Joseph and His Friend

CHAPTER IX.

THE train moved slowly along through the straggling and shabby suburbs, increasing its speed as the city melted gradually into the country; and Joseph, after a vain attempt to fix his mind upon one of the volumes he had procured for his slender library at home, leaned back in his seat and took note of his fellow-travellers. Since he began to approach the usual destiny of men, they had a new interest for him. Hitherto he had looked upon strange faces very much as on a strange language, without a thought of interpreting them; but now their hieroglyphics seemed to suggest a meaning. The figures around him were so many sitting, silent histories, so many lockedup records of struggle, loss, gain, and all the other forces which give shape and color to human life. Most of them were strangers to each other, and as reticent (in their railway conventionality) as himself; yet, he reflected, the whole range of passion, pleasure, and suffering was probably illustrated in that collection of existences. His own troublesome individuality grew fainter, so much of it seemed to be merged in the common experience of men.

There was the portly gentleman of fifty, still ruddy and full of unwasted force. The keenness and coolness of his eyes, the few firmly marked lines on his face, and the color and hardness of his lips, proclaimed to everybody: “ I am bold, shrewd, successful in business, scrupulous in the performance of my religious duties (on the Sabbath), voting with my party, and not likely to be fooled by any kind of literary nonsense.” The thin, not very well-dressed man beside him, with the irregular features and uncertain expression, announced as clearly, to any who could read: “I am weak, like others, but I never consciously did any harm. I just manage to get along in the world, but if I only had a chance, I might make something better of myself.” The fresh, healthy fellow, in whose lap a child was sleeping, while his wife nursed a younger one, —the man with ample mouth, large nostrils, and the hands of a mechanic,—also told his story: “ On the whole, I find life a comfortable thing. I don’t know much about it, but I take it as it comes, and never worry over what I can’t understand.”

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year i1870, by FIELDS, OSGOOD, & Co., in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts.

The faces of the younger men, however, were not so easy to decipher. On them life was only beginning its plastic task, and it required an older eye to detect the delicate touches of awakening passions and hopes. But Joseph consoled himself with the thought that his own secret was as little to be discovered as any they might have. If they were still ignorant of the sweet experience of love, he was already their superior; if they were sharers in it, though strangers, they were near to him. Had he not left the foot of the class, after all ?

All at once his eye was attracted by a new face, three or four seats from his own. The stranger had shifted his position, so that he was no longer seen in profile. He was, apparently, a few years older than Joseph, but still bright with all the charm of early manhood. His fair complexion was bronzed from exposure, and his hands, graceful without being effeminate, were not those of the idle gentleman. His hair, golden in tint, thrust its short locks as it pleased about a smooth, frank forehead; the eyes were dark gray, and the mouth, partly hidden by a mustache, at once firm and full. He was moderately handsome, yet it was not of that which Joseph thought; he felt that there was more of developed character and a richer past history expressed in those features than in any other face there. He felt sure—and smiled at himself, notwithstanding, for the impression — that at least, some of his own doubts and difficulties had found their solution in the stranger’s nature. The more he studied the face, the more he was conscious of its attraction, and his instinct of reliance, though utterly without grounds, justified itself to his mind in some mysterious way.

It was not long before the unknown felt his gaze, and, turning slowly in his seat, answered it. Joseph dropped his eyes in some confusion, but not until he had caught the full, warm, intense expression of those that met them. He fancied that he read in them, in that momentary flash, what he had never before found in the eyes of strangers,— a simple, human interest, above curiosity and above mistrust. The usual reply to such a gaze is an unconscious defiance : the unknown nature is on its guard: but the look which seems to answer, “ We are men, let us know each other ! ” is, alas ! too rare in this world.

While Joseph was fighting the irresistible temptation to look again, there was a sudden thud of the car-wheels. Many of the passengers started from their seats, only to be thrown into them again by a quick succession of violent jolts. Joseph saw the stranger springing towards the bell-rope ; then he and all others seemed to be whirling over each other ; there was a crash, a horrible grinding and splintering sound, and the end of all was a shock, in which his consciousness left him before he could guess its violence.

