BEE.
And coldly from that noble heart,
In all its glowing youth,
His lore had turned and spurned apart
Its tenderness and truth--
Let him alone to live, or die--
Alone!--Yet, who is she?
Some guardian angel from the sky,
To bless and aid him?--Bee!
_--Anon._
Ishmael received many other invitations. One morning, while he was
seated at the table in his office, Walter Middleton entered, saying:
"Ishmael, leave reading over those stupid documents and listen to
me. I am going to Saratoga for a month. Come with me; it will do you
good."
"Thank you all the same, Walter; but I cannot leave the city now,"
said Ishmael.
"Nonsense! there is but little doing; and now, if ever, you should
take some recreation."
"But I am busy with getting up some troublesome cases for the next
term."
"And that's worse than nonsense! Leave the cases alone until the
court sits; take some rest and recreation and you will find it pay
well in renewed vigor of body and mind. I that tell you so am an M.
D., you know."
"I thank you, Dr. Middleton, and when I find myself growing weak I
will follow your prescription," smiled Ishmael, rising and beginning
to tie up his documents.
"And that's a signal for my dismissal, I suppose. Off to the City
Hall again this morning?" inquired Walter.
"Yes; to keep an appointment," replied Ishmael. And the friends
separated.
Later in the day, when the young attorney had returned and was
spending his leisure hour in going on with the book-packing, Judge
Merlin entered and threw himself into a chair and for some moments
watched the packer.
"What is that you are doing now, Ishmael? Oh, I see; doctoring a
sick book!"
"Well, I dislike to see a fine volume that has served us faithfully
and seen hard usage perish for the want of a moment's attention; it
is but that which is required when we have the mucilage at hand," he
said, smiling and pointing to the bottle and brush, and then
deposited the book in its packing-case.
"But that is not what I come to talk to you about. Have you found a
proper room for an office yet?"
"Yes; I have a suite of rooms on the first floor of a house on
Louisiana Avenue. The front room I shall use for a public office,
the middle one for a private office, and the back one, which opens
upon a pleasant porch and a garden, for a bedchamber; for I shall
lodge there and board with the family," replied Ishmael.
"That seems to be a pleasant arrangement. But, Ishmael, take my
advice and engage a clerk immediately;--you will want one before
long, anyhow--and put him in your rooms to watch your business, and
do you take a holiday. Come down to Tanglewood for a month. You need
the change. After the wilderness of houses and men you want the
world of trees and birds. At least I do, and I judge you by myself."
Ishmael smiled, thanked his kind friend cordially, and then, in
terms as courteous as he could devise, declined the invitation,
giving the same reasons for doing so that he had already given first
to Mr. Brudenell and next to Walter Middleton.
"Well, Ishmael, I will not urge you, for I know by past experience
when you have once made up your mind to a course of conduct you deem
right, nothing on earth will turn you aside from it. But see here!
why do you go through all that drudgery? Why not order Powers to
pack those books?"
"Powers is a pearl in his own way; but he cannot pack books; and
besides, he has no respect for them."
"No feeling, you mean! he would not dress their wounds before
putting them to bed in those boxes!"
"No."
"Well, 'a wilfu' mon maun ha' his way,'" said the judge, taking up
the evening paper and burying himself in its perusal. That same
night, while Ishmael, having finished his day's work, was refreshing
himself by strolling through the garden, inhaling the fragrance of
flowers, listening to the gleeful chirp of the joyous little
insects, and watching the light of the stars, he heard an advancing
step behind him, and presently his arm was taken by Mr. Middleton,
who, walking on with him, said:
"What are you going to do with yourself, Ishmael?"
"Put myself to work like a beaver!"
"Humph! that will be nothing new for you. But I came out here to
induce you to reconsider that resolution. I wish to persuade you to
join us at Beacon House. That high promontory stretching far out to
sea and exposed to all the sea breezes will be the very place to
recruit your health at. Come, what say you?"
Ishmael's eyes grew moist as he grasped Mr. Middleton's hand and
said:
"Three invitations of this sort I have already had--this is the
fourth. My friends are too kind. I know not how I have won such
friendship or deserved such kindness. But I cannot avail myself of
the pleasant quarters they offer me. I cannot, at present, leave
Washington, except at such a sacrifice of professional duties as
they would not wish me to make. Mr. Middleton, I thank you heartily
all the same."
