 | CHAPTER XII.
MRS. GRAHAM AT HOME. 'Lena Rivers |  |
12. CHAPTER XII.
MRS. GRAHAM AT HOME.
As the summer advanced, extensive preparations were
commenced for repairing Woodlawn, which was to be fitted
up in a style suited to the luxurious taste of its rightful
owner, which, as report said, was in reality Durward.
He had conceived a fancy for the place five years before,
when visiting in the neighborhood, and on learning that
it was for sale, he had purchased it, at the suggestion of
his mother, proposing to his father that for a time, at least,
he should be its nominal possessor. What reason he had
for this he hardly knew himself, unless it was that he disliked
being flattered as a man of great wealth, choosing
rather to be esteemed for what he really was.
And, indeed, few of his age were more generally beloved
than was he. Courteous, kind-hearted, and generous
almost to a fault, he gained friends wherever he went,
and it was with some reason that Mrs. Graham thought
herself blessed above mothers, in the possession of such a
son. “He is so like me,” she would say, in speaking of
his many virtues, when, in fact, there was scarcely anything
in common between them, for nearly all of Durward's
sterling qualities were either inherited from his
own father, or the result of many years' companionship
with his step-father. Possessed of the most exquisite
taste, he exercised it in the arrangement of Woodlawn,
which, under his skillful management, began in a few
weeks to assume a more beautiful appearance than it had
ever before worn.
Once in two weeks either Mr. Graham or Durward
came out to see how matters were progressing, the latter
to make her house his home. This he was the more willing
to do, as it threw him into the society of 'Lena, who
was fast becoming an object of absorbing interest to him.
The more he saw of her, the more was his admiration increased,
and oftentimes, when joked concerning his preference
for Carrie, he smiled to think how people were deceived,
determining, however, to keep his own secret until
such time as he should be convinced that 'Lena was all
he could desire in a wife. For her poverty and humble
birth he cared nothing. If she were poor, he was rich,
and he possessed too much good sense to deem himself
better than she, because the blood of a nobleman flowed
in his veins. He knew that she was highly gifted and
beautiful, and could he be assured that she was equally
true-hearted, he would not hesitate a moment.
But Mrs. Livingstone's insinuation that she was a heartless
coquette, troubled him, and though he could not believe
it without more proof than he had yet received, he
determined to wait and watch, studying her character, the
while, to see if there was in her aught of evil. In this
state of affairs, it was hardly more than natural that his
manner toward her should be rather more reserved than
that which he assumed toward Carrie, for whom he cared
nothing, and with whom he talked, laughed, and rode, forgetting
her the moment she was out of his sight, and
never suspecting how much importance she attached to
his every word and look, construing into tokens of admiration
the most casual remark, such as he would utter to
any one. This was of advantage to 'Lena, for, secure of
their prize, both Mrs. Livingstone and Carrie, for a time,
at least, ceased to persecute her, seldom speaking of her
in Durward's presence, and, as a general thing, acting as
though she were not in existence.
John Jr., too, who had imposed upon himself the duty
of watching his mother and sister, seeing no signs of hostility,
now withdrew his espionage, amusing himself, instead,
by galloping three times a week over to Frankfort,
the home of Nellie Douglass, and by keeping an eye upon
Captain Atherton, who, as a spider would watch a fly,
was lying in wait for the unsuspecting Anna.
At last all was in readiness at Woodlawn for the reception
of Mrs. Graham, who came up early in October,
bringing with her a larger train of house servants than was
often seen in Woodford county. About three weeks after
her arrival, invitations were issued for a party, or “house-warming,”
as the negroes termed it. Nero, Durward's
valet, brought the tiny notes to Mr. Livingstone's, giving
them into the care of Carrie, who took them immediately
to her mother's room.
“It's Durward's handwriting,” said she, glancing at
the superscriptions, and reading as she did so—“Mr. and
Mrs. Livingstone”—“Mr. John Livingstone, Jr.”—“Miss
Carrie Livingstone”—“Miss Anna Livingstone”—“Miss
'Lena Rivers;” and here she stopped, in utter dismay,
continuing, as her mother looked up inquiringly—“And,
as I live, one for grandma—`Mrs. Martha Nichols!”'
