University of Virginia Library

16. CHAPTER XVI.
THE COLUMBIAN.

It was very quiet at the Columbian, and the few gentlemen
seated upon the piazza seemed to be of a different
stamp from those at the more fashionable houses, as there
were none of them smoking, nor did they stare impertinently
at the gayly dressed lady coming up the steps,
and inquiring of the clerk if Miss Alice Johnson were
there.

“Yes, she was, and her room was No. —. Should he
send up the lady's card? Miss Johnson had mostly kept
her room.”

'Lina had brought no card, but she gave her name and
passed on into the parlor, which afforded a striking contrast
to the bee-hive down town. In a corner two or
three were sitting; another group occupied a window;
while at the piano were two more, an old and a young
lady; the latter of whom was seated upon the stool, and
with her foot upon the soft pedal, was alternately striking
a few sweet musical chords, and talking to her companion,
who seemed to be a servant. Taking her seat

near these last, 'Lina watched them curiously; a thought
once crossing her mind that this might be Alice Johnson.
But no; Alice, of course, would be habited in deepest
black, while the dress this lady wore was a simple, pure
white, unrelieved by any color save the jet bracelets upon
the snowy arms and the jet pin at the throat. This was
not Alice sure, and she felt glad to know it, for she would
rather that Alice Johnson should be a shade less lovely
than the young girl before her. How dazzling she was
in her radiant beauty, with all that wealth of chestnut
hair shading her fair brow and falling almost to her waist;
but the soft, dreamy eyes of blue, with their long silken
lashes, were to 'Lina the chief attraction. None could
withstand those eyes, now cast down upon the keys as
if heavy with unshed tears, and now upraised to the
woman beside her who appeared to regard her with a species
of adoration, occasionally laying her hand caressingly
upon the sunny hair, and letting it slide down until
it rested upon the shoulder.

As the minutes went by 'Lina grew very impatient at
Alice's long delay.

“I mean to ring,” she said, just as the servant to whom
she had delivered her message appeared.

Very haughtily 'Lina asked if he had found Miss. Johnson.
“If she's not in, we don't care to stay here all
night,” she said, angrily, whereupon she became conscious
that the blue eyes of the lady were fixed inquiringly
upon her, as if wondering how a well bred person could
betray so much ill nature.

“Miss Johnson? I beg pardon, I supposed you knew
her and had found her, as she was in here. This is Miss
Johnson,” and the waiter bowed toward the musician,
who, quick as thought seized upon the truth, and springing
to Mrs. Worthington's side, exclaimed,

“It's Mrs. Worthington, I know. Why did you sit
here so long without speaking to me? I am Alice Johnson,”
and overcome with emotions awakened by the sight

of her mother's early friend, Alice hid her face with childlike
confidence in Mrs. Worthington's bosom, and sobbed
for a moment bitterly.

Then growing calm, she lifted up her head, and smiling
through her tears, said,

“Forgive me for this introduction. It is not often I
give way, for I know and am sure it was best and right
that mother should die. I am not rebellious now, but the
sight of you brought it back so vividly. You'll be my
mother, won't you?” and the impulsive girl nestled closer
to Mrs. Worthington, looking up into her face with a
confiding affection which won a place for her at once in
Mrs. Worthington's heart.

“My darling,” she said, winding her arm around her
waist, “as far as I can I will be to you a mother, and
'Lina shall be your sister. This is 'Lina, and she turned
to 'Lina, who, piqued at having been so long unnoticed,
was frowning gloomily.

But 'Lina never met a glance purer or more free from
guile than that which Alice gave her, and it disarmed her
at once of all jealousy, making her return the orphan's
kisses with as much apparent cordiality as they had been
given.

Sitting down beside them Alice made many inquiries
concerning Kentucky, startling them with the anouncement
that as she had that day received a letter from Col.
Tiffton, who she believed was a friend of theirs, urging
her to come on at once, and spend a few weeks with
him, she had about decided to do so, and only waited for
Mrs. Worthington's advice ere answering the colonel's
friendly letter. They heard from you what were mother's
plans for my future, and also that I was to meet you
here. They must be very thoughtful people, for they
seem to know that I cannot be very happy here.”

