 | CHAPTER XII. Ellen Hart |  |
12. CHAPTER XII.
We now carry our readers forward to a period
three months later than the time at which
the last chapter closed. During this interval
the forger's widow had been an occupant of
the rooms of the Junior Partner. At first, Mr.
Creech would only call three or four times a
week to tea, or pass the evening. At such
times he used all his art to ingratiate himself
into the good opinion of Mrs. Hart, and the
good graces of Ellen. To Mrs Hart he made
the present of a new dress; to Tommy of a
new hat, and Grace a frock. Ellen firmly refused
a gift of a beautiful pink hat he purchased
for her in Tremont street. She could
not overcome her suspicions of her father's
partner. She felt grateful to him, but at the
same time a feeling of repugnance. He saw
he had made but slow progress in her favor;
and that while Mrs. Hart had in him every
confidence, and regarded him as her best
friend, she was cold and avoided his society.
Indeed he had never been able to be alone
with her. On some pretence or other she
would instantly rise and follow her mother, if
she were called out of the room. Mr Creech
became very much vexed and displeased; and
at length resolved he would make plainer demonstrations.
They had been three months, a quarter, in
his tenement, during which time they had
really been the dependents upon his bounty.
Ellen felt this keenly, and worked at her
needle night and day to earn money to enable
them, at least, to eat one meal which was
not composed of articles given by Mr Creech.
Mrs Hart also worked early and late to be able
to pay up the rent he should charge.
One evening, three or four days after the
end of the first quarter, Mr Creech dropped
in upon his dependents. Mrs. Hart received
him with gratitude, yet with that feeling of
restraint which dependents can never overcome.
Ellen rose, bowed politely, but without
meeting his eyes, and handed him a chair.
He looked for a moment round the room with
a sort of embarrassed air, turned his hat up
and looked at the marker's name with an absent
manner, hummed a note or two and then
said—
`Mrs Hart, will you be so kind as to get
me a glass of water.'
`Certainly, Mr Creech,' she answered, rising.
`No, I will go, mother!' said Ellen springing
up.'
`No, Miss Ellen, let your mother go. I
would rather your mother would go for it!'—
Mr Creech laid a sort of emphasis on the word
rather. Mrs Hart nodded her head with slight
reproval to Ellen, and left the room. Ellen
looked as if she was about to follow her.
`Excuse me, Mr Creech; my mother will
have to draw the water; and she is not strong
lately. I will help her!'
`Stay, Miss Ellen,' said Creech, taking her
hand. `I want an opportunity to say a word
to you. I have tried to see you alone, but you
seem to shun me. I wish to tell you that I
adore you and that if you wish you can make
every thing that you want! I will help your
mother, and brother, and sister! I will do
everything to make you and yours comfortable,
if you will consent to make me happy!'
Ellen was thunder struck. She trembled.
Her face grew pale as the marble! She
struggled to release her hand.
`I do not understand you, Mr Creech!' she
said with an effort.
`You cannot wish me to be plainer, Miss
Ellen,' he said looking upon her with a significant
air. `You are poor—your mother is
poor and a dependant on my charity! You
are disgraced by your father's act, and altho'
you are beautiful you can never expect to get
a husband! You had better, therefore, consent
to embrace the offer I am making you
and—'
By this time the insulted maiden seemed to
comprehend his unprincipled proposition!'—
'Till now she regarded him as seeking her
hand in marriage. She started back from him
as the infamous truth flashed upon her pure
mind; and with a flashing eye and a heightened
cheek she cried with indignant spirit—
`Monster! Do you dare to insult me thus?
I see that I have not feared you without true
instinct! Dare to speak to me again in this
manner, sir, and —' here she stopped, for
she felt her impotency.
`And what will you do? he asked with a
sneer.
`I will, as it is, sir, this very hour fly with
my mother from your guilty roof! Is it for
this that you have extended to wards us your
benevolence?'