After a while, out of some blank, haunted by a single lost, wandering sense of existence, he began to awaken slowly to life. Flames were still dancing in his eyeballs, and waters and whirlwinds roaring in his ears ; but it was only a passive sensation, without the will to know more. Then he felt himself partly lifted and his head supported, and presently a soft warmth fell upon the region of his heart. There were noises all about him, but he did not listen to them ; his effort to regain his consciousness fixed itself on that point alone, and grew stronger as the warmth calmed the confusion of his nerves.

“Dip this in water!” said a voice, and the hand (as he now knew it to be) was removed from his heart.

Something cold came over his forehead, and at the same time warm drops fell upon his cheek.

“ Look out for yourself: your head is cut!” exclaimed another voice.

“ Only a scratch. Take the handkerchief out of my pocket and tie it up ; but first ask yon gentleman for his flask ! ”

Joseph opened his eyes, knew the face that bent over his, and then closed them again. Gentle and strong hands raised him, a flask was set to his lips, and he drank mechanically, but a full sense of life followed the draught. He looked wistfully in the stranger’s face.

“Wait a moment,” said the latter; “ I must feel your bones before you try to move. Arms and legs all right, — impossible to tell about the ribs. There ! now put your arm around my neck, and lean on me as much as you like, while I lift you.”

Joseph did as he was bidden, but he was still weak and giddy, and after a few steps, they both sat down together upon a bank. The splintered car lay near them, upside down ; the passengers had been extricated from it, and were now busy in aiding the few who were injured. The train had stopped and was waiting on the track above. Some were very pale and grave, feeling that Death had touched without taking them ; but the greater part were concerned only about the delay to the train.

“How did it happen?” asked Joseph : “ where was I ? how did you find me ? ”

“The usual story, — a broken rail,” said the stranger. “ I had just caught the rope when the car went over, and was swung off my feet so luckily that I somehow escaped the hardest shock. I don’t think I lost my senses for a moment. When we came to the bottom you were lying just before me; I thought you dead until I felt your heart. It is a severe shock, but I hope nothing more.”

“But you, — are you not badly hurt ? ”

The stranger pushed up the handkerchief which was tied around his head, felt his temple, and said: “It must have been one of the splinters ; I knew nothing about it. But there is no harm in a little blood-letting, except ” — he added, smiling—“except the spots on your face.”

By this time the other injured passengers had been conveyed to the train ; the whistle sounded a warning of departure.

“ I think we can get up the embankment now,” said the stranger. “You must let me take care of you still: I am travelling alone.”

When they were seated side by side, and Joseph leaned his head back on the supporting arm, while the train moved away with them, he felt that a new power, a new support, had come to his life. The face upon which he looked was no longer strange; the hand which had rested on his heart was warm with kindred blood. Involuntarily he extended his own; it was taken, and held, and the dark-gray, courageous eyes turned to him with a silent assurance which he felt needed no words.

“ It is a rough introduction,” he then said: “ my name is Philip Held. I was on my way to Oakland Station, but if you are going farther — ” •

“ Why, that is my station also! ” Joseph exclaimed, giving his name in return.

“Then we should have probably met, sooner or later, in any case. I am bound for the forge and furnace at Coventry, which is for sale. If the company who employ me decide to buy it,— according to the report I shall make, — the works will be placed in my charge.”

“It is but six miles from my farm,” said Joseph, “and the road up the valley is the most beautiful in our neighborhood. I hope you can make a favorable report.”

“ It is only too much to my own interest to do so. I have been mining and geologizing in Nevada and the Rocky Mountains for three or four years, and long for a quiet, ordered life. It is a good omen that I have found a neighbor in advance of my settlement. I have often ridden fifty miles to meet a friend who cared for something else than horse-racing or monte; and your six miles, — it is but a step! ”

“ How much you have seen ! ” said Joseph. "I know very little of the world. It must be easy for you to take your own place in life.”

A shade passed over Philip Held’s face. “It is only easy to a certain class of men,” he replied, — “a class to which I should not care to belong. I begin to think that nothing is very valuable, the right to which a man don’t earn, — except human love, and that seems to come by the grace of God.”

“I am younger than you are, — not yet twenty-three,” Joseph remarked. “ You will find that I am very ignorant.”

