Ishmael; Or, In the Depths. Emma Dorothy Eliza Nevitte Southworth

ever get enough to eat or drink, and thus so many of them die of decline brought on from insufficiency of nourishment. I will send a bag of flour up to the hut to-morrow," said Mrs. Brudenell complacently.

      Soon after they all arose from the table.

      The little doctor offered his arm to Mrs. Brudenell, and as they walked to the drawing-room he found an opportunity of saying to her:

      "It is, I think, as you surmised. There is something on his mind. Try to find out what it is. That is my advice. It is of no use to tease him with medical attendance."

      When they reached the drawing room they found the boy with the mail bag waiting for his mistress. She quickly unlocked and distributed its contents.

      "Letters for everybody except myself! But here is a late copy of the 'London Times' with which I can amuse myself while you look over your epistles, ladies and gentlemen," said Mrs. Brudenell, as she settled herself to the perusal of her paper. She skipped the leader, read the court circular, and was deep in the column of casualties, when she suddenly cried out:

      "Good Heaven, Herman! what a catastrophe!"

      "What is it, mother?"

      "A collision on the London and Brighton Railway, and ever so many killed or wounded, and—Gracious goodness!"

      "What, mother?"

      "Among those instantly killed are the Marquis and Marchioness of Brambleton and the Countess of Hurstmonceux!"

      "No!" cried the young man, rushing across the room, snatching the paper from his mother's hand, and with starting eyes fixed upon the paragraph that she hastily pointed out, seeming to devour the words.

      A few days after this Nora Worth sat propped up in an easy-chair by the open window that commanded the view of the Forest Valley and of the opposite hill crowned with the splendid mansion of Brudenell Hall.

      But Nora was not looking upon this view; at least except upon a very small part of it—namely, the little narrow footpath that led down her own hill and was lost in the shade of the valley. The doctor's prescriptions had done Nora no good; how should they? Could he, more than others, "minister to a mind diseased"? In a word, she had now grown so weak that the spinning was entirely set aside, and she passed her days propped up in the easy-chair beside the window, through which she could watch that little path, which was now indeed so disused, so neglected and grass grown, as to be almost obliterated.

      Suddenly, while Nora's eyes were fixed abstractedly upon this path, she uttered a great cry and started to her feet.

      Hannah stopped the clatter of her shuttle to see what was the matter.

      Nora was leaning from the window, gazing breathlessly down the path.

      "What is it, Nora, my dear? Don't lean so far out; you will fall! What is it?"

      "Oh, Hannah, he is coming! he is coming!"

      "Who is coming, my darling? I see no one!" said the elder sister, straining her eyes down the path.

      "But I feel him coming! He is coming fast! He will be in sight presently! There! what did I tell you? There he is!"

      And truly at that moment Herman Brudenell advanced from the thicket and walked rapidly up the path towards the hut.

      Nora sank back in her seat, overcome, almost fainting.

      Another moment and Herman Brudenell was in the room, clasping her form, and sobbing:

      "Nora! Nora, my beloved! my beautiful! you have been ill and I knew it not! dying, and I knew it not! Oh! oh! oh!"

      "Yes, but I am well, now that you are here!" gasped the girl, as she thrilled and trembled with returning life. But the moment this confession had been surprised from her she blushed fiery red to the very tips of her ears and hid her face in the pillows of her chair.

      "My darling girl! My own blessed girl! do not turn your face away! look at me with your sweet eyes! See, I am here at your side, telling you how deep my own sorrow had been at the separation from you, and how much deeper at the thought that you also have suffered! Look at me! Smile on me! Speak to me, beloved! I am your own!"

      These and many other wild, tender, pleading words of love he breathed in the ear of the listening, blushing, happy girl; both quite heedless of the presence of Hannah, who stood petrified with consternation.

      At length, however, by the time Herman had seated himself beside Nora, Hannah recovered her presence of mind and power of motion; and she went to him and said:

      "Mr. Brudenell! Is this well? Could you not leave her in peace?"

      "No, I could not leave her! Yes, it is well, Hannah! The burden I spoke of is unexpectedly lifted from my life! I am a restored man. And I have come here to-day to ask Nora, in your presence, and with your consent, to be my wife!"

      "And with your mother's consent, Mr. Brudenell?"

      "Hannah, that was unkind of you to throw a damper upon my joy. And look at me, I have not been in such robust health myself since you drove me away!"

      As he said this, Nora's hand, which he held, closed convulsively on his, and she murmured under her breath:

      "Have you been ill? You are not pale!"

      "No, love, I was only sad at our long separation; now you see I am flushed with joy; for now I shall see you every day!" he replied, lifting her hand to his lips.

      Hannah was dreadfully disturbed. She was delighted to see life, and light, and color flowing back to her sister's face; but she was dismayed at the very cause of this—the presence of Herman Brudenell. The instincts of her affections and the sense of her duties were at war in her bosom. The latter as yet was in the ascendency. It was under its influence she spoke again.

      "But, Mr. Brudenell, your mother?"

      "Hannah! Hannah! don't be disagreeable! You are too young to play duenna yet!" he said gayly.

      "I do not know what you mean by duenna, Mr. Brudenell, but I know what is due to your mother," replied the elder sister gravely.

      "Mother, mother, mother; how tiresome you are, Hannah, everlastingly repeating the same word over and over again! You shall not make us miserable. We intend to be happy, now, Nora and myself. Do we not, dearest?" he added, changing the testy tone in which he had spoken to the elder sister for one of the deepest tenderness as he turned and addressed the younger.

      "Yes, but, your mother," murmured Nora very softly and timidly.

      "You too! Decidedly that word is infectious, like yawning! Well, my dears, since you will bring it on the tapis, let us discuss and dismiss it. My mother is a very fine woman, Hannah; but she is unreasonable, Nora. She is attached to what she calls her 'order,' my dears, and never would consent to my marriage with any other than a lady of rank and wealth."

      "Then you must give up Nora, Mr. Brudenell," said Hannah gravely.

      "Yes, indeed," assented poor Nora, under her breath, and turning pale.

      "May the Lord give me up if I do!" cried the young man impetuously.

      "You will never defy your mother," said Hannah.

      "Oh, no! oh, no! I should be frightened to death," gasped Nora, trembling between weakness and fear.

      "No, I will never defy my mother; there are other ways of doing things; I must marry Nora, and we must keep the affair quiet for a time."

      "I do not understand you," said Hannah coldly.

      "Nora does, though! Do you not, my darling?" exclaimed Herman triumphantly.

      And the blushing but joyous face of Nora answered him.

      "You say you will not defy your mother. Do you mean then to deceive her, Mr. Brudenell?" inquired the elder sister severely.

      "Hannah, don't be abusive! This is just the whole matter, in