 15 Mrs. Livingstone's Calls and Their Result After leaving Mr. Douglas's, Mrs. Livingstone ordered her coachman to drive her around to the house of Mrs. Atkins, where she was frequently in the habit of stopping, partly as a matter of convenience when visiting in town, and partly to learn the latest news of the day, for Mrs. Atkins was an intolerable gossip. Without belonging exactly to the higher circles, she still managed to keep up a show of intimacy with them, possessing herself with their secrets, and kindly entrusting them to the keeping of this and that dear friend. From her had Mrs. Livingstone learned to adime the amount of Mr. Douglas's property and how he was obliged to economize in various ways in order to keep up the appearance of style. From her too had she learned how often her son was in the habit of calling her, and what rumors said concerning those calls, while Mrs. Atkins had learned in return that the ambitious lady had other views for John and that anything which she, Mrs. Atkins, could do to further the plans of her friend would be gratefully received. On this occasion she was at home and, of course, delighted to see Mrs. Livingstone. It is such an age since I've seen you that I began to fear you were offended at something, said she as she led the way into a cozy little sitting-room where a cheerful wood fire was blazing on the nicely painted hearth. Do sit down and make yourself as comfortable as you can on such poor accommodations. I have just finished dinner, but will order some for you. No, no, exclaimed Mrs. Livingstone. I dined at Mr. Douglas's. Thank you. Ah, indeed! returned Mrs. Atkins, feeling a good deal relieved for to tell the truth her larder as was often the case was rather empty. Dined at Mr. Douglas's. Of course, then, nothing which I could offer you could be acceptable after one of his sumptuous meals. I suppose Nally brought out all her mother's old silver and made quite a display. It's a wonder to me how they hold their heads so high, and folks notice them as they do for between you and me. I shouldn't be surprised to hear of his failing any minute. Is it possible? said Mrs. Livingstone. Why, yes, returned Mrs. Atkins. There is nothing to prevent it, they say, except a moneyed marriage on the part of Nally who seems to be doing her best. Has she any particular one in view? asked Mrs. Livingstone, and Mrs. Atkins, aware of Mrs. Livingstone's aversion to the match, replied. Why, you know she tried to get your son. But didn't succeed, interrupted Mrs. Livingstone. No, didn't succeed. You are right. Well, now it seems she's spreading sail for Mr. Wilbur of Madison. Mrs. Livingstone's eyes sparkled eagerly, and not to lose one word she drew her chair nearer to her friend who proceeded. He's a rich bachelor, brother to Mary Wilbur, Nally's most intimate friend. You've heard of her? Yes, yes, returned Mrs. Livingstone. Hasn't Nally been visiting her? Her or her brother? answered Mrs. Atkins. Mary's health is poor, and you know it's mighty convenient for Nally to go there under pretense of staying with her. Exactly. Answered Mrs. Livingstone with a satisfied smile, and another hitch of her chair toward Mrs. Atkins, who after a moment continued. The brother came home with Nally, stayed over Sunday, rode out with her Monday, endorsed ever so many notes for her father, so I reckon, and then went home. If that don't mean something, then I'm mistaken. And Mrs. Atkins rang for a glass of wine and a slice of cake. After an hour's confidential talk in which Mrs. Livingstone told of Mabel's prospects, and Mrs. Atkins told how folks who were at Mr. Graham's party praised Alina River's beauty and predicted a match between her and Mr. Belmont, the former rose to go, and calling upon one or two others and by dint of quizzing and hinting, getting them to say, they shouldn't be surprised if Mr. Wilbur did like Nally Douglas. She started for home, exalting to think how everything seemed working together for her good, and how, in the dinouement, nothing particular could be laid to her charge. I told Nally no falsehood, thought she. I did not say John loved Mabel. I only said she loved him, leaving all else for her to infer. And it has commenced operating, too. I could see it in the spots on her face and neck when I was talking. Nally's a fine girl, but too poor for the Livingstones. And with this conclusion she told the coachman to drive faster as she was in a hurry to reach home. Arrived at Maple Grove she found the whole family, grandma and all assembled in the parlor, and with them, Derward Belmont. His arm was thrown carelessly across the back of Lina's chair while he occasionally bent forward to look at a book of prints which she was examining. The sight of him determined her to wait a little ere she retailed her precious bit of gossip to her son. He was Nally's cousin and as such would in all probability repeat to her what he heard. However communicative John Jr. might be in other respects, she knew he would never discuss his heart troubles with anyone, so, upon second thought, she deemed it wiser to wait until they were alone. Derward and Lina, however, needed watching, and by a little maneuvering she managed to separate them, greatly to the satisfaction of Carrie, who sat upon the sofa one foot bent under her and the other impatiently tapping the carpet. From the moment Derward took his seat by her cousin she had appeared ill at ease and as he began to understand her better he readily guessed that her silent mood was owinged chiefly to the attentions he paid to Lina and not to a nervous headache as she said when her grandmother inquiring the cause of her silence remarked, that she'd been chipper enough until Mr. Belmont came in. But he did not care. He admired Lina and John Jr. like. It made but little difference with him who knew it. Carrie's freaks which he plainly saw rather amused him than otherwise, but of Mrs. Livingstone he had no suspicion whatever. Consequently, when she sent Lina from the room on some trifling errand herself appropriating the vacated seat he saw in it no particular design, but in his usual pleasant way commenced talking with Carrie, who brightened up so much that Grandma asked if her headache wasn't Ian almost well. When Lina returned to the parlor Derward was proposing a surprise visit to Nellie Douglas sometime during the holidays. We'll invite Mr. Everett and all go down. What do you say, girls? said he, turning toward Carrie and Anna but meaning Lina quite as much as either of them. Capital answered Anna, visions of a long ride with Malcolm instantly passing before her mind. I should like it very much, said Carrie, visions of a ride with Derward crossing her mind. And I, too, said Lina, laying her hand on John Jr.'s shoulder as if he would of course be her escort. Carrie's ill nature had not all vanished and now in a slightly insolent tone she said, How do you know you are included? Lina was about to reply when Derward, a little provoked at Carrie's manner, prevented her by saying, Of course I meant Miss Rivers and I will now do myself the honor of asking her to ride with me, either on horseback or in a carriage just as she prefers. In a very graceful manner, Lina accepted the invitation saying that she always preferred riding on horseback but as the pony which she usually rode had recently been sold she would be content to go in any other way. Fleetwood sold? What's that for? asked Anna and her mother replied. We've about forty horses on our hands now and as Fleetwood was seldom used by anyone except Lina, your father thought we couldn't afford to keep him. She did not dare tell the truth of the matter and say that ever since the morning when Lina rode to Woodlawn with Derward, Fleetwood's fate had been decreed. Repeatedly had she urged the sale upon her husband, who wearied with her importunity, at last consented, selling him to a neighboring planter who had taken him away that very day. That's smart, said John Jr. looking at his father who had not spoken. What is Lina going to ride, I should like to know. Lina pressed his arm to keep him still but he would not heat her. Isn't there plenty of feed for Fleetwood? Certainly, answered his father compelled now to speak. Plenty of feed but Fleetwood was getting old and sometimes stumbled. Perhaps we'll get Lina a better and younger horse. This was said in a half timid way which brought the tears to Lina's eyes for at the bottom of it all she saw her aunt who sat looking into the glowing grate apparently oblivious to all that was passing around her. That reminds me of Christmas gifts, said Derward, anxious to change the conversation. I wonder how many of us will get one? Here there was any chance for an answer a servant appeared at the door asking Mrs. Livingstone for some medicine for old aunt Polly, the superannuated negrus who will be remembered as having nursed Mrs. Nichols during her attack of rheumatism and for whom grandma had conceived a strong affection. For many days she had been very ill causing Mrs. Livingstone to wonder what old niggers wanted to live for bothering everybody to death. The large stock of abolitionism which Mrs. Nichols had brought with her from Massachusetts was a little diminished by force of habit, but the root was there still in all its vigor. And since Aunt Polly's illness she had been revolving in her mind the momentous question whether she would not be most guilty if Polly were suffered to die in bondage. I promised Nancy's Govindike, said she, that I'd have some on him set free, but I'll be bound if taint harder work than I supposed would be. Still Aunt Polly's freedom lay warm at grandma's heart and now when she was mentioned together with Christmas gifts a bright idea entered her mind. John, said she to her son when Carinda had gone with the medicine. John, have you ever made me a Christmas present since I've been here? I believe not, was his answer. While, continued Grandma, being's the fashion, I want you to give me something this Christmas, will you? Certainly, said he. What is it? Grandma replied that she would rather not tell him then. She would wait until Christmas morning which came the next Tuesday and here the conversation ended. Soon after, Derward took his leave telling Lena he should call on her on Thursday. That's a plaguey smart faller, said Grandma as the door closed upon him, and I kind of think he's got a notion after Leni. Ridiculous, muttered Mrs. Livingstone while Carey added. Just reverse it and say she has a notion after him. Shut up your head, growled John Junior. You are only angry because he asked her to accompany him instead of yourself. I reckon he knows what he's about. I reckon he does, too. Said Mrs. Livingstone with a peculiar smile which netled Lena more than any open attack would have done. With the exception of his mother, John Junior was alas to leave the parlor, and when all the rest were gone, Mrs. Livingstone seized her opportunity for telling him what she had heard. Taking a light from the table he was about retiring when she said, I learned some news today which a little surprised me. Got it from mother Atkins, I suppose, answered John still advancing toward the door. Partly from her and partly from others, said his mother adding as she saw him touch the doorknob. It's about Nellie Douglas. This was sufficient to arrest his attention and turning about, he asked, what of her? Why, nothing of any great consequence as I know of, said Mrs. Livingstone. Only people in Frankfurt think she's going to be married. I think so, too, was John's mental reply while his verbal one was, married to whom? Did you ever hear her speak of Mary Wilbur? Yes, she's been staying with her ever since Mrs. Graham's party. Well, Mary, it seems, as a brother, a rich old bachelor who they say is very attentive to Nellie. He came home with her from Madison, staying at her father's the rest of the week and paying her numberless attentions which, I don't believe it, interrupted John Junior striking his fist upon the table to which he had returned. Neither did I at first, said his mother, but I heard it in so many places that there must be something in it. And I'm sure it's a good match. He is rich and willing, they say, to help her father, who is in danger of failing any moment. Without knowing it, John Junior was a little inclined to be jealous, particularly of those whom he loved very much, and now suddenly remembering to have heard Nellie speak in high terms of Robert Wilbur, he began to feel uneasy, lest what his mother had said were true. She saw her advantage and followed it up until, in a fit of anger, he rushed from the room and repaired to his own apartment, where for a time he walked backward and forward, chafing like a caged lion, and wishing all manner of evil upon Nellie if she were indeed false to him. He was very excitable and at last worked himself up to such a pitch that he determined upon starting it once for Frankfurt to demand of Nellie if what he had heard were true. Upon cooler reflection, however, he concluded not to make a perfect fool of himself and, plunging into bed, he fell asleep, as what man will not be his trouble would it may. 16 Christmas Gifts The sunlight of a bright Christmas morning had hardly dawned upon the earth when, from many a planter's home in the sunny south, was heard the joyful cry of Christmas gift, Christmas gift, as the Negroes ran over and against each other, hiding, off times, until someone came with inhaling distance when they're loud, Christmas gift, would make all echo again. On this occasion every servant at Maple Grove was remembered, for Anna and Lena had worked both early and late in preparing some little present, and feeling amply compensated for their trouble when they saw how much happiness it gave. Mabel, too, while she stayed had lent a helping hand, and many a blessing was that morning invoked upon her head from the hearts made glad by her generous gifts. Carrie, when asked to join them, had turned scornfully away saying, she'd plenty to do without working for niggers who could not appreciate it. So while her leisure hours were spent in embroidering a fine Cambric handkerchief intended as a present for Mrs. Graham, and which, with a delicate note, was