University of Virginia Library

9. CHAPTER IX.

DURING the first year of Mr. Murray's absence,
his brief letters to his mother were written at
long intervals; in the second, they were rarer
and briefer still; but toward the close of the
third he wrote more frequently, and announced his intention
of revisiting Egypt before his return to the land of his
birth. Although no allusion was ever made to Edna, Mrs.
Murray sometimes read aloud descriptions of beautiful scenery,
written now among the scoriæ of Mauna Roa or
Mauna Kea, and now from the pinnacle of Mount Ophir,
whence, through waving forests of nutmeg and clove,
flashed the blue waters of the Indian Ocean, or the silver
ripples of Malacca; and, on such occasions, the orphan listened
eagerly, entranced by the tropical luxuriance and
grandeur of his imagery, by his gorgeous word-painting,
which to her charmed ears seemed scarcely inferior to the
wonderful pen-portraits of Ruskin. Those letters seemed
flecked with the purple and gold, the amber and rose, the
opaline and beryline tints, of which he spoke in telling
the glories of Polynesian and Malaysian skies, and the
matchless verdure and floral splendors of their serene spicy
dells. For many days after the receipt of each, Mrs. Murray
was graver and sadder, but the spectre that had disquieted
Edna was thoroughly exorcised, and only when the
cold touch of the golden key startled her was she conscious
of a vague dread of some far-off but slowly and surely approaching
evil. In the fourth year of her pupilage she was

possessed by an unconquerable desire to read the Talmud,
and in order to penetrate the mysteries and seize the treasures
hidden in that exhaustless mine of Oriental myths,
legends, and symbolisms, she prevailed upon Mr. Hammond
to teach her Hebrew and the rudiments of Chaldee. Very
reluctantly and disapprovingly he consented, and subsequently
informed her that, as he had another pupil who
was also commencing Hebrew, he would class them, and
hear their recitations together. This new student was
Mr. Gordon Leigh, a lawyer in the town, and a gentleman
of wealth and high social position. Although quite young,
he gave promise of eminence in his profession, and was a
great favorite of the minister, who pronounced him the
most upright and exemplary young man of his acquaintance.
Edna had seen him several times at Mrs. Murray's
dinners, but while she thought him exceedingly handsome,
polite, and agreeable, she regarded him as a stranger, until
the lessons at the Parsonage brought them every two days
around the little table in the study. They began the language
simultaneously; but Edna, knowing the flattering estimation
in which he was held, could not resist the temptation
to measure her intellect with his, and soon threatened
to outrun him in the Talmud race. Piqued pride and a
manly resolution to conquer spurred him on, and the venerable
instructor looked on and laughed at the generous
emulation thus excited. He saw an earnest friendship daily
strengthening between the rivals, and knew that in Gordon
Leigh's magnanimous nature there was no element which
could cause an objection to the companionship to which he
had paved the way.

Four months after the commencement of the new study,
Edna rose at daylight to complete some exercises, which
she had neglected to write out on the previous evening,
and as soon as she concluded the task, went down stairs to
gather the flowers. It was the cloudless morning of her
seventeenth birthday, and as she stood clipping geraniums

and jasmine and verbena, memory flew back to the tender
years in which the grisly blacksmith had watched her career
with such fond pride and loving words of encouragement,
and painted the white-haired old man smoking on the porch
that fronted Lookout, while from his lips, tremulous with
a tender smile, seemed to float the last words he had
spoken to her on that calm afternoon when, in the fiery
light of a dying day, he was gathered to his forefathers:

“You will make me proud of you, my little Pearl, when
you are smart enough to teach a school and take care of me,
for I shall be too old to work by that time.”

