University of Virginia Library

35. CHAPTER XXXV.
EXCITEMENT AT MAPLE GROVE.

“'Lena been gone four weeks and father never stirred
a peg after her! That is smart, I must say. Why didn't
you let me know it before!” exclaimed John Jr., as he
one morning unexpectedly made his appearance at Maple
Grove.

During his absence Carrie had been his only correspondent,
and for some reason or other she delayed telling
him of 'Lena's flight until quite recently. Instantly forgetting

his resolution of not returning for a year, he came
home with headlong haste, determining to start immediately
after his cousin.

“I reckon if you knew all that has been said about her,
you wouldn't feel quite so anxious to get her back,” said
Carrie. “For my part, I feel quite relieved at her
absence.”

“Shut up your head,” roared John Jr. “'Lena is no
more guilty than you. By George, I 'most cried when I
heard how nobly she worked to save Anna from old
Baldhead. And this is her reward! Gracious Peter! I
sometimes wish there wasn't a woman in the world!”

“If they'd all marry you, there wouldn't be long!”
retorted Carrie.

“You've said it now, haven't you?” answered John Jr.,
while his father suggested that they stop quarreling, adding,
as an apology for his own neglect, that Durward had gone
after 'Lena, who was probably at Mr. Everett's, and that
he himself had advertised in all the principal papers.

“Just like Bellmont! He's a fine fellow and deserves
'Lena, if anybody does,” exclaimed John Jr., while Carrie
chimed in, “Pshaw! I've no idea he's gone for her.
Why, they've hardly spoken for several months, and besides
that, Mrs. Graham will never suffer him to marry
one of so low origin.”

“The deary me!” said John Jr., mimicking his sister's
manner, “how much lower is her origin than yours?”

Carrie's reply was prevented by the appearance of her
grandmother, who, hearing that John Jr. was there, had
hobbled in to see him. Perfectly rational on all other
subjects, Mrs. Nichols still persisted in saying of 'Lena,
that she had killed her, and now, when her first greeting
with John Jr. was over, she whispered in his ear; “Have
they told you 'Leny was dead? She is—I killed her—it

says so here,” and she handed him the almost worn-out
note which she constantly carried with her. Rough as he
seemed at times, there was in John Jr.'s nature many a
tender spot, and when he saw the look of childish imbecility
on his grandmother's face, he pressed his strong
arm around her, and a tear actually dropped upon her
gray hair as he told her 'Lena was not dead—he was going
to find her and bring her home. At that moment
old Cæsar, who had been to the post-office, returned,
bringing Mr. Graham's letter, which had just arrived.

“That's Mr. Graham's handwriting,” said Carrie, glancing
at the superscription. “Perhaps he knows something
of 'Lena!” and she looked meaningly at her mother,
who, with a peculiar twist of her mouth, replied,
“Very likely.”

“You are right. He does know something of her,”
said Mr. Livingstone, as he finished reading the letter.
“She is with him at a little village called Laurel Hill,
somewhere in New York.”

“There! I told you so. Poor Mrs. Graham. It will
kill her. I must go and see her immediately,” exclaimed
Mrs. Livingstone, settling herself back quite composedly
in her chair, while Carrie, turning to her brother, asked
“what he thought of 'Lena now.”

“Just what I always did,” he replied. “There's fraud
somewhere. Will you let me see that, sir?” advancing
toward his father, who, placing the letter in his hand,
walked to the window to hide the varied emotions of his
face.

Rapidly John Jr. perused it, comprehending the whole;
then, when it was finished, he seized his hat, and throwing
it up in the air, shouted, “Hurrah! Hurrah for Miss
'Lena Rivers Graham, daughter of the Honorable Harry
Rivers Graham. I was never so glad in my life.

Hurrah!” and again the hat went up, upsetting in its descent
a costly vase, the fragments of which followed in
the direction of the hat, as the young man capered about
the room, perfectly insane with joy.

“Is the boy crazy?” asked Mrs. Livingstone, catching
him by the coat as he passed her, while Carrie attempted
to snatch the letter from his hand.

“Crazy?—yes,” said he. “Who do you think 'Lena's
father is? No less a person than Mr. Graham himself!
Now taunt her again, Cad, with her low origin, if you
like. She isn't coming here to live any more. She's
going to Woodlawn. She'll marry Durward, while you'll
be a cross, dried-up old maid, eh, Cad?” and he chucked
her under the chin, while she began to cry, bidding him
let her alone.

“What do you mean?” interposed Mrs. Livingstone,
trembling lest it might be true.

“I will read the letter and you can judge for yourself,”
replied John.

Both Carrie and her mother were too much astonished
to utter a syllable, while, in their hearts, each hoped it
would prove untrue. Bending forward, grandma had
listened eagerly, her dim eye lighting up as she occasionally
caught the meaning of what she heard; but she could
not understand it at once, and turning to her son, she
said, “What is it, John? what does it mean?”

As well as they could, Mr. Livingstone and John Jr.
explained it to her, and when at length she comprehended
it, in her own peculiar way she exclaimed, “Thank God
that 'Leny is a lady, at last—as good as the biggest on
'em. Oh, I wish Helleny had lived to know who her husband
was. Poor critter! Mebby he'll give me money
to go back and see the old place, once more, afore I die.”

“If he don't I will,” said Mr. Livingstone, upon which

his wife, who had not spoken before, wondered “where
he'd get it.”