the evening previous sent to Woodlawn, with instructions to have it placed next morning on Mrs. Graham's table. Of course Mrs. Graham felt in duty bound to return the compliment, and looking over her old jewelry she selected a diamond ring which she had formerly worn, but which was now too small for her fat, chubby fingers. This was immediately forwarded to Maple Grove, reaching there just as the family were rising from the breakfast table. Oh, isn't it beautiful, splendid, magnificent, were Carrie's exclamations while she praised Mrs. Graham's generosity, secretly wondering if Der Ward did not have something to do with it. On this point she was soon set right for the young man himself ere long appeared, and after bidding them all a merry Christmas, presented Anna with a package which on being opened proved to be a large and complete copy of Shakespeare elegantly bound and bearing upon its heavy golden class the words and a living stone from Der Ward. This you will please accept from me, said he. Mother I believe I sent Carrie something, and if Lena will step to the door she will see her gift from father who hopes it will give her as much pleasure to accept it as it does him to present it. What can it be, thought Carrie, rising languidly from the sofa and following Lena and her sister to the side door, where stood one of Mr. Graham's servants holding a beautiful gray pony all nicely equipped for riding. Never dreaming that this was intended for Lena, Carrie looked vacantly around saying, Why, where is it? I don't see anything. Here, said Der Ward, taking the bridle from the negro's hand and playfully throwing it across Lena's neck. Here it is, this pony which we call Vesta. Vesta, allow me to introduce you and your new mistress, Miss Lena, to each other and catching her up as if she had been a feather he placed her in the saddle. Then at a peculiar whistle the well trained animals started off upon an easy gallop bearing its burden lightly around the yard and back again to the piazza. Do you like her? He asked of Lena extending his arms to lift her down. For a moment Lena could not speak, her heart was so full. But at last, forcing down her emotion, she replied, Oh, very, very much. But it isn't for me, I know, there must be some mistake. Mr. Graham never intended it for me. Yes, he did, answered Der Ward. He has intended it ever since the morning when you and I rode to Woodlawn. A remark which your cousin John made at the table determined him upon buying and training a pony for you. So here it is, and as I have done my share toward teaching her, you must grant me the favor of riding her to Frankfurt day after tomorrow. Thank you, thank you, you and Mr. Graham too, a thousand times, said Lena, winding her arms around the neck of the docile animal who did her best to return the caress, rubbing her face against Lena and evincing her gentleness in various ways. By this time Mr. Livingstone had joined them and while he was admiring the pony Der Ward said to him, I am commissioned by my father to tell you that he will defray all the expenses of keeping Vesta. Don't mention such a thing again, hastily interposed Mr. Livingstone. I can keep fifty horses if I choose, and nothing will give me more pleasure than to take care of this one for Lena, who deserves it if anyone does. That's my Christmas gift from you, uncle, isn't it? asked Lena the tears gushing from her shining brown eyes. And now, please may I return it? Certainly, said he, and with a nimble spring she caught him around the neck, imprinting upon his lips the first and only kiss she had ever given him. Then amid blushes and tears which came from a heart full of happiness she ran away upstairs followed by the envious eyes of Carrie who repaired to her mother's room where she stated all that had transpired. How Mr. Graham had sent Lena a gray pony, how she had presumed to accept it, and how, just to show off before Mr. Belmont, she had wound her arms around its neck and then actually kissed Pa. Mrs. Livingstone was equally indignant with her daughter, wondering if Mr. Graham had lost his reason and reckoning his wife knew nothing about Vesta. But Fred, as she would, there was no help for it. Vesta belonged to Lena. Mr. Livingstone had given orders to have it well cared for, and worse than all the rest Lena was to accompany Doorward to Frankfurt. Something must be done to meet the emergency, but what? Mrs. Livingstone didn't exactly know and finally concluded to wait until she saw Mrs. Graham. Meantime, Grandma had claimed from her son her promise Christmas gift, which was nothing less than the freedom of old Aunt Polly. You won't refuse me, John, I know you won't, said she laying her bony hand on his. Polly's aren't her freedom forty times over, even supposing you'd arrive to her in the first place, which I and Nancy Skolvendike both doubt. So now sit down like a man, make out her free papers, and let me carry him to her right away. Without a word Mr. Livingstone complied with his mother's request, saying as he handed her the paper. It's not so much the fault of the South as of the North that every black under heaven is not free. Grandma looked aghast. Her son, born, brought up and baptized in a purely orthodox atmosphere to hold such treasonable opinions in opposition to everything he'd ever been taught in good old Massachusetts. She was greatly shocked, but thinking she could not do the subject justice, she said. Well, well, it's of no use for you and I to argue the pint, for I don't know nothing what I want to say, but if Nancy Skolvendike was here, she'd convince you quick, for she's good learning as any of the gals nowadays. So saying she walked away to Polly's cabin. The old Negress was better today, and attired in the warm double gown which Mabel had purchased and Lena had made she sat up in a large, comfortable rocking chair, which John Junior had given her at the commencement of her illness saying it was his Christmas gift in advance. Going straight up to her, Grandma laid the paper in her lap, bidding her, read it and thank the Lord. Bless Mrs. dear old heart, said Aunt Polly. I can't read a word. Sure enough, answered Mrs. Nichols, and taking up the paper she read it through, managing to make the old creature comprehend its meaning. Praise the Lord! Praise Master John and all the other apostles, exclaimed Aunt Polly, clasping together her black wrinkled hands, while tears of joy coursed their way down her cheeks. The breath of liberty is sweet, sweet as sugar. She continued, drawing long inspirations as if to make up for lost time. Mrs. Nichols looked on, silently thanking God for having made her a humble instrument in contributing so much to another's happiness. Set down, said Aunt Polly, motioning toward a wooden bottom chair. Set down, and let's talk over this great miracle, which I've prayed and razzled for mighty nigh a hundred times, without having an atom of faith that it would ever be. So Mrs. Nichols sat down, and for nearly an hour the old ladies talked, the one of her newly found freedom and the other of her happiness in knowing that, it wasn't for nothing she was turned out of her old home and brought away over land and sea to Kentucky. End of chapters 15 and 16 Chapters 19 and 20 of Lena Rivers by Mary Jane Holmes This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. 19 The Visit Mrs. Graham reclined upon a softly cushioned sofa her tasteful lace morning cap half falling from her head and her rich cashmere gown flowing open so as to reveal the flounced cambrick skirt which her sewing-girl had set up till midnight to finish. A pair of delicate French slippers pinched rather than grazed her fat foot, one of which angrily beat the carpet as if keeping time to its mistresses' thoughts. Nervous and uncomfortable was the lady of Woodlawn this morning, for she had just passed through a little conjugal scene with her husband whom she had called a brute, lamenting the dispensation of Providence which took from her her beloved Sir Arthur who always thought whatever she said was right and ending by throwing herself in the most theatrical manner upon the sofa in the parlor where with both her blood and temper at a boiling heat she lay when her waiting-maid, but recently purchased, announced the approach of a carriage. Mercy exclaimed the distressed lady. Who's is it? I hope no one will ask for me. Reckon how its master Livingstone's carriage cast our Tom on the box, answered the girl who had her own private reason for knowing Tom at any distance. Mrs. Livingstone, I'll venture to say, groaned Mrs. Graham, burying her lace cap and flaxen hair still farther in the silken cushions. Just because I stopped there a few days last summer she thinks she must run here every week and there's no way of escaping her. Do shut that blind. It lets in so much light. There, would you think I'd been crying? Lord know, return the stupid servant, Lord know, I should soon to thank your eyes and face were swelled with pison. The Lord help me, exclaimed Mrs. Graham. You don't begin to know as much as poor Charlotte did. She was a jewel and I don't see anything what she wanted to die for just as I had got her well-trained. But that's all the thanks I ever get for my goodness. Now go quick and tell her I've got an excruciating headache. If you please, miss, said the girl trying in vain to master the big word, if you please give me something shorter, cast I don't forget that, our sartan. Fool, idiot, exclaimed Mrs. Graham hurling for want of something better one of her satin slippers at the woolly head which dodged out of the door in time to avoid it. Is your mistress at home? asked Mrs. Livingstone and Martha, uncertain what answer she was to make, replied. Yes, no, I don't know, cast she done drive me out before I'd knowed whether she was at home or not. Martha, show the lady this way, called out Mrs. Graham who was listening. Ah, Mrs. Livingstone, is it you? I'm glad to see you, said she, half rising and shading her swollen eyes with her hand as if the least effort were painful. You must excuse my disabil, for I'm suffering from a bad headache, and when Martha said someone had come I thought at first I could not see them, but you are always welcome. How have you been this long time, and why have you neglected me so when you know how I must feel the change from Louisville, where I was constantly in society to this dreary neighborhood, and the lady lay back upon the sofa exhausted with an astonished at her own eloquence. Mrs. Livingstone was quite delighted with her friend's unusual cordiality, and seating herself in the large easy chair began to make herself very agreeable, offering to bathe Mrs. Graham's aching head, which kind offer the lady declined, be thinking herself of sundry gray hairs which a close inspection would single out from among her flaxen tresses. Are your family all well? she asked, to which Mrs. Livingstone replied that they were, at the same time speaking of her extreme loneliness since Mabel left them. Ah, you mean the little dark-eyed Brunette whom I saw with you at my party. She was a nice-looking girl, showed that she came of a good family. I think everything of that. I believe I'd rather derward would marry a poor aristocrat than a wealthy plebeian, one whose family were low and obscure. Mrs. Livingstone wondered what she thought of her family, the Livingstones. The Richard's blood she knew was good, but the Nichols was rather doubtful. Still she would for once make the best of it, so she hastened to say that few American ladies were so fortunate as Mrs. Graham had been in marrying a nobleman. In this country we have no nobility, you know, said she, and anyone who gets rich and into good society is classed with the first. Yes, I know, returned Mrs. Graham, but in my mind there's a great difference. Now, Mr. Graham's ancestors boast of the best blood of South Carolina, while my family, everybody knows, was one of the first in Virginia. So if derward had been Mr. Graham's son instead of Sir Arthur's, I should be just as proud of him, just as particular whom he married. Certainly, answered Mrs. Livingstone a little peaked, for there was something in Mrs. Graham's manner which annoyed her. Certainly, I understand you. I neither married a nobleman nor one of the best bloods of South Carolina, and still I should not be willing for my son to marry, let me see, well, say, Lena Rivers. Lena Rivers, repeated Mrs. Graham, why I would not suffer derward to look at her if I could help it. She's of a horribly low family on both sides, as I am told. This was a home thrust which Mrs. Livingstone could not endure quietly, and as she had no wish to defend the royalty of a family which she herself despised, she determined to avenge the insult by making her companion as uncomfortable as possible. So, she said, perhaps you are not aware that your son's attentions to this same Lena Rivers are becoming somewhat marked? No, I was not aware of it, and the greenish-gray eyes fastened inquiringly upon Mrs. Livingstone who continued, it is nevertheless true, and as I can appreciate your feelings, I thought it might not be out of place for me to warn you. Thank you, returned Mrs. Graham now raising herself upon her elbow. Thank you, but do you know anything positive? What has derward done? Lena is in Frankfurt now at Mr. Douglas's, answered Mrs. Livingstone, and your son is in the constant habit of visiting there. Besides that, he invited her to ride with him when they all went to Frankfurt. Lena, upon the gray pony which your husband gave her as a Christmas present. Mrs. Livingstone had touched the right spot. It was the first intimation of Vesta which Mrs. Graham had received, and now sitting bolt upright she demanded what Mrs. Livingstone meant. My husband give Lena Rivers a pony. Harry Graham do such a thing. It can't be possible. There must be some mistake. I think not, returned Mrs. Livingstone, your son came over with it saying it was a present from his father who sent it together with his compliments. Back among her cushions tumbled Mrs. Graham moaning, groaning, and pronouncing herself wholly heartbroken. I knew he was bad, said she, but I never dreamed it had come to this, and I might have known it too