"No! The mail isn't come yet! leastways it isn't opened yet! Fan that fire, you little black imp, you! and make that kittle bile; if you don't, I shall never git this wafer soft! and then I'll turn you up, and give you sich a switching as ye never had in your born days! for I won't be trampled on by you any longer! you little black willyan, you! 'Scat! you hussy! get out o' my way, before I twist your neck for you!"
The first part of this oration was delivered by Miss Nancy Skamp, to some half-dozen negro grooms who were cooling their shins while waiting for the mail, before she closed the doors and windows of the post-office; the second part was addressed to Chizzle, her little negro waiter—and the third concluding sentence, emphasized by a smart kick, was bestowed upon poor Molly, the mottled cat. The village post-office was kept in the lower front room of the little lonely house on the hill, occupied by the solitary spinster.
The mail-bags were stuffed remarkably full, and there were several wonderful letters, that she felt it her duty to open and read before sending to their owners.
"Let's see," said the worthy postmistress, as she sorted the letters in her hand. "What's this? oh! a double letter for Colonel Thornton—pshaw! that's all about political stuff! Who cares about reading that? I don't! He may have it to-night if he wants it! Stop! what's this? Lors! it's a thribble letter for—for Marian Mayfield! And from furrin parts, too! Now I wonder—(Can't you stop that caterwauling out there?" she said, raising her voice. "Sposen you niggers were to wait till I open the office. I reckon you'd get your letters just as soon.) Who can be writing from furrin parts to Marian Mayfield? Ah! I'll keep this and read it before Miss Marian gets it."
When Miss Nancy had closed up for the night she took out the letter directed to Marian, opened, and began to read it. And as she read her eyes and mouth grew wider and wider with astonishment, and her wonder broke forth in frequent exclamations of: "M—y conscience! Well now! Who'd a dreamt of it! Pity but I'd a let Solomon court her when he wanted to—but Lors! how did I ever know that she'd—M—y conscience!" etc., etc.
Her fit of abstraction was at last broken by a smart rap at the door.
She started and turned pale, like the guilty creature that she was.
The rap was repeated sharply.
She jumped up, hustled the purloined letters and papers out of sight, and stood waiting.
The rap was reiterated loudly and authoritatively.
"Who's that?" she asked, trembling violently.
"It's me, Aunt Nancy! Do for goodness' sake don't keep a fellow out here in the storm till he's nearly perished. It's coming on to hail and snow like the last judgment!"
"Oh! it's you, is it, Sol? I didn't know but what it was—Do, for mercy's sake don't be talking about the last judgment, and such awful things—I declare to man, you put me all of a trimble," said Miss Nancy, by way of accounting for her palpitations, as she unbarred the door, and admitted her learned nephew. Dr. Solomon Weismann seemed dreadfully downhearted as he entered. He slowly stamped the snow from his boots, shook it off his clothes, took off his hat and his overcoat, and hung them up, and spoke—never a word! Then he drew his chair right up in front of the fire, placed a foot on each andiron, stooped over, spread his palms over the kindly blaze, and still spoke—never a word!
"Well! I'd like to know what's the matter with you to-night," said Miss
Nancy, as she went about the room looking for her knitting.
But the doctor stared silently at the fire.
"It's the latest improvement in politeness—I shouldn't wonder—not to answer your elders when they speak to you."
"Were you saying anything to me, Aunt Nancy?"
"'Was I saying anything to you, Aunt Nancy?' Yes I was! I was asking you what's the matter?"
"Oh! I never was so dreadfully low-spirited in my life, Aunt Nancy."
"And what should a young man like you have to make him feel low-spirited, I should like to know? Moping about Marian, I shouldn't wonder. The girl is a good girl enough, if she'd only mind her own business, and not let people spoil her. And if you do like her, and must have her, why I shan't make no further objections."
Here the young doctor turned shortly around and stared at his aunt in astonishment!
"Hem!" said Miss Nancy, looking confused, "well, yes, I did oppose it once, certainly, but that was because you were both poor."
"And we are both poor still, for aught that I can see, and likely to continue so."
"Hish-ish! no you're not! leastways, she's not. I've got something very strange to tell you," said Miss Nancy, mysteriously drawing her chair up close to her nephew, and putting her lips to his ear, and whispering—"Hish-ish!"
"'Hish-ish!' What are you 'hish-ish'ing for, Aunt Nancy, I'm not saying anything, and your breath spins into a fellow's ear enough to give him an ear-ache!" said Dr. Solomon, jerking his head away.
"Now then listen—Marian Mayfield has got a fortune left to her."
Miss Nancy paused to see the effect of this startling piece of news upon her companion.
But the doctor was not sulky, and upon his guard; so after an involuntary slight start, he remained perfectly still. Miss Nancy was disappointed by the calm way in which he took this marvelous revelation. However, she went on to say:
"Yes! a fortune left her, by a grand-uncle, a bachelor, who died intestate in Wiltshire, England. Now, what do you think of that!"
"Why, I think if she wouldn't have me when she was poor, she won't be apt to do it now she's rich."
"Ah! but you see, she don't know a word of it!"
"How do you know it, then?"
"Hish-ish! I'll tell you if you will never tell. Oh, Lord, no, you mustn't indeed! You wouldn't, I know, 'cause it would ruin us! Listen—"
"Now, Aunt Nancy, don't be letting me into any of your capital crimes and hanging secrets—don't, because I don't want to hear them, and I won't neither! I ain't used to such! and I'm afraid of them, too!"
"'Fraid o' what? Nobody can prove it," answered Miss Nancy, a little incoherently.
"You know what better than I do, Aunt Nancy; and let me tell you, you'd better be careful. The eyes of the community are upon you."
"Let 'em prove it! Let 'em prove it! They ain't got no witnesses! Chizzle and the cat ain't no witnesses," said Miss Nancy, obscurely; "let 'em do their worse! I reckon I know something about law as well as they do! if I am a lone 'oman!"
"They can procure your removal from office without proving anything against you except unpopularity."
"That's Commodore Waugh's plan! the ugly, wicked, old buggaboo! 'Tain't such great shakes of an office neither, the dear knows!"
"Never mind, Aunt Nancy, mend your ways, and maybe they'll not disturb you. And don't tell me any of your capital secrets, because I might be summoned as a witness against you, which would not be so agreeable to my feelings—yon understand! And now tell me, if you are absolutely certain that Miss Mayfield has had that fortune left her. But stop! don't tell me how you found it out!"
"Well, yes, I am certain—sure, she has a great fortune left her. I have the positive proofs of it. And, moreover, nobody in this country don't know it but myself—and you. And now I tell you, don't hint the matter to a soul. Be spry! dress yourself up jam! and go a courting before anybody else finds it out!"
"But that would scarcely be honorable either," demurred the doctor.
