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done with him now.' So up we took him, she now and then. Two men stood by his bedside holding the feet and I the body, till we got him to prevent him from throwing himself out on the up to the cottage, at the sight of which he bel- floor. lowed again. When we tried to make him stand, It struck me at once that the poor patient was it was all to no use; but, crawling on hands and suffering from concussion of the brain, and I knees, he made his way into the sleeping-room, urged them to send for medical assistance immesigning to us that he wished to get into bed; so diately. The whole house was up in arms; they we put him in, and then he fell to snoring that would have no such thing as a doctor ; he could you could hear him a mile off, and now betimes do no good. However, being determined to have he is fighting with his arms at a great rate, and my own way (and what woman has not ?), I I don't know what to think; perhaps you will made my exit, and, hastening to the barn, got a step over and see him."

youth, on promise of a shilling, to ride for the "To be sure I will, Gardiner," I exclaimed ; doctor. Being glad of the opportunity to reason "but have you sent for a doctor yet?”

with those present against the existence of such "Oh no, madam, I was ashamed that any one beings as fairies, I endeavored to show them, should see him in the state he is in; and I from the word of God, the falsity of such things, thought after the sleep he would be better a bit ; and how wrong it was to pray to and believe in but he is just as bad this morning, and I am fret-fairy spirits. I told them that God in his provited to death."

dence ruleth over all things, and even as a spar"Well, Tom, just go to the stable and order row could not fall to the ground without his perout my pony, and I will see what can be done mission, I trusted they would yet be enabled to for the poor fellow, though I do not clearly un- trace the accident to its true and proper cause. derstand what is the matter yet; we must try While waiting for the arrival of the doctor, I and trace this unfortunate circumstance to its wandered to the spot where the young man was true cause, and not attribute to the power of discovered, and there the mystery was soon exfairies what has certainly a natural origin." plained. The horse having evidently made a

Poor Tom left me to return to his sad home, false step, had slidden some length down from and as soon as the pony was ready, without wait- the top of the hill, and thrown its rider on a large ing to finish my breakfast I started for the scene rock which lay at the bottom, for marks of hair of this adventure. The cottage was situated in and blood were on the rock. After striking the a distant part of the parish, on a rocky eminence stone, he rolled over into some high heather, toward those beautiful lakes which travelers never which grew near the spot, and thus he was hidfail to visit, called the Pontoon.

den from view. Stopping at a small lane called a “bohreen" ! On the doctor's arrival my opinion was conwhich ran from the public road, I left the car-firmed; and after the usual remedies were reriage in charge of the servant and pursued my sorted to, much against the consent of all present way to the cabin. I was soon followed by num- but myself, the young man was restored to health bers of the country people, all anxious to know again, and was able in a short time to leave his what I thought of the affair. “Oh," said one, native shores, with his father, for America, to " she will not believe in the good people; but join the youngest son. Many were the prayers sure it is no other than them that has got him, offered up, and the blessings invocated for me ; and it's not himself there that is in it at all; but but I could not help thinking how sad it was to Peggy will be back shortly, and I'll be bound, if see the hearts of those confiding people drawn it is any one gets him back, it's the priest that away from the true God, and left in such gross will; the holy cross be between us and harm! darkness. Much of that darkness has, I know, Sure it was a terrible thing to take so fine a lad been removed from the west by the light of the from his father.

glorious gospel of Christ, and aided, I will say, The train increased until we reached the cabin, by many valuable books distributed among the on entering which I was surprised to see a house poor ; and I trust the exertions may not be slackfull of people. A number of old women sat on ened for the Irish peasantry, whom all must alstools round the fire, all going through various an- low to be a thinking and a reading people. tics; some, with their hair white as snow, hanging about their shoulders, with beads in their hands,

MY BROOCH. were praying most earnestly ; some with pieces IT HAVE in my possession an article of jewelry of old nails, red cloth, and horse-shoes, were I which costs me many an uncomfortable twinge, speaking as if to themselves, while others were though it was certainly not stolen. Neither was singing a low ditty to put the queen of the fairies it begged, borrowed, given, or bought; yet lookin good humor.

ing at it, I often feel myself in the position of "Who are these, and what are they doing?" I the old man in the nursery tale, who, having inquired.

| peculated from some churchyard a stray ulna, or "Oh, my lady, don't speak to them; they are clavicle, was perpetually haunted by the voice of communicating with them 'good ladies,'" was its defunct owner, crying, in most unearthly tones, the reply.

