Mildred at Roselands

by Martha Finley

  Chapter Thirteenth.

  "In desert wilds, in midnight gloom, In grateful joy, in trying pain, In laughing youth, or nigh the tomb, Ah! when is prayer unheard or vain?" Eliza Cook.

  The cold, grey dawn of the winter morning was stealing in at thewindows as at last, sighing heavily, the governess lifted her head witha returning consciousness of her surroundings.

  How dreary it all looked, in the dim, uncertain light! the disorderedroom, the fireless hearth--fit emblem, as it seemed, of the cold,almost dead heart within her.

  Life was like a desert at that moment, a rough, weary road where thornsand briars constantly pierced her tired feet. Why should she stay? Whynot lie down and rest in a quiet grave?

  She rose slowly, stiff from the constrained posture, and draggedherself across the room. Opening her wardrobe door, she took from theshelf a vial labelled "laudanum." She held it a moment in her hand.

  "It is only to go to sleep," she said, half aloud, "to go to sleep, andnever wake again. Never? ah! if I could be sure, _sure_ of that!"

  "'And the smoke of their torment ascendeth up forever and ever.' 'Wheretheir worm dieth not, and the fire is not quenched.'"

  With a shudder, she put it hastily back, locked the door, and threwherself upon the bed.

  "Oh, God, forgive me!" she cried, "keep me, keep me, or I shall do ityet! And then--forever and ever! No space for repentance, no comingback!"

  At length tired nature found temporary relief in the heavy, dreamlessslumber of utter exhaustion.

  Hours passed, and still she slept on, hearing not, nor heeding thesounds of returning life in the household.

  They were very late after their long night of revelry; breakfast wasnot on the table till ten o'clock, and even then no one answered thesummons but the master of the house and Mildred.

  The children had taken their morning meal two hours before.

  "An unexpected pleasure, this, Milly, my dear," was Mr. Dinsmore'sgreeting.

  "What, uncle, you did not surely expect me to be still in bed!"

  "Well no; but I thought you would be looking fagged and worn; insteadof which, your face is fresh and fair as a rose just washed with dew,and bright as the morning."

  "And why not, if sufficient rest will do it?" she returned, laughingly."I retired at twelve, and had my eight hours of sound, refreshingsleep."

  "Ah, you are a wise little woman! too sensible to let late hours robyou of health and good looks, and make you old before your time. Whatis it Solomon says? 'Early to bed and early to rise?'"

  "O, uncle, what a joke! there no use in your pretending that you don'tknow any better than that," she answered merrily.

  "Well, perhaps I do; but he certainly says something about lying latein bed."

  "Several things; one occurs to me now. 'Love not sleep, lest thou cometo poverty; open thine eyes, and thou shalt be satisfied with bread.'But it cannot mean that we should not take needful rest?"

  "Oh no, of course not! there's nothing gained by that. But where's MissWorth!"

  "She has not joined us since the house has been so full of guests. Ithink she takes her meals with the children in the nursery."

  "Ah, yes; I presume so; but I had forgotten it, and it struck me thatshe might be ill. I thought she was looking badly last night. Did younotice it?"

  "Yes; I did. I will inquire about her," Mildred said, remembering witha pang of self-reproach how ghastly a face the governess had worn ontaking her seat at the piano.

  She might be very ill, unable to call for help, neglected by the sleepymaids, and she herself had been up for two hours and ought to have goneto her door to inquire.

  She went immediately on leaving the table, her alarm and anxietyincreased on the way thither by the information, gleaned from one ofthe servants, that Miss Worth had not been present at the nurserybreakfast.

  Mildred rapped lightly, then louder, and receiving no answer, tried thedoor. It opened and she stole softly in.

  Miss Worth lay on the outside of the bed, still dressed as she had lastseen her--in the drawing room at the piano--and sleeping heavily. Herface was very pale and distressed and she moaned now and then as if inpain.

  She had nothing over her; but a heavy dark shawl lay on the floorbeside the chimney Mildred picked it up and spread it over her, drewdown the blinds to shut out the glare of the sun, rang for the maid,and while waiting for her, moved quietly about the room putting thingsin their places.

  "It is very cold here, for the fire is quite out and must be made up atonce," she whispered, meeting the girl at the door and motioning her tomake no noise. "Go bring up wood and kindling."

