ADA.
She was now daily expected, the vessel in which she had sailed having
landed at New York, and numerous preparations in honor of her arrival
were in progress at Cedar Grove, where she was evidently regarded as
a person of consequence. The best chamber in the house was
appropriated for her use; Mr. Delafield himself taking much interest
in the arrangement of its furniture, and bringing over each morning
fresh bouquets of flowers, which, in costly vases, adorned the
apartment. Every one seemed anxious and expectant, save Jessie and
Halbert, the former of whom did not wish her to come, as she took up
so much of "Uncle Dick's" time, while the latter openly avowed his
dislike, saying, he wished she'd stay in Europe always.
As for myself, though there was no particular reason why I should do
so, I dreaded her arrival, and when at last, word come to the
schoolroom that she was in the parlor, and the children must come
down to see her, I stole out into the garden, in order that I might
put off the interview with her as long as possible. I knew I must
meet her at the supper-table, and so after a time I went up to my
room to dress, donning a plain white muslin, which I had often been
told became me better than aught else I could wear. Before my toilet
was finished, little Jessie came in and insisted upon twining among
my curls a few simple buds, which, she said, looked "mighty nice,"
adding, as she stepped back a pace or two to witness the effect, "I
think you are a heap prettier than Ada; but Uncle Dick don't, 'cause
I asked him, and he said 'Of course Ad was the handsomest.' Hal says
how he's her beau, and I reckon he is, for he kissed her like fury!"
"He kisses everybody, don't he?" I asked; and she replied,--
"Mighty nigh everybody but _you_. I never seen him kiss _you_, and
when I asked him why, he said you wouldn't let him--won't you?"
"It wouldn't be _proper_," I said, smiling down upon the little
fairy, who, poised on one foot, was whirling in circles, and then
looking up into my face, with her soft dreamy eyes.
At that moment the supper bell rang, and bounding away, she left me
alone. For full five minutes I waited, trying to summon sufficient
courage to go down, and at last chiding myself for my weakness, I
started for the dining-room. My footsteps were light, as they
evidently were not aware of my approach, for they were talking of me,
and as I reached the door, I heard Jessie, who was giving Ada a
description of her teacher, say, "Why she's the properest person in
the world, for she won't even let Uncle Dick kiss her."
"Somewhat different from Miss Rawson," said Ada, joining in the
general laugh; at the same time lifting her large, languid eyes, she
saw me, and started slightly, I fancied, as she recognized me.
She had changed since I saw her last, and her face now wore a weary,
jaded look, while the dark circle beneath her eyelids told of late
hours and heated rooms.
"Miss Lee--Miss Montrose," said Mrs. Lansing, and the proud Ada bowed
haughtily to the humble governess, who with heightened color took her
accustomed seat at the table.
"You have seen each other before, I believe," said Mr. Delafield,
looking curiously at both of us, while Mrs. Lansing, in much
surprise, exclaimed, "Seen each other! Where, pray?"
I waited for Ada to answer, and after staring at me a moment, she
replied, quite indifferently, "Miss Lee's face does seem familiar,
and if I mistake not, I met her _once or twice_ in Boston"--and this
was all she said, if I except a glance, half entreating, half
threatening, which she threw at me from beneath her long, drooping
eyelashes. This glance I did not then understand, but I now know it
to have been prompted by a dread lest I should tell of her engagement
with Herbert Langley, and thus betray her to Mr. Delafield, to whom,
it seems, she had positively denied the whole, solemnly assuring him
that there had never been between them anything more serious than a
mere friendly acquaintance. When, therefore, she saw me, her fears
were awakened, and knowing that I had her secret in my possession,
she looked upon me with suspicion and dislike, while I, wholly
unconscious of her feelings, had not the least intention of ever
speaking of the past, unless circumstances should render it
necessary. But of this she was not aware, and that night, in the
privacy of her room, she communed with herself as to the best means
of counteracting anything which I might say concerning her conduct in
Boston, deciding at last that the surest way of accomplishing her
object was to brand me as a person whose word could not be trusted!
And this she deemed an easy task, inasmuch as no one there had ever
seen or heard of me before. Strange, too, as it may seem, there was
mingled with her distrust of me a slight shade of jealousy lest Mr.
Delafield should in any way notice me. True, I was a poor obscure
girl, earning my daily bread, and on no point could I compete with
her save one, and that was age, I being, as she well knew, eight or
nine years her junior. To be old and unmarried was with her almost a
crime, and as year after year passed on, leaving her still Ada
Montrose, her horror of single blessedness increased, while at the
same time she seemed to look upon those much younger than herself as
almost her enemies, especially if they came between her and Mr.
