SUNNY BANK.
For a few days we lingered at my mother's fireside, and then, with
the fall of the first snowflake, we left for our southern home;
Richard promising my mother, who was loth to give me up, that when
the summer birds came hack and roses were blooming again by the door,
he would bring his _Rose_ to breathe once more the air of her native
hills. We stopped at New York, Philadelphia, Baltimore and
Washington, and it was not until the holidays were passed that we
landed at last at Charleston and took the cars for W---- which we
reached about dark.
With a loud cry of joy, _Bill_, who was waiting for us, welcomed back
his master, and then almost crushing my fingers in his big black
hand, said, with a sly wink, which he meant should be very
expressive, "I know, now what mars'r kill dem hosses for!" at the
same time making some apology for the really sorry looking animals he
was compelled to drive in the place of the deceased Ferdinand and
Frederic. As we drove through the town I could not help contrasting
my present feelings with those of the year before, when I thought I
was leaving it forever. Then, weary, sick and wretched, I had looked
through blinding tears towards Sunny Bank, which was now my home,
while at my side, with his arm around me, was its owner--my husband.
"You tremble, Rose," said he, as we drew near the house, and he bade
me be calmer, saying the meeting between myself and his sister would
soon be over.
But it was not that which I dreaded. It was the presentation to his
servants, to whom I bore the formidable relation of mistress, and for
whose good opinion I cared far more than I did for that of the
haughty Mrs. Lansing. Something like this I said to Richard, who
assured me that his household would love me because I was _his_ wife,
if for no other reason, and thus I found it to be. As we drove into
the yard, we were surprised at seeing the house brilliantly lighted,
while through the open windows forms of many persons were seen moving
to and fro.
In a displeased tone of voice Richard said, "It is Angeline's work,
and I do not like it, for you need rest, and are too much fatigued to
see any one to-night, but I suppose it cannot be avoided. Ho, Bill,"
he called to the driver, "who is here?"
"Some de quality," answered Bill, adding that "Miss Angeline done
'vite 'em to see de bride."
"She might at least have consulted my wishes," said Richard, while my
heart sank within me at being obliged to meet strangers in my jaded
condition.
Mrs. Lansing, it seems, had in her mind a new piano for Lina, their
present one being rather old-fashioned, and as the surest means of
procuring one she thought to please her brother by noticing his
bride. So, in her zeal, she rather overdid the matter, inviting to
Sunny Bank many of the villagers, some of whom were friendly to me
and some were not; though all, I believe, felt curious to see how the
"Plebeian Yankee" (thus Ada termed me) would demean herself as the
wife of a southern planter.
Dusky faces, with white shining eyes, peered round the corner of the
building as the carriage stopped before the door, and more than one
whisper reached me. "Dat's she--de new Miss, dat mars'r's liftin' so
keerfully."
Upon the piazza stood Mrs. Lansing, her face wreathed in smiles,
while at her side, in flowing white muslin, were Ada and Lina, the
former of whom sprang gaily down the steps, and with well feigned joy
threw herself into the arms of her guardian, who, after kissing her
affectionately, presented her to me, saying, "Will Ada be a sister to
my wife?"
"Anything, for your sake," answered Ada, with rather more emphasis on
_your_ than was quite pleasing me.
Mrs. Lansing came next, and there was something of hauteur in her
manner as she advanced, for much as she desired to please her
brother, she was not yet fully prepared to meet me as an equal. But
Richard knew the avenue to her heart, and as he placed my hand in
hers, he said, "For the sake of Jessie you will love my bride, I am
sure."
It was enough; Jessie was forgotten by many who had wept bitterly
when first they heard the sad news of her death, but in the mother's
heart there was an aching void, and as if the gentle, blue-eyed child
were pleading for me from her little grave, the proud woman's eyes
were moist with tears as she said, "Yes, for Jessie's sake do I
l----" she paused, for with that sacred name upon her lips even the
could not utter a falsehood and say, "I love you," so she qualified
it, and after a moment continued, "I will learn to love you, Rose,
for such I know would be our angel Jessie's wish."
