Grandmother Elsie, Page 3

  CHAPTER III.

  "Filial ingratitude? Is it not as this mouth should tear this hand For lifting food to 't?" --_Shaks. Lear_.

  "This is a very sudden resolve of yours, mother, isn't it?" Dr. Conlyasked, as they drove through the great gates at Ion, into the highway.

  "It is, Arthur, for I had not dreamed of such a wild scheme on the part ofthose two silly children until I heard of it from their grandfather'slips; nor could have believed he would sanction such folly. They ought tomake Elsie stay where she is, and if young Leland dies it will but rid thefamily of a prospective plebeian alliance."

  "Very possibly of the sweet girl also," was Arthur's grave response.

  "Nonsense! it is only in novels that girls die of broken hearts."

  "Granting that for argument's sake, it must be very hard to live withone."

  "Well; it seems she is to be allowed to go, and my offer removes the mostserious objection; yet I have no idea that the sacrifice on my part willbe at all appreciated."

  "Then why make it, mother? I can readily find a substitute; there is Mrs.Foster, whose health would be greatly benefited by a long sea voyage. She,I feel certain, would think it a great boon to be allowed this opportunityof going without expense and in the company of two young people of whomshe is very fond. And you know, mother, that though poor now she wasformerly wealthy, is a perfect lady, and her having been to Europe once ortwice would make her all the more valuable companion to them."

  "You are quite too late with your suggestion, Arthur," was the coldlyspoken reply. "I have passed my word and shall not break it."

  Her son gave her a look of keen scrutiny, then turned his face from herwith a scarcely audible sigh. He read her motives and feelings far moreclearly than she suspected.

  The truth was she was weary of the dulness of home now that the shadow ofbereavement was upon it, and the etiquette of mourning forbade herattendance upon public assemblages of whatever kind, except church, anddid not allow even so much as a formal call upon strangers oracquaintance. The society of her now old, feeble, and depressed father waswearisome to her also.

  Beside she had long had a hankering after a European tour, and this wastoo good an opportunity to let slip. Also it would give her a chance tosee for herself what was the trouble with Virginia, whose letters of latehad been of a very disquieting kind; full of reproaches and vague hints ofunhappiness and disappointment in her new life.

  There would probably be a few hours between their arrival in New York andthe sailing of the steamer, in which she could call to see Virginia andlearn with certainty exactly how she was situated.

  Mrs. Travilla received the news of her aunt's offer with a gratitude whichit by no means merited, and the younger Elsie, though not fond of her AuntLouise's society, felt that her presence might prove a comfort and supportwhen she and Edward should find themselves strangers in a foreign land.

  The mother sought this dear eldest child with loving words of cheer andcounsel whenever she could be spared from the sick-room, and Violet,Harold, and Herbert hung about her as a treasure soon to be snatched fromthem, each eager to render any assistance in his or her power.

  The hour of parting came all too soon, and with many tears and embracesthe young travellers were sent on their way.

  The mother's last words to Elsie, as she held her close to her heart withmany a tear and tender caress, were: "'Be strong and of a good courage,fear not, nor be afraid of them, for the Lord thy God, he it is that dothgo with thee, he will not fail thee, nor forsake thee.' To him, the God ofyour fathers, do I trust you, my precious child."

  "You also, my dear, dear boy!" taking Edward's hand: "but rejoice in thethought that you are together, mutual helpers and comforters."

  "Be sure to telegraph us from New York, Edward, again as soon as possibleafter landing on the other side, and a third time when you have seenLester and can report his exact condition," was Mr. Dinsmore's partinginjunction, as with a most affectionate farewell he left them in thesleeping-car.

  Mrs. Conly had joined them at the depot, according to promise.

  All three retired at once to their berths, and Elsie wept herself tosleep, thinking of the dear ones left behind; especially the mother whohad so tenderly cherished her from her birth and the sick little ones who,she feared, might not be there to welcome her return. Thinking too of himto whom she was going, his probable suffering, and the dread possibilitythat at her journey's end she should find only his grave.

  They reached New York in good season, having met with no accident ordetention. The steamer would not leave for some hours, but it was Elsie'sdesire to go directly on board.

  "I think that will be your best plan," said Mrs. Conly. "You can thensettle yourself in your state-room at once; and while Dinah unpacks whatyou will need on the voyage, you can lie in your berth and rest. You arelooking greatly fatigued."

  "You will come with us, Aunt Louise, will you not?" both the young peopleasked.

  "No, I must see Virginia. I shall have time for an hour's chat with herand yet to reach the vessel some time before the hour fixed for hersailing. Edward, you will see that my luggage is taken on board?"

  "Certainly, aunt; but shall we not first drive to Virginia's residence andleave you there? And I return for you after seeing my sister and theluggage on board the steamer?"

