AN UNCONDITIONAL SURRENDER.
The next day Mr. Pardee received a note from Mrs. Le Moyne,
requesting him to come to Mulberry Hill at his earliest convenience.
Being at the time disengaged, he returned with the messenger. Upon
being ushered again into the invalid's room, he found Miss Hetty
Lomax with a flushed face standing by the bedside. Both the ladies
greeted him with some appearance of embarrassment.
"Cousin Hetty," said the invalid, "will you ask Hesden to come here
for a moment?"
Miss Hetty left the room, and returned a moment afterward in company
with Hesden.
"Hesden," said Mrs. Le Moyne, "were you in earnest in what you said
yesterday in regard to receiving any benefits under this deed?"
"Certainly, mother," replied Hesden; "I could never consent to do
so."
"Very well, my son," said the invalid; "you are perhaps right; but
I wish you to know that I had heretofore made my will, giving to
you and Cousin Hetty a joint interest in my estate. You know the
feeling which induced me to do so. I am in the confessional to-day,
and may as well admit that I was hasty and perhaps unjust in so
doing. In justice to Cousin Hetty I wish also to say--"
"Oh, please, Mrs. Le Moyne," interrupted Hetty, blushing deeply.
"Hush, my child," said the invalid tenderly; "I must be just to
you as well as to others. Hetty," she continued, turning her eyes
upon Hesden, who stood looking in wonder from one to the other,
"has long tried to persuade me to revoke that instrument. I have
at length determined to cancel and destroy it, and shall proceed
to make a new one, which I desire that both of you shall witness
when it has been drawn."
Being thus dismissed, Hesden and his cousin withdrew, while
Pardee seated himself at the little table by the bedside, on which
writing materials had already been placed, and proceeded to receive
instructions and prepare the will as she directed. When it had been
completed and read over to her, she said, wearily,
"That is right."
The attorney called Hesden and his cousin, who, having witnessed
the will by her request, again withdrew.
"Now Mr. Pardee," said Mrs. Le Moyne sadly, "I believe that I have
done my duty as well as Hesden has done his. It is hard, very hard,
for me to give up projects which I have cherished so long. As I
have constituted you my executor, I desire that you will keep this
will, and allow no person to know its contents unless directed by
me to do so, until my death."
"Your wishes shall be strictly complied with, madam," said Pardee,
as he folded the instrument and placed it in his pocket.
"I have still another favor to request of you, Mr. Pardee," she
said. "I have written this note to Miss Ainslie, which I wish you
to read and then transmit to her. No, no," she continued, as she
saw him about to seal the letter which she had given him, without
reading it; "you must read it. You know something of what it has
cost me to write it, and will be a better judge than I as to whether
it contains all that I should say."
Thus adjured, Pardee opened the letter and read:
"MULBERRY HILL Saturday, Oct. 8, 1871.
"MY DEAR MISS AINSLIE:
"Captain Pardee informed us yesterday of your nobly disinterested
action in regard to the estate rightfully belonging to you. Words
cannot express my gratitude for the consideration you have shown to
our feelings in thus shielding the memory of the dead. Mr. Pardee
will transmit to you with this the papers, showing that we have
complied with your request. Pardon me if I do not write as warmly
as I ought. One as old and proud as I cannot easily adapt herself
to so new and strange a role. I hope that time will enable me to
think more calmly and speak more freely of this matter.
"Hoping you will forgive my constraint, and believe that it arises
from no lack of appreciation of your magnanimity, but only springs
from my own weakness; and asking your pardon for all unkindness of
thought, word, or act in the past, I remain,
"Yours gratefully,
"HESTER RICHARDS LE MOYNE."
"My dear Mrs. Le Moyne," said Pardee, as he extended his hand and
grasped that of the suffering woman, "I am sure Miss Ainslie would
never require any such painful acknowledgment at your hands."
"I know she would not," was the reply; "it is not she that requires it,
but myself--my honor, Mr. Pardee. You must not suppose, nor must
she believe, that the wife of a Le Moyne can forget the obligations
of justice, though her father may have unfortunately done so."
