THE SHADOWS AS THEY FLY.
Mrs. Gaylord arrived safely in Boston, after a very wearisome journey
and was met by Mr. Bancroft with many demonstrations of delight.
"It will please Willie so much," he said, after it was well over, by way
of apology. "That gentle little cripple of yours, Mrs. Gaylord," he
continued, "has taken a long hitch into my affections, and it does me
good to gratify his whims."
"They are together, then?"
"Yes, out on the farm. I was there last week and told them you were
coming, although I was not positive in the matter as I would like to
have been; but I guessed it! You know that is our Yankee privilege."
No amount of persuasion could induce the lady to remain in the city for
a rest; she must go at once! "What a sad time poor Lily must have had of
it. I am so anxious to hear all about it!"
"Your curiosity will not gain any great corpulency by what she can tell
you, I imagine," he laughed. "She seems very reticent when touching the
supposed reasons for her ride, and it is my opinion that there was more
in the tender solicitude of that precious friend she found down south
than was discernable to the naked eye!"
"Was there ever an open transgression, or an imaginary evil perpetrated
that a woman was not at the bottom of it?" Mrs. Bancroft made this
little speech in the form of an inquiry with a very smiling face, and a
mischievous twinkle in her blue eyes. "There is my good husband, for
instance, who declared this very morning that if you did not come, it
would be because I did not more positively insist! Just as though you
did not know how much I loved you years ago, and, although a woman, love
you still!"
"But she has come, wife," interposed the laughing husband, "and, no
doubt, is tired and hungry. You will wait until morning before
proceeding farther?" he queried, turning to the visitor.
"I shall be obliged to, I suppose, for, if I remember correctly, there
is but one more train in that direction to-night, and that is at five,
while it is nearly four now."
The following morning, on the first train going west was Mrs. Gaylord,
with her dusky-browed companion, who seldom was apart from her mistress.
Now they were going to the little village for the third time, where both
had spent so many pleasant days. "We will take dinner there," the lady
had said, "and then I will go for a drive and find Lily."
Tiny had said nothing, but her eyes were open as well as those of her
mistress; and now a smile came and lingered around the well-formed
mouth.
Mrs. Gaylord saw it.
"How do you imagine Miss Lily came out on the ocean that dark night,
Tiny? There is that at times in your face which leads me to think you
know something about it."
"O no, Missus; Tiny don't know nothin'; she 'spect tho', dat de good
Lord didn't take her dar."
"But He took her off, Tiny?"
"Yes, Missus, He duz that, but He neber got nobody to carry her dar."
"Did any one do that?"
"Don't know, but I'se see Missus Belmont talkin' to a white trash more'n
once, and I 'spects somthin'."
"Who were they, Tiny?"
"Couldn't tell; 'twas drefful dark down on secon' street, but I know'd
her. I went wid Cassa down to see Pliny, what was sick, and she was dar
by de carriage shop talkin'."
Perplexities thickened. If she had done this, why was it done? There
must have been a reason for such a terrible act!
The whistle blew, and the train stopped at the junction. Carriages were
waiting, and into one stepped Mrs. Gaylord, followed by her servant.
"Ah! Glad to see you at Kirkham again."
The lady turned quickly. "O, it is you, Frank. How warm you are here.
Drive on, there is a cool breath waiting for me under the maples."
With the sensation of unburdening, Mrs. Gaylord went out before dinner
into the pleasant grove in the rear of the hotel, where she found the
cool breath waiting. Here, at least, the war could not reach her! The
sound of strife, of anger or oppression could not search her out! The
first great battle had been fought, and there was mourning as well as
exultation in the land, while the blood of patriots was at boiling heat.
Was it this that oppressed her? Had she grieved at the result, or had
her Southern tendencies made it joy? She asked herself this question
more than once; and as she sat under the shadows of the whispering
trees, concluded that, let the results be what they would, she loved the
cool, unimpassioned Northerners, with their independence and
self-sustaining powers. She would wait. She had found peace in days gone
by as she looked calmly out over the waste of waters whither she was
floating, and felt no hard throbbings of the heart where love was dying!
Would this peace come again? Not until she had seen Lily, and the
mysterious problem solved should she look for it. She did not like this
tangling up of broken threads; indeed, she did not want them to break at
all; but, since they must, why could they not dangle free from each
other?
Soon after dinner, and while the sun was still high, the carriage came
around for her.
"Going to see the cripple, Willie Evans?" interrogated the driver from
the box, with all the northern familiarity. "His sister is back again,
and a hard time she's had of it; so they say"; he continued, for the
lady had not answered. She spoke now.
"She was with me, you remember, at the hotel."
"Ah! yes, ma'am, I remember! There is something strange about her
adventure, but I dare say it will in time be all explained."
She had not liked the way the simple-minded man gave his information.
What if, after all, gossip, should burden her shoulders with the strange
rumors. She had not thought of this! How would she be received at the
cottage? Would Willie blame her? But Lily had told all! She certainly
would relieve her from censure.
