Sharing Her Crime: A Novel

by May Agnes Fleming

  CHAPTER V.

  MOUNT SUNSET HALL.

  "A jolly place, 'twas said, in days of old."--WORDSWORTH.

  The jingle of the approaching sleigh-bells, which had frightened Dr.Wiseman from the beach, had been unheard by the drunken nurse; but tenminutes after she had left, a sleigh came slowly along the narrow,slippery path.

  It contained but two persons. One was an elderly woman, wrapped andmuffled in furs. A round, rosy, cheery face beamed out from a blackvelvet bonnet, and two small, twinkling, merry gray eyes, lit up thepleasantest countenance in the world.

  Her companion, who sat in the driver's seat, was a tall, jolly-lookingdarkey, with a pair of huge, rolling eyes, looking like a couple ofsnow-drifts in a black ground. A towering fur cap ornamented the placewhere the "wool ought to grow," and was the only portion of this son ofdarkness which could be discovered for his voluminous wrappings.

  The path was wet, slippery, and dangerous in the extreme. The horseswere restive, and a single false step would have overturned them intothe water.

  "Missus Scour, if you please, missus, you'd better git out," said thenegro, reining in the horses, in evident alarm; "this yer's the wussestroad I'se ever trabeled. These wishious brutes 'll spill me and you, andthe sleigh, and then the Lor only knows what'll ever become of us."

  "Do you think there's any danger, Jupiter?" said Mrs. Gower (for suchwas the name her sable attendant had transformed into _Scour_), in avoice of alarm.

  "This road's sort o' 'spicious anyhow," replied Jupiter. "I'd 'vise you,Missus Scour, mum, to get out and walk till we is past this yer beach.'Sides the snow, this yer funnelly beach is full o' holes, an' if we gotupsot inter one of 'em, ole marse might whistle for you and me, and thesleigh arter that!"

  With much difficulty, and with any amount of whoaing, Jupiter managed tostop the sleigh, and assisted stout Mrs. Gower to alight. This was noeasy job, for that worthy lady was rather unwieldy, and panted like astranded porpoise, as she slowly plunged through the wet snow-drifts.

  Suddenly, above the jingling sleigh-bells, the wail of an infant met herear. She paused in amazement, and looked around. Again she heardit--this time seemingly at her feet. She looked down and beheld a small,dark bundle, lying amid the deep snow.

  Once more the piteous cry met her ear, and stooping down, she raised thelittle dark object in her arms.

  Unfolding the shawl, she beheld the infant whose cries had firstarrested her ear.

  "Good heavens! a baby exposed to this weather--left here to perish!"exclaimed good Mrs. Gower, in horror. "Poor little thing, it's halffrozen. Who could have done so unnatural a deed?"

  "Laws! Missus Scour, what ye got dar?" inquired Jupiter.

  "A baby, Jupe! A poor little helpless infant whom some unnatural wretchhas left here to die!" exclaimed Mrs. Gower, with more indignation thanshe had ever before felt in her life.

  "Good Lor! so 'tis! What you gwine to do wid it, Missus Scour, mum?"

  "Do with it?" said Mrs. Gower, looking at him in surprise. "Why, take itwith me, of course. You wouldn't have me leave the poor infant here toperish, would you?"

  "'Deed, Missus Scour, I wouldn't bring it 'long ef I was you. Jes''flect how tarin' mad ole marse 'll be 'bout it. Don't never want to seeno babies roun'. Deed, honey, you'd better take my 'vice an' leave itwhar it was," said Jupiter.

  "What? Leave it here to die. I'm ashamed of you, Jupiter," said the oldlady, rebukingly.

  "But Lor! Missus Scour! ole marse 'll trow it out de winder fust thing.Shouldn't be s'prised, nudder, ef he'd wollop me for bringing it. Jes''flect upon it, Missus Scour, nobody can't put no 'pendence onto him, deforsooken ole sinner. Trowed his 'fernal ole stick at me, t'other day,and like to knock my brains out, jes' for nothin' at all. 'Deed, honey,I wouldn't try sich a 'sperriment, no how."

  "Now, Jupiter, you needn't say another word. My mind's made up, and I'mgoing to keep this child, let 'ole marse' rage as he will. I'm just assure as I can be, that the Lord sent it to me, to-night, as a Christmasgift, in place of my poor, dear Aurora, that he took to heaven," saidgood Mrs. Gower, folding the wailing infant closer still to her warm,motherly bosom.

  "Sartin, missus, in course you knows best, but ef you'd only 'flect.'Pears to me, ole marse 'll tar roun worser dan ever, when he sees it,and discharge you in you 'sponsible ole age o' life 'count of it."

