“I must begin at the very beginning, Fern,” said Crystal, with a stifled sigh. “I hope I shall not weary you;” and as Fern disclaimed the possibility of fatigue with much energy, she continued: “Oh, I will be as brief as possible, but I want you to understand it all plainly.“I have told you that Margaret Ferrers is my cousin; her father, Colonel Ferrers, had a brother much younger than himself: his name was Edmund, and he was my father.

“I recollect him very little, except that he was very kind to me, but they tell me that he was a singularly handsome man, and very accomplished, and greatly beloved by all who knew him.

“He was much younger than Uncle Rolf; he was still at college when Uncle Rolf went out to India with his wife. He distinguished himself there, and made a great many friends; his brilliant abilities attracted the notice of rather an influential man; he offered him a secretaryship, and soon afterward took him with him to Rome.

“There his success was even greater than it had been in London. Every one conspired to spoil and flatter the handsome young Englishman. He was admitted to the most select circles; the youthful queens of society tried to find favor in his eyes; he might have made more than one splendid match, for there was quite a furor about him, but he soon put a stop to his brilliant career by a most imprudent marriage, for he fell in love with a Roman flower-girl and made her his wife.

“Ah, you look shocked, Fern; society was shocked too, they had made so much of him, you see.

“People said he was mad, that Bianca’s dark eyes had bewitched him; it may be so, but from the day when he first saw her tying up her roses and lilies on the steps of the fountain, to the last moment when he laid his head like a tired child on her bosom to die, he never loved any other woman but her, and he loved her well. But it was not a happy match; how could it be? it was too unequal, he had all the gentleness and calm that belonged to the Ferrers, and she—she brought him, beside her dark Madonna beauty, the fierce Italian nature, the ungovernable temper that became the heritage of her unhappy daughter.”

Fern started as though she would have spoken, but Crystal only pressed her hand and went on—

“When a few months had passed over, and the fame of Bianca’s great beauty had got abroad, society relaxed its frowns a little, and received its erring favorite into its arms again.

“They had left Rome and had settled at Florence, and friends began to flock round them; Bianca was only a peasant girl, but love taught her refinement, and she did not disgrace her husband’s choice; but it would have been more for her happiness, and my father’s too, if they had never withdrawn from the seclusion of their quiet villa.

“For very soon the fierce jealousy of her undisciplined nature began to assert itself.

“She could not endure to see her husband talk to another woman, or hear him praise one even in the most moderate terms. A mere trifle would provoke her, and then long and painful were the scenes that ensued.

“She loved him passionately; she loved him as only an Italian can love; and she made his life so bitter to him that he yielded it up almost thankfully at last. He had been very patient with her, and when he was dying, he put his hands upon her dark hair in his tender way:

“‘We have not been happy together, dear,’ he said, ‘but I do not think it has been my fault. I loved you always, but it was hard to make you believe it; be good to our child, Bianca, for my sake.’ And then, as she knelt beside him in speechless anguish and remorse, he called his little Crystal to him and kissed and blessed me, and while he was still holding my hand a sudden spasm crossed his face and he put his head down upon her shoulder, and in another moment he was gone.

“My poor mother, she did not long survive him.

“As soon as the news of my father’s death reached England, Uncle Rolf wrote at once offering a home to his only brother’s widow and child.

“It was my father’s desire, she knew, that she should live under the protection of his relatives, so she obeyed his wishes at once. She did not hesitate for a moment, though she felt she was a dying woman, and it broke her heart to leave her husband’s grave. She would bring her child to England and place her safely in Colonel Ferrers’s care, and then she could go with an easy conscience to rejoin her beloved.

“How well I remember that journey; every detail was stamped upon my childish recollection.

“Alas! she never lived to reach England. She was taken very ill in Paris, and after a few days of intense suffering, she passed peacefully away.

“A kind-hearted American widow and her daughter, with whom my father had a slight acquaintance in Florence, had traveled with us and were at the same hotel, and nothing could exceed their goodness to my poor mother.

