"Most wondrous vision! The broad earth hath not,
Through all her bounds, an object like to thee,
That travellers e'er recorded. Nor a spot
More fit to stir the poet's phantasy;
Grey Old Man of the Mountain, awfully
There, from thy wreath of clouds thou dost uprear
Those features grand,--the same eternally!
Lone dweller 'mid the hills! with gaze austere
Thou lookest down, methinks, on all below thee here."
At the Flume House, three weeks later, we find our little party of
travellers, all in apparently fine spirits and delighted enjoyment of
the wild, enchanting scenery of the Franconia Notch.
"Well, Lindenwood, what do you intend to show us next?" asked Major
Howard, as the group disposed themselves on the sofas of their own
private parlor for an evening of rest and quiet, after a day passed in
visits to different objects in the vicinity. "I declare these mountains
will exhaust me entirely, and I shall be obliged to go away without
beholding one half of their alleged wonders."
Young Williams laughed and said, "You are not half as good a traveller
as your daughter, major. Instead of looking worn and fatigued by her
repeated rambles, she seems more fresh and blooming than on our first
arrival."
"Yes," returned the father, looking affectionately on his daughter, "she
thrives wonderfully on mountains. I recollect, when we stood on the
freezing summit of Washington, she expressed a wish to burrow among its
rocks and pass a life-time there, listening to the winds o' nights, and
other like charming diversions."
"I did not think her disposition so solitary," remarked young Williams.
"O, she was not going to dwell alone! She wanted one companion to share
her habitation. I don't know who it was,--perhaps you were the doomed
one!"
"I dare not presume to think Miss Florence would select me for a doom so
blissful," returned he, gallantly. "Her choice would fall on some of my
more fortunate neighbors."
"Rather say _un_fortunate," said Florence, coloring; "for in that light
I think most people would regard the prospect of a life passed amid the
clouds and storms of Mount Washington."
"Would you thus regard it, Lindenwood?" inquired young Williams, turning
his gaze upon Edgar.
"I don't know," returned the latter. "It might prove an agreeable
summer-home; but I think I would want to fly away on the approach of
winter."
Major Howard drew forth his guide-book and occupied himself turning over
the pages a few moments.
"We have achieved the Flume, the Pool, and the Basin to-day," said he at
length. "Say, Lindenwood, where shall we go to-morrow? You are the
pioneer of the band."
"I have thought, should the day prove fine," answered he, "it would be
pleasant to make an excursion to the summit of Mount Lafayette, or the
'Great Haystack' mountain, as it is sometimes called, which lies several
miles west from this point."
"More mountains towering before us! When shall we have done with them?"
said the major, in a lugubrious tone. "How high is this Haystack you
speak of?"
"But seven hundred feet less than Mount Washington," answered Edgar.
"O dear!" groaned the major. "Heaven save me from attempting the
ascension! Can we do nothing better than tear our clothes and bruise our
shins among brushwood and bridle-paths; clambering up to the sky just to
stare about us a few moments, and then tumbling down headlong, as it
were, to the valleys again?"
"Well," said Edgar, "if the Great Haystack intimidates you, suppose we
ride up through the Notch, and visit the 'Old Man.'"
"What old man?" asked the major.
"The Old Man of the Mountain!"
"I should have no objection to calling on the old fellow," returned
Major Howard, "if he did not live on a mountain; but I cannot think of
climbing up any more of these prodigious steeps,--even to see a king in
his regal palace."
A burst of laughter followed the major's misapprehension of the object
which Lindenwood had proposed to visit.
"It is not a man of flesh and blood we are to see, father," said
Florence, as soon as she could command her voice sufficiently to speak,
"but a granite profile, standing out from a peak of solid rock, exactly
resembling the features of a man's face; whence its name, 'Old Man of
the Mountain.'"
"Ay, that's all, then!" said the major, referring to his guidebook. "I
shall be very glad of the privilege of standing on the ground for once
and looking up at an object; for I confess it afflicts my
kindly-affectioned nature to be forever looking down upon this goodly
earth, as if in disdainful contempt of its manifold beauties. So,
to-morrow, ladies and gentlemen," added he, rising, "we are to pay our
respects to this 'Old Man.' I hear music below. You young people would
like to join the merry groups, I suppose. I'm going down to the office
to enjoy a cigar, and then retire, for my old bones are sadly racked
with the jaunts of to-day. Good-night to you all." Thus saying, he
walked away.