for from the moment he first saw that girl he acted like a crazy creature. Talks about her in his sleep, wants me to adopt her, keeps his eyes on her every minute when he's where she is, and to crown all without consulting me his lawful wife he has made her a present which must have cost more than a hundred dollars. And she accepted it, the vixen. That's the worst feature in the case, said Mrs. Livingstone. I have always been suspicious of Lena knowing what her mother was, but I must confess I did not think her quite so presumptuous as to accept so costly a present from a gentleman, and a married one too. But she has a peculiar way of making them think what she does is right, and neither my husband nor John Jr. can see any impropriety in her keeping Vesta. Carrie wouldn't have done such a thing. Indeed she wouldn't. She is too well-bred for that, said Mrs. Graham, who had been completely won by Carrie's soft speeches and fawning manner. This compliment to her daughter please Mrs. Livingstone, whose straight way proceeded to build Carrie up still higher, by pulling Lena down. Accordingly every little thing which she could remember and many which she could not, were told in an aggravated manner until quite a case was made out, and Lena would never have recognized herself in the artful designing creature which her aunt kindly pictured her to be. Of course, said she, if you ever repeat this you will not use my name, for as she is my husband's niece it will not look well in me to be proclaiming her vices, except in cases where I think it my duty. Mrs. Graham was too much absorbed in her own reflections to make a reply, and as Mrs. Livingstone saw that her company was hardly desired she soon arose to go, asking Mrs. Graham why she did not often her visit Maple Grove. When Mrs. Graham felt uncomfortable she liked to make others so too, and to her friend's question she answered, I may as well be plain as not, and to tell you the truth I should enjoy visiting you very much were it not for one thing, that mother of yours, of my husband's, interrupted Mrs. Livingstone, and Mrs. Graham continued just where she left off, and noise me exceedingly by eternally tracing in me a resemblance to some down east creature or other, what is her name? Sco, Sco, Scovindike. Yes that's it, Scovindike. Of course it's not pleasant for me to be told every time I meet your mother. Mr. Livingstone's mother, again interrupted the lady, that I look like some of her acquaintances, for I contend that families of high birth bear with them marks which cannot be mistaken. Certainly, certainly, said Mrs. Livingstone adding that she was herself continually annoyed by Mrs. Nichols' vulgarity, but her husband insisted that she should come to the table so what could she do? And mutually troubled the one about her husband and the other about her husband's mother, the two amiable ladies parted. Scarcely was Mrs. Livingstone gone when Mr. Graham entered the room finding his wife who had heard his footsteps and violent hysterics. He had seen her so too often to be alarmed and was about to pull the bell-rope when she found voice to bid him desist, saying it was himself who was killing her by inches, and that the sooner she was dead the better she supposed he would like it. But for my sake, she added in a kind of howl between crying and scolding, do try to behave yourself during the short time I have to live and not go to giving away ponies and mercy knows what. Now Mr. Graham was not conscious of having looked at a lady except through the window for many days and when his wife first attacked him he was at a great loss to understand, but as she proceeded it all became plain and on the whole he felt glad that the worst was over. He would not acknowledge even to himself that he was afraid of his wife and still he had a little rather she would not always know what he did. He supposed as a matter of course that she would earlier or later hear of his present to Lena and he well knew that such an event would surely be followed by a storm, but after what had taken place between them that morning he did not expect so much feeling for he had thought her wrath nearly expended. But Mrs. Graham was capable of great things as she proved on this occasion taunting her husband with his preference for Lena accusing him of loving her better than he did herself and asking him plainly if it were not so. Say, she continued stamping her foot, the one without a slipper, say, I will be answered. Don't you like Lena better than you do me? Mr. Graham was provoked beyond endurance and to the twice repeated question he at length replied, God knows I far more reason to love her than I have you. At the same moment he left the room in time to avoid a sight of the collapse state into which his horrified wife who did not expect such an answer had fallen. Can I tell her or dare I tell her? He thought as he wiped the drops of perspiration from his brow and groaned in the bitterness of his spirit. Terribly was he expiating his fault, but at last he grew calmer and cowardice, for he was cowardly as he had never been what he was, whispered, wait yet a while, anything for domestic peace. So the secret was buried still deeper in his bosom, he never thinking how his conduct would in the end injure the young girl, dearer to him far than his own life. While he sat thus alone in his room and as his wife lay upon her sofa, Derward entered the parlor, and began good-humoredly to rally his mother upon her woe-begone face, asking, what was the matter now? Oh, you poor boy, you, she sawed, you'll soon have no mother to go to, but you must attribute my death wholly to your stepfather, who alone will be to blame for making you an orphan. Derward knew his mother well, and he thought he knew his father, too, and while he respected him, he blamed her for the unreasonable whims of which he was becoming weary. He knew there had been a jar in the morning, but he had supposed that settled, and now, when he found his mother ten times worse than ever, he felt have vexed and said, do be a woman mother and not give way to such fancies. I really wonder father shows as much patience with you as he does, for you make our home very unpleasant. And really, he continued in a laughing tone, if this goes on much longer I shall in self-defense get me a wife in home of my own. And if report is true that wife will be Lena Rivers, said Mrs. Graham in order to try him. Very likely, I can't tell what may be, was his answer, to which Mrs. Graham replied, that it would be extremely pleasant to marry a bride with whom one's father was in love. How ridiculous! Derward exclaimed, as though my father cared ought for Lena, except to admire her for her beauty and agreeable manners. But he's acknowledged it. He's just told me. God knew he loved her better than he did me. What do you think of that? Did Mr. Graham say that? asked Derward, looking his mother directly in the face. Yes, he did, not fifteen minutes before you came in, and it's not a secret, either. Others know it and talk about it. Think of his giving her that pony. Derward was taken by surprise. Knowing none of the circumstances, he felt deeply pained at his father's remark. He had always supposed he liked Lena, and he was glad of it too, but to love her more than his own wife was a different thing, and for the first time in his life Derward distrusted his father. Still, Lena was not to blame. There was comfort in that, and that very afternoon found him again at her side admiring her more and more, and learning each time he saw her to love her better. And she, she dared not confess to herself how dear he was to her. She dared not hope her affection was returned. She could not think of the disappointment the future might bring, so she lived in the present, waiting anxiously for his coming and striving hard to do the things which she thought would please him best. True to her promise, Mabel had commenced giving her instructions upon the piano, and they were in the midst of their first lesson when who should walk in, but M. Dupont, bowing and saying, he had been hired by von Ney's gentlemen to give Mademoiselle Revers lessons in music. Lena immediately thought of her uncle who had once proposed her sharing in the instructions of her cousin, but who as usual was overruled by his wife. "'Twas my uncle, was it not?' she asked of Dupont, who replied, "'I promise not to tell.' He say, though, he connected with Mademoiselle." And Lena, thinking it was, of course, Mr. Livingstone, who on his wife's account wished it a secret, readily consented to receive Dupont as a teacher in place of Mabel, who still expressed her willingness to assist her whenever it was necessary. Naturally fond of music, Lena's improvement was rapid, and when she found how gratified Derbord appeared, she redoubled her exertions, practicing always five and sometimes six hours a day. 20. A Father's Love When it was known at Mabel Grove that Lena was taking lessons of Dupont, it was naturally supposed that Mabel, as she had first proposed, paid the bills. "'Mighty kind in her and no mistake,' said John Jr., throwing aside the stump of a cigar which he had been smoking, and thinking to himself that Mabel was a nice girl after all. The next day, finding the time hang heavily upon his hands, he suddenly wondered why he had never thought to call upon Lena. To be sure I'll feel awfully to go where Nelly used to be, and know she is not there, but it's lonesomer than a graveyard here, and I'm bound to do something.' So saying, he mounted firelock and started off, followed by no regrets from his mothers or sisters, for since Nelly went away he had been intolerably cross and fault-finding. He found a servant in the door so he was saved the trouble of ringing and entering unannounced to walk noiselessly to the parlor door which was ajar. Lena, as usual, sat at the piano, wholly absorbed while over her bent Mabel who was assisting her in the lesson, speaking encouragingly and patiently helping her through all the difficult places. Mabel's health was improved since first we saw her, and though she was still plain, ugly, many would say, there was something pleasing in her face and in the expression of her black eyes which looked down so kindly upon Lena. John Junior noticed it, and never before had Mabel appeared to so good advantage to him as she did at that moment as he watched her through the open door. At last the lesson was finished and rising up Lena said, I know I should never learn if it were not for you, at the same time winding her arm about Mabel's neck and kissing her glowing cheek. Let me have a share of that, exclaimed John Junior, stepping forward and clasping both the girls in his arms ere they were aware of his presence. With a gay laugh they shook him off and Lena leading him to the sofa sat down beside him asking numerous questions about home and her grandmother. John answered them all and then, oh how he longed to ask if there had come any tidings of the absent one, but he would not. She had left him of her own accord and he had sworn never to inquire for her. So he sat gazing dreamily upon her piano, the chair she used to occupy and the book she used to read until Lena either divining his thoughts or fancying he would wish to know said, we've not heard from Nelly since she left us. You didn't expect to do so soon, I suppose, was John's indifferent reply. Why, no, not unless they chance to speak a ship. I wish they'd taken a steamer instead of a sailing vessel, said Lena. I suppose Mr. Wilbur had an eye upon the long cozy chats he could have with Nelly looking out upon the sea, was John's answer while Mabel quickly rejoined that he had chosen a sailing vessel solely on Mary's account. In the midst of their conversation the doorbell rang and a moment after Derward was ushered into the parlor. He was in town on business, he said, and thought he would call. Scarcely had he taken his seat when again the door opened, this time admitting Mr. Graham who was returning from Louisville and had also found it convenient to call. Involuntarily Derward glanced toward Lena, but her face was as calm and unruffled as if the visitor had been her uncle. All right there, thought he, and withdrawing his eyes from her he fixed them upon his father, who he fancied seemed somewhat disconcerted when he saw him there. Mentally blaming himself for the distrust which he felt rising within him, he still determined to watch and judge for himself how far his mother's suspicions were correct. Taking up a book which lay near he pretended to be reading while all the time his thoughts were elsewhere. It was Lena's lesson day and ere long Dupont came in, appearing both pleased and surprised when he saw Mr. Graham. I hope you don't expect me to expose my ignorance before all these people, said Lena as Dupont motioned her to the stool. Suppose we adjourn to another room, said Mabel leading the way and followed by John Jr. only. Derward at first thought of leaving also and arose to do so, but on observing that his father showed no intention of going he resumed his seat and book, pouring over the ladder as intently as if it had not been the wrong side up. Does M. inclined to stay? Asked Dupont as Mr. Graham took his station at the end of the piano. Certainly, answered Mr. Graham, unless Miss Rivers insists upon my leaving, which I'm sure she would not do if she knew how much interest I take in her progress. So during the entire lesson Mr. Graham stood there, his eyes fixed upon Lena with a look which puzzled Derward, who from behind his book was watching him. Admiration, affection, pity and remorse all seemed mingled in the expression of his face and as Derward watched he felt that there was something which he could not fathom. I never knew he was so fond of music, thought he. I mean to put him to the test. Accordingly when Dupont was gone he asked Mabel, who he knew was an excellent pianist, to favour him with one of her very best pieces, something lively and new which will wake us up, said he. Mabel would greatly have preferred remaining with John Jr., but she was habitually polite, always playing when invited, and now taking her seat at the piano she brought out sounds far different from those of a