Mary felt the blood rush to her very brow at this chance remark of her father; but turning around to her piano, she struck into a march, to hide her emotion.
In a few days she set forth to New York, with a heart, vacillating between duty and love,—determined, however, to permit only one interview, and then to bid her lover adieu forever.
“You will have a strong advocate in my wife,” said Mr. M—— to Mr. James, who sat on the sofa by Mary Levingston the evening of her arrival. “She is resolved, she says, to return home with her sister hoping she may be enabled to soften the feelings of Mr. Levingston toward your father.”
“I hope she may prove a successful pleader,” said the lover, “and prepare the way for my casting myself at his feet when I return. Since I have obtained my sweet Mary’s forgiveness, I feel that I can now with courage brave the hardships of the deep. The thought that she loves me, will be the sun that will light my path in a distant clime. The thought that she is my advocate with her father fills me with the conviction that the ancient enmity will be buried in oblivion and that all will soon be well.”
“You are far more sanguine, as to the result, dear Edward, than I am,” said Mary: “I have little hope myself of succeeding with my father. I know his feelings so well on this point, that I tremble lest I have sinned beyond forgiveness. One thing, here, in the presence of those that are so dear, I solemnly declare, though my heart may be crushed, never to unite my destiny to one his judgment disapproves. I should feel a solitary outcast, even with him I so tenderly love, without a father’s blessing.”
“We shall have it, dear Mary, we shall have your father’s blessing,” exclaimed Edward, pressing her to his bosom, “for God will reward so filial and dutiful a daughter. I should feel myself to be a wretch were I to corrupt such purity, or wish you, for my sake, to sacrifice his peace.”
We pass over the last two or three hours the lovers passed together. The clock had told the departure of midnight before they separated. Who could blame them for lengthening out an interview that was to be their last for months and perhaps forever?
“I leave you, dear Mary,” said Edward, at length rising to go, “in obedience to the commands of my father. If God prospers me I shall soon again be with you. Cheer up my love, and remember my motto is ‘Brighter days will come.’ ”
When Edward arrived in London, he hastened to fulfil the object of his voyage and put his business in a train for speedy adjustment. Days seemed to him weeks, and Mary could not have doubted his love had she known there was none in that great metropolis who could eclipse her beauty in the eyes of him she so fondly loved. In about three weeks the business which took him to London was settled, Mr. James was preparing to return home, when one night, at a late hour, the cry of “fire” resounded through the long halls of the Hotel in which he lodged. In an instant all was alarm and confusion. He enquired what part of the building was on fire, and was told that the eastern wing was all in flames. He hastened to the scene of danger, which appeared to be entirely forsaken. Nearly suffocated with smoke, he turned to retrace his steps, when a wild scream arrested his attention, and the next instant he beheld a young and beautiful female in her night dress rushing through the flames.
“Save, oh! save him, for heaven’s sake,” she exclaimed, “save my sick husband, he is perishing! who, who will rescue him?”