Mildred at Home: With Something About Her Relatives and Friends.

by Martha Finley

  Chapter Eighth.

  "Farewell; God knows when we shall meet again."

  Mildred was in her pretty sitting-room busily plying her needle, littlePercy playing about the floor--rolling a ball hither and thither.

  Both mother and child were neatly attired--the little one in spotlesswhite, his golden curls hanging about his neck, and half-shading around rosy face with big blue eyes; the mother in a dark cashmere,which fell in soft folds around her graceful figure, and was relievedat throat and wrists by dainty white ruffles of lace; her hair wasbecomingly arranged, and she had never presented a more attractiveappearance, even in the days of her girlhood.

  Mildred was not one of those who are less careful to please the husbandthan the lover; she studied Charlie's tastes and wishes even morecarefully now than had been her wont before they were married. Perhapsin that lay the secret of his undiminished and lover-like devotion toher.

  Both he and she had a great aversion to mourning, therefore were gladthat Fan had particularly requested that none should be worn for her.

  It was a little past their usual hour for tea, and the open dining-roomdoor gave a glimpse of a table covered with snowy damask and glitteringwith polished silver, cut glass, and china; but Dr. Landreth wascloseted with some one in his office on the other side of the hall,and his wife waited the departure of the patient a trifle anxiously,fearing that her carefully prepared viands would lose their finestflavor, if not be rendered quite tasteless by standing so long.

  "Shall I make de waffles in de iron, ma'am?" asked Gretchen, coming tothe door.

  "No, not yet," said Mildred, "they would be cooked too soon; the doctorlikes them best just as they are ready."

  "De iron gets too hot," observed the girl.

  "Yes, take it off, Gretchen. I can't tell just how soon the doctor willbe in, so we will have to keep him waiting while we heat the iron."

  The girl went back to her kitchen, and Percy, dropping his toys, cameto his mother's side with a petition to be taken into her lap.

  She laid aside her sewing, took him on her knee, and amused him withstories suited to his baby mind.

  At length she heard the office door open, and a familiar voice saying,"Well, Charlie, I shall take the matter into consideration. Am muchobliged for your advice, whether I follow it or not."

  Mildred hastily set Percy down, and ran to the door.

  "Rupert," she said, "won't you stay to tea?"

  "Thank you, Milly, not to-night," he answered. "I have already declineda warm invitation from Charlie." And with a hasty "Good-by" he hurriedaway.

  Mildred thought her husband's face unusually grave, even troubled, ashe came into the sitting-room, and a sudden fear assailed her.

  "Charlie," she cried, her cheek paling, "what--what was Rupertconsulting you about?"

  "Don't be alarmed, Milly, love," he answered, taking his boy upon onearm and putting the other about her waist.

  "I have thought for some time that Rupert was growing thin andhaggard," she said brokenly, tears filling her eyes, and--"O Charlie, Ihave often noticed, and heard it remarked, that one death in a familyis apt to follow closely upon another."

  She ended with a sob, laying her head on his shoulder.

  "Don't ky, mamma," cooed little Percy, patting her cheek; "oo baby boytiss oo, make oo all well."

  She lifted her head, returned the caresses lavished upon her by bothhusband and child, then asked earnestly and half pleadingly, "Won't youtell me if--if Rupert is seriously ill?"

  "He is broken down with overwork; has been devoting himself too closelyto business, and needs an entire change for a time," replied herhusband, speaking in a cheerful tone. "If he will take that at once andfor a long enough time he may, I think, be restored to full health andvigor."

  "Surely, surely he will do so without delay?"

  "I can't say; he thinks it almost impossible to leave his business atpresent, and would rather try half-way measures first."

  "He must be persuaded out of that, and I think can be," she said, hercountenance brightening. "Now you must excuse me for a few minutes, mydear; Gretchen is improving, but I cannot yet trust her to bake yourwaffles quite to my mind."

  "Let her try, Milly; how else is she ever to learn?"

  "I shall after I have seen that the iron is properly heated andfilled," she answered, as she hastened away to the kitchen.

  Celestia Ann was at the front gate as Rupert neared it. She turned herhead at the sound of his footsteps.

  "So here you be at last!" she exclaimed; "and I was lookin' right inthe wrong direction. Been up to the doctor's, I s'pose? Well, they'reset down to the table without ye. We waited a spell, an' then I toldyour mother t'want no use, fer ye don't eat nothin' nohow, let me fixup the victuals good's I can."

