THE INVITATION.
When I repeated to Mrs. Melville the conversation I had had with Mrs.
Maclean, we were just passing in to dinner, and she bade Anna, as soon
as we had dined, go over and invite the Leslies to pass the afternoon
and evening with her; adding, in a lower tone, to me, that such was
Ellen's wilfulness, she would not be at all surprised to hear that she
had held her purpose for all day, or even for several days. Anna did not
need to be reminded of her errand, but went over to Mrs. Maclean's quite
early, and quickly returned, bringing Mary and Ellen along with her. It
was now May, and Emma Melville having reported the spring roses to be in
bud, the children soon left the parlor, where Col. and Mrs. Melville and
I were seated, and from the windows of which, a few minutes after, we
could see them walking around the flower-beds in the garden, and
occasionally stopping to search for, or to communicate some new token of
the advancing season. Our observations on them were interrupted by the
sound of the door-bell and the entrance of a servant, who, handing Col.
Melville a card and a letter, announced that the gentleman who brought
them was waiting to see him in the next room. Col. Melville only glanced
at the card, ran his eye hastily over the letter, and handing them both
to Mrs. Melville, went to meet his visiter. "The Rev. Mr. Wallace," said
Mrs. Melville, as she looked at the card, in a tone which indicated that
to her at least he was a stranger. "And the letter," she added, as
opening it she looked at once at the name of the writer, "is from Mrs.
Herbert."
"And who is Mrs. Herbert?" I asked.
"Did you never hear of her? She is a sister of Mr. Leslie. I have not
seen her since her marriage, fifteen years ago; but if her maturer years
have fulfilled the promise of her early life, she must be excellent
indeed."
"You say you have not seen her in fifteen years; has she never visited
her brother in all that time?"
"No--she removed on her marriage to the western part of the State of New
York; and as Mr. Herbert was not wealthy, the expense of travelling so
far has perhaps had something to do with keeping her away."
"But Mr. Leslie was long thought a very wealthy man; did he not assist
his sister?"
"I have heard that he offered to do so; but as he had disapproved her
marriage with one who had so few worldly advantages to offer as Mr.
Herbert, it was probably regard for her husband's feelings which made
Mrs. Herbert decline his aid, replying, as I was told she did, with
every expression of grateful affection for her brother, but adding the
assurance that they had enough for happiness." After a few minutes'
silence Mrs. Melville added: "I doubt not they were very happy, for he
seemed worthy of her, and that is, I assure you, high praise. What a
blow his death must have been!"
"His death!" I exclaimed--"is he dead?"
"Yes; I thought I had mentioned that she was now a widow: he died about
the same time with Mr. Leslie. His death was sudden, and I fear he left
her and her three children but illy provided for. Had it been
otherwise, she would, I am sure, before this time have endeavored to do
something for Mary and Ellen; for I know that Mr. Villars wrote soon
after their father's death, informing her of their entire destitution,
and of those embarrassments on his part which would prevent his doing
all he wished for them."
Mrs. Melville had scarcely ceased speaking, when the door between the
two parlors was opened, and Mr. Melville entered, accompanied by a very
benevolent-looking old gentleman, whom he introduced as Mr. Wallace,
saying, as he presented him to Mrs. Melville, that he was a near
neighbor of her old friend Mrs. Herbert, of whom he could give her very
late intelligence, as he had been only about a fortnight from home.
"I have just been speaking of Mrs. Herbert," said Mrs. Melville,
addressing herself to Mr. Wallace, "and though it has been fifteen years
since we met, there are few of whom I retain a more admiring and
pleasant remembrance. I was indeed grieved when I heard of Mr. Herbert's
death."
"It was a terrible blow," said Mr. Wallace, "the more terrible from
being so sudden; but Mrs. Herbert is a mourner from a yet more recent
affliction--the death of her eldest child and only daughter."
"Indeed! such repeated and heavy strokes--how has she borne up under
them?"
"As one who, though a devoted wife and mother, is likewise a devoted
Christian. The strokes have been indeed as you say, heavy, but she has
bowed to them, and kissed the rod which she knew was in a Father's hand.
You who remember her, madam, will not be surprised to learn that no
selfish sorrow has made her forgetful of her remaining duties."
"She has yet two children, I believe," said Mrs. Melville.
"Yes--two fine boys, whose education is scarcely commenced yet, as the
eldest is but thirteen years old. Her orphan and destitute nieces, too,
who, I understood, were with you this afternoon, she feels to have
strong claims upon her, almost as strong as those of her own children.
To these claims she had not hitherto been able to attend, for she had
scarce recovered from the first bewildering effect of her husband's
death, when the symptoms which had already alarmed her in her daughter's
health, deepened into decided consumption, and her whole time was
necessarily given to her till death released her from her cares."
"And will she now be able to give a home to these poor girls?"
"Only to one of them," said Mr. Melville,--"to Ellen."
"And separate them!" exclaimed Mrs. Melville; "that will never do."
"So Mrs. Herbert thought at first," said Mr. Wallace, smiling, "but she
has been in correspondence with Mr. Villars on the subject, and she has
yielded to his arguments, on the one condition, that the children
themselves consent to the arrangement."
"That I am sure they will never do," said Mrs. Melville.