"You're mighty particular! Yes, it would, too! Jest you listen to me! Now if so be we were to go and publish about Marian's fortune, we'd have a whole herd of fortune hunters, who don't care a cent for anything but fortune, running after and worrying the life out of her, and maybe one of them marrying of her, and spending of her money, and bringing of her to poverty, and breaking of her heart. Whereas, if we keep the secret of the estate to ourselves, you, who desarve her, because you 'counted her all the same when she was poor, and who'd take good care of her property, and her, too—would have her all to yourself, and nobody to interfere. Don't you see?"
"Well, to be sure—when one looks at the thing in this light," deliberated the sorely-tempted lover.
"Of course! And that's the only light to look at it in! Don't you see? Why, by gracious! it seems to me as if we were doing Marian the greatest favor."
In the meantime Marian's heart was weighed down by a new cause of sorrow and anxiety. Thurston never approached her now, either in person or by letter. She never saw him, except at the church, the lecture-room, or in mixed companies, where he kept himself aloof from her and devoted himself to the beautiful and accomplished heiress Angelica Le Roy, to whom rumor gave him as an accepted suitor.
So free was Marian's pure heart from jealousy or suspicion that these attentions bestowed by Thurston, and these rumors circulated in the neighborhood, gave her no uneasiness. For though she had, for herself, discovered him to be passionate and impetuous, she believed him to be sound in principle. But when again and again she saw them together, at church, at lecture, at dinner parties, at evening dances; when at all the Christmas and New Year festivities she saw her escorted by him; when she saw him ever at her side with a devotion as earnest and ardent as it was perfectly respectful; when she saw him bend and whisper to the witching girl and hang delighted on her "low replies," her own confidence was shaken. What could he mean? Was it possible that instead of being merely impulsive and erring, he was deliberately wicked? No, no, never! Yet, what could be his intentions? Did he really wish to win Angelica's heart? Alas! whether he wished so or not, it was but too evident to all that he had gained her preference. In her blushing cheek and downcast eyes, and tremulous voice and embarrassed manner, when he was present, in her abstracted mind, and restless air of wandering glances when he was absent, the truth was but too clear.
Marian was far too practical to speculate when she should act. It was clearly her duty to speak to Thurston on the subject, and, repugnant as the task was, she resolved to perform it. It was some time before she had the opportunity.
But at last, one afternoon in February, she chanced to meet Thurston on the sea beach. After greeting him, she candidly opened the subject. She spoke gently and delicately, but firmly and plainly—more so, perhaps, than another woman in the same position would have done, for Marian was eminently frank and fearless, especially where conscience was concerned.
And Thurston met her arguments with a graceful nonchalance, as seemingly polite and good-humored as it was really ironical and insulting.
Marian gave him time—she was patient as firm—and firm as sorrowful.
And until every argument and persuasion had failed, she said:
"As a last resort, it may be necessary for me to warn Miss Le Roy—not for my own sake. Were I alone involved, you know how much I would endure rather than grieve you. But this young lady must not suffer wrong."
"You will write her an anonymous letter, possibly?"
"No—I never take an indirect road to an object."
"What, then, can you do, fair saint?"
"See Miss Le Roy, personally."
"Ha! ha! ha! What apology could you possibly make for such an unwarrantable interference?"
"The Lord knoweth! I do not now. But I trust to be able to save her without—revealing you."
"Do you imagine that vague warnings would have any effect upon her?"
"Coming from me they would."
"Heavens! What a self-worshiper! But selfishness is your normal state, Marian! Self-love is your only affection—self-adulation your only enthusiasm—self-worship your only religion! You do not desire to be loved—you wish only to be honored! The love I offered you, you trampled underfoot! You have no heart, you have only a brain! You cannot love, you only think! Nor have you any need of love, but only of power! Applause is your vital breath, your native air! To hear your name and praise on every tongue—that is your highest ambition! Such a woman should be a gorgon of ugliness that men might not waste their hearts' wealth upon her!" exclaimed Thurston, bitterly, gazing with murky eyes, that smoldered with suppressed passion, upon the beautiful girl before him.
Marian was standing with her eyes fixed abstractedly upon a distant sail. Now the tears swelled under the large white eyelids and hung glittering on the level lashes, and her lip quivered and her voice faltered slightly as she answered:
"You see me through a false medium, dear Thurston, but the time will come when you will know me as I am."
"I fancy the time has come. It has also come for me to enlighten you a little. And in the first place, fair queen of minds, if not of hearts, let me assure you that there is a limit even to your almost universal influence. And that limit may be found in Miss Le Roy. You, who know the power of thought only, cannot weigh nor measure the power of love. Upon Miss Le Roy your warnings would have no effect whatever. I tell you that in the face of them (were I so disposed), I might lead that girl to the altar to-morrow."
Marian was silent, not deeming an answer called for.
"And now, I ask you, how you could prevent it?"
"I shall not be required to prevent such an act, Thurston, as such a one never can take place. You speak so only to try your Marian's faith or temper—both are proof against jests, I think. Hitherto you have trifled with the young lady's affections for mere ennui and thoughtlessness, I do believe! but, now that some of the evil consequences have been suggested to your mind, you will abandon such perilous pastime. You are going to France soon—that will be a favorable opportunity of breaking off the acquaintance."
"And breaking her heart—who knows? But suppose now that I should prefer to marry her and take her with me?"
"Nay, of course, I cannot for an instant suppose such a thing."
"But in spite of all your warnings, were such an event about to take place?"
"In such an exigency I should divulge our marriage."
"You would?"
"Assuredly! How can you possibly doubt it? Such an event would abrogate my obligations to silence, and would impose upon me the opposite duty of speaking."
"I judged you would reason so," he said, bitterly.
"But, dear Thurston, of what are you talking? Of the event of your doing an unprincipled act! Impossible, dear Thurston! and forever impossible!"
"And equally impossible, fair saint, that you should divulge our marriage with any chance of proving it. Marian, the minister that married us has sailed as a missionary to Farther India. And I only have the certificate of our marriage. You cannot prove it."
"I shall not need to prove it, Thurston. Now that I have awakened your thoughts, I know that you will not further risk the peace of that confiding girl. Come! take my hand and let us return. We must hasten, too, for there is rain in that cloud."
Thurston—piqued that he could not trouble her more—for under her calm and unruffled face he could not see the bleeding heart—arose sullenly, drew her hand within his arm and led her forth.
And as they went the wind arose, and the storm clouds drove over the sky and lowered and darkened around them.
Marian urged him to walk fast on account of the approaching tempest, and the anxiety the family at the cottage would feel upon her account.
They hurried onward, but just as they reached the neighborhood of Old
Fields a terrible storm of hail and snow burst upon the earth.
It was as much as they could do to make any progress forward, or even to keep themselves upon their feet. While struggling and plunging blindly through the storm, amid the rushing of the wind and the rattling of the hail, and the crackling and creaking of the dry trees in the forest, and the rush of waters, and all the din of the tempest, Marian's ear caught the sound of a child wailing and sobbing. A pang shot through her heart. She listened breathlessly—and then in the pauses of the storm she heard a child crying, "Marian, Marian! Oh! where are you, Marian?"
