Low at his feet his daughter lies;
Dear father, let me stay!
But no, the cruel wretch replies,
Away, begone, away!
His heart was crusted o'er with years
Of guilt, and shame, and sin;
But still his wretched daughter cries
Oh! father, turn again!
I'll give up all I've dearly loved,
On thee my cares bestow;
With scorn the gray-haired sire thus proved
His hate. Go, daughter, _go_!
_Friday, July 17th._
I feel a little stronger to-day. My husband came in yesterday while I
was writing, and put his lordly veto upon my penning another word. I
asked him if he had heard anything more from Lucy, or had received an
answer from Mr. Benson.
He shook his head and said, "your first business is to get well." I
think Emily is disappointed in not hearing from him; and she must be
surprised that he does not write, as she supposes him to be only three
miles distant. She asked me in a whisper yesterday if I had sent her
letter. I told her, I sent it at once, and asked, "Has he replied?"
She shook her head.
"He may be away, and not have received it," I suggested. "I think," I
added with hesitation, "I remember to have heard he was going on a
journey." She brightened at once, and I turned away from fear lest she
should ask more. I am glad to have escaped her scrutiny.
_Friday, July 24th._
It is a week since I wrote you, dear mother. How I have longed to have
you with me! I shall soon begin to expect another packet of letters. I
desire to tell you about poor Emily; but my hand trembles so much, I
don't know that I ought to enter upon it.
On Monday last I felt stronger than I had done for a week or two. Frank
lifted me in his arms, and carried me down stairs for a short drive. The
air was delightful, and I returned much refreshed, and invigorated. I
wanted to walk up stairs, for fear Frank would injure himself carrying
me. Cæsar stepped eagerly forward; but the Doctor only laughed, and
said, "No, Cæsar, I claim this privilege, I can carry her as easily as I
could carry a child."
I felt quite an appetite for my dinner, and was resting in my easy chair
after it, when Emily came up to my room and walked toward me in such a
calm, unnatural manner, I looked at her in alarm.
She seemed to be changed into marble, so colorless and rigid were her
features. She silently put an envelop in my hand. I did not recognize
the writing, but opened it, and took out a note, which, though written
almost illegibly, either from emotion or haste, I saw was from Mr.
Benson. It contained but few words, which were exactly these:--
"Miss Lenox,[crossed through.--Transcriber.]
"Beloved Emily,--
"I have this minute received your note, which has completely
unmanned me.
"I am already on my way to Europe, where I shall probably stay
several years; and where, until the last few minutes, I had hoped
to spend the remainder of my life. It is only by the kindness of
Captain B---- I am permitted to detain the pilot, while I write
these few words.
"We are already out of the channel. May God bless and forgive us
both! Dearest, _farewell_!
"FREDERIC BENSON."
_Saturday, July 25th._
I must finish telling you about my dear sister. Frank told mother as he
came into my room, he should have thought that I was the one who had
received sad tidings; for I sat holding Emily's hand tightly in mine,
while the tears were streaming down my cheeks. Emily was calm and
unmoved. I don't know how she feels; but she appears to be petrified.
This appearance made such an impression upon me, that I had a dreadful
dream after it. I sprang out of bed with a horrible shriek, thinking my
distressed sister was insane, and I was trying to save her from some
impending danger.
The next morning Frank looked very grave, and I heard his voice in the
next room conversing with mother. The result of which conversation is,
that she and Emily have gone for a few weeks to a town about a hundred
miles distant, to visit some relatives.
In all the arrangements, sister was entirely passive, exhibiting neither
unwillingness, nor interest. I hardly thought she could have left me so
coldly. Not a muscle in her face moved as she kissed her farewell. Her
hand remained passive in mine, and was cold and clammy. I know her
brother is very anxious about her; and I expressed my fear that he had
sent her away on my account.
"The journey will do her good," he replied.
_Monday, July 27th._
Pauline is taking nice care of me, while Ann is busy about her morning
work. The dear little thing is so proud to do anything for mamma.
Sometimes she tries to help too much. After Ann curled her hair this
morning, she accidentally left the brush on the dressing table. Pauline
soon espied it, and stepping softly across the room made herself look
like a fright. Her hair needs to be wet before it can be combed, and now
being brushed when dry, it stood out like a broom all over her head. I
told Ann not to laugh so much, lest the child should be encouraged to do
it again, and should give us great trouble.
