"No I am sure it never answers at least not in most cases and in ours it
would not I am convinced; but I had a pretty hard battle about it I
assure you Ada."
"I had no idea until now that they wished it" returned Ada. "but I am
very glad you did not agree to it."
(The matter under consideration was, if it were desirable that young
couples should reside with the parents of either; but Charles Ashton
knew his mother's disposition too well, to subject his wife to it,
though he was a very good son and loved his mother. He had no wish, nor
did he consider himself at liberty to place his wife in a position that
he knew might make her very unhappy. Nor did he think that such an
arrangement would promote domestic bliss. He was a particularly quiet
easy going fellow, very averse to exertion of any kind and seldom
troubled himself to oppose any arrangements, usually agreeing to any
proposition for the sake of peace and quietness. But for all that he had
a will of his own, and when he had once made up his mind, nothing on
earth could move him. Before he married he gave the matter careful
considertion, and came to the conclusion that it must never be--never
Ada would be his wife, and no mortal should breathe a word against her
in his hearing--therefore it must never be. Having come to this
conclusion he waited until the subject should be broached by either of
his parents, knowing very well that when that topic should be discussed,
then would come the tug of war, and he was not at all anxious for it. It
soon came however, his father proposed that he should bring his bride
there, saying, "there is plenty of room for all." But Charles was not so
sure of that, and feared that the house might possibly become too hot to
hold them, but merely stated quietly that he had decided otherwise. Then
arose a perfect storm, but he was firm. His mother asked with her
handkerchief to her eyes, if she was to lose her boy altogether. While
Lord Ashton requested to be informed what his plans might be.
"To live in England" he answered.
"What might be his objection to Ashton Park."
He had nothing to say against Ashton Park, but he wished to reside in
England.
Very well, they would go to England, and all live together, that would
be charming Lady Ashton said.
"He should like them to live in England, but as to living together, that
was out of the question," Charles replied.
"Whereupon Lady Ashton was highly offended and very angry. Charles was
quiet, but firm, all they could urge was useless, he would not hear of
it.) "It might answer in Arthur's case" he returned, by the way Ada is
it not strange we have never heard anything of them, poor Louisa,
I suppose boarding school did not answer her expectations, as she left
it so soon."
"Can you wonder at it, situated as she was."
"It was natural no doubt, and Arthur could be so winning, he always was
a favourite with the ladies."
"Oh well, he is a nice fellow you must admit."
"I don't deny it, I always liked him very much, but still I think that
sort of thing, is not right, but he always was impetuous, never
considered anything, but just acted on the spur of the moment, and he is
very soft hearted" he added laughing. "I wonder if the old gentleman
knows it."
"Your mother was always ambitious for him, don't you remember how afraid
she was about Isabel" asked Ada.
"Yes, and the daughter of his tutor does not come up to the mark."
"I should think her own daughter's child might at all events."
"But she never regards her in that light, never will I fear."
"Somebody wishes to see you Sir, very particularly please," said
Thomson.
"Who is it? Thomson."
"Don't know I'm sure Sir, she would not give any name, but is very
anxious to see you, I said you were engaged, but she replied I that she
must see you to-night, it was very important."
"What sort of a person is she?" asked Ada.
"A lady madam, quite a lady I should say, only in trouble, she says she
knew master in America."
"I must see her, I suppose, where is she."
"In the study, sir."
The stranger was standing by the fire-place, as he entered she made an
impatient gesture for him to close the door, then threw herself at his
feet passionately imploring him to help and protect her, and throwing
aside her thick vail, disclosed the features of Louisa, but so altered
that he was perfectly shocked and amazed. He could scarcely believe that
the haggered emaciated being before him, was indeed the pretty,
impulsive, fiery, Louisa, but such was the case, and anger, compassion
and indignation filled his heart, as he listened to the recital of her
misfortunes.
As the reader is already acquainted with a portion of Louisa's story,
we will not repeat it here, but only record such circumstances as have
not appeared in these pages. On arriving at her grandfather's she
encountered a storm of angry abuse, and was driven from the door with a
stern command never to return, as she had forfeited all claims upon him,
and might die in a ditch for all he cared. She managed to get about a
mile from the house, and then overcome with fatigue and misery she sank
down exhausted.