From Lina I expected no demonstration. She was too selfish, too
listless to care for any one, so when she coolly shook my hand and
called me _Mrs. Delafield_, I was quite satisfied, particularly as
the next moment Halbert caught me round the neck, shouting out a
noisy, but genuine welcome to his "Aunt Rose," and telling me "he was
mighty glad I'd come back to stay for good."
"You have quite a party," said Richard to his sister as we entered
the spacious hall, I shrinking behind him so as to hide myself from
the curious eyes which I knew were scanning my dusty traveling dress.
"Only a few friends, who I thought would be glad to meet Miss Lee--I
beg pardon--your wife," she hastily added, as she saw the gathering
frown upon his brow.
With a look in his eye which made her quail, he said, "Never make
that mistake again, Angeline." (And she never did!) "Rose is too
much exhausted to appear in the parlor to-night," he continued, as we
entered my room--our room--the pleasant, tasteful apartment, which I
once thought had been fitted up for Ada. "You ought to have had more
tact than to invite company on the first night of my arrival--when
you must have known how weary Rose would be. She don't look like
herself, so pale and wayworn," he continued, himself removing my
bonnet and tenderly stroking my aching head.
Nothing would please Ada better than to present me just as I was,
pale and jaded, with dark rims beneath my eyes, induced by the severe
headache from which I was really suffering. It would show her own
charms to greater advantage, she thought, as she glanced at an
opposite mirror and saw the contrast between us.
"Oh, Richard," she said pleadingly, "pray don't object to her going
down; it wouldn't be polite, and then they are all dying to see her."
"Why then didn't they, some of them, improve the opportunity when she
was here before, and on show every day," said Richard, moodily.
And Ada, forgetting herself, answered in a low tone, "Why, that's
plain enough, Mrs. Richard Delafield is a very different personage
from Miss Lee, _gov_"----
"_Ada!_" sternly interposed my husband, "never a remark like that in
my presence."
"Why, Uncle Dick," said Ada, smothering her anger and winding her
white arms around his neck, "how you frighten me. I didn't mean
anything, only I do want Rose to go down, so much, can't you, dear?"
and she turned toward me.
With her, I felt that it would hardly be polite to refuse, so I
replied that "after a cup of tea and half an hour's rest, I would try
to do so."
Supper was brought to our room, the servant almost touching her knees
to the floor, so low was her obeisance to the "New Miss." As I have
once before remarked, my head was aching dreadfully, and as I looked
at the soft, downy pillows which lay piled upon the snowy bed in the
adjoining room, I thought how much rather I would throw myself among
them than join the gay company below. But it could not be, and with
something like tears in the sound of my voice, I asked Richard to
send up my trunks.
Closely inspecting me for a moment, he answered, "There is no
necessity for you to dress. You look well enough just as you are,
and you must not fatigue yourself any more. I shall get you excused
in a little while, and sometime after you are thoroughly rested,
Angeline shall give a large party at her own house, where you'll have
an opportunity to display all the '_fixin's_,'" and he laughed,
thinking, I suppose, he had said something smart.
My dress was a dark blue merino, trimmed on the basque and sleeves
with black velvet. It fitted neatly, and was, I knew, unusually
becoming; so after arranging my curls and donning a clean linen
collar, I took my husband's arm and went down to the drawing-room,
where I found about forty people assembled. With a few of them I was
already acquainted, while the majority were only known to me by
sight; for though I had often seen them at Cedar Grove, they had not
thought it worth their while to notice a mere governess. Now,
however, as Ada had said, matters were changed, and Richard
Delafield's wife could not be slighted with impunity. Consequently I
was for a time overwhelmed with compliments and attention; some with
whom I had never before spoken, expressing their delight at seeing me
back again, while others said that a _bride_ was just what was
wanting to give éclat to the winter gaieties.
Close to my side kept Ada, assuming a kind of patronizing manner and
answering for me whenever she thought the conversation beyond my
depth. Of course she threw me quite in the shade, and in a measure
she had her reward, for she, as well as I, heard a lady, a stranger
in W----, say, "How much more beautiful Miss Montrose is than the
bride. I wonder Mr. Delafield did not prefer her."
There was a look of exultation on Ada's face as her eyes met mine,
but it passed away as we heard the answer made by Miss Porter, a lady
whom Ada thought exceedingly aristocratic. "Yes," said she, "Miss
Montrose is rather pretty, but she is fading fast, and I suppose Mr.
