Lily Pearl and The Mistress of Rosedale Part 35

"Leave here!" exclaimed Mrs. Cheevers, with surprise.

"Certainly. You did not suppose I was to impose myself on my friends as a settled fact, did you?" She smiled, but it was only as a feeble ray struggling across the chill, damp cloud, where the winter's snows were gathering.

"But it will look strangely, and I beg your pardon, one might think a trifle suspicious; it may be a fear lest you should meet them. I do not say that I think so, but such things might be said!"

"A new development, my dear! Is it prescience or imagination that is now whirling in your prolific brain?"

"Do not jest, Hiram; really there is a seriousness in all this. Why could you not have been a good staid old Quaker, like your father, so that you could have been sensible when circ.u.mstances seemed to demand it?"

"Hardly, according to nature, wife, to be old, like my honored sire, as our birthdays did not come in the same year."

This little humorous parley gave their guest ample time to recover from her shock of indignation and alarm. How was this to end? Would her departure excite suspicion? But it was known here, without doubt,--a part, if not the whole truth--for letters had been received from Washington into which she had not been permitted to have a peep. Lillian knew where her mother had taken refuge, and, probably, was expecting to meet her.

"What shall I do?" darted up through her acc.u.mulating perplexities, and burst from her quivering lips.

"Do? Why stay where you are, and welcome your child as a mother should, greet her husband cordially and sensibly. It must be done, and what have you to fear? Are you a criminal fleeing from justice and dare not come in contact with honest people? You need not look at me so, certainly if you abscond on the very eve of their arrival these are the only conclusions that can be adduced. Is it not so husband?"

"Face the music, Charlotte; face the music! If your native zeal has carried you outside the track, switch on again, and go ahead. But here I am wasting my precious time listening to two silly women, and on an empty stomach at that! Charlotte, why did you not bring along one of your ebony faithfuls? I am getting tired of waiting three times a day for my meals."

"Irene is slow, but I ought to have attended to my duties better. The fact is, I am getting out of house-keeping and gone into the business of minding other people's affairs," and the good lady walked out of the room.

"Mrs. Cheevers is right on this subject; you cannot leave here at this time without drawing censure and, it may be, suspicion down upon yourself. I would not do it."

Supper was announced, and Mrs. Belmont, trembling with emotion, as her pride went on battling with fear and indignation, seated herself at the table, but not to eat. There was a vein of proffered wisdom in the advice given that irritated her. "Can I not judge for myself? Am I not supposed to know more about my own business than others."

Mr. Cheevers rallied her upon such a loss of appet.i.te and the saving it would be to his pocket, a pleasantry in which the lady endeavored to join, but the _repartee_ died on her lips, and, excusing herself, she went without farther delay to her own room.

"That woman, wife, has her own reasons for desiring to escape doing honor to Colonel Hamilton and lady, that we are not advised of. As for me, I begin to pity her! She looks as though she had lost her hold on earth and her hope of heaven!"

"How can you, Hiram."

"It is true. Perhaps Lillian ought to have written to her mother, and yet, as she declared, what could she say? It is a muddle, my good wife, sure enough, still we must keep her here until they come. That is the only clear thing I can get out of it," and he left the table.

In the room above, a tall, stately form was standing by the window, her dark eyes wandering with a listless gaze out over the gray waters of the Schuylkill, where the evening shades were slowly creeping, while within her soul the conflicting elements of warring tumults were raging. "O, wretched woman that I am!" she repeated, "What power can deliver me from myself! Great G.o.d! If Thou didst ever pity, pity now! Are there not stains on my soul that He will never blot out? Stains of--murder! O misery! 'The wicked shall not go unpunished,'--I have read it; it is true! The G.o.d I have offended has said it! What if the curtain that hides the last seventeen years from the world should be torn away!" She paced the floor as the night stole in and covered her with its darkness.

O, the gloom! O, the forebodings of a sin-cursed soul.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

CHAPTER x.x.xIII.

LIGHT THROUGH THE RIFTED CLOUD.

"She's gone, as true as you live! The carriage was at the door for herself and baggage before I knew a word about it."

With these exclamations, Mrs. Cheevers met her husband the day after the events of our last chapter. He had come to dinner with the cheering news that there was to be an ovation given to Colonel Hamilton at the Girard House on his arrival, but found his wife too much excited to appreciate the honors thus to be conferred on her pet.

