The Chainbearer; Or, The Littlepage Manuscripts Read online

  CHAPTER XI.

  "The fault will be in the music, cousin, if you be not woo'd in good time; if the prince be too important, tell him there is measure for every thing, and so dance out the answer."--_Beatrice._

  "Dus!" I repeated to myself--"This, then, is Dus, and no Indian girl;the Chainbearer's 'Dus;' Priscilla Bayard's 'Dus;' and Sureflint's'wren'!"

  Andries must have overheard me, in part; for he stopped just within thecourt on which the gate opened, and said--

  "Yes, t'at is Dus, my niece. The girl is like a mocking-pird, andcatches the songs of all languages and people. She is goot at Dutch, andquite melts my heart, Mortaunt, when she opens her throat to sing one ofour melancholy Dutch songs; and she gives the English too, as if sheknowet no ot'er tongue."

  "But that song was Indian--the words, at least, were Mohawk or Oneida."

  "Onondago--t'ere is little or no tifference. Yes, you're right enough;the worts are Indian, and they tell me t'e music is Scotch. Come fromwhere it will, it goes straight to the heart, poy."

  "How came Dus--how came Miss Ursula--that is, your niece, to understandan Indian dialect?"

  "Didn't I tell you she is a perfect mocking-bird, and that she imitatesall she hears? Yes, Dus would make as goot a surveyor as her brot'er,after a week's trial. You've heart me say how much I livet among thetripes before t'e war, and Dus was t'en wit' me. In that manner she hascaught the language; and what she has once l'arnet she nefer forget. Dusis half wilt from living so much in the woots, and you must makeallowances for her; put she is a capital gal, and t'e very prite of myheart!"

  "Tell me one thing before we enter the house--does any one else singIndian about here?--has Sureflint any women with him?"

  "Not he!--t'e creatur' hast not'ing to do wit' squaws. As for any oneelse's singing Intian, I can only tell you I never heart of such aperson."

  "But, you told me you were down the road to meet me this morning--wereyou alone!"

  "Not at all--we all went; Sureflint, Frank, Dus, and I. I t'ought it dueto a lantlort, Mortaunt, to gif him a hearty welcome; t'ough Dus didmutiny a little, and sait t'at, lantlort or no lantlort, it was notproper for a young gal to go forth to meet a young man. I might havet'ought so too, if it hadn't peen yourself, my poy; but, with you, Icouldn't play stranger, as one woult wit' a straggling Yankee. I wishetto welcome you wit' the whole family; put I'll not conceal Dus'sunwillingness to be of t'e party."

  "But Dus _was_ of your party! It is very odd we did not meet!"

  "Now, you speak of it, I do pelief it wast all owin' to a scheme of t'atcunnin' gal! You must know, Mortaunt, a'ter we had got a pit down t'eroat, she persuatet us to enter a t'icket of pines, in order to eat amout'ful; and I do pelief the cunnin' hussy just did it t'at you mightslip past, and she safe her female dignity!"

  "And from those pines Sureflint came, just after Dus, as you call her,but Miss Ursula Malbone, as I ought to style her, had been singing thisvery song?"

  "Wast you near enough to know all t'is, poy, and we miss you! The gal ditsing t'at ferry song; yes, I rememper it; and a sweet, goot song it is.Call her Miss Ursula Malbone? Why shouldn't you call her Dus, as well asFrank and I?"

  "For the simple reason that you are uncle, and Frank her brother, whileI am a total stranger."

  "Poh--poh--Morty; t'is is peing partic'lar. I am only a half-uncle, inthe first place; and Frank is only a half-brot'er; and I dares to sayyou wilt pe her _whole_ frient. T'en, you are not a stranger to any oft'e family, I can tell you, lat; for I have talket enough apout you tomake bot' t'e poy and t'e gal lofe you almost as much as I do myself."

  Poor, simple-hearted, upright old Andries! What an unpleasant feelingdid he give me, by letting me into the secret that I was about to meetpersons who had been listening to his partial accounts for the lasttwelve months. It is so difficult to equal expectations thus awakened;and I will own that I had begun to be a little sensitive on the subjectof this Dus. The song had been ringing in my ears from the moment Ifirst heard it; and now that it became associated with PriscillaBayard's Ursula Malbone, the latter had really become a very formidableperson to my imagination. There was no retreating, however, had I wishedit; and a sign induced the Chainbearer to proceed. Face the young womanI must, and the sooner it was done the better.

