University of Virginia Library

A STORY.

1. CHAPTER I.

Lady Clara Hartly, at the age of nineteen, was the toast of the
Three Kingdoms. She was incomparably beautiful—if a superb figure
a queenly bust; hands and feet of faultless symmetry; an eye, dark
as night, yet soft and dreamy, now melting in its own fire, now burning
like stars in the midnight sky; if features perfect in all that makes
loveliness in woman; if a voice of thrilling richness, a smile of light,
and a lip of love—if an enduring sunshine of a happy spirit, illuminating
all her rare and glorious person—if these constitute beauty, then
was she most beautiful. Pride of birth and consciousness of her exceeding
loveliness had given a slight degree of haughtiness to her
manner, that perhaps, still heightened and finished her charms. She
was also wilful, at times, a little capricious, fond of having her own
way, and singularly impatient of restraint. The pet and idol of an
invalid and aged father, she never knew a wish ungratified; while, humoured
with a thousand indulgences from her doting parent, she became
not only wilful and independent, but, from being left without
healthful restraint, eccentric habits at length grew upon her, till it got
to be as difficult to decide upon any given line of conduct that Lady
Clara Hartly would pursue, as to calculate the variable course of the
swallow in his swift and uncertain flight.

At the age of nineteen, then, Lady Clara, was left an orphan, an heiress
and her own mistress. For a single winter, she reigned a dazzling meteor
in London; and, after having a score of cornets cast at her feet,
and broken the hearts of all the young, and many of the old, nobles in
the kingdom, she suddenly disappeared not only from the firmament of
fashion but from England.

`Ha, Lawnshade,' said a gay young Viscount, encountering a noble
friend in the Park, the day after it had been ascertained that Lady
Clara Hartly had certainly left the country; `ha! ha! we have been
chasing a will-o'-wisp this winter—flown, eh?'

`To the — for what it concerns me,' said the young Earl of
Lawnshade, who, having lost all his ready cash at Crockford's, and
mortgaged half his estates, was desirous of mending his fortunes by
that of the lady's; `she has proved herself cold as an icicle, and has
a tongue sharpened with the devil's own wit.'

`Witty she is—beautiful you must confess her to be! Heigho, she
has jilted me to my heart's content. I did not love the girl—but I
liked her spirit, and would have married her if I could, she was such
a fine looking woman.'

`You would have held her, you mean, Malvern, as a sort of property
that administered to your self-love, as you would take pride in being
the possessor of a rare thorough-bred Arabian,' said a third gentleman,
who had just left his carriage and received his horse from his servant
to take a gallop in the Park.

`You have hit it, Chesterton,' replied the Viscount, laughing. `But
you were the hardest served of all—for you loved her. Ah, Chesterton,
your dark eyes could not melt her obdurate soul. I pity you, upon
my honor. Lawnshade and I have only lost a stake that we may
double and win at another day—but you, my dear fellow, have quite
lost your heart. But whither has this Bird of Paradise flown? What
hawk hath watched her flight?' he added quickly observing that the
youthful lover evinced some annoyance at his words.

`Some say to the contiment,' he replied.

`I heard this morning that she had gone to St. Petersburg—perhaps
to lay siege to the heart of the Grand Duke,' said Lawnshade, carelessly.

`She has full as likely gone to America,' observed Malvern; `our
Countesses of late have taken quite a liking to Brother Jonathan.'

`Ha, my lords,' cried a young baronet riding up, `still the Hartly
question on the floor! So what think ye? 'tis said Lady Clara has
gone to hob and nob with Lady Hester Stanhope, doubtless to honor
with her hand some young Arab Sheik. She is eccentric enough,
i'faith.'

`Deil may care, where she be; all I hope is, that she may yet throw
herself away on some infernal French or Italian Count, who will make
her goldfinches fly,' said Lawnshade, with a laugh of contempt that ill
concealed his chagrin; and putting spurs to his horse, he rode off at
full speed, followed, a moment after, by the remainder of the party.

