Chapter Twenty-fifth.
"Envy is but the smoke of low estate, Ascending still against the fortunate." --Lord Brooke.
"Mamma, what's the matter?" asked Adelaide Dinsmore.
They were at the breakfast table; Mrs. Dinsmore was reading a letterfrom her husband, and Adelaide had been studying her face the while,noting the gathering frown upon the brow, the flushing of the cheek,the compression of the lips that spoke of increasing anger.
"Matter? I was never so provoked in my life!" cried Mrs. Dinsmore,crushing the letter passionately in her hands, then tearing it intobits. "The idea of bringing that child here! and not merely for a visit(which would be bad enough), but to stay permanently. I don't know whatyour father can be thinking of! It seems it's not enough that I've beentormented with a stepson, but I must have a step--"
"Step what, mamma?" from all three of the little girls, as she brokeoff abruptly, leaving her sentence unfinished.
"Nonsense! be quiet, will you!" she answered angrily.
They waited a moment for her passion to cool; then Adelaide began again.
"What child, mamma? Is papa coming home, and going to bring a childwith him?"
"Yes; your brother Horace's child! You may as well know it first aslast, I suppose."
Three pairs of eyes opened wide with amazement, three young voicescrying out together, "Brother Horace's child! why, mamma, what canyou mean? We didn't know he had any. We never even heard that he wasmarried!"
"Of course you didn't," said Mrs. Dinsmore, pushing away her plate;"and probably you never would if this child hadn't been stubbornlydetermined to live in spite of losing her mother before she was a weekold.
"No; we were never proud of the match, and had kept the thing quiet;but now it will be a nine days' wonder to the neighbourhood, and thewhole story will have to come out."
"Then you might as well tell it to us," was Adelaide's sage rejoinder."Come, mamma, do, I'm dying of curiosity."
"It can be told in a few words," said Mrs. Dinsmore, in a tone ofwearied impatience. "Five years ago Horace went on a visit to NewOrleans, met an orphan girl of large fortune, fell in love with her,and persuaded her to marry him. The thing was clandestine, of course;for they were mere boy and girl. They lived together for two or threemonths, then her guardian, who had been away, came home, found it out,and was furious.
"He carried the girl off, nobody knew where; your father sent HoraceNorth to college, and some months afterward we heard that the girl wasdead and had left a baby. She's four years old now; the guardian isdead, and your father is bringing her home to live.
"There, I've given you the whole story, and don't intend to be botheredwith any more questions."
"But, mamma," burst out the children, who had listened with breathlessinterest, "you haven't told us her name, or when they are coming?"
"Her name is Elsie, and they will be here in about a week. There, now,not another question. I'm bored to death with the subject."
"Four years old; why, she's just a baby," remarked Adelaide to hersisters. "Let's go tell mammy the news, and that she's going to haveanother baby to take care of."
"No, she's not," said Mrs. Dinsmore sharply; "the child has a mammy ofher own that's coming with her."
"What relation is she to us, Ade?" asked Lora.
"Who? the black woman? None to me, I'm sure," laughed Adelaide.
"You know I didn't mean that!" Lora retorted, in a vexed tone.
"Why, we're aunts!" exclaimed Louise. "Now, isn't that funny? Andmamma's a grandmother! that's funnier still!" she added, with a burstof laughter.
Mrs. Dinsmore was in the act of leaving the room, but turned back tosay wrathfully, "No such thing! the child is not related to me in theleast. So don't let me hear any more of that nonsense."
"Mamma's mad," laughed Louise, "mad enough to shake me, I do believe.She doesn't like to be thought old enough to be a grandmother."
"May be she isn't," said Lora. "Horace was a pretty big boy when papaand mamma were married; wasn't he, Ade?"
"I can't remember before I was born," Adelaide answered teasingly.
"Well, if you don't know about anything but what has happened since youwere born, you don't know much," Lora retorted with spirit. "But I'llgo and ask mammy. She'll know, for she was here before he was born."
It was a lovely spring day, and from the windows of the breakfast-roomthey could see Aunt Maria, the old colored woman who had been nursein the family ever since the birth of Mr. Dinsmore's eldest child,and whom they all called mammy, walking about under the trees in thegarden, with Baby Enna in her arms, while Arthur and Walter gambolledtogether on the grass near by.
"Ki, chillens! what's de mattah?" she exclaimed, pausing in her walk,as the three little girls came bounding toward her in almost breathlessexcitement.
"O, mammy!" they cried, all speaking at once, "did you know thatbrother Horace was married and has a baby girl? and that papa'sbringing her home to live?"
"Ki chillens, what you talkin' 'bout?" returned the old woman,incredulously. "You's tryin' to fool your ole mammy."
"No, no, indeed, mammy! it's all so: mamma has just been telling us;"and they went on to repeat substantially what they had just learnedfrom their mother.
Aunt Maria was an intensely interested and astonished listener; andthey had several others before their story was finished; Arthur andWalter came running up to ask what it was all about, and two or threeservants also joined the little group.
"You look pleased, mammy; are you, really?" asked Adelaide.