`It is for this, Miss, answered Creech with
malignant triumph. `From the first, enamored
of your charms, I resolved you should
be mine. I knew you would in your destitution
fall to some one, and I resolved to be the
possessor of so rich a prize! You need not be
so proud and indignant! You must come to
this at last, Miss Ellen! And you can find
no one who will be so true a friend to you and
yours as I will be!'
Ellen stood silent—insulted—grieved—and
overwhelmed with shame, confusion, and resentment!
Tears at length gushed in torrents
from her eyes, and covering her face she wept
freely and bitterly. Had she lived to be the
object of a proposition so vile! Had poverty
then become a curse to them. Had God de
serted them. Was their destiny in the hands
of a monster. Alas, she felt that she had no
more faith—no more hope. She was in despair.
That hour she resolved to quit the roof
which had only sheltered her and her mother
as the price of her honor. `Oh God! to what
shame and confusion am I brought!' she cried
in her swelling heart.
Creech approached her; for she had placed
the breadth of the room between them! She
would have fled from it, but he stood by the
door.
`What answer am I to have, pretty one!'
`Sir, am I to be insulted thus! Let me
leave the room!'
`Not till I have an answer, Ellen!'
`Oh, that we had gone into the street, rather
than trusted you, false and unprincipled
man, using the sacred veil of charity to cover
the most infamous intentions!'
`Nay you go not by me!' he said, arresting
her as she would have passed him. `Come,
you had better consent! This house shall then
be yours, and as much money and as many
fine dresses as you want. I will—'
`Insult me no further, sir!'
`You look more beautiful than ever!'
And he approached her and would have
thrown his arm about her if she had not retreated.
He followed her. Her eyes fell on
his cane which stood by the table, and she
caught it up. In the quick act it flew apart,
leaving a long slender sword in her grasp.—
Her eye lighted up with confidence and triumph!
`Approach me a step further, sir, and it shall
be at your peril! Though I am but a yonng
girl I can use this weapon, Heaven has given
me, in my defence!
At this moment Mrs. Hart returned. She
was overcome with astonishment and alarm at
seeing Ellen's attitude.
`Mother, I have been insulted! This villain
has dared to make to me, in your absence,
a proposition which to think of kindles my
cheek with shame! He has acknowledged
that his charities were extended to you with
the view of having them remunerated in your
daughter's person!'
Mrs Hart stood petrified. The feelings of
the mother and the spirit of the woman came
to her assistance! She wanted no words from
Creech to corroborate this scarcely credible
statement. The attitude of both were enough.
to brass it out.
`Sir, leave my house!' said Mrs. Hart
trembling with indignation.
`Madam, I am in my own house!' answered
Creech very positively.
`Ellen, come my child! she cried in a heartbroken
voice. Ellen dropped the swordcane
from her hand and cast herself, weeping
passionately, into her mother's arms. `Let us
go? God is in the street!' said Mrs Hart choking
with her feelings.
`Madam, you are in my power! You go
not from hence till you pay me my rent!' cried
Creech furious with disappointment; for he
had not anticipated defeat. He had reckoned
on an easy conquest; because his victim was
utterly destitute and dependant. His was
one of those mean spirits that regard poverty
and degradation as synonymous! God help
us! if the rich are the only upright ones on
earth'
Mrs. Hart as she spoke became as pale as
death! She saw that she and hers were indeed
in his power! Her eyes became dim,
her brain reeled and she gasped for air.
`Ellen, support me! I am broken now—
broken in pieces! Ellen I am falling! I am
blind! Oh, God! is this death I feel! If it
is, have mercy on my little ones! Mercy on
my lambs, Heavenly Father!'
`Mother! mother! oh, my mother!' shrieked
Ellen as the Forger's widow sank insensible
upon the floor at her feet. `Mother, speak!
It is Ellen! Oh, speak,—oh hear the voice
of your child—of your Ellen!'
But in vain the voice and touching cries of
the distracted maiden! Her mother lay still
and colorless as the marble.