“They nursed her most tenderly, and were with her when she died, and Mrs. Stanforth promised my mother most faithfully that they would watch over me until they had seen me safe under Colonel Ferrers’s care.

“Every one was kind to me. I remember once when I was sitting in a corner of the saloon with Minnie Stanforth, I heard people talking softly of the beautiful Florentine lady who lay dead upstairs, and how some one had told them that she had died of a broken heart from the loss of her English husband.

“I was not with her when she breathed her last. Minnie had coaxed me away on some pretext or other, and when I became restless and miserable, she took me in her kind arms, and with the tears streaming from her eyes, told the truth.

“Fern, sometimes when I shut my eyes I can recall that scene now.

“I can see a child crouching in a corner of the big gaudy salon where a parrot was screaming in a gilded cage, a forlorn miserable child, with her face hidden in her hands and crying as though her little heart would break.

“I remember even now with gratitude how good the Stanforths were to me. Minnie had a little bed placed beside hers, and would often wake up in the middle of the night to soothe and comfort me, when I started from some dream in a paroxysm of childish terror and grief. Young as I was I so fretted and pined after my mother, that if we had stayed longer in Paris I should have been ill; but, as soon as the funeral was over, we started for England.

“Uncle Rolf had been prevented, by an attack of gout, coming to the funeral, but he wrote to Mrs. Stanforth giving her full instructions, and promised that if possible he would meet us at Dover.

“It was early one November morning, as I lay listlessly in my berth, that I was aroused by the noise overhead. Was the brief voyage over, I wondered; had we reached England so soon? and, weak as I was, I crawled on deck, full of languid curiosity, to see my father’s country. But the first glimpse disappointed me—a leaden sea, white chalky cliffs, and a gray sky, with black ugly-looking buildings and ships looming out of a damp mist; this was all I could see of Old England. And I was turning away disconsolately when Mrs. Stanforth came up to me with a tall gentleman with a kind, brown, wrinkled face and a gray mustache.

“‘Here is your little niece, Colonel Ferrers,’ I heard her say in her pleasant clipping voice; ‘poor little dear, she has fretted herself almost to death for her mother.’ Then as I hung back, rather shyly, I felt myself lifted in my uncle’s arms.

“‘Little Crystal,’ he said, gently, and I thought I felt a tear on my face as he kissed me, ‘my poor Edmund’s child.’ And then, stroking my hair, ‘But you shall come home with me and be my dear little daughter;’ and then, as the kind hand fondled me, I crept nearer and hid my face in his coat. Dear Uncle Rolf, I loved him from that moment. The rest of the day seemed like a dream.

“We were speeding through a strange unknown country, past fields and hedge-rows, and stretches of smooth uplands, ugly plowed lands and patches of gray sullen gloom that resembled the sea.

“Now I was gazing out blankly at the dreary landscape, and now nodding drowsily on my uncle’s shoulder, till all at once we stopped under some dark trees, and a voice very close to me said, ‘Let me lift her out, father.’ And then some one carried me into a sudden blaze of light; and all at once I found myself in a large pleasant room with some sweet-smelling wood burning on the hearth, and a girl with dead-brown curls sewing at a little table with a white china lamp on it.

“The strong arms that had carried me in and put me on the sofa, and were now bungling over the fastenings of my heavy cloak, belonged to a tall youth with a pleasant face, that somehow attracted me.

“‘Come and help me, Maggie,’ he said, laughing, and then the fair, mild face of Margaret bent over me.

“‘Poor child, how tired she looks, Raby,’ I heard her whisper, ‘and so cold, too, the darling;’ and then she knelt down beside me and chafed my hands, and talked to me kindly; and Raby brought me some hot coffee, and stood watching me drink it, looking down at me with his vivid dark eyes, those kind, beautiful eyes—oh, Raby, Raby!” and here for a moment Crystal buried her face in her hands, and Fern was grieved to see the tears were streaming through her fingers.