  The 'Nest-house, as my homely residence was termed, had been a sort offortress, or "garrison," in its day, having been built around threesides of a parallelogram, with all its windows and doors opening on thecourt. On the fourth side were the remains of pickets, or palisades, butthey were mostly rotted away, being useless as a fence, from thecircumstance that the buildings stood on the verge of a low cliff that,of itself, formed a complete barrier against the invasions of cattle,and no insignificant defence against those of man.

  The interior of the 'Nest-house was far more inviting than its exterior.The windows gave the court an appearance of life and gayety, at onceconverting that which was otherwise a pile of logs, thrown together inthe form of a building, into a habitable and inhabited dwelling. Oneside of this court, however, was much neater, and had much more the airof comfort than the other; and toward the first Andries led the way. Iwas aware that my grandfather Mordaunt had caused a few rooms in thisbuilding to be furnished for his own particular purposes, and that noorders had ever been given to remove or to dispose of the articles thusprovided. I was not surprised, therefore, on entering the house, to findmyself in apartments which, while they could not be called in any mannergayly or richly furnished, were nevertheless quite respectably suppliedwith most of the articles that are thought necessary to a certain mannerof living.

  "We shall fint Dus in here, I dare say," observed the Chainbearer,throwing open a door, and signing for me to precede him. "Go in, andshake t'e gal's hand, Mortaunt; she knows you well enough, name andnatur', as a poty may say."

  I did go in, and found myself within a few feet of the fair,golden-haired girl of the raising; she who had saved the frame fromfalling on us all, by a decision of mind and readiness of exertion thatpartook equally of courage and dexterity. She was in the same dress aswhen first seen by me, though the difference in attitude and employmentcertainly gave her air and expression a very different character. UrsulaMalbone was now quietly occupied in hemming one of those coarse checkedhandkerchiefs that the poverty of her uncle compelled him, or at leastinduced him to use, and of which I had seen one in his hands only aminute before. On my entrance she rose, gravely but not discourteouslyanswering my bow with a profound courtesy. Neither spoke, though thesalutes were exchanged as between persons who felt no necessity for anintroduction in order to know each other.

  "Well, now," put in Andries, in his strongest Dutch accent, "t'is wiltnever do, ast petween two such olt frients. Come hit'er, Dus, gal, andgif your hant to Mortaunt Littlepage, who ist a sort of son of my own."

  Dus obeyed, and I had the pleasure of holding her soft velvet-like handin mine for one moment. I felt a gratification I cannot describe infinding the hand _was_ so soft, since the fact gave me the assurancethat necessity had not yet reduced her to any of the toil that isunsuited to a gentlewoman. I knew that Andries had slaves, his onlypossession, indeed, besides his compass, chains and sword, unless a fewarms and some rude articles of the household were excepted; and theseslaves, old and worn out as they must be by this time, were probably themeans of saving the niece from the performance of offices that weremenial.

  Although I got the hand of Ursula Malbone, I could not catch her eye.She did not avert her face, neither did she affect coldness; but she wasnot at her ease. I could readily perceive that she would have beenbetter pleased had her uncle permitted the salutations to be limited tothe bows and courtesies. As I had never seen this girl before, and couldnot have done anything to offend her, I ascribed the whole to _mauvaisehonte_, and the embarrassment that was natural enough to one who foundherself placed in a situation so different from that in which she had solately been. I bowed on the hand, possibly gave it a gentle pressure inorder to r
eassure its owner, and we separated.

  "Well, now, Dus, haf you a cup of tea for the lantlort--to welcome himto his own house wit'?" demanded Andries, perfectly satisfied with theseemingly amicable relations he had established between us. "T'e majorhast hat a long march, for peaceable times, and woult be glat to git alittle refreshment."

  "You call me major, Chainbearer, while you refuse to accept the sametitle for yourself."

  "Ay, t'ere ist reason enough for t'at. _You_ may lif to be a general;_wilt_ probably be one before you're t'irty; but I am an olt man, now,and shall never wear any ot'er uniform than this I have on again. Ipegan t'e worlt in this corps, Morty, and shall end it in the rank inwhich I began."

  "I thought you had been a surveyor originally, and that you fell back onthe chain because you had no taste for figures. I think I have heard asmuch from yourself."

