MRS. GRAHAM AT HOME.
As the summer advanced, extensive preparations were commenced for
repairing Woodlawn, which was to be fitted up in a style suited to the
luxurious taste of its rightful owner, which, as report said, was in
reality Durward. He had conceived a fancy for the place five years
before, when visiting in the neighborhood, and on learning that it was
for sale, he had purchased it, at the suggestion of his mother,
proposing to his father that for a time, at least, he should be its
nominal possessor. What reason he had for this he hardly knew himself,
unless it was that he disliked being flattered as a man of great
wealth, choosing rather to be esteemed for what he really was.
And, indeed, few of his age were more generally beloved than was he.
Courteous, kind-hearted, and generous almost to a fault, he gained
friends wherever he went, and it was with some reason that Mrs. Graham
thought herself blessed above mothers, in the possession of such a son.
“He is so like me,” she would say, in speaking of his many virtues,
when, in fact, there was scarcely anything in common between them, for
nearly all of Durward’s sterling qualities were either inherited from
his own father, or the result of many years’ companionship with his
stepfather. Possessed of the most exquisite taste, he exercised it in
the arrangement of Woodlawn, which, under his skillful management,
began in a few weeks to assume a more beautiful appearance than it had
ever before worn.
Once in two weeks either Mr. Graham or Durward came out to see how
matters were progressing, the latter usually accepting Mrs.
Livingstone’s pressing invitation to make her house his home. This he
was the more willing to do, as it threw him into the society of ’Lena,
who was fast becoming an object of absorbing interest to him. The more
he saw of her, the more was his admiration increased, and oftentimes,
when joked concerning his preference for Carrie, he smiled to think how
people were deceived, determining, however, to keep his own secret
until such time as he should be convinced that ’Lena was all he could
desire in a wife. For her poverty and humble birth he cared nothing. If
she were poor, he was rich, and he possessed too much good sense to
deem himself better than she, because the blood of a nobleman flowed in
his veins. He knew that she was highly gifted and beautiful, and could
he be assured that she was equally true-hearted, he would not hesitate
a moment.
But Mrs. Livingstone’s insinuation that she was a heartless coquette,
troubled him, and though he could not believe it without more proof
than he had yet received, he determined to wait and watch, studying her
character, the while, to see if there was in her aught of evil. In this
state of affairs, it was hardly more than natural that his manner
toward her should be rather more reserved than that which he assumed
toward Carrie, for whom he cared nothing, and with whom he talked
laughed, and rode, forgetting her the moment she was out of his sight,
and never suspecting how much importance she attached to his every word
and look, construing into tokens of admiration the most casual remark,
such as he would utter to any one. This was of advantage to ’Lena, for,
secure of their prize, both Mrs. Livingstone and Carrie, for a time, at
least, ceased to persecute her, seldom speaking of her in Durward’s
presence, and, as a general thing, acting as though she were not in
existence.
John Jr., too, who had imposed upon himself the duty of watching his
mother and sister, seeing no signs of hostility, now withdrew his
espionage, amusing himself, instead, by galloping three times a week
over to Frankfort, the home of Nellie Douglass, and by keeping an eye
upon Captain Atherton, who, as a spider would watch a fly, was lying in
wait for the unsuspecting Anna.
At last all was in readiness at Woodlawn for the reception of Mrs.
Graham, who came up early in October, bringing with her a larger train
of house servants than was often seen in Woodford county. About three
weeks after her arrival, invitations were issued for a party or “house
warming,” as the negroes termed it. Nero, Durward’s valet, brought the
tiny notes to Mr. Livingstone’s, giving them into the care of Carrie,
who took them immediately to her mother’s room.
“It’s Durward’s handwriting,” said she, glancing at the
superscriptions, and reading as she did so—“Mr. and Mrs.
Livingstone”—“Mr. John Livingstone, Jr.”—“Miss Carrie
Livingstone”—“Miss Anna Livingstone”—“_Miss ’Lena Rivers_;” and here
she stopped, in utter dismay, continuing, as her mother looked up
inquiringly—“And as I live, one for _grandma_—‘MRS. MARTHA NICHOLS!’”
“Impossible!” exclaimed Mrs. Livingstone, reaching out her hand for the
billet. “Yes, ’tis Mrs. Martha Nichols!—what can it mean?”