"In that case, Mrs. Herbert's power of being useful to them ceases,
since Mr. Villars has decided that the eldest must on no account
relinquish the advantages of her position here, as neither he nor Mrs.
Herbert are in circumstances to ensure them future support independently
of their own exertions."
"Mr. Villars is certainly a very eccentric man," said Mrs. Melville;
"does he suppose that a few years could make any difference in Mary's
claims upon the people of H., or their willingness to give her their
support, if she were then compelled to teach."
"Mr. Villars is eccentric," said Mr. Melville; "yet for what seemed to
us strange, he has always had some good reason to give, as I doubt not
he has now."
"Well, here come the children," said Mrs. Melville; "we shall soon hear
their decision, and I suspect you will find that Mr. Villars' limitation
is a complete hinderance to Mrs. Herbert's kind intentions."
The door was thrown open as Mrs. Melville spoke, and the children,
unconscious of a stranger's presence, came laughing and talking in. Even
Ellen looked pleased, which I was especially glad to see, as her usual
gloomy countenance would have impressed a stranger unfavorably. Mrs.
Melville led Mary and Ellen to Mr. Wallace, and introduced him to them
as a friend of their Aunt Herbert. To their inquiries respecting their
aunt and her family Mr. Wallace replied very fully. The children having
said that they had never seen her, he described her appearance, her
manners, her character--spoke of their cousins George and Charles
Herbert, whom he represented as spirited, manly, but kind and
affectionate tempered boys.
"And my cousin Lucy?" said Mary.
"Was one of the loveliest and most engaging young persons I ever saw,
when she was on earth," said Mr. Wallace; "she is now, I hope, an angel
in heaven."
"Is my cousin Lucy dead?" said Ellen, who had hitherto been a silent
listener.
"Yes, my child, she has now been dead for more than two months, after
enduring for almost two years very great suffering. During all that
time, though I saw her very often, I never heard a complaining word from
her. All her grief was for her mother. Even when she was dying she
thought of her, and the last words we could distinguish from her were,
'Our good heavenly Father will comfort you, mother.'"
"Poor Aunt Herbert!" exclaimed Mary, touched with sympathy for such a
loss.
"Yes, my dear child," said Mr. Wallace, "you may well pity her for
losing such a daughter, her only daughter; your Aunt Herbert hopes that
you will do more than pity her, that you will send her by me another
daughter in your sister Ellen, to whom she will be just such a mother as
she was to Lucy Herbert. She wished to have you both come to her as her
daughters, but your Uncle Villars does not think it wise that you should
leave H. just at present; he consents, however, that Ellen should go to
her aunt, if you are both willing."
From the moment Ellen's name was mentioned, the sisters had sat looking
earnestly into each other's eyes.
"Ellen," said Mr. Wallace, "will you not go with me, and be another Lucy
to this good aunt?"
"I could not be like Lucy--I am not good enough; and I cannot leave
Mary--I cannot leave Mary for anybody."
Mary threw her arm around Ellen, and drew her closely to her side,
answering all Mr. Wallace's arguments only with her tears, or a silent
shake of the head. Colonel Melville attempted to influence her, and then
she spoke: "Oh! Colonel Melville, I cannot let Ellen go: I promised my
mother, when I was a very little girl, and then I promised my father
when he was on his death-bed, that I never would part with Ellen, and I
cannot do it."
"Mary," said Colonel Melville, "I do not wish you to do it; none wish
you to do it, unless you feel it to be not only right but desirable, and
all I would ask of you now is that you and Ellen too would think before
you decide on a question of so much importance. As respects your
promise, you could not have promised that she should not leave you,
because about that, you know, she will one of these days have a will of
her own, and you cannot prevent her going from you if she chooses it.
Now Ellen's home with you is not, I fear, a very happy one,"--Ellen
colored and looked down at these words,--"and you have it not in your
power to make it so; and here your kind aunt sends and asks her to come
to her and be her daughter, promising to cherish her as her own dear
child. Mrs. Herbert will educate Ellen as few are capable of doing, and
so enable her to be of use to herself and to you too, if the necessity
for your labors continue. And there will be no force exercised over
Ellen's wishes there, more than here. I doubt not if, after six months
or a year's trial of her home there, she should be dissatisfied, and
wish to return to you, she will be permitted to do so."
"Will she, sir?--May she come back if she should wish to?" asked Mary
quickly, turning to Mr. Wallace.
"Certainly, my dear; your aunt's desire is to make Ellen happy, and that
could not be done by keeping her against her will. But I would not have
you make up your minds in a hurry--take to-night to think about it. You
have, I hope, been taught to pray; ask your heavenly Father to direct
you to what is best for you. I intended to set off to-morrow afternoon
on my way home, but I will wait till the next morning for Ellen, if you
will give me your answer in the course of the day, or to-morrow."
And so it was determined. The children consented to defer their decision
till the next day, and Colonel Melville advised that nothing more should
then be said on the subject. I saw, however, that though they did not
speak of it, Mary and Ellen both thought of it; for more than once I saw
Mary's eyes fill with tears as they rested on her sister, and Ellen
herself perceiving it at one time, shook her head, and said with a
smile, "You need not be afraid, Mary; I shall not leave you." These
thoughts, however, did not interfere with Ellen's enjoyment of her
supper, which, from the appetite with which it was eaten, was, I doubt
not, the only regular meal she had made that day.