on the 
 hearts of his friends, and of the public generally, to 
 need any eulogy from me. I understand that he has 
 left his affairs in an embarrassed condition, which is of 
 but little moment to his surviving family, for I intend, 
 before the year closes, to lead Miss Gray, my already 
 affianced bride, to the altar. 
 
 " You will, I am confident, excuse my familiarity to 
 you, who are almost a stranger — but my delight, in 
 my future prospects, knows no bounds ; and I desire 
 
62 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 myself to communicate such joyful intelligence to each 
 and every one. 
 
 " I suppose we need not anticipate the pleasure of 
 seeing you very soon in our city, as I learn that, beside 
 being well suited in your present location, you are 
 accummulating wealth with great rapidity. 
 
 " With many kind wishes for your prosperity and 
 happiness, 
 
 " I remain truly yours, 
 
 "Alexander Brown. 
 
 "Robt. Williams, Esq. 
 
 "San Francisco, Cal." 
 
 After being again carefully read over, and pro- 
 nounced perfect, the letter was sealed, and sent by 
 John to the post-office, with directions to hasten, as 
 the California mail would close that evening. 
 
 Mr. Brown then felt perfectly at ease ; he thought 
 he had never, in all his life, written so clever or so 
 shrewd a letter, and, now that the task was completed, 
 he experienced a sensation of relief. It now became 
 necessary for him to endeavor to accomplish what he 
 had just announced as a fact ; but his confidence in the 
 power of wealth made him feel assured that he would 
 lead Miss Gray to the altar as his bride, within the time 
 specified to Mr. Williams. 
 
 Instances of such implicit confidence in the influence 
 of wealth to accomplish any one particular object, as 
 is here displayed in the character of Mr. Brown, are 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 63 
 
 not of very frequent occurrence ; although we almost 
 daily see individuals relying upon that power, which 
 wealth alone has given them, to oppress their fellow 
 man. We bow to the idol of wealth. The moralist 
 tells us it is all vanity, but still we kneel and worship 
 at its shrine. A blessed gift it is to him who appre- 
 ciates it, and uses it under the guidance of reason, but 
 not to him who makes it his polar star. 
 
64 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 NEW RESOLVES. 
 
 "Low walks the sun, and broadens by degrees, 
 
 Just o'er the verge of day. The shifting clouds 
 
 Assembled gay, a richly gorgeous train, 
 
 In all their pomp attend his setting throne, 
 
 Air, earth and ocean smile immense." 
 
 James Thompson. 
 
 About one month after the death of Henry Gray, 
 the mother and daughter were seated in their snug little 
 parlor, and, though lonely, yet everything wore a home- 
 like aspect. Nothing of especial moment had occurred 
 to them since the reader left them in the freshness of 
 their grief, save the interest which humanity ever takes 
 in the relief of the distressed — their mental ills, how- 
 ever could not be so readily administered to ; but, with 
 the aid of physical rest, which they were much in need 
 of, owing to their prolonged vigils, they were enabled 
 to recover their usual calmness and energy. 
 
 It was a beautiful evening in June. Mrs. Gray laid 
 aside her needle, lighted the evening lamp, and, rest- 
 ing her elbow upon the table by her side, reclined her 
 head upon her hand. Her countenance wore a calm, 
 serene expression, which indicated that her meditations 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 65 
 
 were not on things of earth. She looked with the eye 
 of faith upon the glorious scenes present to the view of 
 the dear departed. There seemed but a speck of time 
 between herself and that blissful state, wherein she 
 would be forever reunited with those she loved ; where 
 the defects of this natural life would be exchanged for 
 the purely spiritual enjoyments of worship and adora- 
 tion, around the throne of the Most High. And, oh ! 
 the rapturous thought, that when that better land was 
 reached, there would then be no more separations, no 
 more trials to endure, no more death-bed scenes of those 
 she loved, to witness, gave her renewed strength and 
 energy, and confirmed her resolution to bear up under 
 her present trials. 
 
 Isabella sat by a window looking toward the west ; a 
 book was open upon her lap, her arms were folded, and 
 her full, dark eyes intently gazing upon the scene 
 before her. The stillness which had reigned for some 
 time, almost typical of the dwelling of the dead, was 
 broken by , her uttering, in a manner which partook 
 more of the form of thought than of speech — 
 
 " What a glorious sunset ! Have you observed it, 
 mother?" 
 
 "No, my dear, I have not," said the mother ; and 
 then, rising and advancing to the window, she con- 
 tinued, " Yes ; it is very fine, and indicates milder 
 weather." 
 
 " With a larger horizon, that scene would be mag- 
 nificent," said Isabella. " How very much dwellers in 
 cities are deprived of the beauties of nature ! I never 
 6* 
 
66 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 witness a gorgeous sunset, that I am not reminded of a 
 scene my dear grandfather described to Henry and I, 
 when we were quite young children. You know he was 
 very happy in description ?" 
 
 "Yes, very. But where did he locate the scene?" 
 " Upon the prairies, during his first visit to this 
 country. He had been traveling all day through the 
 beautiful open prairies, with no companion but his guide, 
 a half-breed Indian. They stopped for the night beside 
 a small, but pure, and refreshing stream, the land 
 around which was slightly undulating, and covered with 
 a small copse of trees. During the day the sky had 
 been overcast, and the aspect of the clouds at times 
 very threatening, which, he said, somewhat depressed 
 his spirits ; but, as the hours flitted by, the sky became 
 clear, rich, broken clusters of clouds were spread care- 
 lessly along the line of the western horizon, and the 
 sun sank to his nightly rest behind a misty haze, which 
 enabled the beholder to feast his vision upon the resplen- 
 dent gorgeousness of the great orb of day. The bril- 
 liant rays, reflected upon the previously sombre clouds, 
 imparted to them a golden illumination. My grand- 
 father gazed for some time in silent admiration upon the 
 scene, and then turned his eyes to the east, where 
 lay a cluster of clouds more beautiful than anything he 
 had hitherto seen, which in almost every other place, 
 except the open prairie or the boundless ocean, would 
 have been hidden from view. The sun's rays had shed 
 over this cluster a brilliancy fully equal to that of the 
 more immediately surrounding strata. Never shall 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. G7 
 
 I forget with what enthusiasm he related that scene. 
 He said the eye could not rest upon any object in 
 nature that was not lovely. The vast prairies, stud- 
 ded with belts of woodland, were resplendent in varie- 
 gated green ; the long, rich prairie grass, beautifully 
 interspersed with flowers of every hue, was bathed in 
 a flood of golden light; and the cool, refreshing streams, 
 meandered through the whole like veins of molten 
 silver. After partaking of the wholesome repast pre- 
 pared by his guide, he watched until the gorgeous scene 
 receded from view, and gave place to night, when, 
 under the starry canopy of heaven, he sank to rest, 
 with the green turf for his pillow, and the musical 
 murmuring of the pure crystal stream to lull him to 
 sleep." 
 
 " I do not think I ever heard him speak of that 
 particular incident," said Mrs. Gray. 
 
 u Probably not ; you know he was very fond of en- 
 tertaining us with stories when we were small, and none 
 pleased us more than the incidents of his travels." 
 
 " He was a very interesting traveling companion, 
 had a happy faculty of adapting himself to circum- 
 stances, and was an enthusiastic admirer of nature." 
 
 "Yes ; and most happy and delightful in description. 
 Whether it was his lucid account of the sunset, which 
 far surpassed my powers of memory, or the emotions 
 produced in my mind by his sleeping upon the ground 
 in that vast open space, with no couch but his blanket, 
 no canopy but the heavens, and not a companion who 
 could sympathize in his feelings, I cannot determine. 
 
68 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 But I find it one of the most agreeable associations 
 with which my childhood, and the memory of my dear 
 grandfather, are connected." 
 
 " Dear, good man," said Mrs. Gray, in a calm tone 
 of voice, which told her capacity of composedly con- 
 trasting the present with the past. " How very little 
 he could have anticipated the future for his child, when 
 he first traveled in this country." 
 
 Isabella remained silent for a moment, unwilling to 
 divert her thoughts from those pleasant days of child- 
 hood ; but, observing that her mother, though calm, 
 was depressed, she endeavored to comfort her with a 
 view of her past happy life. " Your life, my dear 
 mother, has, until the last year, been less sad than that 
 of most persons of your age." 
 
 " Yery true, Isabella — that may be one reason why 
 my present sorrows press upon me with such severity." 
 
 " I think," said the daughter, in a tone of encourage- 
 ment, " that having received such great consolation in 
 all our troubles, we ought not for one moment to 
 despond. We have never experienced the want of a 
 friend in the time of necessity ; and, w r hen I think of 
 the invaluable treasure I possess, in your guidance and 
 counsel for my inexperience, the future seems to present 
 no obstacles." 
 
 Mrs. Gray fearing to trust herself by replying to 
 the noble and generous expressions of her daughter, 
 remained silent until self-possession had gained its 
 supremacy, when she remarked, " that their dependence 
 was then mutual." 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 69 
 
 " Yes," replied Isabella, " mutual in one respect, but 
 of different natures. I shall lean upon you for advice, 
 and I beseech you not to discourage me, when I say 
 that you must trust to me for exertion." 
 
 " 'Tis truly grateful to an afflicted mother's heart 
 to hear such sentiments from an only child," said Mrs. 
 Gray. " God be praised ! with such blessings I am not, 
 I will not, be sad, and sink into gloomy despondency, 
 by contrasting the present with the past. It is now 
 quite dark ; suppose you light the lamp, my dear, while 
 I close the shutters ?" 
 
 The lamp was promptly lighted, the shutters closed, 
 and Mrs. Gray and her daughter, seated beside the 
 small centre table, occupied themselves with their 
 needles, while their minds, relieved by their recent 
 conversation, felt an impulse toward greater activity. 
 
 The mind, when burdened with an all-absorbing 
 topic of any nature, is apt to lose its elasticity, and 
 to become inactive, dormant, and incapable of accurate 
 perception ; such was, in some degree, the condition in 
 which we found Mrs. Gray and her daughter at the 
 opening of this chapter. 
 
 The pleasing description of the golden sunset had 
 served as a magnet, to draw their thoughts for a short 
 space of time into other channels than those in which 
 they had recently flowed. 
 
 As the two ladies silently and busily pursued their 
 tasks, Isabella informed her mother that she had, for 
 several days, been reflecting upon the best course to 
 pursue to obtain some music pupils. 
 
70 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 "I have been thinking of the same thing," said 
 Mrs. Gray, "for there is no use in deceiving ourselves 
 with regard to the necessity of making efforts for our 
 support." 
 
 " No, not the least. But the greatest difficulty 
 which I see at present, is in obtaining the pupils. I am 
 inclined to make some inquiry of our Rector, Dr. 
 Montgomery. He may know of some person who 
 would give me a pupil upon whom to try my skill in 
 teaching. I think I would be willing, at first, to take 
 one or two for a small remuneration." 
 
 " I think you will make a mistake, Isabella, if you 
 adopt that course. You are doubtless aware that per- 
 sons are more desirous of obtaining the best teachers 
 in the department of music, than is perhaps the case in 
 any other department of education. If you put your 
 terms low you will be passed by as an inferior teacher ; 
 and I should very much regret to see you depreciate 
 your musical talents." 
 
 " Oh, no ; I would not wish to be so understood : 
 but I am not altogether confident of my capacity to 
 teach. You know I have never given an hour's instruc- 
 tion to any one in my life, and the thought of so doing 
 seems to open a new era in my existence : it makes 
 me timid." 
 
 " You have no cause to feel timid ; I have perfect 
 confidence my dear in your capacity for teaching 
 music, but " 
 
 Here the conversation was interrupted by a summons 
 from the street-door bell. Isabella, opening the door, 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 71 
 
 greeted the Rev. Dr. Montgomery, the gentleman 
 whose name she had mentioned but a few minutes pre- 
 viously. She extended to him a cordial welcome, and 
 ushered him at once into the parlor. 
 
 " How do you do, Dr. Montgomery ? we are very 
 happy to see you," said Mrs. Gray, as she rose and 
 offered him her hand. 
 
 The Rev. gentleman was very soon engaged in an 
 agreeable conversation with the ladies ; for the object 
 of his visit was to cheer them up, instead of nourishing 
 the grief already too apparent in the sunken eye and 
 wan expression of countenance traceable in both mother 
 and daughter, but more especially in the mother. 
 
 Dr. Montgomery was deeply interested in Mrs. 
 Gray and Isabella, as he had learned that their means 
 of support were limited. This information had not 
 been obtained directly, but from general observation, 
 aided by hints from Dr. Barton. That the persons 
 before him were ladies, he did not in the least doubt; 
 that they had seen better days, was evident from the 
 remains of luxurious furniture, and the several elegant 
 and tasteful articles which decorated the otherwise 
 humble apartment. He desired not so much to know 
 who they were, as in what way he could administer to 
 their comfort, after ascertaining whether they in any 
 degree required such aid. 
 
 " Did I understand you to say, Mrs. Gray, that you 
 had no friends in the city?" asked Dr. Montgomery. 
 
 "I said there were none who, from our limited 
 acquaintance, we should be at liberty to call friends. 
 
72 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 We have not been in the habit of visiting New York 
 as frequently as Philadelphia and the southern 
 cities. My son's preference for this city, on account of 
 its business advantages, was our reason for coming 
 here." 
 
 " If there are any individuals in New York, or else- 
 where, whom you would like to see, I beg you will allow 
 me the pleasure to acquaint them of your wish." 
 
 " Thank you, Doctor, I feel obliged for your kind- 
 ness ; but it is my own wish, and also that of my daughter, 
 to live in a retired manner." 
 
 " That is quite natural, madam, while suffering from 
 your recent bereavement ; but I fear that close seclu- 
 sion from the society of your friends will impair your 
 health." 
 
 " There are other reasons, Dr. Montgomery, why 
 we should desire retirement," said Isabella, in a tone 
 of voice which showed the effort it cost her to divulge 
 their embarrassed circumstances ; " necessity compels 
 us to regard our time as money, for the period has 
 already arrived, when it is requisite for us to depend 
 upon our own exertions for a maintenance." 
 
 " Ah, indeed! Miss Gray; I esteem myself most 
 happy in being permitted to have your confidence, as 
 I may be of some assistance to you : and I know of 
 nothing which will contribute more to my gratification 
 than the ability to do so." 
 
 " Thank you ! thank you !" exclaimed both, at the 
 same time. " We were just conversing upon the sub- 
 ject as you came in," continued Isabella. 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 73 
 
 " Then may I not consider myself fortunate in my 
 selection of the time for my visit ? for perhaps I can 
 aid you in maturing plans for the future." 
 
 " I am the favored one this time, Dr. Montgomery," 
 rejoined Isabella, " as I had just determined to make 
 personal application to you for advice, and if agreeable 
 to yourself, for a word of recommendation also." 
 
 " Certainly, Miss Gray, anything I can do for you 
 will be a pleasure : but what have you thought of 
 undertaking?" 
 
 " I consider myself fully competent to give instruc- 
 tion in music, and also in drawing ; but I should select 
 music, it being more congenial to my tastes, and afford- 
 ing a better compensation." 
 
 " Have you ever given lessons ?" 
 
 "Never." 
 
 " My daughter is fully qualified to give instruction 
 in music," said Mrs. Gray, "as her education in that 
 department has been more thorough than in any other 
 ornamental branch — her inclination encouraging it. 
 She has been taught by German masters of the first 
 acquirements ; and she not only performs well, but she 
 has also a scientific knowledge of music." 
 
 "Avery flattering recommendation, Miss Gray," 
 said Dr. Montgomery, smiling. 
 
 "But you observe that it comes from a mother," 
 replied Isabella. 
 
 " Who can judge of your qualifications better, or even 
 as well as your mother, Miss Gray ? She has closely 
 observed your instruction, and watched your progress 
 
 7 
 
74 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 with a solicitude which none but a mother can feel. 
 I have not the least doubt of the correctness of her 
 recommendation, and would be delighted to place my 
 daughter under your tuition, were she sufficiently 
 advanced in years." 
 
 "What is her age?" 
 
 "Five years." 
 
 " She is rather too young to commence the study of 
 music ; but perhaps you may know of some other per- 
 sons who would favor me ?" 
 
 " Miss Gray, will you allow me the pleasure of hear- 
 ing you perform ? I will then be at liberty to say 
 that I have listened to your execution, whether, or not, 
 I am capable of criticising it." 
 
 "Certainly; with pleasure," said Isabella, as she 
 opened the piano for the first time since the evening 
 previous to her brother's last illness, when she had 
 played for his gratification. 
 
 Oh ! what a torrent of sorrowful recollections rushed 
 upon her as she touched those keys. She thought of 
 the many evenings during the past winter which she had 
 spent at the piano, with her brother by her side, and 
 of the solace which music had afforded to both. 
 Memory reverted back to the life of ease and enjoy- 
 ment which she had passed, amid the elegance of 
 refinement, enlivened by the delights of music. All 
 was now changed. — "No; not all," she thought, as 
 her fingers lightly touched the keys of the piano ; " my 
 dear old instrument shall yet restore me to myself." 
 
 Dr. Montgomery was so much enraptured with 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 75 
 
 Isabella's execution, that he did not discover her deep 
 emotion. He listened with evident delight, and assured 
 her that he would immediately interest himself to pro- 
 cure her pupils. " I do not," said he, " at present 
 think of any one whom I could name ; but you know 
 we gentlemen are frequently dependent upon our wives 
 for suggestions. I shall consult with Mrs. Mont- 
 gomery, and endeavor to see you again very soon." 
 
 "We will not tax your time by requiring you to 
 come to us," said Isabella; "but, with your leave, we 
 will call at your study, on any day, and at any hour 
 you may please to name." 
 
 " Suppose," replied-Dr. Montgomery, "I appoint to- 
 morrow morning at twelve o'clock. Will that be 
 convenient?" 
 
 " Perfectly so," Isabella answered. 
 
 Dr. Montgomery then bade the ladies good-night. 
 His residence being distant only an agreeable fifteen 
 minutes' walk, the time was employed by the generous- 
 hearted man, in mentally considering how he could 
 best be of service to the persons whom he had just left. 
 There would, he thought, be no difficulty in procuring 
 them aid, from individuals whom he knew would esteem 
 it a privilege to contribute liberally, were they acquain- 
 ted with the circumstances. Yet that would not do. 
 It would not be acceptable to persons so ready and 
 desirous to help themselves. " What an example," 
 thought he, " do they present to those similarly situated, 
 who render themselves helpless and inefficient, from 
 the feeling that they cannot, because they have not 
 
76 
 
 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 so been educated, perform any labor ! no ; it won't do 
 to extend charity to them ; certainly, not for the present. 
 But Miss Gray shall have pupils, if it is in my power 
 to obtain them for her ; and I should not be surprised 
 if the mother also taught music, or some other branch 
 of education. She will not be idle. I am confident 
 she will turn her cultivated intellect to some useful 
 account." 
 
 Dr. Montgomery having arrived at the door of his 
 residence, we will, leave him to mature some plans for 
 their benefit, with the aid of his wife's counsel, who, 
 though an invalid, was never deaf to the wants of 
 others. 
 
 Turning our attention once more to Mrs. Gray and 
 Isabella, we find them again seated by the centre-table, 
 busily engaged with their work, which had been resumed 
 after their visitor had taken his leave. Both mother 
 and daughter remained for some time silent — thought 
 was too busy to permit conversation. Plans for the 
 future, had been definitely determined upon ; Isabella 
 felt that the first step had been taken and that her 
 debut before the public, or at least a small portion of 
 it, would test her capacity in various ways, Her fitness 
 for the mere teaching of music gave her less anxiety, than 
 her ability to deal with human nature in the capacity of 
 an instructor. She recalled to mind what her own 
 teacher had frequently related, of the difficulties he 
 encountered in the discharge of his duty, and of the 
 constant vigilance necessary to avoid a sacrifice of 
 principle. Strange, vague, and undefined ideas flitted 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 77 
 
 through her brain, until her mother interrupted the 
 silence by remarking, " That it was very gratifying 
 to have secured the interest of so influential a gentle- 
 man as Dr» Montgomery. 
 
 " Yes ; he is as valuable an auxiliary as I could 
 desire," said Isabella ; "except it be some one of the 
 prominent teachers, or professors. They are the pro- 
 per ones to apply to, for a recommendation." 
 
 "Perhaps you are in too much haste," said Mrs. 
 Gray. " A brief delay will enable you to procure satis- 
 factory recommendations from your own teacher, who 
 is so well known in New York, that his endorsement 
 would be all you need desire." 
 
 "I have thought of that myself. Yet, if I can 
 obtain a few pupils, I will make a commencement : 
 good instruction is, I believe, as well, if not better, 
 appreciated in this city, as in any other, and upon 
 reflection I feel a strong inclination to rely upon my 
 own merits. If I possess the necessary qualifications, 
 they will become apparent ; if I have them not, then 
 certainly I shall not be entitled to recommendation 
 from any person." 
 
 " Well," replied Mrs. Gray, "perhaps you are right. 
 I have no fears for your ultimate success, if you can 
 but make a fair beginning." 
 
 "Mother," said Isabella, "I have been thinking of 
 calling on Mrs. Crane, who, you may remember, so- 
 journed a short time in Cincinnati." 
 
 " I do not recollect her, my dear." 
 
 " Oh yes, ma ; I think you can ; she was paying a 
 
 7* 
 
78 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 visit to Mrs. Stanley, and was an exceedingly pleasant, 
 as well as agreeable lady. You gave a small party for 
 her entertainment, and during the evening she expressed 
 herself to be highly delighted with my execution of 
 that piece of Schubert's which was your favorite. 
 
 " Oh, yes, my dear, I remember her; but have you 
 her address?" 
 
 " Yes ; Henry gave it to me. She resides in the 
 upper part of the city." 
 
 " I think I would not seek her patronage. Our pre- 
 sent poverty might be considered by her a sufficient 
 reason for declining to renew the acquaintance." 
 
 "Do you think so ?" 
 
 " I am sorry to say, that I do. Were we surrounded 
 by the appendages of wealth and position, Mrs. Crane 
 would undoubtedly extend to us her hospitality ; but 
 should you request her to interest herself in your be- 
 half, she would shun the responsibility. Besides, I do 
 not think we have sufficient claim upon her notice." 
 
 "I am inclined," replied Isabella, "to think you 
 may be correct in your surmises. Several instances 
 which have occurred since' our misfortune, tend to 
 strengthen that belief. Once I was unable to compre- 
 hend how such things could be possible ; but experi- 
 ence is an excellent teacher." 
 
 " Yes, indeed, Isabella ! Experience not only points 
 out to us the foibles of others, but, also, gives us such 
 lessons as may be of great future use to us, if pro- 
 perly observed. I may do Mrs. Crane an injustice. 
 If she knew we were residing here, it is possible she 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 79 
 
 might take an interest in you ; but I do not consider it 
 very probable. And, as to her society, we have neither 
 the time nor the inclination to indulge in ceremonious 
 visiting, which would, undoubtedly, be the extent of our 
 intercourse." 
 
 " Very true," said Isabella, thoughtfully, at the same 
 time giving utterance to a long-drawn sigh, which at- 
 tracted her mother's attention and comment. 
 
 " My dear," said Mrs. Gray, " I am sorry to hear 
 that ; if you sigh for Mrs. Crane's society, I will not 
 raise a single obstacle to your enjoyment of it." 
 
 " Oh no, ma," replied Isabella ; " I was not think- 
 ing of Mrs. Crane, but of the dear friends with whom I 
 have been associated during the bright and happy days 
 which have passed away. How I long for their so- 
 ciety ! At times, I think that its refreshing influence 
 would be, in the language of the beautiful and sublime 
 imagery of Scripture — ' Like the shadow of a great 
 rock in a weary land.' " 
 
80 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 A BROTHER S SYMPATHY. 
 
 " Night is the time for dreams ; 
 
 The gay romance of life, 
 When truth that is and truth that seems, 
 
 Blend in fantastic strife ; 
 Ah! visions less beguiling far 
 Than waking dreams by daylight are !" 
 
 James Montgomery. 
 
 Knit close the bond of love 
 
 In the hearts of little ones, 
 
 "While gathered around the domestic hearth ; 
 
 That cares and separations, 
 
 In after life, may not close 
 
 The avenues to sympathy. 
 
 That night, when Isabella Gray retired, her mind 
 was agitated by mingled emotions. She thought over 
 the plans then maturing, for obtaining a maintenance for 
 herself and her dear mother. How to commence her 
 duties, whom to apply to for aid and advice, she had 
 hitherto considered the greatest obstacles to her under- 
 taking ; but these were now removed by the kind in- 
 terference of Dr. Montgomery. The sweet words of 
 sympathy and encouragement which he had already 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 81 
 
 spoken, gave her greater confidence that the promise 
 of Scripture would be fulfilled in their instance, and 
 that they would not be forsaken in their affliction. 
 
 "What a comfort," thought Isabella, as she lay on 
 her bed, wakeful and restless, " would it not have been 
 to dear Henry, if he had possessed yet greater confi- 
 dence in the promises of the Inspired Volume. How 
 inclined we are to forget the sufferings of the dying, 
 in our sorrow and grief at their departure. It is natu- 
 ral that it should be so ; but, I wish I could think less 
 of his anguish at being cut down so early, when just 
 on the verge of manhood, with all the honors and dis- 
 tinctions of life opening so brightly before him, and 
 cheered on by the hope of being our protector and 
 comfort, as well as of maintaining the honorable repu- 
 tation his father bequeathed him. But, thank God ! 
 those hours of anguish gave ^place to more peaceful 
 ones, rendered so by the confidence that we would be 
 cared for ; and I must not forget how much our pro- 
 mises tended to procure him that peace of mind. His 
 last request must not be neglected. He said he had 
 confidence in our pledges ; and if his blessed spirit is 
 now near me, and can discern these secret thoughts, it 
 shall see that my promise is again renewed. No ; I 
 will not grieve for his loss ; but, turning my thoughts 
 and energies to the duties which are now presented, I 
 will try, by the help of God's grace, so to live that I 
 may hope to join him." 
 
 With such composing thoughts she sunk to sleep, 
 only to pass from wakeful thought into spirit commu- 
 
82 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 nion with the creations of dreamy slumber. She wan- 
 dered back in fancy to the cherished home of her 
 childhood; was again with her dear father, felt his 
 warm caress, and saw his smile of approbation given to 
 her childish sports. Henry, too, was there, participa- 
 ting in all that constituted her delight. But, as is 
 usual in dreams concerning those who have passed 
 from earth, there was an appearance of solemnity in 
 all their movements, and they did not speak ; still, 
 Isabella felt a sensation of happiness in their presence. 
 
 Her dream continuing, she advanced, by one of 
 those sudden transformations which in dreams alone 
 can be accomplished, to the maturity of early woman- 
 hood, when life seems redundant with love and hope. 
 She thought of the happiness she would possess could 
 she have one being whom she could love, who would be 
 constantly by her side, to sympathize with her in her 
 admiration of this beautiful world. 
 
 The ecstatic thought took the form of reality, and 
 the being of her fancy stood beside her, clothed with a 
 form of perfect manliness in an attitude of admiration — 
 not of Nature's beauties, but of her own beautiful person. 
 He did not speak of love ; but the gentle look, the sweet 
 cadence of voice, and the care with which he antici- 
 pated every wish, were unmistakable evidences of a 
 deep and abiding passion. 
 
 The scene changed, and again she was alone — but 
 the potent charm of love had left its impress upon her 
 mind, and filled it with vague, yet blissful ideas. Then 
 a demon spirit appeared to her, and spoke of love ; but 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 83 
 
 his look was meaningless.. She fled his presence ; but 
 he pursued, in the form of a fiend, until he was sud- 
 denly confronted by a dazzling star, which turned his 
 course, and she was once more left alone. Life now 
 assumed another aspect — it was no more a commingling 
 of love, and hope, and joy; yet the remembrance of 
 that manly form dispelled the terror produced by the 
 demon spirit, and the sweet tones of his voice were still 
 floating through her brain, when she was aroused by 
 her mother's voice, saying: 
 
 "Isabella, my dear, you sleep later than usual this 
 morning ! I hope you are not ill ?" 
 
 " Oh no, mother. Is it very late ?" 
 
 "Not very," answered Mrs. Gray; "but much past 
 your usual hour for rising. But do not hurry yourself 
 unnecessarily ; I only desired to assure myself that 
 you were not indisposed." 
 
 Still fearing she had not elicited the entire truth, 
 Mrs. Gray interrogated her daughter whether she had 
 slept during the night. 
 
 It being Isabella's custom to represent everything in 
 its brightest colors to her afflicted mother, she at first 
 answered in the affirmative ; then, recollecting herself, 
 she said : 
 
 " No, mother ; I was awake during the greater part 
 of the night, but I have had such a refreshing sleep 
 this morning, that I do not feel the worse for it." 
 
 "I am happy to hear you say so," replied the mo- 
 ther, as she left her daughter's room, to make ready 
 their frugal meal. 
 
84 ISABELLA 'GRAY. 
 
 Mrs. Gray devoted the same care and attention to 
 the arrangement of her table that she had been accus- 
 tomed to during her previous life, notwithstanding it 
 was prepared by her own, instead of servants' hands. 
 Isabella usually relieved her mother of a great portion 
 of the duties relating to the culinary department; but 
 on this particular morning she had temporarily aban- 
 doned the realities of life, and was gliding, on the 
 wings of imagination, through fairy land. 
 
 The two ladies had just seated themselves at the 
 breakfast table, when the postman made his appear- 
 ance at the door with a letter, a rather unusual cir- 
 cumstance ; for the correspondence of two lonely 
 females, who, reared in luxury, have, by the reverses 
 of fortune, been compelled to earn their own subsist- 
 ence, is not usually very extensive ; and it very fre- 
 quently happens that correspondents experience a 
 difficulty in finding time to answer the letters of such 
 individuals. Some think it unprofitable labor ; though 
 they would not, on any account, give utterance to such 
 an idea. Others fear that it may remind their unfor- 
 tunate friends of happier days ; and, consoling them- 
 selves with the reflection that they are actuated by 
 motives of generosity, they also refrain from writing. 
 But there is yet another class, though small in number, 
 who are regardless of everything beyond the gratifica- 
 tion of giving expression to their deep and sincere 
 feeling of sympathy, and of obtaining intelligence con- 
 cerning their dear friends — made doubly so by adversity. 
 Whether the letter just arrived is from the latter, or 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 85 
 
 from either of the before-mentioned classes, a perusal 
 will decide. 
 
 "A letter from uncle James," said Isabella, as she 
 looked at the superscription, and handed the missive to 
 her mother. 
 
 When Mrs. Gray had finished her meal, she took the 
 letter, which had been laid upon the table beside her 
 breakfast-tray, slowly removed the envelope, and com- 
 menced reading as follows : 
 
 " My dear Sister : 
 
 " With deep feelings of sympathy for yourself and 
 my dear niece, I have just learned, by your short note, 
 of the sudden death of your son. Whether it was un- 
 expected to you I am not informed, but it was so to my- 
 self and family. 
 
 u That he should have been taken from vou at a 
 period when he could so materially have aided you in 
 your depressed circumstances, renders his loss truly 
 afflicting. But I am confident such are not your 
 greatest reasons for lamenting your bereavement ; as I 
 am fully satisfied that your energy and activity, com- 
 bined with Isabella's efforts, will not fail to supply any 
 deficiency. 
 
 " Should you be unsuccessful, do not fail to inform 
 me, that I may be afforded an opportunity of contri- 
 buting to your support, although, as you are aware, 
 my family is numerous, and, in order to give them 
 present advantages, as well as to lay aside a trifle for 
 misfortunes, my abilities are strained to the utmost. 
 My income is not near as large as I could desire. 
 8 
 
86 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 " We can now discern the error your husband com- 
 mitted in not laying aside a portion of the liberal in- 
 come his profession yielded him. True, he had the 
 satisfaction of using his money beneficially to himself, 
 and in many instances which have come under my own 
 observation, very advantageously to others. Perhaps 
 it is the better course, after all, to let each day take 
 care of itself; but, in reference to my own family, I 
 have not that confidence in their capacity to help them- 
 selves that I have in you. 
 
 " I would again remind you of my desire that you 
 should inform me of your necessities, if urgent. Per- 
 mit me to suggest the propriety of Isabella doing some- 
 thing at once. She can, to my knowledge, give in- 
 structions in several branches. In music she is highly 
 qualified, as also in drawing ; and if she could obtain 
 a situation in a large female seminary, she might give 
 lessons in both departments. Dancing she could also 
 teach admirably, for a more graceful dancer I never 
 saw. By giving lessons in all of these branches at the 
 same time, she might succeed in establishing herself in 
 a very lucrative business. 
 
 " It will give me great pleasure to make investments 
 for you, where your money would be perfectly safe ; 
 which is a very important consideration to ladies who 
 do not understand the minutiae of such transactions. 
 
 " I desire that you will furnish me with all the de- 
 tails of Henry's sickness, as you may remember that 
 you were not very explicit on that subject. I shall en- 
 deavor to visit you some time during the autumn ; 
 meanwhile, I wish you both comfort and prosperity. 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 87 
 
 " My wife and daughters desire to be lovingly re- 
 membered to yourself and Isabella. 
 " I remain, 
 
 " Your affectionate brother, 
 
 "James Henry Fitzgerald." 
 
 Having finished the perusal, Mrs. Gray folded the 
 letter, replaced it in the envelope, and again laid it upon 
 the table. 
 
 "That is a remarkable letter," said Isabella; "I 
 hope, mother, you will not fail to preserve it." 
 
 " Of course I shall not. But, my dear, it is just such 
 a letter as I expected to receive from your uncle." 
 
 " Why so, ma ? " inquired Isabella. ." Uncle James 
 invariably exhibited the kindliest feelings towards us, 
 which we have always reciprocated. I must say that 
 I should have expected more sincere sympathy than 
 this letter indicates." 
 
 " Since your uncle declined availing himself of the 
 opportunity of retaining our homestead in the family, 
 notwithstanding his ability to do so, and his knowledge 
 of his parents' attachment for the place, I have not 
 looked for any assistance from him." 
 
 Isabella then took up the letter, opened and read it 
 carefully through, remarking upon the different pas- 
 sages as she did so. " Ah, yes," said she, " my uncle 
 has great confidence in our combined efforts." 
 
 " Yes," said Mrs. Gray, with an air of indifference. 
 
 " Suppose we were unsuccessful ? it is doubtful 
 whether he would know it," said Isabella, continuing to 
 read. " He is correct when he says that his ' income 
 
88 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 is not so large as lie could desire.' I have no doubt 
 Stephen Girard would have said the same. But here 
 is one thing, mother, which I do not like." 
 
 "What is it, my dear?" 
 
 "He has no right," said Isabella, in a spirited man- 
 ner, " nor is it kind in him, to cast any reflections upon 
 my dear father's name ; and if I were you, I would 
 resent it. 
 
 " That would be sheer folly, Isabella. When your 
 uncle James becomes satisfied that we can take care of 
 ourselves, he will find less to complain of. Your father 
 was a truly noble-minded man, and what your uncle can 
 say of him will have no influence with me, nor will it, 
 I hope, be of any weight with you. We have a lesson 
 to learn which is only taught in the school of poverty ; 
 and that is, to listen to and bear with many unpleasant 
 remarks, which an independent position would have 
 spared us the knowledge of." 
 
 "Well, mother, I don't know how that may be; I 
 am afraid I shall not be a very apt scholar." 
 
 "Submission to injustice, my dear," said Mrs. 
 Gray, "when we can help ourselves, is a moral 
 wrong ; but to notice such remarks as you allude to, 
 would as much outrage my sense of dignity, as they 
 demean him who made them. I do not think, how- 
 ever, that your uncle intended to cast any censure 
 upon your father. He is only giving cautious expres- 
 sion to a fear that responsibility may rest upon him ; 
 for, you may observe, he endeavors to palliate the 
 course which he has just censured, by alluding approv- 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 89 
 
 ingly to the amount of good which your father effected 
 during his life." 
 