“Impossible!” exclaimed Mrs. Livingstone, reaching
out her hand for the billet. “Yes, 'tis Mrs. Martha Nichols!—what
can it mean?”
A peep behind the scenes would have told her what it
meant. For once in his life Mr. Graham had exercised
the right of being master in his own house, declaring that
if Mrs. Nichols were not invited with the family, there
should be no party at all. Mrs. Graham saw that he was in
earnest, and yielded the point, knowing that in all probability
the old lady would not be permitted to attend.
Her husband had expected a like opposition with regard
her declaration that 'Lena should never darken her doors,
and thinking it would not do to slight her, consented
that, on her uncle's account, she should be invited. Accordingly,
the notes were dispatched, producing the effect
we have seen.
“How perfectly ridiculous to invite grandma!” said
Carrie. “It's bad enough to have 'Lena stuck in with
us, for of course she'll go.”
“Why of course?” asked Mrs. Livingstone. “The
invitations are at my disposal now; and if I choose to
withhold two of them, no one will be blamed but Nero,
who was careless and dropped them! 'Lena has nothing
decent to wear, and I don't feel like expending much
more for a person so ungrateful as she is. You ought
to have heard how impudent she was that time you all
went to Woodlawn.”
Then followed a one-sided description of that morning's
occurrence, Mrs. Livingstone working herself up to such
a pitch of excitement, that before her recital was finished,
she had determined at all events to keep back 'Lena's invitation,
as a method of punishing her for her “insolence,”
as she termed it.
“Mrs. Graham will thank me for it, I know,” said she,
“for she cannot endure her; and besides that, I don't
think 'Lena expects to be invited, so there's no harm
done.”
Carrie was not yet quite so hardened as her mother,
and for a moment her better nature shrank from so mean
a transaction, which might, after all, be found out, involving
them in a still worse difficulty; but as the
thought flashed upon her that possibly 'Lena might again
attract Durward toward her, she assented, and they were
about putting the notes aside, when John Jr. came in,
exclaiming, “Oh, rich!—capital! I hope she'll go!”
Then, before his mother could interpose a word, he darted
away in quest of Mrs. Nichols, whose surprise was
fully equal to that of Mrs. Livingstone and Carrie.
“Now, you don't say I've got an invite,” said she,
leaving the darning-needle in the stocking-heel which she
was mending, and wiping her steel-bowed spectacles.
“Come, 'Leny, you read it, that's a good girl.”
'Lena complied, and taking the note from her cousin's
hand, read that Mrs. Graham would be at home Thursday
evening, &c.
“But where's the invite? That don't say anything
about me!” said Mrs. Nichols, beginning to fear that it
was a humbug after all.
As well as they could, 'Lena and John Jr. explained it
to her, and then, fully convinced that she was really invited,
Mrs. Nichols began to wonder what she should wear,
and how she should go, asking John “if he couldn't
tackle up and carry her in the shay,” as she called the
single buggy.
“Certainly,” answered John Jr., willing to do anything
for the sake of the fun which he knew would ensue from
his grandmother's attendance.
'Lena thought otherwise, for much as she desired to
gratify her grandmother, she would not for the world expose
her to the ridicule which her appearance at a fashionable
party would call forth. Glancing reprovingly at
her cousin, she said, “I wouldn't think of going, grandma,
for you are lame and old, and there'll be so many
people there, all strangers, too, that you won't enjoy it
at all. Besides that, we'll have a nice time at home together—I'll
read to you all the evening.”
“We,” repeated John Jr. “Pray, are you not going?”
“Not without an invitation,” said 'Lena, smilingly.
“True, true,” returned her cousin. “It's down stairs,
I dare say. I only stopped to look at this. I'll go and
get yours now.”
“Suiting the action to the word, he descended to his
mother's room, asking for “'Lena's card.”
“'Lena's card! What do you mean?” said Mrs. Livingstone,
looking up from the book she was reading,
while Carrie for a moment suspended her needle-work.
“Lena's invitation; “you know well enough what I
mean,” returned John Jr., tumbling over the notes which
lay upon the table, and failing to find the one for which
he was seeking.
“You'll have to ask Mrs. Graham for it, I presume, as
it's not here,” was Mrs. Livingstone's quiet answer.
“Thunder!” roared John Jr., “'Lena not invited!
