Pearl Trevelyan

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PEARL TREVELYAN;

Chapter 1

Rare as is true Love, true Friendship is still rarer.

—LaRochefoucauld.

The sun was sinking behind the western hills, leaving a web of gold interspersed with scarlet and violet hues floating above the horizon, tinging the distant tree-tops with a halo of amber glory, casting golden shafts of light across the lake, and turning the windows of a rural cottage on its banks into magic mirrors of brightness. A slight eminence on which the cottage was situated sloped down with emerald beauty through an avenue of elms, tinged with autumnal tints, to its margin, while bordering it was a small extent of woodland whose trees dipped their coral and amber branches into the sapphire waters beneath, then reared their heads proudly as they stretched far away to the foot of the hills to be seen in the distance also tinged with sunshine. The winds were abroad, too, for, as they came and folded away a snowy curtain from one of the cottage windows, you could see seated there a young man of prepossessing appearance intently engaged in perusing an ancient, musty-looking volume. His form was of medium size, well-proportioned, with a face of exceeding beauty, features regularly outlined, hair dark as the raven’s wing brushed carelessly back from a broad intellectual brow, and eyes of a dark changing grey. Their expif ession was one of child-like innocence, yet portrayed within their depths was a thoughtfulness beyond his years. O, Claude! type of boyish loveliness, may the innocence which now shines forth from your soul never fade out, though years on years of

3'our life roll by, temptations throng your pathway and dark clouds hover around and obscure the sunlight!

He reads a few moments longer, but, as the shades of twilight fall more thickly round, he lays aside his book, leans far out into the gathering shadows and fixes his gaze intently on the woodland path that winds gracefully along the margin of the lake, as though watching for some one. Soon a merry laugh breaks upon his ear and his eye brightens with a new luster as two girlish forms bound merrily up the avenue accompanied by a noble, honest-faced, favorite dog, who is amusing them with freaks of mischief and his attempts to rid himself of a wreath of gay autumn leaves which his fair companions have woven and twined around his neck. One of these girls he calls sister — the tall, graceful one, with complexion where the lily and the rose are exquisitely blended — finely chiselled features; hair like burnished, gold which drooped low over her classic brow ; eyes of a dark, liquid blue; lips full and pouting, red as cherries, which, when parted, revealed a row of teeth which rivalled the gem whose name was her own, for they called her Pearl, sometimes “ Pearlof the Lake,” and all that had ever seen her face gazed upon its rare lovbness with delight and admiration, wondering that one so fair should be reared within this rustic vale. Her friend possessed something of beauty, though much darker, with a glow of health to be discerned through the olive shadow on either cheek, hair of chestnut brown, eyes large and expressive, and a haughty curve to the lip which marred the otherwise handsome mouth.

“ O, Claude ! we have had such a delightful time, wandering among the forest shadows and sailing on the pretty lake. I know you would envy us if you knew how free and happy we have been,” said Lottie, as they came bounding into the room.

“Yes; but he’s always poring over those stupid books. I should think you would weary of them sometimes,” exclaimed Pearl, petulantly.

“ But you know they are of great importance to me, or at least may prove so in the future. However, it looks so pleasant out of doors I almost wish I had given up study for a short

Virtue Reaps its Own Reward.

time and accepted your invitation. But there are other days coming,” said Claude, hopefully, as his beautiful eyes brightened.

“Yes, dear brother,” replied Pearl, a little more gently, as though slightly rebuked by his kindness, “ but you forget that the cold, dreary winter will soon be with us, and we should make the most of these lovely autumn days.

“ Besides,”’ echoed Lottie, “ you look solitary sitting here by yourself It almost banishes my gay spirits when Pearl and I come in so many times and find you all alone.”

“ But interest in m}^ books tends to drive away solitude, and I am becoming accustomed to being alone. You know it is over two years now since our father died,” — a shade of pain crossing his fine features. “With Pearl’s temperament,” he continued, “life would indeed become irksome without recreation or amusement. I feel that we owe much to your kind attentions, friend Lottie.”

