CHAPTER XVIII.THE DEPARTURE.“John, how would you like to take a trip to New York—the city, I mean?” said Mr. Livingstone, to his son, one morning about two weeks following the events narrated in the last chapter.“Well enough—why do you ask?” answered John.“Because,” said his father, “I have to-day received a letter which makes it necessary for one of us to be there the 15th, and as you are fond of traveling, I had rather you would go. You had better start immediately—say to-morrow.”John Jr. started from his chair. To-morrow she left her home—the 15th she sailed. He might see her again, though at a distance, for she should never know he followed her! Since that night in Frankfort he had not looked upon her face, but he had kept his promise, returning to her everything—everything except a withered rose-bud, which years before, when but a boy, he had twined among the heavy braids of her hair, and which she had given back to him, playfully fastening it in the button-hole of his roundabout! How well he remembered that day. She was a little romping girl, teasing him unmercifully about hisflat feetandbig hands, chiding him for hisnegro slang, as she termed his favorite expressions, and with whatever else she did, weaving her image into his heart’s best and noblest affections, until he seemed to live only for her, But now ’twas changed—terribly changed. She was no longer “his Nellie,” the Nellie of his boyhood’s love; and with a muttered curse and a tear, large, round, and hot, such as only John Jr. could shed, he sent her back every memento of the past, all save that rose-bud, with which he could not part, it seemed so like his early hopes—withered and dead.Nellie was alone, preparing for her journey, when the box containing the treasures was handed her. Again and again she examined to see if there were not one farewell word, but there was nothing save, “Here endeth the first lesson!” followed by two exclamation points, which John Jr. had dashed off at random. Every article seemed familiar to her as she looked them over, and everything was there but one—she missed the rose-bud—and she wondered at the omission for she knew he had it in his possession. He had told her so not three months before. Why, then, did he not return it? Was it a lingering affection for her which prompted the detention? Perhaps so, and down in Nellie’s heart was one warm, bright spot, the memory of that bud, which grew green and fresh again, as on the day when first it was torn from its parent stem.When it was first known at Maple Grove, that Nellie was going to Europe, Mrs. Livingstone, who saw in the future the full consummation of her plans, proposed that Mabel should spend the period of Nellie’s absence with her. But to this Mr. Douglass would not consent.“He could not part with both his daughters,” he said, and Mabel decided to remain, stipulating that ’Lena, of whom she was very fond, should pass a portion of the time with her.“All the time, if she chooses,” said Mr. Douglass, who also liked ’Lena, while Nellie, who was present, immediately proposed that she should take music lessons of Monsieur Du Pont, who had recently come to the city, and who was said to be a superior teacher. “She is fond of music,” said she, “and has always wanted to learn, but that aunt of hers never seemed willing; and this will be a good opportunity, for she can use my piano all the time if she chooses.”“Capital!” exclaimed Mabel, generously thinking how she would pay the bills, and how much she would assist ’Lena, for Mabel was an excellent musician, singing and playing admirably.When this plan was proposed to ’Lena, she objected, for two reasons. The first, that she could not leave her grandmother, and second, that much as she desired the lessons, she would not suffer Mabel to pay for them, and she had no means of her own. On the first point she began to waver, when Mrs. Nichols, who was in unusually good health, insisted upon her going.“It will do you a sight of good,” said she, “and there’s no kind of use why you should stay hived up with me. I’d as lief be left alone as not, and I shall take comfort thinkin’ you’re larnin’ to play the pianner, for I’ve allus wondered ’Tildy didn’t set you at Car’line’s. So, go,” the old lady continued, whispering in ’Lena’s ear, “Go, and mebby some day you’ll be a music teacher, and take care of us both.”Still, ’Lena hesitated at receiving so much from Mabel, who, after a moment’s thought, exclaimed, “Why, I can teach you myself! I should love to dearly. It will be something to occupy my mind; and my instructors have frequently said that I was capable of teaching advanced pupils, if I chose. You’ll go now, I know”—and Mabel plead her cause so well, that ’Lena finally consented, saying she should come home once a week to see her grandmother.“A grand arrangement, I must confess,” said Carrie, when she heard of it. “I should think she sponged enough from her connections, without living on other folks, and poor ones, too, like Mr. Douglass.”