That's a smart caper. But there's some mistake about it,
I know. Who brought them?”
“Nero brought them,” said Carrie, “and I think it
is strange that grandmother should be invited and 'Lena
left out. But I suppose Mrs. Graham has her reasons.
She don't seem to fancy 'Lena much.”
“Mrs. Graham go to grass,” muttered John Jr., leaving
the room and slamming the door after him with great
violence.
“'Twas a pity he did not look in one of the drawers
of his mother's work-box, for there, safe and sound, lay
the missing note! But he did not think of that. He
only knew that 'Lena was slighted, and for the next two
hours he raved and fretted, sometimes declaring he would
not go, and again wishing Mrs. Graham in a temperature
but little suited to her round, fat proportions.
“Wall, if they feel too big to invite 'Leny, they needn't
expect to see me there, that's just all there is about it,”
telling 'Lena “she would'nt care an atom if she's in her
place.”
But 'Lena did care. No one likes to be slighted, and
she was not an exception to the general rule. Owing to
her aunt's skillful management she had never yet attended
a large party, and it was but natural that she should now
wish to go. But it could not be, and she was obliged to
content herself with the hopes of a minute description
from Anna; Carrie she would not trust, for she well
knew that whatever she told would be greatly exaggerated.
Mrs. Graham undoubtedly wished to give her friends
ample time to prepare, for her invitations were issued
nearly a week in advance. This suited Carrie, who had
a longer time to decide upon what would be becoming,
and when at last a decision was made, she could do nothing
but talk about her dress, which really was beautiful,
consisting of a pink and white silk, with an over-skirt of
soft, rich lace. This, after it was completed, was tried on
at least half a dozen times, and the effect carefully studied
before the long mirror. Anna, who cared much less for
dress than her sister, decided upon a black flounced skirt
and velvet basque. This was Mr. Everett's taste, and
whatever suited him suited her.
“I do think it's too bad that 'Lena is not invited,” said
she one day, when Carrie, as usual, was discussing the
party. “She would enjoy it so much. “I don't understand,
either, why she is omitted, for Mr. Graham seemed
to like her, and Durward too—”
“A great ways off, you mean,” interrupted Carrie.
“For my part, I see nothing strange in the omission. It
is no worse to leave her out than scores of others who
will not be invited.”
“But to come into the house and ask all but her,” said
Anna. “It does not seem right. She is as good as we
are.”
“That's as people think,” returned Carrie, while John
Jr., who was just going out to ride, and had stopped a
moment at the door, exclaimed, “Zounds, Cad, I wonder
if you fancy yourself better than 'Lena Rivers. If
you do, you are the only one that thinks so. Why, you
can't begin to compare with her, and it's a confounded
shame that she isn't invited, and so I shall tell them if I
have a good chance.”
“You'll look smart fishing for an invitation, won't
you?” said Carrie, her fears instantly aroused, but
John Jr. was out of her hearing almost before the words
were uttered.
Mounting Firelock, he started off for Versailles, falling
in with Durward, who was bound for the same place.
After the usual greetings were exchanged, Durward
said, “I suppose you are all coming on Thursday
night?”
“Yes,” returned John Jr., “I believe the old folks,
Cad, and Anna intend doing so.”
“But where's Miss Rivers? Doesn't she honor us with
her presence?” asked Durward, in some concern.
John Jr.'s first impulse, as he afterwards said, was “to
knock him off from his horse,” but a second thought convinced
him there might be some mistake; so he replied
that “it was hardly to be supposed Miss Rivers would
attend without an invitation—she wasn't quite so verdant
as that!”
“Without an invitation!” repeated Durward, stopping
short in the road. “'Lena not invited! It isn't so! I
directed one to her myself, and gave it to Nero, together
with the rest which were designed for your family.
home, and see that it is all made right. She must come,
any way, for I wouldn't give—”
Here he stopped, as if he had said too much, but John
Jr. finished the sentence for him.
“Wouldn't give a picayune for the whole affair without
her—that's what you mean, and why not say so? I
speak right out about Nellie, and she isn't one half as
handsome as 'Lena.”
