CHAPTER XII.
When to mischief mortals bend their will, How soon they find fit instruments of ill.
--POPE'S "RAPE OF THE LOCK."
"What, Art, are you going out?"
"Yes."
"Do you know it's after ten?"
"Yes, you just mind your own business, Wal; learn your lessons, andgo off to bed like a good boy when you get through. I'm old enough totake care of myself."
"Dear me! I'm awfully afraid he's gone back to his evil courses, asfather says," muttered Walter Dinsmore to himself, as the door closedupon his reckless elder brother. "I wonder what I ought to do aboutit," he continued, leaning his head upon his hand, with a worried,irresolute look; "ought I to report to the governor? No, I shan't,there then; I don't know anything, and I never will be a sneak or atell-tale." And he drew the light nearer, returned to his book withredoubled diligence for some ten or fifteen minutes more; then,pushing it hastily aside, with a sigh of relief, started up, threw offhis clothes, blew out the light, and tumbled into bed.
Meanwhile Arthur had stolen noiselessly from the college, and pursuedhis way into the heart of the town. On turning a corner he camesuddenly upon another young man who seemed to have been waiting forhim; simply remarking, "You're late to-night, Dinsmore," he facedabout in the same direction, and the two walked on together.
"Of course; but how can a fellow help it when he's obliged to watchhis opportunity till the Argus eyes are closed in sleep, or supposedto be so?" grumbled Arthur.
"True enough, old boy; but cheer up, your day of emancipation mustcome some time or other," remarked his companion, clapping himfamiliarly; on the shoulder. "Of age soon, aren't you?"
"In about a year. But what good does that do me? I'm not so fortunateas my older brother--shall have nothing of my own till one or other ofmy respected parents sees fit to kick the bucket, and leave me a pile;a thing which at present neither of them seems to have any notion ofdoing."
"You forget your chances at the faro-table."
"My chances! You win everything from me, Jackson. I'm a lame ducknow, and if my luck doesn't soon begin to turn, I'll--do somethingdesperate, I believe."
The lad's tone was bitter, his look reckless and half despairing.
"Pooh, don't be a spooney! We all have our ups and downs, and you musttake your turn at both, like the rest."
They had ascended a flight of steps, and Jackson rang the bell as hespoke. It was answered instantly by a colored waiter, who with, asilent bow stepped back and held the door open for their entrance.They passed in and presently found themselves in a large,well-lighted, and handsomely-furnished room, where tables were set outwith the choicest viands, rich wine, and trays of fine cigars.
They seated themselves, ate and drank their fill, then, each lightinga cigar, proceeded to a saloon, on the story above, where a number ofmen were engaged in playing cards--gambling, as was evident from thepiles of gold, silver, and bank-notes lying here and there upon thetables about which they sat.
Here also costly furniture, bright light, and rich wines lent theirattractions to the scene.
Arthur took possession of a velvet-cushioned chair on one side of anelegant marble-topped table, his companion placing himself in anotherdirectly opposite. Here, seated in the full blaze of the gas-light,each face was brought out into strong relief. Both were young, bothhandsome; Jackson, who was Arthur's senior by five or six years,remarkably so; yet his smile was sardonic, and there was often asinister expression in his keen black eye as its glance fell upon hisvictim, for such Arthur Dinsmore was--no match for his cunning andunscrupulous antagonist, who was a gambler by profession.
Arthur's pretended reformation had lasted scarcely longer than untilhe was again exposed to temptation, and his face, as seen in thatbrilliant light, wore unmistakable signs of indulgence in debaucheryand vice. He played in a wild, reckless way, dealing out his cardswith a trembling hand, while his cheek burned and his eye flashed.
At first Jackson allowed him to win, and filled with a mad delight atthe idea that "his luck had turned," the boy doubled and trebled hisstakes.
Jackson chuckled inwardly, the game went on, and at length Arthurfound all his gains suddenly swept away and himself many thousands ofdollars in debt.