By this time Carrie had comforted herself with the assurance,
that as 'Lena was now Durward's sister, he would
not, of course, marry her, and determining to make the
best of it, she replied to her brother, who rallied her on
her crest-fallen looks, that he was greatly mistaken, for
“she was as pleased as any one at 'Lena's good fortune,
but it did not follow that she must make a fool of herself,
as some others did.”

The closing part of this remark was lost on John Jr.,
who had left the room. In the first excitement, he had
thought “how glad Nellie will be,” and acting, as he
generally did, upon impulse, he now ordered his horse,
and dashing off at full speed, as usual, surprised Nellie, first
with his sudden appearance, second, with his announcement
of 'Lena's parentage, and third, by an offer of
himself!

“It's your destiny,” said he, “and it's of no use to resist.
What did poor little Meb die for, if it wasn't to
make room for you. So you may as well say yes first as
last. I'm odd, I know, but you can fix me over. I'll do
exactly what you wish me to. Say yes, Nellie, won't
you?”

And Nellie did say yes, wondering, the while, if ever
before woman had such wooing. We think not, for never
was there another John Jr.

“I have had happiness enough for one day,” said he,
kissing her blushing cheek and hurrying away.

As if every hitherto neglected duty were now suddenly
remembered, he went straight from Mr. Douglass' to the
marble factory, where he ordered a costly stone for the
little grave on the sunny slope, as yet unmarked save by
the tall grass and rank weeds which grew above it.

“What inscription will you have?” asked the engraver.

John Jr. thought for a moment, and then replied,
“Simply `Mabel.' Nothing more nor less; that tells the
whole story,” and involuntarily murmuring to himself,
“Poor little Meb, I wish she knew how happy I am,” he
started for home, where he was somewhat surprised to
find Mrs. Graham.

She had also received a letter from her husband, and
deeming secrecy no longer advisable, had come over to
Maple Grove, where, to her great satisfaction, she found
that the news had preceded her. Feeling sure that Mrs.
Graham must feel greatly annoyed, both Carrie and her
mother began, at first, to act the part of consolers, telling
her it might not be true, after all, for perhaps it was a
ruse of Mr. Graham's to cover some deep-laid scheme.
But for once in her life Mrs. Graham did well, and to
their astonishment, replied, “Oh, I hope not, for you do
not know how I long for the society of a daughter, and
as Mr. Graham's child I shall gladly welcome 'Lena home,
trying, if possible, to overlook the vulgarity of her family
friends!”

Though wincing terribly, neither Mrs. Livingstone nor
her daughter were to be outgeneraled. If Mrs. Graham
could so soon change her tactics, so could they, and for
the next half hour they lauded 'Lena to the skies. They
had always liked her—particularly Mrs. Livingstone—
who said, “If allowed to speak my mind, Mrs. Graham, I
must say that I have felt a good deal pained by those reports
which you put in circulation.”

“I put reports in circulation!” retorted Mrs. Graham.
“What do you mean? It was yourself, madam, as I can
prove by the whole neighborhood!”

The war of words was growing sharper and more personal,
when John Jr.'s appearance put an end to it, and

the two ladies, thinking they might as well be friends as
enemies, introduced another topic of conversation, soon
after which Mrs. Graham took her leave. Pausing in the
door-way, she said, “Would it afford you any gratification
to be at Woodlawn when 'Lena arrives?”

Knowing that, under the circumstances, it would look
better, Mrs. Livingstone said “yes,” while Carrie, thinking
Durward would be there, made a similar reply, saying
“she was exceedingly anxious to see her cousin.”

“Very well. I will let you know when I expect her,”
said Mrs. Graham, curtsying herself from the room.

“Spell Toady, Cad,” whispered John Jr., and with more
than her usual quickness, Carrie replied, by doing as he
desired.

“That'll do,” said he, as he walked off to the back
yard, where he found the younger portion of the blacks
engaged in a rather novel employment for them.

The news of 'Lena's good fortune had reached the
kitchen, causing much excitement, for she was a favorite
there.

“'Clar for't,” said Aunt Milly, “we orto have a bonfire.
It won't hurt nothin' on the brick pavement.”

Accordingly, as it was now dark, the children were set
at work gathering blocks, chips, sticks, dried twigs, and
leaves, and by the time John Jr. appeared, they had collected
quite a pile. Not knowing how he would like it,
they all took to their heels, except Thomas Jefferson, who,
having some of his mother's spirit, stood his ground, replying,
when asked what they were about, that they were
“gwine to celebrate Miss 'Lena.” Taking in the whole
fun at once, John Jr. called out, “Good! come back here,
you scapegraces.”

Scarcely had he uttered these words, when from behind
the ley-leach, the smoke-house, and the trees, emerged

the little darkies, their eyes and ivories shining with the
expected frolic. Taught by John Jr., they hurrahed at the
top of their voices when the flames burst up, and one little
fellow, not yet able to talk plain, made his bare, shining
legs fly like drumsticks as he shouted, “Huyah for Miss
'Leny Yivers Gayum—”

“Bellmont, too, say,” whispered John Jr., as he saw
Carrie on the back piazza.

“Bellmont too, say!” yelled the youngster, leaping so
high as to lose his balance.

Rolling over the green-sward like a ball, he landed at
the feet of Carrie, who, spurning him as she would a toad,
went back to the parlor, where for more than an hour she
cried from pure vexation.