"Well, Ishmael, I am sorry to lose your company; but not sorry for
the cause of the loss. The pressure of business that confines you to
the city during the recess argues much for your popularity and
success. But, my dear boy, pray consider my invitation as a standing
one, and promise me to avail yourself of it the first day you can do
so."
"Thank you; that I will gladly do, Mr. Middleton."
"And when you come, remain with us as long as you can without
neglecting your duty."
"Indeed I will."
At that moment a light rustle through the bushes was heard and Bee
joined them, saying:
"Papa, if I were to tell you the dew is falling heavily and the
grass is wet, and it is not good for you or Ishmael to be out here,
you might not heed me. But when I say that uncle has gone with
General Tourneysee to a political pow-wow, and mamma and myself are
quite alone and would like to amuse ourselves with a game of whist,
perhaps you will come in and be our partners."
"Why, certainly, Busy Bee; for if anyone in this world deserves play
after work it is you," replied Mr. Middleton.
"Right face! forward! march!" then said Bee; and she led her
captives out of the night air and into the house.
Early the next morning Ishmael was surprised by a fifth invitation
to a country house. It was contained in a letter from Reuben Gray,
which was as follows:
"Woodside,--Monday Morning.
"My Deer Ishmael:--Hannah and me, we hav bin a havin of a talk about
you. You see the judge he wrote to me a spell back, a orderin of me
to have the house got reddy for him comin home. And he menshunned,
permiskuously like, as you was not lookin that well as you orter.
But Hannah and me, we thort as how is was all along o that
botheration law business as you was upset on your helth. And as how
you'd get better when the Court riz. But now the Court is riz, and
pears like you aint no ways better from all accounts. And tell you
how we knowed. See Hannah and me, we got a letter from Mrs. Whaley
as keeps the 'Farmers.' Well she rote to Hannah and me to send her
up some chickins and duks and eggs and butter and other fresh frutes
and vegetubbles, which she sez as they doo ask sich onlawful prices
for em in the city markits as she cant conshuenshusly giv it. So she
wants Hannah and me to soopli her. And mabee we may and mabee we
maynt; but that's nyther here nur there. Wot Hannah and me wants to
say is this--as how Mrs. Whaley she met you in the street
incerdentul. And she sez as how she newer saw no wun look no wusser
than you do! Now, Ishmael, Hannah and me, we sees how it is. Youre
a-killin of yourself jest as fast as ever you can, which is no
better than Susanside, because it is agin natur and agin rillijun to
kill wunself for a livin. So Hannah and me, we wants you to drap
everythink rite outen your hands and kum home to us. Wot you want is
a plenty of good kuntre air and water, and nun o your stifeld up
streets and pizen pumps. And plenty o good kuntre eetin and drinkin
and nun o your sickly messes. So you kum. Hannah and me is got a
fine caff and fat lamm to kill soon as ever you git here. And lots o
young chickins and duks. And the gratest kwontity o frute, peeehes,
peers, plums, and kanterlopes and warter millions in plenty. And the
hamberg grapes is kummin on. And we hav got a noo cow, wun o the
sort cawld durrums, which she doo give the richest milk as ever you
drinked and if ennything will set you up it is that. And likewise we
hav got the noo fashund fowls as people are all runnin mad about.
They cawl em shank hyes pun count o there long leggs, which they is
about the longest as ever you saw. And the way them fowls doo stryde
and doo eet is a cawshun to housekeepers. They gobble up everything.
And wot doo you think. You know Sally's brestpin, as Jim bawt her
for a kristmus gift. Well she happened to drap it offen her buzzum,
inter the poultry yard, and soons ever she mist it she run rite out
after it; but the shank-hye rooster he run fastern she did with his
long legs and gobbled it rite down, afore his eyes. And the poor
gals bin a howlin and bawlin and brakin of her poor hart ebout it
ever since. She wanted us--Hannah and me to kill the shank-hye; to
git the brestpin; but as we had onlee a pare on em we tolde her how
it was too vallabel for that. But Hannah and me we give the shank
hye a dose of eepeekak, in hope it would make him throw up the
brestpin; but it dident; for the eepeekak set on his stomik like an
angel, as likewise did the brestpin; and Hannah and me thinks he
diggested em both. Well, they aint daintee in their wittels them
shank hyes. Now bee shure to kum, Ishmael. Hannah and me and the
young uns and Sally will awl be so glad to see you and you can role
in clover awl day if you like. And now I have ralely no more noose
to tell you; only that I rote this letter awl outen my own hed
without Hannah helpin of me. Dont you think as Ime improvin? Hannah
and the little uns and Sally jine me in luv to you mi deer Ishmael.
