CLAUDIA'S PERPLEXITIES.
Oh, face most fair, shall thy beauty compare
With affection's glowing light?
Oh, riches and pride, how fade ye beside
Love's wealth, serene and bright.
--_Martin F. Tupper_.
Judge Merlin went into his well-ordered library, rang the bell, and sent
a servant to call his daughter.
The messenger found Claudia walking impatiently up and down the
drawing-room floor and turning herself at each wall with an angry jerk.
Claudia had not yet been admitted to see Ishmael. She had just been
refused again by old Katie, who acted upon the doctor's authority, and
Claudia was unreasonably furious with everybody.
Claudia instantly obeyed the summons. She entered the library with hasty
steps, closed the door with a bang, and stood before her father with
flushed cheeks, sparkling eyes, and heaving bosom.
"Hey, dey! what's the matter?" asked the judge, taking his pipe from his
mouth and staring at his daughter.
"You sent for me, papa! I hope it is to take me in to see that poor,
half-crushed boy! What does old Katie mean by forever denying me
entrance? It is not every day that a poor lad risks his life and gets
himself crushed nearly to death in my service, that I should be made to
appear to neglect him in this way! What must the boy think of me? What
does old Katie mean, I ask?"
"If your nature requires a vehement expression, of course I am not the
one to repress it! Still, in my opinion, vehemency is unworthy of a
rational being, at all times, and especially when, as now, there is not
the slightest occasion for it. You have not willfully neglected the
young man; it is not of the least consequence whether he thinks you
have, or not; and, finally, Katie means to obey the doctor's orders,
which are to keep every living soul out of the sick-room to secure the
patient needful repose. I believe I have answered you, Miss Merlin,"
replied the judge, smiling and coolly replacing his pipe in his mouth.
"Papa, what a disagreeable wet blanket you are, to be sure!"
"It is my nature to be so, my dear; and I am just what you need to
dampen the fire of your temperament."
"Are those the orders of the doctor?"
"What, wet blankets for you?"
"No; but that everybody must be excluded from Ishmael's room?"
"Yes; his most peremptory orders, including even me for the present."
"Then I suppose they must be submitted to?"
"For the present, certainly."
Claudia shrugged her shoulders with an impatient gesture, and then said:
"You sent for me, papa. Was it for anything particular?"
"Yes; to question you. Have you been long acquainted with this Ishmael
Gray?"
"Ishmael Worth, papa! Yes, I have known him well ever since you placed
me with my Aunt Middleton," replied Claudia, throwing herself into a
chair.
The judge was slowly walking up and down the library, and he continued
his walk as he conversed with his daughter.
"Who is this Ishmael Worth, then?"
"You know, papa; the nephew of Reuben Gray, or rather of his wife; but
it is the same thing."
"I know he is the nephew of Reuben Gray; but that explains nothing! Gray
is a rude, ignorant, though well-meaning boor; but this lad is a
refined, graceful, and cultivated young man."
Claudia made no comment upon this.
"Now, if you have known him so many years, you ought to be able to
explain this inconsistency. One does not expect to find nightingales in
crows' nests," said the judge.
Still Miss Merlin was silent.
"Why don't you speak, my dear?"
Claudia blushed over her face, neck, and bosom as she answered:
"Papa, what shall I say? You force me to remember things I would like to
forget. Socially, Ishmael Worth was born the lowest of all the low.
Naturally, he was endowed with the highest moral and intellectual gifts.
He is in a great measure self-educated. In worldly position he is
beneath our feet: in wisdom and goodness he is far, far above our
heads. He is one of nature's princes, but one of society's outcasts."
"But how has the youth contrived to procure the means of such education
as he has?" inquired the judge, seating himself opposite his daughter.
"Papa, I will tell you all I know about him," replied Claudia. And she
commenced and related the history of Ishmael's struggles, trials, and
triumphs, from the hour of her first meeting with him in front of
Hamlin's book shop to that of his self-immolation to save her from
death. Claudia spoke with deep feeling. As she concluded her bosom was
heaving, her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes tearful with emotion.
"And now, papa," she said, as she finished her narrative, "you will
understand why it is that I cannot, must not, will not, neglect him! As
soon as he can bear visitors I must be admitted to his room, to do for
him all that a young sister might do for her brother; no one could
reasonably cavil at that. Papa, Ishmael believes in me more than anyone
else in the world does. He thinks more highly of me than others do. He
knows that there is something better in me than this mere outside beauty
that others praise so foolishly. And I would not like to lose his good
opinion, papa. I could not bear to have him think me cold, selfish, or
ungrateful. So I must and I will help to nurse him."
"Miss Merlin, you have grown up very much as my trees have, with every
natural eccentricity of growth untrimmed; but I hope you will not let
your branches trail upon the earth."
"What do you mean, papa?"
"I hope you do not mean to play Catherine to this boy's Huon in a new
version of the drama of 'Love; or, The Countess and the Serf!"