2. CHAPTER II.

About twelve months after the foregoing conversation a handsome
young officer, in the uniform of a captain of artillery, of the United
States Army, was hastening in a coach from his hotel in Broadway,
New York, to one of the North River steamboats, generous wines and
`goodlie companie,' having kept him at the table till the last minute of
delay. Before he reached the foot of Barclay street, the deep toned
bell of the City Hall struck five—the hour of departure—replied to in
quick succession by all the clocks of the town, in every possible key;
while the lesser tongues from the throats of a dozen rival steamboat
bells, began to ring out their shriller treble, each vying to o'ertop his
noisy neighbor. Carriages rattled up to the pier gate; passengers
leaped recklessly out, their luggage following them helter-skelter; porters
were swearing, wrangling, and grumbling; noisy, officious, and
impudent hackmen, crowded the way, scratching and fighting for precedence;
men with valises in hand, run this way and that way like
mad, sweating and blowing; and, altogether, what with the cries of
the news boys, the yells of orange women, and the deafening ringing
of the ceaseless bells from half a score of contiguous steamers—dire
and dreadful was the confusion that reigned. Amid this uproar the
young officer arrived on the scene, the coachman adding his oaths and
execrations, against those who blocked up the way, to increase the general
flood of noises.

`Clare the road, there, you nager,' he shouted to another hack driver,
who had just driven in between his horses and the gate, and prevented
his farther progress.

`Jis you leff um dare, I ax you,' replied the black, giving his horses
a sharp cut and dashing closer into the curb stone; `I has ladieses to
get out, an' you nuffin but von gen'leman.'

`Won or twinty jintlemen, I'll let no black nager take the inside o'
a white man, an' he an Irishman;' and with these words the ireful
coachman struck the African's horse a blow in the head with the
butt of his whip with such sudden violence that the animals run back,
reared and plunged fearfully in the harness. The young officer, who
witnessed the outrage and its result from the window of his carriage,
at the same instant caught sight of a lovely woman in the coach, who
dropped the glass and was giving, in a cool, energetic tone, two or
three rapid orders to the black, who amid his surprise, rage, and the
confusion, was incompetent to govern his horses.

No sooner did the officer discover the danger of the fair inmate of
the carriage, than undoing his door, he leaped out to her aid. But before
he reached the ground, the plunging horses, by a short turn,
brought the fore-wheels round at right angles with the coach, and attempted
to dash off. At this crisis, the lady threw open the coach
door, and sprang out into the arms of the young officer, and the next
instant the carriage was overturned.

`Thank God you have escaped unhurt,' he said, gaizing upon her
bewildered beauty, and losing his hat at the same moment.

`And thank you, sir,' she replied gaily, fixing upon him her dark
eyes with a look that made his blood course from his heart to his brow
like lightning. `But my aunt and uncle I fear—'

`Are they in the coach?' he eagerly inquired, springing to the door,
the reversed position of which now answered to the scuttle of a roof.

The horses had by this time been cut from the pole by the bystanders,
and the door of the carriage being open, were drawn forth, one after
another a respectable middle-aged man, who complained of a bruise
or two in the back and shoulders, and a nice body of a little woman in
starched cap and ruff, who at first was too frightened to speak, but
at length found voice to lament the derangement of the propriety of her
ruff, and to mourn over a slight rent in her drab silk dress. In a few
seconds the baggage was disengaged from the overturned vehicle, and
tumbled on board the steamer by half a dozen officious individuals,
each of whom demanded a `quarter' for his services; the uncle and
aunt were also hurried on board, closely followed by by the officer and
the young lady who had very frankly accepted the offer of his escort
through the crowd. Scarcely had they touched the deck, when the
bells rung out their final peal, and the usual rapid orders were given
to start.

`Haul in the plank. Cast off that bow-line. Let her go.'

Instantly the noble boat, which for the last twenty minutes had been
ceaselessly moving backward and forward to the length of her fastenings,
chafing like an impatient racer who is with difficulty held in until
the signal is given for starting, with a swift and stately movement left
the pier, and in company with half a score of other boats from the
docks on either side, shot out into the broad stream. After escorting
his fair charge to a settee in the stern of the boat, the young officer
lingered a few moments near her, and only turned from her to promenade
the deck, on the approach of the uncle and aunt. It was with
reluctance that he did so. But he thought that farther attention on his
part to a perfect stranger, now that there was no farther call for his
services, might be construed by her into a disposition to take advantage
of an accident to thrust himself upon the acquaintance of a beautiful
woman. She did not know him either; but then, thought he with a
glow of military pride, `My uniform should be my passport, and endorse
me as a gentleman. Ah, heigho! but is she not a lovely woman!'
he added, as he turned on his heel in his walk, and let his eye rest for
an instant on her beautiful profile. She was watching at the moment
the fleeting city, as with its hundred towers and spires it receded from
the eye. She looked at objects with an observant and speculative
gaze, like one who had travelled, and was in the habit of mentally instituting
comparsions between what she saw and what she had seen.
Her profile was spirited and beautiful—not exactly regular in its outline,
but defined by a soft, yet intellectual, line that undulated without
a fault from the summit of her beauteous forehead to the exquisitely
shaped chin. Her eye was dark, full, and so thickly fringed with long
silken lashes, that while all was sunshine on her cheek and brow, a
dreamy, shadowy twilight seemed to dwell about them, subduing the
lustre of her glorious beauty. She wore a black velvet spencer that
fitted admirably her superb bust, and confined her round waist within
a circle of beauty. Descending from it was a travelling skirt of
coarse material, from beneath which peeped a symmetrical foot, the
perfect shape of which a rather stout laced boot that covered it could not
quite conceal. She wore an open cottage-flat of very coarse straw,
which wonderfully became her style and air, which were indolent, yet
haughty; independent, yet feminine. There was a frank carelessness
about her that was irresistibly captivating. In abundant curls of jet
her raven hair played about her face and snowy throat. In one hand