 "Yes; I know he does," said Isabella. " I know 
 it is far better to look at the matter in the way you 
 do ; but I cannot tolerate any animadversions on the 
 conduct of my father. He must not only entertain an 
 exalted opinion of me, but also consider me very in- 
 dustrious, to be able, at one and the same time, to give 
 instruction in all the branches which he considers me 
 qualified to teach. I suppose," said she, laughing, 
 " he would have me fill up the intervals between my 
 music or drawing lessons, by teaching a select number 
 of pupils how to dance. But, mother, he gives me an 
 excellent recommendation, does he not ? I think I 
 must publish this letter. Then he is so kind in offer- 
 ing to invest for us ! Ah," continued Isabella, in a 
 sarcastic tone, as she re-folded the letter, "you are, 
 no doubt, a very kind and benevolent man, uncle 
 James ; but I am inclined to think you will not be 
 called upon very soon to make investments for me. 
 However, I am positively gratified that just such a 
 letter as this came to hand this morning." 
 
 " Then," said Mrs. Gray, "you ought to be obliged 
 to your uncle." 
 
 "Well," returned Isabella, "I am." 
 
 " But why particularly specify this morning ?" asked 
 Mrs. Gray. 
 
 "Because," answered Isabella, "I felt a mental 
 oppression, caused by thinking of the errand I have to 
 perform this morning. I felt languid, and experienced 
 8* 
 
90 
 
 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 an absence of self-confidence ; but now I am aroused 
 to a fearless indifference, which betokens more certain 
 success." 
 
 "It will never do," said Mrs. Gray, rising, "to 
 pass all the morning at the breakfast-table, discussing 
 your uncle's letter, if you intend going out." 
 
 " Will you not go with me ?" asked Isabella. 
 
 "Yes, my dear, if you wish it;" was Mrs. Gray's 
 answer, as they both commenced removing the break- 
 fast dishes, and putting the house in order. 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 91 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A VISIT TO THE RECTORY. 
 
 "But deep this truth impressed my mind, 
 
 Through all his works abroad, 
 
 The heart benevolent and kind 
 
 The most resembles God." 
 
 ^ Robert Burns. 
 
 At the time appointed, Miss Gray, in company with 
 her mother, presented herself at the door of the Rev. 
 Dr. Montgomery's residence. It was one of those 
 balmy mornings in spring, when every natural object 
 assumes a garb of loveliness ; and the ladies were 
 invigorated by the delightful, refreshing breeze, which 
 was waftedfrom the beautiful bay, over the busy, bustling 
 crowds thronging the various avenues and thorough- 
 fares. Although they felt its balmy influence, it was 
 unheeded by them until Dr. Montgomery, on entering 
 his parlor, where they awaited his presence, bade them 
 a cheerful "good-morning," and remarked that it was 
 a very fine day. 
 
 "Very fine," replied Isabella. 
 
 " We have enjoyed our walk exceedingly," said Mrs. 
 Gray, who just began to realize the benefit she had 
 derived from exercise in the balmy spring atmosphere. 
 
92 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 " Out-door exercise is a luxury to all, but particularly 
 so to those who have passed the greater part of their 
 lives in the country, where the air is pure and 
 bracing." 
 
 " I hope Mrs. Montgomery is enjoying the beauties 
 of this fine morning," said Isabella. 
 
 " I am sorry to say that she is too much of an inva- 
 lid, at present, to leave her room ; she is, however, 
 desirous of making your acquaintance, and requested 
 to be informed of your arrival." 
 
 " It would give us pleasure to know Mrs. Montgom- 
 ery," said Isabella; "but we did not look for an 
 introduction, because she is so much of an invalid. 
 We requested to be shown directly to your study, but 
 the servant informed us that you were engaged with 
 company." 
 
 "Yes; I have just left a brother clergyman in my 
 study, preparing a sermon." Dr. Montgomery then 
 rang a bell, which was very promptly answered by the 
 servant, whom he directed to " ask Mrs. Montgomery 
 if she would be pleased to see Mrs. and Miss Gray." 
 
 A beautiful little girl, about four years of age, came 
 to the door and peeped in ; but observing strangers, she 
 turned to depart. 
 
 " Come in, my daughter ; come in Dora;" said Dr. 
 Montgomery, " the ladies wish to see and speak to 
 you." j 
 
 The little Miss, whose lustrous black eyes and raven 
 hair increased, by contrast, the pallor of her checks, 
 entered the room and stood beside her father. Dora, 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 93 
 
 with child-like readiness, was soon on intimate terms 
 with Isabella, and Mrs. Gray had engaged in an inter- 
 esting conversation with Dr. Montgomery, when the 
 servant announced Mrs. Montgomery's request to see 
 the ladies in her room. They were immediately ush- 
 ered into the invalid's presence by Dr. Montgomery 
 himself. " My dear," said he, "here are Mrs. Gray 
 and Miss Gray, whose acquaintance I have been so de- 
 sirous for you to form." 
 
 Mrs. Montgomery extended to the ladies a cordial 
 welcome, and requested them to be seated. Few 
 inquiries were made regarding the invalid's health ; for 
 the sunken eye and troublesome cough were sufficient 
 indications that consumption had fastened upon her for 
 its victim. Mrs. Montgomery was, however, very cheer- 
 ful, and able to converse with comparative ease. 
 
 "My husband tells me," said she, addressing Isa- 
 bella, " that you purpose teaching music, and are desi- 
 rous of obtaining pupils." 
 
 " Yes ; nothing would gratify me more ; and my 
 almost total unacquaintance with the details of business 
 transactions, is the only excuse I have to offer for 
 intruding upon the privacy of your sick chamber." 
 
 "No apology is necessary, Miss Gray," said Mrs. 
 Montgomery. " So far from regarding your visit as an 
 intrusion, I am really glad that you have called upon 
 me." 
 
 " I had thought of advertising for scholars," continued 
 Isabella ; " but advertisements of that character are 
 so numerous, that I feared my application would pass 
 
94 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 unnoticed ; and, when Dr. Montgomery kindly offered 
 to use his interest for me, I concluded to defer a pub- 
 lic appeal for the present, or until such time as he 
 could consult with you. I did not, however, anticipate 
 the pleasure of an interview with yourself." 
 
 Dr. Montgomery being summoned to his study, the 
 ladies were left alone ; which enabled Mrs. Montgomery 
 to converse about her past life with less restraint than 
 she would have felt in her husband's presence. 
 
 "Miss Gray," said Mrs. Montgomery, "it was in 
 compliance with my particular request that my husband 
 brought you to see me. By experience I have attained 
 a knowledge of the trials attendant upon your present 
 undertaking ; and if I can in any way assist you by an 
 encouraging word, or otherwise, I do assure you I 
 know of nothing which can give me greater gratifi- 
 cation. 
 
 " I was educated, and, until my twentieth year, lived 
 in the very lap of luxury and ease : loving parents 
 anticipated every wish, until the period of my mother's 
 death, when my father, who was in delicate health, had 
 not sufficient nerve to rally from the shock. The result 
 was, that in less than one year I was an orphan." 
 
 Mrs. Montgomery evinced so much emotion while 
 narrating her past misfortunes, as to alarm Mrs. Gray ; 
 who, fearing the ill effect it might have upon her health, 
 kindly, though urgently, admonished her not to dwell 
 upon the past. 
 
 " Oh no ;" said she, as a smile illumined her beauti- 
 ful face, and she wiped away an unbidden tear, " these 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 95 
 
 reflections do me no hurt now ; I love to dwell upon 
 the sadness of those days ; they are ever dear to my 
 heart on account of their associations with the departed 
 loved ones, and with attachments then formed. When 
 my husband informed me of your intention to teach 
 music, I was very much gratified to learn from him 
 that you purposed calling here, as it would afford me 
 an opportunity of seeing you, and giving you that 
 encouragement which I so much needed under similar 
 circumstances." 
 
 "You are truly kind," said Isabella, "to express 
 such an interest in an entire stranger." 
 
 "Pray do not give me credit for more than I deserve," 
 replied Mrs. Montgomery ; " the sentiment with me has 
 become one of common humanity, from my having been 
 forced to feel so deeply the want of encouragement. I 
 had wealthy relatives who, in a very matter of course 
 sort of way, offered to give me a home. I appreciated 
 their kindness ; but, knowing too well that it would be 
 a home uncongenial to my feelings and tastes, I declined 
 the offer, preferring to depend upon my own resources. 
 My education and habits all tended to produce an 
 independence, which nerved me to make the effort, 
 regardless of opposition." 
 
 Here Mrs. Montgomery's cough interrupted her 
 narrative for a short time ; but, after recovering from 
 her exhaustion, she continued, " When I announced to 
 my friends that I purposed teaching music, they 
 vehemently remonstrated against it ; my uncle, who 
 was my principal adviser, being more opposed to it 
 
96 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 than any of the others. But, having already taken the 
 preliminary steps toward the accomplishment of my 
 design, I went quietly on, despite their opposition, 
 with a consciousness that I was acting upon correct 
 principles ; of which I was still more convinced, by the 
 success which more than rewarded my efforts, and 
 which far surpassed my most sanguine anticipations." 
 
 " That is truly encouraging," said Isabella. 
 
 " I was fortunate, Miss Gray," continued Mrs. Mont- 
 gomery, " in very generally obtaining good pupils, and 
 in families who were capable of appreciating proper 
 instruction. But, let me assure you, that the vocation 
 of a teacher in any department of education, when you 
 have to contend with the varying dispositions and 
 whims, both of parents, and children, is not destitute 
 of its trials." 
 
 "I am fully aware of that, Mrs. Montgomery," 
 replied Isabella, "but it is my determination not to 
 anticipate trouble, but to faithfully discharge my duty 
 in accordance with my judgment. Beyond that I do 
 not think I am responsible." 
 
 " You are right, Miss Gray," said Mrs. Montgomery ; 
 " if you adhere to those principles you may rest confi- 
 dent of success. An obstacle is presented to the imme- 
 diate commencement of your operations — the summer 
 being an unfavorable season to obtain pupils, as most 
 of the citizens who can, retire to the country about this 
 time." 
 
 " I am aware of that inconvenience," replied Isabella, 
 " but I have no doubt some may remain. If I can do 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 97 
 
 no better, I can at least secure them for the fall and 
 winter." 
 
 "Yes; that you could do," said Mrs. Montgomery. 
 " If you would take a situation as governess, you could 
 go into the country for the summer with your pupils, 
 which would be far more desirable than remaining in 
 town." 
 
 "It would be desirable, and agreeable in many 
 respects ; but," said Isabella, in a decided manner, — 
 " I cannot leave my mother." 
 
 Mrs. Montgomery had thought it possible that Mrs. 
 Gray might have friends, with whom she could pass 
 the summer while her daughter was seeking their 
 means of support ; but, as she wished to avoid any 
 inquiry into family matters, she did not broach the 
 subject. 
 
 " You are quite right, Miss Gray," said Mrs. Mont- 
 gomery, " in not wishing to leave your mother ; and I 
 will make every effort I can to procure you pupils 
 immediately." 
 
 " Mrs. Montgomery," said Isabella, "in your delicate 
 state of health it might be injurious to you to make any 
 effort for me ; and, therefore, if you would but direct 
 me to some of your friends, allowing me to use your 
 name, that would be all that our short acquaintance 
 would entitle me to expect from you." 
 
 " Oh no, Miss Gray," said Mrs. Montgomery, smi- 
 ling ; " you know some friendships mature more rapidly 
 than others, and I already feel that we are more to 
 each other than formal acquaintances." 
 9 
 
98 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 "You do me great honor," said Isabella. 
 
 "Not in the least, Miss Gray. I will write a note 
 to a friend of mine, residing in the upper part of New 
 York, who, I think, intends remaining in the city 
 during the summer. She has three daughters, who 
 are all, I believe, learning music. The last time I met 
 her she told me her daughter's music master would pass 
 the summer in Germany." 
 
 "Very probably," said Isabella, "she will desire 
 her daughters to dispense with their lessons during his 
 absence." 
 
 " No, I think not," replied Mrs. Montgomery ; " for 
 I recollect she regretted that they would be so long 
 without instruction. What are your terms, Miss 
 Gray ?" 
 
 "One dollar per lesson," said Isabella; "but I 
 would make a reasonable deduction if I had several 
 pupils in one family. It would also depend upon their 
 ages and attainments." 
 
 "You must not place your charges too low," said 
 Mrs. Montgomery; "for you must remember that, if 
 you get pupils at such distances that you are com- 
 pelled to ride, your fare, by ferry and stage, will 
 amount to a considerable sum. I am afraid you are 
 not much versed in business," said Mrs. Montgomery, 
 archly. 
 
 "That could not be expected," said Isabella ; "but 
 I think I am in a fair way to have the defects in that 
 part of my education remedied, by a pretty effectual 
 lesson of experience." 
 
 "Yes; very true," said Mrs. Montgomery; "but 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 99 
 
 let me make one suggestion. I have generally found 
 it difficult to raise prices when once established. It is 
 much easier to come down than to go up ; therefore, I 
 would suggest that, if you make your terms one dollar 
 per lesson, you should neither change them nor make 
 any deduction, either for new beginners, or for the 
 larger number you may have in one family. What is 
 your own experience ? Did you commence taking 
 your own lessons in music at reduced terms?" 
 
 " Oh, no, by no means," said Isabella. "The bills 
 for my tuition were uniformly the same ; but my 
 teacher was an experienced man." 
 
 " I doubt not," said Mrs. Montgomery, " if I am not 
 mistaken in your character, that you will prove as 
 efficient a preceptor as those who have had more expe- 
 rience. When you direct your attention to the subject 
 practically, I have no hesitation in believing that you 
 will find it much easier than you now anticipate. 
 Diligence, caution, and a thorough investigation of 
 what you are teaching, will supply any deficiency in 
 experience, and you will be surprised at the obstacles 
 which can be surmounted by a determined will." 
 
 "Perhaps you are right, Mrs. Montgomery," said 
 Isabella. 
 
 " I know I am," rejoined Mrs. Montgomery; "and 
 I know, also, that a very large portion of the commu- 
 nity will seek to obtain the benefit of your instruction 
 on as low terms as they can induce you to give it to 
 them, though at the same time they will not be any 
 better satisfied in the end. I very much doubt whether 
 they will even appreciate your services as well." 
 
100 I S A E E L L A CRAY. 
 
 " I am certainly under many obligations for your 
 timely suggestions, Mrs. Montgomery," said Isabella, 
 " and I hope to merit them by a faithful discharge of 
 my duty." 
 
 "No fear of that," returned Mrs. Montgomery. 
 " Pardon me if I am too minute in my suggestions ; but 
 I invariably become so much interested in ladies who 
 have the moral courage to grapple with the world in a 
 business capacity, that I at once identify myself with 
 their affairs." 
 
 " So I perceive," said Isabella, "and I sincerely 
 acknowledge myself an obliged recipient of your kind 
 instructions." 
 
 "Ywait," said Mrs. Montgomery, in a jocular tone, 
 "until you ascertain whether my desire to afd you 
 proves beneficial." 
 
 Mrs. Gray had remained silent during the conversa- 
 tion between Mrs. Montgomery and Isabella, but not 
 from indifference ; far from it. She felt that her 
 daughter must make an effort to advance in the world, 
 and it was her wish that Isabella should act and think 
 for herself, as she had full confidence in her ability so 
 to do. The duty incumbent upon her as a mother was 
 merely to aid and sustain her. 
 
 At this moment the servant informed Mrs. Mont- 
 gomery that her physician was in attendance in the 
 parlor. Mrs. Gray and Isabella immediately arose to 
 take leave of their new acquaintance, whom they now 
 regarded with more than ordinary friendship. Mrs. 
 Montgomery gave them a pressing invitation to renew 
 their visit unceremoniously, and promised Isabella that 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 101 
 
 she should receive as. prompt information relative to 
 her new enterprise as could be obtained. The ladies 
 then bade each other " Good morning." 
 
 Descending to the hall, they met Dr. Barton, who 
 was on his w T ay to his patient. Mrs. Gray's double 
 veil prevented her from seeing at once who it was, and 
 she did not recognize their kind friend until she heard 
 Isabella say — 
 
 " How do you do, Dr. Barton VI 
 
 " I am most happy to meet you, Mrs. Gray," said 
 the doctor, as he passed from Isabella to her mother, 
 assuring them both of the pleasure which this unlooked- 
 for meeting afforded him. " I hope you are both quite 
 well, this morning ? " 
 
 " Thank you, Doctor, very well," was the prompt 
 reply of both. 
 
 " How do you find my patient this morning ? " 
 
 " I am unable to judge, by comparison, how her 
 he Jth is," said Mrs. Gray, " as this is the first time I 
 have had the pleasure of seeing Mrs. Montgomery ; 
 but she appears very ill." 
 
 " Poor lady ! " said the doctor, with a sigh, " she 
 is too bright to fade so early." 
 
 "I am inclined to reproach myself," said Isabella, 
 " for permitting her to talk so long; although she did 
 not, so far as I could discover, appear to be exhausted." 
 
 " No," said the doctor, " I have no doubt your 
 visit has been of service to her, for she was desirous 
 of making your acquaintance." 
 
 "My daughter, we must not longer detain the doc- 
 
 9* 
 
102 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 tor," said Mrs. Gray ; and, bidding him "good-morn- 
 ing," the ladies passed into the street, to retrace their 
 steps to their lonely home, while Doctor Barton as- 
 cended to the chamber of his patient. 
 
 " Ah ! I see you have been transgressing, this morn- 
 ing," said the doctor, very cheerfully, as he entered 
 the room, and took a seat beside his patient. 
 
 " How so, Doctor ? " inquired Mrs. Montgomery. 
 
 "I met company leaving you," replied the doctor. 
 
 " Oh, yes ; " said Mrs. Montgomery, "I thought I 
 must see those ladies — my husband called on them last 
 evening, and ascertained that their circumstances are 
 such, that it is necessary Miss Gray should give music 
 lessons in order to provide for their support. He made 
 an appointment with her to meet him in his study this 
 morning, to consult about some plans for procuring her 
 pupils ; but I was so desirous to see her, that I obtained 
 his consent to the transgression of your orders." 
 
 " You confess so frankly," said the doctor, very 
 good humoredly, u that you have quite disarmed my 
 resentment ; and, as I observe no ill effects, you may 
 rest confident of pardon." 
 
 " Thank you, Doctor," replied Mrs. Montgomery, 
 " just what I expected." 
 
 " How were you pleased with the ladies ? " inquired 
 the doctor. 
 
 " Very much," said Mrs. Montgomery. 
 
 " It is painful," said Dr. Barton, " to think that a 
 young lady of Miss Gray's cultivation and refinement, 
 should be compelled to come before the world in a 
 business capacity, is it not? " 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 103 
 
 "Very painful, indeed," said Mrs. Montgomery, 
 " but her cultivation has been of the right kind. Na- 
 turally possessed of a good mind, cultivation has regu- 
 lated and increased its powers. She has marked out 
 her course, and will perseveringly pursue it, if I am 
 not very much deceived." 
 
 "No doubt of it," returned the doctor, "still, 
 that does not lessen the difficulties she will have to con- 
 tend with." 
 
 " They will be concealed in her own bosom," said 
 Mrs. Montgomery, " and the world will be none the 
 wiser." 
 
 " So much the worse," said Dr. Barton, " a trial 
 that is endured in silence corrodes the heart with sor- 
 row, and absorbs its life-blood." 
 
 " In some instances,- Doctor, perhaps it does," re- 
 marked Mrs. Montgomery, " and with some tempera- 
 ments. But I think you will find that those ladies 
 fully appreciate the interest which the generality of 
 those, who are termed friends, take in the affairs of 
 the depressed, beyond merely listening to a recital of 
 their distresses, for the purpose of discussing the mat- 
 ter in more enlarged circles, or of diffusing their infor- 
 mation into such channels as will ensure its return to 
 their poor friends." 
 
 " I am sorry that you take such a dark view of 
 humanity, Mrs. Montgomery," said the doctor. 
 
 "I did not so consider it, Doctor," said Mrs. Mont- 
 gomery, "I do not censure the public; we, as indi- 
 viduals, form the public, and I am not prepared to say 
 
104 
 
 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 that we are altogether exempt from such failings. But 
 what right, I ask, have we to expect the public to feel 
 an interest in our behalf? " 
 
 " Perhaps, not any," said Dr. Barton ; " but we are 
 certainly entitled to claim the attention of our friends." 
 
 " Better to commune with our own heart, and a 
 bosom friend, (not friends,) " said Mrs. Montgomery, 
 " if you are fortunate enough to possess one ; and Miss 
 Gray has an invaluable one in her mother." 
 
 " Yes, indeed," exclaimed the doctor, u there is very 
 little doubt of their success. Mrs. Gray is in the 
 prime of life, and possesses too much energy to be idle. 
 But I do not understand why her brother, who is 
 abundantly able, does not come forward and tender 
 them aid." 
 
 " Ah, indeed ! is that so ? " said Mrs. Montgomery. 
 
 " So I learned from young Gray, during his last ill- 
 ness," replied the doctor. 
 
 " I know nothing at all of their family," remarked 
 Mrs. Montgomery. " They have not spoken either to 
 my husband or myself on that subject." 
 
 The doctor then related as much of Mrs. Gray's 
 family history as he had received from her son. 
 
 " Did I understand you," asked Mrs. Montgomery, 
 " that there was a friendly feeling between the brother 
 and sister ? " 
 
 " Perfectly so, as I understood Mr. Gray ;" replied 
 Dr. Barton, " but this brother has a high appreciation 
 of himself, and is very ready to condemn all who are 
 unfortunate." 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 105 
 
 "I do not see the. cause for condemnation in this 
 instance," said Mrs. Montgomery. " Certainly, Mrs. 
 Gray is not blameable for the loss of her husband !" 
 
 " No ;" said Dr. Barton. " But I should infer that 
 he attached censure to Mr. Gray, for not being more 
 prudent, and making provision for his family." 
 
 "Oh yes, I see," said Mrs. Montgomery. "He 
 quiets his conscience by censuring past errors, and 
 overlooks present necessities. H-e ought to be told, 
 as I was once, that we have nothing to do with yester- 
 day — that being past, to-day only should claim our 
 attention." 
 
 "He ought to be told," said Dr. Barton, quite 
 warmly, " that it was his duty to have purchased his 
 sister's home, and presented it to her, together with 
 an independent annuity." 
 
 "That would have been very proper," said Mrs. 
 Montgomery, "provided it were done in such a manner 
 as would not cause the recipients to feel that they 
 were indebted to the generosity of another. But if 
 not thus delicately tendered, I would much rather ask 
 charity at a stranger's hand. Admiring Miss Gray 
 for her independence, I shall do all in my power to 
 encourage her." 
 
 "But how is this ?" asked the doctor, who, observ- 
 ing that his patient was becoming too much excited, 
 thought it best to change the subject of conversation ; 
 " I had almost lost sight of the object of my visit. 
 How do you find yourself this morning ?" 
 
 "I passed a bad night, doctor," replied Mrs. Mont- 
 
106 
 
 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 gomerj ; " I was restless, nervous, and much troubled 
 by my cough ; in fact, I could not sleep. I felt very 
 ill early this morning, when I sent for you. It might 
 have been fancy, however, for I am now quite myself 
 again." 
 
 " I am, for once, inclined to give some credit to the 
 beneficial effects of company," said Dr. Barton. 
 
 "And I feel satisfied that it does me no injury to 
 converse moderately," said Mrs. Montgomery. "Sup- 
 pose it does make me cough a little more than I other- 
 wise should do, were I not to talk. It is only a 
 momentary matter ; I know very well that my fate is 
 sealed." 
 
 "You should not indulge in such despondency, Mrs. 
 Montgomery," replied the doctor. " Great cures have 
 been effected by the treatment I am now using in your 
 case." 
 
 "No doubt," said Mrs. Montgomery, "in the pri- 
 mary stages of the disease cures have been effected ; 
 but, with me, the malady has progressed too far. No, 
 doctor, it is very kind in you to encourage me as long 
 as there is hope ; but my hope in life is now almost 
 extinct, and I beg you will not deceive either yourself 
 or me. Everything around me being bright and 
 lovely, might, in some frames of mind, induce me to 
 cling to life ; but I am confident that those I love will 
 not want for a sustaining and protecting guardian ; 
 and I have such firm faith that I am passing to a still 
 brighter and happier world, that every earthly wish is 
 subdued." 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 107 
 
 " Your state, madam, is truly an enviable one," 
 said the medical man ; his emotion being too great to 
 suffer him to say more. 
 
 " It has cost me much suffering to bring my mind 
 to see my true state," continued Mrs. Montgomery; 
 "to feel and know that the disease is daily progress- 
 ing, and baffles all medical skill. It is right to hope, 
 when reason sustains us in doing so ; but it is folly to 
 deceive ourselves." 
 
 Dr. Barton was very much gratified with the com- 
 posure and correctness with which his patient looked 
 forward to the result of her indisposition. Her views 
 relative to her final recovery coincided with his own ; 
 still he ardently hoped to be instrumental in prolong- 
 ing the life of one who was so eminently useful to her 
 family and friends. 
 
 " Give me palliatives, Doctor," said the invalid, 
 "and do not annoy me with too much medicine." 
 
 " That is my purpose in writing this prescription," 
 replied the 'doctor. " You must sustain your strength 
 as much as possible, by taking a drive every pleasant 
 day. With care, I think you may recover from this 
 attack, and perhaps for some time enjoy very tolerable 
 health. I most earnestly hope that such will be the 
 case." 
 
 " So do I, Doctor," rejoined Mrs. Montgomery, with 
 an expression of countenance which seemed to say — 
 "Doubtful." 
 
 
108 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE NEW ENTERPRISE. 
 
 "The study of literature nourishes youth, entertains old age, 
 adorns prosperity, solaces adversity, is delightful at home, and un- 
 obtrusive abroad." 
 
 What a delightful influence does a living, active, 
 energetic hope impart to the sorrow-stricken heart. It 
 seems to blot out from view the overshadowing present, 
 and, by enabling the mind to look confidently to a more 
 serene, calm, elevating future, gives it strength to cast 
 off the morbid film in which it has been enshrouded, 
 and again to assert its supremacy over matter. 
 
 Such is the condition in which we find Isabella Gray 
 on the morning succeeding her visit to the Rectory. 
 Deeply sensible that her future life must be one of 
 action, with an energy based upon and inseparable 
 from hope, she selected for her field of operation that 
 pursuit which was most congenial to her taste ; and, 
 anticipating much pleasure in the commingling of 
 active duties with intellectual enjoyment, she now 
 longed for the arrival of the period which would mark 
 the commencement of her labors. 
 
ISABELLA Gil AY. 109 
 
 Herein are exhibited some of the advantages afforded 
 by a judicious intellectual culture — the importance of 
 which cannot be estimated. How very low in the scale 
 of comparison sinks the young lady, the sole object of 
 whose education has been her accomplishment in the 
 frivolities of youth ! and how very unfit must not such 
 a one be to encounter the ever-changing events of 
 life! 
 
 "Isabella!" said Mrs. Gray, as she entered the 
 parlor, on the morning above alluded to, and found her 
 daughter occupied in examining her portefolio of music, 
 the associations connected with which would have ex- 
 ercised a paralyzing influence on all her efforts, but 
 for the bright star of hope which irradiated her mind ; 
 " I have been trying to think if there was any possible 
 way by which we could keep a servant." 
 
 Isabella, at once impressed with the idea, laid down 
 the portefolio which she held in her hand, and seated 
 herself upon an ottoman near her mother, for the pur- 
 pose of more deliberately considering the subject. 
 
 " How do you think it can be accomplished ?" she 
 asked. 
 
 " There is one way in which it may be done, if no 
 other should present," said Mrs. Gray ; " and that is, 
 to part with some of our silver. I have been making 
 an estimate of our expenses, as well as of our limited 
 resources." 
 
 " What is the result ?" 
 
 " Another year will very nearly consume all of our 
 ready money," answered Mrs. Gray. 
 
 10 
 
110 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 "I almost fear to part with any thing," said Isa- 
 bella; " we cannot tell at present what our emergen- 
 cies may be." 
 
 " Very true, my dear," continued her mother ; " but 
 we must not lose sight of the fact, that health is of 
 paramount importance, as the loss of that would leave 
 us nothing to depend upon. We cannot lessen our 
 domestic expenses, in any way that I am aware of, nor 
 can we remove from our present location until the lease 
 expires ; and it is doubtful whether we can even reduce 
 our rent by a change, without occupying indifferent 
 rooms in an unhealthy neighborhood." 
 
 " We will avoid that as long as we can," replied Isa- 
 bella. 
 
 "That is what I wish to do," remarked Mrs. Gray. 
 " To effect that object, we should be active and dili- 
 gent, while we yet have something to rely upon ; and, 
 therefore, I am inclined to turn my attention to writing, 
 by which I think we can meet the expense of a servant. 
 Unaccustomed as we both are to very great physical 
 exertion, I am confident that we shall experience the 
 injurious effect of being without a domestic during the 
 warm weather ; and I would make any sacrifice rather 
 than risk the loss of your strength, or my own. Should 
 I fail, I can then part with a piece of silver ; but in 
 any case, I regard it as a laudable effort, and one worth 
 making." 
 
 " Do you purpose engaging in the labor of copy- 
 ing ?" asked Isabella. 
 
 "No; I design contributing to periodicals," replied 
 Mrs. Gray. 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. Ill 
 
 " I am afraid, ma," said Isabella, " that you will 
 find your nervous system unequal to the task." 
 
 " No, I think not," rejoined Mrs. Gray; "it will 
 serve as an amusement — just what I need to absorb 
 my attention. If I now had the manuscripts I de- 
 stroyed, I have no doubt they could be made very use- 
 ful to us in our present emergency." 
 
 " It would be pleasant for you to have some such 
 congenial employment during the- time I am engaged 
 in giving lessons," remarked Isabella. 
 
 " Yes, very," said Mrs. Gray; " and I may succeed 
 in making it profitable. That must be the basis of all 
 our actions and efforts for the present." 
 
 "Well, ma," said Isabella, "I am favorably im- 
 pressed with the idea. Suppose we go this morning 
 to the intelligence office, and inquire for a servant ?" 
 
 " That is what I was going to propose," said Mrs. 
 Gray; " there is no reason for delay." 
 
 " None at all," said Isabella; " I will defer arrang- 
 ing this music until after our return." 
 
 " Very well," said Mrs. Gray, " we will soon set 
 out; but listen, some one is ringing the door-bell." 
 
 "I'll open the door, mother," said Isabella, as she 
 passed into the little entry for that purpose. It proved 
 to be the postman ; and she returned with a letter in 
 her hand, the superscription of which she was reading 
 very attentively. " Here is a letter," said she, " post- 
 marked Cincinnati;" and, tearing off the envelope, she 
 looked at the signature, exclaiming, as she did so, with 
 evident pleasure, " Oh, it's from Mrs. King !" 
 
112 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 " All, indeed," said Mrs. Gray, " how very kind she 
 was during our stay with her previous to our coming 
 here !" 
 
 "Yes," was Isabella's mechanical answer, reading 
 the letter at the same time. " She desires us to come 
 and spend the summer at her residence." 
 
 "Read it aloud, my dear," said Mrs. Gray. 
 
 Isabella read the letter through silently ; then, hand- 
 ing it to her mother, she said, " Excuse me, ma, I 
 cannot read it aloud," and burst into a flood of tears. 
 Mrs. Gray knew too well the cause. It was the first 
 letter received from their friend since the death of 
 Henry. She, however, having had more time to nerve 
 herself, not only read the letter composedly, but also 
 talked calmly of their kind friend, as well as of the 
 delicate and cordial sympathy expressed. 
 
 Isabella very soon brushed aside the unbidden tears, 
 saying, as she did so, "It is kind in Mary to write to 
 us so pleasantly, and to express a wish to have us with 
 her." 
 
 " Yes, very," said Mrs. Gray ; " would you like to 
 go to her, my dear?" 
 
 " Do not ask me, ma ; we must not talk of what we 
 would desire." 
 
 " It would not cost us more to go to Cincinnati, and 
 return in the autumn, than to remain here during the 
 summer," urged Mrs. Gray. 
 
 "Perhaps not," said Isabella; "but I have a pur- 
 pose to accomplish here, and I must not be foiled in 
 my efforts by unnecessary loss of time." 
 
ISABELLA GEAY. 11.3 
 
 "I think your views are correct, my dear," replied 
 Mrs. Gray ; " it is, no doubt, better that we should 
 remain here ; still, I am desirous of giving you every 
 opportunity for enjoyment in my power." 
 
 " I should be delighted to enjoy Mary's society," 
 said Isabella ; " we have always been such intimate 
 friends ; but yet I cannot say that I really desire to 
 return to Cincinnati at present. There are so many 
 painful associations connected with it, that I could not 
 enjoy my old home; and I fancy everything would 
 appear to me to wear a different aspect." 
 
 "Most likely they would," said Mrs. Gray. 
 
 " I have, likewise, almost a horror of again meeting 
 Mr. Brown," said Isabella. 
 
 "I do not think you need give yourself any uneasi- 
 ness on that account," said Mrs. Gray, " for he cer- 
 tainly will not trouble you again, after such repeated 
 refusals." 
 
 "Perhaps not," said Isabella ; "but I would rather 
 not give him an opportunity." 
 
 "I'm afraid you are a little vain of your charms," 
 said Mrs. Gray, smiling. 
 
 " No," replied her daughter, " I do not think I over- 
 estimate my charms ; nor do I deem him susceptible 
 to the fascination of true feminine loveliness." 
 
 " Then how do you account for his pertinacity in 
 pressing his suit ? He certainly must have been aware 
 that you were dowerless." 
 
 "Oh, no," replied Isabella; "he does not seek 
 wealth ; he has already enough of this world's goods ; 
 
 10* 
 
114 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 but he is confident that, with his money, he can buy 
 himself a good wife. At least, such is my opinion of 
 the man." 
 
 "Very probably your estimate of Mr. Brown is cor- 
 rect ; but you should guard against forming such an 
 opinion of any man, without good reason." 
 
 " That is very true," rejoined Isabella ; " but I hap- 
 pen to know that he is desirous of marrying a lady who 
 can — as he himself expresses it — ' do honor to my for- 
 tune, by dispensing the hospitalities of my mansion in 
 a style becoming my station.' I do not censure the 
 man for aiming to obtain just such a wife ; but he is 
 devoid of tact, or he would not make use of such lan- 
 guage in presence of others. Besides, his physiog- 
 nomy is my index to his character. He would need a 
 very adroit partner to dispense his splendid hospitali- 
 ties w T ith sufficient economy to please him." 
 
 "Does he talk in the manner you represent ?" asked 
 Mrs. Gray. • 
 
 " Yes, ma ; I have heard him, though his remarks 
 were not addressed directly to myself; and I am also 
 aware that I have been recommended to him as being 
 a lady who would fill up the measure of his require- 
 ments. I have but a very slight acquaintance with 
 Mr. Brown, and I do not desire ever to be more inti- 
 mate with him than I am at present. There is neither 
 congeniality of taste nor of sentiment between us ; and 
 if he has any discernment he must be aware of it, which 
 should be sufficient to deter any sensible man from 
 pressing his suit. A review of all these facts will, I 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 115 
 
 think, bear me out in my estimate of Mr. Brown's 
 character," said Isabella ; " and," she continued, play- 
 fully, " as he wants to buy a wife who will stand in his 
 affections second to his dinner and his horse, I do not 
 choose to be the lady." 
 
 "You are quite right, my dear," said Mrs. Gray; 
 " I am happy to hear you say so." 
 
 " Ah ! my dear mother, you would be still more satis- 
 fied with my determination, could you but see his 
 cold, self-confident manner. I have not common 
 patience with the man," said Isabella, with an indig- 
 nant expresssion ; u I never wish to think of him 
 again." 
 
 " Well, well," said her mother, laughing at her 
 daughter's excitement, "we will let Mr. Brown rest, 
 while we go and seek a servant." 
 
 Biddy Carrol, a young Irish girl, was engaged to 
 officiate in the capacity of "maid of all work." She 
 was satisfied to receive low wages, in consequence of 
 her inexperience, and the comparatively small amount 
 of duties to be performed. She proved very tractable, 
 and in a short time became a very important appen- 
 dage to the household, performing most of the manual 
 labor, and thus enabling the ladies to have almost 
 entire command of their time. 
 
 Mrs. Gray immediately began to try her skill at 
 literary composition; or, rather, to revive a talent 
 which had long given place to domestic cares and social 
 enjoyments. She hoped to find a solace for her de- 
 
116 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 pressed spirits in mental occupation, as well as to derive 
 a pecuniary benefit from her labors. 
 