Now, after the lapse of years, when her educational
course was almost finished, she recalled every word and
look and gesture; even the thrill of horror that shook her
limbs when she kissed the lips that death had sealed an
hour before. Mournfully vivid was her recollection of her
tenth birthday, for then he had bought her a blue ribbon
for her hair, and a little china cup and saucer; and now
tears sprang to her eyes as she murmured: “I have studied
hard, and the triumph is at hand, but I have nobody to
be proud of me now! Ah Grandpa! if you could only
come back to me, your little Pearl! It is so desolate to be
alone in this great world; so hard to have to know that
nobody cares specially whether I live or die, whether I
succeed or fail ignominiously. I have only myself to live
for; only my own heart and will to sustain and stimulate
me.”

Through the fringy acacias that waved their long hair
across the hothouse windows, the golden sunshine flickered
over the graceful, rounded, lithe figure of the orphan—over
the fair young face with its delicate cameo features, warm,
healthful coloring, and brave, hopeful expression. Four
years had developed the pretty, sad-eyed child into a lovely
woman, with a pure heart filled with humble, unostentatious
piety, and a clear, vigorous intellect inured to study, and ambitious
of every honorable eminence within the grasp of true
womanhood.

To-day, life stretched before her like the untried universe
spread out to Phaeton's wondering vision, as he stood in the
dazzling palace of the sun, extending his eager hands for
the reins of the immortal car, aspiring to light the world, and,
until scathed by fatal experience, utterly incapable of appreciating
the perils and sufferings that awaited his daring
scheme. According to the granitic and crystal oracles of
geology, Rosaceæ flushed, rouged the wrinkled face of this
sibylline earth before the advent of man, the garden-tender
and keeper; and thus for untold and possibly unimagined
centuries, fresh pearly rose-buds have opened each year, at
the magic breath of spring, expanded into bloom and symmetry
perfect as Sharon's proverb; and while the dew still
glistened and the perfume rose like incense, ere the noon
of their brief reign, have blackened and crumbled as the
worm gnawed its way, or have blanched and shivered and
died in the fierce storms that swept over their blushing but
stately heads, and bowed them for ever. If earth keeps
not good faith with her sinless floral children, how dare
frail, erring man hope or demand that his fleeting June-day
existence should be shrouded by no clouds, scorched by no
lightnings, overtaken by no cold shades of early night?
But the gilding glamour of childlike hope softens and
shields from view the rough inequalities and murderous
quicksands of futurity, mellowing all, like the silvery lustre
of Kensett's “Ullswater,” or the rich purple haze that
brims far-off yawning chasms, and tenderly tapestries the
bleak, bald crags that pile themselves up into vast mountain
chains, with huge shining shrines, draped with crystal palls
of snow. Edna had endeavored to realize and remember
what her Bible first taught her, and what moralists of all
creeds, climes, and ages, had reïterated—that human life
was at best but “vanity and vexation of spirit,” that “man
is born to trouble as the sparks fly upward;” yet as she
stood on the line, narrow and thin as Al-Sirat, that divides
girlhood and womanhood, all seemed to her fresh, pure

heart as inviting and bewitching as the magnificent panorama
upon which enraptured lotophagi gazed from the ancient
acropolis of Cyrene.

As Edna turned to leave the hothouse, the ring of horse's
hoofs on the rocky walk attracted her attention, and, a
moment after, Mr. Leigh gave his horse to the gardener,
and came to meet her.

“Good morning, Miss Edna. As I am bearer of dispatches
from my sister to Mrs. Murray, I have invited
myself to breakfast with you.”

“You are an earlier riser than I had supposed, Mr. Leigh,
from your lamentations over your exercises.”

“I do not deny that I love my morning nap, and generrally
indulge myself; for, like Sydney Smith, `I can easily
make up my mind to rise early; but I can not make up
my body.' In one respect I certainly claim equality with
Thorwaldsen, my `talent for sleeping' is inferior neither to
his nor Goethe's. Do you know that we are both to have a
holiday to-day?”

“No, sir; upon what score?”

“It happens to be my birthday as well as yours, and as
my sister, Mrs. Inge, gives a party to-night in honor of the
event, I have come to insist that my classmate shall enjoy
the same reprieve that I promise myself. Mrs. Inge commissioned
me to insure your presence at her party.”