she carried, apparently for the same purpose that gentlemen wear
canes—to have something in the hand—a lady's riding whip, richly
mounted with gold head and bands; in the other hand, or rather upon
her lap, with the arm gracefully resting upon it, she held a book, that
looked like a sketch book. At a little distance from her on a camp
stool, sat the aunt, putting on her spectacles preparatory to perusing a
penny paper which a ragged urchin had thrust into her hand, while
the uncle was bustling about collecting the `small baggage' into a pile
near the cabin door.

`Who can she be?' thought the young soldier as he gazed. `There is
a certain style about her that looks like a high-bred woman—but then
the uncle and the aunt!—they, doubtless, are very respectable sort of
people, but'—and he took another glance at the man, who, with a hard
Scotch face, shaded by a broad brimmed hat, a Quaker-looking coat,
red waistcoat with flaps, breeches and knee-buckles, was still very
busy in getting together numerous little packings, baskets &c., that belonged
to his party—he took a second look at the aunt, who sat poring
over the penny paper, dressed in a neat brown silk bonnet, and gown,
spectacles on nose, and with knit cotton gloves.—`Very nice people no
doubt,' he said, shaking his head after this scrutiny—`very good sort
of people. She can't be very high in society: but her air, manner, and
superior beauty! these are aristocratic enough. I would give my
commission to know who she is; what farm-house or remote village
could have produced so fair a flower! Well-a-day! I have lost my heart
to her, and Cupid favor me, I will yet know more of her. Ha, there
goes the man up to the office to settle the passage. I will settle mine
at the same time, and so shall at least learn the names of the party.'

Thus deciding, he took his station by the captain's window, and
heard the uncle give in his name as `Mr. John Hodge, wife and a
young lady.'

`John Hodge!' repeated the officer, smiling; `their name fits their
appearance. But the niece—if her name be Hodge, I will eat my
sword. But I should not wonder if the barbarians, her father and
mother, who must be chips of the same block with Mr. John Hodge,
have given her some hideous name, Dorcas or Deborah! How could
nature have committed so strange mistake as to produce such a
glorious dahlia in a kitchen garden? Ha, there is intellect there—taste,
poetry, and love for the beautiful. See her eye light up, and the color

mount to her cheek, as they catch the rocky palisades! Now in
that fair creature is combined everything that constitutes beauty in
woman. What a being to love—what bliss to worship her—what a
bride—what a WIFE she would make me! Ah, this infernal pride of
family—I should be cut by kith and kin if I stooped to mate with one
so low. My proud old father, my dignified mother, my lovely and aristocratic
sisters—ah, lovely as yonder fair woman is—they would never
acknowledge her as a member of one of the oldest and most stately
famlies in Virginia.'

This young officer belonged, indeed, to one of the best Virginia
families which, though decayed in fortune, had lost none of its pride of
blood. Although he was an only son, yet the possessions he would
inherit were insufficient to afford him an independent income, if he
should continue to keep up the style by which his father and grandfather
had lessened his patrimony, and therefore he early looked to the
army as a profession. He graduated with distinguished honor at the
United States Military Academy, and at the age of twenty-seven, two
years before his present introduction to the reader, was made a captain.
He had recently distinguished himself in several engagements
on the frontier. He was now absent from his post on furlough, and
on his way to pay a visit to West Point, before his return to his cantonment
beyond the Mississippi. He was a young man of remarkable
personal beauty, to which the southern sun had lent a rich brown;
tall, and well made, with a clear eagle eye, lofty brow shaded with
dark hair, and altogether of noble person and carriage. Few women
could look on him without interest. He was, nevertheless, modest and
retiring, and unconscious of commanding admiration; and in all he
did and said was unaffectedly mingled the courtesy of the finished and
thorough bred gentleman.