It was Miriam's voice! It was Miriam wandering in night and storm in search of her beloved nurse.
Marian dropped Thurston's arm and plunged blindly forward through the snow, in the direction of the voice, crying, "Here I am, my darling, my treasure—here I am. What brought my baby out this bitter night?" she asked, as she found the child half perishing with cold and wet, and caught and strained her to her bosom.
"Oh, the hail and snow came down so fast, and the wind shook the house so hard, and I could not sleep in the warm bed while you were out in the storm. So I stole softly down to find you. Don't go again, Marian. I love you so—oh! I love you so!"
At this moment the child caught sight of Thurston standing with his face half muffled in his cloak. A figure to be strangely recognized under similar circumstances in after years. Then she did not know him, but inquired:
"Who is that, Marian?"
"A friend, dear, who came home with me. Good-night, sir."
And so dismissing Thurston, he walked rapidly away. She hurried with
Miriam to the house.
Sans Souci stood before the parlor mirror, gazing into it, seeing—not the reflected image of her own elfish figure, or pretty, witching face, with its round, polished forehead, its mocking eyes, its sunny, dancing curls, its piquant little nose, or petulant little lips—but contemplating, as through a magic glass, far down the vista of her childhood—childhood scarcely past, yet in its strong contrast to the present, seeming so distant, dim, and unreal, that her reminiscence of its days resembled more a vague dream of a pre-existence, than a rational recollection of a part of her actual life on earth. Poor Jacko was wondering "If I be I?"
Grim sat in a leathern chair, at the farthest extremity of the room, occupied with holding a book, but reading Jacquelina. Suddenly he broke into her brown study by exclaiming:
"I should like to know what you are doing, and how long you intend to remain standing before that glass."
"Oh, indeed! should you?" mocked Jacko, startled out of her reverie, yet instantly remembering to be provoking.
"What were you doing, and—"
"Looking at myself in the glass, to be sure."
"Don't cut off my question, if you please. I was going on to inquire of what you were thinking so profoundly. And madam, or miss—"
"Madam, if you please! the dear knows, I paid heavy enough for my new dignity, and don't intend to abate one degree of it. So if you call me miss again, I'll get some one who loves me to call you 'out!' Besides, I'd have you to know, I'm very proud of it. Ain't you, too? Say, Grim! ain't you a proud and happy man to be married?" asked Jacko, tauntingly.
"You jibe! You do so with a purpose. But it shall not avail you. I demand to know the subject of your thoughts as you stood before that mirror."
Now, none but a half madman like Grim would have gravely made such a demand, or exposed himself to such a rebuff as it deserved. Jacko looked at him quizzically.
"Hem!" she answered, demurely. "I'm sure I'm so awestricken, your worship, that I can scarcely find the use of my tongue to obey your reverence. I hope your excellency won't be offended with me. But I was wondering in general, whether the Lord really did make all the people upon earth, and in particular, whether He made you, and if so, for what inscrutable reason He did it."
"You are an impertinent minion. But, by the saints, I will have an answer to my question, and know what you were thinking of while gazing in that mirror."
"Sorry the first explanation didn't please your eminence. But now, 'honor bright!' I'll tell you truly what I was thinking of. I was thinking—thinking how excessively pretty I am. Now, tell the truth, and shame the old gentleman. Did you ever, in all your life, see such a beautiful, bewitching, tantalizing, ensnaring face as mine is?"
"I think I never saw such a fool!"
"Really? Then your holiness never looked at yourself in a mirror! never beheld 'your natural face in a glass!' never saw 'what manner of man' you are."
"By St. Peter! I will not be insulted, and dishonored, and defied in this outrageous manner. I swear I will have your thoughts, if I have to pluck them from your heart."
"Whe-ew! Well, if I didn't always think thought was free, may I never be an interesting young widow, and captivate Thurston Willcoxen."
"You impudent, audacious, abandoned—"
"Ching a ring a ring chum choo! And a hio ring tum larky!"
sang the elf, dancing about, seizing the bellows and flourishing it over her head like a tambourine, as she danced.
"Be still, you termagant. Be still, you lunatic, or I'll have you put in a strait-jacket!" cried the exasperated professor.
"Poor fellow!" said Jacko, dropping the bellows and sidling up to him in a wheedling, mock-sympathetic manner. "P-o-o-r f-e-l-l-o-w! don't get excited and go into the highstrikes. You can't help it if you're ugly and repulsive as Time in the Primer, any more than Thurston Willcoxen can help being handsome and attractive as Magnus Apollo."
"It was of him, then, you were thinking, minion? I knew it! I knew it!" exclaimed the professor, starting up, throwing down his book, and pacing the floor.
"Bear it like a man!" said Jacko, with solemnity.
"You admit it, then. You—you—you—"
"'Unprincipled female.' There! I have helped you to the words. And now, if you will be melo-dramatic, you should grip up your hair with both hands, and stride up and down the floor and vociferate, 'Confusion! distraction! perdition! or any other awful words you can think of. That's the way they do it in the plays."
"Madam, your impertinence is growing beyond sufferance. I cannot endure it."
"That's a mighty great pity, now, for you can't cure it."
"St. Mary! I will bear this no longer."
"Then I'm afraid you'll have to emigrate!"
"I'll commit suicide."
"That's you! Do! I should like very well to wear bombazine this cold weather. Please do it at once, too, if you're going to, for I should rather be out of deep mourning by midsummer!"
"By heaven, I will pay you for this."
"Any time at your convenience, Dr. Grimshaw! And I shall be ready to give you a receipt in full upon the spot!" said the elf, rising. "Anything else in my line this morning, Dr. Grimshaw? Give me a call when you come my way! I shall be much obliged for your patronage," she continued, curtseying and dancing off toward the door. "By the way, my dear sir, there is a lecture to be delivered this evening by our gifted young fellow-citizen, Mr. Thurston Willcoxen. Going to hear him? I am! Good-day!" she said, and kissed her hand and vanished.
Grim was going crazy! Everybody said it, and what everybody says has ever been universally received as indisputable testimony. Many people, indeed, averred that Grim never had been quite right—that he always had been queer, and that since his mad marriage with that flighty bit of a child, Jacquelina, he had been queerer than ever.
He would have been glad to prevent Jacquelina from going to the lecture upon the evening in question; but there was no reasonable excuse for doing so. Everybody went to the lectures, which were very popular. Mrs. Waugh made a point of being punctually present at every one. And she took charge of Jacquelina, whenever the whim of the latter induced her to go, which was as often as she secretly wished to "annoy Grim." And, in fact, "to plague the Ogre" was her only motive in being present, for, truth to tell, the elf cared very little either for the lecturer or his subjects, and usually spent the whole evening in yawning behind her pocket handkerchief. Upon this evening, however, the lecture fixed even the flighty fancy of Jacquelina, as she sat upon the front seat between Mrs. Waugh and Dr. Grimshaw.
