 | CHAPTER XV.
MRS. LIVINGSTONE'S CALLS AND THEIR RESULT. 'Lena Rivers |  |
15. CHAPTER XV.
MRS. LIVINGSTONE'S CALLS AND THEIR RESULT.
After leaving Mr. Douglass', Mrs. Livingstone ordered
her coachman to drive her around to the house of Mrs.
Atkins, where she was frequently in the habit of stopping,
partly as a matter of convenience when visiting in town,
and partly to learn the latest news of the day, for Mrs. Atkins
was an intolerable gossip. Without belonging exactly
to the higher circles, she still managed to keep up a
show of intimacy with them, possessing herself with their
secrets, and kindly intrusting them to the keeping of this
and that “dear friend.”
From her, had Mrs. Livingstone learned to a dime the
amount of Mr. Douglass' property, and how he was obliged
to economize in various ways, in order to keep up the appearance
of style. From her, too, had she learned how
often her son was in the habit of calling there, and what
rumor said concerning those calls, while Mrs. Atkins had
learned, in return, that the ambitious lady had other views
for John, and that anything which she, Mrs. Atkins, could
do to further the plans of her friend, would be gratefully
received. On this occasion she was at home, and of course
delighted to meet Mrs. Livingstone.
“It is such an age since I've seen you, that I began to
fear you were offended at something,” said she, as she led
wood fire was blazing on the nicely painted hearth. “Do
sit down and make yourself as comfortable as you can, on
such poor accommodations. I have just finished dinner,
but will order some for you.”
“No, no,” exclamed Mrs. Livingstone, “I dined at Mr.
Douglass'—thank you.”
“Ah, indeed,” returned Mrs. Atkins, feeling a good deal
relieved, for to tell the truth, her larder, as was often the
case, was rather empty. “Dined at Mr. Douglas'! Of
course, then, nothing which I could offer you could be
acceptable, after one of his sumptuous meals. I suppose
Nellie brought out all her mother's old silver, and made
quite a display. It's a wonder to me how they hold their
heads so high, and folks notice them as they do, for
between you and me, I shouldn't be surprised to hear
of his failing any minute.”
“Is it possible?” said Mrs. Livingstone.
“Why, yes,” returned Mrs. Atkins. “There's nothing
to prevent it, they say, except a moneyed marriage on the
part of Nellie, who seems to be doing her best.”
“Has she any particular one in view?” asked Mrs. Livingstone,
and Mrs. Atkins, aware of Mrs. Livingstone's
aversion to the match, replied, “Why, you know she tried
to get your son—”
“But didn't succeed,” interrupted Mrs. Livingstone.
“No, didn't succeed. You are right. Well, now it
seems she's spreading sail for a Mr. Wilbur, of Madison—”
Mrs. Livingstone's eyes sparkled eagerly, and, not to
lose one word, she drew her chair nearer to her friend,
who proceeded: “He's a rich bachelor—brother to Mary
Wilbur, Nellie's most intimate friend. You've heard of
her?”
“Yes, yes,” returned Mrs. Livingstone. “Hasn't Nellie
been visiting her?”
“Her or her brother,” answered Mrs. Atkins. “Mary's
health is poor, and you know its mighty convenient for
Nellie to go there, under pretense of staying with her.”
“Exactly,” answered Mrs. Livingstone, with a satisfied
smile, and another hitch of her chair toward Mrs. Atkins,
who, after a moment, continued: “The brother
came home with Nellie, staid over Sunday, rode out with
her Monday, indorsed ever so many notes for her father,
so I reckon, and then went home. If that don't mean
something, then I'm mistaken”—and Mrs. Atkins rang
for a glass of wine and a slice of cake.
After an hour's confidential talk, in which Mrs. Livingstone
told of Mabel's prospects, and Mrs. Atkins told how
folks who were at Mr. Graham's party praised 'Lena Rivers'
beauty, and predicted a match between her and Mr.
Bellmont, the former, arose to go; and calling upon one
or two others, and by dint of quizzing and hinting, getting
them to say “they shouldn't be surprised if Mr.
Wilbur did like Nellie Douglass,” she started for home,
exulting to think how everything seemed working together
for her good, and how, in the denouement, nothing
particular could be laid to her charge.