  "De governess sick, Miss Milly?" queried the servant, sending a curiousglance in the direction of the bed.

  "I don't know, Dinah, perhaps only tired, for she was up very latelast night; but she is asleep and must not be disturbed." And Mildredmotioned her imperatively away.

  It was not till an hour later that Miss Worth stirred and woke to finda cheerful fire blazing on the hearth and Mildred beside it quietlyknitting.

  She put down her work hastily, rose and came forward as she perceivedthe governess's eyes fixed upon her in a sort of perplexed surprise.

  "Excuse the intrusion," Mildred said; "but I thought you seemed ill,and was afraid you might need help. I hope your sleep has refreshedyou, and that you will let me order the breakfast they are keeping hotfor you in the kitchen."

  "Thank you, I cannot understand such kindness to me," Miss Worth saidhuskily. "I was very tired--not sick, I think--and I suppose the sleephas done me good."

  "And you will eat something?"

  "I will try, since you are so good."

  The effort was but indifferently successful, yet Miss Worth steadilyrefused to acknowledge herself on the sick list, and insisted thatshe was able to work and must do so; and Mildred went away, feelingtroubled and anxious.

  Left alone, Miss Worth took out her writing materials, then resting herelbows on the table, her face in her hands, sat thus for a long timewithout moving, a heavy sigh now and then escaping her.

  At last she took up her pen and wrote rapidly for several minutes, thensnatching up the paper, she tore it into fragments and threw them intothe fire.

  Another sheet shared the same fate, and seemingly giving it up indespair, she rose and walked the floor.

  "Oh, if I only knew what to do, what to say!" she moaned. "If hewould but hear reason; if he would but forsake his evil courses! Andyet!--Oh, if I had a friend! just one wise, true friend to advise andhelp me! But I dare not breathe my terrible fears to any mortal; andwho is there that would care to listen?"

  Her eye fell on the Bible lying there on the table, and with the sightcame the recollection of the texts Mildred had quoted to her.

  She almost heard a gentle, tender voice saying "Come unto me--and Iwill give you rest," and falling on her knees she cried to him,

  "Lord Jesus I do come! I give myself to thee; and oh, I beseech theein thy great mercy and loving kindness to help me in this my hour ofperplexity and distress!"

  Strange what a blessed calm succeeded the storm. She rose from herknees wondrously soothed and quieted. She had found a Friend who hadpledged His word to help her and who had all power in heaven and inearth. What need she fear? "If God be for us, who can be against us?"

  There might be trouble in store for her--great and sore trouble--but Hewould help her through.

  There was a sound of gay young voices in the halls without and onthe stairway; a carriage had driven to the door, an open barouche,and presently she saw it going down the avenue and that Mr. and Mrs.Dinsmore and the three young ladies were in it.

  The older children were away from home, as she knew, spending a fewdays at a neighboring plantation; the younger ones were probably in thenursery.

  She watched the carriage till it was lost to sight far down the road,then was turning from the window, with the thought in her mind thatit would be a blessing to Juliet
Marsden, as well as herself, if itwere taking her home to her father's care, when she caught sight of ahorseman coming from the opposite direction.

  She stood still, scanning him narrowly as he turned in at the gate andcame cantering up the avenue; as he drew near she recognized him witha start of surprise--terror mingling with it at first, but changinginstantly to joy that he had assuredly missed the object of his visit.

  It was her scoundrel brother; yet spite of all the distress and anguishof mind he was causing her, she was conscious of a thrill of sisterlypride in his handsome face and form, and the grace and ease of hishorsemanship.

  But she must seize this unhoped-for opportunity; there were motivesshe could urge which escaped her thoughts the previous night, and thatmight, perhaps, have weight with him; and much now depended upon promptaction on her part.

  She flew down the stairs and admitted him herself, before he had hadtime to ring; and fortunately no servant had perceived his approach.

  He looked at her in extreme surprise.

  "How is this?" he inquired, with an ill-natured sneer, "have you beenpromoted to the office of porter?"

  "Hush!" she answered, in an imperative whisper. "Come in here;" and sheled the way into a little parlor close at hand.

  "Excuse the impertinence, Madame, but I did not come to see you," hesaid angrily, as he followed her in.

  "I am well aware of that fact," she said in a calm tone of quietfirmness, as she turned and faced him. "Nevertheless, I believe I amthe one, and the only one you will see; and it is well, for I havesomething of importance to say."

