University of Virginia Library

14. CHAPTER XIV.
NELLIE AND MABEL.

Nellie Douglass sat alone in her chamber, which
was filled with articles of elegance and luxury, for her
father, though far from being wealthy, still loved to surround
his only daughter with everything which could increase
her comfort. So the best, the fairest, and the
most costly was always for her, his “darling Nellie,” as
he called her, when with bounding footsteps she flew to

greet him on his return at night, ministering to his wants
in a thousand ways, and shedding over his home such a
halo of sunshine that ofttimes he forgot that he was a
lonely widower, while in the features of his precious child
he saw again the wife of his bosom, who years before had
passed from his side forever.

But not on him were Nellie's thoughts resting, as she
sat there alone that afternoon. She was thinking of the
past—of John Livingstone, and the many marked attentions,
which needed not the expression of words to
tell her she was beloved. And freely did her heart respond.
That John Jr. was not perfect, she knew, but
he was noble and generous, and so easily influenced by
those he loved, that she knew it would be an easy task to
soften down some of the rougher shades of his character.
Three times during her absence had he called, expressing
so much disappointment, that with woman's ready instinct
she more than half divined his intentions, and regretted
that she was gone. But Mabel was coming to-day,
and he was to accompany her, for so had 'Lena
written, and Nellie's cheeks glowed and her heart beat
high, as she thought of what might occur. She knew
well that in point of wealth she was not his equal, for
though mingling with the first in the city, her father was
poor—but one of John Jr.'s nature would never take
that into consideration. They had known each other
from childhood, and he had always evinced for her the
same preference which he now manifested. Several
weeks had elapsed since she had seen him, and now, rather
impatiently, she awaited his arrival.

“If you please, ma'am, Mrs. Livingstone and Miss Mabel
are in the parlor,” said a servant, suddenly appearing
and interrupting her reverie.

“Mrs. Livingstone!” she repeated, as she glanced at

herself in a mirror, and reärranged one side of her shining
hair, “Mrs. Livingstone!—and so he has not come. I
wonder what's the matter!” and with a less joyous face
she descended to the back parlor, where, with rich furs
wrapped closely about her, as if half frozen, sat Mrs. Livingstone,
her quick eye taking an inventory of every article
of furniture, and her proud spirit whispering to herself,
“Poverty, poverty.”

With a cry of joy, Mabel flew to meet Nellie, who,
while welcoming her back, congratulated her upon her
improved health and looks, saying, “the air of Maple
Grove must have agreed with her;” then turning toward
Mrs. Livingstone, who saw in her remark other meaning
than the one she intended, she asked her to remove her
wrappings, apologizing at the same time for the fire's being
so low.

“Father is absent most of the day,” said she, “and as
I am much in my chamber, we seldom keep a fire in the
front parlor.

“Just as well,” answered Mrs. Livingstone, removing
her heavy furs. “One fire is cheaper than two, and in
these times I suppose it is necessary for some people to
economize.”

Nellie colored, not so much at the words as at the manner
of her visitor. After a moment, Mrs. Livingstone
again spoke, looking straight in Nellie's face,

“My son was very anxious to ride over with Mabel,
but a bad cold prevented him, so she rather unwillingly
took me as a substitute.”

Here not only Nellie, but Mabel, also, colored, and the
latter left the room. When she was gone, Nellie remarked
upon the visible improvement in her health.

“Yes,” said Mrs. Livingstone, setting herself a little
more easily in her chair, “Yes, Mabel isn't the same creature

she was when she came to us, but then it's no wonder,
for love, you know, will work miracles.”

No answer from Nellie, who almost instinctively felt
what was coming next.

“Upon my word, Miss Douglass, you've no curiosity
whatever. Why don't you ask with whom Mabel is in
love?”

“Who is it?” laughingly asked Nellie, nervously playing
with the tassel of her blue silk apron.

After a moment, Mrs. Livingstone replied, “It may
seem out of place for me to speak of it, but I know you,
Miss Douglass, for a girl of excellent sense, and feel sure
you will not betray me to either party.”

“Certainly not,” answered Nellie, rather haughtily,
while her tormentor continued: “Well, then, it is my
son, and I assure you, both myself and husband are well
pleased that it should be so. From the moment I first
saw Mabel, I felt for her a motherly affection for which I
could not account, and if I were now to select my future
daughter-in-law, I should prefer her to all others.”

Here ensued a pause which Nellie felt no inclination to
break, and again Mrs. Livingstone spoke: “It may be a
weakness, but I have always felt anxious that John should
make a match every way worthy of him, both as to
wealth and station. Indeed, I would hardly be willing
for him to marry one whose fortune is less than Mabel's.
But I need have no fears, for John has his own views on
that subject, and though he may sometimes be attentive
to girls far beneath him, he is pretty sure in the end to
do as I think best!”

