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

is that to be done, young—Mr. Worth?"

      "Come with me to Washington. I have a suite of three very pleasant rooms in the house where I board. Now suppose you come and live with me and take care of my rooms? Your services would be worth a good, liberal salary, from which you would be enabled to live very comfortably and save money."

      "What, young Ishmael! Me! I go to Washington and live with you all the time, day and night, under one roof! and live where I can get books and newspapers and hear lectures and debates and see pictures and models, and, in short, come at everything I have been longing to reach all my life?"

      "Yes, professor, that is what I propose to you."

      "There! I used to say that you'd live to be a blessing to my declining years, young—Mr. Worth (I declare I'll not forget myself again), Mr. Worth! there! Do you really mean it, sir?"

      "Really and truly."

      "There, then, I am not going to be a hypocrite and pretend to higgle-haggle about it. I'll go, sir; and be proud to do it; it will be taking a new lease of life for me to go. Do you know, I never was in a large city in all my life, though I have always longed to go? Well, sir, I'll go with you. And I will serve you faithfully, sir; for mine will be a service for love more than for money. And I will never forget the proprieties so far as to call you anything else but 'Mr. Worth,' or 'sir,' in the presence of others, sir, though my heart does betray me into calling you young Ishmael sometimes here."

      "I shall leave here on Saturday morning. Can you be ready to go with me as soon as that?"

      "Of course I can, Mr. Worth. There's nothing for me to do in the way of preparation but to pack my knapsack and lock my door," answered this "Rough and Ready."

      "Very well, then, professor, I like your promptitude. Meet me at Brudenell Hall on Saturday morning at seven o'clock, and in the meantime I will find a conveyance for you."

      "All right; thank you, sir; I will be ready."

      And Ishmael shook hands with the professor and departed, leaving him hopeful and happy.

      At the dinner-table that day, being questioned by his father,

       Ishmael told him of the retainer he had engaged.

      "Ah, my dear boy, it is just like you to burden yourself with the presence and support of that poor old man, and persuade him—and yourself, too, perhaps—that you are securing the services of an invaluable assistant. And all with no other motive than his welfare," said Mr. Brudenell.

      "Indeed, sir, I think it will add to my happiness to have Morris with me. I like and esteem the old man, and I believe that he really will be of much use to me," replied the son.

      "Well, I hope so, Ishmael; I hope so."

      There was through all his talk a preoccupied air about Mr. Brudenell that troubled his son, who at last said:

      "I hope, sir, that you have received no unpleasant news by this mail?"

      "Oh, no; no, Ishmael! but I have had on my mind for several days something of which I wish to speak to you—"

      "Yes, sir?"

      "Ishmael, since I have been down here I have followed your counsel. I have gone about among my tenants and dependents, and—without making inquiries—I have led them to speak of the long period of my absence from my little kingdom, and of the manner in which Lady Hurstmonceux administered its affairs. And, Ishmael, I have heard but one account of her. With one voice the community here accord her the highest praise."

      "I told you so, sir."

      "As a wife, though an abandoned one, as mistress of the house, and as lady of the manor, she seems to have performed all her duties in the most unexceptionable manner."

      "Everyone knows that, sir."

      "But still remains the charge not yet refuted."

      "Because you have given her no chance to refute it, sir. Be just! Put her on her defense, and my word for it, she will exonerate herself," said Ishmael earnestly.

      Mr. Brudenell shook his head.

      "There are some things, Ishmael, that on the very face of them admit of no defense," said Mr. Brudenell, with an emphasis that put an end to the conversation.

      Punctually at seven o'clock Saturday the professor, accoutered for a journey, with knapsack on his back, presented himself at the servant's door at Brudenell Hall.

      His arrival being announced, Ishmael came out to meet him.

      "Well, here I am, Mr. Worth; though how I am to travel I don't know.

       I have walked, by faith, so far!" he said.

      "All right, professor. Mr. Brudenell will lend me an extra horse."

      And father and son took leave of each other with earnest wishes for their mutual good.

CHAPTER XII.

       Table of Contents

      THE JOURNEY.

      Ever charming, ever new,

       When will the landscape tire the view?

       The fountains fall, the rivers flow,

       The woody valleys, warm and low,

       The windy summit, wild and high,

       Roughly rushing on the sky!

       The pleasant seat, the chapel tower,

       The naked rock, the shady bower,

       The town and village, dome and farm,

       Each gave each a double charm,

       As pearls upon a woman's arm.

      —Dyer.

      Ishmael and his aged retainer rode on, down the elm-shaded avenue and out upon the turnpike road. There seemed to be a special fitness in the relations between these two. Ishmael, you are aware, was a very handsome, stately, and gracious young man. And the professor was the tallest, gravest, and most respectable of servants. Ah, their relative positions were changed since twelve years before, when they used to travel that same road on foot, as "boss" and "boy."

      Many men in Ishmael's position would have shrunk from all that would have reminded them of the poverty from which they had sprung; and would have avoided as much as possible all persons who were familiar with their early struggles.

      But Ishmael did not so. While pressing forward to the duties and distinctions of the future, with burning aspiration and untiring energy, he held the places and persons of the past in most affectionate remembrance.

      To a vain or haughty man in Ishmael's situation there could scarcely have occurred a more humiliating circumstance than the constant presence of the poor, old odd-jobber, whose "boy" he had once been.

      But Ishmael was neither the one nor the other; he was intellectual and affectionate. His breadth of mind took in his past memories, his present position, and his future prospects, and saw them all in perfect harmony. And his depth of heart found room for the humblest friends of his wretched infancy, as well as for the higher loves of his manhood's prime.

      Ishmael was at ease with the old odd-job man, and he would have been at ease with his imperial majesty, had circumstances brought him into the immediate circle of the Czar; because from the depths of his soul he was intensely conscious of the innate majesty of man.

      Ishmael had no more need of a servant than a coach has of a fifth wheel. He took the professor into his service for no other purpose than to take care of the poor old man and make him happy, never foreseeing how really useful and important this gray-haired retainer would eventually become to him. He was planning only the professor's happiness, not his own convenience. But he found both.

      As