The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1858-11-25


| anybody except that absurd Constance. He
seldom cares to speak to any lady here except
me. Can she have changed her mind, and he
found it out 4? She had relations therei And
can he think of placing himself at her mercy
again hope, if so, at any rate, that by this
time she has learned. better how to prize him.
"Ah, Herman Herman Why cannot we go
on, just as we are, without any change in our
peaceful pleasant home? Why is it, that for
even You, who know so well how to win and re-
turn sisters affection, a sisters affection cannot
be enough? Yours and Edwards makes my
life SO sweet and blessed Why is it that,
when almost all men who have sisters can com
mand sisters affection, sisters affection
seems enough for the happiness of scarcely any
of them? And, yet more, why is it that so
often they seem to disregard, if not to spurn it
utterly? They do not treat their sisters as
equals, still less companions, still less they
do their friends. They make them useful when
they themselves are in sickness, want, or af-
fiction but when they are well, wealthy, and
happy, they leave them to themselves, and to
their vacuity, and loneliness; and so the poor,
nncherished, forsaken, shaded things, unless
fate sends suitors to see, fancy, and carry them
off to brighter and warmer homes than their
own unless they have blessed faculty Of
finding sunshine for themselves are apt to be
scare-crows in appearance, and nothing very
cheerful in reality. have seen enough of it
since dear compassionate Herman taught me
to open my eyes to the condition of those
less fortunate than myself God send him hap
piness, and Constance too--made worthy of
him-if she is essential to his happiness. ldon't
know how could ever forgive her for having
made him so wretched but, at all events,
could try for his sake. Perhaps he had reason
to think she would relent, but would not say so,
for fear of having afterwards to complain to me
second time of disappointment. A pretty
good guess, that last one Miss Clara. But
what am about, to sit here, prying into his
thoughts, after this meddlesome fashion? As
soon as he ought he will tell me all that he
ought; and until then, as told him, do not
ed whole crimson tulip wrong in her tidy, and
addressed all her powers resolutely to the whole
some penance of picking it out.
Herman went to Baltimore; but whether or
no he remembered to visit the interesting bank,
monument, and confectioners' shops, never trans
pired. 1t is, however, / regret to say, certain
| that he did not lie in ambush under the house
of st. Tabitha, drug the watchmen, scale the
walls by night, and bring Constance down a
rope-ladder out of three-story window, nor did
he break into a secret conclave of Tartarean
ecclesiastics, and demand his Eurydice back
with moving mixture of threats and pathetic
entreaties, at the risk of being let through the
floor into the cellar, like one of the Ravels, by
means of trap-door conveniently disposed for
| the purpose under the carpet, nor did he hide
in one Of the pews of the church of ST. Nostrum,
bounce out, and drag his lady-love from the al
tar, on the occasion of her being dragged to it by
opposition captors, to renew her vows. 1t would
have been much more appropriate to romance,
and accordingly much more convenient to me,
| If he had done some one or all of these things
but by that strict adherence to truth and nature,
| for which am remarkable, Tor mean to be, one
of these days, if l can,) am forced to own that
how romantic soever in his feelings, he was apt
10 be sadly commonplace in his doings.
He procured an excellent letter of introduc-
ton to Mr.. Ronaldson, made acquaintance with
his wife, and when he had found out what a
thoroughly good, warm, open heart she had,
and also had reason to think that she had
granted him little corner of it, he opened his
to her.. The devotee in her struggled little at
first, faintiyfwith the woman, bus had To yield
before long, and Welded entirely to her natural
sympathy with love and youth. She gave Her
man her best wishes and advice, and made up
her mind that she had never quite thought her
dear neice had found her vocation. About
his seeing her? Oh, he should see her in her
| Mrs. Ronadson'sl own house, of course.
Constance coming to pass two or three
days with her soon as she returned from
Georgetown and that would probably be next
week. Her year had just expired. She was
waiting only for Sister Marys company. Con
stance was to write and let her know what day
to send the coach to the cars, She would send
Herman word, and he had better be at her
house, and make sure of an interview at once.
"Any opposition to his seeing Constance on the
part of her superiors?" Oh, no, she thought
not. She should be very sorry to think so.
But, then, dear Constance herself was ardent,
and sometimes a little wilful Though that was
chiefly before her conversion, and ought not to
be remembered now.) She had been very
strongly bent on going ~into the sisterhood-
nothing could stop hers and now she might
| have scruples of conscience of her own, about
letting herself be turned from that line of life.
She would send for him; and he had better be
on the spot. Herman was not unwilling.
The coach rumbled to the door and stopped
The tall, Diana-lke figure, all in black, the
same that had haunted the farmhouse in Kan
sas, reappeared aud %arted into the hall, into
the arms of Mrs. Ronaldson. They kissed each
other, billing and twittering together like two
Canary birds, for full five minutes. Herman,
in ambush, peeped through the crack of the
parlordoor. He could not have waited so long
but for the necessity of avoiding a denouement
before the coachman and Sambo.
"Oh, dear Aunt Cora how dear you are
How sweet it is to see anybody of my own fami.
ly againL How good you are, to let me come
back to you once more
How naughty you were, you wilful darling
ever to 60 away and leave mel How could you
do SOP"
Indeed, / don't know. I've wondered a
great many times Give me another kiss
two-and hold me tight Oh, ! never knew
what darling foster-mother had, nor how un
grateful and shameful it was for me to say |
had no home, and was all alone in the world
till had run away from you"
| "Come, come into the parlor, and let me
take off ypur bonnet. 1t is all damp with the
RAIN"
Constance hung back. DO you think there
can be any of my own dresses upstairs, Aunt
| Cora?"
II am afraid not, dear; you gave them all
away, Yourself, did you not? There, that will
do, children Run up to the nursery. &c
down and tell the cook to make some mullins
Sambo."
'"rm afraid did. ] shall feel so odd and
conspicuous in these before people; and, besides
/ hate to see them myself"
What? Why?" J
| They femlnd me of7my wilfuiness ana FOL
ly. Aunt Cora, it is O. no use TO tryl / can
no more We a nun than | can seraph!"
Why, Constance sWhy?"
"Oh, because-it does not suit me. I'm qol
good enough, I mean to do good part of the
time but want to do something else besides,
and play and draw, and read my own books,
and think my own thoughts, without always
meditating. lib the children's governess, or
ANYTHING you please, if you'll only let me stay
with you. Is Uncle Henry in the parlor?"