new performer. But Mr. Graham, if he heard it, did not heed it, his eyes and ears being alone for Lena. Seeding himself near her he commenced talking to her in an undertone, apparently oblivious to everything else around him, and it was not until Derward twice asked how he liked Mabel's playing that he heard a note. Then, starting up and going toward the instrument, he said, ah yes, that was a fine march. It was the rainbow Scottish then knew, please repeat it or something just like it. Derward bit his lip while Mabel in perfect good humour dashed off into a spirited quick-step, receiving but little attention from Mr. Graham who seemed in a strange mood today scribbling upon a piece of white paper which lay upon the piano and of which Derward managed to get possession finding there on the name Helina Nichols to which was added that of Rivers, the Nichols being crossed out. It would seem as if both father and son were determined each to outstay the other for hour after hour went by and neither spoke of leaving, although John Jr. had been gone some time. At last as the son was setting Derward arose to go, asking if his father contemplated spending the night, and if so, said he with a meaning in his manner, where shall I tell my mother I left you? This roused Mr. Graham who said he was only waiting for his son to start adding that he could not find it in his heart to tear him away from two so agreeable ladies for he well remembered the weakness of his own youth. In your second youth now I fancy, thought Derward watching him as he bade Lena and Mabel goodbye and not failing to see how much longer he held the hand of the former than he did of the latter. Does she see as I do or not? Thought he as he took the hand his father dropped and looked earnestly into the clear brown eyes which returned his inquiring glance with one open and innocent as a little child. All right here again thought Derward, slightly pressing the soft warm hand he held in his own and smiling down upon her when he saw how quickly that pressure brought the telltale blood to her cheek. Derward said Mr. Graham after they were out of the city. I have a request to make of you. Well? The answer was very short and it was several minutes ere Mr. Graham again spoke. You know your mother as well as I do. Well? In other silence and Mr. Graham continued, you know how groundlessly jealous she is of me and it may be just as well for her not to know that. Here he paused and Derward finished the sentence for him. Just as well for her not to know that you've spent the afternoon with Lena Rivers, is that it? That's it, yes, yes. Answered Mr. Graham adding ere Derward had time to utter the angry words which he felt rising within him. I wish you'd marry Lena. This was so sudden, so different from anything which Derward had expected that he was taken quite by surprise and it was some little time ere he answered. Perhaps I shall. I wish you would, continued Mr. Graham. I'd willingly give every dollar I'm worth for the privilege of calling her my daughter. Derward was confounded and knew not what to think. If his father had an undue regard for Lena, why should he wish to see her the wife of another and that other his son? Was it his better and nobler nature struggling to save her from evil which prompted the wish? Derward hoped so, he believed so, and the confidence which had so recently been shaken was fully restored when, by the light of the hall lamp at home, he saw how white and almost ghostly was the face which ere they entered the drawing room turned imploringly upon him asking him to be careful. Mrs. Graham had been in a fit of the sulks ever since the morning of Mrs. Livingstone's call and now, though she had not seen her husband for several days, she merely held out her hand, turning her head meantime and replying to his questions in a low, quiet, kind of a much injured woman way as provoking as it was uncalled for. Father's suggestion was a good one, thought Derward when he had retired to rest. Lena is too beautiful to be alone in the world. I will propose to her at once and she will thus be out of danger. But what should he do with her? Should he bring her there to Woodlawn where scarcely a day passed without some domestic storm? No, his home should be full of sunlight, of music and flowers, where no angry word or darkening frown could ever find entrance, and thus dreaming of a blissful future when Lena should be his bride, he fell asleep. CHAPTERS XXI JOEL SLOKUM In this chapter it may not be out of place to introduce an individual who, though not a very important personage, is still in some degree connected with our story. On the night when Derward and his father were riding home from Frankfurt, the family at Maple Grove, with the exception of Grandma, were as usual assembled in the parlor. John Junior had returned and purposely telling his mother and Carrie whom he had left with Lena had succeeded in putting them both into an uncomfortable humor, the latter secretly lamenting the mistake which she had committed in suffering Lena to stay with Maple. But it could not be remedied now. There was no good reason for calling her home, and the lady broke at least three cambrick needles in her vigorous jerks at the handkerchief she was hemming. A heavy tread upon the piazza, a loud ring of the bell, and Carrie straightened up, thinking it might possibly be Derward who had called on his way home, but the voice was strange and rather impatiently she waited. Does Mr. John Livingstone live here? asked the stranger of the Negro who answered the summons. Yes, sir. Answered the servant tying the newcomer escants. And is old Miss Nichols and Halini to hum? The Negro grinned answering in the affirmative and asking the young man to walk in. Well, guess I will, said he, advancing a few steps toward the parlor door. Then suddenly halting he added more to himself than to the Negro. Darned if I don't go to the hull figure and send in my card as they do to Boston. So saying he drew from his pocket an embossed card and benting his knee for a table he wrote with sundry flourishes. Mr. Joel Slocum Esquire, Slocumville, Massachusetts. There, hand that to your boss, said he, and tell him I'm out in the entry. At the same time he stepped before the hat stand rubbing up his oily hair and thinking, Mr. Joel Slocum would make an impression anywhere. Who is it, Ben? whispered Kerry. Dunno, Miss, said the Negro passing the card to his master and waiting in silence for his orders. Mr. Joel Slocum Esquire, Slocumville, Massachusetts, slowly read Mr. Livingstone, wondering where he had heard that name before. Who? simultaneously asked Kerry and Anna while their mother looked up wonderingly. Instantly John Jr. remembered Lena's love letter and anticipating fun exclaimed, show him in, Ben, show him in. While Ben is showing him in, we will introduce him more fully to our readers, promising that the picture is not overdrawn but such as we saw it in our native state. Joel belonged to that extreme class of Yankees with which we sometimes, though not often meet. Brought up among the New England mountains, he was almost totally ignorant of what really belonged to good manners, fancying that he knew everything and sneering at those of his acquaintance who, being of a more quiet turn of mind, were content to settle down in the home of their fathers, caring little or nothing for the world without. But as for him, he was bound, he said, to see the elephant and if his brothers were green enough to stay tied to their mother's apron strings they might do it but he wouldn't. No, sir. He was going to make something of himself. To effect this, about two years before the time of which we are speaking, he went to Boston to learn the art of daguerreotype taking, in which he really did seem to excel, returning home with some money a great deal of vanity and a strong propensity to boast of what he had seen. Recollections of Lena, his early and, as he sentimentally expressed it, his undying all-enduring love still haunted him and at last he determined upon a tour to Kentucky, purchasing for the occasion a rather fantastic suit consisting of greenish pants, blue coat, red vest, and yellow neck handkerchief. These he laid carefully by in his trunk until he reached Lexington where he intended stopping for a time and hanging out a naming sign which announced his presence and capabilities. After spending a few days in the city endeavoring to impress his inhabitants with a sense of his consequence and mentally styling them all, known nothings, because they did not seem to be more affected, he went afternoon down his best suit and started for Mr. Livingstone's thinking he should create a sensation there, for wasn't he as good as anybody? Didn't he learn his trade in Boston, the very center and source of all the isms of the day, and ought not Mr. Livingstone to feel proud of such a guest, and wouldn't Lena stare when she saw him so much improved from what he was when they picked checkerberries together? With this comfortable opinion of himself, it is not at all probable that he felt any misgivings when Ben ushered him at once into the presence of Mr. Livingstone's family, who stared at him in unfaigned astonishment. Nothing daunted, he went through with the five changes of a bow, which he had learned at a dancing school, bringing himself up finally in front of Mr. Livingstone and exclaiming, How'd he do? Mr. Livingstone, I suppose? Though it comes more natural to say Cousin John, for I've heard Miss Nichols and that Nazi talk of you ever since I was knee high, and seems as how you must be related. How is the old lady, and Helene too? I don't see him here, though I thought at first this might be her, nodding to Anna. Mr. Livingstone was confounded while his wife had strong intentions of ordering the intruder from the room, but John Jr. had no such idea. He liked the fun, and now, coming forward, said, Mr. Socombe, as your card indicates, allow me the pleasure of presenting you to my mother and sisters, at the same time ringing the bell he ordered a servant to go for his grandmother. Ah, ladies, how'd he do? Hope you are well till we are better equated, said Joel, bowing low and shaking out the folds of his red silk handkerchief strongly perfumed with peppermint. Mrs. Livingstone did not even nod, carry but slightly, while Anna said, Good evening, Mr. Socombe. Quickly observing Mrs. Livingstone's silence, Joel turned to John Jr., saying, Don't believe she heard you? Yeah, maybe. John Jr. nodded, and at that moment Grandma appeared in a great hurry to know who wanted to see her. Instantly seizing her hand, Joel exclaimed, Now Aunt Martha, if this ain't good for sore eyes, how do you do? Pretty well, pretty well, she returned, but you've got the better of me, for I don't know more than the dead who you be. Now how you talk, said Joel, if this don't beat all my first wife's relations? Why, I should have known you if I'd met you in a porridge pot. But then, I suppose I've altered for the better since I see you. Don't you remember Joel's Slocum that used to have kind of a snickering notion after Helene? Why, I guess I do, answered Grandma again, seizing his hand. Where did you come from? And why didn't your Aunt Nancy come with you? Tilda, this is Nancy's Govindike sister's boy. Carlyne and Annie, this is Joel. You've heard tell of him. I've been introduced, thank you, said Joel, taking a seat near Kerry, who hotly gathered up the ample folds of her dress, lest it should be polluted. Bashful critter, but she'll get over it by the time she's seen as much of the world as I have, soliloquy's Joel, at the same time thinking to make some advances he hitched a little nearer and taking hold of the strip of embroidery on which she was engaged, he said. Now, do tell, if they got to work in with Floss way down here. Waste of time, I tell him, this makin' holds for the sake of so and am up. But, la, he added as he saw the deepening scowl on Kerry's face, women may just as well be putrin' about that as anything else, for their time ain't nothin' more and an old settin' hens. This speech called forth the first loud roar in which John Junior had indulged since Nellie went away, and now, settling back in his chair, he gave vent to his feelings and peals of laughter in which Joel also joined, thinking he'd said something smart. When, at last, he'd finished laughing, he thought again of Lena, and, turning to Mrs. Livingstone, asked where she was, raising his voice to a high key on account of her supposed deafness. Did you speak to me? asked the lady, with the look which she meant should annihilate him, and in a still louder tone Joel repeated his question, asking Anna aside if her mother had ever tried, McAllister's all-healing ointment for her deafness, saying it had. Nellie cured his grandmother when she was several years older than Mrs. Livingstone. Much obliged for your prescription, which, fortunately I do not need, said Mrs. Livingstone angrily, while Joel thought, how strange it was that deaf people would always hear in the wrong time. Mother don't seem inclined to answer your question concerning Lena, said John Junior, so I will do it for her. She is in Frankfurt taking music lessons. You used to know her, I believe? Lord, yes. I chased her once with a streaked snake, and if she didn't put her through, then I'm no judge. Take in music lessons, is she? I'd give a full pence to hear her play. Are you fond of music? asked John Junior in hopes of what followed. While I wouldn't much wander if I was, answered Joel, taking a tuning fork from his pocket and striking it upon the table. I've kept singing school one term besides leading the Methodist Squire in Slocumville, so I ought to know a little something about it. Perhaps you play, and if so we'd like to hear you, continued John Junior, in spite of the deprecating glance cast upon him by Kerry. Not such a dreadful sight, answered Joel, sauntering toward the piano and drumming a part of Old Langsine. Not such a dreadful sight, but I guess these girls do. Come, girls, play us a jig, won't you? Go, Cad, it won't hurt you, whispered John, but Kerry was immovable, and at last Anna, who entered more into her brother's spirit, took her seat at the