A Crisis—pride and Folly.
A Crisis—pride and Folly.
For weeks Antoinette's letter lay in the drawer where Louise had hastily thrust it, and no one had read it to the end.
Mrs. Hawley's health, which had been feeble for a long time, rapidly declined after the news of her husband's death, and in a few days she took to her bed, and shortly after died. The sickness and death of a member of her family, combined with her own sufferings so absorbed the mind of Little Wolf, that at the time she thought of but little else.But when it was all over, and her arm had partially healed, she began to realize acutely the anomalous position in which the purpose she had formed placed her to Edward.
It is true he came every day, and always with words upon his lips that sent the hot blood to her cheek, and each time she strove in vain for courage to approach the subject upon which hung her destiny. It was no wonder that she thus halted; that her heart stood still at the bare possibility of losing its idol; for, orphaned and alone, beyond it she saw no light in her path; only fearful darkness like the shadows of death.
There had been no word of explanation, and Edward seemed to have forgotten that he had ever desired any, and he had settled into his former assurance. His mother had, of late, spoken to her confidentially of the time when, as Edward's wife it would be her pleasure to relieve her of all troublesome cares; and Little Wolf listened in silence and in agony. She longed to unbosom her feelings but restrained herself with the resolvethat she would, without delay, make them known to Edward.
In this state of mind she one day opened the drawer where lay Antoinette's letter and taking it out sat down to read it. She found nothing of interest in the contents, except that which she had previously heard, until her eye caught the postscript at the bottom which read thus:
"One day later. The Indian stayed yesterday to assist in burying the dead. He has just breakfasted and will start in a few moments, and I hasten to tell you the good news. Rejoice with me, all my fears are put to flight. Last night my conscience told me that I ought to invite cousin John to read this letter. He looked so serious when he had done so, that I was afraid I had offended him. But this morning to my utter astonishment he handed me a Total Abstinence Pledge, drawn up in due form, with his own name and Maria's signed to it, and playfully bade me write my name with theirs. "For," said he, "Antoinette, I intend in future to look well to the morals of my household, and see that they touch not, taste not, handle not,any beverage that will intoxicate." I burst into tears, and he said, "O well, if you feel so badly about it, you need not sign it," but he well knew they were tears of joy, and there would be no trouble about signing it. Would that the head of every family in the land, might do as cousin John has done. Then indeed, there would be rejoicing around many a fireside, where now sits sorrow and despair.In love and haste,"Antoinette,"
"One day later. The Indian stayed yesterday to assist in burying the dead. He has just breakfasted and will start in a few moments, and I hasten to tell you the good news. Rejoice with me, all my fears are put to flight. Last night my conscience told me that I ought to invite cousin John to read this letter. He looked so serious when he had done so, that I was afraid I had offended him. But this morning to my utter astonishment he handed me a Total Abstinence Pledge, drawn up in due form, with his own name and Maria's signed to it, and playfully bade me write my name with theirs. "For," said he, "Antoinette, I intend in future to look well to the morals of my household, and see that they touch not, taste not, handle not,any beverage that will intoxicate." I burst into tears, and he said, "O well, if you feel so badly about it, you need not sign it," but he well knew they were tears of joy, and there would be no trouble about signing it. Would that the head of every family in the land, might do as cousin John has done. Then indeed, there would be rejoicing around many a fireside, where now sits sorrow and despair.
In love and haste,
"Antoinette,"
Little Wolf sat pondering over what she had read, never dreaming that her lover was peeping in upon her through the half open door. But Edward was to full of what he had come that day especially to say, to delay long, and he tapped lightly to attract her attention. Little Wolf welcomed him to her side, with the determination that she would then and there speak frankly upon the subject, which had so long pressed upon her mind.
But Edward had scarcely seated himself before he began in high spirits to speak of family arrangements.
"Louise and the doctor," said he, "have finally fixed upon their wedding, and darling," he said, lowering his voice, and speaking earnestly, "it remains for you to say whether or not, ours shall be at the same time.
Little Wolf's pulse quickened almost to suffocation, but she controlled herself bravely, and placing her finger on the last passage in Antoinette's letter, she said, "read that, Edward."
Edward did as she desired, and again turned upon her a questioning look.
"Now, Edward," said Little Wolf, smiling although her lip slightly quivered, "I am ready to set up house-keeping with you any time, provided you will put your name with mine to a pledge like that of which you have just read."
Although she had spoken playfully, Edward saw she was deeply in earnest, and his pride kindled, as the truth flashed upon him.
"Darling," said he, reproachfully, "I may have given you reason once, in an unguardedmoment, to fear for me, but I had hoped that that scene had long since been forgotten."
"It will never more be remembered, nothing of the kind willeverbe remembered," Little Wolf hastened to say, "If I but have your promise."
"Well, then," said Edward clasping her in his arms, "I promise."
In due time Little Wolf disengaged herself and opening her writing desk, she drew him towards it, saying, "Now, Edward, you draw up the document, and we will both sign it.
"What document do you wish me to draw up? Is not my pledged word to love, cherish and protect you not enough, you little infidel?" said Edward gayly."