“I told Nellie no falsehood,” thought she. “I did not
say John loved Mabel; I only said she loved him, leaving
all else for her to infer. And it has commenced operating,
too. I could see it in the spots on her face and neck,
when I was talking. Nellie's a fine girl, though, but too
poor for the Livingstones;” and with this conclusion, she
told the coachman to drive faster, as she was in a hurry
to reach home.
Arrived at Maple Grove, she found the whole family,
grandma and all, assembled in the parlor, and with them
across the back of 'Lena's chair, while he occasionally bent
forward to look at a book of prints which she was examining.
The sight of him determined her to wait a little,
ere she retailed her precious bit of gossip to her son. He
was Nellie's cousin, and as such, would in all probability
repeat to her what he heard. However communicative
John Jr. might be in other respects, she knew he would
never discuss his heart-troubles with any one, so, upon
second thought, she deemed it wiser to wait until they
were alone.
Durward and 'Lena, however, needed watching, and by
a little maneuvering, she managed to separate them,
greatly to the satisfaction of Carrie, who sat upon the sofa,
one foot bent under her, and the other impatiently
tapping the carpet. From the moment Durward took
his seat by her cousin, she had appeared ill at ease, and as
he began to understand her better, he readily guessed that
her silent mood was owing chiefly to the attentions he
paid to 'Lena, and not to a nervous headache, as she said,
when her grandmother, inquiring the cause of her silence,
remarked, that “she'd been chipper enough until Mr. Bellmont
came in.”
But he did not care. He admired' Lena, and John Jr.
like, it made but little difference with him who knew it.
Carrie's freaks, which he plainly saw, rather amused him
than otherwise, but of Mrs. Livingstone he had no suspicion
whatever. Consequently, when she sent 'Lena
from the room on some triffing errand, herself appropriating
the vacated seat, he saw in it no particular design,
but in his usual pleasant way commenced talking with
Carrie, who brightened up so much that grandma asked
“if her headache wasn't e'en-a'most well!”
When 'Lena returned to the parlor, Durward was proposing
the holidays. “We'll invite Mr. Everett, and all go down.
What do you say, girls?” said he, turning toward Carrie
and Anna, but meaning 'Lena quite as much as either of
them.
“Capital,” answered Anna, visions of a long ride with
Malcolm instantly passing before her mind.
“I should like it very much,” said Carrie, visions of a
ride with Durward crossing her mind.
“And I too,” said 'Lena, laying her hand on John Jr.'s
shoulder, as if he would of course be her escort.
Carrie's ill-nature had not all vanished, and now, in a
slightly insolent tone, she said, “How do you know you are
included?”
'Lena was about to reply, when Durward, a little provoked
at Carrie's manner, prevented her by saying, “Of
course I meant Miss Rivers, and I will now do myself the
honor of asking her to ride with me, either on horseback
or in a carriage, just as she prefers.”
In a very graceful manner 'Lena accepted the invitation,
saying that “she always preferred riding on horseback,
but as the pony which she usually rode had recently been
sold, she would be content to go in any other way.”
“Fleetfoot sold! what's that for?” asked Anna; and
her mother replied, “We've about forty horses on our
hands now, and as Fleetfoot was seldom used by any one
except 'Lena, your father thought we couldn't afford to
keep him.”
She did not dare tell the truth of the matter, and say
that ever since the morning when 'Lena rode to Woodlawn
with Durward, Fleetfoot's fate had been decreed.
Repeatedly had she urged the sale upon her husband,
who, wearied with her importunity, at last consented,
away that very day.
“That's smart,” said John Jr. looking at his father, who
had not spoken. “What is 'Lena going to ride, I should
like to know.”
'Lena pressed his arm to keep him still, but he would
not heed her. “Isn't there plenty of feed for Fleetfoot?”
“Certainly,” answered his father, compelled now to
speak; “plenty of feed, but Fleetfoot was getting old and
sometimes stumbled. Perhaps we'll get 'Lena a better
and younger horse.
This was said in a half timid way, which brought the
tears to 'Lena's eyes, for at the bottom of it all she saw
her aunt, who sat looking into the glowing grate, apparently
oblivious to all that was passing around her.”
“That reminds me of Christmas gifts,” said Durward,
anxious to change the conversation. “I wonder how
many of us will get one?”
