Note: Images of the original pages are available through Internet Archive. See https://archive.org/details/womanofyesterday00masoiala Transcriber’s note: Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). A WOMAN OF YESTERDAY by CAROLINE A. MASON Author of “A Minister of the World,” “The Minister of Carthage,” “A Wind Flower,” etc. “_There are, it may be, so many kinds of voices in the world, and none of them is without signification._” New York Doubleday, Page & Co. 1900 Copyright, 1900, by Doubleday, Page & Company Norwood Press J. S. Cushing & Co.—Berwick & Smith Norwood Mass. U.S.A. Our share of night to bear, Our share of morning, Our blank in bliss to fill, Our blank in scorning. Here a star, and there a star, Some lose their way. Here a mist, and there a mist, Afterwards—day! EMILY DICKINSON. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Contents Page BOOK I. MORNING 1 BOOK II. AFTERNOON 131 BOOK III. NIGHT 219 BOOK I MORNING CHAPTER I I rise and raise my claspèd hands to Thee! Henceforth, the darkness hath no part in me, Thy sacrifice this day,— Abiding firm, and with a freeman’s might Stemming the waves of passion in the fight. —JOHN HENRY NEWMAN. Where the Monk River makes its way through the mountain wall in one of the northern counties of Vermont, lies the small, white village of Haran. Although isolated and remote from the world, unknown and unconsidered beyond certain narrow limits, this village possessed, forty years ago, a local importance as being the county town, the seat also of a Young Ladies’ Seminary of some reputation, and an Orthodox church which boasted a line of ministers of exalted piety and scholarly attainment. The incumbent in the year 1869 was the Rev. Samuel Mallison. His pastorate had now extended over twenty years, and he was reverenced far beyond the bounds of his parish for learning and godliness. It was a June Saturday night in that year, and the hour was late. In the low-roofed garret of the parsonage of Haran the figure of a tall, thin girl with a candle in her hand moved swiftly and softly to the head of a steep flight of stairs, which gave access to the garret from the floor below. Some one had called her name.