  "Yes, t'at is t'e fact. Figures and I didn't agree; nor do I like 'emany petter at seventy t'an I liket 'em at seventeen. Frank Malbone, now,Dus's brother, t'ere, ist a lat that takes to 'em nat'rally, and heworks t'rough a sum ast your fat'er would carry a battalion t'rough aravine. Carrying chain I like; it gives sufficient occupation to t'emind; put honesty is the great quality for the chainbearer. They sayfigures can't lie, Mortaunt; but 'tis not true wit' chains; sometimesthey do lie, desperately."

  "Where is Mr. Francis Malbone? I should be pleased to make hisacquaintance."

  "Frank remainet pehint to help 'em up with their timber. He is a stoutchap, like yourself, and can lent a hant; while, poor fellow! he has nolantlort tignity to maintain."

  I heard a gentle sigh from Dus, and involuntarily turned my head; forshe was occupied directly behind my chair. As if ashamed of theweakness, the spirited girl colored, and for the first time in my life Iheard her voice, the two instances of the Indian songs excepted. I sayheard her voice; for it was an event to record. A pleasant voice, ineither sex, is a most pleasant gift from nature. But the sweet tones ofUrsula Malbone were all that the most fastidious ear could have desired;being full, rich, melodious, yet on the precise key that best satisfiesthe taste, bringing with it assurances of a feminine disposition andregulated habits. I detest a shrill, high-keyed female voice, more thanthat of a bawling man, while one feels a contempt for those who mumbletheir words in order to appear to possess a refinement that the very actitself contradicts. Plain, direct, but regulated utterance, isindispensable to a man or woman of the world; anything else renderinghim or her mean or affected.

  "I was in hopes," said Dus, "that evil-disposed frame was up andsecured, and that I should see Frank in a minute or two. I was surprisedto see you working so stoutly for the Presbyterians, uncle Chainbearer!"

  "I might return t'e compliment, and say I wast surpriset to see _you_doing the same t'ing, Miss Dus! Pesides, the tenomination isCongregational and not Prespyterian; and one is apout as much to yourtaste as t'e ot'er."

  "The little I did was for you, and Frank, and--Mr. Littlepage, with allthe rest who stood under the frame."

  "I am sure, Miss Ursula," I now put in, "we all ought, and I trust weall _do_ feel truly grateful for your timely aid. Had that timber comedown, many of us must have been killed, and more maimed."

  "It was not a very feminine exploit," answered the girl, smiling, as Ithought, a little bitterly. "But one gets accustomed to being _useful_in the woods."

  "Do you dislike living in the forest, then?" I ventured to ask.

  "Certainly not. I like living anywhere that keeps me near uncleChainbearer, and Frank. They are all to me, now my excellent protectressand adviser is no more; and their home is my home, their pleasure mypleasure, their happiness mine."

  This might have been said in a way to render it suspicious andsentimental; but it was not. On the contrary, it was impulsive, and camefrom the heart. I saw by the gratified look of Andries that heunderstood his niece, and was fully aware how much he might rely on thetruthful character of the speaker. As for the girl herself, the momentshe had given utterance to what she felt, she shrunk back, like oneabashed at having laid bare feelings that ought to have been kept in theprivacy of her own bosom. Unwilling to distress her, I turned theconversation in a way to leave her to herself.

  "Mr. Newcome seems a skilful manager of the multitude," I remarked. "Hecontrived very dexterously to give to the twenty-six Congregationalistshe had with him, the air of being a majority of the whole assembly;while in truth, they were barely a third of those present."

  "Let Jason Newcome alone for t'at?" exclaimed Andries. "He understantsmankint, he says, and sartainly he hast a way of marching andcountermarching just where he pleases wit' t'ese people, makin' 'emt'ink t'e whole time t'ey are doing just what t'ey want to do. It ist anart, major--it ist an art!"

  "I should think it must be, and one worth possessing, if, indeed, it canbe exercised with credit."

  "Ay, t'ere's the rub! Exerciset it is; but as for t'e credit, _t'at_ Iwill not answer for. It sometimes makes me angry, and sometimes it makesme laugh, when I look on, and see t'e manner in which Jason makes t'epeople rule t'emselves, and how _he_ wheels 'em apout, and faces 'em,and t'rows them into line, and out of line, at t'eir own wort ofcommant! His Excellency coult hartly do more wit' us, a'fer t'e Baron[8]had given us his drill."