“And I am twenty-eight, and just beginning to get my eyes open, like a nine-days’ kitten. If I had been frank enough to confess my ignorance, five years ago, as you do now, it would have been better for me. But don’t let us measure ourselves or our experience against each other. That is one good thing we learn in Rocky Mountain life ; there is no high or low, knowledge or ignorance, except what applies to the needs of men who come together. So there are needs which most men have, and go all their lives hungering for, because they expect them to be supplied in a particular form. There is something,” Philip concluded, “ deeper than that in human nature.”

Joseph longed to open his heart to this man, every one of whose words struck home to something in himself. But the lassitude which the shock left behind gradually overcame him. He suffered his head to be drawn upon Philip Held’s shoulder, and slept until the train reached Oakland Station. When the two got upon the platform, they found Dennis waiting for Joseph, with a light country vehicle. The news of the accident had reached the station, and his dismay was great when he saw the two bloody faces. A physician had already been summoned from the neighboring village, but they had little need of his services. A prescription of quiet and sedatives for Joseph, and a strip of plaster for his companion, were speedily furnished, and they set out together for the Asten place.

It is unnecessary to describe Rachel Miller’s agitation when the party arrived ; or the parting of the two men who had been so swiftly brought near to each other ; or Philip Held’s farther journey to the forge that evening. He resisted all entreaty to remain at the farm until morning, on the ground of an appointment made with the present proprietor of the forge. After his departure Joseph was sent to bed, where he remained for a day or two, very sore and a little feverish. He had plenty of time for thought, — not precisely of the kind which his aunt suspected, for out of pure, honest interest in his welfare, she took a step which proved to be of doubtful benefit. If he had not been so innocent, — if he had not been quite as unconscious of his inner nature as he was over-conscious of his external self, — he would have perceived that his thoughts dwelt much more on Philip Held than on Julia Blessing. His mind seemed to run through a swift, involuntary chain of reasoning, to account to himself for his feeling towards her, and her inevitable share in his future ; but towards Philip his heart sprang with an instinct beyond his control. It was impossible to imagine that the latter, also, would not be shot, like a bright thread, through the web of his coming days.

On the third morning, when he had exchanged the bed for an arm-chair, a letter from the city was brought to him. “ Dearest Joseph,” it ran, “ what a fright and anxiety we have had ! When pa brought the paper home, lastnight, and I read the report of the accident, where it said, ‘ J. Asten, severe contusions,’ my heart stopped beating for a minute, and I can only write now (as you see) with a trembling hand. My first thought was to go directly to you ; but ma said we had better wait for intelligence. Unless our engagement were generally known, it would give rise to remarks, — in short, I need not repeat to you all the worldly reasons with which she opposed me; but, oh, how I longed for the right to be at your side, and assure myself that the dreadful, dreadful danger has passed! Pa was quite shaken with the news: he felt hardly able to go to the Custom-House this morning. But he sides with ma about my going, and now, when my time as a daughter with them is growing so short, I dare not disobey. I know you will understand my position, yet, dear and true as you are, you cannot guess the anxiety with which I await a line from your hand, the hand that was so nearly taken from me forever ! ”

Joseph read the letter twice and was about to commence it for the third time, when a visitor was announced. He had barely time to thrust the scented sheet into his pocket ; and the bright eyes and flushed face with which he met the Rev. Mr. Chaffinch convinced both that gentleman and his aunt, as she ushered the latter into the room, that the visit was accepted as an honor and a joy.

On Mr. Chaffinch’s face the air of authority which he had been led to believe belonged to his calling had not quite succeeded in impressing itself; but melancholy, the next best thing, was strongly marked. His dark complexion and his white cravat intensified each other ; and his eyes, so long uplifted above the concerns of this world, had ceased to vary their expression materially for the sake of any human interest. All this had been expected of him, and he had simply done his best to meet the requirements of the flock over whom he was placed. Any of the latter might have easily been shrewd enough to guess, in advance, very nearly what the pastor would say, upon a given occasion ; but each and all of them would have been both disappointed and disturbed if he had not said it.

After appropriate and sympathetic inquiries concerning Joseph’s bodily condition, he proceeded to probe him spiritually.