A ghastly pallor overspread his face, he threw himself back in hischair with a groan, then starting up with a bitter laugh, "Well, I seeonly one way out of this," he said. "A word in your ear, Tom; comealong with me. I've lost and you won enough for one night; haven't we,eh?"
"Well, yes; I'm satisfied if you are." And the two hurried into thenow dark and silent street, for it was long past midnight, and soberand respectable people generally had retired to their beds.
"Where are you going?" asked Jackson.
"Anywhere you like that we can talk without danger of beingoverheard."
"This way then, down this street. You see 'tis absolutely silent anddeserted."
They walked on, talking in an undertone.
"You'd like your money as soon as you can get it?" said Arthur.
"Of course; in fact I must have it before very long, for I'm hardpushed now."
"Suppose I could put you in the way of marrying a fortune, would youhold me quit of all your claims against me?"
"H'm, that would depend upon the success of the scheme."
"And that upon your own coolness and skill. I think I've heard youspoken of as a woman-killer?"
"Ha, ha! Yes, I flatter myself that I have won some reputation in thatline, and that not a few of the dear creatures have been very fond ofme. It's really most too bad to break their soft little hearts; butthen a man can't marry 'em all; unless he turns Mormon."
Arthur's lips curled with scorn and contempt, and he half turned awayin disgust and aversion; but remembering that he was in the powerof this man, whom, too late, alas! he was discovering to be anunscrupulous villain, he checked himself, and answered in his usualtone, "No, certainly not; and so you have never yet run your neck intothe matrimonial noose?"
"No, not I, and don't fancy doing so either, yet I own that a fortunewould be a strong temptation. But, I say, lad, if it's a great chance,why do you hand it over to me? Why not try for it yourself? It's notyour sister, surely?"
"No, indeed; you're not precisely the sort of brother-in-law I shouldchoose," returned the boy, with a bitter, mocking laugh. "But stay,don't be insulted"--for his companion had drawn himself up with an airof offended pride--"the lady in question is but a step farther fromme; she is my brother's daughter."
"Eh! you don't say? A mere child, then, I presume."
"Eighteen, handsome as a picture, as the saying is, and only toosweet-tempered for my taste."
"And rich you say? that is her father's wealthy, eh?"
"Yes, he's one of the richest men in our county, but she has a fortunein her own right, over a million at the very lowest computation."
"Whew! You expect me to swallow that?"
"It's true, true as preaching. You wonder that I should be so willingto help you to get her. Well, I owe her a grudge, I see no other wayto get out of your clutches, and I shall put you in the way of makingher acquaintance only on condition that if you succeed we share thespoils."
"Agreed. Now for the modus operandi. You tell me her whereabouts andprovide me with a letter of introduction, eh?"
"No; on the contrary, you are carefully to conceal the fact that youhave the slightest knowledge of me. The introduction must come fromquite another quarter. Listen, and I'll communicate the facts andunfold my plan. It has been running in my head for weeks, ever since Iheard that the girl was to spend the summer in the North with nobodybut an old maiden aunt, half-cracked at that, to keep guard over her;but I couldn't quite make up my mind to it till to-night, for you mustsee, Tom," he added with a forced laugh, "that it can't be exactlydelightful to my family pride to think of bringing such a dissipatedfellow as you into the connection."
"Better look at home, lad. But you are right; one such scamp is, or
ought to be, all-sufficient for one family."
Arthur said, "Certainly," but winced at the insinuation nevertheless.It was not a pleasant reflection that his vices had brought him downto a level with this man who lived by his wits--or perhaps morecorrectly speaking, his rascalities--of whose antecedents he knewnothing and whom, with his haughty Southern pride, he thoroughlydespised.
But scorn and loathe him as he might in his secret soul, it wasnecessary that he should be conciliated, because it was now in hispower to bring open disgrace and ruin upon his victim. So Arthur wenton to explain matters and, with Jackson's assistance, to concoct aplan of getting Elsie and her fortune into their hands.
