~ lC?}

I r



POPULAR NOVELS
By Mrs. Mary J. Holmos,

A.H published uniform -with this volume, at $1.50, and sent
free by mail on receipt of price.

I. HUGH WORTIIINGTON.
. II. DARKNESS AND DAYLIGHT.
III. LENA RIVERS.H"
IV. TEMPEST AND SUNSHINE.
V. MARIAN GREY.
VI. MEADOW BROOK.
VII. ENGLISH ORPIIANS. V-
Tin. DORA DEANE.
IX. COUSIN MAUDE.
X. HOMESTEAD ON THE HILLSIDE.
XI. - TilE CAMERON PRIDE. {

Mrs. Holmes is a peculiarly pleasant and fascinating writer.

Her books are always entertaining; and she has the

rare faculty of enlisting the sympathy and affec

tions of lier readers, and of holding their

attention to her pages with deep

and absorbing interest.



Publisher,
Mew York.



THE



HOMESTEAD 01 THE HILLSIDE



R Y



MRS. MARY J. HOLMES,

ATJTIIOn OF " TEMPEST AND 6UNSHIMK," AjfflC "THE EN fifc^SII ORPHANS.



NEW YORK:

Car/eton, Publisher, 413 Broadway.

M DCCC LXVII.



Entered according to Act of Congrem. in the yor one thousand eight hundred
and aftv-flve,

BY MILLER, OKTON & MULLIGAN,
In the Clerk s Offioe of the District Court of the Northern District of New Y ork.



T



Folume



M17SS89







CONTENTS.
i.

THE HOMESTEAD ON THE HILLSIDE.



I. Mrs. Hamilton, . . - .11

II. Lenora and her Mother, ... I 5

III. One Step Toward the Homestead, . . 19

IV. After the Burial, .

V. Kate Kirby, ..... 32

VI. Raising the Wind, 40

VII. The Step-mother, . . . .45

VIII. Domestic Life at the Homestead, . . 67

IX. Lenora and Carrie, . . .VI

X. Darkness, . . 75

XL Margaret and her Father, . . . 87

XII. " Carrying out Dear Mr. Hamilton s Plans," . 94

XIII. Retribution, . ... 100

XIV. Finale, . . . . H3

II. ,
RICE CORNER.

I. Introductory, . . . 115

II, The Belle of Rice Corner, . . . 122

III. Monsieur Penoyer, . . . 125

IV. Cousin Emma, ... 132



vili CONTENTS.

CHAPTER. P AOB

V. Richard Evelyn and Harley Aslimore, . , 136

VI. Mike and Sally, .... 147

VIL The Bride, .... 160



III.

THE GILBERTS ; OR, RICE CORNER NUMBER TWO.

I. The Gilberts, . . . . . .167

II. Nellie, ...... 161

III. The Haunted House, ..... 168

IV. Jealousy, ..... 171
V. New Relations, ..... 174

VI. Poor, poor Nellie, .... 17 J



IV.

THE THANKSGIVING PARTY AND ITS CONSEQUENCES.

I. Night before Thanksgiving, . . . .181

II. Thanksgiving Day, .... 184

III. Ada Harcourt, . . . . . 1 ( JO

IV. Lucy, ...... TJ9

V. Uncle Israel, ...... 202

VI. Explanation, ..... 205

VII. A Maneuver, ...... 208

VIII. Cousin Berintha and Lucy s Party, . . 213

IX. A "Wedding at St. Luke s, . . . .223

X. A Surprise, ..... 227

XI. Lizzie, . . . . . .289



CONTENTS. II

V.

THE OLD RED HOUSE AMONG THE MOUNTAINS.

CHAPTER. PAOR

I. Uncle Amos and Aunt Polly, . . 237

II. Alice, ...... 238"

III. Little Items, ...... 243

IV. Frank, . . . . . 245
V. Woman s Nature, . . . . .249

VI. Squire Herndon and Ira, .... 251

VII. Alice s Mother, . . . . .254

VIII. The Wanderer s Return, .... 258
IX. Father and Child, . . . . .262

X. The Old Man s Death-bed, ... 264

XL The Recognition, . . . . .266

XII. The Funeral, ..... 268

XIII. "All s well that ends well," . . .270

VI.