Delafield preferred the freshness of youth to the decay of beauty,
and for my part, I approve his choice, and think her a very pretty
little creature."
I glanced at my husband--he, too, heard the remark and it pleased
him, I knew, while Ada crossed over to the opposite side of the room
and I saw her no more, for Richard soon asked for me to be excused; a
request which the company readily granted, saying, "I must of course
be tired."
It was late when Richard came up to our room, and I saw in a moment
that something was the matter, for his face wore the dark, hard look
it sometimes did when he was disturbed. I did not then ask the cause
of his annoyance, but afterwards I learned that the moment the guests
were gone, Ada, whose feelings were a good deal ruffled, not only at
the attention I had received, but also at the remark of Miss Porter,
commenced censuring my husband for having suffered me to appear in
the drawing-room in my traveling dress. "'Twas an insult to the
company," she said, "and they could excuse it on no other grounds
save the supposition that I was entirely ignorant of etiquette in any
form. I didn't blame her so much," said she, "for I suppose she
didn't know any better, but I was astonished at _you_."
Ada had quite forgotten herself, or else she misunderstood the man
with whom she had to deal. Very quietly he listened, but the storm
was gathering within, and when she had finished, it burst upon her
with a vengeance; he bidding her never again, either in his presence
or the presence of any one, say aught disparagingly of his wife.
"Her actions shall not be questioned by you," said he, "and you
_shall_ treat her with deference, for in every respect she is your
superior, save that of _age_, and there, I admit, you have the
advantage."
This decided the matter at once, for Ada was afraid of him, and
though she could not conceal her dislike from me, she was in his
presence always kind, considerate and sometimes even affectionate in
her demeanor towards me, coming at last to call him "Uncle Dick," in
imitation of Albert, and me "Aunt Rose," particularly if there were
any strangers present.
The morning following my arrival I was formally presented to the
servants, who received me with many demonstrations of joy, the older
portion "bressin' de Lord they had lived to see Mars'r Richard look
so happy and peart like as he did with the new Miss." Only one eyed
me at all askance, and that was Aunt Hagar, the housekeeper, who saw
in me a rival--one who would henceforth wear jingling at her belt the
huge bunch of keys, which for so long a time had been to her a badge
of honor. Then, too, the old lady, like my other new relatives, had
some fears "that Miss Rose didn't 'long to the quality, and that
Mars'r Richard had done histed hisself down a peg or so by marryin'
one who was brought up in de free states, whar dar warn't nary nigger
to fotch 'em a drink of water or fan when de sun was roastin' hot."
With a look of injured dignity, which made the steeple of a turban on
her head tremble, she undid from her waist the bunch of keys, and
offering them to me, said, "I 'spects these are yourn now."
I drew back, for to me there was nothing pleasing in the idea of
being disturbed every time a lump of sugar, a piece of coal, or a pan
of flour was wanted, so I said, "If my husband is willing I'd rather
you'd keep them yourself, as I know you are trusty."
Hagar's face brightened perceptibly and I am induced to think she
forgot in a measure my misfortune in having been born in a _free
state_! At all events I have not now a more devoted servant than
Hagar, who declares me to be a "perfect lady," and who has more than
once ventured the _treasonable remark_, that "if all de Free State
folks is like Miss Rose, she'll be boun' she'd like to live thar!"
Regularly each morning she comes to me and asks "what Miss would like
for dinner," and regularly each morning "Miss" answers, "Dear me,
Hagar, I don't know; get what you like;" feeling confident the while
that the program is already made out and that any material suggestion
from me would be superfluous. So much for mistress and slave.
With his usual generosity, my husband made all of the negroes
presents in honor of his marriage; offering for Bill's acceptance a
silver watch, which he had purchased for him in Charleston. Taking
the timepiece in his hand, Bill examined it attentively, held it to
his ear, put it in his pocket, looked at the key, and then handing it
back to his master, said, "no 'fense, mars'r, but if you please
thar's somethin' I'd like better."
"Very, well, what is it?" asked Richard; and Bill answered, "Why, you
see, Mars'r, how dem hosses, Fred and Ferd, has never had proper
'spect showed to thar memory. To be sure, I wars a weed on my hat
and I 'fused to jine in de dance t'odder night, but that's nothin'.