The beauty of the fair stranger had the effect for which beauty was
given to woman—of captivating his senses, and kindling a flame of
love in his heart, at all times susceptible to such female influences.
This, however was a sincere, deep and all-absorbing passion. Like
Minerva, it sprung into existence in full growth and stature. As the
boat approached the palisades, she left her seat to stand leaning over
the railing, wrapped in the sensations which the sight of such a gigantic
parapet of nature must produce in the soul of every one capable of receiving
noble impressions from sublime objects. He took a position
near her, and watched the play of her countenance as the varied shades

of thought floated across it, giving it their own changing hues, as a
still lake will paint upon its bosom the clouds that move above it. He
saw not the palisades; he saw not the gilded surface of the water; he
saw not the throng of passengers around him—he saw nothing but her
face—was conscious of nothing but the presence of the lovely object
on which rested his impassioned, worshipping, enraptured gaze. Suddenly,
with that singular consciousness of having eyes fixed upon her,
that all have experienced at times, she turned her head involuntarily
round, (as all persons do in such cases, as if the eyes upon you possessed
a mysterious power that insensibly drew your own to meet them,)
and encountered the full gaze of his impassioned eyes. The start he
gave on being detected in this species of adoration, and the red blush
that leaped to his manly cheek, drew from her a smile that brought the
culprit at once to her side.

`Pardon my rudeness, lady—but—'

`Not a word—this is no time to talk idle nothings, surrounded as
we are by the majesty and beauty of nature; with these rocks on which
the skies seem to be built, towering above our heads, and sending their
black shadows as far down into the water; with this glorious, broad
river on which the western sky has showered its gold till the flood is
not less gorgeous than the firmament—let not a light thought, an artificial
word mingle with the feelings of such a time. God has made a
beautiful world for us; oh, how beautiful!'

It would be difficult to describe the manner in which she spoke.
Her first words were addressed to him in a tone of stern reproof, as if
she despised, and knew that he did also, all that was insincere and artificial.
Then laying upon his arm her gloved hand—he thought he
had never seen one so shapely, and the touch made his blood thrill—she
pointed to the objects around her as she named them with an eye illuminated
with intelligence, taste and delight, and her countenance
shining with the spirit that animated her; while she spoke with the loftiest
enthusiasm, slightly touched with scorn that God's glories must
needs be named to draw the admiration of man—that he should not
feel the presence of the spirit of beauty, and yield voluntarily the
homage of his intellect to her power.

`God has made a beautiful world for us! oh, how beautiful!' this
was said in a changed tone, and with a look of mingled gratitude and
wonder, while her beautiful eyes as they wandered over the rich scene,
were tearful with the love and joy that welled from her heart.

`And he has made this glorious being to dwell upon it!' said the
young soldier mentally. He had gazed upon her with bewildered senses,
as she spoke, thinking that the world might well be created even
for the pleasure of one such mind. As she ceased speaking, she
leaned pensively over the balustrade, and for many minutes seemed
lost in the contemplation of the scene through which she was borne
along.

He became more and more puzzled. `Such a soul can inhabit no
plebian clay,' were his thoughts. `Wonderful, glorious creature! If
she is to be won, I will strive to win her, for I feel henceforth my happiness
is in her keeping. Let her be the daughter of the veriest clown,
I will lay my heart at her feet.

While he communed thus with his thoughts, his eye dwelt upon her
intelligent countenanee, and each moment more firmly riveted the
chains that bound his heart to hers. She soon turned and addressed
to him a remark, and insensibl they were led into conversation. The
originality of her mind, the beauty of her thoughts, the richness of
her language, to which were added a highly cultivated sense, a finished
taste, and all the enthusiasm of a poet and painter, filled him with wonder
and astonishment.

It was twilight when the steamer entered the landlocked part of
the Hudson, called the Highlands. Who that has sailed by night-fall
into this wilderness of dark mountains, will forget his impressions of
the combined majesty and loveliness of the scene. The passengers
hitherto restless, talkative and noisy, now, as if under the influence of
a spell, became still. No voice was heard—no sound but the regular
dash, like the noise of a waterfall, of their paddles. The boat entered
deeper into the mountains, and the water became black as Tartarus
with the deep shadows flung upon its bosom, and the grey shores rose
skyward higher and higher till they threatened to meet, enclosing beneath
a vast cavernous lake. As the shadows grew darker, and the
great hills came closer together, showing longer neither inlet or outlet,
the singular girl leaned forward with her hands clasped together, her
lips parted, and her face silently eloquent with the feelings that, in a
mind like hers, such a scene was calculated to awaken. Her countenance
wore almost a holy character; she seemed to be worshipping
God through his works. Wonder, love, and gratitude were mingled in
her looks. Oh, how beautiful—how lovely she was! But it was
ethereal beauty! the beauty of her face was all forgotton in the beauty

of the soul that shone through it. What, at last, is beauty without
intellect? But when intellect is united with perfect beauty in woman,
she assuredly must approach the perfection of angels If lovely intelligent
girls could be made sensible how the cultivation of the
mind enhances true beauty of feature, and also of form—for the soul
pervades and shines through all the body—extraordinary female loveliness
would be more general, and of far higher degree.

