 | CHAPTER XXX.
THE RESULT. 'Lena Rivers |  |
30. CHAPTER XXX.
THE RESULT.
The loud ringing of the breakfast-bell aroused 'Lena
from her heavy slumber, and with a vague consciousness
of what had transpired the night previous, she at first
turned wearily upon her pillow, wishing it were not morning;
but soon remembering all, she sprang up, and after
a hasty toilet, descended to the breakfast-room, where
another chair was vacant, another face was missing.
Without any suspicion of the truth, Mrs. Livingstone
spoke of Anna's absence, saying she presumed the poor
girl was tired and sleepy, and this was admitted as an excuse
for her tardiness. But when breakfast was over and
she still did not appear, Corinda was sent to call her, returning
soon with the information that “she'd knocked and
knocked, but Miss Anna would not answer, and when she
tried the door she found it locked.”
Involuntarily Mr. Livingstone glanced at 'Lena, whose
face wore a scarlet hue as she hastily quitted the table.
With a presentiment of something, he himself started for
Anna's room, followed by his wife and Carrie, while 'Lena,
half-way up the stairs, listened breathlessly for the
result. It was useless knocking for admittance, for there
was no one within to bid them enter, and with a powerful
effort Mr. Livingstone burst the lock. The window was
open, the lamp was still burning, emitting, a faint, sickly
odor; the bed was undisturbed, the room in confusion,
and Anna was gone. Mrs. Livingstone's eye took in all
this at a glance, but her husband saw only the latter, and
ere he was aware of what he did, a fervent “Thank
heaven!” escaped him.
“She's gone—run away—dead, may-be,” exclaimed Mrs.
Livingstone, wringing her hands in unfeigned distress, and
instinctively drawing nearer to her husband for comfort.
By this time 'Lena had ventured into the room, and
turning toward her, Mr. Livingstone said, very gently,
“'Lena, where is our child?”
“In Ohio, I dare say, by this time, as she took the night
train at Midway for Cincinnati,” said 'Lena, thinking she
might as well tell the whole at once.
“In Ohio!” shrieked Mrs. Livingstone, fiercely grasping
'Lena's arm. “What has she gone to Ohio for?
Speak, ingrate, for you have done the deed—I am sure
of that!”
“It was Mr. Everett's wish to return home that way, I
believe,” coolly answered 'Lena, without quailing in the
least from the eyes bent so angrily upon her.
Instantly Mrs. Livingstone's fingers loosened their
grasp, while her face grew livid with mingled passion and
fear. Her fraud was discovered—her stratagem had
failed—and she was foiled in this, her second darling
scheme. But she was yet to learn what agency 'Lena
had in the matter, and this information her husband obtained
for her. There was no anger in the tones of his
voice when he asked his niece to explain the mystery, else
she might not have answered, for 'Lena could not be
driven. Now, however, she felt that he had a right to
know, and she told him all she knew; what she had done
herself and why she had done it; that General Fontaine,
to whom Malcolm had gone in his trouble, had kindly assisted
him by lending both servants and carriage; but
upon the intercepted letters she could throw no light.
“Twas a cursed act, and whoever was guilty of it is
unworthy the name of either man or woman,” said Mr.
Livingstone, while his eye rested sternly upon his wife.
She knew that he suspected her, but he had no proof,
and resolving to make the best of the matter, she, too,
united with him in denouncing the deed, wondering who
could have done it, and meanly suggesting Maria Fontaine,
a pupil of Mr. Everett's, who had, at one time, felt
a slight preference for him. But this did not deceive her
husband—neither did it help her at all in the present
emergency. The bride was gone, and already she felt
the tide of scandal and gossip which she knew would be
the theme of the entire neighborhood. Still, if her own
shameful act was kept a secret, she could bear it, and it
must be. No one knew of it except Captain Atherton
and Cæsar, the former of whom would keep his own
counsel, while fear of a passport down the river, the negroes'
dread, would prevent the latter from telling.
Accordingly, her chagrin was concealed, and affecting
to treat the whole matter as a capital joke, worthy of being
immortalized in romance, she returned to her room,
and hastily writing a few lines, rang the bell for Cæsar,
who soon appeared, declaring that “as true as he lived
and breathed and drew the breath of life, he'd done gin
miss every single letter afore handin' 'em to anybody
else.”