"But I am sure it will cause her pain," said Pardee.
"Would it cause her less were I to refuse what she has so delicately
given?"
"No, indeed," said the attorney.
"Then I see no other way."
"Perhaps there is none," said Pardee thoughtfully.
"You think I have said enough?" she asked.
"You could not say more," was the reply. After a moment's pause
he continued, "Are you willing that I should give Miss Ainslie any
statement I may choose of this matter?"
"I should prefer," she answered, "that nothing more be said; unless,"
she added, with a smile, "you conceive that your duty imperatively
demands it."
"And Hesden?" he began.
"Pardon me, sir," she said, with dignity; "I will not conceal from
you that my son's course has given me great pain; indeed, you are
already aware of that fact. Since yesterday, I have for the first
time admitted to myself that in abandoning the cause of the Southern
people he has acted from a sense of duty. My own inclination, after
sober second thought," she added, as a slight flush overspread her
pale face, "would have been to refuse, as he has done, this bounty
from the hands of a stranger; more particularly from one in the
position which Miss Ainslie has occupied; but I feel also that her
unexpected delicacy demands the fullest recognition at our hands.
Hesden will take such course as his own sense of honor may dictate."
"Am I at liberty to inform him of the nature of the testament which
you have made?"
"I prefer not."
"Well," said Pardee, "if there is nothing more to be done I will
bid you good-evening, hoping that time may yet bring a pleasant
result out of these painful circumstances."
After the lawyer had retired, Mrs. Le Moyne summoned her son to
her bedside and said,
"I hope you will forgive me, Hesden, for all--"
"Stop, mother," said he, playfully laying his hand over her mouth;
"I can listen to no such language from you. When I was a boy you
used to stop my confessions of wrong-doing with a kiss; how much
more ought silence to be sufficient between us now."
He knelt by her side and pressed his lips to hers.
"Oh, my son, my son!" said the weeping woman, as she pushed back
the hair above his forehead and looked into his eyes; "only give
your mother time--you know it is so hard--so hard. I am trying,
Hesden; and you must be very kind to me, very gentle. It will not
be for long, but we must be alone--all alone--as we were before all
these things came about. Only," she added sobbingly, "only little
Hildreth is not here now."
"Believe me, mother," said he, and the tears fell upon the gentle
face over which he bent, "I will do nothing to cause you pain. My
opinions I cannot renounce, because I believe them right."
"I know, I know, my son," she said; "but it is so hard--so hard--to
think that we must lose the place which we have always held in the
esteem of--all those about us."
There was silence for a time, and then she continued, "Hetty thinks
it is best--that--that she--should--not remain here longer at this
time. She is perhaps right, my son. You must not blame her for
anything that has occurred; indeed--indeed she is not at fault. In
fact," she added, "she has done much toward showing me my duty. Of
course it is hard for her, as it is for me, to be under obligations
to--to--such a one as Miss Ainslie. It is very hard to believe that
she could have done as she has without some--some unworthy motive."
"Mother!" said Hesden earnestly, raising his head and gazing
reproachfully at her.
"Don't--don't, my son! I am trying--believe me, I am trying; but
it is so hard. Why should she give up all this for our sakes?"
"Not for ours mother--not for ours alone; for her own as well."
"Oh, my son, what does she know of family pride?"
"Mother," said he gravely, "she is prouder than we ever were.
Oh, I _know_ it,"--seeing the look of incredulity upon her
face;--"prouder than any Richards or Le Moyne that ever lived; only
it is a different kind of pride. She would _starve_, mother,"
he continued impetuously; "she would work her fingers to the bone
rather than touch one penny of that estate."
"Oh, why--why, Hesden, should she do that? Just to shield my father's
name?"
"Not alone for that," said Hesden. "Partly to show that she can
give you pride for pride, mother."
"Do you think so, Hesden?"
"I am sure of it."
"Will you promise me one thing?"
"Whatever you shall ask."
"Do not write to her, nor in any way communicate with her, except
at my request."
"As you wish."