TO
MY DEAR, YOUNG FRIEND,
MISS EUDORA J. HART,
OF NEW YORK,
THIS VOLUME
IS
MOST AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED.
ANN S. STEPHENS.
Washington, D. C., October 17, 1868.
CONTENTS.
| Chapter | Page | |
|---|---|---|
| I. | —THE STEP-MOTHER AND STEP-SON. | [23] |
| II. | —OLD MR. HARRINGTON. | [29] |
| III. | —THE HILL SIDE ADVENTURE. | [32] |
| IV. | —LINA COMES OUT OF HER FAINTING FIT. | [38] |
| V. | —ON THE BANKS AND ON THE RIVER. | [45] |
| VI. | —THE LITTLE HOUSE ON THE HILL. | [ 51] |
| VII. | —THE UNEXPECTED PASSENGER. | [57] |
| VIII. | —OUT OF THE STORM. | [63] |
| IX. | —THE BURNING CEDAR. | [70] |
| X. | —HOME IN SAFETY. | [75] |
| XI. | —GENERAL HARRINGTON IS SHOCKED. | [82] |
| XII. | —LOVE DREAMS. | [85] |
| XIII. | —THE BROKEN CONFESSION. | [93] |
| XIV. | —RALPH'S LOVE DREAM. | [ 101] |
| XV. | —THE STOLEN JOURNAL. | [107] |
| XVI. | —JAMES HARRINGTON'S RIDE. | [111] |
| XVII. | —THAT WOMAN. | [ 117] |
| XVIII. | —OLD HEADS AND YOUNG HEARTS. | [125] |
| XIX. | —THE LOVER'S CONFESSION. | [ 131] |
| XX. | —THE BOUQUET OF ROSES. | [ 136] |
| XXI. | —BEN BENSON GIVES AN OPINION. | [ 139] |
| XXII. | —A RENEWAL OF CONFIDENCE. | [ 147] |
| XXIII. | —THE LOVE SONG. | [ 152] |
| XXIV. | —A MEETING IN THE HILLS. | [ 155] |
| XXV. | —CONTINUED PLOTTING. | [ 160] |
| XXVI. | —THE NOTE WITH A GREEN SEAL. | [165] |
| XXVII. | —GENERAL HARRINGTON'S CONFESSION. | [168] |
| XXVIII. | —THE NOTE ON THE BREAKFAST TABLE. | [172] |
| XXIX. | —FATHER AND DAUGHTER. | [179] |
| XXX. | —BROTHER AND SISTER. | [ 186] |
| XXXI. | —THE SLAVE AND HER MASTER. | [190] |
| XXXII. | —THE BOAT-HOUSE. | [198] |
| XXXIII. | —GENERAL HARRINGTON READS THE VELLUM BOOK. | [ 202] |
| XXXIV. | —AMONG THE WATER LILIES. | [211] |
| XXXV. | —AFTER THE STORM. | [ 216] |
| XXXVI. | —MISTRESS AND MAID. | [218] |
| XXXVII. | —THE SLAVE WE LEFT BEHIND US. | [223] |
| XXXVIII. | —THE EATON FAMILY. | [226] |
| XXXIX. | —THAT SPANISH NOBLEMAN. | [230] |
| XL. | —THE MANŒUVRING MOTHER. | [236] |
| XLI. | —THE CATHEDRAL AT SEVILLE. | [239] |
| XLII. | —A DUKE IN THE HOUSE. | [245] |
| XLIII. | —HOPES AND PERSUASIONS. | [248] |
| XLIV. | —THE INFANTA AND HER GUESTS. | [252] |
| XLV. | —THE PROCESSION OF THE MADONNAS. | [ 256] |
| XLVI. | —WHERE WE SAW THE DUKE. | [259] |
| XLVII. | —MRS. EATON'S TRIBULATION. | [265] |
| XLVIII. | —ZILLAH'S LETTER. | [ 270] |
| XLIX. | —THE GENERAL PROPOSES A TRIP TO CADIZ. | [273] |
| L. | —MISS EATON MAKES MISS CRAWFORD A VISIT. | [ 279] |
| LI. | —CONTINUED MISUNDERSTANDING. | [286] |
| LII. | —GENERAL HARRINGTON RETURNS WITH ZILLAH. | [ 290] |
| LIII. | —ZILLAH IS ANXIOUS ABOUT THE HEALTH OF HER MISTRESS. | [ 296] |
| LIV. | —BEHIND THE GIPSIES' TENT. | [301] |
| LV. | —BURDENED WITH A SECRET. | [304] |
| LVI. | —TOO LATE, TOO LATE. | [ 313] |
| LVII. | —ZILLAH. | [ 318] |
| LVIII. | —GENERAL HARRINGTON'S TEMPTATION. | [323] |
| LIX. | —A STORM IN THE WOODS. | [ 328] |
| LX. | —THE DARK-HOUSE. | [332] |
| LXI. | —STRANGE PLANS. | [ 337] |
| LXII. | —THE TEMPTATION. | [339] |
| LXIII. | —JAMES HARRINGTON'S GREAT STRUGGLE. | [ 347] |
| LXIV. | —THE LIFE DEED. | [ 352] |
| LXV. | —WHO WAS LINA FRENCH? | [ 355] |
| LXVI. | —THREATS AND PERSUASIONS. | [ 360] |
| LXVII. | —THE EVENING RIDE. | [367] |
| LXVIII. | —RALPH FINDS LINA. | [372] |
| LXIX. | —AGNES BECOMES PATHETIC. | [376] |
| LXX. | —MABEL HARRINGTON AND HER SON. | [ 382] |
| LXXI. | —THE MISSING BOOK. | [387] |
| LXXII. | —FRAGMENTS OF MABEL'S JOURNAL. | [ 391] |
| LXXIII. | —THE TWO BROTHERS. | [393] |
| LXXIV. | —GENERAL HARRINGTON'S SECRET. | [399] |
| LXXV. | —THE DESERTED CHAMBER. | [ 404] |
| LXXVI. | —THE UNEXPECTED RETURN. | [407] |
| LXXVII. | —MOTHER AND DAUGHTER. | [411] |
| LXXVIII. | —A STORMY PARTING. | [414] |
| LXXIX. | —UNDER THE ICE. | [ 419] |
| LXXX. | —WHO WAS LINA. | [423] |
| LXXXI. | —THE MANIAC. | [426] |
MABEL'S MISTAKE.
CHAPTER I.
THE STEP-MOTHER AND STEP-SON.
It was autumn, one of those balmy Indian summer days which, if the eyes were closed, would remind you of Andalusia when the orange trees put forth their blossoms with the matured fruit still clinging to their boughs, burying its golden ripeness among cool, green leaves, and buds of fragrant snow. Still, save in the delicious atmosphere that autumnal sunset would not have reminded you of any land but our own. For what other climate ever gave the white wings of the frost the power to scatter that rich combination of red, green, gold and dusky purple upon a thousand forests in a single night? What other land ever saw the sun go down upon a world of green foliage, and rise to find the same foliage bathed in a sea of brilliant tints, till the east was paled by its gorgeousness?