And Ime your effectshunit frend till deth do us part.
"Reuben Gray.
"Post Cript. Ive jist redd this letter to Hannah. And she doo say as
every uther wurd is rote rong. I dont think they is; becawse Ive got
a sartain roole to spell rite; which is--I think how a word sownde
and then I spell it accordin. But law, Ishmael! ever sense Hannah
has been teechin them young uns o ourn to reede there primmers, shes
jest got to be the orfullest Bloo Stokkin as evver was. Dont tell
her I sed so tho, for she ralely is wun of the finest wimmin livin
and Ime prowd of her and her young uns. So no more at present onle
kum.
"R.G."
Grateful for this kind invitation as he had been for any that had
been given him, Ishmael sat down immediately and answered the
letter, saying to Reuben, as he had said to others, that he would
thankfully accept his offered hospitality as soon as his duties
would permit him to do so.
The last day of the family's sojourn in town came. On the morning of
that day Mr. Brudenell took leave of his friends and departed,
exacting from Ishmael a renewal of his promise to visit Brudenell
Hall in the course of the summer. On that last day Ishmael completed
the packing of the books and sent them off to the boat that was to
convey them to the Tanglewood landing. And then he had all his own
personal effects conveyed to his new lodgings. And finally he sought
an interview with Bee. That was not so easily obtained, however. Bee
was excessively busy on this last day. But Ishmael, with the
privilege of an inmate, went through the house, looking for her,
until he found her in the family storeroom, busy among the jars and
cans, and attended by her maids.
"Come in, Ishmael, for this concerns you," she said pleasantly.
And Ishmael entered, wondering what he could be supposed to have to
do with preserved fruits and potted meats.
Bee pointed to a box that was neatly packed with small jars, saying:
"There, Ishmael--there are some sealed fruits and vegetables, and
some spiced meats and fish, and a bachelor's lamp and kettle, in
that case which Ann is closing down. They are yours. Direct Jim
where to find your lodgings, and he will take them there in the
wheelbarrow. And there is a keg of crackers and biscuits to go with
them."
"Dearest Bee, I am very grateful; but why should you give me all
these things?" inquired Ishmael, in surprise.
"Because you are going away from home, and you will want them. Yes,
you will, Ishmael, though you don't think so now. Often business
will detain you out in the evening until after your boarding-house
supper is over. Then how nice to have the means at hand to get a
comfortable little meal for yourself in your own room without much
trouble. Why, Ishmael, we always put up such a box as this for
Walter when he leaves us. And do you think that mamma or I would
make any difference between you?"
"You have always been a dear--yes, the dearest of sisters to me! and
some day, Bee--" He stopped, and looked around. The maids were at
some distance, but still he felt that the family storeroom was not
exactly the place to say what was on his heart for her, so he
whispered the question:
"How long will you be engaged here, dear Bee?"
"Until tea time. It will take me quite as long as that to get
through what I have to do."
"And then, Bee?"
"Then I shall be at leisure to pass this last evening with you,
Ishmael," answered Bee, meeting his wish with the frankness of pure
affection.
"And will you walk with me in the garden after tea? It will be our
last stroll together there," he said rather sadly.
"Yes; I will walk with you, Ishmael. The garden is lovely just at
sunset."
"Thank you, dearest Bee. Ah! how many times a day I have occasion to
speak these words!"
"I wish you would leave them off altogether, then, Ishmael. I always
understand that you thank me far more than I deserve."
"Never! How could I? 'Thank you!' they are but two words. How could
they repay you, Bee? Dearest, this evening you shall know how much I
thank you. Until then, farewell." He pressed her hand and left her.
