LIZZY GLENN'S NARRATIVE TO MRS. GASTON.
WITHOUT venturing the remotest allusion to her parting with her
lover, Miss Ballantine commenced her narrative by saying--
"When I left New York with my father, for New Orleans, no voyage
could have promised fairer. Mild, sunny weather, with good breezes
and a noble ship, that scarcely seemed to feel the deep swell of the
ocean, bore us pleasantly on toward the desired port. But, when only
five days out, an awful calamity befel us. One night I was awakened
from sleep by a terrific crash; and in a little while the startling
cry of 'The ship's on fire!' thrilled upon my ear, and sent an icy
shudder to my heart. I arose from my berth, and put on my clothes
hastily. By this time my father had come, dreadfully agitated, into
the cabin; and while his own lips quivered, and his own voice
trembled, he endeavored to quiet my fears, by telling me that there
was no danger; that the ship had been struck with lightning; but
that the fire occasioned thereby would readily be put out.
"When I ascended to the deck, however, I saw that we had little to
hope for. While the masts and rigging were all enveloped in flame, a
dense smoke was rising from the hold, indicating that the electric
fluid, in its descent through the ship, had come in contact with
something in the cargo that was highly combustible. Passengers and
crew stood looking on with pale, horror-stricken faces. But the
captain, a man of self-possession, aroused all from their lethargy
by ordering, in a loud, clear voice, the masts and rigging to be cut
away instantly. This order was obeyed. Over went, crashing and
hissing, three noble masts, with their wealth of canvas, all
enveloped in flames, quenching the heaven-enkindled fires in the
ocean. Then all was breathless and silent as the grave for some
moments, when a broad flash lit up the air, and revealed, for an
instant, the dismantled deck upon which we stood, followed by a
pealing crash that made the ship tremble. The deep silence that
succeeded was broken by the voice of the captain. His tones were
cheerful and confident.
"'All will now be well!' he cried. 'We are saved from fire, and our
good hull will bear us safely up until we meet a passing ship.'
"'But there is fire below, captain,' said one.
"'It cannot burn without air,' he replied, in the same tone of
confidence. 'We will keep the hatches closed and sealed; and it must
go out.'
"This took a load from my bosom. I saw that what he said was
reasonable. But when daylight came, it showed the smoke oozing out
through every crevice in the deck. The floors, too, were hot to the
feet, and indicated An advanced state of the fire within. All was
again terror and confusion, but our captain still remained
self-possessed. He saw that every hope of saving the ship was gone;
and at once ordered all the boats made ready, and well stored with
provisions. To the first and second mates, with a portion of the
crew, he assigned two of the boats, and in the third and largest he
embarked himself with four stout men and the passengers, twelve in
all. The sky was still overcast with clouds, and the sea rolled
heavily from the effects of the brief but severe storm that had
raged in the night. Pushing off front the doomed vessel, we lingered
near for a couple of hours to see what her fate would be. At the end
of that time, the dense smoke which had nearly hidden her from our
view, suddenly became one enveloping mass of flame. It was a
beautiful, yet appalling sight, to see that noble vessel thus
burning upon the breast of the sea! For nearly an hour her form,
sheeted in fire, stood out distinctly against the face of the sky,
and then she went down, and left only a few charred and mutilated
fragments afloat upon the surface to tell of her doom.
"During the night that followed, it stormed terribly, and in it our
boat was separated from the other two. We never met again, and for
all I have ever learned to the contrary, those that were saved in
them from the burning ship perished from hunger, or were overwhelmed
by some eager wave of the ocean.
"The four men of the ship's crew, with the captain and male
passengers, labored alternately at the oars, but with little effect.
Heavy seas, and continued stormy weather, rendered of little avail
all efforts to make much headway toward any port. Our main hope was
that of meeting with some vessel. But this hope mocked us day after
day. No ship showed her white sails upon the broad expanse of waters
that stretched, far as the eye could reach, in all directions. Thus
ten days passed, and our provisions and water were nearly exhausted.
Three of the passengers had become already very ill, and all of us
were more or less sick from exposure to the rain and sea. On the
twelfth day, two of our number died and were cast overboard. Others
became sick, and by the time we had been floating about thus for the
space of twenty days, only four of the twelve remained. Most of them
died with a raging fever. The captain was among the number, and
there was now no one to whom we could look with confidence. My
father still lived though exceedingly ill. Our companions were now
reduced to a young man and his sister.
