he purposed to devote himself and a few disciples to the reform and mental culture of our criminal brethren.  His visionary edifice was Hollingsworth’s one castle in the air; it was the material type in which his philanthropic dream strove to embody itself; and he made the scheme more definite, and caught hold of it the more strongly, and kept his clutch the more pertinaciously, by rendering it visible to the bodily eye.  I have seen him, a hundred times, with a pencil and sheet of paper, sketching the facade, the side-view, or the rear of the structure, or planning the internal arrangements, as lovingly as another man might plan those of the projected home where he meant to be happy with his wife and children.  I have known him to begin a model of the building with little stones, gathered at the brookside, whither we had gone to cool ourselves in the sultry noon of haying-time.  Unlike all other ghosts, his spirit haunted an edifice, which, instead of being time-worn, and full of storied love, and joy, and sorrow, had never yet come into existence.

“Dear friend,” said I once to Hollingsworth, before leaving my sick-chamber,” I heartily wish that I could make your schemes my schemes, because it would be so great a happiness to find myself treading the same path with you.  But I am afraid there is not stuff in me stern enough for a philanthropist,—­or not in this peculiar direction,—­or, at all events, not solely in this.  Can you bear with me, if such should prove to be the case?”

“I will at least wait awhile,” answered Hollingsworth, gazing at me sternly and gloomily.  “But how can you be my life-long friend, except you strive with me towards the great object of my life?”

Heaven forgive me!  A horrible suspicion crept into my heart, and stung the very core of it as with the fangs of an adder.  I wondered whether it were possible that Hollingsworth could have watched by my bedside, with all that devoted care, only for the ulterior purpose of making me a proselyte to his views!

VIII.  A MODERN ARCADIA

May-day—­I forget whether by Zenobia’s sole decree, or by the unanimous vote of our community—­had been declared a movable festival.  It was deferred until the sun should have had a reasonable time to clear away the snowdrifts along the lee of the stone walls, and bring out a few of the readiest wild flowers.  On the forenoon of the substituted day, after admitting some of the balmy air into my chamber, I decided that it was nonsense and effeminacy to keep myself a prisoner any longer.  So I descended to the sitting-room, and finding nobody there, proceeded to the barn, whence I had already heard Zenobia’s voice, and along with it a girlish laugh which was not so certainly recognizable.  Arriving at the spot, it a little surprised me to discover that these merry outbreaks came from Priscilla.