GLEN S CREEK.

I. Reminiscences, ..... 273

II. Deacon Wilder, ..... 275

III. Cato andDillah, . . . . .279

IV. The Gortons, ..... 281
V. The New Home, . . . . . 282

VI. Orianna, . . ... . 284

VII. Marian, ...... 286

VIII. Robert and Orianna, . . . 29C

IX. The Bridal, ...... 296

X. Oriamia s Faith, ..... 801

XL Preparations for r. Journey, . 805

XII Ella, ...... 809

XIII. The Death-bed, . . . . .813

XIV. The Denouement, ... 317

A



X CONTENTS.

VII.

THE GABLE-ROOFED HOUSE AT SNOWDOK

OOAPTKS. PAGE

I. Josephine, ..... 323

II. A Peep at the Gable-Roofed House atSnowdon, . 333

III. Locust Grove, . . . . . .336

IV. Delphine andM Gregor, .... 842
V. Jimmy, ...... 845

VI. Snowdon, ...... 350

VII. The New House, . . 864

VIII. Mrs. M Gregor. . . . . . 861

IX Chacgwi, ...... 171



gamcsMr on ilje



CHAPTER I.

MRS. HAMILTON.

FOR many years the broad, ricli acres, anil old fash
ioned, massive building known as "The Homestead on
the Hillside," had passed successively from father to son,
until at last it belonged by right of inheritance to Ernest
Hamilton. Neither time nor expense had been spared in
beautifying and embellishing both house and grounds, and
at the time of which we are speaking, there was not, for
miles around, so lovely a spot as was the shady old
homestead.

It stood at some distance from the road, and on the
bright green lawn in front, were many majestic forest
trees, on which had fallen the lights and shadows of more
than a century ; and under whose wide-spreading brandies
oft, in the olden time, the Indian warrior had paused from
the chase until the noonday heat was passed. Leading
from the street to the house, was a wide, graveled walk
bordered with box, arid peeping out from the wilderness
of vines and climbing roses, were the white walls of the
huge building, which was surrounded on all sides by a
double piazza.

Many and hallowed were the associations connected
with that old homestead. On the curiously carved seats
beneath the tail shade trees, were cut the names of some,



12 THE HOMESTEAD OX TIIE HILLSIDE.

who there had lived, and loved, and passed away
Through the little gate at the foot of the garden, and jtisl
across the brooklet, whose clear waters leaped and laughed
in the glad sunshine, and then went dancing away in the
woodland below, was a quiet spot, where gracefully the
willow tree was bending, where the wild sweet brier was
blooming, and where, too, lay sleeping those who once
gathered round the hearth-stone and basked in the sun
light which ever seemed resting upon the Homestead on
the Hillside.

But a darker day was coming ; a night was approach
ing when a deep gloom would overshadow the homestead
and the loved ones within its borders. The servants, ever
superstitious, now whispered mysteriously that the spirits
of the departed returned nightly to their old accustomed
places, and that dusky hands from the graves of the slum
bering dead were uplifted, as if to warn the master of the
domain of the desolation which was to come. For more
than a year the wife of Ernest Hamilton had been dying
slowly, surely dying and though when the skies
were brightest and the sunshine warmest she ever seemed
better, ef*li morning s light still revealed some fresh rav
age the disease had made, until at last there was no hope,
und the anxious group which watched her knew full well
that ere long among them would be a vacant chair, and
ji the family burying ground an added grave.

One evening Mrs. Hamilton seemed more than usually
/ustiess, and requested her daughters to leave her, that
she might compose herself to sleep. Scarcely was she
alone, when with cat-like tread there glided through the
doorway the dark figure of a woman, who advanced to
ward the bedside, noiselessly as a serpent would steal to
his ambush. She was apparently forty-live years of age,
and dressed in deep mourning, which seemed to incroasa



AfES. HAMILTON. 13

the marble whiteness of her face. Her eyes, large, black,
ami glittering, fastened themselves upon the invalid with
a gaze so intense that Mrs. Hamilton s hand involuntarily

ght the bell-rope, to summon some one else to her
oorn.

