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-
-==============
-HILDA’S MASCOT
-==============
-
-.. meta::
- :PG.Id: 40620
- :PG.Title: Hilda’s Mascot
- :PG.Released: 2012-08-29
- :PG.Rights: Public Domain
- :PG.Producer: Roger Frank
- :PG.Producer: the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
- :DC.Creator: Mary E. Ireland
- :DC.Title: Hilda’s Mascot
- A Tale of “Maryland, My Maryland”
- :DC.Language: en
- :DC.Created: 1902
- :coverpage: images/cover.jpg
-
-.. clearpage::
-
-.. pgheader::
-
-.. role:: lg
- :class: larger
-
-.. role:: xl
- :class: x-large
-
-.. role:: sm
- :class: smaller
-
-.. role:: sc
- :class: small-caps
-
-.. |bs4| unicode:: 0x2002 0x2002
-
-.. clearpage::
-
-.. container:: coverpage
-
- .. image:: images/cover.jpg
- :align: center
-
-.. clearpage::
-
-.. container:: titlepage center white-space-pre-line
-
- :xl:`HILDA’S MASCOT`
-
- .. vspace:: 2
-
- :lg:`A Tale of “Maryland, My Maryland”`
-
- .. vspace:: 4
-
- :sm:`BY`
-
- .. vspace:: 2
-
- :lg:`Mary E. Ireland`
-
- .. vspace:: 2
-
- Halftones by Donald Gardner
-
- .. vspace:: 4
-
- The Saalfield Publishing Co.
- Chicago |bs4| AKRON, OHIO |bs4| New York
-
-.. clearpage::
-
-.. container:: verso center white-space-pre-line
-
- | Copyright, 1902
- |
- | BY THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY
-
-.. clearpage::
-
-.. container:: dedication center white-space-pre-line
-
- | To
- | Her Dear Young Friend,
- |
- | MARY LOUISE GRAHAM,
- |
- | This story of “Hilda’s Mascot,”
- | companion to “Timothy and His Friends,”
- | is affectionately dedicated by
- |
- | The Author.
- |
- | Washington, D. C.
-
-.. clearpage::
-
-.. contents:: Contents
- :depth: 1
-
-.. clearpage::
-
-CHAPTER I—THE EBONY BOX
-=======================
-
-One evening many years ago a man, accompanied
-by a girl and a boy, was passing slowly
-along one of the streets of Baltimore that led to
-an orphan asylum.
-
-He was above medium height, and although
-past thirty, was youthful, almost boyish in appearance,
-with his fair complexion, blonde hair and
-slight moustache; a handsome man save for the
-pallor and attenuation of his clear-cut features
-and the look of hopeless grief in his fine eyes.
-
-His left hand, white and shapely, held that of
-the little boy who was chatting merrily, and in
-his right was a package—of which, though bulky,
-he appeared as oblivious as though his hand were
-empty.
-
-Beside him walked the girl, whose watchful interest
-in the package betokened ownership, though
-intrusted for a time to another’s care, but for the
-safety of which she was responsible.
-
-She had the clear olive complexion, black hair
-and the brilliant black eyes of the boy, but unlike
-him, was thin and almost as pallid as the man.
-But there was no lassitude in her movements; instead
-they were full of energy, and her meagre
-face, while intelligent and attractive, lacked repose
-and the promise of patient endurance of life’s
-trials and disappointments.
-
-“We never were on this street before,” she commented,
-after walking several squares in silence.
-“Where are we going; tell me?”
-
-There was no response, and she continued,
-“Does mamma know that you are taking Horace
-and me away from her? Why don’t you talk?”
-
-A sigh, almost a groan, escaped the lips of the
-man, and he whispered some words which the
-children did not understand.
-
-An angry flush arose to the girl’s face, and her
-eyes sparkled with the tears that filled them.
-
-“I won’t go one step further unless you tell me
-where we are going,” she said, halting and stamping
-her foot impatiently.
-
-The man seemed to rouse from his abstraction
-with effort, and in a voice scarcely audible to the
-eager listener, replied, “We are going where you
-will see many children, where you will have
-enough to eat, a comfortable bed and good clothes;
-you will have a much better home than the one
-you are leaving.”
-
-“But I have good clothes now and pretty ones,”
-and she looked with an air of satisfaction upon
-the package. “Will mamma come?”
-
-The man trembled with suppressed emotion,
-which was noticed by the boy, who looked up into
-his face and waited for the answer.
-
-“Your mother will be given a home where she
-will suffer no more sorrow nor distress of body or
-mind,” he answered, and again relapsed into silence
-until they reached the asylum, were admitted
-and stood in the presence of the matron.
-
-“Have you brought these children for admission?”
-she asked.
-
-The man nodded; he could not summon voice
-to speak.
-
-“Where is your permit?”
-
-For answer he turned as quickly as his weakness
-would allow, placed the package upon a chair
-and left the building.
-
-“Well, this is a strange proceeding, I must say,”
-commented the matron, looking from the window
-at the retreating figure passing down the walk with
-uncertain steps. “Is that man your father?”
-
-Something in the tone and manner aroused the
-quick temper of the girl and she refused to answer,
-and silenced the boy by a look when appeal
-was made to him.
-
-“What is your name?” continued the matron,
-turning again to her.
-
-“Jerusha Flint.”
-
-“How old are you?”
-
-“Ten last June.”
-
-“Is the boy your brother?”
-
-“Yes.”
-
-“What is his name and age?”
-
-“Horace Flint, and six years.”
-
-“Where is your mother?” was next asked.
-
-“At home, sick.”
-
-“Who sent you here?”
-
-“Nobody; we came to have a good home and
-plenty to eat. I have pretty clothes in there; I
-helped mamma make them,” and she nodded complacently
-toward the package on the chair.
-
-“You helped indeed,” smiled the matron, glancing
-down at the diminutive creature before her.
-
-“I did help! I can sew!” cried Jerusha, trembling
-with anger and weakness; “mamma taught
-me, and says I sew well for a child. See, here
-is my thimble,” and she took it from her pocket
-and placed it upon her thin finger.
-
-“Yes, for a child; we do not expect much from
-a girl of ten. Let me see your clothes.”
-
-This request brought a gratified smile to the
-grave lips of the little girl; she untied the package
-with deft fingers and took from it a pink cashmere
-gown, soft and fine in texture, made in the latest
-style and with artistic skill.
-
-“Who gave you this lovely dress, child?”
-
-“Mamma, I told you. We made it out of one
-she wore at boarding-school, and this, and this,”
-and she took up one of dark blue cashmere, and
-one of crimson, both of the finest grade.
-
-“But, child, these beautiful dresses will be of no
-use here.”
-
-“They *will* be of use,” cried Jerusha excitedly.
-“I heard mamma say that if my grandfather
-would take me to his home I would wear pretty
-clothes like these every day.”
-
-“But you are not at your grandfather’s; you are
-in an orphan asylum, and must wear that uniform.”
-
-“What is an asylum, and what is a uniform?”
-was asked wonderingly.
-
-“Come to the school-room and I will show you,”
-and leading the way, she opened the door into a
-large room where a number of children were
-studying their lessons for the next day.
-
-“Now you see the way the girls dress here, and
-you will dress the same if you stay.”
-
-“But I will not dress that way, and I will wear
-my pretty dresses or I will not stay.”
-
-“We will see first whether you can stay,” commented
-the matron coldly. “In the meantime you
-will remain in this room and listen to the children
-during the half hour they study, then you can go
-with them to the playground,” and she signalled
-to one of the teachers to give the newcomer a
-place.
-
-That place was beside Diana Strong, an orphan
-a few years older than Jerusha, and tall for her
-age. She had flaxen hair, pale blue eyes, a
-sallow complexion and a long upper lip, which,
-however, did not conceal the large front teeth.
-But withal, there was an expression in her plain
-face of such genuine kindness and sympathy for
-everybody and everything that all felt comfortable
-in her presence.
-
-The matron had in the meantime returned to
-the reception-room and conducted Horace to the
-boys’ department of the institution where, in a
-short time, he was as much at home as if he had
-known no other.
-
-Investigations made the next day by the managers
-gave, after strict research, confirmation that
-Jerusha Flint and her brother were really objects
-of charity. The mother had died a few days after
-the little family of four had taken possession of
-a miserable home, the children had been taken
-away by someone, and the place was tenantless.
-That was all the neighbors knew of the matter, so
-nothing was left to do, even if otherwise desired,
-but to keep them in the asylum.
-
-A few evenings after this conclusion was
-reached, the matron, in her quiet, comfortable
-room, was about to enjoy her evening meal after
-the labors of the day.
-
-The children of all ages and sizes were in their
-white-robed beds after their simple supper of bread
-and milk, and were sleeping perhaps more sweetly
-than if in more luxurious homes.
-
-A tap upon the door was followed by the entrance
-of an old friend, a trained nurse from one
-of the city hospitals, who was cordially invited to
-break bread with the hostess.
-
-“I will,” she assented, “but first I must tell you
-of this,” and she took from its wrappings an
-ebony box of curious workmanship, inlaid with
-pearl, beautiful in design and finish.
-
-“Where did you get it?” asked the matron, taking
-it in her hand.
-
-“It was put in my care by a patient at the hospital
-who said he had brought a girl here named
-Jerusha Flint, and her brother Horace. He asked
-me to bring it to you to keep safely and give it to
-Jerusha when she is sixteen. He said she had
-often been shown by her mother how to open it,
-and would remember how it is done; you see it
-has no key.”
-
-“Did he say that he is the father of these children?”
-
-“No. I have told you all that he said; for he
-became delirious, and although he talked to himself
-in a low tone or a whisper, there was nothing connected
-enough to let us know who he is. All I can
-say is that with his blonde hair, deep blue eyes and
-tinge of color in his face, now that he has fever,
-he is as handsome as a picture.”
-
-“I wonder how long he will remain in the hospital?”
-
-“Until he is carried out, if I am not greatly mistaken.
-He has brain fever, his system is completely
-run down and the doctors say that he has suffered
-a severe nervous shock. There is no hope whatever
-of his recovery.”
-
-“Has he no friends, I wonder?”
-
-“No one has called to see him. The doctor found
-a letter in his pocket, addressed and sealed, but not
-stamped. He asked me to write to the gentleman
-whose name and address was upon it, and inform
-him that a man who had taken two children named
-Flint to an orphan asylum was lying at the hospital
-dangerously ill. I did so, enclosing the letter, but
-there was no reply to either.”
-
-“In his delirious talk does he say nothing of his
-past life?”
-
-“Yes, he rambles on about an elopement, and of
-disobedience to parents, and of the regret and misery
-which was its punishment, and of his bringing
-someone to poverty, and of a long, weary walk, and
-of a terrible fright, and of a key, which is, I suppose
-the one we found in his pocket; but he whispers
-most of the time, and we cannot understand
-him.”
-
-The matron unlocked a drawer in her desk,
-placed the box within, locked it, and then the two
-sat down to the tea, toast and other edibles which
-the maid placed upon the table.
-
-“Do these Flint children fret much for their parents?”
-asked the guest, as she sipped her tea.
-
-“The boy is a cheery little soul, and has never
-shed a tear; and I do not believe that the girl
-grieves for them, although she has long spells of
-crying in some corner away from the other children.
-Once Diana Strong put her arm around her and
-asked why she wept, and received a slap in the face,
-and an angry request to attend to her own affairs.”
-
-“Is Diana the girl who is intending to be a
-trained nurse?”
-
-“Yes, and if ever one was born to that calling
-Diana is that one. She is gentle, patient, quiet,
-watchful, can do with little sleep and is never happier
-than when in the sick-room of the asylum waiting
-upon someone that is ailing.”
-
-“When will she begin her training?”
-
-“When she is fourteen. As you know, the children
-here do nearly all the work of the institution,
-and in this way, beside getting a good common
-education, they learn housework, cooking and sewing.
-If the girls and boys show aptitude for any special
-trade or occupation, they can leave the asylum at
-the age of fourteen to learn it; the boys returning
-here as their home until they are eighteen, and the
-girls until they are twenty. That little Jerusha will,
-I am sure, wish to learn dressmaking.”
-
-“Is she fond of sewing?”
-
-“Yes, and I never saw a child so adept with the
-needle. The sewing teacher says she is a wonder.
-She is fond of dress and has several beautiful
-gowns which she says were made over for her by
-her mother. Why she made three for a growing
-girl is more than I can understand; it was a waste
-of beautiful material; one at a time would have
-been sufficient. They fit her to perfection; but the
-clothes of the boy, while beautifully made, are ill-fitting
-and of coarse material.”
-
-“Was Jerusha willing to wear the uniform?”
-
-“No; she refused to put it on and acted so about
-it that she was not allowed to go out with the other
-children upon their daily walk. Moreover, some
-of the older ones have told her that only poor children
-are here and she is ashamed of being with
-them, but I earnestly hope she will outgrow the
-feeling.”
-
-In this she was mistaken. Jerusha did not outgrow
-it; instead, the thought grew more intolerable
-with every passing year. She shrank from the
-sight of visitors, and refused to act as guide through
-the great building, a duty which most of the orphans
-considered a privilege and pleasure.
-
-She formed an attachment for no one under the
-roof, and saw Diana Strong depart for three years’
-training in the hospital without one word or sign
-of regret—Diana who had always stood her friend,
-when through her violent temper and insubordination
-she was in difficulty with the matron or her assistants.
-
-Jerusha had inherited the haughty, imperious disposition
-of her mother, her mother’s father, and her
-mother’s grandfather, who, owing to an ebullition
-of temper, was forced to flee from his native country
-and seek refuge in America.
-
-She, like her maternal ancestors, was impetuous
-and irritable, resentful and unforgiving; therefore
-it was a foregone conclusion that in her journey
-through the world she would be held aloof by those
-who might have been her friends, and her coldness,
-want of affection and above all, her pride, kept her
-aloof from those with whom she was compelled to
-mingle. “Love thy neighbor as thyself,” was a
-creed which she did not assimilate.
-
-Horace was as different as if of another race.
-He had inherited the easy-going nature of his father,
-who had been the petted and only son in a luxurious
-home. Therefore the asylum and everything
-connected with it was, in his opinion, all that was
-required to keep one happy and contented.
-
-He considered it so superior to the home they
-had left that he wondered at Jerusha’s dissatisfaction,
-while she in turn was angry at his want of
-pride and ambition. The large playground in fair
-weather and the basement playroom when it
-stormed were the dearest spots on earth to him.
-He had plenty of playfellows, something never before
-enjoyed, for his mother refused emphatically
-to allow him to play with any children in the poor
-neighborhoods where they were compelled to live;
-all he knew of them was what he could see from a
-window.
-
-Years passed, and Jerusha looked forward
-with impatience to the time when she could be self-supporting
-and thus leave the asylum, and on the
-day that she was fourteen she engaged herself as
-apprentice to a fashionable modiste.
-
-Her employer was more than pleased with her
-skill, for even at that early age she could be trusted
-to work without oversight, and resented any that
-was not strictly necessary.
-
-She was glad when Horace was at last old
-enough to leave the asylum to learn the trade of
-carpenter and locksmith, and they never met during
-his apprenticeship that she did not urge him to be
-diligent in learning all that was possible that he,
-too, might be self-supporting and they could have a
-home together.
-
-There were two subjects which all who were acquainted
-with Jerusha found it wise not to touch
-upon if not wishing to have a scathing retort from
-her satirical tongue.
-
-One of these subjects was her early home and
-parentage, and the other the asylum which had
-fostered her helpless childhood, the home of which
-she grew more and more ashamed as time passed on.
-She never spoke of it of her own free will, and
-dreaded Saturday evening when she must go there
-to remain until Monday morning.
-
-It was during one of these visits that her sixteenth
-birthday dawned, and the matron gave her
-the little ebony work-box.
-
-Jerusha received it without betraying the least
-surprise and restrained her impatience to open it
-until she could be alone, and the matron was never
-rewarded for her care of it by being told what it
-contained. She did see, however, in the increased
-haughtiness and arrogance of Jerusha the influence
-exercised by its contents and wondered again and
-again what it held, which induced her to keep herself
-more than ever aloof from her and from every
-inmate of the asylum.
-
-To Jerusha’s deep chagrin the ebony box held no
-money or valuables as she had hoped and expected
-from the moment it was put in her hands. It held
-neither more nor less than three letters, one of
-them written by Mrs. Flint to her father, and returned
-to her enclosed in his reply. The third letter
-was addressed to Jerusha, and was written by
-Mrs. Flint, telling her “poor, motherless little
-daughter, Jerusha,” of her ancestry on both sides
-of the house.
-
-In this letter Jerusha was instructed to forward
-the other two letters to her grandfather at the address
-given, providing the time ever came that she
-desired to do so.
-
-Dating from the perusal of these epistles, Jerusha
-refused to remain with the dressmaker, but making
-of necessity a home of the asylum, she commenced
-business for herself, finding no difficulty in
-obtaining patrons, some of them being the best customers
-of her former employer.
-
-These ladies, appreciating her skill, solicited her
-oversight of their toilets, and she went from one
-aristocratic home to another, where her word was
-law in regard to costumes.
-
-Being recommended by these patrons to suburban
-friends, she drifted to the village of Dorton, a few
-miles out of Baltimore.
-
-Thus while her city employers were at the seashore
-and the mountains, Jerusha was summering
-with four families in that picturesque part of Maryland,
-plying her art with untiring fidelity.
-
-Her favorite place of the four was “My Lady’s
-Manor,” the handsome villa of Mrs. Farnsworth,
-widow of Joshua Farnsworth. The next best was
-“Friedenheim,” the country-seat of the Courtneys;
-then in order came “Fair Meadow,” the fine farm of
-the Merryman family, and lastly the colonial mansion
-of Dr. Lattinger, in the village of Dorton.
-
-Jerusha was industrious, capable, prompt and energetic,
-but she was lacking in enthusiasm in regard
-to her art. Many persons with but half her ability
-had become originators of designs for costumes,
-and in time owned large establishments which gave
-employment to many helpers.
-
-Jerusha craved no prominence in that line. It
-was only the force of necessity that made her willing
-to be self-supporting through the only work
-she could do well. She was too impatient and irritable
-to teach her craft to others. She could not
-direct, nor could she endure to have about her, helpers
-for whose mistakes she would be responsible.
-She had felt herself alone all her life and expected
-to remain so.
-
-During these years Diana Strong had finished her
-training as a professional nurse and was recommended
-by the hospital physicians as one of the
-best.
-
-More than once she had charge of an invalid in
-a wealthy home where Jerusha happened to be employed;
-they took their meals at the same table,
-but the subject of former acquaintance was a tabooed
-theme with Jerusha, and Diana was too amiable
-to go counter to her wishes.
-
-Every season that Jerusha went to Dorton she
-grew more anxious to abide there, and her gaze
-rested frequently upon a deserted brown frame
-dwelling of four rooms about a mile out of the
-village. It had not been tenanted for years, and
-was fast going to decay, but Jerusha saw that a few
-dollars spent upon it would convert it into a home,
-and a home was the greatest longing of her
-heart.
-
-She mentioned the subject to Horace several
-times during his apprenticeship, but he evinced no
-enthusiasm upon the subject. He was well satisfied
-with Baltimore and his asylum acquaintances there,
-and saw no need of change.
-
-But, as was the rule where Jerusha was concerned,
-she had her way, and after Horace was free
-to go and she had secured employment for him
-through her patrons at Dorton, they took up their
-residence in the little brown house.
-
-Jerusha had bargained that they should have it
-rent free for three years providing they made all
-necessary repairs. To this the owner agreed, and
-also to allow them for a nominal rent the large plot
-of ground back of it for a garden. At all leisure
-times the saw and hammer of Horace could be
-heard, paint and lime were not spared, and flowers
-sprang up at the touch of Jerusha, who at last had
-a home of her own.
-
-The short distance from it to the railway station,
-and the few miles of car ride to the city enabled
-them to have employment at both ends of the line,
-and if there was ever a moment in Jerusha’s life
-when she could consider herself contented, it was
-when after each day’s absence she came in sight of
-the brown dwelling.
-
-Seasons had come and gone, and Jerusha, who
-never before had known attachment to person or
-place, was one evening sitting with Horace on the
-moon-lighted porch, after a busy day in the city.
-She was discussing further improvements, the only
-subject which was of interest to both, but to which
-Horace that evening lent but an absent-minded attention.
-
-“Jerusha,” he said, as he arose to retire, “I am to
-be married to-morrow to one who was in the orphan
-asylum with us. Her name, as you will remember,
-is now Jennie Strong, and she is the widow
-of Diana Strong’s brother. I shall bring her here.”
-
-He closed the door and Jerusha was alone with
-her astonishment and her anger.
-
-CHAPTER II—HILDA’S AUNT ASHLEY
-==============================
-
-Miss Jerusha Flint was not the only one who appreciated
-the home of Dr. and Mrs. Lattinger, in
-Dorton. Not only the villagers, but people of the
-surrounding neighborhood had a warm feeling for
-the genial and hospitable residents of the old colonial
-mansion, which had been for generations in the
-family of Mrs. Lattinger, and where she had lived
-all her life. The Lattingers had also frequent visitors
-from Baltimore, where the doctor had spent
-the early years of his practice, some of them being
-former patients who came out for the day for
-change of air and scene.
-
-One pleasant morning in June, Dr. Lattinger had
-the unexpected pleasure of a visit from a former
-college chum, a lawyer who had a short time before
-bought one of the pretty suburban homes, and, as
-was the doctor’s custom, he took him upon his round
-among his patients.
-
-“Yes, doctor,” commented the visitor, when about
-noon they were returning to the village, on the same
-drive upon which they had set out, but in an opposite
-direction, “you are correct in your opinion
-of this region of country; it is prosperous and beautiful.
-There are so many picturesque spots. For
-instance that cottage nearly covered with ivy, which
-we are about to pass, is a picture in itself.”
-
-“Yes, it is the home of an artist, Norman Ashley,
-who, with his wife, came here from Baltimore that
-he might have natural scenery for his pictures.
-They are handsome young people and live an ideal
-life.”
-
-“That lovely little girl amid the roses on the
-lawn is, I suppose, their daughter.”
-
-“No, she is Hilda Brinsfield, the orphan niece of
-Mr. Ashley.”
-
-“Hilda Brinsfield!” echoed the gentleman in surprise.
-“My wife and I were wondering only yesterday
-what became of that sweet child after the death
-of her lovely young mother.”
-
-“Then you are acquainted with her parents?”
-said Dr. Lattinger with interest.
-
-“Only for the little time I have lived in my present
-home. Her father, Rev. Freeman Brinsfield,
-was pastor of our village church, his first charge. I
-heard incidentally that his means had been exhausted
-in his college and theological course, and he was
-very grateful for the call. My friend also added
-that he came of a long line of ministers, one or
-more of them being pioneer missionaries. Little
-Hilda is a child of prayer and has the promise of
-being cared for.”
-
-“She certainly has a happy home with the Ashleys,
-who come as near idolizing her as Christian
-people will allow themselves to worship anything
-earthly. The three pass most of this beautiful June
-weather in the open, Mr. Ashley taking his artist
-equipments, Mrs. Ashley a book and a basket of
-luncheon, and Hilda her doll and toys, and in the
-shady woods or blossoming orchard they encamp.”
-
-“Truly an ideal life; and now tell me who lives
-in that handsome villa just above it, but on the
-opposite side of the road?”
-
-“That is the residence of Miss Anna Ashburton,
-and is called ‘My Lady’s Manor,’ for as you probably
-know, most country homes in ‘Maryland, My
-Maryland’ have names, generally pretty well adapted
-to their appearance. It was left to her by a
-widow—Mrs. Joshua Farnsworth—who died a few
-months ago. They were not the least related, but
-loved each other as mother and daughter.”
-
-“Had Mrs. Joshua Farnsworth no relatives to
-whom she could leave her property, or who would
-contend for it?”
-
-“No, her only near relative—her sister—the widow
-of the late Judge Lacy, of Springfield, Ohio,
-is wealthy, has no children, and has no need of what
-Mrs. Farnsworth gave to her foster daughter.”
-
-“Miss Anna is elderly, I presume?”
-
-“No, scarcely eighteen, is amiable and attractive,
-finely educated, a musician and artist; an orphan
-without a relative in the world, so far as is known.”
-
-“But she does not live alone in that great mansion?”
-
-“Yes, with the exception of a middle-aged woman—Miss
-Jerusha Flint—who lived with her brother,
-Horace, and his family in the brown cottage
-we passed this morning, about a mile beyond the
-other end of the village, and who was more than
-gratified when Miss Anna invited her to make her
-home at ‘My Lady’s Manor.’”
-
-“They must live a lonely life there.”
-
-“Not at all. Miss Anna is much beloved, and
-has many visitors, not only from the neighborhood,
-but from Baltimore. Moreover, the servants, who
-have known and loved her from babyhood, have
-their comfortable quarters back of the mansion, and
-as Miss Anna’s library and sleeping-room windows
-look directly down upon the doors of their cabins,
-Lois, Phebe and Judy are at all hours of the day
-and night within call.”
-
-“It is not likely that Miss Anna, being young and
-attractive, will remain long unmarried.”
-
-“If the opinion of the neighborhood be correct,
-she will in the near future bestow her hand and
-heart upon Mr. Valentine Courtney—the brother-in-law
-of our good pastor Rev. Carl Courtney, of
-‘Friedenheim,’ the old homestead of the Courtneys.
-He is a lawyer, has his office in Baltimore, but
-makes his home at ‘Friedenheim.’ He is one of the
-most useful and liberal members of his brother-in-law’s
-church, and is in every respect an estimable
-young man.”
-
-“You say ‘brother-in-law’—and yet the Rev. Carl
-is a Courtney.”
-
-“Yes, he is a distant relative of his wife, and of
-her brother, Valentine, and his home from childhood
-has been at ‘Friedenheim,’ which was inherited
-by Mrs. Courtney.”
-
-“That walk upon the roof of Miss Anna’s villa
-must give a fine view of the surrounding country.”
-
-“Fine indeed, and it has a history, and a mystery.
-About twenty-five years ago, Mr. Joshua Farnsworth
-died there, it is believed, by an unknown
-hand.”
-
-“In what manner?” asked his visitor, full of interest.
-
-“As I was informed by my wife and others of
-the residents of the neighborhood, Mr. Farnsworth,
-who was in his usual excellent health the evening
-of his death, had gone to the village postoffice, and
-while perusing a letter just received, a hand was
-laid upon his shoulder by a stranger, who said in
-a low tone, ‘Joshua!’
-
-“Mr. Farnsworth turned very pale, the two went
-out, and walked to ‘My Lady’s Manor,’ talking earnestly.
-Later in the evening they were seen upon
-the roof, seated upon the bench that lines the ironwork
-balustrade, still engaged in earnest conversation,
-and a few hours after, the villagers were
-shocked to hear that Mr. Farnsworth was found
-there, dead, and the stranger gone, no one knew
-when nor where.”
-
-“But was there no investigation as to the cause
-of his death?”
-
-“Yes, and the verdict at the inquest was death
-from heart failure; but those who witnessed the
-meeting at the postoffice, and the villagers who saw
-them on the walk upon the roof believe that the
-stranger took his life.”
-
-“And you say that no one knew how and when
-the stranger left the place?”
-
-“No. Judge and Mrs. Lacy were visiting there
-at the time. They and Mrs. Farnsworth had retired,
-as had the servants, all the doors and windows
-were locked for the night and the shutters closed;
-and thus they were found when about midnight
-search was made for Mr. Farnsworth. Not a footfall
-had been heard, or sound of any kind giving
-token of the departure of the stranger. It was, and
-has remained a mystery.”
-
-An elegant suburban home indeed was “My
-Lady’s Manor”—a three-storied granite building,
-light gray in color, with sea-green cornice and shutters
-and partly screened by maple trees from the
-road leading to Dorton.
-
-From the walk upon the roof could be had a
-charming view of woodlands, meadows, farmhouses,
-country-seats, mill properties, the creek that flowed
-past them, and villages; among them Dorton, with
-its one church spire.
-
-In the distance Baltimore’s monuments were
-clearly discernible, the harbor with its forest of
-masts, the Patapsco flecked with sails, Federal Hill
-and Fort McHenry; all uniting in a varied and attractive
-landscape.
-
-Yes, “My Lady’s Manor” was one of the choice
-places of the neighborhood, and Jerusha Flint felt
-it a pleasant change to be the respected companion
-of its young lady owner, and, having given up her
-despised occupation, was blooming into youth and
-beauty in the sunlight of a happy home.
-
-Among Anna’s many acquaintances there was no
-one whose friendship she prized more than that of
-Mrs. Ashley. They were congenial in every way,
-save that Mrs. Ashley, though but a few months
-older, cared but little for society, where she would
-have been such an ornament with her fine presence,
-deep blue eyes, wealth of auburn hair and a complexion
-of matchless fairness. The company of her
-husband, Hilda and Anna was all she solicited, and
-had but a speaking acquaintance with the people of
-Dorton and its neighborhood, making no calls except
-to “My Lady’s Manor” and “Friedenheim.”
-
-The Civil War was darkening the land, and Norman
-Ashley laid aside palette and brush to join in
-the struggle between the blue and the gray.
-
-He was not willing to leave his wife and Hilda
-in the cottage without a caretaker, and as Providence
-willed it, Diana Strong was indulging in a
-respite from hospital work in the home of Mrs.
-Horace Flint and was willing to assume the light
-duty of housekeeper at the Ashley cottage.
-
-Jerusha Flint was the negotiator in the affair, and
-as she generally carried to a successful issue whatever
-she undertook, Diana was duly installed and
-Mr. Ashley went to join his regiment with the comforting
-thought that his little family was in good
-hands.
-
-This separation was a terrible trial to the young
-husband and wife, and Anna Ashburton was Mrs.
-Ashley’s faithful friend and comforter. She had
-also great affection for Hilda and would have her
-for hours at a time at the villa, to the secret displeasure
-of Jerusha, who had no love for any child,
-much less for one connected in any way with Mrs.
-Ashley, looked upon by Miss Flint as proud, cold
-and self-sufficient.
-
-Moreover, that grim tyrant, jealousy, had taken
-possession of Jerusha, assuring her that it was a
-blessed relief to the cultivated intellect of Anna
-Ashburton to exchange for a time her dull companionship
-for that of the cultured and accomplished
-Mrs. Ashley.
-
-The first time that Anna made an engagement
-with Mrs. Ashley to gather wood flowers, she invited
-Miss Flint to accompany them, but her courtesy
-was rewarded by a haughty refusal and a scornful
-flash of the black eyes.
-
-Anna knew that this was not intended for her,
-but for the waiting Mrs. Ashley down at the cottage,
-who knew nothing of Jerusha’s feeling in
-regard to her, nor did Anna think it kindness to
-enlighten her.
-
-On her part, Jerusha considered that in view of
-the information contained in her mother’s letter in
-the ebony box, she had a better right to be proud
-than had Mrs. Ashley, and therefore would not
-take a step out of her way to be in her company.
-
-“Where did you first meet Mr. Ashley?” Anna
-asked one summer afternoon while they were arranging
-flowers under the shade of an oak tree,
-while Hilda, who always accompanied them, was
-busy gathering more.
-
-“In a hail-storm in Ohio. Shall I tell you of it?”
-she asked.
-
-“Yes,” replied Anna gleefully, “the beginning being
-so romantic, it cannot fail in interest.”
-
-“Yes, a little romance and a great trial; for it
-has partly estranged me from my sister and her
-husband—Dr. Cyril Warfield—with whom I made
-my home after the death of our parents.
-
-“The estrangement is more my fault than theirs.
-I should not have treated them with coldness and
-reserve in return for their lightly expressed opposition
-to my marriage,” and her beautiful eyes filled
-with tears.
-
-“I should not have mentioned the subject; please
-do not continue it if it distresses you,” pleaded
-Anna, her eyes filling in sympathy.
-
-“I am glad you mentioned it. I have wished to
-tell you of myself, but never felt sufficiently acquainted
-until this summer, and you cannot realize
-what your companionship has been to me since my
-husband left for the battlefield.
-
-“While our parents lived, they, with their three
-children—Sarah, Herbert and I—resided in our old
-homestead in Ohio, near the village of Woodmont,
-a few miles from Springfield.
-
-“Papa had intrusted the property for his children
-to the hands of friends in whom he had confidence;
-but through their failure we lost heavily, and when
-the estate was closed there was but a remnant left
-of what he intended for us.
-
-“When Sarah, who is ten years older than I,
-married Cyril, she went with him to the Warfield
-homestead which adjoined our place, and there they
-have lived happily. But Cyril is in feeble health and
-Sarah is very anxious, fearing he will never be better.
-
-“Herbert, with his share, bought the store of a
-merchant in Woodmont and Sarah and Cyril took
-me to their home where I was treated as tenderly
-as are their two boys, Paul and Fred.
-
-“One afternoon in June I had driven to the village
-postoffice and was returning as quickly as possible,
-for the appearance of the clouds betokened a
-storm. I had passed a turn in the road when rain
-came down in torrents, then hail fell fast, the wind
-blowing it in my face, stunning and nearly blinding
-me.
-
-“The terrified pony ran. Then as the hail storm
-increased in violence, she crouched down and I was
-about to spring from the carriage when a hand restrained me.
-
-“‘You are safer there,’ said Mr. Ashley, for it was
-he who spread the carriage robe over the pony and
-encouraged her to rise; then he stepped into the carriage,
-took the lines from my trembling hands, and,
-turning about, drove to the shelter of a large tree.
-It was all the work of a moment, and he had scarcely
-glanced at me until I spoke, thanking him for his
-assistance.
-
-“‘The storm will soon be over,’ he remarked in
-response. ‘Will you allow me to see you safely
-home? My name is Norman Ashley and my home
-is in a village near Baltimore with my widowed sister,
-Mrs. Brinsfield. I am an artist and, with several
-of my fellow-artists, am traveling upon a
-sketching tour. They have gone further west, I remaining
-in Woodmont, having found some picturesque
-views for sketching and putting later upon
-canvas.’
-
-“‘I do not wish to keep you so long in damp
-clothing,’ I said.
-
-“‘Oh, we tramps do not mind such trifles,’ he
-replied lightly, and as soon as the hail ceased falling
-we sped home.
-
-“My sister and brother-in-law had been terribly
-anxious and were rejoiced to see me unhurt. They
-welcomed Mr. Ashley cordially, invited him to dine
-with us the following day, and then Cyril’s farmer,
-Ben Duvall, took him in the phaeton to Woodmont.”
-
-“He came next day, I am sure,” smiled Anna.
-
-“Yes, and the next and the next; and Dr. Warfield
-and every member of the family enjoyed his
-genial society. He brought his sketch book, and
-every day that Cyril had leisure he took him to the
-prettiest spots in the neighborhood, and at other
-times Paul, Fred and I accompanied him in woodland
-rambles and watched in surprise the quickness
-and accuracy with which the scenes were sketched.
-
-“His companions returned from their tour and
-his stay in Woodmont was ended; and the morning
-he called to say good-bye he presented sister
-Sarah with a fine oil painting from one of the
-sketches she had admired.
-
-“He asked to correspond with me and letters
-passed between us for more than a year. Through
-the meeting in Springfield of a former classmate, a
-resident of Baltimore, Cyril learned that Mr. Ashley
-was a consistent church member, a Sabbath
-school teacher and in every way an estimable young
-man. Therefore the only objection that he and
-sister Sarah made to our marriage lay in what Mr.
-Ashley had considered it his duty to tell them, and
-me, that his only means of maintenance was in the
-sale of his paintings, and they feared that it was
-an uncertain dependence.
-
-“The following autumn we were married and he
-brought me to his sister’s home near Baltimore.
-She was the widow of a young minister and the
-mother of our loved Hilda. She was in frail health,
-but lingered until spring, and oh, Anna, during that
-winter I learned how a Christian can meet death.
-She had not reached her twenty-fifth year and her
-callers from the city were principally her former
-classmates, her church, Sabbath school, music and
-art associates, and not one, I am sure, visited her
-without being impressed and benefited by the sweet
-serenity of her manner and the almost angelic expression
-upon her lovely features. She was an embodiment
-of gratitude to God who had answered
-her prayers, that her life might be spared until her
-brother married, and that his wife would be one
-who would be willing to take her only child, her
-beloved Hilda, and one to whom she would intrust
-her. She blessed me with tears of joy that I proved
-to be that one. She gave Hilda to me and I accepted
-the charge, promising to do the same by her
-that I would were she my own child.
-
-“One sweet morning in May she was called to
-come up higher, and a week or so later we left the
-city and came to the cottage.”
-
-“Thank you for telling me of yourself and those
-near to you,” said Anna. “I feel that you and
-Hilda are dearer to me than ever, and I have interest
-in your sister, Mrs. Warfield, and her family.
-Does she resemble you?”
-
-“Yes, the description of one would answer for
-both so far as appearance is concerned, but Sarah
-is more practical than I; a noble, energetic, useful
-woman; one to depend upon in every circumstance
-in life and at the same time a loving wife, mother
-and sister.”
-
-“There comes Mr. Merryman’s errand boy, Perry,”
-said Anna, as the boy came whistling across
-the field on his way to “Fair Meadow” from Dorton.
-“He has a letter; perhaps it is for one of us,
-as he has come a little out of his way,” and both
-arose as he came near.
-
-“The postmaster gave me a letter for you, Mrs.
-Ashley,” he said. “It has a black border and he
-thought it might be one that you should have as
-quickly as possible. I called at your house but you
-were not in and I left it with Miss Diana Strong.
-Was that right?”
-
-“Perfectly right, Perry, and I thank you for your
-kindness,” and the boy passed on with the mail for
-the “Fair Meadow” home, whistling and halting
-occasionally to pluck a flower.
-
-“Oh, Anna,” said Mrs. Ashley anxiously, “I am
-afraid that letter brings sad news of Dr. Warfield.
-Will you stop with me and see?”
-
-“Willingly; and I sincerely hope that your fears
-will not be realized.”
-
-The two ladies, followed by Hilda, hurried
-through the meadow and up the road to the cottage,
-where Anna listened to the reading of the missive
-which gave the intelligence that Mrs. Warfield was
-a widow and Paul and Fred fatherless.