`Monster! demon! you have slain my mother!'
she cried, rising and looking round.—
But the Junior Partner fearful and conscience
stricken, had fled.
Let us draw a veil over this painful scene.
That night the spirit of the Forger's widow
was released from its frail tenement, and, we
trust, borne on angel's wings to a happier
world, `where the wicked cease from troubling
and the weary are at rest.' Creech came not
near the house. The body was buried at the
expense of the city, and some charitable person
passing by and seeing Ellen and the two
children about to follow on foot the lonely
hearse, called a carriage for them. After the
funeral the carriage returned with them to
their dwelling, and then drove away. Ellen
placed her hand on the knob to open it with
the intention of getting her brother's and sister's
things, and then quitting it forever. She
found it locked! On looking up she saw a
placard affixed with these words:
`To Let—
`Apply at Creech's, No. —Hanover street.'
Ellen's heart sunk within her. Nothing
could so forcibly have impressed her with the
feeling that she had now no home, as this
brief notice of the placard.
`Come, children, let us go!' she said in a
faint voice.
`Where, sister?' asked Grace, who it will
be remembered was a lovely little girl of nine,
Tommy being an intelligent boy of eleven.
`Where!' came like an echo from the very
depths of her heart.
`Sister, we are very wretched now,' said
Tommy, his eyes red with weeping for his
mother. `Why don,t good Mr. Creech come
and see us! He has not been here since the
night mother died?'
Creech, however, was watching them at
that very moment from the closed curtains of
a hack which was stopped a little ways up
the street! He had not yet given up all hopes
of Ellen's submission! He had expended too
much money to resign her lightly; and especially
now that she was an orphan. He smiled
within his black heart as he thought she would
yet be in his power.
Modestly attired in a calico, wearing a plain
straw bonnet and green veil, and taking a
hand of each, Ellen walked slowly up the
street. She felt lonely and deserted, yet she
did not lose confidence in an overruling Providence.
As she turned away from the locked
door she said fervently—`Heavenly Father,
thou hast promised to be with all thy children
in their in-goings and out-goings; and never
to leave nor forsake them! This promise I now
put my firm trust in; for my hope and confidence
are in thee! My foot-steps now
wander forth without aim; but I know that
Thou art before me though I see thee not.'
What strength comes to the soul from prayer!
It is the nourishment of confidence! `A
word to God is a word from God! This Ellen
at once felt forcibly She was calm and
cheerfully, save that grief for her mother's
loss was heavy at her heart. But she had no
She took the way down the street. It was
nearly dark, and she wished to find shelter for
them before night. Care for them caused her
to forget herself. They walked down that
street and then up another. It was a street of
handsome dwellings—the abodes of the rich,
and she turned from it to a humbler one!—
She knew charity was most active among the
poor, who have known suffering. It grew dark
rapidly. The lamplighter hurried past them
with his blazing torch, rapidly kindling the lanterns
one after another Poor Ellen's heart
sunk within her, yet she lifted her soul in faith
to the invisible Guardian and Protector of all.
A poor black woman stood by a gate near a
wretched tenement She looked earnestly at
the three.
`Lor bress us all! if I don't think dat be
yung Tommy Hart!'
Tommy looked round and so did Ellen and
they recognized an old black woman who used
to be cook at their father's. Ellen shook hands
with her, and her heart swelled that even this
poor woman knew them and spoke kindly.'
`I declar, dis is a circumstans,' said the woman;
`I so glad to see you! How you be
growd Miss Grace; and you is quite a lady
Miss Ellen. I hear your marm died. I am
sorry for you, dear ones! Whar you lib? I
hant heer nothin' `bout you dis long time, sins
Dr. Elmore dead.'
`I am sorry I cannot tell you good, Jane,'
said Ellen sadly. `My mother owed rent, and
we have been denied admission into the house
since the funeral.'
`And whar yon goin' now?' asked the kind
old black woman in a tone of sympathy, putting
her apron to her eyes.
`I really cannot tell you, Jane! I am going
where God opens a door for us!'
