“Great Heaven! what is the matter, Miss Hattie?” he cried, as he saw
her face turn whiter and whiter, and her tall, graceful form totter and
reel as if stricken by a fearful blow.
“My mother is dying,” she gasped, “and I far away, with forgiveness not
passed between us,” and she sank shivering into the chair from which
she had arisen.
And now, in a flash of thought, Mr. W---- remembered where he had seen
those initials before. They were on the clasp of the portfolio which
held her drawings. Undoubtedly they were the initials of her real name,
and all this time she had been to him only Hattie Butler.
“Miss Hattie, how can I assist you? If you desire it, I will escort you
anywhere you wish to go, leaving when you desire, waiting for you, and
keeping sacredly any secret you may share with me.”
“Oh, Mr. W----, you are so good. Do not believe me wicked, or reveal
it, if I tell you that my real name is embraced in those initials--that
no wrong doing of my own caused me to hide it under another, but that
I sought to escape persistent annoyance on a subject I may not name
now--sought to evade a demand which wealthy and worldly parents made of
me.”
“Miss Hattie, I would stake my life on your goodness, that every action
of your life has been pure, and marked by the noblest of purposes. Now,
tell me what I must or can do for you.”
“Grant me leave to absent myself a little while. It may be two or three
days--it can hardly be less--it may be longer, and while I am gone,
please go to Mr. Legare’s and explain to him and his family that I was
called away at almost a moment’s notice. I must take the four o’clock
boat for Boston. I will have time to go to my boarding-house, settle my
bill, and then I can take a carriage for the boat.”
“May I not escort you there?”
“For both our sakes, it will be better not. I will be safe in a
carriage and in the open light of day. Do not fear. And, Mr. W----, I
will, when I come back, if you are not gone to California, tell you
all. I will withhold nothing from so good, so true a friend. I go to
the bedside of a dying mother. That is what that notice calls me to.
I will not condemn that mother at this hour. But it was her pride and
obstinacy that forced me into a strange city to earn my daily bread.”
“Do you not need more money?” asked Mr. W----.
“No, sir; I have enough in bills on my person, and some in bank if
I needed more; and I hold Mr. Legare’s munificent check for those
drawings. I need nothing, Mr. W----, but your belief in my honor and
truth--your kind sympathy.”
“You have both, dear Miss Hattie--both to the fullest extent. Go, and
Heaven shield and bless you. You will surely return?”
“Yes, and take my place here, no matter what occurs. Here will I stay
until you return from California, and the result of your mission is
made known to me.”
“Thank you, Miss Hattie. I will not detain you longer, for you will
have but little time for preparation and to reach the boat. This
evening I will go to Mr. Legare’s, and simply explain that you were
called away by the sickness of a relative.”
“Thank you; that will be enough. Tell them I will go to see them when I
return.”
A grasp of the hand, a tearful good-by, and the honest, noble man, the
pure, truthful woman, were apart--he standing gloomily alone in his
office, she on her way, walking fast, toward her boarding-house.
Entering that, she found Biddy, Marguerite, and Miss Scrimp all in the
kitchen.
She handed Miss Scrimp the amount of her board for the week, then
giving her the additional dollar for her silk dress, she said:
“I pay my part of the proposed subscription for the silk dress, Miss
Scrimp.” Then turning to Biddy Lanigan, she said: “You have always been
very good to me, Biddy. Here is a five dollar bill for you to use as
you choose.”
“Long life an’ more power to ye, ye born angel!” cried Biddy; “who
could help bein’ kind to the likes o’ you? Sure there’s not a lady in
the land can hold her head higher than your own.”
“Thank you, Biddy. Now, Miss Scrimp, I am going away for a few days,
and shall lock up my room, for I leave my trunk, books, and everything
except my little hand-satchel there.”
“Sakes alive! where be you a-goin’?”
“To visit a sick relative, and I shall return as soon as I can.”
“Sakes alive!”
Those were the last words Hattie heard as she turned and hurried to her
room.
Half an hour later she came down dressed in a traveling suit of heavy
brown pongee, with a bonnet and shawl literally worth more than the
entire wardrobe of Miss Scrimp, her dress and her bearing that of a
lady.
“Sakes alives! Who’d have thought she had such clothes here,” was Miss
Scrimp’s exclamation, as her “cheapest boarder,” as she had called her
more than once, left the door.