when he smiled at them from the top of the
Governor's staircase. Of course, this was all absurdity, or mostly so. But,
after every possible deduction, there remained certain very mysterious points
about the stranger's character, as well as the connection that he established
with Priscilla. Its nature, at that period, was even less understood than now,
when miracles of this kind have grown so absolutely stale, that I would gladly,
if the truth allowed, dismiss the whole matter from my narrative.
    We must now glance backward, in quest of the beautiful daughter of
Fauntleroy's prosperity. What had become of her? Fauntleroy's only brother, a
bachelor, and with no other relative so near, had adopted the forsaken child.
She grew up in affluence, with native graces clustering luxuriantly about her.
In her triumphant progress towards womanhood, she was adorned with every variety
of feminine accomplishment. But she lacked a mother's care. With no adequate
control, on any hand, (for a man, however stern, however wise, can never sway
and guide a female child,) her character was left to shape itself. There was
good in it, and evil. Passionate, self-willed, and imperious, she had a warm and
generous nature; showing the richness of the soil, however, chiefly by the weeds
that flourished in it, and choked up the herbs of grace. In her girlhood, her
uncle died. As Fauntleroy was supposed to be likewise dead, and no other heir
was known to exist, his wealth devolved on her, although, dying suddenly, the
uncle left no will. After his death, there were obscure passages in Zenobia's
history. There were whispers of an attachment, and even a secret marriage, with
a fascinating and accomplished, but unprincipled young man. The incidents and
appearances, however, which led to this surmise, soon passed away and were
forgotten.
    Nor was her reputation seriously affected by the report. In fact, so great
was her native power and influence, and such seemed the careless purity of her
nature, that whatever Zenobia did was generally acknowledged as right for her to
do. The world never criticised her so harshly as it does most women who
transcend its rules. It almost yielded its assent, when it beheld her stepping
out of the common path, and asserting the more extensive privileges of her sex,
both theoretically and by her practice. The sphere of ordinary womanhood was
felt to be narrower than her development required.
    A portion of Zenobia's more recent life