But ere the bell was rung, a strangely sweet, musical
voice fell on her ear, and arrested her movements. " Par
don me for intruding," said the stranger, " and suffer me
to introduce myself. I am Mrs. Carter, who4fcot long
since removed to the village. I have heard of your ill
ness, and wishing to render you any assistance in my
power, I have ventured, unannounced, into your presence,
hoping that I at least am not unwelcome.

Mrs. Hamilton had heard of a widow lady, who with
an only daughter had* recently removed to the village,
which lay at the foot of the long hill on which stood the
old homestead. She had heard, too, that Mrs. Carter,
though rather singular in some respects, was unusually
benevolent, spending much time in visiting the sick and
needy, and, as far as possible, ministering to their comfort.

Extending her hand, she said, " I know you by reputa
tion, Mrs. Carter, and feel greatly pleased thatHbu have
thought to visit me. Pray be seated."

This last invitation was superfluous, for with the air of
a person entirely at home, the lady had seated herself,
and as the room was rather warm, she threw back her
bonnet, disclosing to view a mass of rich brown hair,
which made her look several years younger than she really
A\ as. Nothing could be more apparently kind and s m-
cere than were her words of sympathy, nothing more
soothing than the sound of her voice ; and when she for
# moment raised Mrs. Hamilton, while she adjusted hei
pillows, the sick woman declared that never before ha*
any one done it so gently oi so well.



14 THE HOMESTEAD ON THE HILLSIDE.

Mrs. Carter was just resuming her seat, when, in tha
adjoining hall, there was the sound of a heavy tread, and
had Mrs. Hamilton been at all suspicious of her visitor,
she would have wondered at the flush which deepened on
her cheek when the door opened, and Mr. Hamilton stood
in their midst. On seeing a stranger, he turned to leave,
but his wife immediately introduced him, and seating
himself upon the sofa, he remarked, " I have seen you
frequently in church, Mrs. Carter, but I believe I have
never spoken with you before."

A peculiar expression flitted over her features at these
words, an expression which Mr. Hamilton noticed, and
which awoke remembrances of something unpleasant,
though he could not tell what.

" Where have I seen her before ? " thought he, as she
bade them good night, promising to come again and stay
a longer time. "Where have I seen her before?" and
then involuntarily his thoughts went back to the time,
years and years ago, when a wild young man in college,
he had thoughtlessly trifled with the handsome daughter
of his landlady. Even now he seemed to hear her last
words, as he bade her farewell : " You may go, Ernest
Hamilton, and forget me if you can, but Luella does not
so easily forget ; and remember, when least you expect
it, we shall meet again."

Could this strange being, with honeyed words and win
ning ways, be that fiery, vindictive girl ? Impossible !
and satisfied with this conclusion, Mr. Hamilton resumed
hia evening paper.



LENORA AND HER MOTHER. 1 *

CHAPTER II.

LENOHA AND HE IS MOTHER.

FROM the "windows of a small, white cottage, at the ex
t? emity of Glenwood village, Lenora Carter watched for
hor mother s return. "She stays long," thought she,
"but it bodes success to her plan; though when did she
undertake a thing and fail ! "

The fall of the gate-latch was heard, and in a moment
Mrs. Carter was with her daughter, whose first exclama
tion was, "What a little eternity you ve been gone!
Did you renew your early vows to the old man ? "

"I ve no vows to renew," answered Mrs. Carter, "but
I ve paved the way well, and got invited to call again."

" Oh, capital ! " said Lenora. " It takes you, mother, to
do up things, after all ; but, really, was Mrs. Hamilton
pleased with you ? "

"Judging by the pressure of her hand when she bade
me good-by, I should say she was," answered Mrs. Car
ter; and Lenora continued: "Did you see old Money
bags?"