-
-Mrs. Ashley’s tears fell fast in sympathy for her
-sister’s bereavement, and Anna wept with her and
-stayed for a time to give what comfort was in her
-power.
-
-“I will write to Sarah this evening,” said Mrs.
-Ashley, when Anna arose to go home; “I wish I
-had written oftener and less reservedly while Cyril
-lived. He was always kind to me and never knew
-how much I appreciated his goodness. Oh, Anna,
-will we never learn to be tender and considerate
-with our fellow pilgrims? We never appreciate
-them as we should until they are gone; or if we do
-we never let them know it.”
-
-CHAPTER III—“MY LADY’S MANOR” AND ITS MYSTERY
-=============================================
-
-During that one beautiful summer Anna Ashburton
-remained in her childhood’s home and scarcely
-a day passed that she and Mrs. Ashley did not
-see each other or have an exchange of messages.
-
-But one morning a lawyer from Baltimore visited
-“My Lady’s Manor” on behalf of a client in California—Mr.
-Reginald Farnsworth—who could
-prove beyond doubt that he was the legal owner
-of the property, being the only son and heir of
-Joshua Farnsworth by a former marriage.
-
-In vain Anna protested that she had never heard
-of a former marriage; in vain the Courtneys, the
-Merrymans, the Lattingers and other families who
-had known the Farnsworths and whom Anna summoned
-to her assistance, affirmed the same. The
-lawyer produced a marriage certificate and letters,
-which even their unwilling eyes could see were
-genuine. The signatures—“Joshua Farnsworth,”
-were fac-similes of those in the foster father’s letters
-to her foster mother, kept by Anna with reverent care.
-
-To add to the proof already given, he brought
-with him an old San Francisco newspaper in which
-was a notice of the death of the wife of Joshua
-Farnsworth, of that city, aged twenty-one years,
-leaving an infant son, Reginald.
-
-The conference ended for the time by the lawyer
-giving Anna a letter from his client in which he explained
-his reason for the delay in putting in his
-claim for the property. He wrote that he was but
-an infant when his father, Joshua Farnsworth, left
-San Francisco; and it was not until he was almost
-grown to manhood that he became anxious to know
-if he was yet among the living. He had made all
-inquiry and had advertised, but could gain no information,
-and for years had given up the search. But
-recently he had obtained the certain information
-that his father had been the owner of “My Lady’s
-Manor,” and he, Reginald Farnsworth, being the
-only child and heir, now claimed it according to
-law, his stepmother having only a life estate in it,
-not having the right to give it to anyone.
-
-He added that his wife had long wished to be
-nearer her mother, who resided in Philadelphia.
-Now the way was opened, and he requested Miss
-Ashburton to vacate the premises as early as convenient.
-
-“How did he learn all this?” asked Anna, as she
-finished the letter.
-
-“From me, and I obtained it incidentally from a
-lawyer associate who had never heard me speak of
-Mr. Farnsworth, therefore was unaware of my
-knowing anyone of that name. He had visited a
-physician of your village and was told the incidents
-connected with this place. I wrote immediately to
-Mr. Reginald Farnsworth and he in turn put the
-case in my hands. I searched the land records of
-Maryland and found that Joshua Farnsworth, of
-San Francisco, had purchased a tract known as ‘My
-Lady’s Manor,’ the date corresponding exactly with
-the year of his leaving California.”
-
-Anna Ashburton possessed a sense of honor above
-wishing to retain what belonged to another, and
-with bitter tears left “My Lady’s Manor” to go to
-Mrs. Lacy in Springfield, and Jerusha returned to
-the brown cottage and her occupation, and if she
-grieved over the change her proud nature gave no
-sign.
-
-Mr. Reginald Farnsworth, apparently unconcerned
-as to Anna’s future, took possession of “My
-Lady’s Manor” with its spacious grounds, woodland,
-meadows and orchards, having three experienced
-men to cultivate it and three as efficient house
-servants as could have been found in Maryland.
-
-But his conscience troubled him. He had allowed
-greed to influence him in depriving the defenceless
-girl of the home which had been given her in the
-belief that there was no other heir, and he had not
-the excuse of straitened circumstances to warrant
-the action.
-
-One evening he had been directing the cutting
-down of several fine maples which obstructed a
-favorite view. They had been planted by his father
-to shade a spring of clear, cool water, and, being
-prized by her foster mother, were dear to Anna.
-
-Feeling very weary after his walk, he went to
-the library, and throwing himself upon a lounge,
-fell asleep. When he awoke the moon was shining
-brightly through the large windows, making every
-object visible.
-
-The voices of his wife and Mrs. Lattinger were
-heard from the parlor, and had almost lulled him
-again to slumber when he was conscious of a presence
-in the room. Without stirring, he opened his
-eyes, and passing him almost within touch was an
-apparently old lady, a stranger to him.
-
-She was short in stature and slender, her pale
-face shaded by gray curls, and upon her bowed head
-was a lace cap with long tabs of the same costly
-material. Her dress was of soft black silken goods,
-and a white kerchief, overlaid by one of black, was
-crossed upon her breast.
-
-Mr. Farnsworth’s first thought was that a caller
-had come to the library for a book, but seeing him
-sleeping was returning quietly without it. He was
-therefore more than surprised to see her, after gliding
-through the door, ascend swiftly the steps leading
-to the attic.
-
-He arose and followed, keeping her in view until
-she reached a distant corner of the unfurnished back
-room at the end of the dwelling, when, like a
-shadow-picture, she disappeared.
-
-Feeling bewildered, Mr. Farnsworth descended
-to his bed-room adjoining the library, bathed face
-and hands in cold water, arranged his attire, and
-then sat down to reflect.
-
-He was not superstitious, but he feared that his
-conscience-stricken feelings had influenced his brain
-and he had imagined what was not there to see.
-Believing this, he joined the ladies in the parlor.
-
-“You are not well, Reginald,” said his wife anxiously,
-“you are looking very pale; I am afraid the
-sun was too hot for you.”
-
-“My husband has had several cases of prostration
-from heat in the last few days,” remarked Mrs.
-Lattinger, “and one of the men came near losing his
-life from exposure to the sun.”
-
-“How was he affected?” asked Mr. Farnsworth.
-
-“He was at first unconscious, then delirious, imagining
-he saw weird, spectral objects, causing him
-fright and anxiety.”
-
-Mr. Farnsworth breathed more freely upon hearing this.
-It was not a figment of the brain caused
-by an uneasy conscience as he had feared, but he
-had suffered a slight sunstroke, and, believing this,
-he became more tranquil.
-
-Resolving not to expose himself to the heat of
-the sun more than necessary, he decided not to mention
-what he had seen to his wife, who was nervous,
-nor to the servants, who were superstitious.
-
-The figure he had seen corresponded in every detail
-with the description of the late Mrs. Farnsworth,
-as given that evening to his wife by Mrs.
-Lattinger, and as it was the last thing he heard before
-dropping asleep it was not surprising that in
-his drowsy condition he should imagine he saw her.
-
-“Lois,” he said one evening, halting at the door
-of her cabin, “when is the best time to plant Lima
-beans?”
-
-“When de sign is in de arms, ’kase you wants de
-vines to run up de poles and not bunch on de
-ground,” she answered promptly.
-
-“I mean the time in the month, Lois. I have no
-belief in signs.”
-
-“Culled folks is allus mighty keerful about de
-signs, and de keerfulest ones has de best gardens.”
-
-“What is the best time for beets and parsnips?”
-continued Mr. Farnsworth, who, having always
-lived in San Francisco, where he was a banker, had
-but little knowledge of horticulture.
-
-“When de sign is in de feet, kase you don’t want
-’em to spindle up and be all top, but go down in de
-ground and grow.”
-
-“Have we cucumber seed, Lois?”
-
-“Lots of ’em; ol’ misses allus let de fust big uns
-ripen for seed. Dey is in de attic, hangin’ on de
-rafters in de back room. Does yer want me to
-fotch ’em down?”
-
-“No, the ground is not ready. I will go up this
-evening and look over all the seeds.”
-
-After tea Mr. Farnsworth ascended to the attic
-and stood at one of the front windows gazing out
-over the beautiful neighborhood, the village of Dorton
-and the distant city. He then went into the
-back room where the seeds hung, each kind in its
-little sack, tied and labeled by a careful hand.
-
-The light being insufficient, he took the sacks into
-the front room, made his selections and had
-turned to put the remaining ones back upon their
-hooks when in the door-way through which he must
-pass stood the little old lady in the costume in which
-he had first seen her. A tremor seized Mr. Farnsworth,
-his heart throbbed, and his hands trembled
-so much that the sacks dropped to the floor. He
-stooped to recover them and when he arose the
-figure had disappeared.
-
-All was silent, the attic and stair-way could be
-surveyed at a glance; there was not a living thing
-to be seen.
-
-Taking all the seeds with him, he went to the
-garden, gave them to the men, and returned to the
-parlor where were his wife and two callers, Mrs.
-Courtney and Mrs. Merryman, whom he welcomed
-and then took a seat upon a sofa in a distant corner
-of the spacious parlor.
-
-“I have been overseeing my gardening,” he remarked
-languidly; “I think there is nothing more
-interesting.”
-
-“Yes, for those who understand it,” smiled Mrs.
-Courtney. “Brother Valentine oversees our garden
-and I know but little about the work of cultivating
-the different vegetables. I never tried planting anything
-except turnip seeds, and that was not a success.
-The rule given me by a facetious friend was
-to start out with half the quantity I considered
-sufficient, to fall down and spill half, then sow half
-of what remained; but with all these precautions
-the turnips were so crowded that they were not
-much larger than walnuts and it did not occur to me
-to weed some of them out and give the others a
-chance.”
-
-This incident recalled others to the ladies and
-Mr. Farnsworth was silent, pondering over the
-event of his day.
-
-The summer passed and one evening in early
-autumn Mrs. Farnsworth accompanied Mr. and
-Mrs. Merryman to a concert in the city. It being an
-hour’s drive, they were not expected back until near
-midnight, and after reading until weary, Mr. Farnsworth
-turned the lamp flame low and lay down upon
-the lounge in the library.
-
-The house was still and he slept, but was awakened
-by what appeared an ice-cold hand upon his
-forehead. Startled, he sprang to his feet. The
-little old lady, her hand raised in warning, glided
-through the door and up the stair-way.
-
-A cold moisture stood upon the forehead of Mr.
-Farnsworth. He trembled and grew faint, and it
-was with an intense sense of relief that he heard Mr.
-Merryman’s carriage stop at the gate.
-
-He hurried out to receive his wife and helped her
-to alight. The four passed a few minutes in pleasant
-conversation; Mr. and Mrs. Farnsworth thanked
-their neighbors for their courtesy and kindness, then
-the Merrymans proceeded on their short way down
-the road and up their maple-lined lane to “Fair
-Meadow.”
-
-Mr. and Mrs. Farnsworth went to the parlor
-where, in listening to an animated account of the
-concert, Mr. Farnsworth’s spirits revived, but his
-sleep that night was disturbed and he arose unrefreshed.
-
-“Mrs. Lattinger’s little girls are coming to take
-tea this evening,” remarked Mrs. Farnsworth cheerily
-at breakfast a few mornings after, “and I gave
-them permission to invite any playmates they wish
-to accompany them.”
-
-“That is all right,” replied her husband languidly.
-
-“I have thought of several ways to entertain
-them, among them to dress in my great-grandmother’s
-wedding costume.”
-
-The children came, the orchard was visited, the
-dove-cotes, the fish pond and garden had a share of
-their afternoon, then all returned to the parlor and
-Mrs. Farnsworth quietly slipped away to the attic.
-
-She had taken the ancient attire from the trunk
-when she felt a presence near her, and turning, she
-saw slowly receding toward the back room a pale
-little lady with black gown, white kerchief and
-dainty lace cap.
-
-Uttering a piercing scream, Mrs. Farnsworth fell
-to the floor in a swoon.
-
-Children and servants flocked upstairs. One ran
-for Mr. Farnsworth who, pale as the unconscious
-woman at his feet, raised her in his arms and carried
-her down to the library and placed her upon the
-lounge.
-
-One of the men-servants was sent to Dorton for
-Dr. Lattinger, while the frightened Lois, Phebe
-and Judy used the simple restoratives at command
-to revive her.
-
-“Mrs. Farnsworth has suffered a severe shock
-to her nerves,” said the doctor as she showed signs
-of consciousness. “Has she been frightened?”
-
-“I think so, but no one saw her when she fainted.”
-
-“Let all leave the room except the doctor and
-yourself, Reginald,” said the lady tremulously. “I
-wish to tell you something.”
-
-Children and servants were sent below and with
-convulsive sobs Mrs. Farnsworth told what she had
-seen to the incredulous doctor and the believing
-husband.
-
-“I will not remain here another day,” she continued,
-“I would go this very evening if I could!
-Do not let us stay in this dreadful house, dear husband;
-let us go to my mother in Philadelphia.”
-
-To her infinite relief, Mr. Farnsworth did not
-chide or attempt to reason her out of her wish. Instead,
-he assured her that they would go on the
-early train the next morning.
-
-“Do not leave me, Reginald!” she cried excitedly
-as Mr. Farnsworth was about to follow the doctor
-from the room. “I cannot stay a moment alone.”
-
-“No, dear, I will not go from the door; I am only
-waiting for the soothing drops the doctor is preparing.”
-
-“What do you think the vision was, doctor?” he
-continued in a low tone.
-
-“Only an optical illusion, caused, perhaps, by
-stooping over the trunk. But she must have change;
-take her to her mother as you promised.”
-
-The next morning husband and wife were on
-their way to Philadelphia, taking nothing but a few
-household treasures prized by Mrs. Farnsworth, and
-“My Lady’s Manor,” handsomely furnished, was
-placed for lease or rent in the hands of an agent.
-
-His advertisements spoke in glowing terms of
-the place, and applications were numerous. The
-most eligible of these was accepted and a family
-who had never lived in the country took possession,
-delighted with “My Lady’s Manor” and everything
-connected with it.
-
-In two weeks they were back in the city, declaring
-they would not take the place as a gift and be
-compelled to live there; the little old lady had paid
-them two visits and they would not wait for a
-third.
-
-“My Lady’s Manor” was again upon the market
-at reduced rent, and again a Baltimore family became
-its occupants, but remained less than a week.
-
-Mr. Reginald Farnsworth who, with his wife,
-had returned to San Francisco, notified his agent to
-make no further effort to rent the dwelling, but to
-close it and put the keys in the care of the servants,
-who were asked to remain in the quarters.
-
-“My Lady’s Manor” had now furnished the
-neighborhood with four items of discussion: “What
-caused the death of Joshua Farnsworth?” “Who
-was the stranger?” “How did he escape from the
-roof?” “Why did the spectre represent Mrs. Farnsworth
-instead of her husband?”
-
-These questions could not be answered, and the
-superstitious ones of the community avoided the
-place after nightfall and in their vocabulary it was
-spoken of as “the haunted house.”
-
-CHAPTER IV—A VISIT TO FRIEDENHEIM
-=================================
-
-Anna Ashburton’s parting with her Dorton
-friends, especially Mrs. Ashley, was a trial to her,
-but their sympathy cheered and strengthened, and
-in comparatively good spirits she set out for Springfield.
-
-She felt self-condemned that she had been reluctant
-to accept Mrs. Lacy’s offer of a home when she
-saw the genuine pleasure with which she was welcomed
-by the sister of her foster mother.
-
-The young people of Mrs. Lacy’s large circle of
-friends rejoiced that an amiable, attractive girl was
-added to their list, and the festivities at the Lacy
-mansion were a delight to all.
-
-Mr. Valentine Courtney, Mrs. Ashley and other
-intimate friends wrote to her in response to her letters,
-telling of her safe arrival and cordial reception,
-and congratulated her heartily upon having
-another mother in Mrs. Lacy and pleasant companionship
-in the young people of Springfield.
-
-They kept her apprised of all the happenings in
-Dorton and its neighborhood, told her of the grief
-of Lois, Phebe and Judy who could not speak without
-tears of the absence of their young mistress, but
-of the spectre that had frightened the superstitious
-from “My Lady’s Manor” they made no mention.
-
-Had the apparition taken any other form than
-that of Mrs. Joshua Farnsworth, they might have
-mentioned it in a spirit of jesting; as it was, no one
-in Dorton would thus wound her.
-
-She was aware that Mr. Reginald Farnsworth
-had remained but a few months at “My Lady’s
-Manor,” but had heard that his wife insisted upon
-going to Philadelphia, and from thence to California,
-her widowed mother accompanying her.
-
-That “My Lady’s Manor” was unoccupied she
-attributed to a rich man’s indifference. That the
-servants remained in their quarters was no surprise
-to her, well knowing that Mr. Farnsworth could
-find no better care-takers.
-
-It was therefore a great surprise to her when one
-day the Baltimore lawyer called to inform her that
-Mr. and Mrs. Farnsworth asked her as a favor to
-them to accept “My Lady’s Manor” as a gift.
-
-It was not until she read their letter in which
-they besought her pardon for the injustice done her,
-that she realized that the dear home of her childhood
-was restored to her, and with happy tears she
-thanked the one who brought the good news to her.
-
-Visits had been frequent between Anna and Mrs.
-Warfield during the winter and early spring, Mrs.
-Ashley being the tie that bound them in close friendship,
-and Anna lost no time in going to the farmhouse
-to impart the information that “My Lady’s
-Manor” was again in her possession; and before she
-left, it was decided that they would go to Dorton
-the following week as a surprise to their Maryland
-friends.
-
-Mrs. Warfield was as eager for this visit as was
-Anna; for Norman Ashley had fallen in battle, and
-she hoped to bring her sister and Hilda Brinsfield
-to make their home with her in the farmhouse.
-
-Mrs. Lacy had never admired Anna more than
-upon the morning she and Mrs. Warfield set out for
-Maryland. The light of happiness beamed in her
-brilliant eyes, for she was returning to her childhood’s
-home, doubly prized because once lost and
-mourned.
-
-Mr. Valentine Courtney was on a business trip
-to Europe, but she would visit his sister at “Friedenheim,”
-see the places where he had been, would
-again be with her loved Mrs. Ashley and Hilda,
-see again the Lattingers and the Merrymans, sit
-again in Dorton church, and walk again on the
-banks of the clear flowing stream, the favorite walk
-of the villagers.
-
-Mrs. Warfield had reached the station at Springfield
-and was waiting her arrival. Soon the Lacy
-carriage drew up to the spot where she stood, the
-footman opened the door, and Anna stepped out as
-radiant as a May morning.
-
-Together they entered the car, the whistle sounded,
-they were on their way, and had nearly reached
-the next halting place when there was a collision,
-then wails of mortal pain and Mrs. Warfield knew
-no more.
-
-When consciousness returned she found herself
-in the waiting-room of the depot, and near her lay
-Anna Ashburton, dying, but rational, and dictating
-to an attorney her wishes in regard to the disposal
-of her property, Mrs. Warfield and others witnessing
-her signature to the document written by him.
-
-“My Lady’s Manor” was bequeathed to her intended
-husband, Valentine Courtney, and the will
-was given in charge of Mrs. Warfield to deliver to
-Mrs. Lacy.
-
-A few hours after the bright young life was ended
-and Mrs. Warfield accompanied all that remained
-of the lovely Anna Ashburton to the sorrow-stricken
-home in Springfield.
-
-Mr. Valentine Courtney was on the eve of returning
-from London when Mrs. Lacy’s cablegram apprizing
-him of the accident reached him and as soon
-as he landed in America he went to her home. From
-her he learned the details of the calamity; of the
-will which had made him owner of “My Lady’s
-Manor,” and of the illness of Mrs. Warfield; and
-so far as Mrs. Lacy knew, no word of these things
-had reached Dorton.
-
-She was correct in this; no one there knew of the
-intended visit of Anna Ashburton, and it was left to
-Mr. Courtney to take the sad news to “Friedenheim.”
-
-Only to the Rev. Carl and Mrs. Courtney did he
-impart the information that “My Lady’s Manor”
-had been restored to Anna Ashburton, and she had
-bequeathed it to him.
-
-His reticence was not owing to any wish to keep
-it a secret, but the subject was painful to him; it
-concerned no one but himself, and even in the home
-circle was seldom mentioned. Beyond it, no one in
-the neighborhood knew that Reginald Farnsworth
-was not the owner of the property.
-
-The place had lost all interest to Valentine Courtney;
-the sight of it brought sad remembrance, and
-for that reason he took up his residence in Baltimore,
-making occasionally short visits to “Friedenheim.”
-
-The first time he came out to remain over night
-he brought with him Ralph and James Rivers, the
-sons of a deceased college friend for whom he was
-guardian.
-
-This first visit was one long to be remembered by
-the boys, everything was so new to them and enchanting;
-their journey on the train and arrival at
-Dorton Station, their walk in the glowing sunset
-across the flowery meadow to “Friedenheim,” the
-warm welcome to that beautiful home, the joyous
-greeting of Roy and Cecil, the supper of fried chicken,
-oysters, Maryland biscuits and waffles, and after
-it, a visit to orchards, woods and brook, accompanied
-by Mose, the colored waiter, and by the pet
-dogs of Roy and Cecil; then their return to the
-piazza, where sat the elders of the family, enjoying
-the serene beauty of the evening. All was a delight
-to the two city boys who had never had so many
-pleasant things crowded into one evening.
-
-They were on the piazza but a short time when
-Mose, who had left them at the gate to go to his
-place in the kitchen, came to the lattice and whispered
-to Cecil, who happened to be nearest, “Ax
-your mother if you can’t come out in de kitchen.
-Aunt Kitty will give us roasted apples and cream,
-and pop-corn, and Aunt Chloe will have molasses
-candy for us, and bline Israel is comin’ and will
-sing.”
-
-“All right, I know she will let us,” was the response,
-and Mose hurried back to give notice, that
-preparations for the entertainment of the visitors
-might be quickly commenced.
-
-“Who is Aunt Kitty and Chloe and Israel?” inquired
-James.
-
-“Kitty is the cook and is Moses’ grandmother.
-Chloe was our nurse, but is now helper in everything,
-and Israel is an old man who goes from house
-to house to saw wood. He lives in the alms-house
-in winter and works all summer, and is the tallest
-and blackest person I ever saw. He is blind, does
-not know darkness from daylight, but sings. You
-never heard such a grand voice as Israel has. Mamma
-says it is so mournfully sweet that she feels like
-weeping when she hears it.”
-
-“Who else is out there?”
-
-“No one but Uncle Andy; he is the oldest person
-in the neighborhood. Papa and Uncle Val say that
-he was the best servant on the place when able to
-work.”
-
-“What does he do now?”
-
-“He brings in cobs and shells peas, and other light
-work to help Kitty. He loves to count his coins, and
-we all give him the new, bright pieces we get. He
-sings hymns and nothing pleases him better than to
-admire his coins and praise his singing.”
-
-Mrs. Courtney gave consent and when the four
-boys reached the kitchen there was a general stir
-among their dusky entertainers until their guests
-had the best places about the great stone-flagged
-hearth, and although not more than two hours since
-they had finished supper, the impromptu cookery
-was relished.
-
-In the most comfortable corner of the hearth sat
-Uncle Andy, his white wool glistening in the firelight,
-and which illumined every corner of the large
-kitchen. It was the first hickory wood and cob
-fire the boys had ever seen, and they admired it
-greatly.
-
-“We have told Ralph and James how well you
-sing, Uncle Andy,” said Roy; “we told them you
-are fond of music.”
-
-“’Deed I is, honey; ’deed I is!” confirmed Andy
-gleefully, “’kase dar is a promise, honey, dar suttinly
-is a promise to dem dat likes music.”
-
-“Won’t you sing something, Uncle Andy? We
-all want to hear you.”
-
-“Suttinly, honey, suttinly!” and leaning his head
-upon the back of his high chair he sang a favorite
-hymn, adding stanza after stanza of his own improvising,
-and keeping time with his foot, Kitty, Chloe
-and Mose joining in the chorus. The boys expressed
-such genuine pleasure in the concert that
-hymn followed hymn, Andy reviving the melodies
-of his boyhood for their entertainment.
-
-“Yes, honey, yes;” he commented after pausing
-for breath, “music an’ love is what heaven is made
-of; it wouldn’t be heaven widout music an’ love.”
-
-“But there are people who don’t like music, Uncle
-Andy,” remarked Roy.
-
-“Den, honey, ol’ Andy wouldn’t gib much for
-der chance for heaven, ’deed he wouldn’t, honey.
-What’ll dey do because of de music if dey does git
-to heaven? Mind I says *if*, honey; mind I says *if*.”
-
-Before the magnitude of this query could be lessened,
-a shuffling of feet was heard outside, followed
-by a knock upon the door.
-
-“It’s Israel!” ejaculated Mose jubilantly, “Marse
-Merryman’s Perry said he had done sawed all their
-wood, an’ he was gwine to bring him over here this
-evenin’.”
-
-He hurried to the door, and reaching out a helping
-hand, brought the blind wood-sawer in triumph
-to the hearth, followed by Perry, who was expected
-by Mrs. Merryman to return home immediately, but
-who remained all evening.
-
-“These here two boys is our boys, Israel,” said
-Mose, as master of ceremonies, “and these two other
-boys is visitin’ us from Baltimore; and, boys, this
-here man is bline Israel.”
-
-“Dat is jist like you, Mose, ’mindin’ folks ob der
-’flictions. What’s de use of sayin’ ’bline Isrel’!” rebuked
-Uncle Andy.
-
-“Israel don’t keer, he says so his own self,” replied
-Mose nonchalantly.
-
-“Of course I does, Brudder Andy,” said Israel,
-towering above them and removing his pipe to his
-left hand to give his right to the old man.
-
-“Don’t let him off so easy, Brudder Isrel,” said
-Andy, in high good humor, “or he’ll be sayin’ yer
-is deaf an’ dumb.”
-
-“Words speak louder dan actions, Brudder Andy,”
-replied Israel, benignly.
-
-“Take this chair, Israel,” said Roy, leading him
-to one. “We staid here to see you and hear you
-talk and sing.”
-
-“Mighty kind in you, I’m shore, young marsters.”
-
-“’Pears like ol’ times to see yer, Brudder Isrel,”
-said Andy, preparing to fill his pipe. “Kitty done
-say dis mornin’, she did, ‘whar’s Uncle Isrel, dat
-he ain’t been round dis fall?’”
-
-“It’s mighty comfotable here, Brudder Andy,
-that is a fac’,” asserted Israel as Roy gently relieved
-him of his cane and placed it in a corner.
-
-“Put some more cobs on the fire, you Mose, and
-hand Uncle Isrel a coal to light his pipe; it is done
-gone out,” said Chloe, hospitably.
-
-“Maybe the young marsters don’t like the smell
-of the pipe?” suggested Israel, hesitating between
-respect for them and his longing for a smoke.
-
-“Oh, don’t mind us,” said the boys cordially, “we
-want you to feel at home.”
-
-“Dey is all well-mannered boys,” remarked Uncle
-Andy complacently; “I has done a heap towards
-trainin’ our two. I allus says, ‘Boys, let us ol’ culled
-folks hab de dirty pipes, ’kase we can’t be spiled;
-but don’t yer sile yer nice clean mouves wid no
-whiskey nor terbaccy.’ An’ dey has promised; an’
-ol’ Andy kin trust ’em.”
-
-“Gabe promised too, but he smoked and chawed
-all the same,” remarked Chloe as she took her pipe
-and tobacco from her pocket.
-
-“Oh, dat Gabe is a hippercrite, I allus knowd’d
-dat; not like dese yer boys nohow,” replied Andy,
-between puffs of his pipe.
-
-“I ain’t never gwine to smoke,” interposed Mose,
-not willing to be overlooked.
-
-“Better wait ’till yer axed,” suggested Kitty.
-
-“Well, how was dey gittin’ along in de porehouse
-when yer lef’, Brudder Isrel?” inquired Andy.
-
-“Oh, fust-rate, what is left of de old stock, but
-dar is a heap of changes in the pore-house as well
-as in other places, Brudder Andy. Some of the ol’
-residenters have gone to dar long home, and dar
-places are done filled. Gabe Websta was one of de
-late arrivals.”
-
-“What is dat?” cried Andy in amazement, while
-Aunt Kitty and Mose gazed upon him in consternation,
-and Chloe removed her pipe to listen. “Yer
-suttenly don’t mean our Gabe Websta?” he questioned.
-
-“I is sorry to inform you, Brudder Andy, that
-Gabe is at this moment in the pore-house; he was
-took up as a wagrant early this fall.”
-
-“As a wagrant!” echoed Andy, rolling up his
-eyes and shaking his frosty head. “Now ain’t it
-too bad dat anybody dat had de raisen dat boy had
-wid ol’ Marse Courtney, has done gone an’ disgraced
-hisself?”
-
-“You know that he never would work, Uncle
-Andy,” remarked Kitty. “Ol’ missus used to say
-that it was more bother to make Gabe work than
-his work was wuth.”
-
-“Dat boy was born on Christmas day, an’ has
-been keepin’ Christmas ebber since,” commented
-Andy; “he’d jist like to set by de cob fire all winter,
-an’ go ter sleep in de sun all summer, an’ let de
-hoein’ take keer of itself. I allus tole him dat his
-laziness would done fotch him to jail, but I never
-mistrusted dat he would stop at de pore-house on
-his way.”
-
-“Dar is wus places than the pore-house, Brudder
-Andy,” remarked Israel with dignity.
-
-“Dat’s so, Brudder Isrel; ’deed dat is jis’ so! I
-is makin’ no deflections on de pore-house, but on
-dat misable Gabe Websta. De pore-house is fur
-’flicted pussons an’ dem dat is too ol’ ter work, not
-for sich as Gabe.”
-
-“Gabe says he is not able to work; he done says
-he has the rheumatiz,” supplemented Israel.
-
-“He allus had som’thin’ or ’nother all his days,
-’cept on Sattuday afternoons an’ Sundays, an’ ’lection
-days an’ Christmas week; at dem times Gabe
-was allus in a good state ob health.”
-
-“Maybe he has the rheumatiz for certain to pay
-him up for play in’ ’possum so many times,” suggested
-Chloe.
-
-“Maybe Chloe is right, Uncle Andy,” interposed
-Roy. “Let Israel, when he goes back, ask the overseer
-to get a doctor to investigate.”
-
-“If Gabe wants to stay in de pore-house dar had
-better be no ’westigations,” said Uncle Andy with
-energy. “He’ll get turned out fo’ shore; he can’t
-fool dem doctahs like he fooled ol’ missus.”
-
-“Gabe has had spells of rheumatiz afore, has he,
-Brudder Andy?” asked Israel.
-
-“Yes, every time dar was a big job ob work on
-hand.”
-
-“Ol’ missus used to send him to hunt eggs,” said
-Chloe, “and he’d just lay down on the hay and go
-to sleep. He’d go to sleep standin’ up keepin’ the
-flies off the table, that Gabe would.”
-
-“Nobody could do nothin’ wid dat boy noways,”
-said Uncle Andy, reflectively; “he’ll hab to wait till
-all de folks dat know him is gone dead afore he
-plays dat game ob de rheumatiz an’ de pore-house.
-Jis’ now he’s like de folks dat wear eye-glasses to
-pop on an’ off as suits de ’casion; when he done gits
-de rheumatiz right, he’ll be like de people dat wears
-specs; dat means business.”
-
-“Uncle Andy, won’t you sing, and let the others
-join in the chorus?” asked Cecil. “It will be splendid
-now that Israel is here.”
-
-“To be shore we will sing, honey! What will you
-hab?”
-
-Before Cecil could make choice Uncle Andy
-broke into that melody so dear to his race—“Roll,
-Jordan, Roll,” and Israel’s deep, pathetic voice
-thrilled the hearts of the city boys as no other had
-done; no noted concert singer had tones so full and
-grand as issued from his powerful chest without
-effort or thought that he was making an impression
-upon his listeners.
-
-“There is one thing that Gabe could do,” remarked
-Kitty, when the last notes died away in
-perfect accord, “he could sing like a seraphim; that
-‘Roll, Jordan, Roll’ was his favorite.”
-
-“Dat is so; dat is jis’ so!” agreed Uncle Andy,
-whose feelings were softened by the melody, “and
-I’ll tell yer what was passin’ in my mind while we
-was singin’. I is gwine to write a letter to Gabe dis
-yer berry night. Roy, honey, bring de pen; Kitty,
-clar dat table; I’s gwine ter write dis yer hour an’
-tell Gabe Websta ter gib up de rheumatiz an’ go
-ter work.”
-
-“Oh, Uncle Andy, Gabe won’t be in a hurry to
-get that letter; wait till mornin’,” said Kitty.
-
-“No, now is de ’cepted time, Kitty. If de doctahs
-git to ’westigatin’ it’ll knock Gabe higher ’n a kite;
-he’ll git well ob dat rheumatiz, an’ be popped out ’n
-dat pore-house whar my letter will nebber jine him.
-No, sah! Dat letter has done got ter be writ dis yer
-ebenin’.”
-
-“To-morrow would be airly enough,” said Kitty,
-preparing to arrange the table for the writing materials.
-
-“You is allus puttin’ off, Kitty. Dat is de way
-ol’ Satan gits de souls ob sinners; dey help him dar
-ownselves by puttin’ off. Git de writin’ utenshils,
-Roy, honey.”
-
-While Roy was gone, Andy had the table rolled
-to his chair and was ruminating over the prospective
-contents of the epistle when he returned.
-
-“How shall I commence it, Uncle Andy?” Roy
-asked.
-
-“Dear Gabe,” suggested Chloe.
-
-“No, I is gwine ter say no sich thing!” said Andy
-irately, the softening influence of the music having
-lost its effect when he had reflected upon Gabe’s delinquencies.
-“He’s not ‘dear Gabe’ ter onybody but
-de pore-house and dem dat has him ter keep; mighty
-cheap Gabe in my mind.”
-
-“‘Respected Gabe,’ or ‘Esteemed Gabe’” suggested
-Roy, with waiting pen in hand.
-
-“No, he is none ob dat! ‘Lazy Gabe’ is de only
-’pendix dat fits him.”
-
-“But it would not look well to commence a letter
-that way,” said Roy.
-
-“No, honey, ol’ Andy knows dat. Folks hab to
-be ’ceitful in dis yer wicked world. I suppect yer’ll
-hab ter say, ‘dear Gabe,’” he agreed regretfully.
-
-Roy jotted it down quickly, thinking another discussion
-might arise.
-
-“It’ll be berry short, honey, jes’ say ‘You Gabe
-Websta, come out ’en dat pore-house afore de doctahs
-hab a chance to ’westigate, an’ gib yer wuthless
-place to some ’flicted creetur dat ain’t playin’ ’possum,
-an’ go ter work an’ airn your livin’, an’ may
-de Lord hab mercy on yer soul.’”
-
-“But Uncle Andy,” said Roy, when the old man
-paused for breath, “that is what a judge says when
-a person is sentenced to the gallows.”
-
-“Dat tex’ ’plies to anybody, honey, ’kase we is all
-sinnahs, an’ we’se all got ter die.”
-
-Roy proceeded with the epistle, softening it as
-much as possible, signed Andy’s name to it, stamped
-and addressed it, and Andy gave it to Perry to mail.
-
-“Thanky, thanky, honey! If Gabe goes ter sleep
-ober dat letta I done hope de doctahs will ’westigate
-an’ pop him out ’n dat pore-house;” and, serenity
-restored, Andy was ready to sing and as soon as
-the sweet notes of “I’ve Been Redeemed” died away
-Mrs. Courtney rang the bell for prayers. Israel
-went to the library with the others and Perry went
-home.
-
-When Ralph and James went to their room that
-night they stood gazing for some time from their
-windows upon “My Lady’s Manor,” beautiful under
-the light of the full moon. From the servants’
-quarters could be heard the same plaintive airs to
-which they had listened that evening, accompanied
-by banjo and violin, and they expressed to each
-other the wish that they might see the place before
-returning to Baltimore.
-
-“Uncle Val,” said Cecil the next morning, “may
-we go to ‘My Lady’s Manor?’ Ralph and James
-would like to see it.”
-
-A look of pain crossed Mr. Courtney’s face, but
-he gave permission. “I have a message,” he continued,
-“and now is perhaps the best time to send
-it; while there, please tell the servants of the death
-of Miss Anna Ashburton; they loved her and should
-no longer be kept in ignorance of it.”
-
-Breakfast finished, the four boys hurried away,
-and as they drew near Mrs. Ashley’s cottage they
-saw Hilda Brinsfield standing at the gate with a
-white rabbit in her arms.
-
-“What a beautiful little girl,” said Ralph in a
-low tone; “she is the loveliest creature I ever saw.”
-
-“That is what we all think,” responded Cecil.
-“Mother says that with her blue eyes and golden
-hair she reminds her of the angels we see in pictures.”
-
-The fishpond, the dove-cote and orchard belonging
-to “My Lady’s Manor” were visited, then they
-halted at the servants’ quarters and obtained the
-key, unlocked the front door, passed in and closed
-it behind them.
-
-With almost awe at the silence, they went
-through the dim, richly furnished rooms, then
-mounted the stairs to have a view from the roof.
-
-So full of interest was the sight of their native
-city to Ralph and James that it was near noon when
-they descended. Talking gaily, they reached the
-attic, and were surprised to see a little old lady in
-black slowly receding toward the back room.
-
-Roy and Cecil had heard through the colored people
-of the apparition which made them afraid to pass
-the mansion late at night, but had been trained to
-have no belief in the supernatural, so without hesitation
-followed.
-
-The spectre had glided through the door of the
-back attic room, but when they reached it, it was
-empty and silent; and perplexed, they descended to
-the quarters to give up the key and to deliver the
-message in regard to Miss Ashburton.
-
-The boys were aware of the servants’ attachment
-to their young mistress, but were not expecting the
-outburst of grief the disclosure of her death called
-forth, as they sobbed and moaned in the abandonment
-of woe, genuine and awe-stricken from the
-suddenness with which a long cherished hope had
-been shattered.
-
-“We can’t stay here no more,” cried Lois with
-streaming eyes, “we only stayed to keep the place
-nice for Miss Anna; she is done gone! She will
-never, never come, and we must go.”
-
-“Perhaps the owner of ‘My Lady’s Manor’ will
-like you to stay,” suggested Roy, deeply touched,
-as were the other boys.