"It is my request that you draw up a pledge promising to abstain from all intoxicating drinks, and sign your name to it, and I will put mine to the same," said Little Wolf, in the same gay humor.
"Why, darling," said Edward, in surprise, "my promise was all you asked."
"O yes, your promise to sign a total abstinence pledge was all I did ask," said Little Wolf cheerily, "and now, all I ask is that you do as you agreed."
"I did not understand it so," said Edward, "but never mind, darling; now listen to me. Would you, provided it were in your power, prevent my taking a harmless glass of beer in a warm summer day?"
"Well, Edward, of course I would not wish to prevent your indulging in anyharmlessenjoyment, but don't people sometimes get intoxicated on beer?"
"Only slightly elevated," said Edward laughingly.
"O, Edward!" broke forth Little Wolf in agony, "I wish you could see this thing as I do but you cannot."
There was silence for a few moments, which Edward broke by saying, sympathizingly, "I know why you feel as you do, darling, and I do not wonder at it, but warned by my own, as well as the experience of others, I shall keep a strict watch over myself for your dear sake, and I assure you there is no danger of me."
"Then," said Little Wolf, despairingly, "I cannot persuade you to pledge yourself to total abstinence?"
"No," said Edward decidedly, his pride deeply wounded by her implied doubts of his inability to control his appetite, "if you feel that you cannot trust yourself with me after all I have said, I can say no more."
Had Edward fallen dead at her feet, Little Wolf could not have looked at him more hopelessly. But Edward was blind to her mute anguish, and mortified and impatient at her silence, and little dreaming of what her answer would be, he at length asked rather coolly, "Do you really feel that you cannot trust your happiness with me?"
Little Wolf struggled a moment for composure, and then bowed her head in the affirmative.
Edward's flushed face suddenly paled. "Very well," said he proudly, and without another word abruptly withdrew. His quick,impetuous footsteps echoed through the hall; the front door opened and closed, and soon the distant tinkling of bells announced that he had really gone.
As the lovely violet closes its leaves when the shadows of night gather round, so closed the flower, which, in the sunshine of love, had bloomed in the heart of Little Wolf. She neither wept nor made any other demonstration of sorrow, but as she sat silent and alone her lips grew firm, and her eyes brightened and the pupils expanded, and her whole being seemed rising up in supernatural strength to bear the blow.
The Sleighing Party—Clara Hastings—Mother and Son.
The Sleighing Party—Clara Hastings—Mother and Son.
O
n his way home, Edward Sherman found himself suddenly assailed by a chorus of eager voices, as he unexpectedly encountered a sleighing party of gay young friends. They were bound for a settlement near by, where rural festivities were in anticipation.
As he reluctantly drew up alongside of the capacious establishment, where nearly a dozen ladies, (including his own sister), andabout the same number of gentlemen were cozily stowed away, he was beset with urgent solicitations to join their company.
The affair, they stated, had been gotten up on a short notice during his brief absence from the city, and his sister had been inveigled into it, with the expectation of meeting her brother, and particular friend Dr. Goodrich. But the doctor had given them the slip, and they could not, on any account dispense with his society. Louise joined her entreaties with the others. "I will ride with you, brother," she said, if you will only go."
"No, no;" objected the gentleman who sat next her, "I will propose a more fitting expedient. Let Mr. Sherman close his eyes and throw a soft snow ball into the crowd, and upon whomsoever the ball shall rest, let her be transferred to his sleigh."
The proposition at first occasioned quite a tumult, but finally all laughingly agreed to it. Into their midst quickly flew the lump of glittering snow and rested upon the belle of the party, Miss Clara Hastings, and Edward in triumph bore off the crested prize.
Miss Hastings, we have said, was the belle of the party, nor was this all; she was one of the most popular young ladies in the city of Pendleton. Her father, Judge Hastings, a man of talent, and high standing, had bestowed every advantage upon his only child, and she, petted and caressed in society as well as in the family circle, handsome and dashing in appearance, with spirits unbroken, gave life and interest to every amusement in which she was engaged. The turn the affair had taken was therefore as much regretted by her friends, as it was gratifying to Edward, to have obtained so agreeable a companion.
The lady herself did not appear in the least disturbed by the change. On the contrary, as they started off in advance of the rest, her smiling face indicated the satisfaction which she felt at the result; for from the first of her acquaintance with Edward, she had conceived a decided partiality for him.
"It will be nice to get there and rest and warm before the others arrive," she said, asthey rapidly outdistanced the other sleigh.
"Yes, and have a little time all to ourselves," Edward replied, in pretty much the same style in which he would have addressed Little Wolf, had she been by his side.
Miss Hastings looked surprised and tossed her head proudly, freeing the plumes in her jaunty little cap of their snowy remains, and, as the soft particles showered upon Edward, and pelting his cheek, he turned and looking her full in the face said, "those little ice bolts, Miss Hastings, serve to remind me of what a lucky individual I have been this afternoon."
"Have you always been lucky, Mr. Sherman?" said Miss Hastings waiving the intended compliment.