Ferd had too high blood in him to keer for an ole nigger's mournin',
and what I wants is for you _to paint de stable black_, and that I
reckons will show 'em proper 'tentions. What do you say, Miss Rose?"
As the horses had fallen in my cause, I readily espoused Bill's
project for the novelty of the thing, if nothing else; and should any
one of my readers visit Sunny Bank, which I wish they may, they will
see the stables wearing a hue as dark as Bill himself, who has now a
pair of iron-grays, which he calls "Richard" and "Rose,"
notwithstanding that both are of the masculine gender. These,
particularly the latter, are the pride of Bill's heart, and when the
year of mourning has expired, he intends, he says, to have the stable
painted "yaller," that being the color of a young girl who has lately
made sad havoc with his affections!
Here I may as well say that Mrs. Lansing managed until she procured
the desired piano, which came in company with another, a much nicer
one, on the front of which was inscribed "Rose, from her husband."
In return for her brother's gift, Mrs. Lansing made a large party,
where I had an opportunity of wearing my bridal dress, together with
a costly set of diamonds, which I found upon my table, when I went up
to make my toilet. It did not need the simple word "Richard" on a
bit of paper to tell me whence they came, and the tears started to my
eyes when I thought how kind he was, while I was conscious of a glow
of pride, when I saw _little Rosa Lee_ flashing with diamonds, which
encircled her arms and neck, and shone among the curls of her hair.
Bertha, my tasteful waiting maid--for I am getting quite
southernized--pronounced me beautiful, as she gave the finishing
stroke to my toilet, while one, for whose judgment I cared still
more, and who all the time had been conning his evening paper,
apparently oblivious to the presence of white satin, point lace,
orange flowers and diamonds, responded, "Yes, Bertha, your young
mistress is beautiful."
_Dress_ does make a vast deal of difference in one's looks, and if
that night two-thirds of the three hundred particular friends whose
hands I shook pronounced me "beautiful, handsome, charming, lovely,"
and all that, it was owing chiefly, I think, to the fitness of my
robes and the brilliancy of my diamonds. These last were the subject
of much remark, they being the finest which had ever been worn in
W----, Ada _very good-naturedly_ saying, "she hoped my good fortune
wouldn't quite turn my head!"
Mrs. Lansing's party was followed by many more, and ere I was aware
of it Mrs. Richard Delafield was quite a belle--what she said, what
she did, and what she wore being pronounced _au fait_ by the
fashionables of W----. Upon all this Ada looked jealously; never
allowing an opportunity to pass without speaking slightingly of me,
though always careful that Richard should not know of it. In his
presence she was vastly kind, sitting at my feet, calling me "Aunty,"
and treating me as if I had been twenty years her senior. At first
she spent much more of her time at Sunny Bank than was at all
agreeable to me, and I was not sorry when a little incident occurred
which in a measure tended to keep her away. She had always been in
the habit of treating my husband with a great show of affection, and
now that he was, as she said, "an old married man," she seemed to
think it no matter how much she caressed him. Even _I_ dared not
seat myself upon his knee as coolly as she would, and her temerity
troubled me, particularly as I knew it was annoying to him. This I
must have manifested in some way, for one morning when, as usual, she
entered our room without knocking and perched herself on Richard's
knee, he pushed her off, saying, half in earnest, half in jest,
"Don't act so foolish, Ada, you make me sick, for now that I have
Rose to pet me, I can easily dispense with your caresses, which are
rather too much of a good thing."
Ada was angry, and, with a little hateful laugh, she said, turning to
me, "_jealous_, I suppose, and have read your better-half a lecture
on propriety. When _I_ marry, I trust I shall have faith enough in
my husband's love for me not to care even if he does chance to look
at some one else."
I knew Richard would vindicate my cause, so I remained silent while
he answered, "You do Rose injustice, for never have we exchanged a
word concerning the manner you have assumed towards me, and which I
should suppose your own sense of propriety would condemn. Were you
my wife, 'twould be different."
"Your wife," interrupted Ada, with bitter scorn, "I am not your wife,
thank fortune, neither did I ever aspire to be, and I have yet to see
the man whom I would for a moment think of marrying."
