Aikenside

He was smoothing her hair now, as her bead still lay pillowed upon his

breast, so he could not see the spasm of pain which contorted her

features as be thus appealed to her. Half bewildered, Maddy could not

at first make out whether it were a blissful dream or a reality, her

lying there in Guy's arms with his kisses on her forehead, lips and

cheek, his words of devotion in her ear, and the soft summer sky

smiling down upon her. Alas, it was a dream from which she was

awakened by the thought of one across the sea, whose place she had

usurped, and this it was which brought the grieved expression to her

face as she answered mournfully: "I did want you, Guy, when I forgot; but now--oh, Guy--Lucy

Atherstone!"

With a gesture of impatience Guy was about to answer, when something

in the heavy fall of the little hand from his shoulder alarmed him,

and lifting up the drooping head he saw that Maddy had fainted. Then

back across the meadow Guy bore her to the cottage, where Flora, just

returned from a neighbor's, whither she had gone upon an errand, was

looking for her in much affright, and wondering who had come from

Aikenside with that wet, tired horse, showing so plainly how hard it

had been driven.

Up again into her little chamber Maddy was carried and laid upon the

bed, which she never left until the golden harvest sheaves were

gathered in, and the hot September sun was ripening the fruits of

autumn. But now she had a new nurse, a constant attendant, who during

the day seldom left her except to talk with and amuse Uncle Joseph,

mourning below because no one sang to him or noticed him as Maddy used

to do. He had not been sent to the asylum, as Maddy feared, but by way

of relieving Flora had been taken to Farmer Green's, where he was so

homesick and discontented that at Guy's instigation he was suffered to

return to the cottage, crying like a little child when the old

familiar spot was reached, kissing his armchair, the cook-stove, the

tongs, Mrs. Noah and Flora, and timidly offering to kiss the Lord

Governor himself, as he persisted in calling Guy, who declined the

honor, but listened quietly to the crazy man's promise "not to spit

the smallest kind of a spit on the floor, or anywhere, except in its

proper place."

Guy had passed through several states of mind during the interval in

which we have seen so little of him. Furious at one time, and reckless

as to consequences, he had determined to break with Lucy and marry

Maddy, in spite of everybody; then, as a sense of honor came over him,

he resolved to forget Maddy, if possible, and marry Lucy at once. It

was in this last mood, and while roaming over the Western country,

whither after his banishment he had gone, that he wrote to Lucy a

strange kind of letter, saying he had waited for her long enough, and

sick or well he should claim her the coming autumn. To this letter

Lucy had responded quickly, sweetly reproving Guy for his impatience,

softly hinting that latterly he had been quite as culpable as herself

in the matter of deferring their union and appointing the bridal day

for the--of December. After this was settled Guy felt better, though

the old sore spot in his heart, where Maddy Clyde had been, was very

sore still, and sometimes it required all his powers of self-control

to keep from writing to Lucy and asking to be released from an

engagement so irksome as his had become. Neglecting to answer Agnes'

letters when he first left home, she did not know where he was until a

short time before, when she wrote apprising him of grandpa's death and

Maddy's severe illness. This brought him, while Maddy's involuntary

outburst when she met him in the graveyard, changed the whole current

of his intentions. Let what would come, Maddy Clyde should be his wife

and as such he watched over her, nursing her back to life, and by his

manner effectually silencing all remark, so that the neighbors

whispered among themselves what Maddy's prospects were, and, as was

quite natural, were a very little more attentive to the future lady of

Aikenside. Poor Maddy! it was a terrible trial which awaited her, but

it must be met, and so with prayers and tears she fortified herself to

meet it, while Guy, the devoted lover, hung over her, never guessing

of all that was passing in her mind, or how, when he was out of sight,

the lips he had longed so much to kiss, but never had since that day

in the graveyard, quivered with anguish as they asked for strength to

do right. Oh, how Maddy did love the man she must give up, and how

often went up the wailing cry, "Help me, Father, to do my duty, and

give me, too, a greater inclination to do it than I now possess."