A look of pain crossed Edward's face, but he answered quickly, almost defiantly, "Not always," and giving his horse a smart cut, he created such a jingling among the bells, that farther conversation was rendered impracticable,
"The destination was soon reached, and, being joined by the remainder of the party, the evening hours charged with pleasure flew rapidly, to most of the assembled guests. But neither Edward, nor Miss Hastings were in their happiest mood, and the latter complaining of a headache Edward signified his willingness to conduct her home before the party broke up.
Again in the open air, her indisposition was relieved, and she chatted cheerily, and made herself so agreeable, that her companion really became quite interested, and, loth to part with her, as they drove up before her father's house, he proposed to prolong their ride.
"It is early yet," he said, "and your head is so much better in the open air, would you not like to drive out of the city again for half an hour?"
"O no, I thank you, Mr. Sherman," she said with a gratified smile," "the family are up waiting for me, and I would be happy to have you go in and see papa. He willtreat you to a glass of superior domestic wine."
Edward went in and drank the wine, and spent a pleasant half hour. Shortly after leaving he fell in with some friends, who invited him into another place where choice wines were kept, and he drank again and yet again, and finally went home quite exhilerated under the influence of stimulant. He found that his sister had arrived some time previously, and she and his mother, and the doctor were quietly seated around the center-table, and had been wondering at his non-arrival.
"Give an account of yourself, loiterer," said Louise, playfully, as he joined the circle.
"We had a fine time Lou, did we not?" said he patting her cheek.
"O, if byweyou mean yourself and Miss Hastings I suppose you did have a good time, but I did not enjoy myself a bit."
"Not a bit, are you quite sure? I thought I saw you smile very benignly on a certain young getleman, who objected to your riding with me."
"An optical dulusion, brother, entirely so, I would have much preferred to have gone with you."
"Now I'll kiss you for that," said Edward, suiting the action to the word.
"O Ned, what have you been drinking? Your breath smells ofsomething."
"O, I went in and took a glass of domestic wine with Judge Hastings," said Edward carelessly.
Mrs. Sherman instantly took the alarm. "I am afraid," she said, that these domestic wines create an appetite for more hurtful drinks. Don't you think so, Edward?"
"Why no, mother. If every family kept a supply of pure domestic wine in the cellar, and were at liberty to drink when they pleased, there would, in my opinion, be much less drunkenness than there is at present. Plenty of pure wine would soon do away with the adulterated liquors so common in public places and social drinking would become much more harmless than it is at present. I would advise you, mother, to keep up a vigorous correspondence with Recta on the subject, about currant time next summer, for it is getting quite fashionable to manufacture your own wines."
"Mark my words, Edward, the fashion will prove an injury to society; frequent indulgences in any drink that will intoxicate, it is well known, has always proved more or less fatal to the peace and prosperity of communities, as well as individuals. I can well remember the time when social drinking was practised in almost every family, and at all fashionable entertainments, and I well remember the consequences. The ruin it wrought cannot be told. It was wine in the cellar, and on the side board, Edward, as well as stronger drinks that did the mischief. Good men and brave, felt its effects and gave the alarm, and great efforts were made to put a stop to the evil, and thousands were reclaimed from drunkenness, but, of late years, the agitation has in a measure subsided, and the evil is again on the increase, insinuating itself into families in the form ofdomestic wines, which are generally supposed to be so harmless, but which are, in reality, the foundation of intemperance."
"You cannot make people believe that mother."
"The time will come when they will be forced to believe it, my son; for the free use of domestic wines in families, is not going to keep husbands, brothers and friends from the lager beer saloons where the feet of the unwary become so easily entangled. On the contrary, past experience proves that the taste for stimulating drinks acquired at home rather has a tendency to lead men to frequent such places."
"But, mother, remember it is not the use of these things, but the abuse, that does the harm."
"True, my son, but the use in nine cases out of ten, leads to the abuse, and it is strange that mothers and sisters will imperil their happiness for fashion's sake. I would rather that Judge Hastings had offered you an adder in the cup, than the drink which he did;for had you seen the poisonous reptile, you would have turned from it, but, hidden in the enticing wine, the serpent's sting fastens itself upon the vitals and its victim knows it not."
O, mother, you are perfectly beside yourself on the subject. Judge Hastings is a man who, I make no doubt, has drank moderately all his life; and who among us is more vigorous in mind and body? It is all nonsense, the idea that a man must necessarily become a drunkard, because he occasionally indulges in stimulants."
"Ma, ma," broke in Louise, who saw that her mother felt hurt, "you might as well hand Edward over to the persuasion of Miss DeWolf. If anybody can convert him she can. The doctor says she becomes more beautiful and interesting every day. What do you think, Ned? The doctor was there this afternoon while we were out sleigh riding; he confesses it himself.
"I must bid you good night," said Edward abruptly, and, quite to the surprise of thetrio he withdrew without another word.
His mother suspecting something wrong, followed him to his room, and with true motherly solicitude sought out the cause. "Edward," said she, "when you were a boy, you used to confide all your annoyances to your mother. Can it be that anything has been said this evening to wound your feelings?"