 About ten days after their visit to the Rectory, 
 Mrs. Gray was in her own room occupied in writing, 
 while Isabella, seated at the piano in the parlor, was 
 playing a very pretty German air, when the door was 
 opened, and Biddy announced company in rather an 
 awkward manner. She had either failed to hear the 
 names when given, or her memory had proved treacher- 
 ous, for she said as she ushered in the visitors, " Here's 
 company, Miss Gray." Isabella immediately rose from 
 her piano, and shook hands with the Rev. Dr. Mont- 
 gomery, who then introduced her to Mrs. Brewster. 
 They were received by Isabella with her usual ease 
 and grace. As soon as they were seated, she inquired 
 concerning the health of Mrs. Montgomery. 
 
 " She is, I think, rather better than when you saw 
 her the other morning, Miss Gray," replied the doctor. 
 " She would have been much gratified to accompany 
 Mrs. Brewster in her visit to you this morning, but 
 the dampness prevented." 
 
 " It would have given me great pleasure to have 
 seen her," said Isabella. 
 
 " I hope Mrs. Gray is quite well, this morning," said 
 the doctor. 
 
 " Thank you, Dr. Montgomery, she is very well ; 
 but I think she is engaged at present — you will please 
 excuse her." 
 
 "Certainly," replied Dr. Montgomery; "Mrs. 
 Brewster has called more particularly to see you." 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 117 
 
 "Yes, Miss Gray," said Mrs. Brewster, "I have 
 learned through my friend, Mrs. Montgomery, that 
 you are desirous of giving instruction in music." 
 
 "lam anxious to do so, Mrs. Brewster," replied 
 Isabella, " and would feel myself under many obliga- 
 tions for pupils." 
 
 " I have called for the purpose of soliciting you to 
 teach my daughters." 
 
 "How many pupils would you. have for me?" in- 
 quired Isabella. 
 
 " Three," replied Mrs. Brewster. " The youngest, 
 nine years of age, has never taken lessons. Would 
 you have any objection to a beginner?" 
 
 " Not the least," said Isabella. 
 
 "I think I understood that you had never given 
 lessons," said Mrs. Brewster. 
 
 "Never," replied Isabella. 
 
 " I hope, Miss Gray, you will not find it more ardu- 
 ous than you anticipate," said Mrs. Brewster. 
 
 " I have not the least fear of it, madam. Having 
 been very thoroughly instructed, I think I fully com- 
 prehend the duties which it will be necessarily incum- 
 bent upon me to perform ; and I regard the occupation 
 with agreeable anticipations." 
 
 "What are your terms, Miss Gray?" inquired Mrs. 
 Brewster. 
 
 " From inquiries that I have made in New York, I 
 have concluded to put my terms at one dollar per les- 
 son," replied Isabella. 
 
118 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 " Do~ you make no deduction for beginners?" asked 
 Mrs. Brewster. 
 
 "I do not think it would be just to do so, madam. 
 I believe it has been generally conceded," said Isabella, 
 with a pleasant smile, " that correct primary instruc- 
 tion in music is of paramount importance. Such being 
 my views, the more youthful will require an equal 
 share of my time with the more advanced pupils." 
 
 "Your views are correct, Miss Gray; we shall have 
 no difficulty about terms," said Mrs. Brewster, plea- 
 santly. 
 
 "If my instruction does not warrant my terms, I 
 shall be most happy to make a proper deduction," said 
 Isabella. 
 
 "I decidedly prefer high prices to poor instruction," 
 replied Mrs. Brewster. 
 
 "Certainly," said Dr. Montgomery, "it is much 
 the cheapest in the end. It is a very important matter 
 in any department of education, that the elementary 
 principles should be correctly taught." 
 
 "Very," said Mrs. Brewster. "I suppose," she 
 continued, " you will come to my house to give lessons, 
 Miss Gray?" 
 
 " I should much prefer to do so, as I should benefit 
 by exercise in the open air," replied Isabella. 
 
 " Could you commence to-morrow ?" inquired Mrs. 
 Brewster. 
 
 " At what hour ?" asked Isabella. 
 
 "Any time after eleven o'clock," said Mrs. Brew- 
 ster. 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 119 
 
 " Will it suit your arrangements if I come soon after 
 eleven ?" again inquired Isabella. 
 
 " Very well ; that hour will suit me better than a 
 later one," said Mrs. Brewster ; and, opening her card- 
 case, she drew from it a handsome engraved card con- 
 taining her address, — " Mrs. H. W. Brewster, 35th 
 street No. — , New York," — and handed it to Miss 
 Gray, informing her at the same time, that the Fulton- 
 Eerry stage would convey her to a point within a few 
 doors of her residence. 
 
 "Thank you," said Isabella, as she received the 
 card. 
 
 After a short conversation on general topics, Mrs. 
 Brewster and Dr. Montgomery departed for their re- 
 spective homes, and Isabella was left to reflect upon 
 the rapidity with which events seemed crowding upon 
 each other. She immediately sought her mother's 
 room, which she entered with an expression of anxiety, 
 mingled with delight. 
 
 "Pardon- me, mother," said she, "for interrupting 
 you ; but I must inform you of my good fortune. I 
 have obtained three music scholars." 
 
 "Indeed!" exclaimed Mrs. Gray, laying down her 
 pen. 
 
 " Yes, ma; I have so." And Isabella then related 
 to her mother the incidents of the visit, with which the 
 reader is already acquainted. 
 
120 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 COMMENCEMENT OF DUTIES. 
 
 In what various forms 
 
 Dost Thou descend, oh, Holy Comforter, 
 
 To cheer Thy trusting child ! 
 
 Sometimes I see Thee in bright hopes 
 
 Of future ease, to solace, and sustain us 
 
 'Till we reach that better land. 
 
 But now ; — I feel Thy soothing influence 
 
 In pleasing memories of the past. 
 
 Oh ! blessed Comforter ! 
 
 What heart can droop and mourn, 
 
 When Thou art near ? 
 
 At the time appointed, Isabella Gray ascended the 
 steps of a large three-story freestone building in Thirty- 
 fifth street, and rang the bell for admittance. The 
 door-plate exhibited the name of " H. W. Brewster." 
 The house was constructed in the modern style of 
 architecture, but not unlike many still remaining in 
 the same locality. 
 
 " The situation is airy, and altogether desirable," 
 thought Miss Gray, as she gazed around her while 
 waiting for a servant to open the door. 
 
 Her summons was answered by a fine-looking colored 
 waiter, whose cleanly appearance, snow-white apron, and 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 121 
 
 polite demeanor, instantly impressed her with a favor- 
 able opinion of the interior arrangements. 
 
 " Is Mrs. Brewster at home?" she inquired. 
 
 " Yes, ma'am," promptly replied the waiter, at the 
 same time making a low bow. " Please to walk in." 
 
 Isabella was ushered into the unoccupied parlor, 
 where she seated herself, after handing her card to 
 the waiter. 
 
 Mrs. Brewster and her three daughters did not lone: 
 delay their appearance, yet sufficient time elapsed to 
 enable Isabella to take a hasty survey of the suite of 
 rooms she was then in — three in number. They were 
 all arrayed in summer garniture ; that is, the carpets 
 had been substituted by India matting ; the chairs, 
 sofas, ottomans, etc., were covered with neat chintz, 
 for the purpose of protecting them from dust; and the 
 mirror as well as picture frames were also covered with 
 light material. But that which most attracted her 
 attention was the grand piano, occupying one corner 
 of the front parlor. The adjoining room was furnished 
 with luxurious chairs, lounges and divans, similar to 
 those in the first, interspersed with several pieces of 
 furniture of modern invention. The third apartment 
 she conjectured was the library, from the imperfect 
 view she could obtain of it. 
 
 u Good morning, Miss Gray," said Mrs. Brewster, 
 who entered the parlor while Isabella was engaged in 
 examining a piece of music which lay upon the piano. 
 
 " Good morning, Mrs. Brewster," returned Isabella. 
 
 "I have brought you down my trio," said Mrs. 
 11 
 
122 ISABELLA G RAY. 
 
 Brewster, playfully. " Here is Mary, my eldest ; this 
 is Belle ; and the last we call Clara." 
 
 " Good morning, young ladies," said their future 
 teacher, as she shook hands with each, at the same 
 time mentally criticising their different characters. 
 
 Mary was a beautiful girl, both in features and in 
 person ; her light hair and complexion were admirably 
 in keeping with her soft blue eyes, and her manners 
 were more mature than those of most young ladies at 
 the age of fourteen. Hers was a placid, pleasant face 
 to look upon, yet it did not indicate great strength of 
 mind, or depth of feeling. 
 
 Belle was eleven years of age, as Isabella had been 
 previously informed by the mother. She was a clear 
 brunette, had dark brown hair, and soft, hazel eyes, 
 which, though not large, were remarkably expressive. 
 Her features were not particularly attractive, but the 
 smile which illumined them, and the sweet glance of 
 her eyes, bespoke deep feeling. Her heart was evi- 
 dently disproportioned to her body, for she had a 
 small, thin, nervous, sharply angular frame. 
 
 Clara, as the reader has been already informed, was 
 nine years of age, and a perfect little beauty ; more 
 like Mary, in features and personal appearance, than 
 her sister Belle, and yet unlike her — possessing equal 
 beauty, but more animation. Still she failed to enlist 
 the sympathies like Belle. 
 
 Such, at a mere casual glance, was the opinion 
 formed by Isabella of the three children. The favor- 
 able impression they made infused into her heart 
 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 123 
 
 renewed courage to commence the task of giving her 
 first music lesson. For that purpose, and in order to 
 avoid interruptions, she was shown into the library, 
 which proved to be the rear room, as Isabella had sur- 
 mised. There she found a very good square piano. 
 
 The lessons progressed, and were completed to Isa- 
 bella's satisfaction. It happened that Belle's lesson 
 was last ; the reason of which was, that the child had 
 chosen to have it so, and managed to effect her pur- 
 pose. As soon, however, as her task was finished, she 
 sprang from the piano-stool with the agility of a fawn, 
 and throwing her arms around her teacher, said, 
 
 "Miss Gray, shall I tell you why I wished to take 
 my lesson last?" 
 
 "Do, if you please," said Isabella. 
 
 "I wanted you," said the child, "to play an accom- 
 paniment for me while I sang a favorite piece, and I 
 was afraid you would say you had not time, if my les- 
 son was not the last." 
 
 Isabella kissed the little fairy, and told her to bring 
 her song, that she would be happy to play the accom- 
 paniment for her. She expected to see some negro 
 melody, or at least a simple air ; but what was her 
 surprise when Belle placed on the piano before her a 
 song from " Lucia Di Lammermoor — Spargi d' amavo 
 — I'll pray for thee." 
 
 " Do you sing this in Italian ?" asked Isabella. 
 
 "Yes, Miss Gray," answered the child. 
 
 The song was executed in a style that would have 
 been creditable to a person of more mature years. 
 
124 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 Isabella was so fascinated with the voice, the style of 
 singing, and the naive simplicity of the child, that she 
 was on the point of clasping her in her arms, and tell- 
 ing her how much she admired her ; but she was pre- 
 vented from giving way to her feelings by the fear of 
 arousing the vanity of her pupil. 
 
 "Have you taken lessons in vocal music?" asked 
 Isabella, as she turned from the piano, though still re- 
 taining her seat, and drew the child nearer, by placing 
 one arm around her waist. 
 
 " Only a little while," she answered. 
 
 "Are you fond of singing?" inquired her teacher. 
 
 "Yes, indeed; I would rather sing than play." 
 
 "I am sorry to hear you make that acknowledg- 
 ment," said Isabella. 
 
 "I like to play, too," said the child; and, looking 
 up into her teacher's face, with an expression of in- 
 tense feeling, she continued, " But I do love to sing." 
 
 At that moment Mrs. Brewster entered the room, 
 saying, as she did so, " I heard Belle's voice, and, 
 therefore, inferred that the lessons were ended." Draw- 
 ing a quartette table toward Isabella, she seated herself 
 opposite, when the waiter, who had followed his mis- 
 tress, placed upon it a tray with refreshments. 
 
 "You must take a lunch before you return home," 
 said Mrs. Brewster. 
 
 "It is quite unnecessary," said Isabella, "but I 
 will not refuse your kindness." 
 
 " Belle, my dear," said Mrs. Brewster, " the children 
 want you up stairs. Bid Miss Gray good-morning, 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 125 
 
 and we will excuse you." The child obeyed her mo- 
 ther's command ; but she would have much preferred 
 remaining where she could look at Miss Gray's beau- 
 tiful face, hear her talk, and watch her smile, which 
 she thought the most lovely she had ever seen. As 
 she walked slowly and thoughtfully up stairs (for chil- 
 dren's reveries are sometimes deep,) she breathed a 
 sigh, and wished, oh ! how sincerely, that she were as 
 beautiful. 
 
 " Mrs. Brewster," said Isabella, "your daughter has 
 an uncommonly fine voice." 
 
 "Yes, she has a fine voice," replied that lady, "and 
 she uses it so much that I fear she will injure it. I 
 was averse to her taking singing lessons at such an 
 early age ; but her desire was so ardent, that we 
 thought it best for her to receive some instruction, 
 hoping that the discipline of artistic practice might 
 have a tendency to lessen her inclination in that' 
 direction. She is not strong, and I fear she sings too 
 much ; but it has become such a passion with her, that 
 we think it better to divert her mind from it, than to 
 oppose her directly. I think I have found another 
 scholar for you, Miss Gray ; that is, if you desire to 
 have more." 
 
 " I would be very happy, indeed, to increase the 
 number," replied Isabella, "I would like to procure as 
 many as will reasonably occupy my time." 
 
 "I met Mrs. Lincoln last evening," continued Mrs. 
 Brewster, " and she wishes to secure a teacher for her 
 only daughter, who is about the age of my daughter 
 11* 
 
126 
 
 ISABELLA G R A Y . 
 
 Mary. I mentioned your name to her, and I think 
 she will call upon you very soon." 
 
 ;i I feel greatly indebted to you for your kindness, 
 Mrs. Brewster. If you will give me her address, I 
 will visit her before returning to Brooklyn." 
 
 "It is No. , Fifth Avenue," said Mrs. Brew- 
 ster. 
 
 "Is she an accruaintance of yours, Mrs. Brewster?" 
 asked Isabella. 
 
 "Yes;" replied Mrs. Brewster, "I cannot say that 
 we are particularly acquainted, although we very fre- 
 quently meet in company. They are highly respect- 
 able people, and very wealthy." 
 
 By this time Isabella, had finished her lunch, and 
 after thanking Mrs. Brewster for her hospitality, she 
 departed, with the intention of calling upon Mrs. 
 Lincoln. 
 
 On entering the residence of the last-named lady, 
 Isabella was unfavorably impressed with its showy, 
 costly appearance ; even the furniture of the small 
 reception room bore the mark of extravagance, though 
 lacking a homelike aspect. It would have required 
 but a slight stretch of imagination for her to have 
 fancied the house to be put in order for exhibition, in- 
 stead of occupancy. 
 
 Mrs. Lincoln soon made her appearance. She was 
 dressed for dinner, in the height of the fashion, and 
 assumed an air of great dignity, which her tall, stately 
 figure aided her in sustaining. She finally managed 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 127 
 
 to scat herself, when Isabella explained the object of 
 her visit. 
 
 " Oh yes," said the lady, in a rather languishing 
 tone of voice, "I told Mrs. Brewster I was going to 
 see you; but I am very glad you have saved me the 
 trouble. What do you charge for music lessons, Miss 
 Gray ?" 
 
 Isabella's vein of humor inclined her to answer, that 
 she charged an extra price for teaching vulgar people ; 
 but, controlling herself, she replied respectfully, that 
 her terms were " one dollar per lesson." 
 
 " One dollar a lesson !" exclaimed the dignified lady. 
 "You don't say! Why that's very dear for female 
 teachers, Miss Gray. Does Mrs. Brewster give you 
 that?" 
 
 " She does, madam," answered Isabella. 
 "Oh, well," said Mrs. Lincoln; "then I s'pose 
 you're an oncommon good teacher." 
 
 " That remains to be proved," said Isabella, " for 
 
 I " • 
 
 "Where have you given lessons in the city ?" asked 
 Mrs. Lincoln, interrupting Isabella. 
 
 " I have never given music lessons in my life, Mrs. 
 
 Lincoln," replied Isabella ; "but I think " 
 
 "Why, do tell!" exclaimed the aristocratic lady; 
 " never given lessons before, and now ask a dollar a 
 lesson ? Does Mrs. Brewster know that you never 
 gave lessons before ?" 
 
 "She does, madam;" was the reply, "I do not wish 
 to deceive either yourself or her." 
 
128 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 " Well," said Mrs. Lincoln, in an under tone, "she's 
 a good judge of music teaching, and ought to know," 
 
 " Has your daughter taken lessons in music ?" 
 inquired Isabella. 
 
 " Oh, yes," answered Mrs. Lincoln, " ever so long." 
 
 "Of whom?" 
 
 " Of Mr.- , Mr.— — , it's one of those hard Ger- 
 man names I can't never remember," replied Mrs. 
 Lincoln. 
 
 " Then she took lessons from a master ?" said Miss 
 Gray. 
 
 " Yes," replied the lady, " and he was the most 
 beautifulest player, Miss Gray, you ever heard. We 
 shouldn't have given him up, but he took a notion to 
 go to California. And it does seem as though all the 
 best people went to California." 
 
 "Ah," said Isabella, "perhaps they do:" and 
 thoughts of one who would, in her estimation, come 
 under that class, who had gone to that land of struggle 
 and hardship, crossed her mind, leaving their indelible 
 impress, as thoughts of loved objects invariably do. 
 " What were his terms?" she inquired. 
 
 " Oh, we gave him a good deal more than what you 
 ask," replied Mrs. Lincoln ; " I don't know exactly 
 what it was, but it was something like two dollars a 
 lesson. But we won't have any trouble about the 
 price, Miss Gray, for it isn't as though I was poor ; 
 and, besides, I've taken a liking to you already, and I 
 think you and Ernestine will get on nicely." 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 129 
 
 " Thank you, Mrs. Lincoln," said Isabella. " When 
 do you wish your daughter to commence her lessons?" 
 
 "I think she had better begin soon," replied Mrs. 
 Lincoln. "I suppose you've begun with Mrs. Brew- 
 ster's children ?" 
 
 "Yes, madam, I have," answered Isabella; "and I 
 will come to you to-morrow, if you desire me." 
 
 "Very well," said Mrs. Lincoln; "to-morrow morn- 
 ing, then." 
 
 As Isabella was leaving the room, she met Miss 
 Ernestine Lincoln coming in from a walk, and was 
 introduced to her by the young lady's mother. She 
 was a healthy, fine-looking girl; indeed, she was quite 
 handsome, and possessed very agreeable manners. 
 
 Soon after Isabella reached the street, she entered a 
 Fulton-Ferry omnibus. There being no other occu- 
 pant, she took a seat in the end farthest from the door. 
 Knowing that she had a long distance to ride before 
 reaching the ferry, and that she would probably bo 
 uninterrupted, she indulged in a revery. The busy, 
 excited throng through which the coach was then wend- 
 ing its way, would, had she been in a different mood, 
 have given variety and diversion to her thoughts ; but 
 in her present state of abstractedness, surrounding 
 objects were unheeded. The world, to her, had assumed 
 a new aspect, and the reflections which crowded upon 
 her took possession of her mind. " Not quite one 
 year," thought she, "has elapsed since I was luxuria- 
 ting in the sunshine of fortune's smiles, and now — a 
 stranger, in a strange city, I am seeking the means of 
 
130 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 support. How little do the people who are getting in and 
 out of this stage, and casting a glance at my veiled face, 
 as well as at my mourning- dress, know of the troubles 
 which it often requires a great effort to conceal ! 
 
 "How oppressive is this stifling city atmosphere ! 
 With what delight could I now take one of those 
 refreshing walks in the garden, or those woodland 
 rambles, which I have all my life long enjoyed ! and 
 how blissful were the hours spent in the society of him 
 whom my soul refuses to forget ! I know 'tis folly to 
 cherish the memory of the past ; yet, somehow — I know 
 not why — bygone recollections cast around my uncon- 
 genial duties a halo of peace, which soothes and cheers 
 me on. Yes, my thoughts are ever with past days 
 and the object of my love. How unwise, but yet how 
 soothing ! Even the rich, proud woman was uncon- 
 sciously led to name the land of his adoption, which 
 brought him to my mind, thus imparting a soothing 
 influence to my almost drooping spirits. But I must 
 not indulge in thoughts like these ; it will not do. 
 They are, doubtless, mere fancies of the brain; but 
 still, I cannot forget. 
 
 " I must have done with these idle spirit-wanderings, 
 and fix my thoughts and love upon my last surviving 
 parent. For her in future I will live and toil, and pass 
 through life a stoic to all else. My sometimes cheer- 
 less pathway shall be irradiated by the light of other 
 and happier days ; and I will be sustained by the 
 belief that the spirits of the dear departed are linger- 
 ing around me." 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 131 
 
 "Fulton-Ferry, madam," called out the driver. 
 
 Isabella rallied from her revery, only to find that 
 the passengers had all left the stage. However, being 
 in good time for the boat, she was soon seated beside 
 her mother in their peaceful little parlor, cheerfully 
 relating the incidents of the day, and detailing her 
 success in obtaining another pupil. 
 
132 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 FORMIDABLE OBSTACLES. 
 
 Go fetch the doctor, -without delay, 
 
 Let him not mind about his pa}-, 
 
 My coffers are full and well stored. 
 
 Look, slave! and see, my life blood's ebbing fast, 
 
 Another sun may be my last. 
 
 Two months subsequent to the date on which Mr. 
 Brown wrote the letter to Mr. Williams, previously 
 given, his serving-man, John, was sent in great haste 
 for a physician. His master was ill — how ill, he could 
 not tell ; but to all who anxiously inquired after the 
 health of his very handsome, very wealthy, and much 
 admired master, he stated that the gentleman had a 
 very bad cold, and that upon his cambric handker- 
 chief were to be seen streaks resembling the color of 
 blood. 
 
 The medical man promptly obeyed the summons, for 
 who could refuse to give their best services to the sole 
 proprietor of such an estate ? The hope of magnificent 
 perquisites, in case the attack should prove to be severe, 
 was a great incentive to activity in the dashing young 
 doctor, and caused him, in his great haste to adminis- 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 133 
 
 ter relief to his patient, to pass unrecognized several 
 of his personal friends. 
 
 " Ah, Doctor, I am glad to see you,'* said the pa- 
 tient, as the doctor entered Mr. Brown's room, where 
 he found him, in dressing-gown and slippers, reclining 
 upon a sofa ; " I hope I have not alarmed you." 
 
 "Not in the least," replied the physician. " Gen- 
 tlemen of our profession, you know, Mr. Brown, are 
 accustomed to sudden calls ; and you must be aware 
 that a summons from you w T ould, at any time, meet 
 with a ready response." 
 
 The patient's case was very scientifically examined, 
 according to the allopathic practice of medicine, and 
 commented upon at the different stages of investiga- 
 tion. "The tongue looks clean," said the doctor; 
 " pulse not much excited. Your skin feels rather 
 moist. Have you any pain in the head or back?" he 
 inquired. 
 
 "No ; but here," said the patient, placing upon his 
 chest a soft white hand, the little finger of which was 
 encircled by a diamond ring of exquisite workman- 
 ship. 
 
 " Pain there ?" asked the physician. 
 
 " No ; I cannot really say that I have a pain there ; 
 but, you see this ?" continued the patient, showing a 
 cambric handkerchief streaked with the fluid before 
 described. 
 
 The doctor, having looked carefully and critically at 
 it, then said : 
 
 "You seem to have a severe cold ; have you not ?" 
 12 
 
134 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 "Yes," replied Mr. Brown ; " I have suffered with 
 a cold for several days ; but, this morning, for the first 
 time, I have had symptoms of hemorrhage." 
 
 " Is your throat sore ?" inquired the doctor. 
 
 " Yes ; very sore indeed," answered the patient. 
 
 " Do you feel any soreness down here ?" asked the 
 physician, placing his hand upon his patient's chest. 
 
 "Not any," replied Mr. Brown. 
 
 " I would like to look at your throat, if you please," 
 said the doctor. 
 
 " Certainly, Doctor," said the patient ; " do that 
 which is necessary for the restoration of my health. 
 Don't spare any thing, either in money or time." 
 
 " You need not have given me that admonition, Mr. 
 Brown," replied the physician, " for I am fully im- 
 pressed with the responsibility of my position." Thus 
 assuring his patient that there was at least one honest 
 man in the profession, the doctor took a silver tea- 
 spoon from a cup standing on the table near by. 
 With the handle he gently pressed down the sick 
 man's tongue, and examined his throat, which he found 
 to be highly inflamed. 
 
 " I think you need give yourself no uneasiness about 
 this slight hemorrhage," said the doctor, as he seated 
 himself ; " it has undoubtedly come from the throat, 
 which is considerably inflamed." 
 
 " Do you think so, Doctor ?" 
 
 " I do, most certainly ; indeed, I am confident of 
 it," replied the doctor. 
 
 " I am very much gratified to hear you say so, Doc- 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 135 
 
 tor," said the invalid, -rising from his reclining posture, 
 and looking very much as though he had sanguine 
 hopes of being again fully restored to health. " I have 
 no fancy for lung diseases." 
 
 " I cannot discover that your lungs are in the least 
 affected," said the- physician ; " this slight sympathetic 
 cough, which I see troubles you, arises from the inflam- 
 mation in the throat." The medical man then ordered 
 a simple regimen, with some other trifling prescrip- 
 tions, and enjoined particular caution against the 
 injurious effects of the night air. 
 
 " I am desirous," said Mr. Brown, " of visiting New 
 York during the holidays, which are now near at 
 hand." 
 
 " Why do you go in that direction ?" asked the doc- 
 tor; "why not go South during this cold weather?" 
 
 " Would you recommend a milder climate ?" inquired 
 the invalid. 
 
 "I would, most assuredly," replied the physician. 
 " It would be safer, so far as your health is concerned. 
 Not that I deem it necessary for you to make such a 
 change ; but there is nothing to prevent you from pass- 
 ing the winter in a climate more congenial to your 
 tastes ; and it appears to me that, so far as pleasure 
 may be a consideration, the South has the prece- 
 dence. It certainly would have with me." 
 
 "I don't know but you are right, Doctor," said Mr. 
 Brown ; " but where would you go ?" 
 
 " Go ! Why I would go where I could find the most 
 enjoyment. — To the West Indies. —To New Orleans. — 
 
136 
 
 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 Take up your quarters at the St. Charles, and enjoy 
 the society of northern ladies in a southern climate. — 
 Fall in love with some beauty, a fair match for your- 
 self, (you know money is no consideration with you) ; 
 and return home in the spring with the beautiful and 
 accomplished Mrs. Brown." 
 
 "I think I have such a lady already in view," said 
 Mr. Brown. 
 
 " Ah ! indeed ; so much the better. But why not 
 have the knot tied, and take her along?" 
 
 " Don't understand me, Doctor, that I have entered 
 into any matrimonial engagement. I only desire to 
 say that I know a lady answering your description. 
 It may, however, be nothing more than an image which 
 my fancy has pictured." 
 
 " That's a preliminary step," said the doctor ; " press 
 on, my friend, you'll gain the prize." 
 
 " That is my intention," replied the invalid. "But 
 I must think seriously of this southern trip. I am 
 inclined to give the preference to New Orleans." 
 
 Of course the doctor would not differ from his patient, 
 but readily coincided in his plan, saying, " I think, 
 Mr. Brown, you are correct in your choice ; it is un- 
 doubtedly the most desirable place, and it has one 
 great advantage over the Islands ; you avoid a voyage 
 that is always disagreeable ; and which, as I have assured 
 you that your health does not require a sea voyage, 
 would only be a bore." 
 
 The medical man left his patient in good spirits, and 
 gratified that he was not more of an invalid ; still he 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 137 
 
 felt a little annoyed that his anticipations of an oppor- 
 tunity to exhibit his profound skill, and to obtain its 
 attendant reward in reputation, as well as pecuniarily, 
 should so suddenly evaporate. 
 
 The author does not wish the reader to consider the 
 sketch of this scene as an attempt to undervalue a 
 proper regard for health, or to employ the weapon of 
 ridicule against those who may be unnecessarily 
 alarmed about their physical condition ; but in the 
 instance just related, as in too many of a similar cha- 
 racter, the cause of uneasiness evidently had its origin 
 in an over-regard for self, and in a lack of healthful 
 occupation, both mental and physical — a condition 
 which can rarely be produced in a person endowed 
 with an active mind, and who does not permit his rea- 
 soning faculties to become enervated for w r ant of use. 
 
 Mr. Brown, again re-assured, experienced a sensa- 
 tion of pleasure in the confident hope of enjoying a 
 long and brilliant life. The suggestive hints just 
 received had greatly encouraged him in his previously- 
 formed purpose of yielding himself still more to the 
 intoxication of worldly pleasures. It had latterly been 
 his intention to proceed direct to New York, immedi- 
 ately after obtaining an answer to his California letter, 
 and to lose no time in obtaining an interview with Miss 
 Gray, for the purpose of maturing a matrimonial 
 engagement, which would effectually conceal his dia- 
 bolical acts of deception and fraud. But his purpose 
 was now changed. " Why so much haste?" thought 
 he. " I can pass a pleasant winter in New Orleans, 
 12* 
 
138 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 "with but little more expense than if I were to remain 
 here, where everybody has made my acquaintance who 
 wants a good dinner. My bill for wine used by com- 
 pany alone is becoming enormous ; yet I can see no 
 way to reduce it, and, at the same time, maintain my 
 present standing, but by temporary absence. In New 
 Orleans, however, I am a stranger; and I'll make no 
 acquaintances there, rather than pour my money down 
 the throats of people who think I have no better use 
 for it. I'll show them how I can use monev when I 
 fit up my establishment ; it shall exceed in magnifi- 
 cence anything to be found in this city. What a 
 change it will be for my wife. Ha ! ha ! wife ! that's 
 a familiar name. It is the first time 1 ever in reality 
 thought of the beautiful Miss Gray in so intimate a 
 connection. But what a change it will be to her, from 
 present penury to such affluence ! Yes, indeed ; but there 
 is one difficulty I had not thought of. I suppose the 
 mother will desire to live with her only daughter ; but 
 that must not be ; I cannot allow it under any circum- 
 stances." Indulging such thoughts, the rich man found 
 himself so rapidly convalescing, that he paced the room 
 for some time in considerable excitement. 
 
 "But," continuing his train of reflection, "I'll 
 say nothing about that until we are married, and then 
 I will recommend her to live with her son. [The 
 reader will understand that the event here detailed, 
 occurred during the winter preceding Henry Gray's 
 death.] If that does not answer, I'll furnish her with 
 sufficient money to convey her to England, where she 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 139 
 
 has, or ought to have,. friends. But, whether she has 
 or has not, she can never reside with me ; I will not 
 tolerate the dictation of a mother-in-law in my house. 
 
 "I am not quite positive which is the better course, 
 to proceed to New York first, or to return home by 
 way of that city. If I could but obtain an answer 
 from California, to assure me that my letter was re- 
 ceived, I could better decide on my course ; as I should 
 not much fancy an interview with 'Mr. Williams in this 
 part of the country, just at this time. I must have 
 patience, however; and, meantime, I will reflect upon 
 the propriety of journeying either north or south." 
 
 Such was the result of Mr. Brown's meditations 
 during the interval which elapsed between the visit of 
 his physician, and the important duty of dressing for 
 dinner ; a duty incumbent on all who have a feeling of 
 self-respect — but which the gentleman of leisure above 
 named ever performed with the most artistic care. 
 
 Passing over another month, brings us into the 
 season of' frost and snow, the middle of January ; 
 about which time Mr. Brown discovered, one morning, 
 while looking over the "News," that the California 
 steamer had arrived at New York two days previously, 
 thus giving ample time for the transportation of the 
 mail to Cincinnati. Shortly after his serving-man 
 John returned from the post-office with three letters — 
 which was certainly a large number, considering they 
 were addressed to a gentleman whose correspondence 
 was necessarily limited by a lack of congenial associa- 
 tions. A hasty glance revealed the long-expected 
 
140 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 post mark, " San Francisco, Cal.," and the letter read 
 as follows : 
 
 "San Francisco, California, 
 December hih, 18 — . 
 
 "Alexander Brown, Esq.,' 
 
 " Dear Sir : — Yours bearing date October 20th, 
 came to hand by due course of mail. I am not at 
 present making investments in real estate, but confin- 
 ing my business strictly to my profession. 
 
 " You will readily see the necessity of transacting 
 your business through some other medium. 
 " Respectfully yours, 
 
 "Robert Williams." 
 
 " Short, if not sweet," thought Mr. Brown, as he 
 laid Mr. Williams' letter on the table, and took up one 
 of the others, at the same time whistling Nelly Bley ; 
 " rather a cold response to his ardent hopes and his 
 devoted love-letter. Yes ; he is a little piqued, I see, 
 or he would have congratulated me. But it's just as 
 well that he should be, as he will be the more likely to 
 keep out of the way." 
 
 The arrival of this letter dissipated all pre-existing 
 doubts which had contended for the mastery in Mr. 
 Brown's mind, and he at once decided upon his future 
 course : considering it certain that there was now no 
 obstacle existing to prevent him from delaying his 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 141 
 
 visit to the north, he felt himself free to follow the bent 
 of his inclinations, and to act upon the advice of his 
 physician. Accordingly all the arrangements neces- 
 sary for his journey to New Orleans, accompanied by 
 his faithful attendant, John, were speedily made, and 
 the travellers in due time reached their destination, 
 without meeting with any extraordinary incidents en 
 route. 
 
 Arrived at the Crescent City desirable apartments 
 were obtained in the " St. Charles Hotel." Mr. 
 Brown, who had been for some time slightly annoyed 
 by the monitions of an uneasy conscience, found that 
 change of scene, (the fruitful alleviator of most 
 troubles), had so lent its influence to quiet the secret 
 little throbs, that in a short time memory refused to 
 perform its allotted task, and no emotion was produced 
 by unbidden thoughts of a disagreeable past. 
 
 The comparatively mild southern winter had by this 
 time merged into balmy spring. Invalids from-, the 
 north, accompanied by more robust friends, had sought 
 change of scene, and an avoidance of the chilling 
 easterly winds of early spring, by a sojourn in a more 
 congenial climate. The "St. Charles" was, in conse- 
 quence, densely crowded. All was animation, variety, 
 attraction, and Mr. Brown moved amid the assembled 
 guests, evidently fancying himself a star of the first 
 magnitude, around which revolved the lesser lumina- 
 ries, on whom he had the happiness of shedding the 
 radiating splendor of his own superior orb. 
 
 Surrounded by beauty and fashion, he felt that he 
 
142 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 was in his proper element, with a fair prospect of being 
 fully appreciated. His great personal attractions, in 
 connection with his reputation for vast and increasing 
 wealth, did not fail, among one class, to procure him 
 the most devoted admirers. His influence, however, 
 upon another circle, although perhaps smaller than the 
 former, might be likened in its effects to contact with 
 a would-be-great man — the tendency to depreciation 
 in esteem keeping even pace with the progress toward 
 intimacy. 
 
 He saw beautiful ladies whom he admired, and at 
 times he felt half inclined to award them a preference 
 to his " dark eyed" beauty ; but two objections were 
 presented to such a change of purpose. Did he fail to 
 marry Miss Gray, an investigation of the reasons why, 
 might ensue, which would, in all probability lead to a 
 disclosure of his complicity in purloining Mr. Wil- 
 liams's letter from the post-office, and his guilty con- 
 science suggested what would be the resultant conse- 
 quences. He either overlooked, or was disinclined to 
 avail himself of the advantages, which a handsome 
 bribe to the post-office clerk from whom he received 
 the letter might have given him, (though such an offer 
 might have been rejected ; for there are not many 
 persons employed in such a capacity who are suscep- 
 tible to sordid influences); at all events, he took no 
 such steps to conceal his crime. 
 
 Another very weighty reason why he gave Isabella 
 the preference was, that she had no wealthy parents 
 who could feel themselves at liberty to assume a some- 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 143 
 
 what dictatorial tone in regard to their dear daughter's 
 affairs ; and, as he did not wish to resign the direction 
 of his own household, he concluded that Miss Gray's 
 pecuniary circumstances would not only obviate all 
 such inconveniences, but render her more submissive 
 to his will. 
 
