To no one except Aunt Sarah were the facts of the estrangement and
reconciliation of her relatives ever revealed, and within her faithful
bosom the secret was hidden as securely as in a tomb.
Great was the chagrin of gossips, male and female, when it was known
that Mrs. Hammond's strange flight from her father's house, which
had leaked out nobody knew how, and been variously construed into
an elopement, a freak of derangement, and a deliberate intention
of suicide, according to the degrees of charity possessed by the
theorists, was a very innocent and unromantic journey to the country
home of her favorite aunt and godmother, a lady of ample fortune and
benevolent heart, who would, in all probability, make her namesake
her heiress. Under her care, and for the benefit of the seclusion so
congenial to one in her affliction, and the salt air so necessary for
the restoration of her impaired health, Mrs. Hammond had remained until
her husband's return from abroad.
Mrs. Hunt had told Mrs. A., who had told Mrs. B., who repeated it to
Mrs. C., how he had not stopped in New York an hour after he stepped
ashore from the "Adriatic." He hurried to the bank, and ascertained
from Mr. Hunt that his wife was with her aunt, and that a boat which
would land him near Shrewsbury was to leave in fifteen minutes. So he
drove down post-haste, and jumped on board of her after the plank had
been drawn and the wheels began to move. There never was a more devoted
husband or a more attached pair, Mrs. Hunt affirmed.
"More than she could say for that flirting Mrs. Benson and her other
half," agreed A., B. and C., unanimously.
"Her conduct at Newport was scandalous, and would have been outrageous
if he had not watched her like a lynx!" said Mrs. Beau Monde, who had
never been able to secure one-half as many admirers as had Lucy, and
hated her as honestly as if they were a couple of Biddies pulling caps
for Patrick or Murphy.
"I don't see why he should have felt jealous, I am sure. He wasn't
dying of love for her! That could be seen with half an eye. They say
he loved Mrs. Hammond before he addressed her sister, and married this
one out of spite," rejoined Mrs. Townes, who had made beaux yeux at the
distingue Southerner for three whole evenings, and won only the most
indifferent glances in requital.
"Mrs. Hammond behaved very prudently!" pronounced Mrs. Greyling, "and
dressed very well. I suppose Mr. Hammond brought her some elegant
things from abroad. Pity she is in mourning, and must dress plainly at
present! If I were in her place--as it was only a baby--I would not
wear black more than six months, unless it was very becoming."
"She has become very religious, you know," said Mrs. Parton.
"Indeed! People are apt to, I think, when there has been death in the
family," concluded Mrs. Greyling, pensively. "I remember, when my poor
sister died, I used to look forward to church and Sunday with real
pleasure. I could not go anywhere on week-days, you know, although
there were piles of tickets lying in my card-receiver, and we had just
taken a box at the opera that very winter! I declare, I should have
lost the run of the fashions entirely, and forgotten people's faces, if
I had not gone to church. I dare say, too, that she finds some comfort
in religion--poor woman! if what the preachers and good books tell us
be true."
Had Sarah found comfort?
Look we, for reply, to the chastened lustre of the eye, where once
burned restless fires, like the sunward gaze of the imprisoned eagle;
to the holy serenity struggling through and finally dispelling the
clouds of memory and regret that, at times, would roll in between
her soul and the bright, sustaining hope upon which Faith would have
its regards forever fixed; to her daily life, sanctified by prayer,
beneficent in good works, and by its unostentatious loveliness winning
others, first to admire, then to imitate; to the wifely submission and
loving kindness of her bearing to her husband, her grateful estimate of
the affection he lavished upon her, the deep, true tenderness growing
up in her heart for this fond and noble companion; look we, lastly,
to the snowy marble guarding that tiny mound in Greenwood, where the
mother once believed that hope and joy were buried to know no awakening.
"BABY BELLE,"
infant daughter of
LEWIS AND SARAH HAMMOND.
She went home
July 16, 1858, aged 8 months.
"Is it well with thee? Is it well with thy husband?
Is it well with the child?"
And she answered, "It is well!"
[THE END.]
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE:
Obvious printer errors have been corrected. Otherwise, the author's
original spelling, punctuation and hyphenation have been left intact.