Delafield, who, as the world goes, was at the age of thirty-one more
likely to choose a girl of eighteen than one of twenty-seven. This,
then, was my fault. I was young and had also in my possession a
secret which she did not wish to have divulged, for well she knew
that one as upright and honorable as Mr. Delafield would despise a
woman who could stoop to a falsehood as she had done.
"No, it shall not be!" said she, as she sat alone in her room with
her face resting upon her hands; "it shall not be! I will thwart her
and she shall never triumph over me, as did her pale-faced sister,
but for whom I might now have borne the title of Mrs. instead of
trembling lest some one should ask how old I am!" And the proud
belle felt a pang of envy towards my poor widowed sister whose heart
was buried in the grave of her unfortunate husband.
Not that she (Ada) had ever cared particularly for Herbert Langley,
but women of the world sometimes bestow their hand where the heart
cannot be given, and thus might she have done had not circumstances
prevented, for she had then no hope of ever winning her guardian.
Here, ere we proceed farther, it may be well to relate briefly her
past history, going back to the time when on his death-bed her father
had not only given her to the charge of Mr. Delafield, but had also
made a request that, if it were consistent with his feelings, Richard
would one day make her his wife. As we have said elsewhere, Mr.
Delafield was a great admirer of beauty, and when he looked upon the
exceedingly lovely face of the youthful, Ada, and thought of her as a
lonely orphan, his heart was touched, and he found no difficulty in
promising to protect her, and also to make her his wife, if, upon a
more intimate acquaintance, he found her all he could wish her to be.
That he did not find her thus was proved by the fact that nearly ten
years had elapsed since her father's death, and she was Ada Montrose
still, while he, as he grew older, seemed less likely to find any one
who fully came up to his standard of excellence; beauty, in reality,
now being of minor importance, notwithstanding his sister's assertion
that he would never marry one who had not a pretty face.
Upon this point, however, Ada had some doubts; for if beauty were
what he desired, she still possessed it to an uncommon degree, and it
did not seem to move him in the least. Rumor, indeed, said they were
on the eve of marriage, but she knew better, for never yet had he
really told her in earnest that he loved her. It is true that years
before, when she first came a weeping orphan to Cedar Grove, he had
devoted himself to her entirely, feeling, perhaps, a little proud of
his ward, to whom he sometimes talked of love, or hinted vaguely of
the time when she would be his bride, as they wandered together
beneath the whispering pines, which grew around his home, and once,
when she was in Boston, he had actually made up his mind to offer
himself immediately and take her to Sunny Bank as its mistress. To
this resolution he was urged by her cousin, a strong-minded woman,
who, in visiting at Cedar Grove, had labored to impress upon him the
sense of the duty he owed not only to her father but to Ada herself,
who was represented as loving him devotedly, and who was said to have
made a vow never to marry unless it were her guardian. Very
artfully, too, did Mrs. Johnson insinuate that her illness, of which
they had heard, had its origin in "hope deferred which maketh the
heart sick."
The knowledge that a beautiful girl loves you--nay, is dying for you,
is sufficient, I suppose, to touch the feelings of men less
susceptible to female charms than Richard Delafield, and acting upon
the impulse of the moment, he started off without, however, leaving
any word as to his destination. Arrived in Boston, he went to the
Revere House, where, as we know, he casually heard of Ada's
engagement with Herbert Langley. To say he was not disappointed
would hardly be just, for his self-pride was touched in knowing that
Ada had given her affections to another, and that other not a very
worthy object, if the word of his gossiping informer was to be
trusted. Too much displeased even to see her, he had left the city
immediately, declaring that he would never again think of marriage
with any one.
As the reader will remember, Ada heard of him through one of her
acquaintance, and from something her cousin had written, she half
guessed the nature of his visit. Accordingly on her return to
Georgia she several times in his presence laughingly referred to the
gossiping story, which, she said, some of the Bostonians got up
concerning her and a _millionaire_, positively denying it, and
wishing people would let her alone! But all this was to no purpose.
Mr. Delafield's impulse had subsided, and though his manner towards
her was always kind, affectionate, and brotherly, he never spoke to
her of love or marriage, except sometimes to ask her teasingly "if
they were not both of them almost old enough to get married."