Twilight deepened, and the moon soon began to light up the tops
of the mountains, the light of which, to the upturned gaze of those
who sailed in the black shadows of the depths below, appeared like
clouds of silver dust resting there; while the evening star burned like
a beacon fire upon a far off peak, and lesser lights shone down into
the deep water, adding a new and pleasing feature to the ever changing
scene.

Three hours after taking their departure from New York, the elevated
plain of West Point appeared in sight, overtopped by the hoary battlements
of `Fort Putnam,' on which poured a flood of moonlight that
had made its way through a cleft in the mountains to the east, as if,
while all around was dark heaven, it would direct the gaze of the
children of America to one of the most sacred altars of their freedom.
The lights from the Military Academy now began to enliven the shores,
and the sound of a bell rung landward to give signal of the approach of
the steamer, floated pleasantly over the water.

`How full of enchantment all! How like fairy land it must be! I am
in a maze of delight—rioting in a world of poetry and of the imagination.'

The young officer had been standing by the fair girl's side for more
than hour in silence. Not a word until now had been interchanged
between them, yet both felt the sympathies of each other to be active
and in unison. Their spirits conversed together as they bent over the
vessel's side, and in silence drank into their souls the beauty that was
around them.

The soldier started as she spoke and looked up; but the darkness
was too great for him to see her face, and the tones of her rich, sweet
voice, fell like music on his soul. Before he could reply to her observation,
the boat rounded the rocky promontory that forms the eastern
most extremity of West Point, and steered directly for a light that
burned, seemingly in the craggy side of the precipice, but which, as
nearer observationx showed, was held in the hand of some one on the
head of a small pier.

`I go on shore here,' said the lady.

`Ah!' and the delighted surprise in which this brief exclamation
was made, could not have escaped the most indifferent hearer. Hitherto,
he had been able by no finesse to obtain a clue to her destination.
or of her place of residence; and within the last half hour he had
come to the determination to continue on in the boat as far as she should
go, and leave, only when he had ascertained who she was, and made to
her a declaration of his unconquerable passion.

`Why should not a lady visit West Point?' she said archly; `there
are many gallant gentleman there, if rumor lie not; and beauty too, I
am told, deigns to grace its parades by its presence. How is it
sir?'

`Yes sir.'

`Yes sir.'

`I beg your pardon. No sir.'

`No sir.'

`I would say yes—I mean no—'

`Really sir, you are amusingly witty,,—and the mischevious laugh of
the beautiful creature as she said this, almost set the poor lover beside
himself; his head being already half turned by his passion. `You had
best stop at West Point also, I fear to trust you farther,' she said, with
a gentle fall of the voice that conveyed a wish that he would stay, while
it expressed a confidence in his doing so—so conscious is beauty in the
power of its influence!

`I do stop here.'

`Indeed! I am glad of it.'

`Passengers for West Point will please walk forward,' cried one of
officers of the boat in a loud voice.

`Will you permit me to see you safely on shore?' asked the young
soldier diffidently; but I fear you will consider my attention as too
great presumption, inasmuch as accident only has thrown me in your
society.'

`By no means. I accept your escort with great pleasure. My good
uncle,' she added in a tone of peculiar humor, that he could not well
define, has, I perceive, got my troublesome baggage forward. I fear
you will find me more troublesome baggage still.'

`I hope—nay—I feel—'

`I beg you will trouble yourself neither to feel nor to hope, till you
get me on shore,' she said, interrupting him, as they reached the fore-castle

where stood the captain, ready with a lantern.

The boat now came to the pier—ropes were thrown from the deck,
and skilfully caught and tied by those on shore—the plank was thrown
out, and the passengers, including the party of our story, rapidly crossed
it. Scarcely had their feet touched the pier, when the cry, `Go-ahead!'
was heard, and the majestic steamer moved swiftly away on her
northward course, and soon, save the lights on her stern and bow, was
lost in the dark shadows flung upon the water by the shaggy bulk of
`Old Cro'nest.' Long afterwards the sound of the water as she made her
way through it, was heard roaring among the mountains, till it finally
ceased, and all became still as night and solitude could make it.