  "No, not at all!" she answered stiffly. "I am obliged for your offer, butwhere would be the use? You may tell Ben to call a hack for me. I'll haveit wait at Virginia's door and drive me to the wharf when I am ready togo."

  Edward, thinking he had never known her so considerate and kind, hastenedto carry out her wishes, bidding Ben engage two hacks--one for Mrs. Conlyand another for themselves.

  Consideration for her nephew and niece had nothing to do with Mrs. Conly'splans and arrangements. If, as she greatly feared, Virginia were living inother than aristocratic style, she would not for the world have it knownamong the relatives who had heard her boasts in regard to Virgie's grandmatch; "so much better than Isa had been led into while under the care ofher grandfather and uncle."

  She had never before heard of the street mentioned in Virginia's lastletter, and her heart misgave her as to its being one of the mostfashionable for the abodes of the wealthy. The curiously scrutinizing lookand odd smile of the hack-driver when she gave him the address did nottend to reassure her.

  "Drive me there as quickly as you can," she ordered, drawing herself upand flashing an indignant glance at him. "I have no time to waste."

  "Sure, mum, I'll do that same," he returned, touching his horses with thewhip.

  "Where are you taking me? What do you mean by bringing me into such a vileregion as this?" she demanded presently, as the hack turned into a narrowand very dirty street.

  "It's the shortest cut to the place ye said ye wanted to go till, mum," heanswered shortly.

  She sank back with a sigh and closed her eyes for a moment. She was veryweary with her long journey and more depressed than she had ever been inher life before.

  The drive seemed the longest and most unpleasant she had ever undertaken;she began to wish she had been content to sail for Europe without tryingto find Virginia. But at last the vehicle stopped, the driver reached downfrom his seat and opened the door.

  His passenger put out her head, glanced this way and that, scanned thehouse before her, and angrily demanded, "What are you stopping here for?"

  "Bekase ye tould me to, mum; it's the place ye said ye wanted to cometill."

  Mrs. Conly looked at the number over the door, saw that it was the one shehad given him, then in a voice she vainly tried to make coldlyindifferent, inquired of some children who had gathered on the sidewalk togaze in open-mouthed curiosity at her and the hack, if this were ----street.

  The answer confirmed the driver's assertion, and she hastily alighted.

  The house was a large tenement swarming with inhabitants, as was evidencedby the number of heads in nearly every front window, d
rawn thither by theunusual event of the stopping of a hack before the door of entrance. Itstood wide open, giving a view of an unfurnished hall and stairway, bothof which were in a very untidy condition.

  "Does Mr. Henry Neuville live here?" Mrs. Conly asked, addressing thegroup of staring children.

  "Dunno," said one. "Guess not," said another.

  "Mebbe thems the grand folks as moved intill the second story frontt'other week," observed a third. "I'll show ye the way, lady," and herushed past her into the house and ran nimbly up the dirty stairs.

  Mrs. Conly lifted her skirts and followed, her heart sinking like lead inher bosom. Could it be possible that Virginia had come to this?

  Halting before the door of the front room on the second floor, the ladgave a thundering rap, then opened it, shouting, "Here's a old lady to seeye, Mrs. Novel; if that's yer name."

  "What do you mean by rushing in on me in this rude way, you young rascal?"demanded a shrill female voice, which Mrs. Conly instantly recognized asthat of her daughter. "Begone instantly! begone, I say!"

  "Go, go!" Mrs. Conly said to the boy, in half smothered tones, putting asmall coin into his hand; then staggering into the room she dropped into achair, gasping for breath.

  "Virginia, Virginia! can it be possible that I find you in such a placeas this?" she cried, as the latter started up from a lounge on which shehad been lying with a paper-covered novel in her hand.

  Her hair was in crimping-pins, her dress most slatternly, and hersurroundings were in keeping with her personal appearance.

  "Mamma!" she exclaimed in utter astonishment and confusion. "How did youget here? how did you come? You should have sent me word. I have no way toaccommodate you."

  "Don't be alarmed, I have no intention of staying more than an hour. Istart for Europe by to-day's steamer, with Elsie and Edward Travilla.Lester Leland's ill, dying I presume, and the silly love-sick girl mustneeds rush to the rescue."

  "And why are you to go with her? why don't the mother and grandfather andthe whole family accompany her, after their usual fashion of all keepingtogether?"

  "Because Rosie and Walter are down with the measles; much too ill totravel."

  "And you are going to Europe to enjoy yourself, while I must live here ina New York tenement house occupied by the very dregs of society, and asthe wife of a drunkard, gambler, and rake; a man--or rather a brute--wholives by his wits, abuses me like the pickpocket that he is, half starvesme, and expects me to do all the work, cooking, cleaning, and everythingelse, even to washing and ironing of the few clothes he hasn't pawned; me!a lady brought up to have servants to wait upon her at every turn!"

