so long.

And yet (how strangely,
In this mixed web of life, the strands of good
Cross and inweave the evil!) to that wrong
Might he have tracked a joy surpassing hope,--
The saving angel who, in Linda's mother,
Had so enriched his being;--might have tracked
(Mysterious thought!) Linda herself, his child,
The crown of every rapture, every hope

The lady, known as Madame Percival,
Seated herself and turned a piercing look
On Linda, who blenched not, but stood erect,
With calm and serious look regarding her.
The lady was the first to lower her eyes;
She then, with some embarrassment, remarked:
"So! you're an artist! Will you let me see
Some of your newest paintings?" Linda placed
Three of her choicest pieces on the easel,
And madame raised her eyeglass, looked a moment,
Said, "Very pretty," and then, breaking through
Further constraint, began: "You may not know me;
My name is Percival; you, I suppose,
Bear the same name by courtesy. 'Tis well:
The law at last has taught you possibly
Our relative positions. Of the past
We will say nothing; no hard thought is left
Against you in my heart; I trust I know
The meaning of forgiveness; what is due
To Christian charity. In me, although
The church has but a frail, unworthy child,
Yet would I help my enemy; remove her
From doubtful paths, and see her fitly placed
With her own kindred for protection due.
Hear my proposal now, in your behalf:
If you will go to England, where your aunts
And relatives reside,--and first will sign
A paper promising you'll not return,
And that you never will resume your suit,--
I will advance your passage-money, and
Give you five thousand dollars. Will you do it?"

The indignant No, surging in Linda's heart,
Paused as if language were too weak for it,
When, in that pause, the opening of the door
Disclosed a lady younger than the first,
Yet not unlike in features, though no blonde,
And of a figure small and delicate.
"Now, Harriet!" cried the elder of the two,
Annoyed, if not alarmed, "you promised me
You would not quit the carriage."--"Well, what then?
I changed my mind. Is that a thing uncommon?
Whom have we here? The name upon the door
Is Percival; and there upon the wall
I see a likeness of my father. So!
You, then, are Linda Percival! the child
For whom he could abandon me, his first!
Come, let me