University of Virginia Library

3. CHAPTER III.

On the following morning Henrietta found herself
refreshed from the fatigues of her journey, and in a
condition of mind and body to proceed in the accomplishment
of her purposes. Her new friend, Mr.
Trimble, introduced her at once into a highly respectable
family, where she took a room and board; and
himself arranged an interview between her and her
brothers. Her baggage was hardly transported from
the hotel to her new quarters, before they arrived:
and ragged and filthy as they were, were clasped
over and over again to her heart, and bathed in her
tears.

She found them as wild as the untamed colts of the
desert. Dick, the eldest, after some little conversation,
remembered her; and she perceived, on studying
his countenance, that some of his former features
remained. But with the others, William and Henry,
there was no recognition on either side; and the two
little fellows endured her caresses in sullen silence,
as though in doubt of the whole proceeding.

An hour was devoted to the joy and sorrow of the
meeting; and then Henrietta assisted her brothers to
cleanse themselves, bathing them thorougly from head
to foot, and cutting and smoothing their matted hair.
This done, she put on her bonnet, and taking them
by the hand, walked out into the business street of

the village. From her slender means she furnished
them with hats and shoes, and purchased cloth for
garments, all of a cheap but substantial quality, appropriate
to their condition: and telling them to come
again on the morrow, with good advice and soothing
words of encouragement and tenderness, she sent
them home.

For a large part of the succeeding night, Henrietta,
happy, and even joyous, plied her busy needle;
and on the following day, several of the garments
came from her hand, finished; but the children did
not appear. Restless in consequence as the night
approached, she walked into the street, and naturally
turned her footsteps towards the quarter where they
resided. From the first she would gladly have seen
her father, and have included him directly in her
mission of love and mercy. But this she feared to do.
He had never been familiar with his children; she
well understood the pride and selfish stubbornness of
his character; and in studying her plans, she had determined
it safest for their success, not to intrude upon
him, but to leave him to make the first advances, or
to chance, to bring them together. She suspected
that he had forbidden the children to see her, but for
this she was prepared. Passing the hut, she discovered
Dick in the road beyond, and accosting him,
learned that her suspicions were correct. Her father
on hearing of her presence in K—, and interview
with her brothers, had manifested considerable uneasiness,
and peremptorily forbidden them to see her
again. Placing the garments she had brought in her

brothers' hands, she expressed an ardent hope that her
father would recall the prohibition, and even that he
would soon allow her to see him; and retired.

But the next day brought no change; and on the
following morning, having completed the rest of the
garments, she again walked towards the hut. This
time she found her father in the road, harnessing his
poor old horse, and was obliged either to turn back,
or to pass him. She chose the latter alternative; and
as she came near, he turned suspiciously upon her,
regarded her coldly and sternly, but without speaking
Greatly agitated, Henrietta extended her arms towards
him, and uttered the word “father.”

Dr. Gray turned away, and walked to his door.

“My dear father!” said she, in the most beseeching
tones, “will you not own me?”

Dr. Gray leaned against the gate, with his back
towards her, apparently as much affected as herself.
He shook as though with an ague fit, and with a
strong effort at last managed to say, in a broken, hollow
voice:

“Go away! I know you not, and will not know
you!”

Poor Henrietta hung her gifts for her outcast
brothers upon the broken fence near her wretched
father, and departed with a sad heart. But her constancy
was rewarded. That afternoon her little
brothers were permitted to visit her again; and from
that time forward their intercourse was uninterrupted.
Soon she had all her plans for their benefit in successful
operation. Her industry and skill with her needle,

aided, perhaps, by sympathy, and the little air of romance
which surrounded her, gave her an abundance
of employment; her three brothers spent much of
each day with her; and as she worked, she heard
their lessons, conversed with them, and gave them
instruction, so far as she was able, in every department
of knowledge which she deemed necessary to
their success in life. Her little workshop became a
school of the most practical and valuable kind.