“Give me my bone." Now, the ornament that Passing on, I entered the room where the has unluckily fallen to my lot— I picked it up in young man was ; he lay as if in a deep sleep, the street-is a miniature-brooch, set with small breathing heavily, his arms moving convulsively / garnets, in heavy antique gold. It is evidently NERAL LIB)

University

MY BROOCH.

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a portrait of somebody or other's great-grand- ing in kindly courtesy to the painter as he drewC
mother, then a fair damsel, in a rich peaked bod. She was half-ashamed that her father had asked
dice and stomacher, and a heavy necklace of him to paint only a miniature ; he whose genius
pearls; her hair combed over a cushion, and and inclination led him to the highest walks of
adorned with a tiny wreath-a sweet-looking art.” But the artist answered somewhat con-
creature she is, though not positively beautiful. fusedly, “That having been brought up near her
I never wear the brooch (and on principle I wear father's estate, and hearing so much of her good-
it frequently, in the hope of lighting upon the ness, he was only too happy to paint any likeness
real owner) but I pause and speculate on the of the Lady Jean." And I do believe he was.
story attached to it and its original, for I am sure “I also have heard of you, Mr. Bethune," was
that both had a story. And one night lying the answer; and the lady's aristocratically pale
awake, after a conversazione, my ears still ring-cheek was tinged with a faint rose color, which
ing with the din of many voices-heavens ! how the observant artist would fain have immortalized,
these literary people do talk !-there came to me but could not for the trembling of his hand. “It
a fantasy, a vision, or a dream, whichever the gives me pleasure," she continued, with a quiet
reader chooses to consider it. Hoe

dignity befitting her rank and womanhood, “to
It was moonlight, of course ; and her silvery not only make the acquaintance of the promising
majesty was so powerful that I had drawn the artist, but the good man." Ah! me, it was a
"draperies of my couch" quite close, to shut mercy Norman Bethune did not annihilate my
her out; nevertheless, as I looked on the white airy existence altogether with that hurried dash
cartains at the foot of the bed, I saw growing of his pencil; it made the mouth somewhat awry,
there-I can find no better word-an image like as you may see in me to this day.
---what shall I say?-like the dissolving views There was a hasty summons from the Earl,
now so much the rage. It seemed to form itself “That himself and Sir Anthony desired the pres-
out of nothing, and gradually assume a distinctence of the Lady Jean." An expression half of
shape. Lo! it was my miniature-brooch, en- pain, half of anger, crossed her face, as she re-
larged into a goodly-sized apparition; the garnet plied, "Say that I attend my father. I believe,"
setting giving forth glimmers of light, by which I she added, “we must end the sitting for to-day.
saw the figure within, half-human, half-etherial, Will you leave the miniature here, Mr. Bethune?"
waving to and fro like vapor, but still preserving The artist muttered something about working
the attitude and likeness of the portrait. Cer- on it at home, with Lady Jean's permission; and
tainly, if a ghost, it was the very prettiest ghost as one of the attendants touched me, he snatched
ever seen.

me up with such anxiety that he had very nearly I believe it is etiquette for apparitions only to destroyed his own work. speak when spoken to; so I suppose I must have "Ah! 'twould be unco like her bonnie face addressed mine. But my phantom and I held nogin she were as blithe as she was this morn. distinct conversation; and in all I remember of But that canna be, wi' a dour father like the Earl, the interview the speech was entirely on its side, and an uncomely, wicked wooer like Sir Ancommunicated by snatches, like breathings of anthony. Hech, sir, but I am wae for the Leddy Æolian harp, and thus chronicled by me: Jean !"