"To be sure I is, chile," returned the old nurse, with a broad grin ofsatisfaction. "Marse Horace one ob my chillens, and I'll be mighty gladto see his little chile."
The news spread rapidly among the servants, and formed their principaltopic of conversation from that time till the arrival of their masterand his young charge.
On leaving the breakfast-room Mrs. Dinsmore bent her steps toward thenursery. She found it untenanted except by a housemaid, who was engagedin putting it in order for the day.
"Go and tell Mrs. Brown that I wish to speak to her immediately,"commanded the mistress, dropping into an easy chair.
"Yes, missus," and the girl disappeared, to return shortly, accompaniedby the housekeeper.
"You have heard from Mr. Dinsmore?" remarked the lady inquiringly,addressing Mrs. Brown.
"Yes, ma'am. He writes that Mrs. Murray, the housekeeper at Viamede,has consented to take my place for the coming year."
"Yes; I'm afraid she won't suit me as well. It's a great pity youshould have got such a notion in your head; I mean as to the necessityor desirability of going away. I don't think you'll find a healthierplace anywhere else than Roselands."
"I've no fault to find with the place ma'am; but I need rest, thedoctor says, from the care and--"
"Dr. Barton's full of notions!" interrupted Mrs. Dinsmore impatiently."Well, you'll stay, I suppose, until this Mrs. Murray learns from youabout the ways of the house?"
"Yes, ma'am; since you wish it."
Mrs. Dinsmore gave her orders for the day, as usual, then said,"There's another thing, Mrs. Brown. You have probably heard that Mr.Dinsmore is bringing a child with him?"
"Yes, ma'am; he mentioned it in his letter to me, saying that a roommust be got ready for her and her nurse."
"That is what I was coming to."
Mrs. Dinsmore arose and opened a door leading into an adjoiningapartment.
"This room will answer very well. Have the trunks and boxes carriedto the attic, the floor, paint, and window washed, a single bedstead,washstand, bureau, and two or three chairs brought in, and put up awhite muslin curtain to the window."
"But, ma'am--Mrs. Dinsmore--" and Mrs. Brown looked almost aghast ather employer.
"Well?" exclaimed the latter, with sharpness.
"Excuse me, ma'am, but isn't--I understood that the little lady was Mr.Dinsmore's granddaughter, and--and quite an heiress."
"Wel
l, and supposing she is all that?"
"I beg pardon, Mrs. Dinsmore, but isn't the room rather small? Only onewindow, too, and I presume she's been used to--"
"It makes no difference what she's been used to, and you are presumingtoo far. You will be good enough to see that my orders are carried outat once;" and Mrs. Dinsmore was sweeping from the room in her mostdignified style, but turned at the door to add, "A cot bed can be putup here for the nurse, and the door left open between at night:" thensailed majestically down the hall.
"Dear, dear, whatever will Mr. Dinsmore say to having his granddaughterput into such a hole as that!" exclaimed the housekeeper, half toherself, and half to the housemaid. "Well, it can't be helped. I'lljust have to do the best I can, and tell him 'twasn't my fault.Sally, do you go down and send up two of the boys to carry away thesetrunks; and tell Aunt Phoebe to heat a kettle of soft water for thescrubbing."
Mrs. Brown did her best; had the room thoroughly cleaned, neatlypapered and carpeted, a set of pretty cottage furniture carried in, puta lace curtain to the window, looped it back with pink ribbon, made upthe bed in the daintiest fashion, and on the day the travelers wereexpected to arrive, decorated the small apartment profusely, with theloveliest and most fragrant flowers that could be found, transformingit into a bower of beauty.
Mrs. Dinsmore paid no attention to her proceedings, but the childrenwatched them with interest, wondering the while that so mean a roomhad been selected for their little niece.
They were quite amused and gratified with the idea of being auntsand uncles, and if left to themselves would have been disposed towelcome the little stranger warmly; but the slighting, sneering way inwhich their mother alluded to her and her mother's family, presentlyimpressed them with the idea that she was to be looked upon as anobject of contempt, if not as a positive disgrace to the family.
They reasoned among themselves, the older ones at least, that probablyHorace thought so too, or he would have told them about her.
But when they saw the carriage which was bringing her, their father,and Mildred from the city, actually rolling up the avenue, all thiswas forgotten, and they rushed to the door to meet them, filled withcuriosity and delight.
There was a tumultuous embracing of their father and cousin; then theyturned to look at the child.
What they saw was a small, fairy-like figure in the arms of apleasant-looking, middle-aged colored woman, a delicate oval face,tinted with the loveliest shades of pink and white, framed in by amass of golden ringlets, and lighted by a pair of eyes of the softesthazel, which were gazing half shyly, half eagerly at them.
"Oh, you darling, you pretty darling!" cried Adelaide, reaching herwith a bound, and giving her a vigorous hug and kiss. "Do you know thatI'm your auntie? and don't you think it's funny?"
The embrace was instantly returned, a beautiful smile breaking over thesweet little face, while the baby voice cooed, "Yes, Elsie loves you."
"Don't teaze the child, Adelaide. Children, let her alone," said Mrs.Dinsmore, sharply.
