University of Virginia Library

13. CHAPTER XIII.
MABEL.

The morning following the party, Mr. Livingstone's
family were assembled in the parlor, discussing the various
events of the previous night. John Jr., 'Lena, and
Anna declared themselves to have been highly pleased
with everything, while Carrie, in the worst of humors,
pronounced it “a perfect bore,” saying she never had so
disagreeable a time in all her life, and ending her ill-natured
remarks by a malicious thrust at 'Lena, for having
so long kept Mr. Bellmont at her side.

“I suppose you fancy he would have looked better
with you, but I think he showed his good taste by preferring
'Lena,” said John Jr.; then turning toward the
large easy chair, where Mabel sat, pale, weary, and spiritless,
he asked “how she had enjoyed herself.”

With the exception of his accustomed “good morning,”

this was the first time he had that day addressed her, and
it was so unexpected, that it brought a bright glow to her
cheek, making John Jr. think she was “not so horridly
ugly after all.”

But she was very unfortunate in her answer, which was,
“that on account of her ill health, she seldom enjoyed
anything of the kind.” Then pressing her hand upon her
forehead, she continued, “My head is aching dreadfully,
as a punishment for last night's dissipation.”

Three times before, he had heard her speak of her aching
head, and now, with an impatient gesture, he was
turning away, when his mother said, “Poor girl, she really
looks miserable. I think a ride would do her good.
Suppose you take her with you—I heard you say you
were going to Versailles.”

If there was anything in which Mabel excelled, it was
horsemanship, she being a better rider, if possible, than
'Lena, and now, at Mrs. Livingstone's proposition, she
looked up eagerly at John Jr., who replied.

”Oh, hang it all! mother, I can't always be bothered
with a girl;” then as he saw how Mabel's countenance
fell, he continued, “Let 'Lena ride with her—she wants
to, I know.”

“Certainly,” said 'Lena, whose heart warmed toward
the orphan girl, partly because she was an orphan, and
partly because she saw that she was neglected and unloved.

As yet Mabel cared nothing for John Jr., nor even suspected
his mother's object in detaining her as a guest.
So when 'Lena was proposed as a substitute, she seemed
equally well pleased, and the young man, as he walked
off to order the ponies, mentally termed himself a bear
for his rudeness; “for after all,” thought he, “it's mother

who has designs upon me, not Mabel. She isn't to
blame.”

This opinion once satisfactorily settled, it was strange
how soon John Jr. began to be sociable with Mabel, finding
her much more agreeable than he had at first supposed,
and even acknowledging to 'Lena that “she was a
good deal of a girl, after all, were it not for her everlasting
headaches and the smell of medicine,” which he declared
she always carried about with her.

“Hush-sh,” said 'Lena—“you shan't talk so, for she is
sick a great deal, and she does not feign it, either.”

“Perhaps not,” returned John Jr., “but she can at
least keep her miserable feelings to herself. Nobody
wants to know how many times she's been blistered and
bled!”

Still John Jr. acknowledged that there were some
things in Mabel which he liked, for no one could live long
with her and not admire her gentleness and uncommon
sweetness of disposition, which manifested itself in numerous
little acts of kindness to those around her. Never
before in her life had she been so constantly associated
with a young gentleman, and as she was quite susceptible,
it is hardly more than natural that erelong thoughts
of John Jr. mingled in both her sleeping and waking
dreams. She could not understand him, but the more
his changeful moods puzzled her, the more she felt interested
in him, and her eyes would alternately sparkle at a
kind word from him, or fill with tears at the abruptness
of his speeches; while he seemed to take special delight
in seeing how easily he could move her from one extreme
to the other.

Silently Mrs. Livingstone looked on, carefully noting
each change, and warily calculating its result. Not once
since Mabel became an inmate of her family had she mentioned

her to her son, for she deemed it best to wait, and
let matters take their course. But at last, anxious to
know his real opinion, she determined to sound him.
Accordingly, one day when they were alone, she spoke
of Mabel, asking him if he did not think she improved
upon acquaintance, at the same time enumerating her
many excellent qualities, and saying that whoever married
her would get a prize, to say nothing of a fortune.

Quickly comprehending the drift of her remarks, John
Jr. replied, “I dare say, and whoever wishes for both
prize and fortune, is welcome to them for all me.”

“I thought you liked Mabel,” said his mother; and
John answered, “So I do like her, but for pity's sake, is
a man obliged to marry every girl he likes? Mabel does
very well to tease and amuse one, but when you come to
the marrying part, why, that's another thing.”

“And what objection have you to her,” continued his
mother, growing very fidgety and red.

“Several,” returned John. “She has altogether too
many aches and pains to suit me; then she has no spirit
whatever; and last, but not least, I like somebody else.
So, mother mine, you may as well give up all hopes of
that hundred thousand down in Alabama, for I shall never
marry Mabel Ross, never.”

Mrs. Livingstone was now not only red and fidgety,
but very angry, and, in an elevated tone of voice, she
said, “I s'pose it's Nellie Douglass you mean; but if you
knew all of her that I do, I reckon—”

Here she paused, insinuating that she could tell something
dreadful, if she would! But John Jr. took no notice
of her hints, and when he got a chance, he replied,
“You are quite a Yankee at guessing, for if Nellie will
have me, I surely will have her.”