For a moment, 'Lina and her mother looked aghast, and
neither knew what to say. 'Lina, as usual, was the first

to rally and calculate results. Had Alice been less beautiful
she would have opposed her going to Colonel Tiffton's
where she might possibly hear something unfavorable of
herself from Ellen, but, as it was, it might be well enough
to get rid of her, as she was sure to prove a most formidable
rival. Thus it was pure selfishness which prompted
her to adopt the most politic course which presented itself
to her mind.

“They were very intimate at Colonel Tiffton's. She
and Ellen were fast friends. It was very pleasant there,
more so than at Spring Bank; and all the objection she
could see to Alice's going was the fear lest she should become
so much attached to Moss Side, the colonel's residence,
as to be homesick at Spring Bank.”

Against this Alice disclaimed at once. She was not
apt to be homesick. She had made up her mind to be
happy at Spring Bank, and presumed she should.

“I am so glad you approve my plan, for my heart is
really set on going,” and she turned to Mrs. Worthington,
who had not spoken yet.

It was not what she had expected, and she hardly knew
what to say, though, of course, “she should acquiesce in
whatever Alice and 'Lina thought best.”

“If she's going, I hope she'll go before Dr. Richards
sees her, though perhaps he knows her already — his
mother lives in Snowdon,” 'Lina thought, and rather
abruptly she asked if Alice knew Dr. Richards, who was
staying at the Union.

Alice blushed crimson as she replied,

“Yes, I know him well, and his family, too.

“His mother is here,” 'Lina continued, “and I like her
so much. She is very familiar and friendly, don't you
think so?”

Alice would not tell a lie, and she answered frankly,

“She does not bear that name in Snowdon. They
consider her very haughty there. I think you must be a
favorite.”

“Are they very aristocratic and wealthy?” 'Lina asked,
and Alice answered,

“Aristocratic, but not wealthy. They were very kind
to me, and the doctor's sister Anna is one of the sweetest
ladies I ever knew.” Then as if anxious to change the
conversation she spoke of Hugh. Where was he now?
How did he look, and should she like him?

'Lina and her mother exchanged rapid glances, and
then, in spite of the look of entreaty visible on Mrs. Worthington's
face, 'Lina replied,

“To be candid with you, Miss Johnson, I'm afraid you
won't like Hugh. He has many good traits, but I'm sorry
to say we have never succeeded in cultivating him one
particle, so that he is very rough and boorish in his manner,
and will undoubtedly strike you unfavorably. I may
as well tell you of this, as you will probably hear it from
Ellen Tiffton, and must know it when you see him. He
is not popular with the ladies; he hates them all, unless
it is a Mrs. Hastings, whom he took in from the street.”

Alice looked up inquiringly, while 'Lina began to tell
her of Adah. She had not proceeded far, however, when
with a cry of terror she sprang up as a large beetle, attracted
by the light, fastened itself upon her hair.

Mrs. Worthington was the first to the rescue, while Lulu,
who had listened with flashing eye when Hugh was
the subject of remark, came laggardly, whispering slily to
Alice,

“That's a lie she done tell you about Mas'r Hugh. He
ain't rough nor bad, and we blacks would die for him any
day.”

Alice was confounded by this flat contradiction between
mistress and servant, while a faint glimmer of the truth
began to dawn upon her. The “horn-bug” being disposed
of, 'Lina became quiet, and might, perhaps, have taken
up Hugh again, but for a timely interruption in the shape
of Irving Stanley, who had walked up to the Columbian,

and seeing 'Lina and her mother through the window,
sauntered leisurely into the parlor.

“Ah, Mr. Stanley,” and 'Lina half rose from her chair,
thus intimating that he was to join them. “Miss Johnson,
Mr. Stanley,” and she watched jealously to see what
effect Alice's beauty would have upon the young man.

