DOMESTIC LIFE AT THE HOMESTEAD.
For a few weeks after Margaret's return matters at the Homestead
glided on smoothly enough, but at the end of that time Mrs. Hamilton
began to reveal her real character. Carrie's journey had not been as
beneficial as her father had hoped it would be, and as the days grew
colder she complained of extreme languor and a severe pain in her
side, and at last kept her room entirely, notwithstanding the numerous
hints from her stepmother that it was no small trouble to carry so
many dishes up and down stairs three times a day.
Mrs. Hamilton was naturally very stirring and active, and in spite of
her remarkable skill in nursing, she felt exceedingly annoyed when any
of her own family were ill. She fancied, too, that Carrie was feigning
all her bad feelings, and that she would be much better if she exerted
herself more. Accordingly, one afternoon when Mag was gone, she
repaired to Carrie's room, giving vent to her opinion as follows:
"Carrie," said she (she now dropped the _dear_ when Mr. Hamilton was
not by), "Carrie, I shouldn't suppose you'd ever expect to get well,
so long as you stay moped up here all day. You ought to come
down-stairs, and stir around more."
"Oh, I should be so glad if I could," answered Carrie.
"Could!" repeated Mrs. Hamilton; "you could if you would. Now, it's my
opinion that you complain altogether too much, and fancy you are a
great deal worse than you really are, when all you want is exercise. A
short walk on the piazza, and a little fresh air each, morning, would
soon cure you."
"I know fresh air does me good," said Carrie; "but walking makes my
side ache so hard, and makes me cough so, that Maggie thinks I'd
better not."
Mag, quoted as authority, exasperated Mrs. Hamilton who replied
rather sharply, "Fudge on Mag's old-maidish whims! I know that any one
who eats as much as you do can't be so very weak!"
"I don't eat half you send me," said poor Carrie, beginning to cry at
her mother's unkind remarks; "Willie 'most always comes up here and
eats with me."
"For mercy's sake, mother, let the child have what she wants to eat,
for 'tisn't long she'll need it," said Lenora, suddenly appearing in
the room.
"Lenora, go right down; you are not wanted here," said Mrs. Hamilton.
"Neither are you, I fancy," was Lenora's reply, as she coolly seated
herself on the foot of Carrie's bed, while her mother continued:
"Really, Carrie, you must try and come down to your meals, for you
have no idea how much it hinders the work, to bring them up here.
Polly isn't good for anything until she has conjured up something
extra for your breakfast, and then they break so many dishes!"
"I'll try to come down to-morrow," said Carrie meekly; and as the
door-bell just then rang Mrs. Hamilton departed, leaving her with
Lenora, whose first exclamation was:
"If I were in your place, Carrie, I wouldn't eat anything, and die
quick."
"I don't want to die," said Carrie; and Lenora, clapping her hands
together, replied:
"Why, you poor little innocent, who supposed you did? Nobody wants to
die not even _I_, good as I am; but I should expect to, if I had the
consumption."
"Lenora, have I got the consumption?" asked Carrie, fixing her eyes
with mournful earnestness upon her companion, who thoughtlessly
replied:
"To be sure you have. They say one lung is entirely gone and the other
nearly so."
Wearily the sick girl turned upon her side; and, resting her dimpled
cheek upon her hand, she said softly, "Go away now, Lenora; I want to
be alone."
Lenora complied, and when Margaret returned from the village she
found her sister lying in the same position in which Lenora had left
her, with her fair hair falling over her face, which it hid from view.
"Are you asleep, Carrie?" said Mag; but Carrie made no answer, and
there was something so still and motionless in her repose that Mag
went up to her, and pushing back from her face the long silken hair,
saw that she had fainted.
The excitement of her stepmother's visit, added to the startling news
which Lenora had told her, was too much for her weak nerves, and for a
time she remained insensible. At length, rousing herself, she looked
dreamily around, saying, "Was it a dream, Maggie--- all a dream?"
"Was what a dream, love?" said Margaret, supporting her sister's head
upon her bosom.
Suddenly Carrie remembered the whole, but she resolved not to tell of
her stepmother's visit, though she earnestly desired to know if what
Lenora had told her were true. Raising herself, so that she could see
Margaret's face, she said, "Maggie, is there no hope for me; and do
the physicians say I must die?"