At the guard-house on the pier-head, a sentinel met the passengers
with a slate, demanding a register of their names.

`Now I shall learn it!' said the officer to himself, as he took the
slate and entered his own name, which for the present we shall suppose
to be Captain Harry Hunter, U. S. A. `What name?' he added
looking in the face of the lady, who still leaned on his arm.

`Never mind, sir. Uncle John put your name and those of the party
down.'

`I will save him the trouble,' said the officer, `as I see he is busy
with the baggage;' and then with a smile and a glance of humor which
she did not see fit to acknowledge, he wrote:

`Mr. John Hodge, lady, and niece.'

`How do you know this?' she said, as her eye followed the entry as
it was made.

`It is on the boat's record.'

`Humph! Well then, if you will see the niece to the hotel, my relative,
Mr. John Hodge and lady will follow at their leisure.'

The path which the officer took to the hotel, which was perched
commandingly on the cliff, and now shone dazzling with lights seen
through the foliage, wound romanticly up the side of the precipice
through a dense wood, and, save to the footsteps of one familiar with
its windings, was difficult to follow by night. Its very gloom and uncertainty
had for her romantic mind a charm, and she observed that
this wild woodland walk among crags, with the moonlight dappling the
path, the river beneath, and the lights of the illuminated hotel above,
had only been wanting to complete the sum of her enjoyment. At
first their way had been through the deepest gloom, but as they climbed
higher' the moon at intervals found its way through the trees on the

left, and silvered the gravel at their feet; while with occasional glimpses
of the lighted windows, which served not only as a beacon, but held
forth the promise of hospitality, could be heard the strains of music,
or the clear voice of some laughing girl. On the plateau above they
paused an instant to admire the night view of the highlands, with the
steely river sleeping in their bosom like a majestic lake. At length
they entered the mansion, where under the protecting care of Cozzens,
the courteous host thereof, we will leave the fair stranger, with uncle
and aunt, bag and baggage, until morning, assured that in no more
agreeable quarters can travellers take up their temporary abode. Our
hero himself sought the quarters of some of his brother officers, where
although he retired for the night, it was only to think of the beautiful
niece, and lose himself in a labyrinth of conjectures.

3. CHAPTER III.

The succceding day the beautiful stranger made her appearance,
for the first time, at the dinner table, and at her entrance, leaning on
the arm of the gallant host—who had a tolerable eye for female beauty—a
universal sensation was created by her beauty.

`Who is she?' where is she from? who are her party?' were questions
that no one could answer.

Captain Harry Hunter, as we shall call him until we get to the
denoument of our story, dined at the same table, but diffidently took
his seat at the extreme end, but his eyes were scarcely off from her;
but being rallied by his companion he colored, and to give proof of
his indifference to the lady, began very coolly to pepper a glass of
champaigne, instead of his salad.

`Hunter, will you take the mustard?' asked a waggish lieutenant at
his elbow.

`Thank you;' and the champaigne was enlivened by an abundant
spoonful of this pleasant mixture.

`A little salt?' inquired another opposite, handing him the salt-cellar.

`Thank you—thank you!' and the absent lover added very seriously
a spoonful of salt to his mustard and pepper.

`Now a little oil, Harry,' said the first wag, `and you will have the
honor of inventing a new dish—a devilled champaigne.'

A shout of laughter from a dozen gentlemen and ladies, who had
been amused observers, recalled the smitten captain to his senses, and
he fixed his eyes with a look of mingled wonder, shame, and anger on
the heterogeneous mixture before him. Laughing with the others the
affair soon passed; but it gave very positive proof of the state of his
heart in the judgment of more than one person at the table.

For several days afterwards the young lady became an object of curiosity,
and so great were her personal attractions, that the most aristocratic
of the summer sojourners at the Point, would have called upon
her and sought her acquaintance, but `the homely uncle and aunt'
they could not get over. They were a bar sinister to the otherwise
immaculate shield of her loveliness. Therefore she was courted by
no one, and remained isolated and alone amid a throng of gay and
fashionable people. Yet she seemed to be the happiest there. Her
mornings were past in exploring the wild scenery in the neighborhood,
and in sketching the most striking objects. Curiosity increased.
Who has seen her sketch book?' Nobody—yet the rumor was that,
it was filled with landscapes worthy of Rembrant. She had twice
seated herself at the piano when the drawing-room was nearly empty,
and in three minutes had filled it from terrace, lawn, and garden, by
the ravishing sweetness of her voice, and the magic music her skilful
touch drew from the ivory keys. `Who could she be?'

