University of Virginia Library

20. CHAPTER XX.
A FATHER'S LOVE.

When it was known at Maple Grove that 'Lena was
taking lessons of Du Pont, it was naturally supposed that
Mabel, as she had first proposed, paid the bills.

“Mighty kind in her, and no mistake,” said John Jr.,
throwing aside the stump of a cigar which he had been

smoking, and thinking to himself that “Mabel was a nice
girl, after all.”

The next day, finding the time hang heavily upon his
hands, he suddenly wondered why he had never thought
to call upon 'Lena. “To be sure, I'll feel awfully to go
where Nelly used to be, and know she is not there, but
it's lonesomer than a grave-yard here, and I'm bound to
do something.”

So saying, he mounted Firelock and started off, followed
by no regrets from his mother or sisters, for since
Nellie went away he had been intolerably cross and faultfinding.
He found a servant in the door, so he was saved
the trouble of ringing, and entering unannounced, walked
noiselessly to the parlor-door, which was ajar. 'Lena, as
usual, sat at the piano, wholly absorbed, while over her
bent Mabel, who was assisting her in the lesson, speaking
encouragingly, and patiently helping her through all the
difficult places. Mabel's health was improved since first
we saw her, and though she was still plain—ugly, many
would say—there was something pleasing in her face, and
in the expression of her black eyes, which looked down
so kindly upon 'Lena. John Jr. noticed it, and never before
had Mabel appeared to so good advantage to him as
she did at that moment, as he watched her through the
open door.

At last the lesson was finished, and rising up, 'Lena said,
“I know I should never learn if it were not for you,” at
the same time winding her arm about Mabel's neck and
kissing her glowing cheek.

“Let me have a share of that,” exclaimed John Jr.,
stepping forward and clasping both the girls in his arms,
ere they were aware of his presence.

With a gay laugh they shook him off, and 'Lena, leading
him to the sofa, sat down beside him, asking numerous

questions about home and her grandmother. John
answered them all, and then, oh how he longed to ask if
there had come any tidings of the absent one; but he
would not—she had left him of her own accord, and he
had sworn never to inquire for her. So he sat gazing
dreamily upon her piano, the chair she used to occupy,
and the books she used to read, until 'Lena, either divining
his thoughts, or fancying he would wish to know,
said, “We've not heard from Nellie since she left us.”

“You didn't expect to, so soon, I suppose,” was John's
indifferent reply.

“Why, no, not unless they chanced to speak a ship. I
wish they'd taken a steamer instead of a sailing vessel,”
said 'Lena.

“I suppose Mr. Wilbur had an eye upon the long, cozy
chats he could have with Nellie, looking out upon the
sea,” was John's answer, while Mabel quickly rejoined,
that “he had chosen a sailing vessel solely on Mary's
account.”

In the midst of their conversation, the door-bell rang;
and a moment after, Durward was ushered into the parlor.
“He was in town on business,” he said, “and thought
he would call.”

Scarcely had he taken his seat, when again the door
opened, this time admitting Mr. Graham, who was returning
from Louisville, and had also found it convenient
to call. Involuntarily Durward glanced toward 'Lena,
but her face was as calm and unruffled as if the visitor had
been her uncle.

“All right there,” thought he, and withdrawing his
eyes from her, he fixed them upon his father, who he fancied
seemed somewhat disconcerted when he saw him
there. Mentally blaming himself for the distrust which
he felt rising within him, he still determined to watch,

and judge for himself how far his mother's suspicions were
correct. Taking up a book which lay near, he pretended
to be reading, while all the time his thoughts were elsewhere.
It was 'Lena's lesson-day, and erelong Du Pont
came in, appearing both pleased and surprised when he
saw Mr. Graham.

“I hope you don't expect me to expose my ignorance
before all these people,” said 'Lena, as Du Pont motioned
her to the stool.

“Suppose we adjourn to another room,” said Mabel,
leading the way, and followed by John Jr. only.

Durward at first thought of leaving also, and arose to
do so, but on observing that his father showed no intention
of going, he resumed his seat and book, poring over
the latter as intently as if it had not been wrong side up!

“Does monsieur incline to stay,” asked Du Pont, as
Mr. Graham took his station at the end of the piano.

“Certainly,” answered Mr. Graham, “unless Miss Rivers
insists upon my leaving, which I'm sure she would not
do if she knew how much interest I take in her progress.”

So, during the entire lesson, Mr. Graham stood there,
his eyes fixed upon 'Lena with a look which puzzled Durward,
who from behind his book was watching him. Admiration,
affection, pity, and remorse, all seemed mingled
in the expression of his face, and as Durward watched, he
felt that there was a something which he could not fathom.