There was not the slightest cause for this speech, but Ada was angry;
and, as if to exasperate her still more, Richard coolly asked,
"Didn't you think of marrying _Herbert Langley_ when you engaged
yourself to him?"
He had heard the whole story at Meadow Brook, but this was the first
time he had hinted it to Ada, Who turned very pale and without
another word left the room, going back to Cedar Grove, where for
three weeks she pouted and cried alternately. At the end of that
time, however, she concluded it better to "make up:" so she wrote a
note to us both, asking my pardon for her rudeness and begging my
husband to forgive her for the many falsehoods she had told
concerning her engagement with Herbert, which she now frankly
confessed. Of course we forgave her, and as she was not one who
remembered anything long, she soon began to visit us as of old,
though she no longer sat on my husband's knee, or wound her arms
around his neck. His rebuke did her good, and she profited by it,
while the fact that he was fully aware of the deception she had
practised tended to humble her, and on rainy days, when Richard was
necessarily away from home, I found her quite an agreeable companion.
Thus the winter and spring passed away, and my mother's letters began
to grow urgent for my return, but for various reasons Richard did not
think it advisable for me to undertake so long a journey, and as
Sunny Bank was all the world to me, I very cheerfully consented to
wait until another season ere I visited my New England home. About
this time I was again seized with my olden desire for authorship,
induced in a measure by my knowing how much Mrs. Lansing reverenced
anything which savored of a book-writer. To be an _authoress_, then,
and make her proud to own me as her sister, was a subject over which
I grew pale and "nervous," Richard said, while the negroes called me
"fidgety" and wondered "what done ailded Miss Rose." At last, after
many wakeful nights and restless days, after sick headaches, nervous
headaches, and all kind of headaches, the plan was marked out for a
story. _I_ would be the heroine myself and give to the world as much
of my history as I thought proper, and if I failed--if no railroad,
steamboat, or stagecoach passenger ever pointed me out as "the woman
who wrote that book," or if my publishers "respectfully declined"
another bearing my signature, I thought I should still have the
satisfaction of knowing I had tried to benefit the world, and I felt
almost sure that in Meadow Brook at least there were people stupid
enough to buy my book and possibly to like it, just because little
Rosa Lee, who used to climb fences and hunt hen's eggs with them in
her childish days, had written it. So, one sunny morning in June,
when my husband had left me to be gone for two weeks, I shut myself
up in my room, donned a loose wrapper, tucked back my curls, opened
my writing desk, took out a quire of foolscap, and had just written
"MEADOW BROOK," when the bell rang and Bertha announced "a lady in
the parlor." With a deep sigh, as I thought how "WE writers disliked
to be disturbed," I arranged my curls, resumed my cambric morning
gown, and went down to receive my visitor, telling her that I was
_very_ well, that the weather was _very_ warm, that I expected to be
_very_ lonely without my husband, that her bonnet was _very_ pretty,
that I didn't think negroes as annoying and hateful as she did, after
which she took her leave; and I went back to my room, this time
locking the door and writing the first chapter of my book before the
bell rang for dinner.
To Bertha I imparted my secret, reading to her each page as I wrote
it, and though she was not, perhaps, the most appreciating auditor
one could have, she was certainly the most attentive and approving.
It is true she objected to my describing myself as such a homely
child. "Jest tell de trufe and done wid it," she said; whereupon I
assured her that I _had_ told the truth, and then she suggested that
in order to make amends for my ugliness I should represent myself as
having been "peart like and smart." So, if the reader thinks I have
made myself too precocious, the fault is chargeable to Bertha, for I
did it to please her!
For two weeks I wrote, scarcely allowing myself a moment's rest, and
Bertha, when she saw how it wore upon me, began at last to
expostulate. "Thar wasn't no 'casion," she said, "to kill myself,
when thar was heaps 'o niggers kickin' round under foot, and if miss
'sisted on writin' a book, why didn't she make some dem lazy critters
do it for her!"
At the end of two weeks Richard returned, asking me as he looked in
my face "what was the matter, and how I had spent my time?"
Before I could answer, Bertha, who was quite incensed against my
book, said, "She's done writin' a spellin' book, or something and
sits up 'most all night. I tell her how 'twill kill her, but she pay
no 'tention!"
