and the old ladies with their aches. Young America calls him a "regular brick," for he lends himself to build up everybody's good-humor.
He is everything to me. Before he came, Mr. Winston was almost my only visitor, though other gentlemen occasionally sat with me a few minutes. But now everybody flocks to my couch, because Harry's head-quarters are there. He has broken down the shyness my unfortunate situation maintained between me and others. His cheery "Well, how are you to-day, old fellow?" sets everybody at ease with me. The ladies have come out from their pitying reserve. A glass of fresh water from the spring, a leaf-full of wild berries, a freshly pulled rose, and other little daily attentions, cheer me into fresh admiration of them "all in general, and one in particular," as Ryerson says.
Perhaps you think—I judge so from your letter—that I ought to describe Miss Winston to you. She is finely–Ah, I find that she is wrapped in some mysterious, ethereal veil, the folds of which I dare not disturb, even with reverent hand, and for your sake! Ah, Mary, I aspire!
VIII
C– Springs. September.
The autumn scenery is gorgeous up among these misty hills, but I will not dwell upon it. I have too much to say of animated human nature, to more than glance out of doors. Nearly all the boarders are gone. Miss Winston left last week for her home in Boston. I am desolate indeed! The day after she went away, I stood upon my own feet without support, for the first time. Now I walk daily from the house to the spring, with the help of Kate's or Ben's arm and a cane, though I am still obliged to remain on my couch nearly all day long. I write this in direct reply to your question.
Now for the great exciting subject of the present time. I will give it in detail, as women like to have stories told.
The little wife, our Alice, came running into Kate's parlor one day, while we were both sitting there reading. She was in extreme excitement. We heard her laughing, just outside the door, in the most joyous manner; but she pulled a long face as she entered. She sank down upon the floor by my couch, so as to be on a level with me, took my hand and Kate's, and then, taking breath, said:
"Listen, Kate, and don't be agitated."
Kate was, of course, extremely agitated at once. She divined the subject about to be introduced, and her heart beat tumultuously.
"You remember I nearly betrayed Walter's secret once? Well, I am going to tell it to you now, really."
"He gave you leave, then!" said Kate, almost breathless.
"Yes, yes! This is it–Now, Kate, if you look so pale, I can't go on!"
I motioned to her to proceed at once.
"Well, he had some engineering to do in Russia, you know. They wanted to get him to undertake another job,—I don't know, nor care, what it was,—and he went out to see about it. For Charlie's sake, you let him go away almost in despair, you cruel girl! Well, when I was visiting you, he made a little spy of me. I was not to spy you, Kate, but Charlie here, and let Walter know of the slightest change for the better in him. Then he was to get some one to attend to his Russian work, and post right straight home to you, Kate! Well, my aunt wouldn't let me stay with you,—cross old thing! And she kept me so very close, that I couldn't watch Charlie at all. Then she went and threatened me with a long engagement with Harry, only to give me time to get heaps and heaps of sewing done! I knew the only chance I could get of gaining information for Walter was just to run off to you with Hal, and cut a long matter short. Well, so I came, and I wrote to Walter, the very night I arrived, that the doctor said, Charlie, that you would be quite well in a month or two! That was a month ago. But Walter had not waited for me. Perhaps he had other spies. At any rate"–
She paused.
"What? what? Be quick!" cried I, seeing that Kate was almost fainting from this suspense.
"He has come!"
Kate pressed her hand over the joyful cry that burst from her lips, and, turning away from us, sprang up, and walked to the window. There was a moment of perfect silence. Kate put her hand behind her, and motioned to the door. Alice went softly out and closed it. I could not rise, poor cripple, from intense agitation.
My sister drew one long, quivering, sobbing breath,—and then she had a good cry, as women say. It seemed to me enough to give one a headache for a week, but it refreshed her. After bathing her eyes with some iced water, she came and leaned over me.
"Thank God, Kate," I said, "for your sake and mine!"
"Can you spare me, after you are well again, Charlie,—if he"–
"Am I a monster of selfishness and ingratitude?"
She kissed me, took up her work, and sat down to sew.
"Kate!" said I, amazed, "what are you doing? Why don't you go down?"
"What for? To hunt him up at the bar-keeper's desk? or in the stables, perhaps?"
"Oh! Ah! Propriety,—yes! But how you can sit there and wait I cannot conceive."
There came a knock. I expected her to start up in rapture and admit Mr.
Walter –. She only said, "Come in!"—calmly.
Alice peeped in, and asked, "May he come?"
"Where is he?" I asked.
"In the parlor, waiting to know."
"Yes," said Kate, changing color rapidly.
"Stop, stop, Alice! You two give me each a hand, and help me into my room."
"Charlie," said Kate, "you need not go! you must not go!"
"Ah, my dear sister, I have stood between you and him long enough, I will do to him as I would be done by. Come, girls, your hands!"
They placed me in my easy-chair, both kissed me with agitated lips, and left me. Half an hour afterwards Kate and Mr. – petitioned for admittance to my room. Of course I granted it, and immediately proceeded to a minute scrutiny of my future brother-in-law. He is a fine fellow, very scientific, clear in thought, decisive in action, quite reserved, and very good-looking. This reserve is to Kate his strongest attraction,—her own nature being so entirely destitute of it, and she so painfully conscious of her want of self-control. Yes,—he is just the one Kate would most respect, of all the men I ever saw.
Is not this happiness,—to find her future not wrecked, but blessed doubly? for her conduct has made Walter almost worship her. I am happy to think I have brought her good, rather than ill; but—selfish being that I am—I am not contented. I have a sigh in my heart yet!
Bosky Dell. December.
How it happened that this letter did not go I cannot imagine. I have just found it in Kate's work-basket; and I open it again, to add the grand climax. I have been so very minute in my accounts of Kate's love-affairs, that I feel it would not be fair to slur over mine. So, dear friend, I open my heart to you in this wise.
The rage for recovery which took such violent possession of me I believe effected my cure. In a month from the time I began to walk, I could go alone, without even a cane. Kate entreated me to remain as long as possible in the mountains, as she believed my recovery was attributable to the pure air and healing waters. It was consequently the first of this month before we arrived at her cottage, where we found good old Saide so much "frustrated" by delight as to be quite unable to "fly roun'." Indeed, she could hardly