“I never knew he was so fond of music,” thought he—
“I mean to put him to the test.”

Accordingly, when Du Pont was gone, he asked Mabel,
who he knew was an excellent pianist, to favor him with
one of her very best pieces—“something lively and new,
which will wake us up,” said he.

Mabel would greatly have preferred remaining with
John Jr., but she was habitually polite, always playing

when invited, and now taking her seat at the piano, she
brought out sounds far different from those of a new performer.
But Mr. Graham, if he heard it, did not heed it,
his eyes and ears being alone for 'Lena. Seating himself
near her, he commenced talking to her in an undertone,
apparently oblivious to everything else around him, and it
was not until Durward twice asked how he liked Mabel's
playing, that he heard a note. Then, starting up and going
toward the instrument, he said, “Ah, yes, that was a
fine march, ('t was the “Rainbow Schottish,” then new,)
please repeat it, or something just like it!”

Durward bit his lip, while Mabel, in perfect good humor,
dashed off into a spirited quickstep, receiving but
little attention from Mr. Graham, who seemed in a strange
mood to-day, scribbling upon a piece of white paper which
lay upon the piano, and of which Durward managed to
get possession, finding thereon the name, “Helena Nichols,”
to which was added that of “Rivers,” the Nichols
being crossed out. It would seem as if both father and
son were determined each to outstay the other, for hour
after hour went by and neither spoke of leaving, although
John Jr. had been gone some time. At last, as the sun
was setting, Durward arose to go, asking if his father contemplated
spending the night; “and if so,” said he, with
a meaning in his manner, “where shall I tell my mother
I left you?”

This roused Mr. Graham, who said he was only waiting
for his son to start, adding, that “he could not find it in
his heart to tear him away from two so agreeable ladies,
for he well remembered the weakness of his own youth.”

“In your second youth, now, I fancy,” thought Durward,
watching him as he bade 'Lena and Mabel good-by,
and failing not to see how much longer he held the hand
of the former than he did of the latter.

“Does she see as I do, or not?” thought he, as he took
the hand his father dropped, and looked earnestly into
the clear, brown eyes, which returned his inquiring glance
with one open and innocent as a little child.

“All right here,” again thought Durward, slightly
pressing the soft, warm hand he held in his own, and smiling
down upon her when he saw how quickly that pressure
brought the tell-tale blood to her cheek.

“Durward,” said Mr. Graham, after they were out of
the city, “I have a request to make of you.”

“Well.”

The answer was very short and it was several minutes
ere Mr. Graham again spoke.

“You know your mother as well as I do—”

“Well.”

Another silence, and Mr. Graham continued: “You
know how groundlessly jealous she is of me—and it may
be just as well for her not to know that—”

Here he paused, and Durward finished the sentence for
him.

“Just as well for her not to know that you've spent the
afternoon with 'Lena Rivers; is that it?”

“That's it—yes—yes”—answered Mr. Graham, adding,
ere Durward had time to utter the angry words which he
felt rising within him, “I wish you'd marry 'Lena.”

This was so sudden—so different from anything which
Durward had expected, that he was taken quite by surprise,
and it was some little time ere he answered, “Perhaps
I shall.”

“I wish you would,” continued Mr. Graham. “I'd willingly
give every dollar I'm worth for the privilege of
calling her my daughter.”

Durward was confounded, and knew not what to think.

If his father had an undue regard for 'Lena, why should
he wish to see her the wife of another, and that other his
son? Was it his better and nobler nature struggling to
save her from evil, which prompted the wish? Durward
hoped so—he believed so; and the confidence which had
so recently been shaken, was fully restored, when, by the
light of the hall lamp at home, he saw how white and almost
ghostly was the face which, ere they entered the
drawing-room, turned imploringly upon him, asking him
“to be careful.”

Mrs. Graham had been in a fit of the sulks ever since
the morning of Mrs. Livingstone's call, and now, though
she had not seen her husband for several days, she merely
held out her hand, turning her head, meantime, and replying
to his question in a low, quiet kind of a much-injured-woman
way, as provoking as it was uncalled for.

“Father's suggestion was a good one,” thought Durward,
when he had retired to rest.. “'Lena is too beautiful
to be alone in the world. I will propose to her at
once, and she will thus be out of danger.”

But what should he do with her? Should he bring her
there to Woodlawn, where scarcely a day passed without
some domestic storm? No, his home should be full of
sunlight, of music and flowers, where no angry word or
darkening frown could ever find entrance; and thus dreaming
of a blissful future, when 'Lena should be his bride, he
fell asleep.