“Marry her, then,” retorted his mother—“marry her,

with all her poverty, but for heaven's sake, don't give so
much encouragement to a poor defenseless girl.”

Wishing Mabel in Guinea, and declaring he'd neither
speak to nor look at her again, if common civilities were
construed into encouragement, John Jr. strode out of the
room, determining, as the surest method of ending the
trouble, to go forthwith to Nellie, and in a plain, straight-forward
way make her an offer of himself. With him, to
will was to do, and in about an hour he was descending
the long hill which leads into Frankfort. Unfortunately,
Nellie had gone for a few weeks to Madison, and again
mounting Firelock, the young man galloped back, reaching
home just as the family were sitting down to supper.
Not feeling hungry, and wishing to avoid, as long as possible,
the sight of his mother and Mabel, whom he believed
were leagued against him, he repaired to the parlor,
whistling loudly, and making much more noise than
was at all necessary.

“If you please, Mr. Livingstone, won't you be a little
more quiet, for my head aches so hard to-night,” said a
languid voice, from the depths of the huge easy chair
which stood before the glowing grate.

Glancing toward what he had at first supposed to be a
bundle of shawls, John Jr. saw Mabel Ross, her forehead
bandaged up and her lips white as ashes, while the purple
rings about her heavy eyes, told of the pain she was enduring.

“Thunder!” was John's exclamation, as he strode
from the room, slamming together the door with unusual
force.

When Mrs. Livingstone came in from supper, with a
cup of hot tea and a slice of toast for Mabel, she was surprised
to find her sobbing like a child. It did not take
long for her to learn the cause, and then, as well as she

could, she soothed her, telling her not to mind John's
freaks—it was his way, and he always had a particular
aversion to sick people, never liking to hear them
talk of their ailments. This hint was sufficient for Mabel,
who ever after strove hard to appear well and cheerful
in his presence. But in no way, if he could help it, would
he notice her.

Next to Mrs. Livingstone, 'Lena was Mabel's best
friend, and when she saw how much her cousin's rudeness
and indifference pained her, she determined to talk with
him about it. So the first time they were alone, she
broached the subject, speaking very kindly of Mabel, and
asking if he had any well-grounded reason for his uncivil
treatment of her. There was no person in the world who
possessed so much influence over John Jr. as did 'Lena,
and now, hearing her patiently through, he replied, “I
know I'm impolite to Mabel, but hang me if I can help it.
She is so flat and silly, and takes every little attention
from me as a declaration of love. Still, I don't blame her
as much as I do mother, who is putting her up to it, and
if she'd only go home and mind her own business, I
should like her well enough.”

“I don't understand you,” said 'Lena, and her cousin
continued: “Why, when Mabel first came here, I do
not think she knew what mother was fishing for, so she
was not so much at fault, but she does now—”

“Are you sure?” interrupted 'Lena, and John Jr. replied,
“She's a confounded fool if she don't. And what
provokes me, is to think she'll still keep staying here,
when modesty, if nothing else, should prompt her to
leave. You wouldn't catch Nellie doing so. Why, she'll
hardly come here at all, for fear folks will say she comes
to see me, and that's why I like her so well.”

“I think you are mistaken with regard to Mabel,” said

'Lena, “for I've no idea she's in love with you a bit more
than I am. I dare say she likes you well enough, for
there's nothing in you to dislike.”

“Thank you,” interrupted John Jr., returning the compliment
with a kiss, a liberty he often took with her.

“Behave, can't you?” said 'Lena, at the same time continuing—“No,
I don't suppose Mabel is dying for you at
all. All of us girls like to receive attention from you
gentlemen, and she's not an exception. Besides that, you
ought to be polite to her, because she's your mother's
guest, if for nothing else. I don't ask you to love her,”
said she, “but I do ask you to treat her well. Kind
words cost nothing, and they go far toward making others
happy.”

“So they do,” answered John, upon whom 'Lena's words
were having a good effect. “I,ve nothing under heaven
against Mabel Ross, except that mother wants me to
marry her; but if you'll warrant me that the young lady
herself has no such intentions, why, I'll do my very best.”

“I'll warrant you,” returned Lena, who really had no
idea that Mabel cared aught in particular for her cousin,
and satisfied with the result of her interview, she started
to leave the room.

As she reached the door, John Jr. stopped her, saying,
“You are sure she don't care for me?”

“Perfectly sure,” was 'Lena's answer.

“The plague, she don't,” thought John, as the door
closed upon 'Lena; and such is human nature, that the
young man began to think that if Mabel didn't care for
him, he'd see if he could'nt make her, for after all,
there was something pleasant in being liked, even by
Mabel!

The next day, as the young ladies were sitting together
in the parlor, John Jr. joined them, and after wringing

Carrie's nose, pulling 'Lena's and Anna's curls, he suddenly
upset Mabel's work-box, at the same time slily
whispering to his cousin, “Ain't I coming round?”