"A bag of biscuit still remained, and a small portion of water. Of
this, none but myself could eat. The rest were too sick. Three days
more passed, and I was alone with my father! The brother and his
sister died, and with my own hands I had to consign them to their
grave in the sea. I need not attempt to give any true idea of my
feelings when I found myself thus alone, with my father just on the
brink of death, afar in the midst of the ocean. He was unconscious;
and I felt that I was on the verge of delirium. A strong fever made
the blood rush wildly through my veins, causing my temples to throb
as if they would burst. From about this time consciousness forsook
me. I can recollect little more until I found myself lying in a
berth, on board of a strange vessel. I was feeble as an infant. A
man, with the aspect of a foreigner, sat near me. He spoke to me,
but in a foreign tongue. I understood, and could speak French,
Spanish, and Italian; but I had never studied German, and this man
was a Hollander. Of course, I understood but a word here and there,
and not sufficient to gain any intelligence from what he said, or to
make him comprehend me, except when I asked for my father. Then he
understood me, and pointing across the cabin, gave me to know that
my father was with me in the the ship, though very sick.
"Small portions of nourishing food were now offered at frequent
intervals; and, as my appetite came back keenly, and I took the
scanty supply that was allowed me, I gradually gained strength. In a
week I was able to leave my berth, and to walk, with the assistance
of the captain of the vessel, for he it was whom I had first seen on
the restoration of consciousness, to the state-room in which my
father lay. Oh! how he had changed! I hardly recognized him. His
face had grown long and thin, his eyes were sunken far back in his
head, and his hair, that had been scarcely touched with the frosts
of age when we left New York, was white! He did not know me,
although he looked me feebly in the face. The sound of my voice
seemed to rouse him a little, but he only looked at me with a more
earnest gaze, and then closed his eyes. From this time I was his
constant nurse, and was soon blessed with finding him gradually
recovering. But as health came back to his body, it was too
appallingly visible that his reason had been shattered. He soon came
to know me, to speak to me, and to caress me, with more than his
usual fondness; but his mind was--alas! too evidently--imbecile. As
this state of mental alienation showed itself more and more
distinctly, on his gradually acquiring physical strength, it seemed
as if the painful fact would kill me. But we are formed to endure
great extremes of bodily and mental anguish. The bow will bend far
before it breaks.
"After I had recovered so as to leave my berth entirely, and when, I
suppose, the captain thought it would be safe to question me, he
brought a map, and indicated plainly enough that he wished me to
point out the country I was from. I laid my hand upon the United
States. He looked surprised. I glanced around at the ship, and then
pointed to the map with a look of inquiry. He placed his finger near
the Island of St. Helena. It was now my turn to look surprised. By
signs I wished him to tell me how we should get back; and he
indicated, plainly enough, that he would put us on board of the
first vessel he met that was returning either to Europe or the
United States, or else would leave us at the Cape of Good Hope. But
day after day passed, and we met no returning vessel. Before we
reached the Cape, a most terrific storm came on, which continued
many days, in which the ship lost two of her masts, and was driven
far south. It seemed to me as if my father and I had been doomed to
perish in the ocean, and the sea would not, therefore, relinquish
its prey. It was ten or twelve days before the storm had
sufficiently abated to leave the vessel manageable in the hands of
the captain and crew, and then the captain's reckoning was gone. He
could get his latitude correctly, but not his longitude, except by a
remote approximation. His first observation, when the sky gave an
opportunity, showed us to be in latitude forty-five degrees south.
This he explained to me, and also the impracticability of now making
the Cape, pointing out upon the map the Swan River Settlement in
Australia as the point he should endeavor first to make. A heavy
ship, with but one mast, made but slow progress. On the third day
another storm overtook us, and we were driven before the gale at a
furious rate. That night our vessel stuck and went to pieces. Six of
us escaped, my father among the rest, and the captain, in a boat,
and were thrown upon the shore of an uninhabited island. In the
morning there lay floating in a little protected cove of the island
barrels of provisions, as pork, fish, bread, and flour, with chests,
and numerous fragments of the ship, and portions of her cargo. The
captain and sailors at once set about securing all that could
possibly be rescued from the water, and succeeded in getting
provisions and clothing enough to last all of us for many months,
if, unfortunately, we should not earlier be relieved from our
dreadful situation. My father had become strong enough to go about
and take care of himself, but his mind was feebler, and he seemed
more like an old man in his second childhood than one in the prime
of life as he was. He was not troublesome to any one, nor was there
any fear of trusting him by himself. He was only like an imbecile
old man--and such even the captain thought him.
