Frederick gathered hope from her gentleness, and his voice trembled with affection, as he promised not to excite her again.
"Only get well by my birth-day, Isabel," he said; "have the roses on your cheeks then, and all will end happily."
In spite of herself, a gleam of hope brightened in Isabel's eyes; her resolution was not shaken, but there was so much warmth in his faith that she could not choose but share it with him. She went up to her chamber that night invigorated and almost cheerful.
When this conversation was repeated to Mary, she looked serious, and said very tenderly:
"Not in that way, Isabel. It was a vow taken before the Most
High—besides," she added, with a faint tremor of the voice, "there
does seem to be something that shocks the feelings in this marriage.
It may be prejudice, but I should shrink from marrying a Farnham had
I your father's blood in my veins."
Isabel's cheerfulness fled with these words, and she drooped more despondingly than ever.
But aunt Hannah was earnest in comforting her, and though she gave no tangible grounds for hope, the confidence that woman of few words expressed in the future, gave Isabel new strength.
Salina, too, with her warm defence of Frederick's course—her contempt for vows of any kind—for in this she was an intensely strong-minded woman—and her detestation of Mrs. Farnham, served to strengthen the life in that drooping form. In spite of her hopelessness, Isabel grew perceptibly better; but with this slow gathering of strength came back the old struggle; nothing had been changed. How could she ever be well again with this eternal strife between her conscience and her heart?
Cold weather came on, producing no event at the Old Homestead. Uncle Nathan stationed his easy-chair by the kitchen fire, but insisted on resigning it to Isabel whenever she came down to sit with the family. Aunt Hannah became more and more lonesome, but was always keenly observant, and towards the young girls her kindness was exhibited in a thousand noiseless ways, that filled their warm hearts with gratitude. Young Farnham had been to the city, and it was only two evenings before his birth-day that he returned.
Since the time when Isabel left his house, he had avoided all conversation with his mother regarding the young girl, and Mrs. Farnham, after sending the poor girl's wardrobe after her, seemed to have forgotten that such a being existed, except that she talked to her son about the ingratitude of the world in general, and of poorhouse creatures in particular.