  "And if he _does_ discharge me, Jupiter, after twenty years' service, Ihave enough to support myself and this little one to the end of my life,thank the Lord!" said Mrs. Gower, her honest, ruddy face all aglow withgenerous enthusiasm.

  "Well, I s'pose 'taint no sorter use talking," said Jupiter, with asigh, as he gathered up the reins; "but ef anything happens, jes 'memberI 'vised you of it 'forehand. Here we is on de road now, so you'd betterget in ef you's agoin' to take de little 'un wid you."

  With considerable squeezing, and much panting, and some groaning, goodMrs. Gower was assisted into the sleigh, and muffled up in the buffalorobes.

  Wrapping the child in her warm, fur-lined mantle, to protect it from thechill night air, they sped merrily along over the hard, frozen ground.

  Christmas morning dawned bright, sunshiny, and warm. The occupants ofthe sleigh had long since left the city behind them, and were nowdriving along the more open country. The keen, frosty air deepened therosy glow on Mrs. Gower's good-humored face. Warmly protected from thecold, the baby lay sleeping sweetly in her arms, and even Jupiter'ssable face relaxed into a grin as he whistled "Coal Black Rose."

  The sun was about three hours high when they drew up before a solitaryinn. And here Jupiter assisted Mrs. Gower into the house, while hehimself looked after his horses.

  Mrs. Gower was shown by the hostess into the parlor, where a hugewood-fire roared up the wide chimney. Removing the large shawl thatenveloped it, Mrs. Gower turned for the first time to examine her prize.

  It did not differ much from other babies, save in being the tiniestlittle creature that ever was seen; with small, pretty features, and anunusual profusion of brown hair. As it awoke, it disclosed a pair oflarge blue eyes--rather vacant-looking, it must be confessed--andimmediately set up a most vigorous squealing. Small as it was, itevidently possessed lungs that would not have disgraced a newsboy, andseemed bent upon fully exercising them; for in spite of Mrs. Gower'scooing and kissing, it cried and screamed "and would not be comforted."

  "Poor little dear, it's so hungry," said the good old lady, rocking itgently. "What a pretty little darling it is. I'm _sure_ it looks likelittle Aurora!"

  "What is the matter with baby?" inquired the hostess, at this momententering.

  "It's hungry, poor thing. Bring in some warm milk, please," replied Mrs.Gower.

  The milk was brought, and baby, like a sensible child, as it doubtlesswas, did ample justice to it. Then rolling it up in the shawl, Mrs.Gower placed it in the rocking-chair, and left it to its ownreflections, while she sat down to a comfortable breakfast of fragrantcoffee, hot rolls, and fried ham.

  When breakfast was over Jupiter brought round the horses and sleigh, andMrs. Gower entered, holding her prize, and they drove off.

  It was noon when they reached the end of their long journey, and enteredthe little village of St. Mark's. Sloping upward from the bay on oneside, and encircled by a dense primeval forest on the other, the villagestood. St. Mark's was a great place in the eyes of its inhabitants, andconsidered by them the only spot on the globe fit for rational beings tolive in. It was rather an unpretending-looking place, though, tostrangers, who sometimes came from the city to spend the hot summermonths there, in preference to any fashionable watering-place. Itcontained a church, a school-house, a lecture-room, a post-office, andan inn.

  But the principal building, and pride of the village, was Mount SunsetHall. It stood upon a sloping eminence, which the villagers dignifiedwith the title of hill, but which in reality was no such thing. The hallitself was a large, quaint, old mansion of gray stone, built in theElizabethan style, with high turrets, peaked gables
, and long, highwindows. It was finely situated, commanding on one side a view of theentire village and the bay, and on the other the dark pine forest andfar-spreading hills beyond. A carriage-path wound up toward the front,through an avenue of magnificent horse chestnuts, now bare and leafless.A wide porch, on which the sun seemed always shining, led into a long,high hall, flanked on each side by doors, opening into the separateapartments. A wide staircase of dark polished oak led to the upperchambers of the old mansion.

  The owner of Sunset Hall was Squire Erliston, the one great man of thevillage, the supreme autocrat of St. Mark's. The squire was a rough,gruff, choleric old bear, before whom children and poultry and otherinferior animals quaked in terror. He had been once given to high livingand riotous excesses, and Sunset Hall had then been a place ofdrunkenness and debauchery. But these excesses at last brought on adangerous disease, and for a long time his life was despaired of; thenthe squire awoke to a sense of his situation, took a "pious streak"--ashe called it himself--and registered a vow, that if it pleasedProvidence not to deprive the world in general, and St. Marks inparticular, of so valuable an ornament as himself, he would eschew allhis evil deeds and meditate seriously on his latter end. Whether hisprayer was heard or not I cannot undertake to say; but certain it is thesquire recovered; and, casting over in his mind the ways and means bywhich he could best do penance for his past sins, he resolved to gothrough a course of Solomon's Proverbs, and--get married. Deeming itbest to make the greatest sacrifice first, he got married; and, afterthe honeymoon was past, surprised his wife one day by taking down thehuge family Bible left him by his father, and reading the first chapter.This he continued for a week--yawning fearfully all the time; but afterthat he resolved to make his wife read them aloud to him, and therebysave him the trouble.