The carriage stopped at the gate and Mrs. Hopkins appeared in the
doorway.
"Are the young people at home?" inquired the lady without moving from
her seat.
"They have gone for a short walk to the lake, but will be back soon,"
was the reply. "Mrs. Gaylord, I believe? They will be glad to see you!
You had better come in and I will send for them."
"I will go," said the driver; and Mrs. Gaylord stepped from her carriage
and entered the little parlor.
"You will find that the girl is much changed," remarked Mrs. Hopkins,
handing the lady a chair. "She is very thin and pale. She has been
seriously ill, and I do not wonder! It _was_ dreadful! Her being out all
night in that terrible storm; and in an open boat all alone! I tell her
that she had better stay where her _friends_ are now, if it _is_ in the
lower walks of life! She has some very foolish notions that, in my
opinion, she would be much better without." Mrs. Hopkins had taken a
seat close by the window, and seemingly was communing with herself
rather than entertaining her visitor. Mrs. Gaylord allowed her to
proceed without interruption. "She is poor, homeless and friendless, and
the sooner she makes up her mind to settle down to these facts and go to
work, the happier she will be."
"I think you are a little mistaken about her poverty, friendships or
home, for to my certain knowledge she has all. At any rate she can have
them by the acceptance."
"It seems that she did accept, and you see how it has turned out. She
comes back without clothes or health and ready to seek shelter in the
home she once so foolishly left. Still," she continued, as she espied a
flush of indignation sweeping over the face of her listener, "I have
much to thank you for in regard to my poor brother. He is very happy in
being able to earn his board and provide for his own necessities. It was
kind in you to bestow such happiness on a poor cripple. We had never
thought it possible that he could ever be anything but a burden." The
lady moved nervously. "Of course we were willing to take care of him,
but it's so much pleasanter for one to take care of himself. Mr.
Bancroft has seemingly taken a great liking to him. He was out here last
week and wanted he should hurry through with his vacation as he was
lonely, so he said. I thought the change would be bad for him, but he
has grown quite fleshy and is looking well." The voice ceased, for
suddenly she had awakened to the consciousness that she was talking all
alone.
Mrs. Gaylord was busy with her thoughts. This then was the Fanny of whom
Lily had told her. What wonder that her sensitive nature had shrank from
her! Such exhibitions of a selfish spirit! It was not strange the
atmosphere of such a home had chilled and frozen her warm, tender
affections. But it was over. She should not remain a day longer where
such storms of frost and snow must continually pelt her! She was
indignant. "Glad to get back to the home she had left" without friends
or clothing! She looked up and saw a pair of stern eyes fixed upon her.
"I beg your pardon, I was wandering with my thoughts just then." "And I
was waiting for them to come back," was the response. "Of course you
will let the girl remain now where she rightfully belongs? She can help
me and pay her way if she feels so disposed, and it's time that she
should. If she is let alone I have no doubt she will make quite a woman.
She wanted to see you and I had no objections; but you had better not
trouble yourself farther about her. Don't you think so?"
"I can answer your question better at nightfall," Mrs. Gaylord replied,
ironically. "I shall take them both with me to the hotel if they will
go, and after talking the matter over can conclude with greater wisdom."
"Of course they will! Some people are very willing to seek for aid when
helpless and in trouble, but have no idea of returning the favors
received when an opportunity is offered for them to do so!"
The little party were coming up the garden walk and Mrs. Gaylord arose
to meet them. With a bound and a cry of pleasure Lily sprang into the
open arms ready to receive her.
"O Lily, Lily, my darling!" exclaimed the sweet voice, while the lips
that spoke these words were kissing brow and cheek passionately. Willie
was hitching himself over the green grass towards them. "You are
changed! How very sick you must have been!" and she held the weeping
girl off at arm's length that she might look at her. "Get yourself
ready, as the carriage must be back to the hotel in three hours and it
is nearly two already." She stepped forward and clasped the cripple's
extended hand. "It makes me more happy than I can tell to meet you both
again. You will go with us? I so pine for one of our old talks
duplicated. Frank, help Willie to the carriage." And she turned to find
that Lily had disappeared, and in her place stood the veritable Mrs.
Hopkins.
"I do not want you to think," she said, meekly, "that I am not willing
that you should be her friend, but I do think that if you are, you will
advise her to remain in her present home, where she seems to have been
placed, and not attempt to be what she is not or ever can be!"
Lily's appearance put an end to further conversation, and without a
moment's delay the horses were turned towards the village.
"You see I have changed my plumage," Lily said with a smile. "I returned
to Boston with a very small wardrobe, only what had been provided for me
at the hospital by some kind visitors, and Willie out of his little
accumulations insisted upon this French lawn, which I keep for my
'dress-up.' It is very pretty, is it not?"
"Yes, but it seems to me that you have not 'picked up' as much as you
ought in three months. You are looking much thinner than I had thought
of finding you!"
"It is such a mystery! I cannot sleep! That voice in the darkness under
the trees that called me so feebly and with such perfect indifference!