instrument asking what he would have. Oh, give us Money Musk, Hail Columbia, Old Zip Coon, or anything to raise a feller's ideas. Fortunately, Anna's forte lay in playing old music which she preferred to more modern pieces, and Joel was soon beating time to the lively strains of Money Musk. While I declare, said he when it was ended, I don't see but what you Kentucky gals play most as well as they do to hum. I didn't suppose many on you ever seen a piano. Come, turning to Kerry, let's see what you can do. Maybe you'll beat her all holler, and he offered his hand to Kerry who rather petulately said she must be excused. Oh, get out, he continued. You needn't feel so bashful for I shat, criticize you very hard. I know how to feel for new beginners. Have you been to supper, Mr. Slokom, asked Mr. Livingstone, pitying Kerry, and wishing to put an end to the performance? No, I hate, and I'm hungrier than a bear, answered Joel, whereupon Mrs. Nichols, thinking he was her guest, arose saying that she would see that he had some. When both were gone to the dining-room, Mrs. Livingstone's wrath boiled over. That's what comes of harboring your relatives, said she looking indignantly at her husband and adding that she hoped the insolent fellow did not intend staying all night, for if he did he couldn't. Do you propose turning him into the street? asked Mr. Livingstone looking up from his paper. I don't propose anything, except that he won't stay in my house, and you needn't ask him. I hardly think an invitation is necessary for I presume he expects to stay. Return to Mr. Livingstone while John Jr. rejoined. Of course he does, and if Mother doesn't find him a room I shall take him in with me, besides going to Frankfurt with him tomorrow. This was enough, or Mrs. Livingstone would do almost anything rather than have her son seen in the city with that specimen. Accordingly when the hour for retiring arrived, she ordered Corinda to show him into the East Chamber, a room used for her common kind of visitors but which Joel pronounced as neat as a fiddle. The next morning he announced his intention of visiting Frankfurt, proposing to Grandma that she should accompany him, and she was about making up her mind to do so when Lena and Mabel both appeared in the yard. They had come out for a ride, they said, and finding the morning so fine had extended their excursion as far as Maple Grove, sending their servant back to tell where they were going. With his usual assurance Joel advanced toward Lena greeting her tenderly and whispering in her ear that he found she was greatly improved as well as himself, while Lena wondered in what the improvement consisted. She had formally known him as a great overgrown, good-natured boy, and now she saw him a conceded gawky. Still her manner was friendly toward him, for he had come from her old home, had breathed the air of her native hills, and she well remembered how years ago he had with her planted and watered the flowers which he told her were still growing at her mother's grave. And yet there was something about her which puzzled Joel, who felt that the difference between them was great. He was disappointed, and the declaration which he had fully intended making was left until another time when, as he thought, he shouldn't be so confounded shy of her. His quarters too at Maple Grove were not the most pleasant, for no one noticed him except Grandma and John Jr., and with the conviction that the Kentuckians didn't know what politeness meant, he ordered his horse after dinner and started back to Lexington, inviting all the family to call and set for their pictures, saying that Sian was them he'd take him for half price. As he was leaving the piazza he turned back and drawing a large square case from his pocket past it to Lena, saying it was a daguerreotype of her mountain home which he had taken on purpose for her, forgetting to give it to her until that minute. The look of joy which lighted up Lena's face made Joel almost repent of not having said to her what he intended to, but thinking he would wait till next time he started off, his heart considerably lightened by her warm thanks for his thoughtfulness. 22. The daguerreotype. Look, Grandmother, a picture of our old home. Isn't it natural? exclaimed Lena she ran back to the parlor. Yes it was natural, and the old lady's tears gushed forth the moment she looked upon it. There was the well, the garden, the gate partially open, the barn in the rear, now half fallen down, the curtain of the west window rolled up as it was want to be, while on the doorstep basking in the warm sunshine lay a cat which Mrs. Nichols declared was hers. John ought to see this, said she, wiping the tears from her eyes and turning toward the door which at that moment opened, admitting her son, together with Mr. Graham who had accidentally called. Look here, John, said she calling him to her side. Do you remember this? The deep flush which mounted to John's brow showed that he did and his mother passing it toward Mr. Graham continued. It is our old home in Massachusetts. There's the room where John and Helene both were born, and where Helene and her father died. Oh, it seems, but yesterday, since she died, and they carried her out of this door and down the road, there. Do you see? This question was addressed to Mr. Graham who, whether he saw or not, made no answer, but walked to the window and looked out upon the prospect beyond which for him had no interactions then. The sight of that daguerreotype had stirred up many bitter memories, and for some time he stood gazing vacantly through the window and thinking, who shall say of what? It would seem that the daguerreotype possessed a strong fascination for him, for after it had been duly examined and laid down he took it in his hand, inspecting it minutely, asking where it was taken, and if it would be possible to procure a similar one. I have a fancy for such scenes, said he, and would like to have just such a picture. Mr. Socombe is stopping in Lexington, you say. He can take one from this, I suppose. I mean to see him. And with his usual good morning he departed. Two weeks from this time Derward again went down to Frankfurt determining if a favorable opportunity presented itself to offer Lena his heart and fortune. He found her alone, Mabel having gone out to spend the day. For a time they conversed together on indifferent topics, each one of which was entirely foreign from that which laid nearest Derward's heart. At last the conversation turned upon Joel Socombe of whose visit Derward had heard. I really think, Lena, said he laughingly, that you are to patronize the poor fellow who has come all this distance for the sake of seeing you. Suppose you have your daguerreotype taken for me, will you? Derward was in earnest, but with a playful shake of her brown curls Lena answered lightly, oh no, no, I have never had my picture taken in my life and I shan't begin with Joel. Never had it taken, repeated Derward in some surprise. No, never, said Lena, and Derward continued drawing her nearer to him. It is time you had, then. So have it taken for me. I mean what I say, he continued as he met the glance of her merry eyes. There is nothing I should prize more than your miniature, except indeed the original which you will not refuse me when I ask it, will you? Lena's mirth was all gone. She knew he was in earnest now. She felt it in the pressure of his arm which encircled her waist. She saw it in his eye and heard it in the tones of his voice. But what should she say? Closer he drew her to his side. She felt his breath upon her cheek, and an inaudible answer trembled on her lips when noiselessly through the door came Mr. Graham, starting when he saw their position and offering to withdraw if he was intruding. Lena was surprised and excited and springing up. She laid her hand upon his arm as he was about to leave the room, bidding him stay and saying he was always welcome there. So he stayed, and with the first frown upon his brow which Lena had ever seen, derward left. Left without receiving an answer to his question or even referring to it again, though Lena accompanied him to the door half dreading yet hoping he would repeat it. But he did not, and wishing her much pleasure in his father's company he walked away, writing in his heart better things against him, not her. On his way home he fell in with Dupont, who Frenchman-like had taken a little too much wine and was very talkative. You just come from mademoiselle reverse? Said he. She be one fine girl. What relation she be to Mr. Graham? None whatever. Why do you ask? Because he pay her music lessons and here Dupont suddenly remembered his promise, so he kept back Mr. Graham's assertion that he was a near relative, adding in its place that he thought probable he related, but you know tell, said he, for Monsieur Bidme keep secret and I forgot. Here having reached a crossroad they parted and again derward wrote down better things against his father for what could be his object and wishing it kept a secret that he was paying for Lena's lessons or why did he pay for them at all and did Lena know it? He thought not and for a time longer was she blameless in his eyes. On reaching home he found both the parlor and drying room deserted and upon inquiry learned that his mother was in her own room. Something he could hardly tell what prompted him to knock for admission which being granted he entered, finding her unusually pale with a trace of tears still upon her cheek. This of itself was so common in occurrence that he would hardly have observed it had not there been about her a look of unfamed distress which he had seldom seen before. What's the matter mother? Said he advancing toward her. What has happened to trouble you? Without any reply Mrs. Graham placed in his hand a richly case daguerreotype and laying her head upon the table sobbed aloud. A moment later derward stood transfixed to the spot for on opening the case the fair, beautiful face of Lena Rivers looked smilingly out upon him. Where did you get this mother? How came you by it? He asked and she answered that in looking through her husband's private drawer the key of which she had accidentally found in his vest pocket she had come upon it together with a curl of soft chestnut brown hair which she threw across derward's finger and from which he recoiled as from a viper's touch. For several minutes not a word was spoken by either and then Mrs. Graham looking him in the face said you recognize that countenance of course? I do. He replied in a voice husky with emotion for derward was terribly moved. Twice had Lena asserted that never in her life had her daguerreotype been taken and yet he held it in his hands. There was no mistaking it, the same broad open brow, the same full red lips, the same smile, and more than all the same clustering ringlets though arranged a little differently from what she usually wore them, the hair on the picture being combed smoothly over the forehead while Lena's was generally brushed up after the style of the prevailing fashion. Had derward examined minutely he might have found other points of difference but he did not think of that. A look had convinced him that was Lena, his Lena he had fondly hoped to call her. But that was over now. She had deceived him, told him a deliberate falsehood, refused him her daguerreotype and given it to his father whose secrecy concerning it indicated something wrong. His faith was shaken and yet for the sake of what she had been to him he would spare her good name. He could not bear to hear the world breathe odd against her for possibly she might be innocent. But no, there was no mistaking the falsehood and derward groaned in bitterness as he handed the picture to his mother bidding her return it where she found it. Mrs. Graham had never seen her son thus moved and obeying him she placed her hand upon his arm asking why he was so affected, what she was to him. Everything, everything, said he laying his face upon the table. Lena Rivers was all the world to me. I loved her as I shall never love again. And then without withholding a thing, Derward told his mother all, how he had that very morning gone to Frankfurt with the intention of offering Lena his hand, how he had partially done so when they were interrupted by the entrance of a visitor he did not say whom. Thank heaven for your escape. I can bear your father's conduct if it is the means of saving you from her, exclaimed Mrs. Graham while her son continued. And now, mother, I have a request to make of you, a request which you must grant. I have loved Lena too well to cease from loving her so soon. And though I can never again think to make her my wife, I will not hear her name lightly spoken by the world who must never know what we do. Promise me, mother, to keep secret whatever you may know against her. Do you think me bereft of my senses, asked Mrs. Graham petulantly, that I should wish to proclaim my affairs to everyone? No, no, mother, he answered, but you are easily excited and say things you had better not. Mrs. Livingstone bears Lena no good will, you know, and sometimes when she is speaking disparagingly of her you may be thrown off your guard and tell what you know. But this must not be. Promise me, mother, will you? Derward was very pale, and the drops of sweat stood thickly about his mouth as he asked this of his mother, who mentally congratulating herself upon her son's escape, promised what he asked, at the same time repeating to him all that she heard from Mrs. Livingstone concerning Lena, until Derward interrupted her with, stop, stop, I've heard enough. Nothing which Mrs. Livingstone could say would have weighed a straw, but the conviction of my own eyes and ears have undeceived me, and henceforth Lena and I are strangers. Nothing could please Mrs. Graham better, for the idea of her son's marrying a poor, unknown girl was dreadful, and though she felt indignant toward her husband, so peculiar was her nature that she would not have had matters otherwise if she could, and when Derward, who disliked scenes, suggested the propriety of her not speaking to his father on the subject at present, she assented, saying that it would be more easy for her to