A few years and Helen, more beautiful than ever, again made her
appearance in society, and again Mr. Dundass cherished his darling
dream of her forming some high connection. Little Mildred, in the
meanwhile, having been sent to England under the charge of a faithful
nurse, to receive her education.
A second time, however, was Mr. Dundass doomed to disappointment. The
charming and attractive young widow gave her hand to Mr. Donaldson, a
Scotch gentleman, whose only recommendation in the eyes of Mr.
Dundass was a showy exterior and a superb set of teeth. He had known
him for many years, and had always regarded him as more shrewd than
honest, and one who, where his own interests were concerned, would let
no scruples of conscience stand in the way of his advancement. He
thought him rich, but he had much rather he had been poor, if able to
boast a titled descent. The idea, therefore, of this second marriage
of his daughter gave him in reality as little satisfaction as the
first. His reluctant consent was, however, at length obtained, and
Helen borne off a second time a bride from her father's house.
The plantation of Mr. Donaldson was delightfully located in a most
lovely region of hill and dale, sparkling with delicious rivulets, and
sprinkled with charming groves of the deep-tinted pimento, the
graceful palm, and magnificent cotton-trees, and the air rife with the
fragrance of the orange and citron blossoms, through which, like
winged jewels, glanced birds of the most brilliant plumage. Whatever
may have been the errors which Mr. Dundass detected in the moral
character of Mr. Donaldson, he was a most tender and devoted husband;
and in this paradise to which he had brought her, the happiness of
Helen seemed perfect. The Cascade, as Mr. Donaldson had named his
station, from the numerous little rills and waterfalls in the
neighborhood, was distant fifty miles from Mount Dundass, yet the
intercourse between father and daughter continued uninterrupted until
the infirmities of age pressing upon Mr. Dundass, rendered his visits
to the Cascade less frequent, and the cares of a growing family
confining Mrs. Donaldson more closely at home.
Helen was now the mother of several children, charming, bright little
girls, yet it was strange that Mr. Dundass never seemed to regard them
in the same tender light he did Mildred Ward. Mr. Donaldson had never
seen Mildred, but already in his heart he hated her. The partiality of
the grandfather rankled his inmost soul, for he saw plainly it would
interfere with the prospects of his own children. Indeed, Mr. Dundass
had already settled fifty thousand dollars upon his granddaughter
Mildred, asserting also that at his death that sum should be doubled.
Mr. Donaldson possessed great influence over his wife--his words to
her were oracles--his wishes laws. By degrees, therefore, he instilled
into her mind a jealousy against her absent child, mingled with
feelings of resentment toward her father, that, to the exclusion of
her little Grace and Anna, he should have made her the object of his
love and munificence. This feeling once engendered Mr. Donaldson took
good care to keep alive. The poison worked slowly but so secretly,
that no doubt Helen herself would have been shocked could she have
read her own heart and found that, instigated by jealousy, a mother's
tenderness for her first-born was fast turning to bitterness.
In the meantime seventeen rosy summers had flitted as some fairy dream
over the head of Mildred, when her grandfather, no longer able to
resist his desire of seeing her, urged her return to Jamaica.