A peep behind the scenes would have told her what it meant. For once in
his life Mr. Graham had exercised the right of being master in his own
house, declaring that if Mrs. Nichols were not invited with the family,
there should be no party at all. Mrs. Graham saw that he was in
earnest, and yielded the point, knowing that in all probability the old
lady would not be permitted to attend. Her husband had expected a like
opposition with regard to ’Lena, but he was disappointed, for his wife,
forgetting her declaration that ’Lena should never darken her doors and
thinking it would not do to slight her, consented that, on her uncle’s
account, she should be invited. Accordingly, the notes were despatched,
producing the effect we have seen.
“How perfectly ridiculous to invite grandma!” said Carrie. “It’s bad
enough to have ’Lena stuck in with us, for of course _she’ll_ go.”
“Why of course?” asked Mrs. Livingstone. “The invitations are at my
disposal now; and if I choose to withhold two of them, no one will be
blamed but Nero, who was careless and dropped them! ’Lena has nothing
decent to wear, and I don’t feel like expending much more for a person
so ungrateful as she is. You ought to have heard how impudent she was
that time you all went to Woodlawn.”
Then followed a one-sided description of that morning’s occurrence,
Mrs. Livingstone working herself up to such a pitch of excitement, that
before her recital was finished, she had determined at all events to
keep back ’Lena’s invitation, as a method of punishing her for her
“insolence,” as she termed it.
“Mrs. Graham will thank me for it, I know,” said she, “for she cannot
endure her; and besides that, I don’t think ’Lena expects to be
invited, so there’s no harm done.”
Carrie was not yet quite so hardened as her mother, and for a moment
her better nature shrank from so mean a transaction, which might, after
all, be found out, involving them in a still worse difficulty; but as
the thought flashed upon her that possibly ’Lena might again attract
Durward toward her, she assented, and they were about putting the notes
aside, when John Jr. came in, catching up his grandmother’s note the
first thing, and exclaiming, “Oh, _rich_!—_capital_! I hope she’ll go!”
Then, before his mother could interpose a word, he darted away in quest
of Mrs. Nichols, whose surprise was fully equal to that of Mrs.
Livingstone and Carrie.
“Now, you don’t say I’ve got an invite,” said she, leaving the
darning-needle in the stocking-heel which she was mending, and wiping
her steel-bowed spectacles. “Come, ’Leny, you read it, that’s a good
girl.”
’Lena complied, and taking the note from her cousin’s hand, read that
Mrs. Graham would be at home Thursday evening, etc.
“But where’s the invite? That don’t say anything about _me_!” said Mrs.
Nichols, beginning to fear that it was a humbug after all.
As well as they could, ’Lena and John Jr. explained it to her, and
then, fully convinced that she was really invited, Mrs. Nichols began
to wonder what she should wear, and how she should go, asking John “if
he couldn’t tackle up and carry her in the shay,” as she called the
single buggy.
“Certainly,” answered John Jr. willing to do anything for the sake of
the fun which he knew would ensue from his grandmother’s attendance.
’Lena thought otherwise, for much as she desired to gratify her
grandmother, she would not for the world expose her to the ridicule
which her appearance at a fashionable party would call forth. Glancing
reprovingly at her cousin, she said, “I wouldn’t think of going,
grandma, for you are lame and old, and there’ll be so many people
there, all strangers, too, that you won’t enjoy it at all. Besides
that, we’ll have a nice time at home together—-I’ll read to you all the
evening.”
“_We_,” repeated John Jr. “Pray, are you not going?”
“Not without an invitation,” said ’Lena smilingly.
“True, true,” returned her cousin. “It’s downstairs, I dare say. I only
stopped to look at this. I’ll go and get yours now.”
Suiting the action to the word, he descended to his mother’s room,
asking for “’Lena’s card.”
“’Lena’s card! What do you mean?” said Mrs. Livingstone, looking up
from the book she was reading, while Carrie for a moment suspended her
needle-work.
“’Lena’s invitation; you know well enough what I mean,” returned John
Jr., tumbling over the notes which lay upon the table, and failing to
find the one for which he was seeking.
“You’ll have to ask Mrs. Graham for it, I presume, as it’s not here,”
was Mrs. Livingstone’s quiet answer.
“Thunder!” roared John Jr., “’Lena not invited! That’s a smart caper.
But there’s some mistake about it, I know. Who brought them?”