“It isn't 'Lena's beauty that I admire altogether,” returned
Durward. “I like her for her frankness, and because
I think her conduct is actuated by the best of principles;
perhaps I am mistaken—”
“No, you are not,” again interrupted John Jr. “'Lena
is just what she seems to be. There's no deception in
her. She isn't one thing to-day and another to-morrow.
Spunky as the old Nick, you know, but still she governs
her temper admirably, and between you and me, I know
I'm a better man than I should have been had she never
come to live with us. How well I remember the first
time I saw her,” he continued, repeating to Durward the
particulars of their interview in Lexington, and describing
her introduction to his sisters. “From the moment she
refused to tell that lie for me, I liked her,” said he, “and
when she dealt me that blow in my face, my admiration
was complete.”
Durward thought he could dispense with the blow, but
he laughed heartily at John's description of his spirited
cousin, thinking, too, how different was his opinion of
her from that which his mother evidently entertained.
Still, if Mrs. Livingstone was prejudiced, John Jr. might
also be somewhat biased, so he would not yet make up
his mind; but on one thing he was resolved—she should
the card himself.
Accordingly, on his return home, Nero was closely
questioned, and negro-like, called down all manner of
evil upon himself “if he done drapped the note any whar.
'Strue as I live and breathe, Mas'r Bellmont,” said he,
“I done carried Miss 'Leny's invite with the rest, and guv
'em all to the young lady with the big nose!”
Had Durward understood Mrs. Livingstone a little better,
he might have believed him; but now it was but natural
for him to suppose that Nero had accidentally dropped
it. So he wrote another, taking it himself, and asking
for “Miss Rivers.” Carrie, who was in the parlor and
saw him coming up to the house, instantly flew to the
glass, smoothing her collar, puffing out her hair a little
more, pinching her cheek, which was not quite so red as
usual, and wishing that she was alone. But unfortunately,
both Anna and 'Lena were present, and as there was
no means of being rid of them, she retained her seat at
the piano, carelessly turning over the leaves of her music
book, when the door opened, and Corinda, not Durward,
appeared.
“If you please, Miss 'Lena,” said the girl, Marster Bellmont
want to speak with you in the hall.”
“With 'Lena! How funny!” exclaimed Carrie. “Are
you sure it was 'Lena?”
“Yes, sure—he done ask for Miss Rivers.”
“Ask him in, why don't you?” said Carrie, suspecting
his errand, and thinking to keep herself from all suspicion
by appearing “wonderfully pleased” that 'Lena was not
intentionally neglected. Before Corinda could reply,
'Lena had stepped into the hall, and was standing face to
face with Durward, who retained her hand, while he
asked if “she really believed they intended to slight her,”
and saying “he hoped she would not fail to attend.”
'Lena hesitated, but he pressed her so hard, saying he
should surely think she distrusted them if she refused,
that she finally consented, and he took his leave, playfully
threatening to come for her himself if she were not there
with the rest.
“You feel better, now, don't you?” said Carrie with
a sneer, as 'Lena reëntered the parlor.
“Yes, a great deal,” was 'Lena's truthful answer.
“Oh, I'm real glad!” exclaimed Anna. “I most knew
'twas a mistake all the time, and I did so want you to go.
What will you wear? Let me see. Why, you havn't
got anything suitable, have you?”
This was true, for 'Lena had nothing fit for the occasion,
and she was beginning to wish she had not been invited,
when her uncle came in, and to him Anna forthwith
stated the case, saying 'Lena must have a new dress,
and suggesting embroidered muslin.
“How ridiculous!” muttered Carrie, thrumming away
at the piano. “There's no time to make dresses now.
They should have invited her earlier.”
“Isn't Miss Simpson still here?” asked her father.
Anna replied that she was, and then turning to 'Lena,
Mr. Livingstone asked if “she wanted to go very much.”
The tears which shone in her eyes were a sufficient answer,
and when at supper that night, inquiry was made
for Mr. Livingstone, it was said that he had gone to
Frankfort.
“To Frankfort!” repeated his wife. “What has he
gone there for?”
No one knew until late in the evening, when he returned
home, bringing with him 'Lena's dress, which
Anna pronounced “the sweetest thing she ever saw,” at
company in the parlor, which for a time kept down the
gathering storm in Mrs. Livingstone's face, but the moment
they were gone, and she was alone with her husband
in their room, it burst forth, and in angry tones she
demanded “what he meant by spending her money in
that way, and without her consent?”
