Adele Dubois Part 24

Whereas, ye ken ye told the people that ef they repented o' their sins and believed in Christ and gave the evidence o' gude warks they might settle right doon, and ken they'd be saved, anyhow. I ca' that a peskalent doctreen, an a loose ane to promoolgate. Though I must confess, ye hae na dune the meeschief I luked for".

I did not think it best to go into a discussion of our theological differences, lest it should stir up the waters of strife, and therefore waived the subject.

Mrs. McNab occupies two comfortable rooms at Mrs. Campbell's house, from whence she issues forth, whenever occasion calls, to perform the duties of nurse, counsellor, and supervisor-general of the domestic affairs of the community. The tea-drinkings in her parlor seem to be occasions of great social enjoyment to the fortunate neighbors invited. After the regular gossip of the day has been discussed, she entertains her company with the same old stories of her former life in Scotland, among its grand families, and to these she has added, for the benefit of those who have more recently come into the Settlement, accounts of the "Doobyce" family, characterizing its members by remarking, that "Mr. Doobyce was a braw, princely mon, his wife a sweet, fair spoken leddy, an' Miss Ady was a born queen, ef there ever was ane. She had her ane way wi' everybody, an' e'en I mysel' hae gien up to her, whiles".

Micah Mummychog, alias Jones, Miss Adele's special devotee, never a bad-hearted person, has now become one of the influential men of the neighborhood, and sustains here every good word and work. About a year after the great fire, he had a long and dangerous illness, brought on by great exposure to cold while lumbering in the woods.

Mrs. McNab voluntarily went to his house and took care of him most a.s.siduously, for many weeks, until his recovery. Micah said, that "it looked remarkable kind in the old soul to come of her own accord and take keer of him, when he'd allers plagued her so unmascifully".

He felt very grateful to her and paid her handsomely for her services.

Nevertheless, he teases her yet occasionally and says "he dont know neow, which skeered him most, the great fire, or comin' to his senses one night when he was sick, and seein' Aunt McNab with her head wropped up in its cotton night gear".

Subsequent to Micah's recovery, he went to the Kennebec River and visited his friends. After his return, he commenced trading, and is now doing quite an extensive business. He has entirely broken off from his old habits of swearing and gambling, and discountenances them among the people. He attends religious worship constantly, and sets a worthy example in keeping the Sabbath day.

He is also getting his ideas up on the subject of education. Not long since, he told me it was his opinion that "there warn't half school larnin' enuf among the people, and there'd oughter to be longer schools. There's Jinny Campbell, there, a bright leetle imp as ever was, and ef she'd had a chance would a taken to her books, like a chicken to a dough dish. And there's others, most as smart as she is, all reound, that need schoolin'. I feel the want of it myself, neow its tew late to git it".

A few days ago, Micah told me he expected to build a new house for himself soon.

"Ah! Micah", said I, "have you got tired of that comfortable old house of yours, where we have had so many nice suppers and cosey times together?"

"Well, no, Captin'; I hain't, and I'm afeerd I shall never like another place as I dew that. But ye see, ef a feller is a goin' to git merried, he's got to stir reound and dew what suits other folks as well as hisself".

"Married! Micah", I said, in complete astonishment, "are you going to be married?"

"That's jest the way I expected yeou'd look", said he, "when I told ye abeout it, because ye knew I used to talk agin it, like fury. But ye see, Captin'; I aint just as I used to be, abeout some things. I'll tell ye heow it came reound, any heow, so as to sahtisfy ye I ain't crazy. Well, when I was a beginnin' to git better o' that terable sickness, the fust and only one I ever had in my life, Miss Campbell, she used to send Jinny up, with bits o' briled chicken, nice broth and sech, to kinder tempt my appet.i.te like. The little critter used to bring 'em in and be so pitiful to me and say, do Micah try to eat this, so that you may git well; and she seemed so pooty, sincere and nateral like in all her ways, that I took to her mightily, specially as I hadn't Miss Adele to look arter and ch.o.r.e reound for, any more.

Once or twice, when she came to bring suthin, Ant McNab kinder advised her to do this and that, and the way the leetle critter s.p.u.n.ked up and had her own way, made me think o' Miss Adele and pleased me some, I tell ye.

"Well, arter I got well, she seemed to be just as chipper and pleasant as ever, and was allers glad when I went to the heouse, and so it went on (I won't bother abeout the rest on't) till six months ago. As I was a walkin' hum from a meetin' at the Grove with her, she sed, 'what a pooty Grove that is, of yours, Micah;' Witheout a considerin' a half a minit, I sed, right away, 'Jinny, I'd give yeou that Grove and all I have beside, upon one condition.' I looked at her, arter I'd sed it, as skeered as I could be, fur fear she'd fly right at me, fur sayin'

sech a thing. But she didn't. She only colored up awfully and sed, in a fluttered kinder way, 'what condition, Micah?' 'Pon condition that you'd merry me, Jinny.' You may believe that arter I sed that, my heart stood still, better'n a minit. She didn't say a word at fust, seemed ruther took by surprise, and then, all of a sudding, she turned her head and looked up inter my face as sarcy as ye ever see anything, and says she, 'Do yeou think I'd ever merry a man with sech a horrid name as Mummychog?' 'Is that all the objection you hev, Jinny?' ses I.

