“——— Oft’ what seems
A trifle, a mere nothing, by itself,
In some nice situations turns the scale
Of Fate, and rules the most important actions.”—Thompson.
The waning moon was climbing the eastern sky, and a zephyr from Lake
Erie was playing among the foliage when Mr. Smiles began his solitary
promenade on the lawn. Finding the grass coated with hoar-frost, he took
to the gravel walk, and soon arrived at the gate. There he paused, and
resting his elbows on the top rail of the fence quietly puffed at his
cigar and watched the wreaths of smoke as they were wafted down the
lane.
The Taine mansion stood back from the road some distance, and the level
space between was thickly covered with fruit trees the branches of which
were almost bare. Some of the trees along the public road, however,
still contained enough leaves to obscure the view even in the daytime,
and they now cast a thick shadow along one side, in which, in spite of
the bright moonlight, a man might conceal himself with impunity. Mr.
Smiles appeared suddenly to become aware of this, and after carefully
surveying the avenue leading to the house, he went outside, closed the
gates gently after him and passed along in the shadow for some distance
as if to make sure that nobody was lying there in ambush. He satisfied
himself that all was clear and was going back towards the gate when he
heard a horse approaching. He quickly stepped inside and concealed
himself behind one of the heavy gate-posts. The horseman advanced at a
slow walk, and when opposite the gate drew rein and gazed steadily for a
few seconds up the avenue towards Chestnut Grove.
“The best of men?” said Mr. Smiles, showing himself.
“Is number nine,” replied the other, wheeling his horse towards where
the minister stood. He then dismounted; they shook hands cordially, and
walked slowly away together conversing in an undertone.
“I was getting rather uneasy, parson. What’s a movin’—hev yer sighted
the coon?”
“Yes, I’ve been as close to him as I am to you, I shook his hand, and
I’ve got things into better shape in three days than I expected in ten.
What was impossible last Spring will now be as easy as fooling a wench,”
said Mr. Smiles, falling into a careless manner to suit his companion.
“But how are Delmy and the rest of the boys?”
“Tip top, sah! jest A 1; Jim Delmy is the man to do a job clean. Them
Treasury papers you got him at St. Louis has jest made him solid all
along. It’s true we’ve been a day late gettin here; but we’ve got the
roads down fine, which is something to the purpose, ain’t it? Besides
we’ve all got mounts that can make well on to ninety miles between two
days.” The speaker was a wiry young Missourian of medium height and
slight build. He looked the ideal desperado. His stumpy red beard
overgrew a visage in which the small grey eyes shone like two fiery
beacons. He kept a huge quid of tobacco moving about from one cheek to
the other while listening to what the parson said, and spoke with a
peculiar nasal twang. In reply to Mr. Smiles’s questions he said that
Delmy had decided that no part of the journey they were to perform could
be done otherwise than on horseback; that they had a safe and entirely
innocent-looking camp, and that Delmy was anxious for an interview with
the parson.
“But, say, parson;” added No. 9 on his own account, “is there any truth
in that air report in the papers about ole Leigh withdrawin’ the reward,
an’ sayin’ he’ll jest let the young un go to blazes if he likes?”
“Not a word!—if you couldn’t tell that was nothing but a Yankee lie, No.
9 I’m ashamed of you.”
“Well, that’s what Jim says, and I reckon you’re both about right.”
Mr. Smiles shortly after despatched his friend with an order for Captain
Delmy to meet him at the same place at ten o’clock the following
evening, by which time he hoped to have a definite plan mapped out; and
when the receding clatter of the horse’s hoofs had died away, the parson
strode leisurely back to the house. Lights were still burning in some of
the rooms up stairs, and he found Mrs. Taine awaiting him in the
sitting-room, where she had fallen asleep with a heavy theological
volume on her lap. She roused herself with an effort as he entered the
room; but he pretended not to notice that Morpheus had interrupted her
divinity, and said:—
“Ah, my dear madam! Communing with the holy fathers, as usual?”
“I was reading a little; but I am very tired to-night and should have
gone to bed but that I have something to say to you.” By this time Mr.
Smiles had thrown off his overcoat, and stretched his well-formed person
in a comfortable attitude on the old-fashioned lounge.
“Ah, but you are too thoughtful for me, dear Mrs. Taine, I am very
sorry.”