"Why, what do you mean? I never knew that they said so," answered Mag;
and then with breathless indignation she listened, while Carrie told
her what Lenora had said. "I'll see that she doesn't get in here
again," said Margaret. "I know she made more than half of that up;
for, though the physicians say you lungs are very much diseased, they
have never saw that you could not recover."
The next morning, greatly to Mag's astonishment Carrie insisted upon
going down to breakfast.
"Why, you must not do it; you are not able," said Mag. But Carrie was
determined; and, wrapping herself in her thick shawl, she slowly
descended the stay though the cold air in the long hall made her
shiver.
"Carrie, dear, you are better this morning, and there is quite a rosy
flush on your cheek," said Mrs. Hamilton, rising to meet her. _(Mr._
Hamilton, be it remembered, was present.) But Carrie shrank
instinctively from her stepmother's advances, and took her seat by the
side of her father. After breakfast Mag remembered that she had an
errand in the village, and Carrie, who felt too weary to return
immediately to her room, said she would wait below until her sister
returned. Mag had been gone but a few moments when Mrs. Hamilton,
opening the outer door, called to Lenora, saying, "Come and take a few
turns on the piazza with Carrie. The air is bracing this morning, and
will do her good."
Willie, who was present, cried out, "No--Carrie is sick; she can't
walk--Maggie said she couldn't," and he grasped his sister's hand to
hold her. With a not very gentle jerk Mrs. Hamilton pulled him off,
while Lenora, who came bobbing and bounding into the room, took
Carrie's arm, saying.
"Oh, yes, I'll walk with you; shall we have a hop, skip, or jump?"
"Don't, don't!" said Carrie, holding back; "I can't walk fast,
Lenora," and actuated by some sudden impulse of kindness, Lenora
conformed her steps to those of the invalid. Twice they walked up and
down the piazza, and were about turning for the third time, when
Carrie, clasping her hand over her side, exclaimed, "No, no; I can't
go again."
Little Willie, who fancied that his sister was being hurt, sprang
toward Lenora, saying, "Leno, you mustn't hurt Carrie. Let her go;
she's sick."
And now to the scene of action came Dame Hamilton, and seizing her
young stepson, she tore him away from Lenora, administering at the
same time a bit of a motherly shake. Willie's blood was up, and in
return he dealt her a blow, for which she rewarded him by another
shake, and by tying him to the table.
That Lenora was not all bad was shown by the unselfish affection she
ever manifested for Willie, although her untimely interference between
him and her mother oftentimes made matters worse. Thus, on the
occasion of which we have been speaking, Mrs. Hamilton had scarcely
left the room ere Lenora released Willie from his confinement, thereby
giving him the impression that his mother alone was to blame.
Fortunately, however, Margaret's judgment was better, and though she
felt justly indignant at the cruelty practised upon poor Carrie, she
could not uphold Willie in striking his mother. Calling him to her
room, she talked to him until he was wholly softened, and offered, of
his own accord, to go and say he was sorry, provided Maggie would
accompany him as far as the door of the sitting-room, where his mother
would probably be found. Accordingly, Mag descended the stairs with
him, and meeting Lenora in the hall, said, "Is she in the
sitting-room?"
"Is _she_ in the sitting-room?" repeated Lenora; "and pray who may
_she_ be?" then quick as thought she added, "Oh, yes, I know. She is
in there telling HE!"
Lenora was right in her conjecture, for Mrs. Hamilton, greatly enraged
at Willie's presumption in striking her, and still more provoked at
him for untying himself, as she supposed he had, was laying before her
husband quite an aggravated case of assault and battery.
In the midst of her argument Willie entered the room, with
tear-stained eyes, and without noticing the presence of his father,
went directly to his mother, and burying his face in her lap, sobbed
out, "Willie is sorry he struck you, and will never do so again, if
you will forgive him."
In a much gentler tone than she would have assumed had not her husband
been present, Mrs. Hamilton replied, "I can forgive you for striking
me, Willie, but what have you to say about untying yourself?"
"I didn't do it," said Willie; "Leno did that."
"Be careful what you say," returned Mrs. Hamilton. "I can't believe
Lenora would do so."
Ere Willie had time to repeat his assertion Lenora, who all the time
had been standing by the door, appeared, saying, "You may believe him,
for he has never been whipped to make him lie. I did do it, and I
would do it again."