As he had said, the idea had been in his mind for weeks, yet it wasnot until that day that he could see clearly how to carry it out.Also, his family pride had stood in the way until the excitement ofsemi-intoxication and his heavy losses had enabled him to put it asidefor the time. To-morrow he would more than half regret the step he wastaking, but now he plunged recklessly into the thing with small regardfor consequences to himself or others.
"Can you imitate the chirography of others?" he asked.
"Perfectly, if I do say it that shouldn't."
"Then we can manage it. My brother Walter has kept up a correspondencewith this niece ever since he left home. In a letter receivedyesterday she mentions that her father was about leaving her forthe rest of the summer. Also that Miss Stanhope, the old aunt she'sstaying with, was formerly very intimate with Mrs. Waters of thiscity.
"It just flashed on me at once that a letter of introduction from herwould be the very thing to put you at once on a footing of intimacyin Miss Stanhope's house; and that if you were good at imitatinghandwriting we might manage it by means of a note of invitation whichI received from Mrs. Waters some time ago, and which, as good luckwould have it, I threw into my table drawer instead of destroying."
"But who knows that it was written by the lady herself?"
"I do, for I heard Bob Waters say so."
"Good! have you the note about you?"
"Yes, here it is." And Arthur drew it from his pocket. "Let's crossover to that lamp-post."
They did so, and Jackson held the note up to the light for a moment,scanning it attentively. "Ah, ha! the very thing! no trouble at allabout that," he said, pocketing it with a chuckle of delight, "But,"and a slight frown contracted his brows, "what if the old lady shouldtake it into her head to open a correspondence on the subject with herold friend?"
"I've thought of that too, but fortunately for our scheme Mrs. Waterssails for Europe to-morrow; and by the way that should be mentioned inthe letter of introduction."
"Yes, so it should. Come to my room at the Merchants' House to-morrownight, and you shall find it ready for your inspection. I suppose thesooner the ball's set in motion the better?" he added as they movedslowly on down the street.
"Yes, for there's no knowing how long it may take you to storm thecitadel of her ladyship's heart, or how soon her father may come tothe conclusion that he can't do without her, and go and carry her offhome. And I tell you, Tom, you'd stand no chance with him, or with herif he were there. He'd see through you in five minutes."
"H'm! What sort is she?"
"The very pious!" sneered Arthur, "and you're bound to take your cuefrom that or you'll make no headway with her at all."
"A hard role for me, Dinsmore. I know nothing of cant."
"You'll have to learn it then; let her once suspect your truecharacter--a drinking, gambling, fortune-hunting roue--and she'll turnfrom you with the same fear and loathing that she would feel for avenomous reptile."
"Ha, ha! you're in a complimentary mood to-night, Dinsmore. Well,well, such a fortune as you speak of is worth some sacrifice andeffort, and I think I may venture the character of a perfectly moraland upright man with a high respect for religion. The rest I can learnby degrees from her; and come to think of it, it mightn't be a badidea to let her imagine she'd converted me."
"Capital! The very thing, Tom! But good-night. I must be off now tothe college. I'll come to your room to-morrow night and we'll finishthe arrangement of all preliminaries."
More than a fortnight had passed since the arrival of Miss Stanhope'sguests. It had been a season of relaxation and keen enjoyment tothem, to her, and to Dr. King's family, who had joined them in many apleasant little excursion to points of interest in the vicinity, andseveral sociable family picnics among the surrounding hills and woods.A warm friendship had already sprung up between the three young girls,and had done much toward reconciling Elsie to the idea of spending thesummer there away from her father.
She had finally consented to do so, yet as the time drew near herheart almost failed her. In all these years since they went to livetogether at the Oaks, they had never been far apart--except once ortwice for a few days when he had gone to New Orleans to attend tobusiness connected with the care of her property; and only on a veryfew occasions, when she paid a little visit in their own neighborhood,had they been separated for more than a day.
She could not keep back her tears as she hung about his neck onparting. "Ah, papa, how can I do without you for weeks and months?"she sighed.