I know not why Norman should have listened How was I created, and by whom? Young to the “ auld wife's clavers," nor why, as he cargentlewoman (I honor you by using a word pecu- ried me home, I should have felt his heart beating liar to my day, when the maidens were neither against me to a degree that sadly endangered my “misses " nor “young ladies," but essentially young tender life. I suppose it was his sorrow for gentlewomen), I derived my birth from the two having thus spoiled my half-dry colors that made greatest Powers on earth—Genius and Love ; him not show me to his mother, though she asked but I will speak more plainly. It was a summer him, and also from the same cause that he sat day—such summers one never sees now—that I half the night contemplating the injury thus came to life under my originator's hand. He sat done. painting in a quaint old library, and the image before him was the original of what you see. Again and again the young artist went to the

A look at myself will explain much ; that my castle, and my existence slowly grew from day to creator was a young, self-taught, and as yet only day; though never was there a painting whose half-taught, artist, who, charmed with the ex-infancy lasted so long. Yet I loved my creator, pression, left accurate drawing to take its chance. tardy though he was, for I felt that he loved me, His sitter's character and fortune are indicated and that in every touch of his pencil he infused too: though she was not beautiful, sweetness into me some portion of his soul. Often they and dignity are in the large dark eyes and finely- came and stood together, the artist and the Earl's penciled eyebrows; and while the pearls, the daughter, looking at me. They talked, she dropvelvet, and the lace, show wealth and rank, the ping the aristocratic hauteur, which hid a somerose in her bosom implies simple maidenly tastes. what immature mind, ignorant less from will than Thus the likeness tells its own tale-she was an from circumstance and neglect. While he, forEarl's daughter, and he was a poor artist. getting his worldly rank, rose to that which na

Many a time during that first day of my exist- ture and genius gave him. Thus both unconence I heard the sweet voice of Lady Jean talk-sciously fell into their true position as man and

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woman, teacher and learner, the greater and the from you I have learned, what else I might never less.

have done, reverence for man. God bless you

with a life full of honor and fame, and, what is " Another sitting, and the miniature will be rarer still, happiness !” She half sighed, extendcomplete, I fear," murmured Norman, with a ed her hand without looking toward him; he conscience-stricken look, as he bent over me, his clasped it a moment, and then-she was gone! fair hair almost touching my ivory. A caress, My master stared dizzily round, fell on his sweet, though no longer new to me; for many a knees beside me, and groaned out the anguish of time his lips—but this is telling tales, so no more! his spirit. His only words were, “ Jean, Jean, My painted, yet not soulless eyes, looked at my so good, so pure! Thou the Earl's daughter, master as did others of which mine were but the and I the poor artist !” As he departed he moanpoor shadow. Both eyes, the living and the life-ed them out once more, kissed passionately my less, were now dwelling on his countenance, which unresponsive image, and fled; but not ere the I have not yet described, nor need I. Never yet Lady Jean, believing him gone, and coming to was there a beautiful soul that did not stamp upon fetch the precious likeness, had silently entered the outward man some reflex of itself; and there and seen him thus. fore, whether Norman Bethune's face and figure | She stood awhile in silence, gazing the way he were perfect or not, matters not.

had gone, her arms folded on her heaving breast. " It is nearly finished,” mechanically said the She whispered to herself, “Oh! noble heart! Lady Jean. She looked dull that day, and her Oh! noble heart !" and her eyes lightened, and eyelids were heavy as with tears—tears which (as a look of rapturous pride, not pride of rank, dawnI heard many a whisper say) a harsh father gave ed in the face of the Earl's daughter. Then she her just cause to shed.

too knelt, and kissed me, but solemnly, even with “Yes, yes, I ought to finish it,” hurriedly re- tears. plied the artist, as if more in answer to his own | The next day, which was to have been that of thoughts than to her, and he began to paint ; but her forced marriage with Sir Anthony, Lady Jean evermore something was wrong. He could not had fled. She escaped in the night, taking with work well ; and then the Lady Jean was sum- her only her old nurse and me, whom she hid in moned away, returning with a weary look, in her bosom. which wounded feeling struggled with pride. “You would not follow the poor artist to wed Once, too, we plainly heard (I know my master him?” said the nurse. did, for he clinched his hands the while) the “Never!" answered the Lady Jean. “I would Earl's angry voice, and Sir Anthony's hoarse live alone by the labor of my hands; but I will laugh; and when the Lady Jean came back, it keep true to him till my death. For my father, was with a pale, stern look, pitiful in one so who has cursed me, and cast me off, here I reyoung. As she resumed the sitting her thoughts nounce my lineage, and am no longer an Earl's evidently were wandering, for two great tears daughter.” stole into her eyes, and down her cheeks. Well- So went she forth, and her place knew her no a-day! my master could not paint them; but he more. felt them in his heart. His brush fell—his chest | heaved with emotion-he advanced a step, mur For months, even years, I lay shut up in darkmuring, “ Jean, Jean," without the “ Lady;"ness, scarcely ever exposed to the light of day; then recollected himself, and, with a great strug- but I did not murmur; I knew that I was kept, gle, resumed his brush, and went painting on. as you mortals keep your hearts' best treasures, She had never once looked or stirred.

in the silence and secrecy of love. Sometimes,

late at night, pale, wearied hands would unclasp The last sitting came it was hurried and brief, my coverings, and a face, worn indeed, but hav. for there seemed something not quite right in the ing a sweet repose, such as I had never seen in house ; and as we came to the castle, Norman that of the former Lady Jean, would come and and I (for he had got into the habit of always bend over me with an intense gaze, as intense as taking me home with him) heard something about that of Norman Bethune, under which I had “ a marriage,” and “Sir Anthony." I felt my glowed into life. Poor Norman ! if he had but poor master shudder as he stood.

known! The Lady Jean rose to bid the artist adieu. All this while I never heard my master's name. She had seemed agitated during the sitting at Lady Jean (or Mistress Jean as I now heard her times, but was quite calm now.

called) never uttered it, even to solitude and me. "Farewell,” she said, and stretched out her But once, when she had shut herself up in her hand to him with a look, first of the Earl's daugh-poor chamber, she sat reading some papers with ter, then of the woman only; the woman, gentle, smiles, oftener with loving tears, and then placed kindly, even tender, yet never forgetting herself the fragments with me in my hiding-place; and or her maidenly reserve.

80some magic bond existing between my mas"I thank you," she added, “not merely for ter and me, his soul's child-I saw, shining in this (she laid her hand on me), but for your com- the dark, the name of Norman Bethune, and read panionship;" and she paused as if she would fain all that Lady Jean had read. He had become a have said friendship, yet feared. “You have great man, a renowned artist ; and these were done me good; you have elevated my mind; and the public chronicles of his success. I, the pale reflex of the face which Norman had loved—the bonnie Lady Jean, whose girlish portrait he once face which, more than any other in the wide world, drew. would brighten at the echo of his fame-even my Norman spoke again ; and speaking, his grave faint being became penetrated with an almost hu- manhood seemed to concentrate all its subdued man joy.

passion in the words : One night Lady Jean took me out with an ag-1 : “ Years have changed, in some measure, my itated hand. She had doffed her ordinary dress, fortunes at least, though not me. I-once the which now changed the daughter of an Earl into unknown artist—now sit at princely tables, and the likeness of a poor gentlewoman. She looked visit in noble halls. I am glad; for honor to me something like her olden self-like mc; the form is honor to my art, as it should be.” And his of the dress was the same; I saw she made it face was lifted with noble pride. “But," he scrupulously like; but there was neither velvet, added, in a beautiful humility, “though less unnor lace, nor pearls, only the one red rose, as you worthy toward men, I am still unworthy toward may see in me, was once more placed in her bo you. If I were to woo you, I should do so, not som.

as an artist who cared to seek an Earl's daughter, “I am glad to find my child at last won out but as a man who felt that his best deserts were into society," said the nurse, hobbling in; "though poor, compared to those of the woman he has the folk she will meet, poor authors, artists, mu- loved all his life, and honored above all the world.” sicians, and such like, are unmeet company for Very calm she stood--very still, until there ran the Lady Jean."