  "Where is Miss Marsden?" he demanded.

  "Gone for a drive, and all the other ladies with her; Mr. Dinsmorealso. The last of the guests left an hour since, and we may chat for agood while without much fear of interruption."

  "Suppose I don't choose," he returned, straightening himself with adefiant air.

  "Harry, you must hear me!" she said, laying a detaining hand upon hisarm, for he was moving toward the door.

  "That's a strong word, and one you've no right to use to me," heanswered moodily, yet yielding to her determined will.

  She pointed to a chair, and he sat down.

  "Speak and be done with it," he said.

  Tears sprang to her eyes, but she forced them back.

  "Are you mad, Harry, that you venture a return to this country?" sheasked in an undertone, her voice trembling with excitement, "can youhave forgotten the danger that hangs over you?"

  "It's trifling, considering the changes five years have made," he said,with affected nonchalance; but his cheek paled.

  "Don't deceive yourself, don't trust to that; I recognized you at thefirst glance," she said, with the earnestness of one determined toconvince.

  "Well, one of my own family would, of course, be more apt to do so thanany one else. And I was never known in this part of the country."

  "No; but people travel about a great deal; Northerners come Southfrequently; especially in winter; and you may, any day, come face toface with some old acquaintance who will recognize you, and have youarrested; and then--" she hid her face and shuddered. "O Harry," shecried, "I shall live in terror till I know you are safe on the otherside of the ocean."

  "I'll go in all haste when I have secured my prize," he said coldly.

  "Give it up," she entreated, "you have no right to drag an innocentgirl down to infamy with you. Better go and make an honest living bythe labor of your hands."

  "I wasn't brought up to that, and infinitely prefer to live by mywits," he answered, with an evil smile, "and they'll have to help meto the means to pay my passage to those foreign shores you so highlyrecommend."

  "Sell this: it would surely bring more than enough for that," she said,pointing to the glittering gem on his finger.

  "Paste, my dear, nothing but paste," he laughed. "Clever imitation,isn't it?"

  "Ah, Harry, a fair type of its owner, I fear," she said sorrowfully.

  "Thanks for the compliment," he answered with a bitter laugh. "Well,after all, it is a compliment, taken in the sense that I'm as cleveran imitation of what Miss Marsden takes me for, as this is of a realdiamond; and perhaps she's as good a judge of the first article, as youare of the other; ha! ha!"

  "Harry," cried his sister, "are you utterly heartless? have you no pityat all for that poor silly girl?"

  "Pooh! Gertrude, I have to look out for myself; and other peoplemust do the same; I tell you it is a case of necessity," he answereddoggedly.

  "No," she said, "there cannot be a necessity for wrong doing, and ifpersisted in it must end at last in terrible retribution; both in thisworld and the next," she added in low, tremulous tones.

  "I'll risk it," he said with an oath. "And as to the girl, why she'dbreak her silly heart if I should forsake her," he added, with anunpleasant laugh, "You've no idea how deeply in love she is."

  "You are mistaken: she has no heart to break, and loves nobody, half sowell as herself. She will never be the woman to stand by and comfortyou in adversity: therefore you will be doing a foolish thing to makeher your wife, even though you consult your own interest alone."

  At that he only laughed, saying that as the girl's money was all hewanted, he didn't care whether she stood by him or not after he oncegot it into his possession.

  She renewed her warnings and entreaties, urging every motive she couldthink of to induce him to give up his wicked designs upon JulietMarsden, and forsake all his evil courses; but in vain; his heartwas fully set in him to do evil, and neither love of his mother andsisters, nor pity for the deluded girl, could move him.

  Nor did fear of punishment deter him. He was no coward, he said,glorying in his shame, and showing himself utterly devoid of wisdom'for the fear of the Lord, that is wisdom; and to depart from evil, isunderstanding;' and the Bible calls those fools who make a mock at sin,despise instruction and hate to depart from evil.

  At length there was a sound of approaching wheels; upon which heexclaimed in a relieved tone, "There, you'd better go; it won't helpeither you or me for us to be caught together."

  "No," she assented, rising hastily, "I must go. O, Harry, think of whatI've been saying, and don't rush headlong to destruction!"

  "There! I've had enough of it!" he retorted angrily. "I'll do as Iplease. And do you keep yourself quiet."