Jacquelina was magnetized, and scarcely took her eyes from the speaker during the whole of the discourse. Mrs. Waugh was also too much interested to notice her companions. Grim was agonized. The result of the whole of which was—that after they all got home, Dr. Grimshaw—to use a common but graphic phrase—"put his foot down" upon the resolution to prevent Jacquelina's future attendance at the lectures. Whether he would have succeeded in keeping her away is very doubtful, had not a remarkably inclement season of weather set in, and lasted a fortnight, leaving the roads nearly impassable for two other weeks. And just as traveling was getting to be possible, Thurston Willcoxen was called to Baltimore, on his grandfather's business, and was absent a fortnight. So, altogether, six weeks had passed without Jacquelina's finding an opportunity to defy Dr. Grimshaw by attending the lectures against his consent.
At the end of that time, on Sunday morning, it was announced in the church that Mr. Willcoxen having returned to the county, would resume his lectures on the Wednesday evening following. Dr. Grimshaw looked at Jacquelina, to note how she would receive this news. Poor Jacko had been under Marian's good influences for the week previous, and was, in her fitful and uncertain way, "trying to be good." "As an experiment to please you, Marian," she said, "and to see how it will answer." Poor elf! So she called up no false, provoking smile of joy, to drive Grim frantic, but heard the news of Thurston's arrival with the outward calmness that was perfectly true to the perfect inward indifference.
"She has grown guarded—that is a very bad sign—I shall watch her closer," muttered Grim behind his closed teeth. And when the professor went home that day, his keen, pallid face was frightful to look upon. And many were the comments made by the dispersing congregation.
From that Sunday to the following Wednesday, not one word was spoken of Thurston Willcoxen or his lecture. But on Wednesday morning Dr. Grimshaw entered the parlor, where Jacquelina lingered alone, gazing out of the window, and going up to her side, astonished her beyond measure by speaking in a calm, kind tone, and saying:
"Jacquelina, you have been too much confined to the house lately. You are languid. You must go out more. Mr. Willcoxen lectures this evening. Perhaps you would like to hear him. If so, I withdraw my former prohibition, which was, perhaps, too harsh, and I beg you will follow your own inclinations, if they lead you to go."
You should have seen Jacko's eyes and eyebrows! the former were dilated to their utmost capacity, while the latter were elevated to their highest altitude. The professor's eyebrows were knotted together, and his eyes sought the ground, as he continued:
"I myself have an engagement at Leonardtown this afternoon, which will
detain me all night, and therefore shall not be able to escort you; but
Mrs. Waugh, who is going, will doubtless take you under her charge.
Would you like to go?"
"I had already intended to go," replied Jacquelina, without relaxing a muscle of her face.
The professor nodded and left the room.
Soon after, Jacquelina sought her aunty, whom she found in the pantry, mixing mince-meat.
"I say, aunty—"
"Well, Lapwing?"
"When Satan turns saint, suspicion is safe, is it not?"
"What do you mean, Lapwing?"
"Why, just now the professor came to me, politely apologized for his late rudeness, and proposed that I should go with you to hear Mr. Willcoxen's lecture, while he, the professor, goes to Leonardtown to fulfill an engagement. I say, aunty, I sniff a plot, don't you?"
"I don't know what to make of it, Lapwing. Are you going?"
"Of course I am; I always intended to."
No more was said at the time.
Immediately after dinner Dr. Grimshaw ordered his horse, and saying that he was going to Leonardtown and should not be back till the next day, set forth.
And after an early tea, Mrs. Waugh and Jacquelina set out in the family sleigh. A swift run over the hard, frozen snow brought them to Old Fields, where they stopped a moment to pick up Marian, and then shooting forward at the same rate of speed, they reached the lecture-room in full time.
Jacquelina was perhaps the very least enchanted of all his hearers—she was, in fact, an exception, and found the discourse so entirely uninteresting that it was with difficulty she could refrain from yawning in the face of the orator. Mrs. Waugh also, perhaps, was but half mesmerized, for her eyes would cautiously wander from the lecturer's pulpit to the side window on her right hand. At length she stooped and whispered to Jacquelina:
"Child, be cautious; Dr. Grimshaw is on the ground—I have seen his face rise up to that lower pane of glass at the corner of that window, several times. He must be crouched down on the outside."
Jacquelina gave a little start of surprise—her face underwent many phases of expression; she glanced furtively at the indicated window, and there she saw a pale, wild face gleam for an instant against the glass, and then drop. She nodded her head quickly, muttering:
"Oh, I'll pay him!"
"Don't child! don't do anything imprudent, for gracious' sake! That man is crazy—any one can see he is!"
"Oh, aunty, I'll be sure to pay him! He shan't be in my debt much longer. Soft, aunty! Don't look toward the window again! Don't let him perceive that we see him or suspect him—and then, you'll see what you'll see. I have a counter plot."
This last sentence was muttered to herself by Jacquelina, who thereupon straightened herself up—looked the lecturer in the eyes—and gave her undevoted attention to him during the rest of the evening. There was not a more appreciating and admiring hearer in the room than Jacquelina affected to be. Her face was radiant, her eyes starry, her cheeks flushed, her pretty lips glowing breathlessly apart—her whole form instinct with enthusiasm. Any one might have thought the little creature bewitched. But the fascinating orator need not have flattered himself—had he but known it—Jacquelina neither saw his face nor heard his words; she was seeing pictures of Grim's bitter jealousy, mortification and rage, as he beheld her from his covert; she was rehearsing scenes of what she meant to do to him. And when at last she forgot herself, and clapped her hand enthusiastically, it was not at the glorious peroration of the orator—but at the perfection of her own little plot!
When the lecturer had finished, and as usual announced the subject and the time of the next lecture, Jacquelina, instead of rising with the mass of the audience, showed a disposition to retain her seat.
"Come, my dear, I am going," said Mrs. Waugh.
"Wait, aunty, I don't like to go in a crowd."
Mrs. Waugh waited while the people pressed toward the outer doors.
"I wonder whether the professor will wait and join us when we return home?" said Mrs. Waugh.
"We shall see," said Jacquelina. "I wish he may. I believe he will. I am prepared for such an emergency."
In the meantime, Thurston Willcoxen had descended from the platform, and was shaking hands right and left with the few people who had lingered to speak to him. Then he approached Mrs. Waugh's party, bowed, and afterward shook hands with each member of it, only retaining Marian's hand the fraction of a minute longest, and giving it an earnest pressure in relinquishing it. Then he inquired after the health of the family at Luckenough, commented upon the weather, the state of the crops, etc., and with a valedictory bow withdrew, and followed the retreating crowd.
"I think we can also go now," said Mrs. Waugh.
"Yes," said Jacquelina, rising.