refrain as she was intending to start for Louisville on the moral. I have been contemplating a visit there for some time, and before Mr. Graham left home this morning I had decided to go, said she at the same time proposing that Derward should accompany her. To this he consented willingly, for in the first shock of his disappointment a change of place and scene was what he most desired. The hot blood of the South which burned in his veins seemed all on fire, and he felt that he could not for the present at least be daily associated with his stepfather. An absence of several days he thought might have the effect of calming him down. It was accordingly decided that he should on the moral start with her for Louisville to be gone two weeks, and with this understanding they parted, Derward going to his own chamber there to review the past and strive if possible to a face from his heart every memory of Lena whom he had loved so well. But was all in vain. He could not so soon forget her, and far in the hours of night he sat alone, striving to frame some excuse for her conduct. The fact that his father possessed her daguerreotype might possibly be explained without throwing censure upon her, but the falsehood? Never. And with the firm conviction that she was lost to him forever he at last retired to rest just as the clock in the hall below proclaimed the hour of midnight. Meantime Mrs. Graham was pondering in her own mind the probable result of a letter which in the heat of passion she had that day dispatched to Lena accusing her of marring the domestic piece of a hitherto happy family, and while she cast some reflections upon her birth commanding her never under any circumstances to venture into her presence. This cruel letter had been sent to the office before Derward's return and as she well knew how much he would disapprove of it she resolved not to tell him, secretly hoping Lena would keep her own counsel. Vace, creature, said she, to give my husband her likeness, but he shall never see it again, and with stealthy steps she advanced toward the secret drawer which she again opened, and taking from it both daguerreotype and ringlet, locked it, replacing the key in the pocket where she found it. Then seizing the long bright curl she hurled it into the glowing grate, shuddering as she did so, and trembling as if she really knew a wrong had been done to the dead. Opening the case she looked once more upon the hated features which now seemed to regard her mournfully as if reproaching her for what she had done. No part of the dress was visible, nothing except the head and neck which was uncovered, and over which fell the chestnut curls whose companion so recently lay seething and scorching on the burning coals. There was a footstep without. Her husband had returned, and quickest thought was the daguerreotype concealed, while Mrs. Graham, forcing down her emotion, took up a book which she seemed to be intently reading when her husband entered. After addressing to her a few commonplace remarks, all of which she answered civilly, he went to the wardrobe and on pretense of looking for his knife which she said he believed he had left in his vest pocket, he took out the key and then carelessly proceeded to unlock his private drawer, his wife watching him the while, and keenly enjoying his look of consternation when he saw that his treasure was gone. Again and again was his drawer searched, but all to no purpose, and casting an anxious glance toward his wife whose face for a wonder betrayed no secret, he commenced walking the floor in a very perturbed state of mind, his wife exalting in his discomforture, and thinking herself amply avenged for all that she had endured. At last he spoke, telling her of a letter which he had that day received from South Carolina containing the news of the death of a distant relative who had left him some property. It is not necessary for me to be there in person, said he, but still I should like to visit my old home once more. What do you think of it? Go by all means, said she, glad of anything which would place distance between him and Lena. No one can attend to your business one half as well as yourself. When will you start if you go? Immediately, before you return from Louisville, unless you wish to accompany me. I'm afraid I should be an incumbrance and would rather not, said she, in a way which puzzled him, causing him to wonder what had come over her. You can do as you choose, said he, but I should be glad of your company. No, I thank you, was her iconic reply as she in turn wondered what had come over him. The next morning the carriage came up to the door to convey Mrs. Graham and Durworth to Frankfurt. The latter was purposely late and he did not see his father until he came down, traveling bag in hand to enter the carriage. Then Mr. Graham asked, in some surprise, where he was going. With my mother to Louisville, sir, answered Durworth stiffly. I am not willing she should travel alone if you are, and he sprang into the carriage ordering the coachman to drive off ere another word could be spoken. Gone, when I had nerved myself to tell him everything, my usual luck, used Mr. Graham as he returned to the house and, sure of no prying eyes, recommended his search for the daguerreotype which was nowhere to be found. Could she have found it? Impossible, for it was not in her jealous nature to have held her peace, and again he sought for it, but all to no purpose and finally thinking he must have taken it with him and lost it he gave it up, mourning more for the loss of the girl which could never, never be replaced while the picture might be found. Why do I live so? thought he as he nervously paced the room. My life is one of continual fear and anxiety but it shall be so no longer. I'll tell her all when she returns. I'll brave the world, dare her displeasure, take Lena home and be a man. Satisfied with this resolution and nothing doubting that he should keep it he started for Versailles where he had an engagement with a gentleman who transacted business for him in Lexington. End of chapters 21 and 22 Chapters 23 and 24 of Lena Rivers by Mary Jane Holmes This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. 23 The Letter and Its Effect Mabel had gone out and Lena sat alone in the little room adjoining the parlor which Mr. Douglas termed his library but which Nellie had fitted up for a private sewing room. It was Lena's favorite resort when she wished to be alone and as Mabel was this morning absent she had retired thither not to work but to think. To recall every word and look of der words to wonder when and how he would repeat the question the answer to which had been prevented by Mr. Graham. Many and blissful were her emotions as she sat there wondering if it were not a bright dream from which she would too soon awaken for could it be that one so noble, so good, and so much sought for as der word Belmont had chosen her of all others to be his bride? Yes, it must be so, for he was not one to say or act what he did not mean. He would come that day and repeat what he had said before and she blushed as she thought what her answer would be. There was a knock on the door and a servant entered bringing her a letter which she eagerly seized thinking it was from him but was not his writing though bearing the postmark of her sigh. Hastily she broke the seal and glancing at the signature turned pale for it was Lucy Graham his mother who had written but for what she could not guess. A moment more and she fell back on the sofa white and rigid as a piece of marble. It was a cruel and insulting letter containing many dark insinuations which she being wholly innocent could not understand. She knew indeed that Mr. Graham had presented her with Vesta but was there anything wrong in that? She did not think so else she had never taken her. Her uncle, her cousin, and der word all three approved of her accepting it the latter coming with it himself so it could not be that. And for a long time Lena wept passionately resolving one moment to answer the letter as it deserved determining the next to go herself and see Mrs. Graham face to face and then concluding to treat it with silent contempt trusting that der word would are long appear and make it all plain between them. At last about five o'clock Mabel returned bringing the intelligence that Mrs. Graham was in the city at the Weisiger house where she was going to remain until the moral. She had met with an accident which prevented her arrival in Frankfurt until a train which she was desirous of taking had left. Is her husband with her? Asked Lena to which Mabel replied that she understood she was alone. Then I'll see her and know what she means thought Lena trembling even then at the idea of venturing into the presence of the cold haughty woman. Sepper was over at the Weisiger house and in a handsome private parlor Mrs. Graham lay half asleep upon the sofa while in the dressing room adjoining der word sat trying to frame a letter which should tell poor Lena that their intimacy was forever at an end. For hours and until the last gleam of daylight had faded away he had sat by the window watching each youthful form which passed up and down the busy street hoping to catch a glimpse of her who had once made his world. But his watch was in vain and now he had sat down to write throwing aside sheet after sheet as he thought it's beginning too cold too harsh or too affectionate. He was about making up his mind not to write at all but to let matters take their course when a knock at his mother's door and at the announcement that a lady wished to see her arrested his attention. Somebody want to see me? Just show her up, said Mrs. Graham smoothing down her flaxen hair and a wiping from between her eyes a spot of powder which the opposite mirror revealed. In a moment the visitor entered a slight girlish form whose features were partially hidden from view by a heavy lace veil which was thrown over her satin hood. A single glance convinced Mrs. Graham that it was a lady, a well-bred lady who stood before her and very politely she bet her be seated. Rather hotly the preferred chair was declined while the veil was thrown aside disclosing to the astonished gaze of Mrs. Graham the face of Lena Rivers which was unnaturally pale while her die-kies grew darker with the intensity of her feelings. Lena Rivers why came you here? She asked while at the mention of that name Derward started to his feet but quickly resumed his seat listening with indescribable emotions to the sound of a voice which made every nerve quiver with pain. He asked me why I am here, madam, said Lena. I came to seek an explanation from you, to know of what I am accused, to ask you why you wrote me that insulting letter, me, an orphan girl, alone and unprotected in the world, and who never knowingly harmed you or yours. Never harmed me or mine, scornfully repeated Mrs. Graham, don't add falsehood to your other sins, though if you lie to my son you of course will to me his mother. Explain yourself, madam, if you please, exclaimed Lena, her old temper beginning to get the advantage of her. And what if I do not please? sneeringly asked Mrs. Graham. Then I will compel you to do so for my good name is all I have and it shall not be rested from me without an effort on my part to preserve it, answered Lena. Perhaps you expect my husband to stand by you and help you. I am sure it would be very un-gently in him to desert you now, said Mrs. Graham, her manner conveying far more meaning than her words. Lena trembled from head to foot and her voice was hardly distinct as she replied. Will you explain yourself or will you not? What have I done that you should treat me thus? Done? Done enough, I should think. Haven't you wild him away from me with your artful manners? Has he ever been the same man since he saw you? Hasn't he talked of you in his sleep, made you most valuable presence which a true woman would have refused, and in return haven't you bestowed upon him your daguerreotype together with a lock of your hair, on which you no doubt pride yourself, but which to me and my son seem like so many coiling serpents? Lena had sat down. She could stand no longer, and burying her face in her hands she waited until Mrs. Graham had finished. Then, lifting up her head, she replied in a voice far more husky than the one in which she before had spoken. You accuse me wrongfully, Mrs. Graham, for as I hope for heaven I never entertained a feeling for your husband which I would not have done for my own father, and indeed he has seemed to me more like a parent than a friend. Because you fanciety might someday be one, I dare say, interrupted Mrs. Graham. Lena paid no attention to this sarcastic remark but continued, I know I accepted Vesta, but I never dreamed it was wrong, and if it was I will make amends by immediately returning her, for much as I love her I shall never use her again. But the daguerreotype, interrupted Mrs. Graham anxious to reach that point. What have you to say about the daguerreotype? Perhaps you will presume to deny that too. Derward had arisen and now in the doorway watch Lena whose dark brown eyes flashed fire as she answered. It is false, madam, you know it is false. I never yet have had my picture taken. But he has it in his possession. How do you account for that? Again I repeat that it is false, said Lena, while Mrs. Graham strengthened by the presence of her son answered, I can prove it, miss. I defy you to do so, said Lena, strong in her own innocence. Shall I show it to her, Derward, asked Mrs. Graham, and Lena turning suddenly round became for the first time conscious of his presence. With a cry of anguish she stretched her arms imploringly toward him, asking him in piteous tones to save her from his mother. Derward would almost have laid down his life to prove her innocent, but he felt that could not be. So he made her no reply and in his eyes she read that he too was deceived. With a low wailing moan she again covered her face with her hands while Mrs. Graham repeated her question, shall I show it to her? Derward was not aware that she had it in her possession and he answered, Why do you ask when you know you cannot do so? Oh, how joyfully Lena started