Rutledge

metimes, because

ey were dead to

sh devours the

o near the fire of

dily, wings and

y for a gn

BRO

Kitty had half done my hair, and as I would not for worlds have been two minutes late at any meal that Mr. R

e made herself busy in removing my breakfast from

dmired chair up to the window, and throwing myself into it, wit

ground; the wind moaned dismally around the house, and dashed the rain, by fits and starts, against the windows with a heavy sound. It was very nice to feel that it could not get in, and that there was stout glass and stone between me and the pitiless autumn storm, and a snug and cosy shelter from its fury. But by and by I grew rather tired of watching the rain and the leaves, and yawning, began to cast about for some mo

that I felt entirely lost without the routine, and firmly resolved, as soon as I should be settled at my aunt's, to begin a course of study which should fill up all these idle moments, and give some vigor to my faculties. "I should die of this in a month," I thought; and seizing one of the rejected Reviews, the only literature at hand, I resolutely set

accepting the chair I offered her, made me quite a little visit. I exerted myself to appear amiable, and was congratulating myself on the success of my efforts, and on the absence of all disagreeable topics, when, just

trusted to make even a bed by herself.

since I waked up. "And now," I thought, with a cold chill, "now it is probably under Mrs. Roberts' very nose, and Kitty and I are undone." I hardly breathed as I watched her throwing back blanket and sheet, and making sad havoc among the bolsters and pillows, giving the one a contemptuous shake, and the other an indignant poke; all the while most animatedly anathematizing the the unlucky Kitty. I had already pictured Kitty

ation of her nerves, but one soothing panacea, and that was, a thorough and satisfactory "blow-out" or scolding; the raking fore-and-aft some adversary's craft with the unerring fire of her indignation, the entire annihilation, soul and body, for the time being, of the victim that ha

s. Roberts would like to know?

e to come across the room and try if s

as something, and inly vowed to scent it out; Kitty was as determined to elude her vigilance, and as is not unusual, youth and dexterity triumphed. From under the very eyes of Mrs. Roberts, Kitty, under cover of a zealous shake of the mattress, bore off the miniature, an

felt certain Mrs. Roberts stood with the door of her room ajar, ready to pounce upon her if she came in sight again; so I exerted myself to perform the duties of my toilette unaided. They were not arduous, and I was soon dressed, and vainly trying to interest myself in my embroidery till the bell should ring. It was still an open question whether I should go downstairs; I half inclined to playing invalid a little longer, and taking this one more meal in my room. But then the dreary prospect of my solitary dinner, and the long dull twilight, with nothing but my

produce its rival in my eyes. The ceiling was very high, the fireplace wide, with tiled jambs; the wood-work carved in stiff but stately patterns; the windows were deep, with enticing window-seats, and the walls were covered with pictures. Pictures, I imagined, of people who had once owned Rutledge: some of them, perhaps, lived in this very house, ate and drank in this very room. There were several portraits, that I rather hurried over, of pompous-looking people in very old-time style, but I knew in a moment the handsome picture over the mantelpiece. It was the late Mr. Rutledge, like Mr. Arthur, but infinitely handsomer, on a larger scale, with a jovial, plea

fair, gentle, and sad: beneath this picture, and depending from its frame, hung a little crayon sketch, that I examined with interest, thinking to find it identical, possibly, with the miniature, which I pulled from my pocket to compare. But a glance refuted that idea; not the faintest likeness between them, nothing in common but human features. It represented (the sketch I mean) a boy of about my own age, with such a fine, glowing, ardent face

ce till he stood beside me. I pocketed the miniature, which I still

uaintance with my a

pictures. "But this," pointing to the cray

lf smile, "not exactly a

it was not cons

hen remarked that the resemblance lay, I thought, in the contour of the face, and perhaps something a

es what no man's face can express after thirty: hope and coura

nes, Mr. Rutledge gave me some slight sketches, passing briefly by those that I knew he could hav