Upon reaching the outside, they found old Oliver, with the sleigh drawn up to receive them. Jacquelina looked all around, to see if she could discover Thurston Willcoxen on the grounds; and not seeing him anywhere, she persuaded herself that he must have hastened home. But she saw Dr. Grimshaw, recognized him, and at the same time could but notice the strong resemblance in form and manner that he bore to Thurston Willcoxen, when it was too dark to notice the striking difference in complexion and expression. Dr. Grimshaw approached her, keeping his cloak partially lifted to his face, as if to defend it from the wind, but probably to conceal it. Then the evil spirit entered Jacquelina, and tempted her to sidle cautiously up to the professor, slip her arm through his arm, and whisper:
"Thurston! Come! Jump in the sleigh and go home with us. We shall have such a nice time! Old Grim has gone to Leonardtown, and won't be home till to-morrow!"
"Has he, minion? By St. Judas! you are discovered now! I have now full evidence of your turpitude. By all the saints! you shall answer for it fearfully," said the professor, between his clenched teeth, as he closed his arm upon Jacquelina's arm and dragged her toward the sleigh.
"Ha! ha! ha! Oh! well, I don't care! If I mistook you for Thurston, it is not the first mistake I ever made about you. I mistook you once before for a man!" said Jacko, defiantly.
He thrust her into the sleigh already occupied by Mrs. Waugh and Marian, jumped in after her, and took the seat by her side.
"Why, I thought that you set out for Leonardtown this afternoon, Dr.
Grimshaw!" said Mrs. Waugh, coldly.
"You may have jumped to other conclusions equally false and dangerous, madam!"
"What do you mean, sir?"
"I mean, madam, that in conniving at the perfidy of this unprincipled girl, your niece, you imagined that you were safe. It was an error. You are both discovered!" said the professor, doggedly.
Henrietta was almost enraged.
"Dr. Grimshaw," she said, "nothing but self-respect prevents me from ordering you from this sleigh!"
"I advise you to let self-respect, or any other motive you please, still restrain you, madam. I remain here as the warden of this pretty creature's person, until she is safely secured."
"You will at least be kind enough to explain to us the causes of your present words and actions, sir!" said Mrs. Waugh, severely.
"Undoubtedly, madam! Having, as I judged, just reasons for doubting the integrity of your niece, and more than suspecting her attachment to Mr. Willcoxen, I was determined to test both. Therefore, instead of going to Leonardtown, to be absent till to-morrow, I came here, posted myself at a favorable point for observation, and took notes. While here, I saw enough to convince me of Jacquelina's indiscretions. Afterward leaving the spot with lacerated feelings I drew near her. She mistook me for her lover, thrust her arm through mine, and said, 'Dear Thurston, come home with me—'"
"Oh! you shocking old fye-for-shame! I said no such thing! I said,
Thurston! Come! Jump in the sleigh and go home with us.'"
"It makes little difference, madam! The meaning was the same. I will not be responsible for a literal report. You are discovered."
"What does that mean? If it means you have discovered that I mistook you for Thurston Willcoxen, you ought to 'walk on thrones' the rest of your life! You never got such a compliment before, and never will again!"
"Aye! go on, madam! You and your conniving aunt—"
"Dr. Grimshaw, if you dare to say or hint such impertinence to me again, you shall leave your seat much more quickly than you took it," said Mrs. Waugh.
"We shall see, madam!" said the professor, and he lapsed into sullenness for the remainder of the drive.
But, oh! there was one in that sleigh upon whose heart the words of wild
Jacko had fallen with cruel weight-Marian!
When the sulky sleighing party reached Luckenough they found Commodore Waugh not only up and waiting, but in the highest state of self-satisfaction, a blessing of which they received their full share of benefit, for the old man, in the overflowing of his joy, had ordered an oyster supper, which was now all ready to be served smoking hot to the chilled and hungry sleigh-riders.
"I wonder what's out now?" said Jacquelina, as she threw off her wrappings, scattering them heedlessly on the chairs and floor of the hall. "Some awful calamity has overtaken some of Uncle Nick's enemies. Nothing on earth but that ever puts him into such a jolly humor. Now we'll see! I wonder if it is a 'crowner's 'quest' case? Wish it was Grim."
Mrs. Henrietta blessed her stars for the good weather, without inquiring very closely where it came from, as she conducted Marian to a bedroom to lay off her bonnet and mantle.
It was only at the foot of his own table, after ladling out and serving around the stewed oysters "hot and hot," that the commodore, rubbing his hands, and smiling until his great face was as grotesque as a nutcracker's, announced that Miss Nancy Skamp was turned out of office—yea, discrowned, unsceptred, dethroned, and that Harry Barnwell reigned in her stead. The news had come in that evening's mail! All present breathed more freely—all felt an inexpressible relief in knowing that the post-office would henceforth be above suspicion, and their letters and papers safe from, desecration. Only Marian said:
"What will become of the poor old creature?"
"By St. Judas Iscariot, that's her business."
"No, indeed, I think it is ours; some provision should be made for her,
Commodore Waugh."
"I'll recommend her to the trustees of the almshouse, Miss Mayfield."
Marian thought it best not to pursue the subject then, but resolved to embrace the first opportunity of appealing to the commodore's smothered chivalry in behalf of a woman, old, poor, feeble, and friendless.
During the supper Dr. Grimshaw sat up as stiff and solemn—Jacquelina said—"as if he'd swallowed the poker and couldn't digest it." When they rose from the table, and were about leaving the dining-room, Dr. Grimshaw glided in a funereal manner to the side of the commodore, and demanded a private interview with him.
"Not to-night, Nace! Not to-night! I know by your looks what it is! It is some new deviltry of Jacquelina's. That can wait! I'm as sleepy as a whole cargo of opium! I would not stop to talk now to Paul Jones, if he was to rise from the dead and visit me!"
And the professor had to be content with that, for almost immediately the family separated for the night.
Marian, attended by the maid Maria, sought the chamber assigned to herself. When she had changed her tight-fitting day-dress for a wrapper, she dismissed the girl, locked the door behind her, and then drew her chair up before the little fire, and fell into deep thought. Many causes of anxiety pressed heavily upon Marian. That Thurston had repented his hasty marriage with herself she had every reason to believe.
She had confidently hoped that her explanation with Thurston would have resulted in good—but, alas! it seemed to have had little effect. His attentions to Miss Le Roy were still unremitted—the young lady's partiality was too evident to all—and people already reported them to be engaged.
And now, as Marian sat by her little wood-fire in her chamber at Luckenough, bitter, sorrowful questions, arose in her mind. Would he persist in his present course? No, no, it could not be! This was probably done only to pique herself; but then it was carried too far; it was ruining the peace of a good, confiding girl. And Jacquelina—she had evidently mistaken Dr. Grimshaw for Thurston, and addressed to him words arguing a familiarity very improper, to say the least of it. Could he be trifling with poor Jacquelina, too? Jacko's words when believing herself addressing Thurston, certainly denoted some such "foregone conclusions." Marian resolved to see Thurston once more—once more to expostulate with him, if happily it might have some good effect. And having formed this resolution, she knelt and offered up her evening prayers, and retired to bed.