  "I am late, and am sorry if the meal has been kept waiting," Rupertanswered, as he hurried past her into the house.

  His mother gave him a kindly affectionate smile as he entered thedining-room, and stopped his apology half way.

  "Never mind, my son, it is no matter, except that your meal will not, Ifear, be quite so good and enjoyable, which is a pity, as your appetiteis so poor of late."

  There was some anxiety in her look and tone, also in the glance hisfather gave him as he seated himself at the table.

  "I fear you are working too hard, Rupert," he said; "confining yourselftoo closely to business."

  "Just what Charlie has been telling me," the young man responded with ahalf sigh; "but how is it to be helped?"

  "By putting health before business," his mother said, with decision."My dear boy, if you lose your health, what will become of yourbusiness?"

  "True, mother," he sighed; "but I have not quite given up the hope thatI may regain the one without relinquishing the other."

  "A pound of prevention is worth an ounce of cure," remarked AuntWealthy absently, rather as if thinking aloud than addressing thecompany.

  "What does Charlie advise?" asked Mrs. Keith.

  "An entire change for some months or a year, including a journey tosome distant point. Quite impracticable, is it not, father?" Rupertasked, turning to him.

  "If you want my opinion," replied Mr. Keith, "I say nothing isimpracticable which is necessary to the preservation of your life oreven of your health. We cannot spare you, my son," he continued withemotion; "it is to you more than any of the others that your mother andI look as the prop and support of our old age."

  "Thank you, father," Rupert said with feeling; "that pleasing taskwould, of course, naturally fall to me as the eldest son, though ifI were taken away, my brothers, I am sure, would be no less glad toundertake it."

  "No; it would be the greatest joy in life," said Don with warmth,glancing affectionately from one to the other of his parents. "I cananswer for Cyril as well as myself."

  "I haven't the least doubt of it, Don," replied his father, while themother said, with glistening eyes, "We are rich in the affection ofour children, both boys and girls," she added, with a loving look intoAnnis's blue eyes.

  The eyes filled with tears. Annis was thinking how often she had heardFan say that she was to be the one always to stay at home and takecare of father and mother; dear Fan, who had now been nearly two monthsin heaven.

  Oh, how they all missed her at every turn, though Annis stroveearnestly to supply her place.

  Leaving the table, they all repaired to the sitting-room; but Don,after lingering a moment, took up his cap, and moved toward the halldoor.

  "Don't forsake us, Don," said his mother, following his movements witha look of mingled love and sadness. It was no secret to her that thehouse seemed to him unbearably desolate, deprived of the loved presenceof his favorite sister.

  "Only for a few minutes, mother; I want a chat with Wallace, and thisis about the best time to catch him at leisure."

  "My poor boy!" sighed Mrs. Keith, as the door closed on him.

  "Yes, he feels very sad and lonely," said Rupert. "But I am glad hehas left us for a little w
hile, for I want to have a talk with you andfather about him; myself also," he added, with a faint smile. "Don'tgo, Aunt Wealthy," as Miss Stanhope rose as if to leave the room;"what I have to say need be no secret from you, and I think we will allbe glad of your counsel in the matter."

  She sat down again, and Annis asked, "May I stay too, Rupert?"

  "Yes," he said, inviting her to a seat by his side.

  He then proceeded to give an account of his interview with Dr.Landreth, stating that he strongly advised him to wind up his business,or make some sort of arrangement for leaving it for a year or more,and join a party preparing to go to California; the journey across theplains he thought would prove the very thing for him; nothing else solikely to restore his shattered health.

  "And I have been thinking," added Rupert, "that it might be the verybest thing for Don if you, father and mother, would consent to let himgo with me, in case I follow Charlie's advice. He seems to me as illmentally as I am physically, and we would be mutual helpers.

  "I have no idea that we should make our fortunes at gold-digging, but Idoubt if the boy will ever be content till he has tried his hand at it.But let his dreams be dispelled, and he will be ready to settle down athome."

  "If he ever gets home again," remarked the father. "It may be that youare right though, Rupert, and your mother and I will take the matterinto consideration."

  "Yes, sir, in regard to us both, I hope; I want your advice as to myown course; it will go far to help me decide what I ought to do."