, "this is the fine

dissentingly, and looked sad

reamy and poetical, but not so brave and spirited. Look at the impatient fire in those e

t, truthful lad," said Mr. R

and if fair fortune hadn't smiled upon his humble birth (which, however, I suppose she did, being a Rutledge), he would have conquered her, you may be

nd faith; perhaps disgrace, grief, illness, coming all together, might have crushed out of him all energy and spirit. What would have become of your hero then? Would

is tone, but persisted, "All that wouldn't hav

ot always," he said, w

lived," I said; "I am sure

had lived, he would have been-let me see-nearly forty years old: and tha

ly. "Well then, I wish I had lived when

nough to wish that! Make the best of your youth, and freshness, and spirit, for they

a little ungraciously. "I am not at all afraid that I shall be bitt

ught I meant it for him; yet the laugh was

very happy and contented when forty comes around on the string of birth-days. Always being and provided, of co

hat I shall ever have any lover that I shall

would have won you, with perhaps a dash of impetuosity and ty

ll?" I said,

t you were just out of school, and could not be

and looking at the ground over my left shoulder, after the manner of a

el much more at my ease, and laughed quite like myself, when on going to the tab

d so we have let the soup get cold, and the dinner get burned, very

got timidity, and both forgot the dismal storm without. Mr. Rutledge condescended to be entertaining, and I deigned to forget all former slights, and be entertained. Unluckily, however, at des

seen any face, and most of all, a woman's

I did, and the thought was anything but genial; my eyes wandered involuntarily to the empty panel; and it was with a feeling of relief that I arose

ot tired

to-morrow I meant to bring my drawing materials

pt it," he said, indifferently, proceeding to unhook i

for a moment, and hardly

that you do n

ce about the house, and he did not care particularly for this o

d. I seized the picture with great go?t, and ran into the l

oked long and earnestly at my favorite in every light, and from every point; then got up on a chair and reached down a Lat

themselves felt, and at last, I thought, to become utterly unbearable. I conceived the mad plan of getting my shawl and hood, and escaping to the piazza for a little exercise, though the rain ha

you go

and walk up and down on the piazza for a little while. I

dedly; "it would be absurd, a

it would not

positive

his thoughts had gone off to something else, for he did not say anything more; and I stood drumming on the table, waiting for him to cont

u have no objection to m

. I think it would be much more sensibl

n doing that,

n, stay an

wer, I am afraid; sir," I ans

d," he said; "I have a wretched hea

gly. But unluckily, I don

no importan

lute and very

ng you'll have for

s nothing,

had taken of me during my illness. I would have given worlds for a good excuse to stay, but Mr. Rutled

u to have me read

uble me on any a

not the slightest trouble. I sho

nk of putting su

med, "whether or not y

ch, but begged me n

and in a moment I

all I re

ng you

ow-seat, opened its familiar pages with some pleasure. Familiar, that is, they had been to my childhood, but it was some years since I had seen the book. It was not long, however, before I forgot myself and my auditor over the strange, wild, touching story. The dreary storm without, the growing gloom within, all added to the charm of its wild pathos. I read on, bending forward to catch t

es to set

him c

true

y fears sh

etern

enanc

the hall interrupted my revery, and I rose to put the book away. As I passed Mr. Rutledge, he held out his hand, and, as I laid my own in it, he said, "thank you," and looked at me with the most mournful expression

rdered more wood on the fire, which presently blazed and crackled genially; the curtai

r. Rutledge's headache. I could hardly believe the clock was right when it struck ten, the evening had seemed so short. I took my picture from the mantelpiece, and bidding my companion good night, ran upstairs two steps at a time, not remembering till I reached the top, that Miss Crowen had condemned the practice as unladylike. "I hope Mr. Rutledge wasn't listening," I thought with mortification. If Mr. Rutledge wasn't, Mrs. Roberts was, though, for I heard her d

ure up here? It has always hung under his mother's in the dining-room.

, a vivid blush spread over my face, and M

mmered. Mrs. Robert's blue lips parted for an instant in a c

was a young man; he's sadly changed since then; he's

phasis, and having no excuse for sta

olish speeches. How stupid, how blind I had been. Why, as I looked at the picture now, there wasn't a feature in the face that could possibly have been mistaken for any one else, not a shade nor outline that was not characteris