“Shut your mouth and mind you keep it shut, or you'll
find yourself in New Orleans,” was Mrs. Livingstone's
very lady-like response, as she handed him the note, bidding
him take it to Captain Atherton.
For some reason or other the captain this morning was
exceedingly restless, walking from room to room, watching
the clock, then the sun, and finally, in order to pass
the time away, trying on his wedding suit, to see how he
was going to look! Perfectly satisfied with his appearance,
he was in imagination going through the ceremony,
and had just inclined his head in token that he would take
him. At first he could hardly believe the evidence of
his own eyes. Anna gone!—run away with Mr. Everett!
It could not be, and sinking into a chair, he felt, as he afterwards
expressed it, “mighty queer and shaky.”
But Mrs. Livingstone had advised him to put a bold
face on it, and this, upon second thought, he determined
to do. Hastily changing his dress, now useless, he mounted
his steed, and was soon on his way toward Maple
Grove, a new idea dawning upon his mind, and, ere his
arrival, settling itself into a fixed purpose. From Aunt
Martha he had heard of 'Lena's strange visit, and he now
remembered the many times she had tried to withdraw
him from Anna, appropriating him to herself for hours.
The captain's vanity was wonderful. Sunnyside needed a
mistress—he needed a wife. 'Lena was poor—perhaps
she liked him—and if so, there might be a wedding, after
all. She was beautiful, and would sustain the honors of
his house with a better grace, he verily believed, than
Anna! Full of these thoughts, he reached Maple Grove,
where he found Durward, to whom Mrs. Livingstone
had detailed the whole circumstance, dwelling long upon
'Lena's meddling propensities, and charging the whole
affair upon her.
“But she knew what she was about—she had an object
in view, undoubtedly,” she added, glad of an opportunity
to give vent to her feelings against 'Lena.
“Pray, what was her object?” asked Durward, and
Mrs. Livingstone replied, “I told you once that 'Lena
was ambitious, and I have every reason to believe she
would willingly marry Captain Atherton, notwithstanding
he is so much older.”
She forgot that there was the same disparity between the
captain and Anna as between him and 'Lena, but Durward
to give her reasons for thinking that a desire to
supplant Anna was the sole object which 'Lena had in
view, for what else could have prompted that midnight
ride to Sunnyside. Again Durward smiled, but before he
could answer, the bridegroom elect stood before them,
looking rather crest-fallen, but evidently making a great
effort to appear as usual.
“And so the bird has flown?” said he. “Well, it takes
a Yankee, after all, to manage a case, but how did he find
it out?”
Briefly Mrs. Livingstone explained to him 'Lena's agency
in the matter, omitting, this time, to impute to her the
same motive which she had done when stating the case to
Durward.
“So 'Lena is at the bottom of it?” said he, rubbing his
little fat, red hands. “Well, well, where is she? I'd
like to see her.”
“Corinda, tell 'Lena she is wanted in the parlor,” said
Mrs. Livingstone, while Durward, not wishing to witness
the interview, arose to go, but Mrs. Livingstone urged
him so hard to stay, that he at last resumed his seat on the
sofa by the side of Carrie.
“Captain Atherton wishes to question you concerning
the part you have taken in this elopement,” said Mrs.
Livingstone, sternly, as 'Lena appeared in the door-way.
“No I don't,” said the captain, gallantly offering 'Lena
a chair. “My business with Miss Rivers concerns herself.”
“I am here, sir, to answer any proper question,” said
'Lena, proudly, at the same time declining the proffered
seat.
“There's an air worthy of a queen,” thought the captain,
and determining to make his business known at once, he
arose, and turning toward Mrs. Livingstone, Durward,
“What I am about to say may seem strange, but
the fact is, I want a wife. I've lived alone long enough.
I waited for Anna eighteen years, and now's she gone.
Everything is in readiness for the bridal; the guests are
invited; nothing wanting but the bride. Now if I could
find a substitute.”
“Not in me,” muttered Carrie, drawing nearer to Durward,
while with a sarcastic leer the captain continued:
“Don't refuse before you are asked, Miss Livingstone. I
do not aspire to the honor of your hand, but I do ask Miss
Rivers to be my wife—here before you all. She shall live
like a princess—she and her grandmother both. Come,
what do you say? Many a poor girl would jump at the
chance.”