"Lenora," said Mr. Hamilton, rather sternly, "you should not interfere
in that manner. You will spoil the child."
It was the first time he had presumed to reprove his stepdaughter, and
as there was nothing on earth which Mrs. Hamilton so much feared as
Lenora's tongue, she dreaded the disclosures which further remark from
her husband might call forth. So, assuming an air of great distress,
she said, "Leave her to me, my dear. She is a strange girl, as I
always told you, and no one can manage her as well as myself." Then
kissing Willie in token of forgiveness, she left the room, drawing
Lenora after her and whispering fiercely in her ear, "How can you ever
expect to succeed with the son, if you show off this way before the
father."
With a mocking laugh Lenora replied, "Pshaw! I gave that up the first
time I ever saw him, for of course he thinks me a second edition of
Mrs. Carter, minus any improvements. But he's mistaken; I'm not half
as bad as I seem. I'm only what you've made me."
Mrs. Hamilton turned away, thinking that if her daughter could so
easily give up Walter Hamilton, _she_ would not. She was resolved upon
an alliance between him and Lenora. And who ever knew _her_ to fail in
what she undertook?
She had wrung from her husband the confession that "he believed there
was a sort of childish affection between Walter and Kate Kirby, though
'twas doubtful whether it ever amounted to anything." She had also
learned that he was rather averse to the match, and though Lenora had
not yet been named as a substitute for Kate, she strove in many ways
to impress her husband with a sense of her daughter's superior
abilities, at the same time taking pains to mortify Margaret by
setting Lenora above her.
For this, however, Margaret cared but little, and it was only when
her mother ill-treated Willie, which she frequently did, that her
spirit was fully roused.
At Mrs. Hamilton's first marriage she had been presented with a
handsome glass pitcher, which she of course greatly prized. One day it
stood upon the stand in her room, where Willie was also playing with
some spools which Lenora had found and arranged for him. Malta, the
pet kitten, was amusing herself by running after the spools, and when
at last Willie, becoming tired, laid them on the stand, she sprang
toward them, upsetting the pitcher, which was broken in a dozen
pieces. On hearing the crash Mrs. Hamilton hastened toward the room,
where the sight of her favorite pitcher in fragments greatly enraged
her. Thinking, of course, that Willie had done it, she rudely seized
him by the arm, administered a cuff or so, and then dragged him toward
the china closet.
As soon as Willie could regain his breath he screamed, "Oh ma, don't
shut me up; I'll be good; I didn't do it, certain true; kittie knocked
it off."
"None of your lies," said Mrs. Hamilton. "It's likely kittie knocked
it off!"
Lenora, who had seen the whole, and knew that what Willie said was
true, was about coming to the rescue, when looking up, she saw
Margaret, with dilated nostrils and eyes flashing fire watching the
proceedings of her stepmother.
"He's safe," thought Lenora; "I'll let Mag fire the first gun, and
then I'll bring up the rear."
Margaret had never known Willie to tell a lie, and had no reason for
thinking he had done so in this instance. Besides, the blows her
mother gave him exasperated her, and she stepped forward just as Mrs.
Hamilton was about pushing him into the closet. So engrossed was that
lady that she heard not Margaret's approach until a firm hand was laid
upon her shoulder while Willie was violently wrested from her grasp,
and ere she could recover from her astonishment she herself was
pushed into the closet, the door of which was closed and locked
against her.
"Bravo, Margaret Hamilton," cried Lenora, "I'm with you now, if I
never was before. It serves her right, for Willie told the truth. I
was sitting by and saw it all. Keep her in there an hour, will you? It
will pay her for the many times she has shut me up for nothing."
Mrs. Hamilton stamped and pushed against the door, while Lenora danced
and sang at the top of her voice:
"My dear precious mother got wrathy one day
And seized little Will by the hair;
But when in the closet she'd stow him away,
She herself was pushed headlong in there."
At length the bolt, yielding to the continued pressure of Mrs.
Hamilton's body, broke, and out came the termagant, foaming with rage.
She dared not molest Margaret, of whose physical powers she had just
received such mortifying proof, so she aimed a box at the ears of
Lenora. But the lithe little thing dodged it, and with one bound
cleared the table which sat in the center of the room, landing safely
on the other side; and then, shaking her short, black curls at her
mother, she said, "You didn't come it, that time, my darling."
