THE ABDUCTION.
Mrs. Gaylord did not expect to return to her Virginia home for some
time, it being her intention to spend the winter as far south as
convenient, her physician having ordered a warmer climate and an entire
change of scene. She thought her health was improving, and so she would
remain until the crocus peeped from its bed beneath its brown covering,
and then she would return. But it was a pity that Lily should be shut up
so closely when there was so much in the city to give her enjoyment.
Tiny could do all her mistress really needed, and "we will make it so
pleasant for her," Ellen pleaded; and Mrs. Belmont, who stood behind the
curtain, calm and dignified, had, unconsciously to all, set the plan in
active operation.
"I suppose I shall be permitted to add my mite to the young lady's
happiness, which I shall not fail to do if she will favor us, before I
leave the city," she said quietly. All the time she was speaking her
fingers slowly turned the leaves of a book on the table as though it was
of very small moment whether the invitation was or was not accepted, and
as the young lady left the room remarked, quietly:
"I believe I have taken quite a fancy to your daughter, Mrs. Gaylord. It
seems sometimes that she resembles in some respects my Lillian; their
eyes certainly are similar. Do you not think so, George?"
"Yes; I have often been reminded of her. The same deep, thoughtful
expression, and at times the same sad look I have noticed on Lillian's
face since I returned from Europe."
George St. Clair did not remove his gaze from the face before him while
speaking, yet she answered calmly:
"I can see no reason why one so young should have such a look."
The young man bent his head almost to her ear, as he whispered: "And
there is no reason under heaven why your daughter's face should wear it.
There is a curse in a false ambition like the one that is blackening
your soul. Unbend yourself and do what every mother's heart should
prompt her to do. Seek your child's happiness and despise, as every
noble character will, the worldly lust that is governing you."
"How dare you!" she exclaimed, rising to her feet and fixing her keen
eyes upon him. But she said no more. The power of his calm, unflinching
gaze awed her into silence, and turning she left the room. Yet the
slumbering demon in her heart had been aroused and as she strolled out
into the open air seemed ready to overpower her.
"What does he know about my false ambition? Could she have told him? Ah,
but she knew nothing of her child; let her revelations be what they may,
this secret is not his to taunt me with. Lost, lost! Poverty is to crush
my pride after all I have done. 'A curse!' Yes, a curse has already set
its seal upon my ambition--my life." She walked on until calm once more
stole in among her the contending spirits, and she returned to the
house.
"Mrs. Belmont seems like one who has experienced some great reverse,"
remarked Mrs. Gaylord, after her abrupt departure from the parlor. "I
have noticed several times since she has been here a disquietude
perfectly unaccountable in one of her position."
The young man made a casual reply, and others entering at the moment the
little incident was seemingly forgotten.
"It has been decided," remarked Ellen to her brother the next morning;
"Lily Gaylord will return with us, and Anna seems delighted. I had not
thought until last evening that a tie of native land drew them
together."
"A land of very favorable productions," replied the brother, with a
mischievous smile.
During the short visit the war excitement was spreading wider and wider,
and its symptoms became more and more positive. In the cities the alarm
raged like an epidemic in certain circles, while there were a few who
denounced the whole affair, a cooling draught quite inefficient to keep
down the devouring fever. Great preparations were being made in
Charleston, and a few other places were following its lead, so that,
should the campaign really open in the spring, as was prophesied, they
might be ready. Mr. St. Clair was one of the number who thought it not
well to go to fighting. "To be sure," he would say, good-naturedly,
"Uncle Sam is getting rather plethoric, and it may be well to give him a
little fright," but he never would advocate the idea of the breaking up
of households. "No doubt it would be a very fine thing to tumble down
the old national structure after it was done we were sure of walking in
over the ruins and building up to suit our own notions." But to tell the
truth he was a little afraid of the old giant. He had learned that his
locks might grow again, crop them ever so short. The safest way, he
thought, was to let well enough alone.
His son was much of the same opinion, but if the house must be divided
against itself he would not let it fall into ruin without a struggle.
Therefore, in a few days after the little party had returned to the
city, George St. Clair started for Charleston. Lily was in ecstacy as
they drew near Savannah. The sea, the great glorious sea, was before
her, and the music of its distant waves thrilled every fibre of her
being. It recalled the fancied dream of her childhood when she longed to
go out and lay her head on the billows and become a part of its restless
life.