This haunts me whenever I close my eyes. The whole scene; the masked
face, the rolling billows, the sound of the huge waves as they dashed
against the rocks; all, all terrify and distract me! How can the flesh
ever creep back upon my bones or the color to my cheek or lips? O that
terrible night! Its horrors even as I recall them well nigh curdle my
blood!"
"Poor child!" But Willie interrupted them.
"It is only two years, or a little more, since we rode together over
this road. Dear old Rover; he must have one drive to the village before
he returns to his city life. I do not think he likes it as well as his
master, Mrs. Gaylord," he continued, with an air of pleasantry.
"We understand you, Willie," Lily laughed, wholly recalled from her dark
remembrances. "Two years, and very eventful ones too; but Rover must
have his pleasure now as well as we."
The horses trotted briskly forward, and very little more was said until
the trio were cosily seated in the little upper parlor of the inn.
"My child, I conclude, from one little remark you have made, that Mrs.
Belmont, in your opinion, knew something of the sad affair before the
hour in which you were carried away."
"Yes, I do believe it!"
"Why?"
"You would not have asked had you noticed her while we were sitting on
the sofa, the first time of our meeting at the Washburn's, when she
quizzed me about my early life,--my parentage, and my fanciful name of
'Lily Pearl,' which I took occasion to tell her after my suspicions were
aroused! Mrs. Gaylord, she knows something of my history. I feel it; I
cannot be mistaken!"
"Why did you not ask her about it?"
"I did. When she came to my room the next day while I was dressing for
dinner, and in her caressing way patted my neck and spoke of its
whiteness and beauty, at the same time inadvertently, as she would
evidently have me think, bared my shoulders, and, as she did so, gave a
little shriek. As I looked up into her face I saw it was deadly pale!
'What is it?' I asked, as calmly as possible. 'Do those purple spots
remind you of anything?' 'Remind me? What do you mean, child?' 'Just
what I said. Do they remind you of anything in the past? Mrs. Belmont,
you know something about me or you would not appear so strangely. Tell
me, will you? Who am I? and where are my parents?' I was looking her
directly in the eye and she trembled under my gaze. 'You are mistaken,
my dear,' she replied blandly, 'I have no knowledge of you whatever! How
could I? I never heard of you till last night, and certainly never
looked into your face; a very pretty one, however, and I hope you will
not spoil it by allowing anger or unjust suspicion to creep into your
heart, for they always leave an impress upon the countenance.' She was
turning to leave the room when I stopped her. 'This is all very well,
still I am not convinced that you are ignorant of my early life! Why did
these unusual spots upon my shoulder startle you, as the mentioning of
my name, Lily Pearl, did last night? Why do you gaze at me so fixedly
while at the table, and shrink with such pallor when I return the look?
Tell me, Mrs. Belmont, who am I?' 'Satan's own, I believe,' she said
furiously, as she rushed from the room.
"Her manner changed after. She was kind and conciliating; her attentions
nattering to one like myself. I feared her, yet she fascinated me! I
strove to break away from her enchantments, but her power over my silly
heart was wholly unaccounted for. I had read somewhere of the serpent
who could charm its victim to destroy it; and I felt that I was that
victim! I could not tell, for I did not understand it myself. It would
have been impossible to explain. And then, her manner on that night! I
feared to take that ride, but had no power to refuse. Willie says that
the Father was permitting all this and holding my opposition in check
for some great purpose yet unforeseen, and, as I look back upon it,
wonder if it is so."
"Did you not get some idea from the men who had you in charge?"
"No, they said but little. They had bound my hands and threw me into the
boat, supposing I had fainted. They spoke about the impossibility of
getting to the ship in such a sea; and expressed a little sympathy for
my situation as nearly as I could understand; but said nothing about
their reasons for doing what they had. I had succeeded in getting my
hands loose, and, without any premeditation, pushed away from their
power as they stepped on the rocks to fasten the boat. Here I think was
where the Father took the matter into His own hands. I was severed from
all earthly connections; had broken all human ties, and was alone with
God upon the waters! As the first wave lifted my boat high upon its
foaming crest I cried out at the top of my voice, 'Lord, save or I
perish!' Then the billow rolled from under me and a sweet peace came
into my soul. Then I remembered the little upper chamber at the cottage,
when one night I found that the angry billows of life's ocean were
dashing themselves around me, and heard Willie's prayer. 'Keep her safe,
O my Father, when the troubles of this world fall upon her! Help her to
bear them, and give her strength to battle every storm!' Then I knew I
should not be drowned--I should be kept safely.
"All night the winds howled, and the sea roared, and I was safe on the
deep. But it was cold and I was thinly dressed. I do not know at what
time the mantle of unconsciousness was thrown over me, but it was in the
early morn that the 'Constitution' picked me up. I was very ill, and
unconscious on ship-board and in the hospital, and when sufficiently
restored, they asked me 'who was Willie and where could they find him.'
I told them. His name broke the fetters that had bound me so long. I was
better, and almost two months ago they sent me to him. Now tell me; what
does it all mean?"
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