Jessie Graham Part 9

Mrs. Bartow was not inclined to doubt this after her own experience, and as in case there was anything about Mrs. Reeves, she wished to know it, she secretly hoped Jessie would carry her threat into execution. Just then they were summoned to supper, and following her granddaughter into the pleasant sitting-room, Mrs. Bartow frowned majestically upon Walter, bowed coldly to the other members of the family, and then took her seat, thinking to herself:

"The boy has a little of the Bellenger look, and, if anything, is handsomer than William."

The tea being pa.s.sed, with the biscuit and b.u.t.ter and honey, and the cheese contemptuously refused by the city guest, Jessie said to Aunt Debby:

"Did you ever know anybody by the name of Gregory? That was Mrs. Reeves'

maiden name, wasn't it, grandma?"

Mrs. Bartow nodded, and Aunt Debby, after withdrawing within herself for a moment, came out again and said:

"Yes, I knew Tim and Ben Gregory in Spencer. Ben was the best of the two, but he wa'n't none too likely. He had six boys, and Tim had six gals."

"What were their names?" asked Jessie, and Aunt Debby replied:

"There was Zeruah, and Lyddy, and Charlotty--"

"That'll do!" cried Jessie, her delight dancing in her eyes. "What was their father, and where are the girls now?"

"Their father was a tin peddler, and what he didn't get that way folks said he used to steal, though they never proved it ag'in him. Charlotty and I was 'bout of an age."

"I knew she was older than she pretended," thought Mrs. Bartow, and in her joy at having probably discovered her dear friend's genealogy, she took two biscuits instead of one.

"She worked in Lester factory a spell, and then, after she was quite along in years, say thirty or more, she married somebody who was a storekeeper, and went somewhere, and I believe I've heard that she finally moved to New York."

"Can't you think of her husband's name," persisted Jessie, and Aunt Debby replied:

"Twan't very far from Reed, but it's so long ago, and I've been through so much since, that I can't justly remember."

Neither was it necessary that she should, for Mrs. Bartow and Jessie were satisfied with what she could remember, and nothing doubting that Charlotte Gregory was now the exceedingly aristocratic and purse-proud Mrs. Reeves, whose granddaughter was a kind of rival to Jessie, they returned to the parlor, Mrs. Bartow repeating at intervals:

"A tin peddler and a factory girl, and she holding her head so high."

"She's none the worse for that, if she'd behave herself, and not put on such airs," said Jessie. "I wouldn't wonder if some of my ancestors were tinkers or chimney sweeps. I mean to ask Aunt Debby. Let's see. Your name wasn't really Martha Stanwood, was it? Weren't you an adopted child?"

"Jessie!" and in the startled lady's voice there was such unmitigated alarm and distress that Jessie turned quickly to look at her. "Do let that old crone alone. If there's anything I hate it's a person that knows everybody's history, they are so disagreeable, and make one so uncomfortable, though I'm glad to be sure, that I've found out who Mrs.

Reeves was. Just to think how she talks about high birth and all that,-born in a garret, I dare say."

"She don't put on a bit more than you do," said the saucy Jessie, thinking to herself that she would some time quiz Aunt Debby concerning her grandmother's past.

That night, after Jessie had retired, Mrs. Bartow asked for a few moments' conversation with Walter, to whom she had scarcely spoken the entire evening Quick to detect a slight, he a.s.sumed his haughtiest bearing, and rather overawed the old lady, who fidgetted in her chair, and pulled at her cap, and then began:

"It is very unpleasant for me to say to you what I must, but duty to Miss Graham, and justice to you, demands that I should speak. From things which I have heard and seen, I infer that you,-or rather I'm afraid that you,-in short, it's just possible you are thinking too much of Miss Graham," and having gotten thus far, the old lady gave a sigh of relief, while the young man, with a proud inclination of the head, said coolly:

"And what then?"