“It was a merciful preservation. I hope you feel that it is a solemn thing to look Death in the face.”

“ I am not afraid of death,” Joseph replied.

“ You mean the physical pang. But death includes what comes after it,— judgment. That is a very awful thought.”

“ It may be to evil men ; but I have done nothing to make me fear it.”

“ You have never made an open profession of faith ; yet it may be that grace has reached you,” said Mr. Chaffinch. “ Have you found your Saviour ? ”

“ I believe in him with all my soul! ” Joseph exclaimed ; “but you mean something else by ‘finding’ him. I will be candid with you, Mr. Chaffinch. The last sermon I heard you preach, a month ago, was upon the nullity of all good works, all Christian deeds ; you called them ‘rags, dust, and ashes,’ and declared that man is saved by faith alone. I have faith, but I can’t accept a doctrine which denies merit to works ; and you, unless I accept it, will you admit that I have ‘found’ Christ?”

“There is but One Truth!” exclaimed Mr. Chaffinch, very severely.

“Yes,” Joseph answered, reverently, “ and that is only perfectly known to God.”

The clergyman was more deeply annoyed than he cared to exhibit. His experience had been confined chiefly to the encouragement of ignorant souls, willing to accept his message, if they could only be made to comprehend it, or to the conflict with downright doubt and denial. A nature so seemingly open to the influences of the Spirit, yet inflexibly closed to certain points of doctrine, was something of a problem to him. He belonged to a class now happily becoming scarce, who, having been taught to pace a reasoned theological round, can only efficiently meet those antagonists who voluntarily come inside of their own ring.

His habit of control, however, enabled him to say, with a moderately friendly manner, as he took leave: “ We will talk again when you are stronger. It is my duty to give spiritual help to those who seek it.”

To Rachel Miller he said : " I cannot say that he is dark. His mind is cloudy, but we find that the vanities of youth often obscure the true light for a time.”

Joseph leaned back in his arm-chair, closed his eyes, and meditated earnestly for half an hour. Rachel Miller, uncertain whether to be hopeful or discouraged by Mr. Chaffinch’s words, stole into the room, but went about on tiptoe, supposing him to be asleep. Joseph was fully conscious of all her movements, and at last startled her by the sudden question : —

“ Aunt, why do you suppose I went to the city ? ”

“ Goodness, Joseph ! I thought you were sound asleep. I suppose to see about the fall prices for grain and cattle.”

“ No, aunt,” said he, speaking with determination, though the foolish blood ran rosily over his face, “ I went to get a wife ! ”

She stood pale and speechless, staring at him. But for the rosy sign on his cheeks and temples she could not have believed his words.

“ Miss Blessing ? ” she finally uttered, almost in a whisper.

Joseph nodded his head. She dropped into the nearest chair, drew two or three long breaths, and in an indescribable tone ejaculated, “ Well ! ”

“ I knew you would be surprised,” said he ; “ because it is almost a surprise to myself. But you and she seemed to fall so easily into each other’s ways, that I hope — ”

“ Why, you ’re hardly acquainted with her ! ” Rachel exclaimed. “ It is so hasty ! And you are so young ! ”

“ No younger than father was when he married mother ; and I have learned to know her well in a short time. Is n’t it so with you, too, aunt?—you certainly liked her?”

“ I ’ll not deny that, nor say the reverse now : but a farmer’s wife should be a farmer’s daughter.”

“ But suppose, aunt, that the farmer don’t happen to love any farmer’s daughter, and does love a bright, amiable, very intelligent girl, who is delighted with country life, eager and willing to learn, and very fond of the farmer’s aunt (who can teach her everything) ?”

“ Still, it seems to me a risk,” said Rachel ; but she was evidently relenting.

There is none to you,” he answered, “ and I am not afraid of mine. You will be with us, for Julia couldn’t do without you, if she wished. If she were a farmer’s daughter, with different ideas of housekeeping, it might bring trouble to both of us. But now you will have the management in your own hands until you have taught Julia, and afterwards she will carry it on in your way.”

She did not reply ; but Joseph could see that she was becoming reconciled to the prospect. After a while she came across the room, leaned over him, kissed him upon the forehead, and then silently went away.

