The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1854-07-13
For the National Era,
H OIL wv 0 0 D .
BY ALICE CAREY.
CHAP I.


CHAP.I.
"The sun goes down, and bright wake runs
along the blue for a little while, showing us the
way he went; but presently the shadows close
together-close silently, and all traces of him
are lost
But the many stars rise and set and few
are the eyes observant of their glory, or of
their fading and going down. Millions are
struggling for the high places of the world
shouting to be heard of the ages; but across
how many fiat and forgotten graves, sound the
few echoes which are immortal.
"Yet how hard it is to feel the world could
do as well without us-to know how little and
how unworthy we are; how hard to believe
the great tumults of action are less than quiet
and well-ordered life, and that little things, af.
ter all fulfill our needs.
"The linnet must not mate itself with the
steady-winged eagle, nor must the milkmaid
wiring the dew from her hair, because of the
golden flowers about the foreheads of princess
es; these things we learn too late, many of US,
and, from the downhill of life, see what green
and pleasant places we have passed unnOticed.
GAS look back from this descent, see one
shelteripg nook, where my hair would not have
faded as it is faded now, where the heat would
have fallen less oppressively, and where the Ia
bors that have borne alone might have been
shared. Il is too late-these reflections can
not benefit me now-and yet it pleases me to
recount the little story of my hfe-its large
hope and little power-the fever, the fret, the
subsiding calm.
"There is no dark mystery to unfold it is a
simple, commonplace narrative; and if you
expect anything exciting and adventurous
anything at all romantic-it were better to
amuse your leisure in some other way than in
listening to me-"
In the foregoing, is the substance of what
Mary Halstead said to me, when | asked her
why she was never married
We were sitting in her elegantly furnished
parlor, alone-a quiet, hazy, October day was
past, and the last sunset light fell across fine
picture of the Magdalen, when she hears the
"Neither do condemn thee" and pushes back
g little the heavy masses of her hair, to steal
one look of Him who was without sin. Our
faces were toward the painters beautiful crea-
ton, and tiii the lessening light was quito gone,
we remained still-tears gathering to the usu-
ally cold eyes Of my friend-for Genius, when
it will can reach its hand out of the grave, and
touch the heart. And then it was that rath-
er to break up the sad feeling which was COM
ing down with the night, than from any idle
curiosity, inquired how it happened she was
never married. We are friends-she calls me,
indeed, her best friend-and yet till that even
ing had never seen her in a mood that would
have warranted such question. She pointed
to stool at her feet, and sitting there, laid
my head on her knees; and putting her arm
across my neck, rather as resting place for
it than from any love of me, as it seemed, she
told me the story which follows, introducing it
with the half soliloquy which opens this chap
ter.
Mary Halstead is rich, beautiful, proud, and
an actress. She is followed, fsttered, envied,
and disliked; for to most persons, if not cold
and naughty, she is at least distant and incom-
municative. There are no illustrious names in
the background of the picture where her state
ly beauty shines 30 peerless; from the knees of
good but simple-minded mother, she descend
cd, and, pushing aside her wondering brothers
and sisters, took the bright and lonesome path
that runs close along the borders Of fame.
There dissatisfied unloved cold, glittering, she
stands With all her strength and all her
daring, there are SUBMITS that battle her. Be-
fore the footlights she hears shouts of admira-
ton, and stands among tributes Of flowers; but
she feels, after all, that the buffoon who sue
ceeds her will receive the same applause, and
that her gorgeous trains are but poor SEM
blances of a real splendor.
In her style of living she is profuse, but not
| truly elegant, for early habits are not thrown
aside like garment and no subsequent train
ing can atone for neglect in childhood.
In dress she is extravaganza and careless in
manner as nearly conformed to polite requisi-
tions as her haughtiness will permit but the
formula of society i'll becomes her, and on the
boards she is perhaps less an actress than else
where There, she is refined back to nature,
and rises at once to the sublimest heights OF
E. - oo oof xxyk,s oh
the eager multitude look up and worship. But
the admiration seldom reaches beyond the see.
mic display and if it does, is surely destined to
be wounded against some sharp angle of her
character; for, though she stood in the way Of
the earth's motion, che would not turn aside
| In person she is tall majestically straight, and
apparently sound as the oak sapling Her
complexion is pale, as it were sicklied with the
| hue of some oppressive thought, and on either
cheek there is always bright flush, seeming
rather the burning outward of an inward fire
/ than the fresh, open blossom of health. Her
| forehead is low and smooth, the nose straight
and lips thin, showing but seldom the even
white teeth.
Her hair is black, blacker than coal OF jet
and, though she calls it faded, and fading, az
may have been noticed, not q white thread il
visible. Heavily and simply, but tastefully
1 worn, IL perhaps, hoA 81 Va 70 Do'N
ty. In color, her eyes are of deep blue, and
in expression rather speculative than affection
ate. But in her smile, and she smiles often
there is fascination almost irresistible, despite
the repellipg eyes and the upright and seif-suf
6cient bearing. Past the ey-day of youth, she
is vet within the precincts of blooming woman
hood, and though she speaks OF herself as II
the downhill of life, she is old rather by expe
| riepce than wears.
I said we were alone; but Hetty, Mary'i
hunchback sister, sat little apart from US
knitting purse, and scarcely lifting her eyes
| from her work She saw not the sunset, MOI
the Magdalen, nor the white moon wading NJ
through the haze she had, happy, some PIC
ture in her heart
SO there we were, in the fine parlor OF the
! popular actress - home comforts and home
| spiendors all about us, and q little way OH TN
great busy city, with its thousands Of INTEREST,"
and pleasures; and she who could command
/ the subserviency of any or all of these, surnes
/ respectfully to the hard and homely life, whici
/ the world says is so far below her present posi-
ton. I:
/ aHetty, my darling, make the tea none \
i ~ nice as that which you prepare. And my
Door nasrasive possesses Little interest tor you