The Late Mrs. Null Part 35

During the latter part of their pleasant intercourse at Midbranch during the past summer, she had reason to believe that Mr Croft's intentions in regard to her were becoming serious, but she had also perceived that his impulses, however earnest they might have been, were controlled by an extraordinary caution and prudence, which, although it sometimes amused her, was not in the least degree complimentary to her. She could not prevent herself from resenting this somewhat peculiar action of Mr Croft, and this resentment grew into a desire, which gradually became a very strong one, that she might have an opportunity of declining a proposal from him. That opportunity came while they were both at Mrs Keswick's, and she had intended that what she said at her last interview with Mr Croft should be considered a definite refusal of his suit, but the interview had terminated before she had stated her mind quite as plainly as she had purposed doing. She had not, however, wished to renew the conversation on the subject, and had concluded to content herself with what she had already said; feeling quite sure that her words had been sufficient to satisfy Mr Croft that it would be useless to make any further proposals.

When, on the eve of her departure from the house, Mr Keswick had brought her Mr Croft's message, she was not only amazed, but indignant; not so much at Mr Croft for sending it, as at Mr Keswick for bringing it. Miss March was not ashamed to confess that she was irritated and incensed to a high degree that a gentleman who had held the position towards her that Mr Keswick had held, should bring her such a message from another man. She was, therefore, seized with a sudden impulse to punish him, and, without in the least expecting that he would carry such an answer, she had given him the one which he had taken to Mr Croft. Having, until the day on which she was writing, heard nothing further on the subject, she had supposed that her expectations had been realized. But on this day the astonishing letter from Mrs Keswick had arrived, and it made her understand that not only had her impulsive answer been delivered, but that Mr Croft had informed other persons that he had been accepted. She wished, therefore, to lose no time in stating to Mr Croft that what she had said to him, with her own lips, was to be received as her final resolve; and that the answer given to Mr Keswick was not intended for Mr Croft's ears.

Miss March then went on to say that it might be possible that she owed Mr Croft an apology for the somewhat ungracious manner in which she had treated him at Mrs Keswick's house; but she a.s.sured herself that Mr Croft owed her an apology, not only for the manner of his attentions, but for the peculiar publicity he had given them. In that case the apologies neutralized each other. Miss March had no intention of answering Mrs Keswick's letter. Under no circ.u.mstances could she have considered, for a moment, its absurd suggestions and recommendations; and it contained allusions to Mr Croft and another person which, if not founded upon the imagination of Mrs Keswick, certainly concerned nothing with which Miss March had anything to do.

The proud spirit of Lawrence Croft was a good deal ruffled when he read this letter, but he made no remark about it. "Would you like to read it?" he said to Annie.

She greatly desired to read it, but there was something in her lover's face, and in the tone in which he spoke, which made her suspect that the reading of that letter might be, in some degree, humiliating to him. She was certain, from the expression of his face as he read it, that the letter contained matter very unpleasant to Lawrence, and it might be that it would wound him to have another person, especially herself, read them; and so she said: "I don't care to read it if you will tell me why she wrote to you, and the point of what she says."

"Thank you," said Lawrence. And he crumpled the letter in his hand as he spoke. "She wrote," he continued, "in consequence of a letter she has had from your aunt."

"What!" exclaimed Annie. "Did Aunt Keswick write to her?"

"Yes," said Lawrence, "and sent it by a special messenger. She must have told her all the heinous crimes with which she charged you and me, particularly me; and this must have been the first intimation to Miss March that her cousin had given me the answer she made to him; therefore Miss March writes in haste to let me know that she did not intend that that answer should be given to me, and that she wishes it generally understood that I have no more connection with her than I have with the Queen of Spain. That is the sum and substance of the letter."

"I knew as well as I know anything in the world," said Annie, "that that message Junius brought you meant nothing." And, taking the crumpled letter from his hand, she threw it on the few embers that remained in the fireplace; and, as it blazed and crumbled into black ashes, she said: "Now that is the end of Roberta March!"

