AN OLD FACE REAPPEARS.
What the Carnival is to Rome, and the Derby is to London, the
Commencement week of its great University is to the little country town
of Charlottesville.
It is looked forward to for weeks and months. A few days previous to
Commencement week the little town begins to fill. The hotels and
boarding-houses are crowded with the relatives and friends of the
students and professors, and even with numbers of the country gentry,
who though they may have no relative at the University yet take an
interest in the proceedings of Commencement week.
Emma Cavendish and her friends were therefore peculiarly fortunate in
having had comfortable apartments pre-engaged for them.
It was late on the evening of the Monday beginning the important week
that they arrived at Charlottesville, and proceeded at once to the house
of the bishop's widow.
They found the house hospitably lighted up, and open.
Their hostess, a dignified gentlewoman, received them with great
cordiality, and rather as guests than as lodgers.
She showed the ladies to the two communicating rooms on the first floor
that they were to occupy--large, airy, pleasant rooms, with a fresh
breeze blowing from front to back. Each room had two neat white-draped
single beds in it.
"If you please, Mrs. Wheatfield, which of these was Mrs. Grey's
apartment?" inquired Emma Cavendish.
"This back room overlooking the flower-garden. But as the front room was
unoccupied she had the use of that also, whenever she wished it,"
answered the bishop's widow.
"I was very sorry to hear from her by letter that she would not be able
to remain here to receive us," said Miss Cavendish.
"Ah, my dear, I was just as sorry to have her go away! A sweet woman she
is, Miss Cavendish," answered Mrs. Wheatfield.
"Why did she go? Is her health so very bad, Mrs. Wheatfield?"
"My dear, I think that her malady is more of the mind than of the body.
But I believe that she went away only to give up these rooms to you and
your friends, because there were no other suitable rooms to be obtained
for you in Charlottesville."
"I am very sorry to hear that; for indeed I and my companions would
rather have given up our journey than have turned Mary Grey out of her
rooms. It was really too great a sacrifice on her part," said Emma
Cavendish, regretfully.
"My dear, that angel is always making sacrifices, for that matter. But I
do think that _this_ sacrifice did not cost her much. Love made it
light. I feel sure she was delighted to be able to give up her quarters
to friends who could not in any other way have been accommodated in the
town," said the bishop's widow, politely.
"I am sorry, however, not to have met her," murmured Emma Cavendish.
"And now, ladies, here are the apartments. Arrange as to their
occupancy and distribution among yourselves as you please," said the
hostess, as she nodded pleasantly and left the room.
The ladies had brought but little luggage for their week's visit, and it
had already arrived and was placed in their rooms.
They washed, dressed their hair, changed their traveling-suits for
evening-dresses and went down into the parlor, where they found Alden
Lytton--who had walked over from the University to meet his sister--in
conversation with Mr. Lyle.
There was quite a joyous greeting. But Alden had to be introduced to
Mrs. Fanning, who had changed so much in the years that had passed since
their last meeting that the young man would never have known her again.
But every one remarked that when the lady and the student were
introduced to each other their mutual agitation could not be concealed.
And every one marveled about its cause.
Alden Lytton found fair Emma Cavendish more beautiful than ever, and he
now no longer tried to deny to himself the truth that his heart was
devoted to her in the purest, highest, noblest love that ever inspired
man.
"Do you know, Mr. Lytton, where Mrs. Grey has gone? She did not tell me
in her letter where she intended to go; I believe she had not then quite
made up her mind as to her destination," said Miss Cavendish.
"I was not even aware of her departure until I learned it from Mrs.
Wheatfield this evening," answered Alden Lytton.
"Then no one knows. But I suppose we shall learn when we hear from her,"
said Emma, with a smile.
Then Alden produced cards for the Commencement, with tickets inclosed
for reserved seats in the best part of the hall, which he had been
careful to secure for his party. These he gave into the charge of Mr.
Lyle, who was to attend the ladies to the University.
And then, as it was growing late, the two gentlemen arose and took
leave.
They left the house together and walked down the street as far as the
corner, where Alden Lytton paused and said:
"Our ways separate here, I am sorry to say. I have to walk a mile out to
the University. Your hotel is about twenty paces up the next street, on
your right. You will be sure to find it."
And Alden lifted his hat and was about to stride rapidly away when Mr.
Lyle laid his hand on his arm and said:
"One moment. I did not know our paths parted so soon or I might have
spoken as we left the house. The fact is, I have a very large sum of
money--ten thousand dollars--sent me to be paid to you as soon as you
shall have taken your degree. It is to be employed in the purchase of a
law library and in the renting and furnishing of a law office in the
best obtainable location. I wish to turn this money over to you as soon
as possible."
"It is from my unknown guardian, I presume," said Alden, gravely.
"Yes, it is from your unknown guardian."
"Then we will talk of this after the Commencement. I hardly know, Mr.
Lyle, whether I ought to accept anything more from this lavish
benefactor of ours. I may never be able to repay what we already owe
him."
"You need have no hesitation in accepting assistance from this man, as I
have often assured you. But, as you say, we will talk of this some other
time, when we have more leisure. Good-night!"
And the gentlemen separated: Alden Lytton striding westward toward the
University, and Mr. Lyle walking thoughtfully toward his hotel.
His room had been secured and his key was in his pocket, so that he
possessed quite an enviable advantage over the crowd of improvident
travelers who thronged the office clamoring for quarters, and not half
of whom could by any possibility be accommodated.
As it was long after the minister's usual hour for retiring, he walked
through the crowded office into the hall and up the stairs to his
room--a very small chamber, with one window and a single bed, both
window and bed neatly draped with white.
Mr. Lyle sat down in a chair by the one little table, on which stood a
bright brass candlestick with a lighted spermaceti candle, and took from
his pocket a small Bible, which he opened with the intention of reading
his customary chapter before going to bed, when a rap at his door
surprised him.
"Come in," he said, supposing that only a country waiter had come with
towels or water, or some other convenience.
The door opened and a waiter indeed made his appearance. But he only
said:
"A gemman for to see yer, sah!" and ushered in a stranger and closed the
door behind him.
Mr. Lyle, much astonished, stared at the visitor, whom he thought he had
never seen before.
The stranger was a tall, finely-formed, dark-complexioned and very
handsome man, notwithstanding that his raven hair was streaked with
silver, his brow lined with thought, and his fine black eyes rather
hollow. A full black beard nearly covered the lower part of his face.
"Mr. Lyle," said the visitor, holding out his hand.
"That is my name, sir; but you have the advantage of me," said the
minister.
"You do not know me?" inquired the stranger in sad surprise.
"I do not, indeed."
"I am Victor Hartman!"