Self-Raised; Or, From the Depths. Emma Dorothy Eliza Nevitte Southworth

you want me to give you Bee?" gravely inquired Mr. Middleton.

      "When I shall be more worthy of her, I do."

      "Have you Bee's consent to speak to me on this subject?"

      "No, sir; I have not yet addressed Miss Middleton. I could not venture to do so without your sanction. It is to obtain it that I have come to you this evening. I would like very much to have an understanding with Miss Middleton before we part for an indefinite time."

      Mr. Middleton fell into deep thought. It was some minutes before he spoke. When he did, it was to say:

      "Ishmael, Bee is my eldest daughter and favorite child."

      "I know it, sir," answered the young man.

      "Parents ought not to have favorites among their children; but how can I help it? Bee is almost an angel."

      "I know it, sir," said Ishmael.

      "Oh, yes; you know it! you know it!" exclaimed Mr. Middleton, half laughing and not far from crying; "but do you know what you do when you ask a father to give up his best beloved daughter?"

      "Indeed I think I do, sir; but—daughters must some time or other become wives," said Ishmael, with a deprecating smile.

      "Yes, it is true!" sighed Mr. Middleton. "Well, Ishmael, since in the course of nature I must some day give my dear daughter up, I would rather give her to you than to any man on earth, for I have a great esteem and affection for you, Ishmael."

      "Indeed, sir, it is mutual!" replied the young man, grasping the hand of his friend.

      "It is just the state of feeling that should exist between father- and son-in-law," said Mr. Middleton.

      "I have your sanction, then, to speak to Bee?"

      "Yes, Ishmael, yes; I will give her to you! But not yet, my dear boy; for several reasons not just yet! You are both very young yet; you are but little over twenty-one; she scarcely nineteen; and besides her mother still needs her assistance in taking care of the children; and I—must get used to the idea of parting with her; so you must wait a year or two longer, Ishmael! She is well worth waiting for."

      "I know it! Oh, I know it well, sir! I have seen women as beautiful, as amiable, and as accomplished; but I never, no, never met with one so 'altogether lovely' as Bee! And I thank you, sir! Oh, I thank you more than tongue can tell for the boon you have granted me. You will not lose your daughter, sir; but you will gain a son; and I will be a true son to you. sir, as Heaven hears me! And to her I will be a true lover and husband. Her happiness shall be the very first object in my life, sir; nothing in this world over which I have the slightest control shall be suffered to come into competition with it."

      "I am—I am sure of that, my boy!" replied Mr. Middleton, in a broken voice.

      "And I do not presume to wish to hurry either you or her, sir; I am willing to wait your leisure and hers; all I want now is to have an understanding with Bee, and to be admitted to the privileges of an accepted lover. You could trust me so far, sir?"

      "Trust you so far! Why, Ishmael, there is no limit to my trust in you!"

      "And Mrs. Middleton, sir?"

      "Why, Ishmael, she loves you as one of her own children; and I do think you would disappoint and grieve her if you were to marry out of the family. I will break the matter to Mrs. Middleton. Go find Bee, and speak to her of this matter, and when you have won her consent, bring her to me that I may join your hands and bless your betrothal."

      Ishmael fervently pressed the hand of his kind friend and left him.

      Of course Bee, who was still busy with her maids in the store-room, was not to be spoken to on that subject at that hour. But Ishmael went up to his own room to reflect.

      Perhaps the whole key to Ishmael's conduct in this affair might have been found in the words he used when pleading with his father the cause of the Countess of Hurstmonceux; he said:

      "It seems to me, if any young lady had loved me so, I must have loved her fondly in return; I could not have helped doing so."

      And he could not. There was something too warm, generous, and noble in Nora's son to be so insensible as all that.

      His inspiration also instructed him that not the beautiful and imperious Claudia, but the lovely and loving Bee was his Heaven- appointed wife.

      He was inspired when in his agony that dreadful night he had cried out: "By a woman came sin and death into the world, and by a woman came redemption and salvation! Oh! Claudia, my Eve, farewell! And Bee, my Mary, hail!"

      And now that he was about to betroth himself to Bee, and make her happy, he himself felt happier than he had been for many days. He felt sure, too, that when his heart should recover from its wounds he should love Bee with a deeper, higher, purer, and more lasting affection than ever his fierce passion for Claudia could have become.

CHAPTER V.

       Table of Contents

      SECOND LOVE.

      The maiden loved the young man well,

       And pined for many a day,

       Because that star-eyed, queenly belle

       Had won his heart away.

       But now the young man chooses well

       Between the beauteous pair,

       The proud and brilliant dark-haired belle,

       And gentle maiden fair.

      —M. F. Tupper

      After tea Ishmael, having missed Bee from the drawing room, went out into the garden, expecting to find her there. Not seeing her, he walked up and down the gravel walk, waiting for her appearance.

      Presently she came up, softly and silently, and joined him.

      "Thanks, dearest Bee," he said, as he drew her arm within his own.

      "It is a beautiful evening, Ishmael; I have never seen the garden look more lovely," said Bee.

      And it was indeed a beautiful evening and a lovely scene. The sun had just set; but all the western horizon and the waters of the distant river were aflame with crimson fire of his reflected rays; while over the eastern hills the moon and stars were shining from the dark gray heavens. In the garden, the shrubs and flowers, not yet damp with dew, were sending forth their richest fragrance; the latest birds were twittering softly before settling themselves to sleep in their leafy nests; and the earliest insects were tuning up their tiny, gleeful pipes before commencing their evening concert.

      "This garden is a very pleasant place, quite as pleasant as

       Tanglewood, if uncle would only think so," said Bee.

      "Yes, it is very pleasant. You do not like the plan of returning to the country, Bee?" said Ishmael.

      "No, indeed, I do not; breaking up and parting is always a painful process." And Bee's lips quivered and the tears came into her eyes.

      Ishmael pressed the little hand that lay light as a snowflake on his arm, drew it closer within his embrace, and turned down the narrow path that led to the remote arbor situated far down in the angle of the wall in the bottom of the garden.

      He led her to a seat, placed himself beside her, took her hand, and said:

      "It is here, dearest Bee—here in the scene of my humiliation and of my redemption—that I would say to you all I have to say; that I would lay my heart open before you, and place it at your feet, for spurning, or for blessing."

      She looked up at him with surprise, but also with infinite affection in her innocent and beautiful eyes. Then, as she read the truth in his earnest gaze, her eyes fell, and her color rose.

      "And