How long she remained there she had no idea, when she recovered she was
among strangers, who were very kind. She had had a brain fever, and was
in the hospital When asked for the address of her friends, she replied
that she had none. But afterward she remembered that her Uncle Charles
had always been kind to her, and had occasionally procured her little
indulgences from her stern, cold-hearted, grand-mother, and that it had
been mainly through his interference that she had been sent to school.
She therefore determined to seek his aid, and accept a small loan from
the doctor, to enable her to do so, long and weary had the journey been,
and she implored Charles not to send her away. She knew she said that it
would not be for long, and entreated him to let her die in peace.
Charles assured her that she should want for nothing, and commended her
for coming to him, and expressed in no measured terms his disapprobation
of his father's cruel conduct, but was abruptly silenced by Louisa
falling senseless on the floor. His violent ringing of the bell, brought
not only the servants, but Ada also, to his assistance; medical aid was
quickly procured. That night her child was born, and when morning
dawned, Louisa lay still and cold in that last long sleep from which no
mortal could awake her. Sleep in thy marble beauty, poor little Louisa,
and perhaps that sad fate may soften the hearts of thy cruel
grandparent. Oh not as it has been fulfilled did the dying Evangeline
understand the promise made with regard to the little Louisa. Oh how
often was the stillness of the night broken by the bitter sobs of the
desolate little orphan whose aching heart sought for love in vain. Then
can we wonder that when this lonely one, did find one to love, that she
should willingly listen to his persuasions in hopes of a happy future,
rather than endure any longer such a cheerless existence.
In the early morning a violent knocking at the hall door brought Thomson
from his gossip with the other servants.
"Is there not a lady--a widow lady, staying here?" inquired an old
gentleman in an agitated voice, while the cab driver beat his arms on
the pavement. "Is not this Mr. Ashton's?" he added, as Thomson
hesitated. Thomson answered in the affirmative, and the old gentleman
continued, "Is the lady here? Can I see your master? answer me quickly
don't be so stupid."
"A lady came last night but, but," stammered Thomson "she,"
"Is she here now, I say," he cried angrily.
"Yes sir, but--
"Say no more, just tell your master I want to see him immediately, stop,
take my card, here, now be quick."
Poor Thomas was quite bewildered by the old gentleman's manner. I'm
blest he murmured if I know what we're coming to next, Lord Barrington,
what does he want I should like to know.
"Why Ada, it is Lord Barrington," exclaimed Charles.
"How very fortunate," returned Ada "of course he will take charge of the
baby, I confess I was in a quandary for I do not relish the idea of
having the care of it, poor little thing."
"Nor I either, but I am not so sure that he will take it, it is much
more likely he has come to row me about the whole affair."
"You! Why, what had you to do with it?"
"No more than you had; but I must see him at once, I suppose."
"Shall I go, too?" asked Ada, timidly.
"Not at present: if there is to be a storm, I do not see why you should
be in it."
"He is such a dreadful old man, is he not?"
"Not usually; he was always very, very kind to Arthur."
"Not to his wife," she replied, vainly endeavoring to repress her tears.
"No, very cruel; but you must not grieve so much about it, dearest Ada."
"I cannot help it, it is so terribly shocking."
"But it is past, now: she is at rest, she is happy; even her lifeless
remains look calm--the weary, weary look exchanged for one of peace."
"True, but it is so dreadful; if we had only known before," she sobbed.
"I wish we had, with all my soul," returned Charles, "but you really
must not distress yourself so, or I shall have to keep the poor old gent
waiting."
"Go to him, Charley; I shall feel better presently."
He found his Lordship impatiently pacing the room. "I am seeking my
daughter-in-law; she is here, I believe," he said, after the first
salutations were over.
"She is here," Charles answered gravely, "at least her remains; she died
last night."
"Dead! dead!" repeated Lord Barrington, putting his hand to his head.
"Then I have nothing left."
"But the child," interposed Charles.
"The child--what child?"
"The babe born last night."