Abrupt as this proceeding was, it pleased Mabel, who,
with the utmost good humor, commenced picking up her
things, John Jr. assisting her, and managing once to bump
his head against hers! After this, affairs at Maple Grove
glided on as smoothly as even Mrs. Livingstone could wish.
John and Mabel were apparently on the most amicable
terms, he deeming 'Lena's approbation a sufficient reward
for the many little attentions which he paid to Mabel, and
she, knowing nothing of all that had passed, drinking in
his every word and look, learning to live upon his smile,
and conforming herself, as far as possible, to what she
thought would best please him.

Gradually, as she thought it would do, Mrs. Livingstone
unfolded to Mabel her own wishes, saying she
should be perfectly happy could she only call her “daughter,”
and hinting that such a thing “by wise management
could easily be brought about.” With a gush of tears
the orphan girl laid her head in Mrs. Livingstone's lap,
mentally blessing her as her benefactress, and thanking
the Giver of all good for the light and happiness which
she saw dawning upon her pathway.

“John is peculiar,” said Mrs. Livingstone, “and if he
fancied you liked him very much, it might not please him
as well as indifference on your part.”

So, with this lesson, Mabel for the first time in her life
attempted to act as she did not feel, feigning carelessness
or indifference when every pulse of her heart was throbbing
with joy at some little attention paid her by John
Jr., who could be very agreeable when he chose, and
who, observing her apparent indifference, began to think
that what 'Lena had said was true, and that Mabel really

cared nothing for him. With this impression he exerted
himself to be agreeable, wondering how her many good
qualities had so long escaped his observation.

“There is more to her than I supposed,” said he one
day to 'Lena, who was commending him for his improved
manner. “Yes, a heap more than I supposed. Why,
I really like her!”

And he told the truth, for with his prejudice laid
aside, he, as is often the case, began to find virtues in her,
the existence of which he had never suspected. Frequently,
now, he talked, laughed, and rode with her, praising
her horsemanship, pointing out some points wherein
it might be improved, and never dreaming the while of
the deep affection his conduct had awakened in the susceptible
girl.

“Oh, I am so happy,” said she one day to 'Lena, who
was speaking of her improved health. “I never thought
it possible for me to be so happy. I dreaded to come
here at first, but now I shall never regret it, never.”

She was standing before the long mirror in the parlor,
adjusting the feathers to her tasteful velvet cap, which,
with her neatly fitting riding-dress, became her better
than anything else. The excitement of her words sent a
deep glow to her cheek, while her large black eyes
sparkled with unusual brilliancy. She was going out
with John Jr., who, just as she finished speaking, appeared
in the doorway, and catching a glimpse of her
face, exclaimed in his blunt, jocose way, “Upon my word,
Meb, if you keep on, you'll get to be quite decent looking
in time.”

'Twas the first compliment of the kind he had ever
paid her, and questionable as it was, it tended to strengthen
her fast forming belief that her affection for him was
returned.

“I can't expect him to do anything like other people,
he's so odd,” thought she, and yet it was this very oddness
which charmed her.

At length Nellie, who had returned from Madison,
and felt rather lonely, wrote to Mabel, asking her to
come home. This plan Mrs. Livingstone opposed, but
Mabel was decided, and the week before Christmas was
fixed upon for her departure. John Jr., anxious to see
Nellie, proposed accompanying her, but when the day
came he was suffering from a severe cold, which rendered
his stay in the house absolutely necessary. So his mother,
who had reasons of her own for doing so, went in his
stead. Carrie, who never had any fancy for Mabel, and
only endured her because she was rich, was coolly polite,
merely offering her hand, and then resumed the novel
she was reading, even before Mabel had left. Anna and
'Lena bade her a more affectionate adieu, and then advancing
toward John Jr., who, in dressing-gown and
slippers, reclined upon the sofa, she offered him her
hand.

As if to atone for his former acts of rudeness, the young
man accompanied her to the door, playfully claiming the
privilege of taking leave just as his sister and cousin had
done.

“It's only me, you know,” said he, imprinting upon
her forehead a kiss which sent the rich blood to her neck
and face.

John Jr. would not have dared to take that liberty with
Nellie, while Mabel, simple-hearted, and wholly unused to
the world, saw in it a world of meaning, and for a long
time after the carriage rolled away from Maple Grove,
the bright glow on her cheek told of happy thoughts
within.

“Did my son say anything definite to you before you

left?” asked Mrs. Livingstone, as they came within sight
of the city.

“No, madam,” answered mabel, and Mrs. Livingstone
continued, “That's strange. He confessed to me that
he—ah—he—loved you, and I supposed he intended telling
you so; but bashfulness prevented, I dare say!”

Accustomed as she was to equivocation, this downright
falsehood cost Mrs. Livingstone quite an effort, but she
fancied the case required it, and after a few twinges, her
conscience felt easy, particularly when she saw how much
satisfaction her words gave to her companion, to whom
the improbability of the affair never occurred. Could
she have known how lightly John Jr. treated the matter,
laughingly describing his leave-taking to his sisters and
'Lena, and saying, “Meb wasn't the worst girl in the
world, after all,” she might not have been so easily
duped.

But she did not know all this, and thus was the delusion
perfect.