-
-“No, we can’t stay; Miss Anna is done gone,
-this is no home for us no more! Pore Miss Anna
-that was kept out of the home that ol’ missus done
-give her! She was so pretty and sweet and kind and
-would have been living and well and happy if she
-hadn’t been turned out of her home. Pore Miss
-Anna!”
-
-When the boys returned to “Friedenheim” they
-gave a full account of their visit, and after they had
-gone to the lawn for a game of ball, their elders sat
-in the seclusion of the library and wondered, as they
-had always done, over the mystery of the apparition.
-
-The servants left the next day for one of the
-lower counties of Maryland, and “My Lady’s Manor”
-was deserted. Silence reigned in the servants’
-quarters as well as in the spacious rooms of the
-mansion; sunlight was shut out and spiders spun
-their webs in the door-ways of the cabins, as well
-as between the lofty pillars of the piazza.
-
-CHAPTER V—HILDA’S NEW CARE-TAKER
-================================
-
-Two days after the accident which had caused
-Mrs. Warfield to return to her farmhouse with
-nerves so disturbed by terror, pain and grief that
-she was ill for several weeks, little Hilda Brinsfield
-was playing under the shade of an apple tree in the
-garden back of the cottage of Mrs. Ashley, it being
-one of the ideal days frequently enjoyed even in
-early spring.
-
-“Hilda,” called a subdued voice from the window,
-“come in, dear, and stay by your aunt while I get
-supper.”
-
-The little girl made no response, but laying her
-doll upon the bank beside her, she took up a book
-and applied herself diligently to spelling the words
-of three letters which described the gay pictures.
-
-“Hilda!” And now Diana Strong was sitting
-beside her with one of her little hands in hers.
-
-“Oh, child,” she said in an endearing tone, “you
-will regret it some day that you are not willing to
-leave your play to sit a few minutes beside the
-sweet lady who loves you so dearly! Come now,
-come!”
-
-A frown darkened the fair brow of the child, and,
-throwing the book upon the ground, her foot came
-down upon it with a quick, angry stamp.
-
-Diana said no more, but taking her and the doll
-in her strong arms carried her to the house in spite
-of her struggles for release, and, putting her down
-by the door of Mrs. Ashley’s room, gently pushed
-her in. Ill as she was, the flashing eyes and flushed
-cheeks of the little girl attracted the attention of
-Mrs. Ashley, and she sighed deeply.
-
-“My darling is angry again,” she said feebly.
-“Who will take care of her and teach her self-control?”
-
-“Diana made me leave my new book,” replied
-Hilda tearfully. “She held me so tight in her arms
-that it hurt me, and I could not get loose. Send her
-away, Aunt Janette, I don’t like her! Please send
-her away!”
-
-A look of pain came into the sweet face of Mrs.
-Ashley and she clasped her hands as if in supplication.
-
-“Diana is very tired,” she said after a pause.
-“She has lost much sleep in the week that I have
-been ill.”
-
-“I am tired, too, and want my supper,” responded
-Hilda fretfully.
-
-“Diana will soon have a nice supper for you, and
-while she is preparing it you can lie down beside me
-and rest.”
-
-Hilda was willing for this; she pushed a chair
-to the bedside, and, still clasping the doll in one arm,
-crept in.
-
-The setting sun glowed ruddily through the
-western window, and the ticking of the clock upon
-the mantel, and the purring of the kitten before the
-smouldering wood fire upon the hearth were the
-only sounds which broke the stillness of the pleasant
-room.
-
-“Your father named you Hilda for your sweet,
-young mother,” said Mrs. Ashley, taking the child’s
-hand in hers. “He loved his little daughter so tenderly
-that he gave her her mother’s name. She was
-lovely in disposition and patient, and I hope my little
-Hilda will be like her.”
-
-“Where are my father and mother now?”
-
-“In heaven, my darling, where I hope soon to be
-with them and your dear Uncle Ashley.”
-
-“When will I go?”
-
-“In God’s own good time. Try to live each day
-aright, and then you will have a home with them
-and never be parted from them.”
-
-“Who will stay with me when you go?”
-
-“My sister, Sarah Warfield, I hope. I have prayed
-for that, and God answers prayer.”
-
-“Why doesn’t she write to you? You said you
-wanted a letter.”
-
-“Why not, oh, why not?” echoed Mrs. Ashley.
-“I do so long for a word from her.”
-
-“But I would rather go to heaven with you and
-my father and mother. What is heaven?”
-
-“It is a beautiful home where we will live forever.”
-
-“And will we never come back?”
-
-“No, we will be so happy we will never wish to
-come.”
-
-“Oh, I want to go now! Take me with you, Aunt
-Janette, to see my father and mother and Uncle
-Ashley!”
-
-“Be patient, my love, and you will come. I cannot
-talk any more now; I am very weak, but will
-speak of it again when rested. I hope you will be
-polite and obedient to Diana; she is good and kind.
-What would we do without her?”
-
-Hilda was silent, her thoughts busy with what
-she had just heard. Where was heaven? How
-could she get there? And what was being patient?
-
-Diana had made good speed in preparing the
-evening meal, and brought a cup of tea and a slice
-of cream toast, daintily served, to the invalid.
-
-“Any letter?” inquired Mrs. Ashley, eagerly
-scanning the countenance of the nurse as she drew
-near.
-
-“No,” replied Diana sadly. “Mr. Merryman’s
-errand boy, Perry, passed just now on his way from
-the postoffice. I ran out and asked him if he had a
-letter for you, but there was none. I hoped you
-would not ask until you had taken your tea.”
-
-“Oh, Diana, two letters unanswered! Sister
-Sarah is surely ill or she would write to me, whether
-she had received my letters or not. I know
-that she has much on her mind with the care of her
-two boys and the farming, and Ohio is some distance
-from here, but the reply to even my last letter
-has had time to reach me.”
-
-“Yes, there has been time,” agreed Diana sympathizingly.
-
-“She and my brother Herbert were opposed to
-my marriage to Mr. Ashley, but they were always
-loving and kind. They wrote affectionate letters to
-me as soon as they received my letter telling them
-that my husband had fallen in battle, and Sarah offered
-me a home with her, and said to bring Hilda.
-She was glad that I intended adopting her as my
-own, and said she would be much company for me.”
-
-“Yes, anyone would think so,” agreed Diana as
-she drew a stand to the bedside and arranged the
-toast and tea upon it.
-
-“I do not wish any tea, Diana. I had so hoped
-for a letter. Surely Sarah must write and give
-me the comfort of knowing that she will take Hilda
-when I am gone!”
-
-“I am sure she will; we must give her time,”
-answered Diana, soothingly.
-
-“But Sarah is always prompt; a noble, active,
-Christian woman. There is no one on earth that
-I can look to but her, to train Hilda as she should
-be trained. Oh, if she would but write and give
-me the assurance! but I fear that Mr. Courtney did
-not tell her in the letter he wrote for me how ill I
-am;” and tears of anxiety and longing filled her
-beautiful eyes.
-
-“Mr. Courtney said he would state the case exactly
-as it is, and ministers should do as they promise.”
-
-“Yes, Diana, so should we all; but you remember
-my heart troubled me so little that day that I
-fear he was deceived. You said yourself that I was
-the picture of health with my bright eyes, the flush
-upon my cheeks and lips, and my natural appearance
-in every way. Oh, I fear he gave Sarah the
-impression that there was no need of haste!”
-
-“But you told him there was; he would be guided
-by what you said and not by how you looked.”
-
-“I believe that Dr. Lattinger is also deceived by
-my appearance, but I knew when I took ill that I
-would not get well, and if it were not for my anxiety
-in regard to Hilda I would be glad to go. Heaven
-seems very near to me; I have so many loved ones
-there, so few on earth.”
-
-“I was thinking, ma’am,” remarked Diana, “that
-maybe your sister is coming, and that is the reason
-she does not write.”
-
-A gleam of joy illumined Mrs. Ashley’s face, and
-she partly arose and stretched out her arms as if to
-welcome her.
-
-“Oh, Diana,” she whispered, sinking back upon
-the pillow, “that would be such a happy thing; God
-grant that it may be so!”
-
-“You say that she is prompt in her ways; she
-may not have waited to write, knowing that she
-could reach here as quickly as could a letter,” she
-said comfortingly.
-
-“Yes, Diana,” smiled Mrs. Ashley, “that is the
-reason she does not write. She is coming! Dear
-heavenly Father,” she continued, putting her small
-white hand upon the head of Hilda, “grant my
-heartfelt petition that this loved child be a consistent
-Christian, and may her home and that of Sarah
-Warfield be one and the same.”
-
-Cheered by this hope and trust, Mrs. Ashley partook
-of the toast and tea with relish, and laid her
-head again upon the pillow with the smiling, happy
-expression of one who had never known pain or
-trial, causing Diana to again wonder that the week’s
-illness had made no change in her beauty.
-
-“I feel so much better, Diana,” she said cheerfully.
-“Do you and Hilda go and take your tea
-together; do not mind leaving me alone. I have
-pleasant thoughts to keep me company. I shall see
-my sister—Sarah—Warfield—in the—morning.”
-
-The kitchen where the supper was prepared
-looked very bright and cheery to the little girl and
-the light tea biscuits, sweet butter and honey were
-delicious to her taste. She enjoyed the meal, then
-fell asleep in the chair where Diana let her remain
-until all was put in order for the night, then prepared
-her for rest and laid her beside Mrs. Ashley,
-who appeared to be in a sweet sleep.
-
-Her own cot was in an opposite corner of the
-room, and after fastening the outer door she lighted
-the night lamp, shading it from the sick bed, then, as
-was her custom, lay down without removing her
-clothing that she might be ready at any minute to
-wait upon the invalid.
-
-She had, she thought, scarcely slept, when she
-was waked by a rap upon the outer door of the
-kitchen, and arose quickly that Mrs. Ashley might
-not be disturbed by a second knock.
-
-What was her astonishment on opening the door
-to see the eastern horizon tinged with a ruddy glow,
-betokening sunrise!
-
-“How is Mrs. Ashley this morning?” asked Dr.
-Lattinger as he stepped over the sill.
-
-“She must have slept all night; I did not hear
-her speak or stir,” replied Diana in bewilderment.
-
-The doctor made no remark, but passed quickly
-through to the other room, followed by Diana bearing
-the lighted lamp.
-
-“She has been dead several hours,” he said, taking
-the lifeless hand in his.
-
-“Oh, doctor, do not think I neglected her!” exclaimed
-Diana, with blanched face and trembling
-with grief and excitement. “She was so much better
-last evening and ate a slice of toast and drank a
-cup of tea. Oh, how I wish now I had not lain
-down!”
-
-“You were worn out with watching and should
-not have been left alone,” said Dr. Lattinger kindly.
-
-“Any of the neighbors would have come had I
-asked it. I did not have an idea that anyone was
-needed.”
-
-“Who would you like to have with you? I will
-call any place you specify. In the meantime it
-would be better to remove the little girl to the cot,
-that she may not know when first waking that her
-aunt is gone.”
-
-“I will, doctor; and if you are going out upon
-your rounds please call at ‘Friedenheim’ and ask
-Mrs. Courtney to come. Mrs. Ashley admired her,
-and said she reminded her of her sister, Mrs. Warfield.”
-
-“I am on my way home and have just passed
-‘Friedenheim;’ but it will be no trouble to drive
-back and tell Mrs. Courtney, and I hope she can
-come.”
-
-Dr. Lattinger left and Diana removed Hilda to
-the cot, then sat by the bedside of Mrs. Ashley and
-wept without restraint.
-
-It took but a few minutes for the doctor to reach
-the lane gate that led to the main entrance of
-“Friedenheim.”
-
-His ring of the door bell was answered by Mose,
-who informed him that Mrs. Courtney was suffering
-with sick headache and was unable to go.
-
-Disappointed, Dr. Lattinger turned away and in
-a few minutes reached home, where he sat down
-to breakfast, weary and listless, having been all
-night beside a sick bed.
-
-“Diana Strong needs someone to assist her this
-morning,” he said, when a good cup of coffee had
-refreshed him. “Mrs. Ashley died during the night
-and Diana is there alone. I called at ‘Friedenheim’
-to ask Mrs. Courtney to go, but she is in bed with
-one of her attacks of sick headache, and it is impossible
-for her to give aid.”
-
-“Of course, Diana feels the responsibility,” rejoined
-Mrs. Lattinger. “Mrs. Ashley had no relatives
-and her reserved disposition prevented her
-making acquaintances. ‘My Lady’s Manor’ was the
-only place she visited, and after Anna Ashburton
-left it she had not one whom she could call a
-friend. I wonder why Diana selected Mrs. Courtney?”
-
-“She said that Mrs. Ashley admired her greatly,
-and said she reminded her of her sister, Mrs. Warfield.”
-
-“I doubt, however, if Mrs. Courtney could have
-done what will be required. A burial robe will have
-to be made unless Diana sends to Baltimore for
-one.”
-
-“I think she is at a loss to know what to do. Perhaps
-you can go down and advise her. She is depending
-upon me to send someone.”
-
-“I cannot possibly go from home to-day, for I
-have invited Mrs. Merryman and Mrs. Watkins to
-luncheon, and Jerusha Flint is coming this morning
-to cut and fit a dress for me, and if I disappoint her
-she would take pleasure in refusing to come another
-day.”
-
-“If she can make burial dresses perhaps she would
-go and help Diana.”
-
-“No one could be of more help than Jerusha in
-every way, if she will go. And I will be glad to
-postpone my work until another day.”
-
-“Well, see that someone goes,” said the doctor,
-as he arose and went to his office, and at that moment
-a light, brisk step was heard upon the porch,
-followed by a sharp peal of the bell.
-
-“There she is now,” thought Mrs. Lattinger, as
-she arose to admit Jerusha. “I will tell her before
-she lays aside her bonnet.”
-
-The moment the door opened Jerusha, erect, neat,
-and with perfectly fitting walking dress, stepped
-in, her eyes like black beads and her cheeks flushed
-from her mile walk in the clear morning air.
-
-“Where is my pay to come from?” she asked
-sharply, when Mrs. Lattinger made the situation
-known. “There is no charge for making a burial
-dress for a neighbor, and I cannot afford to lose my
-day.”
-
-“The doctor feels it incumbent to send someone,
-having promised Diana. I suppose there is money
-in the house; if not, we will see that you are paid
-for it.”
-
-“That settles it!” responded Miss Flint, promptly,
-and, turning abruptly, she left the house and walked
-with her usual dispatch down the road, looking
-neither to the right nor to the left until she reached
-the cottage.
-
-Diana was still alone, with the exception of Hilda,
-who was taking her breakfast, and her face clouded
-at sight of Miss Flint.
-
-“Mrs. Courtney is sick and could not come,” explained
-Jerusha, reading Diana’s face like an open
-book, “and Mrs. Lattinger took it upon herself to
-ask me to come, so I am that accommodating individual
-known as ‘Jack-in-a-Pinch’; what’s to be
-done now that I am here?”
-
-“I don’t know; that is why I wished someone to
-come.”
-
-“Has no patient that you have nursed died until
-now?”
-
-“Yes, but there were always plenty of relatives
-and friends to make arrangements; my duty was
-done and I went home.”
-
-“Well, the first thing I will do is to lay aside my
-hat and cape, seeing the lady of the house is not
-polite enough to ask me.”
-
-“Oh, please excuse me!” said Diana, reddening;
-“I really forgot it.”
-
-“No harm done,” said Miss Flint, as she shook
-her cape with a vigorous snap, folded it and
-placed it on the pillow of the lounge and laid her
-hat upon it. “Had she no relatives?”
-
-Miss Flint had nodded toward the other room
-while smoothing her raven hair with the palms of
-her hands until it shone like satin, and Diana had
-no difficulty in understanding.
-
-“Yes, she has a brother and sister in Ohio. Her
-sister, Mrs. Warfield, has been written to twice, but
-has not answered either letter. They were opposed
-to her marrying Mr. Ashley; she told me so herself,
-last evening, poor dear;” and Diana’s eyes filled at
-the remembrance.
-
-“No wonder they were opposed,” commented
-Miss Flint as she glanced about the neat but simply
-furnished room. “If she had possessed the common
-sense that a woman of her appearance should have
-had, she would have been opposed, too.”
-
-“It may be that they won’t pay any attention to
-her, or it may be that Mrs. Warfield is on her way
-here,” resumed Diana. “I do hope she is, for I
-want to get away. I feel it such a responsibility.”
-
-“What is to be done with her?” asked Miss
-Flint, nodding toward Hilda. “She will be in our
-way.”
-
-“I might stop the miller’s children on their way
-to school and ask them to take Hilda home with
-them, or ask one of them to come here for company
-for her; their mother will, I am sure, oblige in a
-case like this.”
-
-“Let her go there, for mercy’s sake!” responded
-Jerusha sharply. “We will have two to bother with
-if one of them comes here.”
-
-“There they come now!” said Diana. “I will
-run out and ask them.”
-
-Fortune favored; one of the children was glad to
-return home and take Hilda with her, and Miss
-Flint was gratified to hear that the miller’s family
-would keep her until after the funeral; and the way
-was now clear for business.
-
-“Now if Mrs. Warfield would come, how thankful
-I would be!” sighed Diana as she set aside the
-remains of the breakfast.
-
-“But we cannot wait for that. What is to be
-done about a burial dress?”
-
-“I don’t know,” responded Diana anxiously. “Do
-you take the lead and I will help you all I can.”
-
-“What I want to know is, will it be made here,
-or bought ready made in Baltimore?” questioned
-Miss Flint sharply.
-
-“I really cannot decide. Which do you advise?”
-
-“That depends upon circumstances. What is
-there in the house?”
-
-“Do you mean money?”
-
-“Yes, money or clothes, or material to make a
-burial dress of,” snapped Miss Jerusha impatiently.
-
-“There is a bureau in her room with her clothing
-in two of the drawers; the third one is locked; I
-don’t know what is in it.”
-
-“Where is the key?”
-
-“In the upper drawer in a little box.”
-
-“We can soon see; come!”
-
-“I really cannot; not while she is in there,” said
-Diana, shrinkingly.
-
-“Why, there is where she will have to be until
-taken to the grave; you certainly are not thinking
-of having her brought out here?”
-
-“Oh, no; but it seems so hard to go in and unlock
-her bureau when she is unable to prevent us.”
-
-“We don’t want to be prevented. Somebody
-must attend to this; come along and give me the
-key.”
-
-They went, Diana shading her eyes from the still
-form on the bed. The drawer was unlocked and a
-white cashmere burial robe was found, covered by
-a sheet of white tissue paper.
-
-“Just as I expected the moment you told me that
-the lower drawer was locked,” remarked Miss
-Flint. “She was exactly the woman to prepare for
-this in order to be independent of her neighbors.
-Well, it saves a day’s work, so I am not the one
-to complain.”
-
-Sustained by the self-reliance of her companion,
-Diana became of “some use,” as Miss Flint expressed
-it, and did as directed with many a longing
-to be away from it all.
-
-The beautiful form of Mrs. Ashley was neatly
-arrayed in the robe and Diana waited for further
-orders.
-
-“Give me a pair of scissors and I will cut off a
-lock of her hair; her sister may want it. But stop,
-you need not go! I have mine with me.”
-
-“I don’t see how you can bear to cut off her
-hair,” said Diana nervously, as the snip, snip of the
-scissors fell upon her ear.
-
-“It is lovely,” commented Miss Flint as she held
-up a glossy tress, “and it curls naturally.”
-
-“Yes, many a rich woman would give half she
-possesses for such a splendid head of hair, and could
-envy her in many ways. Mrs. Lattinger said she
-was a lovely young creature when she came as a
-bride to Dorton, and has changed very little since.
-Now she looks like one of the beautiful marble
-statues in the Peabody Institute, if it were not for
-the long, dark lashes resting upon her cheeks.”
-
-“She was a beauty and no mistake, but as proud
-as Lucifer. Pride and poverty killed that woman,
-or my name is not Jerusha Flint.”
-
-“She was always kind and gentle and polite to
-me,” responded Diana tearfully.
-
-“Polite, oh certainly! But she made you know
-your place, I’ll warrant. I wonder that one as
-proud as she was would marry a poor artist. Now
-you can fix her hair the way she wore it, and while
-you are doing it I will watch at the gate for someone
-who can be trusted to send the undertaker.”
-
-“Oh, please don’t leave me!” exclaimed Diana,
-dropping the comb. “Do you stay here and let me
-watch at the gate.”
-
-“Well, you are the poorest creature I ever did
-see. You are not afraid of her, are you?” asked
-Jerusha derisively.
-
-“Oh, no, but I feel so nervous. If I had kept
-awake last night and known if she needed anything
-I would not feel so miserable.”
-
-“Kept awake!” echoed her companion in astonishment.
-“I hope you don’t mean to say that you
-let her die alone?”
-
-“She passed away while I was asleep,” said
-Diana humbly. “I thought her so much better!”
-
-“Thought her better, and you a trained nurse,
-calling yourself a watcher; a professional, if you
-please!”
-
-“You cannot make me feel more self-condemned
-than I am,” sighed Diana tearfully, “but I have the
-comfort of knowing that if she could speak she
-would grant me her forgiveness. She was a saint
-on earth if ever there was one.”
-
-“I fail to see how she could be with all that
-pride; she scarcely noticed me.”
-
-“I am sure it was not pride. She was very retiring
-in disposition, and the neighbors may not have
-tried to make her acquaintance.”
-
-“Because she showed by her manner that she
-considered herself above us. No one suited her
-highness except Mrs. Farnsworth and Anna and
-Mrs. Courtney; and it is plain to be seen that their
-elegant homes were the attraction. I wonder that
-she was so anxious to be friends with them when
-her home was so poor.”
-
-“But all is comfortable and pretty,” replied Diana
-glancing about her, “and she kept it in beautiful
-order.”
-
-“Well, what she did and what she did not do is
-no concern of ours. What we have to do is to bow
-these shutters and sit down and wait for someone
-to go for the undertaker.”
-
-Diana went outside to watch, and while she was
-gone Miss Flint stood in the doorway between the
-rooms and took a look over the objects of beauty
-and utility contained therein, and over her grim lips
-passed a satisfied smile.
-
-“Yes,” she said to herself, “it is the very plan;
-and trust Jerusha Flint to carry out any scheme she
-determines upon. Yes, it shall be done!”
-
-Diana in the meantime had unhooked the shutters,
-bowed them, and returned with the intelligence
-that Perry had been sent over by Mrs. Merryman
-to offer his services, and had gone to Dorton
-to see the undertaker, and, that care removed, they
-could think of other things.
-
-“What time will you set for the funeral?” asked
-Diana.
-
-“That will depend upon Mr. Courtney. If he
-can preach the sermon to-morrow afternoon that
-will be the time to appoint. I will go over to ‘Friedenheim’
-after the undertaker has been here and ask
-him.”
-
-“But isn’t that very soon? She died only—”
-
-“You were asleep and know nothing about it,”
-interrupted Jerusha sarcastically. “What would be
-the use of waiting for her sister who has not set a
-time for coming? And there is no one in the neighborhood
-who cares when she is buried.”
-
-Perry had returned and, to the relief of Diana,
-could remain as long as wanted, so the moment the
-undertaker departed Miss Flint hurried to “Friedenheim,”
-saw Rev. Courtney, who made it convenient
-to conduct the services the following afternoon,
-and thus far the plan was working well.
-
-Her next call was upon the owner of the cottage,
-who was willing to allow her to live there in Mrs.
-Ashley’s place, the rent having been paid by the
-year, and she returned in exuberant spirits.
-
-“I will tell you what I have been doing,” she said,
-her black eyes sparkling and her cheeks glowing
-with the brisk walk. “There is no one to care for
-Hilda, so I will stay here until Mrs. Warfield
-comes.”
-
-“Oh, that is so kind of you!” said Diana eagerly.
-“I never for a moment thought you would stay. I
-thought you had such a good home with my sister-in-law
-and your brother.”
-
-“There is where I stop,” replied Miss Flint with
-emphasis. “I told Horace the very day he brought
-his wife there that his house would be my home
-only while I could not have a better one. I have
-the chance now to have one more to my liking and
-am going to take it. I will stay here until Mrs.
-Warfield comes, and then can decide what course to
-take.”
-
-In her own mind she did not believe that Mrs.
-Warfield would ever come, but she kept her opinion
-to herself.
-
-“Hilda is no relation of Mrs. Warfield’s, I think
-you said,” she remarked after a pause.
-
-“No, she was Mr. Ashley’s niece, not Mrs. Ashley’s;
-but Mrs. Warfield will surely take her when
-she hears that it was her sister’s last request.”
-
-Miss Flint had another plan in her mind but she
-said nothing about it to Diana; and that was that
-as soon as the funeral was over the next afternoon,
-and Diana gone, she would go immediately about
-arranging the furniture to suit herself, and then
-walk to her brother’s house in the village and make
-arrangements with him to have her effects brought
-to her new abode.
-
-All these plans fell into line at the proper place;
-the funeral was over, a long train of neighbors following
-the bier to the Dorton churchyard, but
-among them not one relative or near friend of the
-departed.
-
-Diana remained at the cottage until Miss Flint
-returned; then, being as eager to leave as Jerusha
-was to have the house to herself, she was not slow
-in taking the hint that her company could be dispensed
-with, and left for the village.
-
-In the kindness of her heart she went out of her
-way to call at the miller’s to tell Hilda of the
-changes in her home.
-
-“Yes, I know,” assented the little girl; “she told
-me she was going to heaven and will see my father
-and mother and Uncle Ashley.”
-
-“You are to go back now, Hilda,” said Diana,
-her eyes filling with tears. “Miss Flint is so kind
-as to take care of you until Mrs. Warfield comes.”
-
-The miller’s little girl saw her safely to the cottage
-gate, and bade her good-bye with a parting
-kiss.
-
-“What brought you here until I sent for you?”
-exclaimed Miss Flint angrily, as Hilda stepped in.
-“I am just going out.”
-
-“Diana told me to come,” said Hilda, cowering;
-“she said you were so kind as to take care of me.”
-
-“Just like the meddlesome wretch! Now I will
-have to stay at home or drag you along with me.”
-
-Hilda began to cry, and Miss Flint could scarcely
-restrain herself from laying violent hands upon her,
-while every nerve thrilled.
-
-“Stop crying instantly, or I will give you something
-to cry for!” she said harshly.
-
-“I wish I were in heaven,” sobbed the child.
-
-“You cannot wish it any more than I do! You
-could well be spared from here.”
-
-Hilda raised her head and looked with earnest
-gaze at Miss Flint.
-
-“What are you staring at? Get a book or something
-and stare at it.”
-
-“I left my new book under the apple tree; please
-open the door for me.”
-
-Her companion was glad to comply, and Hilda
-returned quickly with it, and, sitting in her little
-chair, examined it with the look of having regained
-a lost friend.
-
-“I am glad you have a pretty book,” remarked
-Miss Flint, calling what she flattered herself was a
-pleasant smile to her aid. “I am going out for a
-little while and you must not stir from that chair
-until I come back;” and hastily donning her wraps
-she locked the door, put the key in her pocket and
-walked rapidly to Dorton.
-
-After arranging for the removal of her possessions,
-she called to see Mrs. Lattinger to say that
-she would come next morning to fit the dress, and
-then set out for the cottage.
-
-She considered that her absence was short, but
-to Hilda it appeared endless. It was growing dark
-and she imagined that Miss Flint had left her to
-pass the night alone. She was a timid child, and
-Miss Flint’s harshness had made her nervous, and
-her sobs and cries were pitiful.
-
-She had obeyed the mandate to stay in the chair;
-and opposite was a lounge with cretonne cover, the
-ruffle of which reached the floor. She saw this
-ruffle move, and when something peeped out and
-quickly withdrew, her terror was beyond control.
-
-Miss Flint’s anger broke forth when she found
-her in this state upon her return.
-
-“How dare you act so, you spiteful creature?”
-she cried, shaking her violently.
-
-“I saw something come from under the lounge,”
-gasped the child convulsively.
-
-“It is a falsehood, a wicked falsehood!” and going
-to the lounge she raised the ruffle. “You see
-there is nothing under there! You are only acting
-this way to keep me from going out again.”
-
-“I did see something!” screamed Hilda, stamping
-her foot in her excitement; “they were two
-black fingers.”
-
-“Two black fingers!” echoed Miss Flint, derisively;
-“where are they now? They must have been
-alive if they moved.”
-
-“They did move; I saw them come out and go
-back!”
-
-“You little vixen!” cried Jerusha, grasping her;
-“if you don’t hush I will—”
-
-A voice at the door silenced her and caused Hilda
-to cower in her chair.
-
-“I was coming from Dorton,” said Perry, “and
-heard somebody crying, so stopped to see what was
-up.”
-
-“I was out for a little while,” said Jerusha, turning
-scarlet, “and Hilda got frightened. She thought
-she saw two black fingers come from under the
-lounge.”
-
-“When people are scared they see lots of things.
-I have, myself. You won’t see them now that Miss
-Jerusha is here. Good-night to you both,” and
-Perry went on to “Fair Meadow” and they were
-again by themselves.
-
-“Now you see what your wicked story-telling
-has done,” exclaimed Miss Flint when Perry was
-out of hearing. “You see he did not believe you.
-Two black fingers, indeed!”
-
-“I did see them!” screamed Hilda, flushed with
-excitement and passion.
-
-“Now look here,” cried Miss Flint, pale with anger
-and her eyes glowing as she grasped the child’s
-arm, “if you say that again I will give you such a
-whipping as will last you a lifetime. I have a mind
-to do it as it is.”
-
-Hilda cowered in her chair. She was a match
-for her tormentor in spirit but not in strength; she
-was vanquished and sat trembling with vague terror.
-
-No more words were spoken until supper was
-upon the table, then Hilda was bidden to come, or
-not, if that suited her better, and she accepted and
-took her usual place, though too disturbed to do
-justice to the simple but well served meal.
-
-As soon as it was finished Miss Flint put the
-room in order for the night, while Hilda returned
-to her chair and watched her quick, impatient movements.
-
-“Come, you must go to bed now,” was the command.
-“I must sit down to my sewing and want
-you out of my way.”
-
-“Please let the door be open; I am afraid in the
-dark,” pleaded the child.
-
-“What, of the two black fingers?”
-
-Hilda drew back shuddering and tears rushed to
-her eyes.
-
-“Come along, I have no time to waste upon you.
-Can’t you unhook your dress?”
-
-“Diana did it after Aunt Janette got sick. I cannot
-reach the hooks.”
-
-“You are old enough to wait upon yourself and
-will soon find that I am not a waiting-maid for
-you,” and, giving an angry jerk to a refractory
-hook, the dress was loosened and other garments
-removed, and the little girl crept into the cot, which
-Miss Flint designated as her resting place.
-
-“Won’t you hear me say my prayers?” she asked
-timidly as her care-taker was leaving the room.
-
-“You have great need to say them. I wonder
-you are not afraid to go to sleep after telling such
-a wicked story,” and, taking the lamp, she went out,
-shutting the door after her.
-
-Miss Flint sat down to her sewing in the clean
-and pleasant room, but she was not happy. She at
-last had a home of her own, but considered the incumbrance
-that went with it overbalanced the benefit.
-
-She had not thought that her patrons would object
-to her taking Hilda to their homes in her dressmaking
-visits, but realized that she was mistaken,
-as she saw with her sister-in-law’s eyes that there
-would come rainy days when Hilda could not go;
-and if clear the child could not stand the walks she
-would be compelled to take if she accompanied Jerusha,
-nor could she be left alone in the cottage.
-
-Weary and sad, she leaned back in her chair and
-reflected; and her glance happening to rest upon
-the curtain of the lounge, she saw it move. Jerusha
-was not frightened, although she was wise enough
-to know that there could not be an effect without a
-cause.
-
-The motion was repeated; the head of a mouse
-peeped out and was quickly withdrawn, and she
-recognized one of the black fingers that had alarmed
-Hilda.
-
-“Enjoy yourself all you can to-night, my lively
-friend,” she said to herself. “If a trap can catch
-you this will be the last chance you will have to
-frighten anybody.”
-
-She took care, however, not to enlighten Hilda
-as to her discovery and for many days the child
-avoided the lounge, fearing the “black fingers.”
-
-CHAPTER VI—HILDA A LITERAL FOLLOWER OF BUNYAN
-=============================================
-
-“Fair Meadow,” the home of the Merryman family
-for generations, was a large old-time farmhouse,
-built of gray stone, with dormer windows in the
-roof, broad window and door sills, and within and
-without gave the assurance of genuine home comfort,
-peace and good-will.
-
-It lay between “My Lady’s Manor” and “Friedenheim,”
-within a short distance of each, and save
-for a wide lane and a meadow, would have been opposite
-the cottage of Jerusha Flint, on the other
-side of the road. It was a true Christian home,
-and its influence, like that of the Courtneys, was felt
-throughout the neighborhood.
-
-The Merrymans were generous, genial people,
-and entertained city and country friends with cordial
-hospitality, but it was seldom that the farmhouse
-wore such a festive appearance as upon one
-evening the middle of the February following the
-summer and autumn that Jerusha Flint held possession
-of the cottage.
-
-The occasion was a reception in honor of a bride
-and groom, the bride being Mr. Merryman’s sister,
-married at her father’s residence in Baltimore and
-returning that evening from a southern tour.
-
-Snow had fallen the day before, which necessitated
-sending sleighs instead of carriages to Dorton
-Station for the bridal party, and Mrs. Merryman,
-seeing her husband drive down the lane in the lead
-of three other sleighs, realized that time had passed
-too rapidly; the guests would soon be there, and she
-was not dressed to receive them.
-
-With a satisfied glance at the supper table—brilliant
-with silver, china and glass—she was hurrying
-up the stair-way to her dressing-room when she
-heard a feeble knock upon the hall door, and, retracing
-her steps, she opened it.
-
-A poor wanderer stood with hat in hand waiting
-there; the wind was toying with his gray locks, his
-thin garments protected him but poorly from the
-cold, and through his broken shoes could be seen
-his stockingless feet.
-
-“They are all busy preparing supper; you need
-not wait,” she answered hurriedly in response to his
-humble appeal for a cup of hot coffee.
-
-“No, Archie won’t wait,” said the wanderer,
-turning meekly away. “Archie is hungry and tired,
-and the snow is cold, but Archie won’t wait.”
-
-Closing the door quickly, Mrs. Merryman went
-to her room, dressed as speedily as possible and
-descended in time to receive Mrs. Courtney, who
-passed on up to the guest chamber to remove her
-wraps and be in readiness to help receive.
-
-Mrs. Merryman had no anxiety for the successful
-serving of the supper, and later the refreshments,
-for in addition to her own efficient maid,
-Norah, Diana Strong had the management, and
-through the kindness of Mrs. Courtney, Kitty was
-her helper, while Mose, in white apron and gloves,
-was proud to have been loaned to wait upon the
-door and afterward the table.
-
-Notwithstanding these helps to contentment, Mrs.
-Merryman carried a heavy heart under her silken attire.
-The words of the half-frozen wanderer kept
-up a refrain in her memory: “Archie is hungry and
-tired and the snow is cold, but Archie won’t wait.”
-
-Oh, to look about her in that comfortable home;
-the whole place glowing with light and heat, the
-kitchen redolent with roasting poultry; and she had
-refused the cup of coffee that might have kept hope
-and even life in the stranger!
-
-“I do not deserve to have a roof over my head!”
-she said to herself as bitter tears welled to her eyes,
-but she controlled her feelings, for the halting of
-sleighs at the gate gave token that the bridal party
-had arrived.
-
-Amid the chattering of merry voices her depression
-was unnoticed and the guests passed up
-to their rooms. Friends invited to meet them were
-coming in couples and groups, and she welcomed all
-smilingly, but her thoughts were upon the old and
-poorly clad man whom she had turned from her
-door.
-
-At the moment of the arrival of the bridal party,
-Hilda Brinsfield, in the cottage of Jerusha Flint,
-was kneeling upon a chair by the western window;
-not watching with childlike interest the passing
-sleighs with their joyous jingling of bells, but with
-a look of interest and hope upon her pale face to
-which for many a day it had been a stranger.
-
-“Hilda,” said Miss Flint, “I am going up to the
-village on business, and wish you to be quiet and
-patient. I will not be long away.”
-
-Hilda made no reply. She was thinking of a
-picture she had seen at Dr. Lattinger’s where she
-had been the day before with Miss Flint.
-
-It represented a group of sweet-faced angels,
-robed in white, grouped about a harp upon which
-one of their number was playing an accompaniment
-to their singing.
-
-She had asked the nurse where the angels lived,
-and was told that their home was in heaven.
-
-“Where is heaven?” she had asked eagerly.
-
-“Do you see that sun?” asked the nurse, pointing
-to it from the window of the nursery. “That sun is
-in heaven.”
-
-Hilda had thought of but little else since hearing
-this. She had at last located the home where her
-parents and her Aunt Ashley awaited her. All that
-was required of her was to follow the sun and it
-would lead her to them. She had watched all day,
-but the sun had kept itself hidden under dim
-clouds.
-
-About the time that Miss Flint left the cottage it
-gleamed forth, and seemed to invite her to follow.
-A longing to be with father, mother and Aunt Ashley
-in heaven was too great to be resisted; all was
-to be gained by following where he led. Without
-stopping for wraps, the eager child hurried out.
-The sun, low in the west, seemed very near to her,
-and she ran to join it on its way. On and on she
-ran, the snow not crushing under her rapid tread.
-The air chilled her, but keeping the sun as a guide
-she pressed on. It sank below the horizon, but
-Hilda followed, guided by the ruddy glow which
-marked the spot where it descended. It grew dark
-and the child became bewildered, retracing her
-steps or wandering in a circle. Her limbs ached
-with weariness, and she was about to lie down and
-rest, when she heard the chatter of happy voices
-and the sound of sleigh bells, and, encouraged, she
-followed. But the sound ceased, and again she wandered
-aimlessly, having nothing to guide her.
-
-At length she saw the gleaming of many lights,
-and she crept toward them.
-
-“That is heaven!” she said to herself. “It is not
-far away, but I am so cold, so cold!”