Ses she, ''Tis the greatest, I know of.' Then ses I, 'There ain't no diffikilty, for my name aint Mummychog, and never was. When I came deown to this kentry, I was a wild, reckless kind of a critter, and I thought I'd take some outlandish name, jest for the joke on it. I took Mummychog, and they allers called me so. But my real name is Jones.'

'Well, Mr. Jones,' ses she, lookin' sarcier than ever, 'I shall expect yeou to hev a sign painted with your real name on it and put up on your store, and yeou must build a new heouse before I merry yeou.'

That sobered me deown a leetle. I sed, 'But Jinny, I don't want ye to merry me, unless ye like me. I'll build a heouse and gin it tew ye, ef that's what ye want. But ye needn't merry me unless ye like me--neow remember.' She looked at me, jest as soon as I sed that, and caught up my big hand inter her little one, and ses she, 'O law, Micah, I'd merry ye ef yer name _was_ Mummychog, and ye needn't build a heouse, nor nuthin'. I ken go right to the old place jest as well. I'd merry ye ef ye hadn't a cent, for I like ye better'n anybody else in the world, Micah.' And then she began to cry, and I hushed her up. And so, neow it's all settled".

"Well Micah", said I, after hearing this account of his courtship of Jenny Campbell, "I congratulate you on your choice; Jenny is a good girl and a pretty one. But isn't she rather young?"

"Well, yis. I thought yeou'd be speakin' o' that. I'm forty year old and she's abeout eighteen, or so. Consid'able difference in eour ages.

I told her abeout that t'other day, and she sed, well she didn't see but I 'peared abeout as young as she did. She didn't see much difference. So ef she's sahtisfied, I'd oughter be. But Captin,' I'll tell ye, she's a curus leetle critter as ever ye see. She has spells of playin' off all kinds o' tricks on me and hectorin' me every way she ken, but the minit she sees me look sober, as ef I felt any way bad, she leaves right off, and comes up and kisses me, and ses she didn't mean anything by it, and is as good as a kitten".

Alas! poor Micah! You see, Miss Adele, he is in the meshes, and there we must leave him for the present. I have taken pains to give you the above in his own language, as it is so much more graphic than any I could employ.

My letter of Miramichi gossip has, swollen, unconsciously, to an enormous size, and I fear I am getting tedious. Be patient a few minutes longer, dear friends, while I tell you of Mr. John Lansdowne.

I happened in the city of P---- last winter, on business, and just before leaving town I went to call on Mr. Lansdowne. Aunt Esther, Mr.

John's nurse, an aged negro woman who has been a member of the household many years, answered my ring at the door. Finding that none of the family were at home, I was turning to leave when Aunt Esther begged me to come in, saying she reckoned they would soon be back, as they had already been several hours absent, adding, good soul, that "they'd all be dreffully disapinted not to see me."

I knew that several months prior to this, Mr. Lansdowne had been admitted to the practice of law and had become junior partner in business, to the distinguished Mr. Eldon of P. And I now gathered from Aunt Esther, that the Supreme Court was in session, and that a great criminal case was being tried before the jury. Mr. Eldon had been taken ill, just before the trial came on, and had urged Mr. Lansdowne to take his place in Court, saying, he could argue the case as well as himself. Mr. John, as Aunt Esther informed me, did it with great reluctance, though she didn't see why. "He always does everything he sets out to do, 'markable nice. But Ma.s.sa and Missus felt kind of anxious, and they v'e gone into Court, with other gemmen and ladies, to hear how't goes. I feel no concern about it. I know he'll make a splen'id talk, anyhow, cos he always does".

After waiting half an hour, I was obliged to leave messages of regret with Aunt Esther and hasten home.

I observed in "The Eastern Gazette" of the following week, a notice of Mr. Lansdowne's plea before the jury, in the great case of "The Commonwealth _vs_ Jenkins," in which he was eulogized in the highest terms. He was said to have displayed "great ac.u.men, extensive legal acquirements, and magnificent powers of oratory." So, Aunt Esther's confidence, about the "splen'id talk," was not without a reasonable basis.

I was highly gratified, myself, in reading the flattering paragraphs.

You know we all greatly admired the young gentleman at Miramichi. He has a brilliant earthly future before him, should his life and faculties be spared.

Micah was much charmed with the intelligence I brought him of his old favorite.