 With such views, Mr. Brown remained unmoved 
 amid the fascinations by which he was surrounded ; 
 but he participated heartily in the gay frivolities of the 
 social multitude, and the period of his stay in the 
 balmy south sped by on pleasure's wings so impercep- 
 tibly, that, like a beautiful passing thought, it left the 
 mind peaceful and satisfied. 
 
 The first of May at length arrived, which period he 
 had appointed for his return north. All the arrange- 
 ments necessary for his departure the following week 
 by the steamer to New York had been made, except 
 the purchase of tickets and the selection of berths, 
 which he contemplated to make the business of the 
 morrow, when he was confounded and surprised by 
 the receipt of a letter from his attorney at Cincinnati, 
 requesting his immediate return. He stated that a 
 suit which had been long pending in relation to the 
 title of some property, was about to be decided, and, 
 as Mr. Brown's interest in it was an exceedingly heavy 
 one, he regarded it as of the utmost importance that 
 he should be present personally. " I hope," continued 
 the writer — " that I shall not be disappointed in seeing 
 you without delay, it being of the utmost importance 
 to success in my suit, that we have a personal inter- 
 
144- ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 view ; which will be impossible unless you come to me, 
 for at present I am unable to leave home." 
 
 Mr. Brown was not long in deciding that inclination 
 must yield to duty ; and, on the following morning, 
 instead of directing his steps toward the steamboat 
 ticket-office, to procure a passage by the next weekly 
 steamer to New York, he took an unceremonious leave 
 of his numerous agreeable acquaintances, and em- 
 barked on one of the fine steamers navigating the tur- 
 bid waters of the Mississippi river. 
 
 After the lapse of a few weeks spent at home, find- 
 ing that his interest in the property before mentioned 
 was secure, he again began to think of his New York 
 trip with increased interest ; and, it may be added, 
 with increased confidence of his ultimate success in 
 gaining the prize he sought. He had heard of the 
 death of Miss Gray's brother ; and he foresaw that 
 this loss must necessarily render her condition in life 
 not only dependant, but comparatively unprotected. 
 
 The day previous to the one on which he had deter- 
 mined to set out for New York, an obstacle to his 
 departure was presented, more formidable than any- 
 thing he had hitherto encountered. During the morn- 
 ing of that day he felt a langour pervade his whole 
 frame, accompanied with loss of appetite. Chills 
 coursed through his frame with the rapidity of light- 
 ning, shooting their clammy tremors to the extremi- 
 ties of every limb ; his head was seething hot, and 
 he became partially delirious ; in fact, he was seized 
 with a severe attack of fever, which so thoroughly pro3- 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 145 
 
 trated him that for many days he was in a perilous 
 condition. 
 
 Ten days did his fever rage without the slightest 
 mitigation, and so alarming were its ravages, that rea- 
 son was completely dethroned, and his recovery re- 
 garded as almost hopeless by his physician, who rarely 
 left his bedside. John, also, most admirably exhibited 
 his fidelity to his master, by constant watchfulness. — 
 On the tenth day a change took place, the fever sub- 
 sided, and the sick man lay for days as helpless as an 
 infant, which condition was more alarming to John 
 than the former stage of the disease. But the observ- 
 ant eye of his physician discovered cause to hope for 
 his gradual recovery. The disease had yielded to the 
 treatment — the invalid's reasoning faculties were again 
 restored ; and, as the physician carefully observed his 
 patient, he saw, day by day, and each succeeding hour, 
 increasing symptoms of returning health. 
 
 After Mr. Brown had become so far convalescent as 
 to be able to recline upon his sofa, and to obtain short 
 intervals of respite from his wearisome bed, he one day 
 thus addressed his servant, who at the time was dress- 
 ing his master's hair : 
 
 " Well, John ! I have had a hard time of it." 
 
 " Yes, massa — very." 
 
 " Did you think I wouldn't get well, John ?" 
 
 " To tell the truth, Mr. Brown, I was terribly fright- 
 ened after you stopped being so crazy." 
 
 "Why were you more frightened then, John ?" 
 
 " Oh, massa ! vou don't know how bad you looked, — 
 13 
 
146 ISABELLA GEAY. 
 
 you was just as weak as a little baby. But when you 
 was so crazy like, and talked so much, you didn't look 
 so very sick." 
 
 " What did I talk about, John?" 
 
 " You talked about almost everything ; but you 
 talked the most about a letter." 
 
 " A letter ! did I say what letter ?" 
 
 " No, massa. The doctor asked you one day whose 
 letter it was that troubled you so?" 
 
 " Did I tell him ? did I tell anybody whose letter it 
 was ?" 
 
 " No, massa ! I shouldn't never thought anything 
 about your crazy talk ; but the doctor said the letter 
 troubled you so much, that I had better talk with you, 
 and maybe you would tell me about it, and feel better. 
 But I wasn't going to ask massa to tell me anything 
 about his talk, that he didn't know nothing about his- 
 self." 
 
 " You are a good boy, John ; having been such a 
 good nurse to me, you shall be well paid for it when I 
 get well ; but you must never tell any thing of what I 
 said' when I was so deranged, — you are aware that I 
 did not know what I said." 
 
 " Oh no, massa ; I never shall. Nor I don't care 
 about pay, if you only get well." 
 
 " Did the doctor ask me many questions about the 
 letter ?" 
 
 "No, Mr. Brown, not hisself ; but he wanted me 
 to; but I didn't." 
 
 " That's right, John. Never trouble a sick person 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 147 
 
 by asking questions ; especially if they are deranged 
 and don't know what they are talking about." 
 
 The invalid was not so well for a few days following 
 the conversation with John. It proved to be only a 
 temporary relapse ; yet it was sufficient to convince 
 him that there were glimmerings of conscience still in 
 his breast. 
 
 Mr. Brown's extreme suffering did not seem to have 
 softened his heart ; but, on the contrary, he manifested 
 vexation and annoyance at his long delay, and worri- 
 ment at sight of his pale, emaciated face. More par- 
 ticularly did he regret the delay, for he feared that 
 it would lead to an exposition of his past misdeeds. 
 
 "I must go farther north," thought he, as he stood 
 one morning gazing at his pallid countenance in a 
 mirror ; " I'll go to Saratoga, and remain there until 
 cool weather. By that time, I shall be myself again." 
 
 The physician having been consulted, and his con- 
 sent obtained, Mr. Brown was as speedily located in 
 the " United States Hotel," at Saratoga, as the power 
 of steam could conveniently transport him thither. 
 
148 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 A CONVERSATION ON CARD PLAYING. 
 
 "Blest be the spot, where cheerful guests retire, 
 To pause from toil, and trim their evening fire !" 
 
 Oliver GddsmiC7i. 
 
 Isabella returned home, one excessively warm 
 morning, very well satisfied with the music lessons just 
 disposed of, but somewhat out of humor with the con- 
 finement of the heated city. She longed for green 
 fields and pure country air, with an ardor which those 
 alone can estimate who have been, for the first time in 
 their lives, deprived of their invigorating influence. 
 Although her health was apparently unimpaired, yet 
 she frequently suffered from a languid nervous debility, 
 to which she had been hitherto unaccustomed, and 
 which tended at times to enervate both body and 
 mind. Some days she suffered more than others, and 
 on this one she felt the depressing influence in an 
 unwonted degree. 
 
 After Biddy had responded to her ring, and opened 
 the street door, Isabella inquired if Mrs. Gray was still 
 in her own room. Obtaining an affirmative answer, 
 she desired the girl to bring her a glass of ice-water. 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 149 
 
 She felt anxious lest such close confinement should 
 exercise an injurious effect upon her mother's health, 
 and before she could refresh herself with a cooling 
 draught, and by a brief rest, her fancy depicted her 
 mother as already looking ill. The forebodings of 
 future trouble gathered and increased like clouds pre- 
 ceding a violent storm ; and her anxiety became so 
 great that, arising from the couch on which she had 
 vainly courted repose, she sought her mother's apart- 
 ment. 
 
 " Have you come, my dear ?" said Mrs. Gray, with- 
 out lifting her eyes from her paper, as she sat at the 
 table writing with great rapidity. 
 
 " Yes, mother," replied Isabella, as she seated her- 
 self in a very comfortable old chair, which was placed 
 on the opposite side of the table from where her mother 
 sat, — a place she was accustomed to occupy when in her 
 mother's apartment. " Have you been writing in this 
 manner all the morning ?" 
 
 "Yes," answered Mrs. Gray, still continuing to 
 write. 
 
 " Do, I beg of you, rest a little while, my dear 
 mother," said Isabella ; " for my sake, if not for your 
 own." 
 
 "In one moment, my dear," replied Mrs. Gray; 
 " I am just finishing my task." 
 
 Something like ten minutes elapsed, (during which 
 
 time the silence was unbroken, save by the noise of 
 
 the pen moving swiftly over the paper,) when Mrs. 
 
 Gray, laying her pen upon the table, and, leaning 
 
 13* 
 
150 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 back in her chair with a smile, and an expression of 
 satisfaction upon her countenance, said : 
 
 " There ; it is clone." 
 
 " What is done ? What have you been writing?" 
 asked her daughter. 
 
 " I have, as a little relaxation from my usual labors, 
 spent the morning in jotting down my views in regard 
 to card-playing." 
 
 "I know just what they are, ma," said Isabella; 
 " or rather, I should say that I know the principles on 
 which your views are based ; but I would be very much 
 pleased to read what you have written. May I?" she 
 continued, holding out her hand for the manuscript. 
 
 "Well, I don't know," said the mother, taking it up 
 and looking at it. " You have quite deranged my 
 plans." 
 
 "How so ?" asked her daughter. 
 
 "I intended you should see it first in print." 
 
 " Never mind, now ; I cannot wait for that," replied 
 Isabella, still holding out her hand, and with a be- 
 seeching look soliciting the privilege of perusing the 
 manuscript. 
 
 "Well, my dear," said Mrs. Gray, "you may read 
 it, upon these conditions." 
 
 " Name them," said the anxious petitioner. 
 
 " Oh, Isabella ! you are too ridiculous," said her 
 mother, laughing. " One would think, from your 
 eagerness, that you anticipated a sight of some great 
 production." 
 
 " j3o I do," said Isabella. " Do not, I beseech you, 
 
ISABELLA GRigi. 151 
 
 keep me in this state of torture ; I cannot endure it. 
 Come, let me have it, please," still extending her 
 hand. 
 
 "Well," said Mrs. Gray; "if you will sit there, 
 before me, you may read it aloud, if you will promise 
 not to make any criticisms until you have finished." 
 
 " I promise/' said Isabella, at the same time taking 
 the manuscript and reading aloud as follows, while 
 Mrs. Gray reclined in her chair, and listened atten- 
 tively : 
 
 " A CONVERSATION ON CARD-PLAYING. 
 
 "Ah! how do vou do, Mrs. Grimes?" said Mrs. 
 Sensible, as Mrs. Grimes and her son, a young man 
 about seventeen, were ushered into Mrs. Sensible's 
 drawing-room, one cold winter evening, after the shut- 
 ters had been closed, the curtains dropped, the gas 
 lighted, and the grate replenished with a good supply 
 of coals. "I am most happy to see you," she con- 
 tinued. " Now you have come to pass that long-pro- 
 mised sociable evening with us." 
 
 Mrs. Grimes was upon the point of answering in the 
 affirmative, when, observing in one part of the room a 
 table covered with cards and counters, apparently in 
 readiness for use, her purpose was suddenly changed. 
 
 " I am much obliged to you, Mrs. Sensible ; but it 
 will not be possible for me to remain this evening ; I 
 have only time for a short call." 
 
 " Oh, but I insist upon it," said Mr. Sensible, in his 
 usual cordial manner. 
 
152 Abella gray. 
 
 "Yes," added his wife, "You must lay aside your 
 cloak, for we have just got settled for a long, pleasant 
 winter evening ; and it is our delight to enjoy the 
 society of our friends during the evening." 
 
 Mrs. Grimes was so much charmed with the cheer- 
 ful appearance of all around her, but more particularly 
 with the cordial, warm-hearted hospitality of her friends, 
 that her resolution failed, notwithstanding the dread 
 she had ever entertained of exposing her son to the 
 temptations of a card-table ; and feeling confident that 
 they would not think of playing, on finding it was not 
 agreeable to their guests, her cloak, bonnet, and furs 
 were promptly laid aside. The conversation of Mrs. 
 Sensible's large family circle and their friends, soon 
 became as cheerful as the aspect of the illuminated 
 drawing-room. 
 
 "I believe," said Mr. Sensible, after having spent 
 some time in very agreeable conversation with his wife 
 and Mrs. Grimes, while the young people were enter- 
 taining themselves in their own way, " I have never 
 had the pleasure of a rubber with you, Mrs. Grimes. 
 We will have one now, if you have no objections." 
 
 " If you mean a game of cards, Mr. Sensible, you 
 must excuse my ignorance." 
 
 Certainly you can play a rubber of whist ? ' 
 
 " I never play cards," was the dignified answer. 
 
 " Ah ! I'm sorry for that. I wish you had induced 
 your husband to join us this evening ; he plays, if I 
 am not mistaken." 
 
 "Never!" replied Mrs. Grimes. 
 
 "No! I thought he did," said Mr. Sensible, at 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 153 
 
 the same time giving his wife a look, which seemed to 
 say " Grimes is deceiving her." 
 
 " No, Mr. Sensible, we do not play whist at our 
 house. I do not desire to have the sin of making my 
 son a gambler resting upon my conscience." 
 
 " Then I would advise you to play cards with him 
 at home, Mrs. Grimes." 
 
 " You do not pretend to tell me that you play cards 
 with your own children ?" said Mrs. Grimes, in con- 
 siderable amazement. 
 
 "Why, certainly," said Mr. Sensible. " We spend 
 a part of almost every evening in that amusement with 
 our children; unless we have company to join us in a 
 game, are otherwise entertained, or are engaged in 
 spending the evening elsewhere." 
 
 " Well !" said Mrs. Grimes, with an air of perfect 
 astonishment, " I had not the slightest idea that you 
 were such a worldly man, or that you brought up your 
 children in such gayety." 
 
 " Mrs. Grimes, allow me to tell you what my uni- 
 form practice is. I never attend to business during 
 the evening ; and I have made it a rule, ever since I 
 have been a married man, to spend my evenings as 
 much as possible with my family and friends, in the 
 cultivation of social enjoyment. I have always given 
 much time to the amusement of my children, and I 
 think myself a happier and a better man for so doing." 
 
 " I am very glad to see gentlemen fond of spending 
 their evenings at home, and making it pleasant for their 
 families ; I wish Mr. Grimes was more inclined to it. 
 But I should be very sorry if he should propose to 
 
154 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 have a whist table in my house ; it certainly would not 
 add to my happiness. He once said that he wished I 
 would learn to play cards, so that we could make our 
 evenings more cheerful ; but I then expressed my views 
 upon the subject so decidedly that I have not heard it 
 mentioned since. I wish, however, there was some 
 method by which I could induce Theodore to spend his 
 evenings at home. I am sorry to say that they are 
 quite too frequently passed abroad." 
 
 " I should think you would be afraid he would learn 
 to play cards among his associates," said Mrs. Sensible. 
 
 " Oh no, no fear of that ; for he is aware that it 
 would be a source of great grief to me. No ; I am 
 confident he cannot distinguish one card from another." 
 
 "I think you are mistaken," said Mr. Sensible; 
 " I only judge from his manner of shuffling the cards." 
 
 " What ; is he playing ? asked Mrs. Grimes — at the 
 same time looking round at the table placed in the 
 back part of the room in which she was sitting, and 
 around which the young people, having gathered un- 
 observed by her, were engaged in a spirited game of 
 whist. 
 
 The mother was rendered almost speechless on see- 
 ing her son, her only son, in whom she had placed the 
 most implicit confidence, engaged in playing cards ; an 
 amusement which she considered the most deleterious 
 to moral character, and second to no vice except the 
 practice of frequenting the theatre. 
 
 " Do you see what a good player he is ?" asked Mr. 
 Sensible. " He is taking all the tricks. You cannot 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 155 
 
 convince me that he is not accustomed to the game. 
 See how readily he handles the cards !" 
 
 "It cannot be!" exclaimed Mrs. Grimes, utterly 
 surprised, and half inclined to discredit the accuracy 
 of her own vision. " Where could he have learned 
 to play?" 
 
 The young persons were so intent upon the game, 
 and the remarks of the elderly people were made in 
 so low a tone, that the former did not observe that they 
 were the theme of conversation. 
 
 "There, Miss Sensible," said young Grimes, "we 
 are four by cards and two by honors ; and, with what 
 we have already, we count ten. We have won the 
 rubber." 
 
 "Why, Theodore, you are a first-rate player," said 
 young Sensible. " You have beaten us all. You must 
 play a great deal at home ; do you not ?" 
 
 "No, we never play ; that is, we never play in the 
 parlor. They play very often in the servants' hall. 
 The coachman and waiter are first-rate players ; and, 
 sometimes, when my mother thinks I am in my room 
 studying, I go down and take a hand with them. But 
 I more frequently play with my young associates 
 abroad. Several of us young fellows, who are not 
 allowed to play at home, meet quite frequently at a 
 place in the neighborhood, and have some very spirited 
 games." The enthusiasm with which the young man 
 expressed himself, plainly evinced his interest in the 
 use of cards. 
 
 " Take care that you do not get into the practice of 
 
156 
 
 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 laying silver on the table," said Miss Sensible, evi- 
 dently surprised at the development. 
 
 " Oh, no ; we hav'nt got to that yet. But I think 
 I could get my living very well with a pack of cards." 
 
 During the time that the young man was divulging 
 the secret of his clandestine card-playing, his mother 
 had turned her face from him ; but her attention was 
 given to the conversation, and, consequently, she was 
 compelled to listen to this very painful intelligence. 
 Mr. Sensible noticed her excited countenance, and con- 
 cluded that a storm was fast gathering, which would 
 burst upon the young man's head at the first oppor- 
 tunity which should be afforded her of procuring a 
 private interview with her son. Regarding her 
 views upon the subject of amusements as erroneous, 
 Mr. Sensible determined, in a spirit of kindness to tell 
 her so, before that interview could be obtained. He 
 thought he saw the error of the course, which was 
 leading the son of a very devoted mother into the 
 walks of immorality ; and he conscientiously desired to 
 give Mrs. Grimes his own views upon the subject, so 
 that she might be enabled to control the young man's 
 passion for card-playing, which had already made him 
 the slave of those twin vices — falsehood and deceit. 
 
 Mrs. Grimes, though a lady of strong prejudices, 
 was devoted to her family, and self-denying to a fault, 
 where their interests were concerned. So deeply was 
 the maternal feeling implanted in her breast, that, 
 should occasion require it, she would not hesitate to 
 expose her life for the protection of her only son, 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 157 
 
 Theodore, from those associations "which lead to the 
 formation of irregular or depraved habits. 
 
 "My dear," said Mr. Sensible, addressing his wife, 
 "you have not taken Mrs. Grimes into the library, to 
 see our pet improvement." 
 
 "No," answered the hostess; "but I will be most 
 happy to do so now, if she will join us." 
 
 Mr. Sensible immediately proffered his arm to Mrs. 
 Grimes, and asked her to accompany them into the 
 library. 
 
 " Not this evening, I think, Mr. Sensible," said Mrs. 
 Grimes. " I will reserve that pleasure for some future 
 visit. It is nearly time for me to return home, and I 
 fear that if I enter your library, I may forget the 
 hour, and linger too long." 
 
 " Oh, no; I will vouch for that," said Mr. Sensible. 
 " I am quite desirous of showing you my late improve- 
 ments." 
 
 Mrs. Grimes reluctantly accepted her host's arm, 
 and was passing with him out of the room, when he 
 remarked that there was really no occasion for haste, 
 that it was yet early, and the young people were enjoy- 
 ing themselves so well, that it would be a pity to inter- 
 rupt them. 
 
 So thought Mr. Sensible, but Mrs. Grimes, who 
 gazed automaton-like at the additional alcove attached 
 to the tastefully-arranged library, filled with valuable, 
 elegant and highly-ornamented books, was inclined to 
 differ with him in opinion. She looked at everything, 
 but answered only in monosyllables. She was too 
 much depressed in spirits, to appreciate a well-arranged 
 14 
 
158 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 library; but she endeavored to conceal her inward 
 emotion, for she felt that her friends could not sympa- 
 thize with her ideas regarding amusements. 
 
 Mr. Sensible, however, understood the varied work- 
 ings of the human mind too well, not to discover the 
 cause of this abstractedness ; and after exhibiting all 
 there was of interest in the room, he seated Mrs. 
 Grimes beside his wife, on a luxurious sofa, conve- 
 niently placed in front of the grate-fire, while he occu- 
 pied his study chair beside them. 
 
 Mrs. Grimes, apparently incapable of controlling 
 herself any longer, said, with a trembling voice, " This 
 has been an eventful evening to me. For the first time 
 in my life I have witnessed a game at cards. Before 
 this evening I would not have believed that I could com- 
 mit so indiscreet an act ; and then, to think how my 
 son has, in your presence, exposed his unparalleled 
 deception !" 
 
 " I hope," said Mrs. Sensible, " that in this instance 
 you will regard us as confidential friends. We are, 
 perhaps, most in fault, for we allowed your son to be 
 exposed to the temptation of playing, which has re- 
 sulted in disclosures that have given you much pain." 
 
 "I would not have thought," said Mrs. Grimes, 
 "that my son would have- been guilty of such decep- 
 tion, for he is so amiable, kind, and confiding. I would 
 almost have been willing to make oath that he knew 
 nothing of card-playing previous to his visit here this 
 evening." 
 
 " How very diversely do different persons regard 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 159 
 
 amusements," said Mr. Sensible ; " in that which I re- 
 gard as an innocent pastime, and as a means of relaxa- 
 tion and amusement, you seem to discover crime." 
 
 " Oh ! Mr. Sensible," exclaimed Mrs. Grimes, " you 
 cannot surely call that amusement innocent which tends 
 to engender one of the most formidable vices to which 
 young men fall victims — that of gambling ? It intro- 
 duces a youth into low company, and what is more 
 revolting than its effects ? I do assure you, Mr. Sen- 
 sible, that I am distressed beyond comparison at the 
 dicovery I have made this evening of my son's habit 
 of card-playing ; beside the additional mortification of 
 learning from his own lips that he has connived with 
 the servants to deceive me. It is really too great a 
 burthen for me to rest under;" and, rising from the 
 sofa in great agitation, she said decidedly, " I must go 
 home." 
 
 " As your friend, Mrs. Grimes," said Mr. Sensible, 
 " I beg you to be again seated, for a short time at least. 
 I desire a little conversation with you before you 
 leave." 
 
 " Well," said Mrs. Grimes, returning hurriedly to 
 the place where she had been sitting, and looking very 
 irresolute and discomposed, " if it is any thing com- 
 forting I will listen to it." 
 
 " There is no person," said Mr. Sensible, " who 
 would avoid gambling and its attendant consequences 
 more carefully than myself; nor is there a man living 
 who has a greater abhorrence for immorality in any 
 form. I feel particularly sensitive upon the subject. 
 
160 
 
 ISABELLA G RAY. 
 
 But, Madam, I consider the very best protection a 
 young man can obtain, is refined society and refined 
 amusements. That my remarks may not appear to 
 apply solely to the upper walks of life, I desire to add, 
 that there are doubtless many refined minds among the 
 less wealthy class, whose circumstances debar them 
 from access to that society in which refinement and high 
 intellectual cultivation are most usually sought. The 
 heads of every household should rigidly scrutinize the 
 associates of their youthful members, and bear in mind 
 that neither wealth nor rank most contribute to social 
 qualification. Young people must have amusements, or 
 they cannot be expected to develop agreeable and 
 high-toned characters; old people ought likewise to 
 have a greater share than they commonly obtain." 
 
 " I agree with you perfectly, Mr. Sensible, with re- 
 gard to the necessity of relaxation and diversion ; but 
 you must admit that there are other amusements be- 
 sides card-playing?" 
 
 " Most assuredly, very many of them. But you 
 must be aware that young people have a partiality for 
 games of chance ; and I know of none that is preferable 
 to whist. Chess is a far more intricate and intellectual 
 game, and I prefer it when in its proper place ; but it 
 has not the social advantages of whist. It is evident 
 to my mind that you magnify the importance of cards. 
 You are more strongly prejudiced against them than I am 
 in their favor ; but, so far as my own observation extends, 
 the moment you prohibit them, that moment you in- 
 crease their value tenfold to the prohibited party. 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 161 
 
 Now, I may be wrong and you may be right. Let us 
 compare notes. From your own remarks, as well as 
 those of your son, I infer your course of practice. I 
 will now detail to you our mode of operation. 
 
 " It is the custom of myself and wife to spend our 
 evenings very socially. After the active duties of the 
 day have been disposed of, if the evening is to be passed 
 at home, the parlor being well lighted and warmed, 
 my wife and daughters bring down their work or their 
 books, when my son and myself join the family circle, 
 ready for whatever may present, of interest, for re- 
 laxation, amusement, or intellectual enjoyment. In 
 one part of the room you will invariably see the card- 
 table or the chess-table — in another the ladies' work- 
 table, and also one well supplied with books, periodi- 
 cals, and daily papers ; seldom an evening passes 
 without the piano being used. All are ready for and 
 happy to receive company, if any chance to favor us 
 with their presence ; or, if dependent entirely on our 
 own resources for the means of enjoyment, we fre- 
 quently all join in the merry dance before the evening 
 closes. 
 
 " The whist table, which seems to you so abhorrent, is 
 not always resorted to; we much more frequently give 
 our attention to music, to books, or to social conversa- 
 tion. The card-table, however, is always prepared, 
 and those who desire to are at full liberty to play. 
 I should strictly prohibit gambling were I called upon 
 to do so ; but I am happy to say that my example has 
 prevented the necessity of any such decided measure. 
 14* 
 
162 
 
 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 My rule is, that if the game does not interest, socially 
 and intellectually, then let it give place to something 
 that combines these requisites. 
 
 "My parents," continued Mr. Sensible, "had a 
 strong prejudice against cards, and they endeavored to 
 engraft their ideas upon my mind ; but I think I must 
 have been a dull scholar, for I could not conscientiously 
 regard their use to be such a deadly sin as my parents 
 desired me to; and I resolved, while still a minor, that 
 if ever I lived to be my own master, I would make the 
 game of whist an innocent amusement. I think, Mrs. 
 Grimes, that I have succeeded very well ; not one of 
 my children are over fond of the game, and, from ob- 
 servation, I think none of them play as well as your 
 son." 
 
 " Well, Mr. Sensible," said Mrs. Grimes, who had 
 listened very attentively, her manner meantime gradu- 
 ally changing from a state of nervous excitement to 
 one of calm composure, " I am compelled in honesty to 
 acknowledge that you take a very natural view of the 
 subject. I have no doubt that if this conversation had 
 taken place at an earlier period, I should have been 
 spared the mortification that I have suffered this even- 
 ing. But, to say the truth, I have been imbued with 
 such strong prejudices against cards, that nothing could 
 induce me to be a spectator of a game of whist. I now 
 see my error, but never before. My husband has not 
 partaken of my prejudice, but, respecting my honesty 
 of purpose, he has of late almost entirely avoided speak- 
 ing on the subject. Thanks to you, Mr. Sensible, 
 I think I have now some overtures to make to him. 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 163 
 
 Promise me," she continued, arising from her seat 
 and giving each a hand, " that you will, together with 
 the young ladies and Mr. Frederick, allow us the plea- 
 sure of your company on Tuesday evening next ; and 
 you must not be surprised if you see the card-table." 
 
 "Excellent! capital! just the thing!" exclaimed 
 Isabella, as she finished reading. 
 
 " Do you think so ?" said her mother. 
 
 " Most certainly I do," replied the mother. 
 
 " I'll hear your criticisms now," said Mrs. Gray. 
 
 " I have none to offer. I would not change one 
 word. But, ma, what induced you to write upon that 
 subject ?" 
 
 " A desire to expose the errors that we frequently 
 meet with, both in principle and practice." 
 
 The mother and daughter continued the conversation 
 for a long time. The discussion of this question led to 
 the introduction of many other interesting and pleasing 
 topics connected with past days, which served agreeably 
 to divert the mind of Isabella, and to cause her to for- 
 get the gloomy forebodings which oppressed her when 
 she entered her mother's apartment. The mother was 
 also thereby incited to a continuance of those literary 
 efforts which had ever been congenial to her tastes ; and 
 her confidence was strengthened in the opinion that 
 such occupation would prove beneficial to her health, 
 by sustaining her drooping spirits. 
 
 i 
 
164 
 
 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 RENEWAL OF NEGOTIATIONS. 
 
 " I lost a damsel in that hour, 
 
 Of all the land the loveliest flower ; 
 Doubloons a hundred I would pay 
 And think her ransom cheap that day." 
 
 Lord Byron. 
 
 Mrs. Gray and her daughter had, on a cool, bracing 
 morning in the early part of the bright autumnal 
 season, just returned from a visit to Mrs. Montgomery, 
 who had recently returned to the city after a summer 
 residence in the country. Mrs. Gray repaired to her 
 chamber, there to pursue her pleasing daily task, while 
 Isabella remained in the parlor. It was a leisure day 
 with her, as she had no lessons to give, and, after lay- 
 ing aside her bonnet and shawl, she seated herself, with 
 book in hand, in a comfortable old arm chair, flattering 
 herself that she had before her a day of relaxation. 
 Presently she heard some one ring the door-bell; but, it 
 being about the usual hour for the grocer to call, her 
 attention was only momentarily diverted by it, and she 
 was soon again immersed in her book. Could Isabella 
 have been informed at the moment who the applicant 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 165 
 
 for admittance was, she would, doubtless, have directed 
 the maid to excuse her appearance on some one or other 
 of many pretexts. 
 
 Biddy, however, admitted the visitor, and opening 
 the parlor door called out, " Here's a gentleman, Miss 
 Gray." In her own peculiar manner she ushered in 
 Alexander Brown, Esq., much to the amazement of Isa- 
 bella, at the same time laying his card upon the table. 
 
 The surprise of Isabella beggars description. At 
 first she fancied her vision deceived her ; but when Mr. 
 Brown advanced and offered her his hand, there was 
 no room left to doubt that the gentleman standing be- 
 fore her was the identical handsome Mr. Brown, whom 
 she had no particular desire to lay eyes upon again. 
 
 Isabella remained seated, (her want of respect for 
 the man not permitting her to rise,) and requested her 
 visitor also to take a chair. This invitation was ac- 
 cepted, and Mr. Brown occupied a seat in front of 
 Isabella. He was in perfect health, and had never 
 looked better. As Isabella conversed with him, which 
 art he understood very well, she mentally acknowledged 
 him to be one of the most handsome men she had ever 
 beheld, and thought that if she could be permitted to 
 enjoy his society on the terms of a mere casual acquaint- 
 ance, it would be quite endurable. She had such a 
 high appreciation of beauty as to be compensated by it 
 alone in an occasional visitor ; and the long stay Mr. 
 Brown made, as well as his apparent desire to enter- 
 tain her upon general topics, induced her to hope that 
 such would be the character of their future intercourse. 
 
166 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 He had much to say and to communicate about dif- 
 ferent people, and in regard to events which had trans- 
 pired in Cincinnati since Isabella's departure from her 
 native city, which gave her an opportunity to make 
 many inquiries relative to friends who had escaped 
 her correspondent's notice. He also gave an elaborate 
 description of his winter's sojourn in New Orleans. 
 The longer he conversed the more egotistical he became ; 
 and Isabella was forced, contrary to her inclination, to 
 recognize in her visitor the identical, egotistical, con- 
 ceited, vain and empty-headed, though very handsome 
 and wealthy, Mr. Brown. 
 
 He had evidently endeavored to fascinate by his in- 
 telligent conversation, but failed to accomplish his ob- 
 ject, though he was not aware of that fact. At length 
 a pause occurring in the discourse, Mr. Brown rested 
 his elbow upon the table, and, supporting his head with 
 his hand, looked at Isabella. He crossed his pedal ex- 
 tremities, glanced at his patent leather boots, then at 
 Isabella, but remained silent. Isabella was more dis- 
 concerted and confused by his dumb gaze than was 
 usual with her under any circumstances, and she taxed 
 her brain for some topic which would form an agreea- 
 ble subject of conversation ; but, when about to speak, 
 her eyes rested on the silent gentleman who was look- 
 ing intently at her, and the words died upon her lips. 
 Feeling somewhat in a comic vein, she reclined in her 
 chair, rested her elbow on its arm, and supported her 
 head by her hand, in an attitude similar to that which 
 Mr. Brown had assumed. She thought, " Well, look 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 167 
 
 and be silent, if you enjoy it." A person of ordinary 
 penetration would have divined her thoughts from her 
 expression; but penetration was not a characteristic 
 of the handsome but brainless suiter for her hand. 
 
 After the parties had remained in this position for 
 some time, (Isabella's eyes being directed to the book 
 lying in her lap,) the silence was broken by the gen- 
 tleman, who said, in a languid and monotonous tone, 
 " Then your brother is dead, Miss Gray ?" 
 
 For a moment it seemed to Isabella almost sacrilege 
 that her brother's name should be mentioned at a time 
 when she was occupied with thoughts so foreign to his 
 memory. However, with her usual self-control, she 
 answered, " Yes, Mr. Brown." 
 
 " When first informed of his death, I proposed to 
 have been with you much sooner, (a chill ran through 
 Isabella's frame at the mention of death,) to offer you 
 my sympathies, and to tender, if necessary, any assist- 
 ance in my power to give. But a severe attack of illness 
 is my only -apology." 
 
 " Ah, indeed ! Have you been very ill, Mr. Brown ?" 
 asked Isabella, in a tone of voice which seemed to evince 
 an interest, but which was evidently caused by the con- 
 versation becoming personal. 
 
 " Very," answered the gentleman, his head still rest- 
 ing on his hand, and his eyes on Miss Gray ; " very 
 ill, indeed. I thought at one time, Miss Gray, that it 
 was very doubtful whether I should ever behold you 
 again." 
 
 " It is exceedingly annoying to be compelled to defer 
 
168 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 a journey on account of illness. But you now appear 
 to be in such perfect health (Mr. Brown bowed an 
 acknowledgment to what he was eager to construe 
 into a compliment) that the pleasure you derive from 
 traveling will doubtless be enhanced by your past con- 
 finement. So you see, Mr. Brown," continued Isa- 
 bella, playfully, " that your disagreeble detention is 
 not without its advantages." 
 
 "It is not traveling that I most desire," said Mr. 
 Brown. 
 
 "Ah, indeed! I supposed you were very fond of it," 
 replied Isabella. 
 
 " No, Miss Gray ; I care but little for traveling. I 
 much prefer a quiet home, or should if I possessed one 
 worthy the name. My taste decidedly favors the com- 
 forts and enjoyments of domestic life. However, for 
 the present it is sufficient happiness for me to be 
 here." 
 
 "Yes," replied Miss Gray, " I have no doubt you 
 will enjoy it exceedingly. The autumn is truly the 
 most pleasant season of the year to visit New York." 
 
 " The city does not present any strong attractions for 
 me, Miss Gray. On the contrary, I feel but little con- 
 cern about my location, so that I am afforded an op- 
 portunity of extending that sympathy and kindness to 
 my friends which my heart dictates." 
 
 "Then you have friends in the city?" inquired 
 Isabella. 
 
 "I should be very sorry to doubt it," was Mr. 
 Brown's answer, who endeavored to express by his 
 countenance the tender emotions of his heart. 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 169 
 
 "I think I can sympathize -with you, Mr. Brown," 
 said Isabella. (" Ah !" thought he, " I have touched 
 the right chord tfiis time ; she says she can sympa- 
 thize with me.") "There is, no doubt, much enjoy- 
 ment to be derived from the society of our friends at 
 all times ; but more particularly when we have an 
 opportunity of extending assistance to them in seasons 
 of trouble, and especially when they are in ill health. 
 I have, of late, frequently ministered to the comfort of 
 a sick friend, to whom I have become much attached." 
 
 "Ah, indeed I" exclaimed Mr. Brown, I suppose 
 some person who has won your affections?" 
 