"Lenora, child, you must not speak so disrespectfully
of Mr. Hamilton," said Mrs. Carter.

"I beg your pardon," answered Lenora, while her
mother continued : " I saw him, but do not think he re
cognized me ; and perhaps it is as well that he should
not, until I have made myself indispensable to him and
his family."

" Which you will never do with the haughty Mag, I
am sure," said Lenora ; " but tell me, is the interior of
the house as handsome as the exterior ? "

"Far more fro," was the reply; and Mrs. Carter pro



16 THE HOMESTEAD ON THE HILLSIDE.

ceeded to enumerate the many costly articles of furniture
she had seen.

She was interrupted by Lenora, who asked, "How
long, think you, will the incnmbrance live ? "

"Lenora," said Mrs. Carter, "you shall not talk so.
Ko one wishes Mrs. Hamilton to die ; but if such an af
flictive dispensation does occur, I trust we shall all be
resigned."

" Oh, I keep forgetting that you are acting the part of
a resigned widow ; but I, thank fortune, have no part to
act, and can say what I please."

" And spoil all our plans, too, by your foolish babbling,"
interposed Mrs. Carter.

" Let me alone for that," answered Lenora. " I have n t
been trained by such a mother for nothing. But, seri
ously, how is Mrs. Hamilton s health ? "

" She is very low, and cannot possibly live long," was
the reply.

Here there was a pause in the conversation, during
which we will take the opportunity of introducing more
fully to our readers the estimable Mrs. Carter and her
daughter. Mr. Hamilton was right when he associated
the resigned widow with his old iiaine, Luella Blackburn,
whom he had never serlousty thought of marrying,
though by way of pastime he had frequently teased, tor
mented, and Hattered her. Luella was ambitious, artful,
and designing. Wealth and position was the goal at
which she aimed. Both of these she knew Ernest Ham
ilton possessed, and she had felt greatly pleased at his ev
ident preference. When, therefore, at the end of his col
lege course he left her with a few commonplace remarks,
such as he would have spoken to any familiar acquaint
ance, her rage knew no bounds ; and in the anger of tha



LENORA AND HEIi HOTHEK. 1?

moment she resolved, sooner or later, to be revenged
upon him.

Years, however, passed on, and a man whom she
thought wealthy offered her his hand. She accepted it,
and found, too late, that she was wedded to poverty.
This aroused the evil of her nature to such an extent, that
her husband s life became one of great unhappiness, and
four years after Lenora s birth, he left her. Several
years later she succeeded in procuring a divorce, although
she still retained his name. Recently she had heard of
his death, and about the same time, too, she heard that
the wife of Ernest Hamilton was dying. Suddenly a wild
scheme entered her mind. She would remove to the vil
lage of Glenwood, would ingratiate herself into the favor
of Mrs. Hamilton, win her confidence and love, and then,
when she was dead, the rest she fancied would be an easy
matter, for she knew that Mr. Hamilton was weak, and
easily flattered.

For several weeks they had been in Glenwood, impa
tiently waiting an opportunity for making the acquaint
ance of the Hamiltons. But as neither Margaret nor
Carrie called, Lenora became discouraged, and one day
exclaimed, " I should like to know what you are going
to do. There is no probability of that proud Mag s call
ing on me. How 1 hate her, with her big black eyes and
hateful ways ! "

" Patience, patience," said Mrs. Carter, "I ll manage
it ; as Mrs. Hamilton is sick, it will be perfectly proper
for me to go and see her;" and then was planned the
visit which we have described.