"A thing which I failed to mention in its place, I might as well
allude to here. On recovery from that state of physical exhaustion
in which the humane captain of the Dutch East Indiaman had found me,
my hand rested accidentally upon the pocket of my father's coat,
which hung up in the state-room that had been assigned to them. His
pocket-book was there. It instantly occurred to me to examine it,
and see how much money it contained, for I knew that, unless we had
money, before getting back, we would be subjected to inconvenience,
annoyance, and great privation; and as my father seemed to be so
weak in mind, all the care of providing for our comfort, I saw,
would devolve upon me. I instantly removed the pocket-book, which
was large. I found a purse in the same pocket, and took that also.
With these I retired into my own state-room, and fastening the door
inside, commenced an examination of their contents. The purse
contained twenty eagles; and in the apartments of the pocket-book
were ten eagles more, making three hundred dollars in gold. In bank
bills there were five of one thousand dollars each, ten of one
hundred dollars, and about two hundred dollars in smaller amounts,
all of New York city banks. These I took and carefully sewed up in
one of my under garments, and also did the same with the gold. I
mention this, as it bears with importance upon our subsequent
history.
"A temporary shelter was erected; a large pole with a white flag
fastened to it, as a signal to any passing vessel, was set up; and
the captain, with two of his men, set out to explore the island.
They were gone for two days. On returning, they reported no
inhabitants, but plenty of good game, if any way could be devised to
take it. No vessel appearing, after the lapse of some twelve or
fifteen days, the men set about building for us a more comfortable
place of shelter. One of these men had been a carpenter, and as an
axe and saw, and some few tools, had come ashore on pieces of the
wreck, and in chests, he was enabled to put up a very comfortable
tenement, with an apartment for me partitioned off from the main
room.
"Here we remained for I can scarcely tell how long. It was, I
believe, for about a year and a half; during which time two of the
men died, and our party was reduced to four. About this period, when
all of us began to feel sick from hope deferred, and almost to wish
that we might die, a heavy storm came up, with wind from the
north-west, and blew heavily for three or four days. On the morning
of the fourth day, when the wind had subsided, a vessel, driven out
of her course, was seen within a few leagues of the land. Signals
were instantly made, and our eyes gladdened by the sight of a boat
which was put off from the ship. In this we soon embarked, and, with
a sensation of wild delight, found ourselves once more treading the
deck of a good vessel. She was an English merchantman, bound for
Canton. We made a quick passage to that port, where we found a
vessel just ready to sail for Liverpool. In this I embarked, with my
father, who still remained in the same sad state of mental
derangement. No incident, worthy of referring to now, occurred on
our passage to Liverpool, whence we embarked for New Orleans, at
which place we arrived, after having been absent from our native
land for the long space of nearly three years! How different were my
feelings, my hopes, my heart, on the day I returned to that city
eight years from the time I left it as a gay child, with the world
all new and bright and beautiful before me! I need not draw the
contrast. Your own thoughts can do that vividly enough.
"You can scarcely imagine the eagerness with which I looked forward
to an arrival in my native city. We had friends there, and a
fortune, and I fed my heart with the pleasing hope that skillful
physicians would awaken my father's slumbering reason into renewed
and healthy activity. Arrived there at last, we took lodgings at a
hotel, where I wrote a brief note to my father's partner, in whose
hands all the business had been, of course, during our absence,
stating a few facts as to our long absence and asking him to attend
upon us immediately. After dispatching this note, I waited in almost
breathless expectation, looking every moment to see Mr. Paralette
enter. But hour after hour passed, and no one came. Then I sent
notes to two or three of my father's friends, whom I recollected,
but met with no response during the day. All this strange
indifference was incomprehensible to me. It was, in part, explained
to my mind on the next morning, when one of the persons to whom I
had written called, and was shown up into our parlor by request.