“Do not go on if it troubles you,” she said, gently; “I am interested, oh, so interested in that poor little lonely child; but if it pains you to recall those days, you shall not distress yourself for me.”

“Yes—yes—I wish to tell it, only give me one moment.” And for a little while she wept bitterly; then drying her eyes, she went on in a broken voice:

“Ah, I was not lonely long; thank God, there is nothing more transitory than a child’s grief, deep and inconsolable as it first appears.

“I did not forget my mother—I do not forget her now, but in a short time I threw off all traces of sadness. The change, the novelty of my life, the unfailing kindness that I experienced, soon worked a beneficial effect on my health and spirits. In a little while I ceased to regret Italy and its blue skies—and the Grange with its dear inmates became my world.

“But it was Raby who was my chief friend—my favorite playfellow.

“I loved Uncle Rolf; child as I was, I very soon learned to reverence that simple, kindly nature—that loyal heart; and Margaret was like a dear elder sister; but it was Raby who from the first became my master and my companion; Raby who instructed and reproved and praised me; whose frown was my worst punishment; whose smile was my reward.

“It was he who implanted in me a thirst for knowledge; all the leisure moments he could snatch from his own studies were devoted to mine. During his college terms he corresponded with me, and planned out my work during his absence, sparing himself neither time nor pains; and from the night he carried me in, poor, weary child, to the light and radiance of his peaceful home—he seemed to have adopted me peculiarly, until it came to be understood at the Grange that Crystal was Raby’s darling and belonged especially to him.

“I think that if Margaret had not been endowed with that singular unselfishness that belonged to her nature, she must have missed something out of her life; once she had been everything to her brother, but now it was Crystal! Crystal who must bring him his books, and hunt out the words in the dictionary. Crystal who must tidy his papers and lay the little spray of flowers beside his plate at breakfast. Crystal who must go with him on his rounds among the sick and aged—for true to the priestly office to which he proposed to dedicate himself, the young under-graduate already devoted a portion of his time to deeds of charity. Little by little in my childish selfishness I stole from her her sweetest privileges; the many little offices with which a loving woman delights to minister to the objects of her affection, be they father, brother or husband.

“I took the stool at his feet, the low chair at his side, but she never complained; for the brother and sister understood each other most truly. In their quiet looks, I have read a mutual assurance that spoke of perfect trust and undiminished affection; Margaret could never be jealous of Raby, or Raby of Margaret.

“Raby had very peculiar notions on the subject of female education.

“Mine, for example, was carried on in rather a desultory fashion. I was not fretted by restraint, or made stupid by long tasks; just sufficient knowledge was imparted to excite my reasoning powers and arouse the desire for more. ‘Let her learn,’ he would say, ‘but let her learn as the bird learns to sing.’ And when Margaret, in her gentle way, sighed over my lamentable ignorance of all feminine acquirements and household method:

“‘Let her be,’ he would reply, with masculine preremptoriness, ‘we must not force nature. When the time comes for her womanly instincts to develop, not an English matron or even our own clever Margaret will excel Crystal then.’ And still, more strange to say, he rather stimulated than repressed my vanity; and so I grew up quite conscious of my own personal attractions; but without the knowledge having undue weight with me.

“From the first he would have me dressed in the quaint, rich style in which I came to them first.

“‘It suits her peculiar style of beauty,’ I heard him once say, when Margaret remonstrated with him on the extravagance of the idea. I was curled up on the window-seat, reading, and they did not think I was listening.

“‘Raby is right,’ observed Uncle Rolf; ‘she will never make a quiet-looking English girl like our Maggie here—were you to dress her as a Puritan or a Quaker; ah, she will break hearts enough, I’ll warrant, with those dark, witch eyes of hers; we must be careful of the child! If Bianca’s beauty were like her daughter’s, one can not wonder much at poor Edmund’s choice.’

“Something in my uncle’s speech aroused my childish petulance. I closed my book and came forward.

“‘I don’t want to break any hearts!’ I cried, angrily; ‘I only want Raby’s—I am going to belong to Raby all my life, I will never leave him, never!’ and I stamped my foot in a little fury.