“Nero brought them,” said Carrie, “and I think it is strange that
grandmother should be invited and ’Lena left out. But I suppose Mrs.
Graham has her reasons. She don’t seem to fancy ’Lena much.”
“Mrs. Graham go to grass,” muttered John Jr., leaving the room and
slamming the door after him with great violence.
’Twas a pity he did not look in one of the drawers of his mother’s
work-box, for there, safe and sound, lay the missing note! But he did
not think of that. He only knew that ’Lena was slighted, and for the
next two hours he raved and fretted, sometimes declaring he would not
go, and again wishing Mrs. Graham in a temperature but little suited to
her round, fat proportions.
“Wall, if they feel too big to invite ’Leny, they needn’t expect to see
me there, that’s just all there is about it,” said grandma, settling
herself in her rocking-chair, and telling ’Lena “she wouldn’t care an
atom if she’s in her place.”
But ’Lena did care. No one likes to be slighted, and she was not an
exception to the general rule. Owing to her aunt’s skillful management
she had never yet attended a large party, and it was but natural that
she should now wish to go. But it could not be, and she was obliged to
content herself with the hopes of a minute description from Anna;
Carrie she would not trust, for she well knew that whatever she told
would be greatly exaggerated.
Mrs. Graham undoubtedly wished to give her friends ample time to
prepare, for her invitations were issued nearly a week in advance. This
suited Carrie, who had a longer time to decide upon what would be
becoming, and when at last a decision was made, she could do nothing
but talk about her dress, which really was beautiful, consisting of a
pink and white silk, with an over-skirt of soft, rich lace. This, after
it was completed, was tried on at least half a dozen times, and the
effect carefully studied before the long mirror. Anna, who cared much
less for dress than her sister, decided upon a black flounced skirt and
velvet basque. This was Mr. Everett’s taste, and whatever suited him
suited her.
“I do think it’s too bad that ’Lena is not invited,” said she one day,
when Carrie, as usual, was discussing the party. “She would enjoy it so
much. I don’t understand, either, why she is omitted, for Mr. Graham
seemed to like her, and Durward too——”
“A great ways off, you mean,” interrupted Carrie. “For my part, I see
nothing strange in the omission. It is no worse to leave her out than
scores of others who will not be invited.”
“But to come into the house and ask all but her,” said Anna. “It does
not seem right. She is as good as we are.”
“That’s as people think,” returned Carrie, while John Jr., who was just
going out to ride, and had stopped a moment at the door, exclaimed,
“Zounds, Cad, I wonder if you fancy yourself better than ’Lena Rivers.
If you do, you are the only one that thinks so. Why, you can’t begin to
compare with her, and it’s a confounded shame that she isn’t invited,
and so I shall tell them if I have a good chance.”
“You’ll look smart fishing for an invitation, won’t you?” said Carrie,
her fears instantly aroused, but John Jr. was out of her hearing almost
before the words were uttered.
Mounting Firelock, he started off for Versailles, falling in with
Durward, who was bound for the same place. After the usual greetings
were exchanged, Durward said, “I suppose you are all coming on Thursday
night?”
“Yes,” returned John Jr., “I believe the old folks, Cad, and Anna
intend doing so.”
“But where’s Miss Rivers? Doesn’t she honor us with her presence?”
asked Durward, in some concern.
John Jr.’s first impulse, as he afterwards said, was “to knock him off
from his horse,” but a second thought convinced him there might be some
mistake; so he replied that “it was hardly to be supposed Miss Rivers
would attend without an invitation—she wasn’t quite so verdant as
that!”
“Without an invitation!” repeated Durward, stopping short in the road.
“’Lena not invited! It isn’t so! I directed one to her myself, and gave
it to Nero, together with the rest which were designed for your family.
He must have lost it. I’ll ask him the moment I get home, and see that
it is all made right. She must come, any way, for I wouldn’t give——”
Here he stopped, as if he had said too much, but John Jr. finished the
sentence for him.
“Wouldn’t give a picayune for the whole affair without her—that’s what
you mean, and why not say so? I speak right out about Nellie, and she
isn’t one half as handsome as ’Lena.”
“It isn’t ’Lena’s beauty that I admire altogether,” returned Durward.