“You have no occasion to be. My interest in you is more deep and sincere
than I have ever felt for any other being, and I can see, as nobody else
can, that you are uneasy. You have not, I am afraid, formed a correct
estimate of my character.” As she said this she took a chair nearer the
lounge and placed it so that she might speak in a low voice quite near
her companion’s ear. “I know what it is,” she continued, “you see how
partial Dr. Taine is towards the Mormon, and you think Hagar may have a
lurking tendency in that direction. Still, such fears are
uncomplimentary to me, and prove that you have failed to appreciate the
depth of my affection—the strength of my purpose.”
Mr. Smiles felt some uncertainty as to the old lady’s meaning, but
replied blandly:
“No, no, my dear friend, do not imagine such a thing; I need no
assurance that I can fully rely upon you.”
“You candidly believe that in spite of all opposition from whatever
quarter I will secure the result you desire?” she asked with singular
eagerness.
“Indeed, yes!” he exclaimed, in a manner to convince her. “I am so far
satisfied of this that I am ready to adopt a course which is rarely a
safe one as this world goes. I am going to trust wholly to your
friendship, and leave nothing to depend upon my own poor merit.” The
young minister was half expecting a declaration of undying love from the
old lady herself; he had known of such cases, and was prepared to make
the best of the dilemma; but she merely passed her hand gently along his
forehead and settled back in her chair with a deep sigh.
“But, speaking of the Mormon,” said he, in a voice as nicely modulated
as that of a clever actor, “do you know I almost feel that he has a
prior claim to the lovely girl he rendered such gallant service? I don’t
know but I ought to give up the contest in his favor.”
“No, that you shall not! I know your modest and generous nature, but in
this case, at least, it shall not avail you to your own irreparable
loss. You fell in love with Hagar when you met her last spring. I knew
it perfectly well. This circumstance has opened up a future for me as
well as for you, if you are but steadfast to your purpose. The small
portion of your society which I should enjoy as an elder sister—or—”(she
found it necessary to clear her throat)—“or as a mother, if you prefer
it, would amply repay me for all that I can do to promote your interests
and happiness, and to place you in a position of immediate
independence.”
He attempted to say something by way of gratitude, but she would not be
interrupted until she had stated her determination to make him the heir
to all she possessed.
“But, it is too much—too much, my dear madam. How can I ever accept so
great, and so undeserved—”
“Please allow me to finish what I have to say, for nothing can turn me
from my purpose. My property is all in my own name and right, and I am
determined that it shall not go to my husband’s family. Your kin to me
is so far only spiritual, which I deem the best of kin—you alone can
inherit from me. All this and more I have planned, and the plan must be
carried out.”
Mr. Smiles at that moment felt a doubt as to the old lady’s sanity.
“There is a mystery about Miss Hagar’s parentage of which you promised
to inform me. Knowing the facts shall not alter my determination to
abide by your wishes, for I do not believe that a man can devote himself
too singly and entirely to so true a friend.” He reverently took her
hand and pressed it to his lips.
Affecting a momentary confusion, she replied:—“On the faith of that
promise I will tell you all I know about this strange case.” She drew
her chair a little nearer, and after a glance around the room to make
sure that they were quite alone, continued in a voice that was little
louder than a whisper:
“When I married Nathan Taine his former wife had been dead about three
years, and I found in his house, (a small place a mile beyond here) his
son James, and this girl, a babe only a few months old. She was
represented to me as a foundling who had been taken in by Dr. Taine
during my engagement to him, but while I was away visiting friends in
Boston. My husband seemed very reticent about her, but at last I
obtained the following account from a servant girl who was then employed
on the place, and who has since married and gone out west. Early one
morning, she said, the gardener was going about his work when he heard a
baby crying near a deep pond at the farther end of the orchard. Running
to the spot he found the tiny thing bundled up in a thick shawl, lying
under a tree, and took it at once to the house. As an elderly woman who
then kept the doctor’s house was unwrapping it, this card fell on the
floor.” She handed him a square bit of cardboard, yellow with age, but
otherwise in a good state of preservation. The writing on it was
perfectly clear and distinct, but was the work of a cramped and
inexperienced hand. He read it audibly:
“I could not murder her as I do myself. May her life not be cursed as
her mother’s was. Name her Hagar, the forsaken one—it may be
fortunate—mine was Hope, and brought me only misery. God pity us!”
“How strange, how pitiful!” exclaimed the parson with a real touch of
sympathy in his voice. “But was the poor mother never found?”
“No:—it is supposed she drowned herself in the pond, and that her body
is to this day concealed in some of its recesses; for it is very deep,
and the sides and bed are composed of ledges and broken shelves of lime-
stone. I sometimes almost love the girl myself when I think of that
dreary episode,” added Mrs. Taine, raising her handkerchief to her eyes.