Cora and The Doctor Part 22

Joseph Lee has taken up his residence in the city, only returning occasionally to obtain his father's signature to a check. He swears that the house is just like a tomb ever since the "old fellow" was taken sick. As he has the last will safe in his possession, he gives himself no concern about Lucy.

A few mornings after my return I requested Ann to build a fire in my room, while I gave Pauline her morning bath; when she brought up a great quant.i.ty of brush which would light quickly. The sight of this reminded me of the children, Anna and Willie. I am ashamed to say, that with so many other subjects to occupy my thoughts my _proteges_ had pa.s.sed entirely out of my mind. I inquired concerning them of mother, and learned that they had made great advances in Phebe's good graces, by having completely filled the wood shed with the brush, which Caesar had chopped early in the season, and had left in the orchard to dry. They had come regularly day after day, had taken their dinner at the house, and returned at night carrying a basket of food, or some useful article to their mother.

Frank and I are more delighted than we can express with the change in Emily. To be sure, she never has such high spirits as formerly; but she is cheerful and affectionate to mother and all of us.

When I recall to mind the sad forebodings, I had while in B----, thinking my happiness had gone forever, and then realize what a united, happy family we are, my heart is ready to burst with grat.i.tude.

Our

"Home is the resort Of love, of joy, of peace and plenty, where, Supporting and supported, polished friends And dear relations mingle into bliss."

_Sat.u.r.day, October 31st._

Now that Frank knows my whole heart, I hope he will cease from self-accusation for what pa.s.sed at B----. I was sitting at my desk writing when he came in. I looked up with a smile; but he only made a faint attempt to return it. I instantly shut my desk, and went unbidden to sit upon his knee. He put his arm about me, but did not speak. To divert his thoughts, I asked him about his patients.

"Cora, my dear wife," said he interrupting me, "I would give all I possess," ('including _me_,' I whispered,) "if you could open your heart to me as you do to your mother in that journal."

"Why, Frank, I will tell you all you would like to know. I can't think of anything I wish to conceal from you."

"Isn't there," he asked in an agitated voice, and hiding his face behind me, "Isn't there, away down at the bottom of your heart a feeling, which if brought out to the light, would read, 'I think I have been cruelly insulted by my husband, and I can never love and respect him as I once did?'"

"Frank," I exclaimed, starting to my feet, "let me feel your pulse. I will order draughts for your feet. You surely have had a return of your giddiness, or you would not insult your wife by such suspicions. When you are sufficiently recovered to bear it, you shall take the said journal of which you are so jealous, and retiring to the privacy of the library, you shall then and there learn all that your wife thinks of you."

"Dearest," he replied, "you will do me the greatest favor by allowing me to peruse that part of it relating to ----." I put my hand to his mouth, which he held there. Then I went to my desk, and separating the sheets containing the account of our visit to B----, I put them into his hand.

When he had left the room, I could not help smiling at the look with which he took the papers. It was something like that of a boy who antic.i.p.ates a pretty severe whipping. I began to feel sorry, I had written so much about jealousy, and feared he would think that I attached more importance to it than I do; for indeed I love my husband, if possible, better than ever.

It was four or five hours before I saw him again, and I started to go to him, when I heard Caesar knock repeatedly at the library door without receiving an answer. I therefore waited with great impatience. At length my husband came to my room, where Pauline was playing about the floor, and I knew by his looks, he had been much agitated. I sprang to meet him, when he clasped me in his arms, saying, "Dearest and best of wives, tell me again, that you forgive me. How very inhuman I have been!"

"Are you sorry you read it," I asked?

"No, _no_!" he replied eagerly, "I thank you more than I can express."

"Well, then, will you promise never to think of it more?"

"Yes, except as a powerful motive to be a better, and kinder husband to the most affectionate and forgiving of wives." He added, "I have prayed, with the record of your sufferings before me, for pardon and strength for the future."

"Dear Frank, did you pray for me too?"

"Yes, love, I prayed that we might be spared many years; and that each year we might be increasingly happy in each other, and useful to our fellow creatures." Then lowering his voice to a whisper, he added, "I prayed too for one who endeavored to injure us, that she might find s.p.a.ce for repentance."

CHAPTER XVII.

"Such a house broke!

So n.o.ble a master fallen! all gone! and not One friend, to take his fortune by the arm, And go along with him." SHAKSPEARE.

_Wednesday, November 4th._

I have been to the little hut occupied by William Reynolds and family, to see what had become of the children. Frank thinks it would be well to put them to school. It shall be my care to provide them suitable clothing. This, I can depend upon Miss Proctor to a.s.sist me in making up.

We found the poor woman seated in an old rocking-chair, and looking very miserable. Her husband beat her badly a few nights since, for interfering, when he was, as he said, administering proper chastis.e.m.e.nt to Willie. Since that time, she can hardly turn her head or see out of one eye. Her nearest neighbor, hearing a great noise, ran to the house, and secured William. The next day the same man brought a complaint against the inebriate for abuse of wife and children, and for refusing to provide for their support. He is now in the county jail, from which he is to be carried to the House of Correction for three months.

In the midst of their poverty, the children are really uncommonly prepossessing and intelligent. It is easy to see what they would have been if nurtured in a home of competence and comfort. At the time we entered, Anna was standing on an old stool behind her mother's chair, trying to smoother out the long auburn tresses, and twist them under the cap. I felt no repugnance to the act when I took the broken comb from her hand, and made a beautiful knot at the back of her mother's head. I then bathed her poor bruised temple; and promising to do something for her immediate relief, we left her.

I have become much interested in the history of this unfortunate family.

Anna, the mother of my _proteges_, is the daughter of Mr. and Mrs.