“Thank you; but I never go out to parties.”

“But bad precedents must not guide you any longer. If
you persist in staying at home, I shall not enjoy the evening,
for in every dance I shall fancy my vis-a-vis your spectre,
with an exercise in one hand and a Hebrew grammar in
the other. A propos! Mr. Hammond told me to say that
he would not expect you to-day, but would meet you to-night
at Mrs. Inge's. You need not trouble yourself to
decline, for I shall arrange matters with Mrs. Murray. In
honor of my birthday will you not give me a sprig of something
sweet from your basket?”

They sat down on the steps of the dining-room, and Edna
selected some delicate oxalis cups and nutmeg geranium
leaves, which she tied up, and handed to her companion.

Fastening them in the button-hole of his coat, he drew a
small box from his pocket, and said:

“I noticed last week, when Mr. Hammond was explaining
the Basilidian tenets, you manifested some curiosity concerning
their amulets and mythical stones. Many years
ago, while an uncle of mine was missionary in Arabia, he
saved the life of a son of a wealthy sheik, and received
from him, in token of his gratitude, a curious ring, which
tradition said once belonged to a caliph, and had been
found near the ruins of Chilminar. The ring was bequeathed
to me, and is probably the best authenticated antique in
this country. Presto! we are in Bagdad! in the blessed
reign—

I am versed in neither Cufic nor Neskhi lore, but the
characters engraved on this ring are said to belong to the
former dialect, and to mean `Peace be with thee,' which is,
and I believe has been, from time immemorial, the national
salutation of the Arabs.”

He unwound the cotton that enveloped the gem, and held
it before Edna's eyes.

A broad band of dusky tarnished gold was surmounted
by a large, crescent-shaped emerald, set with beautiful
pearls, and underneath the Arabic inscription was engraved
a ram's head, bearing on one horn a small crescent, on the
other a star.

As Edna bent forward to examine it Mr. Leigh continued:

“I do not quite comprehend the symbolism of the ram's
head and the star; the crescent is clear enough.”

“I think I can guess the meaning.” Edna's eyes kindled.

“Tell me your conjecture; my own does not satisfy me,

as the Arabic love of mutton is the only solution at which
I have arrived.”

“O Mr. Leigh! look at it and think a moment.”

“Well, I have looked at it and thought a great deal, and
I tell you mutton-broth sherbet is the only idea suggested to
my mind. You need not look so shocked, for, when cooled
with the snows of Caucasus, I am told it makes a beverage
fit for Greek gods.”

“Think of the second chapter of St. Luke.”

He pondered a moment, and answered gravely:

“I am sorry to say that I do not remember that particular
chapter well enough to appreciate your clew.”

She hesitated, and the color deepened on her cheek as
she repeated, in a low voice:

“`And there were in the same country shepherds abiding
in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night.
And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the
glory of the Lord shone round about them. And suddenly
there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host
praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest,
and on earth peace, good will toward men.'

“Mr. Leigh, the star on the ram's horn may be the Star
of Bethlehem that shone over the manger, and the Arabic
inscription is certainly the salutation of the angel to the
shepherds. `Peace, good will toward men,' says St. Luke;
`Peace be with thee,' said Islamism.”

“Your solution seems plausible, but, pardon me, is totally
inadmissible, from the fact that it blends crescent and
cross, and ignores antagonisms that deluged centuries with
blood.”

“You forget, Mr. Leigh, that Mohammedanism is nothing
but a huge eclecticism, and that its founder stole its
elements from surrounding systems. The symbolism of the
crescent he took from the mysteries of Isis and Astarte,
the ethical code of Christ he engrafted on the monotheism
of Judasism; his typical forms are drawn from the Old Testament