“How ridiculous you talk,” said John Jr., who was present. “You’d be perfectly willing to spend a year at Mr. Graham’s, or Mr. Douglass’s either, if he had a son whom you considered an eligible match. Then as to his being so poor, that’s one of Mother Atkins’ yarns, and she knows everybody’s history, from Noah down to the present day. For ’Lena’s sake I am glad to have her go, though heaven knows what I shall do without her.”Mrs. Livingstone, too, was secretly pleased, for she would thus be more out of Durward’s way, and the good lady was again becoming somewhat suspicious. So when her husband objected, saying ’Lena could take lessons at home if she liked, she quietly overruled him, giving many good reasons why ’Lena should go, and finally saying that if Mrs. Nichols was very lonely without her, she might spend her evenings in the parlor when there was no company present! So it was decided that ’Lena should go, and highly pleased with the result of their call, Mr. Douglass and Mabel returned to Frankfort.At length the morning came when Nellie was to start on her journey. Mr. Wilbur had arrived the night before, together with his sister, whose marble cheek and lusterless eye even then foretold the lonely grave which awaited her far away ’neath a foreign sky. Durward and Mr. Douglass accompanied them as far as Cincinnati, where they took the cars for Buffalo. Just before it rolled from the depot, a young man closely muffled, who had been watching our party, sprang into a car just in the rear of the one they had chosen, and taking the first vacant seat, abandoned himself to his own thoughts, which must have been very absorbing, as a violent shake was necessary, ere he heeded the call of “Your ticket, sir.”Onward, onward flew the train, while faster and faster Nellie’s tears were dropping. They had gushed forth when she saw the quivering chin and trembling lips of her gray-haired father, as he bade his only child good-bye, and now that he was gone, she wept on, never heeding her young friend, who strove in vain to call her attention to the fast receding hills of Kentucky, which she—Mary—was leaving forever. Other thoughts than those of her father mingled with Nellie’s tears, for she could not forget John Jr., nor the hope cherished to the last that he would come to say farewell. But he did not. They had parted in coldness, if not in anger, and she might never see him again.“Come, cheer up, Miss Douglass; I cannot suffer you to be so sad,” said Mr. Wilbur, placing himself by Nellie, and thoughtlessly throwing his arm across the back of the seat, while at the same time he bent playfully forward to peep under her bonnet.And Nellie did look up, smiling through her tears, but she did not observe the flashing eyes which watched her through the window at the rear of the car. Always restless and impatient of confinement, John Jr. had come out for a moment upon the platform, ostensibly to take the air, but really to see if it were possible to get a glimpse of Nellie. She was sitting not far from the door, and he looked in, just in time to witness Mr. Wilbur’s action, which he of course construed just as his jealousy dictated.“Confounded fool!” thought he. “Iwouldn’t hug Nellie in the cars in good broad daylight, even if I was married to her!”And returning to his seat; he wondered which was the silliest, “for Nellie to run off with Mr. Wilbur, or for himself to run after her. Six of one and half a dozen of the other, I reckon,” said he; at the same time wrapping himself in his shawl, he feigned sleep at every station, for the sake of retaining his entire seat, and sometimes if the crowd was great, going so far as to snore loudly!And thus they proceeded onward, Nellie never suspecting the close espionage kept upon her by John Jr., who once in the night, at a crowded depot, passed so closely to her that he felt her warm breath on his cheek. And when, on the morning of the 15th, she sailed, she little thought who it was that followed her down to the water’s edge, standing on the last spot where she had stood, and watching with a swelling heart the vessel which bore her away.“I’m nothing better than a walking dead man, now,” said he, as he, retraced his steps back to his hotel. “Nellie’s gone, and with her all for which I lived, for she’s the only girl except ’Lena who isn’t a libel on the sex—or, yes—there’s Anna—does as well as she knows how—and there’s Mabel, a little simpleton, to be sure, but amiable and good-natured, and on the whole, as smart as they’ll average. ’Twas kind in her, anyway, to offer to pay ’Lena’s music bills.”And with these reflections, John Jr. sought out the men whom he had come to see, transacted his business, and then started for home, where he found his mother in unusually good spirits. Matters thus far had succeeded even beyond her most sanguine expectations. Nellie was gone to Europe, and the rest she fancied would be easy. ’Lena, too, was gone, but the result of this was not what she had hoped. Durward had been at Maple Grove but once since ’Lena left, while she had heard of his being in Frankfort several times.“Something must be done”—her favorite expression and in her difficulty she determined to call upon Mrs. Graham, whom she had not seen since Christmas. “It is quite time she knew about the gray pony, as well as other matters,” thought she, and ordering the carriage, she set out one morning for Woodlawn, intending to spend the day if she found its mistress amiably disposed, which was not always the case.
