The Missing Bride Part 25

"As if I would tell you even if I could. But I couldn't tell you even if I would. Haven't the least idea what sort of a note it was, from a note of music to a 'note of hand,' because I had to swallow it as I swallowed the Ogre at the church--without looking at it. And it is just as indigestible! I feel it like a bullet in my throat yet!" And that was all the satisfaction they could get out of Jacko.

"I should not wonder if you had been making a fool of yourself, Nace,"

said the commodore, who seemed inclined to blow up both parties.

"I hope, sir," said the professor, with great a.s.sumption of dignity, "that you now see the necessity of forbidding that impertinent young c.o.xcomb the house."

"Shall do nothing of the sort, Grim. Thurston has no more idea of falling in love with little Jacko than he has with her mother or Henrietta, not a bit more." And then the commodore happening to turn his attention to the two gaping negroes, with a flourish of his stick sent them about their business, and left the room.

The next evening Thurston repaired to the mossy dell in the expectation of seeing Marian, who, of course, did not make her appearance.

The morning after, filled with disappointment and mortifying conjecture as to the cause of her non-appearance, Thurston presented himself before Jacquelina at Luckenough. He happened to find her alone. With all her playfulness of character, the poor fairy had too much self-respect to relate the scene to which she had been exposed the day before. So she contented herself with saying:

"I found no opportunity of delivering your note, Thurston, and so I thought it best to destroy it."

"I thank you. Under the circ.u.mstances that was best," replied the young man, much relieved. When he reached home, he sat down and wrote a long and eloquent epistle, imploring Marian's forgiveness for his rashness and folly, a.s.suring her of his continued love and admiration; speaking of the impossibility of living longer without her society--informing her of his intention to go to Paris, and proposing that she should either precede or follow him thither, and join him in that city. It was her duty, he urged, to follow her husband.

The following Sunday, after church, Marian placed her answer in his hands. The letter was characteristic of her--clear, firm, frank and truthful. It concluded thus:

"Were I to do as you desire me--leave home clandestinely, precede or follow you to Paris and join you there, suspicion and calumny would pursue me--obloquy would rest upon my memory. All these things I could bear, were it necessary in a good cause; but here it is not necessary, and would be wrong. But I speak not of myself--I ought not, indeed, to do so--nor of Edith, whose head would be bowed in humiliation and sorrow--nor of little Miriam, whose pa.s.sionate heart would be half broken by such a desertion. But I speak for the cause of morality and religion here in this neighborhood, where we find ourselves placed by heaven, and where we must exercise much influence for good or evil. Wait patiently for those happy years, that the flying days are speeding on toward us--those happy years, when you shall look back to this trying time, and thank G.o.d for trials and temptations pa.s.sed safely through. Do not urge me again upon this subject. Be excellent, Thurston, be n.o.ble, be G.o.d-like, as you can be, if you will; it is in you. Be true to your highest ideal, and you will be all these. Oh! if you knew how your Marian's heart craves to bow itself before true G.o.d-like excellence!"

CHAPTER XIX.

THE INTERCEPTED LETTER.

"No! The mail isn't come yet! leastways it isn't opened yet! Fan that fire, you little black imp, you! and make that kittle bile; if you don't, I shall never git this wafer soft! and then I'll turn you up, and give you sich a switching as ye never had in your born days! for I won't be trampled on by you any longer! you little black w.i.l.l.yan, you! 'Scat!

you hussy! get out o' my way, before I twist your neck for you!"

The first part of this oration was delivered by Miss Nancy Skamp, to some half-dozen negro grooms who were cooling their shins while waiting for the mail, before she closed the doors and windows of the post-office; the second part was addressed to Chizzle, her little negro waiter--and the third concluding sentence, emphasized by a smart kick, was bestowed upon poor Molly, the mottled cat. The village post-office was kept in the lower front room of the little lonely house on the hill, occupied by the solitary spinster.

The mail-bags were stuffed remarkably full, and there were several wonderful letters, that she felt it her duty to open and read before sending to their owners.

"Let's see," said the worthy postmistress, as she sorted the letters in her hand. "What's this? oh! a double letter for Colonel Thornton--pshaw!

that's all about political stuff! Who cares about reading that? I don't!