Neither did Henrietta forget her father, or cease
her efforts to ameliorate his condition. Though she
held no direct intercourse with him, through her
prudently-exerted influence he was induced to remove
to more comfortable quarters, where she managed to
surround him with most of the necessaries, and
eventually, to supply him with many of the little
comforts of life, to which, latterly, he had been a
stranger. She even visited his rooms in his absence,
attended to their cleanliness, and conferred upon
them those little graces and finishing touches which
woman alone can bestow. She also attended to his
wardrobe, kept it in repair, and added to it, from time
to time, as her own means permitted, and his wants
required. He, meanwhile, though he still refused to
see her, regarded her, not in his superficial mind so
clearly, but in his innermost soul, as a ministering
angel,—and blessed her.

Thus nearly three years passed away. During
this time Henrietta had several times heard from her
aunt Totten, and through her of the uneasiness of her
good friends, the Blanes. This she deeply regretted,

and would gladly have relieved, had her own strong
sense of propriety and duty permitted. But to have
informed them of her plans would have been to
defeat them. It is not to be supposed that Arthur
Blane would have consented to remain in quiet expectancy
of a wife while she should devote two or three
years of her life to the care of her dissolute and thankless
father, and to the uncertain task of rescuing and
reclaiming her vagabond brothers. Yet to the mind
of Henrietta, when she had once succeeded in discovering
where they were, this was her first duty;
in comparison with which, all else, her own hopes
and prospects in life, and even the temporary happiness
of him she loved most faithfully and deeply sunk
into insignificance. In the rescuing and training of
those helpless children, there was a great work to be
done; and to her it was clear, that it belonged to herself,
their sister, and the eldest, to do it; and further,
that if she shrunk from the undertaking, it never
would be accomplished. So strong in the consciousness
of the rectitude of her heart and her actions, she
looked back without regret, if not always without sorrow,
as she thought of her almost dissipated dream of
life and love with Arthur Blane; and forward with
that cheering hope which the just and trustful have
in heaven.

At this period Dr. Gray was prostrated by a sudden
stroke of paralysis, and Henrietta hesitated no longer.
She hastened to his bedside, and gave him the watchful
care and tender solicitude of a daughter. He never
recovered sufficiently to speak; but he knew her, and

his proud and stubborn heart was at last softened. He
expressed his gratitude by mute signs; and pressing
her hand in his, expired.

This event released Henrietta from a necessary confinement
to the village of K—. Her brothers were
now greatly improved; and, under her skilful training,
had made respectable advances in manners,
morals, and education. They had proved apt pupils,
with kind and affectionate natures; and their sister's
unwonted love and purity had assimilated them much
and readily to herself. But in case of her own return,
she did not propose to take them to the city. A
country life she considered most conducive to their

happiness, virtue, and manhood: and accordingly set
about providing them with suitable homes. Dick
chose to be a farmer; and William and Henry, now
grown into robust lads, selected mechanical occupations.
Aided by the kindness and interest of the
most respectable citizens of K—, good places were
soon found, and the boys were properly bestowed.

The death of her father was announced by Henrietta
to her aunt Totten very soon after its occurrence;
and that hitherto discreet lady at once “took
the responsibility” of consulting the Blanes as to the
future movements of her niece. The consequence of
this unauthorized proceeding was the arrival in the
village of K—, in a very few days, of a barouche,
containing the whole Blane family. Arthur's handsome
face, so his mother declared, within a week, had
shed a most solemn bevy of incipient wrinkles, and
shortened half an inch; and the crimson which mantled
on the cheek of Henrietta, as they met, did not,
by any means, detract from the graces of her meek,
but now blooming and mature beauty.

A day or two later, through the agency of the
Blanes, who all at once became active in the affairs
of the little village of K—, a council was held at
the Rev. Mr. Trimble's at which it was decided,
that, under the peculiar circumstances of the present
case, it was meet and proper that Henrietta Gray
should return to Boston in no other capacity than as
Mrs. Arthur Blane. On the morning of their departure,
accordingly, the marriage ceremony was solemnized.

The principal personages in this little history, we
believe, are still living. Henrietta is a happy wife,
surrounded with an interesting family; and her three
brothers, who have learned so well to know the depth
and purity of a sister's love, are respectable and
thriving citizens of one of the western States.