"Dear as remembered kisses after death."
Ah, holy were the memories of that first, last kiss to the maiden—deep down in the most secret chamber of her soul they lay, so sacredly reserved, so sadly precious, that not even her quick-eyed father knew how they were enshrined.
In October Dr. Carollyn had arrived in his native city with his recovered treasure; and it was now the month of gold again. In that year he had grown many years younger. He found profound happiness in the possession of his lost child—peace after years of harrowing misery.
When that great calamity had befallen him in the days of his youth, he had shut up the house in which the brief scenes of his married life had been enacted, and had gone away from his practice and his friends, spending most of his time in restless travel from land to land, coming back occasionally to haunt the deserted house for a few weeks. As the tide of fashion moved up town he was advised to sell his mansion; but he would allow neither occupants, nor other changes than such as were necessary to preserve it from premature decay. The old housekeeper, who had been his mother's, and who welcomed his bride to her home, was left in charge of the furniture as long as she lived. This ancient friend had passed away, leaving every thing to darkness and silence, before the return of the Doctor with his child.
Then came a change. The house was no longer upon a fashionable street, but it was quiet and respectable, and he would have no other. In this house he would begin life again. Sunshine was let into the long-closed rooms—the moldering curtains and carpets were replaced—an air of joy and luxury was given to the desolate mansion—only one room was left untouched and unseen save by the hand and eye of the master. When arrangements were complete, he took his daughter from the hotel where they had stopped, and brought her home—to be its star and queen.
Uncultivated as she necessarily was from her manner of life, his affection received very slight shock from his pride; for her beauty was of that refined and indisputable type to which all people yield obedience, and the grace of her beautiful nature gave a charm to her manners which surpassed the polish of finishing schools. She glided into her new estate as naturally as a swan into the water—she was only in her element.
Dr. Carollyn did not think of sending her from him to study; masters waited upon her at the house; pride and duty did not urge her to study more than her mind craved enlightenment. The interest she took in her books was a safeguard, had she needed any, against her becoming too much engrossed by the flatteries and gayeties of society; but her mind was of that noble order which could be affected by no such trivial dangers. She enjoyed, as youth and beauty should enjoy, the pleasures surrounding her; it was pleasant to be so loved and attended upon; but she was in no manner spoiled by indulgence. A fear of her own deficiencies gave a slight dash of humility to her otherwise rather queenly address; she was sweet, and proud, and fair, and quiet, the wonder and admiration of many. All this time, though not in the least morbid or melancholy, she carried with her a constant regret—a sorrow which shaded her too brilliant lot.
Dr. Carollyn guessed something of this; but since the source of this sorrow was one which could never interfere with himself, and since it made her so indifferent to the adulations of the young men of their circle, since it did not seriously interfere with her health and spirits, but only promised to keep her the more entirely his, that selfish instinct of jealousy caused him to no longer regret its existence.
A ray of sunshine creeping aslant the slumberous atmosphere, fixed itself in the purple braids of the young girl's hair like a golden arrow. But she knew not how the cunning hand of the sun was bewitching her—she wist not how beautiful was the lustrous repose of her face, and the silken gleam of her garments—her soul was far away. The faint tinkle of a bell sounded through the quiet house, the outer door was opened and closed; she did not hear any thing; she did not even stir when the noiseless door of the library swung back and the quiet footman entered with a card.
"Shall I tell him you are at home, Miss Carollyn?"