“John, how would you like to take a trip to New York—the city, I mean?” said Mr. Livingstone, to his son, one morning about two weeks following the events narrated in the last chapter.
“Well enough—why do you ask?” answered John.
“Because,” said his father, “I have to-day received a letter which makes it necessary for one of us to be there the 15th, and as you are fond of traveling, I had rather you would go. You had better start immediately—say to-morrow.”
John Jr. started from his chair. To-morrow she left her home—the 15th she sailed. He might see her again, though at a distance, for she should never know he followed her! Since that night in Frankfort he had not looked upon her face, but he had kept his promise, returning to her everything—everything except a withered rose-bud, which years before, when but a boy, he had twined among the heavy braids of her hair, and which she had given back to him, playfully fastening it in the button-hole of his roundabout! How well he remembered that day. She was a little romping girl, teasing him unmercifully about hisflat feetandbig hands, chiding him for hisnegro slang, as she termed his favorite expressions, and with whatever else she did, weaving her image into his heart’s best and noblest affections, until he seemed to live only for her, But now ’twas changed—terribly changed. She was no longer “his Nellie,” the Nellie of his boyhood’s love; and with a muttered curse and a tear, large, round, and hot, such as only John Jr. could shed, he sent her back every memento of the past, all save that rose-bud, with which he could not part, it seemed so like his early hopes—withered and dead.
Nellie was alone, preparing for her journey, when the box containing the treasures was handed her. Again and again she examined to see if there were not one farewell word, but there was nothing save, “Here endeth the first lesson!” followed by two exclamation points, which John Jr. had dashed off at random. Every article seemed familiar to her as she looked them over, and everything was there but one—she missed the rose-bud—and she wondered at the omission for she knew he had it in his possession. He had told her so not three months before. Why, then, did he not return it? Was it a lingering affection for her which prompted the detention? Perhaps so, and down in Nellie’s heart was one warm, bright spot, the memory of that bud, which grew green and fresh again, as on the day when first it was torn from its parent stem.
When it was first known at Maple Grove, that Nellie was going to Europe, Mrs. Livingstone, who saw in the future the full consummation of her plans, proposed that Mabel should spend the period of Nellie’s absence with her. But to this Mr. Douglass would not consent.
“He could not part with both his daughters,” he said, and Mabel decided to remain, stipulating that ’Lena, of whom she was very fond, should pass a portion of the time with her.
“All the time, if she chooses,” said Mr. Douglass, who also liked ’Lena, while Nellie, who was present, immediately proposed that she should take music lessons of Monsieur Du Pont, who had recently come to the city, and who was said to be a superior teacher. “She is fond of music,” said she, “and has always wanted to learn, but that aunt of hers never seemed willing; and this will be a good opportunity, for she can use my piano all the time if she chooses.”
“Capital!” exclaimed Mabel, generously thinking how she would pay the bills, and how much she would assist ’Lena, for Mabel was an excellent musician, singing and playing admirably.
When this plan was proposed to ’Lena, she objected, for two reasons. The first, that she could not leave her grandmother, and second, that much as she desired the lessons, she would not suffer Mabel to pay for them, and she had no means of her own. On the first point she began to waver, when Mrs. Nichols, who was in unusually good health, insisted upon her going.
“It will do you a sight of good,” said she, “and there’s no kind of use why you should stay hived up with me. I’d as lief be left alone as not, and I shall take comfort thinkin’ you’re larnin’ to play the pianner, for I’ve allus wondered ’Tildy didn’t set you at Car’line’s. So, go,” the old lady continued, whispering in ’Lena’s ear, “Go, and mebby some day you’ll be a music teacher, and take care of us both.”
Still, ’Lena hesitated at receiving so much from Mabel, who, after a moment’s thought, exclaimed, “Why, I can teach you myself! I should love to dearly. It will be something to occupy my mind; and my instructors have frequently said that I was capable of teaching advanced pupils, if I chose. You’ll go now, I know”—and Mabel plead her cause so well, that ’Lena finally consented, saying she should come home once a week to see her grandmother.
“A grand arrangement, I must confess,” said Carrie, when she heard of it. “I should think she sponged enough from her connections, without living on other folks, and poor ones, too, like Mr. Douglass.”
“How ridiculous you talk,” said John Jr., who was present. “You’d be perfectly willing to spend a year at Mr. Graham’s, or Mr. Douglass’s either, if he had a son whom you considered an eligible match. Then as to his being so poor, that’s one of Mother Atkins’ yarns, and she knows everybody’s history, from Noah down to the present day. For ’Lena’s sake I am glad to have her go, though heaven knows what I shall do without her.”