“I like her for her frankness, and because I think her conduct is
actuated by the best of principles; perhaps I am mistaken——”
“No, you are not,” again interrupted John Jr., “’Lena is just what she
seems to be. There’s no deception in her. She isn’t one thing to-day
and another to-morrow. Spunky as the old Nick, you know, but still she
governs her temper admirably, and between you and me, I know I’m a
better man than I should have been had she never come to live with us.
How well I remember the first time I saw her,” he continued, repeating
to Durward the particulars of their interview in Lexington, and
describing her introduction to his sisters. “From the moment she
refused to tell that lie for me, I liked her,” said he, “and when she
dealt me that blow in my face, my admiration was complete.”
Durward thought he could dispense with the blow, but he laughed
heartily at John’s description of his spirited cousin, thinking, too,
how different was his opinion of her from that which his mother
evidently entertained. Still, if Mrs. Livingstone was prejudiced, John
Jr. might also be somewhat biased, so he would not yet make up his
mind; but on one thing he was resolved—she should be invited, and for
fear of contingencies, he would carry the card himself.
Accordingly, on his return home, Nero was closely questioned, and
negro-like, called down all manner of evil upon himself “if he done
drapped the note any whar. ’Strue as I live and breathe, Mas’r
Bellmont,” said he, “I done carried Miss ’Leny’s invite with the rest,
and guv ’em all to the young lady with the big nose!”
Had Durward understood Mrs. Livingstone a little better, he might have
believed him; but now it was but natural for him to suppose that Nero
had accidentally dropped it. So he wrote another, taking it himself,
and asking for “Miss Rivers.” Carrie, who was in the parlor and saw him
coming up to the house, instantly flew to the glass, smoothing her
collar, puffing out her hair a little more, pinching her cheek, which
was not quite so red as usual, and wishing that she was alone. But
unfortunately, both Anna and ’Lena were present, and as there was no
means of being rid of them, she retained her seat at the piano,
carelessly turning over the leaves of her music book, when the door
opened and Corinda, not Durward, appeared.
“If you please, Miss ’Lena,” said the girl, “Marster Bellmont want to
speak with you in the hall.”
“With ’Lena! How funny!” exclaimed Carrie. “Are you sure it was ’Lena?”
“Yes, sure—he done ask for Miss Rivers.”
“Ask him in, why don’t you?” said Carrie, suspecting his errand, and
thinking to keep herself from all suspicion by appearing “wonderfully
pleased” that ’Lena was not intentionally neglected. Before Corinda
could reply, ’Lena had stepped into the hall, and was standing face to
face with Durward, who retained her hand, while he asked if “she really
believed they, intended to slight her,” at the same time explaining how
it came to his knowledge, and saying “he hoped she would not fail to
attend.”
’Lena hesitated, but he pressed her so hard, saying he should surely
think she distrusted them if she refused, that she finally consented,
and he took his leave, playfully threatening to come for her himself if
she were not there with the rest.
“You feel better, now, don’t you ?” said Carrie with a sneer, as ’Lena
re-entered the parlor.
“Yes, a great deal,” was ’Lena’s truthful answer.
“Oh, I’m real glad!” exclaimed Anna. “I most knew ’twas a mistake all
the time, and I did so want you to go. What will you wear? Let me see.
Why, you haven’t got anything suitable, have you?”
This was true, for ’Lena had nothing fit for the occasion, and she was
beginning to wish she had not been invited, when her uncle came in, and
to him Anna forthwith stated the case, saying ’Lena must have a new
dress, and suggesting embroidered muslin.
“How ridiculous!” muttered Carrie, thrumming away at the piano.
“There’s no time to make dresses now. They should have invited her
earlier.”
“Isn’t Miss Simpson still here?” asked her father.
Anna replied that she was, and then turning to ’Lena, Mr. Livingstone
asked if “she wanted to go very much.”
The tears which shone in her eyes were a sufficient answer, and when at
supper that night, inquiry was made for Mr. Livingstone, it was said
that he had gone to Frankfort.
“To Frankfort!” repeated his wife. “What has he gone there for?”
No one knew until late in the evening, when he returned home, bringing
with him ’Lena’s dress, which Anna pronounced “the sweetest thing she
ever saw,” at the same time running with it to her cousin. There was
company in the parlor, which for a time kept down the gathering storm
in Mrs. Livingstone’s face, but the moment they were gone, and she was
alone with her husband in their room, it burst forth, and in angry
tones she demanded “what he meant by spending her money in that way,
and without her consent?”
