"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!"