A bachelor always feels himself defrauded, when he knows or suspects that any woman of his acquaintance has given herself away.  Otherwise, the matter could have been no concern of mine.  It was purely speculative, for I should not, under any circumstances, have fallen in love with Zenobia.  The riddle made me so nervous, however, in my sensitive condition of mind and body, that I most ungratefully began to wish that she would let me alone.  Then, too, her gruel was very wretched stuff, with almost invariably the smell of pine smoke upon it, like the evil taste that is said to mix itself up with a witch’s best concocted dainties.  Why could not she have allowed one of the other women to take the gruel in charge?  Whatever else might be her gifts, Nature certainly never intended Zenobia for a cook.  Or, if so, she should have meddled only with the richest and spiciest dishes, and such as are to be tasted at banquets, between draughts of intoxicating wine.

VII.  THE CONVALESCENT

As soon as my incommodities allowed me to think of past occurrences, I failed not to inquire what had become of the odd little guest whom Hollingsworth had been the medium of introducing among us.  It now appeared that poor Priscilla had not so literally fallen out of the clouds, as we were at first inclined to suppose.  A letter, which should have introduced her, had since been received from one of the city missionaries, containing a certificate of character and an allusion to circumstances which, in the writer’s judgment, made it especially desirable that she should find shelter in our Community.  There was a hint, not very intelligible, implying either that Priscilla had recently escaped from some particular peril or irksomeness of position, or else

that she was still liable to this danger or difficulty, whatever it might be.  We should ill have deserved the reputation of a benevolent fraternity, had we hesitated to entertain a petitioner in such need, and so strongly recommended to our kindness; not to mention, moreover, that the strange maiden had set herself diligently to work, and was doing good service with her needle.  But a slight mist of uncertainty still floated about Priscilla, and kept her, as yet, from taking a very decided place among creatures of flesh and blood.

The mysterious attraction, which, from her first entrance on our scene, she evinced for Zenobia, had lost nothing of its force.  I often heard her footsteps, soft and low, accompanying the light but decided tread of the latter up the staircase, stealing along the passage-way by her new friend’s side, and pausing while Zenobia entered my chamber.  Occasionally Zenobia would be a little annoyed by Priscilla’s too close attendance.  In an authoritative and not very kindly tone, she would advise her to breathe the pleasant air in a walk, or to go with her work into the barn, holding out half a promise to come