"I was just thinking of you, Betsey," said Mrs. Wynn, as the figure of
the spinster appeared in the doorway of her little sitting room. "Set
right down, and I'll have a cup of tea ready in less than five minutes."
"Thank'ee, I believe I will," said Miss Pryor, "though I didn't intend
to stay only long enough to tell you the news. I put this shawl over my
head and run just as I was."
"That's right, I'm glad of it. We'll have a sociable time now, Mr.
Wynn's cleared out. I never could bear a man around my kitchen. But what
news do you mean!"
"Why, ain't you heard?"
"Not a livin' word of anything. What on earth can have happened so
wonderful?"
"Well, that does beat all. Just to think! And you ain't seen a certain
magnificent gentleman, as grand as a prince, that sailed up to Widder
Hardyng's and asked for Miss Clemence Graystone? Every girl in town is
in love with him already."
"Do tell! And here I be tied to the house waitin' on Rose, and never
dreamin' all that's goin' on. You might have come over and told me
before, Betsey. I'd have done the same by you."
"Seein' as how it all happened yesterday, and I only found it out last
evening after prayer meeting', and it ain't ten o'clock in the forenoon
yet, I calkerlate I ain't done anything so very monstrous," said that
individual, in an injured tone.
However, the sight of a steaming cup of tea that filled the air with its
appetizing fragrance, soon mollified her, and after dispatching one cup
at boiling point, she paused to take breath before partaking of a
second.
"You see this is all there is of it: The elegantest man you ever saw
drove up all of a sudden to the tavern and wanted to know where Miss
Graystone was boarding. You'd better believe they asked him a few
questions, but he waved them all off, polite-like, but in a way that
convinced every one that he knew his own particular business better than
anybody else knew it for him; and dashed off in the direction of Widder
Hardyng's. Mrs. Swan's little girl happened to be down there on an
errand for her mother, and she heard all that transpired. His name's
Vaughn, and he's Miss Graystone's beau. He staid and talked a long time
with Mrs. Hardyng while he was waiting for the schoolmistress, who had
gone away; but after a time, when she didn't come back, he was so
impatient he went off trying to find her."
"And you didn't see him at all?" queried Mrs. Wynn.
"Oh, maybe I didn't," said Betsey, with a toss of her head; "trust me
for finding out anything I once set my mind on. I called in, carelessly,
on my way down here this morning, and had an introduction to the
gentleman himself. Not knowin' what else to say to start conversation, I
asked him if he was a relative of Miss Graystone's, though of course I
knew better. I praised her up to the skies, and you had ought to have
seen his face, beaming with smiles. He seemed to take a sort of notion
to me after that. I 'spose, though, Mrs. Hardyng gave me a settin' out
as soon as my back was turned, by the one-sided smirk she gave when the
gentleman shook hands with me cordially when I came away, and thanked me
for being so good to his young friend. I see Ruth playing on the street
corner, and quizzed her. So putting this and that together, it seems
that this girl, that everybody called an upstart and an adventuress, has
been a rich lady once, and never known what it was to soil her hands
with work of any description."
"I knew it," said Mrs. Wynn; "I always said so. It shows my superior
penetration. I'm glad I stood her friend in the dark hour of adversity,
and shall hasten as soon as possible to learn the exact truth of all
these rumors."
"So you are here, Betsey?" exclaimed Mrs. Swan, putting her head in at
the door. "I thought I saw you go by, and followed as soon as I could
get my things on."
"Well, I never!" said Mrs. Wynn; "come in; you are just in time. Set by
and I'll put on another cup and saucer. We was just talking over the
new arrival in the village."
"I believe half the population are similarly employed," laughed the
little lady. "Every one I met stopped and spoke to me about it, and as
luck would have it, as I was turning down a cross street I saw Mrs.
Hardyng ahead of me and joined her at once. She told me the whole story.
This Mr. Vaughn is a rich gentleman, who has come down here to marry the
schoolmistress. It seems, too, that she's lately inherited some property
by the death of somebody, I couldn't make out who--some relative I
suppose--though it don't matter. Any ways, a cool fifty thousand has
fell to her, and I don't know as I could point out a more deservin'
person."
