Self-Raised | Page 9

Emma Dorothy Eliza Nevitte Southworth
earth, the wisdom of
man, the loveliness of woman, and the goodness of God. If you were a
single man I should say 'marry again'; but as you are already a married
man, though estranged from your wife, I say to you, seek a
reconciliation with that lady. You are both in the prime of life."
"What! does Nora's son give me such advice?" inquired Brudenell, with
a faint, incredulous smile.
"Yes, he does; as Nora herself in her wisdom and love would do, could
she speak to you from heaven," said Ishmael solemnly Brudenell
slowly and sorrowfully shook his head.
"The Countess of Hurstmonceux can nevermore be anything to me," he
said.
"My father! have you then no kindly memory of the sweet young lady
who placed her innocent affections upon you in your early manhood,
and turning away from all her wealthy and titled suitors, gave herself

and her fortune to you?"
Slowly and bitterly Herman Brudenell shook his head. Ishmael, still
looking earnestly in his face continued:
"Who left her native country and her troops of friends, and crossed the
sea alone, to follow you to a home that must have seemed like a
wilderness, and servants that were like savages to her; who devoted her
time and spent her money in embellishing your house and improving
your land, and in civilizing and Christianizing your negroes; and who
passed the flower of her youth in that obscure neighborhood, doing
good and waiting patiently long, weary years for the return of the man
she loved."
Still the bitter, bitter gesture of negation from Herman.
"Father," said Ishmael, fixing his beautiful eyes on Brudenell's face and
speaking earnestly, "it seems to me that if any young lady had loved me
with such devotion and constancy, I must have loved her fondly in
return. I could not have helped doing so!"
"She wronged me, Ishmael!"
"And even if she had offended me--deeply and justly offended me--I
must have forgiven her and taken her back to my bosom again."
"It was worse than that, Ishmael! It was no common offense. She
deceived me! She was false to me!"
"I cannot believe it!" exclaimed Ishmael earnestly.
"Why, what ground have you for saying so? What can you know of it?"
"Because I do not easily think evil of women. My life has been short
and my experience limited, I know; but as far as my observation
instructs me, they are very much better than we are; they do not readily
yield to evil; their tendencies are all good," said Ishmael fervently.
"Young man, you know a great deal of books, a great deal of law; but
little of men, and less of women. A man of the world would smile to
hear you say what you have just said, Ishmael."
"If I am mistaken, it is a matter to weep over, not to smile at!" said
Ishmael gravely, and almost severely.
"It is true."
"But to return to your countess, my father. I am not mistaken in that
lady's face, I know. I have not seen it since I was eight years old; but it
is before me now! a sweet, sad, patient young face, full of holy love.
Among the earliest memories of my life is that of the young Countess

of Hurstmonceux, and the stories that were afloat concerning herself
and you. It was said that every day at sunset she would go to the
turnstile at the crossroads on the edge of the estate, where she could see
all up and down two roads for many miles, and there stand watching to
catch the first glimpse of you, if perhaps you might be returning home.
She did this for years and years, until people began to say that she was
crazed with hope deferred. It was at that very stile I first saw her. And
when I looked at her lovely face and thought of her many charities--for
there was no suffering from poverty in that neighborhood while she
lived there--I felt that she was an angel!"
"Aye! a fallen angel, Ishmael!"
"No, father! no! my life and soul on her truth and love! Children are
good judges of character, you know! And I was but eight years old on
the occasion of which I speak! I was carrying a basket of tools for the
'professor,' whose assistant I was; and who would have carried them
himself only that his back was bent beneath a load of kitchen utensils,
for we had been plastering a cistern all day and in coming home took
these things to mend in the evening. And as we passed down the road
we saw this lovely lady leaning on the stile. And she called me to her
and laid her hand on my head and looked
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