  "For," said the squire sagely, "what's the use of having a wife if shecan't make herself useful. 'A good wife's a crown to her husband,' asSolomon says."

  So Mrs. Erliston was commanded each morning to read one of the chaptersby way of morning prayers. The squire would stretch himself on a lounge,light a cigar, lay his head on her lap, and prepare to listen. Butbefore the conclusion of the third verse Squire Erliston and his goodresolutions would be as sound as one of the Seven Sleepers.

  When his meek little wife would hint at this, her worthy liege lordwould fly into a passion, and indignantly deny the assertion. _He_asleep, indeed! Preposterous!--he had heard every word! And, in proof ofit, he vociferated every text he could remember, and insisted uponmaking Solomon the author of them all. This habit he had retainedthrough life--often to the great amusement of his friends--setting themost absurd phrases down to the charge of the Wise Monarch. His wifedied, leaving him with two daughters; the fate of the eldest, Esther, isalready known to the reader.

  Up the carriage-road, in front, the sleigh containing our travelersdrove. Good Mrs. Gower--who for many years had been Squire Erliston'shousekeeper--alighted, and, passing through the long hall, entered acheerful-looking apartment known as the "housekeeper's room."

  Seating herself in an elbow-chair to recover her breath, Mrs. Gower laidthe baby in her bed, and rang the bell. The summons was answered by atidy little darkey, who rushed in all of a flutter.

  "Laws! Missus Scour, I's 'stonished, I is! Whar's de young 'un! Jupe sayyou fotch one from the city."

  "So I did; there it is on the bed."

  "Sakes alive, ain't it a mite of a critter! Gemini! what'll old marsesay? Can't abide babies no how! 'spect he neber was a baby hisself!"

  "Totty, you mustn't speak that way of your master. Remember, it's notrespectful," said Mrs. Gower, rebukingly.

  "Oh, I'll 'member of it--'specially when I's near him, and he's got astick in his hand," said Totty, turning again to the baby, and eying itas one might some natural curiosity. "Good Lor! ain't it a funny littlecritter? What's its name, Miss Scour?"

  "I intend calling it Aurora, after my poor little daughter," repliedMrs. Gower, tears filling her eyes.

  "_Roarer!_ Laws! ain't it funny? Heigh! dar's de bell. 'Spect it's forme," said Totty, running off.

  In a few moments she reappeared; and, shoving her curly head and ebonyphiz through the door, announced, in pompous tones, "dat marse wanted dehonor ob a few moments' private specification wid Missus Scour in deparlor."

  "Very well, Totty; stay in here and mind the baby until I come back,"said Mrs. Gower, rising to obey.

  Totty, nothing loth, seated herself by the bed and resumed the scrutinyof the baby. Whether that young lady remarked the impertinent stare ofthe darkey or not, it would be hard to say; for, having bent her wholeheart and soul on the desperate and rather cannibal-like task ofdevouring her own little fists, she treated Totty with silent contempt.

  Meantime, Mrs. Gower, with a look of firm determination, but with aheart which, it must be owned, throbbed faster than usual, approachedthe room wherein sat the lord and master of Sunset Hall. A gruff voiceshouted: "Come in!" in reply to her "tapping at the chamber-door;" andgood Mrs. Gower, in fear and trembling, entered the awful presence.

  In a large easy-chair in the middle of the floor--his feet supported bya high ottoman--reclined Squire Erliston. He was evidently about fiftyyears of age, below the middle size, stout and squarely built, and ofponderous proportions. His countenance was fat, purple, and bloated, asif from high living and strong drink; and his short, thick, bull-likeneck could not fail to bring before the mind of the beholder mostunpleasant ideas of apoplexy. His little, round, popping eyes seemed indanger of starting from their sockets; while the firm compression of hissquare mouth betokened an unusual degree of obstinacy.

  "Good-morning, Mrs. Gower. Fine day, this! Got home, I see. Shut thedoor!--shut the door!--draughts always bring on the gout; so beware of'em. Don't run into danger, or you'll perish in it, as Solomon says.There! sit down, sit down, sit down!"