  "O Virgie, Virgie! it can't be so bad as that!" cried her mother, claspingher hands in an agony of distress, and gazing piteously at her, the hottears streaming down her face.

  "I tell you it is that and worse! and all your fault, for you made thematch! you hurried me into it lest grandpa, uncle, or brothers shouldinterfere, find out that the man's morals were not good according to theirhigh standard, and prevent me from marrying him."

  "You were in as great haste and as much opposed to their interference asI, Virginia!" the mother retorted, drawing herself up in proud anger.

  "Well, and what of that! you brought me up, and I was only following outthe teachings you have given me from my cradle. I tell you it was yourdoing; but I must reap what you have sowed. I wish I was dead!" She flungher book from her as she spoke, turned and paced the room, her handsclenched, her eyes flashing, her teeth set hard.

  She had not drawn near her mother, or given her one word of welcome orthanks for having turned aside from her journey to inquire into herwelfare.

  "'Oh, sharper than a serpent's tooth it is to have a thankless child!'"exclaimed Mrs. Conly in anguished accents, rising as if to go, butinstantly falling heavily to the floor.

  Virginia rushed to her side, half frantic with terror.

  "Oh, mother, mother, what is it? What have I done! what have I done! Iknow you're the best friend I have in the world!" she cried, stooping overher, loosening her bonnet-strings and dress, and trying vainly to lift herto the lounge, for she was a large, heavy woman and now in a state ofutter insensibility, her face purple, her breathing stertorous.

  The sound of her fall and Virginia's terrified shriek had brought theneighbors flocking upon the scene; some of the boldest opening the doorand ushering themselves in without the ceremony of knocking.

  "The lady's in a fit!" cried a woman, hurrying to Virginia's assistance;"you've druv her to distraction; you shouldn't a ben so abusive; I couldhear ye clear into my room a scoldin' and accusin' of her of makin' yourmatch fer ye."

  "Run for a doctor, some of you!" cried Virginia, standing by the couchwhere, with the woman's help, she had laid her mother, and wringing herhands in helpless distress. "Oh, she'll die! she'll die! Mother, mother!I'm sorry I was so cruel! Oh, I take it all back. Oh, mother, speak tome!"

  "'Tain't no use," said the woman, "she don't hear ye. An' if she did shecouldn't speak. I've seen folks struck down with apoplexy afore."

  "Oh, will she die? will she die?" groaned the wretched daughter, droppingon her knees beside the couch.

  "Can't tell, mum; sometimes they die in a little bit, and sometimes theyget purty well over it and live on for years. Here, let me put anotherpillar under her head, and some o' ye there run and fetch the coldestwater that ever ye can git."

  Some one had summoned a physician, and he presently came hurrying in. Hisfirst act was to send every one from the room except the patient and hertwo attendants.

  With tears and sobs Virginia besought him to save her mother's life.

  "I shall certainly do my best, madam," he said, "but very little can bedone at present. What was the immediate cause of the attack?"

  Virginia answered vaguely that her mother was fatigued with a long journeyand had been worried and fretted.

  "This is not her home?" glancing around the meanly furnished dirty room.

  "No; neither she nor I have been accustomed to such surroundings,"answered Virginia haughtily. "Can you not see that we are ladies? We arefrom the South, and mother has but just arrived. Oh, tell me, is she goingto die?"

  "Her recovery is doubtful. If she has other near relatives who care to seeher alive, I advise you to summon them with all speed."

  "Oh dear! oh dear! you must save her!" cried Virginia frantically,wringing her hands. "I can't have her die. They'll say I killed her! Butevery word I said was true; she did all in her power to make the matchthat has ruined my happiness and all my prospects for life."

  "So you, her own daughter, have brought this on by cruel taunts andreproaches!" the physician said in a tone of mingled contempt andindignation. "I hope you feel that the least you can do now is to take thebest possible care of her."

  "How can I?" sobbed Virginia. "I've no money to pay a nurse or buycomforts for mother, and I know nothing about nursing or cooking for sickor well. I wasn't brought up to work."

  A boy now came to the door with a message from the hackman; "he couldn'tstay any longer if the lady wasn't going to the steamer, and he wantedhis pay."

  Virginia opened a small satchel that had dropped from her mother's hand,found her purse, paid the man his dues, and counting the remainder toldthe doctor there was enough to provide what would be needed for thepatient until other relatives could be summoned, and that should be doneat once by telegrams to be paid by the recipients.

  The doctor approved, and kindly offered to attend to sending the messagesfor her.