Miss Pryor had never uttered a truer remark than the one at the close of
our last chapter. There _was_ an excitement in the little village,
before which the sensation created by the pretty schoolmistress, became
as nothing. The wordy war raged fiercely, and life-long enmities were
created between those who had been intimate friends, endeared to each
other by years of pleasant intercourse.
Meanwhile the offending Garnets were socially ostracized. Only little
Mrs. Swan resolutely defended them. It seemed that this determined lady
was destined to become the champion of all the persecuted of her own sex
in the tiny village.
Of course, this matter found its way before the dignitaries of the
church, over which the worthy Elder presided. Dr. Little, as one of its
most influential members, hastened to give his support to his
professional brother, and bitterly denounced these intruders, who sought
to create disturbance by their idle tales. The minister's wife and the
doctor's lady became like sisters in their friendship, and it followed
that the feminine portion of the Garnet family were under a ban that
excluded them from speech or friendly intercourse with any but the
single exception we have before mentioned.
If that had been all, these innocent objects of aversion might have
stood aloof and cared little, in the conscious power of rectitude. At
first they trusted that some new excitement might arise to absorb public
attention, and they be released from their painful position and
disagreeable notoriety. But, with time, their trouble seemed to increase
instead of diminish, and only added to the difficulties of their
situation.
At length old Mr. Garnet rose in righteous wrath. "Wife," he said,
emphatically, "I never had anything to do with a woman's quarrel before.
I did think that after this Prudence Penrose, that has imposed upon the
parson, found we wasn't going to say nothin' about her half-witted
daughter, that she'd take the hint and let us alone; but I see she needs
a lesson. I am sorry, seein' how things has turned out, that I hadn't
interfered before the affair went so far, but it isn't too late now.
There's the minister, and Dr. Little, and Deacon Jones, and a lot more
of them, goin' to hold a meetin' about sueing my little daughter-in-law
for slander, against the character of a woman that never had any to
lose. So I reckon I will have my say on the subject, too." Which he set
about doing directly.
Shortly after the irate old gentleman was seen in close conversation
with the village constable, and after some plotting, that worthy started
with the swiftest team in all Waveland for Ainsworth, the former
residence of both the Garnet family and the minister's lady.
Mrs. Swan was sitting with little baby Garnet on her lap, at her
friend's house, the next evening, when the door burst open and Mr.
Garnet, senior, appeared in a state of excitement, such as he had never
been seen before by the little brown-eyed woman, who looked up with a
startled glance at his unexpected entrance.
"Richie's come," he shouted, waving his hat triumphantly. "I've sent for
her, and here she is. I gave the Constable a commission, and he's been
and brought Richie, and got all the proofs of her parentage."
"Thank Heaven!" said Mrs. Swan, giving the baby a toss in the air, while
its little soft-hearted mother hid her head on the old man's shoulder,
and shed a few tears of thankfulness and relief.
"What! crying just at the hour of triumph?" said her spirited friend. "I
did not know how cruelly you had suffered from these base suspicions,
until now."
"There, there, child," said Mr. Garnet, gently, smoothing the satin hair
with his horny hand, "get on your things and wrap up the baby. There's a
select few up at Dr. Little's to-night, and, though he ain't a
particular friend of mine, I've a notion to give him a surprise party, a
kind of comin' out occasion, you know, for the minister's new
step-daughter."
The spacious parlors of the doctor's residence were as brilliantly
lighted as the illuminating power of six large kerosene lamps, in full
blaze, would allow, and as Mr. Garnet had declared, a "select few" of
that gentleman's friends were there assembled, to talk over the
feasibility of the minister's calling the detractors of his amiable wife
to a speedy account before the proper authorities of the village.
That injured lady sat enthroned in easy chair, in a quiet corner,
casting martyr-like looks upon her sympathizers. Just as we are
observing that stately personage, she interrupted the Elder, who had
been speaking, with great volubility, "Don't say another word upon this
painful subject, husband. I can't bear it. To think that all my
well-meant efforts should be rewarded with such base ingratitude, wounds
me deeply. Still I would use no harsh measures, but ever incline to the
side of mercy."