The secret was out, and with many blushes I plead guilty, and
producing my manuscript, watched Richard while he read it. Over the
first chapter, where he thought I was going to die, he cried--or that
is, tears came to his eyes; the third he skipped partially, the next
entirely, and the next and the next (I hope the reader has not done
likewise); but when he found Dr. Clayton he read every word, his
forehead tying itself up in knots, which, however, cleared away the
moment he came upon himself at the theater, though I believe he
didn't feel much complimented by my description of his personal
appearance!
There, just as _he_ was introduced, the story ended, and fortunate
was it for me that it did so, for he declared I should not write
another word after I got through with him; and I promised that I
wouldn't, mentally resolving that it should be some time before I
reached that point. This then, my reader, is the reason why I said
no more of him, when first I presented him to your notice, but left
him for a while in mystery. I knew Richard was anxious to hear what
_did_ become of himself, and I fancied that if I wrote considerable
before I said anything very definite of him, he would be more likely
to let me finish the book, as he would not wish me to waste so much
paper for nothing! And the sequel proved that I was right.
Regularly each day I wrote, Richard always stopping me the moment he
thought I was tired, and invariably breaking me off in the wrong
place, so if there should be any parts of my story which do not join
together smoothly, you may know it was there that Richard took my pen
from my hand, or hid the inkstand.
Towards the middle of August, invitations came for us to attend a
large wedding in Charleston. I was exceedingly anxious to go, having
heard much of the bride, who was a distant relative of my husband,
and though both he and Mrs. Lansing raised every conceivable
objection to my leaving home, I adroitly put aside all their
arguments, and ere Richard fully realized that he had been coaxed
into doing something he had fully determined not to do, we were
rattling along in a dusty Charleston omnibus towards one of the
largest hotels, where rooms had been engaged for us. The morning
after our arrival, I went into the public parlor, and as I seated
myself at the piano I saw just across the room, near an open window,
a quiet, intelligent-looking lady, apparently twenty-six or
twenty-seven years of age, and near her sporting upon the carpet, was
a beautiful little girl, with flowing curls and soft dark eyes, which
instantly riveted my attention, they were so like something I had
seen before.
At the sound of the music she came to my side, listening attentively,
and when I had finished, she laid one white chubby hand on my lap and
the other on the keys, saying, "Please play again, _Rose_ like to
hear you."
"And so your name is Rose?" I answered, "Rose what?"
"_Rose Lee Clayton_, and that's my new ma," she replied, pointing
towards the lady, whose usually pale cheek was for an instant
suffused with a blush such as brides only wear.
I knew now why I had felt interested in the child. It was the
_father_ which I saw looking at me through the eyes of brown, and
taking the little creature in my arms, I was about to question her of
her sire, when an increasing glow on the lady's cheek and a footstep
in the hall told me he was coming!
The next moment he stood before me, Dr. Clayton! his face perfectly
unruffled and wearing an expression of content, at least, if not
perfect happiness. I was conscious of a faintness stealing over me,
but by a strong effort, I shook it off, and rising to my feet, I
offered him my hand, which he pressed, saying, "This is indeed a
surprise, Rose--I beg your pardon, Mrs. Delafield, I suppose?"
I nodded in the affirmative, and was about to say something more,
when another footstep approached, and my husband's tall figure
darkened the doorway. For an instant they both turned pale, and Dr.
Clayton grasped the piano nervously; but the shock soon passed away,
and then as friend meets friend after a brief separation, so met
these two men, who but the year before had watched together over my
pillow, praying, the one that I might live, and the other that I
might die.
Wonderingly the little girl looked up into her father's face, and
pulling the skirt of my dress, said, "Who is the lady, pa? with the
pretty curls so much like mine?"
Never before, I believe, did I like Dr. Clayton as I did at that
moment when I saw the deep tenderness which broke over his features
as he took his daughter in his arms, and pressing his lips to her
forehead, answered, "It is _Rosa Lee_, my child, the lady for whom
you were named."
"Don't you love her, pa? _I_ do," she asked, stretching her little
fat arms towards me.
I glanced at my husband--his brow was dark as midnight. I looked at
Dr. Clayton, there was a slight quivering of his lips, while his wife
was pale as a water lily, and then I burst into a merry laugh, in
which the gentlemen soon joined, though it would have puzzled us all
to have told at what we were laughing.