-
-The lights grew more brilliant, but she could
-scarcely move on toward them. Her thoughts grew
-confused, strange visions thronged her mind, vivid
-colors danced before her eyes, sweet music charmed
-her senses. She was growing less weary; a pleasant
-warmth comforted her, and her eyelids were heavy
-with sleep as she toiled on toward the goal, reached
-it, and sank down between an evergreen shrub and
-one of the windows of the Merryman farmhouse.
-
-Unconscious of the tragedy transpiring without,
-the bride, arrayed in a fleecy robe of white, as were
-her attendants grouped about the piano, was singing,
-when at the window appeared the wanderer
-for the second time that evening, bearing in his
-arms the unconscious form of the little girl.
-
-“She is dead,” he murmured in a dazed, helpless
-way, as he stepped through the window which Mr.
-Merryman opened for him; “she was in the cold
-snow!”
-
-“She may be,” said Dr. Lattinger, coming quickly
-toward them. “We must take her to a cool room
-and make efforts to restore her.”
-
-Tear-dimmed eyes gazed upon the pallid face,
-loving arms were extended to bear her where Mrs.
-Merryman would direct, when Diana Strong, hearing
-the subdued exclamations of surprise and pity,
-came to the parlor door and glanced in.
-
-“It is Hilda!” she exclaimed, clasping her hands
-and turning pale with emotion. “What could have
-driven her out this wintry night?”
-
-Although a new anxiety had come to Mrs. Merryman,
-she experienced relief in again seeing the
-wanderer, and while Dr. and Mrs. Lattinger, Mrs.
-Courtney and Diana were doing all in their power
-to restore the little girl, she took him to the kitchen
-and soothed her tried conscience by seeing that he
-was made comfortable with light and warmth and
-good food at the table with Perry.
-
-“I knows him,” remarked Mose, who with Kitty
-was enjoying his supper at a table in another corner
-of the kitchen. “I done seen him many a time
-on the road.”
-
-“You knows a heap of people, Mose, that don’t
-knows you,” commented his grandmother.
-
-“Where was the little girl when you found her?”
-Mrs. Merryman asked Archie, while Diana was
-pouring his coffee.
-
-“She was sitting among the bushes by the piazza.
-Archie thought she was looking in at the people.
-Archie did not know she was dead until he took her
-up.”
-
-“Why were you here?” asked Mrs. Merryman
-kindly. “I thought you had left.”
-
-“Archie was cold and hungry and tired. He went
-to the barn to sleep; he had no other place to go.
-Archie heard sleigh bells and people coming in with
-horses, and was afraid they would drive him away.
-Archie walked about to keep warm; he heard singing
-and came to look in the window and found the
-little girl.”
-
-The efforts of Dr. Lattinger were rewarded; after
-a time Hilda had recovered sufficiently to be taken
-to the nursery where Diana watched beside her until
-time to help serve refreshments.
-
-“Where is mamma?” whispered Hilda without
-opening her weary eyes. “I heard the sweet music
-and saw the beautiful angels, but did not know my
-mamma or Aunt Ashley.”
-
-“You will see them after a time,” said Diana
-tenderly; “go to sleep now and get rested.”
-
-“I will,” whispered the little girl; “I am tired, so
-tired, but I have found heaven.”
-
-Tears flowed from Diana’s eyes as she watched
-her sleeping, and tender-hearted Norah wept in sympathy.
-
-Hilda was so changed; she seemed no longer the
-light-hearted, care-free, high-spirited child which
-had been loved and cherished by Mrs. Ashley. Sadness
-had its place upon the wan face, the pinched
-features, in the deep-sunken eyes. Diana almost
-censured herself for a share in the cause.
-
-Fortunately Diana could remain at the farmhouse
-while the bridal company stayed, and her heart was
-comforted by knowing that Hilda had found a good
-home; for the next morning Mrs. Merryman received
-a note from Miss Flint saying that as Hilda
-had run away from the cottage, she should not be
-received again under that roof.
-
-The same afternoon as Perry was returning from
-the village with a wagon, Miss Jerusha stopped him
-at her gate and helped him place in it three trunks
-which had belonged to Mrs. Ashley. They contained
-clothing, books and bric-a-brac, Jerusha retaining
-the furniture until claimed by Mrs. Warfield.
-
-Cast upon the charity of Mr. and Mrs. Merryman,
-Hilda was heartily accepted, and Miss Flint
-went from her cottage in the morning and returned
-to it in the evening, rejoicing that she was at last
-free from the burden that had oppressed her. So
-sprightly did she become, in addition to her naturally
-independent and arbitrary manner that she gave
-no one reason to suspect that her conscience was
-troubled by three secrets, one of which in after
-years she strove vainly to divulge to Hilda.
-
-The bridal company had been entertained at the
-Courtneys, the Lattingers and several other homes,
-had seen the places of interest in the neighborhood,
-had heard the traditions and chronicles, especially
-that of the spectre that haunted “My Lady’s Manor”
-and had returned to their homes.
-
-One evening Norah was preparing the evening
-meal and crooning an Irish melody—to which
-Hilda, sitting in Erma’s cradle, was listening attentively—and
-had just placed tea biscuits in the oven
-when the door opened and Archie came in.
-
-He was comfortably clothed in the suit given
-him by Mr. Merryman, and without glancing at
-Norah or Hilda he went directly to the seat in the
-corner of the hearth which he had occupied the
-night of the reception.
-
-“It is Archie!” cried Hilda in delight, “he has
-brought me a mocking bird.”
-
-“No, Archie is ashamed that he could not bring
-one,” said the wanderer sadly. “He has tried and
-tried to catch one, but Archie has brought something,”
-and untying a plaid handkerchief he gave
-her a dead oriole, a bit of moss, several snail and
-mussel shells, and other trifles which he had gathered
-in the woods and streams perhaps miles away.
-
-When Mr. and Mrs. Merryman and their little
-Erma returned from Dorton and with Hilda sat
-down to tea in the dining-room, Archie fell asleep
-in his chair, but awoke to take supper with Norah
-and Perry; then went to the room over the kitchen
-which he had previously occupied, and before the
-sun rose was away upon his aimless wanderings.
-
-Thus the years passed, and in the home of the
-Merrymans contentment and peace reigned. Hilda
-was looked upon as the elder daughter of the house
-and was treated as kindly as though indeed their
-own. She went daily to the village school and was
-beloved by teachers and companions.
-
-Although each school day she passed the cottage
-twice, and the same on Sabbaths to the village
-church, she never had a glimpse of Jerusha Flint,
-from which the inference could be rightly drawn
-that Jerusha had frequent glimpses of her.
-
-One Saturday morning Hilda was helping Mrs.
-Merryman arrange the potted plants upon the porch
-when Mose, hat in hand, made his appearance with
-a note from Mrs. Courtney inviting them to take
-tea at “Friedenheim” that evening.
-
-Hilda’s eager glance at Mrs. Merryman, hoping
-for acceptance of the invitation, was met by an assenting
-smile; a reply was written and Mose hurried
-away.
-
-When it came time to dress for the visit Norah,
-who took great pride in Hilda’s beauty, arranged
-her hair in soft, full ringlets and helped her don a
-pretty pink gown, Hilda’s favorite, and singularly
-becoming.
-
-The visit was one of unalloyed pleasure, for during
-the afternoon Mr. Valentine Courtney drove
-out from the city in a handsome carriage drawn by
-a pair of ponies, and finding Hilda and Erma there
-took them out for a drive, and after tea he took
-them the short walk to “My Lady’s Manor,” too
-short to Mr. Courtney, so interested and amused
-was he with the conversation of Hilda.
-
-He enjoyed her quaint manner of telling the
-events which transpired within the range of her
-knowledge, among them the arrival of Norah’s aunt
-from Scotland, an event of great interest to Norah,
-and through her to Hilda.
-
-“She is now at your Uncle Merryman’s, I suppose?”
-remarked Mr. Courtney, with a view to
-keeping up his share of the conversation.
-
-“No, she is in Baltimore, but she wants to come
-to Dorton to be near Norah; and Aunt Merryman
-will try to get her a place as housekeeper. She is
-a very good housekeeper,” concluded Hilda sagely.
-
-When they reached “My Lady’s Manor,” Mr.
-Courtney unlocked the front door, and they passed
-in; and after closing it he led the way through the
-wide hall to the rooms on either side, all seeming
-to Hilda like the almost forgotten remembrance of
-a dream. Then they ascended to the second floor,
-then to the third and from thence up the narrow
-stair-way to the walk on the roof, where Mr. Courtney
-pointed out the prominent places in the city
-and noted the changes in Hilda’s expressive countenance,
-as in her quaint manner she gave her views
-of them.
-
-It was growing twilight and so they turned to
-descend, Hilda being the first to reach the stair-way.
-
-“There is a lady waiting to come up!” she said
-in a half whisper, “I think she is very old.”
-
-“A lady?” ejaculated Mr. Courtney, in surprise,
-and, stepping to the stair-way, he glanced down.
-
-The little lady in black, of whom he had so often
-heard, stood at the foot, with bowed head and
-folded hands, but before Mr. Courtney could address
-her, she disappeared.
-
-When they descended to the attic, Mr. Courtney,
-without commenting upon the subject, glanced into
-the rooms, but not a living creature was to be seen,
-nor in the rooms below it; the house was silent save
-for their footfalls.
-
-“This mystery shall be explained, if possible, and
-that at the earliest moment,” he said to himself as
-he locked the hall door upon their exit, and if Hilda
-noticed that he was silent on their walk back to
-“Friedenheim” she made no comment.
-
-Mr. Courtney joined the Rev. Carl, Mrs. Courtney
-and Mrs. Merryman upon the piazza, while
-Hilda and Erma, attracted by the cheerful appearance
-of the kitchen, halted at the door.
-
-“Come right in, honey,” cried Uncle Andy, heartily.
-“We is mighty glad to see yer; we has no little
-chillen no mo’, an’ ’pears like we can nebber git used
-ter doin’ widout ’em.”
-
-“Where have they gone?” asked Hilda as, holding
-Erma’s hand, she stepped in.
-
-“Roy an’ Cecil has done mos’ growed up, an’ de
-little gal hab gone to heaven whar ol’ Andy will go
-in de heavenly Master’s own good time. Ol’ Andy
-will soon go, honey.”
-
-Hilda longed to send a message by him to her
-father and mother and her Uncle and Aunt Ashley,
-but had not courage to go near enough to him to
-whisper her request. Her indecision brought the
-delicate bloom to her cheek, which always appeared
-under any little excitement, and which awakened
-anew the admiration of Chloe.
-
-“She is as pretty as a picture; that is just the
-truth,” she remarked to Kitty.
-
-“Now, Chloe, jes’ yer hab done wid dat,” exclaimed
-Andy, turning sharply about. “Ol’ Satan
-an’ de lookin’ glass will done tell her dat fas’ enough
-widout yore help.”
-
-“They will tell her the truth, Uncle Andy, you
-know that your own self,” replied Chloe nonchalantly.
-
-“Purty is as purty does, honey; don’t disremember
-dat,” advised Andy, turning to Hilda; “don’t
-let nobody make you sassy of yer beauty, fer bime-bye,
-if de good Lord spares yer dat long, de wrinkles
-will done scare de beauty away. Den whar is
-yer?”
-
-“Never scared no beauty away from Mis’ Emma,”
-asserted Chloe defiantly. “Wrinkles is coming to
-stay, but she is a beauty in spite of them.”
-
-“’Kase mistess wan’t sassy ob her beauty, dat’s
-what I done jes’ say, Chloe; de strongholt is mine,
-not yourn,” and Andy laughed and coughed exultantly.
-
-“Missus come of a pretty family,” interposed
-Kitty. “She couldn’t have been ugly if she had
-tried. When she an’ Mars Courtney was bride and
-groom, dey was de han’somest couple in de state,
-an’ her mother an’ grandmother were beauties in
-der day.”
-
-“’Kase dey was Christians, an’ had der treasures
-laid up in heaven. Yes, Kitty, dey was good to de
-pore an’ ’flicted, and too busy helpin’ dem dat could
-not help demselves to be sassy about der beauty.”
-
-“They was too good for dis yer world, dat’s certain,”
-responded Kitty.
-
-“Deed was dey, an’ nebber done forgit dar manners
-to nobody. When I was de coachman, and
-used ter bring Selim to de block for young mistus—dat
-was dis Misus Courtney’s grandmother—honey,”
-he said, turning to Hilda, “an’ she done
-come sweepin’ down de piazzy steps, holdin’ de long
-train ob her habit ober her arm, an’ her pearl
-handled whip in her han’, an’ de long plumes in her
-hat bowin’ an’ noddin’, tell yer what, honey, she
-suttenly was purtier dan any picture.”
-
-“So she was,” echoed Kitty. “I was young then,
-but I remember that she looked like Mis’ Emma.”
-
-“But you done forget about the manners, Uncle
-Andy,” said Chloe flippantly.
-
-“Oh, yes! When I done led Selim to de block
-an’ would pat de proud-sperited creetur ’till mistus
-mounted into de saddle, an’ took the bridle, an’ was
-startin’ away, she allus said, ‘Thanky, Andy!’ She
-nebber disremembered dat, nebber.”
-
-“Yes, and Mis’ Emma is just as polite as her
-mother and grandmother,” said Kitty, proudly,
-“they was born ladies and couldn’t be anything
-else.”
-
-It came time for Mrs. Merryman to go. Hilda
-and Erma were summoned. Mrs. Courtney and
-her brother Valentine accompanied them across the
-meadow to their home, and their conversation on
-the return walk was of “My Lady’s Manor,” now
-bathed in the splendor of the moonlight.
-
-CHAPTER VII—HILDA’S WELCOME TO MY LADY’S MANOR
-==============================================
-
-A week passed and one evening Mr. Courtney
-came out on the train to remain over night at
-“Friedenheim,” and with him were Ralph and
-James Rivers.
-
-He had something in contemplation which he
-wished to impart to the Rev. Carl and Mrs. Courtney,
-and when supper was finished and they returned
-to the library he mentioned what he thought
-they might consider a foolish experiment.
-
-“Brother Carl and Sister Emma, I am thinking of
-housekeeping. What is your opinion of it?” he
-asked.
-
-“Do you mean at ‘My Lady’s Manor’?” asked
-Mrs. Courtney. “I think it would be charming thus
-having you for a neighbor; it would be next best to
-having you at ‘Friedenheim’.”
-
-“I, too, am pleased,” said Rev. Carl. “Are you
-really in earnest?”
-
-“Yes, I would like to at least make the trial, if
-I can get a suitable housekeeper.”
-
-“But the apparition, Val!” reminded Rev. Carl
-in a low tone. “Of course we give no credence to
-such foolishness, but you may have trouble in getting
-a housekeeper.”
-
-“I would never have taken Anna there until the
-mystery was explained, neither would I be willing
-to have anyone run the chance of being frightened,
-but Ralph and James have a plan in view which I
-will not disappoint them by divulging. In the meantime
-Hilda mentioned that Mrs. Merryman knows
-of a woman who wishes to come to Dorton; did
-she happen to mention it to you, Sister Emma?”
-
-“Yes, she asked me if I knew of anyone who
-needs a housekeeper. It is Nora’s aunt who wishes
-a place. She is now at a friend’s house in the city.”
-
-“I wish you would see Mrs. Merryman in regard
-to it when convenient.”
-
-“I will go or send there to-morrow, and am sure
-that Mrs. Merryman will act promptly in regard to
-securing her.”
-
-About twilight Ralph and James, with traveling
-satchels in hand, walked to “My Lady’s Manor”
-with the intention of discovering, if possible, what
-manner of creature it was that was deceiving so
-many people.
-
-The satchel of James held a lamp, candles and
-matches, and Ralph’s contained a stiff rope with a
-noose at one end, with which he purposed capturing
-the spectre.
-
-They took a survey of the mansion and decided
-upon occupying the two bed-rooms overlooking the
-quarters.
-
-The doors of both rooms opened into the corridor,
-and these they decided to lock, that any unquiet
-spirit that chose to visit one of the rooms could
-have free access only to the other.
-
-Not a sound disturbed the stillness of the night;
-they slept peacefully until the white sails upon the
-Patapsco were tinged with rosy hues of the ascending
-sun.
-
-Before returning to “Friedenheim” they explored
-the attic room, which was void of furniture
-or articles of any kind, but found no clue to the
-mystery, nor hiding place for even a mouse.
-
-As the spectre declined to visit them when the
-doors leading to the corridor were locked, the next
-night they decided to leave the door ajar which led
-into it from the bed-room which Mrs. Farnsworth
-and Anna had used as a library, and to place a
-lighted lamp near the steps leading to the attic
-rooms. Ralph, with rope behind him, lay down upon
-the lounge in that room and James occupied the
-room adjoining.
-
-He was too excited to sleep, but Ralph was in
-the land of dreams when something like an icy
-hand touched his forehead. He sprang up, rope in
-hand, and followed the little lady in black who had
-glided through the door and ascended several steps
-toward the attic room, threw the noose about her
-neck and brought her to a halt so suddenly that
-she had to cling to the banister to keep from falling.
-A piece of marble which had simulated the cold
-hand fell to the floor, the lace cap and gray curls
-fell back, disclosing a head of glossy black hair, and
-the dough mask fell off, showing the humiliated face
-of Jerusha Flint.
-
-The boys stood appalled at the discovery, and
-Jerusha shed a torrent of tears, but whether from
-shame or grief or anger they had no means of
-knowing.
-
-She spoke no word, but like a veritable spectre,
-glided up the attic stairs and was seen no more.
-Only the sound of the shutting of a distant door in
-some part of the large building could be faintly
-heard, then the boys locked the three doors and
-slept in the bed-room until morning.
-
-It is doubtful if any news could have given more
-genuine astonishment to the home circle at “Friedenheim”
-than that of Miss Flint playing the rôle
-of a spectre, and the motive that prompted her was
-quite as much of a mystery. But before the day
-closed the matter was made plain by Miss Jerusha,
-who sent a humble message to Mrs. Courtney to
-come to see her, as she desired earnestly to converse
-with her and was too ill to leave her cottage.
-
-Mrs. Courtney went immediately, and although
-Miss Jerusha expected her, she could scarcely raise
-her eyes to her neighbor’s face when she stood beside
-her, so humiliated was she as she lay pale, yet
-feverish, upon the lounge.
-
-“I don’t know what you can think of me, Mrs.
-Courtney,” she said, as she signified her wish for
-her visitor to take the seat beside her, “but I will
-tell you the exact truth.”
-
-Mrs. Courtney took the chair in silence and Miss
-Flint, after a pause, resumed.
-
-“Anna Ashburton was my friend, the only person
-in her position who treated me as an equal, and
-because she had given me her friendship, I told her
-what I have told no other, before or since. She
-understood me as no other human being could; she
-pitied me and loved me; and if I could have remained
-with her I would not be the desolate, unhappy,
-malicious creature I am. It was a bitter
-blow to us when we were cast out of that beautiful
-home. We both loved it, and I say in all sincerity
-that I grieved more for her sake than for my own.
-I had not her gentle spirit, having inherited a proud
-and implacable temper, and I vowed in my homeless
-condition that so far as lay in my power to prevent
-it, Reginald Farnsworth should never find purchaser
-or tenant for his ill-gotten property.”
-
-“But my dear Miss Flint,” said Mrs. Courtney,
-“‘My Lady’s Manor’ has not belonged to Mr. Farnsworth
-for several years. He gave it back to Anna
-Ashburton and she bequeathed it to my brother,
-Valentine Courtney.”
-
-“Bequeathed it to your brother!” echoed Miss
-Jerusha slowly, and turning very pale. “She had
-it to bequeath, yet never told me of it in any of the
-kind, affectionate letters she wrote to me?”
-
-“She did not become owner of the property until
-a short time before her death. She was coming to
-see all her Maryland friends and was keeping it as
-a surprise.”
-
-“She left her property to a man who has already
-more wealth than he can use, and not one penny to
-me whom she promised to give a home if she ever
-had one to share with me! God help me! I
-thought I had one friend, but there is no such a
-thing in the wide world. My life has been a miserable
-failure.”
-
-“You should not censure Anna Ashburton, Miss
-Flint. I feel sure it was her intention to keep her
-promise to you.”
-
-A scornful smile crossed the thin lips of Jerusha,
-but she made no response.
-
-“And you should not count your life a failure,
-there is no one in the neighborhood more useful.”
-
-A sniff of derision rewarded this sincere compliment.
-
-“Please tell me,” resumed Mrs. Courtney, “how
-you could act the part of a spectre and not frighten
-the servants away.”
-
-“Nothing could be simpler,” replied Miss Jerusha
-wearily. “They were glad of anything that would
-dishearten Mr. Farnsworth and cause him to restore
-Anna’s property to her. They never saw me, because
-nothing would tempt them to enter the main
-building except in daytime, and then not alone.”
-
-“You always disappeared in the unfurnished attic
-room, yet James and Ralph, who examined it
-thoroughly, could find no place of exit.”
-
-“That was yet simpler when understood. In
-that one short, happy summer with Anna I was one
-afternoon gathering clusters of grapes from the
-arbor which yet shades this end of the house, and
-noticed a locked door for which I could see no use.
-I spoke of it to Anna and she explained that it led
-by flights of narrow steps to a room just their
-width, off the back attic, and furnished with rows
-of hooks for meat. After the building of a meat
-house it was abandoned and almost forgotten.
-
-“When we were forced to leave ‘My Lady’s
-Manor’ my plans were laid. There was no key to
-that door, but my brother, being a locksmith, had
-keys of every shape and size. I took the impression
-of the keyhole in wax and never gave up trying
-keys until I got one that would turn the rusty lock.
-Then, screened by the arbor, I could gain admittance
-any hour of the day or night.”
-
-“But how could you get from the meat room to
-other parts of the house?”
-
-“There is a sliding door in the partition which
-allowed the servants of that day to get meat from
-the room without unlocking the outer door. It
-fitted so perfectly that no one could detect it except
-by the knob, which I took care should be removed;
-and it would not occur to anyone that there was a
-narrow room between it and the outer weather-boarding
-of the house.”
-
-“But the costume of Mrs. Joshua Farnsworth?”
-
-“Anna gave it to me as a memento of her foster
-mother. I kept it on one of the hooks, and it was
-short work to don it. The meat room having no
-window, the light from my shaded lamp could not
-be seen from the outside. Here is the key. You
-can give it, with my compliments, to Mr. Courtney;”
-and again the scornful smile passed over her
-lips.
-
-Mrs. Courtney saw in this a hint of dismissal
-and arose to go; moreover Miss Flint appeared
-weak and exhausted.
-
-“But can I do nothing for you?” she asked. “It
-grieves me to leave you so alone.”
-
-“When I need assistance from you or anyone in
-Dorton, or out of it, I will ask it,” replied Jerusha
-haughtily, her black eyes gleaming with unshed
-tears, and, seeing that her presence was no longer
-desired, Mrs. Courtney went home.
-
-When she reached there she found a note from
-Mrs. Merryman saying that Mrs. Flynn was ready
-any day to assume the duties of housekeeper at
-“My Lady’s Manor,” and Mr. Courtney was
-encouraged to proceed with his arrangements for
-housekeeping.
-
-Busy days now followed, for Mrs. Courtney resolved
-that her brother’s home should be in perfect
-order for his reception on his return from the city
-the first evening of taking possession of his inheritance,
-and all the Courtney family be there to welcome
-him.
-
-At length all was in readiness and not only the
-parlor but the kitchen at “Friedenheim” was interested,
-for Chloe was to depart to take up her abode
-as cook at “My Lady’s Manor,” and the evening of
-the home-coming was sent over by Mrs. Courtney
-to have all in readiness for the supper which she
-and Kitty had prepared, and would be brought later
-by Mose.
-
-Chloe never felt her importance more than when,
-as sole occupant of “My Lady’s Manor,” she unlocked
-the china closet and took out the beautiful
-and costly ware, once the property of Mrs. Joshua
-Farnsworth. She was absorbed in admiration of
-a tea plate, almost transparent when held between
-her and the light, when the door quietly opened and
-Archie came in, and without so much as a glance at
-the startled Chloe made his way to the corner of the
-broad hearth.
-
-“Archie was glad when he saw the smoke coming
-again from the chimney. Archie has often looked
-for it,” he said, rubbing his hands in satisfaction at
-seeing the glow from the open grate of the range.
-
-“Nobody comes into my kitchen without knockin’.
-Don’t like folks to come in that way nohow,”
-remarked Chloe, keeping at a respectful distance.
-
-“Archie never knocks. All the houses he goes to
-are Archie’s homes.”
-
-“This is Marse Courtney’s house and I am boss
-of this kitchen,” proclaimed Chloe.
-
-“Archie is tired. He has walked and walked,”
-and before Chloe could make further protest he had
-leaned back and closed his eyes in the comfortable
-chair.
-
-She kept on with her work, but it was with a
-feeling of relief that she saw the carriage with Mrs.
-Courtney and Cecil stop at the gate.
-
-Hilda on her way from the village school had
-stopped to speak to them, and Mrs. Courtney, ever
-mindful of the pleasure of others, invited her to
-assist in welcoming Mr. Courtney.
-
-The delicate flush which always visited the cheek
-of Hilda at an unexpected pleasure proved her eagerness
-to accept, and she followed Mrs. Courtney up
-the broad walk to the entrance.
-
-“I am afraid I ought not to stay. Aunt Grace
-will worry about me,” she said, as Chloe, in new
-plaid turban, opened the door, beaming with satisfaction.
-
-“I have thought of that, dear, and intend Cecil
-to drive over and tell Mrs. Merryman that you are
-here.”
-
-“Oh, please let me go with him!” said Hilda
-eagerly; “I will put on my pink cashmere dress and
-ask Norah to curl my hair.”
-
-“Certainly, my dear, if you wish it, but you
-look very neat to have been in school all day.”
-
-With happiness heightening the beauty of her expressive
-face, Hilda turned to go.
-
-“Tell Mrs. Merryman not to be anxious about
-your coming home this evening,” enjoined Mrs.
-Courtney; “we will take you in the carriage.”
-
-“Come in and see the table before you go, honey,”
-said Chloe, leading the way to the supper room and
-watching for Hilda’s admiring glance when the
-table came in view.
-
-“Oh, Chloe, it is splendid!” she said in delight.
-“I never saw china and glass glisten so.”
-
-“Yes, honey, it do glisten, and so do the silver.
-Jes’ you wait till the lamps are lighted and you see
-that table with the fried chicken and oysters and
-pounded biscuit and muffins and raspberry jam.
-Be sure and hurry back, honey! Come as soon as
-ever you can!”
-
-As eager to be among all these triumphs as was
-Chloe to have her, Hilda promised, when a new
-thought came to her.
-
-“Chloe, will there be little bouquets at the plates
-and a large one in the center of the table as Mrs.
-Courtney likes to have at home?”
-
-“I ’spect so, honey. Mis’ Emma allus sees to the
-flowers. There’s oceans of ’em growin’ wild in the
-yards and garden.”
-
-“Oh, Chloe, I have the loveliest pink rosebuds
-at home. I will bring them to put at Mr. Valentine’s
-plate.”
-
-“Where did you get them, honey?”
-
-“The miller’s wife gave the bush to me. She
-asked Miss Jerusha Flint for it, because it had been
-planted by Aunt Ashley. And Miss Jerusha gave
-it, although she knew it was for me. I knew nothing
-of it until I came one evening from school and
-found it in my flower bed. It was very kind of
-them.”
-
-“I ’spect, honey, Miss Flint don’t care for flowers,
-or you wouldn’t have it now.”
-
-Hilda smiled and was hurrying away when she
-caught sight of Chloe’s first guest.
-
-“Why, there is Archie!” she cried, “dear, dear
-Archie!” and running to him, she took his hand in
-her soft little palms.
-
-“Does you know him, honey?” asked Chloe, full
-of surprise.
-
-“Know him? Oh, Chloe, he saved my life!”
-
-“Yes, honey, I done heard that some old body
-found you in the snow. Mighty fine girl he saved;
-he ought to be proud of that find.”
-
-“Archie is proud,” said the old man who had
-waked at the first sound of Hilda’s voice. “Archie
-looks all the time for people in the snow since he
-found her.”
-
-By this time Cecil, who had finished bringing in
-the baskets, was waiting for her. She ran out,
-stepped into the carriage and was driven away.
-
-“I hope we won’t meet any boys,” thought Cecil.
-“They would never stop plaguing me.”
-
-Mrs. Merryman was glad that Hilda had the
-prospect of this pleasant visit and entertained Cecil
-while she ran up to her room to dress, keeping in
-remembrance the roses she was to take.
-
-“I am so glad you will be there, Miss Hilda,”
-said Norah joyously as she curled the girl’s beautiful
-hair. “I am to go as soon as our supper is over,
-and will stay all night with aunt, for Mrs. Merryman,
-bless her kind heart, says that aunt will feel
-strange and lonely at first.”
-
-“I am glad you are coming, Norah; I am sure
-your aunt will be glad to have you.”
-
-Looking very fair and sweet in her becoming
-toilet and with rosebuds in hand, Hilda reached
-“My Lady’s Manor” and was assisted from the carriage
-by Mr. Valentine Courtney, who was watching
-for her.
-
-“My little Hilda expected to welcome me. Instead
-I welcome, gladly welcome her to my home,”
-and, taking her hand in his, they went up the broad
-path to the entrance.
-
-“Thank you, sir,” smiled Hilda. “When I went
-past here to school this morning I never thought of
-being here this evening.”
-
-“I hope it is as much pleasure to you to be here
-as it is to me to welcome you,” he said kindly.
-
-“Yes, I love to be here. I think ‘My Lady’s Manor’
-the loveliest place in the world.”
-
-“Then I hope you will come very often,” he returned
-smiling with pleasure. “You are fond of
-reading, I am sure.”
-
-“Oh, yes, I do love a pretty book; I am reading
-a beautiful story now.”
-
-“Here is a large collection and suitable for every
-age,” said Mr. Courtney as they reached the library,
-which since the days of Mr. Reginald Farnsworth
-was on the first floor, across the hall from the
-parlor—“you can read here when it suits you, or you
-can take any books home with you that you wish.”
-
-The glad light in Hilda’s eyes and the flush upon
-her cheek showed her appreciation of the offer, for
-which she thanked him in her naturally graceful
-manner.
-
-It was one of the happiest hours of Mr. Courtney’s
-life when, in company with his sister, her
-husband and sons and Hilda, they sat at supper in
-his own home for the first time.
-
-Mrs. Courtney did the honors, and Roy and Cecil,
-though accustomed to Kitty’s and Chloe’s culinary
-achievements all their lives, considered the supper
-the best they ever tasted.
-
-Twilight came and the whistle of a departing
-train had scarcely died upon the air, when Norah,
-who had gone to the Dorton Station, was seen coming
-with her aunt. Hilda ran to the gate to meet
-them, and Mrs. Courtney received Mrs. Flynn kindly,
-introduced her to her employer, and asked Norah
-to take her to her room while Chloe prepared her
-supper.
-
-Mrs. Courtney admired the neat-looking woman
-with the stamp of goodness in her face and felt satisfied
-that she was a suitable person to manage her
-brother’s household.
-
-Hilda had never enjoyed an evening so thoroughly,
-as she flitted like a bird through the spacious
-rooms. She was now in the parlor listening to the
-cheerful conversation, now in the tea room with
-Mrs. Flynn and Norah, then in the kitchen where
-Chloe was putting all in order for the night, and
-Archie was resting in his chair.
-
-“What’s to be done about him, honey?” asked
-Chloe in a whisper, nodding her gay turban toward
-the sleeper. “He’s gwine to stay all night, that’s
-certain; I knowed that as soon as he was done supper,
-’cause he never sighted his ol’ hat and cane in
-the corner, but made straight back to his chair.”
-
-“Will I ask Mrs. Courtney, Chloe?” whispered
-Hilda.
-
-“Ax Marse Val, honey, ’cause the house is his’n
-now.”
-
-Hilda returned to the parlor and stood beside Mr.
-Valentine Courtney until he finished something he
-was saying to Rev. Carl.
-
-“Chloe wishes to know if Archie is to stay over
-night,” she said somewhat anxiously; “he does not
-say anything about going away.”
-
-“Certainly he can stay,” replied Mr. Courtney.
-“Please tell Chloe to see that he has a comfortable
-bed,” and Hilda sped away, well pleased with her
-mission.
-
-“It would be a poor beginning to my housekeeping
-to turn a fellow pilgrim away, would it not?”
-he asked, with a smile, of Rev. Carl.
-
-“I think so, indeed. You are doing right to invite
-him to stay and to make him comfortable.”
-
-“Before we leave you perhaps it would be advisable
-for me to go through the rooms in the back
-building and see which would be best to give him,”
-suggested Mrs. Courtney.
-
-Before Mr. Valentine could reply Hilda came
-running back to the parlor. “He has gone to his
-room without waiting for anybody to tell him,” she
-said almost breathlessly. “He says he knows the
-room that Lois gave him.”
-
-Rev. Carl gave a hearty peal of laughter, in
-which all joined. “That is the style of visitors to
-have, brother Val,” he said; “they save you the
-trouble of entertaining them.”
-
-“I look upon it as a good omen,” smiled his
-brother-in-law. “I hope my home will be a place of
-rest and refreshment to all who enter its doors.”
-
-“I am sure it will be,” said Mrs. Courtney sincerely;
-“but this Archie, I don’t understand his saying
-that he knows the room that Lois gave him. I
-am quite sure it was not in Mr. Joshua Farnsworth’s
-time, or in that of his widow, or Anna. I
-was here quite often, and never saw him or heard
-any of them speak of him.”
-
-“The servants who had charge afterward may
-have allowed him to sleep here, and no doubt were
-glad to have company near them,” suggested Rev.
-Carl.
-
-“While we were reviving Hilda the night that
-Archie found her in the snow, Diana Strong mentioned
-that she had seen him on the road more than
-once, but did not know his name,” remarked Mrs.
-Courtney.
-
-“I, too, remember hearing him spoken of that
-evening,” rejoined Rev. Carl. “Dr. Lattinger
-mentioned that he frequently met him, and said that he
-was a mystery to him, reminding him of the Wandering
-Jew. He added that Archie is weak-minded
-and does not know his last name.”
-
-“He appears to be one who has seen better times,”
-commented Mrs. Courtney. “There is an air of
-refinement about him that one does not see in the
-ordinary wayfarer. I believe that he has a history,
-but it is not likely that we will ever know it.”
-
-It was now time to return to “Friedenheim,” and
-Mrs. Courtney arose to go.
-
-“I hope, sister, that you will allow Roy and Cecil
-to come here frequently and pass the night with me.
-I will bring Ralph and James often, and wish all
-these young people and their friends to take pleasure
-in visiting here.”
-
-“They will not be more pleased to come than I
-will be to have them with you, and we all wish
-you every happiness in your home,” replied his sister
-affectionately. And thus ended the happy day
-that welcomed Hilda Brinsfield for the second period
-of her life to “My Lady’s Manor.”
-
-CHAPTER VIII—LETTERS WHICH BRING A TRIAL TO HILDA
-=================================================
-
-Not only the village of Dorton, but the whole
-country around it rejoiced that Mr. Valentine
-Courtney was the owner of “My Lady’s Manor,”
-and that it was again occupied and one of the hospitable
-homes of the neighborhood.
-
-His first purchase was a pair of handsome horses,
-a comfortable carriage and a phaeton.
-
-For coachman he wished a middle-aged, unmarried
-man, for whom he advertised, and among
-the many who responded was one he was satisfied
-to engage. This man was Sandy MacQuoid, a
-Scotchman who bore testimonials from two Edinburgh
-families as to his exemplary character and
-capability.
-
-Sandy was tall, thin and pale, quiet in manner
-and scrupulously neat in attire, which was always
-black and perfect in fit.
-
-With congratulations of his own good fortune,
-Mr. Courtney brought him to “My Lady’s Manor”
-and the years which followed proved Sandy’s testimonials
-correct; he vied in fidelity with the Irish
-housekeeper and the African cook.
-
-Sandy stipulated but for one favor after the matter
-of salary was agreed upon, and that was that he
-might bring a parrot, which had been trained to
-say many things, and his Scotch bagpipes.
-
-Mr. Courtney granted both requests with pleasure
-for he was partial to pets and fond of music;
-moreover the place would be rendered more attractive
-to his nephews and their friends, and to Hilda.
-
-With the cordial assent of Mrs. Merryman, Hilda
-had availed herself of the invitation of Mr. Courtney
-to read in his library, and almost every afternoon
-on her way from school she passed an hour
-or more in the home-like room.
-
-Although Mrs. Flynn and Chloe saw but little of
-her during that hour, they were glad to know she
-was there; the day always seemed brighter when
-she passed on the way to the library, halting to chat
-a moment with them.
-
-As a rule, she was away by the time that Mr.
-Courtney returned from the city, but it was a pleasure
-to him to hear that she had been there.
-
-At his request Mrs. Flynn frequently invited
-Hilda and her schoolmates to tea, which request was
-all the more heartily appreciated by her that Norah
-always came and spent the evening in order to see
-Hilda safely home.
-
-It was also an understood thing that when Rev.
-Carl and Mrs. Courtney came to take tea at “My
-Lady’s Manor” Hilda should be invited, and she
-always accepted the invitation. Thus in time she
-looked upon the villa as a second home, as when a
-child in the cottage of her Aunt Ashley she passed
-so much time there with Anna Ashburton.
-
-Happy summers passed, and winters equally
-pleasant, and Hilda was growing into healthy, symmetrical
-and beautiful young womanhood, the cultivation
-of her fine mind keeping pace with her
-growth.
-
-Three days in each week Mr. Courtney went to
-the city in his carriage and Sandy, after leaving him
-at his office, purchased supplies for the household.
-
-One day, after completing this, he was driving to
-the hotel where the horses were cared for, when he
-had the unexpected pleasure of meeting an old
-friend who had recently arrived from “the land of
-the thistle.”
-
-Sandy invited him to take luncheon with him,
-after which they repaired to the lodgings of his
-friend where he was presented with a young Scotch
-terrier of great intelligence.
-
-Sandy’s pleasure in the gift was enhanced by that
-of Mr. Courtney, and when Roy and Cecil came
-over that evening they could scarcely tear themselves
-away in time to study their next day’s lessons,
-so charmed were they with the terrier.