“ Yes,” said Pearl, fervently; “ I know not what my life would have been without your priceless friendship. Shall we ever be parted, I wonder?”

“ I hope not, dear Pearl, though I often fear, for papa frequently talks of sending me away to boarding school, though I think that will not be for a year or two yet. Do you know. Pearl, that I can hardly endure the thought? O, I wish 3"ou were m}^ own, dear sister! Then, perhaps, we would not have to be parted,” exclaimed Lottie, with much emotion, throwing her arms around Pearl’s neck and pressing a kiss on her forehead.

“ Let us not even think of separation for one brief moment, girls. Enjoy the present and let the future take care of itself I hope there are yet many happy moments in store for us all,” remarked Claude, thoughtfully.

“ So we truly hope : but it is growing late and I must go home,” said Lottie, rising.

“ Will you not remain with us all night,” urged Pearl and her brother in unison.

“Thanks. Nothing would give me greater pleasure; but I promised mama I would return.

Pearl Trevelyan; o)\

“ Then Pearl and I row 3^ou across the lake, unless you prefer to walk along the forest path/’

“ No, indeed. I should enjoy a sail much better.”

As they emerged from the cottage the full moon was just ascending the twilight heavens, bathing the earth in a flood of silvery light, casting sheets of blue here and there along the avenue, and scattering pearl-drops of beauty over the rippling lake ; a few little stars twinkled forth from their golden thrones and were mirrored like diamonds in the waters.

“ Oh, isn’t this delightful?” exclaimed Pearl. “Just the time for a sail on the lake. Please, get the guitar, Claude. Music and moonlight go so well together. Don’t you think so, Lottie?”

“Yes, indeed. The scene would be incomplete without music.”

Accordingly Claude did as requested, and in a few moments they were idly rocking in vthe little pink-hued boat Claude had made for Pearl, and painted on the side in great white letters, the name “ Sea-Shell.” Their voices rung with merriment, echoing far and near over the rippling waters and through the woodland, as they glided gently on : and with moonlight and fairy-like music from the guitar the hour was crowned with happiness. Lottie’s home was but a short distance from the other side, a large, gre}^, stone structure nearly hidden by trees. So after alighting on the shore they walked to the massive gateway, bade their friend an aflectionate good night and again turned horheward. The}^ did not linger now, but rowed quickly to the little boat-house Claude had constructed with his own skillful hands, then walked up the avenue and entered the cottage.

“ Brother,” said Pearl, as they lighted a lamp and sat down together, “ it seems to me I should always be happy if I could be with Lottie ; she draws my thoughts so eflectually from our one great sorrow. When we enter here, you and I alone, it reminds me so forcibly of him we have lost that a sadness will steal over me. There is an unmistakable gloom over our home. Do you not find it so?”

“Yes, Pearl, dear, in a great measure; but we must trust in God. He doeth all things well. He doth not afflict willingly.

Vh'ttie Rea^s its Ozvn Reward.

He is our strength, our hope, our sure support through every trial and temptation. Hope for better days. Our youth should not be thus early blighted. You are still younger than myself. Cling to me. I will ever be a friend and brother to you, darling, whatever may betide. I have something to say. Perhaps you have never thought of it; but do not trust too much in Lottie. You know her station is far above ours. Wealth and affluence are hers. Time may bring a change. She is not yet old enough to fully realize the difference.’’

“ But she is so good and noble, it seems impossible. I will not think of it. She will ever be the same true friend and sister she is now, believe me, Claude.”

“ I will endeavor to do so ; but true nobility of soul will alone keep her from changing toward us. We can never move in the same circle of wealth and fashion, and many, many will be the temptations that beset her pathway to forsake her old friends. I truly hope otherwise; but I have heard our father say that true friendship is a rare and precious gem, hardly to be found in this cold and selfish world. There, I have made you weep. Forgive me! Perhaps my fears are groundless. Let me get the Bible and read some of our Savior’s promises ere we retire. Perhaps they will give you comfort.”