"There are none that love like a mother," said Edward, putting his arm tenderly around her neck, "and there is none in whom I can so safely confide as in you, mother, but manhood's griefs are not so easily soothed as boyhood's. It is not now a broken kite to mend, or a bruised finger to bind up, would it were; would that I had not lived to see this day."
"Why, Edward, what do you mean?"
"I mean, mother, that Miss DeWolf has refused to become my wife, and all because I would not consent to pledge myself to total abstinence from all liquors. I would not deceive her and bind myself to pursue a different course from that which I intend. Myhabits, I believe, are generally considered good, and if a woman cannot take me as I am, I would not ask her to take me at all."
"O Edward, Edward," said Mrs. Sherman beseechingly, "do not let wounded pride, and self-will, come between you and the woman you really love, for I do assure you, young ladies like Miss DeWolf are very rare."
"Were she a thousand times more lovely and interesting, beloved more she could not be, but, mother, I shall never yield the point, and admit that I am incapable of controlling my appetite. When it suits me to take a social glass with a friend, I shall do it; and when I choose to decline it shall be of my own free will."
"You are a free agent, certainly, Edward, you may pursue the course you have marked out for yourself, and go through life a moderate drinker, and young men may point to you as you have to Judge Hastings, and make your escape an excuse for venturing in the same dangerous path, and thus go down to a drunkard's grave; or you may yourself venture to near the precipice, and before you are aware take the fatal plunge; for drunkenness, like death, generally takes the victim unawares. In either case your influence must inevitably act upon those with whom you associate, and you cannot escape the fearful responsibility. Then judgment day alone will open the records of those who have been forever ruined through the influence of moderate drinkers, as well as the confirmed drunkard. The preponderating influence, however, lies with the moderate drinker; with such men as Judge Hastings; who, perhaps, have given the subject but little thought, and who having through a long course of years tampered without apparent injury, with the intoxicating cup, deem that others may do as he has done.
"Yes, and so they may, mother, if they choose. Every man must answer for his own crimes and not for the crimes of others."
"True Edward, and if your neighbor become a drunkard, see to it that the sin lies not at your door."
Edward made a gesture of impatience. "Mother" he said bitterly, "I am not in a mood to hear much more to-night. I am sorry that we do not think alike, but, as we never shall, perhaps the less said about it the better."
Mrs. Sherman silently kissed her son, and, with a foreboding heart, withdrew to her own room.
Letter Writing—Daddy's Nocturnal Labors and Early Walk.
Letter Writing—Daddy's Nocturnal Labors and Early Walk.
T
here were two letters written by lamp light in the old brown house, the day Edward left so unceremoniously. One was by Little Wolf to her confidential friend, Mrs. Tinknor. A few hasty hopeless lines traced upon the dainty sheet; a long glossy curl folded within and her task was done.
The other, Daddy addressed to the sweetheart of his youth, Miss Orrecta Lippincott. He had for some time meditated opening a correspondence with the object of his early affections on the subject of matrimony, but the magnitude of the undertaking had hitherto deterred him; and, at last, he was only brought to the point by the encouragement of his young mistress.
He had resorted to his regularly organized plan of loitering in her room under pretext of mending the fire, while he marked with admiration the easy movements of her pen.
"'Tween you and me, Honey," said he, when she had finished, "I wish I could write like that. I've been wanting fur to write a letter fur sometime.
Little Wolf, without the remotest idea of what the subject of the letter in contemplation was to be, said kindly, "Well, Daddy, you may sit right down here if you like, and use my pen and ink."
Daddy shuffled along hesitatingly towards the vacant seat. "Tween you and me I'm afeared I shall make a very sorry job on it,"said he, "I ain't writ none to speak on this forty year."
"Shall I write it for you Daddy?"
"O no, Honey. I'll try myself, fust anyhow."
"O well, I'll go down to the parlor and you shall have the room all to yourself."
"I couldn't stand it no-how fur ter hev the Honey laugh at the old man's foolishness," muttered Daddy to himself, as Little Wolf slipped away, glad to be relieved of all responsibility in the matter, and feeling less perhaps like laughing at the old man's eccentricities than ever before in her life; and, indeed, it was a long time afterwards before she felt like laughing at all.
In the hall leading to the parlor, she met Sorrel Top, who blushingly begged a private interview, which Little Wolf was too obliging to deny, although she panted to indulge her thoughts alone.
The interview, however, did not detain her long. Sorrel Top had under consideration an offer of marriage and wished to ask advicewhich Little Wolf gave without a smile, or change of countenance.
"Well, Sorrel Top, if he is as you say a man of good habits, and loves you and you love him, I see no objection to your getting married as soon as you like."
While Sorrel Top's affair was being thus satisfactorily disposed of, Daddy was anxiously bending over the sheet, upon which he could not get courage to make the first mark. There he sat silent and anxious, looking vacantly first at the ceiling, then at the pen which stood exactly perpendicular between his clumsy fingers. At length in dispair he arose and began to walk the floor, and then for the first time he observed Fanny Green quietly playing with her pet kitten.