`Then God hab open dat door for you and
it stan' open,' said the Cook, pointing to the
open door of her one story cabin.
`Come, you must come in! I got two beds,
and you, and Tommy, and Grace shall hab one,
and I and Nancy 'll hab de oder. I got someting
to make you nice supper, and now come
in, and don't break poor Jane's heart by saying
no!'
Ellen could not reply. Emotion suffocated
her! Tears filled her eyes. She canght Jane's
hand, pressed it gratefully and followed her
into the low tenement. Though a wretchedly
poor place, it wore an air of neatness and
comfort. A cheerful fire was causing a tea
kettle smartly to sizzle over the coals, and a
white counterpane to one bed and a neatly
patched quilt to the other (for both beds were
in the same room! and there was but one room
to Jane's abode), gave it a homelike air.
For three weeks the orphans made their
home with the kind Jane. Ellen assisted her
to cook and wash and iron, for such was now
her means of living, though Jane would not
at first consent to it. Ellen was far from entertaining
any feelings of superiority, but
cheerful and resigned, she with a beautiful humility
becoming her condition, contributed
her labor to the common maintenance.
The fourth day a ter her abode there she
had received a note from Creech. Knowing
the hand, she erased her own name upon the
superscription and returned it unopened.—
Tommy tried to get work by crying the daily
papers; but as he was evidently superior to
the boys, they conspired against him and drove
him from every stand he occupied. He remained
at home, carrying water and going
after and returning with clothes for Jane. At
the end of the third week Jane fell sick, with
the rheumatism, and fever set in so that she
had to take to her bed!
Ellen did all her washing for her, ironed
and sent home the clothes, and there were
several dozen of them: and at the same time
cooked and took all the care of poor Jane;
rubbing her limbs and nursing her with angelic
devotion and tenderness. But Jane's
fever increased, and after a week's suffering
the good woman died, and went to the reward
awaiting those who have done deeds
of charity and mercy, whatever be the hue of
their skin.
The story of Ellen and the two orphans was
known to nearly all the neighborhood, which
was one of Africans, the friends and acquaintances
of Jane. After the funeral some of
these persons stopped to see her, and to condole
with her. Ellen's grief was sincere;
and she wept the loss of her friend with tears.
What was she now to do! The neighbors
had their own subsistence to look after, their
own cares and poverty. In a day or two she
was left to herself. She sent Tommy after
the washing as when Jane lived, and tried
to support herself and children; but Nance
the daughter of Jane, who inherited her mother's
and removed the furniture, even to the last
washing tub; for Nancy had no feeling; and
told Ellen that `white folks should support
white folks; niggers had as much as they
could do to get a livin' for demself.'
A cart came and carried off everything,
even to the beds. Ellen and Tommy and
Grace slept in each others arms that night
huddled together in a corner of the desolate
and unfurnished cabin In the morning she
gave them each the last piece of bread, and
then began to reflect upon what she should
do. Suddenly a shadow darkened the door.
It was the Junior Partner. He had never
suffered his intended victim to escape his
espionage! Nancy had been bribed by him
to act as she did! He now came like the
Tempter. It was an hour of darkness, of the
trial of Ellen's faith, almost of despair! But
Ellen's soul was buoyed up by faith which
no reverses could shake. The same sun
shone, the flowers bloomed; the birds sang!
God then still lived and was present. He
could see and know all! He would aid her
if it were for her good. Why then should
she despair?
`Miss Ellen, good morning! I am sorry to
see you reduced to this,' he said looking round
upon the bare walls and upon the earthen floor.
`But you may thank your own stubborness! I
offered you once, comfort and luxury. I have
now come to repeat the offer! I will do all for
you you can ask, for you and your brother and
sister! You will have to come to it at last!
Say that you consent and you shall at once
change this wretched hovel for rooms more
sumptuous than those you formerly occupied!'
Ellen could only articulate `Begone, sir!
Death is preferable to thy hatred presence!'