"Papa! how can you say such things to your motherless daughter! You know
that I would die first!" exclaimed the imperious girl indignantly, as
she bounced up and flung herself into a passion and out of the room. She
left the door wide open; but had scarcely disappeared before her place
in the doorway was filled up by the tall, gaunt figure, gray head, and
smiling face of Reuben.
"Well, Gray?"
"Well, sir, I have brought the farm books all made up to the first of
this month, sir," said the overseer, laying the volumes on the table
before his master.
"And very neatly and accurately done, too," remarked the judge, as he
turned over the pages and examined the items. "It is not your
handwriting, Gray?"
"Dear, no, sir! not likely!"
"Nor little Kitty's?"
"Why, law, sir! little Kitty has been in Californy a year or more! How
did you like the 'rangement of your liber-airy, sir?" inquired Gray,
with apparent irrelevance, as he glanced around upon the book-lined
walls.
"Very much, indeed, Gray! I never had my books so well classified. It
was the work of young Ramsey, the schoolmaster, I suppose, and furnished
him with employment during the midsummer holidays. You must tell him
that I am very much pleased with the work and that he must send in his
account immediately."
"Law bless you, sir; it was not Master Ramsey as did it," said Gray,
with a broad grin.
"Who, then? Whoever it was, it is all the same to me; I am pleased with
the work, and willing to testify my approval by a liberal payment."
"It was the same hand, sir, as made out the farm-books."
"And who was that?"
"It was my nephew, Ishmael Worth, sir," replied Reuben, with a little
pardonable pride.
"Ishmael Worth again!" exclaimed the judge.
"Yes, sir; he done 'em both."
"That is an intelligent lad of yours, Gray."
"Well, sir, he is just a wonder."
"How do you account for his being so different from--from--"
"From me and Hannah?" inquired the simple Reuben, helping the judge out
of his difficulty. "Well, sir, I s'pose as how his natur' were diff'ent,
and so he growed up diff'ent accordin' to his natur'. Human creeters
differ like wegetables, sir; some one sort and some another. Me and
Hannah, sir, we's like plain 'tatoes; but Ishmael, sir, is like a rich,
bright blooming peach! That's the onliest way as I can explain it, sir."
"A very satisfactory explanation, Gray! How are Hannah and those
wonderful twins?"
"Fine, sir; fine, thank Heaven! Miss Claudia was so good as to send word
as how she would come to see Hannah as soon as she was able to see
company. Now Hannah is able to-day, sir, and would be proud to see Miss
Claudia and to show her the babbies."
"Very well, Gray! I will let my daughter know," said the judge, rising
from his chair.
Reuben took this as a hint that his departure was desirable, and so he
made his bow and his exit.
In another moment, however, he reappeared, holding his hat in his hand
and saying:
"I beg your pardon, sir."
"Well, what now? what is it, Gray? What's forgotten?"
"If you please, sir, to give my duty to Miss Claudia, and beg her not to
let poor Hannah know as Ishmael has been so badly hurt. When she missed
him we told her how he was staying up here long of your honor, and she
naturally thinks how he is a-doing some more liber-airy work for you;
and we dar'n't tell her any better or how the truth is, for fear of
heaving of her back, sir."
"Very well; I will caution Miss Merlin."
"And I hope, sir, as you and Miss Claudia will pardon the liberty I take
in mentioning of the matter; which I wouldn't go for to do it, if poor
Hannah's safety were not involved."
"Certainly, certainly, Gray, I can appreciate your feelings as a husband
and father."
"Thank your honor," said Reuben, as he departed.
The judge kept his word to the overseer, and the same hour conveyed to
his daughter the invitation and the caution.
Claudia was moped half to death, and desired nothing better than a
little amusement. So the same afternoon she set out on her walk to
Woodside, followed by her own maid Mattie, carrying a large basket
filled with fine laces, ribbons, and beads to deck the babies, and
wines, cordials, and jellies to nourish the mother.
On arriving at Woodside Cottage Miss Merlin was met by Sally, the
colored maid of all work, and shown immediately into a neat bedroom on
the ground floor, where she found Hannah sitting in state in her
resting-chair beside her bed, and contemplating with maternal
satisfaction the infant prodigies that lay in a cradle at her feet.
"Do not attempt to rise! I am so glad to see you looking so well, Mrs.
Gray! I am Miss Merlin," was Claudia's frank greeting, as she approached
Hannah, and held out her hand.
"Thank you, miss; you are very good to come; and I am glad to see you,"
said the proud mother, heartily shaking the hand offered by the visitor.
"I wish you much joy of your fine children, Mrs. Gray."
"Thank you very much, miss. Pray sit down. Sally, hand a chair."
The maid of all work brought one, which Claudia took, saying:
"Now let me see the twins."
Hannah stooped and raised the white dimity coverlet, and proudly
displayed her treasures--two fat, round, red-faced babies, calmly
sleeping side by side.
What woman or girl ever looked upon sleeping infancy without pleasure?
Claudia's face brightened into beaming smiles as she contemplated these
children, and exclaimed:
"They are beauties! I want you to let me help to dress them up fine,
Mrs. Gray! I have no little brothers and sisters, nor nephews and
nieces; and I should like so much to have a part property in these!"
