Wives and Widows; or The Broken Life Part 49

Again the old lady gave her a quiet, searching look, and, without replying, moved toward the door.

Jessie and I went down to the terrace with Mrs. Bosworth, while Mr. Lee took her to the carriage.

CHAPTER LVI.

LOTTIE'S REVELATIONS.

The conduct of old Mrs. Bosworth made a profound impression in our family. Nothing could have been more unfortunate for Mrs. Dennison. Mr.

Lee, up to that time, had been so occupied with the genuine grief which sprung out of his wife's death, that he had evidently given little thought to the real condition of his household; but the grave look of disapproval which met Mrs. Dennison's entrance, when the dear old lady made her visit, was too decided for him or any one else to ignore.

Jessie's ill-timed remarks had affected him but little, for, alas! he was prejudiced there; but the evident condemnation of this fine old lady had its effect.

Mr. Lee began to understand that a guest in our house just then, not sanctioned by ties of blood, or even of old friendship, must have a strange appearance in the neighborhood. His own fine sense of propriety was disturbed, and this gave his intercourse with the lady, all the rest of that day, an air of constraint which she was not slow to comprehend.

She grew more quiet and thoughtful, all her fine spirits vanished, and, more than once, I caught her lifting her beautiful eyes to Mr. Lee's with a sad, misty look of appeal, that would have touched the heart of a savage. It almost reached mine.

This lasted all that day and evening. There was little conversation; but the eloquence of that woman's face was above all language.

At night I went into Jessie's room, as usual; not to talk; everything had become too painful for those little confidential chats that make a home so pleasant; but Jessie was always sad now, and the news about young Bosworth had affected her greatly, in what way it was difficult to determine; so I went to her room, knowing that the presence of an old friend would be some comfort to her.

As we sat together talking on vague household affairs, Lottie knocked at the door and came in.

"I don't want you to be taken by surprise or anything," she said, bluntly, "but Mr. Lawrence will be here to-morrow; and, before twenty-four hours, he will beg Miss Jessie's pardon for slighting her, on his bended knees, and ask her to marry him right out."

Jessie started up, pale as death, her eyes flashed and her lips quivered.

"Lottie!"

The voice was low, but it made the girl hold her breath.

"Don't let her get mad!" cried the strange creature, appealing to me; "I didn't bring him, gracious knows. Mrs. Babylon has done it, that's what you ought to know, and I've told it."

"But how did you find this out, Lottie?" I said, for Jessie had fallen back to her seat, and was shrouding her face with one hand.

"I won't tell you! If I did, some of your queer notions would come in and I should catch it. Just you take care of honor and dignity, and all that. I don't pretend to no such nonsense; I know he's coming, because Babylon sent for him; she's ready to take claws off now that--oh, dear!

oh, dear!"

Here the strange girl flung herself down on the floor, and, burying her face, began to cry bitterly.

I knew how she would have finished that sentence but for Jessie's presence, and shrunk from drawing forth another word.

At length Lottie lifted her wet face and shook the hair back from her eyes.

"I'm a queer jewsharp, ain't I?" she said, with a giggle that broke up the sob in her throat; "but it's true as the gospel. Mr. Lawrence is coming, and you mark if he don't go through with that very performance, kneeling and all!"

"Well, well! It was right to tell us, and Miss Jessie thanks you in her heart," I said, raising the girl from her lowly position. "Now go to your room."

She arose, looked wistfully at Jessie an instant; then creeping to her side, knelt down as she had often done at the feet of Mrs. Lee, and, taking the hand which fell listlessly down, kissed it.

Jessie started at the touch, and gently releasing the hand, laid it on the young girl's hair.

"I thank you," she said, looking down to the honest eyes into which great tears were crowding fast; "my mother loved you, and so do I."

"I--I'm a-trying to do my best and be a mother to you myself, now that she is dead and gone," answered Lottie, with a look of honest affection beaming over her face.

Jessie almost smiled; at which Lottie blushed like a child, and, starting to her feet, went away, closing the door softly after her.

"Can you believe this?" said Jessie, after she was gone.

"Yes," I answered. "Whatever her sources of information may be, Lottie is always correct."

"And he will dare--at her request--by her consent, perhaps--he will dare!"

She arose and walked the room, her black dress sweeping the carpet like an imperial robe.

I did not speak; anxiety kept me dumb. Was this a burst of anger that would pa.s.s away? When that man, with all his bewildering attractions, should stand before her--humble, imploring--how would it be? The hopes which had begun to dawn in my heart for young Bosworth faltered, notwithstanding this queenly manifestation of pride.

"_She_ has sent for him indeed!" burst from those curved lips; "there is nothing humiliating in this, Aunt Matty. She invites gentlemen to my father's house and allows them to approach me. Perhaps she has found out that half this property is mine now, and sent him word."

I started. This might be true. There certainly was something inexplicable in the evident understanding between Lawrence and our guest.

"Well, let him come," said Jessie, drawing a deep breath. "Let him come; I understand myself now."

"You will not accept him then?" I inquired, anxiously.

"Accept him!" she replied, with a calm smile, which told how deep and settled her pride had become, far more clearly than the flashing eye and writhing lip that had startled me a moment before. "You need not fear that, my friend."

"And you do not love him?"

"No, my friend, I do not love him; nor am I sure that he is worthy of any good woman's love."

I clasped my hands in thankfulness. Her words had lifted a painful weight from my bosom.

"Thank G.o.d!" I murmured.

She looked at me gratefully, and we parted for the night.

CHAPTER LVII.

MRS. DENNISON URGES LAWRENCE TO PROPOSE.

The next morning Mrs. Dennison kept up the subdued character of the previous night. Her eyes were heavy and full of troubled mist, her movements had lost their elasticity, and an air of touching depression supplanted the graceful audacity of her usual manner.