  [Footnote 8: This allusion is evidently to a German officer, whointroduced the Prussian drill into the American army, Baron Steuben--or_Stuy_ben, as I think he must have been called in Germany--Steu_ben_, ashe is universally termed in this country.--EDITOR.]

  "There must be some talent necessary, in order to possess so muchinfluence over one's fellow-creatures."

  "It is a talent you woult be ashamed to exercise, Mortaunt Littlepage,t'ough you hat it in cart loats. No man can use such talent wit'outpeginning wit' lying and deceifing; and you must be greatly changet,major, if you are the he't of your class, in such a school."

  "I am sorry to see, Chainbearer, that you have no better opinion of myagent; I must look into the matter a little, when this is the case."

  "You wilt fint him law-honest enough; for he swears py t'e law, and lifspy t'e law. No fear for your tollars, poy; t'ey pe all safe, unless,inteet, t'ey haf all vanishet in t'e law."

  As Andries was getting more and more Dutch, I knew he was growing moreand more warm, and I thought it might be well to defer the necessaryinquiries to a cooler moment. This peculiarity I have often observed inmost of those who speak English imperfectly, or with the accent of someother tongue. They fall back, as respects language, to that nearest tonature, at those moments when natural feeling is asserting its powerover them the least equivocally.

  I now began to question the Chainbearer concerning the condition inwhich he found the 'Nest-house and farm, over which I had given him fullauthority, when he came to the place, by a special letter to the agent.The people in possession were of very humble pretensions, and had beencontent to occupy the kitchen and servants' rooms ever since mygrandfather's death, as indeed, they had done long before that event. Itwas owing to this moderation, as well as to their perfect honesty, thatI found nothing embezzled, and most of the articles in good condition.As for the farm, it had flourished, on the "let alone" principle. Theorchards had grown, as a matter of course; and if the fields had notbeen improved by judicious culture, neither had they been exhausted bycovetous croppings. In these particulars, there was nothing of which tocomplain. Things might have been better, Andries thought; but he alsothought it was exceedingly fortunate they were no worse. While we wereconversing on this theme, Dus moved about the room silently, but withcollected activity, having arranged the tea-table with her own hands.When invited to take our seats at it--everybody drew near to a tea-tablein that day, unless when there was too large a party to beaccommodated--I was surprised to find everything so perfectly neat, andsome things rich. The plates, knives, etc., were of good quality, butthe tray was actually garnished with a set of old-fashioned silver, suchas was made when tea was first used, of small size, but very highlychased. The handle of the spoons represented
the stem of the tea-plant,and there was a crest on each of them; while a full coat of arms wasengraved on the different vessels of the service, which were four inall. I looked at the crest, in a vague, but surprised expectation offinding my own. It was entirely new to me. Taking the cream-jug in myhand, I could recall no arms resembling those that were engraved on it.

  "I was surprised to find this plate here," I observed; "for, though mygrandfather possessed a great deal of it, for one of his means, I didnot think he had enough to be as prodigal of it as leaving it here wouldinfer. This is family plate, too, but those arms are neither Mordauntnor Littlepage. May I ask to whom they do belong?"

  "The Malpones," answered the Chainbearer. "T'e t'ings are t'e propertyof Dus."

  "And you may add, uncle Chainbearer, that they are _all_ herproperty"--added the girl, quickly.

  "I feel much honored in being permitted to use them, Miss Ursula," Iremarked; "for a very pretty set they make."

  "Necessity, and not vanity, has brought them out to-day. I broke theonly teapot of yours there was in the house this morning, and was inhopes Frank would have brought up one from the store to supply itsplace, before it would be wanted; but he does not come. As for spoons, Ican find none belonging to the house, and we use these constantly. Asthe teapot was indispensable, I thought I might as well display all mywealth at once. But this is the first time the things have been used inmany, many years!"

  There was a plaintive melody in Dus's voice, spite of her desire andeffort to speak with unconcern, that I found exceedingly touching. Whilefew of us enter into the exultation of successful vulgarity, as itrejoices in its too often random prosperity, it is in nature tosympathize with a downward progress, and with the sentiments it leaves,when it is connected with the fates of the innocent, the virtuous, andthe educated. That set of silver was all that remained to Ursula Malboneof a physical character, and which marked the former condition of herfamily; and doubtless she cherished it with no low feeling of morbidpride, but as a melancholy monument of a condition to which all heropinions, tastes, and early habits constantly reminded her she properlybelonged. In this last point of view, the sentiment was as respectable,and as much entitled to reverence, as in the other case it would havebeen unworthy, and meriting contempt.

