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Page 6
"Come in," was the response.
She did so. In the center of the apartment, with an open book on the
table before him, sat the teacher who officiated at prayers. He rose
and bowed coldly in answer to her salutation.
"Pardon my intrusion, Mr. Stewart. I expected to find Madame here."
"She has gone to spend the morning with an invalid sister, and
requested me to take charge of her classes, in addition to my own. If
I can render you any assistance, Miss Hamilton, I am at your service."
"Thank you, I am in need of no assistance, and merely wished to say to
Madame that I should leave New Orleans to-morrow, having heard from my
father that he will be here in the evening boat."
"I will inform her of your intended departure as early as possible."
"You will oblige me by doing so," replied Florence, turning to go.
"Miss Hamilton, may I ask you if your cousin accompanies you?"
"She does," was the laconic answer, and slowly she retraced her steps,
and stood at her own door. The cheeks had become colorless, and the
delicate lips writhed with pain. She paused a moment, then entered.
"Did you see her, Florry?"
"No, she is absent, but I left word for her."
Her tone was hard, dry, as though she had been striving long for some
goal, which, when nearly attained, her failing strength was scarce
able to grasp. It was the echo of a fearful struggle that had raged in
her proud bosom. The knell it seemed of expiring exertion, of sinking
resistance. Mary gazed sadly on her cousin, who stood mechanically
smoothing her glossy black hair. The haughty features seemed chiseled
in marble, so cold, stony was the expression.
"Dear Florry! you look harassed and weary already. Why, why will you
overtask your strength, merely to be called a disciple of Zeno? Surely
you cannot seriously desire so insignificant an honor, if it merits
that title?"
"Can, you, then, see no glory in crushing long-cherished hopes--nay,
when your heart is yearning toward some 'bright particular' path,
to turn without one symptom of regret, and calmly tread one just the
opposite! Tell me, can you perceive nothing elevating in this Stoical
command?"
The cold, vacant look had passed away; her dark eyes gleamed,
glittered as with anticipated triumph.
"Florry, I do not understand you exactly; but I do know that command
of the heart is impossible, from the source whence you draw. It may
seem perfect control now, but it will fail you in the dark hour of
your need, if many trials should assail. Oh! my cousin, do not be
angry if I say 'you have forsaken the fountain of living water, and
hewn out for yourself broken cisterns, which hold no water.' Oh!
Florry, before you take another step, return to Him, 'who has a balm
for every wound.'"
Florence's face softened; an expression of relief began to steal over
her countenance; but as Mary ceased speaking, she turned her face,
beautiful in its angelic purity, full upon her. A bitter smile curled
Florence's lip, and muttering hoarsely, "A few more hours and the
struggle will be over," she turned to her bureau, and arranged her
clothes for packing.
The day passed in preparation, and twilight found the cousins watching
intently at the casement. The great clock in the hall chimed out
seven, the last stroke died away, and then the sharp clang of the
door-bell again broke silence. They started to their feet, heard the
street door open and close--then steps along the stairs, nearer and
nearer--then came a knock at the door. Mary opened it; the servant
handed in a card and withdrew. "Mr. J.A. Hamilton." Florence passed
out, Mary remained behind.
"Come, why do you linger?"
"I thought, Florry, you might wish to see him alone; perhaps he would
prefer it."
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