`And I will look round the room and see if any thing is to be found in it,' said aunt Keezy. In a minute afterward couzin Mariah drew out from beneath the counterpane a large and neat package tied with scarlet tape, and at the same instant aunt Keezy discovered lying on the pincushion under the glass a billet addressed to
"Mistress Darwell, Hostess."
Both uttered exclamations and run to me with their prizes.
`Now we shall see?' cried couzin Mariah beginning to untie the parcel. But I took it from her.
`The mystery will be cleared up,' exclaimed aunt Keezy, who had a perfect horror of every thing at all mysterious.
The note was unsealed, and written with pencil. The direction was written in a delicate hand, perfectly lady-like. I could not help thinking of the pale, sweet face in mourning as I looked at it. I opened it and read, first to myself, for I did not like always to make aunt Keezy and my cousin my confidants, and then read aloud:
Dear Madam:
I am stranger to you! You may never behold me again, yet I am about to cast myself upon your heart! I am about to entrust to you what is dearer to me than life—my infant child! Circumstances of the most painful character, which I cannot at present control and which may bind me till death releases me from this sad world, compel me to deny myself longer the blessed privilege of a mother. I must separate from my child, perhaps never more to clasp it to my bleeding bosom. I have been three days seeking somewhere to leave it,—alas, to leave it among strangers—unknowing and unknown. But no where could I desert it hitherto. The hour of delay cannot be extended. Providence I feel has brought me to your roof. Your heart is kind—for your voice and face are kindly and benevolent. I have had repeated to me your language at the table, and my heart has confidence in you. To you, then, dear madam, I entrust my little boy—my babe! my heart's idol. God forgive me, if I am committing a crime. But it is not mine to choose. I must part with my babe. I shall leave it in the bed. With it you will also find a package of its clothing. Take my child, cherish it tenderly for the poor mother's sake who is denied the trust, she now makes over to you with a broken heart.'
This was all. The paper was blistered as if with tears fallen upon it, and the handwriting though delicate was tremulous, and toward the last, hurried. When I had done reading it we all looked in silence at each other and then opened the package. It contained a dozen beautiful infant robes and slips, caps, and under robes, and all was rich and beautifully made up.
`Now, only think!' ejaculated aunt Keezy, lifting both her hands and lost in amazement.
`Was ever the like!' repeated couzin Mariah in a tone of unlimited wonder, when I had laid open the contents of the bundle.
I sat silent and thinking with the note in my hand. I was wondering how that baby had got into the house and I not know it. I made known my perplexity to aunt Keezy, who said—
`Did they not bring it it in under a cloak?'
`No. The lady wore a close habit; and the gentleman threw off his cloak as soon as he got out of the carriage.'
`Perhaps the child was brought in in a trunk!' ventured cousin Mariah.
`The trunk was not brought in,' I said. `But I do recollect now what was brought in, and that was the very thing! It was a large travelling basket, like a champaign basket. The negro man carried it and I noticed that the lady was very anxious and careful about it and spoke to him three or four times to be careful how he bore it! That was it! The little dear was in that basket!' I exclaimed with satisfaction.
`There is no doubt,' said aunt Keezy, shaking her head.
`How very extraordinary'! exclaimed couzin Mariah, looking at the same time very grave.
`That is the way it was,' I said. `The basket was carried back to the carriage just as it was brought in. Now I can see why the poor mother came back three times to the room before she could finally tear herself away. I shouldn't wonder if they had been trying to leave it at some place all along the road, but her heart couldn't trust any body with it.'
`It's a pity she hadn't left it somewhere else than here,' exclaimed couzin Mariah looking coldly upon the little fellow as he lay upon my lap happily sucking away at his silver bottle and looking round at times with his handsome black eyes on each of them and then smiling up into my face as if he thought I was his mother. I shed tears for the poor mother when I read the note over again and saw him smiling up into my face, and kissing him I said—
`You shall be mine now my babe. I will be a mother to you from this time,' said I. [And nobly did you keep your promise, good, kind Dame Darwell, for— but I am going in advance of the story.]