CHAPTER X.

ONLY two months intervened until the time appointed for the marriage, and the days rolled swiftly away. A few lines came to Joseph from Philip Held, announcing that he was satisfied with the forge and furnace, and the sale would doubtless be consummated in a short time. He did not, however, expect to take charge of the works before March, and therefore gave Joseph his address in the city, with the hope that the latter would either visit or write to him.

On the Sunday after the accident Elwood Withers came to the farm. He seemed to have grown older, in the short time which had elapsed since they had last met; after his first hearty rejoicing over Joseph’s escape and recovery, he relapsed into a silent but not unfriendly mood. The two young men climbed the long hill behind the house and seated themselves under a noble pin-oak on the height, whence there was a lovely view of the valley for many miles to the southward.

They talked mechanically, for a while, of the season, and the crops, and the other usual subjects which farmers never get to the end of discussing; but both felt the impendence of more important themes, and, nevertheless, were slow to approach them. At last Elwood said : " Your fate is settled by this time, I suppose ? ”

“ It is arranged, at least,” Joseph replied. “ But I can’t yet make clear to myself that I shall be a married man in two months from now.”

“ Does the time seem long to you ? ”

“ No,” Joseph innocently answered; “ it is very short.”

Elwood turned away his head to conceal a melancholy smile ; it was a few minutes before he spoke again.

“Joseph,” he then said, “are you sure, quite sure, you love her ? ”

“ I am to marry her.”

“ I meant nothing unfriendly,” Elwood remarked, in a gentle tone. “ My thought was this, — if you should ever find a still stronger love growing upon you, — something that would make the warmth you feel now seem like ice compared to it, *—how would you be able to fight it ? I asked the question of myself for you. I don’t think I 'm much different from most soft-hearted men, — except that I keep the softness so well stowed away that few persons know of it, — but if I were in your place, within two months of marriage to the girl I love, I should be miserable ! ”

Joseph turned towards him with wide, astonished eyes.

“ Miserable from hope and fear,” Elwood went on ; “I should be afraid of fever, fire, murder, thunderbolts Every hour of the day I should dream lest something might come between us ; I should prowl around her house day after day, to be sure that she was alive ! I should lengthen out the time into years ; and all because I ’m a great, disappointed, soft-hearted fool! ”

The sad, yearning expression of his eyes touched Joseph to the heart. “ Elwood,” he said, “ I see that it is not in my power to comfort you; if I give you pain unknowingly, tell me how to avoid it! I meant to ask you to stand beside me when I am married ; but now you must consider your own feelings in answering, not mine. Lucy is not likely to be there.”

“ That would make no difference,” Elwood answered. “ Do you suppose it is a pain for me to see her, because she seems lost to me? No; I’m always a little encouraged when I have a chance to measure myself with her, and to guess — sometimes this and sometimes that—what it is that she needs to find in me. Force of will is of no use; as to faithfulness, — why, what it’s worth can’t be shown unless something turns up to try it. But you had better not ask me to be your groomsman. Neither Miss Blessing nor her sister would be overly pleased.”

“Why so?” Joseph asked; “Julia and you are quite well acquainted, and she was always friendly towards you.”

Elwood was silent and embarrassed. Then, reflecting that silence, at that moment, might express even more than speech, he said: “ I’ve got the notion in my head; maybe it’s foolish, but there it is. I talked a good deal with Miss Blessing, it’s true, and yet I don’t feel the least bit acquainted. Her manner to me was very friendly, and yet I don’t think she likes me.”

“Well!” exclaimed Joseph, forcing a laugh, though he was much annoyed, “ I never gave you credit for such a lively imagination. Why not be candid, and admit that the dislike is on your side? I am sorry for it, since Julia will so soon be in the house there as my wife. There is no one else whom I can ask, unless it were Philip Held — ”

“ Held ! To be sure, he took care of you. I was at Coventry the day after, and saw something of him.” With these words, Elwood turned towards Joseph and looked him squarely in the face. “He’ll have charge there in a few months, I hear,” he then said, “and I reckon it as a piece of good luck for you. I’ve found that there are men, all, maybe, as honest and outspoken as they need be ; yet two of ’em will talk at different marks and never fully understand each other, and other two will naturally talk right straight at the same mark and never miss. Now, Held is the sort that can hit the thing in the mind of the man they ’re talking to; it’s a gift that comes o’ being knocked about the world among all classes of people. What we learn here, always among the same folks, is n’t a circumstance.”