or the more modern Mishna; and his pretended miracles
are mere repetitions of the wonders performed by our
Saviour—for instance, the basket of dates, the roasted lamb,
the loaf of barley bread, in the siege of Medina. Even the
Moslem Jehennam is a palpable imitation of the Hebrew
Gehenna. Beside, sir, you know that Sabeanism reigned in
Arabia just before the advent of Mohammed, and if you
refuse to believe that the Star of Bethlehem was signified
by this one shining here on the ram's horn, at least you
must admit that it refers to stars studied by the shepherds
who watched their flocks on the Chaldean plains. In a
cabinet of coins and medals, belonging to Mr. Murray, I
have examined one of silver, representing Astaroth, with
the head of a woman adorned with horns and a crescent,
and another of brass, containing an image of Baal—a human
face on the head of an ox, with the horns surrounded by stars.
However, I am very ignorant of these things, and you must
refer the riddle of the ring to some one more astute and
learned in such matters than your humble `yokefellow' in
Hebrew. `Peace be with thee.'”

“I repeat `Peace be with thee,' during the new year on
which we are both entering, and, as you have at least attempted
to read the riddle, let me beg that you will do me
the honor to accept and wear the ring in memory of our
friendship and our student life.”

He took her hand, and would have placed the ring on her
finger, but she resisted.

“Thank you, Mr. Leigh, I appreciate the honor, but indeed
you must excuse me, I can not accept the ring.”

“Why not, Miss Edna?”

“In the first place, because it is very valuable and beautiful,
and I am not willing to deprive you of it; in the
second, I do not think it proper to accept presents from—
any one but relatives or dear friends.”

“I thought we were dear friends? Why can we not be
such?”

At this moment, Mrs. Murray came into the dining-room,
and as she looked at the two sitting there in the early
sunshine, with the basket of flowers between them; as she
marked the heightened color and embarrassed expression
on one fair, sweet face, and the eager pleading written on
the other, so full of manly beauty, so frank and bright and
genial, a possible destiny for both flashed before her; and
pleased surprise warmed her own countenance as she hurried
forward.

“Good morning, Gordon. I am very glad to see you.
How is Clara?”

“Quite well, thank you, and entirely absorbed in preparations
for her party, as you will infer from this note, which
she charged me to deliver in person, and for which I here
pray your most favorable consideration.”

As Mrs. Murray glanced over the note Edna turned to
leave the room; but Mr. Leigh exclaimed:

“Do not go just yet, I wish Mrs. Murray to decide a matter
for me.”

“Well, Gordon, what is it?”

“First, do you grant my sister's petition?”

“Certainly, I will bring Edna with me to-night, unless
she prefers staying at home with her books. You know I
let her do pretty much as she pleases.”

“Now then for my little quarrel! Here is a curious old
ring, which she will appreciate more highly than any one
else whom I happen to know, and I want her to accept it as a
birthday memento from me, but a few minutes ago she refused
to wear it. Can you not come to my assistance, my
dear Mrs. Murray?”

She took the ring, examined it, and said, after a pause:

“I think, Gordon, that she did exactly right; but I also
think that now, with my approval and advice, she need not
hesitate to wear it henceforth, as a token of your friendship.
Edna, hold out your hand, my dear.”

The ring was slipped on the slender finger, and as she

released her hand, Mrs. Murray bent down and kissed her
forehead.

“Seventeen to-day! My child, I can scarcely believe it!
And you—Gordon? May I ask how old you are?”

“Twenty-five — I grieve to say! You need not tell
me—”

The conversation was interrupted by the ringing of the
breakfast bell, and soon after, Mr. Leigh took his departure.

Edna felt puzzled and annoyed, and as she looked down
at the ring, she thought that instead of “Peace be with
thee,” the Semitic characters must surely mean, “Disquiet
seize thee!” for they had shivered the beautiful calm of
her girlish nature, and thrust into her mind ideas unknown
until that day. Going to her own room, she opened her
books, but ere she could fix her wandering thoughts Mrs.
Murray entered.

“Edna, I came to speak to you about your dress for to-night.”

“Please do not say that you wish me to go, my dear Mrs.
Murray, for I dread the very thought.”