Before making any reply, Mr. Livingstone stepped to her work-box, and
opening the little drawer, held to view the missing note. Then turning
to his wife, whose face was very pale, he said, “This morning I made a
discovery which exonerates Nero from all blame. I understand it fully,
and while I knew you were capable of almost anything, I must say I did
not think you would be guilty of quite so mean an act. Stay,” he
continued, as he saw her about to speak, “you are my wife, and as ’Lena
is at last invited, your secret is safe, but remember, it must not be
repeated. You understand me, do you?”
Mrs. Livingstone was struck dumb with mortification and
astonishment—the first, that she was detected, and the last, that her
husband dare assume such language toward her. But he had her in his
power—she knew that—and for a time it rendered her very docile, causing
her to consult with Miss Simpson concerning the fitting of ’Lena’s
dress, herself standing by when it was done, and suggesting one or two
improvements, until ’Lena, perfectly bewildered, wondered what had come
over her aunt, that she should be so unusually kind. Carrie, too,
learning from her mother how matters stood, thought proper to change
her manner, and while in her heart she hoped something would occur to
keep ’Lena at home, she loudly expressed her pleasure that she was
going, offering to lend her several little ornaments, and doing many
things which puzzled ’Lena, who readily saw that she was feigning what
she did not feel.
Meanwhile, grandma, learning that ’Lena was invited, declared her
intention of going. “I shouldn’t of gin up in the first on’t,” said
she, “only I wanted to show ’em proper resentment; but now it’s
different, and I’ll go, anyway—’Tilda may say what she’s a mind to.”
It was in vain that ’Lena reasoned the case. Grandma was decided, and
it was not until both her son and daughter interfered, the one advising
and the other commanding her to stay at home, that she yielded with a
burst of tears, for grandma was now in her second childhood, and easily
moved. It was terrible to ’Lena to see her grandmother weep, and
twining her arms around her neck, she tried to soothe her, saying, “she
would willingly stay at home with her if she wished it.”
Mrs. Nichols was not selfish enough to suffer this. “No, ’Leny,” said
she, “I want you to go and enjoy yourself while you are young, for
you’ll sometime be old and in the way;” and the old creature covered
her face with her shriveled hands and wept.
But she was of too cheerful a nature long to remember grief, and drying
her tears, she soon forgot her trouble in the pride and satisfaction
which she felt when she saw how well the white muslin became ’Lena,
who, John Jr., said, never looked so beautifully as she did when
arrayed for the party. Mr. Livingstone had not been sparing of his
money when he purchased the party dress, which was a richly embroidered
muslin, and fell in soft folds around ’Lena’s graceful figure. Her long
flowing curls were intertwined with a few natural flowers, her only
attempt at ornament of any kind, and, indeed, ornaments would have been
sadly out of place on ’Lena.
It was between nine and ten when the party from Maple Grove reached
Woodlawn, where they found a large company assembled, some in the
drawing-rooms below, and others still lingering at the toilet in the
dressing chamber. Among these last were Nellie Douglass and Mabel Ross,
the latter of whom Mrs. Livingstone was perfectly delighted to see,
overwhelming her with caresses, and urging her to stop for awhile at
Maple Grove.
“I shall be so glad to have you with us, and the country air will do
you so much good, that you must not refuse,” said she, pinching Mabel’s
sallow cheek, and stroking her straight, glossy hair, which, in
contrast with the bandeau of pearls that she wore, looked dark as
midnight.
Spite of her wealth, Mabel had long been accustomed to neglect, and
there was something so kind in Mrs. Livingstone’s _motherly_ demeanor,
that the heart of the young orphan warmed toward her, and tears
glittered in her large, mournful eyes, the only beauty, save her hair,
of which she could boast. Very few had ever cared for poor Mabel, who,
though warm-hearted and affectionate, required to be known in order to
be appreciated, and as she was naturally shy and retiring, there were
not many who felt at all acquainted with her. Left alone in the world
at a very early age, she had never known what it was to possess a real,
disinterested friend, unless we except Nellie Douglass, who, while
there was nothing congenial between them, had always tried to treat
Mabel as she herself would wish to be treated, were she in like
circumstances.