"Yes," said Lawrence, emphasizing his remark with an encircling arm, "so far as we are concerned, that is the end of her."

CHAPTER XXVIII.

On the next day, old Aunt Patsy was buried. Mrs Keswick and Annie attended the ceremonies in the cabin, but they did not go to the burial. After a time, it might be in a week or two, or it might be in a year, the funeral sermon would be preached in the church, and they would go to hear that. Aunt Patsy never finished her crazy quilt, several pieces being wanted to one corner of it; but in the few days preceding her burial two old women of the congregation, with trembling hands and uncertain eyes, sewed in these pieces, and finished the quilt, in which the body of the venerable sister was wrapped, according to her well-known wish and desire. It is customary among the negroes to keep the remains of their friends a very short time after death, but Aunt Patsy had lived so long upon this earth that it was generally conceded that her spirit would not object to her body remaining above ground until all necessary arrangements should be completed, and until all people who had known or heard of her had had an opportunity of taking a last look at her. As she had been so very well known to almost everybody's grandparents, a good many people availed themselves of this privilege.

After Mrs Keswick's return from Aunt Patsy's cabin, where, according to her custom, she made herself very prominent, it was noticeable that she had dropped some of the grave reserve in which she had wrapped herself during the preceding day. It was impossible for her, at least but for a very short time, to act in a manner unsuited to her nature; and reserve and constraint had never been suited to her nature. She, therefore, began to speak on general subjects in her ordinary free manner to the various persons in her house; but it must not be supposed that she exhibited any contrition for the outrageous way in which she had spoken to Annie and Lawrence, or gave them any reason to suppose that the laceration of their souls on that occasion was a matter which, at present, needed any consideration whatever from her.

An angel, born of memory and imagination, might come to her from heaven, and so work upon her superst.i.tious feelings as to induce her to stop short in her course of reckless vengeance; but she would not, on that account, fall upon anybody's neck, or ask forgiveness for anything she had done to anybody. She did not accuse herself, nor repent; she only stopped. "After this," she said, "you all can do as you please. I have no further concern with your affairs. Only don't talk to me about them."

She told Lawrence, in a manner that would seem to indicate a moderate, but courteous, interest in his welfare, that he must not think of leaving her house until his ankle had fully recovered its strength; and she even went so far as to suggest the use of a patent lotion which she had seen at the store at Howlett's. She resumed her former intercourse with Annie, but it seemed impossible for her to entirely forget the deception which that young lady had practised upon her. The only indication, however, of this resentment was the appellation which she now bestowed upon her niece. In speaking of her to Lawrence, or any of the household, she invariably called her "the late Mrs Null,"

and this t.i.tle so pleased the old lady that she soon began to use it in addressing her niece. Annie occasionally remonstrated in a manner which seemed half playful, but was in fact quite earnest, but her aunt paid no manner of attention to her words, and continued to please herself by this half-sarcastic method of alluding to her niece's fict.i.tious matrimonial state.

Letty, and the other servants, were at first much astonished by the new t.i.tle given to Miss Annie, and the only way in which they could explain it was by supposing that Mr Null had gone off somewhere and died; and although they could not understand why Miss Annie should show so little grief in the matter, and why she had not put on mourning, they imagined that these were customs which she had learned in the North.

Lawrence advised Annie to pay no attention to this whim of her aunt.

"It don't hurt either of us," he said, "and we ought to be very glad that she has let us off so easily. But there is one thing I think you ought to do; you should write to your cousin Junius, and tell him of our engagement; but I would not refer at all to the other matter; you are not supposed to have anything to do with it, and Miss March can tell him as much about it as she chooses, Mr Keswick wrote me that he was going to Midbranch, and that he would communicate with me while there, but, as I have not since heard from him, I presume he is still in Washington."