Charles Belmont, who had gone to the city a few days before, was at the
St. Clair's on their arrival and gave them a hearty welcome. Had he
thought that little Phebe, as the adopted daughter of the wealthy
Virginia planter, would do to reign at Rosedale?
A long programme was soon made out for the pleasures of the next few
weeks. There were rides and public entertainments, select dinner parties
and little _tete a tete's_, besides one grand, brilliant soiree at the
senator's mansion which Lily must not fail to attend!
"It is so lucky that Charles Belmont has not left us," remarked Ellen
while talking it all over. "He is a most graceful _chaperon_ and it
stands us in hand to court his favor. You will not refuse him, Lily?"
she continued with an arch smile. "He seems well pleased to be called
into service." Thus the weeks passed away. The violets peered out from
their beds of green along the garden borders and the daffodils turned
their broad faces to the sun, and yet Mr. Gaylord did not come south
after his wife. He was in Richmond with the leading men of the day
discussing the great topics under consideration, while Mrs. Gaylord grew
weary with her long visit and more and more nervous with its daily
protraction. After much urging and earnest solicitation by her friends
she consented to follow Lily to the city, and she soon found herself
forgetting, when once the guest of Mrs. St. Clair, that the time had
hung heavily. The widowed Bertha became much attached to the pale little
visitor, and found great consolation in pouring her sorrows into her
attentive ear. One day she came abruptly into the room where Mrs.
Gaylord was sitting alone and saw tears upon her cheeks still undried.
"Then you too grieve sometimes," she remarked, laying her white hand
affectionately on the bowed head. "How true it is that we find shadows
where we should least expect them! But then it must be sad never to feel
well!"
"O no, dear; it is not that! I seldom if ever have wept because of
physical suffering. I consider my pains and aches an indispensable part
of the programme of life. We all need a certain amount of refining in
order to ascertain how much gold will remain, if any; therefore I bear
all this because there is wisdom in it and an end to be accomplished."
"One would scarcely imagine that you could have a greater reason for
sorrow."
"Perhaps not, and yet I surprised you with tears. Shall I tell you why?
No idle fancy of mine but only a few innocent lines, the product, no
doubt, of an experience similar to my own. Let me read them to you. 'We
cannot judge of what the heart contains by the laughter that escapes the
lips or the smiles that flit across and illumine the face, any more than
we can fathom the soundless deep or discover the contents of its dark
chambers by the sunbeams that lie upon its surface. A crown of diamonds
and precious stones is a thing of beauty, but when lined with thorns and
pressed down by its heavy weight of wealth on the pierced and bleeding
temples it will lose its preciousness as it becomes a crown of torture!
Thus many blessings, priceless in themselves, may become our greatest
source of misery if a cruel hand twines thorns among them. Our most
serious wounds are those that no eye can discover because of their
depth.' May you not realize all this Mrs. Mason. _I_ know it! This is
the reason why your words, dropped one by one into the fountain of my
soul, create such a melancholy echo!"
"I confess that I am astonished. Rich, talented and beloved; how can
there be such pitiful wailings in your poor heart? Were I expecting my
husband as you are yours, or had he died where his last words could have
been breathed into my ear I think I could hush every other saddened echo
and call myself happy. But to have the light of life suddenly blown out,
and with a great shock find yourself in total darkness, covers the heart
with a pall hard to remove. Then to feel through the whole night that
it need not have been! O--you never can know! '_The code of honor!_' My
soul detests such chivalry!" and the bright eyes glared wildly into the
face of her companion.
"My poor friend! The tenderest sympathies of my heart are yours! I am
ashamed of my weakness; and yet there are many avenues to the soul
through which the bitter waters flow. One of these, it may be, is the
closing up of those through which the real practical benefits are
expected to enter, leaving room only for the unreal and the unpractical.