" Oh, won t it be grand ! " said Lenora, that night, aa
she sat sipping her tea, " Won t it be grand, if you do
succeed, and won t I lord it over Miss Margaret ! As
for that little white-faced Carrie, she s too insipid foj



18 THE HOMESTEAD ON THE HILLSIDE.

one to trouble herself about, and I dare say thinks you
a very nice woman, for how can her Sabbath-sehoo 1
teacher be otherwise;" and a satirical laugh echoed
through the room. Suddenly springing up, Lenora
glanced at herself in the mirror, and turning to her
mother, said, " Did you hear when Walter is expected,
and am I so very ugly looking ? "

While Mrs. Carter is preparing an answer to the first
question, we, for the sake of our readers, will answer the
last one. Lenora was a little, dark-looking girl, about
eighteen years of age. Her eyes were black, her face
was black, and her hair was black, standing out from her
head in short, thick curls, which gave to her features a
strange, witch-like expression. From her mother she
had inherited the same sweet, cooing voice, the same
gliding, noiseless footsteps, which had led some of their
acquaintance to accuse them of what, in the days of New
England witchcraft, would have secured their passport to
another world.

Lenora had spoken truthfully when she said that she had
not been trained by such a mother for nothing, for what
ever of evil appeared in her conduct was more the result
of her mother s training than of a naturally bad disposi
tion. At times, her mother petted and caressed her, and
again, in a fit of ill humor, drove her from the room,
taunting her with the strong resemblance which she boro
to the man whom she had once called father ! On such
occasions, Lenora was never at a loss for words, and the
scenes which sometimes occurred were too disgraceful
for repetition. On one subject, however, they were
united, and that was in their efforts to become inmatea
of the Homestead on the Hillside. In the accomplish
incut of this, Lenora had a threefold object : first, it
would secure her a luxuriant home ; second, she would



LEXOBA AND HER MOTHER. 19

be thrown in the way of Walter Hamilton, who wag
about finishing his college course ; and last, though not
least, it would be such a triumph over Margaret, who, she
fancied, treated her with cold indifference.

Long after the hour of midnight was rung from the
village clock, the widow and her daughter sat by their
fireside, forming plans for the future, and when at last
they retired to sleep, it was to dream of funeral proces
sions, bridal favors, step-children, half-sisters, and double
connections all around.



CHAPTER IH.

ONE STEP TOWARD THE HOMESTEAD.

WEEKS passed on, and so necessary to the comfort of
the invalid did the presence of Mrs. Carter become, that
at last, by particular request, she took up her abode at
the homestead, becoming Mrs. Hamilton s constant nurse
and attendant. Lenora, for the time being, was sent to
the house of a friend, who lived not far distant. When
Margaret Hamilton learned of the arrangement, she op
posed it with all her force.

"Send her away, mother," said she one evening;
" please send her away, for I cannot endure her presence,
with her oily words and silent footsteps. She reminds
me of the serpent, who decoyed Eve into eating that ap
ple, and I always feel an attack of the nightmare, when
ever I know that her big, black eyes are fastened upon
me."

" How differently people see," laughed Carrie, who was



THE HOMESTEAD ON THE HILLSIDE.

sitting by. " Why, Mag, I always fancy her to be in a
nightmare when your big eyes light upon her."

" It s because she knows she s guilty," answered Mag,
her words and manner warming up with the subject.
"Say, mother, won t you send her off? It seems as
though a dark shadow falls upon us all the moment she
enters the house."

" She is too invaluable a nurse to be discharged for a
slight whim," answered Mrs. Hamilton. " Besides, she
bears the best of reputations, and I don t see what possi
ble harm can come of her being here."

Margaret sighed, for though she knew full well the " pos
sible harm " which might come of it, she could not tell it
to her pale, dying mother; and ere she had time for any
answer, the black bombasin dress, white linen collar, and
white, smooth face of Widow Carter moved silently into
the room. There was a gleam of intense hatred hi the
dark eyes which for a moment flashed on Margaret s face,
and then a soft hand gently stroked the glossy hair of
the indignant girl, and in the most musical tones imagina
ble, a low voice murmured, " Maggie, dear, you look
flushed and wearied. Are you quite well ? "

" Perfectly so," answered Margaret ; and then rising,
she left the room, but not until she had heard her mother
say, " Dear Mrs. Carter, I am so glad you ve come ! "

" Is everybody bewitched," thought Mag, as she re
paired to her chamber, " father, mother, Carrie, and all ?
How I wish Walter was here. He always sees things as
I do."