A letter was, therefore, written by Annie, and addressed to Junius, in Washington, and Lawrence drove her to the railroad station in the spring-wagon, where it was posted. The family mail came bi-weekly to Howlett's, as the post-office at the railroad station was entirely too distant for convenience; and as Sat.u.r.day approached it was evident, from Mrs Keswick's occasional remarks and questions, that she expected a letter. It was quite natural for Lawrence and Annie to surmise that this letter was expected from Miss March, for Mrs Keswick had not heard of any rejoinder having been made to her epistle to that lady.

When, late on Sat.u.r.day afternoon, the boy Plez returned from Howlett's, Mrs Keswick eagerly took from him the well-worn letter-bag, and looked over its contents. There was a letter for her and from Midbranch, but the address was written by Junius, not by Miss March. There was another in the same hand-writing for Annie. As the old lady looked at the address on her letter, and then on its post-mark, she was evidently disappointed and displeased, but she said nothing, and went away with it to her room. Annie's letter was in answer to the one she had sent to Washington, which had been promptly forwarded to Midbranch where Junius had been for some days. It began by expressing much surprise at the information his cousin had given him in regard to her a.s.sumption of a married t.i.tle, and although she had a.s.sured him she had very good reasons, he could not admit that it was right and proper for her to deceive his aunt and himself in this way. If it were indeed necessary that other persons should suppose that she were a married woman, her nearest relatives, at least, should have been told the truth.

At this pa.s.sage, Annie, who was reading the letter aloud, and Lawrence who was listening, both laughed. But they made no remarks, and the reading proceeded.

Junius next alluded to the news of his cousin's engagement to Mr Croft. His guarded remarks on this subject showed the kindness of his heart. He did not allude to the suddenness of the engagement, nor to the very peculiar events that had so recently preceded it; but reading between the lines, both Annie and Lawrence thought that the writer had probably given these points a good deal of consideration. In a general way, however, it was impossible for him to see any objection to such a match for his cousin, and this was the impression he endeavored to give in a very kindly way, in his congratulations. But, even here, there seemed to be indications of a hope, on the part of the writer, that Mr Croft would not see fit to make another short tack in his course of love.

Like the polite gentleman he was, Mr Keswick allowed his own affairs to come in at the end of the letter. Here he informed his cousin that his engagement with Miss March had been renewed, and that they were to be married shortly after Christmas. As it must have been very plain to those who were present when Miss March left his aunt's house, that she left in anger with him, he felt impelled to say that he had explained to her the course of action to which she had taken exception, and although she had not admitted that that course had been a justifiable one, she had forgiven him. He wished also to say at this point that he, himself, was not at all proud of what he had done.

"That was intended for me," interrupted Lawrence.

"Well, if you understand it, it is all right," said Annie.

Junius went on to say that the renewal of his engagement was due, in great part, to Miss March's visit to his aunt; and to a letter she had received from her. A few days of intercourse with Mrs Keswick, whom she had never before seen, and the tenor and purpose of that letter, had persuaded Miss March that his aunt was a person whose mind had pa.s.sed into a condition when its opposition or its action ought not to be considered by persons who were intent upon their own welfare. His own arrival at Midbranch, at this juncture, had resulted in the happy renewal of their engagement.

"I don't know Junius half as well as I wish I did," said Annie, as she finished the letter, "but I am very sure, indeed, that he will make a good husband, and I am glad he has got Roberta March--as he wants her."

"Did you emphasize 'he'?" asked Lawrence.

"I will emphasize it, if you would like to hear me do it," said she.

"It's very queer," remarked Annie, after a little pause, "that I should have been so anxious to preserve poor Junius from your clutches, and that, after all I did to save him, I should fall into those clutches myself."

Whereupon Lawrence, much to her delight, told her the story of the anti-detective.

Mrs Keswick sat down in her room, and read her letter. She had no intention of abandoning her resolution to let things go as they would; and, therefore, did not expect to follow up, with further words or actions, anything she had written in her letter to Roberta March. But she had had a very strong curiosity to know what that lady would say in answer to said letter, and she was therefore disappointed and displeased that the missive she had received was from her nephew, and not from Miss March. She did not wish to have a letter from Junius.