"Or I without you, my darling?" he responded, straining her to hisbreast. "I don't know how I shall be able to stand it. You need not besurprised to see me again at any time, returning to claim my treasure;and in the meanwhile we will write to each other every day. I shallwant to know all you are doing, thinking, and feeling. You must tellme of all your pursuits and pleasures; your new acquaintances, too,if you form any. In that you must be guided by the advice of AuntWealthy, together with your father's known wishes. I am sure I cantrust my daughter to obey those in my absence as carefully as in mypresence."
"I think you may, papa. I shall try to do nothing that you woulddisapprove, and to attend faithfully to all your wishes."
Mr. Dinsmore left by the morning train, directly after breakfast. Itwas a bright, clear day, and Miss Stanhope, anxious to help Elsie torecover her spirits, proposed a little shopping expedition into thevillage.
"You have not seen our stores yet," she said, "and I think we'd bettergo now before the sun gets any hotter. Should you like it, my dear?"
"Thank you, yes, auntie. I will go and get ready at once."
Elsie could hardly forbear smiling at the quaint little figure thatmet her in the porch a few moments later, and trotted with quick,short steps by her side across the lawn and up and down the villagestreets. The white muslin dress with its short and scanty skirt, anembroidered scarf of the same material, the close, old-fashionedleg-horn bonnet, trimmed with one broad strip of white mantua ribbon,put straight down over the top and tied under the chin, and the blackmitts and morocco slippers of the same hue, formed a tout ensemblewhich, though odd, was not unpleasant to look upon. In one hand thelittle lady carried a very large parasol, in the other a gayly-coloredsilk reticule of corresponding size, this last not by a ribbon orstring, but with its hem gathered up in her hand. All in singularcontrast to Elsie with her slight, graceful form, fully a head taller,and her simple yet elegant costume. But the niece no more thought offeeling ashamed of her aunt, than her aunt of her.
They entered a store, and the smiling merchant asked, "What can I dofor you to-day, ladies?"
"I will look at shirting muslin, if you please, Mr. Under," repliedMiss Stanhope, laying parasol and reticule upon the counter.
"Over, if you please, Miss Stanhope," he answered with an amused look."Just step this way, and I'll show you a piece that I think willsuit."
"I beg your pardon, I'm always making mistakes in names," she said,doing as requested.
"Anything else to-day, ladies?" he asked when the muslin had beenselected. "I have quite a lot of remnants of dress goods, MissStanhope. Would you like to look at them?"
"Yes," she answered almost eagerly, and he quickly spread them on thecounter before her. She selected quite a number, Elsie wondering whatshe wanted with them.
"I'll se
nd the package at once," said Mr. Over, as they left thestore.
They entered another where Miss Stanhope's first inquiry was forremnants, and the same thing was repeated till, as she assured Elsie,they had visited every dry-goods store in the place.
"Pretty nice ones, too, some of them are; don't you think so, dear?"
"Yes, auntie; but do you know you have strongly excited my curiosity?"
"Ah! how so?"
"Why, I cannot imagine what you can want with all those remnants. I'msure hardly one of them could be made into a dress for yourself or forPhillis, and you have no little folks to provide for."
"But other folks have, child, and I shall use some of the smallest forpatchwork."
"Dere's a lady in de parlor, Miss Stanhope," said Chloe, meeting themat the gate; "kind of lady," she added with a very broad smile, "cometo call on you, ma'am, and Miss Elsie too."
"We'll just go in without keeping her waiting to take off ourbonnets," said Aunt Wealthy, leading the way.
They found a rather gaudily-dressed, and not very refined-lookingwoman, who rose and came forward to meet them with a boisterousmanner, evidently assumed to cover a slight feeling of embarrassment."Oh, I'm quite ashamed, Aunt Wealthy, to have been so long in callingto see your friends; you really must excuse me; it's not been for wantof a strong disinclination, I do assure you: but you see I've beenaway a-nursing of a sick sister."