  Repeating this request a very unnecessary number of times--for worthyMrs. Gower had immediately taken a seat on entering--Squire Erlistonadjusted his spectacles carefully on the bridge of his nose, and glancedseverely at his housekeeper over the top of them. That good lady satwith her eyes fixed upon the carpet--her hands folded demurely in herlap--the very personification of mingled dignity and good-nature.

  "Hem! madam," began the squire.

  "Yes, sir," replied Mrs. Gower, meekly.

  "Jupe tells me--that is, he told me--I mean, ma'am, the short and longof it is, you've brought a baby home with you--eh?"

  "Yes, sir," replied the housekeeper.

  "And how dare you, ma'am--how _dare_ you bring such a thing here?"roared the squire, in a rage. "Don't you know I detest the wholepersuasion under twelve years of age? Yes, ma'am! you know it; and yetyou went and brought one here. 'The way of the transgressor is hard,' asSolomon says; and I'll make it confoundedly hard for you if you don'tpitch the squalling brat this minute out of the window! D'ye hear that?"

  "Yes, sir," replied Mrs. Gower, quietly.

  "And why the deuce don't you go and do it, then--eh?"

  "Because, Squire Erliston, I am resolved to keep the child," said Mrs.Gower, firmly.

  "What! _what!_ WHAT!" exclaimed the squire, speechless with mingled rageand astonishment at the audacious reply.

  "Yes, sir," reiterated Mrs. Gower, resolutely. "I consider that childsent to me by Heaven, and I cannot part with it."

  "Fudge! stuff! fiddlesticks! Sent to you by heaven, indeed! S'poseheaven ever dropped a young one on the beach? Likely story!"

  "Well, I consider it the same thing. Some one left it on the beach, andheaven destined me to save it."

  "Nonsense! no such thing! 'twas that stupid rascal, Jupe, making you getout. I'll horsewhip him within an inch of his life for it!" roared theold man, in a passion.

  "I beg you will do no such thing, sir. It was no fault of Jupiter's. Ifyou insist on its quitting the house, there remains but one course forme."

  "Confound it, ma'am! you'd make a saint swear, as Solomon says. Praytell me what _is_ that course you
speak of?"

  "I must leave with it."

  "What?" exclaimed the squire, perfectly aghast with amazement.

  "I must leave with it!" repeated Mrs. Gower, rising from her seat, andspeaking quietly, but firmly.

  "Sit down, ma'am--sit down, sit down! Oh, Lord! let me catch my breath!Leave with it! Just say that over again, will you? I don't think I heardright."

  "Your ears have not deceived you, Squire Erliston. I repeat it, if thatchild leaves, I leave, too!"

  You should have seen Squire Erliston then, as he sat bolt upright, hislittle round eyes ready to pop from their sockets with consternation,staring at good Mrs. Gower much like a huge turkey gobbler. That goodlady stood complacently waiting, with her hand on the handle of thedoor, for what was to come next.

  She had not to long wait; for such a storm of rage burst upon herdevoted head, that anybody else would have fled in dismay. But she,"good, easy soul," was quite accustomed to that sort of thing, and stoodgazing upon him as serenely as a well-fed Biddy might on an enragedbarn-yard chanticleer. And still the storm of abuse raged, interspersedwith numerous quotations from Solomon--by way, doubtless, of impressingher that his wrath was righteous. And still Mrs. Gower stood serene andunruffled by his terrible denunciations, looking as placid as a mountainlake sleeping in the sunlight.

  "Well, ma'am, well; what do you think of your conduct _now_?" exclaimedthe squire, when the violence of his rage was somewhat exhausted.

  "Just what I did before, sir."

  "And what was that, eh?--what was that?"

  "That I have done right, sir; and that I will keep the child!"

  "_You will?_" thundered the squire, in an awful voice.

  "Yes, sir!" replied Mrs. Gower, slightly appalled by his terrible look,but never flinching in her determination.

  "You--you--you--abominable--female, you!" stammered the squire, unableto speak calmly, from rage. Then he added: "Well, well! I won't getexcited--no, ma'am. You can keep the brat, ma'am! But mind you, if itever comes across me, I'll wring its neck for it as I would achicken's!"

  "Then I _may_ keep the little darling?" said good Mrs. Gower,gratefully. "I am sure I am much obliged, and----"

  "There! there! there! Hold your tongue, ma'am! Don't let me hear anotherword about it--the pest! the plague! Be off with you now, and send updinner. Let the turkey be overdone, or the pudding burned, at yourperil! 'Better a stalled ox with quietness, than a dry morsel,' asSolomon says. Hurry up there, and ring for Lizzie!"

  Mrs. Gower hastened from the room, chuckling at having got over thedifficulty so easily. And from that day forth, little Aurora, as herkind benefactress called her, was domesticated at Mount Sunset Hall.