Here I feel is my fault. It is this binding up of my whole being with
these silver cords, upon which every external incident has a power like
the touch of electricity to fill my whole soul with discord. In my youth
I very foolishly drew my own panorama of coming events, in which I left
out everything that was rough or unsightly; in a word, filling up the
future with ideal loveliness. I thought my life's path would soon begin
to wind along through the valley of roses where no harsh winds ever blow
and no dark shadows ever shut out the glowing sunlight. But the time
when my slippered feet were to tread on thornless flowers has not
arrived. I ought to be ashamed of myself ever to have expected it. It is
not in my power to disjoint my nature and reconstruct it with iron! That
I was so organized is my misfortune, not my crime!"
"Does all this make you unhappy? It seems to me that a nature so full of
beauty or what you term 'unrealities' ought to have a source of joy all
its own."
"If one could live to herself it might be so; but it is for the
practical that we were created, for this we are chosen. Fail in the
power of bestowal and verily we are guilty of the whole. I am a failure!
It is my mission to sow dew-drops where wheat should have been
scattered, to covet sunbeams when clouds are more to the purpose! It is
not pleasant, surely, to awaken after a gentle nap of self-repose to
find that a grave has been dug with your 'incapacities' which has
swallowed up the love you once fondly expected would gild a whole life
with roseate hues!"
"_Love you?_ Why everyone loves _you_! Your husband idolizes you! Is it
not so?"
"Go look at my wardrobe; is anything deficient there? My jewels--are
they not the richest and rarest? But with it all my woman's heart is
still unsatisfied. Ah, there is Lily; I hear her coming up the stairs.
She has, the foolish child, the same wild longings, the same idealities
that goad me. It was these that woke my heart to her cry for love."
Lily came bounding into the room her cheeks and eyes bright with the
excitement of her morning ride.
"I am so sorry you did not go with us," she said as she kissed the pale
lips of her dearest friend. "I am sure it would have taken all of the
pain out of your head, the air is so pure and sweet. Besides Charles is
to return to Rosedale to-morrow where his mother will follow in a few
days, and Ellen will not trust herself with the new coachman, he is so
easily frightened, the horses are so spirited; and Mrs. Belmont is
almost as bad. She says she really believes he would jump from the box
and run if they should put up their ears a little higher than usual. But
you shall have one more ride, and if he deserts his post I will take it.
That would be only the exercise of one of my early accomplishments.
Dear old Rover," she continued, half to herself. Where was Willie?
Frequent letters assured her that he was doing nicely in his new
vocation, while her constant memories of him added to his content as new
prospects opened before him.
Mrs. Belmont insisted that Lily should spend one day at least with her
before leaving the city, and as Mr. Gaylord was expected soon her
request was speedily granted.
"We are to have a drive along the beach," Lily went on to say,
"returning just as the moon rises. I wish we were to have a larger
party, but it was not spoken of until yesterday. It will be delightful I
know! Already I feel the uprising of that childhood's memory when I used
to steal away to look at the moon as it lay on the water and wished I
could go where it was."
It was a delightful evening as the little party started for their
pleasant ride with the scent of far-off flowers coming to them on the
soft wings of the southern breeze and the music of the great ocean in
their ears. Into this the bright day-king was about to take his nightly
plunge from behind the royal colors of purple and gold.
"What a little enthusiast you are about the ocean!" remarked Mrs.
Belmont in response to some exclamation of admiration. "Perhaps you
would like to take another such a ride upon it as you told me of?"
"I do not think I should be more afraid now than I then was if I were on
those rose-colored waves yonder rocking and rolling as they are doing. I
believe I should still imagine that the voice of my mother was mingled
with their song lulling me to sleep!" Lily did not notice the agitation
of her companion or perceive that her lips were of an ashy hue and her
cheeks sunken and pale, so much engrossed was she in the excitement of
the scene about her.
"Turn to the right here," commanded Mrs. Belmont.
"Lor! Lor, Missus! _Dat_ road?"
"Turn to the right and keep silent!" she repeated.
"This _does_ seem like an unfrequented path leading into the woods,"
remarked Lily without any seeming agitation.
"Yes, dear; I am going to take you around a little then come down
abruptly to the beach. I have been here and understand the way
perfectly."
"Have we come a long way?"
"Only a few miles." Both were again silent.
"How soon it gets dark after the sun goes down," said Lily a few moments
after. "May we not better think of returning?"
"Presently. There, take to the left now, it will bring us around to the
beach."