Still she did not despair, for of his own accord he had accompanied
her and her cousin to Europe, whither he had always intended to go,
and though he had left them some months before, Mrs. Johnson was
willing to leave Paris, where Ada's beauty attracted much attention
from the polite Frenchmen, she would not believe he was at all weary
of _her_, but rather, as he had said, that his _business_ required
his immediate return to America.
Latterly Mrs. Lansing had in a measure espoused her cause, and
knowing, as she did, of the recent repairs at Sunny Bank, said by
Richard to be for the benefit of his bride, she began again to
entertain sanguine hopes of eventually becoming Mrs. Delafield,
provided the governess did not, by her foolish tattling, mar her
prospects.
Such, then, was the state of affairs when I was the burden of Ada's
thoughts, as she sat alone in her room on the first night after her
return home. For a time she mused with her face in her hands, then
lifting up her head and throwing back the silken tresses, which fell
over her brow, she gazed long and earnestly at herself in the
opposite mirror.
"Yes, I am fading," she said at last, "and each year my chance for
winning him grows less, and if this _Lee girl_ should tell, it would
take from me every shadow of hope--but it shall not be. I can
prevent her foolish tattling from doing me harm, and I will."
Then the better nature of Ada Montrose whispered to her of the great
wrong she was meditating against a poor, defenseless girl, who as yet
had never injured her, and for a moment she wavered.
"If I only knew she would never tell," said she; "but she _will_,
accidentally if not intentionally. Low-bred people like her are
always bold, and as she becomes better acquainted with me, she may
possibly say something to me about Herbert in the presence of Mr.
Delafield, who will question her, perhaps, and thus learn the whole.
So I'll be prepared. She's nothing but a poor governess, and _my_
word will be preferred to hers, provided I first give her the
character of a deceiver."
On awaking next morning her resolution was partially shaken, and
might, perhaps, have been given up entirely, if, in looking from her
window, she had not seen a sight which awoke within her the demon
_jealousy_, by whose aid she could do almost anything. The
_governess_ had arisen early, as was her usual custom, and gone forth
into the garden, where she came unexpectedly upon Mr. Delafield, who,
after expressing his pleasure at meeting her, very quietly drew her
arm within his own, and then walked with her several times through
the garden, casting often admiring glances towards the drooping
figure at his side, who, trembling lest the Argus eyes of Mrs.
Lansing were upon her would fain have been left alone. All this Ada
saw, and as she thought how different was his manner towards Rose
from what it had ever been towards her, a sudden light flashed upon
her. She had not lived twenty-seven years for nothing, and like
Dickens' woman with the "mortified bonnet," she knew the signs, and
with a sinking heart, she exclaimed, "Is it possible that he loves
her?"
The thought was maddening, and now strengthened tenfold in her
purpose of working the young girl evil, she went forth into the
garden to meet them, nodding coldly to Rosa, and bestowing her
sweetest smile upon her guardian, who wound his arm around her waist
and playfully kissed her forehead--a liberty he would not dare to
have taken with Rose, who, thinking that of course she was not
wanted, made an effort to withdraw her hand. But Mr. Delafield's arm
was strong, and he pressed it closely to his side, at the same time
giving her a look which bade her stay, notwithstanding that Ada two
or three times hinted to her the propriety of going.
"Why don't you ask Miss Lee about your Boston friends?" said Mr.
Delafield, when they had taken a few turns in silence.
Ada tossed her head scornfully, and replied, "I don't think I had any
acquaintances in common with _Miss Lee_, unless, indeed, it were her
_old aunty_;" and with a little hateful laugh she leaned across Mr.
Delafield, and asked, "How is she? Richard, you would like to know."
I was provoked at her manner, but I answered civilly that my aunt was
well, adding, as one would naturally do, "Herbert Langley, I suppose
you know, is dead."
The news was unexpected, and coming as it did, it produced upon her a
singular effect, blanching her cheek to a marble whiteness, while her
lips quivered spasmodically. Mr. Delafield was startled, and
stopping short, demanded of her what was the matter.
"Oh, nothing much," she answered, recovering her composure, and
pressing her hand upon her side, "nothing but an ugly pain, which is
gone now. I have felt it often lately," and her face looked as
unruffled and innocent as if she really thought it was the truth she
had uttered.
_I_ knew she told a falsehood, but Mr. Delafield did not, and leading
her to the summer-house, which was near, bade her sit down, while he
made minute inquiries concerning the pain, asking how long since she
first felt it, and saying he would speak to Dr. Matson the first time
he came to Cedar Grove, adding that a _blister_, he presumed, would
help it!