"Wonders will never cease!" exclaimed Mrs. Wynn, staring blankly, into
her empty tea cup. "Clemence Graystone turned out to be a rich heiress,
after bein' perfectly abused the whole live-long summer by everybody in
the town of Waveland but me. It's beyond my comprehension. But I always
knew she was a lady, and stuck to her through 'evil and good report.'"
"Fifty thousand dollars!" gasped Miss Pryor; "do I hear aright? I wonder
what Mrs. Dr. Little, and the Briers, and all them that turned against
her, will say to that? It will be a particularly sweet morsel for the
Owens. I must call round and visit each one of them, to enjoy their
discomfiture."
"What a thing it is to be ignorant and narrow-minded," added Mrs. Wynn.
"I can't see how people get along through life without any knowledge of
human nature. Our poor departed Elder used to say he never could quite
make up his mind what to think of a new-comer until he had my opinion of
them, and, if I _do_ say it, as shouldn't say it, I've used these eyes
thus far to pretty good advantage."
"If she'd have used them less about her neighbors and a little more in
looking after that precious daughter of hers," whispered the spinster,
maliciously, as the old lady rose to put away the dishes, "it would have
been better for all concerned, I guess."
"Why, Betsey, how you _do_ talk!" replied Mrs. Swan. Then in a louder
tone: "I came near forgetting another thing that I wanted to ask you
about. I've sustained a dreadful shock. It's on account of these new
people at the Burton place. I had a long confidential talk with Sister
Arguseye, lately, and I haven't had a peaceful moment since. She called
in to see me to warn me about associating with them. You know she came
from the same place that they did, and knew all about the family."
"What did she say?" chorused both voices.
"Well, I'm grieved to say her report wasn't favorable. It seems the
elder Mrs. Garnet, who appears to be a perfect pattern of propriety, has
a grown-up, illegitimate daughter, whose existence they are trying to
conceal from strangers, whom they think they can successfully impose
upon."
"They have come to the wrong place for that. Vice will be exposed in
this community, and the workers of iniquity receive their reward,"
responded Mrs. Wynn, oracularly, and pursing up her thin lips and
sniffing her sharp nose higher in the air; "we must ferret this out,
Betsey."
"We must, indeed," echoed the spinster, looking as if nothing would
delight her more; "such a state of affairs cannot be tolerated in our
midst."
"The worst part of it is," continued Mrs. Swan, "they say that the
modest-looking daughter-in-law, whom I have felt so interested in, is
equally culpable, and married the son for similar reasons. I feel
dreadfully about the affair, for I was expecting a good deal of
enjoyment in their society."
"They seem very intelligent and agreeable people; but I can't doubt
Sister Arguseye's positive assertion. A minister's wife couldn't lie,"
said the elder lady, in a tone that showed deep conviction of an
unpleasant truth. "There is but one way to find out; to go and state the
facts, and have the truth elicited."
"But who is to do it?" asked Mrs. Swan. "_I_ can't."
"Are you equal to the emergency, Betsey?" asked. Mrs. Wynn.
"I believe I possess the Christian fortitude to do my duty, however
disagreeable it may be," replied that personage, with the air of a
martyr being led to the stake.
"There, it is settled," said the old lady. "We will go together"--which
they did that very day.
Pretty little Mrs. Garnet had finished her work for the day, donned a
fresh calico that fitted her plump form without a wrinkle, and sat
crooning a soft lullaby to that objectionable baby, when they entered.
She welcomed the ladies hospitably, but eyed askance their sombre and
awful countenances.
"It's a pleasant day," she said, by way of starting conversation.
"There's _nothing_ pleasant to me, in this wicked world," said Miss
Pryor, dolorously.
"How is your rheumatism, Mrs. Wynn?" she asked again, after a prolonged
silence, hoping better success from this question regarding that worthy
lady's manifold ailments.
"It's heavenly in comparison with the state of my mind," was the
unlooked-for response.
Then there was another dreadful pause, broken at length by the elder of
the group. "I've a revelation to make, neighbor, that is of such a
nature that I shudder to speak upon the subject, and which closely
concerns more than one person in this immediate vicinity."
