"Loveliest of lovely things are they
On earth, that soonest pass away.
Even love, long tried, and cherished long,
Becomes more tender, and more strong,
At thought of that insatiate grave
From which its yearnings cannot save.
"But where is she, who, at this calm hour,
Watched his coming to see?
She is not at the door, nor yet in the bower:
He calls,--but he only hears on the flower
The hum of the laden bee."
BRYANT.
"The Lady Ursula was the daughter of an English nobleman, the proprietor
of Grondale Abbey. She was betrothed, in early life, to a young man, an
officer in the army. As she was an only daughter, and inherited from her
mother a large fortune, her father disapproved of her choice, and wished
her to ally herself with the heir of a noble family. He was rejoiced,
therefore, when a war broke out, that obliged Col. Fowler to leave the
country with his regiment, to join the army.
"The parting of the lovers was painful, but they parted, as the young
do, full of hope, and agreed to keep up a very frequent correspondence.
"For a year, his letters cheered his faithful mistress; but then they
ceased, and a report of his death in battle reached her. Her father then
urged the other alliance. This the Lady Ursula steadily refused; and she
was soon after relieved from all importunity, by the death of her
father.
"She was an only daughter, but her father left several sons. His estate
belonged to the eldest, by entail, and the younger brothers, having
obtained large grants of land in this country, determined to emigrate to
the new world.
"The Lady Ursula, disappointed of all her cherished hopes, after much
reflection, decided to accompany them, and become an actual settler in
the wilderness.
"She purchased a large farm on this beautiful part of the coast, and as
she was much beloved by her dependents, she persuaded a large number to
unite their fortunes with hers. She brought out twenty serving-men, and
several young maidens, and created a little paradise around her. The
garden was filled with every variety of fruit and flower then cultivated
in England, and the strong fence around the whole was to protect her
from the Indians.
"At the time the Lady Ursula came to this country, she very much
resembled the beautiful portrait that has charmed you so much. It was
painted after she parted from her lover, and was intended as a present
for him, had she not soon after heard of his death."
"You have seen her, then, my dear father," said Edith. "You knew the
beautiful original of that lovely portrait."
"I scarcely knew her," said Mr. Grafton. "Soon after I came to this
country, I was riding, one day, near a part of her estate. The day was
warm and sultry: under some large spreading oaks a cloth was laid for a
repast. I stopped to refresh my horse, and soon after I saw the lady
approach, drawn in a low carriage.
"She had brought her workmen their dinner, and after it was spread on
the grass, she turned her beautiful eyes towards heaven, and asked a
blessing. She then left her men to enjoy their food, and returned as she
came, driving herself in a small poney chaise.
"Among the maidens who came over with her from England was one who had
received a superior education, and was much in her lady's confidence.
This young girl was often the companion of her lady's solitary walks
about her estate. One evening they were walking, and the Lady Ursula was
relating the circumstances of her early life, and said that till this
time she had never parted with all hope; she had cherished unconsciously
a feeling that her betrothed lover might have been a captive, and that
he would at length return. The young girl said, 'Why do you despair now,
my lady? that is a long lane that has no turning.' The lady smiled more
cheerfully. 'My bird,' she said, 'you have given me a name for my
estate. In memory of this conversation, it shall be called _Long Lane_;'
and it has always retained that name.
"The dews were falling, and they returned to the house. Her men and
maidens were soon assembled, and the Lady Ursula herself led the evening
devotions. They were scarcely ended, when a loud knocking was heard at
the gate. It could not be Indians! No; it was a packet from England;
and, O joy unspeakable! there was a letter from her long-lost friend and
lover. He had been taken prisoner when half dead on the field of battle,
had been removed from one place of confinement to another, debarred the
privilege of writing, and had heard nothing from her. But the war was
ended, there had been an exchange of prisoners, and he hastened to
England, trembling with undefined fears and joyful anticipations. He
would embark immediately, and follow his mistress to the new world,
where he hoped to receive the reward of all his constancy.
"The lady could not finish the letter: surprise, joy, ecstasy,--all were
too much for her, and the Lady Ursula fainted. As soon as she recovered,
all was bustle and excitement through the house. The lady could not
sleep that night, and she began immediately to prepare for the arrival
of her lover. He said he should embark in a few days; she might
therefore expect him every hour.