"Oh, mercy!" she exclaimed, again growing pale. "You make too
serious a matter of it."
But he did not think so--he was very tender of her, as a brother
would be of his orphaned sister; and knowing that her mother had died
of consumption, he watched narrowly for the first indications of that
disease in her. Just then little Jessie came bounding down the walk,
saying that "breakfast was ready," and leading her by the hand, I
returned to the house, followed by Mr. Delafield and Ada, the latter
of whom made some remark concerning my _gait_, which she pronounced
"wholly _Yankee_ and _countrified_."
"And graceful," rejoined Mr. Delafield, at the same time telling her
he did not like to hear one female speak disparagingly of another.
Ada bit her lip with vexation, and when she took her seat at the
table, she was evidently not in the best of humors. At Mrs.
Lansing's invitation her brother remained to breakfast, and I could
not perceive that he was any more polite to the beautiful lady in
elegant French muslin on his right, than he was to the plain-looking
girl in a shilling calico on his left. Indeed, if there was a
difference, it was in favor of the latter, with whom he conversed the
most, addressing her as if she had at least _common sense_, while
towards Ada he always assumed the trifling, bantering manner which he
seemed to think was suited to her capacity.
Breakfast being over, I started for my room, accidentally dropping
upon the stairs a handkerchief, which had been given me by Anna, and
which had her name "Anna Lee" marked in the corner. In honor of
Ada's return, there was no school that day, and as the morning
advanced and the heat in my chamber grew oppressive, I went with my
book to the sitting-room, and took a seat by an open window, where I
soon became so absorbed in reading as not to observe Mrs. Lansing and
Ada, who came out upon the piazza and sat down quite near me, but
still in such a position that neither of us could see the other.
After a time they were joined by Mr. Delafield, and then for a moment
I thought of stealing quietly away, but thinking my remaining there
could do no harm, I resumed my book and forgot my neighbors entirely,
until my attention was roused by the sound of my own name.
It was Mrs. Lansing who spoke, and she asked, "What kind of folks are
those relatives of Miss Lee?"
"Oh, about _so so_," answered Ada, and Mrs. Lansing continued, "And
she was then at school? I believe."
"_At school!_" repeated Ada, apparently in much surprise, "Mercy, no!
Why, she was a grown-up woman, as much as twenty-two or twenty-three
years old."
"There, I thought so," answered Mrs. Lansing, who the reader will
remember had, at my first introduction, taken me to be twenty-five.
"I thought she must be more than eighteen, didn't you, Richard?"
"_Eighteen!_" repeated Ada. "It isn't possible she calls herself
eighteen. She dare not do it in my presence. Why, she had been a
teacher, I don't know how long, and, besides that, 'twas said that
she had once been engaged to a Dr. Clayton, who, for some reason,
jilted her, and was then a married man as much as thirty years old.
_Eighteen_, indeed. I'd like to hear her say so."
I was confounded, but supposing she had mistaken me for Anna, my
first impulse was to go out and tell her so, but fearing lest she
should think I had intentionally listened, my second thought was to
go away where I could hear nothing further, and then, when Mrs.
Lansing questioned me, as I felt sure she would, I fancied it would
be an easy matter to exonerate myself from the falsehood Ada had put
upon me. I had reached the hall, and was half-way up the stairs,
when Mr. Delafield, who had arisen and was walking back and forth on
the piazza, espied me, and called me back.
There was a troubled look on hie face, and fixing his piercing black
eyes upon me as if he would read my inmost thoughts, he said with
something of bitterness in the tones of his voice, "I _did_ think I
had found _one_ female who, on all occasions, spoke the truth; but if
what Ada has said is true, I am mistaken; though why _you_ (and his
hand involuntarily clutched my arm) or any other woman should stoop
to a falsehood, or seek to deny her age, be she a hundred or less, is
a secret which Heaven knows, perhaps, but I do not."
I felt my face flush with indignation, and turning towards Ada, who,
not having expected a scene like this, was very pale, I said, "It is
not necessary, Miss Montrose, for you to repeat what you have
asserted concerning me, for I accidentally overheard it, and I thank
Mr. Delafield for giving me an opportunity to exonerate myself from
the charge you are pleased to bring against me."
"Been listening," muttered Mrs. Lansing.