“But I must tell you that I insist upon your conforming
to the usages of good society. Mrs. Inge belongs to one
of the very first families in the State; at her house you will
meet the best people, and you could not possibly make your
débût under more favorable circumstances. Beside, it is
very unnatural that a young girl should not enjoy parties,
and the society of gay young people. You are very unnecessarily
making a recluse of yourself, and I shall not permit
you to refuse such an invitation as Mrs. Inge has sent. It
would be rude in the extreme.”

“Dear Mrs. Murray, you speak of my débût, as if, like
other girls, I had nothing else to do but fit myself for
society. These people care nothing for me, and I am as
little interested in them. I have no desire to move for a
short time in a circle from which my work in life must
soon separate me.”

“To what work do you allude?”

“The support which I must make by teaching. In a few
months I hope to be able to earn all I need, and then —”

“Then it will be quite time enough to determine what
necessity demands; in the mean while, as long as you are
in my house you must allow me to judge what is proper
for you. Clara Inge is my friend, and I can not allow you
to be rude to her. I have sent the carriage to town for
Miss O'Riley, my mantua-maker, and Hagar will make the
skirt of your dress. Come into my room and let her take
the measure.”

“Thank you for your kind thoughtfulness, but indeed I
do not want to go. Please let me stay at home! You can
frame some polite excuse, and Mrs. Inge cares not whether
I go or stay. I will write my regrets and—”

“Don't be childish, Edna; I care whether you go or
stay, and that fact should weigh with you much more than
Mrs. Inge's wishes, for you are quite right in supposing
that it is a matter of indifference to her. Do not keep
Hagar waiting.”

Mrs. Murray's brow clouded, and her lips contracted, as
was their habit, when any thing displeased her; consequently,
after a quick glance, Edna followed her to the
room where Hagar was at work. It was the first time the
orphan had been invited to a large party, and she shrank
from meeting people whose standard of gentility was confined
to high birth and handsome fortunes. Mrs. Inge came
frequently to Le Bocage, but Edna's acquaintance with her
was comparatively slight, and in addition to her repugnance
to meeting strangers she dreaded seeing Mr. Leigh
again so soon, for she felt that an undefinable barrier had
suddenly risen between them; the frank, fearless freedom
of the old friendship at the parsonage table had vanished.
She began to wish that she had never studied Hebrew, that
she had never heard of Basilides, and that the sheik's ring
was back among the ruins of Chilminar. Mrs. Murray saw

her discomposure, but chose to take no notice of it, and
superintended her toilet that night with almost as much interest
as if she had been her own daughter.

During the ride she talked on indifferent subjects, and as
they went up to the dressing-room had the satisfaction of
seeing that her protegée manifested no trepidation. They
arrived rather late, the company had assembled, and the
rooms were quite full as Mrs. Murray entered; but Mrs.
Inge met them at the threshold, and Mr. Leigh, who seemed
on the watch, came forward at the same instant, and offered
Edna his arm.

“Ah Mrs. Murray! I had almost abandoned the hope
of seeing you. Miss Edna, the set is just forming, and we
must celebrate our birthday by having the first dance together.
Excuse you, indeed! You presume upon my well-known
good nature and generosity, but this evening I am
privileged to be selfish.”

As he drew her into the middle of the room she noticed
that he wore the flowers she had given him in the morning,
and this, in conjunction with the curious scrutiny to which
she was subjected, brought a sudden surge of color to her
cheeks. The dance commenced, and from one corner of the
room Mr. Hammond looked eagerly at his two pupils, contrasting
them with the gay groups that filled the brilliant
apartment.

Edna's slender, graceful figure was robed in white Swiss
muslin, with a bertha of rich lace; and rose-colored ribbons
formed the sash, and floated from her shoulders. Her beautiful
glossy hair was simply coiled in a large roll at the back
of the head, and fastened with an ivory comb. Scrutinizing
the face lifted toward Mr. Leigh's, while he talked to
her, the pastor thought he had never seen a countenance
half so eloquent and lovely. Turning his gaze upon her
partner, he was compelled to confess that though Gordon
Leigh was the handsomest man in the room, no acute observer
could look at the two and fail to discover that the

blacksmith's grand-daughter was far superior to the petted
brother of the aristocratic Mrs. Inge. He was so much interested
in watching the couple that he did not observe
Mrs. Murray's approach until she sat down beside him and
whispered:

“Are they not a handsome couple?”

