Pansy wrote to her mother of Colonel Falconer’s death, and in return
received some unexpected news.
Mr. Finley, after he recovered from the long spell that had followed
upon his fall and the injury to his head, had become more brutal and
morose than ever, and made life with him very hard to bear. Finally
he announced his intention of selling out all his property and going
to California to invest the proceeds in real estate. He told his
long-suffering wife that he was tired of her, and did not propose to
take her with him. She acquiesced very thankfully in this decision, and
the brute had gone away several months before, and no more had been
heard of him, much to her joy and relief, for she had long ago repented
her unfortunate second marriage.
Soon after Finley left, Willie had returned, and, to her surprise, he
had been hard at work in New York, and brought back his savings. He
was bitterly repentant for his wicked deed, and would write to his
sister and tell her how much he had suffered from remorse. Mrs. Finley
added that she was going to help her son set up business for himself,
that he might marry little Kate North, to whom he was now engaged, with
the free consent of her parents.
“Poor brother Willie! I am glad he is going to be so happy,” thought
Pansy, without a shadow of anger against the hot-headed boy; and then
she read on, and found that Alice and Nora were still at school in
Staunton. They were learning fast, and sent much love to their sister,
and grieved for the good brother-in-law who had been so generous to
them all.
“But why does she not say something about my boy, my little Pet, who,
perhaps, has some other name, now that Norman knows he is his son?”
thought Pansy impatiently; but on turning the next page she read these
words:
Judge Wylde died last week, and they say he left a pretty penny to
his family, though I don’t think Norman needs it much, he’s getting
rich so fast with his law business. He works so hard, they say,
that he has no time for any one but his child. He has given it the
name of Charley for your poor, dead father, which I think was quite
nice of him. I see the little fellow often, as the Wyldes are quite
friendly with me; also that good Mrs. Meade, who says she was quite
certain from the first that things would turn out as they have. I
haven’t seen Norman since your husband died. I don’t know how he
takes it, but I hope you and he will make it up some time, as it
can’t do Colonel Falconer--poor, dear saint--any good for you to stay
always a widow. But forgive me, dear daughter, for I know your sorrow
is too deep for me to hint at such things yet.
Pansy sat silent for a long time, brooding over those words, and her
breast heaved with many hopeless sighs.
“No one need ever think of that,” she thought mournfully. “Norman will
never forgive me for what I did. He will think always that it was for
Colonel Falconer’s money, not for pity’s sake.”
And at thought of her little child, her beautiful Charley, out of whose
love she had been tricked and cheated by her wicked stepfather, Pansy
wept most bitterly and longingly.
“Whether he ever forgives me or not, I must see my child sometimes,”
she thought; but she determined that she would spend her year of
mourning at the villa. Life was not so unhappy since Juliette had
repented her wickedness and fallen in love with her uncle’s wife. They
had become fast friends, and Juliette now prayed earnestly that the
time would come when Pansy would again be Norman’s wife.