Mr. Hamilton, who chanced to be absent for a few days, was, on his
return, regaled with an exaggerated account of the proceeding, his
wife ending her discourse by saying: "If you don't do something with
your upstart daughter I'll leave the house; yes, I will."
Mr. Hamilton was cowardly. He was afraid of his wife, and he was
afraid of Mag. So he tried to compromise the matter by promising the
one that he surely would see to it, and by asking the other if she
were not ashamed. But old Polly didn't let the matter pass so easily.
She was greatly shocked at having "such shameful carryin's on in a
decent man's house."
"'Clare for't," said she, "I'll give marster a piece of Polly Pepper's
mind the fust time I get a lick at him."
In the course of a few days Mr. Hamilton had occasion to go for
something into Aunt Polly's dominions. The old lady was ready for him.
"Mr. Hampleton," said she, "I've been waitin' to see you this long
spell."
"To see me, Polly?" said he; "what do you want?"
"What I wants is this," answered Polly, dropping into a chair. "I want
to know what this house is a comin' to, with such bedivilment in it as
there's been since madam came here with that little black-headed,
ugly-favored, ill-begotten, Satan-possessed, shoulder-unj'inted young
one of her'n. It's been nothin' but a rowdadow the whole time, and you
hain't grit enough to stop it. Madam boxes Willie, and undertakes to
shet him up for a lie he never told; Miss Margaret interferes jest as
she or'to, takes Willie away, and shets up madam; while that
ill-marnered Lenora jumps and screeches loud enough to wake the dead.
Madam busts the door down, and pitches into the varmint, who jumps
spang over a four-foot table, which Lord knows _I_ never could have
done in my spryest days."
"But how can I help all this?" asked Mr. Hamilton.
"Help it?" returned Polly. "You needn't have got into the fire in the
fust place. I hain't lived fifty-odd year for nothin', and though I
hain't no larnin', I know too much to heave myself away on the fust
nussin' woman that comes along."
"Stop, Polly; you must not speak so of Mrs. Hamilton," said Mr.
Hamilton; while Polly continued:
"And I wouldn't nuther, if she could hold a candle to the t'other one;
but she can't. You'd no business to marry a second time, even if you
didn't marry a nuss; neither has any man who's got grow'd-up gals, and
a faithful critter like Polly in the kitchen. Stepmothers don't often
do well, particularly them as is sot up by marryin'."
Here Mr. Hamilton, who did not like to hear so much truth, left the
kitchen, while Aunt Polly said to herself, "I've gin it to him good,
this time."
Lenora, who always happened to be near when she was talked about, had
overheard the whole, and repeated it to her mother. Accordingly, that
very afternoon word came to the kitchen that Mrs. Hamilton wished to
see Polly.
"Reckon she'll find this child ain't afeared on her," said Polly, as
she wiped the flour from her face and repaired to Mrs. Hamilton's
room.
"Polly," began that lady, with a very grave face, "Lenora tells me
that you have been talking very disrespectfully to Mr. Hamilton."
"In the name of the Lord, can't he fight his own battles?" interrupted
Polly. "I only tried to show him that he was henpecked--and he is."
"It isn't of him alone I would speak," resumed Mrs. Hamilton, with
stately gravity; "you spoke insultingly of me, and as I make it a
practise never to keep a servant after they get insolent, I have----"
"For the dear Lord's sake," again interrupted Polly, "I 'spect we's
the fust servants you ever had."
"Good!" said a voice from some quarter, and Mrs. Hamilton continued:
"I have sent for you to give you twenty-four hours' warning to leave
this house."
"I shan't budge an inch until marster says so," said Polly. "Wonder
who's the best title deed here? Warn't I here long afore you come a
nussin' t'other one?"
And Polly went back to the kitchen, secretly fearing that Mr.
Hamilton, who she knew was wholly ruled by his wife, would say that
she must go. And he did say so, though much against his will. Lenora
ran with the decision, to Aunt Polly, causing her to drop a loaf of
new bread. But the old negress chased her from the cellar with the
oven broom, and then stealing by a back staircase to Margaret's room,
laid the case before her, acknowledging that she was sorry and asking
her young mistress to intercede for her. Margaret stepped to the head
of the stairs, and calling to her father, requested him to come for a
moment to her room. This he was more ready to do, as he had no
suspicion why he was sent for, but on seeing old Polly, he
half-resolved to turn back. Margaret, however, led him into the room,
and then entreated him not to send away one who had served him so long
and so faithfully.