Margaret Hamilton was a high spirited, intelligent girl,
about nineteen years of age. She was not beautiful, but
had you asked for the finest looking girl in all Glenwood,
Mag would surely have been pointed out. She was
rather above the medium height, and in her whole bear*



ONE STEP TOWAED THE HOMESTEAD. 21

ing there was a quiet dignity, which many mistook lot
hauteur. Naturally frank, affectionate, and kind-hearted,
she was, perhaps, a little strong in her prejudices, which,
when once satisfactorily formed, could not easily be>
shaken.

For Mrs. Carter she had conceived a strong dislike, for
she believed her to be an artful, hypocritical woman. ;
and now, as she sat by the window in her room, her heart
swelled with indignation toward one who had thus
usurped her place by her mother s bedside, whom Car
rie was learning to confide in, and of whom even the
father said, " she is a most excellent woman."

" I will write to Walter," said she, " and tell him to
come immediately."

Suiting the action to the word, she drew up her wri
ting desk, and soon a finished letter was lying before her.
Ere she had time to fold and direct it, a loud cry from
her young brother Willie, summoned her for a few mo
ments from the room, and on her return, she met in the
doorway the black bombasin and linen collar.

" Madam," said she, " did you wish for anything ?

" Yes, dear," was the soft answer, which, however, in
this case failed to turn away wrath. " Yes, dear, your
mother said you knew where there were some fine bits
of linen."

" And could not Carrie come for them ? " asked Mag.

" Yes, dear, but she looks so delicate that I do not like
to send her up these long stairs oftener than is necessary.
Haven t you noticed how pale she is getting of late ? I
shouldn t be at all surprised ; " but before the sen
tence was finished, the linen was found, and the door
closed upon Mrs. Carter.

A new idea had been awakened in Margaret s mind,
and for the first time she thought how much her sister ro



22 THE HOMESTEAD ON THE HILLSIDE.

ally had changed. Carrie, who was four years younger
than Margaret, had ever been delicate, and her parents
had always feared that not long could they keep her ; but
though each whiter her cough had returned with in
creased severity, though the veins on her white brow
grew more distinct, and her large, blue eyes glowed with
unwonted luster, still Margaret had never before dreamed
of danger, never thought that soon her sister s voice
would be missed, and that Carrie would be gone. But
she thought of it now, and laying her head upon the ta
ble, wept for a time in silence.

At length, drying her tears, she folded her letter and
took it to the post-office. As she was returning home,
she was met by a servant, who exclaimed, " Run, Miss
Margaret, run ; your mother is dying, and Mrs. Carter
sent me for you ! "

Swift as the mountain chamois, Margaret sped up the
long, steep hill, and in a few moments stood within her
mother s sick-room. Supported in the arms of Mrs. Car
ter lay the dying woman, while her eyes, already over
shadowed with the mists of coming death, wandered anx
iously around the room, as if in quest of some one. Tho
moment Margaret appeared, a satisfied smile broke over
her wasted features, and beckoning her daughter to her
bedside, she whispered, " Dear Maggie, you did not think
I d die so soon, when you went away."

A burst of tears was Maggie s only answer, as she pas-
sionately kissed the cold, white lips, which had never
breathed aught to her save words of love and gentleness
Far different, however, would have been her reply, had
she known the reason of her mother s question. TsTot
long after she had left the house for the office, Mrs.
Hamilton had been taken worse, and the physician, who
chanced to be present, pronounced her dying. Instantly



ONE STEP TOWARD THE HOMESTEAD. 2**

the alarmed husband summoned together his household,
but Mag was missing. No one had seen her ; no one
knew where she was, until Mrs. Carter, who had been
some little time absent from the room, reentered it, say-
ing, " Margaret had started for the post-office with a let
ter, when I sent a servant to tell her of her mother s dan
ger, but for some reason she kept on, though I dare say
she will soon be back."

As we well know, the substance of this speech waa
true, though the impression which Mrs. Carter s words
conveyed was entirely false. For the advancement of her
own cause, she felt that it was necessary to weaken the