Now Ishmael was far too clear-sighted not to have seen that Bee had
fixed her pure maidenly affections upon him, and to see also that
Bee's choice was well approved by her parents, who had long loved
him as a son. While Ishmael's hands had been busy with the book-
packing his thoughts had been busy with Bee and with the problem
that her love presented him. He had loved Claudia with an all-
absorbing passion. But she had left him and married another, and so
stricken a deathblow to his love. But this love was dying very hard,
and in its death-struggles was rending and tearing the heart which
was its death-bed.
And in the meantime Bee's love was alive and healthy, and it was
fixed on him. He was not insensible, indifferent, ungrateful for
this dear love. Indeed, it was the sweetest solace that he had in
this world. He felt in the profoundest depths of his heart all the
loveliness of Bee's nature. And most tenderly he loved her--as a
younger sister. What then should he do? Offer to Bee the poor,
bleeding heart that Claudia had played with, broken, and cast aside
as worthless? All that was true, noble, and manly in Ishmael's
nature responded:
"God forbid!"
But what then should he do? Leave her to believe him insensible,
indifferent, ungrateful? Strike such a deathblow to her loving heart
as Claudia had stricken to his? All that was generous, affectionate
and devoted in Ishmael's nature cried out: "No! forbid it, angels in
heaven!"
But what then could he do? The magnanimity of his nature answered:
"Open your heart to her; that she may know all that is in it; then
lay that heart at her feet, for accepting or rejecting."
And this he resolved to do. And this resolution sent him to beg this
interview with Bee. Yet before going to keep it he determined to
speak to Mr. Middleton. He felt certain that Mr. Middleton would
indorse his addresses to his daughter; yet still his fine sense of
honor constrained him to seek the consent of the father before
proposing to the daughter. And with this view in mind immediately
upon leaving Bee he sought Mr. Middleton.
He found that gentleman walking about in the garden, enjoying his
afternoon cigar. In these afternoon promenades Mr. Middleton, who
was the shorter and slighter as well as the older man, often did
Ishmael the honor of leaning upon his arm. And now Ishmael went up
to his side and with a smile silently offered the usual support.
"Thank you, my boy! I was just feeling the want of your friendly
arm. My limbs are apt to grow tired of walking before my eyes are
satiated with gazing or my mind with reflecting on the beauty of the
summer evening," said Mr. Middleton, slipping his arm within that of
Ishmael.
"Sir," said the young man, blushing slightly, "a selfish motive has
brought me to your side this afternoon."
"A selfish motive, Ishmael! I do not believe that you are capable of
entertaining one," smiled Mr. Middleton.
"Indeed, yes, sir; you will say so when you hear of it."
"Let me hear of it, then, Ishmael, for the novelty of the thing."
The young man hesitated for a few moments and then said:
"Mr. Middleton--Mr. Brudenell has, I believe, put you in possession
of the facts relative to my birth?"
"Yes, my dear Ishmael; but let me assure you that I did not need to
be told of them. Do you remember the conversation we had upon the
subject years ago? It was the morning after the school party when
that miserable craven, Alfred Burghe, disgraced himself by insulting
you. You said, Ishmael, 'My mother was a pure and honorable woman!
Oh, believe it!' I did believe it then, Ishmael; for your words and
tones and manner carried irresistible conviction to my mind. And
every year since I have been confirmed in my belief. You, Ishmael,
are the pledge of your parents' honor as well as of their love. 'Men
do not gather grapes of thorns, nor figs of thistles,'" said Mr.
Middleton earnestly.
"And yet, sir, I have suffered and may again suffer reproach that
neither myself nor my parents deserved," said Ishmael gravely.
"You never will again, Ishmael. You have overcome the world."
"Thank you! thank you, sir! I purposely reminded you of this old
injustice. You do not regard me the less for having suffered it?"
"The less! No, my boy; but the more, for having overcome it!"
"Again I thank you from the depths of my heart. You have known me
from boyhood, Mr. Middleton; and you may be said to know my
character and my prospects better than anyone else in the world
does; better, even, than I know them myself."
"I think that quite likely to be true."
"Well, sir, I hope in a few years to gain an established reputation
and a moderate competency by my practice at the bar."
"You will gain fame and wealth, Ishmael."
"Well, sir, if ever by the blessing of Heaven I do attain these
distinctions, taking everything else into consideration, would you,
sir, would you then--"
"What, Ishmael? Speak out, my boy?"
"Accept me as a son?"