 " There is no doubt of that, Mr. Brown, or I should 
 not have expressed myself so frankly," said Isabella, 
 in a cool, but dignified manner. 
 
 " I admire your candor in so readily acknowledging 
 your attachment," was the reply. 
 
 "Perhaps I have been too candid," said Isabella. 
 "But you know that the dictates of the heart some- 
 times induce us to make disclosures beyond the limits 
 of sound discretion, which I fear I may have already 
 done." 
 
 Mr. Brown thought he discovered a blush upon the 
 speaker's face, and fancying that it was a true index 
 to her heart's emotions, he relapsed into his silent 
 mood, which Isabella enjoyed much more than before; 
 for at that critical period, every moment of time to 
 her was laden with importance, as she saw unmistak- 
 able evidences that another matrimonial negotiation 
 was contemplated, and her efforts were directed to 
 15 
 
170 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 warding it off by the employment of idle words, and 
 by encouraging long pauses in the conversation, in the 
 hope that her mother might accidentally enter the 
 parlor, and cause a favorable diversion. 
 
 Mr. Brown, though still continuing his fixed gaze, 
 broke the silence by inquiring, " Could I be favored 
 with the name, Miss Gray ?" 
 
 " What name?" asked Isabella. 
 
 "The name of the individual who is blessed with 
 your affections," replied the gentleman. 
 
 " Mr. Brown, I am not quite certain that it would 
 be discreet," said Isabella, hesitatingly. ''Perhaps I 
 had better be a little more cautious and reserved than 
 my natural impulse inclines me to." 
 
 " The present is not an opportune time to commence 
 that discipline, Miss Gray, if I may be allowed the 
 privilege of expressing an opinion, for you have already 
 disclosed the existence of your attachment." 
 
 "I think, Mr. Brown, you are correct," replied 
 Isabella. "But I can only divulge the name re- 
 quested, upon the condition that you give me a promise 
 not to raise a point of honor with the said person?" 
 
 "Miss Gray, that depends somewhat upon who the 
 person is, and whether their health will admit of it ; 
 as you have already informed me that the individual 
 is an invalid." At that moment, however, he had less 
 dread of hearing the name of some suffering invalid, 
 than that the said invalid should prove to be Robert 
 Williams, returned from the land of gold, with broken 
 health. The "green-eyed monster," almost confirmed 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 171 
 
 him in his surmise that the object of Miss Gray's 
 solicitude was none other than the object of his abhor- 
 rence, and that Isabella was daily administering to the 
 restoration of the prostrate health of him on whom she 
 had bestowed her heart. 
 
 "No; that will never do, Mr. Brown," said Isa- 
 bella, quite amused, while Mr. Brown was suffering all 
 the tortures which jealousy and guilt combined can 
 create. " You shall give me a promise, which must be 
 conscientiously, faithfully, and dispassionately reflect- 
 ed upon before it is given ; one that I can rely upon, 
 or I shall not. divulge the name. 
 
 "Very well," said the anxious gentleman, "I grant 
 the promise." 
 
 "I am afraid you have not reflected upon it," ob- 
 jected Isabella. 
 
 " Yes, Miss Gray, I have," replied Mr. Brown. " I 
 make you a conscientious, sincere promise, that I will 
 not raise a point of honor — which I understand implies 
 that I will not measure paces — with the gentleman." 
 
 "But you mistake my meaning, Mr. Brown," re- 
 joined Isabella, "I said nothing about a gentleman !" 
 
 " No !" exclaimed the suitor. 
 
 " Certainly not," replied the young lady. 
 
 " Ha, ha ! Miss Gray ; ha, ha ! I owe you one," 
 said Mr. Brown, evidently much relieved, while Isa- 
 bella mentally repeated "I owe you one:" an expres- 
 sion of disgust passing over her countenance on hearing 
 a suitor for her hand use such a slang term. But it 
 was soon dispelled by the thought that a man's true 
 
172 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 character will never fail to exhibit itself, however strict 
 may be the watch kept over it. Her countenance 
 again resumed an expression of indifference, while Mr. 
 Brown continued the conversation by saying, "Pray 
 do not keep me any longer in ignorance of the name 
 that has afforded us so much pleasantry, which I am to 
 infer is a lady's." 
 
 . " I alluded to Mrs. Montgomery, our rector's wife, 
 who is fast sinking in a decline, and to whom I have 
 become much attached on account of her many estima- 
 ble qualities," answered Isabella. She did not impart 
 the information to Mr. Brown for the purpose, or with 
 the expectation, of increasing his interest in her friend's 
 health. It was done more with the view of killing 
 time by the use of words. 
 
 Fearing that Isabella's tact in conversation miVht 
 altogether divert him from his purpose, if he allowed - 
 her to take the lead, the wife-hunter determined to no 
 longer delay, but at once to put himself upon what he 
 considered the right track, and by making steady and 
 undeviating advances, he thought the object of his pur- 
 suit would, instead of retreating, turn and greet him 
 with a grateful welcome. 
 
 " Are you aware, Miss Gray, that I have made this 
 long journey from Cincinnati on purpose to visit you, 
 and again to entreat you to listen to my proposition of 
 marriage, which I am unwilling to believe has been 
 hitherto sincerely and decidedly refused?" 
 
 "I regret exceedingly, Mr. Brown," said Isabella, 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 173 
 
 " that you have put yourself to the inconvenience of 
 making a long journey on my account." 
 
 "I beg pardon, Miss Gray," replied the suitor; 
 " that remark was made to exhibit my readiness to 
 make personal sacrifices, in the hope of obtaining favor 
 with you." 
 
 "You have asked a question," continued Isabella, 
 not appearing to heed his apology, " that, with a little 
 reflection, you could yourself best answer. The idea 
 that I could be aware of such a proceeding on your 
 part is entirely at variance with any supposition of my 
 own as to your course, based upon a recollection of our 
 past interviews. That I should have the vanity to 
 believe, for one moment, that you entertained such a 
 feeling of interest for one with whom you have had 
 but a very limited acquaintance, is certainly not very 
 probable." 
 
 "But," urged Mr. Brown, "you know that short 
 acquaintances often most rapidly mature into life-long 
 friendships'." 
 
 Isabella thought it the best remark she had ever 
 heard from his lips, but she replied, " That, Mr. Brown, 
 depends entirely upon congeniality of character." 
 
 "It does somewhat, no doubt," he replied; "but, 
 in the absence of that quality, which, as I understand 
 you ladies, means the possession of equal literary 
 acquirements — a certain degree of refinement, which 
 you are not warranted in expecting to meet with in our 
 sex, — are there not other compensating qualifica- 
 tions?" 
 
 15* 
 
174 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 " I know of none," said Isabella. " We might differ 
 as to the meaning of the term ; but, in any light in 
 •which it may be viewed, congeniality of tastes and 
 character must form the basis of a happy union." 
 
 Mr. Brown, still confident of success, resolved now 
 to urge the advantages which would accrue from an 
 acceptance of his proposals. He therefore said, "Miss 
 Gray, it is not discreet for two persons to enter rashly 
 into a matrimonial alliance, of which they may repent 
 when their fate is fixed and unalterable. Too many 
 are blinded by a passion which they call love, w T hen 
 very frequently it is found to be mere fancy. Upon 
 entering into an arrangement in which our future pros- 
 pects are involved, is it not more discreet for us, as 
 intelligent beings, to carefully look to those pecuniary 
 considerations on which depend our future ease and 
 comfort?" 
 
 " Those inducements may influence some persons," 
 was Isabella's indifferent and chilling reply. 
 
 "May I not hope," urged the suitor, " that they 
 will have some influence with you, in deciding my own 
 proposition?" 
 
 " Pardon me, Mr. Brown ; pecuniary advantages 
 can have no weight w r ith me in choosing a partner for 
 life — I cannot barter my future happiness for base 
 pelf." 
 
 "Ah!" exclaimed Mr. Brown, "you may think so 
 now, Miss Gray ; but I hope to give you different views." 
 
 "I beg you will not flatter yourself, Mr. Brown," 
 she replied; " you must have already observed my firm- 
 ness of character/' 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 175 
 
 "Ha! that's nothing in matrimonial affairs, Miss 
 Gray ; we expect to be refused some half dozen times." 
 
 "Indeed! is that your expectation?" said Isabella. 
 "We -will see how far you have progressed. One, 
 two, this makes three refusals," she continued, jest- 
 ingly. " Allow me to congratulate you upon such a 
 respectable progress." 
 
 " But please, Miss Gray, do not tantalize me," said 
 the gentleman, deprecatingly. 
 
 "By no means," replied the fair tormentor, " I have 
 only aided you in defining your position." 
 
 " I thank you," said Mr. Brown, bowing low ; " but, 
 Miss Gray," he continued, "let me come to the point 
 in question. I am here, as I before told you, for the 
 sole purpose of renewing my petition for your hand. 
 My repeated efforts to secure it ought of themselves to 
 be sufficient proof of my sincerity." 
 
 " That you have renewed your addresses, Mr. 
 Brown," replied the lady, " is to me a matter of great 
 surprise, conscious as I am of never having extended 
 to you the least encouragement. "Were it otherwise, I 
 should most deeply regret that there is still existing a 
 reason for my declination of your proposals." 
 
 " What is that reason ?" inquired Mr. Brown. 
 
 " It is comprised in a very short sentence, which 
 your own discernment may elucidate." 
 
 " Is it the disparity of circumstances ?" 
 
 " No!" said Isabella, indignantly ; " it is simply that 
 I do not love you." 
 
 " Ah ! Miss Gray," said Mr. Brown, (as he dropped 
 
176 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 upon his knees at Isabella's feet, and rested his hand 
 upon the arm of the chair. He was well nigh driven 
 to despair, for the contents of his letter to Mr. Wil- 
 liams, and the recollection of the one which he had 
 destroyed, flitted across his mind, nerving him to an 
 act which he regarded as the most effectual means of 
 success — that of prostrating himself at his fair one's 
 feet,) " pledge me this hand, (attempting unsuccess- 
 fully to take her hand,) and your reward shall be 
 myself, my wealth, my all ! My dear Miss Gray, 
 grant me this one request," he exclaimed, in such rap- 
 turous strains as almost to induce Isabella to doubt his 
 sanity. 
 
 " It cannot be," she replied ; " I cannot grant your 
 request, Mr. Brown. I beg you will rise." 
 
 "Never, never," said he, "until I have gained the 
 prize I seek. No, never, until I hear you promise 
 that you will be mine." 
 
 " Again I assure you that you never can obtain such 
 a promise." 
 
 "Torture me not, but grant me one ray of hope," 
 was the vehement reply. 
 
 Isabella becoming almost alarmed at seeing a man 
 suing for her hand whose soul was almost devoid of 
 tender emotions, and suing in such a determined, 
 resolute manner, replied with great firmness, " Mr. 
 Brown, for the last time I tell you that your suit is 
 altogether useless, and I insist that you rise from your 
 present posture immediately." 
 
 " Never, never, Miss Gray, without your promise," 
 exclaimed Mr. Brown. 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 177 
 
 Isabella attempted to rise for the purpose of calling 
 her mother, but Mr. Brown placed his other hand upon 
 the opposite arm of her chair, and thus prevented her 
 from accomplishing her object. Her chair, fortunately, 
 being mounted on castors, she propelled it suddenly 
 backwards to the distance of some feet, and thus 
 prostrated Mr. Brown on all fours much more suddenly 
 than did his tight-fitting garments enable him to re- 
 cover himself. 
 
 Just at this critical period Mrs. Gray opened the 
 parlor door, and with astonishment saw the gentleman 
 prostrate on the floor ; but she retreated without dis- 
 covering herself to any but her daughter. 
 
 " Come in, ma," exclaimed Isabella; but the request 
 was not responded to. 
 
 Mr. Brown having recovered himself, said : " Miss 
 Gray you have insulted a gentleman, and now I warn 
 you to look to the consequences." His bland smiles 
 had given place to an expression of countenance more 
 easily imagined than described. Though still human, 
 it bore a very diabolical impress. 
 
 " Sir, I regard myself as the one insulted," said 
 Isabella, indignantly. " You have taken advantage of 
 my helpless condition to press you* suit in a manner 
 unbecoming a gentleman, for what purpose I am not 
 aware. But this much I do know, that your conduct has 
 never given the slightest evidence of correct principles. 
 I now request you for the last time to leave my pre- 
 sence forever." 
 
 " A needless request, Miss Gray, but one that will 
 
178 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 reap its sure reward," said he, in a taunting, significant 
 manner. He then left Isabella's presence, to plan the 
 revenge which he meditated for his keen disappoint- 
 ment. As he gave Isabella a last diabolical glance, it 
 would have been difficult for her to trace a resemblance 
 between the person leaving and the individual who had 
 entered the room some time previously. 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 179 
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 THE EXPLANATION. 
 
 " There's a hope for every woe, and a balm for every pain." 
 
 H. Gilfdlan. 
 
 As soon as Isabella was released from the presence 
 of the man who had assumed the character of a perse- 
 cutor rather than that of a lover, she immediately 
 sought her mother's room. She was much agitated by 
 her recent encounter, and the moment her eyes met 
 her mother's inquiring glance, she exclaimed, in an 
 excited voice and manner — 
 
 " I believe I have, at last, effectually released my- 
 self from my tormentor." 
 
 " You seem agitated, my dear," said her mother, 
 quietly. 
 
 " You will not be surprised at that," replied Isabella, 
 " when I describe to you the interview just terminated. 
 That man Brown is a perfect enigma ; I cannot under- 
 stand him." 
 
 "Ah!" exclaimed Mrs. Gray, " have you had an- 
 other visit from Mr. Brown ?" 
 
 " Yes ; and I believe it will be the last." 
 
180 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 " I should think so, if you remain unmoved by the 
 attitude in which I saw him." 
 
 " I cannot comprehend the man's conduct," Isabella 
 replied. " He seems resolved to marry me, without 
 any regard whatever to my wishes. But I think I 
 have put an effectual damper on his hopes this time." 
 
 Isabella then related the incidents of his visit, and 
 explained the scene of which her mother was partially 
 a witness. 
 
 "'Tis very remarkable," said Mrs. Gray; "and, 
 from my personal observation, I regard it as an uncom- 
 mon occurrence for a gentleman to press his suit with 
 so much^ardor ; but, that Mr. Brown should have made 
 advances to you in the first place, is still more remark- 
 able, as your acquaintance with him was very slight." 
 
 " That is what I have always thought," replied Isa- 
 bella. " It would appear that he has taken a fancy 
 that I would make him a good wife, and that he has 
 undertaken to force my consent to the arrangement, 
 without first winning me." 
 
 " His views in regard to winning a wife are quite 
 evident," said Mrs. Gray. "Laboring under a very 
 common delusion, he thinks that his all-powerful wealth, 
 added to his good looks, render him so irresistible, that, 
 like Richlieu, he need never say fail. We must ac- 
 knowledge, that in his person nature has been bounti- 
 ful to the outward man." 
 
 "It is great pity she had not been more lavish upon 
 his intellectual development," added Isabella. 
 
 " Better exclaim, it is a pity that society is not more 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 181 
 
 honest than to nourish conceit with its most palatable 
 diet, until it loathes a more healthful aliment. That 
 man has been opposed, probably, for the first time in 
 his life, and you must be on your guard. You cannot 
 trust in his honor under such circumstances. A dor- 
 mant spirit of mischief may be aroused, unexpectedly 
 to himself, which will convert him into a fiend. You 
 cannot confidently rely on such an individual, either 
 male or female. Such an one acknowledges no other 
 master than self, and yields to no other influence than 
 impulse." 
 
 " I don't fear him," said Isabella. 
 
 "Perhaps not," replied her mother ; " but you say 
 that he has warned you to beware of his revenge ?" 
 
 " Yes ; but he was angry then. He will feel other- 
 wise when he has time to reflect." 
 
 " I would not set too high a value on his powers of 
 reflection." * 
 
 " Nor would I," said Isabella, " upon an abstract 
 subject. But I cannot do any man the injustice to 
 believe for one moment that he would seek to revenge 
 himself upon a helpless female, merely because she did 
 not think it expedient to marry him. Besides, what 
 can he do ? He need not flatter himself that I will 
 yield to the sixth proposal. Never ! never ! Mr. Brown ! 
 It is useless to assert that I do not want money ; I 
 honestly confess that I feel every day that its posses- 
 sion would minister toward the gratification of the 
 tastes for which I am indebted to you and my dear 
 father ; I have also other and more urgent reasons for 
 16 
 
182 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 desiring wealth — one of which is, that you might be 
 thereby released from the drudgery of literary labor." 
 
 " Do not let that disturb you, daughter. My labors 
 are like ' dew upon the dry land ;' they once again re- 
 vive the joyous hopefulness of youth in my seared and 
 sterile heart. Like the beacon-light to the mariner — 
 my task is always hailed with pleasure." 
 
 " Ah ! my dear mother," said Isabella, with a quiv- 
 ering lip and tear-bedimmed eye, "how kind you are, 
 thus to endeavor to soothe my frequently overburdened 
 mind. Notwithstanding, I sometimes feel that I would 
 cheerfully lay down my life, were it necessary, to in- 
 sure an easier one for you. But," she continued, shaking 
 her head, " I cannot marry for it ; no, never !" 
 
 A pause ensued, which was unbroken for some time. 
 Mrs. Gray was too much impressed with her daughter's 
 expressions of devoted attachment, to trust herself to 
 speak, and Isabella relapsed into a reverie, the subject 
 of which, judging from the subjoined remarks, was 
 Mr. Brown's conduct ; the excitement caused by his 
 visit not having as yet subsided. 
 
 " There is one peculiarity in the man's conduct which 
 altogether baffles my comprehension, and that is, how 
 he can expect a lady to be won by such treatment. 
 However, that matters but little in my case ; for he 
 could not win me, were he ten times as handsome, or 
 did he possess twice the wealth." 
 
 " Those are noble principles, Isabella," said Mrs. 
 Gray, " and it rejoices my heart to hear you give them 
 expression. They do you great honor, and your re- 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 183 
 
 ward must necessarily follow, sooner or later. It may 
 not take the form of wealth ; but I am cheered with 
 the belief that such virtue ever has its reward. How- 
 ever, I do not altogether relinquish the hope of again 
 enjoying affluence." 
 
 "I fear you are deceiving yourself," said Isabella. 
 " It is well to cherish hope ; but I would prefer having 
 some tangible basis for it." 
 
 " I think we have good grounds for such a view of 
 the future. Suppose I succeed as an authoress, and 
 you as a teacher ? We can thus very soon accumulate 
 a competency." 
 
 " When we have succeeded in establishing a reputa- 
 tion in our different avocations," still objected Isabella, 
 "we can better determine upon the future." 
 
 " We should cherish a living hope," replied Mrs. 
 Gray, " and with persevering industry, it is impossible 
 to say what may be the results." 
 
 " I am afraid you will not succeed as an authoress," 
 said Isabella. " Not that I have fears regarding your 
 merits as a writer, but the effort necessary to place the 
 first works of an author fairly before the public, is very 
 considerable ; and, if I am correctly informed, requires 
 influential aid." 
 
 " I shall soon be able to test the merits of my lite- 
 rary efforts," replied her mother. 
 
 " I am very impatient to see the manuscript of your 
 book ; when will it be finished ? " inquired Isabella. 
 
 " In a very few days," answered her mother. 
 
 " Cannot you tell me something about it ? " 
 
184 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 " Of course I can," said Mrs. Gray, " but I would 
 rather 'not. I prefer placing it in your hands when 
 finished ; I should then have greater confidence in your 
 criticisms." 
 
 " You do not surely design that I shall criticise your 
 work?" 
 
 " Why not, my dear ? " inquired Mrs. Gray. 
 
 " A daughter cannot criticise a mother's writings," 
 said Isabella, " it is not possible ; the existing sympa- 
 thy is too great ; besides partiality will blind the child 
 to the faulty style of the parent." 
 
 "But that feeling must be overcome," remarked 
 Mrs. Gray ; " I have confidence in your taste, and I 
 am satisfied that your criticism will be honest and faith- 
 ful." 
 
 " Well, of course I shall do my best," said Isabella; 
 u but, for the present, suppose we take a walk in the 
 fresh air ? I desire to procure some new music for my 
 pupils. To-morrow I give lessons, and Ernestine Lin- 
 coln deserves a new piece ; she is making fine progress 
 in her music. She is a fine girl, and it is a great pity 
 that her mother is not more refined." 
 
 Mrs. Gray having consented to join her daughter in 
 a walk, they were very soon threading their way amid 
 the busy throng. 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 185 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE TEMPTER PREVAILS. 
 
 Base man ! When thou hast hurled 
 Thy poison'd dart upon thy helpless victim ; 
 Go hide in some dark, solitary cave ; 
 And cease to call thyself a man. 
 Helpless ! not so. The God of Heaven 
 Bends low to hear her burden'd sigh ; 
 And with the speed of lightning's play, 
 Sends forth her Guardian Angels to attend 
 And save her from the 'vengeful*blow. 
 
 Should any of our readers, after perusing the 
 details of Mr. Brown's last visit to Isabella, be dis- 
 posed to regard it as an overdrawn picture, we beg they 
 will recall to mind many events in their own lives, which 
 attest the soundness of the axiom that " truth is 
 stranger than fiction." The motives that prompt the 
 action of a selfish individual, are frequently strange 
 and unfathomable to persons actuated by more elevated 
 and generous impulses. 
 
 Who is there to oppose or thwart the desires of a 
 vain and selfish man of leisure ? Who will undertake 
 to breathe into his ear a single word, which shall mili- 
 16* 
 
186 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 tate against the idol of self, at whose shrine he wor- 
 ships ? Woe be to him who attempts it, and woe to 
 the party who may chance to interpose an obstacle 
 between such a man, and the darling hopes he may 
 cherish. 
 
 Wealth too frequently removes its possessor to a 
 fearful distance from healthful criticism. He finds 
 himself the subject of general admiration ; all that he 
 does and says is applauded ; and everything which he 
 possesses is regarded as tending to elevate him above 
 the mass of his fellow-men. The secret whisperings 
 of envy, and the just criticisms of observant friends 
 are equally lost to him — they never reach his ears. 
 Such a man passes through life without leaving any 
 impress upon the societary record. It was not merely 
 the possession of wealth which fostered selfishness to 
 such a deleterious extent in the mind of Mr. Brown ; 
 it was the personal homage and deference which his 
 riches never failed to secure him. Man prides himself 
 upon his ability to detect the flattery of the sycophant ; 
 yet, the delicious cup is too frequently drained to the 
 bottom, without pausing to note that self is reflected 
 in the draught. 
 
 Immediately after leaving Isabella, Mr. Brown, with 
 rapid stride, and unmindful of surrounding objects, 
 sought his lodgings at the Astor House. He must 
 now relinquish his long cherished hopes, and resign 
 the coveted prize for the possession of which he had 
 bartered his honor. Had he not committed that first 
 fatal error in uttering a falsehood, had he not, actuated 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 187 
 
 by the frantic impulses of bitter revenge, destroyed 
 Mr. Williams' letter, he would long since have forgot- 
 ten Miss Gray. 
 
 " Fool that I was," thought he, when he had reached 
 his own room, closed the door, and thrown himself on 
 a lounge in front of the fire; "yes; fool that I was, 
 to imagine, for one moment, that I could conquer such 
 a proud, intellectual, cold-hearted beauty. I would 
 like to have had the knot once tied; she- would then 
 have learned who would be master. But she shall yet 
 be taught that lesson ; for I will have my revenge. I 
 must now, however, turn my attention to another dis- 
 agreeable subject. Ere long Mr. Williams will pro- 
 bably turn up, and make search for his long-cherished 
 idol : Then there will be an inquiry about that letter ? 
 and it will be asked why I am not married ? As a 
 necessary result, the engagement that I have so confi- 
 dently announced will be denied, together with all of 
 
 that d d stuff, which will drive me mad." Rising, 
 
 he paced hurriedly up and down the room, and as he 
 did so, he ran his fingers through his hair, thereby 
 giving himself more the appearance of a maniac than 
 of a beauty. While in this state of excitement he was 
 startled by a knock at his door. 
 
 "Come in," he called out in an unusually loud 
 voice. 
 
 One. of the waiters belonging to the hotel entered 
 and handed him a card. 
 
 "Ah, McPherson !" said Mr. Brown, looking at the 
 
188 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 card with a scowl. " I can't see him ; tell him I am 
 not at home." 
 
 " The gentleman's very anxious to see you, sir. 
 This is his second call within a few hours." 
 
 "Well; what if it is?" was the rejoinder. "Who 
 knows it is his second call?" 
 
 "I do, sir ; there's the other card," said the waiter, 
 pointing to the table. 
 
 " Oh ! the d 1 it is !" exclaimed Mr. Brown, 
 
 taking it up and looking at it, and then at the image 
 of himself, reflected in the mirror directly opposite. 
 He was apparently unconscious that his excitement 
 was perceptible from his outward appearance. " Does 
 he know that I am at home ?" 
 
 " Not positively. "He said, however, that he would 
 wait in the reading-room until you returned, for he 
 must see you." 
 
 " Show him up, — show him up," was the reply. 
 After the servant had left the room, the excited man 
 endeavored to compose himself, in order that he might 
 meet his visitor calmly. He brushed his hair, straight- 
 ened his collar, pulled down his vest, and coaxed his 
 features into a meaningless smile ; indeed, he began 
 to feel that he was once more the handsome Mr. 
 Brown, when the door opened, and his visitor was 
 announced. 
 
 "Ah, how do you do, Mr. Brown?" " How do you 
 do, Mr. McPherson?" were the mutual salutations. 
 
 "This is an unexpected pleasure Mr. McPherson," 
 said Mr. Brown, as the gentlemen seated themselves 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 189 
 
 upon the sofa. " I had not anticipated meeting you 
 here, although, I must say I had a secret hope of 
 doing so." 
 
 "It is not a greater or a more unexpected pleasure 
 to yourself than to me," replied Mr. McPherson. 
 
 " Have you been long here ?" 
 
 " No ; I'm only here for a little relaxation from the 
 pleasures and excitement of my summer sojourn at 
 Newport." 
 
 " Where do you stop ?" 
 
 " At the St. Dennis. It was merely by accident 
 that I learned you were here. I was taking a stroll 
 down town this morning, when it occurred to me to 
 drop in and look at the register of this house, and by 
 doing so I discovered your name. When did you 
 arrive i 
 
 " Only a day or two since." 
 
 " How have you been since we last met ? I have 
 been expecting to hear of your marriage. Has the 
 happy event taken place without my knowledge ?" 
 
 "Not exactly; I do not intend to resign my liberty 
 quite so easily." 
 
 " Then the letter which agitated you so much was 
 unfavorable ? Ha, ha ! I have often thought of that 
 letter, Brown." 
 
 " I do not see the necessity for your inference. I 
 only say that I prefer liberty," replied Mr. Brown, in 
 a somewhat reserved manner. 
 
 " My friend, allow me to give you a word of advice," 
 said Mr. McPherson. 
 
190 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 " Certainly, I am always open for a friendly sug- 
 gestion." 
 
 " 'Tis time you were married. And I can tell you 
 where to find a lady who will just suit you." 
 
 " Ah, indeed ! But why do you consider it so im- 
 portant that I should marry ? It cannot be on account 
 of my age. You do not call a man old at thirty ? 
 
 " No ; your age is just right. That is one argu- 
 ment against delay. The longer marriage is post- 
 poned, the more difficult will you be to please, and the 
 less likely will yourself and spouse be to assimilate 
 when married. I speak from experience as to the 
 difficulty of selecting. I was engaged when a youth 
 to a lovely girl, who died just on the eve of our in- 
 tended marriage, and I have seen no one since who 
 quite realizes my ideas of a wife for myself, but many 
 who would make good wives for others. I am very 
 domestic in my tastes and inclinations, and would 
 prefer matrimony, but I find the longer marriage is 
 deferred, the more remote is the prospect of its final 
 accomplishment. But why should you delay; who 
 have a fortune with which to support a wife's passion 
 for shopping, as well as all the elegant extravagances 
 in which the dear creatures must be indulged ? I say, 
 such a good looking man as you, (giving Mr. Brown a 
 familiar tap on the shoulder) should not be living a 
 lonely life in a hotel." 
 
 " I'm in no hurry, Mr. McPherson ; not the least. 
 But w T ho is this lady you recommend so highly? 
 
 " Oh yes — it is a lady who but I think I will 
 
 not tell you, Brown." 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 191 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " Tell me first how you would like to marry a music 
 teacher?" asked Mr. McPherson, looking Mr. Brown 
 steadily in the face. 
 
 The latter gentleman had at that moment no know- 
 ledge of any music teacher but Miss Gray, as he had 
 been informed by herself that such was her occupation. 
 She having full possession of his mind at that time, 
 he would almost have testified that there was no other 
 with whom his name could be connected, and he 
 readily surmised that his friend had come to taunt 
 him. — "But," thought he, "McPherson will find I am 
 too dull to understand him." 
 
 " Me marry a music teacher !" was the answer, ac- 
 companied by an indignant look. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, my friend. I presume the lady 
 would not be likely to suit you," said Mr. McPherson, 
 reclining himself upon the sofa still more leisurely than 
 before, while a smile flitted across his countenance. 
 
 Observing that a change of subject would be agree- 
 able, he said — " Come, Brown, let me hear something 
 of your movements since I last saw you in Cincinnati. 
 Where have you passed the summer?" 
 
 " I will first tell you that I passed the winter in 
 New Orleans." 
 
 " Indeed ! I had serious thoughts of going thither 
 myself; and I would have done so had I known of the 
 inducement which your society would have offered to 
 me." 
 
 " I should have liked nothing better than to have 
 met you there, McPherson." 
 
192 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 " How do you like New Orleans ?" 
 
 " I like it very well ; I enjoyed myself exceedingly 
 while there. But I will never again go to New Orleans 
 to spend the winter." 
 
 " Why not ?" inquired McPherson. 
 
 " Because I contracted one of those horrible south- 
 ern fevers while there, and came very near dying 
 after I returned home. I probably should have 
 sank under it, had it not been for my determination to 
 recover." 
 
 " Ha, ha, Brown ! you owe much to your resolution, 
 if it has saved your life ?" 
 
 "I do not say that it saved my life; probably that 
 had less to do with it, notwithstanding my assertion, 
 than the pure air and salubrious waters of Saratoga." 
 
 " The moralist would tell you, my friend, that all 
 were instruments in His hands," said Mr. McPherson, 
 pointing upward. 
 
 " I don't deal with any such animals as moralists," 
 replied Mr. Brown. " But let me hear more about 
 this lady. Who is it that you think would make me 
 such a good wife ? providing I should be successful in 
 obtaining her consent to the arrangement." 
 
 " Ah, that is an admitted point to start upon ; no 
 lady could refuse the offer of your hand." 
 
 This last remark produced in Mr. Brown's mind a 
 feeling of self-satisfaction, such as invalids frequently 
 experience in their physical frame upon breathing 
 their native air. He was himself again. The intoxi- 
 cating sounds of flattery had again floated to his ear, 
 while at the same time they assured him that his com- 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 193 
 
 panion was entirely ignorant of the obstacles which he 
 had so recently been compelled to contend with. 
 Having such an agreeable assurance, Mr. Brown bowed 
 his acknowledgment and again insisted upon hearing 
 the lady's name. 
 
 " Do you think you can refrain from again becoming 
 indignant at the idea of conferring your name upon a 
 music teacher ? 
 
 " I don't know, — but I will try, if you will not keep 
 me in suspense too long." 
 
 "If I am not very much mistaken in the lady, you 
 might esteem yourself favored in obtaining such a wife, 
 although I have seen her but once. I allude to a young 
 lady who teaches music in Mrs. Lincoln's family." 
 
 " Who is Mrs. Lincoln ? inquired Mr. Brown. 
 
 " Do you not know Mrs. Lincoln of Fifth avenue ?" 
 
 "No; is she wealthy?" 
 
 "Yes, very; her residence is a sufficient guarantee 
 for that." 
 
 "Yery true. Well, Mrs. Lincoln is all right; now 
 for the model young lady who teaches music." 
 
 " I have but little to say concerning her, as I am 
 entirely unacquainted, except that she is a beautiful 
 girl, and has the bearing and dignity of a queen. It 
 is strange that I should have thought of you the moment 
 I saw her. Upon my word, Brown, she would make 
 you a splendid wife. She is only fit for an Apollo." 
 
 Mr. Brown, though not yet certain that it was Miss 
 Gray, had his suspicions ; for he knew that she was 
 
 i 
 
 17 
 
194 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 teaching music ; but he was ignorant of the locality of 
 her labors. 
 
 " Tis very unselfish in you, McPherson, to wish me 
 in possession of such a beautiful wife ; why do you 
 not propose to her yourself?" 
 
 " Oh, Brown ! it is unkind in you to jest on facts. 
 The idea of forcing, for a lifetime, such an ugly face 
 as mine into the presence of so much beauty, would be 
 too selfish, by far. But, all jesting aside, she is an 
 elegant woman, and has a remarkably intelligent 
 expression of countenance. However, my aunt fancies 
 there must be some mystery about her, as she is so very 
 retiring. She is very reserved, converses but little, gives 
 her lesson and then takes her leave. 
 " Her name?" inquired Mr. Brown." 
 " I think Mrs. Lincoln called her Miss Gray. She 
 dresses in deep mourning and resides somewhere in 
 Brooklyn." 
 
 Mr. Brown was by this time too much agitated to 
 remain quiet in his seat ; and, rising in a hurried manner, 
 as if apparently the recipient of some astounding intel- 
 ligence, he placed himself directly in front of his com- 
 panion, saying, " You do'nt tell me, Mr. McPherson, 
 that Miss Gray is giving instruction in a respectable 
 family?" Could he have had the courage to say to 
 the tempter at that fatal moment " Get thee behind me, 
 Satan," he would have been saved both present and 
 future trouble ; but he could not let so brilliant an 
 opportunity pass to slake his thirst for revenge. He 
 had warned the proud beauty to expect it, and in this 
 
ISABELLA GKAY. 195 
 
 instance he determined' to take good care that she should 
 not be disappointed. 
 
 'You cannot doubt Mrs. Lincoln's standing?" said 
 Mr. McPherson. 
 
 "Of course not," replied Mr. Brown. 
 'You seem agitated," remarked his friend. 
 'I have cause for it," said the traducer ; I am 
 unwilling to see the innocence of childhood poisoned 
 by contact with vice." 
 
 "I have no doubt you are," was the reply; "a man 
 with your kindness of heart would naturally feel thus. 
 But let mo know what is wrong with Miss Gray. You 
 have aroused my curiosity ; for my aunt is very vigilant 
 in protecting her daughter from erroneous influences." 
 
 " Then she had better dismiss Miss Gray from her 
 house." 
 
 "Do you think so?" inquired Mr. McPherson. 
 "I am satisfied of it," said Mr. Brown. 
 
 "Are you acquainted with her ?" asked McPher- 
 son. .. 
 
 Significantly shrugging his shoulders, Mr. Brown 
 said, "You know Mr; McPherson we do not like to 
 prate of our gallantry ; but you ought to have sufficient 
 confidence in me not to hesitate, when I tell you that 
 she is not a proper person to be admitted into your 
 aunt's family in any capacity." 
 
 "Mr. Brown," replied his friend, "if Inm correct in 
 the inference I draw from your remarks, I should say 
 that you were riot acting an honorable part by the 
 young lady, and that you should take better care of 
 her than to allow her to teach music for a maintenance." 
 
I 96 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 "I have given her up altogether— she is more than 
 I can manage," said Mr. Brown, with as contemptuous 
 an expression as he was capable of assuming. 
 
 « The d— 1 she is !" ejaculated McPherson. " Then 
 I must lose no time in breaking the matter to Mrs. 
 Lincoln ; for she would never forgive me if she should 
 subsequently learn I had neglected to inform her. 
 My cousin, a fine young lady, whom I should regret 
 exceedingly to have subjected to the contamination of 
 such society, is becoming very fond of Miss Gray." 
 
 " Ah, yes ; no doubt," said Mr. Brown, " Miss Gray 
 is an adept in the art of fascination. She will not only 
 deny every thing, but will endeavor also to make Mrs. 
 Lincoln believe she is the victim of persecution. I 
 should advise your aunt not to hazard an interview 
 with her, but to send her word that her services are no 
 longer required." 
 