Sam made no objection to the command this time, but his shoulders
evinced unmistakable signs of inward dissatisfaction as he turned the
horses into the road which was narrow and half overgrown with grass.
Soon they came to a thickly-wooded elevation, when Mrs. Belmont
commanded that they should halt! "We must turn to the left again here in
order to gain the main road; but I want to show you, dear, more of the
ocean than you ever saw before at one view. We will walk a little
way--to the opening yonder, while you will remain here with the
carriage, Sam, until we return."
"It's _drefful_ dark, Missus! Sam don't like it nohow!"
"I am very much of Sam's opinion," remarked Lily who had alighted. "The
moon will be up in a few moments; besides, it is these trees that make
it so dark here!" Once more on firm footing the fearlessness and
buoyancy of her nature returned to her, and the young girl darted away
toward the spot designated with a light and rapid step.
"Do not leave me to grope my way alone," called Mrs. Belmont.
"I beg your pardon and will stand here and wait for you," came the
reply. "I have not gained the light yet, but it is a little way ahead;
come!" She waited for a moment as she had said, and hearing a step on
the right called out: "This way Mrs. Belmont; where are you?"
At this moment a pair of strong arms were thrown about her and a voice
hissed in her ear: "Don't ye bawl, and ye shan't be hurt! I'se got a
strong grip and so ye'd better be quiet!" She gave one shriek, and then
finding he had bound her hands while speaking shouted again the name of
"Mrs. Belmont!" Quick as thought a bandage was thrust over her mouth
which almost suffocated her. "Thar, thar--I reckon yese'll be quiet
now!" and taking her in his powerful grasp bore her rapidly away.
"Sam! Sam!" screamed Mrs. Belmont; "come quickly! Do you not hear the
dear child calling? Something has happened! Run and find her!" She was
close to the carriage and there was no need of calling so loudly; but
the poor, frightened negro did not move.
"_Why do you not run?_"
"O Lor, Lor, Missus! Dis nigger can't do nothin'! I'se mighty 'fraid,
Missus! Can't go nohow!"
Mrs. Belmont wrung her hands in the very abandonment of grief! "Poor,
poor girl!" Then darting into the woods she called with a loud voice:
"Lily! Lily!" But the roaring of the waves not far away was her only
answer. After many exclamations of sorrow and outbursts of grief; after
much calling and many remonstrances with the poor frightened negro for
his good-for-nothingness on _all_ occasions, and this trying one in
particular, Mrs. Belmont reseated herself in the carriage and commanded
that Sam should drive as rapidly as possible to the city.
"Dat I will, Missus; but what ye do wid di young lady?"
"Drive to the city as I command you!" was the emphatic answer.
"Yes, Missus"; and after some hesitation and audible ejaculations from
Sam they gained the highway and an hour after drove up to the door of
the St. Clair's.
"What the deuce does this mean!" exclaimed the old gentleman as Mrs.
Belmont entered the parlor with haggard looks and her long black hair in
disorder about her face. The sad story was soon told amid sobs and
exclamations from her hearers.
"What possessed you to remain down to the beach at such a late hour?"
interrogated Mr. St. Clair angrily. "One could almost suspect you of
design."
"My dear husband," said the wife; "do not be too rash! The question is,
what can we do for the poor girl?"
"Send to headquarters of the police immediately! The place must be
thoroughly searched by moonlight and continued until she is found!"
All this time Mrs. Belmont sat like one who had suddenly lost the power
of motion, while her keen, dark eyes seemed to burn the carpet at her
feet. At last she arose and with the dignity of former days walked from
the room, and her carriage was soon after heard rolling away from the
door.
"You have offended your cousin Mr. St. Clair," said the wife.
"I do not care if I have! She had no business to be out in such a place
without being better attended at any rate!"
"Mrs. Gaylord must not hear of this to-night," continued the good lady
musingly as her husband left the room. "How can I tell her! It is
terrible!"
Day after day was the search continued but with no success. Mrs. Belmont
had closed her doors against all visitors, taking the precaution,
however, to station her servants where they would be able to bring her
the first news concerning the missing one. Mr. Gaylord reached Savannah
in time to join in the search and administer consolation to his
newly-afflicted wife.