“Gordon and Edna?”

“Yes.”

“Indeed they are! I think that child's face is the most
attractive, the most fascinating I ever looked at. There is
such a rare combination of intelligence, holiness, strength,
and serenity in her countenance; such a calm, pure light
shining in her splendid eyes; such a tender, loving look
far down in their soft depths.”

“Child! Why, she is seventeen to-day.”

“No matter, Ellen, to me she will always seem a gentle,
clinging, questioning child. I look at her often, when she
is intent on her studies, and wonder how long her pure
heart will reject the vanities and baubles that engross most
women; how long mere abstract study will continue to
charm her; and I tremble when I think of the future, to
which I know she is looking so eagerly. Now, her emotional
nature sleeps, her heart is at rest—slumbering also;
she is all intellect at present—giving her brain no relaxation.
Ah! if it could always be so. But it will not!
There will come a time, I fear, when her fine mind and
pure, warm heart will be arrayed against each other, will
battle desperately, and one or the other must be subordinated.”

“Gordon seems to admire her very much,” said Mrs.
Murray.

Mr. Hammond sighed, and a shadow crept over his placid
features, as he answered:

“Do you wonder at it, Ellen? Can any one know the
child well, and fail to admire and love her?”

“If he could only forget her obscure birth—if he could

only consent to marry her—what a splendid match it would
be for her!”

“Ellen! Ellen Murray! I am surprised at you! Let
me beg of you for her sake, for yours, for all parties concerned,
not to raise your little finger in this matter; not to
utter one word to Edna that might arouse her suspicions;
not to hint to Gordon that you dream such an alliance possible;
for there is more at stake than you imagine—”

He was unable to conclude the sentence, for the dance
had ended, and as Edna caught a glimpse of the beloved
countenance of her teacher, she drew her fingers from Mr.
Leigh's arm, and hastened to the pastor's side, taking his
hand between both hers:

“O sir! I am glad to see you. I have looked around
so often, hoping to catch sight of you. Mrs. Murray, I
heard Mrs. Inge asking for you.”

When the lady walked away, Edna glided into the seat
next the minister, and continued:

“I want to talk to you about a change in some of my
studies.”

“Wait till to-morrow, my dear. I came here to-night
only for a few moments, to gratify Gordon, and now I must
slip away.”

“But, sir, I only want to say, that as you objected at
the outset to my studying Hebrew, I will not waste any
more time on it just now, but take it up again after a while,
when I have plenty of leisure. Don't you think that would
be the best plan?”

“My child, are you tired of Hebrew?”

“No, sir; on the contrary, it possesses a singular fascination
for me; but I think, if you are willing, I shall discontinue
it — at least, for the present. I shall take care to
forget nothing that I have already learned.”

“You have some special reason for this change, I presume?”

She raised her eyes to his, and said frankly:

“Yes, sir, I have.”

“Very well, my dear, do as you like. Good-night.”

“I wish I could go now with you.”

“Why? I thought you appeared to enjoy your dance
very much. Edna, look at me.”

She hesitated—then obeyed him, and he saw tears
glistening on her long lashes.

Very quietly the old man drew her arm through his, and
led her out on the dim verandah, where only an occasional
couple promenaded.

“Something troubles you, Edna. Will you confide in
me?”

“I feel as if I were occupying a false position here,
and yet I do not see how I can extricate myself without
displeasing Mrs. Murray, whom I can not bear to offend—
she is so very kind and generous.”

“Explain yourself, my dear.”