There was a coldness and reserve about him, combined with a too
evident suspicion that it was not all as I had said. That my father
was not Mr. Ballantine, nor I his daughter--but both, in fact,
impostors! And certain it is that the white-headed imbecile old man
bore but little resemblance to the fine, manly, robust form, which
my father presented three years before. The visitor questioned and
cross-questioned me; and failed not to hint at what seemed to him
discrepancies, and even impossibilities in my story. I felt
indignant at this; at the same time my heart sank at the suddenly
flashing conviction that, after all our sufferings and long weary
exile from our home, we should find ourselves but strangers in the
land of our birth--be even repulsed from our own homestead.
"Our visitor retired after an interview of about half an hour,
giving me to understand pretty plainly that he thought both my
father and myself impostors. His departure left me faint and sick at
heart. But from this state I aroused myself, after a while, and
determined to go and see Mr. Paralette at once. A servant called a
carriage, and I ordered the driver to take me to the store of
Ballantine & Paralette.
"'There is no such firm now, madam,' he said; 'Mr. Ballantine was
lost at sea some years ago. It is Paralette & Co. now.'
"'Drive me there, then,' I said, in a choking voice.
"In a few minutes the carriage stopped at the place I had
designated, and I entered the store formerly kept by my father.
Though I had been absent for eight years, yet every thing looked
familiar, and nothing more familiar than the face of Mr. Paralette,
my father's partner. I advanced to meet him with a quick step; but
his look of unrecognition, and the instant remembrance that he had
not attended to my note, and moreover that it had been plainly
hinted to me that I was an impostor, made me hesitate, and my whole
manner to become confused.
"'Eugenia Ballantine is my name,' said I, in a quivering voice. 'I
dropped you a note yesterday, informing you that my father and I had
returned to the city.'
"He looked at me a moment with a calm, severe, scrutinizing gaze,
and then said--
"'Yes, I received your note, and have this moment seen Mr.--, who
called upon you. And he corroborates the instant suspicion I had
that your story could not be correct. He tells me that the man whom
you call your father resembles Moses a great deal more than he does
the late Mr. Ballantine. So you see, madam, that your story won't go
for any thing here.'
"There was something cold and sneering in the tone, manner, and
expression of Mr. Paralette that completely broke me down. I saw, in
an instant, that my case was hopeless, at least for the time. I was
a lone, weak woman, and during an absence of eight years from my
native city, I had grown up from a slender girl into a tall woman,
and had, from suffering and privation, been greatly changed, and my
countenance marred even since I had attained the age of womanhood.
Under these circumstances, with my father changed so that no one
could recognize him, I felt that to make my strange story believed
would be impossible. From the presence of Mr. Paralette I retired,
and went back to the hotel, feeling as if my heart would break. Oh,
it was dreadful to be thus repulsed, and at home, too I tried only
twice more to make my story believed; failing in these efforts, I
turned all my thoughts toward the restoration of my father to mental
health, believing that, when this was done, he, as a man, could
resume his own place and his true position. I had over six thousand
dollars of the money I had taken from my father's pocket-book, and
which I had always kept so completely concealed about my person,
that no one had the least suspicion of it. Five thousand of this I
deposited on interest, and with the residue took a small house in
the suburbs of the city, which I furnished plainly, and removed into
it with my father. I then employed two of the most skillful
physicians in the city, and placed him in their hands, studiously
concealing from them our real names and history. For eighteen months
he was under medical treatment, and for at least six months of that
time in a private insane hospital. But all to no effect. Severe or
lenient treatment all ended in the same result. He continued a
simple, harmless old man, fond of me as a child is of his mother,
and looking up to and confiding in me for every thing.
"At the end of the period I have indicated, I found my means had
become reduced to about three thousand dollars. This awoke in my
bosom a new cause of anxiety. If my father should not recover his
reason in two or three years, I would have nothing upon which to
support him, and be compelled to see him taken to some public
institution for the insane, there to be treated without that
tenderness and regard which a daughter can exercise toward her
parent. This fear haunted me terribly.
"It was near the end of the period I have named, that I met with an
account of the Massachusetts Insane Hospital, situated in
Charlestown in this State. I was pleased with the manner in which
patients were represented to be treated, and found that, by
investing in Boston the balance of my little property, the income
would be sufficient to pay for my father's maintenance there. As for
myself, I had no fear but that with my needle, or in some other way,
I could easily earn enough to supply my own limited wants. A long
conference with one of the physicians who had attended my father,
raised my hopes greatly as to the benefits which might result from
his being placed in an institution so well conducted.