She looked deadly pale! Her very spirit felt
the wound this man's proposal inflicted upon
her maiden delicacy. She shed tears. They
fell upon her brother's cheek.
`Sir,' said Tommy, `you are making my
sister weep! She says you are a bad man! I
don't know what you are saying to her, but
her looks tells me she is both offended and
ashamed! I am aot a man, but you shall not
speak to her in this manner! You called her
stubborn! I do not like you, Mr. Creech! You
made my father do wickedly, and that brought
this misery upon us, his children. Go from
here, sir! Leave this house, sir!'
Creech was astonished. He drew back, for
base minds are always cowardly! Vice cannot
stand before virtue even in it weakest form!
Tommy's attitude was fearless and menacing.
`So this whelp can bark it seems,' he said
angrily. `Get out of the way, boy!' And he
rudely pushed him. Tommy clenched his
fist and flying in his face struck him a severe
blow, so that he staggered back. The next
moment he raised his cane and would have
felled the spirited boy if his own hand had not
been caught and himself hurled with violence
to the opposite side of the hovel. He
recovered himself with a deep execration and
drawing the sword from his cane turned and
saw a tall, elegant young man with his eyes
flashing fire.
`So, villian! Have you not enough,' cried
the youth, at the same moment he seized
the ruffian's wrist and wrested the sword
from his hand, saying:
`Now sir, begone! Leave this city! For I
swear to you I will serve you precisely in this
manner whenever and wherever I fall in with
you in the streets! I will willingly pay one
hundred dollars for each satisfaction. So, if
you value your life leave the city forthwith!
But stay! I have not yet done with you!
Come here! Come hither, I say! There! Now
down upon your knees and ask the pardon of
this noble young person for the insulting words
I have heard you utter as I stood on the outside,
where I waited only that you might fill
up the cup of your audacity! Down, I say!
Both knees! Now ask humbly her pardon!
Speak! Louder! Very well! Now get thee
gone! Remember what I have told thee! if I
catch you again in the streets of this city
where your hated figure will offend the eyes
of this young lady, I will cowhide you, and I
shall carry one with me for the especial purpose.
Get thee gone! If you would like to
know who I am, my name is Edward Elmore,
son of Dr. Elmore, and the avenger of the innocent,
whom he loved and protected!'
Creech, astonished, confounded, beaten,
humbled, and full of rage, terror and physical
pain, crawled from the hut and made his
miserable way to the street.
In the meanwhile Ellen had stood as if an
angel had descended into the hut and avenged
her! Tommy and Grace danced, cried and
laughed in the same breath at Creech's chastisement
and humiliation. Ellen did not at
man, his heightened color, frowning brow and
flashing eye, her old acquaintance, Edward
Elmore. But gradually the resemblance
broke upon her, and she almost fainted for
joy! He had no need to mention his name to
her!
As the crest-fallen Creech disappeared he
turned to her, and with a tone and look of tenderness
and delicate sympathy said,
`Pardon my rude entrance and conduct,
Miss Ellen, but I could not but the first thing
pay this fellow his deserts. You have not
forgotten me, I hope!'
Ellen covered her face with her hands and
wept she knew not why! She could hot have
spoken a word if her life had depended on it.
Her heart was too full, all too full of happiness
and hope? He took one of her hands and
removed it, and said touchingly,
`Ellen, I know all your sad story! I have
come here to take you away—you and those
you love! I arrived three days ago from Paris,
and my first inquiries were for you—the
friend of my youth—whose image has been
like an angel form going before me ever since
I left you! I was told your mother had died,
but no one knew your fate! Ah, how wretched
you must have been! I sought you—I followed
you up step by step, day and night,
from the hour you left my father's tenement
till I found you here in this miserable abode!
Now come with me, dear Ellen! My carriage
is at the gate! Haste to quit this horrible spot!
We will talk further by and by.'
Ellen spoke not; But he saw gratitude and
happiness in her tearful eyes! In a few moments
afterwards they were driving rapidly
towards the mansion of a married friend of
Edward Elmore's in Mount Vernon street,
where Ellen found from the beautiful wife of
his friend a sister's welcome.