“You know that I have not a cent in the world except
what Mrs. Murray gives me. I shall have to make my
bread by my own work just as soon as you think me competent
to teach; and notwithstanding, she thinks I ought
to visit and associate as she does with these people, who
tolerate me now, simply because they know that while I am
under her roof she will exact it of them. To-night,
during the dance, I heard two of her fashionable friends
criticising and sneering at me; ridiculing her for `attempting
to smuggle that spoiled creature of unknown
parentage and doubtless low origin into really first
circles.' Other things were said which I can not repeat,
that showed me plainly how I am regarded here, and I will
not remain in a position which subjects me to such remarks.
Mrs. Murray thought it best for me to come; but it was a
mistaken kindness. I thought so before I came—now I
have irrefragable proof that I was right in my forebodings.”

“Can you not tell me all that was said?”

“I shrink sir, from repeating it, even to you.”

“Did Mr. Leigh hear it?”

“I hope not.”

“My dear child, I am very much pained to learn that
you have been so cruelly wounded; but do not let your
mind dwell upon it; those weak, heartless, giddy people
are to be pitied, are beneath your notice. Try to fix your
thoughts on nobler themes, and waste no reflection on the
idle words of those poor gilded moths of fashion and folly,
who are incapable of realizing their own degraded and
deplorable condition.”

“I do not care particularly what they think of me, but I
am anxious to avoid hearing their comments upon me, and
therefore I am determined to keep as much out of sight as
possible. I shall try to do my duty in all things, and
poverty is no stigma, thank God! My grandfather was
very poor, but he was noble and honest, and as courteous as
a nobleman; and I honor his dear, dear memory as tenderly
as if he had been reared in a palace. I am not
ashamed of my parentage, for my father was as honest and
industrious as he was poor, and my mother was as gentle
and good as she was beautiful.”

There was no faltering in the sweet voice, and no bitterness
poisoning it. Mr. Hammond could not see the face,
but the tone indexed all, and he was satisfied.

“I am glad, my dear little Edna, that you look at the
truth so bravely, and give no more importance to this gossip
than your future peace of mind demands. If you have
any difficulty in convincing Mrs. Murray of the correctness
of your views, let me know, and I will speak to her on the
subject. Good night! May God watch over and bless
you!”

When the orphan reëntered the parlor, Mrs. Inge presented
her to several gentlemen who had requested an introduction;
and though her heart was heavy, and her cheeks
burned painfully, she exerted herself, and danced and talked
constantly until Mrs. Murray announced herself ready to
depart.

Joyfully Edna ran up-stairs for her wrappings, bade
adieu to her hostess, who complimented her on the sensation
her beauty had created; and felt relieved and comparatively
happy when the carriage-door closed and she found
herself alone with her benefactress.

“Well, Edna, notwithstanding your repugnance to going,
you acquitted yourself admirably, and seemed to have a
delightful time.”

“I thank you, ma'am, for doing all in your power to
make the evening agreeable to me. I think your kind desire
to see me enjoy the party made me happier than every
thing else.”

Gratefully she drew Mrs. Murray's hand to her lips, and
the latter little dreamed that at that instant tears were rolling
swiftly over the flushed face, while the words of the
conversation which she had overheard rang mockingly in
her ears:

“Mrs. Murray and even Mr. Hammond are scheming to
make a match between her and Gordon Leigh. Studying
Hebrew indeed! A likely story! She had better go back
to her wash-tub and spinning-wheel! Much Hebrew she
will learn! Her eyes are set on Gordon's fortune, and Mrs.
Murray is silly enough to think he will step into the trap.
She will have to bait it with something better than Hebrew
and black eyes, or she will miss her game. Gordon will
make a fool of her, I dare say, for, like all other young
men, he can be flattered into paying her some little attention
at first. I am surprised at Mrs. Inge to countenance
the girl at all.”

Such was the orphan's initiation into the charmed circle
of fashionable society; such her welcome to le beau monde.

As she laid her head on her pillow, she could not avoid
exclaiming:

“Heaven save me from such aristocrats! and commit me
rather to the horny but outstretched hands, the brawny
arms, the untutored minds, the simple but kindly-throbbing
hearts of proletaire!”