 Mr. McPherson, who was apparently in such deep 
 meditation that he either did not hear, or did not heed, 
 Mr. Brown's advice, replied, as if communing with his' 
 own thoughts, " It seems rather singular that she should 
 be^so well educated ! They say she is a fin.e musician." 
 " I must do her the justice to say she is very well 
 educated," was the answer ;« but, you know,McPherson, 
 that it is not always persons in the inferior ranks of 
 life who enter the paths of immorality." 
 
 "True," said Mr. McPherson. "I suppose she is 
 some romantic girl, who has been disappointed in love. 
 My aunt was telling me, yesterday, that she thought 
 her a very mysterious person ; as she takes no interest 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 197 
 
 in any one but Miss Lincoln, to whom she is very 
 agreeable." 
 
 That Isabella was reserved when in Mrs. Lincoln's 
 company was very true. In the first place there was 
 no congeniality of feeling, and their intercourse was 
 chillingly ceremonious. She was compelled to feel, that 
 between herself and the mistress of that elegant 
 establishment there existed an immense gulf, which 
 could only be crossed by the bridge of sycophancy. 
 Isabella spurned the use of base means to accomplish 
 any purpose, no matter how desirable. In the second 
 place, she had no leisure for tedious and meaningless 
 conversation. Her duties were well defined and her 
 utmost efforts were directed to discharging them with 
 credit to herself and advantage to her pupils. Conse- 
 quently, as Isabella was not a lady of leisure, it was 
 not surprising that her habitual reserve should have 
 been criticised by Mrs. Lincoln, who, owing to her 
 ignorance, miscalled it mystery. 
 
 " I think I shall be obliged to shorten my visit, in 
 order that I may call on Mrs. Lincoln before dinner," 
 said Mr. McPherson, rising to leave. " When shall I 
 see you at the St. Dennis ?" 
 
 " Oh, very soon," answered Mr. Brown, as he 
 stretched himself in a self-satisfied manner ; " very 
 soon ; that is, if I should not leave town." 
 
 " Leave town !" exclaimed McPherson. "Why, my 
 friend, what are you talking of? You have but just 
 arrived. Where do you think of landing at in your 
 next flight?" 
 
 17* 
 
198 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 ^ "I have not quite decided whether I shall take a 
 flight'; but I am restless, and desire a change of 
 scene. The truth of it is, McPherson, I have no°t yet 
 recovered from the effects of that d— lish loner fit of 
 illness." 
 
 ' You appear to be remarkably well now ; I never 
 saw you look better." 
 
 "Yes; I know it'; but I am not strong; my 
 nerves are very weak, and I am easily excited." 
 " I discovered that. You ought to take a trip to 
 
 sea. 
 
 'That is just what I have been thinking of since I 
 arrived in this city. I may embark on the, next 
 steamer, cross the big pond, and visit the cities of 
 London and Paris." 
 
 ' That is a good idea. I wish you could defer your 
 voyage for two months; I would then join you." ' 
 " Can't you go now V said Mr. Brown. " 
 "No," replied Mr. McPherson, shaking his head; 
 " that is not to be thought of. I must depart next 
 week for Boston, to look after some money matters 
 there, before I can go abroad. I have spent the 
 greater part of the summer at Newport; and, you 
 know it is not an easy matter to live there without 
 replenishing a little. However, I shall see you again, 
 Mr. Brown, before you leave." 
 
 "I may conclude not to go," replied that gentle- 
 man. 
 
 "Good morning, Mr. Brown," said McPherson, 
 " Take good care of yourself." 
 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 199 
 
 "Good morning,"- responded Mr. Brown, as his 
 visitor passed out of the door, which was immediately 
 closed, and the occupant left to commune with his 
 thoughts. 
 
200 
 
 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 A FRESH SORROW. 
 
 " The j have smitten my brain with a piercing pain." 
 
 Barry Cornwall. 
 
 " Thus let me hold thee to my heart, 
 
 And every care resign : 
 
 And shall we never, never part, 
 
 My life — my all that's mine." , 
 
 Oliver Goldsmith 
 
 What can be more delightful to the inhabitants of 
 the great metropolis of New York, who enjoy the 
 felicity of out-door exercise, than a bright, clear, sil- 
 very morning in October, when, drawing closely around 
 them their outward garments, they inhale the pure, 
 healthful breeze wafted from one of the loveliest bays, 
 upon which the sun ever shone, or the eye of man 
 rested. 
 
 In the country, at the period with which our story 
 is connected, the beautiful and varied verdure of the 
 forest was giving place to gorgeous autumnal tints, as 
 well as to the sear and faded falling leaves. But, in 
 town the change was of a different nature, and rather 
 lent its aid to enliven the scene. Citizens were return- 
 ing from their summer haunts, and all the thorough- 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 201 
 
 fares were thronged "with visitors from the country. 
 Some of the latter came merely in pursuit of pleasure, 
 and to note fashion's slightest variation ; others, with 
 a view of purchasing their fall and winter stock of 
 goods ; and yet other many, for no purpose beyond 
 the gratification of taking a stroll in New York's gay 
 streets and avenues, being enlivened by contact with 
 its busy, bustling, energetic throng, feasting on deli- 
 cacies at the splendid restaurants and hotels, and 
 passing away evenings by joining in the merry crowd 
 of those who frequent the various places of amuse- 
 ment, where, art is so severely taxed to divert the 
 mind. f 
 
 On such a morning as we have just described, Isa- 
 bella took a seat in one of the Fulton-ferry stages, 
 for the purpose of visiting her different pupils in the 
 upper part of the city. As she passed through Broad- 
 way, it occurred to her that the city presented a more 
 than usually cheerful aspect. This conclusion was in 
 some degree, no doubt, the result of her increasing 
 buoyancy of spirits, for, with the return of the citizens 
 to their homes, her prospects were brightened by the 
 assurance of an increase of pupils. After enjoying 
 a month's respite from labor, by the absence of her 
 pupils from the city, she had but a few days previously 
 recommenced giving lessons with renewed energy, and 
 with added confidence in her own qualifications as 
 an instructor of music. She also hoped to make the 
 acquaintance of some of the more prominent masters 
 in the profession, who were already returning to town ; 
 
202 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 to a few of whom she had been kindly provided with 
 letters of introduction. She now looked forward with 
 agreeable anticipations to the period when she could 
 take rank in her new profession. 
 
 The day dreams of youth were fast receding from 
 view, and giving place to those stern realities of life 
 w T hich had hitherto been known to her only by descrip- 
 tion. Isabella however derived consolation from every 
 ray of encouragement. She congratulated herself upon 
 her good fortune in having obtained so kind a patroness 
 as Mrs. Brewster, with whom she had enjoyed unaffected 
 intercourse ; an intimacy without familiarity — such as 
 a lady never fails to extend to her equal under any 
 circumstances. 
 
 In a much greater degree than Isabella anticipated, 
 had she found her duties in Mrs. Brewster's family 
 mingled with pleasure. The interest she felt in the 
 children had daily increased, as their varied characters 
 were unfolded to view ; and her little namesake, 
 the spiritualized "Belle," had twined herself as closely 
 around her heart, as the tiny arms of the little fairy 
 were frequently clasped about her person. 
 
 Mrs. Brewster, from her attention to personal appear- 
 ance and her style of living, would readily be recognized 
 as a fashionable lady. This is all very well, when fashion 
 and public opinion are not made the basis of every move- 
 ment and action. Such was evidently not the case 
 -with Mrs Brewster; but it was too palpably apparent 
 in Isabella's other patroness — Mrs. Lincoln. To her, 
 fashion was the polar star: it made a wreck of her 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. . 203 
 
 native good sense, and poisoned the impulses of an 
 otherwise excellent heart. Had the latter lady pos- 
 sessed one faithful friend who would, after the acquisi- 
 tion by her husband of an ample fortune, have admon- 
 ished her of the importance of devoting at least a small 
 portion of time to intellectual culture, her happiness 
 would have been enhanced, and the society in which 
 her wealth had secured her a position, would have been 
 spared the mortification of hearing the title " Mrs. 
 Partington," significantly applied to her. She would 
 have been enabled to think and to decide for herself — 
 and her judgment would not have always conformed to 
 what Mrs. So-and-so says. 
 
 But those who are not gifted by nature with much 
 originality of mind, do not think it singular that they 
 voluntarily neglect those means of mental cultivation 
 within their reach, because they are ignorantly blind 
 to the resultant advantages. Those who are capable 
 of discerning the undue estimate of outward appearances 
 which a suddenly acquired fortune often impresses 
 upon the mind of its possessor, are censurable for not 
 warning their friend against such a baneful influence. 
 Under these circumstances they should be what they 
 profess — a true friend. Instead of joining in the cry of 
 u un parvenu" they should encourage their wealthy 
 friend to a discreet use of his ample means ; and teach 
 him that riches has given a command of time, which 
 cannot be more profitably employed than in devoted 
 attention to intellectual culture. Happy indeed, should 
 I feel, could I induce many, who are now suffering from 
 
204 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 ill health and ennui, caused by a life of luxurious idle- 
 ness, or from lack of such healthful occupation as would 
 impart vigor and activity to the mind, to pause and 
 reflect, not only upon the vast advantages which they 
 pass by unnoticed, but also upon the fact that time 
 misspent is lost irrecoverably. 
 
 Should the soil be found too barren for cultivation, 
 the faithful monitor will have the satisfaction of know- 
 ing that he has discharged his duty, and that will be 
 sufficient compensation for all his efforts. 
 
 During the performance of her duties at Mrs. Brew- 
 ster's on the morning alluded to, Isabella noticed no 
 change. The lady's manner was even more cordial 
 than formerly. The children were as usual delighted 
 to see Miss Gray ; and " Belle" intimated that she 
 would be so very happy to sing for her teacher, that 
 she was forced to yield a consent, contrary to her judg- 
 ment, although in unison with her inclination to listen 
 to the child's bird-like song. The lessons ended, 
 Isabella left Mrs. Brewster's with a feeling of greater 
 happiness and buoyancy than she had experienced 
 during many weary months. 
 
 Had she been called upon to define the cause of her 
 present flow of spirits, her answer would doubtless have 
 been, — " All nature conspires to make me feel so ; the 
 air I breathe imparts vigor to my heart, and my burden 
 becomes lighter by practice." Thoughts like these 
 were unconsciously passing through her mind, as the 
 servant at Mrs. Lincoln's opened the massive street 
 door in answer to Isabella's summons. According to her 
 usual custom, she inquired for Miss Ernestine. 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 205 
 
 " Mrs. Lincoln says she's engaged, ma'am," was the 
 reply. 
 
 "Not Mrs. Lincoln, William," said Isabella, as she 
 walked into the hall, anticipating the happiness her 
 pupil would exhibit, when she presented her the piece 
 of new music she then held in her hand. The waiter 
 still remained at the door, evidently not quite certain 
 whether Miss Gray would immediately retire, on being 
 informed that the ladies could not be seen. " I asked 
 for Miss Ernestine," continued Isabella. "Tell her 
 Miss Gray has come to give her a music lesson." 
 
 "I understand you, ma'am," said the tidy-looking 
 boy, closing the door — Isabella having entered with 
 the apparent expectation of remaining ; " but Mrs. 
 Lincoln told me to say that Miss Ernestine is engaged, 
 and that she isn't a going to take any more giusic 
 lessons." 
 
 "Is the young lady ill?" inquired Isabella. 
 
 "No ma'am; not as I know of; she looks very 
 well; but I guess by her actions she's feeling bad 
 about something — oh ! I'd like to forgot ; Mrs. Lin- 
 coln told me to ask Miss Gray to send up her bill 
 when she came, and she would pay it." 
 
 " Send up my bill ! It's very strange !" said Isa- 
 bella, in an under tone. " Go, tell Mrs. Lincoln that 
 Miss Gray wishes to speak with her. Here, take her my 
 card, that there may be no mistake." Isabella mean- 
 time seated herself in the elegant reception-room. 
 
 In a very short space of time the servant presented 
 himself at the door, and said, "Mrs. Lincoln says 
 18 
 
206 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 she can't possibly see you." He waited there, appa- 
 rently to observe the effect of his message. 
 
 "William, did you tell Mrs. Lincoln who it is that 
 wishes to see her ? Did you give her my card ?" 
 
 " Oh yes, Miss ; and she just shook her head and 
 said, < Tell her I can't, nor shan't see her ; but I'll 
 pay her bill, if she'll send it up.' " 
 
 "I do not understand it," said Isabella. 
 
 "Neither do I, Miss," remarked the waiter. 
 
 "William," said Isabella, giving the boy a searching 
 glance, " is your mistress ill, or positively engaged ? lf 
 
 "Neither, ma'am, that I know of." 
 
 She felt mortified at having interrogated a servant 
 so closely about his mistress; but there was no alter- 
 native. No other means presented for obtaining infor- 
 mation in regard to Mrs. Lincoln's sudden change of 
 purpose. 
 
 "Is Mrs. Lincoln alone?" inquired Isabella. 
 
 " Only Miss Ernestine is with her," said the waiter. 
 
 "Ernestine knows that I am here, and does not 
 come running to see me !" thought Isabella. " It baffles 
 my comprehension. However, I will try it once more ; 
 I must see her." 
 
 6 William!" said she, assuming a stern look and a 
 commanding voice. 
 
 "Yes, Miss." 
 
 " Go tell your mistress that I must see her before I 
 leave the house. Ask her if she will please to favor 
 me with an interview." 
 
 "Yes, Miss," said he, turning to go. 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 207 
 
 " Stop, William ! Tell her that I shall esteem it a 
 personal favor. Do you understand me ?" 
 
 "Yes, Miss." 
 
 Isabella felt in some degree humiliated by her pre- 
 sent position ; but, being conscious that her right to 
 demand an explanation was fully equal to that which 
 Mrs. Lincoln had assumed in refusing one, she resolved 
 to obtain an interview, if possible. While pondering 
 over the cause of this mysterious conduct, she heard 
 approaching footsteps in the hall, and Mrs. Lincoln 
 soon entered the room, with an assumed frigidity of 
 manner, which, it was evident, she had predetermined 
 to maintain. 
 
 Isabella arose and bade her " Good morning;" but 
 she was not quite certain that any response was made 
 to her salutation. Her courage, however, being equal 
 to the occasion, she thus addressed her patroness : 
 " Mrs. Lincoln, I have been told by your servant that 
 my lessons to your daughter must be discontinued." 
 
 " Well; isn'tthat sufficient?" replied Mrs. Lincoln. 
 
 " I think not, madam, unless accompanied with 
 some explanation." 
 
 " I differ with you. People that I employ usually 
 understand that when I say I don't w T ant them any 
 longer, it's quite enough," said Mrs. Lincoln in such 
 a taunting manner, that it required considerable effort 
 for Isabella to control her temper ; yet, as the cause 
 for this unaccountable conduct must be ascertained, 
 she with great difficulty retained her self-possession. 
 
 " You are aware, Mrs. Lincoln, that to me this is 
 
208 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 very unexpected. My reputation as a teacher being 
 involved, I regard as a sufficient reason why I should 
 demand, and you accord, an explanation. I ask no- 
 thing more. It is not my desire to press my services 
 upon you ; but I fancy there may be some existing mis- 
 understanding which can be satisfactorily removed, if I 
 am permitted to have an opportunity for so doing." 
 
 "Now I'll just tell you what it is, Miss Gray,"— 
 said Mrs. Lincoln, in her usual vulgar manner, " I'm 
 not going to get into any muss in your affairs." 
 
 "By no means, madam," replied Isabella, "I am 
 not aware that I have any affairs to annoy you ; I merely 
 ask you to deal candidly by me, and inform me why 
 your daughter has discontinued her lessons ; or, I should 
 say, whether you are dissatisfied with my method of 
 imparting instruction. It may be that you have reasons 
 entirely irrelevant to myself, or my capacity as a 
 teacher; and candor demands at your hands a full 
 explanation." 
 
 Isabella's manner was so lady-like, and gentle, that 
 the frigid nature of Mrs. Lincoln began to relax, and 
 seating herself, she said, in a commanding tone :— . 
 " Sit down, Miss Gray." The ladies being both seated, 
 the aristocratic lady proceeded to say: 
 
 "I've always liked you very well as a teacher, Miss 
 Gray ; and I've liked you well enough in every respect, 
 till now ; though I can't say I'm much acquainted with 
 you. But Ernestine seems to be better acquainted 
 with you and loves you better than a most any teacher 
 she ever had; and she feels dreadfully because she 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 209 
 
 isn't a going to take lessons of you any more ; and I'm 
 real sorry myself that anything has happened to make 
 me think different of you from what I did at first." 
 
 "What does the woman mean !" thought Isabella. 
 
 "But you know" continued Mrs. Lincoln, "that we 
 are bound to take care of our children, and see that 
 they don't have anything to do with people of bad 
 habits." 
 
 " Certainly," answered Isabella, all unconscious that 
 the last remark was intended to apply to herself; she 
 could not think it possible that it was so intended. A 
 silence of some minutes ensued, which was broken by 
 Isabella, who again besought Mrs.. Lincoln for an 
 explanation. She said, " Do please, madam, explain 
 what is the difficulty. You say that you are satisfied 
 with my instruction, and yet you allude to something 
 as having happened, of which I am ignorant. What- 
 ever that circumstance may be, I insist upon speedily 
 being made acquainted with it. I cannot endure this 
 suspense.'' The latter remark was made with such 
 ^spirit and determination, that it aroused her antagonist 
 to a sense of the propriety of either at once communi- 
 cating the substance of her objections, or of positively 
 refusing so to do. 
 
 Mrs. Lincoln was at heart a true woman, and shrank 
 from giving pain ; but she saw, or thought she saw, no 
 alternative. And, as she honestly believed that she 
 was then conversing with a fallen human being, she 
 asked herself — " Who is better fitted to cast the first 
 stone than I, whose life has been without reproach, and 
 18* 
 
210 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 to whom so many look for the protection of society ? 
 If I turn her off, and say nothing, I may lose the oppor- 
 tunity of reclaiming a poor wanderer. Yes ; I think 
 I must tell her the whole matter, though Mr. McPher- 
 son thinks I had better not. But I'd better ; for she'll 
 bear it from me, when she wouldn't from a poor woman." 
 
 Such was the nature of the momentary reverie of 
 the lady who imagined herself seated upon a lofty 
 pinnacle, and dispensing healing reproofs to the deluded 
 at its base. 
 
 "Miss Gray," said she "I hate to tell you, for I 
 don't believe you are so bad, but what you'll hate to 
 have it known ; but I will, for I feel that its my duty. 
 Yesterday I heard that your character was not what it 
 ought to be." 
 
 " My character ! What of my character !" exclaimed 
 Isabella. 
 
 " You know you saw Mr. McPherson one day in my 
 parlor," said Mrs. Lincoln. 
 
 "Yes; I recollect him," replied Isabella. 
 
 " Well, he's a very nice young gentleman, a nephew 
 of mine, and he thinks all the world of me ; and well 
 he might, for it is through my influence that Mr. Lin- 
 coln is so kind to him, and makes him such splendid 
 presents. He made us a visit when he was going on 
 to Newport, and my husband gave him a check for 
 $500. I don't want to boast of Mr. Lincoln's libe- 
 rality, for I don't think that's as much his doings as 
 it is mine ; but I just thought I would mention this, to 
 show you that Mr. McPherson's so grateful for all 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 211 
 
 these things, that he wouldn't have any harm come to 
 me for anything, and he loves Ernestine to distrac- 
 tion. I really believe he thinks as much of her as he 
 could if she was his sister." 
 
 Isabella patiently listened to all this rhodomontade, 
 wondering at the same time how the enigma was to be 
 solved ; or how Mr. McPherson, a man whom she had 
 seen but once in her life, could be in any way connected 
 with her affairs. Mrs. Lincoln continued, 
 
 " He took a great liking to you as soon as he saw 
 you, and talked a good deal about you, and said that 
 he meant to get acquainted with you, and all that sort 
 of thing. But when he was down town one day he met 
 with an old acquaintance of his, who he thinks a deal of. 
 He's a very rich old bachelor, and such a very hand- 
 some man, and he was a joking him about getting mar- 
 ried, and told him that he knew of a lady who would 
 be just the wife for him. — And he asked who it was ? — 
 And my nephew described you to him, and when he 
 told him your name, — the gentleman was terribly 
 shocked ! — and he felt dreadfully to think that you 
 had got into such a respectable family to teach, and 
 wished him to inform me at once that you was not a 
 suitable person to be with my daughter. — And he said 
 a good many things about you, that Mr. McPherson 
 didn't think was proper to tell me of." 
 
 By this time Isabella had risen from her seat in a 
 state of great excitement, and in a commanding tone 
 demanded the name of her slanderer. 
 
 "It's no matter about that," said Mrs. Lincoln, 
 coolly. 
 
212 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 " I demand the name," said Isabella, in a very 
 imperative manner. 
 
 "I should think you would know the name of any 
 person who seems to know you so well," replied Mrs. 
 Lincoln, tauntingly; at the same time adding, "you 
 can't make me believe that you are so very innocent, 
 when he says that you have lived with him so long. I 
 guess that you won't be much surprised when I tell 
 you that it is Mr. Brown, who used to live in Cincin- 
 nati." 
 
 " Good Heavens !" exclaimed Isabella, clasping her 
 hands. Then, dropping her eyes upon the carpet, she 
 adcled, " Is it possible ?" 
 
 Her face became so deadly pale, that her accuser 
 becoming alarmed, said, " You may be very innocent, 
 but"— 
 
 " Stop !" exclaimed Isabella, in an authoritative 
 tone, and with a manner that sealed the speaker's 
 lips : " breathe not on my name another reproachful 
 word. 'Tis infamy ! 'Tis sacrilege ! I will not hear 
 it." So saying, she turned to leave the room. 
 
 "But your bill is not paid, Miss Gray," said Mrs. 
 Lincoln, half terrified at the stern dignity and pallid 
 countenance of her victim. 
 
 Isabella's first impulse was, to depart without the 
 amount of her bill, as her whole frame was in a vio- 
 len state of agitation ; but recollecting the all-power- 
 ful influence of money in warding off slander, she took 
 from her pocket a memorandum-book, and casting up 
 the amount due her, gave it to the lady. While Mrs. 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 213 
 
 Lincoln was fumbling' in her pocket for her purse, 
 she felt that the opportunity for admonishing Isabella 
 against continuing in her presumed bad course, was 
 passing by unimproved ; and, therefore, she nerved 
 herself to say a few words, notwithstanding Isabella's 
 agitation, which was too great to be concealed. " I 
 thought," said she, "you would have taken this more 
 humble; that I might have given you some advice." 
 Isabella received her money without making any com- 
 ment on this speech, and hurriedly walked out of the 
 house, the atmosphere of which was almost stifling to 
 her. 
 
 The bracing exterior air aided slightly to cool her 
 fevered brow, but could not reach the volcano burning 
 fiercely within. Beckoning to the driver of a stage, 
 more from habit than with any fixed purpose, she 
 seated herself in the vehicle, and soon relapsed into a 
 total unconsciousness of all surrounding objects, until 
 the stage arrived at the Ferry, where she alighted, 
 mechanically stepped on board the boat, crossed to the 
 opposite side of the river, with hurried steps traversed 
 the route to her residence, and entering it, sought her 
 mother's room. Mrs. Gray was first apprized of her 
 daughter's presence, by feeling her arms clasped around 
 her neck, while she sobbed and wept as though her 
 heart would break. The volcano had found a vent in 
 time to save her reason. 
 
 Isabella's tears flowed long and abundantly. Her 
 mother's discerning eye was not slow to discover that 
 they were caused by an anguished heart ; and observing 
 
214 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 that her daughter was incapable of making any expla- 
 nation, she led her to a lounge, removed her bonnet 
 and shawl, and applied such refreshing restoratives as 
 a mother's heart never fails to suggest when their use 
 is necessary to soothe a suffering child. 
 
 After the lapse of some time, Isabella became more 
 calm, and her convulsive sobs gradually ceased. All 
 "was still in the room where sat these sorrow-stricken 
 females. The silence was oppressive to Isabella, and 
 yet she could not disturb it — she could not speak. 
 She could not add a fresh sorrow to her mother's already 
 oppressive burden ! Mrs. Gray remained silent, from 
 a dread of learning the cause of such an unusual burst 
 of grief. She had seldom seen her daughter so much 
 distressed; but when she became quite composed, a 
 desire to know the worst prevailed, and she then 
 demanded an explanation. 
 
 Isabella gave a history of the events of the morning, 
 to which Mrs. Gray, being well prepared for a great 
 calamity, quietly listened, until her daughter had con- 
 cluded her harrowing tale. She then said, " I feared 
 it ; I feared something ; yet I did not anticipate such 
 unparalleled villany." 
 
 "But you could not have anticipated this !" 
 
 " No ; of course I could not," replied Mrs. Gray. 
 However, I repeat what I before said, that you cannot 
 hope for honorable revenge from a cold-hearted, selfish 
 m :ii. Such an one knows no mercy." 
 
 '* He knows full well the all-powerful influence of 
 wetJth," said Isabella. "What is the value of my 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 215 
 
 word, or yours, when opposed to his assertions ? He 
 is very wealthy, and we, alas ! are poor and friendless !" 
 
 "No; my dear, not friendless. We have many 
 warm friends who would very soon do all in their power 
 to counteract his influence." 
 
 " We have had, no doubt," replied Isabella]; "but 
 my short and painful experience leads me to fear that 
 his word would be too readily credited. The very 
 thought of disgracing my parentage by the necessity 
 of asking for certificates of character almost maddens 
 me! Oh! heaven forbid it ! let me die first." Walk- 
 ing, hurriedly • up and down the room she gave vent to 
 another flood of tears. After aei;ain becoming com- 
 posed, she expressed great fears for her future safety ; 
 and doubts whether her persecutor's purpose was yet 
 fully accomplished. She said there was no more safety 
 for her in any place ; and she besought her mother to 
 accompany her at all times, and never to leave her 
 alone. 
 
 Mrs. Gray, perceiving that her daughter's nervous 
 system had received a severe shock, very promptly 
 replied, " You need not fear him ; I will protect you. 
 Do not, my dear, shrink back with morbid fear ; rally 
 yourself, and prepare to meet the fiend with moral 
 courage, if chance should compel you to encounter him. 
 To-morrow I will go with you to Mrs. Brewster's ; you 
 have always thought her a sensible woman." 
 
 " She has ever appeared so ; and I am half inclined 
 to think she knew of this matter when I was at her 
 house this morning; she seemed so very kind and atten- 
 tive to me." 
 
216 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 " You need not fear that this man can eventually 
 harm you," said her mother, encouragingly. " His 
 diabolical conduct will recoil upon himself." 
 
 " At the general retribution no doubt it will," replied 
 Isabella, with an air of despondence; "but the world 
 is slow to mete out justice." 
 
 " I think you are much in error, my dear ; I feel a 
 perfect confidence that you will be protected and jus- 
 tified during this life. Remembering that 'tis from the 
 past we receive lessons for our future guidance, let us 
 look for one moment at the severe trials under which 
 we have been sustained. And now, when an additional 
 ray of encouragement was just dawning upon us, 
 another blow has fallen, at first view apparently more 
 severe than the others ; but, upon reflection, that which 
 I first regarded as a great calamity, has to my mind 
 vastly lessened in magnitude — innocence detracts from 
 its terror. We have also another cause for increased 
 confidence ; observe how we have been supported un- 
 der this overwhelming announcement — reason remains 
 triumphant, and we are enabled to meet our foe. For 
 my own part I feel an increase of trustful energy; 
 proving that we never know what faculties we possess, 
 until an occasion offers for their development. I know 
 that our best acts are tainted with imperfections ; but 
 I believe, my dear, that we can both sincerely say 
 that, in all our trials, we have endeavored to discharge 
 our duties with a fearless and honest purpose — more 
 than that is not required of us. I feel such perfect 
 confidence that all will yet be well with us, that I can- 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 217 
 
 not permit this man's conduct to annoy me; neither 
 can I despond. We may not, and probably never shall, 
 enjoy the luxurious comfort of our past lives; — but a 
 competency with contentment, and the encouragement 
 of each other's smiles to cheer our pathway, ought to 
 satisfy all our cravings." 
 
 Mrs. Gray's cheering, trustful counsel, had a ten- 
 dency lo change the bias of Isabella's thoughts, who 
 answered by saying that — " time no doubt would 
 enable her to feel as she did." 
 
 The twilight hour had already cast its shadow over all 
 terrestrial objects, before the ladies could realize that 
 the day was so far spent. They were interrupted in 
 their conversation by Biddy, who entered to announce 
 dinner. The unostentatious, but neatly-prepared meal, 
 being soon disposed of, the ladies repaired to the snug 
 little parlor, to spend the evening with their work and 
 their books. While Biddy was engaged in closing the 
 shutters, and replenishing the grate (for it was now 
 autumn, and the evenings were cool), Isabella directed 
 the maid to excuse them to the gentleman who had 
 called the day previous, if at any time he should 
 desire to renew his visit. She gave a positive order 
 that he must not be admitted. 
 
 " Will you not see him at all, Miss Gray, whether 
 you are engaged or no?" inquired Bridget. 
 
 "No, Biddy; always excuse us to him. I suppose 
 you remember him ?" 
 
 " Oh yes, Miss," replied the girl. "But will you 
 not see any one?" 
 
 19 
 
218 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 "Yes; all persons who call, except that one." 
 "Very well, Miss Gray," replied the servant, and 
 she left the room, thinking the ladies looked very sad; 
 "It's too lonely," thought she, "for them to be so 
 much alone. How I do wish somebody would just 
 come and cheer them up a little, — poor things. I 
 wonder what's the matter with that handsome man, 
 that Miss Gray won't see him ; but it's none of my 
 business. All that I have to do, is to see that he 
 does'nt get into the house ; if he shpuld, I shall soon 
 get warning to leave." — And Biddy sat down to her 
 dinner, so much occupied with sympathizing thoughts 
 for the lonely condition of the ladies, whom she had 
 learned to esteem, that she forgot that she too was 
 alone. 
 
 The two ladies at the centre-table sat opposite each 
 other ; Mrs. Gray being occupied with her book. Isa- 
 bella picked up a book also, and read a short time, 
 when, hastily running her eye over the pages, she 
 closed it, and took her work. That too failing to 
 interest her, was laid aside. She then seated herself 
 at the piano, her never- failing antidote. After running 
 her fingers carelessly over the keys for some little 
 time, and producing plaintive sounds, in unison with 
 her heart's sad emotions, she sang in the most touch- 
 ing manner the following "Evening Hymn to the Vir- 
 gin ;" Mrs. Gray joining her as second, according to 
 her usual custom : 
 
 " Ave Sanetissima, 
 We lift our souls to thee ; 
 
 Ora pro nobis, 
 'Tis night-fall on the sea. 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 219 
 
 Watch us while shadows lie, 
 Far o'er the waters spread, 
 Hear the heart's lonely sigh, 
 Thine too hath bled. 
 
 Thou that hast looked on Death, 
 Aid us when Death is near, 
 Whisper of Heaven to Faith, 
 Sweet Mother, Sweet Mother, hear 1 
 
 Ora pro nobis, 
 The wave must rock our sleep ; 
 
 Ora Mater, 
 Ora Star of the Deep." 
 
 After the conclusion of the song, which had never 
 been better executed, Mrs. Gray resumed her reading. 
 Isabella's hands had dropped from the keys of the 
 instrument to her lap, and, with her eyes somewhat 
 elevated, she was apparently looking at the wall, while 
 she mused in the following strain : u How can I doubt 
 that Guardian Angels are hovering near me, or that 
 they impart this heavenly calm, and shed over me rays 
 of light, amid darkening gloom. Blest spirits ! con- 
 necting the present time with the unknown future — 
 unknown but to the eye of faith — oh ! leave me not, 
 until my freed spirit be borne on angel wings to its 
 peaceful home — the spirit land." , 
 
 At this moment a ring was heard at the street door, 
 startling Isabella from her reverie. She arose with 
 nervous haste from the piano, and, resuming her seat 
 by her work-box, listened for the voice of the visitor. 
 " It is a gentleman's voice," said she, in a whisper, a*s 
 she indistinctly heard an inquiry made for the ladies. 
 
220 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 Mrs. Gray also heard it, but, like her daughter, she 
 could not distinguish the voice. Hearing heavy foot- 
 steps approaching the parlor, and not being by any 
 means free from dread lest their persecutor had ob- 
 tained admittance, she arose, with a firmness that 
 would have reflected honor upon a general on the field 
 of battle, determined to defend her daughter from 
 further insult. 
 
 While Mrs. Gray was standing dignified, and erect, 
 waiting for the appearance of the visitor, Isabella sat, 
 pale and motionless, with her eyes, like those of her 
 mother, riveted upon the door. When it opened, a 
 fine, rather tall, dark-complexioned and well-dressed 
 man, hat in hand, and with the bearing of a polished 
 gentleman, advanced into the room. Reader, who do 
 you think it was ? Isabella made the discovery sooner 
 than her mother, that it was Mr. Robert Williams. 
 
 As Mr. Williams received the cordial greetings of 
 Mrs. Gray and Isabella, who expressed their great 
 gratification at his arrival, he observed with much satis- 
 faction, that the pallor of Isabella's cheek had given 
 place to a mantling blush of joy which he could not 
 misunderstand — it was unmistakable. " She loves me 
 still" — was the thought which filled his mind ; and he 
 at once resolved never again to leave her until an 
 opportunity presented for declaring his love ; as he felt 
 confident that there was some mistake about her reported 
 marriage with Mr. Brown. 
 
 . Had it not been for the delight he experienced on being 
 again in company with the object of his long-cherished 
 
ISABELLA Gil AY. 221 
 
 affection, and in observing, as he thought he had, an 
 evidence of her continued attachment, he would have 
 been greatly depressed at witnessing the great change 
 which had compelled his friends to remove from the 
 delightful home, where he last left them, to their 
 present small obscure tenement. 
 
 Bat Mr. Williams had no time for such disagreeable 
 thoughts. There are periods in the lives of most per- 
 sons when each moment is an eternity of bliss, — when 
 neither the past nor the future are recognised — the 
 present absorbing all the powers of the mind, and calling 
 forth every emotion of the soul. 
 
 Such was Mr. Williams' condition, that he would 
 doubtless have been compelled to reflect upon his locality, 
 before determining whether it was California, Cincin- 
 nati, or New York. However, he succeeded very well 
 in general conversation, until Mrs. Gray, with the view 
 of attending to some domestic arrangements, excused 
 herself and left the room. 
 
 " Miss Gray I cannot express the happiness I now 
 enjoy, in being once more with you," said Mr. Williams, 
 as he changed his seat for one by the side of Isabella, 
 and in such close proximity, as to allow him to rest his 
 hand upon the arm of her chair. 
 
 " The pleasure of seeing you is, to me, certainly not 
 less," said Isabella. 
 
 " It seems to have been a very long two years since 
 we last met, Miss Gray," said Mr. Williams ; " I almost 
 feared I might find you married on my return." 
 
 " No ; no prospect of such an event," replied Isabella. 
 19* 
 
222 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 " The changes which have occurred in my family have 
 absorbed my entire attention." 
 
 " These changes, which have indeed been very great 
 with you, I have felt as if my own loss. An imperfect 
 testimony of my sincere sympathy was expressed in a 
 letter written not long after your beloved father's 
 decease." 
 
 "You sent me a letter !" exclaimed Isabella. 
 
 "Yes;" said Mr. Williams, " did you never receive 
 it?" 
 
 "Never," replied Isabella. 
 
 " Then you have not received a letter from me since 
 I left Cincinnati?" inquired Mr. Williams. 
 
 " No ; I never received a letter from you at any 
 time," was the reply of the astonished Isabella. 
 
 "It miscarried, I presume," said Mr. Williams, satis- 
 fied that she had not received his letter. 
 
 "I regret it exceedingly; it 'would have afforded 
 me infinite pleasure to have received from you any 
 communication whatever," said Isabella, with such 
 unaffected sincerity, that she betrayed to the gentle- 
 man her deep interest in his welfare. 
 
 "May I hope, Miss Gray," said he, "that your 
 interest in me fully equals your expression of it?" 
 
 Isabella, blushing, replied, " I seldom express more 
 than I feel.- But, Mr. Williams, may I ask if you have 
 returned to this country to remain ?" 
 