"I ain't a mite surprised at what you v'e sed abeout the young man.

Ever sence I took that trip inter the woods with him, I know'd he'd the genooine ring o' trew metal tew him. When he gits to be President o' the United States, I shall sell eout here and go hum to the Kennebec".

Please let me hear from you soon, my dear friends. It seems long since I have had tidings from you.

With an abiding grat.i.tude for past kindness, shown by you to a weary wanderer from home, and with the warmest respect and friendship, I remain as ever,

Yours truly,

SAMUEL J. NORTON.

Mrs. Dubois not having but one pair of eyes, and those being fully occupied with the contents of the above letter, and the Count de Rossillon remaining asleep during the entire reading, of course it could not be expected that they observed the changes that took place on Adele's countenance. But an author, as is well known, has ways and means of observation not common to others, and here it may be remarked, that that young lady's face, had exhibited, during the last fifteen minutes, or more, quite a variety of emotions. It had at first, been thoughtful and interested, then lighted with smiles, then radiant with enjoyment of the good missionary's sketches of Mrs. McNab and Micah. But the moment her mother read the name of John Lansdowne, her face was suffused with a deep crimson, and she listened almost breathlessly, and with glistening eyes, to the close.

"Oh! the good n.o.ble man!" said Mrs. Dubois, as she folded up the sheets. "It will please your father to read this, where is he, Adele?"

"He rode away with Pierre, not long ago. Please let me take the letter. I must read it again", said Adele, having conquered her emotion, without her mother perceiving it.

She took it away to her own boudoir, and as she read the pages, the flowing tears fell fast. Why should she weep over such a cheerful letter as that? Why?

CHAPTER XXV.

THE LAST SLEEP.

Adele had long since discovered that the events of greatest interest in her life had transpired before she entered the walls of Rossillon, or mingled in the festivities of the Court at Paris.

The scenes that occurred at Miramichi, during Mr. Lansdowne's accidental residence there, were fraught with a power over her heart, continually deepening with the flight of time. Those golden days, when their lives flowed side by side, had been filled with the strange, sweet agitations, the aerial dreams, the bewitching glamour, the intoxicating happiness of a first and youthful love. Those days were imprinted yet more deeply in her memory by a consciousness that there was somewhat with which to reproach herself connected with them. Just when she had reached the top of bliss, her pride had sprung up, and like a dark stormcloud, had shadowed the scene. She could not forget that cold, sad parting from her lover.

And now, though the ocean rolled between them, and the spheres in which each moved were so widely separated and the years had come and gone, she was yet calculating and balancing the probabilities, that they might meet again and the wrong of the past be cancelled.

Mr. Lansdowne had been plodding among musty law books and threading legal intricacies, with occasional interruptions, caused by fits of impatience and disgust at the detail and tedium of study, until he had at length fought his way through and placed himself in the front rank of his profession. His brilliant achievement in the famous Jenkins case, in the outset of his career, had at once won for him a position at the bar which most young men have to toil years to obtain. His family was wealthy and influential. It was not strange that with these advantages, united to the possession of remarkable personal beauty, he should be the centre of a numerous group of friends and admirers. He was the object of pride among the older barristers and gentlemen of the bench, the cynosure of the young men, and the one among a thousand whom elegant mammas and smiling maidens wooed with their selectest influences.

Yet one great element of earthly happiness was wanting to his life. He could not forget the enchantment of those days spent in the far-off wilds of Miramichi. He turned continually to those scenes, as the most prominent of his existence. There he had stepped from boyhood into manhood. There he had seen life in new and before untried forms. He had there witnessed a wonderful display of G.o.d's power through the terrible agency of the all-devouring flame, and there, for the first time, he had confronted death and sorrow. There, he had loved once and as he believed, forever. He recalled Adele, as she first appeared before him,--an unexpected vision of beauty, in all her careless grace and sweet, confiding frankness; in her moments of stately pride, when she chilled him from her side and kept him afar off; and in her moments of affectionate kindness, and generous enthusiasm. In short, in all her changeful moods she was daily flitting before him and he confessed to himself, that he had never met a being so rich in nature and varied in powers, so n.o.ble in impulse and purpose, so peerlessly beautiful in person.

Thus he lived on from day to day, remembering and yearning and dreaming,--the ocean yawning between him and his love. Concealed in the depths of his soul, there was, however, a hope fondly cherished, and a purpose half formed.

A few weeks after the reception of Mr. Norton's letter, the Count de Rossillon died. Sitting, as usual, in his great purple-cushioned arm-chair, taking his afternoon nap, he expired so gently that Mrs.

Dubois, who was reading by the window, did not know, or even suspect, when the parting between spirit and body occurred. Kindly, genial, and peaceful had been his last years, and his life went out calmly as the light of day goes out amid the mellow tints of a pleasant autumn sunset.