Many had professed friendship for the sake of the gain which they knew
would accrue, for she was generous to a fault, bestowing with a lavish
hand upon those whom she loved, and who had too often proved false,
denouncing her as utterly spiritless and insipid. So often had she been
deceived, that now, at the age of eighteen, she had learned to distrust
her fellow creatures, and oftentimes in secret would she weep bitterly
over her lonely condition, lamenting the plain face and unattractive
manners, which she fancied rendered her an object of dislike. Still
there was about her a depth of feeling of which none had ever dreamed,
and it only required a skillful hand to mold her into an altogether
different being. She was, perhaps, too easily influenced, for in spite
of her distrust, a pleasant word or kind look would win her to almost
anything.
Of this weakness Mrs. Livingstone seemed well aware, and for the better
accomplishment of her plan, she deemed it necessary that Mabel should
believe her to be the best friend she had in the world. Accordingly,
she now flattered and petted her, calling her “darling,” and “dearest,”
and urging her to stop at Maple Grove, until she consented, “provided
Nellie Douglas were willing.”
“Oh, I don’t care,” answered Nellie, whose gay, dashing disposition
poorly accorded with the listless, sickly Mabel, and who felt it rather
a relief than otherwise to be rid of her.
So it was decided that she should stay at Maple Grove, and then Mrs.
Livingstone, passing her arm around her waist, whispered, “Go down with
me,” at the same time starting for the parlor, followed by her
daughters, Nellie, and ’Lena. In the hall they met with John Jr. He had
heard Nellie’s voice, and stationing himself at the head of the stairs,
was waiting her appearance.
“Miss Ross,” said Mrs. Livingstone to her son, at the same time
indicating her willingness to give her into his care.
But John Jr. would not take the hint. Bowing stiffly to Mabel, he
passed on toward Nellie, in his eagerness stepping on Carrie’s train
and drawing from her an exclamation of anger at his awkwardness. Mrs.
Livingstone glanced backward just in time to see the look of affection
with which her son regarded Nellie, as she placed her soft hand
confidingly upon his arm, and gazed upward smilingly into his face. She
dared not slight Miss Douglass in public, but with a mental invective
against her, she drew Mabel closer to her side, and smoothing down the
heavy folds of her _moire antique_, entered the drawing-room, which was
brilliantly lighted, and filled with the beauty and fashion of
Lexington, Frankfort, and Versailles.
At the door they met Durward, who, as he took ’Lena’s hand, said, “It
is well you remembered your promise, for I was about starting after
you.” This observation did not escape Mrs. Livingstone, who, besides
having her son and Nellie under her special cognizance, had also an eye
upon her niece and Anna. Her espionage of the latter, however, was not
needed immediately, owing to her being straightway appropriated by
Captain Atherton, who, in dainty white kids, and vest to match (the
color not the material), strutted back and forth with Anna tucked under
his arm, until the poor girl was ready to cry with vexation.
When the guests had nearly all arrived, both Mr. Graham and Durward
started for ’Lena, the latter reaching her first, and paying her so
many little attentions, that the curiosity of others was aroused, and
frequently was the question asked, “Who is she, the beautiful young
lady in white muslin and curls?”
Nothing of all this escaped Mrs. Livingstone, and once, in passing near
her niece, she managed to whisper, “For heaven’s sake don’t show your
ignorance of etiquette by taxing Mr. Bellmont’s good nature any longer.
It’s very improper to claim any one’s attention so long, and you are
calling forth remarks.”
Then quickly changing the whisper into her softest tones, she said to
Durward, “How _can_ you resist such beseeching glances as those ladies
send toward you?” nodding to a group of girls of which Carrie was one.
’Lena colored scarlet, and gazed wistfully around the room in quest of
some other shelter when Durward should relinquish her, as she felt he
would surely do, but none presented itself. Her uncle was playing the
agreeable to Miss Atherton, Mr. Graham to some other lady, while John
Jr. kept closely at Nellie’s side, forgetful of all else.
“What shall I do?” said ’Lena, unconsciously and half aloud.
“Stay with me,” answered Durward, drawing her hand further within his
arm, and bending upon her a look of admiration which she could not
mistake.
Several times they passed and repassed Mrs. Graham, who was highly
incensed at her son’s proceedings, and at last actually asked him “if
he did not intend noticing anyone except Miss Rivers,” adding, as an
apology for her rudeness (for Mrs. Graham prided herself upon being
very polite in her own house), “she has charms enough to win a dozen
gallants, but there are others here who need attention from you.
There’s Miss Livingstone, you’ve hardly spoken with her to-night.”
Thus importuned, Durward released ’Lena and walked away, attaching
himself to Carrie, who clung to him closer, if possible, than did the
old captain to Anna. About this time Mr. Everett came. He had been
necessarily detained, and now, after paying his respects to the host
and hostess, he started in quest of Anna, who was still held “in
durance vile” by the captain. But the moment she saw Malcolm, she
uttered a low exclamation of joy, and without a single apology, broke
abruptly away from her ancient cavalier, whose little watery eyes
looked daggers after her for an instant; then consoling himself with
the reflection that he was tolerably sure of her, do what she would, he
walked up to her mother, kindly relieving her for a time of her charge,
who was becoming rather tiresome. Frequently, by nods, winks, and
frowns, had Mrs. Livingstone tried to bring her son to a sense of his
improper conduct in devoting himself exclusively to one individual, and
neglecting all others.
But her efforts were all in vain. John Jr. was incorrigible, slyly
whispering to Nellie, that “he had no idea of beauing a medicine
chest.” This he said, referring to Mabel’s ill health, for among his
other oddities, John Jr. had a particular aversion to sickly ladies. Of
course Nellie reproved him for his unkind remarks, at the same time
warmly defending Mabel, “who,” she said, “had been delicate from
infancy, and suffered far more than was generally suspected.”
“Let her stay at home, then,” was John Jr.’s answer, as he led Nellie
toward the supper-room, which the company were just then entering.
About an hour after supper the guests began to leave, Mrs. Livingstone
being the first to propose going. As she was ascending the stairs, John
Jr. observed that Mabel was with her, and turning to ’Lena, who now
leaned on his arm, he said, “There goes the future Mrs. John Jr.—so
mother thinks!”
“Where?” asked ’Lena, looking around.
“Why, there,” continued John, pointing toward Mabel. “Haven’t you
noticed with what parental solicitude mother watches over her?”
“I saw them together,” answered ’Lena, “and I thought it very kind in
my aunt, for no one else seemed to notice her, and I felt sorry for
her. She is going home with us, I believe.”,
“Going home with _us_!” repeated John Jr. “In the name of the people,
what is she going home with us for?”
“Why,” returned ’Lena, “your mother thinks the country air will do her
good.”
“_Un_-doubtedly,” said John, with a sneer. “Mother’s motives are
usually very disinterested. I wonder she don’t propose to the old
captain to take up _his_ quarters with us, so she can nurse him!”
With this state of feeling, it was hardly natural that John Jr. should
be very polite toward Mabel, and when his mother asked him to help her
into the carriage, he complied so ungraciously, that Mabel observed it,
and looked wonderingly at her _patroness_ for an explanation.
“Only one of his freaks, love—he’ll get over it,” said Mrs.
Livingstone, while poor Mabel, sinking back amoung the cushions, wept
silently, thinking that everybody hated her.
When ’Lena came down to bid her host and hostess good-night, the former
retained her hand, while he expressed his sorrow at her leaving so
soon. “I meant to have seen more of you,” said he, “but you must visit
us often—will you not?”
Neither the action nor the words escaped Mrs. Graham’s observation, and
the lecture which she that night read her offending spouse, had the
effect to keep him awake until the morning was growing gray in the
east. Then, when he was asleep, he so far forgot himself and the
wide-open ears beside him as actually to breathe the name of ’Lena in
his dreams!
Mrs. Graham needed no farther confirmation of her suspicions, and at
the breakfast-table next morning, she gave her son a lengthened account
of her husband’s great sin in dreaming of a young girl, and that girl
’Lena Rivers. Durward laughed heartily and then, either to tease his
mother, or to make his father’s guilt less heinous in her eyes, he
replied, “It is a little singular that our minds should run in the same
channel, for, I, too, dreamed of ’Lena Rivers!”
Poor Mrs. Graham. A double task was now imposed upon her—that of
watching both husband and son; but she was accustomed to it, for her
life, since her second marriage, had been one continued series of
watching for evil where there was none. And now, with a growing hatred
toward ’Lena, she determined to increase her vigilance, feeling sure
she should discover something if she only continued faithful to the
end.