No one could say. The women avoided her, yet were dying to find
out who she was, and who Mr. and Mrs. Hodge were, and where they
lived, and what they did. They could not even learn the lady's name.
She was registered simply the niece, and as the niece only was she
known. A few ladies had spoken to her civilly to see if they could
get any thing out of her. But they grew no wiser. A gallant commodore
in the navy who had become a little deaf from the roar of cannon
in an engagement was her chief beau, for in his eye beauty was
aristocracy, spite of uncles and aunts. A few handsome cadets, also,
had fluttered about her, and she had encouraged their civility, and
and was often to be seen promenading on their arms. To the officers
and other gentlemen she was distant and haughty, and wore an air of
independence which, thought the ladies, would have become a lady

with a different class of relatives, but in the niece of such ordinary
personages was very presumptive and should be put down. So a party
was formed against her, while another come forward in her defence;
and for a time, she set them all by the ears, and was every where the
subject of conversation. A French Marquis arrived at the Point, and
with native gallantry attached himself to the beauty. They spoke
French together constantly. `She speaks French, too!' was whispered
about.

`She is a French teacher, perhaps,' said the opposition.

`She is a cultivated woman,' said the others.

There came a German prince, too, to the Point, and the day after
his arrival, he was seen escorting her to the table, and during dinner
they conversed wholly in German. Curiosity increased.

With the Swedish consul she conversed in his own tongue; with
the Spanish minister in Spanish, and even talked Latin with a Roman
priest who was travelling through the country. To sum up her accomplishments,
in music she was a mocking bird, warbling melodies
in all languages; in conversation a wonder; in accomplishments unparalleled;
in taste perfect; in painting a master; in walking she
moved like a goddess; and in riding she seemed to be the very spirit
of horsemanship—a female Putnam, while she managed her rein with
equal grace and boldness. Truly never were people so mystified—
never was curiosity so keen—never were ladies so long at fault in getting
at the bottom of a mystery.

In the meanwhile, what became of Captain Harry Hunter? From
the moment, the first night of his arrival, a spirit of diffidence and reserve
seemed to have taken possession of him. He avoided her presence,
turned from her path, and showed apparent aversion for her society.
It appeared dislike. She observed him, and rightly translated it.

It was the timidity of Love.

The inquries she had made about him from time to time, till she had
learned his whole history as we have already given it, led to conjectures
that Harry knew something of her. But his reserve, and the
fact of never being seen in her presence, took from the supposition all
its force.

One twilight, Captain Harry had been listlessly walking in that
most romantic spot of the Hudson, `Kosciusco's Garden,' when coming
to the fountain, he seated himself; and while the tinkling fall of
the water into the marble basin soothed his spirit, his thoughts dwelt

no the fair stranger. Long he sat there unintruded upon, occasionally
hearing the strains of music borne to his ears from the encampment.
The shades of night crept over the spot; the glens around grew dark;
the diverging walks became indistinct in the gloom, and solitude, and
silence reigned around him.

`What care I for family? Will parents, sisters, rank, compensate
for her loss? Never. No, I will seek her,' he said half aloud, as if
he had come to a final decision in relation to his passion, `and be she
the lowest of the low by parentage, I will declare my consuming
passion and receive from her own lips the sentence to live or die.'

`Live then!'

He started, and looking up, saw standing near him, the object of
his thoughts and words.

`Lady—angelic creature,' he instantly cried, kneeling before her
and seizing her hand, `forgive the language I have dared to use, I
knew not—'

`Nay, Captain Hunter, you are forgiven—I know your passion, and
should be cruel not only to myself as well as to a generous heart
which I know you to possess, to deceive you. If the ack nowledgement
that your interest in me is reciprocated by the unworthy object
of it, will render your being happier, and restore to your cheek the
color, and to your lip and eye the light that have left them for this two
weeks, then receive it—and there is my hand in token of the truth of
my heart.'

This was spoken with the extraordinary frankness that characterised
all that she did or said. Its effect upon him was electrical. Her hand
was pressed to his lips and then their lips were pressed together. Ere
they left the spot, they had pledged to each other their undying love.
Still the fair stranger, in whose breast had been kindled a passion simultaneous
with, and as vivid as his own, did not give him, at his repeated
solicitations, her name.

`In giving you myself, fair sir, I think I have given you as much as
your merits can well lay claim to,' she said archly. `If, as you have
now promised, after our marriage, you will accompany me to England,
I will then give you my name. Till then, seek not to know more of
me, unless perhaps at the altar.'