-
-The parrot was kept on the porch, as a rule, and
-in order to hear its quaint speeches one had to go
-there, but the terrier was here, there and everywhere;
-and Hilda was almost tempted at times to
-defer her reading in the library to be amused by the
-antics of the canine foreigner.
-
-Seeing her fondness for the terrier, Chloe was
-loth to complain of it, but could not at times refrain
-when his mischief grew too pronounced.
-
-“That pup is mighty mischievous, honey,” she
-said one afternoon upon recovering her breath after
-chasing the terrier to get her clean turban which he
-had captured. “You don’t know the tricks that
-terrier can play. When the door-bell rings and I
-go to let company in, I’m never sartin that a pile
-of bones or ol’ shoes won’t fall in when I open the
-door.”
-
-“I wonder why he likes best to put them at the
-front door when there are so many doors to the
-house?” laughed Hilda.
-
-“Jes’ to be as tricky as ever he kin, honey, and
-where he finds the ol’ shoes is the riddle I can’t
-guess. I never sees none layin’ around, and I burns
-all he fotches in.”
-
-“But he is so funny, Chloe, and we all love him
-so!”
-
-“I’m not gwine to say nothin’ agin him, honey,
-and haven’t said nothin’, even when he tore up my
-best turban that Mis’ Emma done give me. Mrs.
-Flynn feeds him. She puts a piece of oilcloth on
-the floor by the table and gives the terrier scraps
-while she and Mr. Sandy is eatin’.”
-
-One afternoon Mrs. Courtney, Mrs. Merryman
-and Hilda went to take tea at “My Lady’s Manor,”
-a charming walk across the fields that lovely day,
-and Hilda was the happiest of the happy.
-
-The afternoon passed speedily and pleasantly,
-and Hilda, who had been part of the time in the
-library, was first to see the carriage containing Mr.
-Courtney and Sandy stop at the side gate. She ran
-joyously to announce his arrival to Mrs. Courtney,
-then to the kitchen to tell Chloe, then out to the
-gate to meet him.
-
-“My home-coming is always more pleasant when
-Hilda is here to welcome me,” he said cordially as
-he clasped her dimpled hand; “something told me
-that you would meet me at the gate.”
-
-Hilda flushed with pleasure, and, clinging to his
-hand, she went with him to the parlor, where he
-welcomed the other guests, then went to his dressing
-room, the terrier flying up the steps in advance
-of him, and watching every movement with alert,
-bright eyes until he descended.
-
-Hilda’s request to arrange the bouquet for the
-center of the table was cheerfully granted by Mrs.
-Flynn, and with scissors in hand she went to the
-garden, the terrier following in an ecstasy of delight
-and playing about her until he saw Archie
-coming through the gate, his coat upon his arm,
-for the evening was warm.
-
-The terrier ran to meet him, danced around him
-and barked, but Archie paid no attention to him,
-and walking slowly up he placed his coat on the
-balustrade of the back porch, then went to his favorite
-seat in the kitchen, and was soon asleep, worn
-out with his constant walking.
-
-Hilda, in the meantime, had arranged her roses
-in a tall vase and placed them upon the table; then
-the tea-bell rang and Mr. Courtney and his guests
-gathered about it, and cheerful conversation enlivened
-the meal.
-
-When it was finished they went to the library,
-where later, Sandy, tall, grave and reserved, joined
-them at Mr. Courtney’s request to give them Scotch
-airs upon the bagpipes.
-
-It seemed to Hilda, seated near Mr. Courtney,
-that Sandy’s music never sounded so mournfully
-sweet as upon that evening, the last time she was
-to hear it for many days. For destiny was quietly
-closing the doors of “My Lady’s Manor” upon her,
-and opening those of a distant farmhouse, the existence
-of which she had never known.
-
-In the pauses of the music the occupants of the
-library heard a scampering and a scuffling upon the
-porch, mingled with sharp, quick barks, and the
-dragging of something to and fro.
-
-Mr. Courtney arose and was about to pass from
-the room to see what occasioned the sounds, when
-through the open door rushed the terrier, bearing
-in his mouth two letters which he dropped upon the
-floor and then ran out.
-
-“Can’t find no mo’ ol’ shoes so must go and tear
-up the coat that Marse Archie sot so much store
-by,” said Chloe, as she captured both coat and the
-terrier as he was again scampering into the library.
-“I done heerd that scampering and knowed that tarrier
-was up to sumpin’, and he’s done tore out the
-linin’ of that good coat and the cover off a letter.”
-
-“Did he get the letters out of the coat?” asked
-Mr. Courtney, as Hilda picked them from the floor.
-
-“I ’spect so, sir. There weren’t no letters on
-the piazzy ’till the tarrier done tore the coat.”
-
-“This one is signed ‘Janette Ashley’,” said Hilda,
-becoming very pale, “and is addressed to ‘My Dear
-Sister Sarah.’ I remember that Aunt Ashley’s first
-name was Janette,” she added, turning to Mrs.
-Merryman and putting the letter in her hand.
-
-“It was, Hilda, and her sister’s name was Sarah
-Warfield. Shall I read it aloud?”
-
-The girl nodded; she could not trust her voice to
-speak.
-
-“These must be the letters of which Diana Strong
-spoke the evening of my reception,” remarked Mrs.
-Merryman when she finished reading. “The dates
-prove that they were written the week of Mrs.
-Ashley’s death.”
-
-“My husband wrote this one,” said Mrs. Courtney,
-to whom Mrs. Merryman had passed the letters.
-“I recognize the writing; besides, I remember
-hearing him say at the time that he had written
-a letter for Mrs. Ashley to her sister in Ohio. He
-wrote it at the cottage and I remember his saying
-that Mrs. Ashley asked Diana to give him her pen
-from the writing desk. He said it was the handsomest
-he had ever seen, a gold pen, the handle
-also gold, and set with lines of rubies. He commented
-upon the beauty of it, and Mrs. Ashley said
-her father gave it to her upon her fifteenth birthday,
-and she had never used any other since.”
-
-“But where have the letters been all this time?”
-said Mrs. Merryman.
-
-“Without doubt in the pocket of the coat of
-which the terrier has torn the lining,” said Mr.
-Courtney, whose handsome face had grown pale and
-sad since the reading of the letters.
-
-“Poor Mrs. Warfield never received them and we
-have censured her for not replying,” continued Mrs.
-Merryman.
-
-“But one would suppose that not receiving any
-letter from her sister, she would write to know the
-reason for her silence,” suggested Mr. Courtney.
-
-“She may have done so, but I never heard of it.
-Diana said that she asked the postmaster to forward
-a newspaper containing a notice of Mrs. Ashley’s
-death.”
-
-“What should be done with the letters?” asked
-Mrs. Courtney. “Ought they not be forwarded to
-Mrs. Warfield?”
-
-Hilda sat pale and silent, glancing anxiously from
-one to another, and for a time no one spoke.
-
-“It appears to be the just, therefore the right
-thing, to do,” commented Mrs. Merryman.
-
-“As my husband wrote one of the letters, if you
-all agree to it, I will take them home and ask him
-to forward them to Mrs. Warfield. Wouldn’t that
-be best, my love?” asked Mrs. Courtney, turning to
-Hilda.
-
-“Oh, she may think I ought to go to her! How
-can I leave you all?” exclaimed the girl.
-
-Tears filled the eyes of the elder ladies, and Mr.
-Courtney arose and left the room.
-
-“But we would not be acting justly to the living
-or the dead by withholding them,” interposed Mrs.
-Courtney.
-
-“No, it would not be right, they must be sent,”
-sobbed Hilda.
-
-“The question with me is, how letters written so
-long ago came to be in Archie’s coat,” said Mrs.
-Merryman. “I know that he is, in his sad, preoccupied
-way, searching for something in his pitiable
-wanderings, and has his pockets at times filled
-with trifles, but these letters, while somewhat
-stained and yellow, are not the least worn, so could
-not have been carried long in his pocket.”
-
-“It will always be a mystery, I think, unless he
-is willing to tell us where he found them.”
-
-“He was at our house over night,” said Mrs.
-Merryman reflectively. “I wonder, if asked,
-whether he could tell where he got them. Will you
-ask him, Hilda?”
-
-She obeyed immediately, but as they supposed,
-he could not give the least information.
-
-“Diana incidentally mentioned that she gave the
-letters to Perry to mail. It may be that he is the
-one to blame for their not being received by Mrs.
-Warfield. I will ask him as soon as I get home,”
-continued Mrs. Merryman.
-
-“But what could be his object, and where has he
-kept them all these years without your knowledge?”
-
-“I have not the least idea. He has a small trunk,
-but it is never locked, nor has he ever given the
-least evidence that he is keeping anything hidden.”
-
-Hilda arose and left the library, and as she
-stepped into the hall she heard footsteps of someone
-passing to and fro upon the long piazza. It was
-Mr. Courtney, and as she appeared in the door-way
-he halted and held out his hand to her. She glided
-swiftly to him and he clasped her hand and placed
-it within his arm, and silently they walked back and
-forth.
-
-The ladies prepared for their return home, and
-Mrs. Merryman went to apprise Hilda, who withdrew
-her hand to follow. For one brief moment
-Mr. Courtney clasped her in his arms, for one brief
-moment she sobbed upon his breast, then she rejoined
-the others. They bade the master of “My
-Lady’s Manor” good-night at his gate and left him
-to his sad forebodings.
-
-When Mrs. Merryman reached home she questioned
-Perry, whereupon he made a full confession,
-glad to be relieved of the secret which had so long
-oppressed him.
-
-Diana Strong, during Mrs. Ashley’s illness, had
-given him two letters to mail at the Dorton
-postoffice. He had opened them out of mere curiosity,
-as he earnestly alleged, and they had been a millstone
-about his neck. Terror of the law had made
-him afraid to have them found in his possession,
-and what conscience he had, refused to let him destroy
-them. He had taken them to the woods and
-placed them in the hollow of a tree too far up for
-them to be seen from the ground, and hearing Mr.
-Merryman say that the tree was to be felled, he was
-compelled to remove the letters.
-
-The visit of Archie to the Merryman home had
-left an avenue of escape, and he watched his opportunity
-when the wanderer was about to depart to
-slip them in the pocket of his coat; and the old man
-went to “My Lady’s Manor,” unconscious that he
-was bearing a message that would take Hilda from
-the home where he had placed her.
-
-Perry was anxious to do all he could to atone,
-and as a commencement was willing to leave a game
-of ball to carry a note from Mrs. Merryman to
-“Friedenheim,” that Rev. Carl might know the
-whole story before writing that evening to Mrs.
-Warfield, enclosing the letters.
-
-Mrs. Warfield was one who never dallied over a
-known duty. Her answer came by return mail, and
-had Hilda been destitute of a home, or situated less
-happily than she was, the letter would have given
-her unmingled satisfaction. As it was, it brought
-to her heart and to that of another a chill of bitter
-disappointment.
-
-Mrs. Warfield wrote that she had received the
-paper containing the notice of Mrs. Ashley’s death
-while ill from the effect of the railway accident, and
-the nervous terror resulting from it had kept her
-from traveling since. She explained that Mrs. Lacy
-having gone to France to reside, she had no one to
-communicate with, and had written to the postmaster
-at Dorton asking the name of any friend
-of Mrs. Ashley whom she could address. He replied,
-but had taken so little interest in the matter
-that he sent the name of Mrs. Reginald Farnsworth,
-of San Francisco.
-
-Mrs. Warfield wrote immediately, and after several
-weeks she received a letter saying that Mrs.
-Farnsworth was traveling in Europe, but the letter
-had been forwarded by the postmaster in response
-to Mrs. Warfield’s request.
-
-She never received a reply, and still hoped the
-time would come when she could visit Dorton and
-learn for herself what she had used all means in
-her power to know through others. She added that
-she was rejoiced to know that Mrs. Ashley had intrusted
-Hilda to her care, and so far as lay in her
-power the trust should be faithfully cherished.
-
-The letter concluded by saying that her eldest son
-would visit Philadelphia the following week, and
-would take great pleasure in going to Dorton to
-accompany Hilda to the home that would welcome
-her gladly.
-
-The evening of the day that this letter was received
-found Mr. Valentine Courtney in consultation
-with his sister, and the next morning that lady
-visited Mrs. Merryman, going early that she might
-see Hilda before she set out for school.
-
-Mrs. Courtney having—as she reminded Mrs.
-Merryman—no daughter of her own, asked as a
-favor that she be allowed to exercise her taste in
-providing an outfit for Hilda which might not be
-convenient to obtain in her new home.
-
-Mrs. Merryman, taking the offer in the spirit it
-was made, gave glad consent, and it was decided
-that Hilda should accompany Mrs. Courtney to
-Baltimore that morning upon a shopping expedition.
-
-This was a charming surprise to Hilda. She
-was ready by the time Mrs. Courtney and Mrs.
-Merryman had discussed the needs of the prospective
-young traveler, and it seemed like a fairy
-story that instead of walking to school, she was
-spinning along the pleasant road between Dorton
-and Baltimore in a roomy, comfortable carriage behind
-a pair of fine bay horses, and with the charming
-companionship of Mrs. Courtney.
-
-Shopping proved to be the most attractive of
-amusements as they drove from one business house
-to another, and to the inexperienced girl Mrs.
-Courtney’s purse seemed inexhaustible.
-
-“One article that Mrs. Merryman and I agreed
-upon as being indispensable is a large trunk,” Mrs.
-Courtney remarked as they reached the city. “We
-will buy it the first article, and all the other purchases
-can be taken home in it.”
-
-Hilda was charmed with the selection made. It
-was handsome, substantial and commodious, with
-many little compartments dear to the heart of the
-feminine traveler.
-
-The buying of dress goods came next, and Hilda
-was in her element, and Mrs. Courtney was surprised
-at the judgment she evinced in selecting what
-was suitable to her age and appearance.
-
-Wraps, hats, gloves, ruffles, and all the articles
-which complete a girl’s wardrobe were rapidly filling
-the trunk which Mose had strapped on the rack
-on the back of the carriage.
-
-“Now, dear Hilda, I have a favor to ask of you,
-and that is to sit for your picture. Mrs. Merryman
-wishes one, I should like to have one, and brother
-Valentine would be pleased to have you present one
-to him.”
-
-“And one for Miss Jerusha Flint,” supplemented
-Hilda, laughingly.
-
-“Of course,” assented Mrs. Courtney, amused
-at the suggestion. “But first we will take luncheon
-at the ladies’ restaurant where I always go upon
-these shopping tours, then to the picture gallery,
-then to a dressmaker’s to be fitted, and I think we
-will feel that we have made very good use of our
-time.”
-
-“But, dear Mrs. Courtney, would it not be better
-to wait for the photograph until one of these new
-dresses is made?”
-
-“No, dear, we prefer seeing you in the pink cashmere.
-It is the same you wore when last at ‘My
-Lady’s Manor,’ and is very becoming. We will go
-now and have a good luncheon which will refresh
-us for our afternoon’s shopping.”
-
-The gallery was visited and the sweet face of
-Hilda imaged for the friends she was soon to leave,
-the dresses fitted, and she supposed all they had
-come to do was accomplished.
-
-“We have had a pleasant day together, Hilda,”
-said her friend, “and I wish to give you a remembrance
-of it and of me—something useful as
-well as ornamental. Would you like a watch?”
-
-No need to wait for an answer; the beaming eyes,
-smiling lips and rosy tint which rose to the fair
-face were more expressive than words, and Mrs.
-Courtney led the way to a jeweler’s where she again
-had occasion to admire the innate refinement and
-courtesy of Hilda. What the donor selected was her
-choice, and her pleasure was enhanced and the value
-of the gift increased by the inscription which Mrs.
-Courtney requested should be engraved on the inner
-side of the case: “The Lord is my Shepherd; I
-shall not want.”
-
-It was left with the jeweler to be brought out to
-“Friedenheim” by Mr. Courtney. Then they turned
-their faces homeward, and thus ended this red letter
-day in the life of Hilda.
-
-It had always been a foregone conclusion that
-anything in which Mrs. Courtney took part proved
-to be a success; therefore the pretty new gowns, the
-watch and the cabinet pictures reached “Friedenheim”
-in good time, and were satisfactory in every
-respect.
-
-Mrs. Warfield’s son Paul came at the appointed
-time and was, in the eyes of Mr. Valentine Courtney—who,
-with his sister, called that evening to
-see him and bid good-bye to Hilda—a young Apollo.
-In the opinion of the others—Hilda not excepted—he
-was a tall, finely formed young man, with good
-features, dark hair and eyes and a firm mouth and
-chin.
-
-He bore well his part in the after-supper conversation,
-and Hilda had a feeling of pride that her
-Aunt Ashley’s nephew was so worthy the attention
-of her Dorton friends, while he was more than
-pleased with them all.
-
-“He is young, handsome, cultured, well educated
-and agreeable,” thought Mr. Courtney. “There is
-every reason for Hilda to become attached to him
-now that they will be under the same roof.”
-
-Obeying the request of Mrs. Courtney, and her
-own inclination, Hilda selected the most perfect of
-the pictures of herself to give to Mr. Courtney, and
-had gone to her room early in the evening and had
-brought it down to the parlor to have it in readiness
-to give when he arose to leave.
-
-It was given and accepted, farewells were said,
-and the Courtneys went to their homes; then Hilda,
-who had borne herself bravely during the evening,
-bade Mr. and Mrs. Merryman and Paul good-night
-and went to her room, and from the window looked
-with tear-dimmed eyes upon “My Lady’s Manor.”
-
-She watched the light gleaming in the library
-where she knew that Mr. Courtney was sitting
-alone, and when at a late hour it disappeared she
-retired and wept until slumber closed her eyes.
-
-The next morning was bright and beautiful, and,
-refreshed by sleep, and possessing the hope and
-buoyancy of youth when not crushed out by affliction
-or cruelty, Hilda arose and dressed for her
-journey in the pretty new traveling dress, which,
-with hat and gloves, she had placed in readiness before
-retiring.
-
-Descending to breakfast, the first object that met
-her gaze was a bouquet of roses which she knew at
-a glance had come from Mr. Courtney. She had
-been accustomed to seeing flowers all her life, but
-these seemed the sweetest and loveliest she had ever
-known. She examined each bud and blossom, and
-admired anew the donor’s name and compliments
-upon the card.
-
-Tears were in Mrs. Merryman’s eyes, and tender-hearted
-Norah wept, when Hilda, equipped for the
-journey, stood, bouquet in hand, ready to go to the
-carriage which Perry brought to the gate.
-
-“Good-bye, dear Aunt Merryman!” she said, putting
-an arm around that faithful friend as they
-stood upon the piazza.
-
-“Good-bye, dear Hilda!” responded the lady as
-she pressed kisses upon the lips and the fair brow
-of the girl. “We shall miss you; do not forget us.”
-
-“How can I forget, when I have found mother
-and father in you and Uncle Merryman?”
-
-“And, Hilda,” continued Mrs. Merryman in a
-low tone, and noticing that Mr. Merryman and
-Paul were engaged in parting words—“never, never
-let your Aunt Ashley’s prayer grow dim in your
-memory.”
-
-“No, dear Aunt Merryman, I will always look
-upon it as my guide through life, and with it will
-associate you who have tenderly kept it in my remembrance;
-and see,” she added with a sudden
-flush of color to her cheeks, “it is being answered,
-in part, at least, for my home and that of Aunt
-Sarah Warfield will be one and the same.”
-
-They all walked down the path to the waiting
-carriage, Mr. Merryman helped her in and bade her
-good-bye; then with a few last words they were on
-their way to the Dorton station while Mr. and Mrs.
-Merryman returned slowly to the house feeling that
-something sweet and pleasant had been removed
-from their home and lives, never again to be restored.
-
-In a few minutes the travelers reached Baltimore,
-where the train halted, and to Hilda’s surprise and
-pleasure Mr. Valentine Courtney appeared at the
-window by which she was seated, his handsome
-face growing brighter when he saw his roses in her
-hand.
-
-“They are lovely; I treasure them!” she said,
-touching them with her lips.
-
-“And this, also, I hope,” he said, putting a small
-package in her hand.
-
-“I know I shall,” she answered, flushing with
-surprise and anticipation, giving him a smile and
-glance which lingered long in his memory. She
-waved her hand in farewell, and they were gone.
-And he returned to his office, and in the evening to
-“My Lady’s Manor,” feeling more desolate than he
-had ever been in his life.
-
-The world in which he had lived since taking possession
-of his home was not, as it had been, the
-matter-of-fact world of business alone. It was a
-new world, rosy with sweet companionship and
-hope; morning sunshine which had now given place
-to evening clouds and coming darkness.
-
-He tried to think that he was no more desolate
-than before he had known Hilda, but his reasonings
-brought no comfort. He was not—as when Anna
-was taken from him—reconciled to the lot which he
-had in Christian faith looked upon as not only out
-of his power to prevent, but as something which
-God willed, and it was therefore his Christian duty
-to be submissive.
-
-Had Hilda been a few years older, Paul Warfield
-should not have taken her away before he had made
-known his attachment. He had not done this, believing
-it not honorable to fetter her with a promise
-before she had seen anything of the world. Now
-she was gone, and he was grieved that he had given
-her no hint of his feelings. He realized that he
-had been unjust to himself and to her.
-
-As soon as possible after they were again on their
-way, Hilda untied the packet and brought to view
-a crimson velvet case in which was a fine picture of
-Mr. Courtney.
-
-“Oh, it is so like him, so exactly like him!” she
-exclaimed in delight, as Paul bent his stately head
-to look upon it. “Isn’t he the very handsomest man
-you ever saw?”
-
-“He is very elegant looking, indeed, Cousin
-Hilda,” responded Paul heartily.
-
-“And just as good as he is handsome! He is so
-kind to everybody and urges poor Archie, who
-saved my life, to make his home at ‘My Lady’s
-Manor,’ and pass his days in rest and comfort; but
-Archie will stay only for a night, preferring to
-wander about.”
-
-“He is handsome and of noble presence, Cousin
-Hilda,” remarked Paul as he saw her looking again
-upon the picture, “but I cannot agree with you that
-he is the handsomest man I ever saw, and he is
-somewhat gray.”
-
-“Only a little upon the temples,” said Hilda eagerly.
-“Some persons turn gray early.”
-
-“Wait until you have seen my brother Fred,” said
-Paul, a little confusedly. “Do not think me boastful,
-Cousin Hilda, but all agree that Fred is very handsome,
-and he is young.”
-
-“I suppose he looks like you,” said Hilda, in all
-sincerity.
-
-“Girls never see me when Fred is around. He
-seems to know exactly what to say to interest
-them.”
-
-“And ‘My Lady’s Manor’ is such a lovely place,”
-resumed Hilda. “I wish you could have stayed
-even one day longer and visited there and at ‘Friedenheim.’
-They are such beautiful places, and my
-friends are all so kind.”
-
-“They are indeed charming people. I was glad
-to meet them and would have enjoyed remaining,
-but, little cousin, I have something to tell you.
-Shall it be now?”
-
-“Yes, now,” echoed the girl eagerly.
-
-“I told your Dorton friends that we would remain
-in Philadelphia until to-morrow with Mr. and
-Mrs. De Cormis, old friends of my father. A niece
-of Mr. De Cormis from Woodmont, a village near
-my home in Ohio, is visiting there, and I am glad
-to have you become acquainted.”
-
-“Is she a dear friend of yours?”
-
-“Yes, the dearest.”
-
-“Did she come to Philadelphia with you?”
-
-“No, she has been there several weeks. She has
-many friends there to visit, for she lived there all
-her life until the past four years, when she and her
-father came to Woodmont. Her father, Rev. Horace
-De Cormis, is pastor of our church and is one
-of the best of men.”
-
-“Will she go back to Ohio with us?”
-
-“No, her visit is not yet completed. Her uncle,
-Mr. Robert De Cormis, and his family wish her
-to remain the winter with them, but she is a devoted
-daughter and is not willing to leave her father
-longer than a fortnight more. You may know that
-we were glad to meet again.”
-
-“You love each other, then?”
-
-“Oh, little cousin, when you see her you will understand
-how impossible it would be not to love
-her! If nothing prevents, we expect to be married
-before another autumn.”
-
-“I am glad, Cousin Paul, and hope you will be
-very happy.”
-
-“Thank you, cousin; I am sure you wish it. I
-cannot fail being happy with Lura De Cormis.”
-
-“What style of person is she, Cousin Paul?”
-
-“She is faultlessly fair, has coal black hair and
-brilliant black eyes, lips like coral, perfect teeth, and
-her hands are small, white, and beautifully formed.”
-
-“She must be beautiful,” commented Hilda. “I
-hope she will love me. Is it easy to make her acquaintance?”
-
-“She is considered very reserved, but she is interested
-in you. I am sure you cannot help being
-congenial friends.”
-
-Paul’s fiancée was out when the travelers arrived
-at the handsome home of Mr. Robert De Cormis.
-
-Mrs. De Cormis received them cordially and conducted
-Hilda to the pretty apartment she was to
-occupy, then left her that she might make her toilet
-for dinner.
-
-Hilda took girlish delight in arraying herself
-in one of the new gowns, which fitted her lithe
-figure perfectly and was charmingly becoming.
-
-She heard the door-bell ring, and heard the sound
-of cheery voices and descended to the parlor to meet
-Miss Lura De Cormis. Paul met her at the door
-and led her to the alcove window where the young
-lady stood, so absorbed in reading a letter just received
-from her father that she did not hear Hilda’s
-step upon the soft carpet.
-
-The introduction was given and when Hilda
-looked upon the face of the future Mrs. Paul Warfield
-she saw a younger and fairer, but with those
-exceptions, a living image of Jerusha Flint.
-
-CHAPTER IX—AT THE GYPSY ENCAMPMENT
-==================================
-
-It was evening of a cloudless day when Paul and
-Hilda reached the Warfield farmhouse, which was
-looking charmingly picturesque in the ruby-red glow
-of the sunset.
-
-The flowers in the lawn were giving out their
-sweetness, and birds in the maples were singing
-their vesper songs as if in greeting to the travelers.
-
-Mrs. Warfield’s welcome to both was tenderly
-kind, and the marked resemblance she bore to Mrs.
-Ashley was a joy to Hilda.
-
-Separated from those whose loving kindness had
-made life a holiday to her, she had again found a
-home and a mother.
-
-“I will not weary you, my dear, by questioning
-now, but will give you the opportunity to refresh
-yourself after your journey,” said Mrs. Warfield,
-and, conducting Hilda to a pleasant room adjoining
-her own, she left her to herself and returned to the
-parlor to talk with Paul.
-
-“Her beauty quite bewildered me, it was so unexpected,”
-she said, laying her hand upon his shoulder
-as he sat by the window, newspaper in hand.
-
-“Yes, and the Merrymans spoke of the sweetness
-of her disposition. She will be a charming companion
-for you, mother.”
-
-“I know I will love her as a daughter. How did
-you like the family who have so kindly cared for
-her?”
-
-“I never met strangers whom I admire more.
-We have taken her from an excellent home, mother,
-and must try to make her happy here.”
-
-“We will. And now tell me of my future daughter-in-law,”
-continued Mrs. Warfield, with a smile.
-“I hope she is well and happy.”
-
-“Perfectly so,” replied the young man, smiling in
-turn and reddening slightly. “She sent her love to
-her future mother-in-law.”
-
-“For which I am duly obliged. When does she
-expect to come home?”
-
-“In a fortnight, and has promised to be my wife
-within the year. Mother dear, you will have more
-daughters than you can manage!”
-
-“Yes, I can count upon three. Fred will be
-bringing me a daughter one of these days, I suppose.”
-
-“If he can keep in love with any one girl long
-enough. He is fickle, and the girls seem to know
-it.”
-
-“He is a jolly, generous, conscientious boy,”
-commented his mother with a glow of pride. “I
-don’t believe he would intentionally wound the feelings
-of anyone, and I hope the girls he flirts with
-understand that he means nothing serious.”
-
-A step was heard on the stairs, and in a moment
-Hilda appeared at the parlor door.
-
-“I think I told you on our journey that Fred is
-reading law with an attorney in Springfield,” remarked
-Paul, as he arose to give her a chair.
-
-“Yes, and you also said that you expected him
-this evening.”
-
-“I did, and he has come,” exclaimed Paul, glancing
-eagerly toward the door, for quick footsteps
-were coming toward it, and a buoyant voice had
-called, “Mother, where are you?”
-
-“Here!” responded Mrs. Warfield, her eyes beaming
-with pleasure. “Come and welcome your new
-cousin!”
-
-Fred came forward in his easy, graceful manner
-and was presented in due form.
-
-“They are as handsome as pictures,” thought
-Mrs. Warfield proudly. “The Garden of Eden
-could scarcely have shown a handsomer couple.”
-
-“How are you, old fellow?” said Fred, turning
-with a bright smile to shake hands with his brother.
-
-“In fine health and spirits, and I see you are the
-same.”
-
-“I thought you were not coming until late. Having
-you in time for supper is an unexpected pleasure,”
-said his mother.
-
-“I intended coming out on the evening train,
-but there are gypsies encamped in Mr. Barry’s
-woods, and some of the young people of Springfield
-came out in carriages to have their fortunes told,
-and insisted that I should come with them, and
-here I am.”
-
-“I have not the least belief in gypsies or in fortune
-telling, but I am glad you are here. Now we
-will go to the tea table.”
-
-With an arm about his mother’s waist, Paul led
-the way, and Fred, with a radiant smile of pleasure,
-offered his arm to Hilda, who accepted with a
-smile and blush.
-
-If Mrs. Warfield allowed herself to be proud of
-anything, it was of her sons, and not without reason.
-They were sensible, well educated, attentive
-to business, and honorable in their dealings, and
-mothers with marriageable daughters could not forbear
-pointing out, or at least alluding to the excellence
-of these damsels when in the society of Sarah
-Warfield.
-
-If it be true that happy people have no history,
-then nothing could have been recorded of Fred
-Warfield, for Mother Destiny had willed that his
-pathway from babyhood should lie in sunshine,
-never in shadow. He had experienced but few disappointments
-and fewer trials to dampen his exuberant
-spirits; but light, almost trifling as he was in
-manner, his intimates knew that beneath it all was
-a warm, affectionate nature, a steadfast love for
-what was good, and a wish to help others to enjoy
-life, as he undoubtedly did.
-
-That he was captivated by every new face and
-fickle in his attachments was known to all who were
-acquainted with him, but they looked upon it as no
-more than might be expected of a handsome youth
-who was courted and admired in society, a fault
-which age and experience would correct.
-
-That evening at the farmhouse was an ideally
-happy one to him, the only shadow to its brightness
-being the knowledge that he could not study law in
-Springfield and at the same time remain under the
-home roof without attracting attention to the fact
-that it was because Hilda was there.
-
-Without appearing to notice, Mrs. Warfield took
-note of Fred’s manner to the young girl, and read
-his thoughts as accurately as if inscribed upon the
-page of an open book, and resolved to have a more
-serious conversation with him than she had ever
-had in regard to his failing.
-
-If it lay in her power to prevent it, there should
-be no trifling with the affections of any girl, no
-blighted happiness laid to the charge of her sons.
-
-“It is really too beautiful this evening to stay indoors,”
-remarked Fred, when, tea finished, they returned
-to the parlor. “Mother, I will have Planchette
-put to the carriage and take you and cousin
-Hilda for a drive.”
-
-“I would enjoy it, but Hilda will excuse me this
-evening, as several ladies are coming from the village
-to help arrange for a fair to be held in the hall
-there, but that need not prevent you and Hilda from
-going.”
-
-“We will drive past the gypsy encampment,” said
-Fred eagerly, turning to Hilda. “It is really romantic;
-I could scarcely tear myself away. You
-will go, won’t you, cousin?”
-
-No need to ask. Hilda’s face showed her delight
-in anticipation of something so new and altogether
-enchanting.
-
-“I hope you will not encourage the gypsies by
-stopping to listen to their foolishness,” said Mrs.
-Warfield gently.
-
-“Oh, I would not have them tell my fortune for
-anything!” ejaculated Hilda. “I would be afraid
-they would tell me something evil.”
-
-“That would depend upon what you paid them,”
-smiled Mrs. Warfield.
-
-Fred made no comment, but hurried out to give
-orders for the conveyance.
-
-“Now, cousin mine,” he said as it came to the
-gate, “allow me to assist you,” and with easy grace
-he took the filmy white scarf from Hilda’s hand
-and placed it adroitly and becomingly on her brown
-hair and a few minutes later Planchette was speeding
-away with the long swinging trot which characterized
-her.
-
-Fred had said truly that nothing could be pleasanter
-than the drive to the encampment, and nothing
-more romantic than the scene upon which they
-looked a little later.
-
-In order to observe, and, as he thought, be unobserved,
-Fred selected as a good place to halt a
-part of the forest separated from the encampment
-by a running brook and the thick screen of willows
-on either side, between the trunks of which they
-could, with but slight obstruction, have a good view
-of the camp.
-
-In the foreground were two small tents, in front
-of which was burning a bright fire of brushwood.
-
-Two forked sticks supported an iron rod from
-which was suspended a tea kettle, clouds of steam
-issuing from lid and spout.
-
-Upon a large box which served as a table a middle-aged
-woman had spread a white cloth, and was
-placing upon it dishes of different colors, and with
-an eye to effect.
-
-A young and handsome gypsy in a scarlet dress
-and with a plaid kerchief about her shapely throat
-was seated under a large oak tree that spread its
-protecting arms over the tents.
-
-Her swarthy yet clear complexion was smooth
-as satin, her eyes were large, brown and lustrous,
-and her crimson lips parted frequently in smiles at
-the gambols of the child at her feet, showing her
-perfect teeth. Two robust little boys played about
-the mossy bank, upon whom her eyes rested with
-pride.
-
-Back of the tents stood two substantial, covered
-wagons, and under the oaks beside them lay three
-gypsy men, idly watching the horses, which, held
-by ropes, were cropping the grass within reach.
-
-“It looks so lovely and peaceful,” commented
-Hilda. “I wish an artist were here to sketch it.”
-
-“The full moon is rising,” said Fred, turning to
-look through the window of the carriage; “the tops
-of the trees are becoming silvered, which adds to
-the beauty. Would you like to be a gypsy, Cousin
-Hilda?”
-
-“At this hour it would be charming to encamp;
-but during the bitter cold and snow-storms of winter
-the poor creatures must suffer.”
-
-“No danger but they will keep warm so long as
-there is wood to steal; besides, they are accustomed
-to rough it,” said Fred lightly.
-
-“And yet they suffer sometimes from exposure.
-When I was a child Dr. Lattinger attended a gypsy
-who was ill of pneumonia. Their encampment was
-in the woods near Dorton during two months of
-winter, and Dr. Lattinger saw her twice a day. He
-said they were very respectful to him, and in sympathy
-for the sick woman and in care of her were
-much like our own people. They were of the tribe
-of Stanley.”
-
-“Yes, I suppose they have good and evil among
-them as have other communities, but it is the general
-belief that gypsies are not trustworthy.”
-
-“Which of those women is the fortune-teller?”
-
-“Neither of those. I do not see her. She must
-be in one of the tents.”
-
-“Is she handsome?”
-
-“Handsome! She is gray and wrinkled, and
-toothless and swarthy, cross-grained and disagreeable
-in every way. Phew!” grimaced Fred, at the
-remembrance of the prophetess.
-
-“She did not please you in your fortune, I think,”
-laughed Hilda.
-
-“She was not very clever to me, that is certain.
-Jack Prettyman gave her the largest fee, and is to
-marry a rich and beautiful girl and live in Europe.”
-
-“What did she tell you?”
-
-“She paid me a few compliments, which no doubt
-I deserve. She caught me mimicking her, and I
-never saw such a look of malignant hate as crossed
-her ugly face.”
-
-“Had you no faith in her predictions, then?”
-
-“No; yet I felt almost startled when she described
-my mother and my home better than I could have
-done. She also told me of some of my flirtations,”
-continued Fred, laughingly, while he reddened.
-“The old vixen said I would meet my match at no
-distant day, and would receive no pity, and deserve
-none.”
-
-“How could she describe your mother and your
-home?” said his companion, amused at his discomfiture.
-“She had never seen them, had she?”
-
-“Not that I am aware of, but these strollers have
-sources of information unsuspected by honest individuals.
-She could not have told me so much of
-my life since childhood had not someone given her
-the information.”
-
-“What did she tell the ladies who came with
-you?”
-
-“Something that pleased them very much, judging
-by their happy looks and smiles. We tried to
-persuade them to tell us, but they would only give
-us scraps and hints which might have been told any
-young lady and not been far wrong.”
-
-“They are such good-looking people. I imagined
-that all gypsies had a wild, degraded look.”
-
-“These are the most respectable ones I have seen,
-so far as appearances go, especially that one by the
-oak tree. They also belong to the illustrious house
-of Stanley.”
-
-Fred’s laugh arose above the key to which they
-had been modulating their voices, and they realized
-that it had attracted the attention of the gypsies.
-
-The men arose, and tying the horses, stood awhile
-looking about them, conversing in a low tone, then
-went to the brook, laved hands and face, and went
-to supper.
-
-“Cousin Hilda,” said Fred, who had been gazing
-intently at the horses, “I believe that beautiful
-cream-colored one is the very animal that was stolen
-from an innkeeper in Springfield about two years
-ago.”
-
-“But there are many cream-colored horses; how
-could you be certain that this is the one? Or why
-do you imagine it is?”
-
-“By the peculiar manner in which she tosses her
-head. The one I speak of belonged to a circus
-company and had been trained to perform several tricks.
-I feel quite sure that this is the animal.”
-
-“But surely you do not intend hinting anything
-of the kind to them?” said Hilda, anxiously.
-
-“No, but Planchette is perfectly quiet. If you
-will hold the lines a moment I will take a circuit
-and come up back of the tents, and while the gypsies
-are at supper will examine that horse.”
-
-“But what proof would a closer view give you?”
-
-“One of the tricks of the circus horse was to
-kneel if touched upon a particular spot on his head.
-I know that spot and will put it to the test. You
-can watch from the carriage and see if I am right.”
-
-“Oh, Cousin Fred, do be careful! Suppose they
-should see you?”
-
-“But I do not intend them to see me, and will
-be back in a moment.” He swung himself lightly
-from the carriage and disappeared behind the thick
-underbrush.