After having gone through the accustomed routine of family worship, they bade each other good-night and retired to their respective apartments, which were both small and cosy, and furnished as near alike as possible, with fleecy muslin curtains, somewhat faded ingrain carpet, a bed covered with a snowy counterpane, a dressing table, small mirror, two chairs and a few pictures. The windows of Claude’s apartment opened towards the forest, while those of Pearl’s commanded a fair view of the lake. She was weary to-night, and in a few brief moments was sweetly slumbering upon her snowy couch wrapped in the October moonlight. Not so with Claude. Their conversation had awakened a train of thought in which he felt he must indulge ; so he sat down by the window, and, placing his head upon his hand, took a retrospective view of the past. He could trace their family history far back, although so young. Three lO years ago this very month — how well he remembered it — his father had summoned him into the little room he called his library, at the west end of the house, and told him he had something to say of importance. The very words came to Claude to-night with remarkable freshness, as he sat alone:

“ My son, I am an invalid. This disease, sooner or later, will take me away. I onty await God’.s own good time, and I feel that you must know something of your parents’ past history. I was born and reared in wealth and . affluence. There were only two children of us, my brother and myself; consequent!}’ everything was ours that money could procure; and you know, my son, that comprises nearly all this earth affords — luxury at home and abroad, society, summer friends, and, lastly, and what I prize above everything earthly, knowledge. I liked books, and I thirsted for an education. My brother, unlike me, did not care for it. My parents gave me the advantages I desired, and 1 became a physician. I established practice in a neighboring town where I met with remarkable success. All glided smoothly for about two years. Then my mother died. We deeply mourned her loss, for we almost idolized her; but soon after — I never shall forget the night, one of the worst of a cold and dreary winter — I was called to see a patient about two miles away. I felt almost determined not to go. I had only just returned from a ride, and was weary and jaded out; but I never regretted going. For, as I entered the sick room, a short time after, I thought I had never seen a face of such extrme beauty, a face almost spiritual in its loveliness. The disease proved to be fever in its worst form. I felt certain from the first she would not live. Something whispered it. But, oh! how faithfully I labored to save her life. I dreamed of her night and day and put forth my best efforts, but all was of nof avail. She died, and that day found me a changed ‘man. I felt I had passed through years of experience in those few short days.

“ Months passed away, yet I could not forget that face. One fine day, just as the sun was setting, I wandered to the grave beneath the willow where she so sweetly reposed, and where the bright flowers were blooming and the myrtle twined its

Virtue Reaps its Ozvn Rezvard.

II waxen tendrils round the foot of the shining white marble which bore her name. I read the inscription over and over. I lingered awhile beside the grave, and when I arose to depart an inexpressible weight of grief burdened my heart. I felt, as I had never felt before — weary, weary of life. All the future looked a mere blank. As I walked musingly along, directing my steps toward the entrance of the cemetery, suddenly I saw the figure of a female, robed in deep mourning, slowly approaching. Her vail was partially thrown back, and as she came near and the light fell upon her with more intensity, I thought I should have fallen, for there before me was the perfect counterpart of her whose resting place I had just visited. The same perfect features, the same beautiful eyes and midnight hair, and with nearly the same angelic expression. She passed on. I turned and watched her with a strange wonderment. Who could it be ? She walked on and on along the winding paths till she came to the very spot I had left — her grave. There she knelt down and I almost fancied I could hear her sobs and moans of agony from where I stood. Oh! how I longed to share her grief; but it was not my privilege to intrude. So I walked slowly toward home wondering who this fair stranger could be. All at once it came to my mind that I had heard the deceased had a sister traveling with an aunt who was in ill health. This must be that sister returned to see all that remained of the one she had loved so fondly — a low myrtle-and-flower-leaved grave. I reached home like one in a dream. That face again haunted me. I could not rest; but fate was truly kind, for, a short time after, we met again at the house of the friend where I had first seen that face on that memorable night.I was called there to administer to a sick child.