I asked Frank this morning, if he thought Lucy would come and sit with
me. I feel rather lonely without mother or Emily, as I can neither read
nor write but a few minutes at a time. He answered, "No!" decidedly.
"I want to see somebody," I said.
"How should you enjoy a visit from Aunt Susy?"
I almost jumped from my chair. This made him decide at once that she
would not do. He said "You must rest, mind and body, in order to get
well."
_Tuesday, July 28th._
Yesterday afternoon I had arisen from my bed after a refreshing nap, and
was seated in my easy chair by the window, when Frank came up stairs
talking with some one whose voice I did not recognize, until she said,
"I had hoped ere this to see thee at our house. Thee must come before
Elizabeth goes;" and Friend Estes kindly advanced toward me, "I am truly
sorry to see thee ill, my dear."
I tried to rise, and take her bonnet; but Frank said, she was his
company, and he would do the honors. He took the friendly "poke," and
carried it to the bed, where he spread a napkin carefully over it.
I looked in surprise; but the good lady smiled as she said, "Thy husband
is well acquainted with friendly ways."
"I am sorry to leave such good company," he said, "but I have work
enough for the afternoon." He was just leaving the room, when she
detained him a moment, to ask whether Thomas Jones had recovered, and
whether his family were in need of assistance. Frank replied that Thomas
would soon be able to go to his work; until then, they were supported by
charity.
There is something composing and soothing in the very voice and manner
of the Friends. Certainly this is true with regard to my dear Friend
Estes.
"Does thee like to have thy hair smoothed, my daughter? because I should
love to do it for thee."
I said, I should like it very much, if she would let me sit before her,
as I used to sit before my dear mother. She brought me a cricket, and I
sat down and laid my head in her lap, where, for nearly an hour she
passed her smooth hand lovingly across my forehead and hair. At the same
time she discoursed so sweetly, that the afternoon passed too quickly
away. If her conversation had not been so interesting, I should
certainly have been lulled to sleep.
She told me of her daughter Elizabeth, who is soon to be married to a
worthy young man every way approved by her parents, and the meeting.
"Is she to marry a Quaker?" I asked.
"Yes. He is now of our persuasion; but he was not educated so. He became
a Friend by 'convincement.' The wedding is to take place in P----." And
she invited us to be present, kindly offering me a seat in her carriage,
if Frank could not spare the time to accompany me.
Before she went, she said something which sent the blood to my cheeks,
but which makes me so happy I must tell you about it. I was sitting with
my head in her lap, looking up into her kind face, when she remarked,
"Thee has a kind, loving husband."
"O yes! I cannot think of one thing in which I should wish him to be
different." She smiled a moment, and then said, "I am pleased thou art
so well suited. Would thee like to hear what he said of thee?"
"O, please tell me!" I said, before I thought, and then my cheeks
burned. I hid my face and added, "If you think it would be proper, and
he would like it."
She laughed merrily at my embarrassment, as she said: "I presume, dear,
he has told thee the same, many times. He said, 'If I had searched the
world through, I couldn't have found one so exactly suited to my idea of
a true wife.' He concluded, being quite warmed with his subject, 'She is
a perfect little darling, and I thank God for her every day of my
life.'"
O, mother, you can't tell how happy she made me. I couldn't lift up my
head for a long time, for fear she would see the blissful tears. She
kissed me tenderly, and when she left, my mind was fully determined on
one point,--if I ever am sick and need a nurse, I shall desire of all
others a Friend, if I can get one anything like her.
I know, dear mother, you will be glad that your Cora has not so far,
disappointed the expectations of her husband.
_Friday, July 31st._
Miss Proctor is here, spending a few days with me. I enjoy her society
exceedingly. As we sat together in my room, I did not like to spend the
time in writing. This afternoon Cæsar has driven her in the carriage to
Lee Hall, and Pauline accompanied them.
I sent Lucy a magnificent bouquet, which Cæsar made me for the occasion,
with a little note expressing my affection and sympathy.
I had a call from Mrs. Jones this morning. Frank sent her here to see
Miss Proctor, who is making some clothes for the children.