After a few words of explanation as to why we were there, Dr. Clayton
suddenly remembered himself, and leading me towards the lady,
introduced her as "My wife, Mrs. Clayton." She had been living in
Florida with a cousin, at whose house they were married, about two
weeks before, and they were now on their way to Boston, stopping for
a few days in Charleston to see the city. I found her a very quiet,
sensible woman, but as different from Dell Thompson, or Rosa Lee, as
a person well could be, and I was wondering to myself how it was
possible for a man to love so many people of opposite temperaments,
when she said something about New England, and I asked if she were
ever there.
"Oh, yes," she answered, "I was born there, in Wilbraham, Mass. I
was living with the grandmother of the first Mrs. Clayton at the time
of her death."
In a moment it all came to me; Dell had told me of _Mabel Warrener_,
who had inherited her grandmother's fortune, and now she sat there
before me, Mrs. Clayton 2d. Surely the freaks of fortune are
wonderful! Naturally refined and intelligent, Mabel had employed a
part of her money in giving herself a good education, graduating at
Mount Holyoke Female Seminary, and going thence back to her home in
Wilbraham, which she had fitted up with much taste, and where she was
living when Dr. Clayton met her on his return from Georgia. Of her
then he only thought as of a pleasant, agreeable woman; but when
time, absence, and my marriage had softened the keenness of his
disappointment, he often found his thoughts wandering towards the
fair Mabel, who, upon inquiry, he learned had gone to Florida. Rose
needed a mother, and he needed a wife; so, after an interchange of
letters, he one morning started with his little girl for the "land of
flowers," where neither sickness, nor death, nor yet a Richard
Delafield; came between him and his bride. They seemed very happy,
for after a little Dr. Clayton recovered his equanimity, and appeared
perfectly natural.
Not a word, however, did he say of the past, or in any way allude to
Georgia, except once when he asked me if I did not think _Rose_
resembled Jessie in a measure. I had thought of the same thing,
though Rosa's eyes were darker and her hair more of a chestnut brown.
She was a sweet little creature, and if anything could have
reconciled me to being the wife of Dr. Clayton, it would have been
the fact that she was my daughter. But as I contrasted the two men,
as my eye fell on Dr. Clayton's handsome face and curly locks, and
then rested on the dark features and raven hair of Richard, I felt
that in him there was more of the true, the noble man, and my heart
warmly approved me for the choice I had made.
Nearly all the morning we sat there talking on indifferent subjects,
and when dinner was over, Mrs. Clayton came to my room, staying a
long time, and gaining fast in my good opinion, when I saw how kind
and friendly she was. She had heard the whole story, for she told me
so, holding little Rose upon her lap and smoothing her silken curls.
"We cannot all love the same person," she said in conclusion; "and I
am so glad you refused him, for otherwise he would not have been my
husband;" and her quiet eyes lighted up with a look of happiness
which plainer than words could express told me that she had brought
to Dr. Clayton no divided affections.
At the making of my toilet for the wedding she was present, aiding
Bertha greatly by her own tasteful suggestions, and when at last I
was dressed with perfect childish simplicity, she ran for her husband
"to come and see if I didn't look pretty."
"Mrs. Delafield was always pretty to me," was the doctor's answer,
and that was all he said.
They were to leave early next morning before I would be up, and so
when the carriage was announced, we went to bid them good-by.
"May I kiss your wife?" asked the doctor of my husband, as he held my
hand.
"Certainly, sir," answered Richard, "an even exchange is always
fair," and instead of once, _he_ kissed the blushing Mabel twice,
which of course gave Dr. Clayton liberty to do the same by me.
Suddenly remembering something which I had left in my room, I went up
for it, and on my way back glanced into the parlor, occupied by Dr.
Clayton. He was seated upon the sofa by the side of his wife, around
whose waist his arm was affectionately thrown, while partly on his
lap and partly upon that of her stepmother was little Rose, her long
eyelashes drooping sleepily over her eyes of brown. It was a
beautiful tableau, and whenever I think of Dr. Clayton now, it is as
I last saw him, happy and contented, for he has not only won a most
excellent wife, but also secured that $10,000 after all!