He was evidently pleased, and this was a sufficient reason
for 'Lina to speak of returning. She would not hasten
Mr. Stanley, she said, but Irving arose at once and
bidding Alice good night, accompanied the ladies back to
Union hall, where Mrs. Richards sat fanning herself industriously,
and watching John with motherly interest as
he sauntered from one group of ladies to another, wondering
what made Saratoga so dull, and where Miss Worthington
had gone. It is not to be supposed that Dr.
Richards cared a fig for Miss Worthington as Miss Worthington.
It was simply her immense figure he admired,
and as, during the evening, he had heard on good authority
that said figure was made up mostly of cotton
growing on some Southern field, the exact locality of
which his informant did not know, he had decided that of
course Miss 'Lina's fortune was over estimated. Such
things always were, but still she must be wealthy. He
had no doubt of that, and he might as well devote himself
to her as to wait for some one else. Accordingly, the
moment he spied her in the crowd he joined her, asking
if they should not take a little turn up and down the piazza.

“Wait till I ask mamma's permission to stay up a little
longer. She always insists upon my keeping such early
hours,” was 'Lina's very filial and childlike reply as
she walked up to mamma, not to ask permission, but to
whisper rather peremptorily, “Dr. Richards wishes me to
walk with him, and as you are tired you may as well go to
bed.”

Mrs. Worthington was tired, but motherlike, she

thought it would be pleasant to stay where she could see
her daughter walking with Dr. Richards, and then, too,
she wanted to hear the band playing in the court.

“Oh, I ain't very tired,” she said. “I begin to feel rested,
and I guess I'll set a little while with Mrs. Richards
on the sofa yonder. She seems like one of our folks.”

'Lina did not care to leave her truthful, matter of-fact
mother with Mrs. Richards, so she said, rather angrily,

“How do you know Mrs. Richards wants you to sit by
her? She has her own set, and you are not much acquainted;
besides, I shall feel easier to know you are up stairs.
Go, do. He's waiting for me,” and in the black eyes there
was a gleam which Mrs. Worthington always obeyed.

With a sigh, and a lingering glance at the comfortable
sofa, where Mrs. Richards sat in solemn state, she left the
camparatively cool parlor, and climbing the weary flights
of stairs, entered her hot, sultry room, and laying her head
upon the table, cried a grieved kind of cry, as she recalled
'Lina's selfishness and evident desire to be rid of her.

“She's ashamed of me,” and the chin quivered as the
white lips whispered it. “She wants me out of the way
for fear I'll do something to mortify her. Oh, 'Lina, 'Lina,
I'm glad I've got one child who is not ashamed of his
mother,” and the tears dropped like rain upon the table, as
Mrs. Worthington remembered Hugh, longing for him so
much, and reproaching herself so bitterly for having consented
to receive Alice Johnson without even consulting
him. “I'll write to-night,” she said. “I'll confess the
whole,” and glad of something to occupy her mind, Mrs.
Worthington took out her writing materials, and commenced
the letter, which should have been written long
before.

Meantime the doctor and 'Lina were walking up and
down the long piazza, chatting gayly, and attracting much
attention from 'Lina's loud manner of talking and laughing.

“By the way, I've called on Miss Johnson, at the Columbian,”
she said. “Beautiful, isn't she?”

“Ra-ather pretty, some would think,” and the doctor
had an uncomfortable consciousness of the refusal, in his
vest pocket.

If Alice had told; but no, he knew her better than that.
He could trust her on that score, and so the dastardly
coward affected to sneer at what he called her primness,
charging 'Lina to be careful what she did, if she did
not want a lecture, and asking if there were any ragged
children in Kentucky, as she would not be happy unless
she was running a Sunday school!

“She can teach the negroes! Capital!” and 'Lina
laughed so loudly that Mrs. Richards joined them, laughing,
too, at what she did not know, only “Miss Worthington
had such spirits; it did one good; and she wished Anna
was there to be enlivened. Write to her John, won't
you?”

John mentally thought it doubtful. Anna and 'Lina
would never assimilate, and he would rather not have his
pet sister's opinion to combat until his own was fully made
up.

