“My uncle is ready for us,” she said to me.
We paused at the library door, for I laid my hand restrainingly on Lucy Eraser’s shoulder, and stood listening to the wonderful music the organ poured forth. It WAS such as I had never heard before; roaring and swelling like the ceaseless surging of the sea; and, here and there, a single wailing note -which seemed to pierce me with an inexpressible pain. When it had ended, I stood before Martin Fraser silent and subdued.
The telescope had been carried out to the end of the terrace, where the house could not intercept our view; and thither Lucy Eraser and I followed the astronomer. We stood upon the highest point of an imperceptibly rising table-land, the horizon of which was from twenty to forty miles distant. An infinite dome of sky was expanded above us, an ocean of firmament of which the dwellers among houses and mountains can have but little conception. The troops of glittering stars, the dark, shrouding night, the unaccustomed voices of my companions, deepened the awe that oppressed me, and, as I stood between them, I became as earnest and occupied as themselves. I forgot everything but the incomprehensible grandeur of the universe revealed to me, and the majestic sweep of the planets across the field of the telescope. What a freshness of awe and delight came over me! What floods of thought came, wave upon wave, across my mind! And how insignificant I felt before this wilderness of worlds!
I asked, with the humility of a child for all affectation had been charmed away if I might come again soon P
Martin Eraser met my uplifted eyes with a keen and penetrating look. I did not quail under it, for I was thinking only of the stars. As he looked, his mouth relaxed into a pleased and genial smile.
“We shall always be glad to see you,” he replied.
Barbara was sitting up for me when I returned, and was about to address me with some worldly speculative remark, when I interrupted her quickly. “Not one word, Barbara, not one question, or I never go near The Holmes again.”
I cannot dwell upon details. I went often to the house. Into the dull routine of Mr. Eraser’s and Lucy’s life, I came (I suppose^ like a streak of sunshine, lighting up the cloud that had been creeping over them. To both, I brought wholesome excitement and merriment, and so I became dear and necessary to them. But over myself, there came a great and an almost incredible change. I had been frivolous, self-seeking, soulless; but the solemn study I had begun with oilier studies that came in its train, awoke me from my inanity, to a life of mental activity. I absolutely forgot my purpose; for I had at once perceived that Martin Fraser was as distant and as self-poised as the Polar Star. So I became to him merely a diligent and insatiable pupil, and lie was to me only a grave and exacting master, to be propitiated by my most profound reverence. Each time I crossed the threshold of
his quiet home, all the worldliness and coquetry of my nature fell from my soul like an unfit garment, and I entered as into a temple, simple, real, and worshipping.
The happy summer passed away, the autumn crept on, and for eight months I had visited the Frasers constantly, and had never, by word, or look, or tone, intentionally deceived them.
Lucy Eraser and I had long looked forward to an eclipse of the moon, which was visible early in October. I left my home alone in the twilight of that evening, my thoughts dwelling upon the coming pleasure, when, just as I drew near The Holmes, there overtook me one of the young men with whom I had flirted in former times.
“Good evening, Stella,” he exclaimed familiarly, “I have not seen you for a long time. Ah! you are pursuing other game I suppose; but are you not aiming rather too high this time? Well, you are in luck just now, for if Martin Fraser does not come forward, there is George Yorke, just come home from Australia with an immense fortune, and he is longing to remind you of some tender passages between vou before he went out. He was showing us a lock of your hair after dinner at the Crown yesterday.”
I listened to this speech with no outward demonstration; but the reality and mortification of my degradation was gnawing me; and, hastening onward to my sanctuary, I sought the presence of my little Lucy Eraser.
“I have done wrong to-dav,” she said. “I have been deceitful. I think I ought to tell you, that you may not think too well of me; but I want you to love me as much as ever. I have not told a story, but I have acted one.”
Lucy Fraser leaned her tiny brow upon her tiny fingers, and her eyes closed in silent self-reading.
“My uncle says,” she continued, looking up for a moment, and blushing like a woman, “that women are, perhaps, less truthful than men. Because they cannot do things by strength, they do them by cunning. They live falsely. They deceive their own selves. Sometimes women deceive for amusement. He has taught me some words which I shall understand better some day:
To thine own self be true, And it will follow as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man.”
I stood before the child abashed and speechless, listening with burning cheeks.
“Grandpapa showed me a verse in the Bible which is awful to inc. Listen. ‘I find more bitter than death, the woman whose heart is snares and nets, and her hands as bands: whoso pleaseth God shall escape from her, but the sinner shall be taken by her.’ “I hid my face in my hands though no eye was on me; for Lucy Fraser had veiled hers with their tremulous lids; and, as I stood confounded and self-accused, a hand was laid upon my arm, and Martin Fraser’s voice said,
“The eclipse, Stella!”
I started at this ii.-st utterance of my name, which he had never spoken before. I was com-