"Silence, Angeline. Go on, Rose," interrupted Mr. Delafield, in a
voice which we both obeyed, she resuming her needlework, while I
continued, "I had taken my seat by the open window ere you and Miss
Montrose came out here, and not thinking it necessary to leave, I
remained, without, however, hearing a word of your conversation until
I caught the sound of my name. Then, indeed, my senses were
sharpened, and I heard Miss Montrose's statement, which I am sure she
would never have made were she not laboring under a mistake."
Here Ada, who was not in the least prepared for the occasion, began
to stammer out something about "letting the matter drop--she did not
wish to harm me, and had said what she did inadvertently, without
ever dreaming of making trouble. She didn't see why Richard wished
to make it such a serious matter, for she was sure _she_ didn't care
whether I were _forty_ or _eighteen_."
"But _I_ care," he said, grasping my arm still tighter, "_I_ care to
have justice done. I have supposed Miss Lee to be frank, ingenuous
and truthful, and if what you assert is true, she is the reverse, and
should suffer accordingly, while on the contrary if she be innocent,
she shall have an opportunity of proving herself so."
By this time Ada had collected her scattered senses, and resolving to
brave the storm she had raised, replied, "Certainly, Miss Lee has a
right to clear herself if she can, and prove that she _is_ really
_Rose_ instead of _Anna_ Lee."
"_Rose_ instead of _Anna_! What do you mean?" thundered Mr.
Delafield, while _I_ was too much astonished to speak.
Ada was not very _deep_, and in all her plotting she had never
thought how easy it would be for me to prove the falsity of her
assertion by writing home; so with the utmost coolness she replied,
"I mean this:--there were two _Lee_ girls living at the house of
their uncle where I occasionally visited: one was _Anna_, a young
lady of twenty-two or twenty-three, the other was _Rose_, a
schoolgirl of fourteen or fifteen. The oldest of these two I have
every reason to believe stands before us--at least _this_, which I
found upon the stairs, would indicate as much," and she held to view
the handkerchief which I had dropped and had not missed.
Glancing at the name, Mrs. Lansing said, "I have observed a similar
mark upon several of her garments, and rather wondered at it."
This was true, for Anna had dealt generously with me, giving me many
of her clothes, some of which bore her full name, while others had
merely the initials. I was about to tell of this, when Mr. Delafield
prevented me by asking if I could prove that I was what I represented
myself to be, and that I was a mere schoolgirl when I saw Miss
Montrose in Boston.
"Yes, sir, I can," I answered firmly; "by writing home, I can prove
it, if in no other way. But Miss Montrose knows better than to
confound me with _Anna_, whom she surely has reason for remembering."
Fearful lest her darling secret was about to be divulged, Ada roused
up and in a tone of angry defiance, answered, "Yes, I have reason for
remembering you, for you did me good service by taking off my hands a
worthless, drunken fellow, about whom the Bostonians were annoying
me. I thank you for it, Miss Lee, and only wonder how you could
suppose I would forget you. I recognized you the moment we met at
the table, but I did not then dream of your calling yourself
_eighteen_ when you are certainly _twenty-six_!"
I was confounded and remained speechless, while with renewed strength
my accuser continued, "Perhaps you will deny having been a teacher at
that time, when according to your statement you were only fourteen."
"No," I answered, "I do not deny that; I _had_ taught, but I was only
_thirteen_ when I did so, as any one at home will testify."
"Thirteen! how improbable!" exclaimed Mrs. Lansing, while Ada
continued, "And what of your engagement with Dr. Clayton. I heard it
from the lips of your aunt; but perhaps she told me a falsehood?" and
she looked maliciously at me, while with a stamp of his foot Mr.
Delafield said sternly, "Ada, you have no right to question her of
that."
"But I am glad she did," I said, "for as I live, I have never been
engaged to any man."
"Nor in love with one either? Will you say you were never in love
with Dr. Clayton?" persisted Ada.
It was a cruel question, but I could not deny it, and I remained
silent, while I cowered beneath the burning gaze of Mr. Delafield,
who still held me fast, but who now loosened his hold, and slightly
pushing me from him, leaned against the pillar, with folded arms, and
dark, lowering brow, while Mrs. Lansing and Ada exchanged glances of
triumph. They had by my silence gained a partial advantage over me,
but as long as I felt the clasp of Mr. Delafield's hand, I was strong
to defy them. Now, however, that had failed me, and girllike I began
to cry, telling them "they could easily test the whole matter by
writing either to Boston or Meadow Brook."