`Why do you wish he had been left somewhere else?' I asked cousin Mariah, continued the good dame, when I heard her say that.
`Because it is likely to be a scandal in the neighborhood to have it here.'
`A scandal?' I repeated.
`They will not believe the story, and people may say it's—it's—' here couzin Mariah hesitated.
`Whose?'
`Mine—or aunt Keezy's.'
I didn't laugh, for I was too sorrowful on the poor mother's account; but I said—
`People will be no more likely to believe the one story than the other!'
I don't know whether they took this reply of mine as a compliment or not. I did not mean it for one, for I was vexed at their suspicions. `The child shall be mine and be called mine if people like,' said I.
`Perhaps it was not born in due wedlock,' said aunt Keezy. `In that case it is a disgrace to keep it. I speak for your good, niece.'
`The child is entrusted to my protection. Whether its mother is married or not is nothing to the purpose. The child is just the same child—and has the same eyes, lips and smile as if it had been born in wedlock. When you can show me that it is not a helpless baby and does not need my protection, I will then talk with you aunt Keezy. Providence has sent it to me instead of giving me one of my own, and from this day I am its mother.
They both wanted to say something more; but I wouldn't suffer them to speak; for I well knew that the legitimacy or illegitimacy of the child didn't trouble their consciences. They were only thinking how that the child might possibly be a rival in the possession of my property, which on my death they had expectations of inheriting between them. So I took the baby to my own bed room and from that night I never knew any difference between it and one that was my own. I forgot to say that on the silver bottle of the dear boy was the same engraving of an eagle treading on a serpent's head, I saw on the harness and door of the carriage, and that the letter W was underneath. The next day when the painter came to me and asked me what name he should paint on the sign board, I told him to paint a `silver bottle,' and put the words `The Silver Bottle' under it; and ever since then the Inn has been called `The Silver Bottle.'
At this point good Dame Darwell used to end her story of my `discovery lying between two pillows in the middle of the best bed in the Court Chamber.'
CHAPTER V.
How certain evil persons would slander Dame Darwell touching my birth—How couzin Mariah and aunt Keezy were vexed that people wonldn't slander them— Dame Darwell receives a call from the minister—A question arises touching my having been christened—I am at length christened.
The foregoing narrative of my `discovery,' not birth, I have given in the words of the excellent Dame Darwell, as I have a hundred times heard her relate it not only to me in person, when I was old enough to understand, but also to all her neighbors and most of her old guests when they came again: for not one of them ever failed to ask her why she had changed the name of the Inn, to `The Silver Bottle,' which inquiry always gave her a fine oppportunity for relating my story.
There were some envious, ill-willed people who said that Dame Darwell knew more about that baby than she pretended to. But their slanderous whisperings had no effect upon the respectable and discreet portion of the community, who rejected the suspicion at once; for no character stood fairer than that of the hostess of the Silver Bottle Inn. These
suspicions and whisperings of slanderous tongues did not even happen to fix upon `aunt Keezy' or `couzin Mariah,' whereat, if I may credit the good Dame, they were not a little vexed: for, although, they would have indignantly denounced any one who would insinuate that they, either of them, knew more about that baby than they would like other people should know; yet when they found no body even thought or hinted about the child's mysterious appearance in reference to themselves, they were not a little chagrined.
By the third day after my discovery, not a soul that knew Dame Darwell but had heard of the baby left at her Inn by a gentleman and lady in black who came in a double barouche with bay horses, and went away after dark: and every body paid a special visit to Dame Darwell to see the baby and hear her account of the strange affair. She took every body into the Court Chamber and showed them the bed and just how the child was lying in it, and then showed them the silver bottle and the clothing and read the note to them Among these visiters was the minister, who coming home from a journey on the afternoon of the third day and hearing of the matter, put on his hat, took his cane and walked across the meadows to the Inn.