But no one seemed to hear or heed; children and servants had gatheredround in quite a little crowd, and were hugging and kissing and makingmuch of her, examining her with as much curiosity as if she were a newspecimen of the genus homo, calling her "Brother Horace's little girl,""Massa Horace's baby," remarking upon the beauty of her complexion,her eyes, her hair, the pretty round white shoulders and arms, and thetiny, shapely hands and feet.
"They'll hae the bairn fairly puffed up wi' vanity Miss Mildred!"exclaimed Mrs. Murray in a dismayed aside to our heroine.
"Never mind," whispered Mildred, joyously; "I'm only too glad sheshould have such a welcome, the darling! and I don't believe it willhurt her in the least."
"There, children, and the rest of you, that will do," said Mr. Dinsmorewith authority. "The child is tired with her long journey. Carry her toher room, Aunt Chloe, and let her have something to eat and a nap."
Aunt Chloe obeyed; Mildred hurried after to see the child comfortablyestablished, and then dress herself for dinner; Mrs. Brown invitedMrs. Murray to her new quarters, and Mr. Dinsmore, waiting only togive an order to his body servant, hastened after the little girl andher attendant, following the sound of their voices; for the childwas prattling to her mammy and Mildred, and they were answering herinnocent questions and remarks.
"Dis my little missus's room?" Mr. Dinsmore heard Aunt Chloe exclaimin a tone of astonishment and contempt, as the little party, guided bySally, the housemaid, reached the door of the room selected by Mrs.Dinsmore.
He hurried forward. "What, this pigeon-hole?" he exclaimed, turningwrathfully to the girl. "Who bade you bring the young lady, Mr.Horace's daughter, here?"
"Missus tole de housekeeper fix dis room fo' de little lady, massa,"replied the girl, trembling with affright.
"Stupid, you must have misunderstood her," he said. "This way, AuntChloe."
The room to which he conducted them adjoined that appropriated toMildred, and was equally large, airy, and cheerful; equally wellfurnished.
Aunt Chloe surveyed it with a look of relief and satisfaction, andbidding her send Sally for whatever was wanted for the child, Mr.Dinsmore left them and went down to his wife.
She read displeasure in his countenance, and drew out her handkerchiefin preparation for her usual mode of defense.
"Pray, madam," he demanded in irate tone, "by whose orders was thatcubby-hole prepared for the use of Horace's child?"
"That very nice little room next the nursery was the one selected bymyself," she answered with dignity.
"Nice little room, indeed!" he returned with scorn; "ten feet bytwelve! that for one born in a palace and reared, thus far, in the verylap of luxury!"
"Plenty good enough and big enough for old Grayson's grandchild!"observed the wife, turning up her aristocratic nose in supremecontempt.
"Madam, she is also my grandchild, and heiress in her own right to overa million."
Mrs. Dinsmore's look expressed, first, astonishment, then jealous rageand envy. "And the very incarnation of beauty!" she muttered betweenher clenched teeth. "What did you bring her here for--to cast ourchildren into the shade? I hate her! What have you been doing? wherehave you put her?"
"In the blue room."
"The blue room! one of the very best in the house! the blue satindamask cushions of the chairs and sofas are so handsome and delicate!and to think of the sun being let in to fade them, and a baby rubbingits shoes over them, and scattering greasy crumbs on them; and thatexquisite carpet! It's too trying for flesh and blood to stand!" andthe handkerchief went up to her eyes.
"It's not worth while to distress yourself," he remarked coolly; "herincome is quite sufficient to allow of it's being refurnished at doublethe cost every six months if necessary."
"You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Mr. Dinsmore, throwing up herwealth to me in that style!" sobbed the much-tried and very ill-usedwoman.
Little Elsie was brought down to the drawing-room after tea, Mildredleading her in, while Aunt Chloe followed, bearing a paste-board box.
Fresh pangs of envy and jealousy assailed Mrs. Dinsmore at sight of thelittle fair one, now rested and refreshed, beautifully and tastefullyattired, and looking even more bewitchingly lovely than on her arrival.
Running to her grandfather, she asked coaxingly, "Please, grandpa, mayElsie dive de fings now?"
"As well now as any time," he said, not unkindly, and she ran back toMildred, who had taken the box from Aunt Chloe, and now opened and heldit so that the child could handle the contents.
"This is the one for Enna's mamma," Mildred whispered, pointing to ajewel case; "I would give it first."
The small white hands seized it, the soft brown eyes glanced about theroom till they rested upon the figure of a richly-dressed lady in aneasy chair; then the little twinkling feet tripped across, and with ashy look, up in the not too pleasant face, the case was laid in herlap, the baby voice lisping sweetly, "Please, Enna's mamma, Elsie wantsto dive you dis."<
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Mrs. Dinsmore started with surprise, opened the case hastily, andseeing a very handsome gold bracelet lying there, condescended to smileand murmur a few words of thanks.
But the little one had not waited for them; back to Mildred she ran ineager haste to finish the work of presenting her love tokens to thesenew-found relatives; a handsome gold ring to each of the three littlegirls (received with kisses, thanks and exclamations of delight), andtoys for the others, which seemed to give equal satisfaction.
Mildred at Roselands Page 25