"Fanny," said he, "do you know how to write?"
"O yes, Daddy, a little; mamma taught me to make all the letters."
"Well, Fanny," said he coaxingly, "come here and make a D for me; won't you? "'Tween you and me I've forgot which sidethe plaguey quirl goes. Here take this ere piece of paper, you might spile the sheet, and I'm mighty particular about hevin it in prime order."
As she took the pen Fanny suddenly began to distrust her memory. "Maybe I've forgot myself, Daddy;" rolling up her blue eyes to the anxious face bending over her. But she succeeded admirably in performing her task, which Daddy duly approved, by declaring that the quirl was almost equal to the Honey's quirls. His effort to copy it was also a success.
"See here, Fanny," said he pausing again, "you spell dear, d-e-r-e, don't you?"
"O no, Daddy, I spell it d-e-e-r. It's spelled so right under the picture of one in my book."
"'Tween you an' me, I don't mean that ere kind of a dear, Fanny, I guess it's d-e-r-e, I mean. Howsoever, I'll spell it so and risk it. Now, Fanny," said he, again dipping his pen in the ink, "you stand right here, fur there may be more letters that I've forgothow tu make, and if you'll show me, and help me fur to spell a letter, I'll mend your sled for you to-morrow."
Thus encouraged, the child, with visions of coasting in her pretty little head, combined wisdom with Daddy's, who also had his visions, while he wrote as follows:
Dere Orrecta."Mi hart has allers ben yourn, it is old now, but it ain't dride up nun. will yu marry me now iv got tu be a poor old man. if yu wil i wil cum fur yu on the fust bote. iv got a leetle muny lade up fur a wet day. i hev allers ben stidy, and never drunk anything in my hull life. if yu wil hev me let me no as quick as lightnin figerative speekin.your old flame,philip RoarerChimney Rock. Minnesota territory."
Dere Orrecta.
"Mi hart has allers ben yourn, it is old now, but it ain't dride up nun. will yu marry me now iv got tu be a poor old man. if yu wil i wil cum fur yu on the fust bote. iv got a leetle muny lade up fur a wet day. i hev allers ben stidy, and never drunk anything in my hull life. if yu wil hev me let me no as quick as lightnin figerative speekin.
your old flame,
philip Roarer
Chimney Rock. Minnesota territory."
"'Tween you an' me I reckon that ere is tu the pint, anyhow," said Daddy, proudly folding the letter, upon which he had spent two hours of hard mental labor. "I wonder what keeps the honey away so long; it must be monstrous cold in the parlor. Tom Tinknor wont thank me fur lettin the Honey git cold; bless her heart. That ere sled will git fixed to-morrow, you may depend on't, Fanny, fur I shall feel fust rate;" and Daddy capered out of the room as jolly as a half grown boy, with a plum pudding in anticipation. But, we will do him the justice to say, that there was a depth and earnestness of feeling in this life-long devotion, to which the ebullitions of youth can bear no comparison.
How to break the matter to Little Wolf was Daddy's next anxiety. He stood in mortal dread of the ridicule of his young mistress, but still felt that he ought to confide in her. After taking several fidgety turns before the parlor door, he finally resolved to make thedenouement, and boldly face the consequences.
But the condition in which he found Little Wolf changed the course which he had marked out. She had lain down upon the sofa where fearfully pale and cold and still, she rested, utterly prostrated by the events of the day. Daddy had never seen such aghastly look upon her face before, and the vague fear that life had fled horrified him, as he stood gazing at her in mute astonishment.
At a movement of the slight little figure Daddy was reassured, and he bent over her in tender solicitude, "O Honey, O Pet, be you sick? you look awful pale?"
A groan escaped Little Wolf, and, with a long drawn sigh, she rose up languidly. "I don't feel quite well to-night, Daddy," she said.
"O, Honey, you ought fur to have somebody to nuss you; old Daddy don't know nothin about gals, and Sorrel Top don't know nothin about nussin neither. Now here's the letter I've jest writ, if you feel able fur to read it, Honey, you will see that I am tryin fur to git somebody here fur to take care of you suitable."
Daddy watched closely the effect upon Little Wolf, while she purused the letter, and as he discovered no symptoms of ridicule, he fairly worshipped her for her forbearance."Honey," said he, "what du you think on it?"
"I don't know," replied Little Wolf absently, "I think on the whole it will do very well."
Daddy's face fairly shone. "I know'd you would agree tu it," said he, "you allers had uncommon penetration."
Little Wolf sat shivering and silent, while Daddy pronounced his eulogy, and the old man began again to be alarmed. "O Honey," he broke forth, "what makes you so sick? the doctor said you was doin fust rate this afternoon. I guess I'd better go fur to fetch him right off."
"O no, Daddy, I'm only chilled; you may light me to my room."
"Sartin I will, Honey, and I'll keep a fire fur you all night, fur I shouldn't sleep a wink nohow."
