urried out of the house to bury
herself in the shadows of the forest. That day she had learned, from the
gossip of old Mrs. Jones, who was on a visit to a married daughter in
the neighborhood, Ishmael's real history, or what was supposed to be his
real history. She had struggled for composure all day long, and only
utterly lost her self-possession in the conversation with her father at
the dinner-table. Now she sought the depths of the forest, because she
could not bear the sight of a human face. Her whole nature was divided
and at war with itself. All that was best in Claudia Merlin's heart and
mind was powerfully and constantly attracted by the moral and
intellectual excellence of Ishmael Worth; but all the prejudices of her
rank and education were revolted by the circumstances attending his
birth, and were up in arms against the emotions of her better nature.

In what consists the power of the quiet forest shades to calm fierce
human passions? I know not; but it is certain that, after walking two or
three hours through their depths communing with her own spirit, Claudia
Merlin returned home in a better mood to meet her father at the
tea-table.

"Papa," she said, as she seated herself at the head of the table and
made tea, "you need not trouble yourself to keep Ishmael out of my way.
Dreadful as this discovery is, he is not to blame, poor boy. And I think
we had better not make any change in our treatment of him; he would be
wounded by our coldness; he would not understand it and we could not
explain. Besides, the six weeks will soon be over, and then we shall be
done with him."

"I am glad to hear you say so, my dear; especially as I had invited
Ishmael to join us at tea this evening, and forgotten to tell you of it
until this moment. But, Claudia, my little girl," said the judge,
scrutinizing her pale cheeks and heavy eyes, "you must not take all the
sin and sorrows of the world as much to heart as you have this case;
for, if you do, you will be an old woman before you are twenty years of
age."

Claudia smiled faintly; but before she could reply the regular
monotonous thump of a crutch, was heard approaching the door, and in
another moment Ishmael stood within the room.

There was nothing in that fine intellectual countenance, with its fair,
broad, calm forehead, thoughtful eyes, and finely curved lips, to
suggest the idea of an ignoble birth. With a graceful bow and sweet
smile and a perfectly well-bred manne