-
-Hilda gazed anxiously in the direction of the
-tents and saw Fred reach the place, keeping at the
-same time his attention upon the gypsies.
-
-Patting the animal gently, and speaking in a low,
-soothing tone, his fingers glided to a spot upon her
-forehead. Instantly the intelligent creature knelt
-and laid her mouth in the outstretched palm of
-Fred. He raised his arm and she arose to her feet;
-and convinced that he was not mistaken, Fred went
-swiftly behind the tents on the way back to the
-carriage.
-
-He found Hilda with a blanched face, a look of
-terror in her eyes, and seeming almost on the verge
-of fainting.
-
-“Oh, Fred,” she whispered, “the fortune teller
-sprang from behind that bush the moment you left,
-and I cannot tell you the terrible things she said
-to me! She heard all you said and has gone to tell
-them.”
-
-Fred was no coward, nor was he foolhardy. He
-realized the danger they were in, and his cheek grew
-as pale as that of his companion.
-
-A commotion was visible among the gypsies—loud
-talking, curses and threatening looks toward
-the carriage, and a general uprising from the table.
-
-Fred sprang to his place beside Hilda, took the
-reins preparatory to flight, had turned Planchette’s
-head toward the road and reached to take the whip
-from the socket, when the bridle was grasped by one
-of the men.
-
-“Halt, liar, and explain, or you shall not leave
-this place alive!” cried the gypsy, his black eyes
-blazing with fury.
-
-For answer Fred brought the lash down upon
-his hand with a quick, stinging stroke. The bridle
-was released, and Planchette sprang forward just
-as a bullet whizzed through the back of the carriage
-between the heads of the occupants, and amid
-shouts and imprecations from men, women and children,
-they cleared the woods, and were in comparative
-safety.
-
-“This is only loaned,” exclaimed Fred, with
-flashing eyes, and face pale from anger and excitement.
-“I was single-handed, unarmed, and have
-a lady with me. It shall be returned with interest!”
-
-“Oh, Fred,” implored Hilda, almost faint from
-terror, “promise me not to molest them! I should
-never forgive myself if anything happened to you,
-Which would surely be the case if you attacked
-them. Promise me!”
-
-“That horse was stolen, Hilda; they should be
-made to return it! They fired upon me, and it is
-not through any merit in them that one of us is
-not lying dead at this moment. Would you wish
-me to leave all these things unpunished?”
-
-“Yes, for we are the ones at fault. They did
-not go to us; we came to them.”
-
-“Then you wish me to act the coward’s part by
-hiding their theft, and the attempt upon our lives?”
-
-“Yes, all; all for the sake of your mother. Oh,
-to think that the very first evening of my coming
-I should be the cause of bringing anxiety and perhaps
-anguish upon her! Promise me, Fred, or I
-will not return to your house.”
-
-“You would despise me when you reflected upon
-it,” commented the young man moodily. “Were
-I to follow your advice I would be of no credit to
-you.”
-
-“What credit would it be to you, or to anyone,
-to quarrel with gypsies? Supposing you were victorious
-and killed one or more of them, what would
-it add to your advantage or happiness?”
-
-“The woman insulted and frightened you. What
-man worthy of the name would allow it to go
-unpunished?”
-
-“Words do not kill; I care nothing about them,
-and would not have told you only to warn you of
-the danger we were in. We were the aggressors.”
-
-“They should be driven from the neighborhood,
-which the authorities cannot do unless complaint
-be made against them, and you will not let me make
-it.”
-
-“We are unharmed, and have no right to complain
-against them when it was our own fault.
-They may not have stolen the horse, but bought
-it from someone who did, as I am sure if they had
-stolen it they would not encamp so near Springfield,
-where at any moment the horse is liable to
-be recognized.”
-
-“That looks reasonable,” said Fred, reflectively.
-
-“Let us keep it a secret, at least for some time.
-I am a girl, but I can keep it to myself.”
-
-“Agreed!” responded Fred.
-
-“Promise that you will not pass the encampment
-on your way back to Springfield, will you?”
-
-“No, I will go by the way of the Lakes, or the
-Pacific, or around by California and the Isthmus
-of Panama, if you prefer.”
-
-“My mind is at rest now,” said Hilda with an
-answering smile. “Thank you, Cousin Fred, I will
-go home with you now.”
-
-Her mind was at rest so far as concerned the
-safety of Fred, but her tried nerves could not recover
-their tone for many days. Her sleep was
-troubled, and in dreams she saw the wild faces of
-the gypsies, heard their shouts and imprecations,
-and saw Fred dying at her feet.
-
-CHAPTER X—AN OFFER OF MARRIAGE
-==============================
-
-One evening nearly a year after the adventure
-with the gypsies, Fred came out on the train from
-Springfield to pass the night under the homestead
-roof, a thrill of boyish delight paying tribute to it,
-as always, but more pronounced now that it was the
-dwelling place of Hilda.
-
-They were expecting him, and Mrs. Warfield,
-with motherly care, had seen that his favorite dishes
-were prepared for the evening meal, and with a glad
-light in her beautiful eyes, welcomed him.
-
-“Where is Hilda, mother?” he asked, glancing
-inquiringly through the open door of the parlor,
-after pressing a filial salute upon the yet plump and
-rosy cheek.
-
-“She is in the garden arranging bouquets for
-the vases. She expects several of the young people,
-from the village to pass the evening here.”
-
-“I hoped she would have no visitors this evening,”
-commented Fred, a shadow crossing his handsome
-face.
-
-“She invited them because she was quite sure
-you would be here, and, Fred, I hope you will divide
-your attentions among the girls, and not
-devote them to one of them, as you have a habit
-of doing. You know that you care for no one long
-at a time, so why do you give them reason for thinking
-you are in earnest?”
-
-“Now, mother, that is cruel!” exclaimed Fred,
-reddening, while his dark eyes sparkled with amusement.
-“You will blight my prospects if you proclaim
-me fickle. I am afraid an earnest girl would
-be influenced by your opinion of me, and doubt my
-sincerity should I offer my hand and heart.”
-
-“The idea of a boy making an offer of his hand
-and heart!” laughed Mrs. Warfield.
-
-“Twenty-one next fall, just in time to cast my
-first vote! Lots of fellows are settled in life at that
-age,” and he gayly left the room in search of Hilda.
-
-He did not follow the straight course, but instead
-took a circuitous path to the arbor, where sat
-Hilda upon a rustic chair, the table before her covered
-with flowers, and all framed in by the vine-covered
-arch.
-
-Very deftly her fingers were adding sweet to
-sweet, apparently unconscious that a pair of handsome
-eyes were regarding her with admiration. Her
-simple gown of dark blue material fitted her graceful
-figure to perfection, and was finished at throat
-and wrists with filmy white frills. From the pocket
-of her white apron peeped the handles of bright
-scissors, and a broad-brimmed sun hat lay on the
-bench beside her. Her luxuriant hair was bound by
-a narrow crimson ribbon, and a crimson rose upon
-her breast cast its warm glow upon her rounded
-cheek.
-
-This costume was considered by Fred as the most
-becoming of any in which he had seen her, yet he
-called to mind that he had thought the same of
-every toilet in which she appeared, only that the
-sunlight flickering through the leaves made the
-picture more lovely.
-
-An incautious step upon a stick which snapped
-under the pressure betrayed his near approach.
-Hilda smiled but did not look up.
-
-“Come in, Cousin Fred,” she said; “don’t be
-timid.”
-
-“How did you know it was Cousin Fred?” he
-asked, taking the hand she offered.
-
-“I saw you when you left the house. You reminded
-me forcibly of the ostrich of school-book
-renown.”
-
-“Will you make a boutonniere for me to wear
-this evening?” he asked, laughing, in spite of his
-wish to frown.
-
-“Certainly! I have just finished one for Cousin
-Paul. See the little beauty,” and she took it up and
-inhaled its fragrance.
-
-“Why do you bother to make one for Paul?” he
-asked, his smile becoming less pronounced. “You
-know he is engaged.”
-
-“Because, like yourself, he is, by courtesy, my
-cousin.”
-
-“But Miss Lura De Cormis is the one to make
-bouquets for him, leaving you at liberty to make
-them for me, as I am not fortunate enough to claim
-a lady-love.”
-
-“Were Paul in Philadelphia or Miss Lura here,
-I am sure there would be no need for me to make
-a boutonniere for him; but she has gone to purchase
-her trousseau. Had you forgotten that, Cousin
-Fred?”
-
-“I should say not, when I am to be best man,
-and you Miss Lura’s bridesmaid.”
-
-“I would like more foliage for this large bouquet.
-Will you please get it for me?” and she gave
-him the scissors.
-
-He obeyed her with a lingering glance upon the
-fair face bending over the flowers, and a resolve to
-tell her what was in his heart, for “out of the abundance
-of the heart the mouth speaketh,” and it came
-as natural for Fred Warfield to speak of love to a
-pretty girl as it is for a broker to discuss the rise
-and fall of stocks, or an artist the lights and shades
-of a new study. In truth, it was his chief amusement,
-and practice had made him perfect.
-
-Just now, however, he was ill at ease, and in his
-own eyes awkward and uncouth as, leaning against
-the door frame of the arbor, he watched Hilda’s active
-fingers add the foliage to the artistically arranged
-bouquet.
-
-“You are very beautiful, cousin,” he said almost
-involuntarily.
-
-“I know it,” she replied serenely, without glancing
-in his direction.
-
-Fred gazed upon her in undisguised astonishment.
-
-“This is not new to you; you have been told so
-by others,” he said.
-
-“By admiring glances and appreciative smiles,
-never in words.”
-
-“Do you consider it good form, Cousin Hilda,
-to express your opinion of your own beauty?”
-he inquired of her, with commendable hesitation.
-
-“If you remember, cousin, it was not I who expressed
-the opinion; I only agreed with yours,” and
-she gave minute attention to the placing of colors
-in the second bouquet.
-
-“Yes,” he responded uneasily, “but suppose someone
-else should tell you; some stranger, for instance.
-It would not be good form to agree with a stranger’s
-opinion.”
-
-“Thank you, cousin; you are very thoughtful,
-and I mean it for your comfort when I suggest that
-a stranger will not be at all likely to comment upon
-my beauty in my presence. That bridge is so far
-out of my latitude there is not the least danger
-of my having to cross it.”
-
-“You are so indifferent to me and my opinions.
-Cousin Hilda! You keep me quite out of spirits.”
-
-“I do not wish that; instead, I hope to see you in
-your very best spirits this evening, and willing to
-charm us with your choicest pieces on piano and
-mandolin. I wish I were the accomplished musician
-you are. You cast me in the shade.”
-
-“You will soon surpass me. Professor Ballini
-remarked the last time that he went back to Springfield
-in the train with me that ‘Meesh Heelda haf ze
-exqueesite taalent for ze moozique; she is one woondare.’”
-
-Fred was a good mimic. Hilda laughed heartily
-at the expression of face and tone of voice assumed
-for the occasion.
-
-“Oh, Fred, I hope I won’t think of you when I
-take my next lesson!” she said, wiping away tears
-of mirth with her handkerchief.
-
-“You never wish to think of me; I am only
-Cousin Fred to you.”
-
-“Oh, yes, I do think of you, and am grateful for
-it is you who merit the praise for any progress I
-have made in music. You gave me such thorough
-instruction in the rudiments that my progress could
-not fail in pleasing Signor Ballini. You have been
-very kind to me.”
-
-“Then why not show a little interest in me? You
-know that I care for no one but you!”
-
-“Oh, Fred, I should, instead, try not to have interest
-in you, except as a cousin!” replied the girl,
-flushing deeply as she bowed her head over her
-work.
-
-“Why should you try? We are suited to each
-other in age, position and disposition!” was his
-quick reply.
-
-“Not in disposition; you have not my quick temper.”
-
-“Temper, Cousin Hilda!” ejaculated Fred in
-surprise. “We have never seen the least evidence of
-it.”
-
-“Because there has been no occasion; and, moreover,
-I have been taught to control it. Dear Aunt
-Merryman saw many an evidence of it.”
-
-“But we are wandering from the subject in hand.
-Have you forgotten that I asked you to care for
-me, and told you that I cared for no one but you?”
-
-“No, I have not forgotten, but you have said the
-same to so many girls that I do not put much confidence
-in it.”
-
-“Now, cousin, that is too cruel, and I know who
-told you. It was Celeste Prettyman.”
-
-“Have you been flirting with her, too, Cousin
-Fred? She thinks you very handsome, and wonders
-that you are so much handsomer than Paul, when
-the same description answers for both.”
-
-“I suppose she compares me with her brother
-Jack. It is a pity that he is such a burlesque upon
-his own name. I take it for granted that he will be
-as awkward as ever this evening and will break his
-goblet and upset his chair before he leaves.”
-
-“Yes, one cannot help noticing his awkwardness,”
-said Hilda, laughing in spite of herself; “but I think
-it is caused by embarrassment, and he has so many
-good traits that one can easily overlook such small
-defects.”
-
-“You seem to be well posted as to his good qualities.
-Please inform me of what they consist,” remarked
-Fred dryly.
-
-“In kindness to his mother and sister; in his genuine
-goodness, earnestness and stability; there is
-nothing trifling in his manner; one may be sure that
-he means what he says, and can depend fully upon
-him.”
-
-“You appear to have made quite a study of our
-friend Jack,” commented Fred, flushing uneasily.
-“I scarcely thought that one year’s acquaintance
-could make one so thoroughly competent to judge.”
-
-“But I have the opinion of others; everyone
-speaks well of Jack Prettyman.”
-
-“Have you more than a friendly interest in him?”
-
-“Not at all; I never thought of such a thing; but
-am only saying what is my real opinion of him. He
-is your friend; you should be glad to know that he
-is appreciated.”
-
-“So I am in a certain sense, but if I tell the truth
-I must say that he is awkward and uncouth.”
-
-“That is owing to his having so little confidence
-in himself. He hasn’t a particle of conceit. Conceited
-people are so comfortable that they can afford
-to be agreeable. It really appears to be a desirable
-thing to have a good opinion of one’s self. Don’t
-you realize this?”
-
-“Do you speak from experience?”
-
-“Yes, and from observation.”
-
-“Conceit would be too ridiculous in Jack Prettyman
-with his red head and pug nose.”
-
-“But he is very entertaining. The last time he
-took me out driving he taught me the language of
-flowers.”
-
-“I did not know that you go out driving with
-him,” responded Fred, his face flushing and his
-eyes shadowed.
-
-“Neither did I know that it was expected of me
-to inform you. Aunt Sarah sanctioned it and I
-supposed that sufficient.”
-
-“It is cruel in you to take that tone with me.
-Oh, Hilda, I feel so uncertain of you! You never
-appear to believe me in earnest. Promise that you
-will not go driving with anyone but me.”
-
-“Wouldn’t you think it selfish if I asked the
-same of you?”
-
-“No, indeed; I promise gladly. Do you agree to
-it?”
-
-“Yes, I don’t care. Aunt Sarah and I drive out
-as often as I wish to go.”
-
-“Then you only agree because you sacrifice nothing.
-Hilda, why are you so cold, so indifferent to
-me? You keep me always anxious. Promise me—”
-taking her reluctant hand in his, “promise to be
-my wife!”
-
-“Oh, Fred, what is the use of promising? You
-will change your mind as soon as you see a new
-face.”
-
-“Promise! I will not let go your hand until you
-do!”
-
-“The tea-bell is about to ring. I heard Angie
-take it from the sideboard.”
-
-“Then promise!”
-
-“I will,” the hand was pressed, then released, and
-Hilda gathered up the bouquets.
-
-“Here is yours, Cousin Fred,” she said, holding
-the boutonniere toward him.
-
-“I had forgotten it,” he said, candidly.
-
-“You will notice that I have arranged them according
-to their language. See, here is a sprig of
-arbor-vitæ:
-
- | “‘The true and only friend is he,
- | Who, like the arbor-vitæ tree,
- | Will bear our image in his heart.’
- | “With it I have placed
- | “‘The generous geranium
- | With a leaf for all who come.’
- | “Then a spray of myrtle:
- | “‘Myrtle placed on breast or brow,
- | Lively hope and friendship vow.’
- | “Then two pansies:
- | “‘Pray you love, remember.
- | There’s pansies, that’s for thought.’”
-
-Fred placed the boutonniere without comment in
-the button-hole of his coat, and they went up the
-broad path to the house.
-
-Mrs. Warfield read in Fred’s happy face and in
-the bloom upon the fair cheek of Hilda that which
-she had hoped for was in the way of being realized,
-but gave no evidence of it by word or manner—she
-would wait until the young people saw their own
-time to tell her of the agreement into which they
-had entered.
-
-Fred was at his best that evening in the way of
-entertaining their guests, and Mrs. Warfield smiled
-at the dignity of his demeanor, bespeaking as it did
-the engaged young man, while Hilda comported
-herself as if engagements of marriage had ceased to
-be a novelty.
-
-The luckless Jack Prettyman succeeded in passing
-one evening without upsetting his chair or breaking
-his goblet, and to all it was an enjoyable evening.
-
-The next morning Fred arose earlier than usual
-and descended to the garden, which was dewy and
-fragrant, and wended his way to the arbor. Birds
-were twittering in the trees overhead, and colonies
-of ants dotted with their hills the ground at his
-feet. Innumerable filmy webs festooned the evergreen
-borders and flowering shrubs, which, jeweled
-with dewdrops, sparkled in the beams of the sun.
-
-Happy as Fred had been in all his favored life,
-he had never been so happy as that morning. Owing
-to the relations existing between them, he fully
-expected that Hilda would give him a few minutes
-of her society before he left for Springfield. But
-anxiously as he looked toward the house, he saw
-no evidence of her coming. Instead, Angie rang
-the bell and he went in to his breakfast, and found
-Hilda quietly reading by the window which commanded
-a view of the arbor.
-
-“She could not have helped seeing me,” thought
-Fred; “she might have come out for a few words!”
-
-It had always been his custom to leave for Springfield
-as soon as breakfast was finished, and he
-had no excuse for waiting that morning. Moreover,
-Paul, his mother and Hilda lingered, as usual,
-to say good-bye before separating for the duties of
-the day.
-
-“I may not let two weeks elapse before coming
-home next time, mother,” he said, as he kissed
-her at parting.
-
-“Come whenever it suits you, my son; your homecoming
-is always a joy to us.”
-
-Coke and Blackstone gave precedence to Hilda
-Brinsfield in Fred’s mind for several days after his
-visit home, and with chair tilted back, feet elevated
-and eyes closed, he recalled the conversation in the
-arbor, while alone in the office of Mr. Meade, attorney-at-law.
-
-Mr. Meade noticed the abstraction and surmised
-the cause, but was not disturbed in the least, satisfied
-that in Fred’s case the malady was not incurable.
-
-CHAPTER XI—HILDA’S LETTERS TO HER OLD HOME
-==========================================
-
-Hilda, in the meantime, was pursuing the even
-tenor of her way. Her church and Sabbath school
-duties were faithfully performed; she went daily to
-the Woodmont high school, enjoyed her music and
-art lessons, and took interest in the minor employments
-of the home which would have naturally devolved
-upon a daughter of the house. Always busy,
-cheerful, amiable and affectionate, she endeared
-herself more and more to the motherly heart of Mrs.
-Warfield.
-
-Paul had taken upon himself the charge of the
-farm, thus relieving his mother of all care, and Ben
-Duvall, his efficient foreman and all-around helper,
-was living happily with his wife and children in
-their little home in the village, walking out to the
-Warfield farm in the morning and back in the evening,
-satisfied with the world and all it contained.
-
-One morning a few weeks after Hilda’s engagement
-to Fred, she set out for a walk to the village,
-having several little commissions on hand, among
-them to call upon Mrs. Duvall with a message from
-Mrs. Warfield. Her heart was buoyant with the
-thought of the festivities that were to follow Paul’s
-wedding, now near at hand, and her frequent meetings
-with the young people of the neighborhood in
-consequence. Her gown was being made by
-the village dressmaker and her first call was there,
-and all being satisfactory, she passed on to the neat
-home of Mrs. Duvall.
-
-“Something told me that you would be here to-day,
-Miss Hilda,” said Susie cordially, as she opened
-the door; “the chickens keep crowing and a little
-black spider came down from the ceiling, which is
-a sure sign of a visitor, and I said to myself, ‘That
-is Miss Hilda.’”
-
-“I am very glad you thought of me, Mrs. Duvall,”
-smiled Hilda, amused at the superstition, as
-she took the proffered seat. “Here is a package of
-cake Aunt Sarah sent to the children, and she told
-me to ask if it would be convenient for you to
-come three days of next week to help Angie. You
-know that Cousin Paul is to be married on Tuesday,
-and on Thursday evening we are to have a reception,
-and hope you can come on Tuesday morning.”
-
-“Nothing but sickness will prevent me, Miss
-Hilda,” said Susie, warmly; “Mrs. Warfield has always
-been a kind friend to me and I love the two
-boys as if they were my own. You know I lived
-with Mrs. Warfield for years, and the farmhouse
-was a real home to me, and she was always good
-and kind to me.”
-
-“Yes, and aunt said she could always count upon
-you, and is quite sure you will come and help.”
-
-“I wish she could always count so surely upon
-that wife Paul is getting. I am fearful of it, Miss
-Hilda. Lura De Cormis has a temper, and what
-is more, she doesn’t try to curb it.”
-
-“She is an only child,” remarked Hilda, “and
-her mother died while she was very young and I
-suppose her father indulged her too much.”
-
-“Well, I reckon he thought he ought to put up
-with her bad temper, knowing that she got it from
-him. People that know him say that his high temper
-has been a terrible trial and cross to him, and he
-has grieved so much over it and over his unforgiving
-nature that he has bettered himself in both ways,
-as a minister ought to, if he expects to be an example
-for the people who hear him preach.”
-
-“I do hope for Aunt Sarah’s sake that Lura will
-try to improve her temper; they are, as you know,
-to live together.”
-
-“Yes, and Miss Lura will be boss. Mrs. Warfield
-will have to give the right of way to her, if I
-know anything about Miss Lura De Cormis. It
-makes me sorry to think of it, for a sweeter, nobler
-Christian woman does not live than Mrs. Warfield,
-and everybody that knows her loves her.
-
-“People in Springfield who knew her and her
-sister Janette when they were young said they were
-rich orphan girls, and that they and their brother
-Herbert lost nearly all through the failure of people
-who had their money in trust, but that did not spoil
-their sweet dispositions. Just think how Mrs. Warfield
-struggled along and kept that farm for the
-boys, and with it her generous nature that oppresses
-nobody but helps everybody along! I do
-wish that Miss Lura had her sweet, kind disposition,”
-she concluded.
-
-“Have you had any evidence of her temper, Mrs.
-Duvall?”
-
-“Indeed I have! The last Sabbath school celebration
-we had, she had charge of one of the dinner
-tables, and my Johnny broke a tea cup. She was
-so angry at his carelessness, as she called it, that
-she shook him, and her black eyes fairly blazed. She
-made him pick up every scrap on a newspaper. She
-said that if I would make him behave himself at
-home, he would do so when out in company.”
-
-Hilda had heard the subject of Miss Lura’s temper
-discussed, but not so freely as by Susie, and
-knew that what she said was entirely correct. In
-her own mind she believed that no one could resemble
-Jerusha Flint so closely without partaking of
-her nature. “I do hope that Cousin Paul has made
-a good choice,” she said sadly.
-
-“I hope that both boys will make good choices.
-Folks say that Fred has a notion of getting married, too.”
-
-“Do they?” asked Hilda, her face flushing.
-
-“Yes, to a girl in Springfield,” continued Mrs.
-Duvall, not noticing her visitor’s embarrassment.
-“She is a great friend of Miss Lura’s and of course
-will be at the wedding and you will have a chance to
-see her.”
-
-“I never heard that Cousin Fred was waiting
-upon anyone in Springfield,” said Hilda faintly.
-
-“No, I reckon not. Fred Warfield waits upon
-so many girls it is hard to keep track of him. It
-was about a month ago that I heard it, so most
-likely he has dropped the Springfield girl and is in
-love with another. He always had a sweetheart,
-sometimes one, and sometimes another, ever since
-I first knew him.”
-
-Hilda breathed more freely. It had been a fort-night
-since Fred had engaged himself to her, and
-Mrs. Duvall evidently knew nothing of his attachment.
-Fred had told her of the girl in Springfield
-that last time he was at home, and in his happy-go-lucky
-manner had made merry over the flirtation
-between them, at which Mrs. Warfield had reproved
-him while she vainly tried to conceal her amusement
-at his travesty of the affair.
-
-“That Fred Warfield was always the best-natured
-fellow that ever lived,” resumed Mrs. Duvall.
-“Paul would get mad sometimes, but Fred you
-couldn’t make mad no matter what happened. He
-just made merry over everything and was the kindest,
-tenderest-hearted boy that ever lived, and
-wouldn’t hurt the feelings of a fly.”
-
-“I must go now, Mrs. Duvall,” said Hilda, rising.
-“Aunt Sarah will be glad to know that you
-can come. I have to call at Uncle Herbert’s store
-for spices and other things, and will ask him to
-send them here for Mr. Duvall to bring out in the
-morning if convenient for him to do so.”
-
-“Certainly, Miss Hilda! Nothing pleases him
-better than to oblige Mrs. Warfield or any of the
-family. I will be sure to come early, and please
-tell Mrs. Warfield that I can stay as long as she
-needs me.”
-
-“She will be glad to know that, and Aunt Sarah
-requests you not to walk to the farmhouse, for I
-am to drive to the dressmaker’s in the village on
-Tuesday morning for my gown and will take you
-home with me.”
-
-“What kind of a gown are you having made,
-Miss Hilda, if I may be so bold as to ask?”
-
-“A white silk, and the bride’s is white satin. It
-was made in Philadelphia and is very elegant.”
-
-“They can well afford to have fine clothes for
-Miss Lura,” commented Mrs. Duvall. “People who
-know them in Springfield say that Mr. De Cormis
-got a fortune from France, where his grandfather
-came from. He needn’t preach if he don’t want to,
-but he likes to live in the country, and wants only
-a small church, so has here what suits him.”
-
-“It would interest you to go to the church on
-Tuesday evening and see them married, Mrs. Duvall?”
-
-“It certainly would, and I’ll go. A cat can look
-at a queen, I reckon, whether the queen looks at
-her or not.”
-
-Hilda laughed, and then nodding good-morning
-to Mrs. Duvall, drove to the store, made her purchases
-and went home.
-
-Tuesday evening came, the church was filled to
-overflowing, and Rev. Horace De Cormis gave his
-daughter to the one above all others whom he would
-have selected had he done the choosing.
-
-Beautiful as was Hilda at all times, she never
-looked more lovely than upon that occasion, and
-Mrs. Duvall was not the only one whose gaze wandered
-to the handsome attendants, who expected
-to be only secondary objects of interest.
-
-The evening reception at the parsonage was followed
-by that given by Mrs. Warfield, and this in
-turn by friends of the bride among her father’s congregation.
-The quiet neighborhood had never
-known such a festive time.
-
-Fred was always mentioned as Hilda’s escort to
-these festivities and was an attentive and courtly
-cavalier. Hilda’s confidence in him became firmly
-established and confidence became esteem, which
-she mistook for love.
-
-Mrs. Lura Warfield remained several weeks at
-the parsonage, then became one of the home circle
-of the Warfield farmhouse. Yet her taking up her
-abode in a new home did not prevent her from keeping
-her place as head of her father’s household. She
-attended to his wardrobe, visited the poor and ailing
-of his congregation, purchased the supplies, answered
-his letters, and in every way in her power
-kept him from realizing the loss he had sustained in
-her marriage and her removal to another home.
-
-Mrs. Lura was a good, dutiful daughter, and
-there was scarcely a day passed that she was not
-engaged upon some work for him, and Hilda was
-glad that there was something to interest her outside
-the farmhouse. Sometimes by invitation she
-accompanied her, driving Planchette to Mrs. Lura’s
-phaeton, and could not help admiring the executive
-ability of the brilliant little woman.
-
-Although she had seen but little exhibition of a
-Jerusha Flint temper, Hilda never gave up the
-conviction that it was there, only waiting occasion
-to be called forth. Many traits which she remembered
-as being possessed by the adversary of her
-childhood were noticeable in this fair and refined-looking
-prototype.
-
-Mrs. Paul Warfield resembled Jerusha Flint in
-her untiring industry and her methodical habits,
-her uncompromising neatness, her ability, her
-satirical opinion of anything that failed to agree
-with her ideas and her extreme selfishness. She had
-a much better education than had Jerusha and her
-environment had been of the best, but the texture of
-her mind was no finer; she was cold, calculating and
-heartless. In short, Mrs. Lura was so much like the
-one with whom part of her childhood had passed
-that, try as she might, Hilda could not persuade herself
-to love her.
-
-Happy as was the young girl in her Ohio home,
-and tenderly kind as were Mrs. Warfield and her
-sons to her, she did not forget her Dorton friends.
-She looked eagerly for letters from them, and the
-most trifling incidents which interested her Maryland
-acquaintances were full of interest to her, and
-knowing this, Mrs. Merryman let nothing which
-came to her notice pass unmentioned.
-
-Hilda was informed of Erma attending school
-in Baltimore, staying five days out of the week
-with her grandparents there, of Norah’s faithfulness,
-and Perry’s improvement in all branches of
-farm work, of everything in fact that would keep
-up Hilda’s interest and affection for those who
-loved her and held her in remembrance.
-
-It was the rule from the beginning that after
-the Merryman household had read Hilda’s letters,
-they were passed on to “Friedenheim,” for the
-Courtneys had always evinced much interest in her,
-and she had made no restrictions in regard to her
-letters.
-
-When Mrs. Courtney had read them aloud to her
-family they were sent the same evening by Mose
-to “My Lady’s Manor,” and in this way Mr. Valentine
-Courtney was kept in touch with Hilda’s
-everyday life.
-
-When she left Dorton “My Lady’s Manor” lost
-its charm for him. He missed the gentle girl more
-than he had ever before missed a human being, and
-felt that life was scarcely worth living when she
-was not there to brighten it.
-
-He tried to arouse himself from what he considered
-unmanly weakness, but without avail. He
-went from his home each morning disconsolate, and
-returned to it despairing. Had it not been for the
-efficient management of Mrs. Flynn within doors
-and Sandy MacQuoid without, home life would have
-been at low ebb. But these faithful servitors, without
-appearing to notice the changed manner of
-their once cheerful employer, attended to their allotted
-duties, enjoyed each other’s society, fed the
-terrier and the parrot, entertained the Courtney
-boys and Ralph and James Rivers, and Norah and
-Archie, to the best of their ability, when they gave
-“My Lady’s Manor” the pleasure of their company.
-
-The first gleam of comfort which Mr. Courtney
-received lay in the knowledge of Paul Warfield’s
-engagement. Each succeeding letter of Hilda’s
-spoke of Fred, dwelt much upon him, but for
-months it did not occur to Mr. Courtney to fear
-a rival in him. Hilda was so unrestrained in speaking
-of him, even making merry over his love affairs,
-more as an older sister would jest of a young
-brother or some other jolly companion than a maiden
-of a lover. Then came a time when Fred’s name
-dropped from her letters, and a grave maturity
-came into them, unnoticed by any reader save Mr.
-Courtney; and then it dawned upon him that he
-had indeed a rival. His heart ached with its burden
-of unrest; his home had grown into a prison;
-he felt that he must leave it and seek change from
-the thoughts which oppressed him; he resolved to
-close “My Lady’s Manor” and pass at least a year
-in travel. Ralph and James Rivers could attend to
-the law business, and if it suffered financial loss in
-their hands it was of but little moment to one of
-Mr. Courtney’s wealth and disposition.
-
-One evening after coming to this decision, he sat
-alone in his library. It was cool for the season and
-Chloe had made a glowing fire upon the hearth before
-which he sat, lost in thought.
-
-Rich curtains hung in heavy folds over the windows,
-the glow of an astral lamp on the table beside
-him gave light for reading, but books had lost their
-charm. Pictures with sunny Italian skies, of Alpine
-peaks, of arctic snows, of fair English landscapes,
-lined the walls. Comfort and beauty was
-on every hand, but they brought him no happiness.
-
-Chloe came with a letter upon a silver waiter,
-presented it and quietly withdrew. And Mr. Courtney,
-with a presentiment of further unrest in store
-for him, opened it and read to the end. It was
-from Hilda to Mrs. Merryman, and as Mr. Courtney
-finished it he contrasted his feelings with those
-of light-headed, light-hearted Mose, who had
-brought it, and whose boyish laughter was heard
-from the kitchen where he was recounting to Chloe
-some of the adventures in which he was, as usual,
-the hero.
-
-There was no mention of Fred throughout the
-letter, but a postscript was added which thrilled his
-heart with pain.
-
-“Dear Aunt Grace,” it said, “I feel that it would
-not be right not to tell you, my dear second mother,
-that Cousin Fred has asked me to be his wife and I
-have accepted him. Aunt Sarah says it is what she
-has hoped for, and in this way Aunt Ashley’s
-prayer will be answered.”
-
-Mr. Courtney knew the trial it had been to Hilda
-to write this. He was glad at the prospect of happiness
-for her in her future home, but he groaned
-in spirit at the thought of his own loneliness. How
-was he to pass the years of life allotted to him?
-After a time he rang the bell and Sandy appeared.
-
-“I wish to have a few minutes conversation with
-you, Sandy,” he said, as his stately Scotch servitor
-stood respectfully beside his chair. “Take a seat.”
-
-Sandy obeyed, his well-trained countenance showing
-no surprise.
-
-“When I employed you,” said Mr. Courtney, “I
-did not foresee that I would wish to leave ‘My
-Lady’s Manor.’ Circumstances have made it necessary
-that I should seek change. I have sent for
-you to tell you this, and to express my hope that this
-sudden resolve may not inconvenience you. I shall
-advance you three months’ salary for any disappointment
-it may be to you, and will do the same by
-Mrs. Flynn when I speak to her, which will be this
-evening. Chloe can go back to her old home at
-‘Friedenheim.’”
-
-“Excuse me, sir, for asking, but do you expect
-to return here sometime?”
-
-“I may, Sandy; I cannot say.”
-
-“I do not wish to pry into your affairs, sir, but
-do you intend renting this place?”
-
-“No, it will be closed for the time I am absent.”
-
-“You have encouraged me, sir, to make free to
-tell you my plan,” said Sandy, gravely. “Perhaps
-you will do us a greater favor than to advance three
-months’ salary.”
-
-“Us?” echoed Mr. Courtney, looking up in surprise.
-
-“Yes, sir; Mrs. Flynn and myself are intending
-to marry.”
-
-Mr. Courtney smiled almost cheerfully.
-
-“That is news indeed, Sandy, and very agreeable
-news,” he said. “She will make you a good
-wife.”
-
-“And she will have a good husband,” responded
-Sandy.
-
-“You are right. What do you propose as to
-housekeeping?”
-
-“I am not sure as yet, sir. We had intended, if
-you were willing, to remain here with you in the
-same positions we now occupy. We know that we
-could find no better home than this. Now that you
-are going away, no coachman or housekeeper will
-be needed by you, but perhaps you will let us stay
-and take care of ‘My Lady’s Manor’ while you are
-away.”
-
-“I will be more than willing; it will relieve me of
-a great care,” replied Mr. Courtney cordially.
-
-“If there is nothing in Dorton for me to do, I
-can, I think, get some employment in the neighborhood,”
-continued Sandy, reflectively.
-
-“I am not anxious to dispose of the horses,
-Sandy. If you can get any employment in which
-you can make use of them, you are more than welcome
-to them until my return.”
-
-“Thank you, sir! I am sure I can, and am more
-grateful than I can say for your kindness.”
-
-“It will not be necessary now for me to speak to
-Mrs. Flynn. You have taken that out of my
-hands,” smiled Mr. Courtney. “I wish you every
-happiness in your married life.”
-
-“Thank you, sir, we will try to deserve it.”
-
-The next evening in the presence of the Courtneys,
-Mrs. Merryman, the delighted Norah, and a
-few of the villagers, the Rev. Carl Courtney performed
-the ceremony which made Mrs. Flynn Mrs.
-Sandy MacQuoid, much to the astonishment of Roy
-and Cecil, who had never suspected any love-making
-between the dignified Mrs. Flynn and the more
-dignified Sandy.
-
-As nothing remained to prevent, the following
-week saw Mr. Valentine Courtney upon the Atlantic,
-bound for he knew not and cared not where.
-
-CHAPTER XII—JERUSHA FLINT AND HILDA
-===================================
-
-One favor stipulated by Fred, after his engagement
-to Hilda, was that she should answer his letters
-promptly when anything prevented his weekly
-visit to the farmhouse, and she promised.
-
-At the commencement of this correspondence
-Fred ignored the title “cousin” in inditing and ending
-his epistles, and substituted “My Dearest Hilda,”
-or “My Beloved Hilda,” as the fancy of the moment
-dictated, and signed them “Your Devoted
-Fred.” Her answering missives were guided by
-his letters, modified, however, by maidenly reserve,
-but at his request she ceased to address him as
-“cousin.”
-
-As the winter wore on, snows and rains and like
-excuses were utilized by Fred as preventing his
-weekly visits; and after the spring came and merged
-into summer he made only fortnightly visits to the
-farmhouse, as was his custom before Hilda became
-a member of the home circle. His letters, however,
-came punctually and gave lively details of the
-social festivities in Springfield society. “Dear
-Hilda” appeared to be a sufficiently affectionate appellation
-in inditing these missives, and before the
-autumn came “Cousin Hilda” seemed to satisfy his
-surely waning affection.
-
-A silent, but none the less attentive observer of
-all this was Mrs. Warfield, although she never saw
-or asked to see a line of the correspondence. But
-after Hilda’s reception of a letter from Fred she
-failed to see the glow of pleasure which had illuminated
-the sweet face in the early days of the engagement;
-instead, a wounded, unsatisfied expression
-sat upon the sad lips and tried to hide itself in
-the depths of the pensive eyes.
