been delivered, and the door was immediately opened. Mrs. Thompson was first to enter. Advancing, she took Melville's hand, and, without recognizing him, her eyes suffusing with tears, she spoke her thanks and sympathies in short and broken sen tences. Melville could have endured all but the tears. A woman weeping for him, was not what he had been accustomed to. The effort to endure them evidently troubled him. The doctor saw this effect, and hastily warned the ladies to be short in their visit. Bell, advancing as Mrs. Thompson retired, also failed to recognize her deliverer. She took his hand and was about speaking, when their eyes met. Melville's gaze, at first, was lighted by the keenest rays of a soul which has learned but too well to love where he deems another seeker has found the jewel. As Bell became conscious that George Melville lay upon that couch of suffering, like lightning came the thoughts of the past; the dreamy thoughts; the unbidden presence in hours of reverie; the flitting pictures of his manly form; his darkly beaming eye; his rich-toned voice; his respectful watchfulness for her comfort; his graceful, manly ease; his nobleness of soul, evinced by his every word and deed; she felt at that moment that happiness on earth for her must come from George Melville's love. Her eye was a faithful tell-tale to Melville for what, since he first met Bell, he had not dared to hope, even in secret. A rich blush suffused her temples. As the soul-spoken truth that Bell Mortimer loved him struck the answering chord in Melville's heart, the indices of pain and suffering vanished from his face; his eye kindled with a flame of purest joy; an angel's peace had fallen upon his brow. A smile, which told Bell Mortimer better than words, that in health or suffering, wealth or poverty, life or death, henceforth he lived but for her, flitted over his countenance. Fondly pressing the soft, white hand which had remained in his grasp, he carried it respectfully to his lips and imprinted thereon a kiss of holy love. Bell gently, but to Melville's keen perception, unmistakably, returned the pressure. Again his eye told her of his love. Forgetting those around, her soul kindled with sympathy for his suffering, gratitude for her life, and the joy of a new and indescribable happiness. She knelt by his couch of pain and imprinted upon his manly brow the seal of a devotion which from that instant was never broken. George Melville whispered in her ear: "May God watch over thee, dearest, dearest treasure!" Bell's eyes were suffused with tears. She turned to Mrs. Jewett, and in a soft, but steady articulation, said: "I cannot thank him now! let us return! another time! he must rest! Doctor, you will remain here over night with me? Mrs. Jewett, please send a messenger for my brother, Frederick. I can never repay your kindness!" "Don't speak of that," said Mrs. Jewett, herself wiping the warm tears from her own eyes with her clean check apron. "I can tell you tales of kindness, sympathy, aye, and free purse strings, from your great grandfather down to the poor woman who wore the new cloak to church last Sunday morning, made by Bell Mortimer's own fingers. You didn't do that so still as you thought," said Mrs. Jewett, the tears flowing afresh in spite of herself. Bell turned away to hide her confusion. Bell Mortimer had left her aunt's one hour before with a joyous spirit. Through life she had gambolled over hill, dale and valley-no crags-no mountain gorges-no rocky heights, had obstructed her pathway. Time had gently lifted his sickle above her, while gathering from around her home, recruits for the heavenly hosts. Friends and faithful had watched her from infancy. Hitherto, earth had no joys for her, except in a "father's smile," a mother's love, and a brother's confidence. Her father was the sunlight; her mother, the moon-light; her brother, the shield from every storm and tempest. To father, mother and brother she was the She had One short hour, and how changed! perilled existence. The portals of heaven had been unlatched, and one bright ray of glory had flashed therefrom. The angel harps had ceased; the expectant host in the seraphic choir had watched, with eager love, the fiery steeds of earth, ready to make heaven's arches ring anew when her spotless soul should reach its angel home. But "Time," with hoary lock, looked again and again over the instructions which he dare not contravene. The page was blurred. Uncertain in his task, he Turned back, with restless wing, "Not yet! not yet!" the angel trumpet, responsive to that gaze, rang forth. Turning his eye again upon the fiery steeds, the Old Man, with the single lock, thus spoke: "Beautiful daughter of earth, finish thy task! For a season, I pass thee by." XXIII. Plans for the Future. A LITTLE after five o'clock, Frederick Mortimer entered Mrs. Jewett's house. On his On his way, he heard several reports in regard to his sister and aunt. He was prepared to find them injured; how much, he dreaded to learn. The transition from anxiety to joy at their safety, caused his heart to leap. He clasped Bell to his arms kissing her again and again. "Bell!" said Fred, "you perceive run-aways do not prosper. Take warning from this, and never strike up a run-away match. Always consult your brother, in future. How is the pony to get home?" “Fred, dear Fred!" said Bell, "I cannot bear even the pleasantry of joy at my preservation. You have a duty to perform towards my preserver." "A duty? What is it, Bell? Who is your pre server?" "George Melville, Frederick. He has risked his life to save your sister's. He lies in the front parlor, suffering terrible pain from a broken leg. Dr. Bond says his right leg is broken just below the knee. He also says he has a severe flesh wound." Frederick Mortimer's levity instantly vanished. He went to his friend's bedside. |