This alternative had not occurred to Ada before, but now she readily
saw how easily I could prove my innocence, and as she met Mr.
Delafield's inquiring glance, she turned very pale and laid her hand
upon her side as if the pain had returned.
"Rose," said Mr. Delafield, "you would hardly wish for me to write to
Meadow Brook were you guilty, and as you seem willing that we should
do so, I am inclined to hope that Ada may be mistaken. Come, stand
by me (and reaching out his hand he drew me to his side) and tell me
all the particulars of your acquaintance with Miss Montrose, and also
about that sister with whom you are confounded, and you (turning to
the other ladies) are not to speak, until she is through, when Ada
can make any correction or explanation necessary."
It was an act of justice which I owed to myself, I knew, and wiping
my eyes, I was about to commence, when Ada, rising up, said
mockingly, "With the Honorable Judge's permission I will leave, as I
do not wish to hear the falsehoods which I am sure will be uttered."
Again Mr. Delafield's long arm was extended, and catching Ada, as she
was passing, he drew her to his side, where he held her firmly,
saying, "It looks suspicious, Ada, that you are not willing to hear
Miss Lee's defense. You have, either by mistake or design (the
former, I hope), preferred against her serious charges, and you must
listen to her explanation. Commence," he added, looking down upon
me, and in a firm, unfaltering manner I told both my story and that
of Anna, who, I said, had eloped with Herbert Langley and was now a
broken-hearted widow, living with his mother in Boston.
At this part of my narrative Ada's hand was pressed convulsively on
her side, while with parted lips and pale cheeks she leaned forward,
looking at me anxiously; but when she saw that I did not speak of her
ever having been engaged to Herbert, the color came back to her face,
and with a sigh of relief she listened more composedly, nodding
assent when I referred her to our meeting at the dépôt at
Canandaigua, and faintly admitting that "she might have been
mistaken. I looked so much like Anna that 'twas not impossible."
This I knew was false, but I did not contradict her, and proceeded
with my story, until suddenly recollecting the incident at the
theater, I turned to Mr. Delafield and asked "if he remembered it?"
He thought a moment, and then the arm, which had gradually been
winding itself about my waist, clasped me to his side, while he
exclaimed, "Remember it? Perfectly, and _you_ are that little girl.
They called you Rose;--and this is why your face has puzzled me so
much. I see it all now. You _are_ innocent, thank Heaven," and the
hand, which, heretofore, had held Ada fast, now rested caressingly
upon my head and parted back my curls, as he said, more to himself
than to me, "and you have remembered me all this time." Then,
turning towards Ada, he said sternly, "We will hear you now."
Ada was caught in her own snare. She had thought to prevent me from
doing her injury by branding me as a _liar_, and now that I was
proved innocent, it filled her with confusion, and she remained
silent until Mrs. Lansing came to her aid by saying, "I do not think
Ada meant to do wrong; she probably mistook Rose for her sister,
hence the blunder."
This gave Ada courage, and crossing over to me, she took my hand,
begging my forgiveness and saying "she _had_ been mistaken--she
certainly did not mean to do me so great a wrong, and she hoped I
would forget it and try to look upon her as my friend, for such she
would henceforth be."
I was not quite verdant enough to credit _all_ that Ada said; but I
replied I was willing to forgive her, and when she asked permission
to _kiss_ me, so that the reconciliation might be perfect, I offered
no resistance, though I did not return the compliment, for which I
think Mr. Delafield felt gratified--at least I read as much in his
face. During the progress of my story Ada had alternately turned red
and white, particularly at the points where I touched upon Herbert.
This did not escape the observation of Mr. Delafield, and suspecting
more than Ada thought he did, he half seriously, half playfully asked
her "why she had evinced so much feeling whenever Mr. Langley's name
was mentioned."
Instantly the color left her face, which wore a livid hue, and her
hand went up to her side as if the cause of her agitation were there,
while with a half stifled moan, she said, "Oh, oh!--the pain!"
Of course Mrs. Lansing asked what she meant, and Ada, in answering
her, managed to dwell so long upon "the horrid pain, which she feared
would become chronic," that Mr. Delafield could not reasonably expect
an answer to his question. Still, I think, he was not satisfied, and
when I saw the mischievous look in his eye, as he told her "she must
_certainly_ be _blistered_," I fancied that he, too, understood her
as I did.