Ere there was any chance for an answer, a servant appeared
at the door, asking Mrs. Livingstone for some medicine
for old Aunt Polly, the superannuated negress, who
will be remembered as having nursed Mrs. Nichols during
her attack of rheumatism, and for whom grandma had
conceived a strong affection. For many days she had
been very ill, causing Mrs. Livingstone to wonder “what
old niggers wanted to live for, bothering everybody to
death.”
The large stock of abolitionism which Mrs. Nichols had
brought with her from Massachusetts was a little diminished
by force of habit, but the root was there still, in all
its vigor, and since Aunt Polly's illness she had been revolving
in her mind the momentous question, whether she
would not be most guilty if Polly were suffered to die in
bondage.
“I promised Nancy Scovandyke,” said she, “that I'd
have some on 'em set free, but I'll be bound if 'taint harder
work than I s'posed 't would be.”
Still Aunt Polly's freedom lay warm at grandma's heart,
and now when she was mentioned together with “Christmas
gifts,” a bright idea entered her mind.
“John,” said she to her son, when Corinda had gone
with the medicine, “John, have you ever made me a
Christmas present since I've been here?”
“I believe not,” was his answer.
“Wall,” continued grandma, “bein's the fashion, I
wan't you to give me somethin' this Christmas, will you?”
“Certainly,” said he, “what is it?”
Grandma replied that she would rather not tell him
then—she would wait until Christmas morning, which
came the next Tuesday, and here the conversation ended.
Soon after, Durward took his leave, telling 'Lena he
should call for her on Thursday.
“That's a plaguy smart feller,” said grandma, as the
door closed upon him; “and I kinder think he's got a
notion after 'Leny.”
“Ridiculous!” muttered Mrs. Livingstone, while Carrie
added, “Just reverse it, and say she has a notion after
him!”
“Shut up your head,” growled John Jr. “You are
only angry because he asked her to accompany him, instead
of yourself. I reckon he knows what he's about.”
“I reckon he does, too!” said Mrs. Livingstone, with
a peculiar smile, which nettled 'Lena more than any open
attack would have done.
With the exception of his mother, John Jr. was the
last to leave the parlor, and when all the rest were gone,
Mrs. Livingstone seized her opportunity for telling him
what she had heard. Taking a light from the table, he
to-day which a little surprised me.”
“Got it from Mother Atkins, I suppose,” answered
John, still advancing toward the door.
“Partly from her, and partly from others,” said his
mother, adding, as she saw him touch the door-knob,
“It's about Nellie Douglass.
This was sufficient to arrest his attention, and turning
about, he asked, “What of her?”
“Why, nothing of any great consequence, as I know
of,” said Mrs. Livingstone, “only people in Frankfort
think she's going to be married.”
“I think so, too,” was John's mental reply, while his
verbal one was, “Married! To whom?”
“Did you ever hear her speak of Mary Wilbur?”
“Yes, she's been staying with her ever since Mrs. Graham's
party.”
“Well, Mary it seems has a brother, a rich old bachelor,
who they say is very attentive to Nellie. He came
home with her from Madison, staying at her father's the
rest of the week, and paying her numberless attentions,
which—”
“I don't believe it,” interrupted John Jr., striking his
fist upon the table, to which he had returned.
“Neither did I, at first, said his mother, “but I heard
it in so many places that there must be something in it.
And I'm sure it's a good match. He is rich, and willing,
they say, to help her father, who is in danger of failing
any moment.”
Without knowing it, John Jr. was a little inclined to
be jealous, particularly of those whom he loved very
much, and now suddenly remembering to have heard Nellie
speak in high terms of Robert Wilbur, he began to
feel uneasy, lest what his mother had said were true. She
he rushed from the room and repaired to his own
apartment, where for a time he walked backward and forward,
chafing like a caged lion, and wishing all manner
of evil upon Nellie, if she were indeed false to him.
He was very excitable, and at last worked himself up
to such a pitch, that he determined upon starting at once
for Frankfort, to demand of Nellie if what he had heard
were true! Upon cooler reflection, however, he concluded
not to make a “perfect fool of himself,” and plunging
into bed, he fell asleep, as what man will not, be his
trouble what it may.
| CHAPTER XV.
MRS. LIVINGSTONE'S CALLS AND THEIR RESULT. 'Lena Rivers | |