  Both parents looked gratified, while Miss Stanhope remarked, "You arequite right in that, Rupert; you could not have wiser counsellors thanthey, and certainly none so deeply interested in your welfare; nor willyou, or any one, ever lose by honoring parents."

  "I am very fortunate in having parents worthy of all honor, AuntWealthy," he said, with an affectionate glance from one to the other."Mother, dear, do not look so sad," perceiving that her eyes were fullof tears; "I cannot think of going, if it is to be at the risk ofbreaking your heart."

  "No, my heart will not break," she said in a determinately cheerfultone; "the promise is sure, 'As thy days, so shall thy strength be.'And it will be better to part with you for a time than forever in thislife," she added with a tremble in her voice. "Also I should be morewilling to see two of my boys go together than any one of them alone."

  "Then if I go, you will consent to Don's accompanying me?"

  "Yes."

  "And you, father?"

  "I feel just as your mother does about it," was Mr. Keith's reply.

  "But if Don should not wish to go?" suggested Miss Stanhope, in a toneof inquiry.

  "Oh, no fear of that, auntie," laughed Annis; "he's been crazy to goever since the first news of the gold, and you can't scare him out ofit either; the more you talk of Indians, bears, and wolves, and allother dangers, the more he wants to try it. He says life in this littleslow town is altogether too tame to suit a fellow of spirit."

  "Better suited to the humdrum class represented by his father and olderbrother, I presume," said Rupert, with a good-humored smile.

  As Don stepped in at Wallace Ormsby's gate, Zillah opened the frontdoor, ran out, and hastily caught up little Stuart, who was digging inthe sand, and carried him struggling and screaming into the house.

  "It's too cold for you to be out; mamma can't let you; mamma toldyou not to go out," she was saying as Don followed her into thesitting-room.

  "I will doe out! Ope de door!" screamed the child; "me wants pay in desand."

  "No, you can't go out any more to-night," replied the mother, givinghim a hug and kiss. "Oh, he's mamma's darling! there never was such aboy in all the world! there never was! Mamma loves him ever so much."

  Meanwhile the child was struggling with all his baby might to get awayfrom her, kicking, striking, screaming at the top of his voice, "I willdoe out! _I will! I will!_ Shan't 'tay in de house!"

  "Oh, now, be a dear good boy," entreated Zillah; "he's mamma's own pet,the dearest, sweetest boy in the world; mamma thinks there never wassuch a boy!"

  "I should hope not, if that's the way he carries on," remarked Don,seating himself and regarding his nephew with a look of disgust anddisapproval. "I think he's spoiling for a spanking, and if he were mychild he'd get it."

  Zillah flushed hotly. "Men and boys have no patience with children,"she said. "There, Stuart, stop crying, and mamma will get yousomething good."

  "No; ope door; me want doe out; me _will_ doe out!" screamed the child.

  "Oh, now, do be good; do stop crying, and mamma will get you somecandy," said Zillah, in her most coaxing tones.

  "Tanny, mamma?" asked the child, the screams suddenly ceasing, andsmiles breaking through the tears.

  "Yes," Zillah said, drying his eyes and kissing him fondly, then risingwith him in her arms and going to a cupboard.

  But the size of the piece she offered did not suit the ideas of theyoung tyrant; he refused to accept it, and bursting into screams againdemanded a bigger one.

  "Take this in one hand, and you shall have a bigger piece in theother," said the over-indulgent mamma, and peace being restored she satdown with him on her lap, and began talking with Don.

  "Where's Wallace?" the latter presently inquired.

  "He went down-town again after tea, but said he wouldn't be gone verylong. Do you want to see him particularly?"

  "I would like a talk with him," Don said, with a sigh. "I wish hewould try to get father and mother to consent to my joining the partythat are going to California."

  "O Don, how can you suggest such a thing now when they are feeling sosad over poor Fan?" exclaimed Zillah, tears starting to her eyes.

  "Don't think me hard-hearted or wanting in love for them," Don returnedwith feeling; "but the truth is I don't know how to endure life herenow that Fan's gone. I miss her at every turn. I think it would bedifferent in a new place where I had not been accustomed to her sweetsociety." His words were almost inaudible from emotion as he concluded.

  "I know," Zillah said in trembling tones; "we all miss her sadly, but Isuppose it must be harder, perhaps, for you than any of the rest. Stillyou will soon grow in a measure used to it, no doubt. I have alwaysheard that time assuages the bitterness of grief."

