fact it was so well approved by her mind and so entirely unselfish.
It seemed to be her life, or her soul, or one with both; Bee was not
metaphysical enough to decide which. She would not struggle with
this love, or try to conquer it, any more than she would have
striven against and tried to destroy her mental and spiritual life.
On the contrary she cherished it as she did her religion, of which
it was a part; she cherished it as she did her love of God, with
which it was united.
And loving Ishmael in this way, if she should fail to marry him, Bee
resolved never to marry another; but to live and die a maiden; still
cherishing, still hiding this most precious love in her heart as a
miser hides his gold. Whether benign nature would have permitted the
motherly little maiden to have carried out this resolution, I do not
know; or what Bee would have done in the event of Ishmael's marrying
another, she did not know. When Claudia went away, Bee, in the midst
of her regret at parting with her cousin, felt a certain sense of
relief: but when she saw the effect of that departure upon Ishmael
she became alarmed for him; and after the terrible experiences of
that day and night Bee's one single thought in life was--Ishmael's
good.
On the morning succeeding that dreadful day and night, Ishmael awoke
early, in full possession of his faculties. He remembered all the
incidents of that trying day and night; reflected upon their
effects; and prayed to God to deliver him from the burden and guilt
of inordinate and sinful affections.
Then he arose, made his toilet, read a portion of the Scriptures,
offered up his morning prayers, and went below stairs.
In the breakfast parlor he found Bee, the busy little house-keeper,
fluttering softly around the breakfast table, and adding a few
finishing touches to its simple elegance.
Very fair, fresh, and blooming looked Bee in her pale golden
ringlets and her pretty morning dress of white muslin with blue
ribbons. There was no one else in the room; but Bee advanced and
held out her hand to him.
He took her hand, and retaining it in his own for a moment, said:
"Oh, Bee! yesterday, last night!"
"'Upbraid not the past; it comes not back again.' Ishmael! bury it;
forget it; and press onward!" replied Bee sweetly and solemnly.
He raised her hand with the impulse to carry it to his lips; but
refraining, bowed his forehead over it instead, and then gently
released it. For Ishmael's affection for Bee was reverential. To him
she appeared saintly, Madonna-like, almost angelic.
"Let me make breakfast for you at once, Ishmael. It is not of the
least use to wait for the others. Mamma, I know, is not awake yet,
and none of the gentlemen have rung for their hot water."
"And you, Bee; you will also breakfast now?"
"Certainly."