Before making any reply, Mr. Livingstone stepped to
her work-box, and opening the little drawer, held to view
the missing note. Then turning to his wife, whose face
was very pale, he said, “This morning I made a discovery
which exonerates Nero from all blame. I understand it fully,
and while I knew you were capable of almost anything,
I must say I did not think you would be guilty of quite
so mean an act. Stay,” he continued, as he saw her
about to speak, “You are my wife, and as 'Lena is at
last invited, your secret is safe, but remember, it must
not be repeated. You understand me, do you?”
Mrs. Livingstone was struck dumb with mortification
and astonishment—the first, that she was detected, and
the last, that her husband dare assume such language toward
her. But he had her in his power—she knew that
—and for a time it rendered her very docile, causing her
to consult with Miss Simpson concerning the fitting of
'Lena's dress, herself standing by when it was done, and
suggesting one or two improvements, until 'Lena, perfectly
bewildered, wondered what had come over her
aunt, that she should be so unusually kind. Carrie, too,
learning from her mother how matters stood, thought
proper to change her manner, and while in her heart she
hoped something would occur to keep 'Lena at home, she
loudly expressed her pleasure that she was going, offering
to lend her several little ornaments, and doing many
was feigning what she did not feel.
Meanwhile, grandma, learning that 'Lena was invited,
declared her intention of going. “I shouldn't of gin
up in the first on't,” said she, “only I wanted to show
'em proper resentment; but now it's different, and I'll
go, anyway—'Tilda may say what she's a mind to.”
It was in vain that 'Lena reasoned the case. Grandma
was decided, and it was not until both her son and daughter
interfered, the one advising and the other commanding
her to stay at home, that she yielded with a burst of
tears, for grandma was now in her second childhood, and
easily moved. It was terrible to 'Lena to see her grandmother
weep, and twining her arms around her neck, she
tried to soothe her, saying, “she would willingly stay at
home with her if she wished it.”
Mrs. Nichols was not selfish enough to suffer this. “No,
'Leny,” said she, I want you to go and enjoy yourself
while you are young, for you'll sometime be old and in
the way;” and the old creature covered her face with
her shriveled hands and wept.
But she was of too cheerful a nature long to remember
grief, and drying her tears, she soon forgot her trouble
in the pride and satisfaction which she felt when she saw
how well the white muslin became 'Lena, who, John Jr.
said, never looked so beautifully as she did when arrayed
for the party. Mr. Livingstone had not been sparing of
his money when he purchased the party dress, which was
a richly embroidered muslin, and fell in soft folds around
'Lena's graceful figure. Her long, flowing curls were interwined
with a few natural flowers, her only attempt at
ornament of any kind, and, indeed, ornaments would
have been sadly out of place on 'Lena.
It was between nine and ten when the party from Maple
company assembled, some in the drawing rooms below,
and others still lingering at the toilet in the dressing
chamber. Among these last were Nellie Douglass and
Mabel Ross, the latter of whom Mrs. Livingstone was
perfectly delighted to see, overwhelming her with caresses,
and urging her to stop for a while at Maple Grove.
“I shall be so glad to have you with us, and the country
air will do you so much good, that you must not refuse,”
said she, pinching Mabel's sallow cheek, and stroking
her straight, glossy hair, which, in contrast with the
bandeau of pearls that she wore, looked dark as midnight.
Spite of her wealth, Mabel had long been accustomed
to neglect, and there was something so kind in Mrs. Livingstone's
motherly demeanor, that the heart of the young
orphan warmed toward her, and tears glittered in her
large, mournful eyes, the only beauty, save her hair, of
which she could boast. Very few had ever cared for poor
Mabel, who, though warm hearted and affectionate, required
to be known in order to be appreciated, and as
she was naturally shy and retiring, there were not many
who felt at all acquainted with her. Left alone in the
world at a very early age, she had never known what it
was to possess a real, disinterested friend, unless we except
Nellie Douglass, who, while there was nothing congenial
between them, had always tried to treat Mabel as
she herself would wish to be treated, were she in like circumstances.