Poor Nellie! How every word sank into her soul,
torturing her almost to madness. She did not stop to
consider the improbability of what she heard. Naturally
impulsive and excitable, she believed it all, for if John

Jr. really loved her, as once she had fondly believed, had
there not been a thousand opportunities for him to tell
her so? At this moment Mabel reëntered the parlor, and
Nellie, on the plea of seeing to the dinner, left the room,
going she scarce knew whither, until she found herself in
a little arbor at the foot of the garden, where many and
many a time John Jr. had sat with her, and where he
would never sit again—so she thought, so she believed—
and throwing herself upon one of the seats, she struggled
hard to school herself to meet the worst—to conquer the
bitter resentment which she felt rising within her toward
Mabel, who had supplanted her in the affections of the
only one she had ever loved.

Nellie had a noble, generous nature, and after a few
moments of calmer reflection, she rose up, strengthened
in her purpose of never suffering Mabel to know how
deeply she had wronged her. “She is an orphan—a lonely
orphan,” thought she, “and God forbid that through
me one drop of bitterness should mingle in her cup of
joy.”

With a firm step she walked to the kitchen, gave some
additional orders concerning the dinner, and then returned
to the parlor, half shuddering when Mabel came
near her, and then with a strong effort pressing the little
blue-veined hand laid so confidingly upon her own.
Dinner being over, Mrs. Livingstone, who had some other
calls to make, took her leave, bidding a most affectionate
adieu to Mabel, who clung to her as if she had
indeed been her mother.

“Good-by, darling Meb,” said she. “I shall come for you
to visit us erelong.” Turning to Nellie, she said, “Do
take care of her health, which you know is now precious
to more than one;” then in a whisper she added, “Remember
that what I have told you is sacred.”

The next moment she was gone, and mechanically,
Nellie returned to the parlor, together with Mabel, whose
unusual buoyancy of spirits contrasted painfully with the
silence and sadness which lay around her heart. That
night, Mr. Douglass had some business in the city, and
the two girls were left alone. The lamps were unlighted,
for the full golden moonlight, which streamed through the
window-panes, suited better the mood of Nellie, who,
leaning upon the arm of the sofa, looked listlessly out
upon the deep beauty of the night. Upon a little stool at
her feet, sat Mabel, her head resting on Nellie's lap, and
her hand searching in vain for another, which involuntarily
moved farther and farther away, as hers advanced.

At length she spoke: “Nellie, dear Nellie—there is
something I want so much to tell you—if you will hear
it, and not think me foolish.”

With a strong effort, the hand which had crept away
under the sofa-cushion, came back from its hiding-place,
and rested upon Mabel's brow, while Nellie's voice answered,
softly and slow, “What is it, Mabel? I will hear
you.”

Briefly, then, Mabel told the story of her short life, beginning
at the time when a frowning nurse tore her
away from her dead mother, chiding her for her tears, and
threatening her with punishment if she did not desist.
“Since then,” said she, “I have been so lonely—how
lonely, none but a friendless orphan can know. No one
has ever loved me, or if for a time they seemed to, they
soon grew weary of me, and left me ten times more
wretched than before. I never once dreamed that—that
Mr. Livingstone could care aught for one so ugly as I
know I am. I thought him better suited for you, Nellie.
(How cold your hand is, but don't take it away, for it
cools my forehead.”)

The icy hand was not withdrawn, and Mabel continued:
“Yes, I think him better suited to you, and when his
mother told me that he loved me, and that he would, undoubtedly,
one day make me his wife, it was almost too
much for me to believe, but it makes me so happy—oh, so
happy.”

“And he—he, too, told you that he loved you?” said
Nellie, very low, holding her breath for the answer.

“Oh, no—he never told me in words. 'Twas his mother
that told me—he only acted!”

“And what did he do?' asked Nellie, smiling in spite
of herself, at the simplicity of Mabel, who, without any
intention of exaggerating, proceeded to tell what John
Jr. had said and done, magnifying every attention, until
Nellie, blinded as she was by what his mother had said, was
convinced that, at all events, he was not true to herself.
To be sure, he had never told her he loved her in words;
but in actions he had said it many a time, and if he could
do the same with Mabel, he must be false either to one or
the other. Always frank and open-hearted herself, Nellie
despised anything like deception in others, and the high
opinion she had once entertained for John Jr., was now
greatly changed.

Still, reason as she would, Nellie could not forget so
easily, and the hour of midnight found her restless and
wakeful. At length, rising up and leaning upon her elbow,
she looked down upon the face of Mabel, who lay
sleeping sweetly at her side. Many and bitter were her
thoughts, and as she looked upon her rival, marking her
plain features and sallow skin, an expression of scorn flitted
for an instant across her face.

“And she is preferred to me!” said she. “Well, let
it be so, and God grant I may not hate her.”

Erelong, better feelings came to her aid, and with her
arms wound round Mabel's neck, as if to ask forgiveness
for her unkind thoughts, she fell asleep.