Thereupon the good lady proceeded to unfold the story that had emanated
from the minister's wife, in regard to the deplorable state of the
morals of these new-comers in the quiet village.
Instead of being shocked at the recital, and literally extinguished, as
she undoubtedly ought to have been, by the knowledge that her former
little peccadillos had come to light, the bright-eyed hostess burst out
laughing in the very faces of the lugubrious guests.
"It's turned out as I expected," she said, at last, when she had done
laughing. "Now, ladies, so far as these slanderous reports concern
myself, I care very little about them, for I can refute them by
bringing convincing proof to the contrary." Thus saying, she rose, and,
after a short disappearance, returned with a marriage certificate and
the family records. "Here," she said, "is the date of my marriage, some
three years back, and the birth of our only child--just one year ago.
Baby was twelve months old yesterday.
"But now comes the disagreeable part of the story. My husband's mother,
whom I love and respect, for having, in the years since I first knew
her, been all that I could ask in a parent, had one painful episode in
her life. She was to have been married to a wealthy gentleman, whom she
loved devotedly; but, on the day appointed for the wedding, the expected
bridegroom met with an accident, which proved immediately fatal. After
he was buried, the object of his fondest affection found _what_ his loss
at such a moment had become to her. A dreadful truth was revealed to
her, which became immediately known to those most interested in her
welfare. Furious with rage, and forgetting that his child needed now his
tenderest care, the outraged father drove her from his door, with the
command never to enter it. It was then that a former lover, who had
worshipped her from afar in the days of her prosperity, came forward and
offered her his protection and an honorable name, that had never been
sullied by disgrace.
"In her distressed circumstances, she accepted him thankfully. They were
married immediately, and not long after this child of the former lover
was born. It was the one false step of a young, inexperienced girl, and
bitterly repented and atoned for in after life. The story is well known
where these facts occurred, as there was not the least attempt at
concealment."
"Then you admit, Madam, that your relative _did_ commit a grievous wrong
at one portion of her life," said Miss Pryor, with a glance of severe
virtue.
"But she repented, Betsey, and was forgiven, we trust," said Mrs. Wynn,
gently, thinking of one at home who had wrung her aged heart by a
similar misstep.
"That is not all I have to say upon the subject, either," said Mrs.
Garnet, spiritedly. "Since the minister's dashing lady has commenced
this cowardly attack upon one I love, I shall not hesitate to speak the
entire truth. This widow, who was never a wife until she lately married
her present husband, and who, I regret to say, has thereby imposed upon
a very worthy man, has a grown daughter of unsound mind, who is bound
out to a family, where it is well known she has not been treated any too
kindly. The heartless mother, engrossed in the pursuit of some victim of
sufficient credulity to easily fall into her snares, has spent her time,
and what money she could earn, in beautifying and displaying her
bold-looking face and unwieldy figure, totally regardless of this
unhappy being, who has never known a mother's love and care. I can
imagine the reason for her opening hostilities in this manner. Knowing
that we were perfectly familiar with every portion of her former
history, and judging by her own spiteful self that we would improve the
first opportunity to make the facts known, she thought to poison the
minds of the community, so that our story would not be believed.
However, this was all labor spent in vain. Mother and I mutually agreed,
that if the woman chose to reform, we would be the last to injure her in
the estimation of others."
"Can you prove this?" demanded Miss Pryor, gazing stolidly at the
animated speaker.
"I can, by producing the lady's own daughter, of whose very existence, I
doubt not, the pious Elder is at this moment in profound ignorance,"
said Mrs. Garnet.
"That alters the case materially, then," said Mrs. Wynn. "These facts
must be carefully investigated, and if they are true, it's very likely
our new minister will have occasion to resign before long. You don't
bear any hardness, I hope, neighbor. It's been a very tryin' task, but
somebody had to undertake it."
"Of course," was the reply. "Our object is to elicit the truth, and I am
willing to help probe this matter to the bottom."
"Now," said Betsey Pryor, when they were again upon the street, "we will
stir up some excitement, I guess. Let's go to the minister's as straight
as ever we can."