-
-One morning Hilda received her usual letter
-from Mrs. Merryman and one from Fred, brought
-from the village post-office by Ben Duvall. She
-hurried to her room to read them. Mrs. Warfield,
-who had gone to her own room adjoining, heard
-her ascend the stairs, enter her room and close the
-door, and expected after time was given her to
-peruse them to hear her gentle tap upon her door
-Mrs. Merryman’s letter in hand to read aloud, as
-was her custom. All remained silent for such a
-length of time that Mrs. Warfield had almost concluded
-that her eyes had deceived her, and Hilda
-had not received letters, when she heard her foot-steps
-pause at the door.
-
-“Come in, darling, I am here,” she called, and
-Hilda came in slowly with Mrs. Merryman’s letter
-open in her hand. A bright spot burned on either
-cheek, but it was evidently not caused by pleasure.
-There was a look of having shed tears, and when
-she took a low chair near Mrs. Warfield and read
-the letter her voice trembled, although she made
-an effort to steady it.
-
-Mrs. Merryman’s letter was long and interesting.
-Her former letters had informed Hilda of the absence
-of Mr. Valentine Courtney. This one mentioned
-the place of his sojourn in the old world as
-heard through Mrs. Courtney. It gave details of
-all the little happenings in Dorton and in its neighborhood,
-and of affairs at “My Lady’s Manor” under
-the management of Mrs. MacQuoid, as reported
-by Norah, and closed with the intelligence of the
-illness of Jerusha Flint.
-
-Mrs. Warfield listened attentively to the letter
-from beginning to end, and thanked Hilda for giving
-her the pleasure of hearing it; at the same time
-she heard nothing to warrant the subdued excitement
-of the reader.
-
-She was quite sure that it was not the illness of
-Miss Flint or Hilda would have made allusion to it.
-Moreover, her manner appeared to take more of anger
-than grief, and Mrs. Warfield felt assured in
-consequence that a letter had been received from
-Fred, and it was responsible for that anger.
-
-As soon as Hilda finished she arose and returned
-to her own room.
-
-“Aunt Sarah,” she said a few minutes later, “do
-you wish anything from the village? I am going
-to the post-office.”
-
-“No, dear, I do not know of anything needed.”
-
-Hilda went to her room to put on her wraps, and
-Mrs. Warfield, after a moment’s reflection, laid
-aside her sewing and followed.
-
-“My dear,” she said, as Hilda opened the door
-for her, “if you are writing to Fred, I hope you
-will be careful what you write. He is very careless
-of his letters, and other eyes may see what you
-only intend for his. I do not seek to question into
-what should perhaps not concern me, but you appear
-a little different from your usual manner and
-I only wish to warn you.”
-
-The color left the face of the girl for a moment,
-and she leaned against her dressing-table for support.
-
-“You are his mother,” she said with tear-dimmed
-eyes. “Read what he says.”
-
-“I hope, my child, that you have not asked me
-to do this unless you are desirous that I should read
-it.”
-
-“I did not even imagine, five minutes ago, that
-I could ever allow anyone to see it; now I wish
-you to read it,” and tears rolled down the pale
-cheeks.
-
-Mrs. Warfield opened the sheet and glanced over
-the words:
-
- “My Poor Little Hilda:
-
- “No one could have convinced me half a year ago
- that I would address you, whom I then loved, to
- tell you that my feelings in regard to you have undergone
- a change. I am heartily ashamed of myself
- to have to acknowledge this, and no doubt you
- will be disappointed in me. Perhaps if I could have
- seen you oftener it might have been different. If
- I could know what my future sentiments toward
- you will be I would gladly tell you. I hope you
- will care a little because of this, but I do not wish
- you to grieve too much.
-
- .. class:: right
-
- “Your Cousin Fred.”
-
-The flush which had arisen to the cheek of Hilda
-was eclipsed by the glow that spread over the face
-of Mrs. Warfield. She gave the letter back without
-a word, her eyes refusing to meet those of the
-girl standing before her.
-
-“Will you read my answer?” asked Hilda, taking
-it from the envelope not yet sealed.
-
-“If you wish it, my love.”
-
-“Yes, I would rather have you know the whole
-story.”
-
-Mrs. Warfield’s face brightened into a smile as
-she read:
-
- “Dear Cousin Fred:
-
- “Yours received and I reply merely to advise you
- not to distress yourself fearing I will grieve. Why
- should I be disappointed in you, when it is exactly
- as I expected? I was favored with the experience
- of other girls, and as you will remember
- was not willing to engage myself to you, knowing
- your fickleness; but after you remained faithful a
- few weeks I was foolish enough to believe you in
- earnest, and for this I am heartily ashamed. I shall
- be in no danger of committing again the folly of
- believing it, so you need not trouble yourself to
- tell me ‘your future sentiments.’
-
- .. class:: right
-
- “Your Cousin Hilda.”
-
-Mrs. Warfield arose upon finishing the letter, and
-taking Hilda in her arms pressed a kiss upon the
-trembling lips.
-
-“I feared you would not be willing to have me
-send it,” faltered Hilda, as tears for the sympathy
-received filled her eyes.
-
-“Yes, send it, by all means, and the earlier the
-better. It will do Fred good to find that one girl,
-at least, is not so much in love with him as to withhold
-resentment for his unmanly fickleness.”
-
-Hilda put the letter in the envelope, sealed it and
-went out, and Mrs. Warfield returned to her room
-and took up her sewing.
-
-“Without intending it, she has taken the very best
-way to retain him,” she communed with herself.
-“She is a noble girl. Fred will rue this.”
-
-Bravely as Hilda had borne the trial, try as she
-might to conceal her wounded feelings, Mrs. Warfield,
-apparently unobservant, knew as time passed
-on that the reaction was harder to bear than the
-first knowledge of Fred’s inconstancy.
-
-Hilda had watched for his coming, the correspondence
-had been a stimulus in her uneventful life
-at the farmhouse, and when it ceased, in spite of her
-good sense and excellent judgment for one so young,
-she felt desolate and unsettled. She dreaded Fred’s
-next visit home. How could she meet him under
-these changed circumstances? What could she say
-to him, or he to her, under the piercing, satirical
-gaze of Mrs. Paul Warfield? And Mrs. Merryman—what
-would she think of it, she who was so glad
-to know that Hilda had such kind and loving
-friends in her new home?
-
-It was a bitter trial to tell her, but Hilda’s conscience
-would not allow her to leave that faithful
-friend in ignorance of how matters stood, and in
-the postscript to her next letter she said: “Dear
-Aunt Grace, the engagement between Cousin Fred
-and myself is broken.”
-
-That was all; she could not tell her now the cause,
-and was very sure that Mrs. Merryman would never
-ask.
-
-Hilda was sincere in saying that she would not
-grieve. She read, she studied, practiced the most
-difficult of the pieces given her by Professor Ballini,
-and in other ways kept herself constantly employed;
-and Mrs. Warfield’s motherly heart yearned toward
-her as if she were indeed her own loved daughter.
-
-After a time Fred’s letter set Hilda to analyzing
-the real state of her feelings toward him. She
-loved him because, like the others of his family, he
-had been so kind to her. He was one of the best
-of sons, one of the most affectionate of brothers.
-She doubted if any girl could have helped becoming
-attached to one so handsome and attractive, if placed
-in his companionship as she had been.
-
-Yet she realized that the affection she had cherished
-for him was unlike that which she had thought
-a woman’s should be for the one who was to fill the
-place of protector and life-long companion; different,
-as she now discovered, from the affection she
-entertained for Mr. Courtney.
-
-Yes, like a revelation it came to her in the quietude
-of her room that the feeling with which she
-regarded him was different from that felt for any
-other human being. She remembered his manly
-steadiness and strength of character; his protecting
-care of her and of everything feebler than himself;
-the repose and peace and contentment she always
-felt in his society. She remembered the last evening
-she passed at “My Lady’s Manor,” and tears
-filled her eyes as she thought of the loneliness that
-reigned in the beloved library, now that he was far
-away.
-
-She took the miniature portrait of Mr. Courtney
-from its velvet case and looked long and earnestly
-at it.
-
-“He has not a superior,” she said to herself; “he
-is noble and true and I love him and only him,
-though he may never think of me or see me again.”
-
-That afternoon Mrs. Lura invited Hilda to make
-parochial calls with her, after which she intended
-stopping at Uncle Herbert’s store in the village to
-purchase material for her embroidery. She was
-proficient in all kinds of fancy work, and just at
-that time was exercised over the completion of a
-sofa pillow for a birthday gift for her father.
-
-In the fancy line Uncle Herbert’s stock was far
-from extensive at any time, and at that particular
-epoch was poor indeed, and Mrs. Lura was unable
-to obtain any of the shades of silk desired. Consequently
-she lost her temper and sharply reminded
-him that he ought to keep a store where customers
-could get at least a third of the articles called for,
-or give it up that a more enterprising man might
-take his place.
-
-Uncle Herbert laughed good-naturedly at this
-candid opinion, accompanied by a frown upon the
-fair brow and the flashing of brilliant black eyes,
-and informed her that he intended going to Philadelphia
-on the early morning train to purchase his
-half yearly supply of merchandise, and would be
-happy to get anything she needed.
-
-Equanimity restored, Mrs. Lura made out a list
-which Uncle Herbert put carefully in his memorandum
-book, searchingly watched by Mrs. Lura,
-accompanied by the injunction not to forget until
-she came for the silks that it was there.
-
-The errands all completed, they drove back to the
-farmhouse, at the entrance of which Mrs. Warfield
-met them, more disturbed than they had ever seen
-her.
-
-“My love,” she said taking Hilda’s hand, “a
-telegram has just come from Dorton. Jerusha Flint
-is very ill; they think she cannot live, and she says
-she must see you, and you cannot go alone.”
-
-“Uncle Herbert is going to Philadelphia in the
-morning,” said Mrs. Lura promptly. “Hilda can
-go with him.”
-
-“That is an excellent opportunity,” exclaimed
-Mrs. Warfield. “I will send immediately to the
-village and tell him that Hilda will meet him at
-the station in good time.”
-
-“Planchette and the carriage are yet at the gate,”
-said Mrs. Lura, glancing through the window. “I
-will drive back and tell Uncle Herbert, although I
-wonder that Hilda is willing to trouble herself to
-visit one who treated her so unkindly as did Miss
-Flint. I should not go near her.”
-
-“I grieve to have Hilda leave us, but it is a duty.
-Miss Flint must have some important reason for
-wishing to see her. She has possession of the few
-articles of furniture which were my sister’s, and she
-may wish to see her in regard to them; or she may
-wish to ask forgiveness for her cruelty. Be the
-reason what it may, she must have her wish granted,
-if possible.”
-
-Hilda passed the evening packing her trunk, and
-although she reproached herself that she could be
-glad to go from friends who were so tenderly kind,
-and her conscience troubled her that she could not
-be more sorry for the cause that was calling her
-back to Dorton, in spite of her reasoning she could
-not help rejoicing over the prospective visit.
-
-“I will see dear Aunt Merryman and all my Dorton
-friends,” she said to herself with an exultant
-throb of her heart. “Besides, I shall miss seeing
-Cousin Fred.”
-
-The next morning Mrs. Lura, who had another
-commission for Uncle Herbert, took Hilda to the
-Woodmont station, where he had not arrived, much
-to her displeasure, for it was nearing train time and
-she prophesied that with his usual want of punctuality
-he would be left.
-
-Just as she arrived at the stage of impatience as
-to be upon the point of driving to the village for
-him and giving him a piece of her mind, he came
-in sight, walking at his usual leisurely, dignified
-pace, and in a few minutes they were off and Mrs.
-Lura went home.
-
-Uncle Herbert was a genial traveling companion,
-and Hilda enjoyed the trip thoroughly. He
-accompanied her to the Baltimore depot as soon as
-they reached Philadelphia, and saw her on her way.
-Mr. Merryman’s carriage met her at Dorton Station
-and conveyed her to the cottage of Jerusha
-Flint. And thus, without a moment’s delay which
-could be avoided, Hilda stood again in one of the
-homes of her childhood.
-
-Diana Strong was in attendance upon the invalid
-and welcomed Hilda warmly.
-
-“How much you have grown!” she said softly.
-“I never would have thought that a person could
-improve so much in less than two years; you are
-really an elegant young lady.”
-
-“Is she very ill?” asked Hilda in the same tone,
-as she laid aside hat and gloves in the little sitting-room.
-
-“She is at death’s door. It appears that only her
-longing and hope of seeing you have kept her alive.
-She has something on her mind that troubles her,
-poor creature, and has fretted and worried to see
-you, and I had to get Mr. Merryman to telegraph
-for you to come.”
-
-“Hilda,” moaned a feeble voice, “won’t you
-come?”
-
-“I am here,” replied the young girl, passing into
-the room, and bending over the invalid. “Tell me
-what I can do for you, and it shall be done gladly.”
-
-And thus the two whose heredity and paths in
-life had so contrasted met for the last time upon
-earth.
-
-“Forgive me, oh, forgive me for my cruelty to
-you!” implored the fast failing voice slowly and falteringly.
-
-“I do forgive you, freely and fully, as I hope to
-be forgiven.”
-
-“I am almost gone,” whispered Jerusha. “I was
-unjust to you as well as cruel. Your Aunt Ashley
-left—two letters—for you. I read them—and destroyed—one.
-All in the cottage—was—yours,—there
-was money—I kept—every penny—of it—safely
-for you. It—is with the—letter, and—her
-pen—in the—the—”
-
-Eagerly as Hilda listened, she heard no more.
-Jerusha’s lips were closed in death.
-
-CHAPTER XIII—HILDA BY THE MERRYMAN FIRESIDE
-===========================================
-
-Excepting Erma, who was growing into healthy,
-attractive young womanhood, Hilda found no
-change in the Merryman household.
-
-Her room was just as she left it the morning she
-and Paul set out for Ohio. She was glad to be
-again in it, and was as tenderly welcomed to the
-home as if she were a beloved daughter, and
-dropped naturally into the place she had once filled.
-
-Mrs. Courtney had forwarded Hilda’s last letter
-to her brother Valentine, and had not expected to
-write so soon again; but having called to see Hilda
-the evening of her arrival, she could not forbear
-writing to him as soon as she reached home telling
-him of the unexpected call which had brought the
-young girl to Dorton, and speaking warmly of her
-beauty and the sweet dignity of her manner.
-
-The day following that in which Jerusha Flint
-had been placed in her resting place in Dorton
-churchyard, Mrs. Merryman went with Hilda to
-visit the cottage abandoned by Diana Strong.
-
-Following the rule adopted at the commencement
-of her occupancy, of renting by the year and paying
-in advance, Jerusha Flint, though in her grave, held,
-in a manner, possession of the cottage, so all remained
-as she had left it until Hilda could consult
-with Mrs. Warfield through the medium of letters.
-
-With the exception of the desk, and a few small
-articles, there was nothing that she cared to keep;
-yet as all there was bequeathed to her by Mrs.
-Ashley, she did not wish to act unadvisedly.
-
-The main object of her visit was to examine the
-writing desk in search of the papers and the ruby
-inlaid pen of which Jerusha had spoken.
-
-“I wrote a letter to you with it, but did not send
-it, as Mr. Merryman, who called, said a telegram
-would be better,” Diana Strong had told her the
-day she came. “I laid the pen back in the desk and
-while standing at the gate talking to Mr. Merryman
-I saw Jerusha rise from her bed, totter the few
-steps to the desk, lock it and put the key under the
-pillow where we found it.”
-
-All searching for the papers was vain, but Hilda
-never passed the cottage that she did not examine
-the desk, believing there was a secret drawer that
-was baffling her search.
-
-Her walks to “My Lady’s Manor” were resumed,
-to the delight of Mrs. MacQuoid and Chloe,
-who made it a rule to have the library warm and
-bright when Hilda came.
-
-Sometimes she remained only long enough to exchange
-books, but they had seen her, she had chatted
-with them, had petted the terrier, exchanged
-some words with Sandy and left all cheered by the
-visit.
-
-One afternoon she extended her walk to Dorton
-post-office, intending to call at “My Lady’s Manor”
-upon her return in order to get a volume which an
-adverse and scathing criticism had tempted her to
-read.
-
-She was expecting a letter from Mrs. Warfield,
-and saw that she was not to be disappointed when
-the postmaster, with a benevolent smile, commenced
-looking over the mail in the Merryman
-box.
-
-There was one for her, but not addressed in the
-feminine script of Mrs. Warfield, but in the bold,
-business hand of Fred.
-
-She had not remembered that it was the fourteenth
-of February, and with trembling fingers
-opened it the moment she reached the seclusion of
-the library at “My Lady’s Manor.”
-
-Fred’s remorse for his fickleness had found relief
-in rhyme, and under the wing of St. Valentine he
-poured forth his plaint:
-
- | “Each sound hath an echo, like to like doth incline,
- | But where is the heart that respondeth to mine?
- | In sunshine and shade life is lonely and drear,
- | I call my beloved, but no answer I hear.
- | I seek my beloved as the dew seeks the flower,
- | As moonbeams seek stream, meadow, forest and bower.
- | Oh, sadly I wander o’er woodland and lea,
- | And muse on the one so far distant from me!
- | I question my fate, and try to divine
- | If Hilda, my loved one, will ever be mine.
- | But all, all is silent; I wander alone;
- | I hope against hope, for I know she is gone.
- | She is loved by another, his bride she will be
- | And all pleasures in life must seem hollow to me.”
-
-His reminiscences had a different effect upon
-Hilda from what he intended. They cheered and
-warmed her heart, it was true, but not for him.
-Kind-hearted and sympathetic as she was, the prospective
-hollowness of Fred’s pleasures did not in the
-least disturb her serenity. Instead, the last two
-lines of his valentine held a prophecy which filled
-her heart with sweet content. In the loving arms
-of kind Destiny she had been fostered, and she had
-faith to believe that she would ever there repose.
-Fred’s written words only confirmed what she in
-thought was beginning to cherish. She loved Valentine
-Courtney, and had the conviction that the
-time would come when he would think of her; for
-that time she would wait.
-
-It was growing twilight, and folding her letter
-she left the library, and to her great pleasure saw
-Archie sitting by the kitchen hearth, who spoke to
-her as he would have done had he seen her every
-day.
-
-“Got any valentines yet, Miss Hilda?” asked
-Chloe. “You must not forgit that you is a valentine
-yer own self, that Archie done found in the
-snow.”
-
-“No, Chloe, I can never forget that good Archie
-saved my life on St. Valentine’s day,” replied Hilda,
-looking kindly upon the wanderer.
-
-“Archie can find no more people in the snow;
-he has looked and looked for them,” he said sadly.
-
-“I suppose it is yourself that gets plenty of valentines,
-Miss Hilda,” remarked Mrs. MacQuoid respectfully,
-gazing with admiration upon the fair
-girl.
-
-“No, Mrs. MacQuoid, there is no prospect of my
-getting many,” smiled Hilda.
-
-“Archie wishes that he could bring one,” said the
-old man. “He would find one in the snow if he
-could.”
-
-“Thank you, Archie, I am sure you would bring
-me a valentine if you could find one,” and nodding
-a cheery good-bye, Hilda ran down the steps of the
-porch and in a little while reached “Fair Meadow.”
-
-“Miss Hilda,” said Norah, “Mr. Merryman had
-a message from his sister in Baltimore, saying that
-relatives from Boston on their way south for the
-winter are there to remain over night, and she
-would like Mr. and Mrs. Merryman to come there
-for supper, and they have gone.”
-
-“Very well, Norah; then you will please bring
-in the tea while I run up to my room to lay aside
-my wraps.”
-
-Hilda had worn a crimson cashmere dress to the
-village, a costume very becoming to her fair face;
-and, adjusting the soft lace about throat and wrists,
-she put on a filmy white apron with a pocket to
-accommodate the ball of some fleecy white knitting,
-and with it in her hand descended to the tea-room,
-which was very bright and cheery in the lamp and
-fire-light.
-
-Hilda’s brisk walk in the crisp air had made the
-simple meal very enjoyable, and as soon as Norah
-had again put the center-table in order, Hilda drew
-it closer to the hearth and was soon absorbed in her
-book. Nothing disturbed the stillness of the room
-save the singing of the hickory wood blazing in the
-open grate, or the purring of the kitten upon the
-hearth.
-
-At the same hour the household of “My Lady’s
-Manor” was agreeably surprised at the unexpected
-arrival of Mr. Courtney; and his welcome home, so
-far as they were concerned, was all that could be
-desired.
-
-But during his voyage across the Atlantic, and
-every reflective moment since, he had pictured a
-fair girlish face that he longed to see brighten at
-his coming, and had felt the clasp of a dimpled hand
-that was dearer to him than all else upon the broad
-earth.
-
-“I hope you will not allow my coming to disturb
-you, Mrs. MacQuoid,” he said kindly when both
-arose from their evening meal at his entrance.
-“Do you and Sandy finish your tea; I will chat
-with Archie a while and then rest in the library
-until it suits you to ring for me.”
-
-Archie had been asleep in his chair, but awoke
-at the sound of Mr. Courtney’s voice and looked
-up at the handsome, kind face with an appreciative
-smile.
-
-“Archie is glad you are home; he has often
-been here, but could not see you,” he said.
-
-“Miss Hilda was here this afternoon, sir,” said
-Mrs. MacQuoid. “She was reading in the library.”
-
-Mr. Courtney’s heart thrilled with pleasure, and
-a smile illumined his countenance. He was now
-where she had lately been; the sweet consciousness
-of her presence made his home doubly dear.
-
-While he was chatting with Archie and asking
-Mrs. MacQuoid for the welfare of Rev. Carl and
-family and the neighborhood in general, Sandy
-lighted the library lamp, drew the blinds, and
-wheeled Mr. Courtney’s favorite chair before the
-grate.
-
-“If we had knowed that Marse Val was comin’,”
-remarked Chloe, after he had withdrawn to the
-library, “we could have had fried chicken and hot
-waffles, an’ invited Mis’ Emma an’ Miss Hilda over,
-an’ it would have been like ol’ times.”
-
-“He knows we didn’t expect him, Chloe, and I
-am sure this rich ham, and your beautiful white
-rolls, and the sweet butter and honey will suit him,”
-replied Mrs. MacQuoid as she placed glass and
-china for one upon the tea-table.
-
-“He allus was that easy to please; never had no
-bother nohow with Marse Val, and Marse Carl an’
-Miss Emma. They is angels, that is certain sure.”
-
-“True for you, Chloe, and now if the coffee is
-ready, I will ring for the master.”
-
-“It’s done ready, an’ is the Simon-pure an’ no
-mistake. Kitty done say, she did, that when Marse
-Val was a little fellah, he couldn’t be humbugged
-when it come to coffee. He knowed the very fust
-sip that the culled folks’ Rio wasn’t the white folks’
-Mocha.”
-
-The meal appeared to suit Mr. Courtney perfectly.
-Refreshed in spirit by his sojourn in the
-library, his manner proved the return of hope.
-When he finished he again sought the library.
-
-On his homeward journey he had read and reread
-Mrs. Courtney’s two latest letters, received by
-the same mail—one telling him of the broken engagement,
-the other of Hilda’s return to Dorton.
-They had found him lonely, restless, seeking for
-happiness that change did not bring. After reading
-them he was, as it were, in another realm, and
-obeying a sudden impulse made haste to return to
-his native land, was now at “My Lady’s Manor” in
-his favorite room. Alone and at leisure, he had
-time to reflect.
-
-If, after all, his coming were fruitless, what had
-life to offer in compensation for his great disappointment?
-He reasoned that the broken engagement
-was, perhaps, the result of a misunderstanding
-which had been explained away, and the engagement
-renewed upon a firmer basis than before.
-
-He called to mind that business alone had brought
-Hilda to Dorton. She had not come because she
-wished to see him or “My Lady’s Manor,” for she
-knew of his absence, and could have no knowledge
-as to when he would return.
-
-If she loved Fred Warfield, this visit to Dorton
-would not weaken the attachment, nor would he
-wish it to do so; yet her return to Fred would leave
-him desolate, and “My Lady’s Manor” a prison.
-
-What presumption—he reflected—for one whose
-age was nearly double her seventeen years to hope
-to win one so lovely! What advantage had he over
-the bright, buoyant beauty, the youthful companionship
-of Fred Warfield, except his wealth? And
-he knew Hilda’s noble nature too well to believe
-for a moment that she would make of it the most
-remote object. He arose from his place by the
-hearth and walked to and fro in the quiet room.
-
-The library door opened softly and Archie came
-in. “I want you!” he said, in a subdued, impatient
-tone. “I promised her. Come!”
-
-Mr. Courtney made no response; mutely he
-obeyed, and swiftly and silently Archie led the way
-across the meadow to Mr. Merryman’s. Taking
-neither path that led to the front entrance, he took
-his accustomed way, opened the tea-room door, and
-they stood in the presence of Hilda.
-
-“I have brought you a valentine, but I could not
-find one in the snow,” said Archie in a low tone.
-“Archie would have tried and tried, had there been
-any snow.”
-
-Hilda arose, a flush of joy illumined her sweet
-face, she advanced a step toward Mr. Courtney, then
-withdrew.
-
-“She does not love me, Archie,” said Mr. Courtney,
-noticing the action, “youth and loveliness can
-have no affinity with middle age.”
-
-“Please tell him, Archie,” said Hilda, gently,
-“that youth trusts to middle age for faithful love
-and protection. Hair tinged with silver is beautiful
-in my eyes.”
-
-Mr. Courtney advanced eagerly and taking her
-hand in his pressed his lips upon it.
-
-“Oh, Archie, dare I ask for this dear hand?”
-
-“If he asks, Archie, it is his,” said Hilda.
-
-“But the heart, Archie? The hand is valueless
-to me unless the heart goes with it.”
-
-“Tell him, good Archie, that the heart has always
-been his, though part of the time it knew not its
-master.”
-
-“I feel as if in a dream,” faltered Mr. Courtney;
-“an hour ago despairing, now filled with
-greater happiness than I had dared imagine.”
-
-“We owe our happiness to Archie. He has been
-my good genius from childhood. He is my mascot.”
-
-“I will make another effort to have him share our
-home at ‘My Lady’s Manor’,” said Mr. Courtney.
-“Your persuasion will, I think, prevail.”
-
-“Our home!” Hilda’s heart thrilled at the sweet
-words. An orphan, homeless, save for the goodness
-of dear friends, she was now the promised
-wife of one who would protect and care for her as
-long as life was granted, one whom she could truly
-love and honor for his noble, tender and steadfast
-nature. How could she ever be grateful enough
-to God for His goodness to her?
-
-“This is one of Archie’s homes; Archie will stay
-till morning,” and, passing into the kitchen, the old
-man, without so much as a word to the occupants
-thereof, went up to his room, leaving Norah and
-Perry amazed at his sudden appearance.
-
-With a look of supreme content Mr. Courtney
-took a chair beside the center-table whereupon lay
-the book which Hilda had been reading. His glance
-fell upon the letter lying beside it and a look of pain
-crossed his handsome features.
-
-“It is only a valentine,” said Hilda. “Will you
-read it?” and she gave it into his hands.
-
-“This is from young Mr. Warfield, I suppose?”
-he commented with a smile as he finished the closing
-lines.
-
-“Yes, it is from Cousin Fred, and I suppose it is
-my duty to tell you that he once asked me to be his
-wife.”
-
-“You loved him, of course,” said Mr. Courtney,
-a little anxiously.
-
-“I will tell you, sir, exactly as it was,” she replied,
-with the straightforward look and manner
-of one who had nothing to conceal. “The girls told
-me that Fred is fickle, and they did not believe that
-he could really love anyone. When he told me of
-his affection for me, I knew it was what he had
-said to every girl with whom he was well acquainted,
-so did not believe him sincere. He wished
-to correspond with me, and through his letters I
-began to have a warmer affection for him, and was
-disappointed when they began to grow cold, or
-failed to come when expected. It ended by his
-writing, releasing himself from the engagement.”
-
-“And you were grieved, my darling?”
-
-“Yes, sir, and I was angry. His letter was so
-patronizing, so full of his own importance, that had
-I asked him to marry me, he could scarcely have
-worded it differently. I let him know that, attractive
-as he considered himself, I could quickly give
-him up.”
-
-“But you were sorry it occurred?”
-
-“For a while I missed his visits and his letters,
-then I grew glad it happened, for I would not have
-known my feelings toward you had not Fred engaged
-himself to me, and then broken the engagement.
-I compared him with you, and he appeared
-boyish and unstable. I could have no confidence in
-him. He would change his mind at the altar if he
-should see a prettier face among the spectators.”
-
-“Was Mrs. Warfield aware of the engagement?”
-asked Mr. Courtney, amused at the quaint seriousness
-of the little woman.
-
-“Oh, Mr. Courtney, no mother could have acted
-more nobly than she! I told her all, and gave her
-his letter and my reply.”
-
-“Could you welcome Mrs. Warfield and her
-younger son to our home without one regret for
-‘the might have been?’”
-
-“Without one regret.”
-
-CHAPTER XIV—ARCHIE FINDS A PACKAGE
-==================================
-
-Mrs. Warfield was deeply grieved and disappointed
-that Fred had given Hilda cause to lose
-confidence in him so utterly, as she had given evidence
-in her letter to him. She had intended speaking
-plainly to him in regard to his heartless conduct,
-thinking it would influence him in his future
-companionship with Hilda, and was much disappointed
-that the summons came for her to return to
-Dorton before his next visit home.
-
-Her resolutions, like many others depending upon
-circumstances, were put aside, for instead of
-setting out to chide she remained to comfort. Fred,
-for the first time in his life, was completely cast
-down. Ever since receiving Hilda’s letter he had
-been revolving in his mind what he would say when
-they met, in order to place himself upon the former
-basis.
-
-The passage at arms had aided him, as it had
-Hilda, to define his feelings. He realized that he
-loved her, and this time, if never before, was in
-earnest. It was his intention to offer a humble
-apology, and to ask a place in her esteem with the
-eloquence of which he was master, and he did not
-believe that she would refuse.
-
-His hopes received a blow when he came home
-and found her gone, and no time specified for her
-return. He could have shed tears in the bitterness
-of his soul, and Mrs. Paul Warfield, who suspected
-how matters stood, shook her shrewd head and
-agreed with herself that it served him right.
-
-After sending the valentine he hoped to hear a
-word from Hilda, but in her letter to his mother
-no special mention was made of him, so he wrote to
-her imploring her to believe him sincere in his profession
-of affection for her, and asked for a line
-bidding him hope. Perry brought the missive from
-the village post-office and Norah took it to the parlor
-where Hilda and Mr. Courtney were conversing by
-the early evening fire-light.
-
-Hilda, with a deep blush, opened and read it and
-passed it to Mr. Courtney.
-
-“I hope you don’t think I expect this of you,” he
-said gently. “Believe me, I have not a particle of
-jealous curiosity.”
-
-“No, sir; I gave it because I wish your advice in
-regard to answering it, and you could not give it
-unless you understood the whole affair. Aunt Sarah
-has also written to me, and says that Fred deplores
-his mistake and she hopes I will reconsider the matter,
-for she knows him to be sincere and pities him.”
-
-“It would be well to answer both letters immediately,”
-remarked Mr. Courtney when he finished the
-perusal of Fred’s letter. “It is far kinder to tell
-them the relation in which we stand to each other
-than to allow them to indulge a false hope.”
-
-“I do not mind telling Fred,” replied Hilda, a
-flush very like anger coming into her face, “but I
-do feel sorry to grieve Aunt Sarah. She is as kind
-to me as an own mother, and I love her so dearly.”
-
-“I know it, but it will not be the task to write it
-that it would be to tell them were you there. I
-should write at once to both.”
-
-“I will do as you advise. I can see that it is the
-kinder way.”
-
-“There is another favor I would ask of you, my
-dear one, and that is not to address me as ‘sir.’ It
-keeps the difference in our ages in very large figures
-before my eyes.”
-
-“I never thought of that,” responded Hilda,
-laughing and blushing.
-
-“I hope you will never feel under more restraint
-in my company than in that of Fred Warfield or
-any other person near your own age. I should be
-grieved to know that we were not in every way
-congenial and at home with each other.”
-
-“I never felt otherwise with you; you have always
-appeared young to me,” said Hilda, sincerely.
-
-“Thank you, my darling; I am truly glad to hear
-this. I have known two instances where the husband
-was double the age of his wife, and the lady
-in both cases seemed to be in awe of her husband.
-I would be miserable to know that you felt so toward me.”
-
-“You need not dread my being in awe of you,”
-laughed Hilda. “You were somewhat younger than
-now when I first became acquainted with you. I
-suppose that accounts for my lack of deference. We
-have grown old together.”
-
-Mr. Courtney had suggested an early day for
-their marriage, and there was nothing to prevent except
-the item of a trousseau, a subject which Hilda,
-penniless, and having no claim upon a human being,
-did not consider open for discussion.
-
-Mr. Courtney believed that to be the cause of
-her reluctance to agree to his suggestion for an
-early day, and had he not appreciated her fine nature
-so thoroughly, might have been tempted
-through the aid of Mrs. Courtney, to do away with
-that hindrance. As it was, he could only await
-Time’s adjustment.
-
-Hilda wrote to Mrs. Warfield and to Fred and
-waited for the second time in her life with keen
-anxiety for Mrs. Warfield’s reply. Would she be
-wounded because Hilda remained indifferent to the
-united appeal of mother and son? Would she resent
-the reticence of Hilda in not giving them
-knowledge of her attachment to Mr. Courtney in
-the nearly two years she had been with them and
-thus misleading Fred?
-
-Smothering the pain in her heart, Mrs. Warfield’s
-letter was candid, cordial and affectionate. She
-wrote nothing that would mar the happiness of the
-girl whom she held blameless. She offered her sincere
-congratulations, and added to the measure of
-her kindness by enclosing a check for the purchase
-of a handsome outfit as a wedding present.
-
-There was now nothing to prevent Hilda from
-acceding to Mr. Courtney’s wish to appoint an early
-day for the marriage, which would be at the home
-of the Merrymans, Rev. Carl officiating, and the
-bridal tour followed by a reception at “My Lady’s
-Manor” under the auspices of Mrs. Courtney and
-Mrs. Merryman.
-
-As upon a former occasion, Mrs. Courtney offered
-her assistance in the matter of shopping, and the
-offer was accepted gladly by Hilda.
-
-The evening before they were to drive to Baltimore,
-Mrs. Merryman and Hilda took a walk to the
-cottage, and upon reaching the gate saw Archie
-coming down the road from “My Lady’s Manor,”
-where he had been the past night and day.
-
-“I am sure he is on his way to ‘Fair Meadow,’”
-said Mrs. Merryman. “Ask him to wait and go
-with us; he can carry the things you wish to take.”
-
-Archie was willing to oblige and followed them
-up the grass-grown path. He sat down upon the
-door-step while the ladies went inside and opened
-the windows, letting in the soft evening air, laden
-with the odors of early spring.
-
-As upon former visits, Hilda went to the desk,
-let down the lid and searched through the small
-drawers and other receptacles, but found nothing,
-and was about to lock it again when the old man
-entered and stood beside her.
-
-“Archie knows where there is money,” he said
-abruptly.
-
-“No, Archie,” said Hilda, “we have searched
-several times and can find nothing.”
-
-“But Archie knows it is there. Archie saw the
-woman put it in there one night when he was looking
-for people in the snow.”
-
-“Where is it, Archie?” asked Hilda, trying to
-conceal her eagerness, knowing it would confuse
-him.
-
-“In that tall box,” pointing to the desk.
-
-“There is no money there, Archie,” said Mrs.
-Merryman. “We have looked for it several times.”
-
-“Archie can find it; he saw the woman put it
-there. Archie was looking through a crack in the
-shutter. The woman didn’t know Archie saw her,”
-he added earnestly.
-
-“Show us where it is, Archie,” said Hilda; “take
-your own time.”
-
-He stepped to the desk, put up the lid, lowered it
-again, and stood contemplating it with a look of
-perplexity upon his worn face.
-
-“Archie forgets. He must think,” he said. He
-locked and unlocked the desk several times, the
-ladies sitting quietly by.
-
-“Yes, Archie knows!” he cried exultantly. “The
-woman held the lid so, and put her hand under
-here,” and suiting the action to the word, he drew
-forth a small flat package and gave it into the hand
-of Hilda. It was addressed to her. She opened it
-and found Mrs. Ashley’s letter, the money, a letter
-from Jerusha Flint to her and the gold pen with its
-holder set with rubies.
-
-Pale and silent, Hilda held them, her eyes brimming
-with tears. It seemed almost as if her aunt
-had returned to hold converse with her, and that
-poor Jerusha was yet craving forgiveness, though
-“after life’s fitful fever,” she was at rest in the
-grave.
-
-“Hilda,” ran the letter, “I was cruel to you, and
-can never atone for that, but I give back all I kept
-from you. I did not intend to keep the pen, but
-forgot to send it with the trunks, and then, wishing
-to have no communication with you, put off
-sending it. I have used it twice, there being no
-other pen in the house. The first time was in writing
-my letter to Mrs. Merryman to keep you. You
-did not return, and I looked upon the pen as bringing
-me good luck. Diana told me that she used it
-in writing to Mrs. Warfield; you found a home
-with her, which I regarded as better luck, for it
-took you out of my sight. I directed an envelope to
-my brother Horace with it, enclosing three letters.
-One was my mother’s letter to me, received on my
-sixteenth birthday. The other two I requested
-Horace to forward to our grandfather after I am
-gone, and I wish him joy in reading my mother’s
-letter to him from Baltimore, and his reply. I also
-enclosed for Horace a slip cut from a London newspaper
-years and years ago, by my grandmother,
-which confirmed the record of our ancestry and heredity
-given in my mother’s letter to me.
-
-“That letter from my mother served to keep in
-remembrance my miserable childhood. Her pride
-of ancestry kept her from allowing me to associate
-with the plebeian children of the neighbors, among
-whom our poverty-stricken homes were compelled
-to be, and to add to my half-starved, and in winter,
-half-frozen condition, I was shut up with her sighs
-and tears, her heart-sick waiting for forgiveness
-and help from her father which never came, and
-her unavailing regret for her disobedience to him
-and to her mother, which was the cause of all her
-troubles.
-
-“My sleep was broken, my nerves wrecked; and
-I imagined and dreamed of all kinds of terrible
-calamities which we were powerless to escape. When
-my mother died, I was taken to an orphan asylum,
-which I hated from foundation to roof; and when
-old enough to earn my living was compelled to earn
-it by means of an occupation I despised.