True to his word, Daddy diligently tended the fire, creating in Little Wolf's apartment a general disturbance by his nocturnal labors. Had she been so inclined, sleep would havebeen impossible, while Daddy's enthusiasm raged, for a series of disasters attended his most careful efforts. The bedroom door creaked, the stove door grated on its hinges, the shovel and tongs would rattle, and there was sure to be an occasional downfall of wood, which echoed through the lonely house like the voice of seven thunders.
It was therefore quite a relief to Little Wolf when the grey morning hours began to dawn and Daddy consented to seek a little repose, with the promise that he should not be allowed to over-sleep, "fur," said he, "I must start airly fur to post them are letters, and you won't mind a calling of me, Honey, bein you had such a oncommon night's rest, fur I took particular pains not to disturb you."
Little Wolf did not think it worth while to mention that she had lain awake the entire night, for there was then no counting upon the effect such a communication might have upon Daddy's already over-wrought sensibilities. As it was, he left her, flattering himself that he had greatly contributed to her health and comfort, and, with an approving conscience, laid him down and slept.
At the appointed time he was awakened by Fanny, and rubbing open his eyes, he asked, "Is the Honey up yet?"
"O yes, Daddy and we've all had breakfast, and I've got my sled all ready for you to mend," said Fanny cheerfully.
"Why yes, Fanny, I know I promised fur tu mend it; but, 'tween you and me, I've got fur to go to Pendleton first." Howsoever, I'll fix it afore night."
Fanny looked rather grave.
"'Tween you an' me, I'm sorry fur tu disappoint you, Fanny, but the Honey would be wuss disappointed if I did not post her letter."
"Yours too, Daddy, you musn't forget it," said Fanny thoughtfully.
Notwithstanding Fanny's exhortation Daddy actually forgot both letters, having neglected to take them from his pocket when he changed his coat, Imagine then his consternation, when, having arrived at the post-office and rummaged his pockets in vain he discovered his mistake.
At this critical juncture young Sherman and Dr. Goodrich, arm in arm, happened to drop in at the office, and Daddy, for reasons of his own, pounced upon the latter and held him fast. "Doctor," said he, "'tween you an' me, was you a going fur tu see the Honey to-day? She was took very poorly last night. I was afeared she was clean gone one spell."
"Did Miss DeWolf send for me, Daddy?" said the doctor uneasily regarding the grip that the old man had fastened upon his coat sleeve.
"Why no, doctor; she sent me fur to mail some important letters, and I actually left 'em at home in my tother coat. One of 'em was fur to go tu Miss Tinknor; 'tween you an me the Honey is mighty fond of Miss Tinknor. I'm kinder calculatin the old lady will be the Honey's mother-in-law some day."
The start which Edward gave at this announcement was perceptible to both Daddy and the doctor. The former, not relishing such a demonstration of interest from so questionable a source, inwardly resolved to put to flight the false hopes by which he imagined the young man was agitated. Casting a side long glance at his intended victim he added, "Mr. Tom is a very uncommon fine young man; he is stidy; he never drinks nothin. The Honey has know'd him allers; they played together when they was children and has allers been uncommon attached. Tom particularly requested me fur tu take good care of her while he was gone, and I ain't no doubt if the good Lord was fur tu take her away it would nigh about break his heart."
The doctor, conscious that Edward did not relish the subject, and anxious himself to terminate the interview, waved the matter, simply saying, "I shall be going that way by-and-by, Daddy, and will call upon Miss DeWolf if I have time."
On this assurance Daddy's grasp readily relaxed, and his prisoner, taking advantage of this favorable symptom, made his escape.
Doing and Getting Good—Wycoff's Reform.
Doing and Getting Good—Wycoff's Reform.
T
he day was mild and spring-like, and Daddy had not been long gone, when the snow began to yield to the soft touches of the sun's bright rays.
Fanny stood by the window and sighed, and wished audibly that the sun would "put on a veil."
The wish and manner so entirely foreign to the child's naturally cheerful and contented disposition attracted Little Wolf's attention.
"Why Fanny, do you complain of this lovely day?" she said, in surprise.
"O no, Miss DeWolf, but I was afraid the snow would all melt away before my sled was mended, and I love so much to be out of doors coasting."
"How would you like to take a walk with me?" said Little Wolf, willing to amuse the child, for whom she had already conceived a warm affection.
"O I would like it ever so much," said Fanny, joyfully.
"Now where shall we go, Fanny?" said Little Wolf, as they started out.
"Why, I don't know," said Fanny hesitatingly; "when mamma used to take me out, she said we must go somewhere where we could do good. Sometimes we went over to old Mrs. Peters'; she is sick all the time, and has no one to help her except her grandson, Charley. Mamma used to make her bed, and read the bible and pray with her, and comfort her all she could. Poor mamma often wished she could carry her somethingnice to eat, but we hadn't hardly anything to eat ourselves. May be you wouldn't like to go there, though?" said Fanny, doubtfully.
Little Wolf hesitated.
"She used to know your mamma," said Fanny, "and she said that Mrs. DeWolf was one of the kindest friends she ever had."