"As soon as this idea had become fully formed in my mind, I sold off
all our little stock of furniture, and with the meager supply of
clothing to which I had limited myself, ventured once more to try
the perils of the sea. After a quick passage, we arrived in Boston.
My father I at once had placed in the asylum, after having invested
nearly every dollar I had in bank stock, the dividends from which
were guaranteed to the institution for his support, so long as he
remained one of its inmates. This was early in the last fall. I had
then but a few dollars left, and no income. I was in a strange city,
dependent entirely upon my own resources. And what were they? 'What
am I to do? Where am I to go for employment?' were questions I found
hard indeed to answer. Twenty dollars were all I possessed in the
world; and this sum, at a hotel, would not last me, I knew, over two
or three weeks. I therefore sought out a private boarding-house,
where, under an assumed name, I got a room and my board for two
dollars a week. The woman who kept the boarding-house, and to whom I
communicated my wish to get sewing, gave me half a dozen plain
shirts to make for her husband, for which I received fifty cents
each. This was all the work I obtained during the first two weeks I
was in the house, and it yielded me only three dollars, when my
boarding cost me four. I felt a good deal discouraged after that. I
knew no one to whom I could go for work--and the woman with whom I
boarded could not recommend me to any place, except to the
clothing-stores: but they, she said, paid so badly that she would
not advise me to go there, for I could not earn much over half what
it would cost me for my board. Still, she added, 'half a loaf is
better than no bread.' I felt that there was truth in this last
remark, and, therefore, after getting the direction of a
clothing-store, I went there and got a few pairs of coarse trowsers.
This kind of work was new to me. In my ignorance, I made some
portion of them wrong, for which I received abuse from the owner of
the shop, and no money. He was not going, he said, to pay me for
having his work spoiled.
"Dreadfully disheartened, I returned to my lodgings, and set myself
to ponder over some other means of support. I had been, while at
school, one of the best French and Spanish scholars in the seminary.
I had also given great attention to music, and could have taught it
as skillfully as our musical professor. But five years had passed
since I touched the keys of a piano or harp, and I had not, during
that time, spoken a dozen words in any language except my native
tongue. And, even if I had retained all my former skill and
proficiency, my appearance was not such as to guarantee me, as a
perfect stranger, any favorable reception either from private
families or schools. So anxious had I been to make the remnant of my
father's property, which a kind Providence had spared to us, meet
our extreme need, that I denied myself every thing that I could
possibly do without. Having no occasion to go into society, for no
one would recognize me as Eugenia Ballantine, I had paid little
regard to my external appearance, so far as elegant and fashionable
apparel was concerned. I bought sparingly, and chose only plain and
cheap articles. My clothes were, therefore, not of a kind, as you
may yourself see, to give me, so far as they were concerned, a
passport to consideration.
"As two dollars a week would, I knew, in a very short time, exhaust
my little stock of money, I determined to try and rent a room
somewhere, at the lowest possible rate, and buy my own food. I eat
but a little, and felt sure that, by making this arrangement, I
could subsist on one dollar a week instead of two, and this much it
seemed as if I must be able to earn at something or other. On the
day after I formed this resolution I met, in my walks about the city
for the purpose, with the room where you found me, for which I paid
seventy-five cents a week. There I removed, and managed to live on
about one dollar and a quarter a week, which sum, or, at the worst,
seventy-five cents or a dollar a week, I have since earned at making
fine shirts for Mr. Berlaps at twenty-five cents each. I could have
done better than that, but every day I visit my father, and this
occupies from two to three hours."
"And how is your father?" asked Mrs. Gaston, wiping her tearful
eyes, as Eugenia paused, on ending her narrative.
"He seems calmer, and much more serious and apparently thoughtful
since he has been in this institution," Eugenia replied, with
something of cheerfulness in her tone. "He does not greet my coming,
as he did at first, with childish pleasure, but looks at me gravely,
yet with tenderness, when I enter; and, when I go away, he always
asks if I will 'come again to-morrow.' He did not do this at first."
"But have you not written to Mr. Perkins since your return?" asked
Mrs. Gaston.
Eugenia became instantly pale and agitated. But recovering herself
with an effort, she simply replied--
"How could I? To him I had, years before, been lost in the sea. I
could not exist in his mind, except as one in the world of spirits.
And how did when I came back, or how do I know now, that he has not
found another to fill that place in his heart which I once occupied?