"You are too good, Miss Merlin."
"I am not good at all. I like to have my own way. I should like to pet
and dress these babies. I declare, for the want of a little brother or
sister to pet, I could find it in my heart to dress a doll! See, now,
what I have brought for these babies! Let the basket down, Mattie, and
take the things out."
Miss Merlin's maid obeyed, and displayed to the astonished eyes of
Hannah yards of cambric, muslin, and lawn, rolls of lace, ribbon, and
beads, and lots of other finery.
Hannah's eyes sparkled. That good woman had never been covetous for
herself, but for those children she could become so. She had too much
surly pride to accept favors for herself, but for those children she
could do so; not, however, without some becoming hesitation and
reluctance.
"It is too much, Miss Merlin. All these articles are much too costly for
me to accept, or for the children to wear," she began.
But Claudia silenced her with:
"Nonsense! I know very well that you do not in your heart think that
there is anything on earth too fine for those babies to wear. And as for
their being costly, that is my business. Mattie, lay these things on
Mrs. Gray's bureau."
Again Mattie obeyed her mistress, and then set the empty basket down on
the floor.
"Now, Mattie, the other basket."
Mattie brought it.
"Mrs. Gray, these wines, cordials, and jellies are all of domestic
manufacture--Katie's own make; and she declares them to be the best
possible supports for invalids in your condition," said Miss Merlin,
uncovering the second basket.
"But really and indeed, miss, you are too kind. I cannot think of
accepting all these good things from you."
"Mattie, arrange all those pots, jars, and bottles on the mantel shelf,
until somebody comes to take them away," said Claudia, without paying
the least attention to Hannah's remonstrances.
When this order was also obeyed, and Mattie stood with both baskets on
her arms, waiting for further instructions, Miss Merlin arose, saying:
"And now, Mrs. Gray, I must bid you good-afternoon. I cannot keep papa
waiting dinner for me. But I will come to see you again to-morrow, if
you will allow me to do so."
"Miss Merlin, I should be proud and happy to see you as often as you
think fit to come."
"And, mind, I am to stand god-mother to the twins."
"Certainly, miss, if you please to do so."
"By the way, what is to be their names?"
"John and Mary, miss--after Reuben's father and my mother."
"Very well; I will be spiritually responsible for John and Mary!
Good-by, Mrs. Gray."
"Good-by, and thank you, Miss Merlin."
Claudia shook hands and departed. She had scarcely got beyond the
threshold of the chamber door when she heard the voice of Hannah calling
her back:
"Miss Merlin!"
Claudia returned.
"I beg your pardon, miss; but I hear my nephew, Ishmael Worth, is up at
the house, doing something for the judge."
"He is up there," answered Claudia evasively.
"Well, do pray tell him, my dear Miss Merlin, if you please, that I want
to see him as soon as he can possibly get home. Oh! I beg your pardon a
thousand times for taking the liberty of asking you, miss."
"I will tell him," said Claudia, smiling and retiring.
When Miss Merlin had gone Hannah stooped and contemplated her own two
children with a mother's insatiable pride and love. Suddenly she burst
into penitential tears and wept.
Why?
She was gazing upon her own two fine, healthy, handsome babies, that
were so much admired, so well beloved, and so tenderly cared for; and
she was remembering little Ishmael in his poor orphaned infancy--so
pale, thin, and sickly, so disliked, avoided, and neglected! At this
remembrance her penitent heart melted in remorseful tenderness. The
advent of her own children had shown to Hannah by retrospective action
all the cruelty and hardness of heart she had once felt and shown
towards Ishmael.
"But I will make it all up to him--poor, dear boy! I will make it all up
to him in the future! Oh, how hard my heart was towards him! as if he
could have helped being born, poor fellow! How badly I treated him!
Suppose now, as a punishment for my sin, I was to die and leave my babes
to be despised, neglected, and wished dead by them as had the care of
'em! How would I feel? although my children are so much healthier and
stronger, and better able to bear neglect than ever Ishmael was, poor,
poor fellow! It is a wonder he ever lived through it all. Surely, only
God sustained him, for he was bereft of nearly all human help. Oh, Nora!
Nora! I never did my duty to your boy; but I will do it now, if God will
only forgive and spare me for the work!" concluded Hannah, as she raised
both her own children to her lap.
Meanwhile, attended by her maid, Miss Merlin went on her way homeward.
She reached Tanglewood in time for dinner, at six o'clock.
At table the judge said to her:
"Well, Claudia! the doctor has been here on his evening visit, and he
says that you may see our young patient in the morning, after he has had
his breakfast; but that no visitor must be admitted to his chamber at
any later hour of the day."
"Very well, papa. I hope you will give old Katie to understand that, so
she may not give me any trouble when I apply at the door," smiled
Claudia.
"Katie understands it all, my dear," said the judge.
And so it was arranged that Claudia should visit her young preserver on
the following morning.