"We will go there, Fanny," said Little Wolf decidedly
Their way lay over the very hill where occurred their disastrous collision with Mr. Wycoff; about half a mile from the foot of which, on a cross road, lived Mrs. Peters. Fanny ran joyously on before, occasionally turning back to call Little Wolf's attention to a squirrel, or a bird, never dreaming that her companion was less interested than herself. In this way they reached the top of the hill, and began the descent, when suddenly Fanny began to look grave and loiter beside Little Wolf. At length she spoke in a subdued whisper, "There lies poor Fleet Foot, Miss DeWolf; he will never breathe again."
Little Wolf sank upon a rock by the wayside, and hid her face in her hands. She thought and said aloud, "O, why was I spared to be so wretched?"
Fanny burst into a flood of tears. "What would have become of me if you had been killed?" she sobbed.
Surprised at this demonstration of affection, Little Wolf looked up and drew Fanny towards her. The child's words, she knew not why, had consoled and strengthened her. "Fanny," said she, "everybody must have something to live for, and I have you"
"O yes, mamma used to say we must all live to do good," said Fanny, brightening.
Little Wolf rose and struggled bravely to choke down her rising feelings, for just then she was comparing the bright voyage of life, which she had so lately pictured for herself, with the dark and stormy reality. At that moment, when she would have scorned to indulge in pusillanimous grief, her noble spirit recognized and bowed in willing obedience to the sublime principle involved in Fanny's life-inspiring words.
"Well, Fanny," she replied, "if I do live, I hope it will not be in vain. I'm afraid I've been very wicked and selfish all my life."
"O, Miss DeWolf I'm sure you are thebestest,preciousestwoman next to my mother, that I ever saw in all my life."
Fanny made this declaration with the air and assurance of one whose years had embraced a century; but at that moment, an object met her eye, which reminded her that she was but a helpless child. "O, there is Mr. Wycoff!" she exclaimed suddenly, as the rough farmer was seen coming up the hill.
Fanny trembled violently, for she feared this man. But Little Wolf, constitutionally brave, in her present state of mind feared nothing, composedly seated herself again upon the rock.
The farmer advanced slowly, and recognized Little Wolf with a bow, and reassured Fanny with a cordial "How are you, Fanny?" Then, as he observed traces of tears on Fanny's cheek, and Little Wolf's sad lookand mourning dress, he stopped short. "Now Miss DeWolf," said he, bluntly, "I may as well say it first as last, I did not mean to run over you that day, but I had been drinking, and did not know what I was about. Whatever you say is right, I will pay you, for I have felt mean about it ever since; 'specially as you haven't made any fuss about it."
Little Wolf appeared noble indeed, as she feelingly replied, "Mr. Wycoff, I would cheerfully make the same sacrifice again, if by that means I could persuade you never to taste another drop of intoxicating drink."
"O, I cannot agree to that," said Wycoff, "but I shall do the fair thing by you, for you have acted like a lady."
Then Little Wolf, with a sudden impulse, arose and stepped forward, and began to plead earnestly and eloquently with the man to give up the use of the intoxicating cup. Nor did she plead in vain. The strong man at length yielded to her persuasions; persuasions around which hung the fragrance of thebruised heart, from which they emanated; touching, irresistible.
Inspirational hours are often the fruit of anguish unutterable. The suffering soul begins unconsciously to feel upward, and, at the propitious moment, heaven appoints its work. Thus Little Wolf received her mission, which, with characteristic energy she delayed not to fulfil.
His word having been pledged to total abstinence, Wycoff turned back towards home.
"I was only going to the brewery to meet a few friends," he said, "and if I don't drink with them I may as well keep away."
He walked along with Little Wolf and Fanny as far as the cross road, and when they parted, again renewed his vow right heartily. "Never fear, Miss DeWolf," he said, "I shall never taste another drop of liquor, so help me Almighty God."
"There, now we arecertain, ain't we, Miss DeWolf? for he asked God to help him. O, I'm so glad, I'm so glad you have lived to dogood," said Fanny, as the farmer passed on.
Fanny was exuberant. Her little heart overflowed, and, at intervals during the remainder of their walk, "I'm so glad, I'm so glad," rang out on the still air in sweet, childish accents, mingling with the songs of spring birds, and echoing through the lonely woods.
Arrived at the cottage, they met a warm welcome from Mrs. Peters. For many years, widowed and bed ridden, she had lingered in pain and poverty. Her grandson Charley, a bright, active youth, orphaned at an early age, had, since the death of his mother, been her constant companion and faithful nurse.
He was her pride and her delight, and she in turn shared his warmest affections. It was beautiful indeed to see the noble-hearted boy yielding all his young strength in providing for her wants. His small earnings at wood cutting, combined with the charity of a few kind hearted neighbors, had during the winter, kept them from absolute want. Nowonder, then, that the ambitious youth, anxious to escape the pinches of poverty, was eager to accept a situation in Hank Glutter's saloon, that morning liberally offered by the proprietor in person. No wonder that, grieved and disheartened by the opposition of his grandmother, he met Little Wolf and Fanny, (who had interrupted their discussion of the matter), with a downcast countenance.