Mrs. Livingstone, too, was secretly pleased, for she would thus be more out of Durward’s way, and the good lady was again becoming somewhat suspicious. So when her husband objected, saying ’Lena could take lessons at home if she liked, she quietly overruled him, giving many good reasons why ’Lena should go, and finally saying that if Mrs. Nichols was very lonely without her, she might spend her evenings in the parlor when there was no company present! So it was decided that ’Lena should go, and highly pleased with the result of their call, Mr. Douglass and Mabel returned to Frankfort.
At length the morning came when Nellie was to start on her journey. Mr. Wilbur had arrived the night before, together with his sister, whose marble cheek and lusterless eye even then foretold the lonely grave which awaited her far away ’neath a foreign sky. Durward and Mr. Douglass accompanied them as far as Cincinnati, where they took the cars for Buffalo. Just before it rolled from the depot, a young man closely muffled, who had been watching our party, sprang into a car just in the rear of the one they had chosen, and taking the first vacant seat, abandoned himself to his own thoughts, which must have been very absorbing, as a violent shake was necessary, ere he heeded the call of “Your ticket, sir.”
Onward, onward flew the train, while faster and faster Nellie’s tears were dropping. They had gushed forth when she saw the quivering chin and trembling lips of her gray-haired father, as he bade his only child good-bye, and now that he was gone, she wept on, never heeding her young friend, who strove in vain to call her attention to the fast receding hills of Kentucky, which she—Mary—was leaving forever. Other thoughts than those of her father mingled with Nellie’s tears, for she could not forget John Jr., nor the hope cherished to the last that he would come to say farewell. But he did not. They had parted in coldness, if not in anger, and she might never see him again.
“Come, cheer up, Miss Douglass; I cannot suffer you to be so sad,” said Mr. Wilbur, placing himself by Nellie, and thoughtlessly throwing his arm across the back of the seat, while at the same time he bent playfully forward to peep under her bonnet.
And Nellie did look up, smiling through her tears, but she did not observe the flashing eyes which watched her through the window at the rear of the car. Always restless and impatient of confinement, John Jr. had come out for a moment upon the platform, ostensibly to take the air, but really to see if it were possible to get a glimpse of Nellie. She was sitting not far from the door, and he looked in, just in time to witness Mr. Wilbur’s action, which he of course construed just as his jealousy dictated.
“Confounded fool!” thought he. “Iwouldn’t hug Nellie in the cars in good broad daylight, even if I was married to her!”
And returning to his seat; he wondered which was the silliest, “for Nellie to run off with Mr. Wilbur, or for himself to run after her. Six of one and half a dozen of the other, I reckon,” said he; at the same time wrapping himself in his shawl, he feigned sleep at every station, for the sake of retaining his entire seat, and sometimes if the crowd was great, going so far as to snore loudly!
And thus they proceeded onward, Nellie never suspecting the close espionage kept upon her by John Jr., who once in the night, at a crowded depot, passed so closely to her that he felt her warm breath on his cheek. And when, on the morning of the 15th, she sailed, she little thought who it was that followed her down to the water’s edge, standing on the last spot where she had stood, and watching with a swelling heart the vessel which bore her away.
“I’m nothing better than a walking dead man, now,” said he, as he, retraced his steps back to his hotel. “Nellie’s gone, and with her all for which I lived, for she’s the only girl except ’Lena who isn’t a libel on the sex—or, yes—there’s Anna—does as well as she knows how—and there’s Mabel, a little simpleton, to be sure, but amiable and good-natured, and on the whole, as smart as they’ll average. ’Twas kind in her, anyway, to offer to pay ’Lena’s music bills.”
And with these reflections, John Jr. sought out the men whom he had come to see, transacted his business, and then started for home, where he found his mother in unusually good spirits. Matters thus far had succeeded even beyond her most sanguine expectations. Nellie was gone to Europe, and the rest she fancied would be easy. ’Lena, too, was gone, but the result of this was not what she had hoped. Durward had been at Maple Grove but once since ’Lena left, while she had heard of his being in Frankfort several times.
“Something must be done”—her favorite expression and in her difficulty she determined to call upon Mrs. Graham, whom she had not seen since Christmas. “It is quite time she knew about the gray pony, as well as other matters,” thought she, and ordering the carriage, she set out one morning for Woodlawn, intending to spend the day if she found its mistress amiably disposed, which was not always the case.