Dame Darwell who was sitting at her window with the baby (that is myself) in her arms feeding it with pap, while couzin Mariah was making a night gown for it, and aunt Keezy cutting out a night cap—both being perfectly broken in by Dame Darwell to submission outwardly, but inwardly hating the little stranger with all their hearts.
`I declare if there isn't the minister crossing the style,' said the good Dame. `How glad I am to see him.'
The minister who was a mild looking, plainly dressed man of five and forty, with a large nose and spectacles, entered and saluted the hostess.
`Good evening, mistress Darwell! So I hear you have had an addition to your family.'
This was spoken in such a sly way that Dame Darwell blushed, looked down and laughed, and then answered,
`Yes, Doctor! Here he is a fine seven-months boy-baby as ever was seen!' And she held up the little fellow, (that is myself,) to the view of the minister. He looked at me steadily through his spectacles, says Dame Darwell, full a minute without a word; now peering at me this way and now that; now examining my eyes, then my nose, and then my mouth; then taking a general view, as if he was trying to find out a resemblance between me and some of his parishioners. But he was foiled, for he slowly and negatively shook his head.
`A fine boy, mistress Darwell.'
`He is indeed, sir, and good as he is good looking. He sleeps all night without waking and takes a two hour's nap before dinner. He has hardly cried once since I have had him.'
`That speaks well for your care of the little stranger,' said the minister. `But you seem to have come by him in a very singular fashion, Mrs. Darwell.'
`Yes, indeed, Doctor, you may well say that, the little dear. See how he rolls his black eyes round as if he knew we were talking of it.'
Dame Darwell then began to relate the whole story as the reader has it, from the first appearance of the carriage on the pike driving up to the door, to my discovery in the `best bed' lying between two pillows grasping a silver sucking bottle and tears glistening on my cheeks. After she had got through, the Rev. Doctor placed his hands across the top of his stick, rested his chin upon his hands and began to look very thoughtful. After a little time, he raised his head, looked Dame Darwell full in the face and then gazing upon me, said,
`This is very, very extraordinary.'
`Unheard of,' echoed `aunt Keezy.'
`Strange enough,' said cousin Mariah.
`It's a blessed Providence,' added good Dame Darwell benevolently.
`Let me look at the note, worthy mistress Darwell?' asked his reverence.
He took it and read it over twice. He examined the texture of the paper and the handwriting with great particularity and then returned it to her, saying—
`It is lady like and scholarly in its style and appearance. The child's mother was an educated woman. She was also a feeling woman. Some circumstances which none but Providence can fathom, have led her to this seeming act of cruelty. There have been circumstances in families which render the concealment of the birth of children expedient. It would seem they were man and wife, or why travel together and leave it together with such unity. If the child had been illegitimate there seems no necessity why the father should be a party to its desertion, or why the mother should feel herself compelled to act as she has done, and evidently against her heart. If she had not been married to him she would not have deserted her child to have followed him. It is all very inexplicable,' he said, after a moments' silence; `and the more I examine into the motives that led to this act, the more difficult I find it to reconcile it with any plausible cause. We must leave the event to Providence who will watch over it with the same care as if its parents had not deserted it; for whatever relation the parents may stand in with reference to each other, the infant is one of God's creatures, and of those of whom Christ said `suffer them to come unto me and forbid them not; for of such is the Kingdom of Heaven.' Think how you have there entrusted to you, Mistress Darwell, an heir of Christ's Kingdom, and you will not need any other motive for the exercise of your well-known benevolence.'
This view of the matter taken by the minister was deeply gratifying to Dame Darwell and not a little humbling to the two spinsters, who had taken a very different and less charitable view of the affair.