That afternoon we were again assembled upon the piazza, Mrs. Lansing,
Ada, and myself, the former nodding in her large willow chair, while
the latter sat upon a little stool at my feet, and with her elbow
upon my lap was looking up into my face with the childish simplicity
she knew so well how to assume. She was just asking me to assure her
again of my forgiveness when Mr. Delafield joined us, and coming up
behind me leaned over my chair, while he handed to Ada a little
oblong package, saying, "I was in the village just after dinner, and
seeing the Dr. I asked him about _your pain_. As I expected, he
prescribed a _blister_, and at my request he prepared one, which you
are to apply at night when you go to bed!"
I could not see him, but I absolutely pitied poor Ada, who began to
realize that the way of the transgressor is hard. The tears started
to her eyes, while with a look of dismay, she exclaimed, "Oh,
Richard, how could you? I never was blistered in my life. It will
kill me. I can't do it,"--and she cried aloud.
Very gently, Mr. Delafield soothed her, telling her that so far from
"killing her," it would certainly "cure her," he knew it would, and
he insisted upon her trying it. At last, as an idea, perfectly
natural, under the circumstances, dawned upon her mind, she looked up
very submissively at him and said, "To please you, I'll try it;
though the remedy, I think, is worse than the disease."
I hardly know whether he had any faith in her words--_I_ certainly
had not, and when next morning she came down to breakfast in a loose
wrapper, with a very languid look, I could not bring myself to ask
her concerning the _blister_, which the livelong night had drawn
nicely--on the back of the _fireboard_, in her room! As I expected,
Mr. Delafield soon made his appearance, and after inquiring how his
prescription worked, and if it had pained her much, he said, looking
towards neither of us, "How would you like to ride on horseback with
me out to Mr. Parker's plantation? I have business there, and do not
wish to go alone."
"Oh, charming!" exclaimed Ada, jumping up and clapping her hands in a
manner but little suited to a blistered side; "that will be grand,
and I can wear my new riding-dress, which fits so nicely."
"Why, Ada, what do you mean?" said Mr. Delafield, with great gravity.
"My invitation was intended for _Miss Lee_. _You_ can't, of course,
think of riding on horseback with a _blister_. You must have
forgotten it!" and his keen eyes rested upon her face with a deeper
meaning than she could fathom.
She turned very red, and for an instant, I think, half resolved to
acknowledge the deception she was practising. But Richard Delafield
was one who despised a falsehood, and she dared not confess to him
her error, so she turned away, saying with a feigned indifference
which illy accorded with the expression of her face, "Surely I forgot
all about it."
Alone in her room, however, she shed tears of anger and mortification
as she saw us ride off together, and thought of the happiness from
which she was debarred by a fancied blister, which had never come in
contact with her flesh. But whether it drew upon her side or the
fireboard, it in a measure wrought the desired cure, for seldom again
did Ada attempt to deceive her guardian. Would it not be well if
more of our modern young ladies should be blistered for the same
disease that afflicted Ada Montrose?
------------
It was nearly dark when we returned, and Mrs. Lansing and Ada were in
their accustomed places upon the piazza, the latter holding an open
letter which she had that afternoon received from her cousin Mrs.
Johnson, who was spending some time in Mobile, and who wished Ada to
join her there, before going on to New Orleans. They were evidently
discussing the matter, and when we came up, Ada handed the letter to
Mr. Delafield, bidding him read it and tell her what to do. Hastily
running it over, he said, "Go, by all means: you have never seen
Mobile, and it will be a good opportunity.
"But I have been thinking of giving up my visit to New Orleans," she
continued in a kind of beseeching tone; "Mrs. Lansing had rather I'd
remain with her this winter."
It was not so dark as to prevent me from seeing the expression of Mr.
Delafield's face, and I fancied the proposition did not altogether
please him. She evidently thought so too, for rather pettishly she
added, "but if you wish to be rid of me, of course I'll go."
"Ada! How foolish!" he said, sternly. "I've often heard you express
a desire to spend a winter in New Orleans, and now that an
opportunity is presented, I think you had better accept it. I shall
be there a part of the time, perhaps all," he added; and then _I_
turned away lest _my_ face should betray what was passing within.
"And will you go with me to Mobile?" Ada asked of him, as a child
would ask her father.
"Certainly," he answered; "I do not propose letting you go alone.
But how is that side? I'd almost forgotten to ask."
"It has pained me a good deal," said she, "but Martha dressed it
nicely this afternoon, and it feels much better. I'm so glad you
made me apply it, now the worst is over, for I believe it will do me
good!"