The next day being Holy Thursday, there was, by order of the trustees, a holiday at Miss Mayfield's school. And so Marian arose with the prospect of spending the day with Jacquelina. When she descended to the breakfast-room, what was her surprise to find Thurston Willcoxen, at that early hour, the sole occupant of the room. He wore a green shooting jacket, belted around his waist. He stood upon the hearth with his back to the fire, his gun leaned against the corner of the mantle-piece, and his game-bag dropped at his feet. Marian's heart bounded, and her cheek and eye kindled when she saw him, and, for the instant, all her doubts vanished—she could not believe that guilt lurked behind a countenance so frank, noble and calm as his. He stepped forward to meet her, extending his hand. She placed her own in it, saying:
"I am very glad to see you this morning, dear Thurston, for I have something to say to you which I hope you will take kindly from your Marian, who has no dearer interest in the world than your welfare."
"Marian, if it is anything relating to our old subject of dispute—Miss
Le Roy—let me warn you that I will hear nothing about it."
"Thurston, the subjects of a neighborhood's gossip are always the very last to hear it! You do not, perhaps, know that it is commonly reported that you and Miss Le Roy are engaged to be married!"
"And you give a ready ear and ready belief to such injurious slanders!"
"No! Heaven knows that I do not! I will not say that my heart has not been tortured—fully as much as your own would have been, dear Thurston, had the case been reversed, and had I stooped to receive from another such attentions as you have bestowed upon Miss Le Roy. But, upon calm reflection, I fully believe that you could never give that young lady my place in your heart, that having known and loved me—"
Marian paused, but the soul rose like a day-star behind her beautiful face, lighting serenely under her white eyelids, glowing softly on the parted lips and blooming cheeks.
"Ay! 'having known and loved me!' There again spoke the very enthusiasm of self-worship! But how know you, Marian, that I do not find such regnant superiority wearisome?—that I do not find it refreshing to sit down quietly beside a lower, humbler nature, whose greatest faculty is to love, whose greatest need to be loved!"
"How do I know it? By knowing that higher nature of yours, which you now ignore. Yet it is not of myself that I wish to speak, but of her. Thurston, you pursue that girl for mere pastime, I am sure—with no ulterior evil purpose, I am certain; yet, Thurston!" she said, involuntarily pressing her hand tightly upon her own bosom, "I know how a woman may love you, and that may be death or madness to Angelica, which is only whim and amusement to you. And, Thurston, you must go no further with this culpable trifling—you must promise me to see her no more!"
"'Must!' Upon my soul! you take state upon yourself, fair queen!"
"Thurston, a higher authority than mine speaks by my lips—it is the voice of Right! You will regard it. You will give me that promise!"
"And if I do not—"
"Oh! there is no time to argue with you longer—some one is coming—I must be quick. It is two weeks, Thurston, since I first urged this upon you; I have hesitated already too long, and now I tell you, though my heart bleeds to say it, that unless you promise to see Angelica no more, I will see and have an explanation with her to-morrow!"
"You will!"
"You can prevent it, dearest Thurston, by yourself doing what you know to be right."
"And if I do not?"
"I will see Miss Le Roy, to-morrow!"
"By heaven, then—"
His words were suddenly cut short by the entrance of Mrs. Waugh. In an instant his countenance changed, and taking up his bag of game, he went to meet the smiling, good humored woman, saying with a gay laugh:
"Good-morning, Mrs. Waugh! You see I have been shooting in the woods of Luckenough this morning, and I could not leave the premises without offering this tribute to their honored mistress."
And Thurston gayly laid the trophy at her feet.
"Hebe! will you please to see that a cup of hot coffee is sent up to Mrs. L'Oiseau; she is unwell this morning, as I knew she would be, from her excitement last night; or go with it yourself, Hebe! The presence of the goddess of health at her bedside is surely needed."
Marian left the room, and then Mrs. Waugh, turning to the young gentleman, said:
"Thurston, I am glad to have this opportunity of speaking to you, for I have something very particular to say, which you must hear without taking offense at your old aunty!"
"Humph! I am in for petticoat discipline this morning, beyond a doubt," thought the young man; but he only bowed, and placed a chair for Mrs. Waugh.
"I shall speak very plainly, Thurston."
"Oh! by all means! As plainly as you please, Mrs. Waugh," said Thurston, with an odd grimace; "I am growing accustomed to have ladies speak very plainly to me."
"Well! it won't do you any harm, Thurston. And now to the point! I told you before, that you must not show any civility to Jacquelina. And now I repeat it! And I warn you that if you do, you will cause some frightful misfortune that you will have to repent all the days of your life—if it be not fatal first of all to yourself. I do assure you that old Grimshaw is mad with jealousy. He can no longer be held responsible for his actions. And in short, you must see Jacquelina no more!"
"Whe-ew! a second time this morning! Come! I'm getting up quite the reputation of a lady-killer!" thought the young man. Then with a light laugh, he looked up to Mrs. Waugh, and said:
"My dear madam, do you take me for a man who would willingly disturb the peace or honor of a family?"
"Pshaw! By no means, my dear Thurston. Of course I know it's all the most ridiculous nonsense!"
"Well! By the patience of Job, I do think—"
Again Thurston's words were suddenly cut short, by the entrance of—the commodore, who planted his cane down with his usual emphatic force, and said:
"Oh, sir! You here! I am very glad of it! There is a little matter to be discussed between you and me! Old Hen! leave us! vanish! evaporate!"
Henrietta was well pleased to do so. And as she closed the door the commodore turned to Thurston, and with another emphatic thump of his cane, said:
"Well, sir! a small craft is soon rigged, and a short speech soon made.
In two words, how dare you, sir! make love to Jacquelina?"
"My dear uncle—"
"By Neptune, sir; don't 'uncle' me. I ask you how you dared to make love to my niece?"
"Sir, you mistake, she made love to me."
"You impudent, impertinent, unprincipled jackanape."
"Come," said Thurston to himself, "I have got into a hornet's nest this morning."
"I shall take very good care, sir, to have Major Le Roy informed what sort of a gentleman it is who is paying his addresses to his daughter."
"Miss Le Roy will be likely to form a high opinion of me before this week is out," said Thurston, laughing.
"You—you—you graceless villain, you," cried the commodore in a rage—"to think that I had such confidence in you, sir; defended you upon all occasions, sir; refused to believe in your villainy, sir; refused to close my doors against you, sir. Yes, sir; and should have continued to do so, but for last night's affair."
"Last night's affair! I protest, sir, I do not in the least understand you?"