“ Then you think I might ask him ? ” said Joseph, not fully comprehending all that Elwood meant to express.

“ He’s one of those men that you ’re safe in asking to do anything. Make him spokesman of a committee to wait on the President, arbitrator in a crooked lawsuit, overseer of a railroad gang, leader in a prayer-meeting (if he’d consent), or whatever else you choose, and he ’ll do the business as if he was used to it ! It’s enough for you that I don’t know the town ways, and he does ; it’s considered worse, I’ve heard, to make a blunder in society than to commit a real sin.”

He rose, and they loitered down the hill together. The subject was quietlydropped, but the minds of both were none the less busy. They felt the stir and pressure of new experiences, which had come to one through disappointment and to the other through success. Not three months had passed since they rode together through the twilight to Warriner’s, and already life was opening to them, — but how differently! Joseph endeavored to make the most kindly allowance for his friend’s mood, and to persuade himself that his feelings were unchanged. Elwood, however, knew that a shadowhad fallen between them. It was nothing beside the cloud of his greater trouble ; he also knew the cost of his own justification to Joseph, and prayed that it might never come.

That evening, on taking leave, he said: “ I don’t know whether you meant to have the news of your engagement circulated; but I guess Anna Warriner has heard, and that amounts to — ”

“To telling it to the whole neighborhood, does n't it ? ’’Joseph answered. “ Then the mischief is already done, if it is a mischief. It is well, therefore, that the day is set : the neighborhood will have little time for gossip.”

He smiled so frankly and cheerfully, that Elwood seized his hand, and with tears in his eyes, said : “ Don’t remember anything against me, Joseph. I’ve always been honestly your friend, and mean to stay so.”

He went that evening to a homestead where he knew he should find Lucy Henderson. She looked pale and fatigued, he thought; possibly his presence had become a restraint. If so, she must bear his unkindness : it was the only sacrifice he could not make, for he felt sure that his intercourse with her must either terminate in hate or love. The one thing of which he was certain was, that there could be no calm, complacent friendship between them.

It was not long before one of the family asked him whether he had heard the news ; it seemed that they had already discussed it, and his arrival revived the flow of expression. In spite of his determination, he found it impossible to watch Lucy while he said, as simply as possible, that Joseph Asten seemed very happy over the prospect of the marriage; that he was old enough to take a wife ; and if Miss Blessing could adapt herself to country habits, they might get on verywell together. But later in the evening he took a chance of saying to her: “In spite of what I said, Lucy, I don’t feel quite easy about Joseph’s marriage. What do you think of it?”

She smiled faintly, as she replied : “ Some say that people are attracted by mutual unlikeness. This seems to me to be a case of the kind; but they are free choosers of their own fates.”

“Is there no possible way of persuading him — them — to delay ? ”

“ No ! ” she exclaimed, with unusual energy; “ none whatever!”

Elwood sighed, and yet felt relieved.

Joseph lost no time in writing to Philip Held, announcing his approaching marriage, and begging him — with many apologies for asking such a maik of confidence on so short an acquaintance— to act the part of nearest friend, if there were no other private reasons to prevent him.

Four or five days later the following answer arrived: —

MY DEAR ASTEN : — Do you remember that curious whirling, falling sensation, when the car pitched over the edge of the embankment ? I felt a return of it on reading your letter ; for you have surprised me beyond measure. Not by your request, for that is just what I should have expected of you ; and as well now, as it we had known each other for twenty years; so the apology is the only thing objectionable — But I am tangling my sentences; I want to say how heartily I return the feeling which prompted you to ask me, and yet how embarrassed I am that I cannot unconditionally say, “Yes, with all my heart! ” My great, astounding surprise is, to find you about to be married to Miss Julia Blessing, — a young lady whom I once knew. And the embarrassment is this : I knew her under circumstances (in which she was not personally concerned, however) which might possibly render my presence now, as your groomsman, unwelcome to the family: at least, it is my duty — and yours, if you still desire me to stand beside you — to let Miss Blessing and her family decide the question. The circumstances to which I refer concern them rather than myself. I think your best plan will be simply to inform them of your request and my reply, and add that I am entirely ready to accept whatever course they may prefer.