"That looks squally. Perhaps she has good reasons for skulking, but it does not look to me like her original shrewdness. It would have been more natural to see her stand by and fight it out. But let her go; there is more room for the new-comers."

The matter being thus disposed of, quiet was again wooed to the peaceful home of the good uncle and aunt, who had nothing to do now but to antic.i.p.ate coming pleasures. Colonel St. Clair was to remain with them also for a short rest, before finishing his journey up the Hudson.

"Lillian has told me so much about him that he will not seem like a stranger."

"Lillian's lovers are our friends, my good wife; so he will come in for a share of attention."

The hour came when a carriage containing the happy trio rolled up to the door of Mrs. Cheevers' very inviting home on Race street, where Mrs.

Cheevers unceremoniously rushed out with open arms to greet them. The host was not far behind. When the first joyous greetings had partially subsided, he took Colonel St. Clair under his kind protection, and helped him gently to an easy chair in the warm, cheerful parlor.

"You will excuse me," called out Colonel Hamilton, as he stepped back into the carriage; "there is a little woman down on Twentieth street who wants a kiss from her soldier boy. I'll be back in time for that roast beef!" And the carriage turned the corner and was out of sight.

"Well, that is cool! But, wife, we are not so smart as we take ourselves to be. Why did we not have that mother who wants to be kissed up here, so that it could all be done at once? It is terrible to have such things dragging."

"I did ask her and insisted, but she said 'No' every time. 'Pearl will come right here,' she declared, 'and it is in his own home where I want to give him welcome.'"

"n.o.ble woman!" interposed St. Clair from his chair by the grate.

"You say she is gone?" asked Mrs. Hamilton in her aunt's dressing room, where she had been escorted by the hostess herself.

"We tried hard to have her remain, but no amount of persuasion could accomplish it. She is dreadfully troubled about something. I attempted to draw her out, but you know how difficult such a thing would be. And, having watched her manner and face, I do believe that something weighs heavily on her mind."

"She need not have flown from me. My mother's reputation is sacred to her daughter. She should have known this. And you have no idea where she has gone?"

"Not in the least. She said she had been waiting for letters before going to her winter quarters, and was surprised that she received nothing from Charles."

"It is too bad! But, Auntie, I have much I want to pour into your dear heart, for somehow I feel that in stirring up its pure waters, I may step in and, perhaps, be healed a little!" and she kissed the smiling face. "What should I do without you? But I fear the gentlemen though will think we have deserted them."

There was so much to be said; so much calling to be done, and such a large circle of friends to receive, that it was not until the third day, when the dinner was being given at the Girard in honor of the wounded soldier (to which Colonel St. Clair had been officially invited), that Mrs. Cheevers and Lillian found an opportunity for the "stirring of the waters."

"Do not let me frighten you, Auntie; and may the dear Father keep me from injustice and wrong! How shall I tell you? There is no use in trying to smooth it over; I do believe that up to six months ago my child lived!"

"Lillian!"

"Yes, I do believe it! George St. Clair, and the whole family saw her!

She was just sixteen, and had the same eyes and ways that I have! It was remarked by all, and my mother, at times, betrayed an unusual degree of interest in her."

"Where was this?"

"In Savannah. She was the adopted daughter of a Mrs. g.a.y.l.o.r.d, who was visiting friends in that city, and farther down in the country. I did want to see my mother so much! A dark suspicion oppresses me!"

"Lillian!"

"I cannot help it; and you will not blame me when I have told you all!

My mother took that child into a carriage, with only one servant, a dastardly coward, and drove one evening down the river, in sight of the beach; then, getting her to alight, that (as she said), a better view of the sea might be obtained, the child was kidnapped in the darkness and borne away; and with every effort that could be made, no trace has ever been found of her! O, Auntie, _that was my child_! Will G.o.d permit such a deed to remain uncovered? Will not his anger search it out?"

"But, my dear Lillian, you must have greater proof than this before you so grievously accuse another! There is some mistake; she _could_ not have done such a deed! Why not write to Mrs. g.a.y.l.o.r.d and learn where she found the child, and all that she knows about her?"