“They all laughed, Uncle Rolf long and merrily, but Raby colored up as he smiled.

“‘That’s right, darling,’ he said, in a low voice. ‘Now go back to your book.’ And I went at once obediently.

“When I bade him good-night that evening, and stood lingering by his chair on some pretext or other, he suddenly took hold of me and drew me toward him.

“‘Little Crystal,’ he said, ‘you think you love Raby indeed; I am sure you do, and Heaven knows how sweet your childish affection is to me; but do you know—will you ever know how Raby loves you?’ and putting his hands on my head he bade God bless my innocent face, and let me go.

“Oh, those delicious days of my childhood. But they are gone—they are gone! Long rambles on the sea-shore with Margaret, and in the corn-fields with Raby; now nutting in the copse or gathering brier roses in the lanes; setting out our strawberry feast under the great elm-tree on the lawn or picking up fir-cones in the Redmond avenue. Spring flowers and autumn sunsets—bright halcyon days of my youth made glorious with love.

“For as yet no shadow of the future had fallen upon me, no taint of that inherited passion had revealed itself; perhaps nothing had occurred to rouse the dormant temper lulled by the influences of this happy home. But the time came soon enough. Shalt I ever forget that day?

“It was during the Easter vacation—I must have been nearly thirteen then. Raby had been unwell; some low, feverish attack had seized him, and he was just ill enough to lie on the sofa all day and be petted and waited upon. I was perfectly happy from morning to night; I devoted myself to his amusement; reading to him, talking to him, or even sitting silently beside him while he slept.

“‘Our Crystal is getting quite a woman,’ he said once, when I turned his hot pillow and put the cooling drink beside him; and at that brief word of praise my face flushed with pleasure, and I felt amply rewarded.

“One day we had visitors, Hugh Redmond and two girls, distant relations of his, who were staying at the Hall with their mother.

“One of them, Isabel Vyvie, I had seen several times, and had taken a great dislike to her.

“She was a tall, striking-looking girl, much handsomer than her sister, Emily, and she must have been two or three years older than Raby. She always seemed to like his society; so, while the others talked to Uncle Rolf and Margaret, she sat on my low chair beside Raby’s couch, and talked to him without seeming to notice any one else.

“Miss Vyvie was very handsome and a flirt, and Raby was only a young man.

“It would hardly have been natural if he had not seemed gratified by her interest in him, though I did not know until afterward that he valued it at its true cost.

“Still she was pleasant and her little airs amused him, and he entered into a long conversation with some enjoyment, and for once I was forgotten. I tried to join in once or twice, but Miss Vyvie treated me as a child, and scarcely deigned to notice me; but Raby did not seem to resent her indifference or want of courtesy.

“‘He only cares for me when others are not by,’ I thought, and my heart began to swell with jealous emotion. But just before she left something occurred that fanned the envious spark into a flame.

“Her white hand was resting on the little table that stood beside the couch. There was a diamond ring on one finger that flashed as she moved; presently she stretched it out to Raby, with a bewitching smile.

“‘Oh, what lovely lilies of the valley,’ she exclaimed, pointing to the flowers; ‘they are the first I have seen this year. I adore lilies, they are perfectly exquisite. Do let me have them, Mr. Ferrers. I know they grew in the garden, and I shall keep them as a memento of Sandycliffe and the dear Grange. Come, you must not let me break the tenth commandment and covet any longer,’ and the fair, girlish hand rested near the flowers as she spoke.

“Raby looked embarrassed and hesitated.

“I had gathered those lilies for him before the dew was off them. They grew in a little nook of the Redmond grounds; they were his favorite flowers, and I had walked all those miles to hunt for them.

“‘Come,’ she said, ‘surely you will not refuse me, Mr. Ferrers,’ and her smile was very winning; and Raby, though reluctant, laid the little spray of lilies in her hand. He could hardly have done otherwise, but I was too young to know that.