Polly, too, joined in with her tears and prayers, saying, "She was an
old black fool anyway, and let her tongue get the better on her,
though she didn't mean to say more than was true, and reckoned she
hadn't."
In his heart Mr. Hamilton wished to revoke what he had said, but dread
of the explosive storm which he knew would surely follow made him
irresolute, until Carrie said, "Father, the first person of whom I
have any definite recollection is Aunt Polly, and I shall be so
lonesome if she goes away. For my sake let her stay, at least until I
am dead."
This decided the matter. "She _shall_ stay," said Mr. Hamilton, and
Aunt Polly, highly elated, returned to the kitchen with the news.
Lenora, who seemed to be everywhere at once, overheard it, and, bent
on mischief, ran with it to her mother. In the meantime Mr. Hamilton
wished, yet dreaded, to go down, and finally, mentally cursing himself
for his weakness, asked Margaret to accompany him. She was about to
comply with his request, when Mrs. Hamilton came up the stairs,
furious at her husband, whom she called "a craven coward, led by the
nose by all who chose to lead him." Wishing to shut out her noise, Mag
closed and bolted the door, and in the hall the modern Xantippe
extended her wrath against her husband and his offspring, while poor
Mr. Hamilton laid his face in Carrie's lap and wept. Margaret was
trying to devise some means by which to rid herself of her stepmother,
when Lenora was heard to exclaim:
"Shall I pitch her over the stairs, Mag? I will if you say so."
Immediately Mrs. Hamilton's anger took another channel, and turning
upon her daughter, she said, "What are you here for, you prating
parrot? Didn't you tell me what Aunt Polly said, and haven't you acted
in the capacity of reporter ever since?"
"To be sure I did," said Lenora, poising herself on one foot, and
whirling around in circles; "but if you thought I did it because I
blamed Aunt Polly, you are mistaken."
"What did you do it for, then?" said Mrs. Hamilton; and Lenora, giving
the finishing touch to her circles by dropping upon the floor,
answered, "I like to live in a hurricane--so I told you what I did.
Now, if you think it will add at all to the excitement of the present
occasion, I'll get an ax for you to split the door down."
"Oh, don't, Lenora," screamed Carrie, from within, to which Lenora
responded:
"Poor little simple chick bird, I wouldn't harm a hair of your soft
head for anything. But there is a _man_ in there, or one who passes
for a man, that I think would look far more respectable if he'd come
out and face the tornado. She's easy to manage when you know how. At
least Mag and I find her so."
Here Mr. Hamilton ashamed of himself and emboldened, perhaps, by
Lenora's words, slipped back the bolt of the door, and walking out,
confronted his wife.
"Shall I order pistols and coffee for two?" asked Lenora, swinging
herself entirely over the bannister, and dropping like a squirrel on
the stair below.
"Is Polly going to stay in this house?" asked Mrs. Hamilton.
"She is," was the reply.
"Then I leave to-night," said Mrs. Hamilton.
"Very well, you can go," returned the husband, growing stronger in
himself each moment.
Mrs. Hamilton turned away to her own room, where she remained until
supper time, when Lenora asked "If she had got her chest packed, and
where they should direct their letters!" Neither Margaret nor her
father could refrain from laughter.
Mrs. Hamilton, too, who had no notion of leaving the comfortable
Homestead, and who thought this as good a time to veer round as any
she would have, also joined in the laugh, saying, "What a child you
are, Lenora!"
Gradually the state of affairs at the homestead was noised throughout
the village, and numerous were the little tea parties where none dared
speak above a whisper to tell what they had heard, and where each and
every one were bound to the most profound secrecy, for fear the
reports might not be true. At length, however, the story of the china
closet got out, causing Sally Martin to spend one whole day in
retailing the gossip from door to door. Many, too, suddenly remembered
certain suspicious things which they had seen in Mrs. Hamilton, who
was unanimously voted to be a bad woman, and who, of course, began to
be slighted.
The result of this was to increase the sourness of her disposition;
and life at the Homestead would have been one continuous scene of
turmoil had not Margaret wisely concluded to treat whatever her
stepmother did with silent contempt. Lenora, too, always seemed ready
to fill up all vacant niches, until even Mag acknowledged that the
mother would be unendurable without the daughter.