up. He did not believe it after all and if ever a look was expressive of gratitude that was which she gave to Derward who returned her no answering glance save one of pity and again that wailing cry smote painfully on his ear. Taking the case from her pocket Mrs. Graham advanced toward Lena saying, Here, see for yourself and then deny if you can. But Lena had no power to take it. Her faculties seemed benumbed and Derward who with folded arms and clouded brows stood leaning against the mantle, construed her hesitation into guilt which dreaded to be convicted. Why don't you take it? Persistent Mrs. Graham, you defied me to prove it and here it is. I found it in my husband's private drawer together with one of those long curls which last I burned out of my sight. Derward shuddered while Lena involuntarily thought of the mass of wavy tresses which they had told her clustered around her mother's face as she lay in her narrow coffin. Why thought she of her mother then? Was it because they were so strangely alike that any illusion to her own personal appearance always reminded her of her lost parent? Perhaps so. But to return to our story Lena would have sworn that the likeness was not hers and still an undefined dread crept over her preventing her from moving. You seem to be unwilling to be convinced allow me to assist you said Mrs. Graham at the same time unclasping the case and holding to view the picture on which with wondering eyes Lena gazed in astonishment. It is I. It is. But oh heaven how came he by it? She gassed and the next moment she fell fainting at Derward's feet. In an instant he was bending over her his mother exclaiming, pray don't touch her she does it for a fact. But he knew better. He knew there was no fainting the corpse-like powder of that face and pushing his mother aside he took the unconscious girl in his arms and bearing her to the sofa laid her gently upon it removing her hat and smoothing back from her cold brow the thick clustering curls which his mother had designated as coiling serpents. Do not ring and expose her to the idle gaze of servants, said he to his mother who had seized the bell-rope, bring some water from your bedroom and we will take charge of her ourselves. There was something commanding in the tones of his voice and Mrs. Graham now really alarmed at the deadly appearance of Lena hastened to obey. When he was alone Derward bent down imprinting upon the white lips a burning kiss the first he had ever given her. In his heart he believed her unworthy of his love and yet she had never seemed one half so dear to him as at that moment when she lay there before him helpless as an infant and all unmindful of the caresses which he lavished upon her. If it were indeed death he thought and it had come upon her while yet she was innocent I could have borne it but now I would I had never seen her and the tears which fell like rain upon her cheek were not unworthy of this strong man who shed them. The cold water which they profusely bathed her face and neck with restored her and then Derward who could bear the scene no longer glided silently into the next room. When he was gone Mrs. Graham who seemed bent upon tormenting Lena asked what she thought about it now. Please don't speak to me again for I am very very wretched said Lena softly while Mrs. Graham continued. Have you nothing to offer in explanation? Nothing, nothing. It is a dark mystery to me and I wish that I was dead answered Lena sobbing passionately. Better wish to live and repent said Mrs. Graham beginning to read her a long sermon on her duty to which Lena paid no attention and the moment she felt she could walk she rose to go. The moon was shining brightly and as Mr. Douglas lived not far away Mrs. Graham did not deem an escort necessary but Derward thought differently he could not walk with her side by side as he had often done before but he would follow at a distance to see that no harm came to her. There was no danger of his being discovered for Lena was too much absorbed in her own wretchedness to he'd ought about her and in silence he walked behind her until he saw the door of Mr. Douglas's house close upon her. Then feeling that there was an inseparable barrier between them he returned to his hotel where he found his mother exalting over the downfall of one whom for some reason she had always disliked. Didn't she look confounded though when I showed her the picture said she to which Derward replied by asking when and why she sent the letter. I did it because I was a mind too and I am not sorry for it either was Mrs. Graham's quest the answer where upon the conversation was dropped and as if by a tacit agreement the subject was not again resumed during their stay in Louisville. It would be impossible to describe Lena's emotions as she returned to the house. Twice in the hall was she obliged to grasp at the banister to keep from falling and knowing that such excessive agitation would be remarked she seated herself upon the stairs until she felt composed enough to enter the parlor. Fortunately Mabel was alone and so absorbed in the fortunes of Uncle True and Little Gertie as scarcely to notice Lena at all. Once indeed as she sat before the great so motionless and still Mabel looked up and observing how white she was asked what was the matter. A bad headache answered Lena at the same time announcing her intention of retiring. Alone in her room her feelings gave way and none save those who like her have suffered can conceive of her anguish as prostrate upon the floor she lay her long silken curls falling about her white face which looked ghastly and haggard by the moonlight that fell softly about her as if to soothe her woe. What is it? she cried aloud. This dark mystery which I cannot explain. The next moment she thought of Mr. Graham. He could explain it, he must explain it. She would go to him the next day asking him what it meant. She felt sure that he could make it plain for suspicious as matters looked she exculpated him from any wrong intention toward her. Still she could not sleep and when the gray morning light crept in it found her too much exhausted to rise. For several days she kept her room carefully attended by Mabel and her grandmother who at the first intimation of her illness hastened down to nurse her. Every day did Lena ask of Mr. Douglas if Mr. Graham had been in the city saying that the first time he came she wished to see him. Days however went by and nothing was seen or heard of him until at last John Jr. who visited her daily casually informed her that Mr. Graham had been unexpectedly called away to South Carolina. A distant relative of his had died bequeathing him a large property which made it necessary for him to go there immediately so without waiting for the return of his wife he had started off leaving Woodlawn alone. Gone to South Carolina exclaimed Lena when will he return? Nobody knows he's away from home more than half the time just as I should be if Mrs. Graham were my wife answered John Jr. at the same time playfully remarking that Lena need not look so blank as it was not Derward who had gone so far. For an instant Lena resolved to tell him everything and ask him what to do but knowing how impetuous he was when at all excited she finally decided to keep her own secret determining however to write to Mr. Graham as soon as she was able. Just before John Jr. left her she called him to her side asking him if he would do her the favor of seeing that Vesta was sent back to Woodlawn as she did not wish for her any longer. What the plague is that for? Has mother been raising a row? asked John Jr. and Lena replied. No, no, your mother has nothing to do with it. I only want Vesta taken home. I cannot at present tell you why but I have a good reason and sometime perhaps I'll explain. You'll do it won't you? With the determination of questioning Derward as to what had happened John Jr. promised and when Mrs. Graham and her son returned from Louisville they found Vesta safely stabled with their other horses while the saddle with its tiny slipper hung upon a beam and seemingly looked down with reproach upon Derward who turned away with a bitter pang as he thought of the morning when he first took it to Maple Grove. The next day was dark and rainy precluding all outdoor exercise and weary sad and spiritless Derward repaired to the library where for an hour or more he sat musing dreamily of the past of the morning years ago when he first met the little girl who had since grown so strongly into his love and over whom so dark a shadow had fallen. A heavy knock at the door and in a moment John Jr. appeared with dripping garments and a slightly scowling face. There was a faint resemblance between him and Lena manifest in the soft curling hair and dark lustrous eyes. Derward had observed it before. He thought of it now and glad to see anyone who bore the least resemblance to her he started up exclaiming. Why, living stone, the very one of all the world I am glad to see. John made no reply but shaking the raindrops from his overcoat which he carelessly threw upon the floor he took a chair opposite the grate and looking Derward fully in the face said, I've come over Belmont to ask you a few plain unvarnished questions which I believe you will answer truthfully. Am I right? Certainly, sir, go on, was Derward to reply. Well then, to begin, are you and Lena engaged? No, sir. Have you been engaged? No, sir. Do you ever expect to be engaged? No, sir. Have you quarreled? No, sir. Do you know why she wished to have Vesta sent home? I suppose I do. Will you tell me? No, sir, said Derward, determined for Lena's sake that no one should ring from him the secret. John Jr. arose, jammed both hands into his pockets, walked to the window, made faces at the weather, walked back to the grate, made faces at that, kicked it, and then turning to Derward said, There's the old Nick to pay somewhere. Nothing from Derward who only felt bound to answer direct questions. I tell you, there's the old Nick to pay somewhere, continued John, raising his voice. I knew it all the while Lena was sick. I read it in her face when I told her Mr. Graham had gone south. A faint sickness gathered around Derward's heart and John Jr. proceeded. She wouldn't tell me and I've come to you for information. Would you give it to me? No, sir, said Derward. The nature of our trouble is known only to ourselves and one other individual and I shall never divulge the secret. Is that other individual my mother? No, sir. Is it Cad? No, sir. Had they any agency in the matter? None whatever that I know of. Then I'm on the wrong track and may as well go home, said John Jr., starting for the door, where he stopped while he added, If, Belmont, I ever do hear of your having misled me in this matter, he did not finish the sentence in words but playfully producing a revolver, he departed. The next moment he was dashing across the lawn, the mud flying in every direction, and himself thinking how useless it was to try to unravel a love quarrel. In the meantime, Alina waited impatiently for an answer to the letter which she had sent to Mr. Graham, but day after day glided by and still no tiding scheme. At last, as if everything had conspired against her, she heard that he was lying dangerously ill of a fever at Havana, whether he had gone in quest of an individual whose presence was necessary in the settlement of the estate. The letter which brought this intelligence to Mrs. Graham also contained a request that she would come to him immediately, and within a few days after its receipt she started for Cuba together with Gerward, who went without again seeing Lena. They found him better than they expected. The danger was past, but he was still too weak to move himself, and the physician said it would be many weeks ere he was able to travel. This rather pleased Mrs. Graham than otherwise. She was fond of change and had often desired to visit Havana, so now that she was there she made the best of it, and for once in her life enacted the part of a faithful, affectionate wife. Often during the intervals of mental aberration Mr. Graham spoke of Helena, imploring her forgiveness for his leaving her so long and promising to return. Sometimes he spoke of her as being dead, and in piteous accents he would ask of Gerward to bring him back his beautiful Lena, who was sleeping far away among the New England mountains. One day when the servant as usual came in with their letters he brought one directed to Mr. Graham, which had been forwarded from Charleston and which bore the postmarks of several places, it having been said hither and thither ere it reached its place of destination. It was mailed at Frankfurt, Kentucky, and in the superscription der word readily recognized the handwriting of Lena. Worse and worse, thought he now fully assured of her worthlessness. For a moment he felt tempted to break the seal, but from this act he instinctively shrank, thinking that whatever it might contain it was not for him to read it. But what should he do with it? Must he give it to his mother, who already had as much as she could bear? No, it was not best for her to know ought about it, and as the surest means of preventing its doing further trouble he destroyed it, burned it to ashes, repenting the next moment of the deed, wishing he had read it and feeling not that he had wronged the dead, as his mother did when she'd burned the chestnut curl, but as if he had done a wrong to Lena. In the course of two months he went back to Woodlawn, leaving his father and mother to travel leisurely from place to place as the still feeble state of the former would admit. Lena, who had returned from Frankfurt, trembled lest he should come to Maple Grove, but he seemed equally desirous of avoiding a meeting, and after lingering about Woodlawn for several days he suddenly departed for Louisville, where for a time we leave him while we follow the fortunes of others connected with our story. 