  "I can't believe it, I don't believe it!" he cried impatiently; "atleast I am sure it will not be so in my case for years, unless I canget away into new scenes that will help me to forgetfulness."

  At that instant Stuart, who had got down from his mother's lap to playabout the room, tripped and fell to the floor, striking his headagainst a chair.

  He set up a loud scream, and Zillah ran to the rescue, picking him upwith a cry of "Oh, poor darling, mamma is so sorry! oh, it is justdreadful how many falls he gets! But there, never mind; it was anaughty chair that hurt my baby so. We'll give it a good whipping,"striking it with her hand several times as she spoke.

  Stuart ceased screaming to pound the chair energetically with his tinydoubled-up fist, then consented to be bribed into quiet with anotherpiece of candy.

  Zillah sat down again with him on her lap, and presently he droppedasleep there.

  "He ought to be in bed," remarked Don.

  "Yes; but he didn't want to go, and I do so hate to have a battle withhim."

  "I rather think it will have to come to that sooner or later," saidDon, "and I should think the longer you put it off the harder it willbe. I've been at Milly's a good deal the last few weeks, besideswatching her when she was at home with us, and I think she could giveyou some valuable hints about managing a child."

  "It is a vast deal easier to talk than to act, I can tell you, Don,"was Zillah's half-offended retort.

  "I dare say; but people can act as well as talk; father and motherdid with us--we always had to obey, and that without being petted andwheedled into it--and Milly does too."

  "I think it's a great deal better to coax than to beat them," Zillahsaid half angrily.

  "Circumstances alter cases," said Don. "I don
't think it's just thething to pet and fondle a child, and tell him he's 'a darling; therenever was such a boy,' and all that, when he's kicking up a row justbecause he isn't allowed to do exactly as he pleases. Percy began thatvery behavior the other evening when he had to go into the house beforehe considered it quite time."

  "Well, what did Milly do with him?" inquired Zillah, with somecuriosity.

  "She first told him firmly and quietly that he must stop screaming onthe instant, or she would shut him into a room by himself till he wasready to be good; and as she always keeps her word, not threateningover and over again before she acts, as some people do, he did stoppromptly; then she took him on her lap and amused him with stories andrhymes a little while, when she carried him off to bed.

  "She's always gentle with him, but firm as a rock; as regular asclock-work too; he's put to bed when the hour comes, and left there togo to sleep by himself, and he does it without a whimper."

  "I suppose that's the orthodox way," said Zillah, "but I can't bear toforce Stuart to bed when he cries to stay up. The sweet darling, I dolove him so!" bending down to kiss the round rosy cheek.

  "I've no doubt you do," said Don; "but I remember to have heard mothersay it was but a poor selfish kind of love that couldn't bear the painof controlling a child for its own good, but would rather let it becomeso wilful and ill-behaved as to be a torment to itself and everybodyelse. Ah, here comes Wallace," he added, glancing from the window.

  "Then I'll leave you to have your talk with him while I put this boy tobed," returned Zillah, rising and leaving the room.

  Wallace was no sooner seated than Don made known his errand.

  Wallace looked grave. "I don't like the idea, Don," he said. "I wishyou could be persuaded to give it up. If you should be unsuccessful,of which there are ten chances to one, it would involve the loss ofsome of the best years of your life."

  "One must take a risk in anything one tries," interrupted Don,impatiently.

  "True," replied Wallace, "but in this more than in many others."

  "'Nothing venture, nothing have,'" muttered Don.

  "I thought you were to go to college in the fall," remarked Wallace.

  "That has been father's plan for me, but as I have no fancy for aprofession, I think a college course would be almost time thrownaway--money too. Ru has proposed to make a druggist of me, but thatisn't to my fancy either."

  "I wish you would go in with Ru, if you are determined not to takea collegiate education. I can see that he, poor fellow, is sadlyoverworked, and to have a brother in with him--one whom he couldtrust--would doubtless prove a great relief."

  "Ru hasn't seemed well of late," assented Don in a reflective tone,"but I was laying it all to--to grief. Wallace, the house isn't what itused to be. I've thought I couldn't stand it. I've been a selfish dog,but I'll try to forget self and think of other people. Good-evening. Ipromised mother I'd be back soon," he added, as he rose and took hisdeparture.

  His heart was filled with grief and disappointment; he crossed thestreet slowly, with head bent and eyes on the ground, battlingearnestly with himself, striving to put aside his own inclinations forthe sake of others.

