earth, the wisdom of 
man, the loveliness of woman, and the goodness of God. If you were a 
single man I should say 'marry again'; but as you are already a married 
man, though estranged from your wife, I say to you, seek a 
reconciliation with that lady. You are both in the prime of life." 
"What! does Nora's son give me such advice?" inquired Brudenell, with 
a faint, incredulous smile. 
"Yes, he does; as Nora herself in her wisdom and love would do, could 
she speak to you from heaven," said Ishmael solemnly Brudenell 
slowly and sorrowfully shook his head. 
"The Countess of Hurstmonceux can nevermore be anything to me," he 
said. 
"My father! have you then no kindly memory of the sweet young lady 
who placed her innocent affections upon you in your early manhood, 
and turning away from all her wealthy and titled suitors, gave herself
and her fortune to you?" 
Slowly and bitterly Herman Brudenell shook his head. Ishmael, still 
looking earnestly in his face continued: 
"Who left her native country and her troops of friends, and crossed the 
sea alone, to follow you to a home that must have seemed like a 
wilderness, and servants that were like savages to her; who devoted her 
time and spent her money in embellishing your house and improving 
your land, and in civilizing and Christianizing your negroes; and who 
passed the flower of her youth in that obscure neighborhood, doing 
good and waiting patiently long, weary years for the return of the man 
she loved." 
Still the bitter, bitter gesture of negation from Herman. 
"Father," said Ishmael, fixing his beautiful eyes on Brudenell's face and 
speaking earnestly, "it seems to me that if any young lady had loved me 
with such devotion and constancy, I must have loved her fondly in 
return. I could not have helped doing so!" 
"She wronged me, Ishmael!" 
"And even if she had offended me--deeply and justly offended me--I 
must have forgiven her and taken her back to my bosom again." 
"It was worse than that, Ishmael! It was no common offense. She 
deceived me! She was false to me!" 
"I cannot believe it!" exclaimed Ishmael earnestly. 
"Why, what ground have you for saying so? What can you know of it?" 
"Because I do not easily think evil of women. My life has been short 
and my experience limited, I know; but as far as my observation 
instructs me, they are very much better than we are; they do not readily 
yield to evil; their tendencies are all good," said Ishmael fervently. 
"Young man, you know a great deal of books, a great deal of law; but 
little of men, and less of women. A man of the world would smile to 
hear you say what you have just said, Ishmael." 
"If I am mistaken, it is a matter to weep over, not to smile at!" said 
Ishmael gravely, and almost severely. 
"It is true." 
"But to return to your countess, my father. I am not mistaken in that 
lady's face, I know. I have not seen it since I was eight years old; but it 
is before me now! a sweet, sad, patient young face, full of holy love. 
Among the earliest memories of my life is that of the young Countess
of Hurstmonceux, and the stories that were afloat concerning herself 
and you. It was said that every day at sunset she would go to the 
turnstile at the crossroads on the edge of the estate, where she could see 
all up and down two roads for many miles, and there stand watching to 
catch the first glimpse of you, if perhaps you might be returning home. 
She did this for years and years, until people began to say that she was 
crazed with hope deferred. It was at that very stile I first saw her. And 
when I looked at her lovely face and thought of her many charities--for 
there was no suffering from poverty in that neighborhood while she 
lived there--I felt that she was an angel!" 
"Aye! a fallen angel, Ishmael!" 
"No, father! no! my life and soul on her truth and love! Children are 
good judges of character, you know! And I was but eight years old on 
the occasion of which I speak! I was carrying a basket of tools for the 
'professor,' whose assistant I was; and who would have carried them 
himself only that his back was bent beneath a load of kitchen utensils, 
for we had been plastering a cistern all day and in coming home took 
these things to mend in the evening. And as we passed down the road 
we saw this lovely lady leaning on the stile. And she called me to her 
and laid her hand on my head and looked    
    
		
	
	
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