“ She proved to be her sister, as I had conjectured, and learning that I was her physician during her last illness, rather forwarded our acquaintance by her own modest advances. She would sit with me many times weeping and conversing of the lovely character of her dead sister, of the many happy moments enjoyed in her society, of her desolate life, now an orphan without brother or sister; while I, in return, would tell her all I knew of her last illness and death, and give her my heart-felt sympathy. Thus our acquaintance ripened into intimacy, and from intimacy into love, until she had promised to become my wife. I never shall forget my father’s wrath — for he was a man of strong passions — when I told him of our betrothal. Miss Ada Tremain, the belle of the town where I practiced, was the one he had singled out for me. She was a beauty, wealthy and accomplished, and he said I could as well make a brilliant match as to marjy a poor obscure girl like the one I had chosen. I told him all he could say would not draw me from my purpose. He turned pale with rage, his eyes glared with passion, and, pointing to the door, he said, ‘Go! From this day I disinherit you forever.’ I never saw my father’s face again.

“We were married, she and I, and embarked for Europe, where we stayed for more than two years, when one day a letter was brought me from my brother, stating the news of my father’s death. A great railway disaster had occurred, and he was among the number killed. We immediately returned to America; shortly after which I learned that my father had executed his will and bequeathed to my brother all his immense wealth. ' He had done so in wrath ; but he was dead now and it could not be recalled. I confess I felt very sad and discouraged for a long time, but your birth, which occurred two or three years subsequent, again gave me renewed energy. Then a few years passed away of uninterrupted happiness to us. And now, Claude, I am going to reveal to you that which may cause you pain and sorrow; but 3^ou must know it, my son. Pearl is not your sister.”

Claude turned deathly pale as he sat silently listening. It seemed that his blood had turned to ice.

“Would that she were,” his father continued, “for the fear of sometime having to give her up to others has been the great burden of my life. One morning, before the break of day, the door-bell spiteful^ rang, and, supposing it some one who wanted my professional assistance, I hurried to the door. Every trace of the person, whoever it was, had vanished; but before me, wrapped in snowy flannel, and lying in a basket, was the

Virtue Reaps its Ozvn Reward.

sweetest little infant — except one — I had ever seen. The lamp-light fell upon its alabaster brow; its laughing eyes shone like two great round beads, while its little waxen arms were held out imploringly towards me. I raised the basket and carried it to your mother. We had just lost a sweet little girl, only a few da3^s old, and her heart warmed so towards its purity and helplessness that we concluded to give it the home and tender care our own would have received, until some one should assert a higher claim. We had been deprived of our former nurse a day or two before, and the next day I procured another. Therefore, no person knows otherwise than that she is our own. No clue has ever been obtained. A golden cross, on which was engraven the name “ Pearl,” hung suspended by a chain about her neck; and that, with the few clothes she wore, has been carefully preserved, in the rose-wood box, once your mother’s. Pearl does not know of this, and believes even now that I am her father. I could never tell her, and now, my boy, I leave the secret with you to reveal at your pleasure when I am gone ; but let me die before her love is lessened, while the name father is still upon her lips.

“ In about one year your mother died. Then dark, oh, how dark! were the days that followed. You know Ellen, the nurse, the old gardener’s wife.^ She was with us then, and I induced her to remain. Thus she became an inmate of our family. I lost all courage, all ambition, after your mother’s death. All that stimulated me to live was my children. But I do not wish to linger over those dark, stormy days. Oh, my son ! may you never have to endure in the future what your father has in the past! My health began to fail me, and disposing of our village residence, we removed to our pleasant cottage home. I then employed Anthony Moore, whom Ellen afterwards married, to cultivate our small piece of land, and raise fruit and vegetables, which we disposed of readily in the neighboring city. This, with the small property I had m3^self accumulated, has served to maintain us during these few past \^ears.

