Lily Pearl and The Mistress of Rosedale Part 19

This was too much even for the staid bachelor, and he joined heartily in the laugh that followed this bit of wit.

"I reckon they do not give you many whippings," suggested Ellen.

"Right smart, sometimes, Missus."

"Where are you taking us, madcap? Here, this is the way to the gin house."

"Yes, Ma.s.sa," and turning in the direction designated he proceeded with the same swinging trot as before. "Uncle Bob drefful bad ober dar," he added a moment after, pointing to a small cabin a little apart from the rest. "Reckon he's goin t' die," and he renewed with vigor the peculiar movement of his strange gait, yet this time the drumming of his chubby hands kept up a running accompaniment to the song he had left unfinished when disturbed in the attempt to imitate poor Aunt Millie.

Anna did not join in the amus.e.m.e.nt of the moment, for her thoughts were with the old man who "was mighty bad ober dar," and she longed to visit him in his humble home. She walked through the extensive warehouse, listened to the explanations regarding the work of the world-famed cotton gin, looked at the huge piles of bales not yet s.h.i.+pped, yet felt no interest in what she heard or saw, so great had become her desire to go to the little cabin where the poor negro was dying; and when they again emerged into the open air, she said, calmly:

"Why not make a visit to the sick now? I have heard so much in the north about the piety and resignation of the negro people in the dying hour that I long to witness it for myself."

The young man looked into the face of the speaker with a shadow of perplexity covering his own. Ellen, however, quietly remarked:

"All of these things have been greatly exaggerated, without doubt, and yet I shall never forget how triumphantly old Peter went home. I was quite small, but my heart learned a great lesson from that death. If you desire, Anna, I will go with you."

"I think, ladies, you had better commission me to carry the wine and oil, for having had one peep into the sensitive nature of our northern friend, I must consider you very thoughtless, my sister, in forwarding her desires."

This was said with apparent carelessness, yet Anna did not fail to perceive that he did not want them to go. Still she was not willing to give it up, and, laying her hand on his arm, she said, playfully:

"Miss Rose will require a little of your Samaritan kindness, if she is still weeping over the tortures of the 'Missing Bride,' and if you will pardon us we will go to the cabin while you administer balm in another direction. To-morrow, remember, we are to finish our rambles through the orange groves."

"Of course he will excuse us," interposed Ellen, "we will not remain a great while." And with a "Just as you please, ladies," their chaperon, with a most obsequious bow, walked away.

"He hasn't gone to the house at all," remarked the sister looking after him, but Toddy unperceived by either had appeared on the scene and with one of his knowing glances remarked quaintly: "Miss Lily ober dar wid de turkeys; I seed her goin' down de walk. Dis be ole Bob's," and rolling up to the door he opened it, then stepped back for the ladies to enter.

"A little gentleman after all," remarked Anna _sotto voce_; but they were in the room where in the farther part lay the old man with closed eyes apparently asleep. "Do not disturb him," whispered Ellen approaching the bedside; but the large eyes opened as she drew near and a smile spread itself over the thin features.

"De young ladies from de house has come to see you," said the girl in attendance. "Bress ye'se honey. I'se most home, got most t'ro' wid de work and de cryin'! Old Bob's done heaps of dem both--bress de Lord!"

And the heavy lids drooped again over the large eyes where such a joyous light seemed burning. Anna could not resist the impulse to take the bony hand of the dying man in her own, and as it lay in her warm clasp he looked again upon her. "Does ye pray, honey? De good Lord help ye! It's but a little way down to de ribber whar old Bob's a-goin'! Poo' ma.s.sa!

