HOMESTEAD ON THE HILLSIDE
by
MRS. MARY JANE HOLMES
By the Same Author in uniform style:
_Dora Deane_
_Cousin Maude_
_Lena Rivers_
_Meadow Brook_
_English Orphans_
_Maggie Miller_
_Rosamond_
_Tempest And Sunshine_
_Homestead on the Hillside_
CONTENTS
The Homestead On The Hillside
Chapter I. Mrs. Hamilton
Chapter II. Lenora And Her Mother
Chapter III. One Step Toward The Homestead
Chapter IV. After The Burial
Chapter V. Kate Kirby
Chapter VI. Raising The Wind
Chapter VII. The Stepmother
Chapter VIII. Domestic Life At The Homestead
Chapter IX. Lenora And Carrie
Chapter X. Darkness
Chapter XI. Margaret And Her Father
Chapter XII. "Carrying Out Dear Mr. Hamilton's Plans"
Chapter XIII. Retribution
Chapter XIV. Finale
Rice Corner
Chapter I. Rice Corner
Chapter II. The Belle Of Rice Corner
Chapter III. Monsieur Penoyer
Chapter IV. Cousin Emma
Chapter V. Richard Evelyn And Harley Ashmore
Chapter VI. Mike And Sally
Chapter VII. The Bride
The Gilberts; Or, Rice Corner Number Two
Chapter I. The Gilberts
Chapter II. Nellie
Chapter III. The Haunted House
Chapter IV. Jealousy
Chapter V. New Relations
Chapter VI. Poor, Poor Nellie
The Thanksgiving Party And Its Consequences
Chapter I. Night Before Thanksgiving
Chapter II. Thanksgiving Day
Chapter III. Ada Harcourt
Chapter IV. Lucy
Chapter V. Uncle Israel
Chapter VI. Explanation
Chapter VII. A Maneuver
Chapter VIII. Cousin Berintha And Lucy's Party
Chapter IX. A Wedding At St. Luke's
Chapter X. A Surprise
Chapter XI. Lizzie
CHAPTER I.
MRS. HAMILTON.
For many years the broad, rich acres, and old-fashioned, massive
building known as "The Homestead on the Hillside," had passed
successively from father to son, until at last it belonged by right of
inheritance to Ernest Hamilton. Neither time nor expense had been
spared in beautifying and embellishing both house and grounds, and at
the time of which we are speaking there was not for miles around so
lovely a spot as was the shady old homestead.
It stood at some distance from the road, and on the bright green lawn
in front were many majestic forest trees, on which had fallen the
lights and shadows of more than a century; and under whose
widespreading branches oft, in the olden time, the Indian warrior had
paused from the chase until the noonday heat was passed. Leading from
the street to the house was a wide, graveled walk bordered with box,
and peeping out from the wilderness of vines and climbing roses were
the white walls of the huge building, which was surrounded on all
sides by a double piazza.
Many and hallowed were the associations connected with that old
homestead. On the curiously-carved seats beneath the tall shade trees
were cut the names of some who there had lived, and loved, and passed
away. Through the little gate at the foot of the garden and just
across the brooklet, whose clear waters leaped and laughed in the
glad sunshine, and then went dancing away in the woodland below, was a
quiet spot, where gracefully the willow tree was bending, where the
wild sweetbrier was blooming, and where, too, lay sleeping those who
once gathered round the hearthstone and basked in the sunlight which
ever seemed resting upon the Homestead on the Hillside.
But a darker day was coming; a night was approaching when a deep gloom
would overshadow the homestead and the loved ones within its borders.
The servants, ever superstitious, now whispered mysteriously that the
spirits of the departed returned nightly to their old accustomed
places, and that dusky hands from the graves of the slumbering dead
were uplifted, as if to warn the master of the domain of the
desolation; which was to come. For more than a year the wife of Ernest
Hamilton had been dying--slowly, surely dying--and though when the
skies were brightest and the sunshine warmest she ever seemed better,
each morning's light still revealed some fresh ravage the disease had
made, until at last there was no hope, and the anxious group which
watched her knew full well that ere long among them would be a vacant
chair, and in the family burying ground an added grave.
One evening Mrs. Hamilton seemed more than usually restless, and
requested her daughters to leave her, that she might compose herself
to sleep. Scarcely was she alone when with cat-like tread there glided
through the doorway the dark figure of a woman, who advanced toward
the bedside, noiselessly as a serpent would steal to his ambush. She
was apparently forty-five years of age, and dressed in deep mourning,
which seemed to increase the marble whiteness of her face. Her eyes,
large, black, and glittering, fastened themselves upon, the invalid
with a gaze so intense that Mrs. Hamilton's hand involuntarily sought
the bell-rope, to summon some one else to her room.
But ere the bell was rung a strangely sweet, musical voice fell on her
ear, and arrested her movements. "Pardon me for intruding," said the
stranger, "and suffer me to introduce myself. I am Mrs. Carter, who
not long since removed to the village. I have heard of your illness,
and wishing to render you any assistance in my power, I have ventured,
unannounced, into your presence, hoping that I at least am not
unwelcome."
Mrs. Hamilton had heard of a widow lady, who with an only daughter had
recently removed to the village, which lay at the foot of the long
hill on which stood the old homestead. She had heard, too, that Mrs.
Carter, though rather singular in some respects, was unusually
benevolent, spending much time in visiting the sick and needy, and, as
far as possible, ministering to their comfort.
Extending her hand, she said, "I know you by reputation, Mrs. Carter,
and feel greatly pleased that you have thought to visit me. Pray be
seated."
This last invitation was superfluous, for with the air of a person
entirely at home, the lady had seated herself, and as the room was
rather warm, she threw back her bonnet, disclosing to view a mass of
rich brown hair, which made her look several years younger than she
really was. Nothing could be more apparently kind and sincere than
were her words of sympathy, nothing more soothing than the sound of
her voice; and when she for a moment raised Mrs. Hamilton, while she
adjusted her pillows, the sick woman declared that never before had
any one done it so gently or so well.
Mrs. Carter was just resuming her seat when in the adjoining hall
there was the sound of a heavy tread, and had Mrs. Hamilton been at
all suspicious of her visitor she would have wondered at the flush
which deepened on her cheek when the door opened and Mr. Hamilton
stood in their midst. On seeing a stranger he turned to leave, but his
wife immediately introduced him, and seating himself upon the sofa, he
remarked, "I have seen you frequently in church, Mrs. Carter, but I
believe I have never spoken with you before."
A peculiar expression flitted over her features at these words, an
expression which Mr. Hamilton noticed, and which awoke remembrances of
something unpleasant, though he could not tell what.
"Where have I seen her before?" thought he, as she bade them good
night, promising to come again and stay a longer time. "Where have I
seen her before?" and then involuntarily his thoughts went back to the
time, years and years ago, when, a wild young man in college, he had
thoughtlessly trifled with the handsome daughter of his landlady. Even
now he seemed to hear her last words, as he bade her farewell: "You
may go, Ernest Hamilton, and forget me if you can, but Luella does not
so easily forget; and remember, when least you expect it, we shall
meet again."
Could this strange being, with honeyed words and winning ways, be that
fiery, vindictive girl? Impossible!--and satisfied with this
conclusion Mr. Hamilton resumed his evening paper.