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, maybe,” 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 Anna for his wife, when Mrs. Livingstone’s note was handed 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 did not, and with a derisive smile he listened, while she proceeded 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 bride-groom elect stood before them, looking rather crestfallen, 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 doorway.“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 and Carrie, whom he considered his audience, he commenced: “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 Icouldfind 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!” came 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 poor, 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 around 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, “Icarried 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 want to fight. I like ’Lena. I don’t blame Anna for running away 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 knewshehad 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 honeysuckle 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 father’s earnest appeal was stained and blotted, it told of perfect happiness with Malcolm, who kissed away her tears as she wrote, “Tell mother I cannot come.”
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, maybe,” 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 Anna for his wife, when Mrs. Livingstone’s note was handed 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 did not, and with a derisive smile he listened, while she proceeded 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 bride-groom elect stood before them, looking rather crestfallen, 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 doorway.
“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 and Carrie, whom he considered his audience, he commenced: “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 Icouldfind 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!” came 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 poor, 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 around 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, “Icarried 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 want to fight. I like ’Lena. I don’t blame Anna for running away 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 knewshehad 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 honeysuckle 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 father’s earnest appeal was stained and blotted, it told of perfect happiness with Malcolm, who kissed away her tears as she wrote, “Tell mother I cannot come.”