"Would you like to join the dancers, Ellen?" asked Florence, turning to
the fair girl who sat in a rocking-chair by the window, gazing out on
the moon-lit earth.
"I don't care to join the dance," she returned; "but I would like to go
and listen to the music a while."
"Then let us go," said her brother; "that is, if agreeable to Miss
Florence and Mr. Lindenwood."
"I shall be happy to accompany you, Miss Howard," said he, offering
Florence his arm, which she accepted, and the party descended to the
parlors. They were well-lighted, and filled with guests. Edward and
Ellen soon became exhilarated by the music, and joined the cotillons.
Edgar looked in vain for a vacant sofa, and at length asked Florence if
she would not like to walk on the piazzas. She assented, and they went
forth. The evening was cool and delightful. A sweet young moon shed her
pale light o'er the scene, veiling the roughness of the surrounding
country, and heightening its romantic effect.
"I think you are growing less cheerful every day," said he, gazing
tenderly on her downcast features.
"Can you not divine the cause of my depression?" she asked, raising her
dark eyes to his face.
"No," said he, smiling on her. "Won't you tell me?"
"Father says we must return home soon," answered she, turning her face
away.
"Is that an unpleasant prospect to you?" asked he, seeking to obtain a
glance at her averted face.
"Yes," returned she; and he thought a shudder for a moment convulsed the
slender form at his side.
They were both silent several moments, and then he remarked, "I intend
to visit Wimbledon in a few months; may I not hope to see you should I
do so?"
"I presume my father will be happy to receive a visit from you,"
answered she, in a formal tone.
"But his daughter would rather be excused from my company, I am to
understand," said he.
"O, no! not that," returned Florence quickly, turning her face suddenly
toward him, when he saw it was bathed in tears and marked with painful
emotion.
"What distresses you, Florence?" asked he; gently taking her hand in
his. "Will you not tell me?"
"I dare not, Edgar!" answered she, with fast-falling tears. "I have
wronged you, and you will not forgive me."
"Then you do not love me!" said he, looking sadly on her countenance.
"O, yes! I love you," she returned, in a tone of pathetic tenderness,
"Heaven knows, too wildly well! If that could atone for my fault, I
should not fear to give it expression."
"It can!" said he, pressing her hand closely to his heart. "Believe me,
Florence, it can atone for everything."
Encouraged by his tone and manner she spoke. "I am engaged"--he dropped
the hand and started back--"to Rufus Malcome," she concluded, and then
darting quickly into the hall, flew up stairs and locked herself into
her own apartment. She paced the floor hurriedly several minutes, and
then seized her journal,--always her confidant in moments of affliction.
"I knew it would come to this at last," she wrote. "I have acknowledged
my error, and told him of my engagement with Rufus Malcome. It cost me a
struggle, but I knew he must learn it from some source e'er long, and
better from my lips than those of strangers. He will visit Wimbledon,
and then, O horrible thought! I shall be the bride of another; for
father tells me Col. Malcome is desirous the marriage should be
consummated the approaching winter. I got a long, foolish letter from
Rufus yesterday. O dear, how sick and sorry it made me! It is strange
mother never writes. Col. Malcome says she is not as well as when we
left, and this intelligence disposes father to hasten home. O, my poor
bleeding heart! How soon this little day of happiness has past." She
closed the book, and threw herself on the bed. After a while she fell
asleep, and was roused by Ellen, knocking for admittance.
In the morning she met Edgar in the parlor with her father and young
Williams, the three in earnest conversation about their proposed
excursion to the Profile Mountain. He made her a distant bow. She
returned to her room, and not the most urgent entreaties of her father
could induce her to join the party. She pleaded a violent headache, and
Ellen announced her resolve to remain with her. She cared nothing about
the 'Old Man;' she would stay at home and nurse Florence. So the three
gentlemen departed together, and in a few days the Howards had left the
mountain region and set out for Wimbledon.