"Certainly, Mrs. Sixpence."
"Excuse me, Schilling."
"Oh no, not at all, it's my mistake. Elsie, Mrs. Schilling. My niece,Miss Dinsmore. Sit down, do. I'm sorry you got here before we werethrough our shopping."
"I'm afraid it's rather an early call," began Mrs. Schilling, herrubicund countenance growing redder than ever, "but--"
"Oh, aunt did not mean that," interposed Elsie, with gentlekindliness. "She was only regretting that you had been kept waiting."
"Certainly," said Miss Stanhope. "You know I'm a sad hand at talking,always getting the horse before the cart, as they say. But tell meabout your sister. I hope she has recovered. What ailed her?"
"She had inflammation of the tonsils; she's better now though; thetonsils is all gone, and I think she'll get along. She's weak yet;but that's all. There's been a good bit of sickness out there in thatneighborhood, through the winter and spring; there were several casesof scarlet fever, and one of small-pox. That one died, and what do youthink, Aunt Wealthy; they had a reg'lar big funeral, took the corpseinto the church, and asked everybody around to come to it."
"I think it was really wicked, and that if I'd been the congregation,every one of me would have staid away."
"So would I. There now, I'm bound to tell you something that happenedwhile I was at father's. My sister had a little girl going on twoyears old, and one day the little thing took up a flat iron, and letit fall on her toe, and mashed it so we were really afraid 'twouldhave to be took off. We wrapped it up in some kind o' salve motherkeeps for hurts, and she kept crying and screamin' with pain, and wecouldn't peacify her nohow at all, till a lady that was visiting nextdoor come in and said we'd better give her a few drops of laud'num. Sowe did, and would you believe it? it went right straight down into hertoe, and she stopped cryin', and pretty soon dropped asleep. I thoughtit was the curiosest thing I ever heard of."
"It was a wise prescription, no doubt," returned Miss Stanhope, with aquiet smile.
"Oh, Aunt Wealthy, won't you tell me how you make that Farmer'sfruit-cake?" asked the visitor, suddenly changing the subject. "MissDinsmore, it's the nicest thing you ever eat. You'd be sure it hadraisins or currants in it."
"Certainly, Mrs. Schilling. You must soak three cups of dried applesin warm water over night, drain off the water through a sieve, chopthe apples slightly, them simmer them for two hours in three cups ofmolasses. After that add two eggs, one cup of sugar, one cup of sweetmilk or water, three-fourths of a cup of butter or lard, one-halfteaspoonful of soda, flour to make a pretty stiff batter, cinnamon,cloves, and other spices to suit your taste."
"Oh, yes! but I'm afraid I'll hardly be able to remember all that."
"I'll write the receipt and send it over to you," said Elsie.
Mrs. Schilling returned her thanks, sat a little longer, conversing inthe same lucid style, then rose and took leave, urging the ladies tocall soon, and run in sociably as often as they could.
She was hardly out of the door before Aunt Wealthy was beating upher crushed chair-cushions to that state of perfect roundness andsmoothness in which her heart delighted. It amused Elsie, who hadnoticed that such was her invariable custom after receiving a call inher parlor.
Lottie King and Mrs. Schilling passed each other on the porch, theone coming in as the other went out. Kind Aunt Wealthy, intent onpreventing Elsie from grieving over the emptiness of her father'saccustomed seat at the table, had invited her young friend to dinner.The hour of the meal had, however, not yet arrived, and the two girlsrepaired to Elsie's room to spend the intervening time.
Lottie, in her benevolent desire to be so entertaining to Elsie thather absent father should not be too sorely missed, seized upon thefirst topic of conversation which presented itself and rattled on in avery lively manner.
"So you have begun to make acquaintance with our peculiar currency,mon ami! An odd sixpence as Aunt Wealthy calls her. Two of them Ishould say, since it takes two sixpences to make a shilling."