 " That depends upon circumstances. I have arranged 
 my business so that I can return or not, as best suits 
 my pleasure. I have come home expressly to see a 
 lady to whom I am devotedly attached." 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 22 
 
 o 
 
 "Ah, indeed! It is rather a long distance to jour- 
 ney, merely for the purpose of making a visit; but, I 
 suppose, like many others, you have returned for the 
 purpose of getting married." 
 
 " That is my intention," replied Mr. Williams; and 
 then, after a short silence, he added, in a low voice, 
 well suited to the occasion, " Miss Gray, I have come 
 here to-night to tell you how long and how devotedly 
 I have loved you. But, before I proceed farther, tell 
 me candidly, whether you are, or ever have been, en- 
 gaged to. Mr. Alexander Brown?" 
 
 " That interrogatory, Mr. Williams, I can promptly 
 and honestly answer in the negative. I am not, and 
 have never been engaged to Mr. Brown," replied 
 Isabella, with some spirit; for she could not hear 
 Mr. Brown's name without a feeling of excitement. 
 Mr. Williams, however, being absorbed with his own 
 thoughts and emotions, did not observe it. 
 
 " Then may I not hope for some favor in my suit? 
 May I not tell you, my dear Isabella, that I have, by 
 actual experience, found my life to be a blank without 
 your smiles ; and may I not hope that, when you learn 
 how the remembrance of your own sweet self alone 
 sustained me during the past two years, you will listen 
 to my petition ? To tell you, in one short interview, 
 of my admiration, my esteem, and my sincere affection 
 for you, is not possible. Years only can develop what 
 I feel. Let me call you mine, dearest ! Signify your 
 consent by accepting this pledge of my love (extend- 
 ing his hand), which carries with it my heart, and my 
 
221 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 best efforts for your happiness through life." Isabella 
 w uncere to aer the part of a coquette: and. 
 
 :• received the proffered hand, with a cordial gr 
 h unable to speak from emotion, Mr. Williams' 
 arm was passed around her waist ; he drew her near 
 him. and imprinted on her lips the seal of love. Robert 
 Williams and Isabella Gray were thus, in the sight 
 of Heaven, made partners for life. They passed the 
 evening until it was far spent, in recalling scenes of the 
 happy past, and indulging in pleasir._ ipations of 
 
 a blissful future. 
 
 Tl- I ma lovers best can U. 
 
 Id their seer, 
 
 :f hopes begun, 
 Since iL wn of morni:_ 
 
 some time, Mr. Williams asked Isabella if 
 would like to see a copy of the lost U Upon 
 
 receiving an affirmative answer, he drew from his coat 
 pocket a copy of the letter, and handed it to her. 
 The emotions she felt while perusing it, can better be 
 imagined than described. 
 
 He then presented to her the letter he had received 
 from Mr. Brown, requesting her to read that also. As 
 she did so, the color suffused her countenance, and emo- 
 i f anger and indignation filled her breast. u I 
 see it all now," said she. -Yes; I understand his 
 diabolical plot ; he meant to compel me to marrv him. 
 Thank purpose has been defeated. Do you 
 
 be continued, looking Mr. Williams in the fac 
 • . .at fellow, Brown, wrote that le: 
 
ISABELLA GRAY, . 225 
 
 "You cannot doubt hit word, Isabella," said Mr. 
 Williams; "there is his signature." 
 
 " Oh no, I do not," said she, as, reclining back in 
 her chair, she offered him her hand ; " pardon me, I'm 
 excited." 
 
 "I see you are," he replied, "there must be some 
 cause for it." 
 
 " Yes, there is," she answered ; " and I will now 
 tell you all; I will give you a history of Mr. Brown's 
 conduct." 
 
 " That is just what I desire," said Mr. "Williams. 
 
 Isabella then narrated Mr. Brown's treatment of 
 her, and its consequences, up to that time, which occu- 
 pied her until a late hour. 
 
 The indignation which Mr. Williams both felt and 
 expressed towards Mr. Brown, was unbounded ; but his 
 sympathy was first due to Isabella for her past suffer- 
 ings ; and the interview closed with heartfelt congratu- 
 lations that his presence hereafter would be a secure 
 protection. 
 
 As Mr. Williams was about to take leave of her for 
 the evening, Isabella insisted that he should again see 
 her mother. With an elastic and cheerful step she 
 repaired to her mother's room, to inform her that Mr. 
 Williams wished to speak with her. 
 
 When Mrs. Guay entered the parlor, Isabella took 
 her betrothed's hand and placed it in her mother's, 
 saying, " My dear mother, this is your future son-in- 
 law." 
 
 Mrs. Gray welcomed Mr. Williams into her family 
 
226 
 
 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 with all the cordiality of a mother ; and after em- 
 bracing him, she extended her cheerful congratula- 
 tions to both. But she was so calm, that Isabella 
 remarked it, and said, " Why, ma, you do not appear 
 to be surprised !" 
 
 "No, my dear," replied her mother, "I am not. 
 You recollect I was present at your last interview 
 with this young gentleman (shaking his hand, which 
 was still in her's), when he was about taking his 
 departure for California." The happy pair looked at 
 each other with a smile, and the gratified mother 
 regarded them both with a feeling of thankful pride. 
 That night two of that small group had pleasant 
 dreams; but the sleep of one of the number was 
 broken and restless, being often disturbed by an 
 oppression of loneliness. 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 227 
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 DEVELOPMENT OF PLANS. 
 
 "Without thy smile the monarch's lot 
 To me "were dark and lone, 
 While with it, even the humblest cot 
 Were brighter than his throne." 
 
 • 
 
 Moore. 
 
 Mr. Williams' residence in California had been 
 productive of great pecuniary advantage to him. He 
 had been very successful in the practice of his profes- 
 sion, and he had enjoyed facilities for making invest- 
 ments in real estate, which had resulted much more 
 favorably than his most sanguine hopes ever induced 
 him to anticipate. He had over two hundred thousand 
 dollars invested in reliable securities, in addition to an 
 interest which he held in gold mines, far exceeding 
 that amount. 
 
 Learning through his correspondent at Cincinnati 
 that Isabella was dependent on her own exertions for 
 a maintenance, it led him to infer that the announce- 
 ment of her marriage with Mr. Brown was either 
 unfounded, or that the engagement had been formally 
 canceled. He, therefore, immediately determined to 
 return home, (he was not yet sufficiently domesticated 
 
228 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 to regard the land of his recent adoption as his home,) 
 and lose no time in soliciting the hand of the woman 
 whom he still regarded as the only one on earth whom 
 he could love with sufficient ardor to make his com- 
 panion for life. 
 
 The reader has already been apprised of the result 
 of his suit, and can fully appreciate the joy which 
 filled his noble heart, now that he had succeeded in 
 winning the long-desired prize. No ungratified wish 
 remaining to mar the full enjoyment of his happiness, 
 his thoughts were very naturally directed to a con- 
 sideration o£ the most agreeable mode of passing his 
 unoccupied time. He had been so long actively en- 
 gaged in business, that he was unwilling to relapse 
 into the habits of a gentleman of leisure. Such a life 
 was not congenial to his tastes ; and, even had it 
 been, his better judgment would have assured him that 
 ennui must be the inevitable accompaniment of an 
 aimless existence. Being desirous to afford Isabella 
 the advantages of a change of scene, with the view of 
 enabling her to recover from the depressing effect of 
 her domestic afflictions, he resolved that, if he could 
 obtain her consent, he would hasten their marriage, 
 and pass the ensuing winter in making a tour through 
 Europe. Accordingly he very promptly communicated 
 his wishes and plans to Isabella. When the proposi- 
 tion to go abroad was first made to her she received 
 it in silence, and mentally communed with her own 
 thoughts; but presently she replied, "Mr. Williams, 
 you forget my mother; I cannot leave her alone." 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 229 
 
 " If you could, my dear Isabella," he rejoined, "I 
 should consider you unworthy of me ; and I would 
 certainly be unworthy of you, were I to demand such a 
 sacrifice. Why leave your mother ? There exist many 
 reasons why she should accompany us. She is just in 
 the prime of life, and will enjoy the tour equally, if 
 not more than we shall ourselves. Such an intelligent 
 companion will also be an advantage to us ; and the 
 very fact that she is your mother is' in itself a sufficient 
 reason for deciding, as a matter of course, that she 
 must be our traveling companion. Your home, my 
 dear, shall ever be her's." 
 
 The sudden transition from the gloom and depres- 
 sion of poverty to the sunshine of prosperity, had 
 previously almost unnerved Isabella; but now, upon 
 hearing such a frank avowal of sincere attachment, as 
 exhibited in the generous proffer to her mother of a 
 home and all its attendant comforts, she could no 
 longer control her feelings, and her gratitude could 
 only find expression in a flood of tears. Yet, how 
 different were the tears she now shed, from those which, 
 but a few days previously, had streamed from her eyes, 
 and, like torrents of seething lava, burned into her 
 very brain ! Then, oppression, in its most repulsive 
 form, was sapping her life-blood. Now, all is changed, 
 and by her side sits the man " on whom her every 
 earthly hope is centered. The happiness of a lifetime 
 seemed condensed into the present moment, and those 
 tears, falling thick and fast like the refreshing rain, 
 were gratefully received upon the soil of affection, and 
 20 
 
230 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 tended to knit in closer union two true and loving 
 hearts. 
 
 Plans for the future occupied the time of the affianced 
 couple during the few succeeding days. When the ap- 
 pointed time arrived for Isabella to give her music 
 lessons at Mrs. Brewster's, Mr. Williams remonstrated 
 against her doing so,, saying that Isabella should not 
 give another lesson, as she had no time to spare from 
 the superintendence of the arrangements necessary for 
 their speedy marriage and departure. 
 
 "But," said Isabella, "I must see Mrs. Brewster 
 at once, and give her my reasons for discontinuing the 
 lessons." 
 
 "Very well," replied her affianced husband, "I 
 have no objections to that. How soon will you go.?" 
 
 Looking at her watch, she answered, " In half an 
 hour." 
 
 Mr. Williams then took his leave, saying he would 
 call for her within that time, and he insisted that she 
 should await his return. At the time appointed he 
 returned, and finding Isabella in readiness, they imme- 
 diately set forth. To Isabella's surprise, she found an 
 elegant carriage standing at the door, into which Mr. 
 Williams handed her. " This is quite unnecessary, Mr. 
 Williams," said Isabella, "unless I am to have the 
 pleasure of your company." 
 
 " I will not vouch for that ; but I intend to enjoy the 
 pleasure of yours," said he, as he took his seat beside 
 her. Having inquired for Mrs. Brewster's address, he 
 communicated it to the hackman, and they were soon 
 on their way to the upper part of the city. 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 231 
 
 "It is very kind in you," said Isabella, "to allow 
 me the pleasure of introducing you to my kind friend, 
 Mrs. Brewster." 
 
 " No, my dear ; it is selfish in me. I do it because 
 I am happiest when near you." 
 
 As they passed the Astor House, Isabella, turning 
 her eyes in that direction, said, "I wonder if my evil 
 spirit is still there ?" 
 
 "No," replied Mr. Williams; "he has taken his 
 departure. I yesterday met a gentleman at the St. 
 Nicholas, who told me that he had sailed for Europe ?" 
 
 "Who knows," said Isabella, "whether we may not 
 have the pleasure of meeting him abroad ?-^-perhaps 
 on Mount Vesuvius?" 
 
 " It is not impossible," was the reply. " It would be 
 a pity, however, if he should fall into the crater." 
 
 " Oh no," said Isabella, "as much as I detest the 
 man, I do not wish him to meet such a fate. Rather 
 do I desire that he shall have an opportunity to repent 
 of his folly." 
 
 "If it were not for you, I would make him repent," 
 said Mr. Williams. " I would compel the villain to 
 account for that missing letter. I believe he knows 
 what has become of it." 
 
 "Why defer action on my account?" inquired Isa- 
 bella. 
 
 " Why, my dear ? Because I cannot think of having 
 your name even in the slightest degree connected with 
 his. It is far better for a lady to suifer wrongs to go 
 unredressed, than to come before the public with a 
 statement of grievances, which is only interesting to 
 
232 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 the mass, in proportion as it ministers to the gratifica- 
 tion of a morbid curiosity." 
 
 "Yes; I understand." Isabella, still dreading the 
 insatiate vengeance of her persecutor, said, " I am 
 afraid he will give us trouble yet." 
 
 " I am not," said Mr. Williams, very resolutely. 
 " He must keep out of my way, or he will feel the 
 effects of my wrath. But we will not waste our breath 
 on such a worthless subject, while others more agree- 
 able can be found." And he changed the conversation 
 to more congenial themes. 
 
 After Mr. Williams had been presented to Mrs. 
 Brewster^ and the ordinary topics, attendant upon the 
 introduction of strangers, had been discussed, Isabella 
 told Mrs. Brewster that she would explain her reasons 
 for not giving lessons that day, if she would accord her 
 a private interview. 
 
 "Certainly; if Mr. Williams will excuse us," said 
 Mrs. Brewster. The ladies walked into the library, 
 where Isabella told her kind patroness that she was no 
 longer under the necessity of teaching music; that she 
 was to be married on that day week ; and that herself 
 and husband would remove immediately to the St. 
 Nicholas hotel, where they would remain until the fol- 
 lowing week, when they purposed embarking for Europe. 
 After entering into many minute details, she added a 
 pressing invitation for Mrs. Brewster, her husband, 
 and her daughters, to be present at the wedding. 
 
 Mrs. Brewster was so much surprised at this unex- 
 pected announcement, that for some time she listened 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 233 
 
 in silence; but at length she said: "What will the 
 children say ? Belle will go wild." 
 
 Isabella gratefully received the cordial congratula- 
 tions of her friend, and expressed much regret at the 
 prospect of leaving the children, assuring Mrs. Brewster 
 of the happiness which her occupation and their society 
 had afforded her. "Are they quite well to-day?" 
 she asked. 
 
 " Very well ; but a little disappointed at not seeing 
 you at the accustomed hour." 
 
 " I must see them before I leave ; that is if they are 
 disengaged.", 
 
 "Yes," said Mrs. Brewster, "I will send for them 
 soon." 
 
 Isabella then gave her friend an account of- the treat- 
 ment she received at Mrs. Lincoln's, and of the out- 
 rageous conduct of Mr. Brown, during his last visit to 
 her ; besides what Mr. Williams had furnished by disclo- 
 sing Mr. Brown's unparalleled deception, as evidenced 
 in his own' handwriting. 
 
 "It is just as I expected," said Mrs. Brewster; "I 
 knew that an explanation would exonerate you. I saw 
 Mrs. Lincoln the evening previous to your interview 
 with her, and endeavored to convince her that there 
 must either be some mistake about the report, or that 
 it originated in deadly malice. But, poor woman ! 
 what a pity she could not purchase a small share of 
 common sense as conveniently as she does her elegant 
 finery ; enough at least for practical purposes. Her 
 gay and fashionable nephew, Mr. McPherson, who by- 
 20* 
 
234 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 the-by, is I believe, an honest, good hearted man, though 
 not over discerning, is her oracle in all things. I am 
 very slightly acquainted with them ; but, from what I 
 can learn, he is a toady. He flatters Mrs. Lincoln, 
 and she assists to keep him afloat in fashionable society." 
 
 " It is a matter of small moment to me what or who 
 they are," said Isabella. " ivlr. "Williams is determined 
 to screen me from another interview with them." 
 
 "With your present prospects," replied Mrs. Brews- 
 ter, "they would be your most humble servants." 
 
 " No doubt;" said Isabella, " but I can dispense with 
 their homage." 
 
 " I am pleased with your independence," answered 
 her hostess, " I think you are right." 
 
 After some further conversation, Mrs. Brewster 
 insisted upon joining Mr. Williams. Isabella lingered 
 in the library to talk with the children, who expressed 
 their sorrow at the prospect of a separation, and in 
 many ways testified their affection for her ; Mrs. Brew- 
 ster, meanwhile congratulated Mr. Williams on his 
 approaching nuptials, and the conversation which ensued 
 between them inclined the gentleman to think, as he 
 reseated himself in the carriage beside his beautiful 
 betrothed to return home, that he w T as extremely fortu- 
 nate in having secured a wife who had proved herself 
 equal to the emergencies of life, and whose happiness 
 would not alone depend upon the possession of its 
 luxuries. 
 
 As they were riding down Broadway, looking at 
 everything and seeing nothing, Mr. Williams remarked 
 to Isabella that he had done her an injustice.- 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 235 
 
 " In what respect? I have never discovered it." 
 
 " Of course not. Love is blind, sings the poet ; 
 and, though I cannot see in you any faults, I am 
 thoroughly awake to my own." 
 
 " Suppose you present your case, and I will be both 
 judge and jury," said Isabella. 
 
 " I should not have left you in the manner I did, 
 when I went to California; I should have declared 
 mv love for you, believing, as I then did, that it was 
 reciprocated, and either have married you at that 
 time, or obtained your consent to our union at some 
 future period, The first-mentioned course would have 
 been preferable." 
 
 "Perhaps not," said Isabella. " My mother would 
 then have been left to struggle through her great 
 afflictions." 
 
 " Probably you are right ; the latter course, then, 
 would have been best; for by it a channel of commu- 
 nication would have been opened, that would have 
 spared you all the trouble you have experienced." 
 
 " You should not indulge in such reflections now. 
 It is far better to take a more philosophical view of 
 the matter. These trials have, no doubt, tended to so 
 mature and develop my character, as to make me 
 more worthy of you. Therefore the judge pronounces 
 the prisoner 'not guilty.' But, since you have intro- 
 duced the subject, and the judge has exonerated the 
 prisoner, allow me, without further remarks upon the 
 individual case, to make a few general observations." 
 
 " The audience listens, my dear. Pardon me, I 
 mean your honor, the judge." 
 
236 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 u The young gentlemen of the present day too often 
 commit a grave error, in postponing their marriage 
 until after they acquire wealth. Many a lovely girl 
 would be happy to leave her father's luxurious home, 
 that she might aid the man she loves in reaching the 
 goal of his ambition." 
 
 "But, Isabella, all are not like you." 
 
 " Many more than you imagine ; I have known 
 instances where attachments have been obliterated, 
 (which evidently would have resulted in a happy union,) 
 by reason of the gentleman's pride not permitting him 
 to take the lady, whom he had selected for his wife, 
 to a less luxurious home than that of her father; thus 
 assigning a secondary position to the most sacred ties 
 which exist between man and wife." 
 
 " Then you do not accuse us of being fortune-hunt- 
 ers?" said Mr. Williams. 
 
 " I allude to men of a class different from fortune- 
 hunters ; men of principle ; men who would much pre- 
 fer to earn their own living, than to be the obsequious 
 recipients of a father-in-law's bounty. Young ladies 
 are not unfrequently misjudged ; they are many times 
 accused of a fondness for luxury and extravagance 
 which is often uncongenial to their real tastes; and, if 
 indulged in, it is done with a view to gratify some 
 doting parent, or to secure the approbation of your 
 own sex. In many instances which have come under 
 my own observation, it occupies a very inferior place 
 in the scale of their happiness and affections. That 
 there are exceptions to my theory, none will doubt ; 
 but all should not be included in the same category." 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 237 
 
 "You are truly an unselfish woman, Isabella." 
 
 " Ah ! do you think so ?" 
 
 "I am certain of it. You have never inquired about 
 my success in business." 
 
 " No ; very true, I have not ; but I am aware that 
 such information is usually imparted in good time. 
 The truth is, I have been tempted with gold long 
 enough. The prize that I estimated at a far greater 
 price has been unexpectedly won ; and I cannot imagine 
 how you can suppose me capable of attention to busi- 
 ness, when you are by my side." 
 
238 
 
 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 THE CONCLUSION. 
 
 All golden thoughts, all wealth of days. 
 Truth, Friendship, Love surround her ! 
 
 So may she smile "till life be closed, 
 And Ancjel hands have crowned her!" 
 
 Barry Cornwall. 
 
 From what has already been learned of Isabella 
 Gray's character, the reader will not be surprised at 
 the expression of a very natural desire that her wedding 
 should be in keeping with her former circumstances, 
 and not with the elegance that her altered condition 
 afforded her the opportunity of indulging in. She 
 acknowledged the necessity of assuming the bridal 
 costume. It was not congenial to her tastes to appear 
 before the hymeneal altar in robes of sorrow, although 
 there was much in her thoughts and feelings which 
 harmonized with her mourning weeds. She regretted 
 that her father's blessing and smile of approbation 
 would be wanting, and that the companion of her 
 youth could not sustain her by his presence ; yet, not- 
 withstanding, she still felt that she must present her- 
 self at the altar robed in the spotless purity of a bridal 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 239 
 
 dress, regarding it as emblematic of the highest honor 
 she could bestow upon her affianced husband. 
 
 She particularly requested her mother to take care 
 that her wedding should be not only unostentatious, but 
 cheerful; and it was her mother's greatest solicitude, 
 to carry into effect her daughter's expressed desire. 
 
 The night previous to Isabella's bridal morn was 
 passed by her in vain attempts to sleep. No cloud now 
 obscured her happiness, of sufficient magnitude to pre- 
 vent her from obtaining peaceful repose ; but it would 
 be unnatural to suppose that her reflective mind could 
 be altogether calm on the eve of such an important 
 event, and one which had been entirely unanticipated. 
 She regarded it as the most interesting episode in the 
 history of her life ; a new character was to be assumed ; 
 and it gratified her, not only to pause and look back 
 upon the past, but also into the bright, hopeful, and, 
 to her human foresight, cloudless future. 
 
 On that eventful morning the king of day emerged 
 from behind the misty veil of the eastern horizon, glad- 
 dening the earth with his gorgeous, resplendent beauty — 
 no cloud appearing to obscure his dazzling splendor. 
 One of the first of those cheering rays, which enlivened 
 the chill October morning, pierced Isabella's lattice, 
 and diffused its life-giving warmth over her while she 
 was engaged at her morning devotions. 
 
 But let us not lift the sacred veil, and expose to a 
 speculative world the communion of a devout heart 
 with its Creator. Sufficient is it to know, that on his 
 arm she had thus far leaned for support, and His coun- 
 
240 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 sel was still her guide. Though on this occasion she 
 bowed low at her Saviour's feet, her heart teeming with 
 grateful thanksgivings, and trembling with fear that 
 all she loved on earth might suddenly be torn from 
 her, jet she arose comforted and confiding, recognising 
 as a blessed stay and comfort to her soul, that, " as 
 her day, so should her strength be." 
 
 We pass over the preparations requisite even for a 
 private wedding, and resume our narrative at the hour 
 appointed for the ceremony, which was that of twelve 
 at noon. Punctual to the appointed hour two carriages, 
 containing Dr. Montgomery, and his now very feeble 
 wife, and Mr. Brewster, Mrs. Brewster, and their three 
 daughters ; Dr. Barton's gig, of which he was himself 
 the sole occupant ; and the carriage which had previously 
 conveyed thither the bridegroom, were seen standing 
 before Mrs. Gray's door. 
 
 The small unpretending parlor presented a most 
 cheerful aspect ; the furniture having been so arranged 
 as to give ample room. In one corner Mrs. Mont- 
 gomery was seated in the luxurious old chair which has 
 been so frequently alluded to — she being now too feeble 
 to stand, yet too resolute to permit her debility to debar 
 her the pleasure of witnessing the nuptials of Isabella, 
 to whom she had become much attached. Mrs. Brewster, 
 in full dress, was standing by the invalid's side conver- 
 sing with her ; while Dr. Barton was similarly engaged 
 with Mrs. Gray. 
 
 As Dr. Montgomery, robed in snow-white surplice, 
 and book in hand, entered the parlor, Mrs. Gray left 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 241 
 
 it through the door leading to the entry. Presently, 
 Biddy, who was a perfect specimen of neatness, arrayed 
 in white apron and gloves, opened the door communi- 
 cating between the front and back rooms, and the 
 Misses Brewster entered the parlor, dressed very taste- 
 fully in pink silk, immediately followed by Mrs. Gray, 
 leaning on Mr. Williams' arm. She, too, having laid 
 aside her mourning weeds for the occasion, w T as dressed 
 in good taste, and wore a cheerful countenance. Isa- 
 bella entered last, leaning on Mr. Brewster's arm ; and, 
 attired in spotless white, she was the very personifica- 
 tion of true loveliness. Her dress was a fine India 
 muslin, made with exquisite neatness ; the sash of broad 
 brocade ribbon nearly reaching the floor. Her elusion 
 veil, was tastefully fastened to her hair by a superb 
 wreath, composed of white roses and orange blossoms, 
 so natural in their appearance as almost to deceive 
 Mrs. Montgomery into the belief that their fragrance 
 produced an oppression in her breathing. She wore 
 a superb set of pearl ornaments, comprising a necklace, 
 ear ornaments, bracelet, and brooch,— a gift from the 
 bridegroom ; not that he believed his beautiful bride 
 required the aid of "foreign ornament," but he had 
 presented her this casket of pure and costly pearls as 
 a testimony of his love and admiration. To the neck- 
 lace was attached a heavy cross, composed of pearls and 
 diamonds. The whiteness of her dress contrasted so 
 becomingly with her dark hair and eyes, as did also the 
 pearls with her dear brunette complexion, that those 
 present thought her beauty could scarcely be surpassed, 
 21 
 
242 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 Dr. Montgomery's deep-toned voice and dignified 
 manner were peculiarly adapted to the special services 
 of the church. When the parties had arranged them- 
 selves in their appropriate positions, the Misses Brew- 
 ster officiating in the capacity of bride's-maids, the 
 man of God commenced the impressive ceremony; 
 and, in reply to the question, " Who giveth this woman 
 to this man ?" Mrs. Gray laid her daughter's hand 
 quietly into that of Dr. Montgomery. 
 
 As the ceremony progressed, the necessary responses 
 were made in a clear and audible voice, which added 
 a greater solemnity to the service. After Heaven's 
 choicest blessings had been invoked upon the heads of 
 the newly-married pair by the officiating clergyman, 
 the cheerful congratulations of their friends were ten- 
 dered them in time to prevent that feeling of sadness 
 which is frequently noticeable on such occasions. So 
 few persons were present, and so little restraint existed, 
 that the congratulations were very unceremonious. The 
 bride, seeing Dr. Montgomery about to assist his wife 
 to rise from her chair, in order that she might offer 
 her's, immediately took her husband's arm, and they 
 presented themselves to the invalid. As Isabella 
 stooped to receive her kind greeting, " God bless 
 you, my dear," fell upon her ear like a benediction from 
 another world. 
 
 The bride's presents were then examined. Isabella 
 had seen all but one during the morning, while taste- 
 fully arranging them on a small table in a corner of 
 the room. In comparison to the magnificent display 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 243 
 
 of bridal presents customary at the present day, Isa- 
 bella's would not be thought worthy of passing atten- 
 tion. Doubtless, the fact that her friends were few, 
 increased the value of their gifts ; at all events, they 
 appeared to be so highly prized by the bride, that 
 curiosity prompts us to join the bridal party gathered 
 around the table, for the purpose of looking at the 
 little collection. 
 
 ^ The bride's eye first rested upon' a parcel about the 
 size of a package of letter paper, neatly enveloped in 
 white paper, and fastened with a narrow white satin 
 ribbon. The. other presents, however, first attracted 
 the attention of the company. 
 
 An elegantly-bound copy of Shakspeare, accompa- 
 nied by Mr. Brewster's card, was the first article looked 
 at. It was much admired, and was pronounced to be 
 a valuable and tasteful gift. A small box, upon being 
 opened, was found to contain an exquisitely-wrought 
 bracelet, clasped with emeralds and diamonds, to which 
 was attached a note from Mrs. Brewster, in keeping 
 with her mental refinement. Sparkling and beautiful 
 were those precious stones, as they were turned in dif- 
 ferent directions to enable the beholders to note their 
 varied hues, and by none were they more admired 
 than by Isabella. To her, they were chaste emblems 
 of that sympathy which had been so beautifully ex- 
 pressed in the powerful language of the accompanying 
 note, and she scarce could discern which possessed the 
 greater charm, the jewels or the sentiments of the 
 donor. A prayer-book, of convenient size for use, 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 neatly bound in Turkey morocco, and clasped with 
 gold, contained the initials of Mrs. Montgomery and 
 those of the bride. A volume of "Elegant Extracts 
 from the British Poets," handsomely bound in Turkey 
 morocco, was presented by Dr. Montgomery. Another 
 box was opened, containing a handsomely-wrought gold 
 card-case, to which was attached Dr. Barton's card. 
 Very handsome hair ornaments, consisting of a brace- 
 let, brooch, and ear ornaments, were presents from 
 Isabella's pupils, the Misses Brewster. Miss Bell had 
 a decided advantage in this instance, as the color of 
 her hair was much better adapted to such ornaments, 
 and was far more beautiful than that of her sisters. 
 
 We have now noticed all the contents of the table, 
 with the exception of the parcel first alluded to. As 
 the bride unfastened the ribbon that confined the 
 wrapper, all eyes were directed to it, to ascertain the 
 contents. Beneath the first fold of the envelope, she 
 found a note, which she immediately opened, and read 
 silently. A tear was seen to glisten in her eye ; and, 
 as she laid the note on the table, and took the contents 
 of the parcel in her hand, she said, with some emotion, 
 " This, my friends, is the manuscript of my dear 
 mother's first literary production, of which you shall 
 all receive a copy as soon as it is published." 
 
 This was an agreeable surprise, and led to many 
 complimentary remarks. The apprehension, however, 
 lest too much excitement would be prejudicial to the 
 parties interested, preven:ed such an expression of 
 encouragement and commendation, as would otherwise 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 245 
 
 have been extended to the authoress, for her energy 
 and perseverance. But it did not require much dis- 
 crimination to discover the operative cause which pro- 
 duced these first efforts at authorship. 
 
 About this time Biddy entered with a small table, 
 which she placed in the centre of the room. After 
 dropping a courtesy, and expressing her desire that 
 the bride should enjoy long life and happiness, she 
 returned to the adjoining room, whence she immedi- 
 ately brought a silver salver, on which was the bride's 
 cake, partially covered with a snow-white napkin. The 
 loaf was plainly frosted, and ornamented with a wreath 
 of small white flowers. An elegant bouquet of white 
 roses and verbenas, from Mrs. Brewster's conserva- 
 tory, adorned the centre. Another salver, of the same 
 metal, but of smaller size, containing wine-glasses and 
 a decanter of wine, was brought in by Biddy, and 
 placed upon the same table. 
 
 As the bride cut the cake, the blackness of the 
 interior Was found to contrast well with its external 
 whiteness. The bride's health was drank in choice 
 old Madeira, the contents of a few bottles remaining 
 from former days ; and the party, though small, was 
 gay and cheerful. 
 
 While all were standing, glass in hand, exchanging 
 brilliant sallies of wit and pleasantry, Mr. Williams, 
 who had been so much surprised on learning that Mrs. 
 Gray had become a literary character, that he could 
 not dispossess his mind of the idea, proposed the health 
 of the recently-discovered authoress. 
 21* 
 
246 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 " Certainly ! with pleasure !" exclaimed several 
 voices. 
 
 The glasses being again re-filled, Mr. Brewster pro- 
 posed the following sentiment : " May the breezes, 
 which will soon waft our newly- found treasure from 
 our midst, be as propitious as her most ardent hopes 
 can desire ; and, after the enjoyment of pleasant scenes 
 in lands renowned in history, and embellished by art, 
 may they restore our gifted friend to us in the full 
 enjoyment of health and happiness." 
 
 This sentiment was cordially received, and the 
 authoress bowed her appreciation of the compliment. 
 
 The company finally dispersed, after receiving re- 
 peated and urgent invitations from the bride and 
 bridegroom to visit them during the ensuing week, at 
 their rooms in the St. Nicholas. The guests departed 
 to their respective homes, pleased with the bride, the 
 bridegroom, the authoress, and also with the unosten- 
 tatious but tastefully-arranged wedding. As for the 
 bride, she had not an earthly wish ungratified. 
 
 When Mr. Brewster entered his carriage, he ordered 
 the coachman to drive to his place of business, where 
 he took leave of his wife and daughters, who returned 
 to their home, before which Mrs. Lincoln's carriage 
 was discovered, and the footman ascending the steps 
 with Mrs. Lincoln's card. Immediately upon stepping 
 out of her carriage, Mrs. Brewster spoke with Mrs. 
 Lincoln, and expressed her gratification at being so 
 fortunate as to arrive in time to receive her visit. 
 
 Mrs. Lincoln descended from her carriage, rustling 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 247 
 
 her brocade silk, which was a sweeter sound, in her 
 estimation, than the most dulcet notes, and, with M s. 
 Brewster and her daughters, ascended to the drawing- 
 room. The young ladies, however, soon left the room, 
 in order to communicate the incidents of the w T edding 
 to their maid ; to tell her exactly how the bride was 
 dressed ; that they had all been bride's-maids, when 
 they had not anticipated such a thing ; and to give 
 their opinions of everything. This having been the 
 first wedding they had ever attended, it had left plea- 
 sant impressions upon their youthful minds. 
 
 " How sweet your daughters look this morning, Mrs. 
 Brewster," said Mrs. Lincoln, as the young misses left 
 the room ; " I suppose they've been to a morning recep- 
 tion with you, they're dressed so beautiful." 
 
 " Oh no, Mrs. Lincoln," replied Mrs. Brewster, "not 
 a reception ; my daughters are too young for that. But 
 we have all been to a most delightful, quiet, private 
 wedding." 
 
 " You don't say ! Why I hadn't heard that anybody 
 was going to be married !" 
 
 " No ; I presume it was not much known." 
 
 " Do tell who 'tis ; it must be some very distinguished 
 people, or you wouldn't have dressed so much. How 
 splendid your ruby necklace is, Mrs. Brewster." 
 
 "I cannot say that they are very distinguished per- 
 sons; but, from their worth and capability, I have not 
 the least doubt they will become so. You ask who it is 
 that was married ; and you will be surprised when I tell 
 you that the bride was Miss Gray." 
 
248 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 " Miss Gray ! What Miss Gray? Our music-teacher?" 
 
 "Yes," replied Mrs. Brewster. 
 
 "You don't say!" 
 
 "Yes, Mrs. Lincoln, I do say, that Miss Gray was 
 married this morning to a gentleman, who I believe is 
 in every respect worthy of her." 
 
 " What's his name ?" inquired the aristocratic lady. 
 
 The bridegroom's name being given, Mrs. Lincoln 
 paused to think a moment. 
 
 "Well," said the good woman on the high pinnacle, 
 "it's better that she should marry, if she has done 
 wrong, than to continue living a sinful life." 
 
 "Pardon me, Mrs. Lincoln," said her friend, "but 
 I cannot hear imputations of such a nature cast upon 
 so estimable a lady as the one we are now speaking of. 
 You have done Mrs. Williams great injustice." 
 
 "Me done her injustice!" exclaimed Mrs. Lincoln. 
 
 "Yes, Mrs. Lincoln, I think you have." 
 
 "Well," she replied, "I never intended to do her, 
 nor any body else, an injustice. Any body that knows 
 me, knows that if I have a fault, it is in being too kind. 
 But Mr. McPherson come and told me just what that 
 gentleman said about her, and advised me to turn her off 
 at once: — now, Mrs. Brewster, you can't blame me." 
 
 "Yes, Mrs. Lincoln, I think I can blame you, for 
 not quietly investigating the matter before traducing 
 a lady's fair name." 
 
 " I shouldn't call a music teacher a lady," said Mrs. 
 Lincoln, haughtily. 
 
ISABELLA GRAY. 249 
 
 Mrs. Brewster, continuing very calm and self-pos- 
 sessed, replied, "Mrs. Lincoln, for the purpose of 
 elucidating my position, we will suppose a case. You, 
 for instance, have a daughter on whom you bestow 
 every advantage, in the way of education, both moral 
 and intellectual, that your wealth and situation in life 
 can command." 
 
 " Yes ; that's what I mean to do." 
 
 "Very well. Suppose that after your daughter's 
 education is completed, and she is received into general 
 society, your husband should die, and that by the settle- 
 ment of his affairs his estate is proved to be insolvent. 
 You and your daughter would then be compelled to 
 seek an humble residence, and to obtain a maintenance, 
 she might probably be necessitated to teach music ?" 
 
 Mrs. Lincoln, who could remain a listener no longer, 
 interrupted Mrs. Brewster by remarking "I guess that 
 will never be my case." 
 