I'se told de Lord all 'bout him. It's de liquor what keeps de good away--but den I'se most t'ro'--goin' home--bress de Lord!" A spoon was placed to his lips and as he swallowed the few drops he murmured: "_Poo_' ma.s.sa! It's de liquor," and his voice died away in a prayer Anna was sure for his lips moved almost imperceptibly. There was a moment's silence, then Anna as she raised the hand she had been holding from the feebly heaving breast asked softly: "What are all the sorrows of life to you now? With heaven so near can you feel sad for a moment over what has past? Are you very happy poor, dying saint?" O that look! "It must have been a ray that had darted through the opening gate that so lighted up the wan features," said Anna after, "for it was like nothing I ever saw before." The poor girl by his side was weeping quietly, but she caught the glance of the heavenly eyes, and laying her hand on the white head said soothingly: "Dar's a crown for poor old Bob where dis head won't ache no mo'"; and the fervent "bress de Lord!" fell again from the thin lips.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE DEATH OF UNCLE BOB.]

"Are you not afraid to stay here alone?" whispered Ellen.

"O, no; de Lord and de holy angels are close by, and f.a.n.n.y will be here when de days work is t'ro'. But Bob an I isn't 'fraid. We'll both be dar by and by." Fearing to intrude longer upon the last moments of a departing soul the two stole noiselessly from the humble room which was so soon to prove the gate of heaven to the liberated spirit, and they stepped out into the cool, bracing air, yet not a word was spoken.

"There come the carriages from the depot," remarked Ellen as they turned towards the house. Yes, Charles Belmont had arrived; as also Mr. St.

Clair, in company with the host, from where they had been taking a drive over a neighboring plantation; and shortly after a merry party, to all appearance, sat down to a bountiful dinner. How little we know of the grief, bitterness, disappointment, anger and rage that can be crowded into one dark chamber of the soul over which the spirit of evil keeps its faithful watch, holding in its right hand the keys of its secret domain!

"Old Bob gone dead, sure," piped a voice through a narrow aperture of the door close to the master's chair.

"_Get out_ you scoundrel!" exclaimed the host, at the same time throwing a chicken bone at the intruder's curly head which failed in its aim, while the gleeful "he-he-he!" mingled itself with the sound of Toddy's rapid scrambling up the broad staircase outside.

"Did you know Bob was so bad?" inquired the wife, stopping for a moment in her duties as hostess.

"Bad? Bob wasn't bad about anything! But I knew he was going this morning, the old boy! Well, he did have one fault; he loved his good-for-nothing old master and I reckon things won't go quite as brisk now that he has gone."

"One of the faithful ones, I take it?" interrogated Charles Belmont.

"Yes, and a pet of my father's, who, when he was dying, told me to be good to 'Bob' and I reckon I've done it"; and the little ripple caused by the departure of a human soul closed up, and the dinner with its accompaniments of mirth and laughter went on as though the waters had never been stirred. Death! Mrs. Belmont retired to her room almost immediately after the party returned to the parlor, for a flood of contending emotions had rolled in upon her guilty soul at the very thought of the "king of terrors." Then, too, there came to her through the surgings of the inward tempest the last words of him who was sleeping in the shadows at Rosedale, "Teach the children to be true, n.o.ble and better than we have been, for somehow I can but feel that Aunt Vina is right 'we must have the Lord sometime or be wretched!'" "The Lord! Wretched! Am I not all that now?" and the miserable woman paced the floor as her thoughts went on. Where was Lillian? She was to teach to be good and n.o.ble! Under that very roof was her child! The babe she had so desired to thrust out of sight--out of the world! Every motion of the childish figure--every look sent a barb of anguish to her already tortured soul! "It will all be brought to light" something had continually whispered to her awakened conscience for the last two days, and how could she ever meet it? How gladly she would have throttled the power that was so resistlessly carrying her forward! O the agony of a sin-cursed soul! The stately lady stood by the window and looked out upon the scenes before her. Yonder were the rays of the setting sun yet lingering in the tree-tops; near was the rude cabin where the still form of the humble slave was lying. How joyfully would the proud, haughty mistress of Rosedale at that moment have exchanged places with the poor despised menial! But she must live; the future was unfolding itself to her every moment and what _was_ to be done? Again the record of a mortal life was sadly closed, for on its pages was written the guilt of a perjured soul!