"Do you want me to give you Bee?" gravely inquired Mr. Middleton.
"When I shall be more worthy of her, I do."
"Have you Bee's consent to speak to me on this subject?"
"No, sir; I have not yet addressed Miss Middleton. I could not
venture to do so without your sanction. It is to obtain it that I
have come to you this evening. I would like very much to have an
understanding with Miss Middleton before we part for an indefinite
time."
Mr. Middleton fell into deep thought. It was some minutes before he
spoke. When he did, it was to say:
"Ishmael, Bee is my eldest daughter and favorite child."
"I know it, sir," answered the young man.
"Parents ought not to have favorites among their children; but how
can I help it? Bee is almost an angel."
"I know it, sir," said Ishmael.
"Oh, yes; you know it! you know it!" exclaimed Mr. Middleton, half
laughing and not far from crying; "but do you know what you do when
you ask a father to give up his best beloved daughter?"
"Indeed I think I do, sir; but--daughters must some time or other
become wives," said Ishmael, with a deprecating smile.
"Yes, it is true!" sighed Mr. Middleton. "Well, Ishmael, since in
the course of nature I must some day give my dear daughter up, I
would rather give her to you than to any man on earth, for I have a
great esteem and affection for you, Ishmael."
"Indeed, sir, it is mutual!" replied the young man, grasping the
hand of his friend.
"It is just the state of feeling that should exist between father-
and son-in-law," said Mr. Middleton.
"I have your sanction, then, to speak to Bee?"
"Yes, Ishmael, yes; I will give her to you! But not yet, my dear
boy; for several reasons not just yet! You are both very young yet;
you are but little over twenty-one; she scarcely nineteen; and
besides her mother still needs her assistance in taking care of the
children; and I--must get used to the idea of parting with her; so
you must wait a year or two longer, Ishmael! She is well worth
waiting for."
"I know it! Oh, I know it well, sir! I have seen women as beautiful,
as amiable, and as accomplished; but I never, no, never met with one
so 'altogether lovely' as Bee! And I thank you, sir! Oh, I thank you
more than tongue can tell for the boon you have granted me. You will
not lose your daughter, sir; but you will gain a son; and I will be
a true son to you. sir, as Heaven hears me! And to her I will be a
true lover and husband. Her happiness shall be the very first object
in my life, sir; nothing in this world over which I have the
slightest control shall be suffered to come into competition with
it."
"I am--I am sure of that, my boy!" replied Mr. Middleton, in a
broken voice.
"And I do not presume to wish to hurry either you or her, sir; I am
willing to wait your leisure and hers; all I want now is to have an
understanding with Bee, and to be admitted to the privileges of an
accepted lover. You could trust me so far, sir?"
"Trust you so far! Why, Ishmael, there is no limit to my trust in
you!"
"And Mrs. Middleton, sir?"
"Why, Ishmael, she loves you as one of her own children; and I do
think you would disappoint and grieve her if you were to marry out
of the family. I will break the matter to Mrs. Middleton. Go find
Bee, and speak to her of this matter, and when you have won her
consent, bring her to me that I may join your hands and bless your
betrothal."
Ishmael fervently pressed the hand of his kind friend and left him.
Of course Bee, who was still busy with her maids in the store-room,
was not to be spoken to on that subject at that hour. But Ishmael
went up to his own room to reflect.
Perhaps the whole key to Ishmael's conduct in this affair might have
been found in the words he used when pleading with his father the
cause of the Countess of Hurstmonceux; he said:
"It seems to me, if any young lady had loved me so, I must have
loved her fondly in return; I could not have helped doing so."
And he could not. There was something too warm, generous, and noble
in Nora's son to be so insensible as all that.
His inspiration also instructed him that not the beautiful and
imperious Claudia, but the lovely and loving Bee was his Heaven-
appointed wife.
He was inspired when in his agony that dreadful night he had cried
out: "By a woman came sin and death into the world, and by a woman
came redemption and salvation! Oh! Claudia, my Eve, farewell! And
Bee, my Mary, hail!"
And now that he was about to betroth himself to Bee, and make her
happy, he himself felt happier than he had been for many days. He
felt sure, too, that when his heart should recover from its wounds
he should love Bee with a deeper, higher, purer, and more lasting
affection than ever his fierce passion for Claudia could have
become.