 " Perhaps not. But would you not, under those 
 circumstances, feel that your daughter had still a claim 
 to the title of lady?" 
 
 "Why yes, of course I should. But was that Miss 
 Gray's position?" 
 
 Mrs. Brewster replied by giving Mrs. Lincoln a short 
 sketch of Isabella's history, as well as of Mr. Brown's 
 career, adding, that there was no doubt he had fled the 
 country to avoid the disgrace consequent upon the ex- 
 posure of his nefarious conduct. 
 
250 
 
 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 Mrs. Lincoln's kind heart getting the better of Mr. 
 McPherson's influence, she expressed much regret at 
 the course she had taken. " Do you think Mrs. Wil- 
 liams would see me, if I were to call upon her?" she 
 inquired. 
 
 "I have no doubt she would, if she were to consult 
 her own feelings. I consider her a noble-minded wo- 
 man, and capable of forgiving any injury ; but, at pre- 
 sent, I am confident that her husband would not permit 
 her to receive you. I would not advise you to make 
 any advances at present ; the whole affair is of too 
 recent occurrence, and Mr. Williams is too sensitive 
 upon the subject, to act calmly." 
 
 " Perhaps I had better wait a spell, then," said Mrs. 
 Lincoln ; " but I shall write to my nephew imme- 
 diately, and tell him all about it." 
 
 Mrs. Brewster, being satisfied that she had now done 
 justice to Isabella, and in some degree dissipated the 
 dark prejudices from Mrs. Lincoln's mind, gave her 
 visitor a minute and pleasant description of the wedding, 
 pronouncing it to have been the most delightful private 
 wedding she had ever attended. She presented such 
 a glowing picture of the bride, and dwelt so much 
 upon her happiness and her future prospects, that Mrs. 
 Lincoln returned home, thankfully acknowledging that 
 Isabella had proved herself worthy of her society, and 
 deeply regretting that she and Ernestine could not 
 have been at the wedding. But she consoled herself 
 by resolving that she would be among the first who 
 
ISABELLA GEAY. 251 
 
 should call upon Mrs. Williams after her return 
 from Europe ; never once harboring the thought that 
 Mrs. Lincoln, of Fifth avenue, could then be refused 
 an audience. 
 
 One week subsequent to the wedding, Mr. and Mrs. 
 Williams and Mrs. Gray were seated in a saloon of 
 one of the Liverpool steamers, awaiting the sailing of 
 the vessel. They were surrounded by all their real 
 friends, with the exception of Mrs. Montgomery, who, 
 being too feeble to go on board, had been waited upon 
 by Isabella the previous evening. It was a momentous 
 parting ; for they both felt that it would, in all proba- 
 bility, be their last interview ; yet, as Christians, look- 
 ing to a happier re-union hereafter, they parted from 
 each other cheerfully. 
 
 Isabella looked unusually lovely, and there was a 
 liveliness in her manner, caused by a relaxation from 
 care, which her new friends had never before observed 
 during their short acquaintance. Her perfect ease of 
 manner and lively conversation were so charming, that, 
 instead of tears accompanying the affectionate parting 
 from her former pupils, and their kind, considerate 
 mother, the latter all found themselves looking forward 
 with pleasant anticipations to her return. 
 
 A more beautiful day never gladdened the hearts of 
 the sons of earth, than the one on which our friends 
 
252 ISABELLA GRAY. 
 
 steamed down the lovely bay. And here I leave them, 
 trusting to Him who directs our ways, both on terra 
 firma and on the mighty deep, to " conduct them in 
 safety to the haven where they would be." 
 
 If my tale has a moral, it is one of encouragement 
 to those laboring under misfortunes and afflictions. 
 All may not meet with such perfect gratification of 
 their hopes and aspirations, as did our heroine ; yet, 
 under the guidance of correct principles, patience 
 and a diligent perseverance in overcoming obstacles 
 are not only commendable, but seldom fail to afford 
 relief. 
 
I 
 
 | CHARLES DESILVER, i 
 
 ; PUBLISHER AND BOOKSELLER, | 
 
 I No. 714 Chestnut Street, opposite Masonic Hall, J 
 
 i 
 
 % PHILADELPHIA, PENNA. i 
 
 I PINNOCK'S ENGLAND, half roan * n OA $ 
 
 i PINNOCK'S ROME, half roan $° Si ' 
 
 \ PINNOCK'S GREECE, half roan... Z S A 1 
 
 \ PINNOCK'S FRANCE, half roan ^ i 
 
 5S8SS S= SI 3S S^i^SSSsEE S 
 
 INTERLINEAR VIRGIL. * 
 
 THE -WORKS OF J 
 
 P. VIRGILIUS MARO, * 
 
 With the Original Text reduced to the natural order of construction ; and an ! 
 
 INTERLINEAR TRANSLATION, J 
 
 AS ^a^^^^^^^^^^^^ English language* will allow, f 
 andW BrfevTHar^ 
 
 Sr^^^ERLINEAK By Hamilton and Clark. 1 vol.. 12m« . h^^w $1 50 f 
 
 1 50 < 
 
 1 50 J 
 
 'KS^S,™ ™gke SSI vb latin gkamSX/v^cs:; 2 50 I 
 
 1 00 * 
 
 J Jn P>-ess: \ 
 
 € OVID, INTERLINEAR. J 
 
 » HOMER'S ILIAD. INTERLINEAR * 
 
 | XENOPHON'S ANABASIS, INTERLINEAR. J 
 
 I ^«C».as^t«ffla?? » 125 ! 
 
 | intendent of the Virginia Military Institute J Smith ' Super ' f 
 
 » Ewell's Medical Companion, or Familv Phv si, •;'■,,-. i^ t.,^„„ t» « «*. . . * 
 
 \ The rr hi - ngt T for " e , riy ° f sava ^ i wCss, sLepT 3 Ewell> rhy?:cian in , 7S I 
 
 J Ihe American Farmers' Now and UnivprB»l tjwi i?™ ^P — ••■••• ,-•• 3 75 > 
 
 > Mitchell's Universal Atlaa* half n.orocco UfUad : Book > X voL > 8 ™-> embossed gilt... 2 00 £ 
 
 | Mitchell's Large Map of the World, on rollers V 2 00 * 
 
 J Johnston's Turner's Chemistrv. ,,„^ p,iw;^ , L,"'Vo "V" i"\".\ ""•■ 1 00 
 
 rfo J 
 
 balf arabesque; 1 00 f 
 
 on an Original Plan. 1 vol., 18mo., half roan S / 
 
 | Bmitb s Algebra, revised edition, 1 vol, 12mo., half Tait^™-.™™^™'.™ 1 00 \ 
 
 Descriptive Catalogues furnished on application, and any Book sent by I 
 mail, postage paid, on receipt of advertised price. f 
 
 ^SH%HS^^ 
 
HAMILTON AND LOCKE AND CLARK'S 
 SYSTEM 
 
 OF 
 
 CLASSICAL INSTRUCTION. 
 
 PUBLISHED BY CHAELES DESILVEB, 
 
 714 CHESNUT ST., PHILADELPHIA. 
 
 We do amiss to spend seven or eight years merely scraping together so 
 much miserable Latin and Greek as might he learned otherwise easily and 
 delightfully in one year. — "Miltox. 
 
 VIEGIL: interlinear translation by Hart and Osborne — 1 vol. royal 
 
 12mo, half Turkey Price, $1.50 
 
 CJESAB: interlinear translation by Hamilton and Clark — 1 volume, 
 
 royal 12mo, half Turkey Price, SI. 50 
 
 HOEACE: interlinear translation by Stirling, Nuttall, and Clark — 
 
 1 vol. royal 12mo, half Turkey Price, $1.50 
 
 CICEEO: interlinear translation by Hamilton and Clark — 1 volume, 
 
 royal 12mo, half Turkey Price, $1.50 
 
 SALLTJST: interlinear translation by Hamilton and Clark — 1 vol. 
 
 royal 12mo, half Turkey Price, Si. 50 
 
 CLAEK'S PEACTICAL AND PEOGEESSIVE LATIN GEAMMAE: 
 
 adapted to the Interlinear Series of Classics, and to all other 
 
 systems — 1 vol. royal 12mo, half Turkey Price, $1.00 
 
 The plan of this Grammar is altogether of a practical nature; for, while the 
 scholar is learning the declensions and conjugations, he has them exemplified in 
 lessons extracted from the Classics. Where this method has been properly applied 
 a more rapid and thorough knowledge of the elements of Latin has always been 
 the result. 
 
 in preparation: 
 OVID : interlinear translation by Hamilton and Clark. 
 
 XENOPHON'S ANABASIS: interlinear translation by Hamilton and 
 
 Clark. 
 
 HOMEE'S ILIAD: interlinear translation by Hamilton and Clark. 
 To be followed by School Editions of the other Classic Writers, on the same plan. 
 The plan of these works is not new. It is merely the adaptation of the experience 
 of many of the best and most inquiring minds in educational pursuits — method- 
 izing what was vague and loose. When the Latin tongue was the only language 
 of diplomacy and scientific international communication, to acquire a knowledge 
 of it was considered of more importance than now. This method was then recom- 
 mended by Cardinal Wolsey, John Ascham, Latin Secretary to Queen Elizabeth, 
 and by the best Latin scholar and writer of his time. John Milton: and in testimony 
 of it John Locke says : — •• When, by this way of interlining Latin and English one 
 with another, he has got a moderate knowledge of the Latin tongue, he may then 
 be advanced a little further. Kor let the objection that he will then know it only by 
 rote, fright any one. This, when well considered, is not of any moment againl 
 but plainly for, this way of learning a language. The languages are only to t>o 
 Uarned by rote; and he that speaks them well has no other rule but that." In 
 teaching classes by oral dictation, these works present advantages that no others do. 
 
C. DESILVER, PUBLISHER, PHILADELPHIA. 
 
 ABSTRACTS 
 
 From Reviews, Notices, and Recommendations of the In- 
 terlinear Series of Latin Classics, published by Chas. 
 Djesilver, No. 714 Chestnut St., Philadelphia. 
 
 From the New York Daily Times 
 
 The use of interlinear translations of the Classics has the sanction 
 of common sense, and has been -warmly recommended by such men 
 as Cardinal Wolsey, Erasmus, Roger Ascham, John Milton, John 
 Locke, and Sidney Smith. 
 
 We believe, with Sidney Smith, that this system, "the time being 
 given, will make better scholars ; and, the degree of scholarship be- 
 ing given, a much shorter time "will be needed." 
 
 Charles Desilver, the Philadelphia publisher, has commenced issu- 
 ing a series of Greek and Latin Classics, with interlinear translations, 
 greatly superior to any we have yet seen. 
 
 From Eliza D. Willard, New York, Correspondent of the Boston Atlas. 
 
 Pei'mit me to propose to all amateur students of the Greek and 
 Latin Classics, from Maine to California, a vote of thanks to Mr. 
 Charles Desilver, of Philadelphia, for the interlinear translations, 
 which he is now issuing. 
 
 Having myself spent five weary years at Greek and Latin, I think 
 I may pretend to venture an opinion in favour of the new system, 
 that is, to the general class of students, but with teachers, quite old 
 enough. 
 
 From the Daily Delta, New Orleans. 
 
 Caesar. — A more admirable literal translation of every word in 
 Caesar's great work, it would be impossible to meet with. 
 
 It must serve as the best possible work for the Latin student. 
 
 Horace. — A new edition, carefully revised and collated by Tho- 
 mas Clark. Too much praise cannot be given for the conscientious 
 manner in which the task has been performed. 
 
 From the Bulletin, New Orleans. 
 Virgil and Horace, interlinear. — These two books should be 
 in the hands of every scholar. They are gotten up in superior style, 
 and would adorn any library. 
 
C. DESILVER, PUBLISHER, PHILADELPHIA. 
 
 From J. S. Slrickler, Youngstovm, Pa. 
 
 I have been using the interlinear translations of the Glassies, pub- 
 lished by you, and am so well pleased with them, that I would like 
 to have the translations of all the classic authors you ma}- hei 
 publish. 
 
 From E. C. Simonds, Greenwood, Abbeville District, S. C. 
 
 I have recently obtained a copy of Virgil interlinear, published by 
 you. I am very much pleased with it; for, since I am studying the 
 language by myself, it renders me all the assistance to be had from 
 an experienced teacher. 
 
 From T. Waller Leach, M. D., Xcwmarket, JV. II. 
 
 I learn that you have published a series of the Greek and Latin 
 Classics, with interlinear translations. 
 
 The idea strikes me as being a good one, and calculated to render 
 the study of the Greek and Latin vastly less irksome, by obviating 
 the necessity for continual reference to the lexicon. 
 
 I promise to use my influence to bring them into notice here. 
 
 From J. B. Howard, Ann Arbor, Mich. 
 
 I am now using the interlinears, that you have already published, 
 aA*d I find them of immense value to me. 
 
 From II. R. Perry, Green Mount College, Richmond, Ind. 
 
 We are using yoxxr interlinear translations, and would be pleased 
 to know what other Classics you have published. 
 Please let us know soon. 
 
 From D. L. Quin, Williston, S. C. 
 
 I use your interlinear Virgil and Ctesar in my academy, and wish 
 Horace, Sallust, and Cicero, if arranged on the same plan. 
 
 From D. C. Ramsaun, Statesville, N. C. 
 
 I recently saw a copy of your interlinear Horace, with which I Avas 
 extremely pleased. 
 
 I find from examination of it, that it will greatly alleviate my 
 labors as an instructor, and I am therefore anxious to procure it, as 
 well as all other Latin and Greek works on tho same plan. 
 
WORKS ON THE NATURAL SCIENCES. 
 
 PARTICULAR ATTENTION 
 
 IS INVITED TO 
 
 SCHOOL PUBLICATIONS 
 UPON THE NATURAL SCIENCES. 
 
 AMONG THEM ARE 
 
 JOHNSTON'S SERIES. 
 JOHNSTON'S TURNER'S CHEMISTRY. 
 
 A MANUAL OF CHEMISTRY, 
 
 OW THE BASIS OF DR. TURNER'S ELEMENTS OP CHEMISTRY, CONTAINING, IN i 
 
 CONDENSED FORM, ALL THE MOST IMPORTANT FACTS AND PRINCIPLES 
 
 OF THE SCIENCE. DESIGNED AS A TEXT-BOOK IN COLLEGES 
 
 AND OTHER SEMINARIES OF LEARNING. 
 
 A NEW EDITION. 
 
 BY JOHN JOHNSTON, A.M., 
 
 Professor of Natural Science in Wesleyan University. 
 
 JOHNSTON'S TURNER'S ELEMENTARY CHEMISTRY 
 
 FOR THE USE OF COMMON SCHOOLS. One Vol. 18mo. 
 * (25) . 
 
JOHNSTON'S. SERIES 
 
 JOHNSTON'S NATURAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 REVISED EDITION. 
 ENLARGED AND IMPROVED. 
 
 51 jftlanuiil nf Jfiutnral $jjilns0pl;t[, 
 
 COMPILED FROM VARIOUS SOURCES, AND DESIGNED AS A TEXT- 
 BOOK IN HIGH SCHOOLS AND ACADEMIES. 
 
 BY JOHN JOHNSTON, A.M., 
 
 PROFESSOR OF NATURAL SCIENCE IN THE WESLEYAN UNIVERSITY. 
 
 The above valuable series of books were prepared by John Johnston, 
 A.M., Professor of Natural Science in the Wesleyan University, Middle- 
 town, Ct. The Chemistry is the standard text-book of many of the lead- 
 ing Colleges and prominent Medical Institutions of the country. The 
 Elementary Chemistry, very recently published, has been adopted in 
 many High Schools and Academies, in all parts of the country. 
 
 The present edition of Johnston's Natural Philosophy will be found 
 much enlarged and improved. Exact in its definitions, original in its 
 illustrations, full and familiar in explanation, the publishers are assured 
 it will require oniy to be examined to be approved. It has been recently 
 recommended by the Board of Education of the State of New Hampshire 
 for the use of the Common Schools of the State; it has also been adopted in 
 the High School of Cambridge, Massachusetts, and in many Academies and 
 Schools in various sections of the country. 
 
 A few notices of the series, from among many which have been receive^ 
 are appended: 
 
 (26) 
 
WORKS OX THE NATURAL SCIENCES. 
 
 Extract from the Proceedings of the School Commissioners of the State of 
 
 New Hampshire. 
 At a meeting of the Commissioners of Common Schools for the State of 
 New Hampshire, held in Concord, August, 1851, it was, on motion of Mr. 
 Whidden, of Lancaster, Coos county , 
 
 Voted, To recommend "Johnston's Natural Philosophy" to be used in the 
 Common Schools of the State. 
 
 From M. J. "Williams, Professor of Mathematics and Natural Philosophy, 
 South Carolina College, Columbia, S. C. 
 I consider Johnston's Manual of Natural Philosophy a good text-book for 
 elementary instruction in schools and academies. 
 
 Extract from the Record of the Proceedings of the Board of Visitors of the 
 Natchez Institute, Natchez, 31iss. 
 
 At a meeting of the Board of Visitors of the Natchez Institute, John- 
 ston's Natural Philosophy, and Johnston's Elements of Chemistry, were 
 unanimously adopted as text-books for the use of the pupils. 
 
 Signed, L. M. PATTERSON, Secretary. 
 
 Fiom Prof. Booth, of the High School, Philadelphia. 
 1 find, upon a careful examination of Johnson's Manual of Chemistry, 
 that it is extremely well adapted to the objects for which it is designed. 
 As a text-book, I regard it as superior to Turner's Chemistry, on which 
 it is based, being more condensed and practical, and yet sufficiently and 
 equally presenting the late rapid advancement of the science. 
 
 Extract from a Letter of F. Merrick, Professor of Chemistry in the Ohio 
 Wesleyan University and Starli?ig Medical College, Columbus, Ohio. 
 Having carefully examined Johnston's Turner's Chemistry, without 
 specifying its particular excellencies, I am free to say that I regard it as 
 an excellent text-book. Indeed to most students in the higher seminaries 
 of learning, I know of no book upon the subject, which I would recom- 
 mend in preference to it. 
 
 From Jchn F. Fraser, Professor of General Chemistry in the Franklin 
 Institute, Philadelphia. 
 I find it to be a carefully compiled and well digested Treatise, and, as 1 
 believe, well adapted to serve the purpose of a text-book. 
 
 This work has been introduced into many Academies and several Col 
 leges, and is held in the highest estimation. 
 
 (27) 
 
MODERN LANGUAGES. 
 
 MANESCA'S FRENCH GRAMMAR; 
 
 9r the Serial and Oral Method of Teaching Languages : — Adapted to the French 
 
 BY L. MANESCA. 
 
 SERIAL AND ORAL METHOD. 
 MANESCA'S FRENCH READER. 
 
 Prepared for the use of Students who hare gone through the Course of Lessons 
 
 contained in the method ; to which is added, 
 
 A TABLE OF THE FRENCH VERBS, 
 
 Arranged and classified on a new plan, calculated to facilitate greatly their 
 
 acquisition. By L. Manesca. 
 
 EXTRACTS OF NOTICES OF MANESCA'S FRENCH GRAMMAR. 
 
 From the New York Daily Tribune. 
 This is no doubt one of the most rational and effective manuals for the 
 teaching of languages that has ever been prepared ; any person, with an 
 ordinary degree of attention, may, with its aid, be certain of obtaining a 
 sound, practical knowledge of the French in a short time. The Serial and 
 Oral method was discovered by John Manesca, who devoted a life of pro- 
 found philosophical investigation to the subject of teaching languages. 
 The result of his labours was the creation of the system in question. Va- 
 rious imitations have been made of his matchless method, and it has become 
 more widely and popularly known under other names than his own. The 
 most successful imitation is that made by Ollendorff, of Paris, a Ger- 
 man teacher, into whose hands the system fell by accident, a few years 
 since, and who appropriated it as an invention of his own. 
 
 From the New York Evening Post. 
 
 This appears to us a very able work, arranged with great order and 
 method, and admirably adapted to the end it has in view. "I call the 
 method, the Serial," says the author in the preface, " because the elements 
 of our language are distributed and classified in a series, that is, in a natu- 
 rally progressive and connected order, conformable to the nature of lan- 
 guage and to the laws of acquisition of the understanding." The ele- 
 ments are arranged, each in its proper place, forming one great chain o{ 
 connected and dependent links. With the aid of this Serial arrangement 
 the student is led on by easy steps, from the simpler to the more complex 
 part of the language, and acquires it without the vexatious labour, grow- 
 ing out of the artificial difficulties which false systems create. The term 
 Oral indicates that the method communicates a knowledge of the spoken 
 language. 
 
 T he oral exercises have been prepared, and are introduced for the pur 
 pose of communicating this knowledge. The serial and oral method is the 
 same in principle as that which nature employs in teaching the child its 
 mother tongue, but being adapted to maturer age, the series of which the 
 language is composed, is condensed and greatly abridged, so that an 
 amount of language can, in a few months, be acquired by the student 
 which the child requires years to learn. 
 
 (34) 
 
HISTORICAL SERIES. 
 
 HISTORICAL SCHOOL PUBLICATIONS 
 
 OF 
 
 CHARLES DESILVER. 
 
 LORD'S HISTOKY. 
 
 a 3&nta Jjistnnj, 
 
 FROM THE TIME OF LUTHER TO THE FALL OF NAPOLEON, 
 FOR THE USE OF SCHOOLS AND COLLEGES 
 
 BY JOHN LORD, A.M., 
 
 LECTURER ON HISTORY. 
 
 Of the fitness of Mr. Lord to prepare such a history, some opinion vu# 
 De formed from a perusal of the English and American testimonials o\ hi« 
 Historical Lectures, a few of which are appended. 
 
HISTORICAL SERIES. 
 
 Copy of a Letter from Pkof. West, Principal of Rutgers Institute, 
 
 New York. 
 
 Mr. Lord's work on Modern History is one of the most valuable contri 
 butions to school literature that has been made in many years. It is not 
 composed of shreds and patches, as are most of the treatises in thisdepait. 
 ment of knowledge, but elaborated from a mind imbued with the spirit of 
 history. It is a living book, and presents the great events of an age in en 
 attractive manner. Its style is beautifully simple and graphic. It ia 
 remarkable for its condensation and clearness, and is eminently free from 
 narrow and sectarian views. 
 
 I know of no book of the kind so well fitted for the purpose of educa- 
 tion as this. It has been used in this Institution the past year, and so great 
 has been the interest taken in it by my pupils, that I feel warranted in 
 recommending it to the attention of teachers generally. 
 
 CHAS. E. WEST. 
 Rutgers Institute, New York, 
 
 The best recommendation which can be given to Lord's History is that 
 it recognizes a God in History, and assigns Him His proper agency in the 
 government of this world. — Christian Secretary , Hartford, Ct. 
 
 It is rather late in the day to produce a '.' Modern History" which can 
 lay claim to much of originality or research, but Mr. Lord's aim is not to 
 compete on these grounds with his predecessors on the same field, but to 
 simplify and concentrate, according to his own system of arrangement, the 
 facts and data which go to make up the sum and substance of the many 
 histories already before the world. The work is intended for the use of 
 schools and instructors, and in accordance with this plan its method has 
 been adopted. — New York Literary World. 
 
 This is a volume of very attractive appearance, prepared by a well-read 
 and warm-hearted man, full of his subject, full of matter, and full of scho- 
 lar-like enthusiasm. It goes over the ages from the time of Luther to the 
 fall of Napoleon. Though professedly written "for the use of schools 
 and colleges," it is admirably fitted for the instruction of that best of all 
 schools — the domestic circle. — Boston Puritan and Recorder. 
 
 Lord's History contains a vast amount of valuable information on sub 
 jects of which no one should be ignorant. It betrays no spirit of political 
 prejudice or religious bigotry ; and for the most part derives its materiali 
 from unexceptionable sources. Its general correctness cannot be im« 
 peached.— Southern Christian Advocate, Charleston, S. C. 
 
 (8) 
 
HISTORICAL SERIES. 
 
 PINNOCK'S HISTORICAL SEJIIE& 
 PINNOCK'S ENGLAND. 
 
 REVISED EDITION. 
 
 PINNOCK'S IMPROVED EDITION OF DR. GOLDSMITH'S HISTORY OF ENGLAND, 
 
 FROM THE INVASION OF JULIUS CESAR 
 
 TO THE DEATH OP GEORGE THE II. 
 
 WITH A CONTINUATION TO THE YEAR 1845: 
 WITH QUESTIONS FOR EXAMINATION AT THE END OF EACH SECTION \ 
 
 BESIDES A VARIETY OP VALUABLE INFORMATION ADDED THROUGHOUT THE WORK, 
 
 Consisting of Tables of Contemporary Sovereigns and eminent Persons, copious Expla 
 
 natory Notes, Remarks on the Politics, Manners and Literature of the Ajre, 
 
 and an Outline of the Constitution. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED WITH NUMEROUS ENGRAVINGS 
 
 Wra HUNDRED AND FIFTH AMERICAN, CORRECTED AND REVISED FROM THE THIRTY -FIFTH 
 
 ENGLISH EDITION. 
 
 By "W. C. TAYLOR, LL. D., of Trinity College, Dublin, 
 
 Author of n Manual of Ancient and Modern History, &c. ic. 
 
 (9) 
 
HISTORICAL SERIES. 
 
 PINNOCK'S FRANCE, 
 
 HISTORY OF FRANCE AND NORMANDY, FROM THE EARLIEST TIMES K 
 THE REVOLUTION OF 1848, 
 
 WITH QUESTIONS FOR EXAMINATION AT THE END OF EACH SECTIGfi 
 
 By W. C. TAYLOR, LL. D., of Trinity College, Dublin, • 
 
 4 itaor of a Manual of Ancient and Modern History, &c. &c, and Editor of PlnnooV 
 Improved editions of Goldsmith's Greece, Rome, and England. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED WITH NUMEROUS ENGRAVINGS. 
 
 TWENTY-FIFTH AMERICAN FROM THE THIRD ENGLISH EDITION. 
 
 PINNOCK'S ROME, 
 
 REVISED EDITION, 
 
 PINNOCK'S IMPROVED EDITION OF DR. GOLDSMITH'S HISTORY OF ROME, 
 
 TO WHICH 18 PREFIXED 
 
 AN INTRODUCTION TO THE STUDY OF ROMAN HISTORY 
 
 AND A GREAT VARIETY OF INFORMATION THROUGHOUT TnE WORK, 
 
 O.V TEE MANNERS, INSTITUTIONS, AND ANTIQUITIES OF THE ROMANS , 
 
 WITH QUESTIONS FOR EXAMINATION AT THE END OF EACH SECTION. 
 
 8.XTY-FIFTH AMERICAN, FROM THE NINETEENTH LONDON EDITION, IMPROVED 
 
 BY W. C. TAYLOR, LL.D., 
 
 WITH NUMEROUS ENGRAVINGS BY ATHERTON AND OTHERS. 
 
 PINNOCK'S GREECE, 
 
 REVISED EDITION, 
 
 PINNOCK'S IMPROVED EDITION OF DR. GOLDSMITH'S HISTORY OF GREBO& 
 REVISED, CORRECTED, AND VERY CONSIDERABLY ENLARGED, 
 
 BY THE ADDITION OF SEVERAL NEW CHAPTERS, AND NUMEROUS 
 
 USEFUL NOTES. 
 
 W.TH QUESTIONS FOR EXAMINATION AT THE END OF EACH SECTION, 
 
 FORTY-FIFTH AMERICAN, FROM THE NINETEENTH LONDON EDITION, IMI>ROVJtD 
 
 BY W. C. TAYLOR, LL.D., 
 
 WITH NUMEROUS ENGRAVINGS, BY ATHERTON AND OTHERS. 
 
 :ioj 
 
HISTORICAL SEBIES. 
 
 iTORY OF THE UN1TJ 
 
 A New History of the United States of America, 
 
 FOR THE USE OF SCHOOLS. 
 
 BY JOHN LORD, A. M., 
 
 AUTHOR OF A MODERN HISTORY FROM THE TIME OF LUTHER TO TUB 
 FALL OF NAPOLEON. 
 
 This work is written in the attractive style for which the iiuhor is so 
 noted, and is admirably calculated to produce in the minds of pupils who 
 shall use it a love for the study. 
 
 It is beautifully illustrated with numerous fine Engravings, and contains 
 an excellent coloured Map of the United States, and several additional 
 maps showing the position of various battle-fields and noted places in our 
 history. 
 
 NOTICES. 
 
 From the Philadelphia American Courier. 
 
 This may very safely be pronounced a much needed and at the snmo 
 time a most admirably executed volume for the schools of the country. 
 and for which we unhesitatingly predict great popularity and an immense 
 demand. The great leading facts in our national history are presented in 
 plain, well expressed terms, without verboseness or ambiguity, by one 
 who has proved himself to be an able scholar, a just historian, and a pa- 
 triot of enlarged, liberal views. It is just the work to give the youihtul 
 mind right and lasting impressions of the history of the country. 
 From the New York Evening Mirror. 
 
 It is not only an excellent School History, but an excellent general his- 
 tory, that may be perused with profit by readers of all ages and acquire 
 ments. 
 
 From the Philadelphia City Item. 
 
 This book will supply a deficiency long acknowledged in school litera- 
 ture. We doubt if any other man in the country is so well calculated to 
 write this history. Mr. Lord is a great favourite of ours. His style is 
 eminently lucid, vigorous, and comprehensive. We think we can, with- 
 out fear of contradiction, pronounce him a master of the English tongue. 
 With a wealth of language known to but few, he is singularly simple i& 
 his choice of words. His sentences are direct and to the point, and his 
 matter is always the gist of the story. These are rare qualifications, and 
 almost indispensable in a historian. We shall be mistaken if this work 
 is not at once hailed with acclamation as by far the best school history in 
 the United States yet published. It should at once be introduced into cur 
 Tablic Schools. 
 
 (16) 
 
WORKS ON THE NATURAL SCIENCES. 
 
 GUY'S ASTRONOMY, 
 
 AND 
 
 KEITH ON THE GLOBES. 
 
 GUY AND KEITH. 
 
 GUY ON ASTRONOMY, AND KEITH ON THE GLOBES: 
 
 Goy's Elements of Astronomy, and an Abridgment of Keith's New Treatise on the Globes. 
 
 THIRTEENTH AMERICAN EDITION, WITH ADDITIONS AND IMPROVEMENTS, 
 AND AN EXPLANATION OF TILE ASTRONOMICAL PART OE TILE AMERICAN 
 
 ALMANAC. 
 
 Sllttstriibft initli £igtjtnti $ld*i, 
 
 DRAWN AND ENGRAVED ON STEEL, IN THE BEST MANNER. 
 
 A volume containing Guy's popular Treatise of Astronomy, and Keith 
 on t*ie Glebes, having been submitted to us for examination, and carefully 
 examined, we can without any hesitation recommend it to the notice and 
 patronage ot parents and teachers. The work on Astronomy is clear 
 intelligible, and suited to the comprehension of young persons. It com- 
 prises a groat amount of information and is well illustrated with steel 
 engravings. Kthh on the Globes has long been recognised as a standard 
 school book. The present edition, comprised in the same volume with the 
 Astronomy, is impio-'cd by the omission of much extraneous matter, and 
 the reduction of size a id price. On the whole, we know of no school 
 oook which comprise^ to much in so little space as the new edition of 
 Guy and Keith. 
 
 THOMAS EUSTAv/E, CHARLES MEAD, 
 
 JOHN HASLAM, BENJAMIN MAYO, 
 
 W. CURRAN, HUGH MORROW, 
 
 SAMUEL CLENDEMN, J. H. BLACK. 
 
 The following teachers of Baltimore, concur iu the opinion above ex- 
 pressed : 
 
 E.BENNETT, O. W. TREADWELL, 
 
 C. F. BANSEMAR, JAMES SHANLEY, 
 
 E, R. HARNEY, DAVID KING, 
 
 ROBERT O'NEILL. ROBERT WALKER, 
 
 N. SPELMAN, D. W. B. McCLELAN. 
 
 c2 (29) 
 
SARGENT'S STANDARD SPEAKER. 
 
 JUST PUBLISHED, 
 In one demi-octavo volume of 558 pages. 
 
 THE STANDARD SPEAKER, 
 
 CONTAINING 
 
 <&mmm in ^xmt unit ^nrfrtf, 
 
 FOR DECLAMATION IN SCHOOLS, ACADEMIES, LYCEUMS, COLLEGES. 
 
 Newly translated or compiled from celebrated Orators, Authors, and populaf 
 
 Debaters, ancient and modern. 
 
 A TREATISE ON ORATORY AND ELOCUTION, 
 
 WITH NOTES EXPLANATORY AND BIOGR* PHICAL. 
 BY EPES SARGENT. 
 
 This work has been compiled with great care, and conta uB a majority of 
 new pieces. It is far more comprehensive than any similar work, and is 
 adapted for use not only as a Speaker, but to the general reader, as a collec- 
 tion containing many new, rare, and elegant extracts. 
 
 From among a great number of commendatory notices received from 
 essayists, the press, and teachers of elocution, a few are subjoined. 
 
 From E. P. "Whipple, Esq., the well-known Essayist and Critic. 
 
 We have no hesitation in saying that this is the best compilation of the 
 kind, in the variety and in the comprehensiveness of its selections, which 
 has been made on either side of the Atlantic. The various pieces are selected 
 with great judgment from a long array of celebrated orators and writers. 
 A good portion of the work is devoted to extracts from late speeches in 
 France, England, and America, which have never before appeared in a col- 
 lection of the kind; and the works of the great masters of eloquence, 
 Chatham, Burke, Pitt, Fox, Grattan, Emmett, Shiel, and Webster, have been 
 carefully studied for new specimens. The original translations from the 
 French are admirably executed, and add a novel feature to the work. The 
 amount of editorial labor expended on the whole compilation must have 
 been very great — greater, we think, than that of any other Speaker. 
 
 The introductory treatise on Oratory and Elocution is a model of con- 
 densation, full of matter, clear, sensible, and available in every part. Not 
 only is the volume admirably adapted to serve its primal purpose as a 
 Speaker, but to the general reader it will be found to be a most stimulating 
 and attractive book, better than any work of "elegant extracts" we have 
 Been. 
 
 09) 
 
SARGENT'S STANDARD SPEAKER. 
 
 From the Knickerbocker (A r . Y.) Magazine. 
 While be (the compiler) has retained all the indispensable masterpieces, 
 and restored many that have been omitted from the collections the last 
 twenty j'ears, he has given an amount of fresh, new, and appropriate mat- 
 ter, that will astonish and delight the youthful prize-seeking orators of our 
 academies and schools. He has translated from Mirabeau and Victor Hugo 
 a number of speeches of appropriate length, that will become as familiar as 
 the " Give me liberty or give me death' - speech of Patrick Henry. 
 
 From E. S. Dixwell, Esq., late Principal of the Public Latin School, Boston. 
 The volume seems to me to be a very valuable one, and to contain more 
 available matter than any book of the kind I ever saw. Beside the old 
 standard pieces, you have given us a great many new ones, and, to my sur- 
 prise, have put a new vigor into some of the old translations, which makes 
 them quite new and redolent of their originals. 
 
 From the Lowell Courier. 
 
 The whole range of ancient and modern oratory, pulpit, forensic, or occa- 
 sional, as well as of poetry, dramatic, lyrical, or epic, has been explored, and 
 the choicest gems' from each brought together into this literary casket. The 
 volume should be on the table of every friend of elegant letters, as a collec- 
 tion of rare and beautiful extracts, to be read and read again. 
 
 From the Boston Daily Advertiser. 
 The volume deserves to be, what its title claims, a '* Standard 
 Speaker." 
 
 From the Neio York Express. 
 The Standard Speaker is one of the most superbly executed works that 
 ever emanated from the American press, and is the best book for the pur- 
 poses for which it was designed, ever issued in the language. It must 
 become a standard school-book, wherever reading and elocution are taught. 
 
 From the New York Home Journal. 
 The chimerical "systems," through which a short cut to the attainment 
 of good elocution is promised, are set down at their true value. All the 
 available information on the subject is here summed up. The principal de- 
 partment is the Senatorial; and this is much more full and satisfactory than 
 anything of the kind that has yet appeared in any elocutionary collection. 
 
 It is adapted to the wants of the ivhole Union, and not of a section. — New 
 Orleans Picayune. 
 
 (20) 
 
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