University of Virginia Library

3. CHAPTER III.

The Christmas Holidays, which brought home
every member of the family, never drew to paternal
doors a more frank, generous, whole-souled, and sound-hearted
youth, than Seth Van Corlear. Freshly
released from academic restraint, he came bounding
into the house like a fire-ball, his round red face blazing
with excitement, and his large blue eyes sparkling
with joy. Staying for but hasty salutations, he danced
off with a little Van Corlear in each hand, to see the
horses, the cows, the pigs and the poultry, and as if he
had but one minute's vacation instead of three weeks,
was back again in a twinkling, dashing through every
room in the house, catching hold of everybody, and
finally coming to a stand, only to shout long and
loudly for Jessie. Great was his surprise and grief to
learn that his favorite sister was absent at such a time.
Although himself within his minority, he was still two
years the senior of Jessie, and considered himself in

some degree the guardian of her interests, as he had
been in boyhood her champion and defender. If his
affection for her was ever full and overflowing, it was
perhaps owing partly to the fact that its channel in
another direction had been long since obstructed.
His monitor, his task mistress, the informant against
his boyish peccadilloes—these were the unfavorable
lights in which Memory ever placed his elder sister,
and there had been but little in the deportment of her
later years to regain the fraternal affection which had
been so early estranged. That she had been in some
way the cause of Jessie's absence, was a suspicion
which at once forced itself upon his mind with all the
strength of conviction. Bitter and burning, therefore,
was his shame for Gertrude, but more bitter and more
burning was his indignation. His dear, his gentle, his
pretty Jessie, whom, in sportive mood, he had so often
styled the future bride of Kenterhook, had been spirited
away by a jealous sister, at the very moment
when all his brilliant visions in her behalf might have
been realized. And might they not yet? Learning
for the first time to dissemble his thoughts and feelings,
he became a vigilant observer of Livingston and
Gertrude. But there was as yet no openly avowed
engagement of the lovers, and there was but little to
mark the intimate nature of their relation. Seth, indeed,
saw nothing. In ecstacies with the belief that
all was yet safe, he took every occasion adroitly and
with seeming inadvertence to sound the praises of his
absent favorite, and within a few days gained the
parental permission to terminate her exile.

Flitting across the crackling snow, behind two noble
steeds, whose hot breath smokes upon the air,
behold him now hastening to the city, his merry
sleigh-bells chiming with the music of his sanguine
heart. Hark to that last emphatic crack of his
whip, as dashing gallantly up, he stops suddenly at
old Aunt Schermerhorn's well remembered door; and
see where, bounding down the steps, across the side-walk,
and into the very sleigh, Jessie throws her arms
about his neck, her warm curls brushing his frosted
cheek, while the frighted steeds start and stand
trembling at a sound that minds them of the falling
thong. Short was the visit of the restless youth. In
a few brief hours, with Jessie at his side, cloaked and
muffed and tippeted well nigh to suffocation, he was

starting for home, under a perfect shower of prudential
admonitions from a spare, spectacled old dame at
the door, who foresaw a whole catalogue of accidents
in a two miles drive across the snow. Not a whisper,
however, did he breathe into his sister's ear on the
subject which lay so near his heart. He descanted,
indeed, upon the many merits of Livingston, and described
his person and his manners, and when his
laughing listener, utterly thoughtless of self, hinted
her suspicions, and indeed her hopes, in regard to Gertrude
and her guest, Seth did not hesitate to scout the
idea as entirely unfounded. Not a little astonished at
this, Jessie became perhaps a shade more thoughtful
during the remaining part of their ride; but she
would not own to herself, and she would have died at
the stake before she would have confessed to another,
the thoughts which had thus been forced upon her
mind. Her brother's conduct, his praises of Livingston,
his decrial of Gertrude, she now understood
them all, and her heart fluttered until she feared that
Seth would hear its pulsations. Cordial indeed was
her reception at home, and from no one more so, than
from the good old patroon, who chided her roundly
for her prolonged absence. As for Livingston, in
every word, in every look did he betray his admiration
of the beautiful little fairy. It is true that he
looked upon her as a sister, but there was a natural
empressement in his manner when addressing a lady,
of which he was unaware. Although his engagement
to Gertrude was unknown in the family, he never for
a moment doubted that she had confided the secret to
her sister. But Gertrude had no confidants, and, ever
selfish and unfeeling, she either did not notice Jessie's
danger, or noticed it only to count on her own approaching
triumph. As the good-natured but blundering
zeal of Seth had originated, so did it continue
to foster an error which daily became more portentous.
But let us not dwell upon the painful particulars
that mark the yielding up of fresh, pure, generous
affections, in response to the misunderstood kindness
of a heart equally noble and equally pure.