-
-“I mention these things as some little excuse for
-my warped disposition which made me so disagreeable
-to my fellow-creatures that I had not one real
-friend, and was so cruel to you that I wonder you
-lived. For that I implore your forgiveness.
-
-.. class:: right
-
-:sc:`“Jerusha.”`
-
-“Poor Jerusha looked upon this pen as a mascot,”
-remarked Hilda, taking it up to examine it after
-finishing the letter. “Oh, Aunt Merryman, how
-could I bear resentment toward her after reading
-this story of her life?”
-
-“Yes, we should be patient with our fellow creatures.
-We cannot know the burdens that many of
-them are bearing. I have often wondered what
-trials poor old Archie has had to bring him to the
-condition he is in now, for he has evidently seen
-better days.”
-
-“I have often said that Archie is my good genius.
-Besides saving my life, it seems that through him,
-guided by a kind Providence, I have found three
-beautiful homes, and now through him this package
-has been found.”
-
-“Did you ever see anything so capable of keeping
-a secret as is this desk?” commented Mrs. Merryman.
-“Let us examine it more closely.”
-
-“How simple when one understands it!” said
-Hilda, raising and lowering the lid. “The desk has
-a false bottom to which the lid is attached by
-hinges not placed at the end, but a short distance
-above it. Thus, when we put up the lid it closes
-the secret space, and when the desk is open—that is,
-the lid down and resting upon the open drawer beneath
-it—it is concealed.”
-
-“It is the greatest curiosity in the shape of a desk
-that I have seen,” commented Mrs. Merryman.
-“Who would suspect a vacancy under what they
-suppose to be the floor of the desk, large enough to
-hold a larger package than yours? In truth, several
-of that thickness could be concealed there if laid
-side by side.”
-
-“But the hiding place is easily seen if one knows
-that the secret lies in holding the lid in a horizontal
-position; but being always under it, and the entrance
-to the secret nook being partly filled in by
-the lower end of the lid, it is sure to elude detection.”
-
-“It eluded ours, and Archie was puzzled, although
-he had seen it.”
-
-“It cannot be seen except at the moment that
-someone is raising or lowering the lid,” remarked
-Hilda, experimenting, “and then only by an observing
-person who was standing where a side view of
-the desk could be had, as did Archie. When the
-desk is closed it conceals the false floor; when it is
-open it conceals the real one.”
-
-“But you and I are as intelligent as most persons,”
-said Mrs. Merryman, reflectively. “How is
-it that we could not find out the secret of that desk
-as did Jerusha Flint? She said in her letter that
-she had used the pen, and yet we find it with her
-letter in the secret nook. Who told her how to
-find it?”
-
-“The information must have been in the letter
-she destroyed. She feared it would fall in other
-hands.”
-
-“Yes, I am sure you are right,” answered Mrs.
-Merryman.
-
-“It is no wonder that she longed to see me,” continued
-Hilda. “I wish for her sake that I had
-reached here in time to listen to all she wished to
-say.”
-
-They arose, locked the desk and the cottage door,
-and, followed by Archie with the basket, went
-home, Hilda carrying the package which had been
-kept so long from its rightful owner.
-
-Since her return to Dorton she had gone several
-times to the village churchyard to visit the grave of
-her Aunt Ashley—on which Mrs. Warfield had
-long before ordered to be placed a handsome memorial
-stone—and never left it without evincing
-her forgiveness by pausing at that of Jerusha Flint.
-
-The wish had been in her heart to mark that
-lowly mound by a headstone, however small and
-plain—a greater longing than she had ever felt for
-any acquisition for herself. Now the way was
-opened, and the next day she made it part of her
-errand to the city to visit the marble yard where
-Mrs. Warfield’s order had been faithfully executed,
-and order one of snow-white marble bearing only
-the carved words—“Jerusha Flint.”
-
-Invitations to the wedding reception at “My
-Lady’s Manor” were sent to the four members of
-the Warfield family, but Mrs. Warfield and Fred
-sent a courteous regret, promising to visit Hilda at
-some future time.
-
-“They will never come,” commented Hilda, after
-reading the letter aloud to Mr. Courtney. “Fred
-will not wish to come, and Aunt Sarah would not
-travel so far unless Fred or Paul accompanied her.”
-
-“After we are settled in our home we will invite
-them again,” said Mr. Courtney, “and if they are
-kept in ignorance of my knowledge of the engagement
-between you and Mr. Warfield it will save
-them embarrassment.”
-
-“I shall never tell them unless they ask, and I
-scarcely think they will mention it to us, or to
-anyone.”
-
-Mrs. Lura purposed making her annual visit to
-her uncle Robert De Cormis and his family in
-Philadelphia about that time, and Paul accompanied
-her there, and to the reception at “My Lady’s
-Manor.”
-
-Upon her return to Ohio she discanted so volubly
-upon the beauty of the bride, the elegance of the
-bridegroom, and the grandeur of their home when
-in the presence of Fred that Mrs. Warfield was constrained
-to think that the chief pleasure she took
-in the visit was the opportunity it gave her to embarrass
-him.
-
-Mrs. MacQuoid and Chloe were rejoiced that the
-home had a mistress, and that mistress, Hilda, and
-Sandy, who had resumed his position as coachman
-as soon as Mr. Courtney returned from Europe, was
-more than satisfied, and drove the iron-grays to
-town and back happier than a king.
-
-Mr. and Mrs. Valentine Courtney made an effort
-to induce Archie to give up his wanderings and remain
-with them, but to all inducements he made
-the same reply, “No, Archie has plenty of homes;
-he must walk about to find people in the snow.”
-
-“My Lady’s Manor” was a charming visiting
-place to the young people of the neighborhood, and
-to no one more so than to Erma Merryman, who
-looked upon it as a second home, and upon Hilda
-as a loved sister.
-
-One morning, about two years after Hilda had
-taken up her residence there, Mr. Courtney came
-into the nursery with an open letter in his hand.
-The king of that small realm was Valentine Courtney,
-Jr., a healthy, handsome boy, “just as good as
-he is handsome,” being the opinion of each and all
-who saw him.
-
-“I think I have a pleasant surprise for you, dear,”
-said Mr. Courtney, taking the infant upon his knee
-and looking with loving admiration upon mother
-and child.
-
-“I am not easily surprised, but have my share of
-woman’s curiosity. What is it?” smiled Hilda.
-
-“Judge Sylvester happened to mention to me
-some time ago that he wished a partner in his law
-business and preferred a young man. I thought
-immediately of Fred, and as Sylvester appeared
-willing to have me write to him, I did so, remembering
-that Mrs. Warfield said in one of her letters
-that he wished to go into partnership with an established
-firm. Fred answered promptly, and the result
-is that he is coming to Baltimore and we will
-have him near us.”
-
-“That was so kind and thoughtful in you; Aunt
-Sarah will appreciate it,” said Hilda, gratefully.
-
-“I have been wishing to do them some favor that
-they would accept, in return for their kindness to
-you, and am glad that this was acceptable.”
-
-Hilda wrote that evening to Mrs. Warfield, inviting
-her to come with Fred and make a long visit,
-a request with which Mrs. Warfield gladly complied.
-
-Thus before a month passed Fred Warfield was
-established as partner with Judge Sylvester in Baltimore,
-and Mrs. Warfield was at “My Lady’s
-Manor,” where her son was always a welcome
-guest.
-
-CHAPTER XV—HILDA’S HOME
-=======================
-
-Five happy years had passed since Hilda had become
-the cherished wife of Mr. Courtney, and during
-those years Mrs. Warfield had spent two winters
-at “My Lady’s Manor,” and was there for the
-third. She was expecting to return to her Ohio
-home, for spring had again made the earth jubilant
-with the song of birds and fragrant with the perfume
-of flowers.
-
-Although no confidences were solicited or given
-upon the subject, Hilda knew that her beloved guest
-was happier during these visits than at any other
-time since Paul’s marriage, because away from the
-domineering presence of Mrs. Lura, who was growing
-more like Jerusha Flint every year of her life.
-
-No childish voices disturbed the quietude of the
-farmhouse; perfect order reigned, and Mrs. Lura
-could devote all the time she wished to embroidery,
-the chief pleasure of her existence.
-
-There were many reasons for the sojourn at “My
-Lady’s Manor” being pleasant to Mrs. Warfield,
-not the least of which was having Fred so near, a
-lawyer in good position, popular in society as he
-had been in Springfield, and, as was characteristic,
-falling in love with every beautiful face new to him.
-
-Mr. Courtney invited him frequently to pass the
-night with them, taking him back to his office in the
-morning; and Fred thought, as had Hilda years before,
-that nothing was more enjoyable than the
-drive in a luxurious carriage drawn by a span of
-handsome, spirited horses.
-
-Then Mrs. Warfield was always happy in the
-company of children, and believed that no better or
-handsomer boy could be found than the small Valentine;
-and the dainty blue-eyed darling—Sarah
-Warfield Courtney—was, in her eyes, the perfection
-of infantile beauty and excellence.
-
-Another tie which bound her to Hilda and Hilda’s
-home was the articles which had belonged to Mrs.
-Ashley; and she passed some time each day in the
-room containing them; relics hallowed by the touch
-of the lovely and beloved young sister.
-
-She loved the neighborhood of Dorton and its
-people; she and Mrs. Carl Courtney were congenial
-in every way, were members of the same denomination,
-and although both were too broad-minded
-to be rigidly sectarian, it was a dear tie that attached
-them to each other.
-
-Her visit, however, was nearly finished, and she
-was making preparations to return to Springfield,
-when she received a letter from Mrs. Lura, eminently
-characteristic of that managing little matron.
-It read:
-
- “Dear Mother—I think you will be surprised to
- hear of a change made in our household arrangements.
- Father has always been lonely since I
- married and left him, and it occurred to me that it
- would save me much time and trouble going back
- and forth if I could have him with us. So he has
- given up the parsonage, and as he has always been
- accustomed to a large front room with southern
- exposure, and where sunlight comes in freely, I
- have given him yours, which, being just across the
- hall from Paul’s and mine, I think suits him well,
- and I am sure you should be satisfied with the one
- back of it, as Angie tells me you used it the summer
- that Mrs. Lacy and two other visitors were at the
- farmhouse, so you must have preferred it.
-
- “Believing that you cannot fail in agreeing to
- this, I remain
-
- .. class:: right
-
- | “Your affectionate daughter,
- | “Lura Warfield.”
-
-After receiving this epistle it appeared to be a
-suitable time for Mr. and Mrs. Courtney to again
-urge their loved friend to remain with them, and
-as that letter seemed to be the only thing required
-to make her decide, she agreed to stay.
-
-They all had occasion to rejoice that she had
-thus decided, for the next week after she had appointed
-to go to Ohio, little Valentine was ill of
-scarlet fever, and Mrs. Warfield, who loved the boy
-as if he were of her own flesh and blood, was, next
-to Hilda, his devoted nurse.
-
-“’Pears like ter me, Kitty,” said Andy one morning
-when the dangerous symptoms were at their
-height, “dat Marse Val didn’t seem chipper dis
-mornin’ when he com’d over to see Marse Carl an’
-Mis’ Emma; has yer took notice to it, Kitty?”
-
-“Marse Val never looked handsomer than he did
-this yer mornin’,” replied Kitty, decidedly.
-
-“I didn’t say nothin’ ’bout handsome, Kitty!”
-exclaimed Andy irately. “I done said he wan’t so
-chipper. I don’t like dat pale face, Kitty; ’tain’t
-for no good, min’ dat.”
-
-“I may as well tell you, Uncle Andy,” said Kitty,
-hesitatingly, “that Chloe told me all about it; she
-was in de china closet when Mis’ Emma was over
-dar yistady, and heard her an’ Mis’ Warfield talkin’.
-De doctor comes twice a day to see little Marse
-Valentine and little Mis’ Sarah; dey has de scarlet
-fever, an’ Dr. Lattinger is afeard dat little Marse
-Valentine won’t live.”
-
-“Well! well! well!” cried Andy, shaking his
-white head, and brushing away a tear with the back
-of his wrinkled hand. “I’s nearly a hundred years
-ol’, an’ has toted Marse Val in my arms when he
-was a chipper baby. I done lubed dat chile like I
-lubed my own chillen, an’ now can’t help him none
-in his trouble.”
-
-“We must all have trouble in dis world, Uncle
-Andy.”
-
-“I know dat, but de good Lord won’t shorely
-take little Marse Val an’ leave me who ain’t no
-’count nohow. I’s like a withered apple on a dead
-branch, dat no wind nor frost nor hail kin fotch
-down from offen de tree.”
-
-“Chloe told me that Dr. Lattinger says much depends
-on de nursin’, and dey has good nurses. I
-tell you that it is a mighty good thing Mis’ Hilda
-has dat Ohio lady to call on in time of trouble.”
-
-“’Pears ter me yer knows a heap dis mornin’,
-Kitty,” remarked Andy dryly. “’Spose yer was
-’tendin’ to keep all dis from de ol’ man.”
-
-“No, Uncle Andy, but Mis’ Emma said it was
-better not to tell you unless you asked, for it would
-only distress you, for you think so much of Marse
-Val.”
-
-“Of course I does, Kitty, but nobody wants to be
-kep’ in de dark, yer knows dat yer own self! Ol’
-folks wants ter know what is goin’ on, an’ how is
-dey ter know widout somebody tells ’em?”
-
-“I will tell you all I know, Uncle Andy,” said
-Kitty remorsefully, as the old man took out a remnant
-of plaid handkerchief to dry his tears. “What
-do you want to know next?”
-
-“Whar did de chillen catch de feber?”
-
-“Dr. Lattinger says it is in de atmosphere.”
-
-“Is dat sumpin’ to eat or drink, Kitty?”
-
-“No, it is the air.”
-
-“Den why couldn’t he say de air? Oh, ’twill be
-mighty hard for Marse Val to part wid dat little
-boy and gal. Dey is de light of his eyes.”
-
-“But maybe he won’t have to part wid dem, Uncle
-Andy,” said Kitty, cheerfully, “and de sorrow
-of a night will be forgot in de joy of de mornin’.”
-
-“But I am afeard dey’ll be taken, Kitty,” sighed
-the old man tearfully. “I ain’t axed my heavenly
-Marster to let me lib a little longer, not sense I had
-seen Marse Val so happy in dem chillen, but I suttenly
-wants to lib now; an’ if dey is taken I hope de
-good Lord will spare ol’ Andy to comfort Marse
-Val.”
-
-Andy was spared this grief, for to the joy of
-many hearts the children recovered; and when the
-balmy summer weather came were well enough to
-enjoy many pleasant drives over the shady country
-roads.
-
-Hilda, though favored with efficient helpers, lived
-far from an idle, aimless life, for her days were
-filled with good works. The plans originated by
-Mr. Courtney for promoting the temporal and spiritual
-welfare of his fellow creatures were heartily
-seconded by her; she was in every way a helpmeet.
-
-Time passed speedily and happily in their home,
-varied by visits from friends from the city and the
-neighborhood, one of the best loved being Erma
-Merryman. She had returned from her school in
-Baltimore, a cultured and accomplished young lady,
-cherished by the home circle and admired in society.
-
-Fred, in his frequent visits to “My Lady’s
-Manor,” saw, admired, and as was his wont, fell in
-love with her which impelled Hilda to have a serious
-talk with him.
-
-“Erma is a sweet, confiding girl,” she said, “and
-if you are only intending to flirt with her I consider
-it my duty to warn her and her parents that
-their confidence in you is misplaced; for you will
-leave her for the next pretty face you see.”
-
-“Oh, Cousin Hilda, please don’t prejudice them
-against me! I am really in earnest this time.”
-
-“So you always say. Fred, what does make you
-so fickle and inconsistent?”
-
-“Absence, Cousin Hilda.”
-
-“Absence! Oh, shame. What style of husband
-would you make when you so easily forget a loved
-one when separated for a time?”
-
-“But the case would be entirely different, if the
-lady were my wife. Never fear, Cousin Hilda. If
-I am fortunate enough to win Miss Erma Merryman
-you will see me one of the best of husbands;
-you will be proud of me yet.”
-
-“Listen, Fred; you and your family have been
-dear, kind friends to me; but so, also, have been
-Uncle and Aunt Merryman, and it would distress
-me beyond measure to have them made unhappy
-through you.”
-
-“But I will not give them unhappiness; instead,
-I wish to give them a son-in-law first-class in every
-respect. Do, Cousin Hilda, lend a helping hand by
-speaking a good word for me.”
-
-“No, sir; I will do nothing of the kind. Making
-or breaking matrimonial engagements is something
-at which my conscience rebels; and if ever I should
-be tempted to aid in that line, it certainly would not
-be for one so unsettled in the affections as yourself.”
-
-Fred laughed in his usual amiable and lighthearted
-manner, but Hilda was too much disturbed
-to smile.
-
-“It was never excusable in you, Fred, even with
-youth on your side; but at your age it is positively
-culpable. You will lose the respect of all right-minded
-people, for if there is a person who merits
-ridicule, it is a light-headed, trifling old beau.”
-
-“But Cousin Hilda, how can I convince you that
-I am in earnest this time? I really love Miss Erma
-and intend asking her to be my wife.”
-
-“No doubt; but unless you give me your word of
-honor, as a gentleman, that you will not trifle with
-the affections of that lovely girl, but will keep your
-word, Mr. Courtney and myself will not consider
-you worthy of respect, and our home will be closed
-against you.”
-
-“I do give you my word of honor as a gentleman
-that I will ask Erma Merryman to be my wife;
-and if she accepts, will ask the very earliest time
-that she will agree to for our marriage, and will
-not make the least effort to break the engagement
-though the face of an houri should tempt me. Will
-that satisfy you, Cousin Hilda?”
-
-“Yes, and no one will rejoice more than I to see
-you happily married; and you cannot fail in happiness
-if your wife be Erma Merryman.”
-
-The evening that Hilda and Fred had this conversation
-Erma received a letter from Anita Appleton,
-a school friend in Hagerstown, accepting the
-cordial invitation given her by Erma the week before,
-to pass a month at the Merryman farmhouse.
-
-She had scarcely finished the perusal of it when
-Fred called and was told of the expected visitor,
-and innocent satisfaction beamed in her gentle face
-when she noticed that his brow grew clouded, and
-the smile left his lips.
-
-“You do not seem glad, Mr. Warfield,” she said.
-“I am sure you will be pleased with her. She is not
-only very beautiful, but is lovely in disposition. She
-is accomplished and witty; very different from me,
-which is, I suppose, my reason for loving her more
-than any girl in the school in Baltimore.”
-
-“I am glad for your sake, Miss Erma, but not
-for my own. I wish only your society,” he said,
-taking her small, white hand in his, “not only for
-the evenings of the coming month, but for all
-time. I came to ask you to be my wife,” and accustomed
-as was Fred to making proposals of marriage,
-his voice trembled with apprehension as to
-the answer.
-
-Erma’s face flushed, then paled, and she remained
-silent; a silence which Fred misconstrued.
-
-“I am aware that it was my duty to have first
-asked your parents’ consent, but you have given but
-little encouragement that you cared for me, and
-now this expected visitor has unsettled my plans.”
-
-Erma was still silent; she seemed to be collecting
-her thoughts for an answer.
-
-“Promise me that you will be my wife; promise
-now, before a stranger steps in to prevent us being
-alone together! If you will consent, I will seek the
-consent of your father and mother before I leave
-this evening.”
-
-“I must have time to consider,” said Erma; “you
-cannot expect me to take such an important step
-without reflection, or consultation with papa and
-mamma.”
-
-“But you can certainly give me some hope, or appoint
-some early date when you can give me your
-decision!”
-
-“Yes, I will appoint a time,” she said, gently.
-“When Anita’s visit is over, if you ask me again I
-will give you my decision. There is no need to
-speak to papa and mamma in regard to it; their only
-wish is for my happiness. They could say no
-more to you than I have already done, and I am
-sure that they will give free and full consent to any
-choice I may make.”
-
-“But I would be so much happier if you would
-promise me now, so much more settled in mind
-than if kept in suspense for more than a month.”
-
-“The time will soon pass, and we must bend all
-our thoughts toward making Anita’s visit pleasant.
-We will take her out driving and on horseback.
-Cecil Courtney would, I think, help make a party of
-four for many a pleasant expedition.”
-
-“Then Cecil must be her escort; I will not give
-you up to him!” said Fred, his face flushing warmly.
-
-“We will not consult our own pleasure,” replied
-Erma, gently. “Whatever will be most agreeable to
-Anita for the short time she will be here must be
-our pleasure. I only hope that you will assist in
-entertaining her by coming as many evenings as
-you can.”
-
-“There is nothing to prevent my coming from
-Baltimore every evening with Mr. Courtney; you
-know that I have a standing invitation to ‘My
-Lady’s Manor.’ Mr. Courtney is glad to have my
-company in the drive out and back to the city.”
-
-“I know it; Mr. Courtney loves you as he would
-an own brother.”
-
-Early the following week Miss Appleton came,
-was cordially welcomed by the Merrymans, and
-proved to be one of the most agreeable of guests,
-a brilliant, attractive creature, with whom every
-member of the family felt at home from the moment
-she crossed the door sill, and whose cheery presence
-seemed to pervade the whole house.
-
-Anita had perfect taste in dress; and every article
-of her artistic and elegant wardrobe was becoming
-to her. More than once, the very first evening in
-the parlor of the Merryman home, where several
-young people were congregated in honor of her arrival,
-Erma saw Fred’s glance rest upon the beautiful
-face of her friend, and then upon hers, and she
-read his thoughts as correctly as if they were spoken
-words.
-
-“Bird of Paradise and gentle dove,” he had said
-in a low tone to her, and she had the intuition that
-“Bird of Paradise” was the ideal of the spoiled
-favorite of society, and not the sober plumaged
-dove.
-
-Cecil Courtney was more than pleased to act as
-escort to one of the girls, and, seeming to prefer
-Erma, Fred did not object; so after the first drive
-and horseback expedition, all fell naturally into the
-places which they had filled the beginning of the
-visit.
-
-Fred made no secret of his preference for the
-companionship of Anita, and soothed his conscience
-with the thought that he had been solicited by
-Erma to help entertain her friend, and she surely
-could not be so unjust as to feel aggrieved that he
-had taken her at her word.
-
-The visit was over and Anita returned to her
-home, and Fred, true to the letter of his request,
-and his promise to Hilda, called to hear Erma’s decision.
-
-“I have concluded that we are not at all suited to
-each other, Mr. Warfield,” said Erma when he
-again made his offer of marriage.
-
-A swift look of relief crossed Fred’s expressive
-features, and any lingering idea that he really cared
-for her fled from Erma’s mind.
-
-The next day she went to take tea at “My Lady’s
-Manor,” and Hilda rejoiced at heart that she was
-not a love-lorn damsel, but was, as usual, bright
-and cheerful.
-
-“Fred seemed pleased with your friend Anita,”
-remarked Hilda as the two were seated in the
-shaded veranda while Mrs. Warfield and the children
-were taking their afternoon rest.
-
-“Not pleased only, but captivated. He is certainly
-in love now, if never before.”
-
-“But Erma, dear, if you care for Fred, was it
-wise to invite your beautiful friend to visit you at
-this time?”
-
-A smile, as if the question had called up some
-pleasant remembrance, hovered upon the lips of
-Erma, and Hilda’s heart grew so light that she
-laughed gleefully.
-
-“Tell me, my Erma,” she said, assuming a tragic
-air, “pour out the secrets of that heart into my
-faithful bosom.”
-
-“I will, oh friend of my childhood!” laughed
-Erma; then with tears of feeling in her eyes she
-added, “Oh, Hilda, how grateful I am every hour
-since Anita’s visit that I was willing to agree with
-papa and mamma’s advice to invite her to visit me at
-this time.”
-
-“The advice of Uncle and Aunt Merryman?”
-exclaimed Hilda in surprise.
-
-“Yes, I had told them of Mr. Warfield’s flippant
-manner of speaking of his broken engagements,
-and they trembled for my happiness should I become
-his wife. That was our reason for inviting
-Anita at this time and the result is just as we expected.”
-
-“And you are not crushed by the blow? Ah,
-Erma, dear, someone has taken possession of that
-gentle heart of yours.”
-
-Erma’s downcast eyes and flushing cheeks confirmed
-her in this opinion in advance of the artless
-words, “Yes, Hilda, I compared him with Cecil
-Courtney, and he dwindled into insignificance beside
-that manly, reliable friend that I have known
-from babyhood. And oh, Hilda, Cecil has always
-cared for me and I did not know it! Nor did I
-know until Anita’s visit that I cared for him.”
-
-“I congratulate you both from my heart; but
-Erma, dear, there is another side of the question to
-be considered. Was there not danger of your friend
-Anita becoming attached to Fred? You cannot
-deny that he is handsome and agreeable.”
-
-“I told her that he was a known trifler, and she
-was not many evenings in his society until she saw
-that my opinion was correct. She went away perfectly
-fancy free, so far as Fred was concerned. I
-cannot answer for him.”
-
-Erma had not long to wait to hear how Fred
-fared, for Anita’s second letter informed her that
-he had written an offer of marriage which she declined
-for two reasons, one being that she could not
-respect a man who so trifled with the affections,
-and the other, that after her return she promised
-herself in marriage to a young man worthy in every
-respect, absence proving that they were all in all
-to each other.
-
-Winter, with its sleighing parties and other
-amusements, brought the young people together frequently,
-and Cecil Courtney was always Erma’s
-escort, both their families, the Lattingers, and in
-truth the whole neighborhood approving highly of
-the prospective union.
-
-Thus the months passed, and one sweet June
-morning a company of dear friends were gathered
-in the parlor of the Merryman farmhouse to witness
-the marriage, after which the newly-made husband
-and wife went upon a wedding journey and
-then took up their residence in Baltimore, as happy
-a young couple as could be found in “Maryland,
-My Maryland.”
-
-The evening of the wedding day Hilda and the
-children took one of their favorite walks to Dorton
-churchyard, and while the little ones, under the care
-of Chloe, gathered wild flowers that dotted the
-grassy enclosure, Hilda went to the resting place of
-Jerusha Flint.
-
-When she reached the spot she was surprised to
-see a lady beside it, and more so to find in her no
-stranger, but Mrs. Robert De Cormis, of Philadelphia,
-the aunt, by marriage, of Mrs. Lura Warfield.
-
-“No wonder that you are surprised to see me,
-my dear,” she said, as Hilda greeted her cordially.
-“I am on my way to your house to pass the night
-with you, if agreeable to you to entertain me at this
-time. The postmaster at Dorton pointed out ‘My
-Lady’s Manor,’ but I took a circuit from the direct
-way in order to visit this churchyard.”
-
-“Nothing would give us greater pleasure than to
-have you with us, Mrs. De Cormis. Shall we walk,
-or would you prefer that I send Chloe to have the
-carriage come for us?”
-
-“I prefer walking this lovely evening, and we
-can converse on our way. I came from Philadelphia
-this morning, and stopped off in Baltimore in
-order to see Horace Flint, the brother of Jerusha
-Flint. He had forwarded letters to our address
-which was the reason for my coming. My dear, do
-you know that Jerusha was my husband’s niece, the
-daughter of his only sister?”
-
-“His niece!” echoed Hilda, halting to look into
-the face of Mrs. De Cormis; “his sister’s daughter!
-Then she was first cousin to Lura Warfield, wife of
-Cousin Paul.”
-
-“Yes, her own cousin; Lura’s father and Jerusha’s
-mother were brother and sister.”
-
-“Lura Warfield has no knowledge of it, I am
-sure. I have every reason to know that she never
-heard of Jerusha Flint until she became acquainted
-with me,” commented Hilda.
-
-“No, I am sure of it. My husband never heard
-of Jerusha until we received the letter from her
-brother—Horace De Cormis Flint—which Jerusha
-requested should be forwarded to her grandfather.
-The letter proved itself, having been written by
-Jerusha’s mother—my sister-in-law, long since
-dead; and enclosed in it was my father-in-law’s reply.”
-
-“But I cannot understand it,” exclaimed Hilda
-in bewilderment. “Jerusha died several years ago.
-Why were not her mother’s and her grandfather’s
-letters forwarded at that time to your husband, Mr.
-Robert De Cormis, instead of waiting until now?”
-
-“Horace Flint gave the excuse that as he and his
-sister Jerusha had lived until past middle age without
-any acquaintance with their mother’s relatives
-he should never have made himself known were it
-not for the request of Jerusha.”
-
-“I never saw Horace Flint,” remarked Hilda.
-“He may never have lived in this neighborhood, or
-if so, must have left it before my remembrance.”
-
-“He did not mention how long he has lived in
-Baltimore, but just incidentally mentioned that
-Jerusha’s home was with him until she rented the
-cottage where a lady lived whose name was Ashley.”
-
-“It is so surprising that I can as yet scarcely
-comprehend it,” said Hilda.
-
-“It was the same to me, and the perusal of the
-two letters sent by request of Jerusha was a great
-grief to my husband. I will tell you of them.
-
-“The mother of Jerusha and Horace Flint was
-the only daughter of Father De Cormis, and was
-several years older than her two brothers—Rev.
-Horace De Cormis, of Woodmont, Ohio, and Robert
-De Cormis, my husband.
-
-“She was beautiful, but self-willed, and in spite
-of the threats of her father and the entreaties of her
-mother persisted in receiving the attentions of a
-young man named Archibald Flint, who was visiting
-Philadelphia from San Francisco.
-
-“He was handsome, cultured and amiable, but
-without knowledge of business of any kind.
-
-“To break off this intimacy Miss De Cormis was
-sent to a distant boarding school. Mr. Flint followed,
-she eloped and they were married, and for
-several years her parents heard no word of them.
-Not knowing that during this time her mother had
-died, and being in abject poverty, Mrs. Flint wrote
-to her parents from her poor home in Baltimore,
-beseeching them for the sake of her little daughter,
-Jerusha—named for Mother De Cormis—to send
-relief.
-
-“My father-in-law was a man of implacable temper;
-he wrote commanding her never to communicate
-with him again. He reproached her as being
-the cause of her mother’s death, and added that her
-ingratitude and disobedience to her parents was being
-visited upon her children. He concluded his
-letter by saying that he disowned her as a daughter,
-had disinherited her, and had commanded his young
-sons, Horace and Robert, under the same penalty,
-never to see her or communicate with her in any
-way.
-
-“In this letter he returned the one she had written;
-and these were the two letters which Jerusha
-had requested her brother Horace to send their
-grandfather; but he being years before in his grave,
-we, who are living in his old home, received them.”
-
-“Poor Jerusha had these letters,—her mother’s
-to grieve over, and her grandfather’s to sour her
-against the world,” sighed Hilda. “Her poor young
-mother was severely punished for her disobedience.
-I wonder how long she lived after receiving that
-letter?”
-
-“It must have been several years, for Horace
-Flint mentioned in our conversation to-day that
-Jerusha was ten years of age and he was six, when,
-after the death of their mother, they were taken by
-their father to the orphan asylum.”
-
-“I wonder what became of the father?” questioned
-Hilda.
-
-“We always supposed that he died years ago,
-our reason for thinking so being a letter found
-among the papers left, by Father De Cormis. It
-was written to him by a nurse in the hospital in
-Baltimore, saying that a man was lying there dangerously
-ill of brain fever, and in his pocket they
-had found a letter which, being addressed to Father
-De Cormis, the nurse had written to enclose it. But
-Horace informed me to-day that his father recovered.”
-
-“I wonder if Father De Cormis gave any attention
-to the letter of the nurse?” questioned Hilda.
-
-“I think not, nor to the one Archibald enclosed
-in it, which was so pathetic in its appeal that, so
-well as I knew my father-in-law, I wondered that
-he could steel his heart against it.
-
-“It was written at the bedside of his sick wife,
-and in it Father De Cormis was implored to send
-relief to the suffering woman and her little children.
-The writer added that he was ill, and exhausted
-from watching, and from a long walk of
-several miles to ask assistance of his brother-in-law,
-Joshua Farnsworth, of ‘My Lady’s Manor,’ who
-was willing and able to assist him, but who had
-died suddenly, so that hope was extinguished.
-
-“He wrote that he had no expectation or wish to
-live, but while able to write, and with a clear mind,
-he wished to state the incidents of his visit to his
-brother-in-law, Joshua Farnsworth, at ‘My Lady’s
-Manor,’ which, with his many anxieties and insufficient
-food, had brought on the fever from which
-he was then suffering.
-
-“In order to make his statement plain, he dated
-back to his boyhood in San Francisco, where he and
-his sister were the only children of wealthy parents
-who indulged them in every wish. He grew up
-without knowledge of business of any kind, his
-parents lost their property, and this was followed
-by their death.
-
-“His sister married Joshua Farnsworth, who at
-that time lived in San Francisco, and at the age of
-twenty-one she died, leaving an infant son—Reginald—whom
-Mr. Farnsworth placed in the care of a
-friend and left for Maryland and became owner of
-‘My Lady’s Manor,’ now your home.
-
-“Archibald wrote that being without home or
-kindred—except his little nephew, Reginald Farnsworth—he
-left San Francisco for Philadelphia. At
-this point in his letter he implored pardon—as he
-had done many times before—for the elopement, and
-added that they had wandered about seeking employment,
-until compelled to remain in Baltimore
-owing to the ill health of his wife. They were reduced
-to want, when he heard incidentally that his
-brother-in-law, Joshua Farnsworth, was living here,
-and he walked from Baltimore to see him, ask for
-help and then return the same night. He saw Mr.
-Farnsworth at the post-office and walked with him
-to ‘My Lady’s Manor’ and up to the seats upon the
-roof, where they could converse undisturbed. There
-Mr. Farnsworth agreed to take him back to Baltimore
-that night in his carriage and provide liberally
-for his family.
-
-“He had scarcely finished speaking when he
-placed his hand upon his heart and fell back lifeless.
-The shock to Archibald was so great that for
-some time he sat motionless; then, realizing the
-danger to himself if found there alone, he resolved
-to escape from the house. When he reached the
-corridor he saw the open door in the wall of a back
-attic room. He crept through it into a meat room,
-closed it after him and went down a flight of steps
-and out a door which he locked and took the key,
-unconsciously. He walked back to Baltimore,
-where at the bedside of his wife he wrote the letter
-to Father De Cormis, closing it with a heartfelt
-petition for assistance, and taking all the blame of
-the daughter’s disobedience upon himself.
-
-“The letter was never mailed by him, for his wife
-died that night. The next morning he took Jerusha
-and Horace to the orphan asylum, then went to the
-hospital, where the letter was found upon his person.”
-
-“Does Horace Flint say that his father is yet
-living?” asked Hilda.
-
-“Yes, but he has no home, but wanders about,
-his mind nearly a blank since his attack of brain
-fever.”
-
-“It surely is Archie, the Archie who saved my
-life!” exclaimed Hilda. “No one in the neighborhood
-knows his last name, for he has forgotten it.”
-
-“Horace mentioned that he sees him frequently,
-as did Jerusha, but without making themselves
-known to him. I think there is no doubt but he is
-the Archie you speak of; and, my dear, I am sure
-you will be surprised to know that Jerusha was the
-great-granddaughter of a French nobleman—the
-Marquis De Cormis. He was a noted officer in the
-French army, but owing to a sudden ebullition of
-temper was forced to flee from his native land.”
-
-“Is it possible?” exclaimed Hilda. “I wonder if
-Jerusha knew it!”
-
-“Yes, her mother told her of it in the letter
-which Jerusha sent to her brother Horace, and
-which Horace forwarded to Philadelphia. He also
-showed me a slip cut from a London newspaper of
-that date which gave all the details of the affair
-which made a refugee of the marquis.”
-
-“Do you know what it was?”
-
-“Yes, my father-in-law told us of it a short time
-before his death, and we also found a full account
-of it among his papers and those of the marquis,
-which he had kept. The substance of it was that
-the young Marquis De Cormis was at one time
-summoned from the frontier by his superior officer,
-and when he upon a dark, stormy night arrived at
-the tent of the officer, cold, wet, and exhausted from
-a long ride, he was severely and insultingly reprimanded
-for his delay in reaching there.
-
-“The haughty spirit of the marquis could not
-brook the injustice from one whose social position
-was inferior to his, and seizing a boot which the
-officer had just removed, he hurled it at the head of
-its owner. It struck him upon the temple and he
-fell to the ground unconscious.
-
-“The marquis rushed from the tent and with the
-help of his aides escaped to England, and from
-thence sailed to America, where he lived in the
-strictest retirement. He married in Philadelphia
-and my father-in-law was the only heir to the
-property in France, and to the title, neither of which
-he made effort to claim.
-
-“In my father-in-law’s will was a request that my
-husband should go to France and lay claim to the
-property, and divide it equally between himself and
-Horace, which has been done.”
-
-The two ladies had walked slowly toward “My
-Lady’s Manor” during the conversation, and upon
-reaching it found that Archie, who had come the
-evening before, was still there; and after Hilda had
-shown Mrs. De Cormis to her room she returned to
-have a chat with him.
-
-“You have never told me your last name, Archie,”
-she said gently as she took a seat beside him.
-“Every person has a last name, and it would please
-me to know yours.”
-
-“Archie forgets; he has tried, and tried, and cannot
-think,” and a look of sad perplexity came into
-the worn face.
-
-“Is it Flint? Archibald Flint?”
-
-A gleam of glad recognition came into the eyes
-of the wanderer, and he clasped his hands in delight.
-
-“That is it! Archibald Flint! Archie has never
-heard it since he had the fever. Archibald Flint!
-Yes, that is Archie’s name.”
-
-From that time he made no effort to leave “My
-Lady’s Manor.” He said he was tired of looking
-for people in the snow; he must rest. So he remained
-in that comfortable home, frequently saying
-to himself, “Archibald Flint! Yes, that is Archie’s
-name,” and the home of the one whose life he had
-saved was truly a haven of rest to his weary feet.
-
-Lives of usefulness, peace and happiness were enjoyed
-by the Courtneys and their loved Mrs. Warfield;
-and Mrs. Ashley’s prayer had, in God’s own
-time and way, been fully answered; for Hilda was
-a consistent Christian, and her home and that of
-Sarah Warfield was one and the same.
-
-.. vspace:: 2
-
-.. class:: center
-
- THE END.
-
-.. vspace:: 6
-
-.. pgfooter::
|