On this subject I dared make no inquiry. And, even if this were not
the case, I am not as I was. I had fortune and social standing when
he wooed and won me. Now I am in comparative indigence, and branded
as an impostor in my native city. If none recognized and received us
in our own home, how could I expect him to do so? And to have been
spurned as a mere pretender by him would have broken my heart at
once."
Eugenia was greatly moved by this allusion to her former lover and
affianced husband. The subject was one upon which she had never
allowed herself to thinks except compulsorily, and but for a few
moments at a time. She could not bear it. After a silence of some
moments, Mrs. Gaston said--
"I have not met with or heard of Mr. Perkins for some years. He
remained in Troy about six months after you went away, and, during
that period, I saw him very frequently. Your loss seemed, for a
time, as if it would destroy his reason. I never saw any one suffer
such keen mental distress as he did. The fearful uncertainty that
hung around your fate racked his mind with the intensest anguish. At
the end of the time I have mentioned, he went to New York, and, I
was told, left that city a year afterward; but, whether it is so or
not, I never learned. Indeed, I am entirely ignorant as to whether
he is now alive or dead. For years I have neither heard of him nor
seen him."
Eugenia wept bitterly when Mrs. Gaston ceased speaking. She did not
reply, but sat for a long time with her hand partly concealing her
face, her whole body trembling nervously, and the tears falling fast
from her eyes. From this excitement and agitation, consequent upon a
reference to the past, she gradually recovered, and then Mrs. Gaston
related, in turn, her trials and afflictions since their separation
so many years before. These we will not now record for the reader,
but hurry on to the conclusion of our narrative.
By a union of their efforts, Mrs. Gaston and Eugenia were enabled,
though to do so required them to toil with unremitting diligence, to
secure more comforts--to say nothing of the mutual strength and
consolation they received from each other--than either could have
possibly obtained alone. The rent of a room, and the expense of an
extra light, were saved, and this was important where every cent had
to be laid out with the most thoughtful economy. Eugenia no longer
went out, except to visit her father. Mrs. Gaston brought home as
much work from the shop as both of them could do, and received the
money for it when it was done, which all went into a common fund.
Thus the time wore on, Eugenia feeling happier than she had felt for
many weary years. Mrs. Gaston had been a mother to her while she
lived in Troy, and Eugenia entertained for her a deep affection.
Their changed lot, hard and painful though it was, drew them closer
together, and united them in a bond of mutual tenderness.
New Year's day at last came, and the mother, who had looked forward
so anxiously for its arrival, that she might see her boy once more,
felt happier in the prospect of meeting him than she had been for a
long time. Since his departure, she had not heard a single word from
him, which caused her to feel painfully anxious. But this day was to
put an end to her mind's prolonged and painful suspense, in regard
to him. From about nine o'clock in the morning, she began to look
momently for his arrival. But the time slowly wore on, and yet he
did not come. Ten, eleven twelve, one o'clock came and went, and the
boy was still absent from his mother, whose heart yearned to see his
fair face, and to hear his voice, so pleasant to her ear, with
unutterable longings. But still the hours went by--two, three, four,
and then the dusky twilight began to fall, bringing with it the
heart-aching assurance that her boy would not come home. The tears,
which she had restrained all day, now flowed freely, and her
over-excited feelings gave way to a gush of bitter grief. The next
day came and went, and the next, and the next--but there was no word
from Henry. And thus the days followed each other, until the severe
month of January passed away. So anxious and excited did the poor
mother now become, that she could remain passive no longer. She must
see or hear from her child. Doctor R--had obtained him his place,
and to him she repaired.
"But haven't you seen your little boy since he went to Lexington?"
the doctor asked, in some surprise.
"Indeed, I have not; and Mr. Sharp promised to bring him home on New
Year's day," replied the mother.
"Mr. Sharp! Mr. Sharp!" ejaculated the doctor, thoughtfully. "Is
that the name of the man who has your son?"
"Yes, sir. That is his name."
Doctor R--arose and took two or three turns across the floor at
this, and, then resuming his seat, said--
"You shall see your son to-morrow, Mrs. Gaston. I will myself go to
Lexington and bring him home. I had no idea that the man had not
kept his promise with you. And, as I got Henry the place, I must see
that his master is as good as his word in regard to him."
With this assurance, Mrs. Gaston returned home, and with a lighter
heart.