`I knew you would say I did right in keeping the dear child, Doctor,' said Dame Darwell with tender emotion; `some of my friends advised me to send it to the Overseer. But I could not listen to such a proposition. While I have a house over my head and a bed and food to eat, this little fellow shall share them with me!'
`Your feelings do you honor, Mistress Darwell,' said the minister! I should have looked for no other course of conduct in you, knowing you as well as I do. The little stranger is truly fortunate in finding so excellent a protector. I doubt not that parents had previous knowledge of you, good Dame Darwell,' added the minister with a benevolent smile.
The worthy hostess colored and looked down; for it always embarrassed Dame Darwell to be complimented upon her qualities of the heart. If she was complimented for her good looks she would laugh and say something pleasant back again; but when she was praised for her charities she looked down in modest silence.
`Is there no mark on the dresses left with it, nor any clue to the child's name?' asked the minister in an earnest tone.
`Nothing except the eagle and the letter on the silver bottle,' said Dame Darwell.
`Let me see the bottle.'
`Cousin Mariah, bring the Doctor the bottle out of thecupb oard I am trying to wean it by giving it pap, Doctor, for I think now its got no mother, the best thing will be to wean it; for I think it is full seven, if not eight months old. Here is the bottle, sir They filled it and left the child sucking it and he went to sleep I suppose; and it was when he awoke and found it empty that he set up the cry that we first heard.'
The minister took the silver bottle and closely examined the cypher, which was an eagle with one foot upon the head of a serpent and the other talon grasping the writhing folds. Beneath was the letter M, beautifully eugraved. (I have it before me while I write.)
`This would seem to be a means, though a very uncertain one,' said the minister, `of ascertaining the parentage of the child. By an advertisement in the papers accurately describing this cypher and the initial letter, perhaps the family name might be discovered. I would advise this course to be at once taken.'
But to this step Dame Darwell was decidedly opposed. She said she already loved me too much to think of giving me up, and that if any body came for the child it certainly would not be the parents who had left it; and as for resigning it to any relations she positively would not. `If it wasn't necessary their child should have been left here, they would not have left it,' was her argument, `If they want it again, they know where to come for it. Who is an advertisement to benefit, but, perhaps some wicked relation, the poor mot
her has broken her heart to hide her child from! No, Doctor. Let me keep the child as Providence and its parents have entrusted it to me. I am able to support it, and to do by it handsomely when I die!'
Here Dame Darwell saw aunt Keezy and cousin Mariah exchanging secret glances and then look very black at me, though they did not dare to betray openly their feelings. Dame Darwell only smiled, for she loved to punish their selfishness, which would have barred and cast a cloud over her charities.
The minister after a little reflection approved of her course, saying that the only way was to leave the clearing up of the mystery to that Providence which governs and unfolds all events. Suddenly an idea seemed to flash upon the good man's mind. He looked very seriously a moment at the child, and then said,
`Is it possible this child has not been baptized, Mrs. Darwell. What name do you call it.
`There was no name given to it in the note, and I thought of calling it Georgy after my dear husband; for I resolved if I ever had a boy he should be called George. But I have another name for it;' and the widow smiled.
`George is doubtless a good name; but it is a pity if the child has ever been christened its name should not be known to you. You are quite sure there was nothing in the package of clothing to give any clue to his name? Not an article marked?'
`This was the wrapper the clothes came in. You see it is a piece of buff paper without the scratch of a pen on it. This bit of printed music paper, the caps were wrapped up in! You see the tune on it is `Little Marlboro',' a favorite of George's and mine!'
And as the hostess spoke she handed the minister a leaf of a singing book, on which was the tune of `Little Marlboro',' the name of the tune being on the page in large letters. The minister looked at it a moment, and then in the face of Dame Darwell, and said,
`They evidently were christian people and orthodox, to have this music book by them. They doubtless christened their child.'
`I have thought of giving him that name,' said Dame Darwell, slightly hesitating.
The Silver Bottle; or, The Adventures of Little Marlboro in Search of His Father Page 4