Ryland who lived in Waverley. Anna was the elder of four children, two of whom died in infancy, leaving only the subject of this sketch and Edward her younger brother to crown the hopes of their afflicted parents. Mr. Ryland was in the possession of a valuable farm, part of which was left him by his parents; but which he had greatly enlarged and improved by his own exertions. A new house had been erected on the site of the old one, and everything in and about it exhibited the appearance so common among the farmers of New England, of independence, comfort and respectability.

Anna and her brother had been educated with care, and after enjoying and improving the school advantages of the place, they had been sent in turn to academies at a distance.

Early in life Anna had become attached and affianced to William Reynolds, son of a neighboring farmer who was regarded as one of the most intelligent and enterprising young men in Waverley. Certainly his n.o.ble figure, and bright handsome face, made him a welcome guest, not only at the Ryland farm, but in every place where he chose to visit.

Mr. and Mrs. Ryland looked upon William with no little pride as the betrothed of their daughter, while she was at the same time the admiration and envy of the young people of her acquaintance. William Reynolds waited only long enough to be able to erect a neat comfortable cottage upon a spot of ground in Crawford, which had been his inheritance from his father's estate before he brought his Anna to be its presiding genius.

With Anna, there came to Rose Cottage, as the young bride styled her new home, wagon loads of the neatest of furniture purchased by her father.

From the neatly finished attic to the well stored cellar, each apartment received its appropriate part of the new goods. White fringed curtains nicely looped aside with ribbon, were hung in her spare chamber, or the one set aside for company, while a gay carpet covered the floor of the parlor. Beside these two rooms on the lower floor, there was also a s.p.a.cious kitchen, and a bed-room opening from it, which they intended for their own use, while beyond was a large shed connecting the house and barn. This, the neat housewife secretly determined, should, at least in summer, serve them for a kitchen, so that that apartment could be kept more tidy for the eating and sitting room.

As soon as they were settled, Anna's brother Edward was to const.i.tute a part of their family. Not at all desirous to pursue the calling of his father, Mr. Ryland wisely concluded to allow him to follow the bent of his inclinations, justly supposing he would rise to greater usefulness by so doing. It must be supposed, however, that it was no small sacrifice for these excellent parents to part with their son from under the parental roof when he obtained a situation in Crawford, even though he would be under the care and influence of his sister.

Time pa.s.sed on. The roses which had been transplanted from the old place, and which had given the name to their home, grew as if by magic.

In his leisure hours, William under the direction of his tasteful wife, had made trellises a few feet from the window; and now the luxurious roses and vines almost reached the top. But within this sweet abode, in a cradle which had rocked her own infancy, there was indeed a new blown rose, unfolding its sweetness amidst the most tender care and love.

William, ever active and industrious, was accounted one of the most thriving farmers in the place; while Anna by her neatness, and good housewifery, had so won upon the good will of their employers, that whoever else returned from market, heavily laden as they went, with their own produce, William never failed to find customers, eager to purchase at an advanced price Anna's b.u.t.ter and cheese.

But about this time a little cloud arose in their horizon. Edward, who had been rapidly gaining upon the esteem and confidence of his employers, was by the sudden death of the head of the firm, thrown out of employment. His services however were eagerly sought as accountant, and book-keeper, in the great warehouse connected with the distillery, and belonging to Squire Lee. For a time nothing could be said but in praise of the new clerk; and the old gentleman, warned by the early dissipation of Joseph, that he could expect no aid from him, often hinted to Edward the promise of rapid advancement. But after a few months, Squire Lee noticed that Edward never tasted spirit of any kind; and he vowed to himself that he would get rid of a fellow whose conduct was a standing reproach to his own intemperance and to his business.

In fact, Ryland would have preferred a different situation, and had inwardly determined never to be a partner in an employment he could not approve. At that time, he did not realize as he did afterward, the curse that would surely follow those who engaged in the manufacture and sale of ardent spirits for unrighteous purposes. A great press of business about this period, postponed both in master and clerk, the separation contemplated.

Late one Sat.u.r.day evening, Squire Lee visited his counting-room, where Edward was busily employed in making up the accounts for the week, that he might leave them in a state proper for inspection.

"That's a fine fellow!" said the Squire, clapping his clerk upon the shoulder, after he had watched him turning over the journal and ledger, and transferring accounts from one to another with great neatness and despatch. "That's something like, now!"

Edward made a pa.s.sing remark about the amount of business the past week, and went on with his work.

"Yes," resumed the Squire, "that's exactly what I came to see you about. We've engaged a large amount of rum, our very best, to go out Monday morning; and as we shall make a great profit on it, I mustn't disappoint the man. He wants it for a new tavern somewhere down in ----."

Edward looked from his work a moment, as the old gentleman continued, "I know you like to go home and spend Sunday with the old folks. Some bright eyes watching for you, I suppose," said he, with a leering expression, and trying to be facetious, "but the fact is," bringing his heavy fist down on the desk, "them bills of sale have got to be made out; and you must give up going home this once, and take an extra day or so another time to give your gal a ride."

Young Ryland quietly laid the books upon the table, and turning round to look his employer full in the face, he said in a firm but respectful tone, "Squire Lee, I will remain here until midnight, and return at the same hour to-morrow night; but I have been taught to fear G.o.d and keep his commandments; and nothing could induce me to violate the Sabbath in the way you mention."

"Very well, sir," replied the Squire, in a voice of suppressed rage, "we shall soon see how that is. Don't the Bible teach young men to obey their masters?" he asked in a sneering tone. "Your parents had better have taught you _that_ before they sent you here."

Edward stood perfectly calm and unmoved.