She knew, or rather very much feared, that it would contain news which would be bad news to her, and although she was sure that such news would come to her sooner or later, she was very much averse to receiving it.

His letter to her merely touched upon the points of Mrs Null, and his cousin's engagement to Mr Croft; but it was almost entirely filled with the announcement, and most earnest defence, of his own engagement to Roberta March. He said a great deal upon this subject, and he said it well. But it is doubtful if his fervid, and often affectionate, expressions made much impression upon his aunt. Nothing could make the old lady like this engagement, but she had made up her mind that he might do as he pleased, and it didn't matter what he said about it; he had done it, and there was an end of it.

But there was one thing that did matter: That unprincipled and iniquitous old man Brandon had had his own way at last; and she and her way had been set aside. This was the last of a series of injuries to her and her family with which she charged Mr Brandon and his family; but it was the crowning wrong. The injury itself she did not so much deplore, as that the injurer would profit by it. Arrested in her course of raging pa.s.sion by a sudden flood of warm and irresistible emotion, she had resigned, as impetuously as she had taken them up, her purposes of vengeance, and consequently, her plans for her nephew and niece. But she was a keen-minded, as well as pa.s.sionate old woman, and when she had considered the altered state of affairs, she was able to see in it advantages as well as disappointment and defeat. From what she had learned of Lawrence Croft's circ.u.mstances and position, and she had made a good many inquiries on this subject of Roberta March, he was certainly a good match for Annie; and, although she hated to have anything to do with Midbranch, it could not be a bad thing for Junius to be master of that large estate, and that Mr Brandon had repeatedly declared he would be, if he married Roberta. Thus, in the midst of these reverses, there was something to comfort her, and reconcile her to them. But there was no balm for the wound caused by Mr Brandon's success and her failure.

With the letter of Junius open in her hand, she sat, for a long time, in bitter meditation. At length a light gradually spread itself over her gloomy countenance. Her eyes sparkled; she sat up straight in her chair, and a broad smile changed the course of the wrinkles on her cheeks. She arose to her feet; she gave her head a quick jerk of affirmation; she clapped one hand upon the other; and she said aloud: "I will bless, not curse!"

And with that she went happy to bed.

CHAPTER XXIX.

On the following Monday, Lawrence announced that his ankle was now quite well enough for him to go to New York, where his affairs required his presence. Neither he, nor the late Mrs Null, regarded this parting with any satisfaction, but their very natural regrets at the necessary termination of these happy autumn days were a good deal tempered by the fact that Lawrence intended to return in a few weeks, and that then the final arrangements would be made for their marriage.

It was not easy to decide what these arrangements would be, for in spite of the many wrongnesses of the old lady's head and heart, Annie had conceived a good deal of affection for her aunt, and felt a strong disinclination to abandon her to her lonely life, which would be more lonely than before, now that Junius was to be married. On the other hand, Lawrence, although he had discovered some estimable points in the very peculiar character of Mrs Keswick, had no intention of living in the same house with her. This whole matter, therefore, was left in abeyance until the lovers should meet again, some time in December.

Lawrence and Annie had desired very much that Junius should visit them before Mr Croft's departure for the North, for they both had a high esteem for him, and both felt a desire that he should be as well satisfied with their matrimonial project as they were with his. But they need not have expected him. Junius had conceived a dislike for Mr Croft, which was based in great part upon disapprobation of what he himself had done in connection with that gentleman; and this manner of dislike is not easily set aside. The time would come when he would take Lawrence Croft and Annie by the hand, and honestly congratulate them, but for that time they must wait.