a quiver over her face-over her whole frame. "But not for simple Jean Douglas," she an- " Jean-Jean !" cried Norman Bethune, as the swered, gently smiling--the smile not of girlhood, forced composure of his speech melted from it, but of matured womanhood, that has battled with and became transmuted into the passion of a man and conquered adversity; and, when the nurse who has thrown his whole life's hope upon one had gone, she took me out again, murmuring, chance, “ if you do not scorn me--nay, that you “I marvel will he know me now?"

can not do—but if you do not repulse me—if you I heard her come home that night. It was will forget your noble name, and bear that which, late ; but she took me up once more, and looked with God's blessing, I will make noble—ay, noat me with a strange joy, though mingled with bler than any of your earls !--if you will give up tears; yet the only words I heard her say were all dreams of the halls where you were born, to those she had uttered once before in the dim years take refuge in a lowly home, and be cherished in past—"Oh! noble heart!-thrice noble heart!" a poor man's loving breast-then, Jean Douglas, and then she fell on her knees and prayed. come !"

"I will !” she answered. My dear master!--the author of my being !-He took her in his protecting arms; all the I met his eyes once more. He took me in his strong man's pride fell from him-he leaned over hand, and looked at me with a playful compas-her, and wept. sion, not quite free from emotion.

“ And this was how I painted it! It was for weeks, months afterward, nobody thought scarce worth keeping, Lady Jean."

of me. I might have expected it; and yet some“ Mistress Jean, I pray you ; that name best how it was sad to lie in my still darkness, and suits me now, Mr. Bethune," she said, with gen- never to be looked at at all. But I had done my tle dignity.

work, and was content. I knew my master's face well. I had seen it At last I was brought from my hiding-place, brighten with the most passionate admiration as and indulged with the light of day. I smiled beit turned on the Lady Jean of old; but never did neath the touch of Lady Jean, which even now I see a look such as that which fell on Jean Doug- had a lingering tenderness in it-more for me las now—earnest, tender, calm-its boyish idol- than for any other of her best treasures. atry changed into that reverence with which al “Look, Norman, look !” she said, stretching man turns to the woman who to him is above all ont to him her left hand. As I lay therein, I felt women. In it one could trace the whole life's the golden wedding-ring press against my smooth history of Norman Bethune.

ivory. “Jean," he said, so gently, so naturally, that Norman put down his brush, and came smiling she hardly started to hear him use the familiar to his young wife's side. name, “have you in truth given up all ?”

“What do you keep that still? Why, Jean, “Nay, all have forsaken me, but I fear not; what a boyish daub it is! The features nearly though I stand alone, heaven has protected me, approach Queen Elizabeth's beau ideal of art, as and will, evermore."

she commanded her own portrait to be drawn. “ Amen!” said Norman Bethune. “ Pardon 'Tis one broad light, without a single shadow. me; but our brief acquaintance—a few weeks And look how ill drawn are the shoulders, and then, a few weeks now-seems to comprehend a what an enormous awkward string of pearls.”

Jean snatched me up and kissed me. “You And he took her hand, but timorously, as if shall not, Norman--I will hear no blame of the she were again the Earl's daughter, and he the poor miniature. I love it, I tell you—and you poor artist. She too trembled and changed color, love it, too. Ah! there." And she held me playless like the pale, serene Jean Douglas, than the fully to my maker's lips (which now I touched not

lifetime.'

for the first time, as he knew well). When we ous over the lightest thought of one they love. grow rich, it shall be set in gold and garnets, and But Jean put her arm in his, with a look so seI will wear it every time my husband ceases to rene, so clear, that he stooped down and kissed remember the days when he first taught me to love her yet scarce-faded cheek. him, and in loving bim, to love all that was noble “Go, my own wife-go and tell our daughter in man."

all." And then Norman But I do not see that I Jean Bethune and her child went out together. have any business to reveal further.