“‘There, she has gone at last, the pretty chatterbox,’ he exclaimed, with a yawn of real or pretended weariness as the door closed upon our visitors. ‘Crystal, my child, come here: I have not heard your voice for the last hour. Tell me what you think of Miss Vyvie; is she not a lively young lady?’

“I made him no answer. I was past it.

“Oh, if I had only gone silently out of the room to recover myself. If he had not spoken to me just then. He started when he saw my face.

“‘Crystal, my dear child, what is the matter?’ and then—then it burst forth. Oh, my God, I must have been beside myself. Surely some demon must have entered into my childish heart before I could have poured forth that torrent of passionate invective and reproach.

“They had never witnessed such a scene. Margaret, sweet soul, cried and trembled as she heard me, and Uncle Rolf grew quite pale.

“‘That child,’ he cried, ‘Edmund’s child!’ and his voice was full of horror; but Raby rose slowly from his couch, and without a word led me from the room.

“I do not know whether I yielded to that firm touch, or whether his strength compelled me; but, still silent, he took me up to my room and left me there.

“Oh, the awfulness of that mute reproach, the sternness of that pale face; it recalled me to myself sooner than any word would have done. Almost before the door closed my passion had spent itself, and then the agony of shame and despair that followed! I had forfeited his good opinion forever. He would never love me again! If I could die—oh, impious prayer that I prayed—if I could only die! But I would never see his face again. I would go where they could never find me, where I would never grieve them more.

“Fern, it was a strange feature that marked those passionate fits of mine; but I never yielded to them afterward without the same desire seizing me to go away and see them no more; and but for the watchful care that surrounded me at those times I should often have escaped.

“It came upon me now, this horror of restraint, and overmastered me. To my fancy I seemed to feel the walls falling in upon me in judgment for my sin. I was suffocated, and yet restless. Oh, to be away, I thought, to be away from those reproachful faces; and I rushed downstairs, through the house and down the yew-tree walk; but the garden-door into the lane was locked, and at that slight obstacle I shivered and lay down on the grass and crushed my face against the ground, and felt like some youthful Cain, branded with unextinguishable shame.

“I had lost Raby’s love. I had forfeited his respect. There lay the unbearable sting. Never should I forget that pale, stern face and the unspoken reproach in those dark eyes.

“‘Oh, I can not bear it,’ I cried; ‘I can not, can not, bear it.’

“‘My child,’ said Raby’s grave voice close to me, ‘if you are sorry, and your grief tells me you are, you must ask pardon of our Father in heaven.”

“‘Then—may a merciful God forgive me for my blasphemy—I cried, ‘not His, but yours, Raby. I can not live without your love;’ and then I was almost choked with my sobs.

“‘Crystal,’ he said, with a heavy sigh, ‘can this be my child whom I have taught and guided, my child for whom I have prayed every night;’ and, touched by the gentleness of his tone, I crept a little nearer and clasped his feet.

“‘I can never be forgiven,’ I sobbed. ‘What has heaven to do with such a sinner as I?’

“‘Ah, little one,’ he answered, ‘have not I forgiven thee, and I was stretched on no cross for thy sake;’ and then, kneeling down by my side, he raised my wet face from the grass and laid it gently on his arm and kissed it, and then I knew I was forgiven.

“Never, never shall I forget how he talked to me—and yet he was ill—as a brother and a priest, too! How he helped me to bear the terror of the sin and the shame of my repentance; how, without removing one iota of its guilt or one dread of its probable consequences, he led me to the one consolation. ‘Thy sins, even thine, shall be forgiven thee,’ and then he took me back into the house, cast down indeed and humbled, but no longer despairing, and led me to Uncle Rolf.

“‘Father,’ he said, still holding my hand, perhaps because he felt how I trembled, ‘father, Crystal has come to ask your pardon and Margaret’s also for the pain she has caused you both, and to say that, with God’s help, she will never offend so again.’

“Never! oh, Raby, never! when the inborn enemy was strong as death and cruel as the grave. Oh, my good angel, Raby, what have the years written, against me—against me—your unhappy child?”