24 John Jr. and Maple Time and absence had gradually softened John Jr.'s feelings toward Nellie. She was not married to Mr. Wilbur, possibly she never would be, and if on her return to America he found her the same he would lose no time in seeing her and if possible secure her to himself. She was the tenor of his thoughts as on one bright morning in June he took his way to Lexington whether he was going on business for his father. Before leaving the city he rode down to the depot, as was his usual custom, reaching there just as the cars bound for Frankfurt were rolling away. Upon the platform of the rear cars stood an acquaintance of his who called out, Hello Living Stone, have you heard the news? News? No, what news? Asked John Jr. following after the fast moving train. Bob Wilbur and Nellie Douglas are married! Screamed the young man who having really heard of Mr. Wilbur's marriage supposed it must of course be with Nellie. John Jr. had no doubt of it and for a moment his heart faded beneath the sudden blow. But he was not one to yield long to despair and soon recovering from the first shock he raved an uncontrollable fury denouncing Nellie as worthless, fickle and good for nothing, mentally wishing her much joy with her husband, who in the same breath he hoped would break his confounded neck and ending his tirade by solemnly vowing to offer himself to the first girl he met, whether black or white. Full of this resolution he put spurs to firelock and sped away over the turnpike, looking neither to the right nor the left lest a chance should offer for the fulfillment of his vow. It was the dusk of evening when he reached home and giving his source into the care of a servant he walked with rapid strides into the parlor, starting back as he saw Mabel Ross, who for a few days past had been visiting at Maple Grove. There's no backing out, thought he. It's my destiny and I'll meet it like a man. Nellie spited me and I'll let her know how good it feels. Mabel, said he, advancing toward her. Will you marry me? Say yes or no, quick. This was not quite the kind of wooing which Mabel had expected. It was not what she read of in novels, but then it was in keeping with the rest of John Junior's conduct and very frankly and naturally she answered, yes. Very well, said he, beginning to feel better already and turning to leave the room. Very well. You fix the day and arrange it all yourself, only let it be very soon, for now I've made up my mind, I'm in a mighty hurry. Mabel laughed and hardly knowing whether he were in earnest or not asked if she should speak to the minister too. Yes, no, said he. Just tell Mother and she'll fix it all right, will you? And he walked away feeling nothing, thinking nothing, except that he was engaged. Engaged. The very idea seemed to add new dignity to him, while it invested Mabel with the charm she had not hitherto possessed. John Junior liked everything that belonged to him exclusively and Mabel now was his, his wife she would be, and when next he met her in the drawing-room his manner toward her was unusually kind, attracting the attention of his mother who wondered at the change. One after another the family retired until there was no one left in the parter except Mabel and Mrs. Livingstone, who, as her husband chanced to be absent, had invited her young visitor to share her room. When they were alone, Mabel, with many blushes and a few tears, told of all that had occurred, except indeed, of John Junior's manner of proposing, which she thought best not to confide to a third person. Eagerly Mrs. Livingstone listened, mentally congratulating herself upon the completion of her plan without her further interference, wondering the while how it had been so suddenly brought about and half trembling lest it should prove a failure after all. So when Mabel spoke of John Junior's wish that the marriage should be consummated immediately, she replied, certainly by all means, there is no necessity for delay. You can marry it once and get ready afterwards. It is now the last of June. I had thought of going to Saratoga in July and a bride is just the thing to give a claw to our party. But, answered Mabel, who hardly fancied a wedding without all the usual preparations which she felt she should enjoy so much, I cannot think of being married until October when Nelly perhaps will be here. Nelly's return was what Mrs. Livingstone dreaded and very ingeniously she set herself at work to put aside Mabel's objections, succeeding so far that the young girl promised compliance with whatever she should think proper. The next morning, as John Junior was passing through the hall, she called him into her room, delicately broaching the subject of his engagement, saying she knew he could not help loving a girl possessed of so many excellent qualities as Mabel Ross. Very patiently John Junior heard her until she came to speak of love. Then in much louder tones the newly engaged man are apt to speak of their betrothed, he exclaimed, Love, fudge, if you think I'm marrying Mabel for love you are greatly mistaken. I like her, but love is out of the question. Pray, what are you marrying her for? Her property? Property, repeated John with a sneer. I've seen the effect of marrying for property, and I trust I'm not despicable enough to try it for myself. No, madam, I'm not marrying her for money, but despite Nelly Douglas if you must know the reason, I've loved her as I shall never again love womankind, but she cheated me. She's married to Robert Wilbur, and now I have too much spirit to have her think I care. If she can marry, so can I. She isn't the only girl in the world, and when I heard what she had done I vowed I'd offer myself to the first female I saw. As good or bad luck would have it was Mabel, who you know said yes, of course, for I verily believe she likes me far better than I deserve. What kind of husband I shall make the Lord only knows, but I'm in for it. My word is past and the sooner you get us tied together the better, but for heaven's sake don't go to making a great parade. Mabel has no particular home. She's here now and why not let the ceremony take place here. But fix it to suit yourselves, only don't let me hear you talking about it for fear I'll get sick of the whole thing. This was exactly what Mrs. Livingstone desired. She had the day before been to Frankfurt herself, learning from Mrs. Atkins of Mr. Wilbur's marriage with the English girl. She knew her son was deceived and it was highly necessary that he should continue so. She felt sure that neither her daughters, Mabel nor Lena knew of Mr. Wilbur's marriage, and she resolved they should not. It was summer and as many of their city friends had let Frankfurt for places of fashionable resort they received but few calls, and by keeping them at home until the wedding was over she trusted that all would be safe in that quarter. Der Ward too was fortunately absent, so she only had to deal with Mabel and John Jr. The first of these she approached very carefully, casually telling her of Mr. Wilbur's marriage and then hastily adding, but pray don't speak of it to anyone as there are special reasons why it should not at present be discussed. Sometime I may tell you the reason. Mabel wondered why so small a matter should be a secret, but Mrs. Livingstone had requested her to keep silence and that was a sufficient reason why she should do so. The next step was to win her consent for the ceremony to take place there, and in the course of three weeks saying that it was her son's wish. But on this point she found more difficulty than she had anticipated for Mabel's shrink from being married at the house of his father. It didn't look right, said she, and she knew Mr. Douglas would not object to having it there. Mrs. Livingstone knew so too, but there was too much danger in such an arrangement and she replied, Of course not if you request it, but will it be quite proper for you to ask him to be at all that trouble when Nelly is gone and there is no one at home to super intend? So after a time Mabel was convinced thinking, though, how differently everything was turning out from what she expected. Three weeks from that night was fixed upon for the bridal, to which but few were to be invited, for Mrs. Livingstone did not wish to call forth remark. Everything should be done quietly and in order, she said, and then when autumn came she would give a splendid party in honor of the bride. Mr. Douglas, when told of the coming event by Mrs. Livingstone, who would trust no one else, expressed much surprise, saying he greatly preferred that the ceremony should take place at his own house. Of course, returned the oily-tongued woman, of course you had, but even a small wedding party is a vast amount of trouble and in Nelly's absence you would be disturbed. Was she here, I would not say a word, but now I insist upon having it my own way and indeed I think my claim upon Mabel is the strongest. Silenced but not quite convinced, Mr. Douglas said no more, thinking meanwhile that if he only could afford it, Mabel should have a wedding worthy of her. But he could not. He was poor and hence Mrs. Livingstone's arguments prevailed the more easily. Fortunately for her John Jr. manifested no inclination to go out at all. A kind of torpor seemed to have settled upon him and day after day he remained at home, sometimes in a deep study in his own room, and sometimes sitting in the parter where his very unlover-like department frequently brought tears to Mabel's eyes while Carrie loudly denounced him as the most clownish fellow she ever saw. I hope you'll train him, Mabel, said she, for he needs it. He ought to have had Nellie Douglas. She's a match for him. Why didn't you have her, John? With a face dark as night he angrily requested Carrie to mind her own business, saying he was fully competent to take charge of himself without the interference of either wife or sister. Oh, what if he should look and talk so to me, thought Mabel, shuddering as a dim foreboding of her sad future came over her. Lena, who understood John Jr. better than anyone else, saw their all was not right. She knew how much he had loved Nellie. She believed he loved her still, and why should he marry another? She could not tell, and as he withheld his confidence from her appearing unusually moody and cross, she dared not approach him. At last, having an idea of what she wanted and willing to give her a chance, he one day, when they were alone, abruptly asked her what she thought of his choice. If you ask me what I think of Mabel, said she, I answer that I esteem her very highly, and the more I know her the better I love her. Still, I never thought she would be your wife. Ah, indeed, never thought she would, eh? answered John, beginning to grow crusty and elevating his feet to the top of the mantle. You see now what thought did, but what is your objection to her? Nothing, nothing, returned Lena. Mabel is amiable, gentle, and confiding, and will try to be a good wife. What the deuce are you grumbling for, then? Interrupted John Junior. Do you want me yourself? If you do, just say the word, and it shall be done. I'm bound to be married, and I'd sooner have you than anybody else. Come, what do you say? Lena smiled while she disclaimed any intention toward her cousin, who, resuming the position which in his excitement he had slightly changed, continued, I have always dealt fairly with you, Lena, and now I tell you truly I have no particular love for Mabel, although I intend making her my wife and heartily wish she was so now. Lena started in clasping John's arm, exclaimed. Mary Mabel and not love her. You cannot be an earnest. You will not do her so great a wrong. You shall not. I don't know how you'll help it unless you meddle with what does not concern you, said John. I am doing her no wrong. I never told her I loved her, never acted as though I did, and if she is content to have me on such terms it's nobody's business. She loves me half to death, and if the old adage be true that love begets love I shall learn to love her, and when I do I'll let you know. So, saying, the young man shook down his pants which had become disarranged and walked away, leaving Lena to wonder what course she had better pursue. Once she resolved on telling Mabel all that had passed between them, but the next moment convinced her that, as he had said, she would be meddling, so she decided to say nothing, silently hoping that affairs would turn out better than she feared. It was Mabel's wish that Lena and Anna should be her bridesmaids, Derward and Malcolm officiating as groomsmen, and as Mr Belmont was away, she wrote to him requesting his attendance, but saying she had not yet mentioned the subject to Lena. Painful as was the task of being thus associated with Lena, Derward felt that to refuse might occasion much remark, so he wrote to Mabel that he would comply with her request provided Miss Rivers were willing. Of course she's willing, said Mabel to herself at the same time running with the letter to Lena, who to her utter astonishment not only refused outright, but also declined giving any particular reason for her doing so. Carrie will suit him much better than I, said she, but unfortunately Carrie, who chanced to be present half hidden in the recess of a window, indignantly declined going jack at a pinch with anyone, so Mabel was obliged to content herself with Anna and Mr. Everett. But here a new difficulty arose, for Mrs. Livingstone declared that the letter should not be invited, and Anna, in a fit of anger, insisted that if he were not good enough to be present, neither was she, and she should accordingly remain in her own room. Poor Mabel burst into tears, and when a few moments after where John Jr. appeared, asking what ailed her, she hid her face in his bosom and sobbed like a child. Then frightened at her own tomerity, for he gave her no answering caress, she lifted up her head, while, with a quizzical expression, John Jr. said, So, oh, meb, seems to me you've taken to crying on my jacket a little in advance, but what's the matter? In a few words Mabel told him how everything went wrong, how neither Lena, Carrie, nor Anna would be her bridesmaids, and how Anna wouldn't see her married because Malcolm was not invited. I can manage that, said John Jr., Mr. Everett shall be invited, so just shut up crying, for if there's anything I detest, it is a woman sniveling. And he walked off, thinking he had begun just as he meant to hold out. End of chapters 23 and 24