Lawrence departed in the afternoon; and the next day Mrs Keswick set about that general renovation and rearrangement of her establishment which many good housewives consider necessary at certain epochs, such as the departure of guests, the coming in of spring, or the advent of winter. These arrangements occupied two days, and on the evening that they were finished to her satisfaction, the old lady informed her niece, that early the next morning, she was going to start for Midbranch, and that it was possible, nay, quite probable, that she would stay there over a night. "I might go and come back the same day," she said, "but thirty miles a day is too much for Billy, and besides, I am not sure I could get through what I have to do, if I do not stay over. I would take you with me but this is not to be a mere visit; I have important things to attend to, and you would be in the way. You got along so well without me when you first came here that I have no doubt you will do very well for one night. I shall drive myself, and take Plez along with me, and leave Uncle Isham and Letty to take care of you."

Under ordinary circ.u.mstances Annie would have been delighted to go to Midbranch, a place she had never seen, and of which she had heard so much, but she had no present desire to see Roberta March, and said so; further remarking that she was very willing to stay by herself for a night. She hoped much that her aunt would proceed with the conversation, and tell her why she had determined upon such an extraordinary thing as a visit to Midbranch; where she knew the old lady had not been for many, many years. But Mrs Keswick had nothing further to say upon this subject, and began to talk of other matters.

After a very early breakfast next morning, Mrs Keswick set out upon her journey, driving the sorrel horse with much steadiness, intermingled with severity whenever he allowed himself to drop out of his usual jogging pace. Plez sat in the back part of the spring-wagon, and whenever the old lady saw an unusually large stone lying in the track of the road, she would stop, and make him get out and throw it to one side.

"I believe," she said, on one of these occasions, "that a thousand men in buggies might pa.s.s along this road thrice a day for a year, and never think of stopping to throw that rock out of the way of people's wheels. They would steer around it every time, or b.u.mp over it, but such a thing as moving it would never enter their heads."

The morning was somewhat cool, but fine, and the smile which occasionally flitted over the corrugated countenance of Mrs Keswick seemed to indicate that she was in a pleasant state of mind, which might have been occasioned by the fine weather and the good condition of the roads, or by cheerful antic.i.p.ations connected with her visit.

It was not very long after noonday that, with a stifled remark of disapprobation upon her lips, she drew up at the foot of the broad flight of steps by which one crossed the fence into the Midbranch yard. Giving Billy into the charge of Plez, with directions to take him round to the stables and tell somebody to put him up and feed him, she mounted the steps, and stopped for a minute or so on the broad platform at the top; looking about her as she stood. Everything, the house, the yard, the row of elms along the fence, the wide-spreading fields, and the farm buildings and cabins, some of which she could see around the end of the house, were all on a scale so much larger and more imposing than those of her own little estate that, although nothing had changed for the better since the days when she was familiar with Midbranch, she was struck with the general superiority of the Brandon possessions to her own. Her eyes twinkled, and she smiled; but there did not appear to be anything envious about her.

She presented a rather remarkable figure as she stood in this conspicuous position. Annie had insisted, when she was helping her aunt to array herself for the journey, that she should wear a bonnet which for many years had been her head-gear on Sundays and important occasions, but to this the old lady positively objected. She was not going on a mere visit of state or ceremony; her visit at Midbranch would require her whole attention, and she did not wish to distract her mind by wondering whether her bonnet was straight on her head or not, and she was so unaccustomed to the feel of it that she would never know if it got turned hind part foremost. She could never be at her ease, nor say freely what she wished to say, if she were dressed in clothes to which she was not accustomed. She was perfectly accustomed to her sun-bonnet, and she intended to wear that. Of course she carried her purple umbrella, and she wore a plain calico dress, blue spotted with white, which was very narrow and short in the skirt, barely touching the tops of her shoes, the stoutest and most serviceable that could be procured in the store at Howlett's. She covered her shoulders with a small red shawl which, much to Annie's surprise, she fastened with a large and somewhat tarnished silver brooch, an ornament her niece had never before seen. Attired thus, she certainly would have attracted attention, had there been any one there to see, but the yard was empty, and the house door closed. She descended the steps, crossed the yard with what might be termed a buoyant gait, and, mounting the porch, knocked on the door with the handle of her umbrella. After some delay a colored woman appeared, and as soon as the door was opened, Mrs Keswick walked in.