When they returned, there was a proud glow on

Anne's cheek—she looked so like her mother, or I did attain to the honor of gold and garnets, rather so like me. She walked down the studio; and, formed into a bracelet, I figured many a time it was a large room, where hung pictures that on the fair arm of Jean Bethune, who, when peo might well make me fear to claim brotherhood ple jested with her for the eccentricity of wearing with them, though the same hand created them her own likeness, only laughed, and said that she and me. Anne turned her radiant eyes from one did indeed love the self that her husband loved, for to the other, then went up to the artist and emhis sake. So years went by, until fairer things braced him. than bracelets adorned the arms of the painter's “ Father, I had rather be your daughter than wife, and she came to see her own likeness in share the honors of all the Douglasses." dearer types than my poor ivory. So her orna- Anne Bethune wore me, year after year, until ments—myself among the rest-were slowly put the fashion of me went by, till her young daughby; and at last I used to be for months untouch ters, in their turn, began to laugh at my ancient ed, save by tiny baby-fingers, which now and then setting, and-always aside-to mock at the rude poked into the casket to see “ mamma's picture.” Art of “grandmamma's' days. But this was

At length there came a change in my destiny. never in grandmamma's presence, where still I It was worked by one of those grandest of revolu | found myself at times; and my pale eyes beheld tionists—a young lady entering her teens. the face of which my own had once been a mere

· Mamma, what is the use of that ugly brace-shadow—but of which the shadow was now left let?" I heard one day. “Give me the miniature as the only memorial. to have made into a brooch. I am sixteen-quite “And was this indeed you, grandmamma?" old enough to wear one, and it will be so nice to many an eager voice would ask, when my poor have the likeness of my own mamma."

self was called into question. “Were you ever Mrs. Bethune could refuse nothing to her eld- this young girl ; and did you really wear these est daughter-her hope-her comfort-her sister- beautiful pearls, and live in a castle, and hear like companion. So, with many an anxious charge yourself called “the Lady Jean?"" concerning me, I was dispatched to the jeweler's. And grandmamma would lay down her spectaI hate to be touched by strangers, and during the cles, and look pensively out with her calm, beauwhole time of my sojourn at the jeweler's, I shut tiful eyes. Oh! how doubly beautiful they seemup my powers of observation in a dormouse-like ed in age, when all other loveliness bad gone. doze, from which I was only awakened by the Then she would gather her little flock round her, eager fingers of Miss Anne Bethune, who had and tell, for the hundredth time, the story of herrushed with me into the painting-room, calling on self and Norman Bethune-leaning gently, as papa 2nd, amma to admire an old friend in a with her parent-feelings she had now learnt to do, new face.

on the wrongs received from her own father, and 4. Is that the dear old miniature ?" said the lingering with ineffable tenderness on the noble artist.

nature of him who had won her heart, more The husband and wife looked at me, then at through that than even by the fascination of his one another, and smiled. Though both now glided genius. She dwelt oftener on this, when, in her into middle age, yet in that: affectionate smile I closing years, he was taken before her to his rest; saw revive the faces of Norman Bethune and the and while the memory of the great painter was Lady Jean.

honored on earth, she knew that the pure soul of "I do believe there is something talismanic in the virtuous man awaited her, his beloved, in the portrait," said young Anne, their daughter. heaven. To-day, at the jeweler's, I was stopped by a dis- “And yet, grandmamma," once said the most agreeable old gentleman, who stared at me, and inquisitive of the little winsome elves whom the then at the miniature, and finally questioned me old lady loved, who, with me in her hand, had about my name and my parents, until I was fairly lured Mrs. Bethune to a full hour's converse about wearied of his impertinence. A contemptible, olden days — “Grandmamma, looking back on malicious-eyed creature he looked ; but the jew- your long, long life, tell me, do you not feel eler paid him all attention, „since, as I afterward proud of your ancient lineage? and would you learnt, he was Sir Anthony A , who succeeded not like to have it said of you that you were an to sell the estates of his cousin, the Earl of "Earl's daughter ?"

Mrs. Bethune put me down on the table, and “No!" she answered. “Say, rather, that I leaned her head on her hand; perhaps some mem- was Norman Bethune's wife." ories of her youth came over her on hearing those long-silent names. Her husband glanced at her I waked, and found myself gazing on the blank with a restless doubt--some men will be so jeal- white curtains, from whence the fantasmal image

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