Conscious that his manner had been observed, the old lady hastened to apologize, "My Charley is feeling quite badly just now," she said. "Mr. Glutter called here this morning on the way to one of our neighbors, and offered him a clerkship. He will call soon for his answer, and I was just telling Charley that I was unwilling to have him go where he would be exposed to so many temptations."
"Grandmother needs the money," said Charley, "and it is for her sake I want to go. She needn't be afraid of my getting bad habits."
"Well, Charley, we will talk about itagain bye and bye," said the old lady, soothingly.
"But there's Mr. Glutter, now, grandma," said the boy springing to the door, "do let me tell him that I will go,dograndma," he begged with painful earnestness.
"Do as your grandma think's best, and you will not be sorry," said Little Wolf in an undertone as Hank approached the door.
"Well, my man," said Hank with great assurance.
"I must do as grandma says," and Charley threw the door wide open.
At sight of Mrs. Peters' visitors, Hank gave a start of surprise, but quickly recovering himself, he bestowed upon each a gentlemanly greeting, and without futher ceremony, plunged into the business upon which he had come.
"Well, Mrs. Peters, have you decided to accept my offer?"
"You are very kind and generous, Mr. Glutter, and I thank you," said the old lady, anxious to soften her refusal; but too honestto give any except the true reason, she continued, "the truth is, I do not like to have Charley go where the influence will be so unfavorable to his becoming a good, sober man."
Had she studied to make it so, Mrs. Peters' guileless reply could not have been more inflammatory to Hank's temper, for, like others of his class, he was peculiarly sensitive to any reflection cast upon his business. His eyes flashed, and his lip curled scornfully, but having in mind Little Wolf's presence, he responded smoothly enough, "Very well, Mrs. Peters. Good morning; good morning, ladies," and bowed himself out of the room.
Mrs. Peters drew a sigh of relief, but poor Charley, after struggling a moment for composure, left the apartment with quivering lip, and Little Wolf soon caught a view of him through the window, wiping his eyes with his coat sleeve.
"Poor dear Charley," said his grandmother, "it comes hard on him now, but, God willing, I hope he will live to thank me for it."
Little Wolf rose hastily. "I must go outand have a little talk with Charley," she said.
"She is just like her father," said Mrs. Peters, as Little Wolf flitted from the room, "when he first came to Chimney Rock he was a princely looking man.
"O, she is the beautifulest lady I ever saw," was Fanny's enthusiastic rejoinder.
"I have understood that she is very gay and fashionable since she came from boarding school."
Fanny was at first rather doubtful as to what construction to put upon the reports which had reached the ears of the old lady, and she hesitated to endorse anything of the nature of which she was not quite clear; but she finally compromised the matter by saying, "if it is very good to be gay and fashionable, then she is, for she is nothing else but good."
"Well, if she is only a humble, devoted Christian like her mother, I shall be satisfied," sighed Mrs. Peters.
Fanny had by this time come to the conclusion that gay and fashionable was onlyanother name for superior goodness, and she answered accordingly. "Why, Mrs. Peters, she is really a very gay, humble, fashionable, devoted Christion. She is gooder than her mother, for she never took me away from bad people as she did."
Not deeming it worth while to enter into any troublesome explanations, Mrs. Peters determined to suit her language to the child's comprehension, said simply, "Well, I hope she loves God, and will teach you to love him too."
"O, she does love God, Mrs. Peters. I heard her speak to him ever so many times last night, and I was teached to love him before she had me," said Fanny very seriously.
At this instant the object of their conversation made her appearance followed by Charley, whose countenance exhibited quite a different aspect from that which it had worn a short time previously.
Little Wolf had successfully held the cup of consolation to him in the form of a present and a promise, and she was now about to take her leave, but Mrs. Peters detained her. Never came one into her presence that she allowed to depart without first satisfying herself as to whether, as she expressed it, they had "got religion."
Now, it was her belief that pure and undefiled religion before God is this: "To visit the widow and fatherless in their affliction, and to keep ourselves unspotted from the world." An intimate acquaintance with the book in which these sentiments are to be found, had quickened her perceptions as to their true meaning, and, as by that standard she gave judgment, it was not easy to deceive her.
Highly as Little Wolf had risen in her esteem, and highly as Fanny had eulogized the piety of her young benefactress, there yet remained a doubt in the old lady's mind as to the entire soundness of her religious principles. A straightforward question while she still held Little Wolf's hand in her parting grasp, "Dear child, I know you visit thewidow and fatherless in their affliction, but do you keep yourself unspotted from the world?"
The innocent rejoinder, "I do not quite know what that means, 'to keep yourself unspotted from the world,'" resolved her doubts.
"Well, dear child, read your Bible carefully and you will find out all about it," exhorted Mrs. Peters, "I might give you my opinion, but it is better to get your ideas fresh from the fountain head. You will find that those spotless robes hang very high, but not beyond the reach of the arms of faith."
Our heroine went away deeply pondering the words of her newly found friend.