"He did not heed the answer, but seemed overpowered by the news of
Louisa's death. "Let me see Arthur's wife," he said, after a few minutes
had elapsed. Charles conducted him to the darkened apartment, where he
gazed in agony upon the worn, but calm features of poor Louisa. And as
he thought of his harshness, and Arthur's words, "make not her coming
alone harder by one word or look," his grief became so violent and
excessive that Charles was quite nonplussed, and went to consult Ada as
to what should be done. In accordance with their plan, Ada took the
frail little piece of humanity, and, approaching Lord Barrington, as he
bent in sorrow over the corpse, said softly, "You have lost Arthur, and
Arthur's wife, but you still have Arthur's child," and she laid the babe
in his arms.
His tears fell on its tiny face, but the sight of it, and its
helplessness, did him good. "Oh, Arthur! Arthur!" he moaned, why did you
doubt your old father? how would I have welcomed your wife if you had
brought her home at first! aye, as I now welcome this child--Arthur's
child," he added, looking at it fondly.
He had the corpse conveyed to Barrington, and placed in the family
vault, and erected a monument--very beautiful, indeed--beside the one he
had already placed there in memory of his son, inscribed:
To
LOUISA,
the beloved wife of Arthur,
only son of
LORD BARRINGTON OF BARRINGTON,
Aged 16 years.
He also placed another in the little burying-place at Z----:
In memory of
ARTHUR,
only son of LORD BARRINGTON, of Barrington Park, England,
aged 23 years,
who was suddenly attacked with a fatal fever,
in a foreign land,
when on his way home.
When Lady Ashton arrived, shortly afterwards, and heard what had taken
place, she was in a terrible fume. "Oh! my dear, what a misfortune. How
unlucky for her to come here: why did you let her stay, Charles?"
"Why did I let her stay? Say, rather, why did you send her away?"
"Yes, why did you let her stay?" she repeated, angrily. "Why did you not
let her go to the hospital?"
"Or die in the street," added Charles, scarcely able to keep his temper,
for he was angry and hurt to think how Louisa had been treated.
"Goodness knows what people will say: no doubt all kinds of strange
stories will be circulated. I feel for you, Ada, my dear; I do, indeed."
"Don't be alarmed, my dear mother, as to rumors and strange stories,"
said Charles, handing her a newspaper, and pointing out the following:
DIED.--At the residence of Charles Ashton, Esq. LOUISA, wife of
the late Hon. Arthur Barrington, and grand-daughter of Sir Edward
Ashton of Brierley.
"Charles, how dared you?" cried his mother, reddening with anger, "your
father will be excessively angry."
"I cannot help that: it is the truth, is it not?"
"True? of course you know it is; but, for all that, you need not have
published it in that absurd manner."
"I thought it best."
"And you are simple enough to think that that notice will prevent absurd
stories getting abroad."
"As to who she might be, yes; and, as to the circumstances that brought
her here, I presume you would prefer any, rather than the right ones,
should be assigned."
Lady Ashton was for once abashed, and her eye dropped beneath the
severity of her son's gaze; but, recovering quickly, she answered, "you,
at least, have nothing to do with that."
"I am thankful to say I have not," he returned, "I cannot forget it, it
makes me perfectly wretched; and, but that I know that Ada has her own
home to go to, if anything happened to me I don't know what I should do.
I shall insure my life this very day, that she may be independent. If a
daughter's child could be so treated, why not a son's wife."
For goodness' sake stop, Charles!" cried his mother, "don't talk so
dreadfully."
"I feel it bitterly, mother; indeed I do," he replied, and hastily left
the room. He would not have done so, however, had he known the storm he
had left Ada to be the unhappy recipient of. She was perfectly terrified
at the violence of Lady Ashton's wrath, and Lady Ashton was, too, when
she saw Ada lay back in her chair, pale as marble and panting for
breath. "What is the matter?--speak, child," she cried, shaking her
violently; but this only alarmed her the more, and she called loudly for
Charles, and then remained gazing at Lady Ashton in speechless terror.
"Ada! dearest Ada! what is the matter?" asked Charles, coming to the
rescue; but Ada had fainted.