Christmas came, and a merry Christmas it was. It
was cold without, and the snow lay deep upon the
ground, and a million of feathery flakes were sporting
leisurely in the air, whether falling or rising the
eye could scarcely tell. It was cold without, but the

Christmas fire, built at dawn, was blazing cheerily
within, where, deposited deep in the capacious chimney,
a section of a centennial oak upheld the glowing,
crackling, roaring pile. The little folks, half clad, or
with their garments tucked beneath their arms, were
rushing gleefully from their rooms to gain their plethoric
stockings, and gloat over the now disgorged treasures,
which had floated, night-long, before their imaginations,
with all the flitting colors of the kaleidoscope.
And firmly faithful in their invisible friend, the
good, old, undying Santa Claus, they were next seen
eagerly searching for his traces on the chimney side, or
rushing, with a shout, to see the foot-prints of his tiny
steeds upon the roof, which, alas, the falling snow had
already effaced. Nor were they alone happy. Joy
sat on every countenance, and the “Merry Christmas”
salutation rang from every quarter, as the family,
assembled early in the breakfast-room, discussed the
past, or planned approaching festivities. There, towering
on the old misshapen sideboard, rose the huge
pile of cakes, embossed with strange devices, awaiting
the calls of troops of rosy-cheeked children from
abroad. There was a jingling, too, of many sixpences
in the capacious pockets of the patroon, who looked
eagerly and often from the windows, and wondered
why the little rogues did not come. He had not long,
however, to wait, for the first detachment of light
infantry, as he loved to call them, was early on its
way. Ploughing, knee-deep, through the snow, their
wild laughter ringing through the clear cold air, as
each strove to be foremost, bursting headlong into
the house, with blazing cheeks and frosted locks
and large sparkling eyes, thus did they come, a
blithesome and a joyous band; and soon, laden with
their anticipated gifts, hastened away to storm
some other citadel, equally well prepared for the
expected attack.

The holidays were marked, as usual, by a joyous
round of wintry amusements. At the top and the
bottom, and in the midst of every scheme of merriment
and fun, the life of every party, and the favorite
of all, save one, was Seth. But brief was his dream
of delight. The delusion into which he had run, and
which he had imparted to his ingenuous sister, could
not, fortunately, be of long continuance. Words may
not paint the deep mortification of Jessie, her self

reproach, her bitter, burning grief, when the fatal truth
became apparent. Duplicity, she knew, formed no
part of Livingston's character, and she readily perceived
the mistake under which he had acted. But if
her anguish was at first severe, it was in no small degree
alleviated by the belief, nay the certainty, that
he had never suspected her sentiments. This conviction,
indeed, was the removal of a mountain-like
weight from her mind. She was spared that last
dreadful blow to a sensitive and modest maiden, the
consciousness that one who loved her not, knew himself
to be the object of her regard. But Jessie did not
pine. Every sentiment of duty, and of self-respect,
bade her forget her transient error, and conceal its
traces from others. Seth alone suspected the truth
and although his very efforts to seem unconscious of it,
betrayed his thoughts to his sister, what did she care
for dear kind Seth? Not from him would she have
feared censure or doubt, had she been as deserving of
these as she was of the smiles of Heaven, which even
then, through the clouds that enveloped her, were resting
upon her guileless heart.

And what during all this time were the thoughts

and feelings of Gertrude. Still selfish, proud, and
aspiring, suspicious of Jessie, scornful to Seth, and but
simulating a regard for him whose love for her was
only less than adoration, Gertrude Van Corlear was
prepared to plight, before the altar of Truth, a false
and perjured faith. Ah! it is a sad thing to behold a
bright and beautiful spirit, severing the golden links
that connect it with Infinite Beneficence, and descending
by the acquired gravity of earthly passions, from
even the slight moral elevation of poor human nature.

But the time for the departure of the guests drew
nigh, and the betrothal of Harry and Gertrude was
at length openly avowed. It met with the full approbation
of parents and uncles, and the cause was duly
set down in Hymen's calendar for the ensuing May,
the intervening time being considered requisite for the
bride elect to make her multitudinous arrangements.
Ever cheerful, the old patroon was in ecstasies at a
result which he had long secretly anticipated; he had
a good word for all, and to the delighted children he
promised another round of holidays in the spring.
“As for our pretty bridesmaid,” said the garrulous
old man, seizing the slightly tremulous and wax-like

hand of Jessie, “the next ship shall carry orders for
a dress of pearly satin for her, that a princess might
be proud to wear.” Hurried thanks, and a sunny
smile, rewarded the old man's kindness, but whiter
than the promised robe turned Jessie.

Harry and Seth had formed an intimacy which
promised perpetuity, and had spent many a merry
hour together in the woodland, scouring over “brake,
bush and brier,” in pursuit of the game, which then
abounded in regions that are now well nigh central
of the great metropolis. Seth had meanwhile found
many an opportunity to recount the merits of his pet,
but maintained a pertinacious silence whenever the
young patroon hinted at the more magnificent charms
of her sister. The young friends parted with regret,
but with the anticipation of many a merry day's sport
together in the forests of Kenterhook. Yet pleasing
as were those hopes, there was nothing that could
compensate Seth for his bitter disappointment. He
knew the ungentle temper of his elder sister too well
to expect anything like happiness for his friend from
the anticipated union, and he grieved alike for Harry,
for Jessie, and for himself. Why was it, he vainly

asked, as the departing guests faded from his sight,
why was it, when the elements of happiness might
have been so easily mingled for each, that the bitter
and brimming cup of grief was to be substituted in
its stead?

The vessel in which the visitors had journeyed to
the city had, of course, long since returned, and the
river was closed with ice. They returned in the
family carriage which they had brought with them,
taking advantage of the January thaw for that purpose,
which then, as now, occurred with sufficient
uniformity to be a matter of almost accurate calculation.