Many had professed friendship for the sake of the gain
which they knew would accrue, for she was generous to
a fault, bestowing with a lavish hand upon those whom
she loved, and who had too often proved false, denouncing
her as utterly spiritless and insipid. So often had
she been deceived, that now, at the age of eighteen, she
in secret would she weep bitterly over her lonely
condition, lamenting the plain face and unattractive manners,
which she fancied rendered her an object of dislike.
Still there was about her a depth of feeling of which
none had ever dreamed, and it only required a skillful
hand to mold her into an altogether different being.
She was, perhaps, too easily influenced, for in spite of her
distrust, a pleasant word or kind look would win her to
almost anything.
Of this weakness Mrs. Livingstone seemed well aware,
and for the better accomplishment of her plan, she deemed
it necessary that Mabel should believe her to be the best
friend she had in the world. Accordingly, she now flattered
and petted her, calling her “darling,” and “dearest,”
and urging her to stop at Maple Grove, until she
consented, “provided Nellie Douglass were willing.”
“Oh, I don't care,” answered Nellie, whose gay, dashing
disposition poorly accorded with the listless, sickly
Mabel, and who felt it rather a relief than otherwise to
be rid of her.
So it was decided that she should stay at Maple Grove,
and then Mrs. Livingstone, passing her arm around her
waist, whispered, “Go down with me,” at the same time
starting for the parlor, followed by her daughters, Nellie,
and 'Lena. In the hall they met with John Jr. He had
heard Nellie's voice, and stationing himself at the head of
the stairs, was waiting her appearance.
“Miss Ross,” said Mrs. Livingstone to her son, at the
same time indicating her willingness to give her into his
care.
But John Jr. would not take the hint. Bowing stiffly
to Mabel, he passed on toward Nellie, in his eagerness
stepping on Carrie's trail, and drawing from her an exclamation
glanced backward just in time to see the look of affection
with which her son regarded Nellie, as she placed her soft
hand confidingly upon his arm, and gazed upward smilingly
into his face. She dared not slight Miss Douglass in
public, but with a mental invective against her, she drew
Mabel closer to her side, and smoothing down the heavy
folds of her moire antique, entered the drawing-room,
which was brilliantly lighted, and filled with the beauty
and fashion of Lexington, Frankfort, and Versailles.
At the door they met Durward, who, as he took 'Lena's
hand, said, “It is well you remembered your promise,
for I was about starting after you.” This observation
did not escape Mrs. Livingstone, who, besides having her
son and Nellie under her special cognizance, had also an
eye upon her niece and Anna. Her espionage of the latter,
however, was not needed immediately, owing to her
being straightway appropriated to Captain Atherton,
who, in dainty white kids, and vest to match, (the color,
not the material,) strutted back and forth with Anna
tucked under his arm, until the poor girl was ready to
cry with vexation.
When the guests had nearly all arrived, both Mr.
Graham and Durward started for 'Lena, the latter reaching
her first, and paying her so many little attentions,
that the curiosity of others was aroused, and frequently
was the question asked, “Who is she, the beautiful young
lady in white muslin and curls?”
Nothing of all this escaped Mrs. Livingstone, and once,
in passing near her niece, she managed to whisper, “For
heaven's sake don't show your ignorance of etiquette by
taxing Mr. Bellmont's good nature any longer. It's
very improper to claim any one's attention so long, and
you are calling forth remarks.”
Then quickly changing the whisper into her softest
tones, she said to Durward, “How can you resist such
beseeching glances as those ladies send toward you?”
nodding to a group of girls of which Carrie was one.
'Lena colored scarlet, and gazed wistfully around the
room in quest of some other shelter when Durward should
relinquish her, as she felt he would surely do, but none
presented itself. Her uncle was playing the agreeable to
Miss Atherton, Mr. Graham to some other lady, while
John Jr. kept closely at Nellie's side, forgetful of all else.
“What shall I do?” said 'Lena, unconsciously and
half aloud.
“Stay with me,” answered Durward, drawing her hand
further within his arm, and bending upon her a look of
admiration which she could not mistake.
Several times they passed and re-passed Mrs. Graham,
who was highly incensed at her son's proceedings, and at
last actually asked him “if he did not intend noticing any
one except Miss Rivers,” adding, as an apology for her
rudeness, (for Mrs. Graham prided herself upon being
very polite in her own house,) “she has charms enough
to win a dozen gallants, but there are others here who
need attention from you. There's Miss Livingstone,
you've hardly spoken with her to-night.”