“ After mv death, Claude, I think it will be advisable for }"ou to continue the same method of subsistence ; and it is my earnest

Pearl Trevelyan; or.

request, that if ever an opportunity offers, you may become a physician, and carry out, by the knowledge you gain, that which your poor, feeble father has begun ; and your faithful practice of its truthful precepts will not only further your own individual interests, but become an ally to the further aid and progress of humanity.”

All this sad stor}', every incident narrated by his father, passed as plainly through his mind to-night, while he sat enshrouded in the cold, pale rays of moonlight, his dark eyes penetrating into the deep recesses of the forest, as though he had heard it but yesterday. He thought, too, of his life since that time. In about a year his father died, leaving him to battle alone with the hardships and disappointments of life. The old gardener and his wife were indeed kind friends to them; but the noble old woman’s services had been disposed of for a time, as Pearl had now attained that age and experience requisite to attend to the duties of the household, and the old couple now lived in a little house near the lake-shore.

Claude could not recollect much about his mother, being so young when she died; but there was a portrait in the library of a very beautiful woman, with features of the Grecian type, dark eyes, and dusk}" folds of midnight hair wound in a massive coil at the back. It was a picture of his mother, which had been painted by an artist during their sojourn in Europe, and presented to his father as a token of sincere regard. He had sat for hours gazing upon it, more particularlv since his father’s death, and wondered what her life had been to those around her. One of love and kindness, he thought, for her countenance was expressive of a mild and amiable disposition. Oh, if she could have been spared! How happv thev might have been! And besides, he had no righttlil claim on Pearl. He could hardlv believe she was not his sister. It had grown to be a burden to him as it was to his father. How could he ever tell her ! Why couldn’t the days have gone on and on, and the years, and the knowledge never come to him? She was lonelv now, and sometimes felt almost friendless, since their father died, and this would nearly kill her. So he would keep it until some more favorable opportunity offered to reveal the startling truth. Thus his thoughts ran. The time had passed away so rapidly, as he sat dreaming, that he was startled when the sound of the old clock below tolled a late hour, and rising, he sought his couch to procure a little sleep before daybreak.

CHAPTER II. When griping Grief the Hearfdoth wound

And doleful Dumps the Mind oppress.

Then Music, with her silver sound.

—Shakespeare.

It was New Year’s eve. The stately halls of Stan wick Manse, Lottie’s home, were ablaze with light. A party of merry sleighriders > had come down from the city as guests, and Lottie, assisted b}' her friend. Pearl, was there to receive them as the}" came with rosy cheeks and silvery laughter, into the flood of dazzling light which fell from the blazing chandeliers. Numerous invitations had been issued, and the magniflcent rooms were soon sufficiently crowded. But was our friend Claude there? Yes: within the crimson-draperied recess of the bay-window he sat alone, looking out upon the night and the cold glitter of the stars twinkling in the boundless ether: Nothing of the scene by which he was surrounded seemed to attract his attention. There was a kind of bewildering enchantment about all this splendor and gayety, but he was too sad to-night to join in their mirth, and he almost wished himself in their own little library at home in front of the cheerful, blazing fire. He was sure he would be happier there. But if he could sit even here in quietness! Oh, dear! He hoped no one would molest him for awhile; but he was doomed to disappointment, for just at i6

Pearl Trevelyan; o?% that moment Lottie, with a tall, stylish looking girl, entered the room, and, crossing over to the piano, the former said:

“There is Claude Trevelyan, Cecilia, over yonder in the ba}^- window. He is so strange and quiet; but you will say he is charming, I know. I will go and speak to him.”

Accordingly, a moment after, Claude was startled by a footstep close beside him, and raising his dark eyes, saw Lottie, the embodiment of loveliness. He thought he had never seen her look so perfectly bewitching as she stood there before him in a dress of soft crimson, which set off her dark beauty to its fullest capacity; and she spoke so tenderly and pleadingly, too, as she said:

“ Come, Claude ; I want to present you to Miss Cecilia Colton, the handsome city belle. She’s a splendid pianist, and we would like you to accompany her on the guitar. Now, do oblige me this once,” she added coaxingly, observing his hesitation.

