University of Virginia Library

2. CHAPTER II.
LENORA AND HER MOTHER.

From the windows of a small, white cottage, at the extremity
of Glenwood village, Lenora Carter watched for
her mother's return. “She stays long,” thought she,
“but it bodes success to her plan; though when did she
undertake a thing and fail!”

The fall of the gate-latch was heard, and in a moment
Mrs. Carter was with her daughter, whose first exclamation
was, “What a little eternity you 've been gone!
Did you renew your early vows to the old man?”

“I 've no vows to renew,” answered Mrs. Carter, “but
I 've paved the way well, and got invited to call again.”

“Oh, capital!” said Lenora. “It takes you, mother, to
do up things, after all; but, really, was Mrs. Hamilton
pleased with you?”

“Judging by the pressure of her hand when she bade
me good-by, I should say she was,” answered Mrs. Carter;
and Lenora continued: “Did you see old Moneybags?”

“Lenora, child, you must not speak so disrespectfully
of Mr. Hamilton,” said Mrs. Carter.

“I beg your pardon,” answered Lenora, while her
mother continued: “I saw him, but do not think he recognized
me; and perhaps it is as well that he should
not, until I have made myself indispensable to him and
his family.”

“Which you will never do with the haughty Mag, I
am sure,” said Lenora; “but tell me, is the interior of
the house as handsome as the exterior?”

“Far more so,” was the reply; and Mrs. Carter proceeded

to enumerate the many costly articles of furniture
she had seen.

She was interrupted by Lenora, who asked, “How
long, think you, will the incumbrance live?”

“Lenora,” said Mrs. Carter, “you shall not talk so.
No one wishes Mrs. Hamilton to die; but if such an afflictive
dispensation does occur, I trust we shall all be
resigned.”

“Oh, I keep forgetting that you are acting the part of
a resigned widow; but I, thank fortune, have no part to
act, and can say what I please.”

“And spoil all our plans, too, by your foolish babbling,”
interposed Mrs. Carter.

“Let me alone for that,” answered Lenora. “I haven't
been trained by such a mother for nothing. But, seriously,
how is Mrs. Hamilton's health?”

“She is very low, and cannot possibly live long,” was
the reply.

Here there was a pause in the conversation, during
which we will take the opportunity of introducing more
fully to our readers the estimable Mrs. Carter and her
daughter. Mr. Hamilton was right when he associated
the resigned widow with his old flame, Luella Blackburn,
whom he had never seriously thought of marrying,
though by way of pastime he had frequently teased, tormented,
and flattered her. Luella was ambitious, artful,
and designing. Wealth and position was the goal at
which she aimed. Both of these she knew Ernest Hamilton
possessed, and she had felt greatly pleased at his evident
preference. When, therefore, at the end of his college
course he left her with a few commonplace remarks,
such as he would have spoken to any familiar acquaintance,
her rage knew no bounds; and in the anger of the

moment she resolved, sooner or later, to be revenged
upon him.

Years, however, passed on, and a man whom she
thought wealthy offered her his hand. She accepted it,
and found, too late, that she was wedded to poverty.
This aroused the evil of her nature to such an extent, that
her husband's life became one of great unhappiness, and
four years after Lenora's birth, he left her. Several
years later she succeeded in procuring a divorce, although
she still retained his name. Recently she had heard of
his death, and about the same time, too, she heard that
the wife of Ernest Hamilton was dying. Suddenly a wild
scheme entered her mind. She would remove to the village
of Glenwood, would ingratiate herself into the favor
of Mrs. Hamilton, win her confidence and love, and then,
when she was dead, the rest she fancied would be an easy
matter, for she knew that Mr. Hamilton was weak, and
easily flattered.

For several weeks they had been in Glenwood, impatiently
waiting an opportunity for making the acquaintance
of the Hamiltons. But as neither Margaret nor
Carrie called, Lenora became discouraged, and one day
exclaimed, “I should like to know what you are going
to do. There is no probability of that proud Mag's calling
on me. How I hate her, with her big black eyes and
hateful ways!”

“Patience, patience,” said Mrs. Carter, “I 'll manage
it; as Mrs. Hamilton is sick, it will be perfectly proper
for me to go and see her;” and then was planned the
visit which we have described.

“Oh, won't it be grand!” said Lenora, that night, as
she sat sipping her tea, “Won't it be grand, if you do
succeed, and won't I lord it over Miss Margaret! As
for that little white-faced Carrie, she's too insipid for

one to trouble herself about, and I dare say thinks you
a very nice woman, for how can her Sabbath-school
teacher be otherwise;” and a satirical laugh echoed
through the room. Suddenly springing up, Lenora
glanced at herself in the mirror, and turning to her
mother, said, “Did you hear when Walter is expected,
and am I so very ugly looking?”

While Mrs. Carter is preparing an answer to the first
question, we, for the sake of our readers, will answer the
last one. Lenora was a little, dark-looking girl, about
eighteen years of age. Her eyes were black, her face
was black, and her hair was black, standing out from her
head in short, thick curls, which gave to her features a
strange, witch-like expression. From her mother she
had inherited the same sweet, cooing voice, the same
gliding, noiseless footsteps, which had led some of their
acquaintance to accuse them of what, in the days of New
England witchcraft, would have secured their passport to
another world.

Lenora had spoken truthfully when she said that she had
not been trained by such a mother for nothing, for whatever
of evil appeared in her conduct was more the result
of her mother's training than of a naturally bad disposition.
At times, her mother petted and caressed her, and
again, in a fit of ill humor, drove her from the room,
taunting her with the strong resemblance which she bore
to the man whom she had once called father! On such
occasions, Lenora was never at a loss for words, and the
scenes which sometimes occurred were too disgraceful
for repetition. On one subject, however, they were
united, and that was in their efforts to become inmates
of the Homestead on the Hillside. In the accomplishment
of this, Lenora had a threefold object: first, it
would secure her a luxuriant home; second, she would

be thrown in the way of Walter Hamilton, who was
about finishing his college course; and last, though not
least, it would be such a triumph over Margaret, who, she
fancied, treated her with cold indifference.

Long after the hour of midnight was rung from the
village clock, the widow and her daughter sat by their
fireside, forming plans for the future, and when at last
they retired to sleep, it was to dream of funeral processions,
bridal favors, step-children, half-sisters, and double
connections all around.