Thus importuned, Durward released 'Lena and walked
away, attaching himself to Carrie, who clung to him
closer, if possible, than did the old captain to Anna.
About this time Mr. Everett came. He had been necessarily
detained, and now, after paying his respects to the
host and hostess, he started in quest of Anna, who was
still held “in durance vile” by the captain. But the
moment she saw Malcolm, she uttered a low exclamation
of joy, and without a single apology, broke abruptly
away from her ancient cavalier, whose little watery eyes
himself with the reflection that he was tolerably sure of
her, do what she would, he walked up to her mother,
kindly relieving her for a time of her charge, who was
becoming rather tiresome. Frequently, by nods, winks,
and frowns, had Mrs. Livingstone tried to bring her son
to a sense of his improper conduct in devoting himself
exclusively to one individual, and neglecting all others.
But her efforts were all in vain. John Jr. was incorrigible,
slily whispering to Nellie, that “he had no idea
of beauing a medicine chest.” This he said, referring to
Mabel's ill health, for among his other oddities, John Jr.
had a particular aversion to sickly ladies. Of course Nellie
reproved him for his unkind remarks, at the same time
warmly defending Mabel, “who,” she said, “had been
delicate from infancy, and suffered far more than was generally
suspected.”
“Let her stay at home, then,” was John Jr.'s answer,
as he led Nellie toward the supper-room, which the company
were just then entering.
About an hour after supper the guests began to leave,
Mrs. Livingstone being the first to propose going. As
she was ascending the stairs, John Jr. observed that Mabel
was with her, and turning to 'Lena, who now leaned
on his arm, he said, “There goes the future Mrs. John Jr.
—so mother thinks!”
“Where?” asked 'Lena, looking around.
“Why, there,” continued John, pointing toward Mabel.
”Haven't you noticed with what parental solicitude
mother watches over her?”
“I saw them together,” answered 'Lena, “and I
thought it very kind in my aunt, for no one else seemed
to notice her, and I felt sorry for her. She is going home
with us, I believe.”
“Going home with us!” repeated John Jr. “In the
name of the people, what is she going home with us for?”
“Why,” returned, 'Lena, “your mother thinks the
country air will do her good.”
“Un-doubtedly,” said John, with a sneer. “Mother's
motives are usually very disinterested. I wonder she
don't propose to the old captain to take up his quarters
with us, so she can nurse him!”
With this state of feeling, it was hardly natural that
John Jr. should be very polite toward Mabel, and when
his mother asked him to help her into the carriage, he
complied so ungraciously, that Mabel observed it, and
looked wonderingly at her patroness for an explanation.
“Only one of his freaks, love—he'll get over it,” said
Mrs. Livingstone, while poor Mabel, sinking back among
the cushions, wept silently, thinking that every body
hated her.
When 'Lena came down to bid her host and hostess
good night, the former retained her hand, while he expressed
his sorrow at her leaving so soon. “I meant to
have seen more of you,” said he, “but you must visit us
often—will you not?”
Neither the action nor the words escaped Mrs. Graham's
observation, and the lecture which she that night read
her offending spouse, had the effect to keep him awake
until the morning was growing gray in the east. Then,
when he was asleep, he so far forgot himself and the
wide-open ears beside him as actually to breathe the name
of 'Lena in his dreams!
Mrs. Graham needed no farther confirmation of her
suspicions, and at the breakfast table next morning, she
gave her son a lengthened account of her husband's great
sin in dreaming of a young girl, and that girl 'Lena Rivers.
Durward laughed heartily, and then, either to tease
her eyes, he replied, “It is a little singular that our
minds should run in the same channel, for I, too, dreamed
of 'Lena Rivers!”
Poor Mrs. Graham. A double task was now imposed
upon her—that of watching both husband and son; but
she was accustomed to it, for her life, since her second marriage,
had been one continued series of watching for evil
where there was none. And now, with a growing hatred
toward 'Lena, she determined to increase her vigilance,
feeling sure she should discover something if she only
continued faithful to the end.
| CHAPTER XII.
MRS. GRAHAM AT HOME. 'Lena Rivers | |