Mr Bellamy shook hands with Mr Warland, with whom he had just held another long and interesting conversation, and with a hearty "God bless you," took his place by the side of his wife. The carriage rolled off. Warland stood rooted to the spot where they left, all the remaining goodness of his nature roused to action by coming into collision with one so noble and generous. Aunt Milly looked after them from the threshold; while little Katy raised herself on tiptoe to catch one more glimpse of the glittering wheels. But none gazed with the same intense feelings as swelled the heart of the boy who had sought the deep pine grove to hide his gushing tears. He believed that God had something great in store for him—and he was right. CHAPTER II. "Wo! wo! that aught so gentle and so young And bear the token and the hue of death On a bright soul so soon!--We are fallen "My boy's proud eye is on me, and the things Which rush, in stormy darkness, through my soul, Shrink from his glance. I cannot answer here." SIEGE OF VALENCIA. It was the beginning of winter when the travellers stopped at the ferryman's cabin, and long after their de parture a wake of brightness seemed reflected on the stream of his existence. He had been strengthened to keep the solemn promise by which he had bound himself, and he already walked with a firmer tread and more elevated bearing. At night, by the blaze of the pine-wood knot, he sat down by the hearth-side, while Marcus conned his classic lessons, or read the historic page, and Katy, cradled in his arms, seemed to infuse into his heart the purity and tranquillity of her own. The shout of the traveller was often heard, borne across the river by the breeze of night, but no one like the generous Bellamy and his sweet-faced wife came to gladden their dwelling. "He said he would return in about six months," said be to himself, while apparently absorbed in the contents of a book. "More than two have already passed. Shall I hold out to the end, and be saved? Yes!-if there is truth or strength in human resolution, I will. I feel like a regenerated being. I can meet the clear glance of my boy without quailing. I can press the rosy lips of my darling without fear of scorching them with my fiery breath. I can look up to heaven, and ask the blessing of my God, confident that I am in the path of duty. Yes! I feel there is hope even for me." Marcus studied with an enthusiasm he had never manifested before. The words of the beautiful lady were ever thrilling his memory and inciting him to new exertions. Then, his father's regeneration, with what joy and gratitude did it inspire him! It is true, he had abstained before, and again relapsed; but it seemed impossible now that he ever would sink again into the abyss of shame from which he had emerged. Never since he had felt so happy in the A new source of enAs a reward for his dwelt in that little cabin, had he present, so hopeful of the future. joyment was also opened to him. extraordinary progress in the classics, his father had allowed him to commence the reading of Shakspeare, which was one of the gems saved from the general wreck. The boy felt as if he were in the midst of a new creation. But Marcus had too much to accomplish to indulge long in these ideal pleasures, whatever their fascinations might be. He would start up with a desperate resolution, shut the book, run into the kitchen where Uncle Simon and Aunt Milly were chatting together, and seizing the bundle of osiers Uncle Simon was sure to have ready for him, would either sit down a while by these two faithful friends, while his fingers wove the smooth, white withes together, or return to the cabin, and snatching up his book, lay it open on the table, glancing furtively at the page, and taking in a glimpse of poetic beauty, while he braided the flexible willows, and shaped the growing basket. As Katy had told Mrs Bellamy, he did not like to have it known that he employed himself in this manner, because he thought it an unmanly occupation; but as Aunt Milly disposed of them for him, he was not ashamed of working at home in this manner for the holy purpose for which he intended to devote his gains. Uncle Simon, the lame negro, whom Katty held in such veneration, was a constant visitor at the cabin, and vied with Milly in devotion to these interesting little children. He was nearly exempt from labour in consequence of his age and lameness, and had the greater part of his time at his own disposal. Aunt Milly washed and mended his clothes for him, and, in return, he was always bringing some acceptable offering to her and the children. Milly was never weary of describing to him the ancient honours of their house, and he, considered quite an oracle in his tribe, gave her long lessons of morality, and explained the Scriptures with unwearied zeal. They were neither of them idle while enjoying these social pleasures. She plied the needle as if her life depended upon her completing her task, and he either braided mats, made brooms by peeling down the smooth oak or hickory sticks, or prepared the osiers for young master. Simon's hair was grizled, and it crisped round his black, wrinkled face. The white of his eyes had a yellow tinge, and a sallow hue had also stolen over the once dazzling ivory of his teeth. He was naturally tall and broadshouldered; but in consequence of his lameness was drawn to one side, and the muscles on the side of his neck were considerably contracted. He took great pains with his dress when he came to see Aunt Milly, who kept his shirts white as snow. On Sundays he wore an obsolete uniform coat, which had been given him years ago by his old master, who was a militia colonel. Then, his attire, united with his crutch, gave him some resemblance to a faded warrior; but all the battles he ever fought were in the church militant, of which he was the most celebrated champion of all his tribe who dwelt near the eastern shores of the rushing Chattahoochee. "Now, young master," said Simon, when Marcus, with his soul still echoing to the strains of the bard of Avon, was flying out of the kitchen, with his arms entwined felt so happy in the A new source of enAs a reward for his dwelt in that little cabin, had he present, so hopeful of the future. joyment was also opened to him. extraordinary progress in the classics, his father had allowed him to commence the reading of Shakspeare, which was one of the gems saved from the general wreck. The boy felt as if he were in the midst of a new creation. But Marcus had too much to accomplish to indulge long in these ideal pleasures, whatever their fascinations might be. He would start up with a desperate resolution, shut the book, run into the kitchen where Uncle Simon and Aunt Milly were chatting together, and seizing the bundle of osiers Uncle Simon was sure to have ready for him, would either sit down a while by these two faithful friends, while his fingers wove the smooth, white withes together, or return to the cabin, and snatching up his book, lay it open on the table, glancing furtively at the page, and taking in a glimpse of poetic beauty, while he braided the flexible willows, and shaped the growing basket. As Katy had told Mrs Bellamy, he did not like to have it known that he employed himself in this manner, because he thought it an unmanly occupation; but as Aunt Milly disposed of them for him, he was not ashamed of working at home in this manner for the holy purpose for which he intended to devote his gains. Uncle Simon, the lame negro, whom Katty held in such veneration, was a constant visitor at the cabin, and vied with Milly in devotion to these interesting little children. He was nearly exempt from labour in consequence of his age and lameness, and had the greater part of his time at his own disposal. Aunt Milly washed and mended his |