"I don't know; I'm inclined to think Aunt Wealthy's arithmetic has theright of it, since she was never more than a shilling, and has losther better half," returned Elsie, laughing.
"Better half, indeed! fie on you, Miss Dinsmore! have you so littleregard for the honor of your sex as to own that the man is ever that?But I must tell you of the time when she sustained the aforesaid loss;and let me observe, sustained is really the proper--very properest ofwords to express my meaning, for it was very far from crushing her.While her husband was lying a corpse, mother went over with a pie,thinking it might be acceptable, as people are not apt to feel likecooking at such a time. She did not want to disturb the new-made widowin the midst of her grief, and did not ask for her; but Mrs. Schillingcame to the door. 'Oh, I'm so much obliged to you for bringing thatpie!' she said. 'It was so good of you. I hadn't any appetite to eatwhile he was sick, but now that he's dead, I feel as if I could eatsomething. You and your girls must come over and spend a day withme some time soon. He's left me full and plenty, and you needn't beafraid to take a meal's victuals off me'!"
"How odd! I don't think she could be quite broken-hearted."
"No, and she has apparently forgotten him, and bestowed her affectionsupon another; a widower named Wert. Mr. Was, Aunt Wealthy usuallycalls him. They both attend our church, and everybody notices howimpossible it seems to be for her to keep her eyes off him; and youcan never be five minutes in her company without hearing his name.Didn't she talk of him to-day?"
"Oh, yes, she spoke of Mr. Wert visiting some sick man, to talk andpray with him, and rejoiced that the man did not die till he gaveevidence that he was repaired."
"Yes, that sounds like her," laughed Lottie. "She's always getting thewrong word. I told you she never could keep her eyes off Mr. Wert.Well, the other day--three or four weeks ago--coming from church hewas behind her; she kept looking back at him, and presently came bumpup against a post. She made an outcry, of course everybody laughed,and she hurried off with a very red face. That put an idea into myhead, and--" Lottie paused, laughing and blushing--
"I'm half ashamed to tell you, but I believe I will--Nettie and Iwrote a letter in a sort of manly hand, signed his initials, and putit into an iron pot that she keeps standing near her back door. Theletter requested that she would put her answer in the same place, andshe did. Oh, it was rich! such a rapture of delight; and such spellingand such grammar as were used to express it! It was such fun that wewent on, and there have been half a dozen letters on each side. Idaresay she is wondering why the proposal doesn't come. Ah, Elsie, Isee you don't approve; you are as grave as a jud
ge."
"I would prefer not to express an opinion; so please don't ask me."
"But you don't think it was quite right, now do you?"
"Since you have asked a direct question, Lottie, dear," Elsieanswered, with some hesitation, "I'll own that it does not seem to mequite according to the golden rule."
"No," Lottie said, after a moment's pause, in which she sat withdowncast eyes, and cheeks crimsoning with mortification. "I'm ashamedof myself, and I hope I shall never again allow my love of fun tocarry me so far from what is true and kind.
"And so Aunt Wealthy took you out shopping, and secured the benefit ofyour taste and judgment in the choice of her remnants?" she exclaimed,with a sudden change to a lively, mirthful tone.
"How do you know that she bought remnants?" asked Elsie, in surprise.
"Oh, she always does; that's a particular hobby of the dear oldbody's; two or three times in a season she goes around to all thestores, and buys up the most of their stock; they save the best ofthem for her, and always know what she's after the moment she showsher pleasant face. She gives them away, generally, to the minister'swife, telling her the largest are to be made into dresses for herlittle girls; and the poor lady is often in great tribulation, notknowing how to get the dresses out of such small patterns, and afraidto put them to any other use, lest Miss Stanhope should feel hurt oroffended. By the way, what do you think of Aunt Wealthy's own dress?"
"That it is very quaint and odd, but suits her as no other would."
"I'm so glad! It's just what we all think, but before you came we weremuch afraid you would use your influence to induce her to adopt a morefashionable attire."
Elsie's Girlhood Page 12