“ I had much rather be excused. Miss Lottie ; but I suppose I shall be obliged to submit, as it would be the next thing to impossible to resist you.”

“ Thank you. You are just as good as I thought you were,” and taking his arm she led him triumphantly forth from the curtained embrasure, presented him to Miss Colton and several others who stood near ; then bounded away and soon came tripping back with the guitar, which with an air of mock courtesy, she placed in Claude’s hand.

After executing a few instrumental pieces, which met with applause from the company, there followed a quartette, in which Pearl and Lottie participated; and then a solo from Claude, accompanied by the guitar, which commanded the entire attention and admiration of all.

“ What a sweet tenor voice !” was echoed from one to another around the room.

“Yes; and besides, he’s so handsome — perfectly brilliant, when he smiles — and with it all, so unassuming,” said one of the cit}^ fashionables to Lottie’s mama. “ Permit me to ask who that sweet looking young lady is, with the splendid hair and eyes, sitting by 3"Our daughter’s side ?”

Virtue Reaps its Own Reward.

“ Oh, that is Pearl Trevelyan, the young gentleman’s sister.”

“ I should hardly have thought it, they are so dissimilar. They are friends of your daughter’s, I conclude.^”

“Yes. School friends.”

Then the music ceased and other amusements were proposed ; after which came refreshments, and, altogether, the evening progressed very pleasantly, Claude joining in the general mirth with considerable zest, for him, while Pearl’s eyes sparkled with joy, and her voice rang with merriment. Claude had not seen her so perfectly happy and free from care in many a long month.

“Pearl, dear, I wish to tell you something. Come out into the conservatory with me. The heat is getting oppressive here. I want a breath of pure air,” said Lottie, putting her arm around Pearl.

. “Just what I was wishing for. Miss Lottie,” said Claude, who, sitting close by, heard the last uttered words, and stepping between them, he gallantly escorted the two laughing girls into the green retreat.

The murmuring of the fountain ; the soft perfume of the flowers, and the gorgeos colors of the tropical plants nestled in among the verdant foliage, like great carbuncles, amethysts and rubies set in emeralds; the gilded cages, whose little prisoners had ceased their gentle warbling till the dawn of morning, all served to make this place a perfect Eden of beauty and delight.

“Lottie, dear, what a charming home you have! It seems that nothing is lacking to make it complete. You must be very happy amid such lovely surroundings.”

“Yes, Pearl, I am, in a great measure; but even in a home like this . there is not always joy and pleasure. Wealth and luxury alone do not bring lasting happiness; — but I was going to tell you something ; and, as Claude is with us, I will give him my confidence, also. Papa has decided to send me away to school next term.”

Quick as thought a shade of sorrow crossed Pearl’s hitherto happy face, and, covering it with her hands, she burst into tears. “ Oh, Lottie! Lottie! Then we shall never enjoy such gladsome hours again. They are all gone forever. You will be at home only during vacations, and I shall scarcely see you. What am I to do?”

Claude turned to soothe her, but Lottie was weeping, too; so he walked away by himself, leaving them alone in their grief.

But had it driven no pang of sorrow to his heart? Ah, yes! He thought with regret her words had brought home to him the conviction that Lottie, the heiress of all this wealth, the pet and pride of this home of pomp and elegance, was even more to him than friend. But he would never mention it; no, not even to Pearl. He did not know it himself before, and the knowledge alarmed him now. How dare he love her — he who had nothing but worth and respectability on which to build his future ; and these he knew were little, compared with* wealth. This he had not and probably should never have. He would quell such an absurd passion for one who could never reciprocate it, and it should never take a deeper hold on his heart than it had already. There should be more restraint in his manner towards her in the future, and she should never even dream of the passion she had awakened in his breast. But he must seek them. Perhaps, ere this, they had joined the company. Ah, no ! There they were by the fountain, and before they saw him these words fell upon his ear from the trembling lips of his sister.