  He found the family still gathered in the sitting-room, Dr. Landrethand Mildred with them.

  As he entered the doctor was saying to Rupert, "I have been consideringyour objections to my plans for you, and think I can see a way out ofthe difficulty in regard to leaving your business."

  "What is that?" Rupert asked, and Don, aroused to eager interest,dropped into a chair and listened for the doctor's explanation withbated breath. "Could it be that Rupert was going from home? and if so,where? and what difference might it make in his own plans?"

  "Simply this," returned Dr. Landreth, with his genial smile, "that Iwill take charge of it and carry it on for you, if that arrangementseems to you entirely satisfactory."

  "A most generous offer, Charlie!" exclaimed Rupert, flushing withsurprise and gratitude, "but would it not interfere with yourprofessional duties?"

  "No; not necessarily. I should merely take the oversight, keeping thegood clerk you have, and getting another equally competent--the two todo the work between them."

  "Many thanks," said Rupert, grasping his brother-in-law's hand; "youhave removed my greatest difficulty. I begin to think I can follow outyour prescriptions, if"--and he turned smilingly to Don--"if Don is asready to sacrifice himself for my sake."

  "I hope so, Ru; what is it?" the boy asked, a trifle huskily, for hismomentary gleam of hope died out at the question.

  It shone out with tenfold brilliancy at his brother's reply. "Charliethinks I am in danger of permanent loss of health unless I give upmy business for a time, and have an entire change of scene; so headvises me to join the party about starting for California. He thinksthe journey across the plains just the thing for me. But I ought tohave some friend--say a brother--with me; so it may depend upon yourwillingness to go."

  "My willingness?" interrupted Don eagerly; "I'd be delighted, Ru, anddo the very best for you that I know how."

  The mother was regarding them with glistening eyes, her lips quiveringwith emotion.

  "And let him give you the care and oversight an elder brother should?"asked the father gravely.

  "Yes, if he doesn't try to exert more than his rightful share ofauthority," returned Don, a slight reluctance perceptible in his tone.

  "On that condition your mother and I consent to your going," Mr. Keithsaid, "though, my boy, it will be hard indeed for us to part with youour youngest son."

  Don saw the tears in his mother's eyes, noted that his father's toneswere not quite steady, and his heart went out in love to both. "I willnever, never do anything to cause them shame or grief on my account,"was the firm resolve he whispered to himself.

  There was necessity for speedy decision, and it was arrived at withintwenty-four hours. The young men were to go. The allotted time wasshort for needed preparation, particularly that which fell to themother's share; but her three remaining daughters and Miss Stanhopecoming to her assistance, and all working with a will, the thing wasdone well and in season; nothing forgotten, nothing overlooked thatcould add to the comfort of the loved travellers.

  And it was well for all that matters were so hurried, leaving noleisure for sad forebodings or unavailing regrets.

  The parting was a hard one, almost harder, the mother thought, than thelast she had been called to pass through; for while her beloved Fan wassafe from all sin, and sorrow, and suffering, these dear ones were tobe exposed to many dangers and temptations.

  But she bore up wonderfully as she bade them adieu and watched theslow-moving train out of sight; they were not going beyond the reach ofprayer; they would still be under the protecting care of Him who hassaid, "Behold, I am with thee, and will keep thee in all places whitherthou goest, and will bring thee again into this land; for I will notleave thee, until I have done that which I have spoken to thee of."

  "Wherever they might be, He would cover their defenceless heads withthe shadow of His wing."

  Annis's tears fell much longer and faster than her mother's; the lettershe wrote to Elsie, giving a graphic account of the preparations anddeparture, was all blistered with them, even more so than the onetelling of Fan's last hours.

  "I am the only child left at home now," she wrote. "That was whatmother said when we got back from seeing the long train of wagons, withtheir ox-teams, starting on that long, dangerous journey. She took mein her arms, and cried over me for a few minutes; then she wiped awayher tears, and kissed me over and over, saying, 'But we won't murmur,darling, or make ourselves unhappy about it; for they are all in God'sgood keeping, and one day, I trust, we shall all meet in that betterland where partings are unknown.'

  "And I have great reason to be thankful that Mildred and Zillah are sonear us; it is almost as if they were still at home."

  The letter wound up with an earnest request to Elsie that she wouldpray daily for the safe return of Rupert and Don.
<
br />