We now bring our tale to a close. Edward
who had cherished abroad the warmest attachment
for Ellen, which was unknown to
him reciprocal in her own breast, had often in
his letters to his father spoken of his attachment
and his determination to seek her for his
wife. This knowledge of his son's predelections,
led Dr. Elmore, aside from his native
benevolence of character, to take the interest
he had done in the family; and frequent earnest
letters received from Edward after he had
learned of her father's fate, led him to have an
especial regard for their happiness. On hearing
of his father's death, Edward hastened to
the United States as soon as possible. His only
thought was Ellen. He found Messrs Straitpurse
and Straitbrim,and having learned from
them their course of proceedings he warmly
and indignantly expressed his surprise and
displeasure, told them plainly what he thought
of them, and began his search. It was a long
one. By mere accident he heard of them at
Creech's rooms, and of their having been
ejected. He sought Creech but was unable
to fall in with him, but learned enough of his
character from his neighbors as to lead him to
draw very conclusive evidences of the base
motives he had in view in giving protection
to Mrs. Hart and Ellen, and then of rejecting
them in the manner he did. From Creech's
he could obtain no clue to them. He went
from neighborhood to neighborhood inquiring
at the corner groceries, bakeries and other
places for a family of such persons as he sought.
By mere accident he inquired (after twice
passing it by) at a negro's groggery on the
corner of the lane on which Jane's house
house stood! Nancy was in the shop, and instantly
answered that she knew; and when
he said he would give fifty dollars to find
those he sought, she instantly offered to conduct
him. On the way he asked so many
questions that she saw he was deeply in terested
in them and that they had at last a friend.
She then glibly told him all, how Ellen had
first come there, and took all the credit of
Jane's hospitaiity to herself. He thanked her
with great warmth, and promised to reward
her, if they should prove to be those he was
seeking. Seeing now that he was likely to
be a better friend than Creech and fearing to
implicated with him, she began to excuse herself
for taking away the furniture, saying she
owed Creech and he seized it; and `that he
wanted to get the young Ellen into his power,
who said she had fled before from his persecutions.'
In this manner conversing, Edward reached
the yard and passed on before Nancy, as he
wished to observe their true condition. He
thus overheard the scene we have described.
Thus had a Providence shown itself in the final
event, at the very darkest hour! And thus
Providence sees often to wait, that we may
first do all we can, and that faith may be
tried.
The sudden change from utter destitution
to comfort, luxury, friends and affection, was
too great for Ellen immediately to realise!
The presence of the happy Edward, however,
assured her of her happiness; and in the society
of one who had long had her heart and
whom in all her deepest afflictions she had
never ceased tenderly to remember, joy returned
to her heart, the smile to her lip, and
the bloom to her cheek. Tommy and Grace
were also made as happy as they could be;
and the three orphans having known the privations
of misery, knew how to partake of the
blessings which were now strewn around their
sunny path.
In a few weeks the following notice appeared
in the Boston papers:
`Married, yesterday morning, at Trinity
Church, Summer street, by the R't Rev. Bishop
Griswold, Edward Elmore. MD., son of
the late Dr. Elmore, to Miss Ellen Hart. We
learn that young Dr. Elmore inherits one of
the largest fortunes of any young man in New
England. Bright be the future career of the
noble bridegroom and lovely bride!'
We have nothing further to add; save to inform
the reader that the sign of `Creech,
No — Hanover street,' came down the day
after his interview with Edward Elmore, and
that Creech disappeared to parts unknown.
As to Mr. Straitbrim and Mr. Straitpurse, we
leave them to be settled for at the Judgment
Day. No judgment we could bring them to
could in any way measure their iniquities;
such men prosper in this world—fattening
for damnation! Thus we end our tale, leaving
the kind reader to make his own moral reflections
thereupon.
| CHAPTER XII. Ellen Hart | |