He may have it to-night if he wants it! Stop! what's this? Lors! it's a thribble letter for--for Marian Mayfield! And from furrin parts, too!

Now I wonder--(Can't you stop that caterwauling out there?" she said, raising her voice. "Sposen you n.i.g.g.e.rs were to wait till I open the office. I reckon you'd get your letters just as soon.) Who can be writing from furrin parts to Marian Mayfield? Ah! I'll keep this and read it before Miss Marian gets it."

When Miss Nancy had closed up for the night she took out the letter directed to Marian, opened, and began to read it. And as she read her eyes and mouth grew wider and wider with astonishment, and her wonder broke forth in frequent exclamations of: "M--y conscience! Well now!

Who'd a dreamt of it! Pity but I'd a let Solomon court her when he wanted to--but Lors! how did I ever know that she'd--M--y conscience!"

etc., etc.

Her fit of abstraction was at last broken by a smart rap at the door.

She started and turned pale, like the guilty creature that she was.

The rap was repeated sharply.

She jumped up, hustled the purloined letters and papers out of sight, and stood waiting.

The rap was reiterated loudly and authoritatively.

"Who's that?" she asked, trembling violently.

"It's me, Aunt Nancy! Do for goodness' sake don't keep a fellow out here in the storm till he's nearly perished. It's coming on to hail and snow like the last judgment!"

"Oh! it's you, is it, Sol? I didn't know but what it was--Do, for mercy's sake don't be talking about the last judgment, and such awful things--I declare to man, you put me all of a trimble," said Miss Nancy, by way of accounting for her palpitations, as she unbarred the door, and admitted her learned nephew. Dr. Solomon Weismann seemed dreadfully downhearted as he entered. He slowly stamped the snow from his boots, shook it off his clothes, took off his hat and his overcoat, and hung them up, and spoke--never a word! Then he drew his chair right up in front of the fire, placed a foot on each andiron, stooped over, spread his palms over the kindly blaze, and still spoke--never a word!

"Well! I'd like to know what's the matter with you to-night," said Miss Nancy, as she went about the room looking for her knitting.

But the doctor stared silently at the fire.

"It's the latest improvement in politeness--I shouldn't wonder--not to answer your elders when they speak to you."

"Were you saying anything to me, Aunt Nancy?"

"'Was I saying anything to you, Aunt Nancy?' Yes I was! I was asking you what's the matter?"

"Oh! I never was so dreadfully low-spirited in my life, Aunt Nancy."

"And what should a young man like you have to make him feel low-spirited, I should like to know? Moping about Marian, I shouldn't wonder. The girl is a good girl enough, if she'd only mind her own business, and not let people spoil her. And if you do like her, and must have her, why I shan't make no further objections."

Here the young doctor turned shortly around and stared at his aunt in astonishment!

"Hem!" said Miss Nancy, looking confused, "well, yes, I did oppose it once, certainly, but that was because you were both poor."

"And we are both poor still, for aught that I can see, and likely to continue so."

"Hish-ish! no you're not! leastways, she's not. I've got something very strange to tell you," said Miss Nancy, mysteriously drawing her chair up close to her nephew, and putting her lips to his ear, and whispering--"Hish-ish!"

"'Hish-ish!' What are you 'hish-ish'ing for, Aunt Nancy, I'm not saying anything, and your breath spins into a fellow's ear enough to give him an ear-ache!" said Dr. Solomon, jerking his head away.

"Now then listen--Marian Mayfield has got a fortune left to her."

Miss Nancy paused to see the effect of this startling piece of news upon her companion.

But the doctor was not sulky, and upon his guard; so after an involuntary slight start, he remained perfectly still. Miss Nancy was disappointed by the calm way in which he took this marvelous revelation.

However, she went on to say:

"Yes! a fortune left her, by a grand-uncle, a bachelor, who died intestate in Wiltshire, England. Now, what do you think of that!"

"Why, I think if she wouldn't have me when she was poor, she won't be apt to do it now she's rich."

"Ah! but you see, she don't know a word of it!"

"How do you know it, then?"