The rich blood which usually dyed 'Lena's cheek was
gone, and pale as the marble mantel against which she leaned,
she answered, proudly, “I would sooner die than link my
destiny with one who could so basely deceive my cousin,
making her believe it was her betrothed husband whom
he saw in Washington instead of his uncle! Marry you?
Never, if I beg my bread from door to door!”
“Noble girl!” come involuntarily from the lips of Durward,
who had held his breath for her answer, and who
now glanced triumphantly at Mrs. Livingstone, whose
surmises were thus proved incorrect.
The captain's self-pride was touched, that a poer, humble
girl should refuse him with his half million. A sense
of the ridiculous position in which he was placed maddened
him, and in a violent rage he replied, “You won't,
hey? What under heavens have you hung round me so
for, sticking yourself in between me and Anna when you
knew you were not wanted?”
“I did it, sir, at Anna's request, to relieve her—and for
nothing else.”
“And was it at her request that you went alone to
Sunnyside on that dark, rainy night?” chimed in Mrs.
Livingstone.
“No, madam,” said 'Lena, turning toward her aunt.
“I had in vain implored of you to save her from a marriage
every way irksome to her, when in her right mind,
but you would not listen, and I resolved to appeal to the
captain's better nature. In this I failed, and then I wrote
to Mr. Everett, with the result which you see.”
In her first excitement Mrs. Livingstone had forgotten
to ask who was the bearer of 'Lena's letter, but remembering
it now, she put the question. 'Lena would not implicate
Durward without his permission, but while she
hesitated, he answered for her, “I carried that letter, Mrs.
Livingstone, though I did not then know its nature. Still,
if I had, I should have done the same, and the event has
proved that I was right in so doing.”
“Ah, indeed!” said the captain growing more and more
nettled and disagreeable. “Ah, indeed! Mr. Bellmont
leagued with Miss Rivers against me. Perhaps she would
not so bluntly refuse an offer coming from you, but I can
tell you it won't sound very well that the Hon. Mrs. Bellmont
once rode four miles alone in the night to visit a
bachelor. Ha! ha! Miss 'Lena; better have submitted
to my terms at once, for don't you see I have you in my
power?”
“And if you ever use that power to her disadvantage,
you answer for it to me; do you understand?” exclaimed
Durward, starting up and confronting Captain
Atherton, who, the veriest coward in the world, shrank
from the flashing of Durward's eye, and meekly answered,
“Yes, yes—yes, yes, I won't, I won't. I don't wan't to
if she didn't want me—but it's left me in a deuced mean
scrape, which I wish you'd help me out of.”
Durward saw that the captain was in earnest, and taking
his proffered hand, promised to render him any assistance
in his power, and advising him to be present himself
in the evening, as the first meeting with his acquaintances
would thus be over. Upon reflection, the captain concluded
to follow this advice, and when evening arrived,
and with it those who had not heard the news, he was in
attendance, together with Durward, who managed the
whole affair so skillfully that the party passed off quite
pleasantly, the disappointed guests playfully condoling
with the deserted bridegroom, who received their jokes
with a good grace, wishing himself, meantime, anywhere
but there.
That night, when the company were gone and all around
was silent, Mrs. Livingstone watered her pillow with the
first tears she had shed for her youngest born, whom she
well knew she had driven from home, and when her husband
asked what they should do, she answered with a
fresh burst of tears, “Send for Anna to come back.”
“And Malcolm, too?” queried Mr. Livingstone, knowing
it was useless to send for one without the other.
“Yes, Malcolm too. There's room for both,” said the
weeping mother, feeling how every hour she should miss
the little girl, whose presence had in it so much of sunlight
and joy.
But Anna would not return. Away to the northward,
in a fairy cottage overhung with the wreathing honey-suckle
and the twining grape-vine, where the first summer
flowers were blooming and the song-birds were caroling
all the day long, her home was henceforth to be,
and though the letter which contained her answer to her
perfect happiness with Malcolm, who kissed away her
tears as she wrote, “Tell mother I cannot come.”
| CHAPTER XXX.
THE RESULT. 'Lena Rivers | |