"Every room in the house was ornamented with fresh flowers. A room was
prepared for her beloved guest, filled with every luxury the house could
furnish; and her own portrait was placed there.
"She was not selfish in her joy: she told her men to get in the harvest:
for when _he_ arrived, no work should be performed; there should be a
jubilee. A fatted calf was selected, to be roasted whole: and every one
of her large household was presented with a new suit of clothes. 'For
this my _friend_,' she said, 'was lost, and is now found; was dead, and
is alive again.'
"When all was ready, the Lady Ursula could not disguise her impatience.
She wandered restlessly from place to place, her eye brilliant, and her
cheek glowing. At every sound she started, trembled, and turned pale.
"Her men were at work in a distant field; and she determined again, as
usual when they were far from home, to carry them their dinner. When she
took her seat in the little carriage, she said, 'It is the last time, I
hope, that I shall go alone.'
"The repast was spread, and they all stood around for the blessing from
the lips of the lady. It was remarked by her men that she had never
looked so beautiful: happiness beamed from her eyes, and her usually
pale cheek was flushed with joy. She folded her hands, and her meek eyes
were raised. At that moment, a savage yell was heard; an Indian sprung
from the thicket. With one blow of his tomahawk the Lady Ursula was
leveled to the ground, and, in less than a moment, her long, fair hair
was hanging at his girdle. The Indian was followed by others; and all
but one of her faithful servants shared the fate of their mistress."
Mr. Grafton paused; Edith's tears were falling fast. "What became of her
lover?" she said, as soon as she could speak.
"He arrived a few days after, to behold the wreck of all his hopes, and
returned again, heart-broken, to England."
"And the picture," said Edith; "why did he not claim it, and take it
with him, to console him, as far as it could, for the loss of his
beautiful bride?"
"As she had made no will," said Mr. Grafton, "all the Lady Ursula's
estate belonged to her own family. The lady we have visited to-day is a
daughter of her brother."
Edith continued silent, and heeded not that the shades of evening
gathered around them. She was pondering the fate of the Lady Ursula.
That one so young, so beautiful, so good, should lead a life of sorrow
and disappointment, and meet with so sudden and dreadful a death,
weighed on her spirits; for Edith had not yet solved the mystery of
life.
The sun had long set, when they reached their own door. Dinah had
prepared the evening meal, and the cheerful evening fire; and Edith
smiled her thanks.
As she helped her young mistress to undress, she said, "How pale you
are, and how tired! You need a sweet, refreshing sleep to rest you
again."
When Edith laid her head on the pillow, she called her humble friend to
her: "Ah, Dinah," she said, "I have heard a story that makes me think
there is no happiness on this earth."
Dinah had heard the story of the Lady Ursula.
"Was it not too sad, that she should meet that dreadful fate just as her
lover returned, and she was going to be so happy?"
Dinah thought it was very sad. "But the lady was pure and good: the
words of prayer were on her lips, and she went straight to heaven
without much pain. Had she married and gone to England, she might have
become vain and worldly; she might have lost the heavenly purity of her
character."
"Yes," said Edith; "and Col. Fowler, having lived so long in the army,
might not have loved her as well as she thought he did. Ah, who could
live without love?"
Dinah thought many could and did. "Women depended too much," she said,
"on their affections for happiness. Strong and deep affections were
almost always disappointed; and, if not, death must come and sever the
dearest ties;" and she stooped down and kissed Edith's hand, which she
held in hers.
Poor Dinah! she little knew how entirely her own heart was bound up in
Edith.
"But what can we live for, if not for love?" said Edith.
"For many things," answered Dinah, in her simple and quiet manner; "to
grow better ourselves, and to do good to others; to make sacrifices, and
to love _all_ good works."
"I should not wish to live, were I to lose my father, and you,
and"--Edith paused, and closed her eyes.
Dinah drew the curtain, and bid her, softly, "good night."
Edith could not sleep. She was reflecting on the fate of the Lady
Ursula. With Dinah's assistance, she had begun to solve the mysteries of
Providence;[2]
"Without, forsaking a too earnest world,
To calm the affections, elevate the soul,
And consecrate her life to truth and love."
[Footnote 2: The story of the Lady Ursula is founded on fact. In the
author's youth, the farm of "Long Lane" retained its name, and belonged
to the C---- family.]