She appears truly humble and devout. Thomas has not tasted a drop of
spirit since he recovered, and is now beginning to work. She took Miss
Proctor's advice very kindly with regard to neatness and economy; that
her husband might feel that he had a respectable and decent home. She
said, "I have now more heart about him than I have had for many years,
because he distrusts himself and looks above for help and strength."
_Monday, August 3d._
Lucy Lee sent by Miss Proctor a note requesting me, if able, to call
upon her in the course of a few days; and if unable, begging me to ask
the Doctor to call. He went early this afternoon, when she showed him a
letter, she had received from Allen, and asked him what she should do.
The letter stated that Allen, feeling a strong desire to know the
character of the man, rumor had affianced to his Lucy, had placed
himself in the way of one of Joseph's associates, an old schoolmate, who
had told him some astonishing facts. These, Frank only related to me in
brief, and, indeed, would have wholly kept from me if possible.
When Mr. Arnold was first introduced to Lucy, it had not occurred to her
brother to force him upon her acquaintance. But when that gentleman told
him of his love for his beautiful sister, and solicited his cooperation
and influence in winning her hand, he had willingly consented, out of
hatred to Allen. While, however, Arnold's passion increased, her
aversion became every day more evident, until, in a fit of exasperation,
he had made a contract with her brother, that on the day she became his
wife, he, as her husband, would make over to him one half of his
property. This contract Allen's informant was called upon to witness.
The reason of Joseph's cruel determination to force Lucy to a marriage
with his friend was now evident. Allen begged her to be firm in refusing
to be sold in so vile a manner.
The Doctor requested to see Joseph, being determined to appeal to his
affection as a brother, and his honor as a gentleman, if, indeed, he had
any such feelings. But he was informed that he had gone with Mr. Arnold
to the city. Frank then advised her to embrace this favorable
opportunity to impart to her father her decided refusal to marry Mr.
Arnold. With this advice poor Lucy, with a shudder, promised to comply.
She is too fearful.
_Tuesday, August 4th._
I long to hear from Lee Hall. If I do not in a day or two, I will try to
persuade Frank to allow me to call there.
To-day we received wedding cards from Dr. and Mrs. Clapp. I shall take
an early opportunity to visit them. We also received a letter from
mother, and can you believe it? Frank almost refused to let me read it.
I felt so hurt, I could only say, "Dear husband, would you like me to
conceal anything from you?"
Without another word, he read it aloud. Emily remains exactly as she was
when they left; neither better nor worse; she talks, walks, and acts
like an automaton.
Mother fears insanity. She says this state cannot last much longer,--a
reaction must take place. She closed with the kindest messages to me,
and particular inquiries about my health.
"Frank," I said, when he had finished, "will you please to do me a great
favor?"
"Certainly, my love, I shall be most happy to do so."
"Well then, please write to mother at once, and ask her to bring Emily
home. I know she longs to do so; and I am almost well now." He hesitated
what to reply. "You have promised," I said.
"Well, be it so," he answered, "but I am convinced that it is not safe
for a man to promise so blindly."
"_Blindly!--a wife!_ oh, Frank! I would promise to do any thing in the
world, you might ask. I have such entire confidence in you, I _know_ you
would not ask me to do wrong."
He looked very, _very_ much pleased and drew me to his side. "Dear Cora,
you have unconsciously given me the strongest proof of entire love; but
I do not deserve it, though I shall endeavor not to forfeit so precious
a token of your affection. This is the feeling, sweet wife, we should
cultivate toward our heavenly Father. He knows what is best for us; and
it is safe for us to confide in him. He sometimes leads us through
dangerous paths. Let us trust Him, though clouds gather and break over
our heads."
_Thursday, August 6th._
We were aroused from sleep last night by a thundering knock at the door.
Frank threw up the window, when a man called out, "Doctor, won't you
come as quick as you can to Squire Lee's. He's had a fit, and they think
he is dying." Frank dressed and was gone in a moment. I could not sleep,
but lay revolving in my mind Lucy's situation. I thought how I should
love to offer her a home, where Allen Mansfield could come to see her. I
went through all the marriage ceremony, thinking what a lovely bride
Lucy would make when the heavy cloud had passed away, and her heart was
free from sorrow or care.
Frank did not return until after I was seated at the breakfast-table. He
looked very serious and only shook his head in answer to the question,
whether the old gentleman was better. "He will probably never be
better." I was shocked. "And Lucy?" I inquired.