"Oh! you don't. You don't understand that after the lecture last evening, in leaving the place, Jacquelina thrust her arm through yours—no; I mean through Grim's, mistaking him for you, and said—what she never would have said, had there not been an understanding between you."
Thurston's face was now the picture of astonishment and perplexity. The commodore seemed to mistake it for a look of consternation and detected guilt, for he continued:
"And now, sir, I suppose you understand what is to follow. Do you see that door? It leads straight into the hall, which leads directly through the front portal out into the lawn, and on to the highway—that is your road, sir. Good-morning."
And the commodore thumped down his stick and left the room—the image of righteous indignation.
Thurston nodded, smiled slightly, drew his tablets from his pocket, tore a leaf out, took his pencil, laid the paper upon the corner of the mantel-piece, wrote a few lines, folded the note, and concealed it in his hand as the door opened, and admitted Mrs. Waugh, Marian and Jacquelina. There was a telegraphic glance between the elder lady and the young man.
That of Mrs. Waugh said:
"Do have pity on the fools, and go, Thurston."
That of Thurston said:
"I am going, Mrs. Waugh, and without laughing, if I can help it."
Then he picked up his shooting cap, bowed to Jacquelina, shook hands with Mrs. Waugh, and pressing Marian's palm, left within it the note that he had written, took up his game bag and gun, and departed.
"The inconceivable idiots!" said Thurston, as he strode on through the park of Luckenough, "to fancy that any one with eyes, heart and brain, could possibly fall in love with the 'Will-o'-the-wisp' Jacquelina, or worse, that giglet, Angelica; when he sees Marian! Marian, whose least sunny tress is dearer to me than are all the living creatures in the world besides. Marian, for whose possession I am now about to risk everything, even her own esteem. Yet, she will forgive me; I will earn her forgiveness by such devoted love."
He hurried on until he reached an outer gate, through which old Oliver was driving a cart loaded with wood. As if to disencumber himself, he threw his game bag and valuable fowling piece to the old man, saying:
"There, uncle; there's a present for you," and without waiting to hear his thanks, hurried on, leaping hedges and ditches, until he came to the spot where he had left his horse tied since the morning. Throwing himself into his saddle, he put spurs to his horse, and galloped away toward the village, nor drew rein until he reached a little tavern on the water side. He threw his bridle to an hostler in waiting, and hurrying in, demanded to be shown into a private room. The little parlor was placed at his disposal. Here, for form's sake, he called for the newspaper, cigars and a bottle of wine (none of which he discussed, however), dismissed the attendant, and sat waiting.
Presently the odor of tar, bilge water, tobacco and rum warned him that his expected visitor was approaching. And an instant after the door was opened, and a short, stout, dark man in a weather-proof jacket, duck trousers, cow-hide shoes, and tarpaulin hat entered.
"Well, Miles, I've been waiting for you here more than an hour," said
Thurston, impatiently.
"Ay, ay, sir—all right. I've been cruising round, reconnoitering the enemy's coast," replied the man, removing the quid of tobacco from his mouth, and reluctantly casting it into the fire.
"You are sure you know the spot?"
"Ay, ay? sir—the beach just below the Old Fields farmhouse."
"And south of the Pine Bluff."
"Ay, ay, sir. I know the port—that ain't the head wind!" said Jack Miles, pushing up the side of his hat, and scratching his head with a look of doubt and hesitation.
"What is, then, you blockhead?" asked Thurston, impatiently; "is your hire insufficient?"
"N-n-n—yes—I dunno! You see, cap'n, if I wer' cock sure, as that 'ere little craft you want carried of wer' yourn."
"Hush! don't talk so loud. You're not at sea in a gale, you fool. Well, go on. Speak quickly and speak lower."
"I wer' gwine to say, if so be I wer' sure you wer' the cap'n of her, why then it should be plain sailing, with no fog around, and no breakers ahead."
"Well! I am, you fool. She is mine—my wife."
"Well, but, cap'n," said the speaker, still hesitating, "if so be that's the case, why don't she strike her colors to her rightful owner? Why don't you take command in open daylight, with the drums a-beating, and the flags a-flying? What must you board her like a pirate in this way fur? I've been a-thinkin' on it, and I think it's dangerous steering along this coast. You see it's all in a fog; I can't make out the land nowhere, and I'm afraid I shall be on the rocks afore I knows it. You see, cap'n, I never wer' in such a thick mist since I first went to sea. No offense to you, cap'n!"
"Oh, none in the world! No skillful pilot will risk his vessel in a fog. But I have a certain golden telescope of magic powers. It enables you to see clearly through the thickest mist, the darkest night that ever fell. I will give it to you. In other words, I promised you five hundred dollars for this job. Come, accomplish it to-night, and you shall have a thousand. Is the mist lifting?"
"I think it is, cap'n! I begin to see land."
"Very well! now, is your memory as good as your sight? Do you recollect the plan?"
"Ay, ay, sir."
"Just let me hear you go over it."
"I'm to bring the vessel round, and lay to about a quarter of a mile o' the coast. At dusk I'm to put off in a skiff and row to Pine Bluff, and lay under its shadow till I hear your signal. Then I'm to put to shore and take in the—the—"
"The cargo."
"Ay, ay, sir, the cargo."
Leaving the two conspirators to improve and perfect their plot, we must return to the breakfast parlor at Luckenough. The family were assembled around the table. Dr. Grimshaw's dark, sombre and lowering looks, enough to have spread a gloom over any circle, effectually banished cheerfulness from the board. Marian had had no opportunity of reading her note—she had slipped it into her pocket But as soon as breakfast was over, amid the bustle of rising from the table, Marian withdrew to a window and glanced over the lines.
"My own dearest one, forgive my haste this morning. I regret the necessity of leaving so abruptly. I earnestly implore you to see me once more—upon the beach, near the Pine Bluffs, this evening at dusk. I have something of the utmost importance to say to you."
She hastily crumpled the note, and thrust it into her pocket just as
Jacquelina's quizzical face looked over her shoulder.
"You're going to stay all day with me, Marian?"
"Yes, love—that is, till after dinner. Then I shall have to beg of Mrs.
Waugh the use of the carriage to go home."
"Well, then, I will ride with you, Marian, and return in the carriage."
All the company, with the exception of Mrs. Waugh, Marian and
Jacquelina, had left the breakfast-room.
Mrs. Waugh was locking her china closet, and when she had done, she took her bunch of keys, and turning to Marian, said:
"Hebe, dear, I want you to go with me and see poor old Cracked Nell. She is staying in one of our quarters. I think she has not long to live, and I want you to talk to her."
"Now?"
"Yes, dear, I am going to carry her some breakfast. So, come along, and get your mantle," said the good woman, passing out through the door.
Marian followed, drawing out her pocket handkerchief to tie over her head; and as she did so, the note, unperceived by her, fluttered out, and fell upon the carpet.