Pray don’t consider that I have treated your first letter to me ungraciously. I am more grieved than you can imagine that it happens so. You will probably come to the city a day before the wedding, and I insist that you shall share my bachelor quarters, in any case.

Always your friend,

PHILIP HELD.

This letter threw Joseph into a new perplexity. Philip a former acquaintance of the Blessings ! Formerly, but not now ; and what could those mysterious “ circumstances ” have been, which had so seriously interrupted their intercourse ? It was quite useless to conjecture; but he could not resist the feeling that another shadow hung over the aspects of his future. Perhaps he had exaggerated Elwood’s unaccountable dislike to Julia, which had only been implied, not spoken ; but here was a positive estrangement on the part of the man who was so suddenly near and dear to him. He never thought of suspecting Philip of blame ; the candor and cheery warmth of the letter rejoiced his heart. There was evidently nothing better to do than to follow the advice contained in it, and leave the question to the decision of Julia and her parents.

Her reply did not come by the return mail, nor until nearly a week afterwards ; during which time he tormented himself by imagining the wildest reasons for her silence. When the letter at last arrived, he had some difficulty in comprehending its import.

“Dearest Joseph,” she said, “you must really forgive me this long trial of your patience. Your letter was so unexpected, — I mean its contents,— and it seems as if ma and pa and Clementina would never agree what was best to be done. For that matter, I cannot say that they agree now ; we had no idea that you were an intimate friend of Mr. Held, (I can’t think how ever you should have become acquainted!) and it seemed to break open old wounds,— none of mine, fortunately, for I have none. As Mr. Held leaves the question in our hands, there is, you will understand, all the more necessity that we should be careful. Ma thinks he has said nothing to you about the unfortunate occurrence, or you would have expressed an opinion. You never can know how happy your fidelity makes me ; but I felt that, the first moment we met.

“ Ma says that at very private (what pa calls informal) weddings, there need not be bridesmaids or groomsmen. Miss Morrisey was married that way, not long ago ; it is true that she is not of our circle, nor strictly a first family (this is ma’s view, not mine, for I understand the hollowness of society); but we could very well do the same. Pa would be satisfied with a reception afterwards ; he wants to ask the Collector, and the Surveyor, and the Appraiser. Clementina won’t say anything now, but I know what she thinks, and so does ma; however, Mr. Held has so dropped out of city life that it is not important. I suppose everything must be dim in his memory now; you do not write to me much that he related. How strange that he should be your friend ! They say my dress is lovely, but I am sure I should like a plain muslin just as well. I shall only breathe freely when I get back to the quiet of the country, (and your — our charming home, and dear, good Aunt Rachel!) and away from all these conventional forms. Ma says if there is one groomsman, there ought to be two ; either very simple, or according to custom. In a matter so delicate, perhaps Mr. Held would be as competent to decide as we are ; at least, I am quite willing to leave it to his judgment. But how trifling is all this discussion, compared with the importance of the day to us ! It is now drawing very near, but I have no misgivings, for I confide in you wholly and forever ! ”

After reading the letter with as much coolness as was then possible to him, Joseph inferred three things: that his acquaintance with Philip Held was not entirely agreeable to the Blessing family; that they would prefer the simplest style of a wedding, and this was in consonance with his own tastes ; and that Julia clung to him as a deliverer from conditions with which her nature had little sympathy. Her incoherence, he fancied, arose from an agitation which he could very well understand, and his answer was intended to soothe and encourage her. It was difficult to let Philip know that his services would not be required, without implying the existence of an unfriendly feeling towards him; and Joseph, therefore, all the more readily accepted his invitation. He was assured that the mysterious difficulty did not concern Julia; even if it were so, he was not called upon to do violence, without cause, to so welcome a friendship.