This roused her, and muttering to herself, "Such impudence!" she continued:

"I should suppose your own sense would tell you what then! Of course nothing can ever come of it, for even were you her equal in rank and wealth, you must know there is a stain upon your name which must never be imparted to the Grahams."

"Madam," said Walter, "you will please confine your remarks to me personally, and say nothing of my father."

"Well, then," returned the lady. "You, personally, are not a fit husband for Jessie."

"Have I ever asked to be her husband?" he said.

"Not in words, perhaps, but you show it in your manner both to me and others, and this is what brought me here. Jessie is young and easily influenced, and might possibly, in an unguarded moment, do as foolish a thing as your mother did."

There was a feeling of intense delight beaming in Walter's eyes, for the idea that Jessie could in any way be induced to marry him was a blissful one; but it quickly pa.s.sed off as Mrs. Bartow continued:

"It would break her father's heart should she thus throw herself away, while you would prove yourself most ungrateful for all he has done for you."

This was touching Walter in a tender point, and the pride of his nature flashed in his dark eyes as he replied:

"Let me know Mr. Graham's wishes, and they shall be obeyed."

"Well, then," returned the lady, "I asked him if he would like to have his daughter marry you, and he replied-" she hesitated before uttering the falsehood, while Walter bent forward eagerly to listen. "He said he certainly would not, and with his approbation I came down to remove her from temptation."

Walter was very white, and something like a groan escaped him, for he felt that Jessie was indeed wrested from him, and he began to see that he had always cherished a secret hope of winning her some day. But the dream was over now. She, he knew, would never disobey her father, while he himself would not return the many kindnesses received from his benefactor with ingrat.i.tude.

"Tell Mr. Graham from me," he said at last, almost in a whisper, "that he need have no fears, for I pledge you my word of honor that I will never ask Jessie Graham to be my wife, unless the time should come when I am by the world acknowledged her equal, and when I promise this, Mrs.

Bartow, I tear out, as it were, the dearest, purest affection of my heart, for I do love Jessie Graham; I see it now as clearly as I see that I must kill that love. Not because you ask it of me, Madam," and he a.s.sumed a haughty tone, "but because it is the wish of the best friend I ever knew. He need not fear when I am with her in New York. I will keep my place, whatever that may be, and when I call on Jessie, as I shall sometimes do, it will be a brother's call, and nothing more. Will you be satisfied with this?"

"Yes, more than satisfied," and Mrs. Bartow offered him her hand.

He took it mechanically, and as he turned away the lady thought to herself:

"He is a n.o.ble fellow, and so handsome, too, but William looks almost as well. Didn't he give it up quick when I mentioned Mr. Graham. I wonder if that was a lie I told. I only left off a little, that was all," and framing excuses for her duplicity, the old lady retired for the night.

They were to leave in the morning, and Jessie seemed unusually sad when she came out to breakfast, for the inmates of the farm-house were very dear to her.

"You'll come to New York soon, won't you?" she said to Walter, when, after breakfast, she joined him under the maple tree.

At the sound of her voice he started, and looking down into her bright, sunny face, felt a thrill of pain. Involuntarily he took her hand in his, and said:

"I have been thinking that I may not come at all."

"Why, Walter, yes you will; father will be so disappointed. I believe he antic.i.p.ates it even more than I."

"But your grandmother," he suggested, and Jessie rejoined:

"Don't mind grandma; she's always fidgetty if anybody looks at me, but when she sees that we really and truly are brother and sister, she'll get over it."

There was a tremulous tone in Jessie's voice, as she said this, and it fell very sweetly on Walter's ear, for it said to him that he might possibly be something more than a brother to the beautiful girl who stood before him with blushing cheeks and half-averted eyes.

"Jessie, Jessie!" called Mrs. Bartow from the house, and Jessie ran in to finish packing her trunks and don her traveling dress.

Once, as Aunt Debby slipped into her satchel a paper of "doughnuts and cheese, to save buying a dinner," Jessie could not forbear saying: