Self-Raised | Page 2

to
sleep. And certainly the clasp of those baby-arms about her neck, and
the nestling of that baby-form to her bosom, drew out all the heart-ache
and soothed all the agitation.
Except these little occasional pangs Bee had always been blessed in
loving. Her love, all unrequited, as it seemed, was still the sweetest
thing in the world to her; and it seemed thus, because in fact it was so
well approved by her mind and so entirely unselfish. It seemed to be
her life, or her soul, or one with both; Bee was not metaphysical
enough to decide which. She would not struggle with this love, or try to
conquer it, any more than she would have striven against and tried to
destroy her mental and spiritual life. On the contrary she cherished it as
she did her religion, of which it was a part; she cherished it as she did
her love of God, with which it was united.
And loving Ishmael in this way, if she should fail to marry him, Bee
resolved never to marry another; but to live and die a maiden; still
cherishing, still hiding this most precious love in her heart as a miser
hides his gold. Whether benign nature would have permitted the
motherly little maiden to have carried out this resolution, I do not know;
or what Bee would have done in the event of Ishmael's marrying
another, she did not know. When Claudia went away, Bee, in the midst
of her regret at parting with her cousin, felt a certain sense of relief: but
when she saw the effect of that departure upon Ishmael she became
alarmed for him; and after the terrible experiences of that day and night
Bee's one single thought in life was--Ishmael's good.
On the morning succeeding that dreadful day and night, Ishmael awoke
early, in full possession of his faculties. He remembered all the
incidents of that trying day and night; reflected upon their effects; and
prayed to God to deliver him from the burden and guilt of inordinate
and sinful affections.
Then he arose, made his toilet, read a portion of the Scriptures, offered
up his morning prayers, and went below stairs.
In the breakfast parlor he found Bee, the busy little house-keeper,
fluttering softly around the breakfast table, and adding a few finishing

touches to its simple elegance.
Very fair, fresh, and blooming looked Bee in her pale golden ringlets
and her pretty morning dress of white muslin with blue ribbons. There
was no one else in the room; but Bee advanced and held out her hand to
him.
He took her hand, and retaining it in his own for a moment, said:
"Oh, Bee! yesterday, last night!"
"'Upbraid not the past; it comes not back again.' Ishmael! bury it; forget
it; and press onward!" replied Bee sweetly and solemnly.
He raised her hand with the impulse to carry it to his lips; but refraining,
bowed his forehead over it instead, and then gently released it. For
Ishmael's affection for Bee was reverential. To him she appeared
saintly, Madonna-like, almost angelic.
"Let me make breakfast for you at once, Ishmael. It is not of the least
use to wait for the others. Mamma, I know, is not awake yet, and none
of the gentlemen have rung for their hot water."
"And you, Bee; you will also breakfast now?"
"Certainly."
And she rang and gave her orders. And the coffee, muffins, fried fresh
perch, and broiled spring chickens speedily made their appearance.
"Jim," she said to the waiter who set the breakfast on the table, "tell
cook to keep some of the perch and pullets dressed to put over the fire
the moment she hears the judge's bell ring, so that his breakfast may be
ready for him when he comes down."
"Very well, miss," answered Jim, who immediately left the room to
give the order; but soon returned to attend upon the table.
So it was a tete-a-tete meal, but Bee made it very pleasant. After
breakfast Ishmael left Bee to her domestic duties and went up into the
office to look after the letters and papers that had been left for him by
the penny postman that morning.
He glanced over the newspapers; read the letters; selected those he
would need during the day; put the others carefully away; tied up his
documents; took up his hat and gloves, and set out for his daily
business at the City Hall.
In the ante-chamber of the Orphans' Court Room he met old Wiseman,
who clapped him on the shoulder, exclaiming:
"How are you this morning, old fellow? All right, eh?"

"Thank you, I am quite well again," replied Ishmael.
"Ah ha! nothing like good brandy to get one up out of a fit of
exhaustion."