`Enough,' he said, `I am the slave of your will, and I obey.'

4. CHAPTER IV.

The next day all of the friends of Captain Hunter were congratulating
him upon his good looks and fine spirits; and when the Captain
was seen to escort the mysterious beauty, (the two apparently on the
best terms together,) into the dining-room, curiosity became once
more alive, and numerous were the surmises this sudden acquaintance
gave rise to.

If this little incident created suspicion, the astonishment of every
body was not lessened, when it was rumored the third day afterwards
the handsome and gallant Captain Harry Hunter was to be married at
twelve o'clock, by Dr. Warren, in the military chapel. The ceremony
drew crowds of the beauty and chivalry of the spot to the church
at the given hour.

Dr. Warren rose up, and the ceremony commenced. Every eye
was fixed upon the two who were about to be united. A nobler looking
man, a fairer woman never stood up together before the marriage
altar. There was a universal hum of admiration, yet the intensest curiosity
was mingled with the approbation. The lady was observed to
place a paper in the hands of the clergyman, who glance at it with a
look of surprise and doubt—his eye then fixed upon it with eager interest,
and he then, a moment afterwards, proceeded with the ceremony.

`He knows her name,' was the mental observation of every lady in
the thronged chapel. `We shall all soon learn it!'

Expectation was on tiptoe. Curiosity was at its height. The mystery
was about to be solved.

The rites proceeded, and the clergyman solemnly said to the handsome
soldier,

`Wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together

after God's ordinance, in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love
her, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others keep thee only
unto her, so long as ye both shall live?'

`I will!' swelled through the church in the deep, manly voice of the
gallant soldier; and many a maiden as she heard his fine voice and
rested her gaze on his noble person, confessed in her heart that he was
well worthy to become the protector and cherisher of a lovely woman.

`Wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband, to live together after
God's ordinance, in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou obey
him, and serve him, love, honor and keep him in sickness and health;
and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both
shall live?'

`I will,' answered the maiden, in a voice that went to every soul
with the love and confidence and hope with which it was laden. And
many a noble officer envied him by her side who was to be loved and
honored and kept, both in sickness and in health, by so fair a being.

There was a moment's expectant silence, when the clergyman said,
looking around `Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?'
When every one looked for the homely uncle to approach and give her
away, to the surprise of all, a gentleman from New York, and the
wealthiest banker in America, who had, unexpectedly to his friends,
arrived at the Point that morning, advanced with dignity, and taking
her ungloved hand, which seemed like ivory into which life had been
breathed, placed it in that of the clergyman. The bridegroom was
evidently unprepared for the presence of this gentleman; and it was
apparent also from the glances that he cast upon the paper in the clergyman's
hand that he was yet unacquainted with its contents.

Their right hands being joined, he first repeated in an audible voice,
after the minister—

`I, Henry, take thee Clara, (here a thousand eyes exchanged glances,
for her first name was known, and from the decided tone in which
he repeated it, it was plain that he himself had then heard it for the
first time,) to my wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward,
for better, for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and health
to love and cherish till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance;
and thereto I plight my troth.'

She also repeated her corresponding part of the ceremony, in a
firm, clear, yet sweetly feminine voice, when Harry receiving it from
the minister, placed upon her finger a plain gold ring, and said, in a
distinct voice that filled the chapel,

`With this ring I thee wed, and with all my worldly goods I thee
endow: In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy
Ghost.'

After the prayer, the clergyman joined their hands together, repeated
in a tone of solemn fervor,

`Those that God hath joined together, let no man put asunder.'

Then turning to the assembly he said, while his eye seemed to anticipate
the effect his words were about to produce,

`Forasmuch as Francis Livingstone Catesby and Clara Huntly,
Countess of Chesterton, have consented together in holy wedlock and
have witnessed the same before God and this company, and thereto
have given and pledged their troth, each to the other, and have declared
the same by giving and receiving a ring, and by joining hands; I pronounce
that they are man and wife.'

After the announcement of the name and title of the bride, the rest
of the clergyman's words were lost in the general burst of surprise
from every lady present, and a thousand eyes were turned on the bride
with new and stranger interest.

`I knew it,' cried the triumphant pros.

`Who would have believed it!' exclaimed the disconcertel cons.

The surprise of the bridegroom need not be painted. He loved her,
believing her of low degree—he could love her with no greater ardor
even as Lady Clara Huntly.

So ends my story, my dear—and I will conclude the rest in my
letter.