  There is a great deal of low misconception, as well as a good deal ofcant, beginning to prevail among us, on the subject of the qualitiesthat mark a gentleman, or a lady. The day has gone by, and I trustforever, when the mere accidents of birth are to govern such a claim;though the accidents of birth are very apt to supply the qualities thatmay really form the caste. For my own part, I believe in theexaggerations of neither of the two extremes that so stubbornly maintaintheir theories on this subject; or, that a gentleman may not be formedexclusively by birth on the one hand, and that the severe morality ofthe Bible on the other is by no means indispensable to the character. Aman may be a very perfect gentleman, though by no means a perfect man,or a Christian; and he may be a very good Christian, and very little ofa gentleman. It is true, there is a connection in manners, as a result,between the Christian and the gentleman; but it is in the result, andnot in the motive. That Christianity has little necessary connectionwith the character of a gentleman may be seen in the fact that thedogmas of the first teach us to turn another cheek to him who smites;while the promptings of the gentleman are--not to wipe out the indignityin the blood of the offender, but--to show that rather than submit to ithe is ready to risk his own life.[9]

  [Footnote 9: Mr. Mordaunt Littlepage would seem to have got hold of theonly plausible palliative for a custom that originated in those timeswhen abuses could only be corrected by the strong arm; and which, in ourown days, is degenerating into the merest system of chicanery and trick.The duellist who, in his "practice," gets to be "certain death to ashingle" and then misses his man, instead of illustrating his chivalry,merely lets the world into the secret that his nerves are not equal tohis drill! There was something as respectable as anything _can_ be inconnection with a custom so silly, in the conduct of the Englishman whocalled out to his adversary, a near-sighted man, "that if he wished toshoot at _him_, he must turn his pistol in another direction."--EDITOR.]

  But, I repeat, there is no _necessary_ connection between the Christianand the gentleman, though the last who is the first attains the highestcondition of humanity. Christians, under the influence of theireducations and habits, often do things that the code of the gentlemanrejects; while it is certain that gentlemen constantly commitunequivocal sins. The morality of the gentleman repudiates meannessesand low vices, rather than it rigidly respects the laws of God; whilethe morality of the Christian is unavoidably raised or depressed by theinfluence of the received opinions of his social caste. I am notmaintaining that "the ten commandments were not given for the obedienceof people of quality," for their obligations are universal; but, simply,that the qualities of a gentleman are the best qualities of man unaidedby God, while the graces of the Christian come directly from his mercy.

  Nevertheless, there is that in the true character of a gentleman that isvery much to be respected. In addition to the great indispensables oftastes, manners, and opinions, based on intelligence and cultivation,and all those liberal qualities that mark his caste, he cannot and doesnot stoop to meannesses of any sort. He is truthful out of self-respect,and not in obedience to the will of God; free with his money, becauseliberality is an essential feature of his habits, and not in imitationof the self-sacrifice of Christ; superior to scandal and the vices ofthe busybody, inasmuch as they are low and impair his pride ofcharacter, rather than because he has been commanded not to bear falsewitness against his neighbor. It is a great mistake to confound thesetwo characters, one of which is a mere human embellishment of the waysof a wicked world, while the other draws near to the great end of humanexistence. The last is a character I revere; while I am willing toconfess that I never meet with the first without feeling how vacant andrepulsive society would become without it; unless, indeed, the vacuumcould be filled by the great substance, of which, after all, thegentleman is but the shadow.

  Ursula Malbone lost nothing in my respect by betraying the emotion shedid, while thus speaking of this relic of old family plate. I was gladto find, however, that she _could_ retain it; for, though dressed in nodegree in a style unbecoming her homely position as her uncle'shousekeeper, there were a neatness and taste in her attire that are notoften seen in remote parts of the country. On this subject, the readerwill indulge my weaknesses a little, if I pause to say a word. Ursulahad neither preserved in her dress the style of one of her sex andcondition in the world, nor yet entirely adopted that common to girls ofthe class to which she now seemingly belonged. It struck me that some ofthose former garments that were the simplest in fashion, and the mostappropriate in material, had been especially arranged for present use;and sweetly becoming were they, to one of her style of countenance andperfection of form. In that day, as every one knows, the differentclasses of society--and, kingdom or republic, classes _do_ and ever_will_ exist in this country, as an incident of civilization; a truthevery one can see as respects those _below_, though his vision may beless perfect as respects those _above_ him--but every one knows thatgreat distinctions in dress existed, as between classes, all over theChristian world, at the close of the American war, that are fastdisappearing, or have altogether disappeared. Now Ursula had preservedjust enough of the peculiar attire of her own class, to let oneunderstand that she, in truth, belonged to it without rendering thedistinction obtrusive. Indeed, the very character of that which she didpreserve, sufficiently told the story of her origin, since it was asubdued, rather than an exaggerated imitation of that to which she hadbeen accustomed, as would have been the case with a mere copyist. I canonly add, that the effect was to render her sufficiently charming.