"It must be done!" she mentally exclaimed, while her long slender fingers clasped each other so tightly that the nails pressed painfully into the flesh. "I never could live with such a tornado of disgrace howling around me! _Never! It must be done!_"

"O what a tangled web we weave When first we practice to deceive";

what a concourse of evil spirits will enter when the door of the heart is thrown open to the first invited guests!

The miserable occupant of the upper chamber was realizing it all now as she had never done before. She had flattered herself that the great secret that was gnawing at her very life was wholly in her power; but the fantasy was being dispelled! Lillian was--she knew not where!

Perhaps at that very moment probing the long-concealed mystery and if discovered would _hate_ her mother! This was torture indeed! She halted in her walk and stood again by the window. "I must go down," she thought after a moments pause; "they will wonder at my absence. Secrecy and hypocrisy is my future work! To draw the veil of indifference over the boiling cauldron--smother the fire and be the gentlewoman of fas.h.i.+on and society! O for a mask with which to cover it all!"

[Ill.u.s.tration]

CHAPTER XX.

THE ABDUCTION.

Mrs. g.a.y.l.o.r.d did not expect to return to her Virginia home for some time, it being her intention to spend the winter as far south as convenient, her physician having ordered a warmer climate and an entire change of scene. She thought her health was improving, and so she would remain until the crocus peeped from its bed beneath its brown covering, and then she would return. But it was a pity that Lily should be shut up so closely when there was so much in the city to give her enjoyment.

Tiny could do all her mistress really needed, and "we will make it so pleasant for her," Ellen pleaded; and Mrs. Belmont, who stood behind the curtain, calm and dignified, had, unconsciously to all, set the plan in active operation.

"I suppose I shall be permitted to add my mite to the young lady's happiness, which I shall not fail to do if she will favor us, before I leave the city," she said quietly. All the time she was speaking her fingers slowly turned the leaves of a book on the table as though it was of very small moment whether the invitation was or was not accepted, and as the young lady left the room remarked, quietly:

"I believe I have taken quite a fancy to your daughter, Mrs. g.a.y.l.o.r.d. It seems sometimes that she resembles in some respects my Lillian; their eyes certainly are similar. Do you not think so, George?"

"Yes; I have often been reminded of her. The same deep, thoughtful expression, and at times the same sad look I have noticed on Lillian's face since I returned from Europe."

George St. Clair did not remove his gaze from the face before him while speaking, yet she answered calmly:

"I can see no reason why one so young should have such a look."

The young man bent his head almost to her ear, as he whispered: "And there is no reason under heaven why your daughter's face should wear it.

There is a curse in a false ambition like the one that is blackening your soul. Unbend yourself and do what every mother's heart should prompt her to do. Seek your child's happiness and despise, as every n.o.ble character will, the worldly l.u.s.t that is governing you."

"How dare you!" she exclaimed, rising to her feet and fixing her keen eyes upon him. But she said no more. The power of his calm, unflinching gaze awed her into silence, and turning she left the room. Yet the slumbering demon in her heart had been aroused and as she strolled out into the open air seemed ready to overpower her.

"What does he know about my false ambition? Could she have told him? Ah, but she knew nothing of her child; let her revelations be what they may, this secret is not his to taunt me with. Lost, lost! Poverty is to crush my pride after all I have done. 'A curse!' Yes, a curse has already set its seal upon my ambition--my life." She walked on until calm once more stole in among her the contending spirits, and she returned to the house.

"Mrs. Belmont seems like one who has experienced some great reverse,"

remarked Mrs. g.a.y.l.o.r.d, after her abrupt departure from the parlor. "I have noticed several times since she has been here a disquietude perfectly unaccountable in one of her position."

The young man made a casual reply, and others entering at the moment the little incident was seemingly forgotten.

"It has been decided," remarked Ellen to her brother the next morning; "Lily g.a.y.l.o.r.d will return with us, and Anna seems delighted. I had not thought until last evening that a tie of native land drew them together."