She spoke with every appearance of candor, and much as it surprised
him, Mr. Delafield was, I thought, partially, if not wholly,
convinced that what she said was true, and that he had suspected her
of more than she deserved; for his manner towards her changed, and as
if trying to make amends, he devoted himself to her entirely for the
remainder of the evening, telling her where they would go when they
were in New Orleans, and laying many plans for her pleasure. Once in
his zeal he thoughtlessly threw his arm around her waist, but she
instantly shrank back, saying, "don't--don't--you hurt!"
This convinced him thoroughly, and I slept and woke twice that night
ere the sound of their voices ceased upon the piazza, where their
long interview was kept in countenance by Mrs. Lansing, who sat up
until he left, and then patting Ada's cheek, told her she thought
"her prospects were brightening."
I thought so, too, and there was a shadow on my heart, when I saw how
much they were together during the few weeks which elapsed before her
departure for Mobile. It is true he was still kind to me as of old;
and whenever he found that Ada, by word or look, had slighted me, he
always managed to let her know how much he disapproved her conduct,
so that in his presence she was usually polite, though she could not
quite conceal the fact that I was to her an object of dislike.
It was nearly the middle of October, when Ada finally left us for
Mobile, accompanied by Mr. Delafield, who, in bidding us good-by,
said we need not be surprised if he did not return in several weeks.
I consider it to be my misfortune that my face generally betrays all
I feel, and with his physiognomic powers he could not fail to see the
effect which his words produced upon me, for well I knew how lonely
Cedar Grove would be without him; and when after he was gone, little
Jessie climbed into my lap, and laying her head upon my shoulder
wished "Uncle Dick never would go away," I mentally responded to the
wish. The whole household seemed more or less affected; Mrs. Lansing
was cross; Lina careless; Halbert fretful; and Jessie unhappy--while
I began to be haunted with my old project of returning home; and I
should, perhaps, have proposed it to Mrs. Lansing, had it not been
that, at the close of the fifth day, we were greatly surprised at Mr.
Delafield's unexpected return. He didn't like Mobile, he said, and
would much rather be at home.
Numerous were the questions asked by Mrs. Lansing concerning Ada and
the pain in her side, which last, Mr. Delafield said, had left her
entirely, owing, he believed, to the timely application of the
blister. He was deceived, I thought, and I must confess to a slight
feeling of gratification at an occurrence which thoroughly convinced
him of his mistake. One night a few days after his return, old
Hagar, his head cook, came over to Cedar Grove, groaning with
rheumatism, which she termed "a misery in her back." Lina, to whom
her complaints were made, listened a while, and then opening an old
paper-box which stood under the table, drew forth a _plaster_, which
she said she "had done found in Miss Ada's room, on t'other side the
fireboard, oncet when she was clarin' the fireplace."
As Ada was gone she thought there was no harm in. appropriating it
to herself, which she accordingly did, laying it carefully away until
it should be needed. The recital of Hagar's aches and pains reminded
her of it, so she urged it upon the old negress, assuring her it must
be good, or white folks would never use it! With many thanks Hagar
hobbled home, applied her plaster, and went to bed! But, alas! for
the expected relief, which came only in burning sensations and
stinging pains, eliciting many a groan from the poor old lady, who
heroically bore it until morning, when she found herself unable to
perform her accustomed duties.
For a long time Mr. Delafield waited for his breakfast, which was at
last served up by Hagar's daughter, who gave such a deplorable
account of her mother's condition that the moment breakfast was over
he went himself to the cabin, where he found the old lady moaning
over her blistered back, which she said, "was a heap harder to bar
than the rheumatics."
A few words explained the whole, for Hagar never concealed aught from
her master, and so she gave the history of her _plaster_, which now
lay upon the hearth in the ashes, where she had thrown it. Quick as
thought the truth burst upon Mr. Delafield, who laughed so long and
loud, that Aunt Hagar, thinking that he was making light of her
misfortunes, began to cry, saying she "never thought Mars'r Richard
would poke fun at her misery."
"Neither am I making fun of you," said he, adding further, by way of
atoning for his error, that for the remainder of the week she should
be freed from all household service, and devote her whole time, if
she liked, to her aching back.
This had the effect of restoring Aunt Hagar to good humor, and in the
midst of her thanks, Mr. Delafield returned slowly to the house,
thinking that when a habit of deception is once firmly fixed, it
requires more to cure it than a blister applied to the fireboard!