  "Taste t'ese cakes," said old Andries, who, without the slightestdesign, did love to exhibit the various merits of his niece--"Dus matet'em, and I'll engage Matam Washington herself couldn't makepleasa
nter!"

  "If Mrs. Washington was ever thus employed," I answered, "she might turnpale with envy here. Better cakes of the sort I never ate."

  "'Of the sort' is well added, Mr. Littlepage," the girl quietlyobserved; "my protectress and friend made me rather skilful in this way,but the ingredients are not to be had here as they were in her family."

  "Which, being a boarding-school for young ladies, was doubtless bettersupplied than common with the materials and knowledge necessary for goodcakes."

  Dus laughed, and it startled me, so full of a wild but subdued melodydid that laugh seem to be.

  "Young ladies have many foibles imputed to them, of which they arealtogether innocent," was her answer. "Cakes were almost forbidden fruitin the school, and we were taught to make them in pity to the palates ofthe men."

  "Your future huspants, gal," cried the Chainbearer, rising to quit theroom.

  "Our fathers, brothers, and _uncles_," returned his niece, laying anemphasis on the last word.

  "I believe, Miss Ursula," I resumed, as soon as Andries had left usalone, "that I have been let behind the curtain as respects your lateschool, having an acquaintance of a somewhat particular nature with oneof your old school-fellows."

  My companion did not answer, but she fastened those fascinating blueeyes of hers on me, in a way that asked a hundred questions in a moment.I could not but see that they were suffused with tears; allusions to herschool often producing that effect.

  "I mean Miss Priscilla Bayard, who would seem to be, or to have been, avery good friend of yours," I added, observing that my companion was notdisposed to say anything.

  "Pris Bayard!" Ursula now suffered to escape her, in her surprise--"and_she_ an acquaintance of a somewhat particular nature!"

  "My language has been incautious; not to say that of a coxcomb.Certainly, I am not authorized to say more than that our _families_ arevery intimate, and that there are some particular reasons for thatintimacy. I beg you to read only as I have corrected the error."

  "I do not see that the correction changes things much; and you will letme say I am grieved, sadly grieved, to learn so much."

  This was odd! That Dus really meant what she said was plain enough by aface that had actually lost nearly all of its color, and which expressedan emotion that was most extraordinary. Shall I own what a miserablyconceited coxcomb I was for a single moment? The truth must be said, andI will confess it. The thought that crossed my mind was this: UrsulaMalbone was pained at the idea that the only man whom she had seen for ayear, and who could, by possibility, make any impression on one of hereducation and tastes, was betrothed to another! Under ordinarycircumstances, this precocious preference might have caused me to revoltat its exhibition; but there was far too much of nature in all of Dus'semotions, acts, and language, to produce any other impression on me thanthat of intense interest. I have always dated the powerful hold thatthis girl so soon obtained on my heart, to the tumult of feelingawakened in me at that singular moment. Love at first sight may beridiculous, but it is sometimes true. That a passion may be aroused by aglance, or a smile, or any other of those secret means of conveyingsympathy with which nature has supplied us, I fully believe; though itsduration must depend on qualities of a higher and more permanentinfluence. It is the imagination that is first excited; the heart comingin for its share by later and less perceptible degrees.

  My delusion, however, did not last long. Whether Ursula Malbone wasconscious of the misconstruction to which she was liable, I cannot say;but I rather think not, as she was much too innocent to dread evil; orwhether she saw some other necessity for explaining herself, remains asecret with me to this hour; but explain she did. How judiciously thiswas done, and with how much of that female tact that taught her toconceal the secrets of her friend, will appear to those who aresufficiently interested in the subject to pursue it.