"She has passed from one fainting to another."
"Horrible! But how is she now?" I really shuddered at the thought that
she might not be living.
"She is conscious, but very much exhausted." After prayers he took my
hand as he sat by me on the sofa. "Cora," he asked, "can you control
your feelings?"
I quickly answered that I could, and would.
"Squire Lee received a letter from his son which so enraged him against
his poor innocent daughter, that he sent for a lawyer to his office and
disinherited her unless she would consent to marry Arnold, and that too
without delay. With this legal document in his hand he summoned her
into his presence, where with horrible oaths, he told her what he had
done.
"She begged him to allow her to take care of him in his old age. She
would promise never to see her dear Allen; but she could not consent to
marry Arnold. She had rather die. She threw herself at his feet, when he
cursed her and spurned her from him with scorn. A heavy fall caused Mrs.
Burns to rush into the room. She had followed her dear young mistress to
the door and had heard all that passed.
"The sweet girl was insensible. The kind woman rang for Jacob the
porter; and they lifted her gently, and carried her to her bed. Her
father soon after was seen going to his room.
"About eleven o'clock, one of the servants was passing through the
apartment next that which he occupied, when she was startled by loud
snoring. She stopped to listen, when finding it continue, she hastily
called the housekeeper, and together they entered the room. The Squire
lay in what seemed to them a heavy slumber; but they could not arouse
him. The sound was like the snorting of a brute, more than like the
breathing of a human being.
"By this time they were thoroughly frightened, and sent in haste for the
Doctor."
Immediately after he had told me this, he returned to the wretched
house, _wretched_ in the midst of luxury and splendor! I waited in vain
for him to return to dinner, but received a note toward night, telling
me not to be alarmed, if he did not return until morning. Lucy was
rather better, but would not consent to his leaving the house, while her
father lived. He would probably not survive many hours.
Dr. Clapp called in the evening, and told me he had received a hasty
note from the Doctor, requesting him to take the care of his other
patients, with a list of those upon whom it would be necessary to call.
_Friday, August 7th._
Contrary to the Doctor's expectations, Squire Lee is still living; and
there is slight hope that he may be better. Frank pursued the most
vigorous course of treatment; applying cups to the temples, and blisters
to the back of the neck. He left him in a natural sleep.
Lucy has been carried to the room where she sits near the bed. She
wishes to be near him when he recovers his consciousness, hoping before
his death that he may revoke his dreadful curse.
_Tuesday, August 11th._
Mother and Emily returned last Saturday, and as mother feared, a
terrible reaction has taken place. Sister is now as excitable as she was
impassive. She laughs so merrily that the sound rings through the house.
Then with as little reason, she weeps violently. I led Pauline to the
cottage to try and amuse the poor girl; but the little creature was
afraid of her aunt, and clung convulsively to me, if Emily tried to
force her from my arms. There is a dreadful wildness in her eye, which
alarms me.
Squire Lee is so much better, Frank is of opinion that, if he has no
relapse, he will soon be able to leave his bed. Lucy is with him
constantly; indeed he cannot bear her out of his sight a moment.
Sometimes he mistakes her for her mother, and calls her "_wife_," and
"_Mary_!"
The Doctor has insisted that he shall have watchers, so that she may
have regular sleep; and that she shall take exercise in the open air, at
least an hour every day. Joseph returned Saturday, but as the Doctor
would not allow him to go into the sickroom, telling him he would not be
responsible for the consequences, the young man left again for the city
early Monday morning.
Frank also told him, Lucy had informed her father of her determination
not to marry Arnold. Joseph swore dreadfully, that she would be the
death of her father yet. All his object now was to see if "the old
fellow," as he called him, had acted upon his suggestion.
Mrs. Burns had picked up the paper which lay upon the floor, after the
dreadful interview between father and daughter, and having glanced at
its contents, and seen that he had indeed left every cent of his
property to Joseph, was strongly tempted to destroy it; but knowing she
had no right to do this, she carefully locked it in a private desk where
she had sometimes seen her master put his papers, and kept the key. She
told Frank of the fact, who strengthened her in the resolution to
restore it to no one but her master.
After Joseph's departure on Monday, however, it was ascertained beyond a
doubt, that he had taken the desk with him.