"But justice must be done, my dear sister," said the doctor. "In your
generous disinterestedness, you must not forget that you owe something
to your husband and the church, over which he presides. Your dignity
must be sustained, and it would never do to pass over this matter, since
it has become the theme of idle gossip for the whole town. _I_ advise my
brother to call in the aid of the law, without delay."
"Oh, I could never think of that," returned the lady; "something else
will have to be decided upon. I do not wish the Elder to be drawn into a
lawsuit on my account. I can live down these foul aspersions. In time,
these people, whom I have come among, will know me as I am."
It seemed as if the lady's prophetic forebodings were to be literally
verified then and there. As she ceased speaking, there came an imperious
summons at the street door, that turned all eyes immediately toward the
one mode of entrance and exit.
"Ahem!" said the host, moving with majestic tread to answer the knock,
"it seems that we are to have some more visitors." "What! who!" as the
corpulent figure of old Mr. Garnet appeared upon the threshold.
"Good evening, doctor; you did not expect me, I know," said that
gentleman, coming forward, "but I thought I'd drop in unceremoniously
with my friends, here," (turning and revealing the little group behind
him,) "as I had some particular business with two of your guests, that
could not possibly be delayed."
At that moment a piercing shriek was heard from the corner, where the
minister's lady sank in a terror of guilt and shame. She had caught
sight of a slender, ill-clad figure, that stood peering in from the
darkness without, at the light and warmth of the cheerful room. The
great, wild, haggard eyes glanced curiously and searchingly around, till
they reached the woman's hiding place, and rested upon a form strangely
familiar; then, with a slow, shuffling, uncertain gait, Richie Penrose
strayed into the room, regardless of those who watched her, and went
directly up to the rigid figure, that bore on its white, set features
the very impress of despair.
"Mother," the girl said, kneeling before her, and speaking in confused,
stammering accents, "they told me you sent for me to come to you and be
cared for, and have food and warm, pretty clothing, and no hard work or
cross words or blows, such as they gave me in the home I left. You used
to promise me, mother, that when you got somebody with gold enough to
buy all these, that you'd take me away from there. So, when that man
came for me, I hurried and got away before they should be sorry, and
come and take me back again. Is this the pretty home you used to tell me
about? and is that man my father?"
There was no reply to this last question. The minister's wife had
fainted.
All eyes were now turned toward her unfortunate husband. He rose to his
feet, reeling from the effects of the sudden shock, and the dreary
hopelessness of his face touched every heart. "My friends," he said,
huskily, "there is little to be said. This sudden revelation has crushed
me, till my soul grows faint with the bitterness of a terrible woe.
Believe me, I have had no part in this wicked deception, but only
considered that I was in the pathway of stern duty, in defending the
character of my wife from those who I was led to believe were her
enemies. I ask your forgiveness and sympathy;" then, without a word of
adieu, groping like one shut from broad daylight into thick darkness, he
passed out from among them, while those who looked on with moistened
eyes knew that this cruel blow had broken his heart.
Old Mr. Garnet drew the back of his rough hand across his eyes. "I'm
a'most sorry I meddled," he said, regretfully. "It's the first and last
woman's quarrel I ever mix up in. But I couldn't have them grieving my
little Daisy to death. What possessed the woman to stir up this piece of
mischief?"
"What's to become of the girl?" interrogated Dr. Little. "I don't want
her left on my hands. And allow me to say, sir, that I consider this
intrusion in my house an unpardonable liberty."
"Very well," was the reply, "our business is ended, and we will
withdraw. As for this unfortunate child, I will care for her until her
proper guardians manifest a disposition to relieve me of the charge."
Not a little to the surprise of all Waveland, the woman who suddenly
found herself the center of observation, and whose haughty spirit could
not brook humiliation, disappeared immediately after this eventful
episode, leaving no clue to her whereabouts.
The unfortunate Richie was provided with a comfortable home, and upon
the death of her mother's husband, which occurred not long after, she
came into possession of a sum sufficient to provide for her maintenance
during the rest of her life.
Years after, a woman haggard and old, with traces of crime upon her
hardened features, passed through the little village, begging her way to
a neighboring city. A simple-minded girl, sitting in a doorway, whom she
accosted for alms, emptied all her little store of pocket money into the
poor wayfarer's outstretched palm. This girl was none other than Richie,
and the woman who failed to recognize the vacant but placid face, was
her own unhappy mother.