Jacquelina impulsively darted upon it, picked it up, opened, and read it. Had Jacquelina first paused to reflect, she would never have done so. But when did the elf ever stop to think? As she read, her eyes began to twinkle, and her feet to patter up and down, and her head to sway from side to side, as if she could scarcely keep from singing and dancing for glee.
"Well, now, who'd a thought it! Thurston making love to Marian! And keeping the courtship close, too, for fear of the old miser. Lord, but look here! This was not right of me? Am I a pocket edition of Miss Nancy Skamp! Forbid it, Titania, Queen of the Fairies! But I didn't steal it—I found it! And I must, oh! must plague Grim a little with this! Forgive me, Marian, but for the life and soul of me, I can't help keeping this to plague Grim! You see, I promised to pay him when he charged me with swallowing an assignation, and now if I don't pay him, if I don't make him perspire till he faints, my name is not Mrs. Professor Grimshaw! Let's see! What shall I do! Oh! Why, can't I pretend to lose it, just as Marian lost it, and drop it where he'll find it? I have it! Eureka!" soliloquized the dancing elf, as she placed her handkerchief in the bottom of her pocket, and the note on top of it, and passed on to the drawing-room to "bide her time."
That soon came. She found the professor and the commodore standing in the middle of the room, in an earnest conversation, which, however, seemed near its close, for as she took her seat, the commodore said:
"Very well—I'll attend to it, Nace," and clapped his hat upon his head, and went out, while the professor dropped himself into a chair, and took up a book.
"Oh, stop, I want to speak to you a minute, uncle." cried Jacquelina, starting up and flying after him, and as she flew, pulling out her handkerchief and letting the note drop upon the floor. A swift, sly, backward glance showed that Grim had pounced upon it like a panther on its prey.
"What in the d——l's name are you running after me for?" burst forth the old man as Jacko overtook him.
"Why, uncle, I want to know if you'll please to give orders in the stable to have the carriage wheels washed off nicely? They neglect it. And I and Marian want to use it this afternoon."
"Go to the deuce! Is that my business?"
Jacquelina laughed; and, quivering through every fibre of her frame with mischief, went back into the drawing-room to see the state of Grim.
To Jacquelina's surprise she found the note lying upon the same spot where she had dropped it. Dr. Grimshaw was standing with his back toward her, looking out of the window. She could not see the expression of his countenance. She stooped and picked up the note, but had scarcely replaced it in her pocket before Dr. Grimshaw abruptly turned, walked up and stood before her and looked in her face. Jacquelina could scarcely suppress a scream; it was as if a ghost had come before her, so blanched was his color, so ghastly his features. An instant he gazed into her eyes, and then passed out and went up-stairs. Jacquelina turned slowly around, looking after him like one magnetized. Then recovering herself, with a deep breath she said:
"Now I ask of all the 'powers that be' generally, what's the meaning of that? He picked up the note and he read it; that's certain. And he dropped it there again to make me believe he had never seen it; that's certain, too. I wonder what he means to do! There'll be fun of some sort, anyway! Stop! here comes Marian from the quarters. I shouldn't wonder if she has missed her note, and hurried back in search of it. Come! I'll take a hint from Grim, and drop it where I found it, and say nothing."
And so soliloquizing, the fairy glided back into the breakfast-room, let the note fall, and turned away just in time to allow Marian to enter, glance around, and pick up her lost treasure. Then joining Marian, she invited her up-stairs to look at some new finery just come from the city.
The forenoon passed heavily at Luckenough. When the dinner hour approached, and the family collected in the dining-room, Dr. Grimshaw was missing; and when a messenger was sent to call him to dinner, an answer was returned that the professor was unwell, and preferred to keep his room.
Jacquelina was quivering between fun and fear—vague, unaccountable fear, that hung over her like a cloud, darkening her bright frolic spirit with a woeful presentiment.
After dinner Marian asked for the carriage, and Mrs. Waugh gave orders that it should be brought around for her use. Jacquelina prepared to accompany Marian home, and in an hour they were ready, and set forth.
"You may tell Grim, if he asks after me, that I am gone home with Marian to Old Fields, and that I am not certain whether I shall return to-night or not," said Jacquelina, as she took leave of Mrs. Waugh.
"My dear Lapwing, if you love your old aunty, come immediately back in the carriage. And, by the way, my dear, I wish you would, either in going or coming, take the post-office, and get the letters and papers," said Mrs. Waugh.
"Let it be in going, then, Mrs. Waugh, for I have not been to the post-office for two days, and there may be something there for us also," said Marian.
"Very well, bright Hebe; as you please, of course," replied good
Henrietta.
And so they parted. Did either dream how many suns would rise and set, how many seasons come and go, how many years roll by, before the two should meet again?
The carriage was driven rapidly on to the village, and drawn up at the post-office. Old Oliver jumped down, and went in to make the necessary inquiries. They waited impatiently until he reappeared, bringing one large letter. There was nothing for Luckenough.
The great double letter was for Marian. She took it, and as the carriage was started again, and drawn toward Old Fields, she examined the post-mark and superscription. It was a foreign letter, mailed from London, and superscribed in the handwriting of her oldest living friend, the pastor who had attended her brother in his prison and at the scene of his death.
Marian, with tearful eyes and eager hands, broke the seal and read, while Jacquelina watched her. For more than half an hour Jacko watched her, and then impatience overcame discretion in the bosom of the fairy, and she suddenly exclaimed:
"Well, Marian! I do wonder what can ail you? You grow pale, and then you grow red; your bosom heaves, the tears come in your eyes, you clasp your hands tightly together as in prayer, then you smile and raise your eyes as in thanksgiving! Now, I do wonder what it all means?"
"It means, dear Jacquelina, that I am the most grateful creature upon the face of the earth, just now; and to-morrow I will tell you why I am so," said Marian, with a rosy smile. And well she might be most grateful and most happy, for that letter had brought her assurance of fortune beyond her greatest desires. On reading the news, her very first thought had been of Thurston. Now the great objection of the miser to their marriage would be removed—the great obstacle to their immediate union overcome. Thurston would be delivered from temptation; she would be saved anxiety and suspense. "Yes; I will meet him this evening; I cannot keep this blessed news from him a day longer than necessary, for this fortune that has come to me will all be his own! Oh, how rejoiced I am to be the means of enriching him! How much good we can both do!"
These were the tumultuous, generous thoughts that sent the flush to Marian's cheeks, the smiles to her lips, and the tears to her eyes; that caused those white fingers to clasp, and those clear eyes to rise to Heaven in thankfulness, as she folded up her treasured letter and placed it in her bosom.
An hour's ride brought them to Old Field Cottage. The sun had not yet set, but the sky was dark with clouds that threatened rain or snow; and therefore Jacquelina only took time to jump out and speak to Edith, shake hands with old Jenny, kiss Miriam, and bid adieu to Marian; and then, saying that she believed she would hurry back on her aunty's account, and that she was afraid she would not get to Luckenough before ten o'clock, anyhow, she jumped into the carriage and drove off.