The September days sped by, not with the lingering, passionate uncertainty of which Elwood Withers spoke, but almost too swiftly. In the hurry of preparation, Joseph had scarcely time to look beyond the coming event and estimate its consequences. He was too ignorant of himself to doubt: his conscience was too pure and perfect to admit the possibility of changing the course of his destiny. Whatever the gossip of the neighborhood might have been, he heard nothing of it that was not agreeable. His aunt was entirely reconciled to a wife who would not immediately, and probably not for a long time, interfere with her authority ; and the shadows raised by the two men whom he loved best seemed, at last, to be accidentally thrown from clouds beyond the horizon of his life. This was the thought to which he clung, in spite of a vague, utterly formless apprehension, which he felt lurking somewhere in the very bottom of his heart.

Philip met him on his arrival in the city, and after taking him to his pleasant quarters, in a house looking on one of the leafy squares, good-naturedly sent him to the Blessing mansion, with a warning to return before the evening was quite spent. The family was in a flutter of preparation, and though he was cordially welcomed, he felt that, to all except Julia, he was subordinate in interest to the men who came every quarter of an hour, bringing bouquets, and silver spoons with cards attached, and pasteboard boxes containing frosted cakes. Even Julia’s society he was only allowed to enjoy by scanty instalments; she was pet petually summoned by her mother, or Clementina, to consult about some indescribable figment of dress. Mr. Blessing was occupied in the basement, with the inspection of various hampers. He came to the drawing-room to greet Joseph, whom he shook by both hands, with such incoherent phrases that Julia presently interposed. “You must not forget, pa,” she said, “ that the man is waiting: Joseph will excuse you, I know.” She followed him to the basement, and he returned no more.

Joseph left early in the evening, cheered by Julia’s words: “We can’t complain of all this confusion, when it’s for our sakes ; but we 'll be happier when it’s over, won’t we? ”

He gave her an affirmative kiss, and returned to Philip’s room. That gentleman was comfortably disposed in an arm-chair, with a book and a cigar. " Ah !" ” he exclaimed, “ you find that a house is more agreeable any evening than that before the wedding ?”

“There is one compensation,” said Joseph 5 “ it gives me two or three hours with you.”

“ Then take that other arm-chair, and tell me how this came to pass. You see, I have the curiosity of a neighbor, already.”

He listened earnestly while Joseph related the story of his love, occasionally asking a question or making a suggestive remark, but so gently that it seemed to come as an assistance. When all had been told, he rose and commenced walking slowly up and down the room. Joseph longed to ask, in turn, for an explanation of the circumstances mentioned in Philip’s letter ; but a doubt checked his tongue.

As if in response to his thought, Philip stopped before him and said: " I owe you my story, and you shall have it after a while, when I can tell you more. I was a young fellow of twenty when I knew the Blessings, and I don’t attach the slightest importance, now, to anything that happened. Even if I did, Miss Julia had no share in it. I remember her distinctly: she was then about my age, or a year or two older ; but hers is a face that would not change in a long while.”

Joseph stared at his friend in silence. He recalled the latter’s age, and was startled by the involuntary arithmetic which revealed Julia’s to him. It was unexpected, unwelcome, yet inevitable.

“ Her father had been lucky in some of his ‘operations,’” Philip continued, “ but I don’t think he kept it long. I hardly wonder that she should come to prefer a quiet country life to such ups and downs as the family has known. Generally, a woman don’t adapt herself so readily to a change of surroundings as a man : where there is love, however, everything is possible.”

“ There is! there is ! ” Joseph exclaimed, certifying the fact to himself as much as to his friend. He rose and stood beside him.

Philip looked at him with grave, tender eyes.

“What can I do?” he said.

“What should you do?” Joseph asked.

“ This ! ” Philip exclaimed, laying his hands on Joseph’s shoulders, — “ this, Joseph ! I can be nearer than a brother. I know that I am in your heart as you are in mine. There is no faith between us that need be limited, there is no truth too secret to be veiled. A man’s perfect friendship is rarer than a woman’s love, and most hearts are content with one or the other : not so with yours and mine ! I read it in your eyes, when you opened them on my knee : I see it in your face now. Don’t speak : let us clasp hands.”

But Joseph could not speak.