As it was growing rather late Mrs. Richards ere long
expressed a wish to retire, and hoping to see more of
Miss Worthington to-morrow, she bowed good night, and
left the doctor alone with 'Lina.

But, somehow, he did not get on well without his mother.
There was nothing in common between himself and
'Lina, except deception. She had read but little, and
only talked well on commonplace matters, of which he
soon grew tired. But she was rich, and perfectly willing
to be admired by him, so he put aside his weariness, and
chatted with her until the parlors were deserted, and the
servants came to extinguish some of the burners.

“She had no idea it was so late, or she would not have
staid for anything. He must excuse her. What would

mamma think?” and bidding him good night, 'Lina hurried
up to where mamma sat waiting for her, the traces
of tears still on her patient face, which looked white and
worn.

“In the name of the people, what are you sitting up
for?” was Lina's first remark, followed by a glowing account
of what Dr. Richards had said, and the delightful
time she'd had. “Only play our cards well, and I'm sure
to go home the doctor's fiancee. The doctor thinks I'm
very rich. So do all the people here. Lulu has told that
I'm an heiress; now don't you upset it all with your
squeamishness about the truth. Nobody will ask you
how much I'm worth, so you won't be compelled to a lie
direct. Just keep your own counsel, and leave the rest to
me. Will you?”

There was, as usual, a feeble remonstrance, and then
the weak woman yielded so far as promising to keep
silent was concerned, but she asked timidly,

“What will you do if you succeed? He must then
know how you've deceived him.”

“Humph! so far, it will be an easy thing.

“He thinks I am rich, and I am supposed to think he
is. It's no thanks to him that I know better. But they
are very aristocratic, and family position is sometimes
better than money. On the whole, I prefer it to wealth.
“It will be something in this wise,” she continued; “after
the honeymoon is past, and my lord hears nothing about
bank stock, negroes or lands, he'll come straight out, and
say, `Mrs. Richards, I supposed you were rich!' while
Mrs. Richards would retort, `And I thought you were
rich!' Don't you see, it will be an equal thing, and
I shall take my chance.”

Meantime the doctor sat in his own room near by,
thinking of 'Lina Worthington, and wishing she were a
little more refined.

“Where does she get that coarseness?” he thought.

“Not from her mother, certainly. She seems very gentle
and lady-like. It must be from the Worthingtons,” and
the doctor wondered where he had heard that name before,
and why it affected him rather unpleasantly, bringing
with it memories of Lily. “Poor Lily,” he sighed
mentally. “Your love would have made me a better
man if I had not cast it from me. Dear Lily, the mother
of my child,” and a tear half trembled in his eye lashes,
as he tried to fancy that child; tried to hear the patter
of the little feet running to welcome him home, as
they might have done had he been true to Lily; tried to
hear the baby voice calling him “papa;” to feel the baby
hands upon his face — his bearded face — where the
great tears were standing now. “I did love Lily,” he
murmured; “and had I known of the child I never could
have left her. Oh, Lily, come back to me, come!” and
his arms were stretched out into empty space, as if he fain
would encircle again the girlish form he had so often held
in his embrace.

It was very late ere Dr. Richards slept that night, and
the morning found him pale, haggard, and nearly
desperate. Thoughts of Lily all were gone, and in their
place was a fixed determination to follow on in the course
he had marked out, to find him a rich wife, to cast remorse
to the winds, and be as happy as he could. In this state
of feeling 'Lina did not find it hard to keep him at her side,
nothwithstanding that Alice herself came down in the
course of the day. Mrs. Richards had not quite given
up all hopes of Alice, and she received her very cordially,
watching closely when the doctor joined them. A
casual observer would not have seen the flush on Alice's
cheek or the pallor upon his, so soon both came and
passed away, but they did not escape 'Lina's notice, and
she felt glad when told that she intended starting for
Kentucky on the morrow.

“So soon,” she said faintly, feeling that something like

remonstrance was expected from her, but Alice was not
in the least suspicious, and when next day she stood at the
depot with Mrs. Worthington and 'Lina she never dreamed
how glad the latter was, in knowing that the coming
train would take away one whom she dreaded as a rival.